Bonnie saw him coming and stood up on the boat shack, where she was standing guard. She was easily the tallest woman on the island, but that wasn’t what he noticed most about her. He didn’t have any trouble believing she used to be a model. In another time, another place, Keo might have decided dying tonight was worth it if that meant the possibility of getting into her good graces.
But that was then, and this was now. And right now, he had to get the hell off this island before he did something stupid…like decide not to.
“So you really are leaving,” Bonnie said.
“Afraid so.”
“Too bad. We were hoping you might stay awhile.”
“‘We’?”
“Everyone on the island.”
He sighed. He should have run instead of walked to his boat.
“Can’t,” he said.
“She must be some woman.”
“What makes you think there’s a woman?”
“Oh, come on. There’s always a woman. Plus, Carly told me.”
“Ah.”
“Is she pretty?”
“What do you think?”
“Must be. I just hope she’s actually there.”
Great. Who doesn’t know I’m the world’s biggest sucker?
“Gotta take the chance,” he said.
“So this is all on faith?” Bonnie chuckled. “Somehow, I never took you for the kind of guy who went on faith, Keo.”
“People change.”
“I guess so.”
Keo stopped next to Bonnie’s shack and glanced in the direction of the luxury yacht moored nearby. Maddie had expertly sidled the boat toward the back, as if she had done it a million times.
“What’s going on over there?” he asked. “Still searching for the eighth guy?”
“If he even exists,” Bonnie said.
“The captain thinks so.”
“But he’s not a real captain.”
“He had a captain’s hat.”
“Well, since he had a captain’s hat…,” Bonnie said, rolling her eyes.
“So what’s happening on the yacht?”
“Lara wanted to check something out.”
“She didn’t say?”
“Not to me. I guess she has a lot on her mind.”
“Guess so.” Keo started up the pier toward his boat. “See you around, Bonnie.”
“Later, alligator,” Bonnie said after him. “Don’t be a stranger.”
He turned around, but continued backpedaling down the pier. “Remember: Shoot first, shoot often, and reload fast.”
“Yeah, but I don’t have one of those grenade launchers,” she shouted after him.
He grinned. “Somehow, I think you’ll do just fine without one.”
He spun around and tossed the gym bag into the boat, then untied the line before climbing in. He put the M4 down next to the supplies and dug out the key Maddie had given him and powered on the boat. The outboard motor coughed for a bit, then caught a second later and filled the air with a loud ear-splitting roar. It sounded like a winner. Or close enough to get him to Texas.
Bonnie, still watching him from the shack, waved. Keo waved back.
He maneuvered the boat away from the pier and turned it around, then pushed the throttle forward. North took him further inland — with the soldiers waiting up there — but south took him to the Gulf of Mexico. From there it was right toward the Texas coast and Santa Marie Island.
“So this is all on faith? Somehow, I never took you for the kind of guy who went on faith, Keo.”
No kidding. Neither did I.
Blaine appeared along the railing on the main deck of the Trident as he neared the big boat. The big man waved and Keo returned it, even though doing so made him feel like a fraud. He didn’t see Lara or Maddie or the other kid, Roy. Which was just as well. If he had to fake another good-bye wave, he might decide to end it all now with a silver bullet to the temple.
Keep going. Don’t look back.
Gillian’s waiting. You’ve kept her waiting enough, don’t you think?
Damn straight.
Goddamn, you almost convinced yourself that time, pal.
He pushed the throttle up as far as it would go, and the boat dipped slightly behind him. The loud noise helped to drown out his thoughts, which was something he was very grateful for. Who knew a guilty conscience could be so loud and annoying?
Keep going, he told himself, and repeated over and over again. Keep going and don’t look back.
Just keep going…
CHAPTER 8
GABY
“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Nate asked.
Gaby had been massaging her shoulder for the last few seconds. The pain had lessened noticeably thanks to the painkillers, but every now and then (usually when she sat in one place for too long doing nothing, like now), it came back. It was a reminder of last night and the fight with the blue-eyed ghouls, as if she would ever forget it for as long as she lived.
“No, I’m fine,” she said.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
There was an edge to her voice that she hoped he didn’t catch, because she didn’t know where it had come from. She should be happy to see Nate alive and well, but for some reason she wasn’t. Not entirely, anyway.
“So that’s Danny, huh?” Nate was saying. “The way you talked about him, I thought he’d be prettier.”
“He was, until a few days ago.”
“What happened?”
A farmhouse. Blue-eyed ghouls. Will killing them, then cutting off their heads to keep an army of the black-eyed ones at bay all night.
You know, same-o, same-o.
“A lot of things,” she said. “Like how you’re supposed to be dead, but aren’t. Why is that, Nate?”
“I’m starting to think you’re not happy I’m alive.” He smiled. It was his attempt at being charming, but he didn’t have his heart in it and she saw through it.
“You’re supposed to be dead, Nate. Why aren’t you dead?”
He sighed. “I guess I wanted to live more.”
He shook his head and she could see him struggling with it, too. Gaby felt suddenly very guilty about not responding to his resurrection with the fanfare he had expected, and that she dearly wanted to give him but just didn’t know how.
“It’s a long story,” he said.
“We’re not going anywhere.”
“Maybe later…”
Gaby sneaked a look at him. She thought it was the absence of the absurd Mohawk that made him look somehow older, but she realized now that she had been wrong. It wasn’t the hair at all. Nate just seemed to have physically aged since the last time she saw him.
“Gaby,” he said. “It’s me. I swear it.”
She looked away, feeling very self-conscious about her own appearance. Nate didn’t look the same, but neither did she. Far from it. They had both changed so much in such a short time, in every way that mattered. She had the broken nose that still hurt if she touched it (which she did often, always forgetting why it was tingling), and the bruises and scars from the last few weeks that would never heal properly.
What did he see when he looked at her, she wondered.
“You’ll tell me everything later,” she said.
“I will. I promise.”
She nodded before refocusing back on Interstate 10.
Everything was where they had left it thirty minutes ago, including the white Ford truck and the overturned Nissan Titan further down the road, sitting in a pool of its own gasoline. The only thing missing was the red Chevy Silverado truck, which they had taken to replace their now-unusable vehicle.