Apocalypso

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
FREE CONCERT

The singer’s face was partially obscured behind large sunglasses and a glossy black forelock, but the weirdness of that familiar husky voice jerked the heartstrings of all below, as though they were hearing a voice from a tomb. He wore a white suit with bell-bottom pants and a silver-ornamented jacket with an upturned collar. He was frozen in a running stance, only his leg jerking to the drumbeat, and on either side of him were rows of disco-dressed Xombies, all matching his moves with perfect precision.

“No it isn’t,” Chace said with dawning wonder, climbing the dock ramp. “It’s Miska.”

A series of small pyrotechnic explosions went off, raining showers of cool sparks down on the troops, then the boatyard was filled with the sound of a Hammond organ and electric guitars… and suddenly Elvis was moving! He was singing and dancing! The guards started cheering uncontrollably as the long-deceased King rocked above them, his pelvis thrusting and his sexy undead dancers thrusting in sync. The song resumed in an explosion of energy. It was deafening, booming down from a dozen speakers: a command performance of the Elvis classic “Suspicious Minds.” And it was beautiful.

Resistance collapsed before this surprise live appearance by one of the greatest entertainers of all time performing one of his greatest hits. It was insane. It was impossible. Yet it was good. Hardened warriors who hadn’t felt such joy in years gave in to the pure bliss of the moment, grinning uncontrollably as they rocked to the beat and sang along with the choruses. When the song ended, wild applause broke out, men whistling and howling for an encore. The ovation was deafening, causing Dixon to shake his head in wonder.

Elvis called out, “Thank you very much!” then vanished from the roof. The Xombies scattered with him, abandoning their instruments and costumes like a squad of poltergeists. Suddenly, it was very quiet.

Gathering his wits, Chace said, “Son of a bitch, my rod’s gone out.”

He turned around to deal with Sandoval, but Sandoval was gone. As Chace’s eyes traced the only path the man could have taken, he was blinded by the sun glaring off the water… a glare that had not been there before. Something else was missing. His mouth dropped open as he realized the cheap magician’s trick that the Devil had just played on him.

The yacht had disappeared.

As the EMT vehicle sank, freezing water had galvanized its stunned passengers to action-air bags or not, that crash had hurt. Trading breaths from an oxygen mask, they waited until the ambulance was completely flooded, then Ray led them out the broken windshield. He was a good swimmer, a champion in summer camp, but the water back then was never so cold.

Surfacing their heads in the narrow space under the dock, they could hear loud music starting above.

Ray said, “Okay, this is it-wish me luck.”

“Fuck luck,” Todd said. “Just hurry, dude, I’m freezing.”

Working his way to the end of the dock, Ray took a last deep breath, then ducked below and swam under the yacht. Its draft was quite shallow for such a large boat, designed for scuba trips on Caribbean reefs. Knowing he was taking a dangerous gamble, he felt his way along the keel to the dive well, praying the external hull panel was still off.

The panel was to cut drag when under sail, but in port it was left open as a convenient latrine for the carpenters since there was no other working toilet. As beautiful as La Fantasma looked from the outside, the vessel’s interior was still all raw plywood, its planned refurbishing postponed indefinitely by the long work holiday of Agent X.

The dive well was open, a mirrored square under the hull. Crashing his reflection, Ray came up in the dim green light of the well, gasping for air. He was shivering uncontrollably, his nose dripping blood. It was so cold he could see his breath. The second door was just above his head, a watertight hatch into the main hold. It, too, was open. Barely able to feel his extremities, Ray cautiously climbed the ladder and peered above the raised rim. Immediately, he realized there was trouble.

To his left, through the doorway of the galley compartment, he could see a woman’s legs-presumably the legs of Sandoval’s associate, Chandra Stevens. Her legs were awkwardly splayed as if she were unconscious or dead. There were signs of a struggle and food ransacked from the storage bins. To Ray’s right rose the aft companionway, at the top of which were two heavily armed men staring out the port-side window. There were many more weapons lying loose all over the cabin: shotguns, pistols, machine guns, rocket launchers, grenades, and multiple cases of ammunition.

Too cold to wait, Ray grabbed a loaded revolver, and said, “P-p-put down your g-guns or I’ll shoot.”

One of the men spun with his shotgun, and Ray surprised himself by firing first. It was loud and quick: the bullet struck the man in the chest, and he tumbled down the stairs. The second man froze and set down his gun.

“Whoa, whoa,” he said. “We’re cool, baby, we’re cool. Damn, did you just swim up in here?”

“What did you assholes do to her?” Ray demanded.

“The doctor lady? Nothing, I swear! She hurt herself resisting so hard-hurt us, too. But we weren’t about to kill her; she’s too valuable to lose. We just wanted to throw in with y’all since we could obviously use each other’s help. Chace is gonna make this his personal flagship, and he needs an experienced crew. I’m Brother Lake Snyder, and that poor bastard was Father Frederick Arnott. But it don’t matter now-what matters is obviously you’re somebody who can get shit done. We need people like you for the big march on Washington.”

Barely listening, Ray knew something had to be done fast, or the people under the dock were going to die of hypothermia. He said, “Okay, take all your weapons off, all of them. You’re going for a swim.”

“Are you crazy? I can’t swim!”

“Do it! Do it now!” He stepped aside to give the man room.

Lake Snyder wavered, then disgustedly shed his arsenal and peered into the green light of the well. “This is ridiculous.”

“Get in there, or I’ll shoot you!”

“No you won’t,” said the dead man from the floor.

Turning, Ray felt something hard strike him behind the knees, causing a bright flash of agony. Going down, he thought, Dummy. As the men seized and disarmed him, he could see that the man he thought he had killed was wearing a bulletproof vest. Just playing dead-of course.

“You got him, man!” whooped Brother Snyder.

Just as he said this, a woman’s face rose out of the dive well behind him. It was one of the Immunes, the one named Fran. Her lips blue with cold, her long hair stringy as wet seaweed, she held the oxygen tank from the ambulance, and before either man could react, she brought it down like a sledgehammer on Lake Snyder’s head.

“Shit!” cried Father Arnott. He went for his gun, but Ray kicked him in the face and fought him for it. It was a short fight: the older man was much bigger and stronger, an experienced warrior, while Ray was just a skinny kid who liked to dance. As the man broke Ray’s grip and knocked him over, there was a loud bang, and Father Arnott toppled to the deck with a hole in his head.

“Gotcha,” Sandoval said from the top of the stairs.

“What’s going on?” Ray asked.

“I just cast us off. We’re drifting out with the tide, and in a minute I’m going to fire up the engines.”

“How? Where’s Chace?”

“Chace decided to stick around for the encore.”

Deena and Todd emerged from the dive well, both shivering uncontrollably. Ray closed the hatch behind them, dogging it tight, then he went to see about Chandra Stevens. He knew her only slightly as one of Sandoval’s many science connections, along with Alice Langhorne and Uri Miska. In the aftermath of Agent X, they were a very select group.

Propped in a corner, the gray-haired woman was conscious, her eyes trying to focus. When Ray reached for her face, she twisted away, moaning.

“Relax, it’s okay, I’m just taking the duct tape off your mouth.”

She went limp, nodding.

As gently as possible, he peeled the tape off, and said, “I’m just going to untie you, okay? Hold still.”

“Who are you?”

“A friend. I’m here with Jim Sandoval.”

“Jim’s here?”

“Yes.”

She relaxed and closed her eyes as the engine rumbled to life.