The Missing Boatman Part 46

He checked where Death was aiming the light and saw what he said was truth. Zombies were slipping into the kitchen through the window over the sink. Tony bolted past Death on the couch and bounded into the kitchen area. He drove the hatchet blade deep into the skull of the nearest. The thing collapsed into the sink, its lower half still outside.

But another zombie grabbed Tony's wrist.

Even through his coat, the feel of dead flesh on his arm was almost enough to drive Tony over the edge of sanity. He yanked the hatchet out of the first zombie and smashed it into the side of the second zombie's head. The thing did not release him. Tony hit it, again and again, killing the thing on the second blow and smas.h.i.+ng it to one side of the sink with the third and fourth.

The bodies in the kitchen window momentarily blocked it.

"Where?" Tony yelled out, c.o.c.king his hatchet arm and looking to crush something dead.

Death swung the light back to the front of the cabin just as a plank popped off a window. Two bodies oozed into the room, reaching for the floor. Tony made to run for them, but something landed on his back, something that smelled like the deep earth. He twisted and saw the three zombies latching onto him. The sight of those undead grins froze him to the spot. They piled onto the man, forcing him to the ground. Tony felt skeletal fingers brush against his chest and bare throat. He tried to get up, but both arms were pinned. The flashlight beam whipped overhead, allowing Tony a glimpse of the horror slowly descending for his throat. The zombie's jaws hissed open wide, a burst of rancid breath making his stomach heave.

"Tony!" Death blared out. "Tony!"

Somewhere, Tony heard more wood shrieking as they were pulled or ripped from their nails. More thumps. That was it. The citadel had been breached. The natives were inside the barricades. But how, he thought madly and knew the answer immediately. The window in the toilet! Tony gnashed his teeth.

They were f.u.c.ked.

Death was shouting something, but Tony did not hear. He only saw the rotten shards of teeth descending, going for his throat in cinematic slow motion. He couldn't believe how slow the thing was moving. He had to do something, so Tony squirmed like he had never squirmed before.

Then, he lost it and just screamed.

Chapter 63.

In the back seat of the Sunbird, where the only light was red from a lit-up dashboard, Danny kept his eyes on a grimacing but fully conscious Stickman. The Stickman could feel the anger emanating from the giant man opposite him, but he had not fully recovered all of his strength to deal with the situation. When he did, he would deal with Danny Boy, the other half of the Beacon bouncers. Stickman knew why the man was here. He was here for him, and the Stickman didn't blame him in the least. He had, after all, f.u.c.ked up his boss and co-worker. That was reason enough for revenge in his book. After all, the Stickman was on the same mission himself. But he was not about to let him slow or stop him in getting his hands on Levin first. When Levin was done, Danny Boy would get his dance, for better or for worse.

"You boys know where we're heading?" Lucy asked as she drove. They did not answer her, and Lucy glanced into the rear-view mirror. Both men were coiled up back there like two rare but dangerous snakes eyeing each other. There wasn't much room for men of their size, but there was a s.p.a.ce between both that was being kept. Lucy did not know what would happen if one of them infringed upon that s.p.a.ce.

She looked ahead, seeing the red-eyed tail lights of the car leading them. Fear's car. It was no mistake that he had gotten here.

"Oh, c'mon, guys..." Lucy trailed off, and then the red eyes of the car ahead seemed to charge her. Lucy slammed on her brakes and thumped her forehead off the steering wheel. She felt her seat push ahead as Danny's ma.s.s ploughed into her from behind. Then, they were still, just breathing while the wind outside whispered and dared them to come out and play. Gripping the steering wheel, Lucy righted herself and gazed ahead. The headlights lit up the Celica's rear. It had stopped in what she could see was a wall of snow. Fear and his man had driven right into it. What was worse, none of them were driving any further on this old road. The gathered snow made it impossible. Sighing heavily, Lucy watched as Fear and the man she did not know got out of the car. She felt the latch of her own door and pulled it.

It was freezing outside, and the rising wind made it worse. Wind chill, Lucy's mind whispered, conscious of the immediate s.h.i.+vering all over her body.

Fear walked over to her.

"Didn't see that, did you?" Lucy asked him. His dark, almond eyes studied her, but he said nothing. That was one of the reasons Lucy disliked Fear. He only paid attention to you when he had to.

"We'll walk on," Fear said, snow blowing by his face. He planted his hands deeply into the pockets of his heavy winter coat.

By this time, Crew had joined them. Danny and Stickman stood behind Lucy, eyeing each other warily. Crew's head came up like a hound that had caught the scent of something when he spied Stickman. Fear did not miss the man's interest. He did not miss the guarded positioning of the three Mundanes. He would not have any of it.

"You do as I say," he spoke to them. "Understood?"

Tendrils of fear grabbed their attention. This time, Lucy allowed it. Whatever thoughts of revenge they might have had fled.

"You could have just asked them," Lucy commented. She pulled her toque down as much as possible over her freezing ears.

"Asked them?" Fear h.o.a.rked and spat. "That's what I think about that."

Lucy scowled. She really disliked this one.

"So, what do we do?" she asked, allowing him to take the lead before he just took it.

"We march." Fear said.

"In this?" Lucy asked in dismay. Snow swirled in and around the headlights of the sunbird. The Celica's lights were under a bank of snow. "How far?"

Fear smirked. "As far as we have to go." b.i.t.c.h, he mentally projected.

He turned to the three Mundanes. "Which one of you has a flashlight?"

Stickman slowly raised his hand.

"Get it," Fear commanded.

The Stickman jumped to it.

"You're an a.s.shole," Lucy said with loathing.

Fear ignored her. She could walk with them or stay right here and take her chances. Then, Stickman was back and handing Fear a long security flashlight, the kind that could club a seal to death. Fear did not take it.

"Get on ahead," he ordered the Stickman. "Shout when you see a side road."

The Stickman trotted away, the flashlight beam coming to life and zigzagging in the deep night. He wanted to run but fought down the urge. Lucy was back there. He didn't want to leave her. He climbed the bank of snow and disappeared over its peak.

Fear fell into step but ten strides behind Stickman. On a mental note, he tugged both Crew and Danny into following else their hearts explode. Fear did not care in the least. He did not need or require any of these cattle, and he sent forth a single pulsating thought to clear the way to his objective. Fear was on the way. He was the cavalry. He was the light brigade. He was the f.u.c.king fist of G.o.d.

Lucy watched the four figures and quickly fell into step behind them. She did not want to be left behind out here. Not with the monster on the loose.

And somewhere behind her.

Chapter 64.

"Get up you stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d, get up!"

The sound pierced the darkness of Tony's mind, and he slowly opened his eyes. It was black inside the cabin. It was cold. A wind blew, coming from the wrecked barricades. Tony breathed deeply of that fine, freezing air. He was still amongst the living and was thankful for it. But where were the walking dead?

He slowly contracted his abdomen and rose like a vampire rising from its coffin, groaning as he did so.

"There you are," Death's voice said, relieved. "Thought some zombie bit your d.i.c.k off."

The thought made Tony wince. "What happened?"

"h.e.l.l if I know. This place was swarming with them undead c.o.c.ksuckers, and then, they all just up and left. Like they got wind of something. You sure as f.u.c.k didn't have anything to do with it. Christ almighty. You moved around the place like your ball sack was nailed to one place."

Tony struggled to his feet. He teetered for balance and made his way to the couch. Death was still there, s.h.i.+ning the flashlight at the ceiling. Tony crashed down onto its softness with a groan and the sound of straining wire springs. The relief he felt was second only to the joy of being alive.

"They were on me," Tony muttered.

"Who was on you?" Death said. He studied the man from his side of the couch. He looked terrible, but considering how he could have looked, Death was thankful.

"Those things," Tony said, sighing and letting his head drop to his chest. "Got in through the bathroom window and sneaked up on me. They were on me. Gonna bite me. My throat."

His hand found his neck and gave it a rea.s.suring rub. It was almost too much for his nerves to handle.

"Hey."

Tony glanced up and saw the Jack Daniels bottle being offered to him. There wasn't much left, but he took it, anyway.

"Thanks," he said and took a brutal sip. He made a face when he lowered the bottle, but he kept it close.

"You did well," Death informed him. "Just too many. We were overrun."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. He was thinking otherwise. He wanted the whole episode replayed, like a reloaded computer game on a difficult level. The ending would be different. He swore it would be.

"I know what I'm talking about," Death said quietly. "I've seen it before."

"Yeah? Where?"

Death chuckled. "Pick a war."

The words made Tony regard the figure on the couch in a new bewildering light. He was Death after all. He had already accepted that. But he had to really concentrate to even begin to comprehend the magnitude of his last words. Pick a war. He had been in every conflict there had ever been, from armies against armies, ma.s.s crus.h.i.+ng ma.s.s, to individual duels between gentlemen or savages. This man on the couch had been there.

Death was ageless.

Death had been around for it all.

Time is a human measure.

"Oh, man," Tony breathed under his breath.

"Oh, yeah," Death grinned. "Been there, done that. Did all of that, my boy. And more. That's just one part of my job. Want details?"

Tony thought about that. The wind blew softly through the cabin, and he felt himself s.h.i.+ver. He took another stiff sip of the whiskey and saw that there was only a swallow or two left. Then ol' Jack would be leaving them. "No," he said after a quiet moment. "I just want to take a breather."

Death regarded the man. Then, he considered the flashlight with its beam focused on the ceiling. He turned off the light to conserve battery power. The pair of them sat on opposite sides of the couch in the cold dark and respected the silence. And the silence stretched on.

"Did you?" Tony asked suddenly, a spectral voice in the dark. "Did you... meet anyone important?"

"Met them all," Death acknowledged with a solemn nod.

"Really?"

Tony could not see Death nod. "Yes," the missing boatman eventually stated. "I met them all."

"Like who?"

"Pick someone."

"Michael Jackson."

Death c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "Met him."

"What was he like?"

Death thought for a moment. "Scared."

"Really?"

"Most of them are. Were. Whatever. Despite their faith or beliefs, religious or not."

"Of what?"

"The other side," Death answered. "Of what was over there."

"What is?"

A smile in the darkness. "That's tellin'. Can't do that."

"b.a.s.t.a.r.d," Tony let slip before he could check himself. "Sorry. Didn't mean that."

"'S'okay," Death said. "I'm used to it."

"I guess you are."

"I am," Death said. "Why do you think I drink? Or abuse any other substance I can get my hands on?"

Thoughts ran through Tony's head. Then, a question formed in his mind. He cleared his throat. "You know my mom?"

A moment pa.s.sed before Death answered. "I'm aware of her."

"Why haven't you taken her over yet?"