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by William Esmont


  Megan opened her eyes and glanced around. The moment of silence stretched out, becoming first a minute, then two. Seeing an opportunity, Megan slipped out of the crowd and walked to the open door leading to the interior of the oil platform.

  Once inside, she let out the breath she had been holding. As experienced and professional as Cecil was in his delivery, Megan couldn’t stomach the idea of listening to his platitudes for a minute longer. Contrary to what Cecil was saying, and what people seemed to want to hear, Megan knew the truth. Their luck had run out. They had been cavalier in their approach of the ship, only performing the most cursory of inspections for threats before boarding. That was a mistake Megan would never allow to happen again, not if she had any say in the matter. She was about to start ascending the stairs when excited voices outside captured her attention.

  “They’re on their way back!” a man shouted. “They’re almost here!”

  Megan’s spirits rallied. A jolt of energy raced through her body, instantly rejuvenating her. Soon, Jack would be home. And then, finally, she could put the terrible day behind her, where it belonged.

  ***

  Megan watched Jack out of the corner of her eye as he toweled off from his shower. She closed the book she had been staring at and not reading, rolled to her side, and propped her head up with her hand. The movement made her ribs scream. Jack opened the second drawer of his dresser and rummaged inside it.

  “Jeremy seems nice enough,” she said. She had met the newcomer briefly when he and Jack and the others had returned but hadn’t had much of a chance to talk to him.

  He paused and looked at Megan. “Yeah. He does. He reminds me a little of my dad’s brother. He was an ex-ranger or ex-SEAL. Something like that. A no-bullshit kind of guy. Tough as nails. I get the same vibe off of Jeremy.” He unfolded a threadbare navy-blue T-shirt with a picture of a dog on the front and pulled it over his head.

  “That’s too bad about Tampa,” Megan said.

  “Yeah, what a waste.”

  Megan thought back to the discovery of the dead pilot on the side of I-10. It seemed like another lifetime ago. “I wonder if that pilot’s family made it out?”

  Jack shrugged. “You can ask him yourself.”

  “I will. Tomorrow,” Megan said. “You think the doc is finished with him yet?”

  Jeremy was with Dr. Cain, going through the doctor’s draconian arrival inspection routine. Megan didn’t envy Jeremy if his experience was anything like what she, Jack, and Luke had been forced to endure when they had first arrived on the Gulf Star. The sight of a rubber glove still made her cringe.

  Jack crossed the room and took a seat on the bed beside her. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Enough about Jeremy. How’re you doing?”

  Megan leaned into his touch. Jack smelled of soap and clean water. Of home. “Tired. My ribs hurt like a bastard. How about you?”

  Jack arched his back and rolled his neck. “I’m fine. It’s been a long damned day.” He rubbed his good hand against the stump where his other arm used to be.

  Megan nodded at the tight, shiny skin. “Is it bothering you tonight?”

  Jack shrugged. “No more than usual.”

  Megan had long ago exhausted her store of apologies for cutting off Jack’s arm in a desperate attempt to prevent a zombie bite from killing him. She looked away.

  “How’s Chris doing?” Jack asked. “Any improvement?”

  “He’ll be fine. The doc wants him to stay in bed overnight, but he should be able to resume duties in the next couple of days.”

  Jack reclined on the bed beside her, his body only inches away. “I’ll stop by in the morning and check in on him.”

  When Megan checked his face, she found his eyes closed.

  “I’m not asleep,” he murmured with a smile. “Just resting my eyeballs.”

  Megan placed her palm flat on his chest. His heart beat strong and true. “Sure you are. I’ll see you in the morning, sleepyhead.” She rolled over to get up from the bed.

  Behind her, Jack said, “You know this is the first time we’ve been alone together in almost two days. I was thinking…”

  Despite their relatively simple lives on the Gulf Star, they both bore large and constant responsibilities. Between normal duties, the mission to the container ship, the deaths, and Jeremy’s arrival, they had barely had any time for each other.

  “Yeah?” Megan said, turning and using her fingernail to trace a lazy figure eight on his chest.

  “Maybe we should stay in tonight. Just you and me.”

  Megan sank back on the bed, nestling close against him. “I like that idea.” She ran a finger along his wrist. “Are you sure you only want to sleep though?”

  “Not exactly,” Jack said, a lustful grin spreading across his face. He deftly slipped his hand beneath Megan’s shirt and grazed his fingers across the smooth skin of her belly.

  A shiver of pleasure raced through her. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  Sleep could wait a little while longer.

  Seven

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  Through half-lidded eyes, Chris watched Hines enter the sick bay and approach his bed. Hines took small, soft steps, barely making a sound, and sank into a chair beside the bed with a soft exhale.

  Chris opened his eyes the rest of the way. “Hey, there.”

  Hines started. “Hey. I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

  Chris grinned. “Nah. I was already awake.” He moved to sit up.

  Hines leaped from his chair and put his hand on Chris’s shoulder, gently pressing him back into the bed. “The doc says—”

  “I’m okay,” Chris said. “Just a little bit… please?”

  Hines relented and helped Chris move to a more upright position. “How’re you feeling?” he asked once Chris was settled.

  Chris shrugged. “Better, but I can’t stop thinking about that damned ship…”

  Hines took Chris’s hand. “They were good people. Every one of them.”

  “Did you…?”

  Hines shook his head. “No. Cecil spoke to everyone last night. He’s… better with that sort of thing. A natural.”

  “Good.”

  “What’s next then?” Chris asked. “Are you going to send another team and try to clear the ship?”

  “No,” Hines said, shaking his head. “We’ve lost enough people already.”

  Chris thought about that for a second. Despite their losses, he regretted letting such a bountiful resource go without a fight. But the grievous expression on Hines’s face told him there would be no further discussion.

  “Can you hand me my water?” Chris asked. “It’s behind you.”

  Hines passed the plastic bottle to him, and Chris took a sip then set the bottle in his lap.

  “Have you heard about our visitor?” Hines asked.

  Chris cocked his head in surprise. “No. What do you mean? Who?”

  “Oh. I figured you may have overheard Dr. Cain talking about him or maybe even seen him when he was here getting checked out.”

  “I’ve been kind of out of it.”

  “Of course,” Hines said. “His name is Jeremy. He’s an interesting character.”

  “How so?”

  “He says he was on the MK Excelsior.”

  “You don’t believe him?”

  Hines shrugged. “You know me. Trust but verify.”

  “And how do you plan to do that?”

  “I’m meeting with him, Megan, and Jack tomorrow morning. I’ll get his side of the story and make my decision.”

  “I’d like to attend,” Chris said.

  “Not a chance!” Dr. Cain boomed from the doorway. He stepped into the room, a cup of steaming coffee clutched in his hand. “You’re not going anywhere yet. Not until I say so.”

  Chris looked at Hines, but Hines was nodding his head in agreement with the doctor.

  “Come on,” Chris said.

  “No,” Dr. Cain said. “You’re not ready
.”

  “I’ll stop by after and fill you in,” Hines offered.

  Chris cursed. He hated being treated like an invalid.

  “It’s time for Chris to get some sleep,” Cain said, setting his coffee on the narrow table beside the bed. He laid a hand on Hines’s shoulder. “You can visit again in the morning.”

  Hines got to his feet and leaned over the bed to place a soft kiss on Chris’s forehead. “Sleep well.”

  “You too,” Chris murmured.

  Hines turned to address the doctor. “Don’t let him out of your sight.”

  With a half-hearted salute, Dr. Cain said, “Yes, sir, Major. Loud and clear!”

  Hines laughed as he strode out of the room.

  Eight

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  Jack and Megan had been summoned to meet with Hines. They rounded a corner and entered a short, narrow corridor leading to the administrative section of the Gulf Star. Jeremy was already waiting outside Hines’ office.

  “Morning,” Jack said as they drew close. “I see you found your way without any trouble.”

  Jeremy nodded. “This place is huge.”

  “Don’t worry,” Megan said. “You’ll get used to it.” She put out her hand. “By the way, I’m Megan. We met the other night.”

  “Hi,” Jeremy said with a smile. “I remember you.”

  “You’re looking a little more relaxed now,” Jack said.

  He hadn’t seen Jeremy since leaving him with the doctor two days before. In that time, Jeremy had been holed up in his cabin, catching up on much-needed sleep. His beard was trimmed to a neat goatee, and he wore a clean T-shirt, jeans, and a pair of tan boots.

  Hines’s door swung open. “Come on in,” he said, gesturing at a small round conference table just inside the room. “Take a seat.”

  The major’s skin was sallow, and his eyes were shot through with a fine web of angry red blood vessels and dark bags beneath them. He looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, which he probably hadn’t as he waited anxiously for Chris’s condition to stabilize.

  “So, Jeremy,” Hines said, “welcome to the Gulf Star. I understand you’ve been through quite an ordeal over the past several weeks.”

  Jeremy nodded.

  “Jack told me you were on the MK Excelsior, and before that, in Tampa. I’d like to get your story from your lips, though, if you don’t mind.”

  Jeremy scratched the side of his nose. “Sure.” He spent the next several minutes recounting his adventure in Tampa leading up to the failed exodus.

  Hines stopped him periodically to ask questions, all of which Jeremy answered without hesitation. All the while, Jack waited patiently for Jeremy to reach the point where things fell apart on the MK Excelsior. While it saddened him to know so many people had perished, he wasn’t surprised. No one was safe anymore.

  “Tell me about the container ship,” Hines said. “That ship took four good people from us. I’d like to learn how you survived.”

  Jeremy set his elbows on the table and put his face in his hands. “So much death…”

  No one said a word while Jeremy wrestled his emotions under control. Finally, he straightened and continued. “Everything was going fine for the first few days, but then we lost propulsion. The parts we needed were back in Tampa.” Jeremy ran his hands through his hair. “I really thought we could get her fixed and get under way again, but then a storm came up.”

  Jack nodded. A relentless barrage of storms had lashed the Gulf Star over the past month, making travel on the open sea treacherous at best.

  “But where did the infection come from?” Megan asked, cutting to the same question Jack was wondering. “I mean, I assume you cleared everyone before they boarded?”

  Jeremy shook his head. “We did. At least we tried. You have to understand that we were fighting for our lives. MacDill fell faster than anyone expected. We hardly had any time to think, let alone inspect every single person. My only thought is that someone was bitten during the attack, and it took longer than normal for them to turn. A full week passed between the day we left and when the shit hit the fan.”

  Hines rubbed his chin. “I’ve never heard of an incubation period that long before.”

  “Me neither,” Megan added. “I’ve seen minutes or hours, but never a week. I assume you told Dr. Cain about this?”

  Jeremy nodded. “I did.”

  “Were there any other survivors?” Hines asked.

  “No,” Jeremy said, looking down at his hands.

  Jack drummed his fingers. “The other day you mentioned another boat?”

  Pain flashed across Jeremy’s face. “Yeah. The Phoenix. She was gone when the storm cleared. We tried to raise them on the radio, but they never responded.”

  Hines said. “Do you think it sank?”

  Jeremy shrugged again. “I don’t think so. I hope not. There were a lot of good people on that boat. Upwards of two hundred.”

  Loud footsteps echoed in the hallway outside the door then receded into the distance.

  “Tell me more about this safe zone,” Hines said.

  Jeremy’s face brightened. “There’s not much to say beyond what I already told Jack.” He inclined his head in Jack’s direction.

  “Do you have any idea how many people are on the island?” Megan asked. “Who runs the place?”

  “Several thousand, I think. As for who runs the place, I have no idea.”

  Hines scribbled notes on a yellow legal pad. “Thanks, Jeremy,” he said, setting his pencil down.

  Jeremy looked around the room. “So what’s next?”

  Over the next several minutes, Hines delivered his canned newcomer spiel. His intensity never wavered as he described the official history of the platform since the outbreak and what responsibilities Jeremy would incur if he chose to stay, from defense and routine maintenance to periodically venturing ashore to search for supplies. When he was finished, he clasped his hands together. “Do you have any questions for us? For me?”

  Jeremy gave Hines a tight-lipped smile. “No. Not right now. I assume this means I can stay?”

  “It does,” Hines said.

  Megan and Jack murmured their agreement.

  Hines added, “We can always use another pair of hands around here.”

  Everyone got up to leave, but Hines motioned for Jack and Megan to remain behind. Jack raised an eyebrow at Megan as Jeremy stepped outside and closed the door behind him.

  “Thanks for staying, guys,” Hines said. “I wanted to get your read on Jeremy’s story.”

  Jack and Megan returned to their seats. Jack spoke first. “I can’t think of a reason to doubt him at this point. Given what we know about Tampa and the container ship, what he said makes a lot of sense.”

  “And you?” Hines asked, looking at Megan.

  “I agree,” Megan answered.

  “Okay, then,” Hines said. “Last question. What do you think about this safe zone he mentioned? Do you think there’s anything to it?”

  Jack shrugged. “Sounds plausible, but Mexico’s a hell of a long way from here.”

  Hines steepled his fingers. “It is, but I can’t help but wonder if that could be our way off this platform. We’re outgrowing this place. Eventually, we’re going to have to move. Why not now?”

  “Are you thinking of sending out a scouting team?” Megan asked, sitting up straight and leaning forward.

  Hines grinned. “I am. Any interest?”

  “Are you kidding?” Megan asked, nudging Jack excitedly.

  Hines laughed. “Okay then. With Chris out of commission for now, I’d like the two of you to start putting together a plan. Make it your top priority.”

  “We’ll get right on it,” Jack said. “I think we should take Jeremy with us. If he’ll go, that is.”

  Hines nodded. “Agreed. I’m sure he’ll jump at the chance to find out about his people.”

  After a few more minor logistical questions, Hines scraped his chair back and stood. “
Let’s talk again tomorrow morning. That should give you enough time to get with Jeremy and start preparations.”

  Riding high on a newfound sense of possibility, Jack leaped from his seat and headed for the door.

  Nine

  Gulf Star Oil Platform

  “Ouch!”

  Luke winced as he tore loose the last stubborn bit of hangnail from his left index finger. A line of dark red blood welled up in the space where the sliver of fingernail used to reside. He flicked the dead skin away, put his finger in his mouth, and sucked.

  Tinsley swatted him. “Don’t do that! That’s gross!”

  With a grunt, Luke rolled from the bed and shuffled in stocking feet across the room to the open doorway. He stuck his head into the hall and peered toward Hines’s office. The door was still closed. He called over his shoulder, “They’re still in there.”

  Tinsley remained on the bed. “I told you so. Now why don’t you close the door? Come back to bed.”

  Luke shook his head. “No. I want to know what’s going on.”

  “C’mon, Luke,” Tinsley said, her southeast Texas drawl running like warm honey. She patted the empty space on the mattress beside her. “Does it really matter?”

  Luke clenched his jaw.

  “Come on,” Tinsley whined.

  Luke left the door cracked so he could hear activity in the hall and returned to the bed.

  Tinsley immediately put her feet into his lap and said, “Massage.” Her voice held no hint of compromise.

  Luke kneaded Tinsley’s feet, listening all the while for the first hint the adults were finished talking. His hands grew numb from the effort, yet he heard nothing. Finally, he couldn’t knead anymore. He flexed his fingers, popping his knuckles. “This is killing me.”

  Tinsley surveyed him through half-lidded eyes. “Don’t stop.”

  The muscles in Luke’s hands and forearms were on fire. “Sorry. I can’t go any more.”

  Tinsley stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. “Just when I was starting to relax.”

  Luke shoved her feet from his lap and leaped to his feet. “Is that all you can think about?”

 

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