“I don’t need you getting hurt and you suing me.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Nancy, why would I sue the place I love?”
Nancy didn’t appear to acknowledge his declaration of love for Blackbeard’s Pier. “Yeah, well…take your time and see how you feel.”
She began to leave the office, but Mike grabbed her by the hand. Her hand was warm and sweaty, like his. “Nancy, I’m a widower, too. I know how it feels. I know you miss Wally. Any time you want to talk…”
Nancy snickered. Mike let go of her hand, and she stalked out of the office. He sat alone in her office pondering her situation. He had a sense that there was someone decent underneath all of that anger and loneliness. He knew there was.
Nancy, as bad as she was now, had actually softened since Wally’s death. She was vulnerable. While people like her interpreted vulnerability as weakness, people like Mike saw it as opportunity.
Opportunity was knocking for Nancy. She only had to answer.
Part II
Choppy Waters…A Storm Is Brewing
Chapter 9
August 21
Joann shimmied under the bent gate and splashed her way into Billy Blake’s store, where she found Holbrook lying with his gun in his right hand and his head resting on his arm. Gary lay next to him motionless with the back of his head blown out.
“Jesus, what happened?” she gasped, eyes bulging.
Holbrook picked up his head. “He turned on me. He became like one of those things out there.”
“Did you have to shoot him?”
“He would’ve killed me, Joann.” He sounded weary and dejected. Almost eighteen years in law enforcement and he only had to fire his piece four times. Never in his wildest nightmares did he ever think he had to take down one of his own men.
His radio crackled,
“Chief, it’s Breslin. You there? Copy.”
He rolled his eyes in a ‘what now?
’
manner and picked up his radio. “Holbrook, here.”
“Old Carl Fitzpatrick is up on the second floor of the Sand Dollar, and he won’t come down.”
“So get him down. I don’t care if you have to drag him kicking and screaming. We’re in the middle of a damned super storm, for Chrissake.”
“Sir, he’s blocked the entrance to the second floor. There’re people trying to get to him, but he’s dug in like a tick, sir.”
“Ten-four, we’ll be right there. Over and out.”
“What about Gary?” asked Joann.
Holbrook hoisted himself up. “He won’t be causing any more trouble. Let’s go get Carl down.”
They both crawled back onto the boardwalk that was now partially submerged as waves surged over it, hurling water and debris through security gates and doors and into storefronts.
Joann looked around and saw dead rioters strewn all over the boardwalk. The officers had won this battle, but not without casualties. “Jesus, Jim. What the hell’s happening?”
“Call an ambulance and tell them to pick up Gary’s body,” Holbrook shouted to one of the officers. “The rest of you come with me. Carl Fitzpatrick’s refusing to leave the Sand Dollar.”
It took them quite an effort to reach the Sand Dollar Bar down the boardwalk, slogging through angry surf and dodging planter pots, garbage pails, and wooden benches.
Officer Anne Breslin was calling up to Carl, commanding him to come down and evacuate. Carl was pointing emphatically to the barricade he constructed across the entry way. He was shouting, but it was drowned out by the surf.
Anne was a rookie on the force, wet behind the ears. In this raging storm she was wet just about everywhere else, too.
“Goddammit, Breslin, why didn’t you get him down yet?”
She squinted as horizontal rain assailed her pretty young face. “I was waiting for backup, sir.”
“For Carl Fitzpatrick?”
Joann pointed to the people trying to get to him. “Look.”
Anne nodded. “They’ve been trying to get to him, but he’s being awfully stubborn.”
Holbrook watched the Samaritans climb the steps and toss aside the debris littering the stairs thrown down by Carl and compounded by the surging water. A roof tile from the lifeguard’s station slapped Holbrook in the face as he watched their uncoordinated movements. He caught a glimpse of a pale face with raccoon eyes.
“Something’s wrong…”
“Look at them,” said Joann, picking up on what Holbrook was seeing.
“Jesus, Breslin, they aren’t trying to help him! They’re trying to get at him!”
“Sir?”
“Okay, men. Spread out. I’ll distract them from Carl and draw them to come to us. Joann, Pike, and Lawson, take the flanks. Head shots only.”
“Sir?” Anne looked unsure of what was happening.
“For cryin’ out loud, Breslin, stay back!”
While Joann, Pike, and Lawson took their positions, creating a firing corridor, Holbrook walked into the Sand Dollar and began hollering at the things on the stairs. “Hey, assholes, fresh meat! Come and get me!”
A few of the monsters turned and looked at Holbrook with those glassy eyes. They turned and began to stumble toward him, arms outstretched. One fell down the steps and landed on his face.
The other two pursued Holbrook as he slowly backed out of the bar, keeping a safe distance between him and the snapping jaws.
When he was back on the boardwalk, he stumbled a bit as water slammed against his shins and ankles, almost causing him to lose his balance. The two fiends lurched forward, but there were two pops heard over the wind, and one monster dropped face down into the salt water and lay motionless.
The other was struck in the neck, but it kept coming. Anne Breslin, confused as all hell and uncertain of what to do, drew her firearm and pointed it at the unrelenting attacker.
It reached out for Holbrook, who backed into Anne, nearly tripping over her. He took aim and put one right between its eyes, putting its lights out for good.
“Jesus, Chief, what in the hell’s going on?”
“We’ve got us an outbreak of zombies, Breslin.”
She just gawked at him as a wave washed over the boardwalk, the rush of water splashing up the side of her body. Holbrook reached out and grabbed her arm, holding her against the current as the rest of the undead throng began to stumble back out onto the boardwalk.
Joann, Pike, and Lawson began taking shots, dropping them one-by-one. Holbrook helped Breslin to her feet, almost falling himself in the process.
All of the zombies on the stairs had been dispatched.
Something within the bar caught Holbrook’s eye as Breslin regained her composure. One of the things was inside the bar.
Almost as if it knew it had been seen, it slowly backed into the bar, disappearing from view.
“Did you see that?” he shouted over to Joann, who was backing away with Pike and Lawson to where he and Breslin stood.
“Yeah, I did.”
“I want you and Breslin to go upstairs and get Carl. Pike, Lawson, and I are going in to investigate. Get him down as quickly as possible, and get him out of here.”
Joann nodded, and she and Breslin ran inside to the right and quickly climbed the staircase.
Holbrook nodded to Pike and Lawson, and they began to enter the bar as water and shards of boardwalk thrashed about their boots.
Holbrook took the lead, Pike covered him, and Lawson took the flank. They slowly made their way under the half-closed roll-down metal gates and into the bar.
When Joann and Anne reached the top of the stairs, they found tables and chairs piled on top of each other, blocking the entryway.
“Mr. Fitzpatrick! Mr. Fitzpatrick!” shouted Joann, but Carl didn’t hear them.
Carl was leaning over the balcony, shouting down to Holbrook, Pike, and Lawson. The crazy bastard was going to fall off the railing and break his neck.
“Cover my back,” said Joann, and she began to pull the chairs and tables down, tossing them down the stairs while Breslin kept her gun trained at the base of the stairs.
Carl turned around, startled by the sudden movement. He came running toward the crumbling barricade, looking frantically between the upturned furniture.
Joann managed to create a gap, but upon seeing her, Carl panicked and ran for the railing.
“Carl, no!” she yelled as she slipped through and splashed across the deck after him. She caught up to him as he mounted the railing to throw himself off. She grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt.
As Holbrook began clearing the darkened bar with Pike and Lawson, his son Robbie popped into his head. He quickly cleared the image from his mind. He needed to stay focused.
Wooden barstools were strewn about the bar from the surging water. Holbrook looked down at the salt water and shook his head. It was a damned shame. The bar was going to be ruined.
Why hadn’t Carl closed up sooner? Maybe these things stopped him from closing, which is why he barricaded himself upstairs.
They heard splashing from behind the stage.
“Did you hear that?” whispered Lawson.
“Yeah. It came from the office behind the stage,” whispered Holbrook.
The driving rain was restricting Joann’s eyesight. Carl hollered something and swung at her, connecting with her jaw. She saw stars, but she never let go. She slipped an arm around his throat and reeled backward, falling on the wet deck and taking him with her.
She wrapped her arms and legs around him like a boa constrictor and held him in place as he bucked and flailed about. He quickly became fatigued, and his efforts waned as he surrendered to her.
She threw him off of her, and he hit the wet boards of the deck hard. She rolled over and pushed herself to her feet. “Just what in the hell did you think you were doing?” she shouted as she rubbed her jaw.
Carl Fitzpatrick stopped fighting, but he was trembling, and Joann didn’t think it was because of the chilled wind and rain.
Breslin came running onto the deck. “Are you guys okay?”
“I thought I told you to cover our exit!” rebuked Joann.
“The stairway’s clear,” insisted Breslin. “I saw you two rolling all over the deck.”
“We’re fine. Help me get him out of here.”
Both officers reached down and hooked a hand under each of Carl’s arms, and then hoisted him up. “Come on, Mr. Fitzpatrick. Let’s get out of here,” said Joann.
Carl nodded like a small child being consoled by his parents after a scare. “They’re down there.”
“The stairway’s clear,” said Breslin. “The Chief is downstairs with a couple of officers to make sure we get out safely.”
Carl allowed the two women officers to escort him off the deck. When they reached the staircase down to the first floor, Joann nodded to Breslin, who shifted the bulk of Carl’s weight onto herself.
Joann let go and drew her firearm, training it at the bottom of the stairs. She took the lead and signaled for Carl and Breslin to follow behind her.
Holbrook, Pike, and Lawson, were right outside the office door. It was opening and closing with the ebb and flow of the intruding water. Holbrook looked down and realized that the water level was rising.
The three men nearly jumped out of their skin as a stool abruptly washed up against the bar. Their eyes and guns quickly returned to the swinging door and what might be lying in wait on the other side.
Holbrook signaled that he was going to push the door open. Pike and Lawson nodded silently. He slipped his retractable baton out of its pocket with his free hand as a small wave of water lapped at his shins.
They turned their heads briefly as they heard Joann and Breslin taking Carl Fitzpatrick out onto the boardwalk. Joann nodded to him, and Holbrook nodded back before she slipped under the metal gate.
Holbrook quickly turned his attention to the small splashes coming from behind the door. Pike tried to peek around the edge of the door when the water pushed it open, but he shook his head. He wasn’t able to catch a glimpse of whatever was hiding in there.
Holbrook extended his baton and pushed the door open, training his gun inside with his other hand. The office was dark.
He shook his head at Pike and Lawson. He put his baton in his mouth, biting down with his teeth on the cold metal, and slowly reached inside, fumbling on the wall for the light switch. Terrified that something was going to reach out and take a bite of his hand, Holbrook quickly found the switch after what seemed like an eternity, and he flipped the lights on.
He quickly pulled his hand out and grabbed the baton out of his mouth. They saw a desk with papers on it, a bulletin board behind it, and a stack of cardboard boxes to the left of the door. The water receded, pulling the door closed, but Holbrook held it open with his baton, only it wouldn’t open all the way.
Something was behind the door.
Holbrook peeked in between the door and the jam where it was hinged and saw something there. He pointed to the door with his gun, indicating that there was something behind it.
Pike and Lawson nodded as Holbrook braced himself. “This is the police department! You need to evacuate immediately!”
Silence.
Suddenly, Holbrook stepped into the room and began firing into the wooden door, aiming high for a headshot. A couple of hands grabbed him as the thing behind the door slammed it shut.
“There’s two of them!” shouted Lawson.
Pike and Lawson threw themselves against the door, pushing the hiding zombie into the desk. Holbrook had spun around, and he was holding his baton horizontally with both hands in front of his face. The zombie that had grabbed him bit down on it. His gun was on the floor.
Pike double-tapped the other zombie in the head, and it fell, sprawling across the desk.
Holbrook pushed the zombie back into the wall as it chomped down on his baton, its fingers pulling at his uniform.
“Get ready!” he shouted.
Holbrook ducked, and Pike and Lawson fired at its head, splattering its brains on the wall. It dropped to its knees and fell on Holbrook, who quickly threw it off of him.