He wiped dampness from his brow, part mist, part sweat. He had to keep it together. He couldn’t afford to lose it now. This was his last chance. No doubt about that.
Steeling himself, he held the 12-gauge out before him and, crouching down low, jogged soundlessly across Chestnut. On the other side, he ducked into a dark alley and waited. Five minutes. Ten. Safe. They would’ve shown themselves by now if they were going to.
It took him maybe twenty minutes to maneuver the darkened streets.
The moon was still riding high, bloated and wide like a dead man’s eyeball. It created threatening shadows and illuminated the terrain. Bad and good. He saw no one, heard no one.
The only thing that stopped him was the sound of gunfire far in the distance.
Then it was gone—just a muted series of poppings, then nothing.
He wasn’t even sure he’d heard it. It was so vague that there was no way he could judge its direction. Maybe some of the normal ones were still alive and battling it out.
No matter, because he wasn’t going back.
If he got out, he’d bring the Marines back with him.
The houses began to be separated by vacant, weedy lots, industrial sites. Black windows reflected the moon, reflected the lone hunted man, but nothing more.
In the distance, he saw the river.
It wound like a black, glistening snake through the countryside. There was mostly open country bordering it on either side. Lou saw what he thought might be a pumping station off to the far left and a schoolhouse to the right. In-between there was a public access road and a boat dock.
But he saw no boats.
He saw only the moon riding the dark waters.
Okay, tough guy, he told himself, this is it. You wanted to go for a swim? Now’s your chance.
There was a fringe of trees near the dock. It would be the best point of entry.
He darted across the grass to the trees. Once in their shadows, he allowed himself to breathe again. He could smell the river now—wet and fishy. A cold mist blew off it. Its current was slow, but steady. The waters were dark and looked very deep.
He slid off the grassy bank.
The water was like ice, sluicing around his legs. He had to bite down on his lower lip to suppress the yelp of shock that twisted in his throat. Good Christ. If he stayed in too long, he’d be looking at serious hypothermia. Following the riverbank was out of the question now—he’d have to make a quick crossing.
It was an easy hundred feet of open, deep water.
He wasn’t much of a swimmer. There was no way he would be able to make it across with the shotgun. Far in the distance he could see the black hulk of the bridge. See dying fires smoldering away over there. Dark, still shapes waiting. He could smell the stink of wood smoke and worse odors.
You can’t go over there, dip shit, so get going.
Night birds called out in the sky.
He moved in further, feet slipping and sliding on the loose rocks and muddy bottom. The entire surface was like a mirror reflecting the bright moonlight. He looked up. The moon was fringed by a shaggy beard of gray clouds. The light would be gone soon. And was that better or worse?
His legs were getting numb.
The water was up to his waist now.
He wasn’t even a dozen feet into it yet. His breath was coming in short, sharp gulps, his body trembling violently from the chill wetness.
There was a splashing somewhere. The sound of something heavy being dropped or thrown in.
A fish?
A goddamn big one by the sound.
Shivering, the shotgun tight in his grip, Lou listened.
He heard the sound of water slowing rushing past, lapping at the banks and the dock. There was another splash off to his right.
He swallowed.
The river was getting deeper. Pretty soon, he’d have to dive in, swim for the opposite bank. The water was heavy in his nostrils with a dank, dark odor.
He didn’t like it at all.
Something brushed against him.
He almost screamed, stumbling back, nearly going under. He held the shotgun out. Yes, he could see it now. A large, long shape just beneath the surface. He got closer. He reached out, brushed it with his fingertips and felt flesh, cold and stiff like rubber. A body. A corpse. In the liquid darkness, there was no way to tell if it was male or female. The current carried it away sluggishly.
Lou let out a breath.
Nothing to be afraid of.
The body count in this town was going to be through the roof.
Nothing to worry about.
Of course, his brain began to wonder if that poor bastard had been trying to cross, too, and—
Another splash. Just off to his right now.
Ahead of him, there was something else.
Something floating.
Something round.
It had black filaments streaming around it like weeds. A head. Yes, the top of a head, hair swimming around it like deep-sea snakes. It rose up, breaking the surface.
Lou let out a muffled cry.
It was a woman, her face white as bleached flour. Her eyes were yellow dying stars, her grin was like needles in the moonlight.
Lou felt a scream building in his throat and he swallowed it down.
“Get away,” he heard his voice say. “Get away or I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
She didn’t move.
She just waited there with her face just above the sluicing water. He could hear her breathing with a rattling, diseased sound. She licked her lips. When her voice came it was clotted and thick as though she were speaking through a mouthful of seaweed: “Hide and seek,” she said.
And then her face disappeared slowly back down into the water like a sinking ship.
Lou waited.
A moment, then two.
Like a shark, she’s like a shark, showing her dorsal before going under for the attack…
With that in mind, he wheeled around wildly, trying to see movement, anything.
The water before him exploded with motion. Hands took his ankles, pulled his feet out from under him. He went down into the foul blackness, fought back to the surface.
She came at him from behind.
This time, as he fell, he brought the butt of the 12-gauge down with everything he had. He felt it strike something, something that gave. The hands were gone. When he pulled himself up this time he was farther out in the river. The water was up to his chest now.
And that had been her plan… to get him out in the deep water.
He started rushing to shore and she vaulted out of the water, her head catching him in the belly and tossing him back further. Swinging the shotgun underwater to keep her off him, but with little force, he broke the surface again, gulping for air. The water was nearly to the top of his shoulders now.
She was succeeding, his raging mind told him, pushing him out further and further.
He had to make it to the shore.
The water went calm and she was nowhere to be seen.
Lou made his break for it and then she came up again right in front of him.
She clawed wildly at his face. He felt her nails dig furrows in his cheek. She smelled like rotting fish. Her bloodless face was plastered with stringy hair, lit by a vicious grin.
He saw something catch the pale moonlight in her right hand.
He lurched back, felt a blade slice open his nose, then rip through his shirt into his shoulder. He brought the shotgun around and knocked her arm away as it made for a killing blow. He stumbled back and went underwater again.
Drop-off.
He plunged down into the deep blackness, felt his shoes brush tangled weeds. He was out of breath and needed air badly, but he would not submit. He’d play her game. Instead of making for the surface, he pushed himself along underwater with powerful kicking strokes and kept going until he sensed the river bottom beneath him. He came up again, the water just beneath his chest now. His heart was hammering, hitching painfully as it skipped beats.