Once back inside, Trey leaned against the back of the car, closing his eyes for a second. He felt overwhelmed. Trying to get his mind off of what lay ahead, he searched his memory for some sign of where it was that the temple they were headed to was in relation to their current position. Sniffing, he wiped his nose. “I hope I’m not getting sick,” he said to himself. He smiled at Melody when she entered. “Hey, I changed the tires all by myself,” he said. He nodded toward the closest one.

  “Good job,” Melody said, coming over and giving him a peck on the lips. “Did you call us in here just to brag?” she asked, winking. She walked away. Melody rejoined Sofia and Chloe as they began to do as instructed, carefully pouring gas into several glass bottles.

  “Be careful not to spill,” Trey said. He felt useless. He was just standing there. Standing up, he brushed past Harry and went outside. As he peered off into the empty, quiet streets, he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of foreboding that began to imbue with him with an imminent sense of dread. He fidgeted. He stretched his neck. Trey cracked his knuckles. “This is weird,” he said.

  Shaking his head, he decided to return inside. The sooner they could get the Hell out of there, the better. Trey didn’t feel safe.

  He doubted he’d ever feel safe again. But anything beat being in the heart of a population center right then.

  “Okay, let’s see what we can fit in the trunk,” Trey said, chiding himself silently for not utilizing the space before. He patted his pockets absently. Heart racing, he jerked his head back and forth. A silent curse danced on his lips and he got down on his knees and began frantically dragging his hands around the dirty, cluttered floor. “Shit,” he said.

  “What’s wrong?” Melody asked, rushing to his side.

  Trey resisted the urge to lash out at her. It wasn’t her fault that he’d lost the keys. “I can’t find the fuckin’ keys,” he said, his jaw tight. He wanted to leave. He couldn’t help but feel like something bad was about to happen. He knew reality was about to crash land right on top of them if they didn’t get the fuck out of there right then.

  And, of course, he’d misplaced the only method of evacuating the scene in a hurry.

  “Here, lemme look,” Melody said. She began searching. She wiggled underneath the car, stretching herself out as she attempted to help.

  Trey turned and saw the concerned expression on his dad’s face. He could tell. Harry felt it, too. It was just some weird sense that he seemed to be developing, now that death lurked around every corner. When every shadow conspired to consume your very being, one learned how to embrace the senses science couldn’t explain.

  He knew for a fact that they weren’t there because they were skilled warriors. They weren’t brilliant master strategists.

  They’d gotten lucky. Really lucky.

  That was enough for Trey, the lawyer and academic, to become just the slightest bit superstitious.

  “I found ‘em,” Melody said. She crawled out from underneath the purloined Renault, holding the dusty keys up high. She smiled. However, her expression changed almost immediately when she noted that Trey didn’t seem particularly happy about her discovery. “Everything… is everything okay, hon?” she asked.

  Just then, they heard a crash.

  Chapter 7

  An explosion rocked the building.

  Trey fell.

  Landing on his elbow, Trey felt a sharp jolt of pain. It blinded him. Blinking, he rubbed his jaw with his good hand, trying to massage the ringing away. Confused, he looked around. His left arm tingled from the wrist up.

  Gritting his teeth, Trey forced himself to stand up. He saw that everyone in his crew had been thrown to the ground. Trying to summon coherent speech, something inspiring to rouse the crowd, Trey failed. He felt frustrated. He wanted to cry.

  Sofia blinked. She looked up at him, dust covering her beautiful cherubic face. Trey knelt down and stroked her cheek with the back of his good hand. He ignored the pain. “It’ll be okay,” he managed to say, even though he didn’t believe it.

  Turning, he walked in a slight crouch over to one of the duffel bags full of guns. With a shaking right hand, he managed to extract one.

  Frowning, he realized, even in his diminished state, that there was no way he’d be able to fire the AR-15 with only one good hand. He tossed it toward Harry. Grabbing the next one, he saw that it was another MP-5, though not silenced. Trey smiled. He almost laughed. The need for surreptitiousness right then seemed almost laughable. “I can’t hear a fuckin’ thing,” he muttered, knowing that he’d verbalized the words even if the tinnitus in his ears drowned out the actual sound.

  Seeing movement out of his peripheral vision, Trey turned and handed the next firearm over to Marshall. Then he slid the bag toward Melody, who held one hand against her bleeding head. She appeared confused. Nonetheless, after a perceptible pause, she reached out and grabbed the duffel.

  Trey sensed that someone was coming.

  Waving his hands, he motioned for everyone to get down.

  The last thing he wanted to do right then was accidentally shoot one of his own crew. So, making double-sure that he maintained a sure, uninterrupted field of fire, Trey aimed at the small door that led in from the outside.

  When the door opened, smoke rushed inside.

  Thick and black, the acrid smoke contained a level of heat and intensity that temporarily blinded Trey. He coughed, involuntarily wiping at his face. He wanted to shoot. But he didn’t know what he would be firing at.

  The sudden presence of so much choking smoke discombobulated him.

  Fighting to focus, Trey saw a form stumbling forward. He steadied his good hand on his leg as he sat Indian-style and shot.

  He saw the silhouette fall.

  Getting up as quick as he could, Trey rushed forward, getting to the body and dragging it back. He didn’t care if it was dead. In fact, he preferred it that way. Nonetheless, Trey wanted to see what they were dealing with.

  It was a human. As far as he could tell. No sign of the greenish-yellow scaly skin that seemed a hallmark characteristic of those that had turned.

  As he remained there, studying the fallen foe, Trey realized that they were vulnerable. If they remained inside there for much longer, they’d asphyxiate. Jogging over to Melody, he patted her on the side of the arm, gently at first, then shoving her. She’d seemed to have fallen into some sort of traumatized trance. Trey thought he yelled, but he still couldn’t hear anything. When she turned to face him, her eyes glassy and distant, Trey motioned for her to give him the keys.

  Apparently, his hand gesture had worked, for she instantly recognized the message he’d been trying to convey and relinquished control of the item.

  Plucking them from her quivering hand, Trey got into the driver’s seat and started the car.

  When he got out, two more were entering, this time from the gas station. More smoke billowed in after them.

  Another explosion rocked the entire building.

  Only stumbling this time, Trey managed to point and shoot. He knew he hadn’t gotten both of them, so he smiled and nodded in the direction of Marshall when he noted that both of the interlopers had fallen.

  Except, when he turned to congratulate the deaf man, he saw him unconscious and bleeding profusely from the head. Unconscious on the floor, Marshall had dropped his weapon. It lay just a few mere inches from his hand.

  Shit, Trey thought. He ran over to the man and picked him up, not realizing until an incredible, searing pain blasted through his entire body that he’d used both arms. Biting his lip until he bled, Trey ignored the pain. He had no choice. If he focused on it, he’d die with the brave man.

  I killed a village for you, motherfucker, Trey thought. He screamed. And then he carried the inert form of his battle buddy to the backseat of the car. Sorry, bud, Trey thought. Someone is going to have to sit on you.

  Running around the side of the car, he did whatever he had to to capture everyone’s attention and direct them toward the car. He picked Chloe up by her shirt and practically threw her in the backseat. When everyone was inside, Trey went to the open trunk and tossed whatever he could find close-by.

  It wasn’t until he was almost back in the car, his good hand on the door handle, that he realized he’d need to open the garage door. Trey silently rebuked himself. Running over, he slammed his hand down on the red button and then rushed back to the vehicle. He slammed the door shut.

  Plowing blindly through a thick black cloud of smoke that obscured all rational thought, Trey gripped the wheel with his right hand as the car bounced up and down on its way out into the afternoon air.

  Breathing hard, pulse pounding, sweat slickening his palms, Trey blanched when confronted with the vision of a massive horde barreling down the previously barren, deserted street.

  The sound. It had apparently drawn their attention.

  Seeing the blown-out gas tanks, Trey winced. He caught a glimpse of the building behind them burning in the rearview. Turning sharply onto the road, he realized he needed to make a choice.

  He needed to decide.

  If he tried driving into the horde, Trey ran the risk of getting caught in the middle of it. Trapped inside the car, they were sitting ducks. However, there were still raiders recovering from the effects of the blast behind them.

  And they were slowly staggering toward the stolen Renault.

  Trey shrugged. Glancing toward the roof of the vehicle, he said a silent prayer. And then he gunned the engine.

  He drove into the horde.

  Trey was ready to paint the exterior of that car with the blood of the feral fallen. He smiled. In a way, he felt detached. And even excited. Pleased with himself for having thought to adhere a plow to the front of the vehicle, he giggled, ecstatic, when the first impact jolted the small car.

  Driving his foot down on the gas, he heard the engine struggling.

  “Someone shoot these bastards,” Trey screamed, shocked that he could hear his own voice.

  Just as Harry was reluctantly about to comply, his wan face grim and resigned, the car lurched forward. Bodies began stacking up on the hood. But, so far, none had gotten trapped underneath the vehicle, which is what Trey felt deathly terrified of. He wondered why he hadn’t just elected to go the other way.

  They could’ve just taken a detour around the zombies.

  But he wanted to kill stuff.

  Trey admitted to himself that he probably wanted to die.

  But he kept his foot jammed down on the gas. And they kept moving forward, slowly. Blood stained the side windows, turning them a deep crimson. Limbs repeatedly slapped at the glass and side of the car. Zombies moved their heads back and forth, snapping their jaws, their faces pressed against the front window.

  Trey even heard a thud on top of the car.

  After what seemed an eternity, the vehicle finally sped up, clear of obstructions. The only problem was, Trey couldn’t see anything. “Anybody want to get out and provide some cover? I need to get these zombies off the spikes and hood,” Trey said. He didn’t know how he’d get the thick layers of blood off of the other windows, but that seemed less important at the moment.

  Harry grunted. Sofia raised a quaking hand.

  With that, Trey smiled. “Okay, on three. One, two… three,” he said. Then he promptly opened the door, grabbing his MP-5 as he headed out.

  Luckily, the zombies were distracted by the raucous combat taking place at the gas station. Gunfire echoed through the street, densely populated as it was by abandoned buildings. Several minor explosions filled the humid air.

  Going around to the front, Trey heard the ugly, low growling of the zombies that had remained alive. He shot them, pulling them off the car with his injured appendage, biting his lip each time to ward off the intense pain. Within minutes, all of the creatures had been dispatched and extracted from the car. “Okay, folks,” Trey said. He whistled.

  As he hobbled back to the driver’s seat, Trey noticed that his shrill, high-pitched signal had drawn renewed interest from the horde. “Shit,” he said. Seeing that Marshall was trying to get up, Trey smiled sadly. “Sorry, buddy,” he said. Slamming the door, he gassed it.

  He wasn’t going to attempt to drive through a zombie pack again. Not even over one.

  “What happened, boss?” Marshall asked.

  “Zombies. Bad guys. All that jazz,” Trey said, hunched forward, focused on the abandoned street ahead of him. For some reason, the two-lane street seemed a lot smaller and narrower than what he was used to.

  A humanoid figure stumbled into the middle of the street. Trey managed to only narrowly avoid it, swerving sharply to make his way around it.

  Up in the distance, he noticed a familiar structure. “Is that the temple?” he asked. A sense of euphoria filled him. If only their luck held out…

  Laughing, he slapped the wheel, wincing as a hearty, robust pain ripped through him. For a moment, Trey had forgotten that his left hand was horribly damaged. Even so, the elation he experienced at seeing that sacred structure just ahead, beckoning to them like a lighthouse was sufficient to dispel the horrible pain. “Yes,” he said.

  He sped up.

  As they screeched into the empty parking lot, Trey slowly turned off the car. He took a moment to steady his breathing. Looking in the rearview mirror, he quietly assessed the state of his crew. They all seemed tired, far more so than they had been after dealing with Sapphira Island and all of its myriad difficulties. Gazing out at the grounds, Trey felt struck by the idyllic nature of the scene. It appeared in such stark contrast to the Hell they’d been through and the strife that inevitably awaited them.

  Tall, stately trees dotted the perimeter. Strategically placed, well-tended wooden benches decorated the area, resting in the cones of shade offered by the flora. Just visible in the distance were emerald mountains that rose to conspire with clear cerulean skies. With its manicured lawns and vibrant beds of flowers, and quaint brick walkways, the entire landscaped experience seemed brilliantly curated to convey a sense of awe.

  “We’re here, guys,” he said. Getting out of the car, Trey couldn’t help but look up when he heard a strange sound. Blinking, he smiled. It was just a French flag. Across from it on a separate pole flapped a similar piece of fabric, this one bearing the official emblem of the collapsed Tahitian government.

  Briefly, Trey wondered about that. What were the dynamics like? It seemed like it could be relevant really soon. He figured that there had to be some level of animosity between the true locals and the French authorities, who were in their own way colonial usurpers, even if they put a pleasant face and an exotic accent on it. No amount of butter, wine, or duck could change that fact.

  “Hey, dad,” Sofia called, her voice hoarse.

  The sound broke through his reverie. He smiled and turned. Seeing that she was struggling with Marshall, he hurried his step and reached down, offering his good hand to the deaf man. “Come on,” Trey said. He smiled and offered the guy a one-armed hug when he finally made it fully out of the vehicle.

  “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Marshall said, chuckling. “Where are we?” he asked.

  “It’s a Mormon temple,” Trey said.

  “You found it?” Marshall shook his head. “I knew some Mormons. They… they have some…” Marshall wiped a hand over his face. “Look, I’m not one to bash someone’s beliefs. I just find them a bit odd, is all,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Trey asked, trying not to show his mild displeasure. These were the sorts of disclosures he would have loved to have been privy to back when they were safely ensconced in the apartment.

  Not, you know, in the parking lot of the temple.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I can’t judge. I’m not really all that religious, anyway,” Marshall said. He shook one leg, holding it out in front of him.

  “No, I need to hear this, Marshall. What’s up?” he asked.

  “Well, I guess they have armed security at the temples,” Marshall said.

  Trey sighed. He wanted to throw his hands up in exasperation. But he didn’t. He merely forced himself to take a deep breath. “That’s great to know now,” he said. He shook his head and expelled a gust of air. Looking back toward the beautiful building, Trey couldn’t help but wonder just what they’d do if they found themselves confronted by an armed and capable opponent.

  “Well, I guess we need to load up,” Trey said. “Hey, dad,” he said, snapping his fingers and motioning to get Harry’s attention. “Dad,” he said. When Harry turned, Trey smiled. He took a few steps forward. “Will you go in the front this time? I’ll take the back. You speak French,” he said.

  Harry nodded.

  “Okay, well, we probably shouldn’t just walk up there packin’. You know? So…” Trey fidgeted, swaying back and forth.

  Chapter 8

  Trey didn’t like it.

  Things were quiet.

  The only time he experienced silence was right before bad shit happened.

  Trey also wasn’t particularly enamored of the fact that he had to carry concealed. He preferred the deterrent effect a visible weapon could provide. That and having easy access meant he could deliver death to his enemies that much quicker. With anxiety pulsing inside of him, his heart beating rapidly, Trey tried to maintain his situational awareness.

  That had been a term his dad had used a lot, when he’d been a kid. Situational awareness. Trey smiled briefly as he reflected on how much he’d ignored the wisdom of his father growing up. And how easily all of that vast cache of information just returned.

  The large, well-maintained parking lot seemed devastatingly empty. Abandoned. It offered a haunting reminder that they were, in fact, immersed in the burgeoning apocalypse. For such a large, ornate building, one might expect to see at least a number of scattered vehicles. The cost of maintaining a structure such as this, with its large, expansive grounds would be high, both in terms of money and manpower. Trey was willing to bet that this was the first time in a very long while where the lot stood almost completely vacant.

 

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