CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
It was craziness when they landed. People were boarding boats, one large and several smaller, what could only be described as military dinghies. Shane had never seen so many survivors in one place.
None of them had.
'We've been here for a while,' the pilot said as he led them across the bay towards a large tent.
'You're lucky,' Chuck Norris – whose real name was Al, which didn't suit him as much – said as he sidled up next to them. 'We're ten minutes off leaving; five if everyone's on board her.' He pointed to the large boat in the middle of the bay.
'So, where to?' Shane asked, following the pilot down a sandy embankment.
'An island,' the pilot replied. 'Somewhere safe. Probably the most secure place on God's green earth. When we get there, we wait. Those things can't last. If they have nothing to feed on, they're gonna start dropping down dead . . . well, you know what I mean.'
He was right. Shane hadn't thought about it before. Lurkers weren't immortal. They were rotting, decaying the same as any dead person; it was only a matter of time before there was nothing left to drag around, and without easy flesh they were doubly screwed.
Just then, a little girl came running along the sand. Dredd dropped to his knees and pulled the girl into a tender embrace.
Standing, he introduced the girl as Gabriella, his daughter. River was already chewing the girl's ear off about everything, and Marla rolled her eyes. It was nice she had people her own age, especially if they were heading off to some secluded island for the foreseeable future.
Three jets suddenly rushed across the sky, the thunderous roar following a few seconds later.
'We have to go,' the pilot said, hoisting Gabriella up onto his shoulders as if she weighed no more than a paper version of herself.
Saul walked alongside River, their feet making tiny indentations in the sand. Shane and Marla followed closely, observing the survivors as they climbed the stairs up to the boat's deck.
'Nice little thing they've got going here,' Shane said. 'So I guess we're going to be spending an awful lot of time together on a desert island.'
Marla smiled. 'You say that like it's a
bad
thing.'
'Oh, not really.' He reached down and took her hand, and was unsurprised when she instantly began to stroke his palm with her thumb. 'There is one thing, though.'
She screwed her face up, slightly concerned about what he was about to say. 'Go on.'
'I doubt whether there's gonna be too many tuxedo-stores where we're going.'
Marla laughed and was somewhat relieved. 'That's okay. I had you down as a bit of a Tarzan, really.'
He beat at his chest with his free hand. 'You Jane?'
'We'll see,' she said. 'We'll see.'
And they would.
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank the following people for their support in making this series a success. In one way or another, you've kept me on track with the writing of these books, for which I am eternally grateful. My wife, Zoe-Ray, without who I would still be slumming it in my bedsit, drinking from three-litre bottles of cheap cider. My son, Phoenix – the most amazing gift I've ever received. Chris Taggart, for bringing the world to life with his awesome illustrations. David Moody, Sean Page, Wayne Simmons, Joseph D'Lacey, Joseph Freeman, Adam Baker, Luke Duffy, Ian Woodhead, Craig Saunders, Rich Hawkins, Kim Newman, Conrad Williams, Brian Keene, Jonathan Maberry, Charles Day, Tim Marquitz, Gary McMahon, Lord Probert, Adam Nevill, Jay Wilburn, Thana Niveau, Colin Barnes, Michael Wilson, Simon Bestwick, Jeff and Ann VanderMeer, Jack Ketchum, Shaun Hutson, Dacre Stoker, Nate Kenyon, Ed Thurlow, Mike Allwood, Emma Bunn, Donna Chaney, Eric Lowther, Pat Douglas, Waterstones Wolverhampton, and to everyone who has bought, read or reviewed any of the books. If I've missed anyone, it's because you were the most important and a simple mention would not be enough.
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