Water

by William Esmont

  He began administering CPR on Chris. On the second chest compression sequence, a violent spasm racked Chris’s body, and the unconscious man spewed foul-smelling water and vomit all over himself and Jack. Jack cleared the clumpy discharge from Chris’s mouth and nose and leaned in close to listen for sounds of breathing. He was rewarded with a rattling wheeze.

  Megan struggled to her knees and put a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Is he going to be okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Chris vomited again, retched a few times, then with a throaty gasp, sucked in a lungful of air. His cheeks flushed pink as oxygen flooded into his system. Yet his eyes remained closed.

  Jack was elated. He turned to Megan. “He’s going to make it!”

  “Are you—”

  Megan’s question was cut short as a fresh onslaught of the undead rained into the water around them, their pathetic excuses for brains unable to stop seeking food even when it was out of sight. Jack hunched over, instinctively protecting Chris and bracing for impact. When the hit didn’t come, he straightened. He stole a glance at the sky. “He’s okay for now. But we need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Go! I’ve got him!”

  Jack scurried to the motor while Megan took his place beside Chris. With a single pull, the outboard roared to life, and a few seconds later, they were racing away from the MK Excelsior and its deadly cargo of kamikaze zombies.

  Jack caught Megan’s eye. He had to yell to be heard over the sound of the motor. He already knew the answer to the question, but still he had to ask. “What about the others?”

  Megan gave him a tight-lipped grimace and shook her head. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. She wiped them away.

  “How…?” Jack asked, the word sounding hollow to his ears.

  Megan’s lip quivered, and she turned from him. Her shoulders heaved as she dissolved into an uncontrollable fit of sobs.

  Jack dumped the throttle, and as the boat began to slow, he raced to Megan’s side.

  Two

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  A grim crowd greeted Megan and Jack as they pulled alongside the floating dock at the southeast pylon supporting the Gulf Star. Chris had regained consciousness during the short return trip from the MK Excelsior, but he was having difficulty breathing, and he couldn’t focus on anything for more than a few seconds.

  To complicate matters, Megan had her own injuries to contend with. Crippling pain had assaulted her as the adrenaline leached out of her bloodstream, manifesting as a sharp stabbing sensation in her left side as if someone were slowly working a knife in the delicate connective tissue between her ribs. Each breath brought tears of agony to her eyes. She suspected she had cracked a few ribs.

  A palpable air of tragedy hung over the dock. The news that she and Jack were returning with four fewer people than they had left with had raced through the inhabitants of the station, bringing an anxious crowd out to await their return.

  The Zodiac rocked as two burly ex-roughnecks jumped in and started lifting Chris up and out of the craft. Bloody water sloshed and swirled around Megan’s feet. Chris’s head lolled, his eyes closed and his face set in a grimace of unbearable pain.

  “Careful!” Dr. Cain shouted from the dock. “Don’t move his neck.”

  “Sorry,” one of the men said.

  Rapid footsteps descended the spiral staircase behind Megan. As the guys gently placed Chris on an emergency backboard on the dock, Former U.S. Army Major Marlon Hines, the leader of the Gulf Star, rounded the last corner.

  Hines was panting when he reached to Chris’s side. “What happened?”

  “Give me some room,” Dr. Cain said, motioning everyone back. He knelt beside Chris and started moving his hands methodically across Chris’s body as he searched for critical damage.

  “Is he going to be okay?” Hines asked. “What can I do?”

  “Just give me a minute,” the doctor said brusquely. “Any bites?”

  Megan rubbed her bare arms. “No.”

  Dr. Cain locked eyes with her and then with Jack. “You’re sure?”

  Megan nodded vigorously. “Yeah. We didn’t make contact—”

  “We’re clean,” Jack echoed. “So is Chris.”

  Satisfied, the doctor continued his assessment of Chris’s condition. Megan took the opportunity to climb from the boat, then she turned to help Jack. Chris groaned. His eyelids fluttered.

  Hines leaned in close. “Chris! Can you hear me?”

  Chris opened his eyes and mumbled something unintelligible. Dr. Cain gave Hines a chastising glare, and the senior man backed off with a mumbled apology.

  The doctor held up his hand, all five fingers splayed. “Chris, how many fingers am I holding up?”

  Chris blinked. Tremors wracked his body. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. “Three.” He blinked again. “No. Five.”

  Dr. Cain gave Hines a worried glance.

  Hines took Chris’s hand. “Hang on. The doc will fix you up.” His gaze shifted to Dr. Cain and grew hard. “Right?”

  “Of course.”

  Chris’s eyes slid closed, and his body sagged, boneless.

  Hines drew an alarmed breath. “What happened? What’s going on?”

  “Shock,” the doctor said. “We need to get him upstairs. Now!”

  Chris’s lips moved slightly. “Hurts.”

  Dr. Cain gave Chris a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you fixed up.” He got to his feet and motioned to the men who had pulled Chris from the Zodiac. “Strap him down.”

  The roughnecks set to work fastening Chris to the backboard.

  “Be gentle,” the doctor said as they worked.

  Once Chris was secured, and with Dr. Cain’s direction, the men hoisted him from the dock.

  Hines got to his feet and faced Megan and Jack. The veins on his neck stood out like thick ropes. A blood vessel throbbed steadily in his forehead. “What the hell happened out there?”

  Megan answered, “I don’t… it just fell apart. It all happened so fast.” Images of the disaster flashed through her mind: faces of the people who had died, the mob of zombies, the emerald-green surface of the water in the moment before she impacted. She shook her head in a desperate attempt to collect her thoughts. “We had to go over the side.” She met Hines’s eyes. “I’m sorry. We didn’t have a choice. There’s nothing there for us. Everyone is dead.”

  Hines surveyed the distant form of the MK Excelsior over Megan’s shoulder. A tired sigh escaped his lips, and he ran his palms across his bare scalp. “Such a fucking waste of life.”

  “I know.” Megan took Hines by the elbow and gently guided him toward the stairs the men had taken with Chris. “You should go with him. He needs you now. We’ll deal with the boat later.”

  Hines cast a glance over his shoulder. Indecision wracked his face.

  “Go,” Megan said. “There’s nothing else we can do here.”

  “I can’t. Not yet. There’s one more thing.”

  “What is it?” Jack asked.

  “We received a distress call while you were out.”

  “A distress call?” Megan cocked her head. “From where? From who?”

  Hines nodded toward the east. “Not far. One survivor. Male. He said he’s from that container ship.”

  Megan cursed. “How? When did the call come in?”

  Hines checked his watch. “About an hour and a half ago. I wanted to make sure you guys made it back before I sent anyone else out.”

  “And now?”

  “That’s where you come in, I’m afraid,” Hines said, his voice full of trepidation. “I hate to ask, especially after everything you’ve been through this morning.”

  Megan swallowed hard. At the moment, she couldn’t bear the thought of getting in another boat. Pain radiated from every pore of her body, and she was sick to her stomach at losing so many friends in such a short span of time.

  “I’m not sure,” Jack said with a dubious exp
ression. “I guess…”

  As much as Megan wanted to accompany Jack, she knew she had to say no. Someone else would have to go in her place. She touched her hands to her ribs and winced at the fiery pain inside. She hadn’t told Jack how much she hurt, but she could no longer hide her agony, which was increasing by the second.

  Jack’s brow furrowed in sudden concern. He reached for her. “Wait. What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

  “You know I want to go,” Megan said, biting back the pain. “But I think once the doc is finished with Chris, he’s going to have to take a look at my ribs.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Megan grimaced. “Don’t worry about me. It’s nothing serious. I’m sure they’re just bruised.”

  Jack locked eyes with her, reading her expression. Megan could almost see the gears turning in his head as he weighed his options.

  He tore his eyes away and glanced at the sky, checking the position of the sun. “I can take Ben with me instead. We can be back before dark.” He looked to Megan again, his expression wavering.

  Megan clutched his wrist and squeezed. “Thanks.”

  Hines offered an arm to Megan. “Do you need help up the stairs?”

  Megan nodded. “Yeah. That would be great.”

  Jack rubbed the stubble on his chin and surveyed the dock area. “Can you send Ben down?” He looked toward the pair of hulking Coast Guard response boats, or RB-Ms, tied up a few feet away. “I’ll start getting ready.”

  “Yeah,” Hines said. “I’ll get him.”

  Megan pulled Jack in tight and planted a kiss on his mouth. “Be safe out there.”

  “Always,” Jack responded as they separated. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Megan and Hines turned for the stairs.

  Three

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  “I don’t know about this,” Jack said, eyeing Luke Franklin and his girlfriend, Tinsley Hawkins. “This is going to be a quick out and back, and this guy is probably going to be in pretty bad shape.”

  “C’mon, Jack,” Ben said, nudging Jack in the ribs. “These guys have been cooped up for months. Besides, we could use the extra hands.”

  Jack glared at Ben. “You’re not helping, you know.”

  “So we’re going?” Tinsley said, the excitement in her voice unmistakable. In another life, Jack thought, she would have made a good cheerleader.

  Before Jack could answer, Tinsley took Luke’s hand and dashed off, dragging Luke toward the closest RB-M and clambering aboard.

  Jack turned to Ben as soon as Luke and Tinsley were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear him. “That didn’t go the way I was hoping.”

  Ben’s face grew serious. “Cut ’em some slack, man. Don’t you remember what it was like at that age?” He waved at the deck high above. “This’ll be good for them… for all of us.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” Jack caught the sound of laughter and grinned. “But we have to keep them occupied.”

  “Deal,” Ben said.

  “Do you have the coordinates?”

  Ben nodded and pulled a slip of paper from his pants pocket and handed it over.

  Jack glanced at the scribbled digits. He pointed at the last number. “Is that a two?”

  Ben looked and chewed his lip. “Yeah.”

  “How far out are we going?” Jack had made only a few trips east from the Gulf Star, and despite living on an oil rig out of sight of land for the past year, he still harbored an irrational fear of being too far from shore.

  “It’s about fourteen miles,” Ben said. “Give or take.”

  Jack eyed the endless expanse of the Gulf. “It’s a big ocean out there.”

  Ben laughed and slapped Jack on the back. “Have faith, man. This is my backyard. We’ll be fine.”

  “If you say so.”

  Jack and Ben boarded the boat behind the teenagers. Jack went to the cabin to enter the course into the GPS, while Ben performed a last check of the deck to make sure everything was secure. Every time Jack turned on the electronics, he expected a blank screen, but miraculously, a few satellites still remained in working order. The door to the cabin creaked open as Jack was finishing.

  Ben stuck his head in and asked, “Are we good?”

  “Yeah.” Jack activated the ignition, and the twin turbocharged engines of the Coast Guard boat rumbled to life. The boat rocked in place like a caged animal.

  Ben shut the door and set about casting off the lines. Once the RB-M was untethered, Jack wrapped his fingers around the joystick and nudged the craft forward, guiding them into open water. A smile split his face. The repurposed Coast Guard vessel was a far cry from the puny Zodiac.

  Luke and Tinsley sat at the bow, their legs draped over the edge into the spray kicked up by the motion of the boat. Jack thought about calling them back and giving them some busy work but rejected the idea. Maybe Ben was on to something. Perhaps Luke and Tinsley only needed to get off the Gulf Star for a few hours. The tragedy of the morning weighed on all of them, and he wasn’t about to deny the pair an opportunity for distraction.

  Ben pulled open the hatch, and the steady drone of water being forcefully expelled from the boat’s powerful jet pumps filled the room. “How’s she feel?” he asked, closing the door and coming to Jack’s side.

  Jack shrugged. “Good. I guess. This boat is a dream to pilot.”

  Ben rapped his knuckles against the control panel. “Tell me about it.”

  Jack yawned.

  “Want me to take over for awhile?”

  Jack nodded. “Yeah, if you don’t mind. All of a sudden I can’t keep my eyes open.” Another yawn escaped.

  “Go ahead. Rest. You’ve had a shitty morning.”

  Jack stepped away from the controls, and Ben quickly took his place. For a second, Jack considered joining Luke and Tinsley outside. His fatigue won out, though, and he slumped on a bench in the corner and closed his eyes.

  Less than a minute later, he was asleep.

  ***

  Luke basked in the afternoon sun, savoring the contrast between the scorching heat and the fine spray kicked up by the RB-M as it plowed through the water. Tinsley lay beside him, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. They had been traveling for a little over a half hour, and by Luke’s reckoning, they should be getting close.

  “Tin?”

  “Yeah,” she said, sounding sleepy.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Tinsley took her time responding. “I was thinking about my family.”

  Her answer surprised him. She had said very little about her family, just that she had been an only child—like him—and that her father and mother had both died in the initial days of the zombie plague. The one time he had tried to press her for more details, she had frozen him out of her life for an entire week. He decided to proceed with caution. “What about them?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important.”

  Luke’s breath hitched painfully in his throat. “Okay.” Why did she bring it up if it wasn’t important?

  A minute passed without either of them saying a word.

  Then Tinsley asked, “Did I tell you my mom had just found out she was pregnant? Before…”

  Luke tensed. “No. You didn’t say that.”

  “Well, she was. I was going to have a little sister. The baby was a surprise. An accident.” Tinsley sniffled. “My mom… she was only thirty-seven.”

  Luke reached out and found Tinsley’s hand. He laced his fingers into hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry.”

  The deck throbbed beneath his back. His center of gravity shifted slightly as the boat heeled to the port side and then straightened again. Ben must be behind the controls, he thought. Jack was never so graceful when he drove the big Coast Guard boat, always chopping this way and that, making everyone on board seasick.

  He waited for Tinsley to say something else, but she remained silent. He stole a peek at her. Her other arm lay across her eyes, blocking
the sun. Hiding her tears. He didn’t know what to say, so he let her cry.

  Luke’s thoughts pivoted to his own family and their tragic deaths as they had fled east, driven from their home by a swarm of zombies pouring out of the Sonoran Desert. His parents had both survived the apocalypse, safely ensconced for three years in an underground bunker a few miles north of the border. Enough time had passed since their deaths that he had almost become accustomed to their absence, much to his dismay.

  The pitch of the engines changed, and the RB-M began to slow. Luke sat up. A quarter of a mile ahead, a burnt-orange lifeboat rode high in the light swell, spinning with each passing wave. Luke shielded his eyes against the sun and watched the boat for signs of life. A man emerged from a hatch at the rear and began waving frantically in their direction.

  Luke rolled over and groped for the pistol resting on the deck behind him. “Tin, time to get up. We’re here.”

  Four

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  Megan stepped from the shower, grabbed a towel, and started drying her hair. When she was done, she exited the cramped bathroom and crossed her cabin to the narrow steel dresser she shared with Jack. She dressed quickly in shorts, sticky-soled running shoes, and a tank top, wincing as she pulled the shirt over her head. Her hair was still damp when she pushed the door closed behind her and set off down the hall toward the medical bay.

  Contrary to her initial fears, she hadn’t broken any ribs. According to Dr. Cain, she had only pulled her intercostal muscles, the ones responsible for moving her chest when she breathed, which explained the sharp pains. A few days of restricted activity and she would be fine. Nonetheless, a nasty yellow and black bruise was quickly developing on the left side of her body, a stark reminder of her lack of grace as she had plunged out of control into the Gulf of Mexico.