Dying Days (17 page)

“I guess so. Want a beer?”

“Nah, but feel free to drink me out of house and home.”

Darlene laughed. “I’d be more than happy to help around this place. It could use a woman’s touch.”

“I suppose so. I can always get more beer.”

“How?”

“That’s a trade secret, missy.”

Darlene went to the refrigerator and grabbed the last Corona. “Where in Hell are we, anyway?”

“We’re about five miles from Hammond Beach, and about twenty south of St. Augustine.”

“How are we safe?”

Murph laughed and slapped his knee. “I forgot. You were passed out when John-John brought you here. Come with me.”

He led her through the front door. A cool ocean breeze made her smile as she stepped out onto a porch and stared at the ocean. The sun was setting behind her, shadows under the house. “We’re in a stilt house?” she said with a laugh.

“Twenty feet above the ground. They can’t reach us up here. Or there,” Murph said and pointed to a nearby house. “Or there.” Darlene counted ten stilt houses strung across the beach in a perfect line. “Every house is occupied or was occupied.”

“By who?”

“Survivors. Let’s get inside before we’re spotted.”

“By who?”

Murph laughed. “The living bastards that can still climb a ladder.”

Back inside, they took their spots in the living room. Murph sat down in a well-worn chair and put his feet up on the coffee table. “I’d still give my left one for a nice Big Mac.”

“I never thought I’d have a breakfast of bacon and eggs again.”

“I have some fish in the freezer for tomorrow. Most nights I make some grilled veggies and toss in a baked potato. Sound good?”

“If you let me I can make something special.”

“I’m listening.”

Darlene rose and went to the kitchen. “I can make a stew with the potatoes and veggies. Do you have cans of chicken broth?”

“I think I have two cans of beef broth in the cabinet. Never knew what to do with them.”

“Perfect. Come on, Murph, I’m going to teach you how to make Bobich Stew.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Together they cooked, Murph following directions and cutting the vegetables while Darlene prepared the potatoes and the broth. Once dinner was ready they went back to their spots and ate in silence.

“I’ll clean the dishes. Least I can do.” Darlene was feeling a bit tipsy from the beer and after the great meal she wanted to crawl back into that bed and sleep for a week.

“I need to dress that wound again,” Murph said. “Don’t want my new houseguest up and dying on me. Especially since she can cook and do dishes.”

Darlene tensed when she heard footsteps outside. She went for her Desert Eagle, still on the table, but Murph waved her off. “It’s John-John. He does that tapping noise on the top of the ladder to let me know it’s him.”

“You can’t be too safe.”

“I agree.”

The door opened and John-John stepped inside, carrying a backpack and a compound bow over his shoulder. His blue eyes locked onto Darlene. When she smiled at him he looked away and put his gear down.

“What kind of bow is that?” she asked.

“Jennings Cobra. I have three of them.”

“Nice. What kind of arrows do you use?”

John-John shrugged. “Whatever I can find. We raided a sporting goods store about six months back and found a pallet of them, all different kinds.”

“He’s gotten pretty good at it. He can hit a zombie in the face from a hundred feet,” Murph said.

“I guess I got lucky you hit me here,” Darlene said and gently tapped her arm.

John-John gritted his teeth. “You had no business trying to fight so many of them. I couldn’t get a clear shot at the ones closest to you.”

“Relax, I was teasing.” Darlene sat down on the couch and stared at John-John. He was a younger image of his father, a few years older than her but in great physical shape. Under his gray T-shirt she could see his well-defined body, his arms popping out of his sleeves. He was built, and he was cute. She couldn’t help stare at the bulge in his jeans.
What’s wrong with me? Oh, yeah, I haven’t been laid in months.

“John-John and I share this house and the next one over. We use that one for supplies, weapons and such.”

“John, please call me John.” He shot a look at his father. “I haven’t been John-John since I was twelve.”

“You’ll always be John-John.” Murph stood. “It’s time for bed. You kids get some rest as well. Big day tomorrow.”

They both wished him a good night and John took his father’s seat.

“What’s tomorrow?” Darlene asked.

“What?”

“He said something about a big day tomorrow.”

John laughed. “He says that every night. For thirty-five years I’ve been hearing that line.”

He’s thirty-five,
Darlene thought, and made a mental note. Only seven years older and hot as Hell. She smiled.

“What’s the matter?”

“What do you mean?” Darlene asked. She twirled her hair and tried to look casual when she took another swig of beer.

“Nothing.” John rose. “I need to get some sleep. I actually have a big day ahead of me tomorrow. We’re running low on supplies and I need to take a run up to St. Augustine and see if I can get some work or trade.”

“Need company?”

John hesitated. “We’ll see. Good-night. There are two vacant houses, so if you are planning on staying I’m sure Griff will let you have one.”

“Who’s Griff?”

“I’m sure you’ll meet him tomorrow. Nothing much goes on without Griff and Peter and Kayla knowing. I’m sure they have a hundred questions for you.”

Without another word John retired to a back bedroom.

Darlene was hoping for a seductive look, even a glance back when he walked out, but she got nothing. She heard his door close and heard the lock engage. She didn’t blame him; these days the living were just as awful as the dead.

Darlene finished her beer and decided to slip into bed and think about her day until she passed out.

Chapter Nine

Darlene was disappointed but not surprised when she woke the next morning and saw that John had already left. Murph had a pot of coffee brewing and he was scrambling eggs. “Morning, missy,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”

“Haven’t slept like that in, well, months. It sure beats sleeping in dumpsters and in abandoned houses.”

“I would imagine.” Murph slid some eggs onto two plates.

Darlene poured coffee for them and sat at the table. “How long have you lived here?”

“About four months.”

“Really? I just assumed this had always been your home.”

“Fat chance. These stilt houses go for close to a million bucks… well, they did before. When we got here this one was empty so we moved in. Pretty much everything you see was already here.”

“Where are you from originally?”

“Pensacola. Born and raised in Florida.” Murph forked some eggs. “I’m guessing from that accent that you’re from either Boston or Rhode Island.”

“A bit farther north. I’m from Maine. Born and raised, as they say.”

“Ever been to Florida before all this?”

“No, I had never been farther south than Manhattan. How about you?”

“Never been farther than Virginia myself. I’ve never even seen snow in person.”

“You haven’t missed much. I just spent a winter buried in it in Baltimore and it was not fun.”

“I’m getting too old to keep moving, but if I had a chance I’d love to go up there and see it before I die.”

“If I never see another snowflake I’ll be happy. If I never see the temperature dip below thirty-two I’ll be happy as well.” Darlene sipped her coffee. “God, how I miss having good coffee.”

“That’s the last of it for awhile, I’m afraid.”

“Can we get more?” Darlene blurted. She felt foolish for saying it, like a spoiled brat.

“Eventually. It depends on what gets flown in and what we have to trade.”

“John went to St. Augustine to get supplies?”

“Yes, and to trade if possible. We’re running low on everything right now.”

“I’m sorry.” Darlene put her coffee mug down. “I thought you had enough food. I’m imposing.”

“I always welcome the company. And I imagine you’ll only be sticking around for a few days.”

Darlene frowned. “Is my welcome over?”

Murph laughed. “Not at all. But most people that stumble upon us and don’t want to raid us stay a few days before moving on to the safety of St. Augustine.”

“Why don’t you?”

Murph waved his hand. “I’m too damn old to climb down the ladder to this place. Damn near shit when I got up here. I’m actually afraid of heights. John does all of the running for the two of us and I inventory what we have, clean, cook, all of that. Truth be told I’m more of a burden to my kid.”

“It sounds like you hold your own.”

“I suppose.” Murph winked. “I suppose you’re just trying to be nice.”

“Whatever.” Darlene put the coffee mug to her lip but stopped.

“Something wrong?”

“The Sig Sauer.”

“What about it?” Murph said and smiled. He patted his hip. “That’s the longest in five years it’s been away from me.”

“I took it off of someone.”

“I imagine that would be Carl.”

“Lazy eye?”

“Yeah, that’s Carl. He was only here for two days before he grabbed the gun, a box of food, the rest of the water, and my new pair of boots. Where is he now?”

“Near Hammond Beach.”

“Doing what?” Murph said and grinned. “I’m guessing Carl didn’t give you the Sig because you’re so damn cute.”

“Stranger things have happened, right?”

“I can’t argue that.” Murph pulled the weapon from his waistband and put it on the table. “It’s actually yours now. You found it fair and square. My loss is your gain.”

Darlene put a hand on the gun. “True. Thanks for giving it back.”

Murph laughed. “This is actually the spot where you tell me, ‘no, no, I can’t separate a man from his prized weapon, you saved my life, you keep it.’ Anything I’m saying make sense?”

“Nope.” Darlene made to put the Sig Sauer in her own waistband. Laughing, she put it back on the table. “Just fucking with you, Murph.”

“And a great sense of humor, too? God, what a package you are.”

Darlene cleared the table when they were done. “Now what?”

“Now I usually sit and wait for him to return.” Murph sat on the couch. “Want to watch a movie?”

“Seriously? I can’t remember the last time I watched a movie, or heard a song, anything. This guy Jonathan, he was part of the Rear Guard, and I used to work with him and a couple of others. We’d watch the caravan from the back and make sure nothing snuck up on us, whether it was alive or dead. Jonathan had an MP3 player. He used to let me listen to songs when we were resting. Unfortunately the batteries died and he was always hoping to find more.”

“Did he ever?”

Darlene sat down. “No. He died.”

“He was one of them?”

“Yes, and it was my fault. I… I shot him, it was pure instinct. I…”

“You don’t have to talk about it.”

Darlene wiped a tear from her eye. “I’d rather not.”

“Fair enough. Why don’t you go and see if you like one of the movies?”

Darlene went to the DVD rack to the left of the plasma TV and browsed the titles. “I’m guessing a guy lived here.”

“My kind of guy.”

“John Wayne movies, Bruce Willis, Clint Eastwood, a ton of war movies, westerns, Charlton Heston, Stallone, Chuck Norris… not one chick flick.”

“I threw those into the ocean.”

Darlene shot him a dirty look.

“Just teasing, missy. I think this was some rich guy’s Man Lair.”

“His what?”

“I found not only all of these macho movies but a huge box of pornographic movies and magazines, as well as enough alcohol to inebriate Miami. There were guns, ammo, flak vests, an SUV and a couple of jet-ski’s down below, and a drawer filled with various condoms and sexual devices. Whoever this guy was, he was a player, as the young kids say.”