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“Jesus,” I hissed. “Warn a girl next time!”
Marcus smiled and chambered another round.
Expression murderous, Baldy slowly put his hands on his head. The other two followed suit.
Rachel and Brian swarmed onto the boat and began disarming the three men. Pleased, I panned the field glasses down to the flatboat where Pierce sat with a lazy, deadly smile on his face, shotgun never wavering. Something splashed in the bayou. A fish, most likely. Or perhaps an alligator was watching the whole show from beneath? Hard to tell since I couldn’t see the water between the flatboat and my vantage on the backside of the bank.
Two quick gunshots split the air, startling me again. But not from Marcus.
“Who’s shooting?” Marcus demanded.
“I don’t know—” I sucked in a breath at the sight of the slumped figure in the flatboat. Red stained the back of his shirt. “Pierce is down!”
As the flatboat began to drift downstream, a third shot cracked. Rachel cried out and staggered. Carrot-top seized his opening and slugged her hard across the jaw, dropping her.
Heart pounding, I stood up to get a better look, right as a dark figure disappeared beneath the water, halfway between the patrol boat and the spit. “There’s another diver,” I said in growing horror. This was bad bad bad. Both Saberton men grappled with Brian now. What if the second diver shot him next? Or decided to finish Pierce off with a bullet to the brain?
Or, just as bad, what if they captured one of our zombies?
“I’ve got to help them,” I gasped, lurching up the embankm
ent.
“Angel . . . wait! We can plan a—”
“No time!” I took off, pouring on the zombie speed for a good hard sprint across the bit of land. As I reached the far side I let out a ululating war cry and launched myself into the air. Every head turned my way. Brian mouthed something I hoped was “You’re so awesome!” but was more likely “Are you shitting me?”
Though I barely avoided a belly flop, the momentum of my ungraceful dive carried me toward my target. The dark shape of the diver moved ahead and below. I kicked hard, reached for him.
Then popped right back to the surface as the automatic life vest inflated. Shrieking a curse, I struggled with the clasp, all the while looking for a shadow that marked the human shark swimming below. I finally squirmed free of the vest and threw the stupid thing aside, then shrieked again as a hand seized my ankle.
I barely had a chance to suck in a partial breath before the diver yanked me under. I was a lousy swimmer—and my heavy boots sure didn’t help—but I was one hell of a scrappy fighter. Though my gun was holstered on my other ankle, I didn’t waste effort trying to get to it since the drag of water slowed bullets down too much. I stuck to the basics and kicked and twisted until I broke free of the grip, but instead of making for the surface as the diver no doubt expected, I turned on him and ripped at hoses and mask.
I had no luck pulling the hoses free from the tank, but I managed to yank his regulator out and mask off.
Her mask, I realized with a start as the mask dropped to the bottom. Even through the murky water, it was pretty clear this was a woman.
She jammed her regulator in her mouth even as she pulled her gun and tried to shove it against my side. Point blank was the only way an underwater shot would be effective, but a hard kick to her gut solved that problem. Though the stupid boots weighed me down, they delivered a lot more punishment than her flippers ever could. I followed up with a zombie-power snatch and ripped the gun out of her hand, only to have it slip through my fingers and sink. Pissed, I kicked her again for good measure.
Not hard enough, apparently. She yanked a long knife from a sheath and slashed at my midsection. I barely managed to twist away then bit down on a yelp as she sliced my thigh on her backswing. I grabbed her arm, but my nifty jiu jitsu moves didn’t work worth a shit underwater. With her tank in the way, I couldn’t even try and get her in a chokehold. Going for a point-blank shot with my own gun was also out of the question as well since she’d move in for the kill the instant I tried to draw it.
My lungs strained for air as we battled for the knife. I gasped, sucking in water that burned in a new and horrible way, and flailed as panic slithered in. Hands grabbed and held. My body acted without me, took another breath of water. Parasite. Compensating. Like being submerged in the nutrient goo at the lab. But without the nutrient. Couldn’t sustain long, but it was enough for now.
Yet my brief distraction was all the diver needed. She kneed me hard in the gut then wrestled free of my grasp and jammed the knife between my ribs.
Pain jolted through me. Triumph lit her face.
Baring my teeth, I grabbed her hand on the knife and held it firm between my ribs. In a glorious water ballet cartwheel, I flipped to my right, propelling myself around with my boot on her face.
As I spun, her hand slipped from the hilt. I yanked the knife from my chest then rammed it into her throat.
Her entire body spasmed. I shoved away from her, knife in hand. Eyes wide, she clawed weakly at the wound, blood billowing out in a dark cloud. Her hands dropped away, and she drifted from sight, limp and unmoving.
I’d won. And it felt like shit.
I slit the laces on my boots, kicked them off, then swam for the surface.
Chapter 10
