Jon waited for a moment before replying without turning around to face the woman. “Go home.”
He walked away without ever looking back.
5
Her hand brushed across his leg, and he put down his e-reader and glanced over at her.
Carrie wore her sunglasses over her eyes, an oversized floppy hat on top of her head, and her smile shined brighter than the sun. The black one-piece swimsuit complemented her athletic body to perfection, which she worked hard to keep up at the age of forty-three.
“Whatcha readin’ over there?” Carrie asked in her sweet southern accent, which was only one of the things that had made Jon fall in love with her at first sight.
“I found this new author I like named Blake Crouch,” Jon said. “Been blowing through some of his books.”
“Does he write that horror stuff?”
“Kinda. It’s more thriller with some supernatural and sci-fi elements.”
“No, thanks.” Carrie removed her sunglasses, revealing her blue eyes, and wiped them with a cloth. “I’ll stick to my Nora Roberts.”
“You’re like an old lady.”
Carrie slapped him on the leg. “Watch it, mister.” She narrowed her eyes at him playfully before putting her sunglasses back on.
“Yes, ma’am. You keep hitting me like that, I’ll do whatever you want.”
Carrie grabbed his hand and they both looked out toward the ocean as Spencer emerged from the water to jog up the beach toward them.
“How’s the water feel, bud?” Jon asked.
“Great. You gonna come in?”
Jon nodded. “In just a few minutes.”
“Oh, Spencer, sweetie, your face is red. Did you forget to put sunblock on?”
“Oops.”
Carrie exhaled. “You can’t do that. You don’t want to burn or you’ll be miserable.”
“Sorry, Mom.”
“I left the lotion up at the house.” Carrie squeezed Jon’s hand. “Do you mind running up to the house and grabbing it?”
Jon sighed. “I guess.” He pushed himself up, setting his e-reader down in his chair. He felt a sting on his ass as Carrie slapped it.
“Thanks, old man.”
Smiling, Jon leaned down and kissed her.
“Gross!” Spencer said.
“You’re twelve years old, and you still think that’s gross?” Jon shook his head and laughed.
“Just hurry up so we can throw the football!” Spencer said.
Jon rustled his son’s hair. “I’ll be back. Warm that arm up.”
Jon glanced down at his wife, who’d already laid back down and gotten comfortable again, her arms up behind her head and her eyes closed under the sunglasses. Then he marched through the sand and made his way back up to the rented beach house.
The house they’d rented sat beachfront in Garden City, their favorite place to stay near Myrtle Beach. They'd claimed a spot on the beach that was only around thirty yards from the house, so Jon didn’t have to walk far. He climbed the stairs up onto the patio and saw the bottle of sunscreen sitting on a table. He thought to run inside and grab a beer, but he’d already had two down on the beach. He wanted to get back and play football with Spencer.
But when he walked back down to the beach, he didn’t see his son. He used his hand as a visor and scanned the beach, but he didn’t see him. Then he noticed something else that was strange.
All that was left was the umbrella and chairs where his family had made camp. No one else was on the beach.
Jon jogged over there, the sand kicking up beneath his feet. He kept his eyes out on the beach, looking all around for Spencer even out in the ocean. He asked Carrie, “Have you seen Spence?”
No response.
Continuing to search, he reached down to grab his wife’s arm. “Sweetie, have you—”
The skin on Carrie’s arm felt frail. He looked down at her, and saw her face was covered entirely with the wide-brim hat. Reaching for it, he pulled it away from her face.
Her face was pale and worn. The sunglasses fell from her face, and he saw that her eyes had turned yellow.
Jon jerked away from her. “What the fuck?”
Then he heard a mellow snarl behind him. Slowly turning around to face the noise, he saw his son standing before him.
Only, the thing was no longer his son.
It had the same red eyes as Carrie, its skin frail and saliva dripping from its lips.
“No,” Jon mumbled.
The creature screamed and leaped at him.
“No!”
Jon sat up in bed, his mind instantly awake. He breathed heavily, sweat on his brow and all down his shivering arms. Looking around, he reminded himself that he wasn’t on the beach, but in the cabin instead. His labored breathing continued, but he brought his hands up to wipe his face and his eyes, and then he tossed the covers off and threw his legs over the side of the bed.
Leaning over, he rested his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands.
Another nightmare.
He grabbed the glass of water he’d left next to his bed and downed the rest of it. Standing, he looked at himself in the mirror.
His body was almost unrecognizable from who he’d been in the dream. That had been before the scars. Before, he’d only had a mark on the lower part of his stomach from appendicitis surgery. Now, he had cuts all over his body, all from zombie hunting.
Jon took a deep breath and turned away from the mirror. He grabbed his handgun off the dresser and stuffed it into the waist of his pants. He also retrieved a clean shirt off the nearby chair and threw it over his shoulder before heading into the other room.
The sun peeked in from the cabin’s east windows. It was later in the morning than he usually woke, which was surprising, considering how shitty he’d slept. One of the first things Jon saw when he walked into the living room was his bat resting against the wall in the corner. He’d planned on taking the day off from hunting to focus on some things around the house,
