Dead Sea

    "Ghosts?" Malik asked, sitting back down.

    Chief Maxey wiped his eyes. "Not real ghosts, Malik. Not the scary kind. More like ghosts that existed in my memories. Nobody knew that ship better than me. We were a part of each other. But when they saved her from the scrap yard, I never thought it would end like this. Not after everything she and I have been through together. Never thought she'd die."

    "Look at the bright side," I said.

    "What's that, Mr. Reed?"

    "The Spratling may be dead, but at least she gets to stay that way. She doesn't have to come back."

    "Good point."

    He continued piloting us through the storm. Carol and the kids huddled together beneath a sheet of plastic and tried to stay warm. I rubbed my tired eyes and tried to stay alert. Runkle hunched over on his bench and closed his eyes.

    Lightning crashed overhead. Death lurked beneath the waves. We floated into the darkness.

Chapter Twelve

    Once we were far enough away from the wreckage, the chief shut off the motor. He said that he wanted to conserve fuel, but I thought the real reason might be that the sound of the engine could attract underwater predators. Occasionally the GPS would beep, letting us know we were still on course.

    It was a miserable night. We were cold and wet. Exhausted. Carol and the kids were still underneath the plastic sheet, clinging together and trying to stay warm. 1 smiled at them, told them that everything would be okay as soon as we reached the oil rig. They didn't respond. I didn't blame them. I knew I was full of shit, and so did they. Sure, maybe things would be cool on the drilling platform. But chances were we'd never reach it, not with an entire ocean full of dead things.

    The chief opened up a storage box and took out some plastic oars. He screwed them on to aluminum poles and handed one to me. He and I rowed while Runkle stood guard. The former cop looked worse than any of us. His drooping eyes were bloodshot and he shivered uncontrollably, despite the heavy pea coat. He didn't say much, just sat there staring out at the water.

    I noticed that the supplies we'd rescued from the Spratling's galley were getting wet, and 1 passed them over to the chief so he could stow them in the box. He found some glow sticks at the bottom of the storage compartment. He snapped one in half and a fluorescent green glow filled the air. Its radius was small, but I think it made us all feel better. The light held the darkness at bay, if only for a little while. The chief had taken Mitch's rifle from Tasha and it rested at his side. He laid plastic sheeting over the weapon in an effort to keep it dry, and weighted the plastic down with some emergency flares. I propped the shotgun up next to me. I didn't know if the rain would hurt it or not, but I had no way to shelter it from the elements. The chief had used the last of the plastic on the rifle.

    If there were zombie fish stalking us beneath the ocean's surface, we didn't see them. Maybe the sea was too rough. Every few minutes, a wave would crash over us, swamping the boat with several inches of water. Then the kids would have to come out from under their shelter and bail with two buckets the chief had found in the storage compartment. Occasionally, debris from the Spratling that hadn't been sucked down with the ship bobbed by, tossed on the waves. There were wooden crates, an aluminum lawn chair, seat cushions, a mattress, a coast guard life preserver, and a push broom. We salvaged whatever useful items we could from the stuff that floated within reach and let the rest of it drift away. After rescuing the push broom, Malik unscrewed the long handle and pulled out Mitch's bayonet. The glow stick's green light reflected off the serrated blade. Glimpsing the knife made me think of Mitch. I fought down a lump in my throat. I could mourn him later, if there was a later.

    "My God," Chief Maxey groaned. "It's been a long time since I rowed like this. Quite the workout."

    "You okay?" I asked.

    He nodded, but I noticed that he was slowing down. My joints were starting to ache, as well. The storm tossed us back and forth, and for every foot we gained, the waves forced us back again.

    "How much farther?" Tasha asked the chief.

    He chuckled. "Sounds like we're on a family vacation, doesn't it? I increased to our top speed when the trouble started, Tasha. As long as we don't run into any more obstacles or the storm doesn't get worse, we should be there before dawn."

    None of us responded. Dawn. That was an eternity.