Dead Sea

    When the volley ended, the voice boomed, "Get up and run. Quickly. We can't wait for you."

    Each of us found our second wind, and we sped toward the ship. I spared one quick glance over my shoulder. The next wave of creatures was clambering over the ones on the ground, but it was slowing them down. Although the human zombies had trouble getting around their fallen comrades, the animals were quicker. The dead rats scampered over their bodies and swarmed after us. The tiger charged forward, faster than the others.

    We reached the pier's edge and dashed up the gangplank. Steel banged beneath our feet. As we crossed the threshold, Mitch saluted a pudgy older man in a coast guard uniform. The man had a pistol holstered on his hip.

    Mitch grinned. "Permission to come aboard, sir?"

    "Permission granted. Now get the hell out of the way."

    I recognized the man's voice as the one who'd given us the warning. I stuck out my hand. "Thanks for saving us. My name is-"

    "Mister, I suggest you find a safe place for yourself and these kids and stay there. There'll be plenty of time for introductions later, if we survive this.

    And if we don't, then I don't need to know your name anyway."

    He brushed past me and began shouting orders.

    Malik and Tasha glanced around the ship in amazement. People ran all over the decks, some of them armed and shooting at the zombies, others helping get the ship underway. I noticed that except for the man who'd spoken to us, none of them wore uniforms, but instead were dressed in civilian clothes. Many of them seemed unsure what to do, and kept shouting questions.

    "This isn't a crew," I whispered to Mitch. "They're just like us-survivors."

    "Maybe they're all reservists," he said.

    "No. They're confused. And look at the hair lengths on some of them. That ain't military regulation."

    "Well, get the kids to a safe spot. I'm gonna see if I can help. Find out what's going on and who exactly our saviors are."

    "Be careful."

    "You too."

    I guided the kids over to a wall-what sailors call a bulkhead. There was another walkway above us and it provided a sort of roof over our heads. We leaned up against the steel bulkhead and watched as the people around us prepared to cast off. There were two ropes left and a swarm of undead rats climbed up them. Mitch and another man leaned out over the railing, shooting the rats off the ropes one by one. One of them reached the top and scurried over the railing. A third person stepped forward and pushed it back into the water with a mop. Before the rest of the creatures could reach the deck, the ropes were loosened and dropped into the black, dirty water. The rats fell with them.

    And then we began to move.

    "Full ahead," the man in the uniform bellowed. "Take us out, just like I showed you. I'm on my way up."

    It was a really weird sensation. Felt like we were standing still and the land was moving. We cruised farther out into the bay, leaving the harbor and the city behind us. The zombies stood on the pier watching us go. Some of them stepped forward, plummeting over the side and sinking beneath the surface. The others simply stared, their faces expressionless-except for that look of constant hunger. I wondered about the ones that had fallen into the water. Zombies didn't need to breathe. Didn't require oxygen. They were dead. So what was to stop them from hunting along the bottom of the Chesapeake Bay the same way they hunted through the city's streets? Couldn't they just walk along the bottom, feeding off fish and crabs until they reached the ocean itself? And then what? Sharks versus zombies? The image was ridiculous, but what if? What if…

    What if Hamelin's Revenge spread to the sea life?

    "They can't reach us now," Malik shouted. "Nothing can get us out here!"

    Tasha hugged him and he hugged her back. Both of them smiled. I turned back toward the land and watched the city burning. Stared at the orange-and-red skyline. By morning, there would be nothing left. Baltimore would be a smoldering pile of ashes. Port Discovery and the section of the city that housed popular bars like Ramshead and Howl at the Moon were obscured by smoke. The trade center and the Harbor Place shops belched flames. Yesterday, the skyline had been made up of tall buildings: offices, parking garages, banks, muse urns and apartment complexes. Now, it was composed of towering torches, each of them a blazing inferno. The city skyline looked like a row of Roman candles. And below them, growing smaller with every minute as the Spratling picked up speed, were the dead. The people onboard the ship cheered as we left the harbor. There was lots of hugging and clapping and fists in the air-a real celebration. And when the Domino Sugar factory exploded a few minutes later, we even had our own fireworks. Flaming debris rained down from the sky, splashing into the water.

    "I'll tell you one thing, kids."

    Tasha looked up at me. "What's that, Mr. Reed?"

    "Lamar. Call me Lamar."

    "Okay. What are you thinking, Lamar?"