The Things We Bury - Part 2: No Big Apocalypse [Completed]

Chapter 8: Galveston (Parts 1 to 4 of 13)

The hard packed sand berm at the end of the parking lot provided natural cover from which they examined the marina. There was only a scattering of vehicles in the long gravel lot between them and the docks. They could have gotten closer if they had parked. But it was locked in with a small channel of water on the left and a hill with ragged sea grass on the right. That's why Alicia had made Brett leave the car a half-mile down the road. With this terrain, it was an impediment. It would just get them bottled in.

Blass was either brazen or stupid. His battered pickup was right up front, close to the pier. He was open to the entire marina with no easy means of escape. If he was forced to retreat, he'd have to fight his way all the way to the other end, where there was only one way out.

He unloaded bags from the back, while the Holy Beast stood a few feet from the passenger door staring at the silver water. She looked a little less like a cheerleader than the last time Alicia had seen her. She had done something with her hair. Between the white streaks and the sullen look on her face, she seemed to have gone Emo in the last few days. Although she still wore the same plain-Jane jeans and T-shirt as before.

It wasn't much of a disguise.

Behind her, a line of boats stretched out, and behind them, the ocean lit by a dying day. The rippling looked like Christmas tinsel in a gentle breeze. Alicia thought of her parent's fake tree draped with the glittery stuff in drunken abandon, a nearby vent giving motion to the strands.

"I think we're going to need a bigger boat," Brett said peering through his binoculars.

"If you have to be such an ass, could you at least come up with appropriate lines?"

He ignored her and adjusted the focus.

Blass slammed the tailgate shut and loaded himself up with a backpack over one shoulder and duffle-bags in each hand. He went over and spoke with Amy. It was brief, a few words and he was walking away heading alone to the docked ships.

"They're splitting up," she said.

"This is our chance. I'll get the girl, you deal with him." He sketched out each of their courses in the sand with his finger, sending him around the edge and keeping behind the protective bank while sending Alicia out along the canal to the marina.

Alicia rebelled at letting Brett take charge but she forced herself to push down the emotions and revulsion at taking an order from this halfwit, because she had been thinking the same thing before he opened up his mouth. Amy might be less likely to go with him than she would a woman, but Alicia doubted Brett could ever pull the trigger on Blass if it became necessary. Better it be her, than have him fuck it up.

That would be all she needed. Alicia could envision it: Brett snafus the operation and she'd get called onto the mat in New Hampshire. What would they do with her? She shuddered inwardly, shaking off the negative thoughts and the feeling of dread.

"What are we waiting for?" She stood and headed on her circuitous route toward the dock at a brisk pace. She heard Brett's feet crunching on the dirt, scurrying toward the Beast.

***

The brine of the sea filled Amy's sinuses like a head cold. The vastness of it was disorienting. It was like the moment she was released from the bunker. Only instead of having an expanded sense of everything, this was a blanket covering it all. The stench of salt, seaweed, and fish clogged up her senses. Whatever the hell she might be, she wasn't meant for the ocean. How would she survive floating, surrounded by it?