Ex-Isle by Peter Clines (electronic reader TXT) 📕

and half of Honolulu, said Zzzap. The other half burned. Well, about half of the whole island burned, really.

Madelyn’s eyes went wide. “How many people were there?”

The wraith let out a buzzing sigh. A few hundred, he said. Hawaii didn’t do so well when the Zombocalypse hit. There weren’t a lot of survivors.

The Corpse Girl mulled on this as they walked. “But no one ever did it deliberately? Nuke somewhere?”

“I never heard of it happening,” St. George said. “Stealth told me once it was a fallback plan, using nukes to sterilize the cities, but the virus was everywhere before they decided to do it. The bombs wouldn’t’ve made a difference. Never heard of any being dropped anywhere else, either.”

A lot of people in the military kept expecting North Korea or China to do it, said Zzzap. Either nuke themselves or nuke someone else. But they never did.

“Are you sure?” Madelyn asked.

Yeah. Even with a small explosion like the one on Honolulu, I’d still be seeing radiation flares from something like that today. Never seen anything.

“Do you think they saw it?” St. George looked up at the glowing figure. “Maybe they saw the Honolulu nuke go off, or the aftermath of it, and just figured it happened everywhere?”

Maybe? It’s closer than the mainland. Timeline doesn’t seem right, though.

Eliza led the group a third of the way down the length of the cruise ship, where they came to a pair of wide double doors. They’d probably looked glamorous at one point, but now the glass was smudged and the handles were tarnished. She pulled one side open and revealed a dark hallway. It ran the width of the ship, and at the far end sunlight shined through a grubby window.

Ummmmm, said Zzzap, hang on. He waved a hand up and down his brilliant silhouette. I don’t do well in small, enclosed spaces.

Eliza turned back to look at him. “Can you…turn it off?”

Zzzap turned his head to St. George. What do you think?

The hero took in a breath and let it curl out through his nose as streamers of smoke. “Can we trust you?” he asked Eliza.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“We’re here as friends,” said St. George, “but so far you haven’t been too friendly back. Pretty much aggressive and unhelpful. So can we trust you, or are things only getting worse from here?”

Eliza stared back at him. Her eyes flitted up to look at the curls of smoke as they thinned out in the air. “Once you’ve been cleared and quarantined,” she said, “and we’ve cleared up who you are—”

“We’ve told you who we are,” said Madelyn.

“—and what you are,” Eliza continued with a glance at the Corpse Girl, “I don’t think we’ll have any more issues.”

St. George looked at Barry. The wraith shrugged. Would you ladies mind turning around?

The broad-shouldered woman frowned. “Why?”

Because I’m about to suffer a slight case of nudity and I wouldn’t want you to get exposed to it.

Alice snorted and half turned her head. Zzzap turned his head to Eliza. She set her hands on her hips, just above her pistols. “I said you could trust us,” she told him. “I didn’t say we trusted you yet.”

Can I at least trust you to give me my robe out of the bag?

The gleaming wraith slid into the narrow walkway. He sank low to the deck and spread his arms to catch himself. Steam crawled out of the deck boards. His brilliant form dimmed, the faint hiss of heat and static faded, and the air was shoved out of the way. Barry fell out of the air and landed on the hardwood with a thunk and a yelp.

“Dammit,” he muttered, rubbing his elbow. “Funny bone.”

“Looked like you whacked your knee pretty hard,” said the bald man.

“Yeah, but I can’t feel my knee,” Barry said.

“You numb?” asked Eliza.

Barry nodded. “For about thirty years now.” A few minutes later he was wrapped in his robe, and St. George carried him into the hallway.

The group moved to a crossing hallway. This one was lit by a few random open doors. Barry glanced up at one of the light fixtures.

Eliza walked a few yards down the dark hall to the first open doorway. The next pair were another twenty feet down the hall. “One for each of you,” she said.

St. George glanced into one of the rooms and saw two men with guns. A plaque near the door read MOTHER OF PEARL and right below it, in smaller numbers, 13. “The exam?”

She nodded. “Should take ten or fifteen minutes if you all cooperate.”

Madelyn crossed her arms. “What are you looking for?”

Eliza looked down at the dead girl. “Signs of infection.”

“Like being dead and still moving?”

St. George stepped next to the Corpse Girl. “Madelyn’s dead,” he said, “but she’s not an ex.”

“So you keep saying,” said Steve. His fingers stretched on the pump of his shotgun like someone playing the frets of a guitar.

Eliza held out a hand. “Steve,” she said, “you take the handicapped guy. Sand Dollar.” She turned to Alice. “Take the…the dead girl over to Jewel Box. Look for signs of bites, cuts, anything that could mean infection.”

“I don’t have any,” said Madelyn.

Eliza turned her gaze to St. George, but kept talking to Alice. “If you find anything, if she attacks you…you know what to do.”

“You people are dense,” said the Corpse Girl.

“We’re submitting to your exam on good faith,” said St. George. He let more smoke curl out of his mouth. “Don’t make us regret it.” He cleared his throat and let a few sparks of flame tumble from his mouth.

The bald man stared at the licks of fire. So did Alice.

“Okay,” said Eliza, “everyone’s clear, then.”

Steve stepped forward and held out his arms. St. George locked eyes with the man, then set Barry into the other man’s embrace. “Good?”

“I’m good,” said Barry.

“I have him,” said Steve. The tall man’s eyes relaxed a little as he shifted his arms under Barry’s weight. “You’re heavier than you look.”

“You’re the first person