The Isles of Elysium

CHAPTER 27

“Hey, Keo, you in there?”

Steve.

Of course it was Steve, shouting like an idiot from somewhere outside the house, though where, exactly, Keo couldn’t quite pinpoint. Who else would it be? He hadn’t for a single second (okay, maybe for a few very optimistic seconds) thought the man was dead. It was too good to be true, and if everything he had gone through since the world ended had taught him anything, it was that when things were too good to be true they usually were-especially when he was involved.

If it wasn’t for shitty luck…

“One down, two to go!”

The man sounded like he was having fun, which was more than Keo could say for him and Jordan as he scrambled out of the main bedroom while keeping as far away from the cratered wall as possible. A cold gust of wind made him shiver involuntarily, and the scar along the left side of his face tingled, the first time in a long time.

“I could be wrong, of course. It’s kind of dark out here. Hard to see.”

His one big advantage was the stairs. There were plenty of ways to get into the house-the back door, the front door, the windows-but there was only one path up to the second floor. He moved in a crouch toward it now and leaned against the wall, listening for sounds and vibrations that would signal entry.

Now this is familiar, he thought, remembering the last time he was pinned on the second floor of a house.

“But it’s going to get even darker real soon, buddy.” The voice was clearly on the move, from the back of the house toward the front.

Earlier, Keo had locked the doors and windows on the first floor, but there were no additional (and obvious) barricades over the other entrances, just in case the creatures decided to look inside. It was a risk, considering everything Gene had preached about not messing with a house’s status quo, but Keo had to risk it. The idea of hiding inside a place that wasn’t locked on purpose made his skin crawl. And besides, Gene’s way of doing things hadn’t exactly worked out the last time he was on the island…

“You still alive in there, Keo? Don’t be shy! I thought we were friends?”

Think again, Keo wanted to shout back down, but held his tongue.

“Gillian’s still waiting for you back in town. You’ll be happy to know I’ve decided not to punish her. Or Doc Jay. They’re not responsible for your bad decisions, after all.”

Right. Steve hadn’t hurt Gillian because he was feeling generous. More likely it was because he needed her to keep Jay in line. Jay might not have the makings of a rebel, but every man had his limits. Harming a woman like Gillian, along with her unborn baby, was a good way to piss off one of the only two doctors in town.

Steve’s words made Keo feel a lot better about leaving Gillian behind in T18. Of course, that probably wasn’t Steve’s intent.

“Man up, Keo!” the man shouted now. “Don’t make me go up there! It’s not gonna be pretty if I have to do that!”

A brief silence. Maybe Steve expected him to respond. If so, he was going to have a long wait. Keo was too busy listening for the telltale signs of an impending assault, because he knew damn well one was coming. And soon.

“All right, have it your way!” Steve shouted.

Thanks for the warning, asshole, Keo thought, just as he heard the first bang! against the front door downstairs. That was followed by the crash! of glass panes as they began breaking their way through the windows at the same time.

He glanced behind him at Jordan, crouched near the open master bathroom door with the Remington in her hands, the AR-15 slung over her back. Her right eye had gotten much better in the last few hours, though at the moment he could really only see her left even with the thick pool of moonlight splashing inside through the gaping hole to their right-the result of some kind of grenade launcher, most likely.

He nodded at her and could just barely make her out giving him a crooked, almost wistful half-smile back, as if to say, This is it. We’re both going to die.

He couldn’t disagree, so he smiled back and turned around, then swapped the M4 for the Mossberg with the pistol grip. The 12-gauge pump-action shotgun was thirty-one inches long and held six shells. He had the rest stuffed into his pockets, but what he wouldn’t give for a shell carrier. Of course, what he wouldn’t give for a whole lot of things, including his MP5SD with the built-in suppressor. There were a lot of weapons still waiting inside the master bedroom’s tub, but one non-MP5SD was the same as another.

If wishes were assholes…

He faced the stairs again and pressed his left ear against the wall.

They were coming. The banging against the door had ceased, probably because they realized coming through the windows was easier. Right now, he could hear the crunch of glass under heavy combat boots. Then, in no time at all, those same sounds approaching the bottom of the stairs.

Definitely more than one. How many would Steve bring with him? That would depend on how many boats he had managed to land on Santa Marie Island without them noticing. He couldn’t have achieved that using the eastern marina. Dave would have seen them. And Keo had the western side scoped out, but by the time he had seen the lone boat, it was too late; they were already on the island.

Christ, how did they get on the island so fast?

Things weren’t adding up. If Steve had made it onto the island unnoticed, who was piloting the lone boat that landed at the western marina? Was that some kind of diversion? Draw his attention as they moved on the house?

Maybe. Steve was clever enough to do something like that. The guy had sent him out of T18 to be shot at, only to swoop in and decimate Tobias’s people. Many of the opponents Keo had met in the last few months had been devoid of tactical ability, but Steve wasn’t one of them. Far from it.

And Dave. Shit. He was either dead or lying somewhere on the first floor under some rubble. Either way, Dave wasn’t going to be much help right now. Keo just hoped it was at least a fast trip to the afterlife for the poor guy. He hadn’t really gotten to know Dave all that well, but he’d liked the man nonetheless.

Focus.

He didn’t have very long to wait for Steve to show his hand. Keo didn’t so much as see the man’s head as he spotted the protruding lens of the night-vision goggles peeking around the corner before turning up the stairs.

Keo fired, buckshot tearing into the NVG and shattering the lens, slamming into flesh and bone on the other side.

Even as the body collapsed, a second man appeared, jumping over his fallen comrade. The man landed on the second step and was lifting a laser-equipped M4 when Keo racked the Mossberg and put the contents of the second shell into the man’s chest. The black-clad figure was flung back by the blast, tripped over the body behind him, and did an almost impressive backward flip onto the living room floor.

They took the hint after that and he heard heavy footsteps, this time moving away from the staircase.

Keo took advantage of the momentary retreat and grabbed two shells from his pocket and fed them into the shotgun. Behind him, he heard Jordan crouch-walking over to his position, her labored breathing doing more to alert him than the crunch of her boots over debris strewn across the floor.

“You okay?” she whispered.

He nodded. “Anything going on back there?”

She shook her head. “I don’t see anything. They’re either all inside the house already, or they’re sticking to places I can’t see from the back window.”

“What about the rest of the island?” He thought about adding, “What about them,” but Jordan already knew what he meant.

“I don’t know where they went,” she said. “It’s like they just disappeared. But it’s so dark out there, they could be right under the window and I might still not have seen them.”

That’s encouraging, he thought, smiling slightly to himself.

He focused back on the stairs.

“Do you really think they’re holding back?” Jordan asked. Like him the last time, she didn’t have to elaborate on who “they” were.

“I don’t know,” he said. “They did exactly just that a few nights ago when I was here with Gene. They were attacking when Steve showed up, then they retreated to let him finish the job.”

“That’s…freaky.”

“You haven’t seen freaky yet,” he said, memories of the blue-eyed creature at the T18 marina flashing back across his mind.

“What now?”

“Wait them out, if we can.”

“That’s a big if.”

So what else is new?

“Keo!” a voice shouted from below, very close to the stairs. Steve again. Who else would it be? “Nice shooting.”

“Thanks!” Keo shouted down. “Close quarters! That’s kind of my specialty, didn’t I tell you?”

“Yes, you did. It must have slipped my mind.”

“Consider those two bodies a reminder.”

“I was right about you. You’re just too dangerous to ever be fully trusted. I should have trusted my instincts and taken you out of the equation when you showed up at the bridge.”

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda, pal.”

Steve chuckled. “Who’s still up there with you? Tobias’s girl? I know Dave’s dead. That’s his name, right?”

“How’d you know?”

“One of the cafeteria cooks didn’t show up for work this morning. Wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

“And here I thought you were dumb as a rock, Steve.”

Another forced chuckle. “Bye-bye, Dave, it was nice not knowing ya. I put a grenade round into the window where he was standing myself. I know, I know, big time movie cliche, right? Kill the black guy first? But I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that; not being a movie guy and all. Anyway, what’s that’s saying? Payback’s a real bitch.”

Keo exchanged a look with Jordan, and she looked back at the crater behind them, the pieces of clothing (Dave’s) still stuck among the debris.

“How’d you sneak onto the island without us seeing you?” Keo shouted down.

“That’s your problem, Keo,” Steve said. “You think you have everything figured out. But it never occurred to you that my guys have been keeping an eye on Santa Marie Island for months now. Those marinas aren’t the only way onto the island, sport. Dave learned that lesson the hard way.”

Keo cursed himself. He had chosen the two-story house on the hill because it gave them an expanded view of the island, along with both marinas. If he had known there were other ways onto the place, he would have opted for hiding instead, the way Gene had done the last few months when he continually evaded Steve’s people.

Live and learn, pal.

“How many men you got left down there, Steve?” he called down.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Steve said. “I got plenty more where they came from.”

“I’m sure the rest of your guys are glad to hear you say that.”

“Don’t you worry about my boys. Everyone knows where they stand. You have to, or you’ll get stepped on.”

“You come up with that yourself?”

“You like it?”

“Eh, could use some work.”

“You wanna workshop it with me?”

“Sure, why not? Come on up and we can do that right now.”

Steve let out a strained laugh. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I got a bottle of J amp;B up here. Let’s have a drink.”

“Nah, I’m going to have to pass.”

“You’re no fun.”

Keo waited for a response, but he didn’t get one. At least, not for a while.

He thought he might have heard some back and forth whispering below him, though. Some kind of argument that was getting more heated by the second.

“Sounds like the villagers are getting restless!” Keo shouted. “Maybe you shouldn’t have let them know just how expendable they were in your eyes.”

He waited for a comeback, but there was only silence.

“Steve? You still down there, ol’ buddy? Talk to me.”

“You know what?” Steve shouted up. His voice had changed, and whereas before he had been cavalier-even though Keo didn’t believe it for a second-there was none of that pretense now. “I’m tired of this shit. I’m tired of you. I was going to drag you back to town and string you up in the fields like a scarecrow to make an example of you. Show your girlfriend and the Doc that I could be nice, but there was a limit to my generosity. But as far as I’m concerned, it’s mission accomplished. I got what I needed-Jack’s killer in pieces.”

Keo looked back at Jordan and was about to tell her to get ready, but he didn’t have to. She already knew, and she nodded back at him and clenched her teeth, mentally preparing herself for what was coming next.

“There’s more than one way to skin a cat,” Steve was shouting, his voice rising noticeably. “You want to stay on this island? You’re going to have to fight its residents for it! You know who I’m talking about, Keo?”

Keo knew exactly who he was talking about.

“Here they come right now,” Steve said. “Good luck-”

Someone screamed, cutting off whatever Steve was about to say, followed by the sound of glass breaking. Then someone-no, more than one-opened fire, the pop-pop-pop of automatic rifles filling the first floor below them. The renewed burst of activity was sudden and ferocious, and for a few seconds Keo remained crouched and frozen. He listened, unable to pull away even if he had wanted to.

For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was a trick. Some elaborate game concocted by Steve to mess with their heads. But the more he heard, the more he realized it wasn’t. Those were real screams down there. Real gunfire, and the very real sounds of men dying.

Steve’s men.

Keo stood up, said, “Go!”

She was already up and moving, and he followed her straight into the master bedroom.

Frantic screaming continued from below them as he slammed the door shut and hurried over to help Jordan push and drag the wooden dresser over. The continuous gunfire rattled under his boots and Keo did his best to ignore them. He concentrated on getting the goddamn heavy furniture over to where he needed it, grunting through stabbing pains from his thigh and shoulder the entire time. He should have sutured both of the wounds earlier. Shit.

Shoulda, woulda, and totally screwed, pal.

Finally-finally! — they got the dresser all the way across the room and slammed it up against the door. It went up only halfway, leaving the top half vulnerable. Keo had seen what the ghouls could do when they were determined enough to get into a closed room, and he had a very bad feeling they were going to be very, very determined tonight.

They stumbled back, out of breath, listening to the gunfire rattling on and on below them, even though every gunshot sounded as if it were coming from right in front of them, on the other side of the door.

“It won’t hold,” Keo said. “It’ll never keep them out. Not all night.”

“I know,” Jordan said.

They started looking around for more things to block the door with. There was a nightstand, but it was too slim and probably wasn’t even worth carrying over. A large full-length mirror on a swivel in one corner had a sturdy look to it. And then there was the bed. A large king-size, worthy of being put into a master bedroom on a two-story house on an island hillside. It was going to be heavy, too. Really heavy. It was bad enough he was moving on a gimpy leg and a bum arm, and now he was going to have to carry that monster.

Shut up and do it!

Jordan saw where he was looking, and they both moved toward it simultaneously when-

Silence.

The shooting and screams from downstairs had stopped.

There was no prelude, no hints that it was winding down. It had simply just…stopped.

They stared at each other, and he guessed her confused face probably mirrored his own.

What the hell had Steve’s people been shooting at? Was it the ghouls? But that didn’t make any sense. If the creatures had let them onto the island and then ignored them, allowing them to assault the house, why would they attack now?

What was that Steve had said just before the gunfire started?

“Here they come right now. Good luck!”

Except Steve wasn’t going to stop at “good luck.” He was going to say something else, but never got the chance.

Why? What was out there? What did he think was “coming”?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t anything Steve had expected. The screams and shooting were proof of that. So what-

Something flickered at the corner of Keo’s eye and he spun around, unslinging the Mossberg at the same time. A black object was moving outside the back window just a split second before it smashed its way inside.

Jordan ducked her head against the flying glass, but Keo didn’t have that luxury. He was too busy lining up a shot. Between raising the shotgun and pulling the trigger, he had just enough time to register that it was a man that had crashed its way through the window.

No, not a man. Not exactly.

It was a ghoul wearing a long trench coat, the flaps swirling around him (it) like some kind of cape. Its eyes glowed blue against the semidarkness of the room and it began standing up, lengthening its impossibly gaunt frame like some kind of contortionist.

It seemed to stretch and stretch, the coat fluttering around its painfully thin legs (Like chopsticks, I can break those with my bare hands, Keo thought), and although he was sure it was just the moonlight and shadows playing tricks with his mind, he swore the damn thing had to be well over seven feet tall.

He pulled the trigger, the loud boom! ear-splitting in the closed confines of the master bedroom.

He didn’t know how the creature did it, but it twisted its body to avoid most of his shot. But it wasn’t quite fast enough-it didn’t help that it was partially still straightening up from the floor when Keo fired-and half of the buckshot tore into its left side and the rest slammed into the wall behind it. Keo had fired without aiming, because there hadn’t been any time. He had simply pointed at the biggest part of the monster, even as Danny’s words echoed inside his head:

“If you see them, run the other way, Obi-Wan Keobi. Or shoot them in the head. That seems to work pretty well.”

The head.

Shoot them in the head!

He racked the shotgun and tilted the weapon up slightly, but before he could squeeze the trigger a second time, the thing moved.

No, that wasn’t true, because to say it moved meant Keo could see its body in motion. Because he couldn’t. Not really. Maybe it was the darkness and shadows and moonlight once again messing with his eyes, but Keo swore he only saw a black blur (Like back at the T18 marina…) just before the shotgun was jerked out of his hands.

It was so swift, so unmercifully forceful, that he hadn’t quite come to grips with what had happened until the creature’s pruned black flesh filled his vision, because it was now standing in front of him. Tightened black skin seemed to be vibrating in the dark room and suffocating heat emanated from its eyes, even as an icy coldness radiated from every pore of its flesh. Those things shouldn’t have been possible, the incongruent nature of hot and cold warring inside Keo’s head.

He struggled to understand what he was seeing and feeling, but all he could focus on was the thin trickles of coagulated black blood dripping out of holes in the creature’s trench coat. Except Keo couldn’t see gaping wounds through the openings-if they were there, they had somehow healed themselves. He wished his own injuries were that efficient.

Why was it even wearing clothes at all, he wondered. The sight of the fabric wrapped around its elongated frame was almost absurd, and for a moment Keo wanted to ask the creature if it knew what it was.

Then, unfathomably, the creature spoke.

“Keo,” it hissed. “I’ve been looking for you.”