 
# The Stricken

## Michael K. Trott

### Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Jackhammer Brute

# Chapter One

For a tiny island, San Cora has beautiful scenery. But it's not just the scenery that makes it a premier resort island. Each year during the summer, hundreds of tourists come to San Cora to enjoy the beach and the famous San Cora Festival. The annual arts festival, celebrating the discovery and founding of San Cora in the sixteenth century, is a cultural must see. People from all over the country, even from overseas, come to join in the celebration. Starting on midday on New Year's Eve, and continuing for three days, the festival is San Cora's time to shine. It's a true spectacle.

Gwen sighs as she watches the passengers from California disembarking the docked cruise ship. Sometimes, she thinks, these people are more trouble than they're worth. Then again, they do make things a little more interesting while they're here, so she guesses it's not all bad. A moment later, she spots a man on his own struggling with his luggage and rushes over to assist him. "I'll help you with those, sir," she says without looking at him.

"Thank you," he replies, "I'm on the fifth floor."

Gwen and the guest start the short walk to the hotel located opposite the dock. Flowers of all colors line the dirt path and Gwen's guest gazes upon them with silent awe. At the end of the decorated path is the hotel courtyard where a shuttle bus picks up and drops off guests with special needs or without any other transport.

They walk through the wide hotel lobby toward the elevator. They ride upwards with several other passengers who get off at the third and fourth floors. Then it's just the two of them. Gwen can feel the man's eyes on her, trying to subtly gawk at her. But he leans over too far and loses his balance when the elevator stops at the fifth floor. "Which room, sir?" she asks, glaring.

"Sorry, what was that?"

"Which is your room?" she snaps. "Sir," she adds with returned politeness.

"Ten. Room ten."

The man follows Gwen along the hallway. Her father had the whole hotel refurbished for this holiday season. White walls, blue carpet, dull orange lights; the cool tones are a perfect distraction from the heat.

The man opens the door and lets Gwen in first, staring down at her as she walks past him into the room. She places his bags against the wall. "If there's anything you need just dial zero for the front desk and they'll look after you."

"Thank you very much. Here, for your help." He walks over to her and offers a generous tip.

"Thank you, sir." She looks him in the eye for the first time and his eyes widen when he finally sees the scars on her face. The look on his face says it all – the scars are hideous. _She's_ hideous. And just like that Gwen's not smiling again.

"I haven't missed the festival, have I?" he asks quietly as his eyes dart to the floor, back to her face, back to the floor.

"No," Gwen says turning to leave. "It starts in a couple of days."

"Sorry, but I haven't been to San Cora before. In which town is it being held?"

"There's only one town on the island and it's right across the road," she turns to leave again. "Enjoy your stay," she says closing the door behind her.

The elevator opens with a ding and Gwen steps inside. She looks at herself in the mirrored wall. Her reflection mocks her as if the man's reaction still lingers, like dozens of eyes staring at her. She can't help but look at herself. Hidden under her clothes, the scars branch off from her back down the left side of her stomach, left arm and leg, but two scars stretch up her neck and onto her face. One stops across her cheek just under her left eye while the other curls up above her eyebrow. She got a piercing there to try and hide the scar but it doesn't help.

She gets off the elevator and sees her dad at the front desk with some of the management staff. They at him as if his hotel could rival the Tower of Babel. He's a handsome and kind looking man with salt and pepper hair. He's a hard worker, but always manages to find time for fun. "Hey, Gwen!" he calls. "Come here for a minute."

Gwen drops her head and lets her hair cover her face.

"I need you to do something for me. Have you got time?"

"Yeah."

"You know the lockbox on the Windbound?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I left my blue folder in it. Can you get it for me?" He holds out a small key.

"Sure."

"Oh, and Gwen," he pulls her aside, away from the others. "Put a t-shirt on, please," he whispers. "It's too hot to be wearing long sleeves. Or pants for that matter. Put on some shorts, too."

"No, Dad," she says a little too loud. This conversation always does more than frustrate her.

"Gwen."

"Dad."

They look at each other for a moment, a silent battle that she always wins. Her father rolls his eyes. "Fine, but drink water."

"Yes, Dad." She dismisses him with a wave of her hand and goes through the staff door behind the reception desk. She crosses the staff room and comes to another door, painted red. She unlocks it and steps inside the cold, dark boatshed.

Just seeing the old family boat, her dad's first, brings back a lot of happy memories. The Windbound is a little eight-meter boat moored at a private jetty, undercover and hidden away in the depths of the hotel. Only the family and a couple of senior management staff have a key to the door. The boat rocks a little as Gwen steps over the railing and onto the deck.

She opens the door to the wheelhouse and finds her dad's lockbox in the cabinet next to the wheel. She opens it with a small key and grabs the folder filled with important documents. Gwen locks the lockbox and walks over to the wheel, imagining herself steering the ship across the water to California. She'd never come back, but she knows that will never happen. The freedom of the sea offers endless possibilities, as well as imprisoning her on this island. She can't help imagining the life she could have had...but never will. Job done, she locks the boatshed door behind her and makes her way back through the staff room to the lobby, back to the air-conditioning.

Her father is waiting for her, alone, when she gives him the folder. As he gives her a loving thank you squeeze her phone rings. She looks at the caller ID and sighs. "It's not that Zane kid again, is it?" Her dad asks.

"We're having a get together on the beach tomorrow, before the tourists hog it all," says Gwen. She answers the phone and walks into the staff room.

"Hey."

"Hey, girl," Zane says over the phone, "Just wanted to make sure you were still coming to the beach with us tomorrow?"

"Yeah, of course," Gwen replies. "Oh, and Kelly said you were going to ask Duke if he could come."

"Really? That punk ass bitch? I don't really want him there, but hey, he's your neighbor. You ask him."

"I will," she says, trying to smooth him over.

"Fine, but he better watch himself or I'll kick his ass."

"I've got to go, Zane. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Peace!"

Gwen hangs up the phone and turns it to silent.

"Personal calls during work hours? I guess daddy's girl can do as she pleases." That whiny voice could only come from one creature.

"Belinda," Gwen says with a venom-laced tone laced tone as she turns around to Belinda, smiling broadly as she cocks her head to one side. She'd be pretty if she didn't always have a sour look on her face.

"What are you doing here?" Gwen asks.

"Didn't daddy tell you?" Belinda replies as condescendingly as possible. "I'm covering for Amy today so we'll be working together." She crosses the room and puts her bag in a locker. "Just remember the distance rule, okay?" she says slamming the locker door shut. "I don't want people to think we're friends."

"Just do your job and we'll be fine," Gwen replies.

Belinda's fake smile turns into a snarl and she advances on her, stopping just a few inches away. A head taller, she flicks out her long blonde hair as she looks down on Gwen physically and otherwise. "You gonna run to daddy if I don't? He's the only reason you work here."

Gwen doesn't know how to respond. She never does when she's being bullied. She turns her head to the side and casts her eyes to the floor.

Belinda scoffs as she looks her up and down. "The winter season's over, sweetheart. Not that you ever seem to notice. But then I guess baggy clothes are the only way you can cover up that mistake you call a body."

On her way out, Belinda bumps hard into Gwen's shoulder. An ugly demonstration of her animosity. Gwen sighs. It's going to be a long day.

At a little over thirty, Mindy is older than Gwen and average across the board, though honest, kind, and good to work with. She walks into the room. "Don't worry about her," she says. "She'll be working for you one day."

Gwen smiles at the thought. "Thanks, Mindy."

Later that day, Gwen is behind the front desk when she glances out the window at the perfectly kept flower beds beside the lobby doors. The flowers really are beautiful. The tourists think so too. Gazing at the sights, the last of them take their time to check in. Suddenly, something starts tapping on the glass. Tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap.

"What the...?" Gwen looks around, but she can't see anything. She leans forward, closer to the glass and finally sees it. It's rain. She frowns as she looks up. There's not a cloud in the sky.

The gardens bounce under the weight of the rain drops and the tourists cover their heads as they hurry to get inside.

"Hey," Belinda says, totally unenthused.

Gwen spins around in a fright and then takes a breath. "What," she snaps.

Belinda puts a hand on her hip and raises her eyebrows, her glum expression becoming even more sullen.

"Sorry," Gwen quickly adds.

Belinda rolls her eyes and holds up a large ring of keys. "We've gotta lock up."

"But... It's raining outside."

"Wow, rain. On a day like this? Freaky." Belinda's sarcasm isn't meant to be subtle.

Gwen frowns.

"I have to go now," Belinda hisses, tossing the keys to Gwen. "But I'm sure even you can handle locking up on your own. I just really don't feel like holding your hand today, Gwendolyn."

"Whatever," Gwen says sighing with relief. Thank God she doesn't have to see Belinda for the rest of the day.

Outside, Gwen steps into the rain. In the distance, hovering over the ocean, she can see a massive dark cloud. There's no doubt it'll be heading this way soon. She sighs again, though not one of relief.

After a long and terrible day, Gwen finally gets home. She slumps on the couch and starts flicking through TV channels when her dad walks in from the kitchen carrying two beers. "No shoes on the furniture," he says.

Gwen kicks off her sneakers as he sits on the couch beside her and hands her one of the beers. It tastes sweet as it washes down all the stresses of the day.

A moment later, Gwen's mom walks in and spots them both on the couch. Hand on hip, she asks "Aren't you going to have dinner, Gwen?"

"Yeah, in a sec. I just need to rest a minute."

Her mother sits on one of the chairs on either side of the living room. She gives Gwen that look that only a mother can give—the caring one not the disappointed one. She gave her that yesterday after she dyed her hair blue. "Hard day?" she asks.

"Holiday season's always hard," Gwen replies.

"Hard work's good for you," her dad interjects. "But don't worry, it won't be long before you're sailing on the cruise ships. All those years at the helm of the little boats is going to count for something."

"I'll warm your dinner," her mother says, returning to the kitchen.

Her dad takes a big gulp from his can and smiles. "In just two years you'll be able to buy the beer. Legally, I mean." He winks then gets up and follows his wife into the kitchen.

The sailor on TV talks about current boating trends in California. Old news. Then the weather man talks about the unexpected rain that interrupted the otherwise perfect beach conditions. It only rained for an hour, but it sure was weird.

After dinner, Gwen watches some more TV then goes upstairs to her room. She sits at the vanity table, staring into her own eyes, silently telling herself that she looks okay and that her new hairstyle and eyebrow piercing look good. The thick layer of foundation eventually gives way under the baby wipes until a fresh handful of them sit in a pile in her wastebasket. Like two talons etched across her face, her scars say a thousand words. Ugly, hideous, unwanted are the first that come to mind. She pulls down the collar of her shirt and looks down at the mass of pink scars that stretch further along her body, down her arm, leg, and stomach. And even though she doesn't have to look at her back, she knows they're there too. She can feel them. She can always feel them.

Lying in bed, feeling under her pillow, Gwen finds her old photo then sits up. Taken just two days before it happened, her skin is normal and unscarred. A tear drops onto the photo. She quickly wipes it on her blanket before putting it back to where she knows it's safe. She hates going to the beach.

# Chapter Two

Summer sun brightens the world, making the grass seem a little greener and the sea a little bluer. Duke looks out his window. It's a perfect day for the holiday season. His cell phone rings and he finds it among the parts on one of his work tables in front of the TV. "Hello?"

"Mornin', Duke," Ted says in his thick Texan accent. __ "Ready for a long day?"

"Yeah, Ted. It'll be fun." Duke sits back in his chair and looks out the window again.

"This will be your first San Cora Festival, won't it?"

Duke smiles. "I've heard it gets a little crazy in town."

"The festival is one of a kind. You are going ain't ya?"

"I don't know, maybe."

"Youth is wasted on the young. Look, I'll see you soon. Don't forget you got those gift pieces to finish today."

"I won't forget. See you soon, Boss."

With the island's holiday season about to begin, everyone will be working hard to meet the needs of the many tourists. It's even busy for Duke and the others up at the gun range. Whole families come along to practice target shooting, or so he's been told.

Duke grabs his work bag, little bits of metal rattling around inside, pulls the front door closed, and makes sure it's locked.

"You don't have to do that, you know."

Duke turns around and sees his neighbor, Gwen, standing at her letterbox right next to his. She smiles.

"Old habits, I guess," Duke replies.

"We're having a party later. On the beach. Wanna come?"

"Is Zane going to be there?" he asks, walking to his car.

Gwen laughs. "Don't worry about him. C'mon, it'll be fun."

"Sure, why not," Duke says opening his car door and throwing his bag in, metal bits clunking as it lands heavily on the passenger seat. "I'll see you later, then."

"Cool, see ya." Gwen gets her letters and junk mail and heads back inside.

Driving in San Cora is easy compared to L.A., but Duke guesses that's because there's only three thousand people here. He loves looking over the ocean while driving up the long road. The endlessness of the water, the nothingness, is the most comforting sight. Moving here was the best thing he's ever done, but it's hard living the small-town life. The people have been welcoming, especially Gwen and her folks, but after almost a year here he still feels like he's adjusting. And he always has to remind himself; there's no going back.

Duke parks in the employee lot behind the gun store and walks in through the back door. In the small office inside, Ted and a couple of the guys are already talking about the upcoming festival. "Come in, Duke," Ted says. "Take a seat."

Duke pulls up a chair next to the others. The walls are covered in used paper targets, each one riddled with holes from all manner of firearms. Among them is a poster of a bikini model driving a speedboat with one hand while firing a machine gun with the other. That's San Cora in a nutshell; guns, boats, and babes. Through the thick metal door on the right is the workshop where the gunsmiths work their magic.

"As I was saying," Ted continues, "everyone knows how busy we get this time of year. Tourists who come to the island for the festival often come here to shoot for a day. But they come with their families, most of the time with little kids."

Mitch, the other gunsmith wonders, "Are there any special orders for us?"

"Not yet, but expect a few when the tourists arrive. Day's about to start. Let's get the store open," Ted says. He leads his four employees into the front part of the building where the shop is. Firearms are displayed on racks along the walls as well as in cabinets around the room. In the middle of the floor are shelves stacked with other items such as clothing, flashlights, carry cases, and other accessories.

Ted's employees don't waste time; they respect their boss too much. People say Ted's old school, hardcore, but Duke calls him dedicated. A man has to be dedicated if he lives the prepper lifestyle, preparing for every disastrous event, up to and including the end of the world. Ted doesn't seem to think the end of days is near, but his experience and training have taught him to be prepared for anything.

After opening the store, Duke slumps down at his worktable. He and Mitch chat all day as they clean, engrave, and customize several handguns. Then Ted walks in through the metal door with a glint in his eye. "We need you on the range for a sec," he says to Duke.

Outside, L.A. County Sheriff Sherry Kimble and Deputy Dan Young wait. They're dressed in plain clothes but wear their utility belts and carry shotguns. "Haven't you guys had enough?" Duke asks.

"Today's the day, Duke. Today, one of us is going to finally beat you," Kimble says.

Duke always thought Kimble was too attractive to be a cop, but then again she can be a hard-ass.

"A hundred bucks. Cash," says Deputy Young.

Duke normally wouldn't picture Young as a cop either, at least not in L.A. Young's all right, but that's the problem, he's a bit too nice. It's likely that his size gives him confidence.

"You're both wasting your day off and giving me money for nothing," Duke warns.

"We'll see about that," says Kimble.

Ted hands Duke a belt with a holster, and then a handgun. "Show 'em how it's done." Duke checks it, loads it, and then takes a shotgun from Ted. He checks it and loads it. Routine.

Kimble, Young, and Duke each take a lane on the shooting range. They put on earmuffs and glasses and wait. Then Ted presses the buzzer and they begin. The two cops are on either side if Duke as they walk down the range firing at multiple targets. The first targets are close and are ripped apart with the shotgun. Once it's empty Duke quickly switches to the handgun.

The last bullets strike the paper man's heart and head. The few remaining targets are metal and each one pings loudly as it's hit. Duke's gun is empty and all the targets have holes exactly where he wanted to put them.

He performs the last safety checks before looking over at Kimble who's still firing her handgun. Her deputy is a few targets behind her. They both finish a moment later. "Goddammit!" Kimble exclaims with jovial frustration. Duke smiles and holds out his hand. Young complains about his handgun jamming as he slaps a hundred bucks into Duke's hand.

"I wasn't kidding when I said you should join the Sheriff's Department, Duke," says Kimble.

"Thanks, but I'm happy here."

"We should get going," Young says to his partner.

"All right then. See you, Duke. See you, Ted."

The cops leave and Duke hands the cash to Ted. "We're not splitting the take?" he asks, surprised.

Duke pats him on the back and heads inside the store. "Nah, I'm starting to feel bad for them."

After work, Duke drives home along the ocean with the car window down and a CD playing. This is perfection. Then he suddenly remembers why he came here in the first place. The fact that he ran away and the reason why. No longer in a happy mood, he turns off the music. The drive becomes long and joyless, but soon he turns down the next right, drives a little further, then makes a left onto his street.

He drops his workbag by the front door and grabs a beer from the fridge before heading upstairs and into his bedroom. He puts the beer on the nightstand before kneeling on the floor. He reaches under the bed and drags out a cardboard box, leaving a trail of dust on the carpet. He cuts the tape at the sides and down the middle, opening it for the first time since he put it there almost a year ago. If San Cora is his prison, then these measly possessions are his shackles, his wardens, his punishment.

# Chapter Three

Gwen and her close friends, Kelly and Sam, all sit together while the boys throw a football around. San Cora, jewel of the Channel Islands, is a resort island, but this part of the beach is theirs. It's like their private property until the tourists arrive, and someone always finds their hidden spot. Even Duke seems to be enjoying himself. Gwen looks out over the ocean as the waves curl toward the shore, the sky above almost surreal in its perfection, a hint that heaven may truly be up there.

"It's a shame the tourists are going to hog the beach for the next few weeks," says Kelly.

"Yeah," Sam laughs as she takes the towel off her bikini clad body, the bubbly blonde every part the supermodel.

"It's not all that bad, I guess," Gwen adds.

"I thought you hated it more than anyone?" Kelly says as she flips down her shades, soaking in the rays.

"I just don't like crowds."

"Well," Sam says while standing up to slap the sand from her legs, "fact is, it's going to be crowded as hell real soon. Let's get another swim in while we can." She runs over and dives into the water.

Zane passes the football to Nick, his childhood friend, one more time before diving into the water as well. Kelly stands up and walks halfway to the water before turning back.

"Really, Gwen, it's too hot to be wearing pants and a hoodie, please take them off."

"You sound like my dad," she replies.

"Are you sure you don't want to come in?"

"I'm good, thanks."

Kelly smiles and nods then rushes over to join in the fun. Everyone's in the water now, splashing around and throwing each other into the waves. Gwen lays back and puts on her headphones. She crosses her arms over her face to block out the sun and lets the music take her away. She thinks about all the times she went swimming with her mom and dad, how they'd sail out into the ocean miles away from the rest of the world. They'd stop where no one could see them and Gwen would dive into the water and swim for hours. She wonders if she can convince her parents to let her take the boat out on her own once the tourists have gone.

Suddenly, boom! A great rumble in the silent sky.

Gwen sits up in a fright and throws her headphones to the sand. She takes off her sunglasses and looks up. Dark gray clouds spread out across the sky, rumbling loudly. In an instant, the sun is drowned in a bleak wave of roaring darkness. Gwen slowly stands up and looks all around. The sky everywhere is the same horrible dark gray color.

Everyone gets out of the water and starts drying off. "What the fuck?" Nick says, wincing when he rubs too hard over a patch of sunburned skin.

Duke brushes back his black, water-spiked hair out of his face with his hands.

"Got cloudy pretty quick," says Zane.

The clouds now cover the whole sky as if all the blue was just sucked away.

"It's summer," says Kelly as she wraps a towel around her waist and slips on a t-shirt, "There hasn't been a rain cloud over the island for weeks."

"There were clouds yesterday, actually," Sam corrects.

"Are you all right?" Duke asks Gwen, his dark eyes examining her.

Gwen stares open-mouthed at the sky, trembling in her winter clothes despite the heat. "I'm fine," she says picking up her phone and headphones and her bag. "I'm going home."

"It's just a few clouds," Zane says lifting his arms to the sky as if challenging it.

_Boom!_ Thunder roars again.

Gwen can't help but jump and gasp. Her phone slips from her hand. "I've got to go." She runs up the hidden path through the bushes and gets into her car. Her head swims and her eyelids flutter. She starts to feel nauseous. Despite feeling like she's going to faint, she drives down the straight ocean road, thunder booming all the way, until finally turning into her street. She pulls into the driveway and practically smashes the door open before running upstairs to her room.

Gwen's mom catches her running up the stairs and calls out to her, but she doesn't get a response. She follows Gwen and stands in the bedroom doorway. "Did you hear me," she asks.

"What?"

"It's okay," she says, sitting next to her daughter on the bed and pulling her into a comforting embrace. "Everything's going to be all right."

Rain starts to pour.

# Chapter Four

Duke picks up Gwen's phone and brushes away the sand.

"What's her problem?" Nick scoffs.

Spikey-haired and standing almost a head taller, Kelly turns to him and snaps, "Shut up, Nick!"

Sam sighs, her long hair shining as water trickles down each strand. She looks like a girl you'd find in Hollywood or Beverly Hills, but she's not vain or self-centered like you might think. "I hope Gwen's okay," she says quietly.

"It's going to be a big storm," Duke says.

"Are you serious or are you just fucking stupid?" Zane barks.

Nick laughs, the meathead forever Zane's loyal lapdog.

"Ease up, Zane," Kelly orders, her voice as heavy as stone.

Nick opens the cooler again and tosses Duke a can of beer. It's a hard throw but Duke manages to catch it. "See? All good," he says. "We're just playing." Nick looks to Zane for approval.

His master smirks.

Kelly rolls her eyes and shoots Duke a wink.

"We should probably go home," Sam says.

"Good idea," Kelly replies, collecting her things.

"You don't have to go, it's just a cloud," Zane snaps.

"Yeah, it's just a cloud," Nick mimics.

"Look up," Duke tells them.

Surprisingly, they do as he says. A mass of gray stretches out above them like the hand of the Almighty, covering the sky at unnatural speed. "We should go," he adds.

Reluctantly, Zane and Nick pack up the cooler and umbrella. The gang heads up the hill, walking between bushes and ducking under a tree branch before sidestepping up the sandy hill, and get in their cars.

Duke drops the girls off at Kelly's place and heads home. The clouds continue to rumble as the rain pours. He can't help but feel somewhat comforted by it, how it looks when falling on an angle, and the sound each drop makes when it hits the windshield. It lulls him to a place of peace.

The outing at the beach was fun, even though it was cut short and Zane and Nick were their usual antagonistic selves. The water was fantastic, so relaxing. Picturesque in appearance and divine on the skin. Kelly and Sam, Zane and Nick were all smiles and laughter too. But Gwen just lay on the beach under the umbrella, alone. He wanted to sit next to her and talk, keep her company. But he didn't. He doesn't know why.

The lock on the front door emits a satisfying clunk as it closes. Duke takes his shoes off and leaves them by the door, sand spilling all over the floor. He walks through the living room, past his worktables, and continues through the kitchen to the back door. The backyard is small and bare apart from some exercise equipment.

He slips on some mitts and faces the beaten punching bag. He opens with a couple of leads before landing a nice straight, a hook, and a rip. Barrel roll, stick and move. Routine. All the while the rain pours and clouds flash with stirring lightning. He imagines his brothers yelling at him, trying to motivate him to hit harder, to lift more.

Then he remembers why he came to San Cora.

He heads inside, grabs a beer, and sits down to watch TV.

# Chapter Five

By morning the rain had stopped and apart from the clouds looming above like the executioner's blade ready to fall, the sky is dull and silent. The San Cora Festival begins today so everyone on the island will be in town. The last tourists to arrive would have docked earlier this morning and have checked into the hotel.

There's a knock at Gwen's door. It slowly swings open and her mom walks in. "Good morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep all right?"

"Yeah," Gwen says sitting up in bed and looking out the window.

"It's nearly lunchtime. Your friends came over earlier to ask if you were going with them to the festival."

"I don't know if I'm going," she says, falling back into bed.

Her mom rearranges everything on the nightstand and collects a small pile of dirty dishes.

She tilts her head worryingly, always looking out for her daughter. "You should call your friends and let them know. Or I can drive you if you want."

Gwen slides her hand under her pillow and finds her old photo, but leaves it there. Her mom brushes her hair back, plants a soft kiss on her forehead, then closes the door gently as she leaves. Gwen holds up the photo and can't help but smile. She was so pretty when she was a kid and everyone always said she would grow up to be beautiful, but two days after her mom took this picture, she would never be pretty again.

There's another knock at the door. "Honey, Duke's here to see you," her mom says through the door.

Gwen stuffs the photo under her pillow and pulls the blanket up to her chin.

"Come in," she replies.

The door opens. Duke looks nice all dressed up in a short-sleeved button-down shirt, dark chinos, and dress shoes. Gwen's mom gestures for him to step inside and he thanks her with a smile.

"Would you like a drink, Duke?"

"No, thank you. Are you going to the festival, Mrs. Day?"

"Not this year I'm afraid. Gwen's father and I have paperwork to finish here. We hope you have fun, though." She smiles and winks at Gwen before closing the door.

Duke reaches into his pocket and holds out Gwen's phone. "You dropped this yesterday," he says while looking at his feet. He shuffles forward and hands it to her.

"Thanks." Gwen feels so awkward lying in bed like this, but she's glad he's not staring at her. That's a little comforting, she supposes.

"Are you going to be all right?"

"I'm good. Sorry about yesterday, I don't know what happened." Once again, the clouds outside her window drew her attention as if silently calling her name.

"Don't worry about it. I'm just about to meet up with everyone in town. Would you like to come?" Duke asks.

"Maybe, I don't know." The cluster of clouds over town spins within itself, swimming in natural power. There will be another storm soon."

"I can take you if you want. You know, I'll wait."

Gwen turns her head toward him and spots him shooting his eyes to the floor. Was he staring at the scars on her face? No, he's never stared at her like that before. Then it becomes suddenly apparent that she can't stay in her room forever. She doesn't want her fear keeping her prisoner for the rest of her life. "Sure. I'll just get dressed and come next door," she replies.

Duke smiles, the expression elevating his simple yet handsome features.

"Cool. I'll see you in a minute." Then he spins around and leaves.

Gwen jumps out of bed and looks in the mirror. The scars on her face stand out so much when she's not wearing any make-up. She supposes she can't blame him if he was staring at them. Only Kelly and Sam have seen her without make-up before, and not for too long. The foundation bottle beckons and so she gets ready to go out. She promises herself that she won't run if there is a storm.

Duke and Gwen walk together through the bustling crowds in town. There's barely any room for two people to walk side-by-side without bumping into someone. But, being a small town, most people are polite. The streets are lined with stalls selling all sorts of odd bits and pieces ranging from homemade novelties to 'official' San Cora holiday merchandise and beach items. There are two things that make the festival better than others; the food and the art. Of course, not all the artworks are masterpieces, but they are made using materials found in the ocean and remnants of native flora and fauna. People spend the whole year preparing a single artwork to display during the festival. Each one is nearly as big as a house, which is probably the most appealing aspect of the art.

San Cora cuisine has sometimes been described as a fusion between Japanese seafood and Southern soul food. Gwen isn't sure about that, but the locals are very creative and it shows in their family recipes. Duke buys two sticks of deep fried seafood, a festival staple, and hands one to Gwen. An outsider might think that grease would drip everywhere, but that's not San Cora standard.

After strolling through the busy streets for a while, they come to a large intersection in the middle of town where the Sheriff's Department, the bank, town hall, and the post office are all located. You could almost call it the town square except it's pretty much the whole town. And just a few blocks away is Gwen's dad's hotel, an iconic beacon of the island called The Day Hotel.

Buskers work hard during the festival and try to earn a good bit of cash from the tourists since the locals have already heard all their songs a hundred times. Duke and Gwen squeeze through the crowd and make it to their usual hangout, a pub owned and operated by Sam's parents.

The bar is packed with customers. Sam's parents work behind the counter at a pace that defies their age. Duke leads the way through the crowd. Sam's mom sees him and points to the roof. Gwen taps Duke on the shoulder and he turns to follow her through the door labelled 'Staff Only' then they head up the stairs.

They can hear laughing as they get higher up the stairs and the noise downstairs begins to fade out. Gwen knocks on the door with Sam's name stenciled on it. No response, but the laughing intensifies. Duke leans forward and knocks a little harder. The laughter suddenly stops.

Beer in hand, Sam answers the door. "Heeyy! Come in! Glad you decided to come," she says as she waves them in and gives Gwen a hug.

Kelly rushes over to give her a hug too and then hands her a drink.

"Where's Zane?" Duke asks Nick who sits on the floor with his arm over a little bar fridge.

Nick, wearing a pink t-shirt with an embarrassingly deep V-shaped neck, laughs as he flexes his meaty arms, no doubt feeling like the diamond in the rough. "Not here," he replies.

"Don't be a smartass, Nick. Play nice," Kelly warns.

Nick opens up the fridge and throws a can at Duke. The only sign of friendship he has to offer. "It's all good, just having some fun."

Both Kelly and Sam leap onto the bed and laugh. Duke sits on the desk chair and opens his can. Standing at the window, Gwen looks down at the massive crowd forming in front of the stage in the middle of the intersection.

Kelly and Sam order the boys to turn around so they can change into their party clothes. Gwen has to admit she's a little jealous of the way Kelly makes simple clothing look like they come from a high-end fashion line. Cargo shorts, skate shoes, and a floral crop top is all she needs to look good. Sam, on the other hand, likes to go all out. Her wrists are adorned with gold bangles that match her hair and the shift dress she wears is so white it's hard to look at it because of the shine. Gwen looks down at her black cargo pants and hoodie and shakes her head.

Sam's bedroom door opens with a loud crash as Zane bursts into the room with his usual forced grandeur. "It's time bitches!" he cries. Gold chains dangle from his neck and wrist, and his skinny jeans hug his thin legs in a most unappealing extreme.

The six of them leave Sam's bedroom, skip down the stairs, and take their party with them onto the streets. Weaving through the crowd, they make it to the little stage set up in the middle of town. Seated up there is the head of the festival committee, Julie Kline, Sheriffs Kimble and Young, and other officials, sponsors, and awardees. Ms. Kline stands and is applauded as she approaches the microphones mounted on the podium. "Hey, I'll be back later," says Zane. "Don't wait up. Come on, Nick." Without waiting for a response, they inch through the crowd and disappear.

Suddenly, something cold and wet hits Gwen's face. She wipes it off. It happens again. And again.

Gwen slowly looks up at the sky. The dark clouds covering the sky swirl in their own power, threatening to pour, and to strike. It's the first time she's seen clouds like this before, and not just on San Cora. Suddenly, it starts to rain in earnest. Duke grabs Gwen's arm and pulls her into him. What's he doing? His voice sounds so far away even though he's standing right in front of her. She tries to look into his eyes but it's hard to focus. She feels herself falling.

Gwen turns her head and looks up into Duke's dark eyes, his hair is spiked in wet tendrils in front of his face. He kneels beside the bed, and that's when she realizes she's not in the crowd anymore. In fact, she's back in Sam's bedroom. "How'd I get here?" she asks while sitting up. She can hear rain, rumbling clouds, and thunder. The last time she heard thunder like this was when she was a kid.

"We were in front of the stage... And then you just fainted. I carried you back here," Duke replies. Sam and Kelly run across the room and drop to their knees beside Duke.

"Are you all right? What happened?" they both ask again and again.

Duke looks out the window and his jaw drops. "What the fuck is that?" he exclaims.

The three girls stand up beside him and look up at the sky. The clouds are a swirl of black and red, spinning and spinning. The people outside are looking up as well, even those on the stage. The whole festival has stopped to witness whatever this is. Gwen's heart pounds against her chest as if it were trying to escape from her body.

"Red clouds? How can there be red clouds?" Kelly asks no one in particular.

"Pollution maybe, or it could just be all the lights," says Sam.

"There are no lights; it's the middle of the day!"

"Well, it does happen sometimes," Sam replies.

"And you know that for sure?"

"Girls, please," Duke says calmly, as the red and black clouds continue to swirl within red and white flashes. "There's going to be lightning," he says, and then _snap!_ Lightning strikes and people in the street start running and screaming. The post office is on fire, half destroyed from a single bolt.

"Did you see that?!" Kelly cries.

_Crack!_ Lightning strikes again and sets fire to a cluster of festival goers. Everyone is running, screaming. _Crack, snap!_ The lightning is relentless, brutal and punishing. And red.

"Mom! Dad!" Sam yells and she runs downstairs.

Kelly grabs Gwen's hand and they all chase after her.

The bar's patrons press themselves against the glass to see what's happening outside. Lightning crashes down for what seems like forever and all they can do is watch it happen.

Sam's dad stands on a chair in the middle of the room. "Wait!" he cries, "Quiet! Everybody, shut up! Look, listen!"

Everyone stops talking and shuffling about. Silence. No rumbling clouds, no flashes of lightning, no screaming. There is only the faint sound of crackling fires.

"It's over," says one of the patrons, a young man wearing a suit.

"They're all dead," says another. Outside, blood red fire burns half the town and hundreds of bodies litter the streets. Sam's dad looks at his watch.

"Forty seconds since the first bolt of lightning," he says, looking at each of his confused customers. "And now it's over, quiet as the grave, just like that."

"Surely they're not all dead," says the young man in the suit. "We have to help them. Come on!" He and several other patrons rush outside and check for survivors. Duke looks at Gwen with worry-filled eyes, and then hurries outside.

Sam and Kelly head for the door then turn around and motion for Gwen to follow them. Reluctantly, she goes. Outside, they tip-toe over and between all of the dead bodies. Half of them are burned to a crisp. Their skin is pitch black and dotted with red patches, probably blood. Their hair and clothes have been burned away into nothingness. Now, they are unidentifiable corpses. People in movies always say how horrid the smell of burned flesh is, but even with that warning Gwen can barely cope with it.

"What's wrong with them?" Sam says, crouching down to examine one of the bodies.

"What do you mean?" Kelly asks.

"Look. Their skin is all... Weird."

Gwen looks down at a man on his back. He isn't burned like half of them are. His clothes are a little torn and his face is twisted in agony, but he's covered all over in strange marks. They actually look a lot like scars except they're bright red, like the lightning, the fires, and the clouds still swirling.

"Are they cuts?" Kelly asks Sam.

"It's not blood, so why are they so red?"

Then Gwen notices one of the festival-goers stepping on bodies as he slowly walks by. His shirt is split down the middle revealing skin marked with bright red scars. He glares at Gwen with blood-filled eyes. Gwen sees nothing in them but fire. The lack of life, compassion, humanity, sends a shiver down her spine.

"Duke!" Kelly yells.

Duke snaps to attention and stands in front of the girls.

The young man in the suit passes them and approaches the festival-goer. "Are you all right?" he says. "Don't move, we'll get you help." He takes off his jacket and throws it around the festival-goer's shoulders.

The festival-goer gazes at him, then reaches up and grasps the young man's head and squeezes. With a quick twist, the young man's neck is snapped half way around until he faces Gwen. His last expression is one of unbearable pain. The sky flashes red and all of a sudden, the bodies, thought dead on the ground, rise to their feet in unison.

"Oh my God," Sam says quietly, wide-eyed and looking all around.

Kelly gasps and slowly inches closer to Duke.

"What the fuck? Come on!" Duke yells and ushers his friends back inside the pub. He slams the door shut and locks it.

Gwen's body tingles all over. She feels like she's going to faint again.

"Get back! Everybody, back!" someone yells over the panicking patrons.

Dozens of the red scarred people whose eyes are filled with blood and anger, bang against the glass, quickly smashing it. They casually walk inside the bar and grab whoever is closest to them. One woman is struck to the floor and stomped on, while a man is thrown onto a piece of jagged glass stuck in the window frame, blood squirting all over. One of the attackers, a woman in colorful clothing and with a camera hanging around her neck, snarls and reaches for Sam.

Sam screams until her dad jumps in front of her. The crazed woman stabs her fingers into his forehead and tears down, ripping his face like a paper-shredder. Blinded, he clasps his face and screams silently. Sam's mother rushes to her husband's rescue and they are lost among the chaos. "NO!" their daughter screeches.

Kelly tears Sam away as the wave of red-scarred people pours through the bar, slaughtering everyone they get their hands on.

Duke, holding Gwen by the hand, leads their group through the kitchen and out the back of the bar. Kelly and Sam are close behind them as they make their way into the street. _Snap!_ Red lightning strikes the fishing store behind the bar and lights it on fire. Screams rise over the roaring clouds and people with flames burning through their clothes and skin, run about only to collapse a second later. Their bodies, as well as the buildings, are bound in blood-red flames that will not die out.

Sam, Kelly, Duke, and Gwen run through the alley and onto the street where chaos reigns. Duke stops and looks left and right.

"Don't stop!" Kelly yells.

Duke looks back at her and his eyes widen. The scarred people are coming after them.

"Run!" Kelly screams, but as she starts, Duke grabs her by the arm.

"Wait! Did you hear that?" he asks her.

Gwen tries to hear it, whatever it is, but it's difficult over all the screaming and smashing and running and dying.

Duke points to an alley a little way up the street.

A man in a Hawaiian shirt waves his arms. "Over here!" he calls.

They start running again, crossing the street and following the stranger into another alley before making a sharp turn through an open door leading into a small room. The guy slams the metal door shut behind them. Several other people immediately block it with old filing cabinets and a table.

"What's going..."

"Quiet!" the man snaps before marching to a window on the other side of the room. He slowly opens the curtain a fraction to peek outside. People run past as burned victims of the lightning strikes chase after them. The man in the Hawaiian shirt pulls the curtain across, blocking out the last trace of light.

They stand in the dark, so close to each other that Gwen can feel everybody's heat on her skin. There is total silence for what seems like an eternity. Sam sobs into her hands despite being told, again and again, to be quiet by their mysterious savior.

A long time later, daylight cuts through the room. The man in the Hawaiian shirt holds the curtain open a little. He looks outside for a few moments and then smiles, leaving the curtain open slightly. Gwen quickly looks around. Besides herself, Kelly, Sam, Duke, and the man at the window, there are three others in the room. There's a young artist, judging by the paint over his hands and arms, an older man dressed in black dress pants and shirt, and a sour-faced girl who glares at her. "Belinda," Gwen says under her breath.

"Sorry about being so quick with you. I'm Roger," says the guy in the Hawaiian shirt as he offers his hand to Duke.

"Thanks for the help. So, what'd you see out there?" Duke asks.

"Did you notice how quiet it got? That's 'cause they're finished out there."

"Finished? What are you talking about?" says the artist, his dreadlocks and tie-dyed singlet also peppered with paint.

"Brent, keep you voice down," Roger warns. "Not so loud, all right?"

Brent scowls.

Roger looks at Duke. "They've finished killing everyone. Can you hear the silence?"

Belinda stands up from her crate seat and folds her arms. "What do we do now, Roger?" she asks.

"I don't know. But maybe further introductions are in order, if we speak quietly."

"Whatever, they know me already," Belinda scoffs.

"Brent," says the guy with the dreadlocks.

An older man approaches the newcomers, eyeing each of them up and down. "Duke, was it? I'm Connor." His voice is deep and raspy. He looks at the others. "And what are your names?"

"I'm Kelly," Kelly says barely louder than a whisper. "And this is Sam and Gwen."

Duke nods in reply and scans the room. "What is this place?"

"An old office. Now it's a storage room for the store across the street."

"We should probably think about getting out of here," Duke says.

Brent's cool demeanor suddenly becomes frantic. He grabs Duke by the shoulders, "We can't go out there, man. Are you crazy? They'll kill us!"

Connor grabs Brent by the back of the collar and pulls him away. He stares down into Brent's eyes with a gaze that seems to make Brent shrivel.

"Duke's right," Gwen whispers. "We all have to leave, get somewhere safe, summon a rescue."

Roger thinks for a moment and rubs the back of his neck. "You're right, you're right. So, how do we do this?" He points to the window. "I mean, the town's full of them."

"Connor's got a gun," says Belinda. "Just shoot anyone that tries to stop us."

Connor fires a look at her that makes her freeze in place.

Duke steps forward. "What is it? Connor?" he asks.

Connor takes a pistol from his belt and flips it back and forth in his hands. "Those people... They aren't people anymore. This..." He holds up the gun to show everyone. "This doesn't help at all."

"What are you talking about?" Belinda says angrily before being hushed by Roger.

"All those people died from the lightning, hear me? They were dead, but then they got up again. I shot two of them... Nothing happened. How can you kill what's already dead?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Belinda says waving her hand dismissively.

"It's not uncommon for people to go a little crazy after a natural disaster or trauma," says Brent, "but they can't be dead. No offence, but you might have missed them."

Connor turns to him and points a finger an inch from his face. "I didn't miss," he says quietly while stressing each word. "I fired two rounds into a man's chest and two more in another's face."

"What are they then? Zombies?" Belinda scoffs again.

"They were struck by the red lightning, and now they're marked. They're stricken," Connor replies quietly.

A chill runs down Gwen's spine.

"Stricken with what?" Kelly asks. "I know it came from the lightning, but what is it? What makes them want to kill everyone?"

Connor frowns and shakes his head.

"We might not know why," Duke answers, "but right now it doesn't matter."

_Boom!_ The room shakes under the grumbling clouds.

"Thunder. Lightning!" Brent manages to say between heavy breaths. He puts his hands to his ears and squats down.

"Stay calm, Brent. Everyone, stay calm." Roger says looking out the window.

_Boom!_ A bolt of red lightning hits the ground just outside and the window cracks so much it almost breaks. Roger yells and falls onto his back. Red lightning continues to strike the town. Despite what's happening, everything seems to be quieter, like listening underwater. Everyone seems to be moving more slowly too. Gwen stands in the middle of the room. Her friends are near her, but they aren't listening. She's talking to them, but they turn away from her. Breathe, she tells herself, breathe. Kelly grabs her hand and squeezes, but she barely feels it. She can feel her heart sinking and beating sporadically, her body tingling with an uncomfortable warmth that makes her heavy and tired. Her legs start buckling at the knees.

Belinda draws back the curtain and the sliver of light grows large. A bolt of red lightning strikes in the distance. It hits so slowly that Gwen can see the shape of it, a dark red color within a jagged, slightly brighter red edge. And then it's gone. And suddenly everything seems faster as if time has returned to a normal pace.

_Bang_! The sound of pounding metal draws a gasp from everyone. Belinda steps back from the window, letting go of the curtain, once again leaving them in the dark.

"I wish the lock on that door wasn't broken," says Roger.

"What?" Kelly snaps, but she doesn't need an answer from him.

They all look at the door. _Bang_! The thin metal door, reinforced with old filing cabinets and a table, jolts violently. _Bang_! The only door in this tiny little room. The only way in or out. _Bang_! Connor steps forward and raises his gun. Roger arms himself with a metal pole and passes one to Duke. _Bang!_

"Oh, fuck," Connor says while shifting on his feet, the barrel of his gun bobbing and swaying as his hands shake. "Here they come."

_Bang!_

# Chapter Six

The door bursts open and knocks the cabinets and table across the floor like a metal flood. Two Stricken march inside, one carrying an axe and the other carrying a large kitchen knife. Their red scars shine in the darkness. Connor fires three shots at the one with the axe, each bullet hitting the creature's blackened chest. He fires at the second one, hitting it both times. But they keep coming.

Connor stops firing. The creature with the axe lifts the weapon higher as it gets closer to him and Duke. The smell of burned flesh infects the air as it gets closer. Duke drops his pipe, snatches the gun from Connor's hand, and empties the magazine into the axe-wielding monster. The bullets rip through its head and the right half of its skull falls to the floor. Its left eye, and patches of blood splattered over its body, glow in the darkness of the room. Its mouth opens in sick delight as it prepares to swing the axe. Duke lunges forward and kicks the Stricken in the chest, sending it to the floor.

The Stricken with the knife, once a woman who Duke would often see in town, slashes the blade downward. It misses him by an inch. He grabs the creature by the wrist and throws it across the room, sending it crashing into a metal file cabinet.

"Get the fuck outta my way!" Brent cries as he shoots through the room quicker than the wind.

But the axe-wielding Stricken is back on its feet. It reaches out to grab Brent by the throat, sinking its fingers squeeze into his flesh until blood spurts from the holes in his punctured skin.

Connor is first out the door and gestures for everyone to follow him. "Come on!"

Brent is dropped on the floor, gurgling as blood spills from his mouth and neck wounds. With Connor in front and Duke at the back, everyone rushes into the street.

Panting and crying, they stand in the open street a couple of blocks away. The uncertainty of where to go or what to do is clear on everyone's face. Duke knows he can't do anything to help them.

"We should keep moving," Gwen says.

"Is there somewhere safe we can go?" Belinda asks, pitifully hopeful.

"Nowhere is going to be safe," Gwen replies sullenly as she looks upwards.

Duke thinks about the burned corpse that attacked him with an axe. It's bubbling bright red blood looked like lava running down the black rocks of a volcano. A chill runs down his neck and spine.

Gwen can't keep her eyes off the sky. "We should get under cover. Away from the lightning," she warns, "It's our only choice. Please. Let's go!"

It isn't long before Duke spots a seemingly quiet corner store and leads the others inside. All he has to do is point to the windows and Connor knows exactly what to do. Roger copies him—they close the blinds and lock the door. Gwen heads for the back office. She turns the doorknob and gasps when Duke grabs her hand. He bobs his head to the side and she steps away. He turns the handle and gently pushes the door open. The tiny office is empty apart from a few inspirational posters on the walls and a lone desk cluttered with office mess.

The darkness inside the store is punctuated with pale pink stripes of light squeezing in through the blinds. Everyone takes the chance to catch their breath, wipe away their tears, and pray for forgiveness. Though Duke supposes he shouldn't speak for the others on that front. Connor examines his gun and feeds it with a full magazine.

"They really can't die?" Sam asks him.

"I told you," Connor answers, "they're already dead. How can you kill what's already dead?"

"Then why bother with that?" Sam says, pointing to the gun.

"It's all I've got. Besides, it does slow them down a little bit."

Duke looks outside and sees the red and black clouds still stirring in the sky. Fires burn half the town and all around more of the Stricken roam. They hang around as if searching for something, people most likely.

Of all the people of the island, as well as the hundreds of tourists, it seems like the seven of them are all that's left. Kelly continues to comfort Sam and she seems a little better now. And by better, Duke can see how angry she is. He figures it's good to be angry when your life is in danger, or at least it's better than being depressed. "Hey," he says to Belinda who's tapping away on her phone, "can you call for help?"

She stifles a laugh and shows it to him. "No signal. Hasn't been one since the storm."

They return to sitting in silence—until Gwen springs to her feet and unlocks the front door.

"What the hell are you doing?" Connor barks.

"You're going to get us killed," Belinda whines.

There is a long moment of silence. No one knows what she's doing. It doesn't look like she does either.

"Gwen?" Duke whispers.

She turns her head to face him. Her blue hair hides all of her face except for one big hazel eye, shining under a tear yet to fall. "My parents," is all she says. It's all she has to say.

"I'll go with you," he tells her.

She opens the door.

"You're both insane," Belinda squeaks.

"Either we stay here and die like we almost did half an hour ago," says Roger as he stands to his feet with renewed vigor, "or we actually do something."

Sam marches to stand beside Gwen. "I watched my parents die. I'm not going to let that happen to a friend," she says.

A moment later, Kelly, Connor, and Belinda reluctantly follow them outside and back onto the streets.

None of the Stricken, littering the town like the plague that they are, seem to spot them as they dash between buildings and around corners. But the further they go through town, the more Stricken there are. Duke starts to think they really are the only people still left alive. Roger grabs his shoulder and turns him around. Duke can tell by the look in his eyes that he's worried. Duke nods and attempts to keep moving, but Roger holds him still. "Where are we going, Duke?"

"Out of town."

"Yeah, but where? Look up ahead, there's too many of them to sneak around."

"Don't worry," Duke replies, "we're almost there."

They continue down the street, turning into a parking lot, going through the gate, and into another alley. Finally, as they approach the edge of town, they spot a construction site on the other side of the street. There is also the faint sound of a machine running from somewhere in the construction site. Duke isn't sure what they're building, but it looks like it's going to be huge. That is, of course, if it is ever going to be finished.

"It doesn't look like any of them are around. We can cut across the site," Connor says.

"I don't know," Duke tells him, "I've got a bad feeling."

But Connor doesn't listen. He and Belinda are quick to cross the street, leaving the rest of the group behind. Roger decides to follow them. Gwen is as white as a ghost and constantly looks up at the clouds.

"Are you ready?" Duke asks the girls.

Sam and Kelly nod.

"Gwen, are you ready?"

"Yeah," she says quietly.

On the other side of the street, Roger and Connor wave them over.

"I'll go last," Duke says.

The girls, hunched over in single file, rush over to the construction site.

Once they're safe, Duke hurries to join them.

Huddled together, they walk cautiously through the site. Duke can't help but notice how many tools seem to be missing, just about everything except a wheelbarrow, and the loud noise of a running generator, next to a concrete pillar, is worrying. Then he stops in his tracks.

"What is it?" Gwen asks in a shaky voice.

"Do you hear that?"

"You mean the generator?" Roger asks.

"Someone must have left it on when the storm hit," says Connor.

"No," says Duke. "Something else."

Suddenly, from behind the pillar a giant man emerges, except it's not a man anymore. It wears construction overalls with the sleeves tied around its waist. Its bare muscular arms are etched with red scars. It steps out and turns its blood-filled eyes on them. Connor lifts his gun defiantly, despite what he's learned twice already.

The huge Stricken reaches behind the pillar and takes out a jackhammer, connected to the generator, dripping with blood. It looks at them for a moment, waiting. Connor takes a step forward. The Stricken starts the jackhammer, lifts it above its head, then with a long gait, it slowly walks toward them. The jackhammer shakes violently in its hands as the drill bit repeatedly punches toward the sky.

"Behind us!" Kelly cries.

Duke turns around and sees her pointing at the street which is now swarming with Stricken that are heading their way. Connor fires the gun. Bullets pierce through the huge Stricken's head, chest, and arms. It swings the pounding jackhammer at Connor who dives to the ground barely managing to dodge the strike. Belinda stumbles back, but Roger catches her.

The Stricken grabs the crawling Connor by the leg and drags him closer, puts his boot on his back, and then drives the jackhammer through his chest. Connor's screams fill every darkened corner of the island. The Stricken isn't just killing him like the others did at the bar, it's actually enjoying it, wickedly laughing all the while.

"Duke!" Gwen cries, pulling him by the arm and leading him to the street.

"We can run around them," Kelly says as they watch the crowd of Stricken coming after them, closer now.

"We won't make it!" Sam yells.

Smoking tires screech as a truck careens around the corner. It speeds down the street and stops dead right in front of Duke. The door opens and Ted stretches out his hand. "Get in!" The southern accent is a welcome sound.

"Go, get in," Duke orders.

Gwen, Sam, and Kelly climb in. Mitch stands in the tray and helps Duke up. Then they help Belinda and Roger to climb in too. Ted steps on the accelerator. The truck kicks off like a race car, speeding down the road. Duke looks back at the pack of Stricken, led by the bloodied giant that carries the jackhammer, with Connor's body still impaled on the drill bit, above its head.

"Oh, fuck," Belinda sighs.

Mitch slaps a hand on Duke's shoulder and hands him a Remington 870 shotgun.

"Where are we going?" Duke asks.

"Ted's place," Mitch replies. "Most of the boys were around for a barbeque when the storm hit. We're turning it into a fortress."

They drive out of town, but on the way Duke could have sworn he saw some people, living people, running around the island, but they disappeared before he could say anything. He's not sure if they should stop to help anyway; it's a sure way to die.

The rest of the island isn't fairing much better. Groves of trees are burning or have burned away already, though still coated in red fire, and the gas station just outside of town has been smashed to bits. The pavement out the front is streaked with blood. Pints of it.

Several houses pass by in a flash, but Duke can still make out bodies on the lawns, blood on the windows, and a turned-over car or two. He looks at Gwen through the back window of the truck. She's sitting next to Ted, nodding her head at whatever he's saying.

Soon, they turn into a court of four houses just off the beach. Mitch wasn't lying. Ted's house is being fortified with sheets of metal, furniture, razor wire, and cars parked head-to-tail to act as a kind of fence. A few of Ted's buddies, and Duke's too he supposes, are armed to the teeth and keep a lookout in all directions.

Ted parks the truck in the middle of the street and hops out. Duke and Mitch jump out the tray. "Need a hand?" Roger asks Belinda.

She scoffs and shakes her head before leaping out and landing on her feet. Then she storms off toward Ted's place.

Ted leads them inside his two-story house, through the living room and into the kitchen where a couple of men with guns slung over their shoulders peer down at the kitchen table. They're studying a map of San Cora, which has several sticky notes placed at certain points. The notes read 'danger', 'no exit', and 'empty'.

Ted pats Duke on the shoulder and smiles. "Welcome to HQ," he says. "Mitch will give you some supplies. Then you and I can discuss our next move."

Duke follows Mitch back into the living room where he gives everyone a handgun. Roger admires his new piece like it's made of gold. Kelly tests the weight of hers in her hand. Belinda, Sam, and Gwen are each a little awkward holding their weapons. A long time ago, Duke managed to convince them, except Belinda, to fire a few rounds at the range, but beyond that they're new to handling firearms.

Mitch gives each of them a plastic bag or a shoebox filled with canned food and water, as well as simple tools like cord, needle and thread, a bandage, and a piece of cloth. He takes Duke aside and whispers, "I've met the girls before, and Belinda works at the hotel with Gwen, right? But who is that?" he says, tilting his head at Roger.

"A tourist. He helped us hide from a pack of those things. Sort of saved us, I guess."

"Things? What things?" Mitch smiles and laughs, but he's obviously confused.

"The... I don't know what they are."

"People, Duke. They're people."

Ted calls Duke from the kitchen and waves him over.

The kitchen table is circled by five burly men wearing flak jackets and tactical boots and carrying all sorts of firearms and knives. Duke has met them all before, is friends with them, but now isn't the time to chat.

"The red lightning struck all over San Cora, setting fire to half the island," Ted says. "But worse than all the damage is how people are reacting to it, killing each other. It does happen during disasters, but not on this scale or to these extremes. We're outnumbered ten-to-one."

"These people are traumatized," says Mitch, "affected by the disaster brought on by the storm. Once it's blown over they'll be back to normal. They're still our neighbors. They're still our friends." Everyone in the rooms nods in agreement.

"They're not people. Not anymore."

All eyes, confused or angry, turn to Duke.

"What are you talking about?" Ted asks.

"They're all dead. And we can't stay here. We have to get out."

Two of the weekend warriors shake their heads in anger. Another one laughs. And the others outright curse him. Ted quietens the room by holding up his hands. He's just about to speak before Mitch interrupts with laughter. "And where are we going to go, huh?" Mitch wonders.

"Santa Catalina if we have to," Duke replies. However, he realizes he hadn't actually thought about where they might go.

Mitch laughs again.

"All the ships are in town for the festival. And the emergency helicopter. We'd have to go through town," says Ted.

"You came to my rescue, why can't we all sneak back in?"

For a moment, the room is silent and it seems that everyone seriously considers it.

Ted's eyes shine with honest determination. "I was scouting the damage, a quick run in and out. I didn't go all the way through town. Besides, we can't leave, this is our home. We'll stay and help everyone."

Everyone smiles and nods in agreement again. Then they go back to looking at the map and talking among themselves.

"But they're not people," Duke says to himself as no one will hear anything else from him. That much is clear.

He heads back into the living room where the others are waiting. Roger is digging into his rations while Belinda sips from her water bottle. Kelly and Sam sit on the couch in silence, three handguns on the coffee table. Sam's eyes are still red from crying and Kelly bites on her nails.

Gwen shakes as she stands by the window looking out at the sky. She rubs her folded arms as if trying to warm herself. Duke stands beside her. The black and red clouds remain in the sky like the eye of a vengeful god, threatening to strike wherever and whenever. "Poor Sam," Gwen says. "I wish I could do something, but nothing can change the fact that she watched her parents die."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"I need to go home. My parents might be..."

"Well, well, well," says an all too familiar, arrogant voice. They turn around and see Nick, standing proudly in his brand new tactical vest that was no doubt a welcome gift from Ted and his other rescuers. He smiles as Sam and Kelly jump off the couch and hug him tightly. They bombard him with questions about how he got here and what happened to him. Gwen takes a deep breath of relief and waves to Nick. "Sit and I'll tell you all about it," he says.

They all clump together on the couch as Nick puts his foot up on the coffee table. He runs his hand over his black hair. Duke notes the spots of old blood on his tanned arms. "When we were all at the festival, in front of the stage, Zane saw some tourist chick giving him signals. We went up to her and her friend, they grabbed us by the hand, and we went into an alley. We were, you know," Nicks grins and pumps his eyebrows, "but were interrupted." Nick suddenly disappears into a memory and his voice becomes quieter. "The red lightning hit everything, everyone. We ran and waited inside a supermarket until the storm died down. We went outside thinking it was all over. Then they attacked. The tourist girls... They didn't make it."

"What about Zane? Is he here too?" Sam asks.

"I don't know where he is. I just kept running and then I bumped into some of these guys," Nick replies, his thoughts now back in the real world.

Duke stands up and looks out the window. Some of the other people Ted rescued are armed with rifles and shotguns and are patrolling the house. They're communicating with each other on walkie-talkies and scanning everything they see under a determined eye. This place really is going to be a fortress, but it won't do against the Stricken.

Duke walks into the kitchen as Ted sends all his people out. The Texan sips from his hipflask and screws the top back on. "Have you got a minute?" Duke asks.

Ted holds up the flask and considers having another swig, but eventually thinks better of it. "Sure, what is it?"

"I can't stay here. My friends have family and we need to find them." Ted looks away for a second and then sighs.

"Look, Duke, I need your help. There are a lot of people out there acting crazy and they will hurt you."

"They're not acting crazy. They're not people. They're, well... I don't know what they are, but they aren't people anymore. I wish I knew how to explain it."

"Well it sure as shit isn't the zombie apocalypse," says Mitch as he bites into an apple, having appeared form nowhere. "You're seeing shit."

Duke steps forward and is about to say something he'd probably regret when thunder rumbles in the clouds and shakes the house. _BOOM!_ A bolt of lightning hits the road a few feet from the house.

"They're coming," Duke says. "If you hope to survive, to help anyone else, then don't treat these things like people. They'll kill us all."

"Duke, get a hold of yourself!" Ted demands, "I think this whole mess has affected you more than I thought. Why don't you take it easy for a while? We'll take care of the injured and the people out there who need us."

"You're making a mistake," Duke warns as Ted and Mitch leave the kitchen, "we're all going to die." His quiet words go unheeded.

Duke hurries back to the others and sees Gwen standing in the middle of the room looking up at the roof as if expecting a bolt of lightning to come through it.

"So, what's the plan?" Belinda asks as she awkwardly pulls down the slide of her Glock.

Ted's weekend-warriors mumble and grumble as they scramble around outside. The clouds roar and shake the house again and the sounds of boots and voices get louder and more frantic.

A muscular man in a singlet bursts through the front door and spots Ted. "We got trouble," is all he says.

Ted and Duke run to the front porch. Heading down the court, spanning the width of the road, from sidewalk to sidewalk, a wave of Stricken, like a flooding sea of blood filled water, moves toward them. Most of them carry some kind of weapon, a knife, a hammer, a rebar.

Ted quickly regains his composure. "Everyone, get in position! Get ready! It looks like you might have been right, Duke."

Someone parks Ted's truck in front of the chain of cars and several people crouch behind them. Others aim their guns down from the second-floor balcony and windows, and everyone else spreads out to assigned positions. There's almost thirty people here, but only a handful of them are trained. Duke's dry throat threatens to choke him. He swallows, breathes.

Thunder roars, the red clouds swirl in the sky, and the horde of Stricken inches closer. Ted stays on the porch beside Mitch and they load their weapons. Gwen, Nick, and the others wait for Duke in the living room. Kelly picks up the guns from the coffee table and hands one to Sam and one to Gwen. "We'll die if we stay here," Kelly says matter-of-factly.

"These guys have everything covered," says Nick. "We'll be safe if we stick around." He wipes the sweat from his forehead.

"Stay there," Duke yells through the house, looking at each of them as if it's the last time he'll see them. "Run if you have to." He crouches beside Ted behind a table flipped on its side and reinforced with sheets of steel. Aside from the clouds shaking both sky and earth, there is complete silence. The Stricken are just feet from the fence of cars, their silent march louder than any death bell tolling.

One of the guys on the second-floor balcony turns on a megaphone. "Stop. Do not advance. Stay where you are." The Stricken lift their weapons and keep coming. One of them raises a gun and fires. A man at the front takes the bullet in his face. He drops to the ground with a loud thud. What seems like a long moment of stillness suddenly becomes chaotic. Ted's people unleash their anger and all the power their weapons allow upon the Stricken in revenge of their fallen comrade. All to no effect. Bullets tear through them and fill them with holes oozing their red and black innards. But still they keep coming. The guy with the megaphone tells his people to stop firing, but too many of them are scared beyond reason.

The Stricken, with bullet wounds and limbs and half their heads blown off, pour over the line of cars. They bite necks, rip out eyes, stab, smash, and the few with firearms take aim. Ted remains composed despite his friends, Duke's friends, screaming as they die.

"Back!" Ted cries. "Back to the house!"

The men on the balcony offer cover fire from above as everyone hurries back to the house while continuing to fire at the invincible horde. When the last man stumbles inside, Ted slams the front door shut. "Barricades!" he orders, and everyone scrambles to push furniture against the door. Gwen and the others stand shoulder to shoulder in the living room, looking at Duke as if he had a way to save them. If only they knew him better.

The sky roars as the Stricken pound on the door. Each ram knocks the homemade barricades back an inch. Ted's men are starting to shake as they search for a way to escape. Ted remains confident, or at least he appears so. The sky roars again, louder.

"We can run out the back," says Nick, terror sweat trickling down the sides of his face. "Come on! What are we waiting for?!" He turns around to leave but Ted grabs him by the shoulder.

"We're going to defend what's ours, got it?"

_Boom!_ Duke looks out the front window and sees the red clouds above swirling and flickering with red light. The Stricken outside are packed together at the front door.

"We can get out of here, out the back," Nick affirms, but Ted doesn't respond. "How many people died outside? Look who's left. Come on, man, what's the problem? Let's get the hell out of here."

"I can't," Gwen says, barely louder than a whisper. "The thunder."

Kelly puts her arm around Gwen's waist and gently squeezes.

"We'll be all right," Duke says as he looks over his shoulder at his friends. Then suddenly, _crash!_ Broken glass rains all over him as one of the Stricken bursts through the window, knocks him to the ground, and lands on top of him. Duke can see it smiling, an evil grin made by scarred lips and teeth broken into vicious points, as it stands with its boot on his shotgun, stopping him from raising it. Its blood-filled eyes are lifeless as it aims a revolver at Duke's head. All the screaming and chaos suddenly ceases to exist and all Duke can see is the Stricken behind the barrel of the gun. The hammer snaps back and the click sends a cold chill throughout his body, but no bullet. Duke tries to throw the creature off, but it regains its balance. The gun clicks again. Duke's stomach sinks, but he's still alive. He sits up and grabs the Stricken's legs and yanks it down to the floor. Its revolver goes off again. Duke's ear rings painfully as a bullet pierces the floor beside his head. Not wasting a second, Duke pushes the Stricken to the side, rolls to sit on top of it, then snatches up the shotgun slung around his shoulder and fires, pumps, fires, pumps, fires. The Stricken's head becomes nothing more than a pile of dark blood clumped on the floor.

"Duke!" Ted lunges forward and scoops him up by the arm, helping him through the living room.

The last to reach the back door, Duke looks over his shoulder.

"What is it?" Ted asks. But then his eyes widen as he sees it.

The Stricken without a head gets up and starts advancing towards them. Behind it, the front door disintegrates into splinters and a wave of Stricken follow it into the house.

Out of ammo, Ted draws the Taser from his belt and fires. The barbed projectile pierces the chest of one of the Stricken then crackles loudly. The Stricken drops to the floor. Incredibly, it doesn't get back up. The battle rages on as the people on the second floor perch themselves along the stairway. Some of the Stricken head up the stairs after them. The bottleneck tactic doesn't seem to be working. Ted yanks on Duke's arm and they slam the back door shut behind them, leaving the men on the second floor to fend for themselves. Duke can hear their screams over the ringing in his ear. His chest hurts from the pounding of his heart as they run. All he can see is recent memory; the way the Stricken came after them with unholy scarred bodies, organs falling from their torsos, heads blown off. They just kept coming, kept swinging their weapons, kept shooting, kept killing. And just when you think they're dead, they reach out for your neck with both hands.

San Cora was a paradise, but now it's stained with congealed blood and filled with corpses both dead on the ground and walking. Of all the people who were turning Ted's ordinary house into a fortress, only Ted, Mitch, and Nick remain.

The survivors run through the backyard and down a small hill leading to the beach. They hide behind a row of surfboards stacked next to each other on the beach. Duke can hear the Stricken breaking their way through houses. It won't be long before they find them.

"Did that work? The Taser?" Duke asks between breaths. "How? Why?"

"I don't know," Ted replies. "We probably just stunned it, anyway."

As they catch their breath, everyone eyes Ted, wordlessly asking him what the hell they are going to do. The Stricken are coming.

# Chapter Seven

Roger stares at the ground and ignores the blood running from his nose. Belinda buries her head between her knees and sobs, and Sam sits silently having shed all her tears for her parents. Kelly paces the beach and pinches the bridge of her nose in agonizing thought. Ted holds his handgun with both hands and looks at it as if it were a holy relic that had failed to show him the miracle it promised to provide and wordlessly asking it why.

Mitch slumps into the sand and rocks back and forth, biting his knuckles. Nick squeezes his hair and then releases, squeezes, and releases again. Soaked with sweat and blood, Duke strips off his button-down shirt and throws it to the sand in, heaved in frustration. A thin line of blood runs slowly from the middle of his forehead, around his nose and mouth, and continues to run under his chin. So, this is what they look like when they're scared, Gwen thinks to herself. Her hands, speckled with blood, shake as she holds them in front of her face. She buries her face in them and welcomes the comforting darkness, a place within herself where she can catch her breath. The only place that, right now, is safe.

"Can we stay here?" Kelly asks, desperate and afraid, the strong girl showing her first signs of fragility.

"Here? On the beach? No." Roger's solemn tone is an intense contrast to the usually chatty, Hawaiian shirt-wearing man he is. "Besides, we tried holing up before, when we first met. It didn't end well, remember?"

Ted holsters his handgun. Duke watches him as the ageing man moves to stand in front of him. "You warned me, Duke, and I didn't believe you."

"It's all right, Boss."

"No, it ain't!" Ted snaps, and all the sobbing, worrying, and pacing stops. "You warned me, but I didn't listen. Those men died because of me." His voice goes quiet and his words seem to lose all previous strength. "It's my fault they're dead."

"We are not to blame for this. The Stricken are to blame." Duke steps forward and everyone circles around him. "They used to be our neighbors, friendly tourists." He looks into Sam's eyes for a long moment. Then she suddenly stands taller. "They used to be our family. Then they died. Now, they're not what they used to be."

"What are we gonna do?" Belinda squeals.

"There must be some way off the island," Kelly says.

The beach erupts in a chorus of both whispered and frantic questions and answers directed at everyone and no one. Discussions become arguments and arguments become fights and, in the end, everyone is upset.

"We should go to my shop before we do anything else," says Ted, "we'll need more Tasers."

Gwen keeps out of it. One more voice in the winds of confused and frightened anger will not help. If anything, it will be the death of them all. The Stricken are right behind them. They're probably listening to them right now and are on their way. And she and her friends will die like so many others already have. It's funny, or it's sad, that the monsters roaming the island aren't what Gwen fears the most. She wonders if the others feel the same way about them, as she does for...

"Quiet," Duke barks. The single word barely louder than a whisper, yet everyone shuts up. He points to the guns in their hands. "These are useless against them, but if we can get some Tasers we might have a fighting chance."

"So now what?" Nick says.

"I can't wait anymore," Gwen blurts out and everyone looks at her. "I'm going home to find my parents." The others reply with silence. "You should all get to Ted's shop. Don't worry about me."

Duke steps forward. "Lead the way," he says.

Behind him, Kelly and Sam nod their heads. Roger and Belinda are about to protest, but suddenly realize they don't have a choice.

"Your place is on the way to my shop," says Ted. "Kinda..."

"Thanks, guys. Follow me."

"Hey," Duke calls quietly as he catches up to Gwen, "are you doing all right?"

"I just hope my parents are okay." She laughs without meaning to. Duke's expression begs for an explanation. "I tried so hard to convince my sister to stay home, but she wanted to see the world. She left for L.A. just before you arrived. She would have liked you."

Duke smiles, but his show of happiness fades as quickly as it came. His fingers flex around the grip of his shotgun.

"Do you have any brothers or sisters?" Gwen asks, suddenly aware of how little she knows about Duke's family.

"I've got two older brothers. I haven't spoken to them for a while, though."

"Don't you get along?"

"Yeah," he sighs deeply, "but one moved to Houston and the other moved to Ventura with my parents. I was in L.A. on my own for a while before coming here."

Someone screams in the distance. "We should hurry," he says.

# Chapter Eight

Gwen and Duke finally make it to Gwen's house. It looks undamaged. So does Duke's place. Gwen slowly opens her front door and looks around. She walks through the living room and the kitchen. The backdoor is open.

"Wait," Duke tells her, but she's already running into the backyard.

Two deckchairs face the ocean and two half empty wine glasses rest on a small table. Her parents' bodies, beaten, scratched and torn, lie on the grass. Gwen stumbles over to them and falls to her knees. She stares at them in silence.

The small wooden fence surrounding the backyard is broken in several places. It would seem that several groups of Stricken broke through the fence at the same time. Mr. and Mrs. Day didn't stand a chance. Gwen starts to cry. She tries to speak but can't, and she shakes her parents' bodies as if trying to wake them. She gently kisses their foreheads and begs them to get up. No one says a word. No bird sings or flies by, no dog barks, no wind blows. The world is silent, the sky is gray and red, and the air carries the scent of death.

"Gwen," Kelly says gently. "I'm so sorry."

"It's all my fault," she replies between sobs. "We came here because of me. We should never have left California. If we hadn't, they'd still be..."

Kelly kneels beside her and Sam rubs Gwen's back caringly.

"It's not your fault," says Duke. "Don't blame yourself for this."

"Lucky our parents are away on vacation, eh, Kel?" says Nick. Ted slaps him across the back of his head.

"Consider your words, boy," he warns.

Gwen kisses her parents one last time before standing up. She wipes her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie and takes a few deep breaths. "I'll get my father's keys," she says quietly. "He's got a boat at the hotel. We need to get off this fucking island." She shuffles back inside the house.

"We'll wait for you out the front," Roger says.

Duke goes next door to his house and heads upstairs. The box under his bed calls to him, makes him wonder if the Stricken were sent to punish him. He kneels and grabs the box. He opens it carefully considers each item. He decides to take the gold chain bracelet, putting it in his pocket, and leaving the other items behind.

He knows he's failing again, he knows it's pointless, that they're dead already. He knows he's going to die. But it doesn't seem to matter. However, something, he doesn't know what, is driving him forward. He will try.

# Chapter Nine

They stand in the middle of the long road that stretches from one end of San Cora to the other, the open ocean just a stone's throw away. Gwen's tears have shed and dried on her skin. Duke lifts his hand and holds it over her shoulder before deciding to let it drop by his side. Her hazel eyes, the left one semi-circled by scars, burns hotter than the flames consuming the island. Thunder strikes in the distance, but she doesn't react this time. It strikes again, closer, and once again it doesn't faze her.

"Are you okay?" Duke asks.

"I'm fine," says Gwen. "We're gonna go into town, we're gonna get on my boat, and we're gonna get off this fucking island."

Duke sighs. "I guess we don't have a choice," he says.

"That's a great plan! Why didn't we think about that before?" Belinda's sarcasm isn't meant to be subtle.

"There's no way I'm going back there," says Roger. "No way."

"I agree," Ted chimes in. "I say we hole up, hunker down, and ride this thing out. I know we can survive that way."

Sam, once a happy, chatty girl, passes Ted the handgun that Mitch gave her. "I'm going with you," she tells Gwen.

"Me too," Kelly adds.

Mitch shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. "I'm sorry, Boss," he says. "Last time didn't end so well. I'd rather make a run for it."

"I've got my dad's boat keys. If we can run through town we'll be okay," says Gwen.

"Can you be certain your boat hasn't been stolen, or sunk?" Roger asks.

"Nah," Belinda interjects, "her dad keeps his prized piece of garbage locked up tighter than any safe."

"Look!" Duke exclaims.

Everyone looks down the road toward town. A police car speeds up the road, fishtailing back and forth.

Fifty metres away from them, the police car swerves too hard and burns off the road, slamming side-on into a nearby tree. The passenger door springs open. A large man drops onto the grass. A woman crawls out of the same door. The man helps her to her feet and they aim their guns at their car.

Duke gets closer. "Kimble! Young! Ted, that's them."

The cops spot Duke up the road and start running. Behind them, a Stricken crawls out of the car after them. Kimble's neck is bleeding from what looks like fingernail scratches, and the knuckles on Young's right hand are bloody.

"I'm glad you guys are okay," says Kimble, her blonde hair stuck to her sweaty forehead.

"What do we do now?" says Young.

Gwen hasn't looked away from the Stricken that climbed out of the patrol car. She grips her shotgun and yanks down on the pump.

"Gwen? Wait! Don't waste the ammo," Kimble says, "We can outrun this one."

"I'm not running anymore."

"You can't kill them," Duke reminds her.

Gwen turns to him as if what he said was insulting.

"I don't think anything can kill them."

Gwen's eyes seem to lose their fire, not entirely, but enough that she starts thinking clearly again. She turns her back on the Stricken.

"So, where are we..." Duke is interrupted by a deafening thunder bolt striking the patrol car. It bursts into red fire as the sky flashes white and red. And, as if summoned by the lightning, a dozen Stricken emerge from behind the trees and bushes alongside the road.

"Duck!" Sam screams.

But it's too late. Everyone turns around and sees Mitch twitching like hell. A Stricken stands behind him with a giant pair of hedge trimmers. Only one of the blades sticks out through his neck, but then the Stricken starts to cut. It pumps the scissor blades together over and over to slice through the stringy flesh. Mitch falls to his knees and his head falls off, rolls down his lap, and keeps rolling until it hits Duke's feet.

"Son of a bitch!" Ted cries as he aims his gun.

One of the Stricken swings a thick chain above its head, then whips it across Roger's face. Blood spurts from his mouth as he falls to the ground. He tries to stand up but his arms shake and give way. He falls flat and unconsciousness takes over. Gwen steps in front of the now unarmed Sam and shoots while Kelly and Roger aim carefully before firing at the Stricken coming in from the sides. The shots they manage to land aren't the best. Duke ducks a second swing of the chain and then rushes in with a left uppercut to the Stricken's chin. He follows with a straight right, and finishes with a left rip to the gut. The Stricken bends down enough for Duke to push it to the ground and to swipe the chain from its hand. Duke wraps the chain around the Stricken's neck then twists and pulls.

Not wasting any time, Young drops his empty gun to the ground and flicks out his baton. He faces a Stricken, burned beyond all recognition, and lands several strikes across its red and black face, but the large man's strength isn't enough to hinder the creature's advance.

Gwen is forced to use her empty shotgun as a club; however, she only swings once before she is pushed to the ground. She lands by Kimble's feet. She inches backwards, away from the Stricken that knocked her over. She looks up for someone to help her. Then she spots another gun on Kimble's belt. She reaches up, snatches it from its holster and fires, but there isn't any kick or bang. Instead, something extends from the gun and attaches itself to the Stricken. She squeezes the trigger with all her might. Suddenly, the Stricken stops its advance and twitches and contorts unnaturally before collapsing on its back. It doesn't get back up.

Kimble yanks Gwen back onto her feet. She takes the Taser from Gwen's hand and breaks off the connecting wire. "Young," she yells. "Tasers!"

Young hears his partner and is quick to understand. He punches one of the Stricken away and then draws his Taser and fires at it. Again, the Stricken twitches and falls. Young's lips twist into a half smile. He spots Roger struggling to stand up and gives him a hand.

"You all right?" Young asks.

"I think so," Roger replies.

"Argh!" Sam screams.

Gwen spins and sees her friend stumbling backwards, a knife piercing through her forearm. Ted steps forward to help her out. _Smash!_ Broken glass spills through the air as Sam falls to the ground. The Stricken behind her wields a broken bottle. It dives onto Sam's back and shoves the makeshift weapon into the back of her head, repeatedly, until the splintered green glass is tipped red.

"No!" Kelly wails.

Ted rushes toward her, but the Stricken is quick and slashes at him. The bottle cuts Ted's chest through his shirt causing him to yelp in pained surprise.

Duke is also heading for the Stricken when Ted throws out his arm. "She's dead! We have to go. Now!"

The others already know the drill. It's too late to do anything else. Running seems to be the only course of action they can take.

Duke swings the chain in wide circles to keep the Stricken back as the others get distance. As they run, the Stricken on Sam's back continues its relentless stabbing frenzy.

# Chapter Ten

Gwen can't help but think that it doesn't matter if the creatures can kill them. A few Tasers won't be enough to take back San Cora, let alone survive. Kelly hugs her tightly and cries pitifully into her shoulder. Gwen looks at her and wonders when she will die; not if, but when. Then she starts to hate herself for thinking about her friend's death with such certainty.

Duke searches Gwen's hardened eyes for any remnant of hope, but there isn't any. It will be night soon and they have nowhere to go. He's exhausted, bleeding, hurting, and he can feel his heart cracking open. Ted sits beside him on the side of the road. "When I first met Sam," Duke says, "I thought she was just another blonde bimbo. I thought we'd hate each other. But, by the end of the day, we were friends. She wasn't at all what I imagined. She was a genuinely kind human being. And she sure as hell didn't deserve to be killed by one of those things."

Ted comforts Duke the best way he can; he puts his hand on Duke's shoulder and squeezes.

Duke takes out the gold chain from his pocket. The bracelet has lost all shine, all glimmer. But, even after all that's happened with the red lightning, it still weighs him down more than any other millstone. "I don't think she knew how much I valued her friendship. Again, I didn't get to say it, didn't get to say goodbye. I fucked up."

"Again? What do you mean again?"

"... Nothing." Duke shoves the bracelet back into his pocket.

"Don't let this beat you, Duke. We need you."

Ted's reassurance means something, no matter how small the gesture. Duke looks over at Gwen again. He wants to die first. He knows it's selfish and cowardly, but he wants to die first.

Gwen blinks, then blinks again. She seems to wake up as she realizes she needs to help her grieving friend. She raises her hand and lovingly brushes Kelly's hair. Then her hand starts to shake and her mouth starts to quiver. She bites down and clenches her jaw. A tear falls from her eye and lands on her hand. The tear is half clear and half red, tainted by blood from some yet undiscovered wound. She lifts her head toward the sky. The gray day is becoming black as night approaches, and the giant red cloud hovers over the island like a guillotine. They probably won't live to see morning.

"It's okay," Kelly says, her final sobs now exhausted. "She's with her mom and dad, wherever they are. Wherever they want to be." She lifts a finger and wipes away Gwen's tears. They're both comforted by each other's gentle smile.

# Chapter Eleven

The group hides behind a cluster of large trees just off the side of the road. "That killed them," Belinda says, and Kimble holds up her hands as if to slow her down. "We can kill these fucks! We can kill them."

"Take it easy," Kimble replies quietly, "don't get carried away. We may have just stunned them."

"No, they were dead. Again."

"Wait, what are you talking about?" Nick asks.

"Gwen killed one. So did Ted."

"Roger, please," Kimble pleads.

"I killed one too. You saw it," Young adds.

"How?" Duke asks, barely louder than a whisper as he wipes his sweaty forehead with his tank-top.

"Tasers," says Young. "Don't know how or why, but it seems to put 'em down for good."

"Then let's kill them all," Kelly says. "For Sam. For Gwen's parents. Even for them."

"Them?" Roger asks.

Kelly stands up and breathes deeply, eyes bright with renewed purpose and determination. "Those Stricken. I know... knew so many of them. They've suffered too, so I'll kill them for their sake as well."

"There're Tasers and stun guns at the store," says Ted. "It's the only thing we can do right now."

"Can we make it before it gets too dark?" Roger asks as he looks at the tired and sorry bunch before him.

"We'll have to," Duke answers, offering his hand to help Gwen to her feet. "Let's go."

Summer has all but deserted this island. Only stale heat lingers in the air and threatens to choke anyone still alive. It's a heat made worse by the hot adrenaline-fueled blood pumping through Duke's body. He looks down at his hand and tries to clench a fist, but his muscles, and all those tiny little bones inside, ache in the attempt. His stomach groans with hunger as they tiptoe up the road to Ted's gun store. As the minutes pass and the closer they get to the store, the world turns cold in the growing darkness. Every now and again the thunder clouds rumble to constantly remind them of its presence.

Duke takes the gold bracelet out of his pocket and clips it around his wrist. But the second he puts it on he wants to tear it off. "That's nice," says Gwen, and she nods her head at the bracelet.

"It belonged to a friend."

"A girlfriend?" she tries to sound enthused but her voice sags along with her eyelids.

"No, a guy. He just liked fancy things."

"We should pick up the pace," Roger cuts in. "It's getting really dark, really quick."

Finally, after what feels like hours, the group comes across their last obstacle; a steep hill leading up to the gun range. Duke wrings out the bottom of his tank top and takes a deep breath.

Roger unbuttons his Hawaiian shirt and spits on the side of the road. "Thank fuck we made it," he says.

"Wait," says Kelly. "There could be some of them up there. In the store."

Everyone's sliver of hope is washed away by her words. Duke shakes his head, thinking it was too good to be true. The range isn't that far from town so anyone or anything could have wandered up there. People may have even raided the place for weapons.

"Then we'll have to be smart," Gwen says. "And quiet."

Duke shakes the bracelet on his wrist. "I'll go," he says, and turns to trek up the hill.

Gwen grabs his shoulder. "You can't go by yourself," she whisper-yells.

"You'll know it's unsafe if I don't come back. It's better than all of us risking our lives."

"Young and I should go," says Kimble. Duke opens his mouth to respond, but the sheriff puts her hand on his chest. "We'll go," she says slowly and seriously. She motions for Young to follow her and then they both sneak up the hill.

Duke doesn't take his eyes off the peak of the hill, waiting and watching. A task quickly becoming more difficult as night consumes the island. A twig snaps somewhere in the unknown and everyone jumps to attention. Waiting in silence and straining his ears to listen reminds him of how silent everything is. It's been too long since he's heard a bird chirping from a tree, a car passing by, or even someone screaming somewhere on the island. Even the sea is motionless, still, silent. Ever since the lightning.

Another twig snaps. Leaves rustle. Thunder cracks in the distance. Duke holds his hand in front of his face and can barely see it. All around them leaves crunch underfoot; in front of them, to the side, behind them. They're surrounded as black and red figures emerge from behind the trees. Duke can't make out who they are or what they look like, all he can see are the red scars glowing in the black night; ghosts made of red jagged lines.

"Come on," Kimble calls from atop the hill.

"Go!" Duke orders.

They run up the hill and into Ted's gun store. Though the place isn't trashed, it's obvious someone has been here. The front door has been broken open and an assortment of weapons and supplies have been taken off the shelves. However, Duke doesn't suspect that any money is missing. Whoever came here knew exactly what they were looking for.

The cold metal of the guns makes the store feel cooler than it is, even though the night is unnaturally cold. Everything that's happened today has been unnatural, so why should the night be different?

Duke, Ted, Kimble, and Young barricade the front door and windows with stacks of shelving weighed down with half of the items in the store. "They'll be here any second," Gwen says.

"I'll get the Tasers," Ted replies, tapping Roger on the shoulder. They both hurry to the back of the shop.

"How many?" Young asks Duke.

"Lots," Duke replies.

"We should be as quiet as we can," says Kelly.

Ted and Roger each carry a small box. They hand everyone a Taser or a stun gun.

"Do they even know we're here?" Belinda asks Nick. They both stand in a corner, out of the others' way. They stand shoulder to shoulder, arms folded across their chests in a subconscious attempt to ward off the cold.

"They must, they were all around us. Sure are taking their time, though."

"What, are you in a hurry to get killed? Got somewhere to be?" Belinda's retort is sharp.

Nick just shrugs. Belinda scoffs at the stupid expression on his face.

Roger rubs his stomach and looks around. He spots Ted sitting by the front door. "Psst," he whispers. "Got anything to eat around here?" Ted thinks seriously for a minute. "I got half a bag of jerky."

Roger's excitement dies as quickly as it came. "Hmm...Maybe later."

Young and Kimble show the others how to use their new weapons as Duke instructs Gwen. She got lucky on the road, but it's best to know how to handle a weapon, Tasers included. "I didn't know you had so many scars," he says. Gwen looks up from the Taser in her hands. A line of dried blood runs down his forehead and between his dark eyes, but she can see he's not judging her.

"Yeah. Just forget about it. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter."

"Why?" she snaps. Duke's never seen her angry before today and he never thought she'd be angry with him.

"I didn't mean... I just... I just want you to be all right. I don't want new or old wounds hurting you." Duke sighs and leans against the wall, looking outside through the shelves and barred windows.

"I'm sorry," she says, her voice calm and quiet. "I just don't like talking about it. In fact, only a couple of my friends know about it. Kelly and... Sam."

Duke sighs again, deeper and defeated.

"You don't have to tell me anything," he replies as he fingers his bracelet. "Just tell me if you need me." He doesn't look at her. Instead, he watches the darkness outside for any approaching Stricken.

Gwen reaches into her pocket and takes out her old photo. She holds it out to show him.

"That's you?" he says. "How old were you?"

"I was eleven," Gwen almost chokes on her words.

Duke nods his head in understanding, and then shakes the bracelet on his wrist.

Gwen chuckles. "It's funny; my scars made me an outcast, but all these Stricken look just like me. Now you're in the minority if you haven't been struck by lightning."

"You look nothing like them," Duke says firmly. He looks into her hazel eyes for a long moment. At first, they tell him she's scared, but then they say she's grown. Grown stronger, grown more aware. She looks away and slides down to sit with her back against the wall. Duke looks down at her, her bright-blue hair speckled with blood, and suddenly realizes how exhausted he is.

"I don't think they followed us," says Kelly.

"Maybe we'll get some sleep?" Roger's question comes across as begging.

"Ack, sleeping bags?" Belinda whines. "Guess it'll have to do."

Duke sits on a chair and peeps out the corner of the window. Several Tasers and stun guns are placed in a neat row on the bench next to him. Kimble shares the same setup on the other side of the room. She's taken off her shirt and now wears her tactical vest over a singlet. Both of her bare arms are cut or smeared with dried blood, but most of it isn't hers.

Ted stands in the centre of the room. "Young and I take next watch, then Roger and Nick, and then the ladies."

"Make sure you've got everything," Gwen adds. "As soon as the sun's up we're out of here and getting on my dad's boat."

Everyone silently agrees. Duke resumes watching the outside world for any danger. He isn't certain, his mind might be playing tricks on him, but sometimes, every now and again, he thinks he spots a scarred figure glowing red in the darkness. An hour or so into the night, Duke hears something like a scream in the distance. It could be an animal; it's too far away to tell. He looks across the room at Kimble, her face lit by moonlight. She remains stern; maybe she didn't hear it. Maybe she did.

The gold bracelet suddenly becomes heavy when Duke lifts his wrist. Somehow, it shines more brightly in the darkness. "I'm sorry," Duke whispers to it. He scans the gun store. Everyone is sleeping in a circle in the centre of the room. He wonders why he thinks he can do anything to save them. He didn't before.

At last, their shift has ended. Kimble gives Duke the nod and they wake Ted and Young to relieve them. Duke doesn't think he'll get any sleep, though.

"Oh, no..." Roger says, as he stands from his seat by the window. Having not slept, as he suspected, Duke springs to his feet. "They're here!"

_Crash!_

The window breaks apart as a large rock flies through it and between the metal bars. A few more rocks smash the other windows as well, and now everyone is on their feet, scrambling for Tasers.

Gwen rushes to a broken window and aims her Taser. She fires the crackling wires at a nearby Stricken, its red scars glowing. At first, the moon offered a decent amount of light, but now it seems like a cluster of clouds are covering it. Everything under the sky is descending into pitch blackness.

"Ah! Help!" Roger screams. Several arms, some with flesh completely burned away, wrap around his waist, chest, and face. "Help!"

Duke and Ted run over to him.

"Come on, Nick!" Duke orders, but Nick stumbles back and shakes his head.

Another window breaks and Kelly fires a Taser.

"Don't let go!" Roger screams again.

Duke tries prying him away, tries peeling the Stricken arms from him, but to no avail. He looks up into Roger's terrified eyes and in that moment, they both know there' s nothing they can do. Duke wants to say something to him, but any words would be lacking. "No," says Roger. "Don't. Help meeeee!"

"No!" Ted yells as Roger is bent and broken. Each of his limbs are twisted and contorted at unnatural angles and, despite the chaos, everyone can hear his bones breaking. Finally, when the Stricken have nothing else of his to break, they snap his neck and drop him on the floor, a body piled upon itself like a marionette without a puppeteer.

The whole building begins to crack under the weight of the Stricken's assault. Again, and again, they hurl rocks and bash against the front doors. And with a strength they didn't have earlier that day, some of them start bending the metal bars on the windows.

A Stricken, totally burned from head to toe, like so many of them are, starts climbing through the one of the broken windows. Duke slides toward it and throws a hard, straight punch into its face. It falls out of the window frame.

"Nick!" Duke calls. "Help us!"

Nick hasn't stopped shaking his head and he backs away some more.

The horde continues to bash against the door and the shelves wobble and collapse under the force. The wood audibly splinters and the thick glass cracks. A piece of the door breaks off and a burned arm reaches through the break at the bottom, desperately clawing for any foot it can get a hold of.

Ted grabs Nick by the collar, plants a Taser in his hand, and throws him forward. "Do something, you shit!"

The meathead finally acts and fires the weapon. But it's a miss. Duke stumbles to the floor and holds his head where something hard hit him. He looks up to see a Stricken, which has come through another window, holding Roger's severed head. Strips of flesh dangle at the neck where the head had been cut, or most likely ripped, from the body. The Stricken raises the head up and swings it sideways. It hits Belinda in the chest, leaving a circle of Roger's blood on her shirt. It causes her to fall on her back.

Kimble helps Duke to his feet. "There's too many of them," she says.

"I've got my dad's keys," Gwen says. "Let's go through town and get on the boat."

"It's now or never," Young agrees.

"Out the back," Ted declares. He turns on a flashlight to light the way to the back door.

Duke looks behind him and sees Nick on the floor. The burned arm finally found something to grasp onto through the hole in the door. Nick is dragged to the floor as the wood in the door cracks and the last of the glass breaks. Nick reaches forward and grabs Gwen's ankle. "Don't leave me!" he yells.

Gwen tries to pick him up, but instead falls to her knee.

"Let go!" she tells Nick, but his other hand grabs hold of her ankle as well.

Brought to both knees, Gwen tries to crawl away. Duke rushes over to them as another Stricken climbs through the window, and another, while Nick clings to her leg with his meaty fingers.

Duke steps forward, raises his fist, and grunts with exertion. But the punch does the trick and Nick let's go. Sam once called them "frenemies", but Nick looks every part the betrayed best friend. His eyes fill with tears as he watches Duke lift Gwen to her feet. It's the last thing he sees before he's dragged outside through the hole at the bottom of the door.

Young turns around and sees what's happening to Nick. He launches forward, dives to the floor, and tries to grab hold of Nick's hand. The front door is bashed open and wood and glass scatter all over the floor. The Stricken pour through the door and through the windows. Young flicks out his baton, but is lost within the red and black sea of violence. His scream is cut short.

Duke can't see anyone else through the dark and spinning world around him. The only thing he can see are glowing red splotches in the night.

"Where?" Gwen asks between breaths.

"I don't know, just keep go–" A Stricken's fist finds its mark across Duke's jaw, an unseen blow as if he were hit by the darkness itself. He loses his grip on Gwen's hand as he falls to the ground. She lunges at the Stricken hidden by the tree and tackles it in a way that would make any football player proud.

Kelly and Sheriff Kimble lift Duke to his feet. "Gwen," he whispers. He stumbles forward. "Gwen?" Then he comes to the cliff's edge. She wouldn't have seen it. He looks down at the steep cliff face and at the drops of blood that drip from its sharp rocks. "Gwen!"

"Duke," says Kimble.

"No, no, no. Gwen!"

"Duke!"

He turns to face the sheriff.

"We have to go. Now."

He looks down the cliff again, but it's just too dark to see anything. It's such a long fall, why did she do that?

"Duke, please," Kelly pleads.

He steps away from the cliff's edge. And though he runs alongside Kelly and Kimble, he's not there with them. Is she really gone?

Ted's shop has all but been pulled down, the Stricken pouring from the windows and doors like ants from an anthill. Duke hopes his boss got out and that the others are okay, wherever they are. But... Gwen...

# Chapter Twelve

They run further inland until they are out of breath.

"Duke, where are we?" Kelly asks.

"I don't know. I can't see a thing."

"I think we're in the woodlands," says Kimble. "There are more trees here. They're taller, too."

"What do we do?" Duke asks. But no one answers. "Let's just keep moving."

They sneak through the thickening brush and circle around the broadening trees. Every time one of them steps on a stick or a leaf, they freeze and try not to move. But it's hard to be quiet in such dense greenery.

Kimble suddenly stops in her tracks and Kelly nearly bumps into her.

"What's wrong, Kimble?" Duke whispers.

"It's starting to get to me."

"You can't let it. Please, we need you."

"This silence is enough to drive anyone mad." The sheriff's eyes dart all around and she starts heaving for air.

Kelly and Duke exchange a worrying glance. Still, no bird, animal or insect makes the slightest sound, and no wind blows just as there are no more people screaming in the distance.

"You're the boss here, Kimble. We need your help. Don't let us down." Duke's words seem to pull the cop out of her trance.

Kimble nods and takes something out of her pocket. "I think it's safe enough to use this now," she says. Her little flashlight is like a lighthouse beacon on this blackened island. She leads the trio further into the San Cora wild.

"Wait," says Duke, "are we even heading in the right direction? We need to go north back into town."

"You're kidding, aren't you?" Kimble replies. "There's no way we're going back there."

"We have to. That was the plan."

"We have to go back to..." Kelly pauses and takes a deep breath. "To the gun store. And get the boat key from Gwen. If we can find her."

Kimble is about to start an argument, but quickly decides better of it. She shakes her head slowly and puts her hands on her hips. Finally, she sighs. "Fine. Fine. But, unfortunately, I didn't pack a compass and I don't know how to get any sense of direction without the sun or stars. Right now, we don't have either."

"Then let's find somewhere to hide," Duke replies.

"Every time we decide to stay put, someone dies," says Kelly. "Are you sure we shouldn't keep moving?"

"No, I'm not sure. But we don't want to wander around in the darkness with no direction. It might even be easier to hide now that there're only three of us."

"Do you think the others made it?" asks Kimble.

"I know they did."

"We probably shouldn't talk any more until we find a place to hide. Just in case."

"Good idea, Kelly. Lead the way, Sheriff," says Duke.

It feels as if only a few minutes have passed when Duke spots something on the grassy floor. He taps Kimble on the shoulder and she turns her head. Duke points to his find and she nods. They cut across a patch of waist-high shrubbery and take a closer look. Blood. They don't need to say anything, they're both thinking the same thing—Stricken. Kimble traces her flashlight along the track of blood. The trail gets wider and thicker the further it goes before disappearing under a shade of leaves in the distance.

"It could be an animal," Kelly whispers, as if she had just read their minds. "Or someone could be hurt. Whatever it is, it looks like it got away."

Kimble shrugs, she can't argue with that. She starts following the trail. Duke grabs hold of Kelly's hand. He wants to tell her they're making the wrong decision. But what other choice do they have, especially if there's a chance someone needs their help? Kimble's flashlight shines on the blood splattered across the dense green foliage. She moves so fast that Duke isn't sure they haven't lost the trail, but he must have faith in the sheriff's abilities. They all must have faith in each other, and themselves, if they're going to survive this. The soundless world doesn't deter Duke from straining his ears as well as his eyes. He knows something will jump out at him as soon as he drops his guard. He has to remind himself to blink and to breathe, and to keep his free hand clenched into a fist. Then Kimble stops moving and swings her flashlight to her left, looking all around. The comforting beam of light frantically darts from tree to tree.

Kelly squeezes Duke's hand and inches closer.

"What? What is it?" he asks, but the whisper is a little too loud.

"Shut up," Kimble barks, still searching in the darkness.

They wait.

"We can't get lost," Kelly says after a few moments.

"Yeah... It must have been nothing." Kimble quickly gets her bearings and picks up the trail.

An eternity passes before they come to the trail's end at a squashed circle of grass. Kimble dips her finger in the thin pool of blood. "This happened very recently. Whoever, or whatever, it was stopped here, sat down, or collapsed. But then got back up again."

"Where did it go?"

"Look!" Kelly exclaims, and she points to the top of a nearby hill.

Twigs snap and bushes rustle as something passes them. Kimble gets her flashlight on it just in time to see a man limping into a wooden shack. He slams the door shut just as a Stricken steps into the flashlight. Distracted by the intense beam the Stricken turns from the shack and walks towards the light's source. Kimble flicks it off and hides behind a tree. Duke and Kelly jump back a few steps before hiding behind a tree as well.

The Stricken itself shines like a beacon, only it shines in scattered and jagged red marks gifted by an unholy sky. Flora crunches and snaps under its boots as it stalks down the small hill searching out new prey. Duke slowly takes a Taser from his pocket. Then he hears a dull thud from something small hitting the ground, though in a quiet world the smallest noise is startlingly loud.

The Stricken changes course and heads to where the sound came from. Kimble's flashlight rolls along the dirt floor until the Stricken's boot stamps on it. Kimble presses her back against the tree as the Stricken nears. Its marks, shining in the darkness, appear to intensify as it gets closer to her, the putrescent smell of death threatening to make her gag. She feels a chill wash over her. She remembers all the times she wished for more action on the island, something to challenge her law enforcement skills. This isn't exactly what she was had in mind and she suddenly realises how lucky she was. The Stricken gets closer, and for a second she can hear a fierce wind blowing and tall waves crashing in the ocean. Surely it's found her. But if she's going to die, she'll go down fighting.

Without thinking, Duke squats down and finds a short, thick stick. He hurls it past the Stricken's head and it smacks against some leaves in the darkened distance. The Stricken turns and marches toward the sound. Kimble looks over to Duke who waves her over. She takes a long breath and hurries over to them. With the little night-vision they have, they head to the shack on top of the hill.

"We need to get inside," Kelly whispers.

"Can anyone pick a lock? Or should we try around the back?" Duke asks.

Kelly rolls her eyes and knocks on the door.

"I don't think that will work," Kimble says. But, much to her surprise, a voice responds from inside.

"Is it still there?" the voice asks.

"It's gone for now, but it'll be back any second," Duke answers. "Please, let us in."

Wood scrapes against wood and a door lock clunks open. The door gently sways inward and a bloodied man greets them. He has long dirty hair and a matching beard, a rain jacket that's more red than white, and woodland camouflage pants. He steps backwards as the three strangers enter, then stumbles back into the wall and slides down to where, according to the blood on the floor, he was sitting before they knocked on the door.

Duke locks the door behind him and sees a cabinet a little out of place. It must have been blocking the door. He pushes it back across the entrance. It's comforting if not totally ineffective.

"The curtains..." says the man.

Duke and Kimble set to shutting out the world.

The man strikes a match and uses it to point to a lantern on the table. Kimble passes it to him. The dull orange glow lights up the shack just enough for everyone to see.

Duke crouches down beside the bleeding man. "Thank you."

The man nods. "Bedroom... Wall... Shotgun..."

"Just relax, I'm going to see to your wounds," Kimble tells the man, as she takes a first aid pouch off her vest.

The man shakes his head as furiously as a dying man can. He looks them each in the eye.

"We're sorry," Kelly says.

The man slowly shuts his eyes.

Kimble gently reaches out and feels his neck. "He's gone," she says.

Duke puts a comforting hand on Kelly's shoulder, then he gets up sneaks down the short hallway past the bathroom and a locked door. At the end is the bedroom where a minimalist would feel right at home. Bed, wardrobe, small desk, and a simple chair. That's it. The only adornment is the shotgun suspended on a single gun rack beside the door. He opens the wardrobe and finds nothing but clothes. He looks under the bed. Nothing. Finally, he searches the two desk draws to find a box of shotgun shells, half-empty, but better than nothing. On his way out, he lifts the shotgun from its rest and inspects it. It's an old double-barrel that's been well looked after. He loads it up and re-joins the others.

Kimble puts two more additions to her scavenged goods on the kitchen table while Kelly finishes draping a sheet over the dead man's body. "Is there any food?" Duke asks.

"There's some canned food in the cupboard, and game hanging on some hooks," Kimble replies. "I guess this guy was a hunter."

"Have a seat, Duke," Kelly says. "I'll help with the food."

Surrounded by dull orange light from the lantern, they sit on the old sofas without saying a word. Kelly rubs her folded arms, but can't stop her teeth from chattering. Kimble isn't faring much better. The sheriff runs her fingers through her hair, grabs the ends and pulls down, then repeats the motion. Then Duke looks at his hands, first the backs and then the palms. His own blood, and well as others', stains his hands and spills into the cuts across his knuckles. A chill shoots through him and won't be shaken off. The cold; just another thing the Stricken have brought with them to turn San Cora inside out. He closes his eyes in the hope of stealing a moment of much needed sleep.

_Crack!_

But the sky will not let him. It rumbles and roars in the distance, each bolt of red lightning is as loud and horrifying as the last. But, if he's honest, Duke is glad for the distraction. All he's thought about since they've sat down is Gwen.

"I miss them so much," Kelly says as if reading his mind. She looks into his eyes. "Sam, Gwen... Are we the only ones left?"

In truth, Duke doesn't know how to answer Kelly's question. He's afraid of being right or wrong, one way or another.

"We shouldn't talk," Kimble whispers. "The Stricken are everywhere."

And with that, silence falls upon them once again. Only the red lightning makes itself heard across San Cora. It has taken all other life.

Lightning again wakes him. "Fucking storm," he mutters. He springs to his feet and slowly opens a curtain a fraction. Breaks between clouds reveal the red storm behind them as if the sky itself is scarred. It is only between lightning strikes that he can spot the nearby dirt road winding around a large hill. "There's a road," he turns to Kimble. "Do you know it?"

She stands and looks out the window. "It's too dark, I can't see a thing."

"Wait for the lightning." A few seconds later, red bolts hit the ground nearby.

"Oh my god," Kimble smiles. "I know where we are. There's a cabin park up that hill. Coraque Park."

"We should go there," Kelly says. "There'll be supplies there, security, maybe even people. It could be the safest place on the island."

"It could also be as dangerous as everywhere else," Duke replies. "We should just get back to town."

"We need supplies and rest," Kimble tells him. "Coraque's just around that bend. We can check it out, at least. We might even be able to lock ourselves up in a sturdier cabin than this place."

"Come on, Duke. I know the park, we'll be okay."

"Fine. Fine. We'll go. Just stay quiet and stay behind me." Duke checks his shotgun and takes a deep breath before opening the door.

The three of them make their way to the camping grounds, quietly and in single file. Around the bend and up a hill, they find Coraque Park. A row of light poles on one side of the park are working just fine, but the other side is dark. Under one of the beams of light is a tree stump with a chainsaw placed on top. The blade shines and catches Duke's eye, most ominously, he thinks.

He peeks out from behind a tree and watches for any movement in the cabin windows, but the place is eerily still. He inches forward and Kelly's grip tightens on the back of his arms. He points to a window on the side of a cabin and Kimble heads toward it. She stands on her toes as she reaches up to the windowsill. She manages to grab the edge, just, and pulls herself up to see inside. Then she lowers herself slowly and gently before giving the thumbs up. With Kelly still clutching onto him, Duke walks up the wooden steps and opens the cabin door. The light is on and two servings of a half-eaten lunch have been left on the table.

Kimble raids the kitchen while Duke checks the bedroom. "Clear," he says.

"Then eat up," says Kimble. She slaps together a ham sandwich and throws it to him before making one for Kelly and herself.

"This is so good," Kelly says with a mouth full of boring sandwich. Duke nods in agreement. They help themselves to more sandwiches, but apparently the people in this cabin had either just arrived or were about to leave because they have nothing else.

They look out of every window before leaving the cabin. Again, Kelly latches onto him as he leads them with the shotgun. Duke knows she's panicking, and he doesn't blame the otherwise confident girl for being scared. If he's honest, he doesn't know how much longer he can hold out either.

Kimble looks into the next cabin's window and gives the okay. Duke grabs the door handle. But then he sees a shadow running into another cabin further up the thoroughfare. "You see that?"

"What?"

"Someone's here. A person. Over there."

"We should find them," says Kimble. "Hurry, before we lose them."

Duke quickens his pace and sneaks into the cabin that the shadow entered. It's pitch black inside and larger than some of the other cabins. "Hello? Is anyone here?" Duke says softly.

"Be careful," Kelly whispers.

"Hello? Hello?" Duke says again.

"Something's not right," says Kelly.

"Now!" says an unfamiliar voice.

Duke raises his shotgun and points it at the darkness, but a blow knocks it from his hands. He throws a punch into the black and is surprised to feel a soft spot at the end of his fist. He hears a gasp and feet stumbling backwards. "Bastard," says the blackness. He looks over his shoulder to see Kimble fighting with a young man, but he can't see Kelly.

A mighty tackle brings Duke to the ground. He and his attacker throw blind strikes again and again. Kelly finds the light switch and flicks it on. Kimble and the young man wrestle on the ground as they both try to gain control while Duke and the muscle-bound man on top of him trade punches.

The big man wraps his hands around Duke's throat. "Turn the fucking lights off!" he orders his friend. Duke looks around, as much as he can, for a weapon. He spots the shotgun on the floor nearby and reaches out for it, but it's too far, so he grabs one of the man's thumbs, snaps it backwards, and then pushes the guy to the floor. They both stand up and Duke throws a few quick punches. The muscle-man spins in a one-eighty from the force of the last punch. A table catches him, putting him in an opportune position. The man grabs the table and lifts it above his head, roaring like a madman.

The younger guy manages to finally get on top of Kimble and he pins her wrists to the floor. "Stop it!" he yells in her face.

Kelly growls and kicks up at the guy's face like a football. He falls on top of Kimble like a sack of potatoes; out cold. Then Kelly picks up the shotgun. "Back off," she orders.

The muscle-man looks at her, the table still above his head, and stops dead in his tracks.

"Get back," Kelly barks through gritted teeth.

The man does so, and his jaw drops when he sees his unconscious friend on the floor. He puts the table down and opens his mouth as if to say something, but he can't find the words.

"What is wrong with you?" Duke asks, rubbing his jaw. He and Kimble move to stand on either side of Kelly.

"Why did you ambush us?" Kimble adds.

"We thought you were them!" The man blurts. "You know, the monsters."

"Keep your voice down," Duke says. "It doesn't matter now. Let's just calm down."

The younger guy slowly wakes up. As he lifts his head, a few drops of blood drip into the little pool he left on the floor. The muscle-man helps his friend to sit up.

Duke steps forward and stands over them with a clenched fist at the ready. "Are you going to be a problem?"

"No...we won't be a problem."

Duke relaxes a little bit. After a quick introduction, the two campers, David and Jeremy, aren't sure how to take in everything they're told. They assumed everything would be getting better, not worse. They were hoping for a rescue, and thought that the rest of San Cora was free from danger.

"Look," says Duke, "we need your help as much as you need ours, but it isn't safe here."

"Where do you think we should go?" Jeremy asks while nursing his broken thumb.

"California. There's a boat in town we can use."

"In town?" asks David, the smaller guy with the large headache. Every now and again he eyes Kelly up and down, ready to run if she strikes him again. "Won't it be more dangerous in town?"

"Yes," says Kelly, "but there's no other choice."

"Is that still an option?" Kimble asks, suddenly melancholic. "Gwen had the keys to the boat..."

"Don't worry," Duke replies. "I have an idea about that. We stick with the plan."

All five of them quietly make their way across the cabin park. They can see the Stricken in the distance moving through the trees. Far away, in the dark and quiet, they look like harmless red fireflies. David points to one of the buildings and nods eagerly, then he brushes past Duke and enters the cabin. Jeremy follows close behind. They start collecting all the goods they've stashed throughout the cabin; food, flashlights, and first aid supplies.

"We cleaned out the place, but this is all we have," David says.

"The people who left the park took nearly everything with them," Jeremy adds.

"Wait, shut up..."

"What is it, Kelly?" Kimble asks. The noise outside answers her question. Footsteps—and something being dragged in the dirt. Something heavy. Duke gestures to the others to hide while he crouches beside the cabin door, shotgun in hand.

They all watch as the red-scarred brute circles the cabin. They share frightened glances and David's body twitches as he prepares to leap to his feet. The lone Stricken stops for a minute, and then leaves. As soon as it's quiet again, Duke opens the door. There is a long and somewhat thin track, no doubt made by whatever that Stricken had been carrying, next to the footprints left in the dirt.

"What the hell was that?" Jeremy asks with a quivering voice.

"Be quiet," Kimble snaps. "We need to leave as soon as the sun comes up. Until then be quiet and be still."

Staring at the shotgun in his lap, Duke remembers all the times he's been on the range and how all that training accounts for nothing. Guns don't hurt the Stricken. Even using it as a club is useless. He is useless. Shooting, the one thing he's good at, means nothing, has no value, and can't help him or anyone else. He closes his eyes and tries to remember different times, better times. He remembers wrestling with his brothers in the backyard and days blissfully wasted at Venice Beach. The setting sun there is a sight unlike any other. He remembers Gwen and how they'd hang out on San Cora's beaches with the gang. Friends, barbequed steaks with a few beers to wash it down, an island paradise. It was more than Duke deserved.

Other memories creep into his mind too. Memories he'd rather forget, but can't allow himself to. The bracelet around his wrist jingles teasingly, mockingly. A shackle. History does repeat itself, doesn't it? In Los Angeles, he let one friend die. In San Cora, he's kept up the trend.

The night is filled with the sounds of Stricken wandering the island, a sound made deafening against the otherwise silent world. The lightless cabin does nothing to keep the cold at bay. Fitting that they should be cold as well as tired, hungry, wounded, and scared—not to mention still in mortal danger.

Duke looks at everyone and notices that they're all awake, eyes wide and darting all around. Then he gazes out the window. It's lighter outside and he can see clearly enough, but it's still too dark to risk venturing out. The sky swirls black and red and the clouds look like giant lumps of floating coal. "Has the sun come up already?" asks Kimble.

Duke looks at her. "I don't think it's going to get any brighter," he whispers.

"Stack up," says Kimble, and everyone lines up in single file behind Duke. He leads the group outside.

"If we're going to town," Jeremy says, "then we should take the dirt path up there." He points to an almost hidden path between two trees past the last cabin. "It's the quickest way to the main road. I'll lead."

Duke nods in reply.

Muscle-bound Jeremy guides the group to the dirt path too quickly and too loudly for Duke's liking. The red scars, slightly dulled under what sunlight there is, are all around. Speed may be their only weapon, but he's tired, they all are, so he'd prefer not to have to run. They reach the path that disappears under some encroaching bushes and trees, hidden by the unrelenting shadows. The sun isn't beaming through the black sky enough to see everything.

Jeremy looks back at Duke and smiles. "Don't worry, I know this track like the back of my hand."

He spins and takes one step along the path, then steps back. Out of the darkness, as if from nowhere, the giant Stricken that killed Connor lifts up its jackhammer, silent and unplugged, and lunges forward. It stabs it downward through the top of Jeremy's chest and his body flails back and forth as the Stricken pushes the spike further through him. With the man still attached, the Stricken swings the jackhammer at Duke and knocks him to the ground.

"Not you again," Duke says, shaking the stars from his head.

Kimble and David lift Duke back to his feet.

"Get to a cabin!" Duke orders.

They all have to dive out of the way of a second swing, and then a third, each one spraying Jeremy's blood in its wake. They scramble back and sprint for the cabins. The Stricken peels Jeremy off its jackhammer and follows its prey.

"That's the same one from town!" Kelly exclaims. "What the hell is it doing here?"

"Barricade the door!" Kimble demands as she watches the huge Stricken approaching.

Duke and David lift the kitchen table and place it across the door.

"Argh!" Duke yells as he falls to the floor and blood spills from a fresh cut on his forehead. He looks up at the jackhammer spike piercing through the cabin door. The Stricken draws back its weapon and then punches through the door, leaving only half of it intact. Duke fires the shotgun from the ground and hits the Stricken in the head. Its construction helmet flies off and blackened blood, sprinkled with bright red droplets, oozes from the wound. But a shotgun blast to the face doesn't do anything to impede its advance. It smashes the rest of the door down with the jackhammer.

David, screaming uncontrollably, is the first out the window. He smashes through the glass and rolls along the ground. Not waiting for the others, he disappears into the trees, unaware that Kelly is standing by the window witnessing his desertion. Then she climbs out and drops down. Kimble is right behind her.

"Duke!" Kelly calls, looking up at the window.

The dark cabin flashes with light as the shotgun booms.

"Duke!"

Stepping backwards, Duke fires as fast as he can. Clumps of blackened blood fall to the floor, but the Stricken's body is immune to any real damage. It swings sideways, but Duke is quick to duck the strike. He can hear Kelly calling him, and he would be out the window already if he didn't let himself get cornered. The Stricken recovers from the swing and is poised to plunge the jackhammer downwards into Duke's head. Running on instinct, he manages to roll out of the way as the jackhammer breaks through the floor. The Stricken lets go of the jackhammer, spins around, grabs Duke by the throat, and then throws him out the window.

Duke lands flat on his back and a cold grating pain racks his chest. A piece of glass in the window frame sliced his tank-top from top to bottom and left a long shallow cut. Coughing, the taste of blood becoming stronger, Duke manages to stand up. "Go," he tells the others, "get out of here. I'm right behind you."

The huge Stricken, with its jackhammer back in its hands, exits through the cabin door. The three of them start running past it, back to the trail Jeremy showed them.

"Oomph!"

Duke and Kelly look over their shoulders to see the sheriff lying in the dirt. The Stricken steps forward off the porch to stand between them.

"Kimble!" Kelly yells.

Something shines under the light pole next to Duke.

"Stand back, Kelly."

"What are you..."

"I'm going to kill this motherfucker." Duke throws his ruined singlet on the ground and picks up the chainsaw from the tree stump. He rips on the cord and revs the hell out of it.

The Stricken slowly turns away from Kimble to face Duke. With one hand, it swings the jackhammer upward in a circle before stabbing forward. Duke side-steps to avoid the spike and retaliates with a wide swing at the Stricken's head. The chainsaw narrowly misses its mark.

Kelly circles around and helps Kimble to her feet. They watch the fight through the smoke left in the chainsaw's wake and the sparks that fly from the clashing weapons.

All of a sudden, the two weapons become deadlocked, but the Stricken is too big, too strong. With a swift change of direction, it swings the jackhammer down low. Duke feels like his leg has been hit by a car, the force bringing him to his knee. The Stricken lifts the jackhammer above its head, pointing downwards. Taking a chance, Duke slashes the Stricken's inside leg from left to right. The chainsaw cuts deep. Congealed blood slowly seeps out of the leg like tree sap. Duke dives forward out of the jackhammer's way. Not wasting a second, he springs to his feet and slashes the chainsaw across the Stricken's neck. The remaining half of its head drops to the ground. But the Stricken don't die easily, if at all. Duke's seen it before.

The Stricken spins in a circle and swings the hammer at the same time. Duke ducks just in time, then targets the Stricken's wounded leg, severing it just below the knee. The limb falls to the ground and rolls until it stops next to the Stricken's head. The creature falls onto the stump, then reaches out and grabs Duke by the throat. It raises the jackhammer and is about to thrust it through Duke's face when Kelly leaps onto its arm. It tries to shake her off, but she holds on tight. Kimble freezes. She doesn't understand it, it doesn't have a head. She wonders how it can still be fighting.

"Help him!" Kelly cries, but the sheriff remains frozen. "Kimble!"

Kimble shakes her head and snaps out of it. She uses all her strength, sweating in the effort, to pry the Stricken's fingers from Duke's neck. Duke gasps, coughs, and tastes the blood in his throat. Kimble hugs onto the arm like Kelly.

Duke stands behind the Stricken and puts the chainsaw on its shoulder, the one that Kelly is holding onto. "Turn your head!" he tells her. It takes a long moment for the blade to cut through the thick flesh and bone, but when it's done the arm and the jackhammer fall to the ground.

Duke springs to the next arm and starts to cut. Congealed clumps of red and black blood sprays them all as the blade cycles over and over. The chainsaw struggles to cut all the way through, and Duke can hear the blood clogging the machine. Blinded by blood, he uses his bodyweight, bouncing the blade up and down, to get all the way through the shoulder. The left arm finally falls to the ground opposite the right one. But the job isn't done. Duke kicks what is left of the Stricken to the dirt. He takes a deep breath as the torso, with one and a half legs, rocks from side-to-side trying to stand up. Duke wipes his eyes, cracks his neck, and then cuts off the functioning leg a few inches above the knee. It takes a while, but it gives the girls a chance to clean their faces a little. Duke drops the spent chainsaw on the ground next to the collection of body parts. Each part is still, as if it were actually dead, but he knows that if he taped it all back together it would return to its killing spree.

"Are you guys okay?" Duke asks between breaths.

"Yeah. Are you?"

"They can live without a head?" Kimble asks.

"Yeah," Duke replies. "I think it's still alive. Even like this."

The three of them stare at the huge Stricken, which is now a lot of bits of Stricken, and wonder all over again at what strange powers they are actually dealing with.

"Where's David?" Duke asks.

"He ran away," Kelly replies.

"Let's go back to the path they showed us. I don't want to go back the way we came."

They keep following the dirt path leading through the woods, and along the way they find David. Or at least what's left of him. Pools of blood and roughly severed pieces of him litter the dirt floor. His lifeless body is surrounded by three Stricken at the base of a tree just a few metres off the path.

Duke and the others sneak past the gruesome sight. It isn't long before they reach the main road leading into town. Duke doubles over and pukes, though there's not much in his stomach. Kelly, breathing heavily, rubs and gently pats his back.

Kimble runs her fingers through her hair. "Fuck," she says. "What are we going to do now? Are we really going to try and find Gwen's body?"

The three of them look at each other with a mix of fear and confusion in their eyes. Then all of that fades away into despair.

Kelly gasps. "Did you hear that?"

# Chapter Thirteen

Gwen slowly opens her eyes. It's hard to move at first and she can feel the dry blood on her face crack when she squints. She stands, the movement causing her head to spin and her legs to wobble. She puts a hand out and uses the cliff face to stay on her feet. It's too dark to see much of anything, but it doesn't look like there's anybody else around.

A thick and soggy trail of blood disappears into the ocean. Did the Stricken she land on get swept away? Wiping her blue hair from her forehead, she looks at the top of the cliff. Did she really fall that far down? A wave rolls onto the beach and she's suddenly aware of how wet and cold her legs are. How long has she been on the beach, alone and unconscious?

A light, a beam of flashlight, passes over her. She spots it coming from between two rocks inside the cliff. "A cave?" Gwen feels the rock and finds the hidden entrance, though it's so tight she can barely squeeze through it to the other side.

"Hello?" she whispers. "Duke? Kelly?" But the light is gone and only darkness prevails. With arms stretched out and wading back and forth, Gwen slowly inches further inside. There's a faint splash of water and Gwen looks to either side of her. Nothing. She looks right and left again, and then steps back. From the left, several Stricken march, their bright red disfigurements glowing in the dark betraying their presence. Feeling out in front of her, Gwen tries to find the way she came in. And then the flashlight shines on the approaching Stricken, lighting up their contorted dead faces. She gasps, then turns around to find the light. Someone's standing there. A woman, but it's hard to see more. The woman spins and starts running. Her flashlight bobs up and down and for a moment the cave has a strobe light.

"Wait," Gwen pleads. She chases after the woman while the Stricken chase after her. Her strides are long and fast, but as the flashlight starts to get further away, the darkness seeps in. She runs into rocky walls, stubs her toes on rocks, bumps her shoulder, and hits her head on the cavern ceiling. And all the while the Stricken are getting closer. "Wait!" she cries, still running. The cave floor dips. Her foot doesn't hit the ground when she expects it to and she twists her ankle. She falls forward and throws her arms in front of her face for protection. She splashes into a shallow pool of freezing water, but quickly springs to her feet, gasping. Ahead, she spots the woman with the flashlight looking back at her before running off again. Gwen continues her way forward, the sounds of the Stricken echoing through the cave. It won't be long before they catch her. She can't fall down again.

The flashlight-bearer turns a corner. Gwen is close behind and this time the woman seems to wait for her. "Come on!" she says, her voice familiar. She slips through another slim crack, like the cave entrance, and Gwen again just manages to squeeze through. However, this time she gets a scrape across the cheek and a few new cuts on her stomach. Gwen tries to see the face behind the light but the flashlight flicks off.

"Shh," the woman whispers from somewhere in the dark. The Stricken pass them, unaware of all the cave's tunnels and hiding spots. Their echoing footsteps eventually disappear.

When they're gone, the flashlight lights up the little cave once more. Mindy, the woman holding the flashlight, works with Gwen at the hotel. She stands next to Zane. Wearing a singlet, his face and arms are clear of wounds and, apart from looking tired, and the dire nature of their circumstances, his demeanour hasn't change.

"Gwen? Oh my God, I didn't know it was you. I wouldn't have run if..." Mindy says.

"It's okay, don't worry about it. It's good to see you."

"Well, well, well," says Zane, "sweet little Gwen, alive and kicking it. I can't believe it." He smiles his smile. Cocky, Duke called it. He hugs her and holds her close to him. He gently rubs her back and runs a hand down the side of her hair as a caring friend might. It used to make her feel good when he did this to her in the past, but now, after all of this, it feels like a show, a performance. She wonders if he does just want to get in her pants, as Sam used to warn her.

"I'm glad you're okay," says Gwen.

"Naturally," he replies. "Pass the flashlight." Mindy hands it over and Zane waves the light over Gwen. She's wounded, tired, covered in all sorts of blood, and has mascara running down her cheeks. Black tears from a hundred hurts.

"You need a new shirt," says Zane, and he pokes a finger through one of the new holes in her top, holes made by squeezing through the tiny gaps in this damn cave.

Gwen quickly swipes his hand away.

That's when he looks at her strangely. He raises the flashlight up closer to her face and starts tracing her scars with his eyes.

"You always knew I had them," she says, wanting him to stop.

"Yeah, but...I didn't think they were this bad."

Gwen pushes Zane back with one hand. He frowns and seems to examine her. He can't believe she did that, that she could do that. He'd never seen her angry. He didn't even know she could feel anger. He regains his cool and is secretly ashamed that he embarrassed her. He knows she wouldn't have done it to him.

"We should be quiet," says Mindy, interrupting the awkward silence.

"I'm not staying here. My friends are out there. And we have a plan."

"What plan?" asks Zane.

"We're going to take my dad's boat to California."

"Is he...?" Mindy begins to ask with hope in her voice. But if Gwen's dad, her employer, were alive, they would be together and she wouldn't need to ask. "I'm so sorry, Gwendolyn."

Gwen lowers her eyes.

"That's a crazy plan, Gwen. You can't step one foot in town without getting it cut off. No, I'm staying here," says Zane.

"Fine. Those Stricken know you're in here and they will find you. It won't be long."

"Stricken?" Mindy asks.

"That's what we call them," Gwen replies as she remembers Connor.

Zane sighs. "Fine. Let's go."

Mindy goes first, then Zane, then Gwen. The rocky walls deepen the cuts they've already put in her. She opens her mouth, silently, in pain.

Step by careful step, Mindy paves the way with the flashlight. She frequently looks back over her shoulder to make sure the others are still following her.

"How did I not know about this place? How did you know about it?" Gwen asks Zane.

He smiles his signature smile. "There's only a certain group of guys who know about this place."

Gwen looks at him quizzically.

"Close friends of Sal."

"Sal? So, this is where the dealer and his potheads hang out, huh?"

Zane nods in reply.

The area beyond the cone of light is clear for now. "How did you two get together?" Gwen asks gesturing toward Mindy.

"There were a few of us running from the storm, just people heading in or out of town. Most of them died pretty quickly. It's been just the two us for...I don't even know how long. But it's cool. We'll get on your boat and drink until we get to Cali."

"Zane, please," Mindy says, hushing the young man. She switches off the flashlight and whispers. "Here's the exit, but they're out there."

Gwen slides forward and finds the sliver of vertical moonlight. Outside, on the edge of the beach where the sand meets the grass, three Stricken slowly wander off.

"Should we stay here? Just for a minute?" asks Zane.

"No. We have to get to the boat." Gwen swipes her blue hair out of her face, takes a deep breath and counts to five. "Let's go."

Gwen and Mindy both squeeze through the tiny cave entrance, but Zane struggles.

"Come on," Mindy whispers, though it was almost a shout.

"I'm stuck. My shoe. Help me out, huh?"

Gwen grabs his pant leg and tugs, trying to wriggle it free. She can't see what he's caught on, but it's a tight hold. Zane gasps and yips in pain at each attempt to pull his leg out. Mindy keeps watch. Then she spots something. Or at least she thinks she spots something. She lifts the flashlight in her hand, but is hesitant to turn it on in case it draws any unwanted attention. There's someone, or something, in the water. She can see the silhouette of a man standing almost waist deep in the ocean. Mindy puts her thumb on the button, ready to hit it with light, but it can't be one of them, it's just standing there completely still. It has to be a normal man. Despite the chill down her spine, sweat beads on her forehead. The flashlight shakes in her hand. "Hey guys," she says, and her voice squeaks. She doesn't take her eyes off the man.

"Free at last," says Zane.

"Keep it down," Gwen reminds him. "What is it, Mindy?"

"Look." She points to the silhouette.

"What? What is it?" Zane asks impatiently.

"I can't believe it. It's not there anymore. I saw a man, or something, standing in the water." She figures she must have imagined it or blinked. "Never mind."

They walk along the beach keeping out of sight of the Stricken further inland. They can see the red marks on them glowing like warning lights. It almost makes Gwen sad that she's thankful her predators have one small thing working against them.

"There. There it is!" Mindy points to the ocean again.

Gwen and Zane spin around and get ready to run or fight. But they can't see or hear anything, especially a man standing in the water.

"I swear, it was right there. Something's following us."

"It's okay, we'll be away from the water soon. We just need to get to those rocks up there, then we'll be close to the road." Gwen means to sound reassuring, but her tone is as flat and tired as she feels.

It isn't long until they reach the rocks Gwen mentioned, a veritable wall that cuts the beach in half. They leave the beach behind and once they reach the road they stop to scan the area. "So," says Zane, "I guess now you know who your real friends are."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Gwen snaps.

"It sounds like all your besties ditched you. I bet you're pretty pissed."

"Sam and Nick are dead. And Duke and Kelly didn't ditch me...They thought I was dead."

"Nick is...and Sam?" Zane looks sincerely upset, but only for a moment. He shakes his head and sighs. "Of course they are. Everybody's dead. Ha! Except for Duke. I can't believe he's still alive and that he gave up on you so easily. They really didn't look for you? I would have at least made sure, you know?"

"You need to shut up. You don't know what the fuck you're talking about. They had every reason to believe I was dead and I don't blame them for that."

"Can you tell me...how Nick died?"

"You know how. Do the specifics really matter?"

"Yes." His expression is as sullen as his tone.

"We were at Ted's shop when they attacked. They came out of nowhere. They were dragging Nick out the door when..."

"When what? Tell me."

"He grabbed me. He wouldn't let go."

"Then how'd you get away, huh?" Zane snaps. "Tell me."

"Duke...helped me. He made Nick let go of me."

"Are you fucking serious?"

"Guys! We need to be quiet," Mindy says in a stern whisper.

Zane shrugs and he and Gwen continue to walk in silence. That chill returns to run down Mindy's spine. She turns around. Nothing there...except an island full of death.

The mostly moonless sky is without stars. The only things remotely bright are the Stricken, their red marks glowing like bleeding fallen stars. Periodically, Mindy switches the flashlight on so they can see where they're going. The last thing they need is to trip over something and break a leg or to alert the Stricken.

Even at walking pace their hearts beat quickly, even in the cold their lungs burn, even in numbers they are not safe. Gwen's stomach growls repeatedly, each rumble louder than the last. Her mouth is becoming unbearably dry, to the point where it's hard to breathe and talk. There should be some water, and hopefully some food, at the hotel. She remembers Duke destroying that bag of leftover beef jerky at Ted's gun shop and smiles. Then she remembers falling down the cliff. Did she hear Duke call out? Did he really think she was dead? He must have. He had no reason to believe she could have survived the fall. Is he even still...

Mindy flicks on the flashlight to reveal an old wooden sign on two legs, that says 'Lake Calm.' They continue down a narrow track. Not far from the sign is the lake itself. It's mostly visited by older gentlemen looking for a quiet place to chew the fat. The area is almost a perfect circle, like a clearing in the woods. The trees provide shelter and quiet, and the water is still. There's a small shed to the side with chairs and tables inside, along with fishing gear and a first aid kit. Gwen hopes there's an esky full of sandwiches and beer, but anything would be better than nothing.

Zane slumps into one of the deckchairs facing the lake while Gwen heads for the shed. She waves Mindy over and takes the flashlight from her. Pushing it slowly, the wood and tin door screeches open. Grimacing at the sound, Gwen listens for any approaching Stricken. Nothing, surprisingly. Or at least nothing yet.

Inside the shed, she sees what she expected to see, as well as a whole lot of junk. And an esky. She yanks it open, and her smile flattens. Floating in litres of foul ice water are two bottles of beer and a mouldy half-eaten sandwich. She sighs, then takes a bottle. It's still cold.

"That will dehydrate you even more," says Mindy.

"Yeah, well, right now I don't give a fuck." Gwen twists off the top and chugs.

"Oh, no way! Beer?" Zane exclaims, and he jumps out of his deckchair. Gwen waves a hand over the esky and he's quick to investigate. The two clang their bottles together and savor the moment.

Mindy sits in the chair next to Zane's and stares at the lake. "It'll be morning soon," she says. "I've been awake for so long. I just want to sit here and sleep, but we can't, can we?"

Gwen looks at her and shakes her head.

"Somehow, I've got the feeling it won't be getting any brighter, or warmer, when the sun comes up."

Mindy fights to stay awake. Sitting in the deckchair, she peers into the darkness. She thinks she spots something on the other side of the lake—the silhouette in the water. "It's back!" she cries. She turns her head toward the shed.

"Shut up!" Zane orders.

"It's back. In the water," Mindy replies, almost in a whisper. But when she looks again the shape is gone.

"There's nothing there for God's sake."

"There is. Look. Ripples."

"We should get away from the water," Gwen says. She grabs Mindy by the arm to help her out of the chair.

Water splashes in the lake as something rises up. It looks like a diver, wearing a snorkelling mask and wetsuit and carrying a harpoon. "It's him," Mindy manages to say, just before the harpoon punches through her chest. The diver yanks on the rope tied to its end and drags Mindy along the ground and into the lake.

"What the fuck?" Zane screams.

Mindy disappears under the water, along with the diver.

Gwen aims the flashlight at the water, but can only see circular ripples on the surface. "Let's get out of here!"

"Look out!" Zane warns, just as the diver leaps out of the water and lands in front of them. It swings its bloody harpoon from left to right. Gwen ducks the strike, but Zane stumbles backwards, the sharp end of the harpoon slicing him just below the neck. Having swung its weapon in the opposite direction, the diver turns its back to Gwen. Its skin is completely burned off and dripping a mix of blood and water. Parts of the burned flesh are the same color red that the other Stricken have.

It's not a deep cut but it's enough to make Zane panic and run. He makes for the shed as the Stricken fires its harpoon. He dives inside and slams the door shut with his foot, the harpoon spiking halfway through the door. Dripping wet, the Stricken marches forward to reclaim its weapon and finish the hunt. Meanwhile, Gwen picks up a large rock with both hands. She sneaks up behind the Stricken as it tugs furiously on the harpoon's shaft. Suddenly, it comes loose, ripping the door open in the process. Lurching over a quivering Zane, the Stricken's lips peel into some kind of smile, a black outline burned around its teeth and gums. Zane can smell it now, and if there was any food in his stomach he'd throw it up. The clouds part just enough for the light of dawn to shimmer over the harpoon's point. Zane gulps. His eyes close and his legs curl up into his chest, a perfect foetal position. Suddenly, the Stricken grunts and falls to a knee, leaning on the harpoon for support. Gwen swings the bloody rock down again and again until the Stricken is face down on the floor. Zane crawls backwards as Gwen scoops up the harpoon and drives it through the back of the Stricken's head. Congealed blood erupts out of the hole in its skull and speckles on Gwen's forearms.

"Holy shit...You got that motherfucker!" Zane springs to his feet and waves his arms around in victory, hooting "Booya" all the while.

Ignoring him, Gwen searches the shadowed-covered dirt floor for Mindy's flashlight. She finds the deckchair that Mindy was sitting in collapsed on the ground. The big hole in the back rest is rimmed with blood. The flashlight should be close by.

"I thought I was dead, fo sho! Then you came along and saved me. What can I do to thank you?" Zane struts out of the shed with a stupid look on his face. He never gives up.

"Turn around and look at it," says Gwen.

Zane furrows his brow, not quite getting the joke. So, he turns. And he sees the Stricken starting to stand up, its head sliding up the entire length of the harpoon. Blackened blood oozes down the shaft. Even without any food in him, Zane still might throw up.

"Now," Gwen continues, "shut the fuck up and help me find the flashlight."

Then she hears a dull thud followed by something rolling in the dirt. They both spot the flashlight rolling toward the lake. Gwen dives for it and catches it just before it hits the water. Zane helps her up and guided by the flashlight they both run back up the path. Zane runs past Gwen, past the beam of light, past the large tree on the side of the road. Gwen is about to call him back, but decides against it. She just tries to run faster. Suddenly, a figure leaps out from behind the big tree, but before Gwen can shine the flashlight on it, the harpoon slices her right shoulder and sticks into a tree. Gwen drops the flashlight again! She can hear someone or something running toward her, but she doesn't know if it's Zane or another Stricken. She turns to face the Stricken that harpooned her. It's back with a vengeance. This is it. This is the end.

Strong hands lift Gwen to her feet. Under the morning sunlight that shines through a break in the clouds, she can see eyes almost as dark as night. Tendrils of sweat soaked hair fail to hide a familiar face. "Duke," she says in an exhaled breath, both relieved and suddenly so sad.

Duke skips forward toward the Stricken reaching for its harpoon in the tree. He drives a heavy right hand into its face, breaking the lens in the left goggle. A sickening spray of wet and congealed blood bursts out of the broken plastic like popped bubble gum. The Stricken loses its balance, steps on a rock, then stumbles down the small hill leading back to the lake. Duke spins on his heel and grabs Gwen's hand as he runs back to the main road where the others are waiting.

"You're okay!" Kelly screams, almost squeezing Gwen to death in her embrace.

Kimble smiles a toothy smile and Zane continues to huff and puff with a hand over his heart. The look on his face says it all, especially when Duke gets up in it.

"Some friend you are," Duke seethes.

Zane stands a little taller as if his fear suddenly dissipates, as if he were still better than Duke despite all that they've been through. "You're one to talk," Zane scoffs. "You left her for dead. Just left her at the bottom of that cliff like she was nothing. Why didn't you go back for her, huh? Why didn't you go down there to see if she was okay or if she needed your help?" Zane scoffs again, shrugs, and smiles his most obnoxious smile. "You know, I never would have guessed you were a murderer. I'm sure Nick didn't think so either."

"You're talking about Nick? He couldn't be saved. I would have helped if I could, but he had a dozen Stricken sitting on his legs, dragging him away. He didn't have to take Gwen with him. He would have killed her, and me. He was done for."

"What if you were in his position, huh?"

"I would have died. Alone. I wouldn't drag my friends down with me."

"You mother..." His sentence is cut short when Duke head butts him and puts him on the ground.

Gwen can see it was just a love-tap, just something to stop Zane from talking. Even so, blood trickles from Zane's nose.

"Get up," says Duke. "We're going."

The walk is long, quiet, and uncomfortable on so many levels. Zane's eyes stab at the back of Duke's head as he shuffles along behind and wipes his bloodied nose. Gwen's so hungry and exhausted she feels sick. The sweat is chilling on her skin adds dehydration into the mix. But it's Duke that's bothering her the most; he hasn't said anything else to her. And worse, he hasn't even looked at her.

"Thanks for saving me," she says gently, her quiet words booming in the cold and silent world.

"I didn't save you," he snaps. He shakes his head and sighs. He searches for words he cannot find. "I didn't." His eyes remain on the road in front of his feet. He picks up his pace to walk ahead of her.

"Just let it be for now," Kelly says, putting an arm around Gwen as they walk. The warmth in her voice and the warmth in her gesture are almost enough to make all Gwen's pain, all her sorrow, her hunger and exhaustion simply go away.

"Did something happen while we were separated?" Gwen asks.

"Yeah," Kelly smiles, "a lot happened. It's been non-stop since the start. But I know what you mean."

"Will he be okay?"

"He didn't want to leave you after you fell." Kelly turns Gwen's chin to face her so they're eye-to-eye, despite the height difference. "No one wanted to leave you behind, least of all me. You do know that, don't you?"

"O-Of course. I hadn't thought otherwise."

"We couldn't make it to the beach. There were too many of them. I'm so sorry, Gwen."

"Don't be. I understand. We're good. But...how the hell did you guys find me?"

"We were walking down the road when we heard a girl screaming. I guess that was you."

"No," Gwen laughs. "That was Zane."

She takes her old photo out of her pocket as they walk on. The scars on her face feel huge, ugly, painful. But she doesn't care. It suddenly becomes heavy in her hand so she stuffs it back into her pocket.

"I'm sorry about your partner," Duke says to Kimble.

Sheriff Kimble looks angry at first and doesn't say anything. But then her face portrays a deep sadness that only she understands. She nods her head and mouths the words 'thank you'.

It makes Gwen think about her parents. She loved them. Loves them. They did everything for her, even before she was struck by lightning. After that, they moved to San Cora, worked hard building and running the hotel, and raising her and her sister. They always understood how Gwen was feeling and helped her, or tried to help her, without being pushy helicopter parents.

And then her nightmare came true. Now, not only has she suffered, but her friends and parents have died. And she did nothing to save them.

# Chapter Fourteen

The buildings that make up the San Cora town look like black ruins completely burned out, and the sky above it is more unnaturally red than anywhere else on the island. It's almost as if the storm is purposely hovering above it, like it knows it can find a larger number of victims in town. Though it's doubtful anyone else has survived this long. Are they really the only ones left?

Duke counts his blessings to have made it this far, and on the open road no less, without being attacked. He looks up at the sky, at the marvellous power swirling in its own evil energy. No, there's truly no God up there. At least, not anymore.

"I can't believe it," says Kimble. She hits Duke on the shoulder to get his attention and then she points to something in the darkness.

"What is it?" As soon as he asks, Ted and Belinda step out from behind a tree and wave wildly.

Ted isn't too shy, or too tough, to give Duke a hug and a sturdy pat on the back, and Belinda squeals and squeals as she throws herself into Zane's arms. He spins her around and around, laughing all the while. When they're done, Belinda's even happy to see Gwen and Kelly and she hugs them both.

"Are you guys okay?" Duke asks with newfound energy. "What the hell happened?"

"We're okay," Ted replies with a grin. "We're still here."

Now regrouped, Ted explains how he and Belinda managed to hide in relative safety at one of his secret cache locations. Inside that cache was food and water, which he rations out to everyone. No one waits to rip into their share. The slightly brightening sky reveals the gas station just outside of town.

"Sunrise," Ted whispers. "But it's still so dark."

Moving quietly, the group approaches the gas station. Duke gestures for Kelly, Belinda, Zane, and Gwen to stay outside while he, Ted, and Kimble clear the area. Ted goes in the front door, into the main building, and the sheriff goes around the back. Duke searches the garage, including inside the open hood of a sedan. He checks underneath the car, as well as inside it. No signs of life or death.

He rifles through the junk on the workbenches for anything they could use, then hears something behind him. He spins around with fists at the ready.

"It's clear," says Ted.

Duke relaxes his muscles and lets out a breath. "Find anything?"

"No," Duke replies. "There's nothing."

"Everyone's upstairs," Ted points his thumb behind him.

"Is there a vending machine or something?"

"You're not that lucky," Ted chuckles. At first Duke is furious, but then he chuckles too.

Everyone sits in a misshapen circle upstairs. Belinda and Gwen sit on the only chairs. Kimble closes the last set of blinds and then slumps onto the floor. They all take advantage of the dim and quiet room by shutting their eyes, hoping to steal seconds or minutes of sleep. A constant gentle rain taps on the windows to create an ambient lullaby. Duke sneaks a peak out the window between the blinds. The morning sun has risen enough that he can no longer spot the Stricken glowing in the dark. The town is going to be filled with the deadly creatures. It's unlikely any of them will live.

Belinda's weakness, Zane's vanity, Kimble's sense of duty, Kelly's sorrow, Ted's guns, and Gwen's fear. These will be the death of them. Duke clenches his fists and brings them up. He looks at them closely, at the scars and bent bone from his life before San Cora. He can't even trust his own hands to save himself. They couldn't help Gwen. He turns his head to see her falling asleep in her chair, arms folded across her chest, blue hair hiding half her face.

"Duke," Ted whispers. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Get some sleep, I'll take first watch."

Ted knows there's something up, but he also knows the young man won't admit it.

Duke leans against the wall beside the window and waits until he's sure the others are asleep. Then he crosses the room and picks up a puffy jacket off the desk. He places it over Gwen and gently brushes her hair away from her face. He caresses her cheek with the tips of his fingers, the taste of longing and unrequited love made more painful knowing that they'll all be dead soon. His heart thumps in his chest, a love-drunk punch to the solar plexus. He jumps back, walks backwards to the window, and leans on the wall again. He looks between the blinds, but can only see water. However, it's not the rain that clouds his vision. Two ice cold tears fall from his eye onto his hand before he can wipe them away. Gwen opens her eyes.

The morning sun has brightened the island as much as it can through the red and black storm clouds. Everyone except Duke was able to get nearly two hours sleep before thunder and lightning started booming across the island. Ted complains about Duke not waking him, no doubt feeling a little guilty.

"Hey, where'd you get the jacket?" Belinda whines. Gwen shrugs in response as she puts it on. San Cora should be burning under the summer sun, but the storm has brought a harsh winter to accompany its wave of destruction.

"Are we really doing this?" Kimble asks no one in particular.

"We have to," says Kelly. "There's no other way."

Ted turns to the desk behind him and swipes everything on it onto the floor. He puts everything he has on the table.

"Put all of our gear here. It will help us to make a plan if we know what we've got."

"Better hurry," says Gwen. "The storm is coming."

"And Stricken along with it," Duke adds.

Two handguns, four empty water bottles, two flashlights, a baton, and Gwen's boat key. "It won't be much of a plan," says Zane, folding his arms and shaking his head; however, his quip is ignored by all.

"Where's your boat, Gwen?" Ted asks her.

"At the hotel. But we can only get to it through the staff room in the back."

"What's the best way into town anyway?" Kelly asks.

"The way we got out, I guess," Gwen replies. "Through the construction site. Except the brute that killed Connor is there."

"No, it isn't," says Duke. "It came after us further inland. He won't be coming after us again."

At first Gwen looks concerned, but then a smile forms at the corner of her mouth.

"Right,"says Kimble. "So, we go in through the construction site, but then we should take the back streets behind the town square. That's where it started so it's likely that's where most of the Stricken will be. The only problem is if we get sandwiched in an alley there'll be no escape."

"We'll have to risk it," Duke says. "We either try to sneak past to the hotel or we run straight through the centre of town. We're damned if we do and damned if we don't."

"A vote then," Ted decides. "All for running?" No one raises their hand. "Ha. It's unanimous. We sneak in."

"I'll take the front," says Duke. "Gwen and Kelly should be behind me. You'll be in the middle, Ted, followed by Belinda, Zane, and then Kimble. You've got the hard job, Sheriff."

"I'll cover your asses. You can count on me."

"As I said," says Zane. "Not much of a plan."

The feeling now is something Duke cannot describe. The experience is macabre to say the least, with anger and sadness in equal measure. Everyone is saying goodbye without saying goodbye. Does anyone think they're going to make it? And then the mood ends as quickly as it began. After the hugs and moment of despair, everyone seems renewed and ready to get the job done. He's glad to see Kelly strong once again.

"Thanks for the jacket," says Gwen.

"It's getting colder," Duke replies.

They're both quiet for a long moment as the others gather at the door.

"Why didn't you say anything, Duke?"

"About what?"

"You know what. Why didn't you say anything before all of this happened?"

"It wouldn't have mattered. It's better that I didn't."

Gwen shakes her head. "I thought it was just me," she says.

Duke's jaw drops.

"What fools we are."

Gwen joins the others by the door and Duke slowly follows behind. "Yes. What fools we are."

In single formation, in Duke's designated order, the seven people who seem to be the only ones left alive, hurry toward town. They cross the main road and keep a brisk pace until they reach the construction site. The eeriness is enough to make Duke hesitate, but he snaps out of it and keeps going. They pass a pool of old blood staining on the pavement that might be Connor's. The thought of that jackhammer still sends a chill down Duke's spine.

"It's too quiet," Ted whispers to Zane. "Keep an eye out."

They keep to the outside of town, between the last rows of buildings, using them to cover their sides from any unwanted view. Every now and again Duke looks back over his shoulder, but his heart beats faster the further they go.

"Something's wrong," Duke says. "I can feel it. Something's not right."

"Get a grip, asshole," Zane snaps, only to be hushed by the sheriff.

"What's wrong?" Gwen asks, sounding more concerned for him than about their situation. Though, he could just be imagining that.

"I should see what's ahead. Ted, Zane, give me a boost." Duke points to a broken window, not quite two stories up, in the travel and tourism building next to them. Zane rolls his eyes, but otherwise helps out for once.

Ted and Zane manage to lift him up. When he pulls himself up over the windowsill, Duke realises just how exhausted his muscles are. With shaking arms, he just manages to pull himself through the window. The broken glass cuts his shoulders and back, though it barely hurts enough for him to care.

The travel agency wasn't spared the storm's destruction. The front side of the building has crumbled, blown out by red lightning. The floor is littered with office supplies and smashed computers. There's a wall-sized map of the Channel Islands on one side of the room and a set of stairs leading to the ground floor on the other.

Duke walks across the room to stand on the edge of the blown-out wall. From here, he can see the town square still burning in red flames. "What the fuck?" On the stage, around the stage, and even down the side streets, the whole town is filled with corpses. They're on the ground, some on top of another, a sea of flesh and tangled limbs, all still and quiet. The view is like nothing an island resort should be remembered for, or any place for that matter. Half of the bodies have been burned beyond recognition and are just humanoid figures of red and black skin. The other half bear the red scars of the storm. No birds pick at them, no waves roll in from the sea, no wind blows. There's only death.

Duke has to remind himself to blink. He shuts his eye for a few seconds, yet what he's just seen is still clear in his mind. There are more bodies here than before when the first bolts of lightning struck. He leans forward over the precipice and looks up. The storm begins to swirl, faster and faster. Rain strikes his face and he steps back under cover. He wipes the rain off his forehead and sees that it's red. Outside, the red rain falls on the dead.

A tin of pencils hits the floor. Duke spins around just in time to see outstretched hands, burnt of all skin, reaching for his neck. He grabs the Stricken's wrists as its thumbs dig into his throat. The Stricken's eyes almost glow red as they lean in to stare into Duke's, to watch the life fade from him. His fingers start slipping off the bloody and liquefying arms as the Stricken pushes him back bit-by-bit. His back arches under the pressure and his knees start to bend more and more. Duke pushes back to stop himself from falling out of the non-existent wall then looks down to see his heel sticking out over the edge.

Another Stricken, that is also completely burned, spots them and climbs the stairs and approaches to finish the kill. It would probably smile if it had lips.

The Stricken choking him keeps squeezing his throat. Duke grabs one of its thumbs from underneath and stretches out its arm. With his other hand, he scoops underneath the armpit of the same arm. Duke turns to face the town centre and then throws the Stricken over his back, over the building's edge, and onto the pavement outside.

Without thinking, he then ducks down and drives his elbow backwards. It could have been through luck or through years of training that the elbow strike hits its mark and forces the second Stricken back a couple of steps. It swings its arms hard and wide. Duke ducks it and rolls out to the side, landing a punch across its head. It immediately responds with one, two, three, four wild swings for Duke's head. But the boxer easily bobs and weaves out the way each time, circling to the other side of the room as he does so. Now the Stricken's back is facing to broken wall. This is Duke's chance. He slips under another strike and returns with a right to the stomach, a rip to the rib, and a straight to the nose. He slips again and comes back with a left hook, pushing the Stricken back to the edge. Just a little more. He delivers three successive right hands. The Stricken flails backward from the force, though completely unhurt. Duke steps forward to finish it with a left uppercut. It's enough to send the Stricken outside and onto the pavement.

Before heading back to the others, Duke steals one last glance at the town centre. Though he knows better, he hopes they stay down. He gently lowers himself down the way he came. Ted helps him land on his feet. He wipes the congealed blood and fragments of burned flesh from his knuckles onto his pants. The bones in his hands ache.

"What happened?" Kelly gasps.

"What did you see?" Kimble asks.

"There's so many of them. More than before. It's as if they've come here from all over the island."

"We're dead. That's it. We're fucking dead."

"Lower your voice, Bindy," Zane orders. "Now what?"

"They're on the ground, like they're dead. They're not moving," Duke adds.

"So, we still have a chance as long as we don't do anything to make 'em get up again."

Ted fires a warning shot at Belinda and Zane with his eyes. They both get the message.

"We have to keep moving." Duke gestures for everyone to get back into formation and then they continue on.

They come to the end of the alley. At the last building, Duke leans to the side and peers around the corner. The street, like the town centre, is littered with bodies. In the distance is the Day Hotel. Its glass shines like a lighthouse of hope within the red and black evil surrounding them. He turns to face his friends. "There's no other way," he whispers. Then everyone takes a turn at peeking around the corner.

"No way," Zane protests, shaking his head and waving his hands side to side.

"We couldn't even get a car through there," Kimble thinks aloud.

"What's the worst that could happen?" Gwen jokes.

"Ah, we could die. Dumbass," Belinda retorts.

"It's die or die trying," says Duke. "Stay to the side, go slow, and follow my lead. We go now." Back in formation, Duke leads them out the alley and onto the street.

They have to tip-toe between bodies, taking care not to step on any fingers or feet lest the dead rise yet again. Kelly holds her breath to stop from gagging on the smell, but a cough escapes her. Ted covers her mouth with his hand and gently pats her on the back. She nods her head in thanks and he slowly removes his hand.

There's barely an inch of road that hasn't got a dead body on it. Sweat drips from Duke's forehead and onto a Stricken's face. Luckily, nothing happens. He's never had to concentrate so hard in all his life, even as a gunsmith.

He steps over the last body and looks up at the magnificent hotel. He can't help but feel hope and relief. Gwen stands beside him and smiles, followed by Kelly, and then the others. They look back at the stretch of corpses they crossed through and allow themselves to catch their breath.

Zane slaps a hand on Duke's shoulder. Maybe they could stop their rivalry once and for all and finally turn a new leaf. It would make sense considering what they've all been through. Any petty rivalry or quarrel seems plain stupid now. Duke returns the gesture by patting Zane on the back, and they both smile. "This is for Nick," says Zane, and he trips and pushes Duke towards the pile of bodies.

"No!" Gwen cries, as he stumbles backward.

The mounds of rotting flesh are like the awaiting jaws of hungry sharks. He steps on a hand, steps on leg, falls, then rolls off onto another body. He ends up on his back, looking up at the storm clouds above, red and swirling. Is this really the last thing he's going to see? He slams his eyes shut and waits for the inevitable.

"Get up, Duke!" Gwen yells. He sits up in a flash and looks around. Nothing's happening, the dead have not risen. The clouds swirl faster and faster as the red rain continues to fall.

Zane steps back without any trace of his cool demeanour.

"You little shit," says Ted. The old guy punches Zane in the gut so hard his feet come off the ground. He drops to his knees and gasps for breath. Duke marches over to him and grabs him by the hair and pulls his head back.

"I didn't want Nick to die. But you..."

Zane spits. Duke smacks him across the mouth with a hard right hand. The others grimace at the sound of cracking bones. Zane falls at Ted's feet, loose teeth falling onto his shoe. Ted steps back to let the blood spilling from Zane's mouth spill out.

"Get up," says Duke. "We'll deal with this later. Right now, we have to get to the hotel."

Zane stands, proud and defiant.

"I can't believe you, Zane. How could you?" says Gwen.

"Stay out of it!" Zane snaps.

"Oh, fuck off," she replies.

"You're finally standing up for yourself, huh?" Belinda's voice is low and smooth, laced with condescension. "You're really fucking ugly, you know that? You're acting tough now, but you'll always have that shit all over your face. God, it's worse than I ever imagined."

"Shut up," Kelly interjects.

"You know," Belinda continues, "your dad was a pushover too. That's why you're so weak. Weak and ugly."

Gwen knows they're not in high school anymore, but she's crying anyway. Why did she try to fool herself in believing anything other than what Belinda is saying? "That's it," Duke interrupts. "Shut up and keep moving."

"Lead the way," Belinda says, smiling and turning toward to the hotel.

# Chapter Fifteen

Before they can take another step forward, the clouds rumble and roar in a way they hadn't since the start of this nightmare. The sky flashes once, twice, then continuously. Thunder booms and lightning strikes. It looks like a red bolt strikes the centre of town. Another bolt, closer to them, hits the opposite side of the street.

Gwen starts breathing heavily, is almost panting, as she steps backwards. Her eyes dart all over the place before remembering control. This storm won't beat her, it can't. It killed her parents, her friends, everyone. It won't kill her as well. She runs her hands down her face. She feels her scars, out in the open for the first time. She was wrong; lightning has killed her already. But then she came back to life. She's not going back. She won't let any more of her friends die.

She opens her eyes in time to see lightning hit the street in front of them. In the blink of an eye, within that single flash of lightning, the dead rise to their feet. Hundreds of red eyes stare at their living counterparts. Everyone gasps, and that sense of control almost disappears again. The fear is almost too much to bear. If a Stricken doesn't kill her, a heart attack surely will. She breathes. "Run through the lobby, behind the desk, and into the staff room," she says calmly. Another bolt of lightning hits a building close by, lighting it on fire.

"Should we run now?" Belinda asks. Then she lets out an ear-piercing scream and collapses to the floor as a set of Stricken teeth rip into her Achilles tendon, snapping it and tearing it out.

The sound is enough to make Gwen gag.

In a matter of seconds, Belinda's hair, arms, and legs are being pulled on as five Stricken claw at her like children fighting over a toy. The largest of them, a man half burnt to a crisp, sits on her back and locks its fingers together under her chin.

"Go, go, go!" Kimble roars.

The rest of them run at a death-defying speed toward the hotel. The Stricken pulls Belinda's head back, arching her spine so much that it cracks and pops. Her face twists in pain and she lets out one more yelp before her back touches the backs of her legs. Her spine shatters and the muscles in her stomach burst. All the Stricken stand up and leave her in that unnatural backwards u-shape.

Gwen and the others cross over the footpaths and cut through the garden patches, trampling the pretty flowers she had worked so hard to plant. The hotel's glass doors slide open so slowly it's painful. Gwen sees the Stricken behind them in the reflection.

The six of them bunch up behind the desk in front of the locked staffroom door. They urge Gwen to hurry and open it as she fumbles through the keys. Duke and Kimble head to the middle of the lobby. The sheriff flicks out her baton and Duke cracks his knuckles. The glass doors slide open again as the sea of Stricken, a hundred at least, makes a sharp turn into the lobby.

"Come on, it's open!" Gwen yells.

Kimble and Duke spin on their heels. Duke narrowly avoids the clutching Stricken. Kimble isn't so lucky.

They grab at the equipment on her vest and hook their fingers in the many pockets. She tries to slip out of her vest while on the move, swinging her baton manically. Duke reaches out for her, but she slaps his hand away. "Get out of hereeeee!" Her outstretched hand disappears as she is sucked into their grasps and the group of Stricken retreats into the mass like a wave after hitting the shore. The sounds of her screams end along with the sight of her. Duke reels back, ducks, spins around, and then dives through staffroom door. As soon as he's inside, Gwen slams the door shut and locks it. Ted and Kelly push the lunch table across the doorway.

"Where now?" Ted shouts. But there's nothing to shout over. It's silent again, apart from their heavy breathing. They listen for a moment.

"The boat's through that door," says Gwen, pointing to the red door in the back corner of the room.

"What are they doing?" says Zane.

"Let's go," Gwen whispers.

_Bang!_

Something heavy hits the staffroom door that knocks the lunch table back an inch.

_Bang!_

Wood cracks on the other side of the door.

They can all hear the grunts of pain that echo the banging on the door. Then Kimble's bloody and smashed-in head is rammed through it by a Stricken who stands behind her griping her hair. It keeps going, ramming her head through the door, slowly but surely making the hole bigger. The sheriff is now silent. Judging by the depressed curve in her skull, she's surely dead.

"Come on!" Zane screams.

Gwen faces the others. "The key broke," she says quietly.

"What?"

"Are you sure?"

"Get out of the way," Duke barks, and he charges for the door. He kicks it as hard as he can, using all the strength that fear and adrenaline can give a man. The door busts open and the top hinge breaks apart. Ted ushers everyone through the door.

Inside, Gwen hops onto her father's boat and starts the engine. Kelly takes off the lines while Zane jumps onboard. Duke hops aboard as well and spots a boat hook hanging in a ring beside the cabin door.

Shots echo throughout the boat shed. Ted stands at the busted door and fires at the approaching Stricken.

"Come on," Duke urges him, but decaying fingers wrap around the cowboy's arms, neck, and then an arm wraps around one of his legs. Putting up a good fight against them, he looks over his shoulder, looks Duke in the eye.

"Don't worry about me, boy. Get them to safety," he says calmly, smiling confidently as if he knows something that Duke doesn't. He clutches at the doorframe until finally his fingers snap under great pressure and he's pulled into the Stricken horde.

Kelly finishes taking off the last line. "Go!" she yells, as she jumps aboard. The boat kicks off. Luckily enough, several of the Stricken don't make the jump and fall into the water. However, three Stricken manage to jump on before they can clear the jetty.

Zane runs into the wheelhouse and closes the door, ignoring Duke's call for help. "Can't this thing go any faster?" he whines.

Gwen scowls at him.

Duke swings the boat hook in wide arcs to keep them back. A stupid thought, he realises. One of them grabs the hook from his hands and throws it aside. Not knowing what else to do, he draws his gun and fires at all of them. As expected, they walk through every bullet. One of them, once a teenage tourist girl, slashes at him with a butcher's knife. He narrowly avoids it and stumbles back into Kelly. She helps him keep his feet, then skips forward and swings a fire extinguisher, striking one of the Stricken across the face. It doubles over the rail, head pointed toward the water. Duke seizes the chance, ducks under a pipe aiming for his head, picks up the Stricken by its legs, and tips it overboard.

Kelly is already onto the next one and blocks a second pipe swing with the extinguisher. The Stricken with the butcher's knife is hell-bent on killing Duke, advancing on him with wild slashes. The boat violently rocks from side-to-side as Gwen dodges bolts of red lightning striking the water. Each one is closer than the last.

The Stricken with the knife makes a surprising move by swinging low instead high. It catches Duke off guard and the blade slices the side of his gut. Despite the rocking boat and now pouring red rain, Kelly's throw is perfect. Her fire extinguisher hits the knife-wielding Stricken on the side of the head, knocking it off balance. Not wasting any time, Duke throws a heavy haymaker into the Stricken's jaw. It's enough to knock it off the boat.

Red lightning strikes in sequences of two or three, as if desperately trying to stop their boat. There's no other way to explain this storm; it wants to kill them. The third Stricken, burnt from head to toe, chokes Kelly with one hand and raises the pipe with the other. Duke grabs the Stricken's arms from behind and pulls it away from his friend. The back of its burnt skull oozes blood over Duke's face. Kelly gasps for breath and rubs her nearly broken neck. Duke throws the Stricken aside, which causes the side of his stomach to sear with white-hot pain. Blood pulses out of the cut with each and every throb of agony, his whole body red with both blood and rain. He slips on the drenched deck as the boat dips to the side, but he manages to catch the rail.

"Down!"

Duke obeys Kelly's command and hits the deck. She pushes the Stricken in the back, over Duke and over the rail. Surprised, he looks up at her. Then he smiles, impressed. She helps him stand up again.

"Thanks, Kelly. You're the best."

Kelly smiles, cool and confident.

Suddenly, the engine hatch bursts open. A Stricken wearing a snorkelling mask sticks its head up and grabs Kelly by both ankles. She falls forward, but Duke isn't quick enough to catch her.

"Nooo!" she screams as she's taken into the boat's bowels.

The hatch door slams shut.

Duke slides along the wet surface and tries to open it, but it won't budge. Down below, he can hear thrashing, banging, and Kelly screaming and fighting for her life. He forces his aching muscles beyond their breaking point and finally lifts the hatch open. But, just as he does, Kelly's body is thrown up from below. A bloody mess that doesn't even look like her anymore, it lands in the corner of the boat. Duke can't believe it. She made it this far.

"What's going on?"

Duke can barely hear Gwen yelling over the storm and the thumping of his heart. He looks down the hatch. It's the same Stricken from before, the one at the lake. It aims its harpoon upwards at him. And fires.

# Chapter Sixteen

Gwen leaves the wheel alone and turns and exits the wheelhouse. She sees a harpoon fly from the hatch. It just misses Duke who then slips and falls on top of... Kelly? The Stricken she encountered at the lake pulls itself out of the hatch. She hurries back inside the wheelhouse and opens a cabinet built into the panelling. She finds the flare gun resting in its container and takes it out.

Zane grabs the wheel. "What are you doing?" he snaps.

"We have to deal with that thing out there."

"We're safer in here!"

"No! We're not! Help us now, or you'll die alone."

Outside on the deck, Duke grabs the rail to help him stand, only to be knocked down again; the Stricken's punch is hard. He spits out blood before taking a kick to the face. He rolls onto his stomach, the blood from his nose running freely on the watery deck. Gwen waits on the deck for the right moment. The Stricken then draws a second harpoon from a loop on its belt and loads the gun. It turns to the side and aims the harpoon down at Duke. Spotting her target, Gwen fires the flare gun directly into the Stricken's back. The flare explodes against the mass of red that has infested the flesh of what was once a normal man, flashing red, orange, and white. The Stricken's back catches fire and burns furiously despite the pouring rain.

The red corruption starts to melt off its back and seeps onto the deck like lava from a volcano. The fire quickly spreads to its arms and legs. The Stricken throws a glance at Gwen before Duke latches onto the harpoon gun in its hands and wrestles for control of it.

Zane, with uncharted courage, rushes toward Duke. He tries to help to get the harpoon away from the Stricken, but the monster seems to recognise him. It grabs Zane by the back of the head with one hand and tilts the harpoon point a little to the left. The Stricken slowly pulls Zane's head closer to the harpoon's point. Duke can feel his muscles rapidly weakening. He doesn't know how much strength he has left. Zane gasps, breathes, and his head shakes under the pressure. The pointed tip gets closer and he can't focus on it anymore. Zane screams first, then the harpoon pierces his eye. Blood and black goo bursts from his right eye as the Stricken slowly pulls his head further down the harpoon. His screams get louder the further the harpoon digs into his face. It stabs through his brain and then it slowly breaks out the back of his skull. Zane, mouth wide open, is silent. The Stricken lets go of his head and Zane's body slides off the harpoon.

Suddenly feeling a second wind, Duke wrenches on the harpoon gun until it drops to the deck. He kicks it to Gwen, sprinkling red rainwater in its wake. She scoops it up, aims, and fires in one motion. The harpoon pierces the Stricken's neck and Gwen grips the rope. She yanks on it as hard as she can, pulling the Stricken forward. It's about to pull the harpoon out when Duke grabs the line as well. At the same time, they drag the rope in a wide arc and, with the help of the swaying boat, the Stricken is thrown off into the sea. As its body hits a mounting swell, the harpoon decapitates it. The Stricken's head, still wearing the snorkelling mask, bounces off the water. Duke lets go of the rope, but Gwen lets the head dangle on the harpoon line, trailing behind the boat, for a moment longer. Duke gives her arm a gentle squeeze and the gesture brings her back from the adrenaline rush. Her peripheral vision returns, her heart beats a little slower, and she remembers to breathe again. The sky booms as bolts of red lightning hits the water all around them. Heads down, they hurry into the wheelhouse. Even with the door closed, the sound of the storm is deafening. Gwen checks the wheel and bearings, and has a quick look at the chart.

"Are we going to make it?" Duke asks, his voice quiet and almost emotionless. He might as well have asked what the time is.

"I don't know. I'd like to say yes, but I don't know." She takes a deep breath and lets her tears fall. "Oh, Kelly. Not you too."

Duke rubs the bracelet on his wrist as he casts his eyes to his feet, clenches his jaw, and shakes his head. "I...I can't believe it. I let all our friends down. I let you down too. I fucked up again."

"What are you talking about, Duke?" she asks gently.

Duke lifts up his bracelet. "This. My friend. He wasn't a good person, but he asked for my help with something. I didn't want to get involved, and he ended up getting killed. He died because of me. Just like Ted, Sam, Kelly..."

Gwen cups the side of his face with one hand while steering the boat with the other, and wipes a tear from his cheek. "It's not your fault," she says. "It's not your fault. I wouldn't have made it without you."

Hours pass by and fatigue finally hits them hard. The boat bounces rhythmically on the water like a rocking cradle. Then suddenly Gwen perks up. "Hey," she blurts out.

Duke springs to his feet with half-closed eyes and balled up fists.

"Do you feel that?" she says. "The water's calming down. And look!"

"Sunlight."

They lean forward over the wheel and look up at the sky, at the sun beaming through a break in the clouds and the spot of blue behind it.

"Do you want to sleep, Gwen? Can I take over or something?"

"No," she laughs, happy to see the sun and hear a bit of hope in Duke's voice, as well as in her own. "I'm good. We should be there soon."

"California, here we come."

They look into each other's eyes and smile. Then, gently, they embrace. Finally, after everything they've been through, fighting for their lives in the dark and cold, the clouds make way for a shining sun and clear blue sky. The water underneath is calm and sparkling, and the land in the near distance is like a gateway to hope and life. When they finally arrive, Los Angles is bigger and better than ever. The City of Angels indeed; their Garden of Eden.

Duke helps Gwen to dock the boat at a jetty. She doesn't bother with any final checks, or to even make sure that the lines are secure. The boat means nothing compared to her life. She waves her arms above her head to get the attention of a couple of deckhands who are quick to call an ambulance once they get a closer look at their injuries.

Gwen turns around and looks towards the storm and shadow shrouded San Cora. The waves are building again. She reaches into her pocket and finds her photo. She stares at it, at her once pretty face, and suddenly the pain it used to make her feel isn't there. It's just a photo. A photo of an eleven-year-old girl, of someone else. She holds it out over the water and lets it go. It circles in the breeze before landing on the water, sinking slowly into white-blue depths. She closes her eyes and breaths relief-filled air.

She fell asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Never has a hospital bed felt so warm and comfortable. The rest, shower, and food were like manna. It's midday now, but the curtains are still shut. Gwen looks at the bandages and scratches all over her arms. Even more scars. The thought makes her think, makes her appreciate herself and everything she's been through. She survived when so many others did not. She will not waste the life she fought so hard to keep.

She stretches and yawns, then smiles. She wants to mourn her parents, friends, and home of eight years; the beautiful San Cora. Now, all that's left are ashes. But, things can only go up from here. Can't they? It's quiet.

Duke bursts through the door, still wearing a hospital gown and bandaged all over like her. "Thank God you're okay," he exclaims. He hurries to the window in her room and grabs the curtains.

"Don't tell me..." she says as she gets out of bed and stands beside him.

He rips the curtain open to reveal the world outside, black and red, and on fire. The street is littered with bodies, like grains of sand at the beach. Cars and buildings have been partially destroyed. The sky rumbles as familiar clouds swirl with red energy and begin to turn the whole sky red. Everything flashes red under a bolt of lightning and suddenly all the bodies on the ground are on their feet. And they are scarred. They are Stricken.

"It's over," says Duke, shaking his head.

"We came all this way. All I know is...I'm not gonna let this thing beat me. Not without a fight. Are you with me?" Gwen says.

Duke seems to snap out of whatever gripped him, and smiles eagerly.

Gwen turns, about to leave the room, when a pair of Stricken hands reach for her throat.

Jackhammer Brute
