Thom replayed the last minute in his mind.
"You did good," he admitted to his companion.
"I didn't do anything. Except nearly pee my pants."
"That is what I mean," he explained. "You did not shoot when our friend here jumped out. You remained in control."
"Yeah, well, I can't decide if it was the training or if I just froze."
Major Gant then turned to the stranger and told him, "I am Major Thom Gant of the United States Army," and then, with each syllable enunciated clearly and with emphasis, he ordered, "Situation report, Agent."
That commander's voice seemed to jolt the guy into some semblance of control. The Secret Service agent moved to a sitting position. He spotted Dr. Stacy and trembled as if expecting her to lunge at him. When she did not, he calmed. A little.
Thom saw professionalism in the man; it had merely been chased away by the events — whatever they had been — on the island.
"Agent Costa, Senator Kendal's security team." He wiped a hand over his brow and a splatter of sweat went flying. "Jesus."
Gant removed his night vision from overtop the bulky gas mask and squatted next to Costa. He softened his voice as they sat there in the dark. A nocturnal bird called from somewhere outside. Its song sounded more like a cackling frog than a feathered fowl.
"Where is your charge, Costa?"
"The senator? Out there." He nodded toward the night outside the bungalow. "He's dead. When the … when we got overrun he bolted out the back. Before I could … before I could …" Costa took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and then exhaled. "Before I could reach him they had him on the ground. Swarmed … swarmed all over him. Nothing … awe shit, there was nothing I could do."
"I don't understand," Stacy broke in. "You said he was out there, and then you said he was dead. We didn't see his body."
That surprised Costa.
"Wait a sec. You haven't seen them yet? You haven't… You haven't …" he glanced about nervously, grabbed his useless weapon from Gant's hand, and stumbled to his feet.
Major Gant told him, "We received the Edelweiss signal and dropped in a few hours ago. We have conducted a perimeter sweep and seen nothing. What attacked you?"
Costa said, "The, ah, the phone was blocked at first … the satellite phone."
Gant reacted by retrieving a sat-phone from his utility belt. As Costa talked, Gant confirmed "no signal" on his unit.
"We should have gotten a signal. I did get one — just for a second or two. Just enough to get out the mayday. Then, um, then it was jammed again. Yeah, that's what I think; I think it's being jammed. I tried all day while I was hiding out by the airstrip. The senator's plane had come in but they already got the pilot. I can't fly shit, you see? You understand?"
"Who? Who got the pilot?" Gant asked.
Costa rambled on, "They got sight of me around midday … chased me down to the beach but I doubled back and lost them. I could hear some people screaming and some gunshots; yeah, I think the constable's deputy might have put up, you know, a fight. I saw a whole shitload of them rip apart this old couple on the tennis courts. Beat them … clawed them … and especially … especially, they bite …"
"Who? What?"
"Three of them had me boxed in over by the spa. I got them … well, I got two of them and managed to, you know, get away from the last."
Gant grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Agent Costa, what was the nature of your attacker? Who? What?"
Costa cleared his throat and locked his eyes on Gant.
"Major, it's some kind of disease or something. But worse than that. The people on the island here … they're like a mob … you can shoot them, Major, and sometimes they go down and sometimes they don't. I knocked one of the bastards down with one shot in the shoulder. But others didn't go down until their bodies got ripped to shreds. I emptied entire clips from my MP into just one of them and it kept coming. When I switched to my SIG, I actually put one down with just a single shot. It doesn't make any sense. Do you hear what I'm saying? I hope you brought a battalion with you."
Gant let go of his shoulders and eased away, considering what he had just heard.
Costa glanced at Dr. Stacy, then back to Gant.
"Wait a second. You're just a recon team? There's just the two of you? Are you kidding me? I called in Edelweiss! That's what the books says!" The tentative control he had gained over his voice faded. "It says that's what you do when you see some messed up shit that you can't explain and the regular Joes can't handle it and Jesus friggin' Christ please tell me you got the 101st Airborne dropping in here tonight or we are SHIT OUT OF LUCK!"
Movement on the porch stopped his rant.
Specialist Wells came inside.
"Jupiter, I told you to stay outside and cover us."
Costa: "Oh great, three of you? Just three?"
To Gant's surprised, Stacy told the agent to shut up. No doubt, her apprehension had risen exponentially at the man's wild ramblings and seemingly crazed disposition. Again, Thom realized that Stacy would have to learn to keep outside influences from affecting her thinking.
Yeah, Thom, just like you do. Sure nice suit of armor you got there. Keep telling yourself that.
Wells said, "Sorry, sir, but there's movement coming up the main road. Not much, but I heard someone coming. Real quiet like."
"They don't make any sounds," Costa mumbled. "You'd think they would groan or something like in the movies. They always groan and shit in the movies. And in the movies you can shoot them in the head but that isn't working this time! Why don't they go down when you shoot them in the head?"
Wells regarded the agent and his babbling as if he were a leper. Major Gant moved to the front door and scanned ahead with his night vision goggles. He quickly dropped to a knee with his weapon raised to firing position.
"Thom? What is it?" Stacy asked.
"They found me! You led them right to me!"
Wells snapped, "You're the one shouting, man. I could hear you all the way outside. Shut your ass."
Stacy repeated, "What is it? What's coming," and she joined Gant at the door with her night vision reactivated.
"People," Gant told them. "A whole mess of people walking this way. Walking real slow."
Stacy cocked an ear and listened. She heard a gentle breeze rustle the treetops and the distant gush of the ocean lapping the beach. Below it all … distant and faint … a shuffle. A fallen branch snapping underweight. The scuffle of a shoe on gravel.
"Major," Wells suggested, "maybe we should bug out."
"Out there, into the dark, where we can't see a thing? This is a good position to defend."
"Didn't work out so hot for him," Wells nodded at Costa. Gant ignored him.
"You'll run out of ammunition," the Secret Service agent warned. "Just like I did."
That grabbed Gant's attention. He turned to the agent and asked forcefully, "Can you function, Costa? Is your head on tight enough?"
"Yes." He cleared his throat. "I mean, yes, sir. But I don't have—"
Gant handed him his sidearm. Costa cocked the slide but seemed content to remain in the background.
Dr. Stacy peered over Gant's shoulder to view the perimeter.
"I don't see any — wait a second, something is moving out there. Someone walking around?"
Gant corrected, "Not one something, but a whole hell of a lot of someones."
Stacy gasped as her eyes adjusted enough to see what he saw.
The night tried to hide the danger but Gant saw them through his goggles. A mass of people shuffling forward in clumsy steps but making almost no noise. Their arms dangled awkwardly at their sides; some held their heads at uncomfortable angles, while others walked straight and tall. They wore a wide variety of clothing: he spied the pastel blues and pinks of tourists; a cocktail dress; a waiter's formal wear; a couple of men in white shirts with gray pants sporting what he thought might be EMS insignia of some kind but he could not discern details. Dozens of people dressed in a dozen different ways.