A sigh. “Listen, those infected still have the cabin surrounded. We’re going to try something to get them out of there. Keep an eye out, but don’t approach until we give you the all clear. You copy?”
“Roger that,” I said. “What are you going to do?”
“Something probably not very smart. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour or so. We’ll be out of range for a while, but we’ll be back in touch with you as soon as we can.”
“Okay. I’ll let the others know.”
“Thanks, kid. Talk to you soon. Out.”
I hung the radio on its cradle and looked down to see Sophia staring at me.
After spending ourselves the night before, she had lain exhausted against me for a while, arms tight around my neck, her labored breath warm against my neck. Then she sat up, smiled sweetly, and told me she had wanted to do that for years. We kissed, and after a few minutes I felt a certain part of me come back to life, so I carried her to one of the wide benches where we made love again, slowly this time. Afterward, I got a blanket from belowdecks and we fell asleep to the sound of wind over water.
She reached up a hand to my cheek and smiled wanly. “My fucking head hurts.”
I laughed. Not just a chuckle, but a full-bellied guffaw that brought tears to my eyes and made my stomach cramp just a bit. Sophia slapped me, but without much enthusiasm.
“You’re such an asshole.”
I leaned down and kissed her. She smelled of sweat and sex and the whiskey she drank the night before, but I didn’t care. Something inside me, something ratcheting down with each passing day, something I knew was starting to fray at the seams, to pop its stitches, to bleed through the bandages, had finally let go. It felt good, and I didn’t ever want to feel any other way. I wanted to lay on that bench with Sophia and feel her soft lips against mine and forget the whole damn rest of the world.
I was beginning to consider an encore performance when Sophia gently pushed me away. Her skin was flushed, breath coming quickly, nipples erect against my chest. “Settle down, stud. We need to wake the others.”
I groaned and pulled her closer. “Do we have to? Can’t we just lay here for a while?”
When she looked at me, all the sarcasm and cynical mockery she’d shown over the last few weeks was gone. There was something else in her eyes, now. Something kinder, and open, and warm, and it pulled me in like a singularity consuming a star.
“Believe me, Caleb, there’s nowhere I’d rather be. But this is important. My Dad is out there. Yours too.”
The sun chose that instant to break the horizon, piercing the clouds and lighting Sophia’s face a bright shade of honey gold. I watched the way her irises seemed suspended in that burnished glow, as if floating in amber. “You’re right.” My thumb traced her cheek and came to rest at the corner of her mouth. “Just one question.”
“Hmm?”
“Why did you wait so long?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Hollow Rock, Tennessee
“Now I know what you meant.” Miranda said.
“About what?”
“About not liking what I was going to hear.”
Caleb laughed quietly. After lunch, he and Miranda had gone for a walk to Stall’s tavern. They had taken a table outside and ordered two tall glasses of what Mike Stall called his Special Hard Cider. Really, it was whatever fruit juice he could get his hands on laced with grain liquor.
A few high, wispy clouds had moved in, but it was still a bright, pleasantly warm spring day—not unlike the morning Caleb had woken next to Sophia on Dale’s boat. He looked across the table at Miranda, at how much she resembled Sophia, the biggest differences being Miranda’s curvier body and blue eyes, and wondered if his feelings for her were just a coincidence.
“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Caleb said.
“I could, but I would be lying.”
“Anybody worth mentioning?”
She shook her head, eyes fixed on her glass. “Not really.”
The conversation lulled for a while, and Caleb could tell she was working her way up to something. It went through a few fits and starts, until finally she said, “So what’s the big mystery here, anyway?”
Caleb frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Well … you talk about your past like you’re carrying some kind of dark secret. But so far, you haven’t told me anything I might not hear from any number of people. I mean, the Outbreak was brutal; it took a toll on us all. And I’m not trying to downplay what happened to you, or how awful it was. But I’ve heard worse. Hell, I’ve lived through worse.”
Caleb took a long sip of eighty-proof pineapple juice and sat back in his chair. “I’m getting around to it.”
“I’m not trying to rush you, I just ... you know what? I shouldn’t have said anything. That was stupid. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say.”
“It wasn’t stupid, Miranda. Tell you the truth, I’ve been dragging my feet.”
She reached for his hand. “Not your favorite subject, is it?”
“No. It’s not.”
“It’s okay if you want to stop. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”
“I kind of do, Miranda. I need to get it out.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
The server came by. Caleb ordered another round, and for the next couple of hours, he kept his voice low.
*****
Canyon Lake, Texas
Breakfast was instant grits and fried Spam.
Lauren, Lance and I washed ours down with coffee, whereas Sophia and Lola fled at the sight of food. After eating, I raided Dale’s liquor cabinet, whipped up a couple of Bloody Marys, and brought them topside. The girls’ spirits improved dramatically.
As the sun rose higher and a fine mist began to rise from the lake, I sat by the radio waiting in vain for it to squawk again. This lasted for the better part of a half hour, until Lola and Sophia declared the hair of the dog had eased its owner’s bite enough they could endure the short transit back to the cabin. Lance eased the boat forward while I used the windlass to pull in the anchor. We motored southward.
Rounding the bend in the shoreline, our view of the street was obscured by the houses lining the waterfront. Still, I could hear the unmistakable rumble of the Humvee’s engines followed by several cracks of a rifle. The infected walking aimless laps around the cabin whipped their heads in the direction of the reports, sending up an earsplitting clamor of moans.
“The heck are they doin’?” Lance muttered.
I stood beside him on the forecastle and shook my head. “No idea.”
A few minutes later, the strategy became clear. The sounds of engines and gunfire grabbed the undead’s attention as Dad and the others slowly led the horde away. I thought back to Perry Torrance, and how he seemed to know exactly where Tyrel and I were standing despite the fact he couldn’t see us, and a light bulb came on over my head.
“It’s sound,” I said.
Lance turned his head. “What’s that?”
“The infected. They hunt by sound.”
He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t follow.”
“Think about it. Their eyes are glazed over with that white stuff. They probably can’t see very well. Back at the Kennedys’ house, they didn’t notice us until we were close enough they could hear our footsteps. And look at what they’re doing over there on the shore. The infected can’t see the Humvee any better than we can, but they’re still following it. How else could they do that?”
Lance brought a hand to his chin and watched the horde wander after the Humvees. “You know, you may be on to something.”
An uneasy hour went by while we watched and worried, and the lamentations of the undead grew increasingly distant. Sophia and Lola went belowdecks to clean up while Lance and I sat by the radio, waiting. Lauren paced back and forth from the forecastle to the aft part of the main deck, chewing on her nails, muttering and cursing under her breath. Finally, a crackle of static broke the silence.