darkly comical, but a lot had changed since then, including her.
Using the first aid kit, Sarah tended to Henry’s cuts and bruises as best she could. Judging by his reaction, she guessed that the youth missed his mother. She didn’t ask him what had happened to his family. She didn’t have to. In this world, it was a safe bet that they were now worm food. Or mermaid food. Or worse.
Henry talked while he ate. Clearly ravenous, he wolfed the food down with both hands, shoveling it into his mouth and speaking between bites in short, clipped sentences. He told her of his harrowing journey from Renick to Teddy’s house, and what had happened when he arrived there. His expression darkened when he talked about the death of his cat, but the mood passed as he turned his attention back to the meal. Henry punctuated his story with grunts and groans of pleasure as he ate. His lips kept smacking together. Sarah wasn’t sure if the teen was even aware that he was doing it.
As she watched and listened, Sarah considered her new companion. Despite his age and physical condition, Henry was obviously tough. Assuming his story was true—and she had no reason to believe otherwise—then he’d been through as much shit as she had, and appeared to be holding up just as well. Strong and resilient—he reminded her of Kevin. Her stomach lurched, and for a moment, Sarah thought she might vomit. The memory of shooting him played through her head like a film. Biting her lip, Sarah wiped a single tear from her eye and focused on Henry again. If he noticed her emotional reaction, he didn’t mention it. She smiled and nodded at him, encouraging him to continue. He did, reciting a bestiary that rivaled her own, complete with a half-human, half- shark monstrosity.
“You weren’t kidding,” she said after a lull in the conversation. “You really were hungry. I don’t think I’ve seen anybody eat like that since before the rain started.”
Henry leaned back from the table and grinned. His ears turned red. “Sorry. I don’t know how long it’s been. We had water, but the food was all gone.”
“Well, I’d recommend that you take it easy for a while. You don’t want to overdo it.”
“Are you worried we’ll run out of food?”
Sarah shrugged. “Not so much that. It’s just, if you haven’t eaten in that long, your stomach has probably shrunken. You’ll mess your system up if you gorge right away.”
“I reckon you’re right.” He glanced down at the table, regret clearly showing on his face. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad, though.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. Everybody I knew is gone. Without Moxey or my family or friends, what’s the point of going on? Maybe I’d be better off eating myself to death.”
Sarah sighed. “Know what I was doing before you showed up?”
Henry shook his head.
“I was contemplating suicide. You’re not the only person that lost someone today, kid. I’m sorry about your cat. I really am. But I lost somebody, too.”
“I saw a body outside,” Henry said. “Lying in that utility shed at the base of the tower. The door was open. Was that your friend?”
Sarah nodded.
“What happened to him?”
“He… he was infected with the same stuff that infected Earl and the others.”
“Looked like he’d been shot in the head. Who killed him?”
“I did.”
“Oh…”
They sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Then Henry cleared his throat.
“If it makes you feel any better, when I ran by him, it looked like he was starting to melt.”
“Melt?”
“Yeah. He was turning liquid.”
“That’s what the fuzz seems to do,” Sarah agreed. “We need to find out more about it. There’s a guy on the radio, broadcasting from Boston. He’s got one hell of a strong signal. He was talking about the fuzz earlier. Maybe we’ll listen later. See if we can learn anything that might help us.”
“No offense, but maybe we shouldn’t stick around here. Like I said, Earl and the others are probably following me.”
“Where else are we going to go? I’m open to suggestions. You probably know the area better than me. Is there another safe spot?”
Henry frowned. “No. Not above water, at least.”
Sarah stood up and walked to the window. Clasping her hands behind her back, she stared out into the deluge.
“Pretty soon, Henry, this place isn’t going to be above water, either.”
“So what do we do?”
“I don’t know,” Sarah admitted. The words tasted bitter in her mouth. “I don’t know. We should get this place secure, of course. If Earl does show up, there’s no sense in making things easy for him. We can barricade the door. Maybe booby-trap the stairs outside.”
“And then? What do we do after that?”
“I guess we just wait to see what happens next. We don’t really seem to have any other choices—except for suicide. You really want to kill yourself?”
Henry paused before answering. When he responded to her question, his voice was barely a whisper.
“No, I don’t reckon I’m ready to yet.”
“Neither am I. Not yet. Not until it’s the only option we have left.”
“That might be sooner than you think.”
Sarah didn’t reply. She stood, staring out the window and listening to the rain beat against the glass. Each drop was like a falling hammer.
PART TWO - DEEP WATERS
CHAPTER 28
Before Gail could react, the school of fish had stripped most of the skin from Hansen’s face. He swatted at them with both hands, as if they were bees, rather than flying fish, and a moment later, his fingers had been reduced to raw, bloody stumps of bone and cartilage.
Gail screamed, stumbling backward across the boat’s slippery deck. Attracted by her cry, Hansen turned in her direction. His eyes were gone, and when he opened his lipless mouth to plead for help, the fish took his tongue in quick, savage bites. Then they started in on his gums. They hovered around his head, mercifully obscuring it from sight again. The sound of their wings was audible over the waves and the steady drumming of the rain and even the shrieks of the other people on deck, all of whom, like Gail, were trying to flee, rather than helping the dying man.
Like we’ve got anywhere to flee to, Gail thought, running for the hatch. We’re surrounded by water. Where would we go if we could escape?
She reached the hatch and slid to a halt. Morgan stood in the opening, watching as the fish went to work on Hansen’s torso. His expression was one of dreadful fascination. Gail didn’t know the man well—they’d found him clinging to some debris in the waters over Cleveland—but she was willing to bet Morgan had been the type to slow down on the highway and gawk at car wrecks.
“Morgan, move.”
If he heard her, he gave no indication. His eyes remained fixed on Hansen’s demise. He licked his lips slowly.
Hansen’s blood pooled on the deck, mixing with the rainwater.
