The Tide: Deadrise (28 page)

The tusked Goliath threw the porcupine into a building. The brick wall crumbled around the thrown creature, and a cloud of dust rolled into the air. The commotion drew the attention of the other Skulls, and they gathered near the battle. Some looked around as if wondering where the food was. Others gazed half-interestedly at the Goliaths.

“Might be our best chance,” Dom said. “Glenn, Miguel, get ready to move.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Glenn replied.

“Which boat are we headed for?” Dom asked.

“See the thirty-foot catamaran? The
Excelsior
?”

Dom spotted the craft. Its sails were lowered, but its two outboards were already in the water. Half a dozen Skulls lingered around the catamaran’s slip. “Found it. Ready, Jenna?”

She gave him a firm nod.

Dom sprinted to the cover of a dumpster. Once Jenna had joined him, he dashed to a parked truck next. They carried on like this until they’d reached the parking lot near the boathouse. Skulls still lingered in the lot as the battle between the titans raged on.

Several Skulls cried out as they were crushed under the giant monsters. Dom watched as the tusked Skull tore off two of the porcupine’s massive spikes and used the bony weapons to spear the creature. The Goliath roared as blood trickled from the wounds in its abdomen. It clamped its hands around the other Goliath’s head. Bone cracked and split. The tusked Goliath flailed, and then a loud pop sounded. The porcupine Goliath raised its bloody hands in the air and bellowed. The other Goliath’s body fell, now headless, and smashed two Skulls who weren’t fast enough to escape.

“Renee, move the Zodiac in for cover fire,” Dom yelled. “Miguel, Glenn, run!”

Dom sprang from his hiding spot. He and Jenna ran for the dock. They fired into the Skulls directly in their path. Those that the bullets didn’t take out were knocked back by the stocks of their rifles. Dom’s vision became tunneled on the dock ahead. He was only vaguely aware of Miguel and Glenn shooting their way out from the boathouse. Jenna’s rifle chattered behind him as he plowed through another Skull. Flashes of muzzles lit up from the middle of the river as the team on the Zodiac laid down cover fire.

Glenn and Miguel made it to the
Excelsior
first. Glenn undid the mooring lines and then started the outboards. They growled to life as Miguel fired at the Skulls chasing Dom and Jenna. The dock trembled. An unmistakable bellow told Dom exactly what was causing the boards to quake.

“Get the boat moving!” Dom yelled.

“But—” Miguel started.

“Go!” Dom screamed.

His arms pumped in rhythm with his legs. Jenna was running ahead of him now, her youth giving her a slight edge in the race for survival.

Miguel hopped into the catamaran as it began moving away from the dock. As soon as he hit the deck, he spun and fired on the Goliath.

The salvos coming from the Zodiac grew more frantic. The pack on Dom’s back felt suddenly heavier—a smaller Skull had latched onto his bag. Dom refused to let it go and lose all the tools they’d fought so hard to gather.

The spiked Goliath was gaining. Dom battered the smaller Skull on his pack once, then twice with his rifle. The creature loosened its grip, and a third smash sent it skittering to the dock. Dom leapt into the catamaran as the smaller Skull was crushed under one of the Goliath’s feet.

“Move!” he yelled.

Glenn pushed the throttle all the way forward. The catamaran accelerated, and water sprayed along its dual-hulled bow.

But this type of boat wasn’t built for speed. The Goliath’s legs coiled, and then it jumped. Its claws stretched for the boat. It landed in the water, sinking under its enormous weight. But the river was shallow enough for the creature to stand. One clawed hand grasped the back railing of the catamaran.

The outboards churned, whining and growling against the Goliath’s grip. The monster’s muscles roiled. Vessels bulged between plates. It let out another bellow that almost blew Dom backward. Leveling his rifle straight into the Goliath’s mouth, he flipped the selector on his rifle to automatic and squeezed the trigger. Bullets plunged through the soft flesh of the Goliath’s mouth. Dom didn’t let up until its roar devolved into a death rattle. The creature started to slip under the water’s surface.

But the dying Goliath didn’t release its grasp on the gunwale. The bow of the boat jutted upward as if it were sailing for the sun. Jenna almost lost her footing, narrowly avoiding rolling back over the stern and into the river.

Dom tried to pry the sinking Goliath’s fingers and claws from the railing, but it was no use. Each finger was the size of his wrist. His mind raced as Jenna and Miguel worked to free the Goliath’s grasp while Glenn struggled with the boat’s throttle and wheel. Skulls were pouring down the docks. They sprinted toward the soon-to-be-sinking boat. Renee and the other Hunters fired from the Zodiac as they motored toward the catamaran. Dom could see they wouldn’t make it before the smaller Skulls leapt aboard.

The stern slipped further underwater, and the bow heaved upward. A loose dive tank rolled into Miguel, and the Hunter was thrown into the railing. Jenna yanked on his tac vest to prevent him from falling overboard.

They were about to lose the catamaran and everything they’d risked their lives for in Quantico. Without the supplies they’d retrieved, his plan to retake the
Huntress
would not succeed. Dread filled him as the Hunters failed to save the sinking boat. They’d been so close.

So goddamned close.

––––––––

S
hepherd stared through the binoculars at Kent Island. The broken columns of the Bay Bridge jutted up from the water like the remains of a sunken city. Smoke drifted up in long fingers from the towns and around the eastern side of the island. He prayed they were bonfires and not the smoldering remnants of a battle.

“Keep a safe distance,” he commanded.

“Yes, sir,” Rachel responded, manning the sailboat’s tiller.

They sailed along Kent’s western coast as Shepherd surveyed the place. His heart leapt when he saw children playing on the lawn. He spotted a group of adults nearby. Tents were set up beside a parking lot, and people cooked food over campfires. Everything appeared more or less normal. Then he spied the olive drab of a Huey. More choppers were lined up in a small airfield surrounded by an array of small, single-engine planes.

Soldiers in standard-issue uniforms hauled supplies between the choppers and idling trucks. Once loaded, the trucks drove east. That was where Rachel and Rory had told Shepherd the bridge’s defensive wall had been constructed by the civilians abandoned on Kent. Now, the Army seemed to be making an active effort to aid in those defenses.

But Shepherd was skeptical of the Army’s motives.

“You think they’d bring us back in if they saw us?” Rachel asked, echoing his thoughts.

Shepherd shrugged, lowering his binos. “Hard to say. Where’s the best place to land without getting too much attention?”

Rachel scrunched her face up in thought. “There’s a park just north of where the Bay Bridge used to meet the island. Might be our best bet.”

“Okay, then let’s make landfall there.”

Rachel continued tacking north until they spotted the park. She steered the boat to a spot where the dense foliage would shelter them from view and dropped anchor.

As they left the boat, they slung their rifles over their backs. After spending so much time in areas overrun with Skulls, traveling by land without a weapon seemed foolhardy. He hoped there would be no reason to use the weapons here, but he’d rather be prepared. The island was supposed to be clear of Skulls, but the monsters weren’t the only threat anymore. Shepherd didn’t want to raise his weapon against another human being, but if his life or the lives of the midshipmen were in danger, he might have to.

Rachel and Rory led on, winding between the trees and bushes. They looked haggard. Their clothes hung off bodies covered in dirt and dried blood. He imagined that he must not look any better. They’d have a hard time blending in with the rest of the civilians sheltered here. To make matters worse, he still wore fatigues from his time at Detrick. He would stick out like blood on snow if he tried to meld into the civilian population. He decided they’d need a different tack.

“I think it’s best we hide in plain sight,” he said. “Trying to play hide and seek in this place is just going to make us appear more suspicious. If we see people you know, we’ll avoid them. Otherwise, try to look normal.”

Rachel nodded, already adopting a casual expression. Sweat beaded down Rory’s forehead, and he forced a cheesy smile.

“Maybe don’t try that hard,” Shepherd chided the young man.

Rory stopped smiling and tried to walk with the same nonchalant stride as Rachel. She led them through a small town on their way to the barracks. Civilians were gathered to collect vegetables from a nearby garden. At a store plastered with advertisements for cheap souvenirs, shelves were filled instead with bottled water and canned food. A man and woman in police uniforms supervised a line of people waiting for rations to be distributed by an elderly couple manning the counter inside.

Shepherd couldn’t help but marvel at these people’s resiliency. This place was a stark contrast to the Skull-filled wasteland his hometown, Frederick, had become. It gave him hope that people would continue not only to fight the Oni Agent outbreak but actually thrive in pockets of civilization like this where order and common human decency still existed.

“Sir!” one of the policeman yelled. “Sir, hold up!”

Shepherd felt his stomach flip but tried to steel himself. He spun on his heels and faced the officer. “What can I do for you?”

The man smiled and held out three water bottles. “Here. You look like you could use it.”

“Thanks,” Rachel said, not missing a beat as she took one.

Shepherd unscrewed the cap on his and took a swig. “I appreciate it, officer.”

“No worries,” the policeman said. “Thank you for your service.” He jogged back to his post.

As they continued, they passed other similar scenes. The sounds of hammers pounding nails rang out as people built makeshift shelters. Others toted packs full of goods, and Shepherd spotted smaller groups on patrol. A group of senior citizens sat on a porch. Their voices carried over the street as they knitted and sewed clothing. Everyone had a job, and everyone seemed determined to do it.

But Shepherd’s optimism flagged as they approached the barracks. Men and women in uniform were gathered around the nearby town hall. Others were marching toward the defensive wall, and still more checked over carts of supplies.

“Anyone you know?” Shepherd asked.

Rachel and Rory scanned the crowds.

“No,” Rachel said. “Just a lot of new faces.”

“Not what I expected,” Shepherd said. “Kinsey said he wasn’t sending out reinforcements to non-strategic civilian locations.”

“Sounds like he changed his mind,” Rory offered.

“I don’t think so,” Shepherd said in a gruff voice. “He was purposefully keeping me in the dark.” He shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand and studied the soldiers moving between the buildings. “I want to make this quick. Rachel, head into the barracks. Check for the radio. If you don’t see it, return immediately.”

She nodded and marched with purpose toward the barracks. Shepherd admired the way she handled herself. The other soldiers didn’t give her a second glance because she acted like she belonged there and knew exactly what she was doing. She disappeared inside, and Shepherd retreated to one of the picnic benches in the town’s small park. He pulled a map from his pack and laid it on the table. He beckoned Rory to sit across from him.

Rory tilted his head quizzically. “What are we looking at?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shepherd said, “as long as we look busy doing it.”

They faked a conversation over the map. Shepherd could feel the eyes of two passing soldiers trace over them, and he fought to keep his shoulders loose. He was accustomed to leading men and women like these, but he wasn’t used to playing spy around them. Their gaze must’ve been nothing but bored curiosity, and they continued on their way.

A low buzzing noise sounded over the street and the park. Shepherd looked around, trying to find the source. Soldiers started mustering near the barracks. They took off in squads headed eastward toward the bridge. One lieutenant caught Shepherd’s eye.

“Hey!” the man said, his brow furrowed. Shepherd stood, and Rory jumped up nervously. He held out his hands, ready to surrender. Instead, the lieutenant pointed at the gathering squads. “Didn’t you hear your radios? We got Skulls on the bridge!”

The low buzzing noise suddenly made sense. The US Armed Forces had adapted to the Skull threat, just as they’d adapted to the changing landscape of military strategy from World War II to the War on Terrorism. This time, the leadership had learned loud noises, like the traditional alarms and klaxons that might announce an attack, would only serve to attract more Skulls and rile them up. The radios Shepherd saw on every soldier could be used to more effectively muster the island’s defenses.

He tried to make his way through the surging crowd toward the barracks, but he and Rory were soon swept up in the swarm of soldiers, civilians, and people in various law enforcement uniforms rushing to the bridge.

“Rory!” a female voice yelled over the crowd.

Shepherd snapped around and spotted Rachel emerging from the barracks. She jostled through the crowd and caught up to them as they ran to the bridge.

“Did you find the radio?” Shepherd asked.

“No,” she said between breaths. “All my stuff’s missing.”

“Damn,” Shepherd said.

“What now?” Rory asked.

Shepherd saw the mass of soldiers and civilians taking up positions along the wall. He wouldn’t refuse the chance to help save the civilians. It was the reason he’d originally enlisted, and he would never turn his back on the oath he’d taken. Besides, turning away from this fight would make them appear like deserters, and that would attract exactly the wrong kind of attention.