Free Divine Fantasy by Melanie Jackson Page A

shushing across the beach and the increasing screech of the wind as it whipped its way through the thrashing palms and up the side of the mountain that divided the island in two.
    “A storm’s coming. That’s odd, because there wasn’t anything in the long-range forecast about one.” Ambrose sounded a bit grim.
    “Great,” I muttered, thinking of all the horror movies I’d seen where people got trapped on islands because of terrible storms. For a moment, I thought Ambrose was going to say something more, but he decided to keep his counsel for the time being.
    All too soon we reached the edge of the water. I stopped a foot away from the waterline, reluctant to get my feet wet with water that had also touched a zombie.
    “I’m going to put you up on the rocks. You’ll have a better vantage point,” Ambrose said, taking me by the waist and tossing me and the Colt on top of a flat-topped, shoulder-high boulder that was damp but not slimy. The casual use of his unusual strength was still disconcerting, though I had no fear of him turning that strength upon me. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
    I nodded, being tired of saying so. Particularly since I was increasingly less okay every time he asked.
    “Keep this for now,” he said, handing me theshotgun, which I laid on the rock beside me. It was probably more accurate than the Colt, but I’d never used one before and I didn’t think this was the day to begin lessons. Ambrose’s dark eyes considered me as I straightened. “I’d prefer you not shoot me, but if I come out of the water with anything attached, feel free to let fly. I don’t like getting shot, but even less do I like getting bitten by zombies.”
    I looked at the deadly Colt in my hand and remembered how it kicked and how loud the percussion was. Then I thought about the zombie and what it might look like fastened to Ambrose’s neck. Injury by bullets or teeth, neither option appealed to me, but his preferences had been clearly stated. I would honor them.
    “I’ll try to keep away from your face,” I said, which was a grim sort of truth, but for some reason it made him laugh.
    “Please do. That Colt will drop a charging bull at fifty yards. I’d be hours picking up pieces of my head.”
    Before I could say anything else, he peeled off his khaki shorts and T-shirt and began walking naked toward the water. I thought about asking him what the hell he was doing, but decided that I didn’t want him to turn around and talk to me while he wasn’t wearing clothes. One naked body a day was enough, even though Ambrose’s body was a much more pleasant form to look at.
    In a distressingly short period of time he had disappeared under the water. I saw him break thesurface once when he was out beyond the waves. He traveled the distance in half the time it had taken me.
    It began to rain the moment I was alone. Big fat stinging drops, which I hated both because it decreased visibility and also because it was surprisingly cold after a while. Or maybe it was fear whose cold hands ran themselves over my body and lingered at my heart.
    “Shit. Why me?” I asked the heavens. “I’m not good at stressful situations, and this situation would turn John Wayne into a bed wetter.” In answer, the rain began falling hard enough to hit the rocks and then bounce back into the air. The drops that hit me bounced back, too, but only after they had bruised my flesh. Also—and I tried hard to tell myself it was only my overwrought imagination—I thought I could smell traces of rot and sulfur in the air. That wasn’t normal. I didn’t know if I should be looking for more zombies creeping up behind me from the beach, or watching for the cone of what might be a reawakening volcano.
    All around me the wind jeered and bushes whispered slyly. I could have shouted back, but the wind would have shredded my voice as it did all other sound.
    I recalled a particularly horrid story that had haunted me all my days at boarding