Dead Sea

    He nodded. "Yes, I think so."

    "Okay. I think we should get moving." I sat cross-legged on the bench, keeping my feet out of the tainted water, and grabbed an oar. "Everybody sit back down. Try to stay out of the water. Hopefully, we'll get a few more really big waves and they'll wash that shit out of here. Then we can start bailing. Carol, are you awake enough to act as lookout?"

    "Yes. I don't think I could fall asleep right now if I wanted to."

    "Okay. You stand watch. Tasha, I want you to use the rifle. Make sure there's no blood on it."

    She nodded.

    "Hey," Malik hollered. "What about me? How come I never get nothing?"

    I smiled. "You get the shotgun. If you have to shoot it though, I want you to be careful."

    "Why?"

    "Because it's liable to knock you overboard, and we don't need that."

    He looked back at where Runkle had been.

    "No," Malik said. "We sure don't."

    We all took our places. Carol peered out into the sea. The chief and I started rowing. The kids held their weapons at the ready, keeping the barrels beneath some plastic sheeting that had escaped the water and blood. We didn't talk. The GPS beeped mournfully. Chief Maxey glanced at it, checking our coordinates.

    "We still on course, Chief?"

    "We are," he said, "and please, just call me Wade. I don't have a boat anymore to be chief of."

    I nodded. "Okay… Wade."

    The thunder rumbled again. Then the glow stick went out, plunging us into darkness.

    In that darkness, something moved. It splashed just off our starboard side. Whatever it was, it sounded big.

    "Chief." I whispered. "Sorry-I mean, Wade. Maybe we should start the motor."

    Lightning flashed, and I saw him nodding his head in agreement. Chief Maxey reached behind him and took a deep breath. Another splash echoed across the water, this time to our rear. Something bumped us from underneath the hull. We smelled it-rotten fish. Something dead, but still swimming. Then the motor burst to life. Chief Maxey gave it full throttle and we shot into the night.

    The splashing sounds followed us for a long time before they faded.

    When I looked back, all I saw was darkness.

Chapter Thirteen

    The storm finally ended several hours later. There were a few last flashes of lightning and some final rumbles of thunder, almost as an afterthought. Then it was gone. During that time, we didn't see anything else in the water, either above or below. Maybe the weather kept the creatures away or maybe there was a war going on beneath the surface, and they were too busy eating each other to worry about us. A replay of what had happened in our cities, a battle between the living and the dead, now being waged under the sea as well as on land. The sky cleared and we could see again. The sun was still down, but its first few predawn rays were visible as a red glow on the horizon. I wished the sun would hurry its ass up. All five of us were cold and shivering, soaked to the skin from the rain and the waves. The kids had runny noses. The chief- even though he'd asked us to just call him Wade, I still thought of him as Chief Maxey-had picked up a bad cough. Sounded like a goose. His entire body shook each time he coughed. His broken nose had swelled up like a golf ball, and when he talked, it sounded like he had a bad cold.

    The storm had battered us about all night long. Luckily, the lifeboat hadn't sunk. I'd been right about the storm surges washing the blood back into the sea. We were able to bail the water out after the first half hour. Carol and I did it while the chief stood guard and the kids held the weapons. We bailed very carefully, mindful of any leftover blood. When we were finished, Carol and I gathered up anything with Runkle's blood on it and then tossed the items over the side, including his handgun. I hated to get rid of it, but we had nothing to clean and disinfect the weapon with. It sank like a stone.

    And then we waited, watching each other for the first warning signs of the disease. All of us were sleepy, but there was no nausea, shortness of breath, or decreased circulation. We kept an extra eye on the chief, figuring he'd had the greatest risk of exposure. Hours passed uneventfully. If any of us had contracted Hamelin's Revenge, we showed no indications of it. We all felt and seemed fine. Carol suggested that maybe there was something in the saltwater that killed the disease. But the fact was that none of us knew for sure. I was an unemployed factory worker. Carol was a former quality control manager at an injection molding plant, and more recently, a makeshift teacher for the kids. And the chief was an ex-coast guard chief and museum guide. None of us had the tools to fully understand and diagnose Hamelin's Revenge, let alone the skills for figuring out how to defeat it.