Water

by William Esmont

  Jack!

  Chris grabbed the microphone from its hook. “RB-M One. This is the Gulf Star. What’s your status?”

  “We’re inbound. Mission accomplished.”

  Megan whooped. The nervous tension that had been building in her all day drained out in an instant. “Ask him if everyone is okay.”

  “Any problems?” Chris said into the radio.

  “None,” Jack replied. “Piece of cake.”

  Chris grinned. “How far out are you?”

  The radio popped and squawked. “About twenty minutes.”

  “Sounds good. We’ll be waiting for you.”

  “Roger. Talk to you soon.”

  All day long, Megan had struggled to keep herself occupied so she wouldn’t dwell on the possibility of another disaster. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see the writhing horde of zombies stampeding across the deck of the MK Excelsior toward her and Chris. Out of desperation, she had raided her secret stash of Xanax, but the drug had only made her drowsy and irritable.

  “I’m going to head downstairs,” she told Chris, standing. “Get cleaned up before they put in.”

  “Sure,” Chris said. “I’ll catch up with you.”

  Megan left the radio room and set out for the cabin she shared with Jack. She worked her jaw slowly as she walked, marveling at how much her cheeks hurt from smiling so hard at all the good news.

  “Megan! Wait up!” Luke called.

  Megan stopped and turned. She squinted into the shadows cloaking the hallway. “Luke? Is that you?” She hadn’t spoken with him since the disastrous confrontation outside Hines’s office two days prior.

  Luke wore jeans and a stained yellow T-shirt. His hair stood on end, and grainy streaks of dried mud covered his face. A nylon tactical holster hung low on his right hip, replete with a dull-black forty caliber Glock pistol.

  “Let me guess,” Megan said, forcing a smile. “Hines had you working in the garden today.”

  Luke ran his fingers through his hair. Dirt rained down on his shoulders. “Yeah. My shift finished a little while ago. I… I wanted to talk to you for a second.”

  “What’s up?”

  Luke stuck his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet. “I wanted to say I’m sorry for the way things went between us the other day. I shouldn’t have called you a bitch.”

  Megan tried to recall the last time she had seen that side of Luke and realized she couldn’t remember. It had been months, at least. Part of her wanted to berate him for his actions, but her rational side told her expressing her frustration and anger would only drive him away. Luke, like everyone, was changing. He was growing up. He was no longer the boy she had arrived with a year ago. She decided to treat him as he wished, as an adult. She extended her hand. “Apology accepted. I don’t want to fight with you.”

  Luke pulled his hand from his pocket and shook with her. “Me, either. I’ll do my best not to be such a jackass next time,” he said with a grin. “I promise.”

  “Thanks. I know you will.” Megan looked over her shoulder. “I hate to run, but…”

  “I’ll walk with you,” Luke said. “There’s one more thing…”

  “Sure,” Megan said, taking off at a brisk pace.

  “I heard you and Jack are going to Mexico,” he said

  Megan stopped in mid-stride and cursed under her breath. If Luke knew about Isla Perpetua, then their secret had been well and truly blown. She decided to be honest. “Yeah. Jeremy’s people may be there. We’re going see if we can find them.”

  “How long are you going to be gone?”

  “I don’t know,” Megan said. “A few weeks. Assuming we don’t hit bad weather, I think the trip takes about five or six days each way.”

  “You’re sailing?”

  Megan nodded. “Yeah. We don’t know what kind of opportunities for refueling we’ll have along the way. The RB-M eats too much fuel to be practical for that kind of distance.”

  “Do you need any help getting ready?”

  Luke’s offer surprised her. “I’m sure there’ll be something you can do,” she said. “I’ll let you know.”

  “Fair enough.”

  They reached Megan’s door. “Is that all?” she asked.

  Luke cocked his head. “Yeah. That’s all.”

  “Okay then,” Megan said, reaching for the doorknob. “We’ll talk more downstairs.”

  ***

  Chris let out a low whistle of appreciation as Jeremy and Ben eased a sleek, new-looking sailboat to a stop on the far side of the floating dock, while Jack brought the RB-M to a graceful stop only a few feet from where Megan stood. With Luke and Tinsley’s help, Megan lashed the rumbling Coast Guard boat to its moorings.

  By the time they were done, Jack had killed the engines and joined them on the dock. Megan and Jack exchanged a quick kiss.

  Jack said, “I want to introduce Chris and Jeremy.”

  “Sure,” Megan said.

  Jack was too late, though. Chris had already boarded the new sailboat and was enthusiastically pumping Jeremy’s hand. Undeterred, Jack climbed aboard to join them. Ben vanished below decks.

  “Now this is a boat,” Tinsley said, her voice full of awe. “Catalina 445. Mint condition. I wonder where they found her.” She traced a finger along the gleaming fiberglass hull. “Does she have a name?”

  Jeremy turned his head and answered, “The Texas.”

  Tinsley grinned. “Sweet!”

  Without waiting for an invitation, she scrambled aboard. Luke followed then Megan. The illusion of newness was even stronger once Megan was standing on the deck. She caught a whiff of recently unsealed plastic, a smell she had all but forgotten. Absent were any signs the boat had ever been exposed to the elements. She didn’t see a single leaf, water stain, or bird dropping anywhere. The boat appeared to have just rolled off the assembly line.

  “Where’d you learn so much about boats?” Megan asked Tinsley.

  Tinsley’s face split into an excited grin. “I grew up sailing Lasers on a lake near my house. They’re small and fast, tight like you wouldn’t believe. My dad always wanted a boat like this. Our house was full of boating magazines. Her eyes misted. “We had a twenty-eight-foot Columbia in the backyard for most of my childhood. She was my dad’s baby. He used to talk about the trips we would take once he finished restoring her.”

  “That must have been nice,” Megan said.

  Tinsley rapped her knuckles on the boom, eliciting a deep, hollow echo. “Yeah. It was.”

  Luke called out, “Hey, Tinsley! Come check this out!”

  With a smile, Tinsley turned and set off for the bow, where Luke was squatting and inspecting something.

  Megan joined the men.

  “Where the hell did you find her?” Chris was saying, waving at the boat. “She’s amazing!”

  “She sure is,” Jeremy said, the pride impossible to miss in his voice. “When we set out this morning, I figured we’d end up with some tired old beater we’d spend weeks refitting. I had no idea we’d find something in such good condition. It’s almost as if someone left it there for us as a present.”

  “He’s right,” Jack said. “We ended up going a few miles south of Galveston to a boat distributor warehouse. It was just off a sheltered creek and somehow escaped most of the storm damage over the past several years.”

  “You guys scored,” Chris said.

  “We did. In fact,” Jack added, “I want to put together a shore team and go back for more as soon as we can. There’s a ton of stuff there we can use. Generators. More boats. You wouldn’t believe the selection of tools we found in their maintenance facilities. High-dollar gear all the way around.”

  “How was the zombie population?” Megan asked. She had not yet ventured south of Galveston, and the idea of a spot on the shore untouched by the ravages of the undead intrigued her.

  Jack shrugged as if the undead were merely a nuisance. “No more than usual. Lighter in fact. The warehouse was attached
to a light industrial park, and there were only a couple of shamblers outside the gates. Once we took care of them, it was smooth sailing. No pun intended.” He grinned. “The hardest part was getting this thing in the water.” He put a hand on his lower back. “I damn near threw my back out in the process.”

  Jack’s statement triggered a smattering of laughter.

  “Well, shit,” Chris said, putting his hands on his hips. “Our job just got a whole lot easier.”

  Heavy foot steps clomped on the deck behind Megan.

  “This is a helluva boat,” Hines said, joining them.

  Jeremy nodded. “I think we can have her ready to sail in a couple of days. All we have to do is check her systems and load her up with supplies.”

  Hines looked at Chris, who nodded his agreement.

  “Excellent,” Hines said. “In that case, let’s get to work.”

  Thirteen

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  Luke rapped twice on Jack and Megan’s cabin door.

  “Come in,” Jack said.

  Luke turned the doorknob and entered the room. He pushed the door closed behind him. Jack sat at a small metal table under a window, a tattered paperback novel in one hand. He made no move to disguise the half-empty bottle of bourbon sitting in front of him.

  “Hey,” Jack slurred.

  Luke stuffed his hands in his pockets and shuffled toward the table. “Megan said you were still up. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” Jack said, gesturing at an empty chair opposite him. “Drink? I’ve got other stuff, too. Soda. Water.”

  Luke sat nervously. He eyed the bourbon. “Yeah, I’ll take a drink.”

  Jack grinned and poured a few fingers of the amber liquid into a second cup. “Here you go.”

  Luke took the drink and swallowed it in one gulp. He winced as the alcohol burned a track down his throat, but he savored the warmth spreading all the way into his stomach. “Thanks.”

  Jack glanced at his watch. “So what brings you out so late?”

  Luke didn’t know how to start, so he dove right in. “Tinsley is pregnant.”

  Jack poured each of them another drink. He raised his cup. “Congratulations!”

  Luke tentatively clinked his cup against Jack’s. “Thanks. I think. I… I had to tell someone.”

  Jack tossed back his bourbon and wiped his lips with the back of his hand. “I understand. This is a big day for you. The biggest. I only wish…”

  “What?”

  Jack’s gaze fell to the bottle. He picked at the label with his fingernail. “Oh. Nothing. I was just going to say it’s too bad your parents aren’t here. They’d be proud of you.”

  “You think?” Luke asked, trying to conjure up a mental image of his father’s face and failing miserably. He wasn’t sure he agreed with Jack, but the thought was comforting nonetheless.

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said.

  Jack’s voice took on a wistful tone. “I’m serious. Having kids was the best thing I ever did.”

  The mention of Jack’s family, whom he had lost in the initial days of the zombie uprising, brought the conversation to an awkward standstill.

  “She told me just the other day,” Luke said, hoping to distract Jack from his own personal tragedy. “She’s about three weeks late.”

  Jack let out a hearty laugh. “I can’t say I’m surprised by this.”

  Luke’s face grew warm. “Yeah. Well…”

  “Relax, Luke. I’m just kidding with you. This is great news,” Jack said, becoming serious. “This place needs some kids. You guys could be the start of something new.”

  Luke took a sip of his drink. The bourbon was delicious, the best in fact, liberated by Jack during a recent supply run. Jack usually only brought it out for celebrations or mourning. Luke wondered which one had caused Jack to drink that night. A thought came to him. “Have you and Megan ever thought about kids?” Right away, he realized how childish and selfish his question was.

  Jack’s answer surprised him. “Yeah. We did. For a long time.” He shook his head. “It didn’t work. I don’t know if the problem was her or me. Or both of us. It doesn’t matter either way.”

  “Dr. Cain could—”

  Jack gave Luke a dismissive wave. “Believe me. We talked about it. It’s just the way things are. I had my time, after all. And with everything going on right now…”

  Jack’s words hit Luke like a fist. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

  “Sorry,” Jack said. “I didn’t mean—”

  Luke waved him off. “Don’t worry. I understand.”

  “Have you told anyone else yet?” Jack asked.

  Luke shook his head. “No. Well, I haven’t. I don’t know about Tinsley. But she tends to keep to herself.”

  “That she does,” Jack said, nodding. “That she does.”

  Luke wasn’t sure what to make of Jack’s assessment of Tinsley.

  “Can I tell Megan?” Jack asked.

  Luke had already considered that possibility. He didn’t want to cause any drama. “Not yet. If you don’t mind, I’d like to wait a little longer.”

  “Deal,” Jack said with a sloppy grin. “I understand completely.”

  Luke scraped his chair back and got to his feet, wavering slightly from the effects of the alcohol. “Speaking of Tinsley, I should be getting back. She’s going to be wondering where I ran off to.”

  Jack stood and put out his hand. “Congratulations. I mean it.”

  “Thanks,” Luke said. “Thanks again. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Bright and early,” Jack said, reaching for the bottle as Luke stepped away from the table.

  Luke doubted the bright and early part, but he didn’t say so.

  Fourteen

  The Texas

  The Gulf of Mexico [23.825551,-94.824829]

  Megan stepped into the cockpit and took a seat opposite Jack. She adjusted the makeshift bandana covering the bottom half of her face and drew a shallow breath through her mouth. To do otherwise would be to invite the nauseating stench of raw petroleum into her nostrils. Tears leaked from her eyes. She wiped them away with a grimace.

  “How’re you holding up?” she asked.

  Jack hocked a ball of phlegm over the railing and into the murky, oil-clouded water of the Gulf. “I can’t get the taste out of my mouth.”

  “Me, neither,” Megan said, wiping a greasy line of snot from her upper lip. She sipped from her water bottle, but it didn’t help. The sharp chemical tang of unprocessed crude oil had completely overwhelmed her senses.

  She raised her binoculars and scanned the horizon for the hundredth time, searching in vain for an end to the oil slick that had enveloped them for the last few hours. Apprehension churned in her belly. Everywhere she looked, she saw only polluted ocean. Muddy-brown tendrils of free-floating oil rode the bathwater-warm currents like poison in a bloodstream.

  “Anything?” Jack asked.

  She shook her head.

  The cabin hatch banged open. Jeremy emerged, one hand over his mouth and his eyes squeezed into thin slits. “Jesus Christ! What the hell’s going on out here?” An expression of shock spread across his face as he took in the oil shimmering on the surface under the last rays of the setting sun. “What the hell is this?”

  “Blown well would be my guess,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “We hit the slick about an hour ago. We were wondering when you would notice.”

  Jeremy rubbed his watering eyes. “I thought it was the bilge. You couldn’t go around?”

  Jack spit again. “We tried. It’s too big.”

  Jeremy went to the railing and gazed into the water. Then he turned to Megan and held out his hand. “May I?”

  “Sure.” Megan passed him the binoculars.

  After a minute of searching the southern horizon, Jeremy slumped and returned the glasses to Megan. He took a seat beside her. “I think it goes on forever.”

&nbs
p; That was Megan’s biggest fear, and ironically, one that had never crossed her mind before that very day. She had no idea if an oil slick could spread across an entire ocean, but the mere possibility of such a calamity, and the long-term implications on their tenuous food supply, gave her a mounting sense of dread.

  Jeremy turned in his seat and inspected the sails. He frowned. “Trim your mainsail, man. You’re wasting wind.”

  Jack reached for the lines and gave them a short tug. The boom shifted a few inches to port, and the sail luffed once before growing taut.

  Jeremy nodded with approval and pinched his nose. “God, this stuff reeks.”

  Megan reached behind her for the remains of the old T-shirt she had torn into strips to fashion the bandanas she and Jack wore over their mouths. She handed a piece of the cloth to Jeremy. “Here. This’ll help.”

  Jeremy tied the fabric around his face. “Not much,” he said in a pained voice. “Better than nothing, I guess.”

  “You’ll get used to it,” Megan said. “Eventually.”

  Jeremy tugged at his bandana. “I doubt it.” He turned to Jack. “Do you want me to take over for a while? I can’t sleep anymore with this stench.”

  Jack made a minute course correction. The sails luffed then filled with air again. “Sure,” he said, wiping his bleary eyes. “I could use a break.”

  “Go. Get some sleep,” Jeremy waved at the open cabin hatch. “If you can.”

  Jack looked at Megan. “You’ll be okay up here?” After almost ramming into a half-sunken oil rig the day before, they had agreed to keep two people on deck at all times.

  “Uh-huh. I’m fine.”

  Jeremy took Jack’s place at the wheel. After landing a quick peck on Megan’s cheek, Jack stumbled below decks, closing the hatch behind him.

  Megan tried to strike up a conversation with Jeremy, but as she was quickly learning, he wasn’t a morning person. After a few minutes, she excused herself and went forward. Worries about the extent of the oil slick continued to plague her as she settled into a seat near the bow hatch. With a tired exhalation, she raised her binoculars and resumed her search for clear water.