did have eggs and milk, though, both of which were already starting to rot. In another day or two it would be impossible to set foot in the store without gagging, so Culann loaded all of the perishables into the wheelbarrow and dumped them in the water down the shore, away from the pier and his floating keg.
Fortunately, the store was also well-stocked with non-perishable items, including several big bags of dog food. There was also a good amount of meat—steaks, ground beef, bacon, and fish—that would go bad soon, so Culann loaded it all onto the wheelbarrow and dumped it on the ground outside. The dogs swarmed in, tore through the packaging and gobbled it all up within a matter of minutes. Culann went back inside and continued his survey. He found a lot of canned goods, some packaged lunchmeats and beef jerky sticks, boxes of cereal, several loaves of white bread that wouldn’t stay good for very long, as well as a whole shelf lined with gallon jugs of water.
This last item made Culann realize that the island did not have a ready source of fresh water. Before disaster struck, he’d been able to wash his hands and flush the toilet at Frank’s place, so he figured there had to be a well, but he wasn’t sure how to find it or how to get at the water. Even if he did figure that out, he wasn’t sure the water would be potable. The dogs had probably been subsisting on rainwater left over from the storm, and he was going to need to get them something to drink soon. Four dozen dogs would go through the water in the store within a couple of days. If Culann didn’t figure out a way to access the well, he was going to have to kill the dogs.
It was becoming clear to Culann that simply surviving as the sole human being on an island in the Bering Sea was not going to be easy. There wasn’t enough food and water to support him and the dogs much longer. Even if the dogs were somehow out of the equation, he didn’t know how long he could live off canned peas and Spam. If he managed to hold out for the next couple of months, he would then have to contend with winter. The sun that didn’t set in summer wouldn’t rise for a two-month period in winter.
Nothing in Culann’s life had prepared him to survive in this climate.
These thoughts depressed him. He snatched a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from Alistair’s and headed over to the dock. Fog was beginning to creep across the water, obscuring Culann’s view of the shore. He hoped the fog would keep Schuler’s and Williams’s comrades from coming out to look for them, although he knew it was only a matter of time. He envisioned waves of death as people came out to investigate and then more followed to investigate the investigators. He also didn’t relish the prospect of being placed under arrest each time and having to finagle out of the handcuffs after his captors succumbed to the orb’s power.
Overcome with the hopelessness of the situation, Culann drank half the bottle and passed out on the dock.
7
Culann ate a breakfast of beef jerky and Tylenol, which he washed down with half a gallon of water. He then snatched a glass from Alistair’s and went to see how his keg refrigeration system worked. The fog had thickened considerably while he’d slept.
He had a difficult time locating the rope he’d tied to the keg, but when he did, he managed to pour himself a cool beer, which made him feel better. If he could keep his beer cold without power, he thought he just might be able to solve all of his other problems.
With renewed confidence, Culann resumed loading bodies onto the police boat.
He worked hard over the next few hours, stopping only to eat lunch. It took all of his strength and several glasses of beer, but he finally loaded the last body onto the boat as a light rain began to fall.
If he was going to keep the dogs alive, he was going to need rain-catchers. He scoured the island for anything that could hold water. He found three large pots in Alistair’s, several buckets in some of the cabins, a couple of old wash basins, and then he hit the jackpot with a plastic wading pool that had belonged to little Marty. He set these all out in a row out front of
Having taken care of the dogs, for the time being at least, Culann returned to the police boat, which was full nearly to overflowing with dead bodies. Since the island had been powered entirely by generators, he had no trouble locating a can of gasoline. He emptied it over the people he once knew, perhaps the last people he would ever know.
Even with the heavy fog, Culann didn’t want to risk attracting attention from the mainland, so he unmoored the boat and took hold of the bowline. He pulled the boat along the pier until he reached the shore and then he walked slowly along the edge of the water, dragging the boat along with him. The island sloped off pretty quickly, so the water was deep enough that Culann could lead the boat all the way around to the western edge of the island from shore. It was slow going, but much easier than loading all the bodies had been. After an hour, the boat was completely out of the line of sight for anyone who may have been gazing across the water from land. Culann lit a book of matches he’d taken from Alistair’s and tossed it in the boat. Flames spread the length of the boat, and Culann could almost immediately smell the flesh of his friends catch fire. It was like burnt hair, but a thousand times stronger. He took a long pole and shoved the boat away. The wind was coming from the south, so it pushed the boat along the edge of the island. Culann sat on the grass, surrounded by dogs who all stared with him as the blazing boat slipped into the fog and was gone.
Culann fished out of his pocket an already-rolled joint he’d found in Worner’s cabin. He lit it, inhaled and immediately coughed. It had been ten years since he’d last done this. Worner’s place had proved a treasure trove because it also contained two shelves of books. True to his word, Worner had been the most well-read man in Pyrite.
Amidst volumes on horticulture, government conspiracies of various stripes, and the occult origins of the Third Reich, Culann had found a pocket-edition of
He took four or five hits and found himself very stoned. Maybe it was because he was out of practice or perhaps Worner had managed to engineer a particularly potent strain of cannabis. Culann laid the book down on his lap and took in his surroundings.
The drizzling rain was cool against his skin, and the fog seemed to thicken by the minute.
Between the fog and the dogs enveloping him, Culann imagined himself in the bosom of a great fluffy cloud. He pushed thoughts of death from his mind and concentrated on the utter tranquility of the now-deserted island.
He thought he saw an orange light off in the distance. Then it disappeared. He squinted his eyes and saw it again, a little larger this time. It seemed to be moving towards him. It flickered ever so slightly as it approached. Culann remembered fairy tales his Irish grandmother had told him about the will-o’-the-wisp that led disobedient little boys off into the darkness. As the light loomed larger, he heard the sound of oars in the water. Someone was coming.
I’ve never been very religious. As a good Irish boy, I went through all of the standard Catholic rituals, first out of fear of damnation and then just to keep my mom happy. Then I stopped trying to keep my mom happy. To avoid a conflict, I made a point to never be at my parents’ house in the morning of a day when church attendance was expected. That way my mom could plausibly assume I’d already gone. I’m sure she suspected the truth, but was kind enough not to force me to choose between lying to her and disappointing her.
Recent events, I suppose, should have tried my faith, if I’d had any. Or maybe they should have driven me back to God. No atheists in foxholes and all that. But I’m not really an atheist. That would require making a decision and taking a stand. I’m just a guy that would rather sleep in on Sundays.
Worner’s crazy books on Nazi witchcraft and four-legged saints have nudged me to consider the spiritual side of life anew. After what I’ve seen in the last few weeks, it’s hard to be skeptical of anything. Virtually everything I once believed about the world has been proven false. Maybe I can uncover a deeper truth, even if there’s no one for me to share it with.
