Dead Stop - Dead Stop Part 24
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Dead Stop Part 24

Stormbreak - Marisa.

"Harley!"

Marisa pushed through the door into the restaurant and used a convenient flare of lightning to locate the man standing at the other end of the room.

He peered with folded arms out the last side window towards the diesel pumps. She noticed he had already pulled a toothpick from his hat brim and now chewed it as he stared out into the storm.

"So," She marched over to him and faced him with hands on hips. "Plan B?"

"Yeah," he exhaled around the toothpick, his mind obviously elsewhere.

Marisa stared at him for a moment, and when he didn't speak again reached out and tapped him firmly on the shoulder.

"Harley," she growled, "I don't want to complain or anything, but being your wingman seems to involve an awful lot of standing around wondering what the hell you're up to. You want to help me out with that?"

"Huh?" He seemed to come back to himself and turned to her.

"I said," She folded her arms and glared at him, "Doc was sort of wondering about Plan B. But I thought instead of just telling her it was something crazy that would most likely get you killed, I would come in and get all the juicy details first. That way it looks like you at least trust your wingman enough to tell her what's up before you run off and get eaten. You do trust me, right?"

"Trust you?" He looked confused at the direction the conversation had taken. "Of course I trust you."

"Oh good!" she snapped. "Because me being a silly girl and all, I got this crazy idea you might be holding out on me there for a second. But then I realized you surely wouldn't do that because I told you before, I've got your back...even if I don't like what you're about to do. Right?"

Marisa could feel her temper begin to rise and reined it back in. She wasn't really looking for a fight, but this needed to be settled.

"Right," he agreed, still looking nonplussed.

"Good, because what I am NOT, is a sidekick. Comprende? That's Deke. What I am is the person who needs to know what you're thinking so I can do my part right. Who knows, I might even come up with an angle or two that will give whatever plan you're cooking up a better chance of working."

"Marisa, I..."

"No." She surprised him by putting a finger to his lips. "Hear me out, okay?"

He stopped, then nodded in the dark.

"Like I told Doc, she may know science but I know people. I can tell you've been trying to protect us, and I don't mean by just fighting these things when you got the chance. You've been cool as ice through this whole thing. You had already figured out what was going on in town earlier tonight, and you didn't say anything until you didn't have a choice. You knew how freaked out we all already were, and you wanted to spare us that while you could. You had probably already figured out where these...things...were coming from as well..."

His lack of reply was all the answer she needed on that one.

"Yeah," she set her jaw and nodded. "I thought so. And the worst part is, you're still doing it."

The ever present grin on his face grew decidedly pained, and she knew she had scored again.

"So here's the deal, Harley." She stepped up and looked at him with solemn eyes. "We're just going to start over and try again, okay? Only instead of me being your 'wingman,' we'll be partners in this thing. I've still got your back, but no more secrets, and no hiding things from your partner. I know we barely know each other, but I really need to trust you. Comprende? And I know the only way that is going to happen is if you trust me too...so let's start over. I'll go first..."

"First?" Harley's smile took on a confused look.

Instead of answering right away, Marisa took a step back, squared her shoulders, then fixed the taller man with a serious look.

"Hola." she said with grave formality. "My name is Marisa Odalys Jacinta Valdez, and I am your new partner. I work here at the Textro while saving up for school. I know I'm a girl, but I am not a china doll. The thing with Vicki caught me by surprise, and it hurt me, but I'll be okay. My toe is sore, but I used to be an athlete and I've played hurt before...so I'm okay there too. I am tougher than I look, but I'm not an idiot and I won't do anything stupid just to prove myself. I like chocolates, drive-in movies, and men who respect me enough to tell me the truth. My turn-offs are politics, professional wrestling, and dead people who are trying to eat me. Okay, now you go..." She folded her arms and looked at him expectantly.

The man stared at her, his face a mask of surprise.

"Your turn," she prompted. "Go ahead."

Harley looked at her a couple of seconds more, then recovered.

"Okay, you win," he sighed, then met her with the same serious look she had assumed earlier.

"Hi. I'm Sergeant Harley Wayne Daughtry. I was a scout in the US Army and assigned to a sniper squad in Afghanistan, where I served two tours of duty. My primary assignments were penetrating into hostile territory, gathering and assessing intelligence, and the hunting and neutralization of Taliban fighters. I got out a few months back, and now I'm just kind of easing back into life here in the states. My main, overriding objective tonight is to get everybody out of here alive, and somewhere safe."

He paused a second, then continued in a slightly lighter tone. "I like chicken fried steaks, fishing, and people who don't give up. I haven't really made a list of turn-offs yet. Should I?"

"It helps."

"Okay, I'll try and work on that." He tilted back his hat, and looked at her with unconcealed curiosity. "So now what?"

"Now we see if you mean it." Marisa slid into the booth beside them and indicated the bench across the table from her. "So tell me, how bad do you think it really is out there."

Harley appeared to think about it a second, then eased himself into the seat.

"Well, if Houston or San Antonio had sent any kind of help, we should have seen something by now. The fact they haven't can mean several different things. Either they don't know enough about what's going on here to respond, or this is going on in several places and they can't respond to all of them at once, or they have the same problem we have. Without more information, I can't tell more than that. Masonfield, is a different matter though."

"What about Masonfield, Harley?"

His face tightened, as if he regretted mentioning it, and the look he gave her was both somber and grim. She realized immediately what he was thinking.

"Yes, I have family in Masonfield," she answered his unspoken question. "But I need you to tell me anyway. That's the deal. That's the way this works. Besides, we already know they have trouble over there."

Harley nodded and folded his arms on the table. Taking the toothpick out of his mouth, he examined it for a second before tossing it into the ashtray. Then he turned his head and looked out into the storm as he continued.

"By this time," he spoke softly, "all the people who were killed at the football game have gotten up and joined the zombies from the cemetery. Actually, enough time has now passed that their initial victims may have gotten up as well. There would be hundreds of them, maybe over a thousand. And these new ones tend to wander around more, so all those who got up probably spread out through town as well. By now I estimate the only survivors are probably a few people who went to bed early and have slept through this entire thing. They'll die as soon as they get up and go outside tomorrow."

"You're sure about that?" Marisa closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. She had half expected something like this, but hearing it confirmed with such finality still felt like a punch to the heart.

"Yeah...I'm sure," His voice sounded flat. "It's already over. That's not guesswork, but simple mathematics. Losing their police and having all those people die at the same time created the perfect storm of events. Even if some people holed up, they would have been overwhelmed. I'm sorry, Marisa, but Masonfield is dead."

The two sat unspeaking, the rain thrumming against the windows I'm not going to cry, Marisa swallowed and clenched her jaw. I am NOT going to cry. If I do, I might not be able to stop...and Stacey and Benny need me. There will be a time for crying later.

She opened her eyes to see Harley looking at her with obvious concern. It didn't take a genius to realize he must be wondering if this latest news, on top of the shock of encountering her dead sister, was going to be the straw that brought her down.

And the thought of that pissed her off.

She had told him to stop protecting her and to be honest. Now that he had, she would be damned if his doing so would break her. She had told him she was strong, and Marisa meant to live up to it. She had to. Benny and Stacey needed her, and she refused to collapse and let them down.

She would hang on to that, if nothing else. Until her friends were out of here and safe, she was going to keep it together. After that...well, to hell with after that.

For now, she would deal with now.

"Okay, Harley," she took another deep breath, then met his eyes with a level gaze of her own, "Now tell me about Plan B."

His eyes searched her face for a few seconds before he leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied with what he saw. The brief look of respect that crossed his features gratified her enormously.

"Yeah, Plan B..." He reached up and pulled another toothpick from his hat brim. "Plan B is how I'm going to get all of us out of here in the next thirty minutes. But I don't think you're going to like it. It has what you would call 'Hey guys, watch this," written all over it."

Stormbreak Deke.

Deke leaned against the back wall of the darkened store, holding Stacey tightly in his arms.

The storm of emotions whirling through him matched the one outside. He was injured, his mom was either in danger or dead, and the girl who sat firmly at the center of his universe was hurt both in body and psyche. He couldn't do anything about the first two situations, and the last one confused the boy and made him feel hopelessly ineffectual. The little waitress would perk up from time to time and put on a good show, but then quickly revert to just wanting him to hold her. She said it made her feel safe.

He didn't know whether to believe her or not.

She would cling to him tightly, not crying, and not saying a thing. But from time to time a shudder would run through her small frame and he would worry. It pained Deke to admit it, but he felt helpless and over his head here. He almost wished Marisa was more available to talk to the girl. She had been Stacey's first choice to run to when this nightmare had first started. He felt a small stab of jealousy about that, but had the honesty to admit the other woman would have probably done a better job than he had so far.

So here he stood with the girl of his dreams wrapped in his arms, and him submerged in an agony of self doubt.

What would Harley do? Oh hell, who am I kidding? If I was Harley I wouldn't even be worried about this because she really would feel "safe" with me. He's already taken out two of these things single handedly. So far I've managed to climb a wall, break a desk, and get my ass kicked by a little old lady zombie. And Stacey had to rescue ME from IT! I gotta step it up here. But how? Now I'm hurt and more useless than before.

Stacey shivered again and tightened her grip on him. He returned the gesture with his uninjured arm, not knowing what else to do. Having the amazingly built little waitress press so tight against him should have been a fantasy come true, but right now those kind of thoughts were a million miles away. Right now, he just wanted her to be alright.

"Stacey?" he whispered. "Are you okay?"

She didn't say anything, but he felt her nod her head against his chest.

"What are you thinking?" he probed, hunting anything to give him an idea what to do.

"I'm not."

He sighed, not knowing where to go with that.

"I wish there was something I could do for you. If there is, anything at all, just tell me."

"You're doing it."

Deke resisted the impulse to sigh again and stared at the ceiling. The frustration in him mounted. Part of him understood this was what he needed to be doing right now, but another rebelled at the idea of Harley taking care of business without him helping. Hell, worse than that, he'd been replaced by a girl...even if it was by a scary girl like Marisa. As much as he adored the feel of Stacey in his arms, he should have been with Harley fighting these things. He exhaled in exasperation at this turn of events.

A soft chuckle from the girl in his arms brought him back into the present.

"I must be slipping," Stacey looked up at him with surprisingly merry eyes. "Because I get the definite feeling you want to be doing something else. Dumping me so soon?"

"No!" Deke hugged her tight. Suddenly Harley could take care of himself again. "Hey, I will stand here and hold you all night if you want. That's my job, and I'm glad to have it."

She continued to look up at him a moment more, then that famous smile spread into existence and seemed to light up her face in the dark.

"MmHmm," she nodded to herself with a pleased expression. "Definitely nice. But I can see it's my turn to take care of you for a little bit."

"Huh?"

"You're a guy, and I can tell you're dying to do something...useful. You don't know what yet, but if I don't figure something out you'll come up with it yourself. At least this way I'll have some input and can limit the damage."

"I'm that obvious, huh? I'm sorry. I meant it about holding you all night."

"I know," she smiled at him. "And you'll get your chance, because it really does help me. But this is a two way relationship, which means I help you too."

Relationship? Holy shit! When did that happen?! Not that I'm bitching or anything!

"So," Stacey continued, "we've already got all the chips and junk food moved into the back. What else would be a good idea to grab while we're in here?"

Deke's eyes roved the darkened store, trying to imagine anything that might make a difference. Something Doc might have forgotten about. Other than food and drinks, what did they really need? He racked his brains, trying to come up with an answer, when his gaze settled on the spot where Gladys met her end. The dark mounds of rubble marked where the cigarette rack had crashed down on the glass counter display. His stomach got a bit queasy, but an idea started to form.

"Hey Stacey? Who's got the store keys?"

"I think Marisa does. Why?"

"Well," Deke pondered aloud. "I remember her saying Gladys had the other set, but I don't remember them turning up when Harley moved all the bodies to the cooler."

"No," Stacey frowned. "But I do remember him coming back with the car keys from the customer who died up there with her."

"Yeah, so he must have gone through their pockets when he put them back there. That would only make sense."

"True. But," Stacey held up a finger, "that would also be why he didn't find Gladys's keys. She kept hers in a purse."

"And her purse," Deke continued the thought, "must have gotten knocked to the floor or buried under the rubble when they attacked Gladys. So Gladys's keys are still in here, and it might be a good idea to find them so we have a spare."

Deke finished on a triumphant note. He could still do something important that would help everybody else. Not to mention, showing up in the back with the spare set of keys would make him feel more like a contributing member in this little group of survivors. He might be "rear echelon" now, but he was still a functioning member who was making a difference.

The boy started towards the front, then realized he was alone. He turned to see Stacey had only taken a couple half steps before going pale and somber.

"Yeaaahhhh..." the girl hesitated. "Uh, Deke? I don't mean to be a downer, but Gladys died over there, and I'm not really crazy about the idea of crawling around in her blood."

That brought his enthusiasm to a lurching halt.

Now that she mentioned it, the thought didn't really appeal to him either. He had never particularly liked Gladys, but he did know her. The woman had been a bit of a grouch in his direction, yet she had also been a part of his world since he was a little kid. The realization she had been standing there a mere nine hours earlier when her world came to a violent end was a bit unsettling.

"Right," he agreed. "I hear that. I guess I got excited and I wasn't thinking."

He came back and started to lean back against the wall again but Stacey caught his arm. The pained look on her face caught his attention even more.

"No, Deke," she sighed. "You were right. It's an excellent idea. Somebody really should have thought of it earlier. It might even be a lifesaver if we get separated, or if the zombies get into one side of the truck stop when Marisa isn't near the inside door. I just let the idea of Gladys dying there rattle me for a second."

"Hey, it's okay." He put a hand on her shoulder. "You've already had a hell of a night. I'll tell you what...I'll go see if I can find the purse while you just hang back on this one."

"Hell of a night?" she echoed with a hollow laugh. "Everybody has had a hell of a night. It's not right for me to suddenly pull a dainty princess routine while you carry the load."

"I don't mind. Besides, I don't think you're being a 'dainty princess,' Stacey."