Dead Sea

cast us off. More and more of the creatures collapsed, minus their heads. I untied the rope. Tony didn’t even wait for me to sit back down. He hit the throttle and I almost toppled overboard. Mitch reached out and grabbed my belt loop, pulling me to safety. We rocketed away from the dock and out into the bay, leaving the zombies—and the much needed supplies—behind. We’d only managed to get two crates of oranges and a carton of batteries loaded into the lifeboat. Runkle played with the radio until he figured out how to make it work. Then he called back to the Spratling and advised Chief Maxey of what had happened.

Tony released the throttle long enough to pull out his crumpled pack of cigarettes and light one. He inhaled, and then exhaled with a sigh. After he’d stuffed his lighter back in his pocket, he balled up the empty pack and tossed it into the water. It bobbed on top of the waves. We watched it float away.

“Well,” Tony said. “That was my last pack of smokes. I guess it’s all downhill from here.”

“Maybe we’ll find some at the next stop,” I said.

“No.” Tony shook his head. “I don’t think there’s gonna be any more stops, Lamar.”

I didn’t respond. Mitch stared out at the ocean. Runkle was still talking to the chief.

“Yep,” Tony sighed, “things are going to get a lot worse.”

He smoked his last cigarette down to the filter, and after he flicked the butt into the water, he began to cry.

Chapter Eight

We drifted along the coast for the next two days. The chief said he wanted to look for survivors, but in truth, I think he didn’t have a clue what to do next, and was just buying some time while he figured it out. Turn’s unexpected death had hit him pretty hard. He’d relied on Turn’s expertise more than any of us had realized. Chuck became Turn’s replacement, and Chief Maxey trained him further on how to pilot the ship so that Chuck could relieve him for short periods. Chuck filled in when the chief slept, but otherwise, Maxey spent his time on the bridge. Nick and Tran took over the galley, dividing up Hooper’s duties, and even though we didn’t understand him, Tran seemed happier with the arrangement. I think he liked Nick a hell of a lot more than he had Hooper. We all did.

The rest of us all pulled watch duty. We worked in shifts around the clock, standing fore and aft and watching the shoreline with binoculars. The chief was adamant that we remain vigilant. We stayed alert for lights or vehicular movement on the shore, or even a big help sign painted on somebody’s roof, but the only things moving on the ground were the dead. It was like spying on hell. Only the sea retained life, as evidenced by the fish we pulled out of it. Mitch hooked a big blue marlin the morning after the disaster at the rescue station, and it was cause for celebration—if only for a moment. The skies were full of birds. They’d grown fat from the easy pickings on land.

We encountered one other vessel drifting on the open water. The chief tried raising them on the radio but there was no answer. Chuck hailed them with a battery-operated bullhorn as we drew closer, but there was still no reply. As the Spratling pulled alongside the smaller craft, we saw why. There was nobody left alive onboard. A lone zombie blundered about the deck. Its eyes were missing, probably stolen by birds. Exposure to the elements had sped up its decomposition. Mitch shot it from the signal bridge. Its head didn’t so much explode as implode. After much debate, the chief vetoed boarding the other craft. Basil and Murphy were adamant that we send a party aboard, even though they didn’t volunteer to go themselves. Tony was hopeful that there might be cigarettes somewhere on the ship. But the fact remained that none of us knew what lay below decks, and the boat was small enough that any supplies it may have had wouldn’t have lasted us very long anyway. The dangers outweighed the benefits, so we sailed on and left the ghost ship to its fate.

On the third day, Chief Maxey summoned us all to the flight deck again. Chuck remained in the pilothouse, and Carol and Alicia kept the kids occupied. They’d set up a makeshift classroom in one of the berthing areas. Tran stayed behind in the galley, cleaning up from breakfast. Everyone else onboard mustered on the flight deck after we’d finished eating. We moved slowly, the weight of the dead world bearing down on all our shoulders. Gone was the excitement and enthusiasm we’d had after the last meeting. Only Cliff was still optimistic. It seemed like the worse things got, the more he turned to the Lord. Everyone else was lethargic and depressed. Tony and Mitch needed nicotine. Murphy needed alcohol. The rest of us needed hope. None of them were in supply. We stood around without speaking. There wasn’t much to say. We’d survived Baltimore, escaped the zombies and the fires, found sanctuary… and already, three of our number were dead. It felt like it was just a matter of time for the rest of us. There was no safe harbor.

Like the rest of us, Chief Maxey’s mood was sullen. He didn’t smile or say good morning. Instead, he got right down to business.

“I’ve decided to set course for an oil drilling operation farther out to sea. It’s approximately a two day trip from our present location. I’ve tried raising them on the radio, but have received no response. That means one of three things. Either the platform isn’t there anymore, which I very much doubt, or the crew is no longer onboard, which is a possibility. They could have been evacuated.”

“And the third option?” the professor asked.

“The crew are still onboard but unable to respond because they’re dead.”

“Wonderful,” Basil said. “Just what we fucking need—more of those things.”

“Regardless, until we reach their location and know for sure, I’m cutting back further on our rations. If we arrive and find that the rig is gone, I’m not sure where to go next. As you all know, the shore party met with disaster and were unable to replenish our supplies. So I want to double our fishing operations. From now until further notice, we’ll subsist mainly on what we can pull from the sea.”

Joan raised her hand. “But you said it was only a two day trip. Surely we have enough supplies to last us that long.”

“Yes.” The chief nodded. “But we don’t know if we’ll find supplies there or not, and our own stores won’t last us forever. We’re getting low, regardless. So we’re sticking with fish for the time being. All other rations will be used to supplement only one meal per day. No coffee or tea or anything that will diminish our water supplies. Nick, make sure Tran is clear on this as well.”

“I’ll try,” Nick said. “I think he understands more English than he speaks.”

The chief nodded again. “I hope that the rest of you will be patient and understanding about this.”

There was some grumbling among us, but in truth, we didn’t have much choice. He was right. On the mainland, we’d each done whatever we’d needed to stay alive on our own. Now, we did the same thing as a group. If the human race was to survive, we had to work as a team. Even if we no longer saw the point and even if we no longer believed.

I couldn’t sleep that night. The sheets stuck to me in the heat. Mitch wasn’t in his rack and I hadn’t seen him since dinner. Malik and Tasha had fallen asleep while reading their comic books. Despite the temperature, they looked cold. Both were curled into balls. I pulled their blankets up over them and turned off the light.

I stood there in the darkness, debating what to do. I felt wired, nervous. The ship came alive in the silence, groaning and clanging. The engines throbbed and the steam pipes clicked. I decided to take a walk outside. Maybe some fresh air would do me good. I felt guilty about leaving the kids alone, but at the same time, I was restless and didn’t want to wake them up if I stayed. I tiptoed out of the berthing compartment and carefully shut the hatch behind me. It banged into place anyway. I cringed, holding my breath, waiting to see if I’d woke the kids. There was no sound from within, so I continued down the passageway.

According to the chief, a storm was due sometime later in the night or early the next morning. It was certainly dark enough outside. A thick layer of clouds covered the sky, blocking out the moon and stars. There were no lights on the mainland, and none onboard ship, either. Chief Maxey insisted on running without them so we wouldn’t attract pirates or raiders. I held my hand up in front of my face and wiggled my fingers. I couldn’t see them. The night was black as tar. It was easy enough to imagine that the world no longer existed. In a way, I guess it didn’t.

I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. It had been warm inside the ship, but outside the wind was chilly and brisk. It felt good on my skin. Once I was able to see the railing and deck, I moved up to the signal bridge. A glowing orange ember bloomed in the darkness. A moment later, I smelled cherry tobacco smoke.