The Saltwater Marathon (A Novella) Page 4

  I give Pedro and Stacy a hand and help them to their feet.

  “You guys ok?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” Pedro looks at her. “You?”

  She nods her head.

  “I thought we were fucking dead.” Pedro shakes his head in disbelief, then asks me, “How the hell did you know to do that with the extinguisher?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Well then maybe God blessed those shoes of yours after all.”

  I hold my hands up. “Let’s not get crazy. We’re still not out of the woods – or mall, yet.”

  The room is still glowing and it’s not just coming from the emergency lights.

  There are tiny blue-green glowing puddles everywhere. I kick one of these globs with my foot.

  “I bet that’s algae,” Stacy says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Bioluminescent algae. They have tons of it floating off the coasts of Puerto Rico.”

  “She’s right,” Pedro says with a nod. “When I was a kid, I used to go diving off the coasts of Vieques. Stuff was everywhere. It’s a big tourist attraction.”

  “Neat,” I say flatly. “Remind me to visit if we survive dealing with their well-evolved and pissed off parents.”

  Stacy kneels down and touches the glob, marveling at it. Meanwhile I’m marveling at her. The kid wavers between hysterical and fascinated in record time.

  “These things… they’re using the algae as their organic flashlights,” she says with a hint of awe. “Talk about an intelligent species,”

  “Yeah. Intelligent and wanting to suck face,” I say. “Let’s get the hell out of here already.”

  “I’m with you on that, papa,” Pedro says with a stern nod. “What’s the plan?”

  “The plan?”

  Out in the mall, we hear several more of those trademark shrill screams. We lean past the safety of the shelving, and catch three more of those floating sand dollars patrolling. Blue-green lights swerving back and forth. Looks like a dance floor out there.

  “The plan is… we’re going to run,” I say.

  “Run?” Stacy asks.

  “Yeah. We’re going to run like our asses are on fire. Like you’re in a marathon and the prize at the end is you get to wake up tomorrow and eat fucking pancakes with your family.”

  Stacy’s eyes fall. “If they’re still alive.”

  Pedro puts his hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure they’re ok, mija. We just got to get outta here, like the man said.”

  Stacy nods, yet still seems unconvinced. Her gaze never leaves the floor.

  “So where are we running to?” Pedro asks me.

  “I’m parked close to the Sears exit. That’s the closest exit I can think of, unless you know another way out?”

  “That would be the closest exit. I’m parked clear at the other end of the mall.” Pedro looks at Stacy. “What about you?”

  “I took the bus here,” she says.

  “Look, the entrance to Sears is a straight shot. I say we sneak out there, make sure those floaties are not nearby, and run,” I say. “Once inside, stick to the left. I’m parked on the south entrance.”

  The shrill screams creep into the store, but they sound further away. We glance outside and the sand dollar ships seemed to have disappeared. This is the main corridor of the mall, so it’s possible their search for people has taken them further away.

  Hopefully in the opposite direction from where we are headed.

  It’s odd how dim it is considering that it’s daytime. There are several sunroofs along the corridor, yet it’s almost dark as night out there. A few emergency lights provide some illumination but not enough to make a huge difference.

  “Why’s it so dark out there? It’s around noon, right?”

  “Man, that’s some good wine you got in there,” Pedro says and I’m confused. “Did you forget about the tropical storm that moved in overnight?”

  I did.

  Well.

  More accurately, I didn’t care. Because why would that matter to me?

  Storms are to Florida what earthquakes are to California. They just come with the territory.

  “Whatever.” I take a deep breath. “You guys ready to do this?”

  “Sure, but where exactly is your car?” Pedro asks.

  “I always park in the same spot; it’s a straight shot. Just under the big oak tree.”

  Under the big oak tree where Carmela and I would meet after work, do shots of whisky and screw in the backseat of my pimped out Chevy Camaro. I always kept a bottle in the glove compartment for our romp sessions. Naturally liquor helped to drown out my conscience. I had tinted windows, so no one could see us, but the possibility that someone could turned her on even more.

  She kept a pack of Marlboro Lights and a lighter in my car for those occasions when she said that I made her come like a waterfall. And if the sex was hot enough for her liking, she’d throw her legs across my lap, and fire up a cigarette.

  For someone so concerned about fitness and health, she smoked a shit-ton of cigarettes in my car.

  Thinking about it, maybe that was the scent of my undoing.

  The scent that Sirena picked up on, since I don’t smoke.

  I glance down at my hand, at my missing wedding ring–

  Pedro smacks my arm. “Hey!”

  I look at him.

  “The fuck’s wrong with you, nene?” Pedro asks with a snarl. “You keep drifting off to another world. Stay focused.”

  “Sorry.” I fake a laugh. “Nerves.”

  “Alright… but just don’t fall apart on us. I’d still like to get my fat ass to Vieques. ”

  I take another breath. I double-check my laces. Good and tight. “Now look – whatever you guys do, don’t look back.” I’m especially talking to Stacy because I have an unnerving feeling that she’s going to do the opposite. “Move quickly, but keep quiet. If all goes to shit, then I’ll give the word.”

  “The word to do what?” Pedro asks.

  “To start running. Got it?”

  Pedro gives me a thumbs up.

  “Got it…” Stacy says in a tone that’s completely unconvincing.

  Running is the last resort of course. Might make a lot of noise. If we could just sneak our way into Sears as stealthily as possible, that would be ideal.

  “Let’s do this,” I say as we creep towards the entrance to the store. I glance left, then right. No blue-green lights. No sand dollar ships. No jellyfish men.

  Either these things took off, or they’re just screwing with us. Regardless, we’ve got no choice. We’ve got to get outside, to the safety of my car, and this five hundred foot dash to Sears is the shortest route.

  I gesture for Pedro and Stacy to stay close. The fact that it’s uber quiet is kind of getting to me. I almost prefer the creatures’ wacked out screams to this empty silence.

  At least then we know where the hell they are.

  At the end of the hall – first base – Sears. The channel letters above the entrance are barely illuminated by an emergency light.

  “Ohmygod,” Stacy whispers. “What’s all that?”

  “All what?” I ask, but then I see what she’s pointing out – a river of shriveled bodies littering the hallway. There must be at least two hundred of them, crumpled up like piles of dirty laundry. I’m almost thankful for the dim lighting, sparing me from seeing the screams frozen on these poor peoples’ faces as they were dehydrated like human jerky.

  “Let’s not end up like them, ok, mija?”

  Stacy wipes at her eyes, shakes her head no.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “I can’t – I can’t – I can’t do it,” she says pulling back into the store. “I’d rather just stay here, until help comes.”

  “Help’s not coming,” Pedro says.

  “How do you know that?”

  Pedro says nothing. Just stares at her.

  He doesn’t know.

  But we do know what happens if we sit around
and wait.

  More of them might show.

  “All we’ve got to do is make it inside,” I say, pointing towards Sears, “and we’ll be halfway there.”

  More head shaking and tears. Stacy is quickly dissolving into a slobbering mess. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m scared. I mean, look at me,” she says as she tugs at her extra-large UCF sweatshirt. “I’m not exactly an athlete. I can’t run that fast.”

  Something comes over me. I grab her by the collar and her eyes grow as big as moons. “We’re doing this. You stay, you die. Tu comprende, chica?”

  If I do survive this, maybe I’ll join Pedro. Work on my Spanish.

  She wipes her face with her sleeve, sniffles, and shakes her head. Lets out a weak, “okaaaay.”

  I turn to Pedro, “Let’s go.”

  The spotlights provide little to no illumination. We step out cautiously into the main corridor. Thunder roars above us. Rain begins to pelt the sunroof glass. Sounds like there’s an entire marching band drumline above our heads.

  We move swiftly, like rabbits hopping over logs – logs being dead people.

  It’s weird.

  I try not to look at them too closely, only enough that I don’t trip. Pedro and Stacy follow close behind me as we trek across this morbid obstacle course.

  My heart rams at the walls of my chest. We’re making good headway. We keep as close to the storefront entrances as possible so we don’t stick out. Then again, as dark as it is in here, if those things even have eyes, I’m not sure how good their eyesight is.

  We keep moving, just a hundred feet away. I can hear Pedro huffing, and we’re not even jogging. Just strutting, speed walking, and then hopping. Little bunny hops over people withered up like dried mushrooms.

  The Sears sign may as well be above the gates of heaven. Beyond them, freedom. We’ll jump in my car and get the hell out of here.

  “Keep moving,” I whisper back to them, hoping that they don’t give up–

  Just a few feet in front of me, one of the bodies comes to life. It gets to its feet and my first thought is – oh God, not zombies too.

  No.

  Not zombies.

  The crappy light from the spotlights hits its face just right.

  It’s one of them.

  Gas mask. Mouth piece. Dark goggles.

  I’m sure if it could smile, it would be doing that. Guess these jelly-heads are smart too. It was laying there waiting for us.

  Fucker.

  I stop short in my tracks. Pedro and Stacy bump into me, mid-stride. They see it too. It shrieks, arms bowed, chest puffed. Thing looks like it just got back from the gym – it’s bigger than the other one we encountered.

  Screams louder too.

  Screams as if to let his buddies know there’s fresh meat in the food court.

  Several ropes fan out from its chest.

  Stacy turns and bolts back to GameGlobe.

  “Stacy!” Pedro calls after her – but the chick is faster than she let on. She’s bee-lining right for my shop.

  Another scream, and the ropes rocket for us – but not before I charge in and stuff the scissors right into its windpipe.

  It freaks, same as his buddy. Yanks the scissors out, emptying like a damn water balloon – and within seconds, he shrinks to the ground, reduced to a pile of wet clothes.

  Meanwhile, Stacy is almost back at the store. Pedro calls out once more, but she has completely written us off. She’s almost inside when something lands on her – globs of blue-green, like she’s been hit by phosphorescent paintballs.

  She stops dead in her tracks. Examines the globs.

  Then we hear the shrill screams. Several dozen black ropes rain down on her. Within seconds she’s completely swallowed up by the tentacles.

  The next screams are all hers.

  I look up.

  Two of those sand dollar ships are floating up close to the ceiling. They must’ve been there this whole time – watching us – hiding under the cover of darkness.

  “Stacy!” Pedro moves like he’s going back for her, but there’s not a chance in hell of that.

  Stacy has already been airlifted into their possession, and as we watch her being yanked up towards the ceiling, I realize my count was wrong.

  There aren’t two sand dollars up there.

  There’s two dozen. Shifting, bumping, and jiggling about, like vultures on a wire waiting to come down and feed.

  I grab Pedro’s shoulder, spin him around. “KEEP MOVING!”

  Two hundred feet to go.

  We’re hauling ass now.

  The blue-green cones of light rain down in all directions as if powered by some great disco ball from hell. We’re jumping over bodies like we’re trying to win a gold fucking medal. Meanwhile, the frenzied screams above our heads grow deafening.

  “Almost there!” I yell. “Go! Go! Go!”

  I’ve never been as excited to get to Sears as I am right now.

  We’re running as fast as we can, and not only are they raining cones of blue-green light, but the ships are flinging those blobs on us as if to mark us.

  One hundred feet to go.

  I hear Pedro panting. Sounds like he’s about to have a heart attack.

  “KEEP GOING!”

  Something zips past my head. Then something whizzes past my cheek, then my shoulder.

  Ropes.

  They are taking shots at us.

  More of them zip down, at all angles, but we keep running.

  Sweet Nikes don’t fail me now.

  Fifty feet.

  “KEEP GOING!”

  “I AM!” Pedro yells.

  Something cold and wet hits the back of my neck. Feels like someone threw Jell-O at me. I’m sure it’s one of the blue-green blobs. Whatever.

  Just gotta keep running.

  “MY LEG IS CRAMPING” Pedro howls.

  “I DON’T CARE! KEEP GOING!”

  Ten feet and something slices the side of my ear. I shout, cup it, and continue running.

  The screams intensify. Sounds like they are right behind us. Maybe they are, maybe they aren’t. I don’t care. Just want to get inside...

  And we do.

  Chapter 4

  I hear a loud thud behind us. Instinctively we turn around and see a sand dollar ship fall in front of the entrance. Followed by several letters landing on it. Guess the dipshit misjudged and crashed right into the Sears sign.

  Good.

  But the others are not far behind.

  Looking like a flock of ravens, the sand dollar ships fly towards us in one big black cloud of hunger.

  “I got an idea,” Pedro says, pointing at the wall. “Let’s shut the security gate.”

  Along the wall, I see it. A big round button. Keys left in it.

  And instinctively I smack it.

  Nothing happens.

  “Shit!”

  I look at Pedro. We exchange glances.

  Oh yeah.

  Power’s out.

  The ships are closing in.

  But these gates also come with a manual closer. Basically a metal rod with a special hook on the end. Shove that baby up into the aperture and home run – gate closes.

  We just might luck out. Sometimes it’s left close to the entrance where it can be easily accessed – hidden, but left close by nonetheless.

  And sure enough, tucked between a shelving system and the wall - the closing rod.

  “HURRY!” Pedro yells.

  I stick the rod into the aperture and wind on that that baby like I’m rowing a boat. The gate is dropping but not fast enough. The ships are almost on us. So while I’m busy cranking away, Pedro jumps up, grabs hold of the bottom of the gate, and with all of his weight, pulls down.

  We get the gate closed just as one of the ships slams into it – hitting the gate with such force that tiny shards of the ships exterior explode like seashell shrapnel.

  Both Pedro and I get hit. Hot white pain in my arms. Feels like splinters made of fire. The injurie
s, while not life threatening, hurt like a bitch.

  Guess I should speak for myself.

  Pedro is on the ground.

  “Pedro!”

  He groans, gets to his feet. There’s a large gash in his forehead. Blood rains down his face. He touches his brow, then says, “Maricon, got me.”

  Several blue-green lights land on him. Then a dozen ropes shoot through the gate. Almost all of them snagging him.

  On the other side of the gate, six more ships hover, blue-green lights trained on me now–

  But I jump out of the way as they unleash another wave of ropes.

  I back away from the entrance and watch in horror as they pull Pedro up against the gate. He screams and squirms against the gate like a trapped fly waiting for a spider to eat him. The ship that’s got ahold of him lets out a shrill scream, then unfurls a vacuum hose. It snakes between the webbing of the gate, then hovers right next to Pedro’s face.

  “HELP ME!” Pedro cries.

  I pick up the metal rod and just as the vacuum tube is about to strike, I shove the rod through the gate, and stab the ship right in its mouthpiece.

  The ship screams in pain, drops Pedro, and flies backwards taking the rod with it. It disappears down the hallway while the other ships crowd closer to the gate, shrill screams and blue-green lights everywhere.

  I hoist Pedro up and pull him away, just as they cast another volley of ropes.

  “Come on!” I pull him towards the men’s clothing section nearby. I grab a shirt, tear it in half, and create a makeshift bandana. “Here,” I say as I hand it to him, “wrap this around your forehead. Tight. It’ll help stop the bleeding.”

  He wipes his face with it, then does what I said. He leans over for a second, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Then says, “thanks.”

  “Don’t thank me yet. We still have to make it outside.” I nod towards the exits up ahead. “Now, let’s go.”

  We quickly cut through the perfume counters, the women’s section, then catch the pale gray light spilling in from the southern entrance. Must be one hell of a storm outside. The kind of storm that turns day into night.

  We’re running as fast as we can for those doors, but Pedro is limping, and he falls behind me. I hear him collapse on the ground. I spin on my heels, and hoist him back up. The man must weigh almost three hundred pounds but I pick him up so easily I surprise myself. Must be the adrenaline.