Dead Sea

    I tuned them out, thinking about the wreck of the Ethel C, sitting on the ocean's floor, dead-and yet, in a way, still alive in the recovery operations conducted by the divers, and alive in the memories of men like the chief. It was sadly poignant. After all, death wasn't the end anymore. Staying in your grave was strictly old school. And if there was such a thing as a soul, what proof did we have that it lived on? What if our souls were trapped inside those rotting corpses-able only to watch in horror and revulsion as our own bodies turned against those we loved? What kind of an afterlife was that? That wasn't heaven. It was hell. Eternal life equaled zombie. Better to achieve immortality another way. Regardless of our religion, regardless of what we believed, the cold, simple truth was that none of us had a fucking clue what lay beyond this life. The only kind of eternal life we could be sure of was the kind enjoyed by this shipwreck-living on in the memories of others. Like a myth. An archetype. The professor had been right. We were monomyths. All of us. Every survivor. If humanity was able to survive, if five hundred years from now Tasha and Malik's descendents sat in a classroom and learned about ancient history, we would take the place of Hercules and Superman. Come hear the tale of Mitch, the warrior, and Runkle, the trickster, and Lamar, the hero.

    Bullshit.

    A fat seagull darted down to the ocean's surface and then flew back up into the air. Something red dangled from its beak. I noticed more birds doing the same. They were feeding off something floating on the tide. We were too far away for me to tell what it was. I figured it was just seaweed.

    Yawning, the chief checked the GPS and nodded with satisfaction.

    "We're getting closer," he said, clearing his swollen nose again. "We should be able to see the jack-up in a little while. Not a moment to soon, either, if you ask me. The sun's going to be brutal today, out here on this open water. We'd have to deal with sunburn and exposure on top of everything else."

    Carol smiled. "Between a bad case of sunburn and an army of zombies, I'll take the sunburn."

    He returned her smile and Carol blushed, and then quickly looked away. The chief's ears turned red. 1 stifled a grin. Maybe there was hope for the human race yet.

    "Don't be so sure," the chief told her. "We've been out here all night, exposed to the elements. We're all dehydrated. A few hours with the hot sun beating down on us and we're going to be in even worse shape. First we'll blister. Then we'll-"

    "That's okay," Carol said, holding up her hand. "You can spare me the gory details. I believe you."

    "Sorry."

    "You lost your hat. If we had some sunscreen, I'd rub some on your head so that you don't get burned."

    The chief turned beet red.

    I hid another grin. He had a lot to learn about talking to women if he was going to be the last player on earth. Taking another break from rowing, I leaned out over the side and trailed my fingers through the water. It was cool, and felt good on my skin. The sun climbed higher into the sky, reflecting off the ocean's surface, shimmering like headlights on a busy city street.

    And then something bit my finger.

    Screaming, I pulled my hand out of the water.

    The others looked at me in alarm. Tasha and Malik jumped up and ran to my side of the lifeboat, rocking it dangerously back and forth.

    "What's wrong?" Malik asked. "What'd you see?"

    I glanced back down in the water. A dead fish floated just a few inches below the surface. When it turned, I saw that its belly was missing. Its mouth gulped in an 0 shape. There were no teeth, but that hadn't stopped it from trying to swallow my finger. 1 held my hand up in front of my face, examining myself for wounds or scratches. There were none. I wiped it on my shirt and shivered.

    "Get out of the way," Malik shouted, trying to push past his sister. "Let me kill it."

    Tasha shoved him back. "Stop pushing, Malik. You'll tip us over."

    "Both of you stop it," I said. It was hard to speak. My heart was still in my throat. My skin tingled. If the fish had been equipped with teeth-well, that would have been it for me. Shuddering, I took a deep breath and tried to calm down. Another dead fish bobbed to the surface, its festering tail flicking slowly back and forth. Even underwater, we could see that its entire length was covered with open sores. Scales and strands of flesh floated from its sides. A third appeared, and then a fourth-then a whole school of fish, varying in size and type. The surface teemed with them. The chief leaned out over the bow and Carol kept watch from her side.

    "There's more here," she cried.

    "Here, too," Chief Maxey reported. "Dozens of them. Everybody sit back and hang on tight."