Second Nature

Chapter 58

"I need to borrow your boat," Jimi said. "It's a medical emergency." 

One of the women giggled. Frankie sneered. "You need to what?" 

"You heard me, borrow your boat." Jimi jumped down into the aft cockpit. 

Frankie stepped toward him. "You're out of your fuckin' mind. Now get off my boat before I kick your ass overboard." More giggles. 

"I've been exposed to a biowarfare agent." Jimi pointed with his chin. "Those helicopters and soldiers on the hill? They're looking for me. I'm infected. Everyone at the inn is infected." He twitched and made a show of scratching his right palm. "The soldiers are scared to death to touch us; they've got on biohazard suits. I doubt your golf shirt and shorts make a good biohazard suit." He moved forward. "What do you think, Frankie?" 

Frankie eyes grew huge and he retreated until his back struck the windshield. The women huddled beside him, cringing. 

Jimi formed the fingers and thumb of his right hand into the shape of a gun and reached out, pointing the barrel inches from Frankie's face. "I'm loaded with virus, a walking hot zone. Now toss me your key, or I'll shoot you full of what terrifies those soldiers." 

"Okay, I...I'll toss it to you." Frankie fumbled through his pocket and lobbed the key to Jimi. "Now just let us go. Please." 

"Sure. Soon as I wipe this itchy slime off my hand." Jimi dragged his palm down the front of Frankie's shirt and shorts. Frankie shuddered, and in the lamplight from the dock his pale face turned green. "You know, if I were you, Frankie, I'd yank off those contaminated clothes and jump in the water fast," Jimi said. "Then again, slime suits you." 

The women glanced at each other, then hopped over the side with a double splash. It didn't take Frankie long to peel out of his shirt and shorts and underwear. He ran naked off the bow of the boat, smacked into the water with a bellyflop, and kept on swimming. 

* * * 

Cade drove the Land Rover right onto the concrete dock. A few people on their yachts shouted angrily as he sped by. He skidded to a halt at Slip 14-A and leaped out of the driver's seat, half his biohazard suit flopping. Newpod scrambled out of the car and hopped down into the speedboat. 

Cade flung open the back door and tenderly lifted Haven from Lana's lap, carried his daughter on board.  

"Aw, Jesus," Jimi said when he saw the girl. Jimi knelt next to Cade, helped him lower Haven's head to the deck. Newpod licked Haven's face, whimpering. Cade grabbed Jimi's arm. "Got the sound gear aboard?"  

He nodded. "Already set up." 

"Cade, do what you need to do," Lana said. "I'll stay with her." 

Cade nodded and tugged off the remaining sleeve, yanked off the boots and stepped out of the spacesuit. "Jimi, help me hotwire the ignition." 

"Got the key," Jimi said, dangling it. 

Cade's eyebrows shot up. He snatched the key. 

"I'll cast off the lines," Jimi said, jumping onto the dock runner. 

Cade cranked the ignition and the three Bravo One V-8s kicked over with a roaring stampede of horsepower. He checked the fuel gauge-half-full tank. 

"Lines clear," Jimi said, hopping down into the cockpit. Where Haven rested, fresh blood smeared the white fiberglass deck, shining darkly in the courtesy lights. Jimi ducked through a sliding door into the cabin to find blankets. "C'mon, Newpod. Get in here, boy." The dog followed him inside.