The Tide: Deadrise (2 page)

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Authors: Anthony J Melchiorri

Tags: #apocalypse

BOOK: The Tide: Deadrise
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“Shall I?” Meredith motioned to the door handle.

“Go ahead.”

She bashed the handle, and the door swung inward.

Darkness bathed the room, and Dom flicked on his flashlight. The beam illuminated a whitewashed tiled floor and heaps of medical supplies piled on an exam bed. A low hiss drew his attention. His pulse quickened. Every nerve in his body lit up, ready for battle. He swung the flashlight at another exam bed. Leather straps secured a Skull to the bed. Atrophied muscles showed under its bone plates. Its mouth opened and closed slowly, revealing a dry, bloated tongue behind serrated teeth.

“Must’ve been left here before the evacuation,” Meredith muttered. She drew her knife and made short work of the monster. The creature’s head fell sideways against its shoulder, and blood trickled out of the new gash in its neck. Meredith wiped her blade clean on the soiled sheets under the Skull’s scrawny body and then replaced the knife in its sheath.

“Let’s start here,” Dom said, pointing to a metal cabinet. A lock signified that whatever was behind it was valuable—or at least addictive. That was where Dom expected to find the drugs Spencer so desperately needed to deal with the Drooler-inflicted damage. Dom cracked his rifle against the lock, and it gave way. He scanned the supply cabinet and snagged enough painkillers to make a drug dealer rich.

They moved on to another set of cabinets and shelves to gather more fresh bandages and medicine. They found only a single, half-empty bottle of antibiotics. Everything that hadn’t been under lock and key looked like it had already been ransacked. Once Dom judged they’d scrounged up all they could, he motioned to the exit.

They reached the airport’s entrance without incident. Miguel and Jenna were already waiting with Glenn and Spencer, ready to go with sacks of food and water that they distributed to the other Hunters’ packs. Dom glanced at his smartwatch. He’d give Renee and Andris five more minutes before daring to break radio silence. The two Hunters appeared well before that deadline with a few small duffel bags over their shoulders and wide grins on their faces.

“We found some ammo,” Renee said in a low voice. “Not enough to keep us in the game if we deal with too many hordes, but enough to use if we’re careful.”

“Great work,” Dom whispered.

Renee and Andris doled out ammunition along with extra sidearms. When they were finished, Dom gave them a few minutes to eat and drink. He thought of his daughters and wondered if they had enough to eat. Each day, each minute they spent apart, he worried for their safety. The same held true for the
Huntress
and the rest of the crew. They couldn’t waste a second. Traveling by land to find the ship would be slow and dangerous.

Before the others had finished eating, Dom used his smartwatch to project a small map onto the tiled floor. “Adam, my girls, and Navid are here.” He pointed to Mt. Vernon, George Washington’s historic estate. “We need to get out of Crystal City. There are docks and some shipyards along the Potomac once we do. Might be worth checking out.”

“Wouldn’t mind a raft to float on,” Miguel said.

“Yeah,” Renee said, finishing a protein bar. “Traveling through those claustrophobic Metro tunnels really makes you miss the ocean.”

“Unfortunately, the safest route to the river is through more tunnels,” Dom said. Renee appeared crestfallen. Dom pointed at the map again. “These buildings in Crystal City are connected by a series of tunnels. It’s like an underground network between the government offices and shopping centers, and it’s our best bet to get past the Skulls. We’ll enter here and make our way south.” Dom gestured to an office building on the map across from the airport. “No time to waste. Let’s move!”

The group retraced their steps across the loading zone and onto the Metro station platform. There, Miguel took point as they snuck down a stairwell to street level. The group hunkered behind an SUV that had rear-ended a fire truck. Dom could hear the echoing thumps of a Goliath’s heavy footsteps and the telltale click of Skull claws on asphalt. One wrong move now could spell disaster. After their brief rest at the airport, they were back in the real world where Skulls had climbed to the top of the food chain and humans were their prey, struggling to survive an ecosystem that had turned upside down.

Dom gestured to the office building he’d indicated earlier on his map. Several Skulls meandered around its entrance. They were flanked by bushes that half-concealed the steps leading below street level. He pointed to Miguel, Renee, Meredith, and Andris, then at the Skulls. The group acknowledged his command with slight nods. Dom counted down with his fingers. Three. Two. One.

The trio dashed across the street to the entrance. They were on the Skulls like wolves on deer. Blades flashed and sliced, cutting into the weak points between the Skull’s armor plates. Blood spilled over the concrete and splashed across the Hunters’ feet. They lowered the Skull corpses gently, then Miguel strode toward the edge of the bushes and gave Dom a signal that all was clear.

“You ready?” Dom asked Spencer.

The man’s bottom lip trembled. His gaze was glassy—a harsh reminder of the game Dom played by giving him pain meds. Too much would kill Spencer’s awareness. Too little would mean he would writhe in agony. After the fresh dose of opioids, he seemed slightly out of it.

“Grab an arm,” Dom said to Glenn.

The muscular Hunter nodded. “On it.”

“Jenna, take rear guard.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” she replied.

The group wound between vehicles and made it to the entrance. They were greeted by the other four, who watched with eyes alert and rifles bristling. A raucous rattle of bones and claws sounded just down the street.

There was a scream, followed by another.

Human screams.

Dom’s attention was piqued at once. He signaled for the others to lay low and looked out from the stairs and bushes. He aimed his rifle in the direction where he’d heard the screaming. A woman and a man had been sneaking toward the Hunters. Only their sneaking had failed and a Skull had caught sight of them. The pair disappeared under a carpet of frenzied, hungry Skulls. A Goliath barreled down the street and crashed into the smaller Skulls. It flung them out of its way despite their protesting howls. With its enormous hooked claws, it tore into the corpses and ripped them apart. It devoured an arm and leg whole.

Dom drew back into their meager shelter. “Miguel, get that damn door open,” he said.

Miguel nodded and started working on the lock. Dom’s heart pounded. The other Hunters’ faces were awash in pallor as Skulls swarmed over vehicles toward the slaughter. Dom wasn’t sure why the people had come out of wherever they’d been hiding. Maybe they were starving. Or maybe they were desperate to escape the city. He guessed they’d seen him and the rest of the Hunters.

They must’ve thought help had arrived.

But they’d made a fatal error.

The tearing of flesh and the howls of Skulls started to dissipate. The creatures dashed along the streets, riled up by the scent of blood and thrill of the hunt. If Miguel didn’t open the door soon, the group would be caught by one of the monsters still seeking fresh meat.

“Almost there,” Miguel said, fiddling with the touchscreen on his prosthetic. The lock clicked, and he swung open the door. The group started to file into the shelter of the underground tunnel.

A growl caused Dom to swivel. A Skull peered around the bushes. Its cracked lips drew back in a snarl, and it pounced. Dom dropped his rifle and dodged. He scrambled to grab the Skull and clamp its snapping jaws shut before the thing howled and called all the other Skulls to their position. Meredith prowled toward them with her blade at the ready. The Skull’s arms whipped wildly, and it kicked at Dom. He was losing his grip as the creature continued to struggle.

There was no easy way for Meredith to strike without risking impaling Dom. Instead of going for his own knife, Dom slammed the creature against the brick wall. He smashed its face into the wall over and over. It squealed, but its cries were muffled. Eventually, its body went still, and Dom lowered it to the steps.

Panting, he followed Meredith into the tunnel. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask if he was okay. He gave her a nod and wiped the sweat from his brow. But once they were underground, his heart began its hammering anew. His crew had frozen in the small hallway branching from the main tiled walkway. Various signs hanging from the ceilings advertised hair salons, convenience stores, cafeterias, and other buildings above. Dom was more interested in the pack of Skulls, almost a dozen deep.

He made a move toward Glenn and Spencer. But before he reached them, a Skull turned. Its bloodshot eyes locked with his. It cocked its head. The spikes lining its spine seemed to vibrate and then stood up straighter. It drew its claws back and let out a shrill cry. Then it charged.

-2-

––––––––

Medical Bay of the
Huntress

Somewhere in the Chesapeake Bay

––––––––

D
r. Lauren Winters watched the plastic vial roll back and forth along the medical bay’s deck. It went under an exam bed as gentle waves rocked the ship. There was nothing inside. Just a container that had escaped its rightful place tucked away in a drawer. As a clinician and scientist, she valued a clean working space for the health of her patients and the integrity of her experiments. Organization had always been key in the ship’s cramped facilities, and she’d imparted her passion—maybe obsession—for careful organization to her team members Divya Karnik, Peter Mikos, and Sean McConnelly. They’d grown to appreciate or at least tolerate her penchant for ensuring every little thing, from the most important lab sample to a stray paperclip, was properly stored within the infirmary or laboratory.

“Bothers you, doesn’t it?” Peter said, nodding to the rolling vial.

“Sure.” Lauren shrugged. It was a hard gesture to accomplish with her wrists bound tightly together. She was crammed into a corner next to the rest of her team. She nodded toward the patient exam beds. “But not as much as watching them suffer.”

The survivors Dom’s group had found starving and dying in Boston’s Massachusetts General Hospital were in bad shape. The Weavers and their young son, Connor, and a man named Alex Li. These people had barely escaped the Skulls, and Lauren’s team had only just brought them back from the brink of death through diligent medical care and attention. Now they were deteriorating again. Dry, flaky skin awash with red sores. Flesh that hung loose around their bones. Eyes etched with deep, purple circles.

And they weren’t the only ones who needed medical attention.

First Mate Thomas Hampton lay in another bed. Bandages covered his shoulder and thigh. Already they’d soaked through with blood again. The hasty sutures put in place over the bullet wounds weren’t the rushed work of Lauren or her team. Thomas had been trying to flag down the purported US Coast Guard ships and helicopters that had overwhelmed the
Huntress
. The ships hadn’t radioed, and Kinsey’s men had subverted the
Huntress
’s comm equipment. But the First Mate hadn’t let that stop him from trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

That determination led to him being mistaken for armed resistance when he had arrived above deck. Thomas had been shot before he could even wave a flag. The Coast Guard had swarmed over the ship before Lauren could do anything about his wound. They’d rounded up everyone and put most of the crew in the overflowing brig. Lauren’s medical team and Chao’s communications team had been held captive in their respective stations in case they were needed.

Two guards watched over the med bay now. Each wore an expression of serious determination. They carried submachine guns and maintained stances that made Lauren feel as if there would be a gun battle any moment. She eyed the one closest to her with a military-issued name tape that said Turner. The man’s eyes surveyed the patients around the bay with a coldness that sent shivers down Lauren’s spine.

Alex groaned and tried to roll to his side. His eyes caught Lauren’s and conveyed a deep pain. It wasn’t solely physical agony; she could see shattered hope there as well. He had been saved once. And Lauren could see the question he wanted to ask:
How many times will I be saved before someone lets me die?
The mental torture and anguish Lauren imagined those survivors harbored broke her.

“You assholes need to let me help my patients,” Lauren said, trying to stand.

“Lauren,” Divya whispered.

A guard stepped forward and leveled his weapon at her. “Stand down.”

“Fuck that,” Lauren said. “You want to shoot a doctor in cold blood?” She forced herself to her knees.

“I said stand down!” The guard took another step and cocked his gun back as if he were going to deliver a blow to her face.

Lauren glanced at the name patch on his fatigues. He looked like he was only in his early twenties. Turner seemed a bit too stone-faced for Lauren’s liking. But maybe Smith was still impressionable, still willing to listen to reason. “Smith, these patients need our help! The Coast Guard is sworn to protect people, not to watch them die.”

Smith looked uncertain for a moment before his compatriot stepped in. “I don’t know what you people did. But our orders were to keep you here until we’re told what to do with you. Until we’re told otherwise, you’re not going anywhere.”

“You’re killing them,” Lauren said, her words laced with menace and contempt.

Turner opened his mouth to say something, but Smith held up a hand to silence him. They retreated to their posts near the hatch.

Lauren slumped. Her mind was still in overdrive. She needed to treat her patients. She needed to develop a defensive mechanism to counteract the acidic spray from Droolers. She needed to figure out why some of the Skulls were turning into Goliaths and determine whether they could stop it. She needed to find a vaccine or a cure that would eliminate the spread of the Oni Agent.

She needed to work.

But the plastic ties cutting into her wrists and the bulldog-faced guards wouldn’t let her. Anger was getting her nowhere. She waited for a few minutes in silence. The guards avoided eye contact with her and the others in the medical bay.

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