“Okay Ty, find me a boat,” Murphy said, slapping him on the back.
Jacob watched as Tyree crawled to the edge of the bags then, without speaking, took off running across the street toward the faraway tree line. He felt Murphy’s slap signaling for him to follow. Jacob pulled his rifle flat against his chest and ran, trying to keep pace close behind the younger man. Murphy and Stephens were to his left, running just feet away. He cut across the first street, stepped onto the narrow median, then on to another small blacktop road. Finally running across grass, he was in the park.
Tyree was pulling away, running too fast. A clustered group of figures stood up out of the shade near a patch of trees. Jacob saw them and wanted to shout a warning to Tyree. He willed his legs to move faster and try to catch up. A gunshot shattered the silence. One member of the clustered group had a small pistol in the air and fired in the team’s direction as the rest of the Others took chase.
Tyree pivoted and let loose several wildly fired rounds, low and wide, in the direction of the runners. Murphy and Stephens yelled for him to continue on while the two soldiers fired instead. They knocked down the one with the pistol and quickly dropped the rest. Jacob was now running alongside Tyree; he could see another cross street, and at the bottom of a low hill, the harbor was just coming into view.
Tyree raised his hand and pointed at a large group running directly at them from the edges of the park ahead. The group was to the team’s left and moving on an angle that would intersect them at the harbor gate.
“I see them; don’t stop, get to the boats!” Murphy yelled.
Jacob crossed the street separating the golf course from the park, carrying his rifle in his right hand. He pushed himself on and felt his lungs burning. In his peripheral vision, he saw the swarm rolling in closer with every second and he could hear their cries growing louder. They were behind them now and pursuing from the city. Jacob’s adrenaline surged as his vision narrowed to focus on the water in the distance. Enclosed by a tall, black iron fence, the harbor lay just ahead. The gate was open, and Tyree pushed through while the sounds of Murphy and Stephens’ rifles filled the air.
Jacob ran through the gate and on to a parking lot inside, which paralleled a boardwalk and a number of small docks. The first of the docks held several small boats. Having already crossed the lot and hurdled over a small fence, Tyree was nearing the dock when he stopped and looked back at Jacob.
Jacob waved him on and yelled, “Ready the boat; I’ll get the gate!”
A sliding gate, secured with a chain lock, was left gaping in the open position. Jacob used his rifle to shoot at the lock, the third time successfully shattering its mechanism. The lock exploded and fell from the chain. Heaving with his back, Jacob pulled at the gate until it broke free and swung toward the closed position. Jacob left just enough space to allow Murphy and Stephens to squeeze through.
The gunfire put Jacob’s attention back to the distance; Murphy and Stephens were behind an abandoned car, firing into the charging mob. Jacob spotted a man far behind the mob, raising a rifle and preparing to fire. Rounds already pinged off the car’s hood, dangerously close to Stephens.
Jacob raised his rifle. Eye to the sight, he focused on the far-off target and pulled the trigger. A clear miss—he didn’t even see the round impact near the gunman. Using a trick his father taught him years ago when he learned to shoot, he aimed low and watched the rounds splash into the grass to the low right of the target. He adjusted his aim and fired again, this time knocking the man down. With the mob now closing in, Jacob dropped his point of aim and began firing rapidly into the mass.
Murphy and Stephens fell back, firing steadily until they reached the fence. Once they passed through, Jacob slid the gate shut behind them. Stephens removed a D-ring from his vest and placed it on the gate’s hasp moments before the mob collided with it. Jacob raised the rifle and shot one point-blank in the face. Even as it fell back, another quickly took its place.
“Go; leave them!” Murphy ordered, already turning to run toward the dock.
Tyree had a small boat untied and was standing on the bow, holding a rope while waiting for Jacob and the rest. Stephens grabbed Jacob by the back of his vest, pulling him along as they ran for the small boat. Jacob moved behind while Murphy leapt over the bow and climbed to the controls. When Jacob neared the bow, Stephens grabbed at Jacob’s jacket and pushed him aboard. Taking the rope from Tyree, he shoved the boat off the dock and into the water then jumped aboard as it drifted away.
The boat continued to pull away slowly, gliding through the water as Murphy called out, “I can’t start the motor; I got this running off the battery, but we won’t have much speed.”
A round shattered the small windshield; Stephens spun around, raised his rifle, and squeezed off several shots before being hit in the chest. He fell back, nearly rolling off the deck. Tyree dove, caught his arm, and pulled him back to the center. Jacob brought up his own rifle and aimed at the shoreline. The mob was climbing the iron fence and more were pouring in from the sides farther up the drive. They were ringing the water, yelling and shouting while, beyond the gates, more armed
