Ben is cooking again. He doesn’t seem to mind the chore. He’s humming and flipping, stirring and mixing. He serves up fake eggs and bacon, and is all smiles. Hana guesses cooking cures the idiot in him, or maybe pushes it below the surface. Either way, he’s more pleasant to be stuck with now that he’s got some way to contribute.
The survivors have been on the Pioneer for one day and one night so far. Most of her worry and apprehension fades. Initially, she has a similar feeling when she approaches a vehicle that she’s pulled over. Cops never know who or what is in that car and what their state of mind might be. It’s one of the most dangerous places to be when you’re on the beat. When she finally sees the person, she gets a release. Hana is feeling that release now. It’s remarkable how well they are dealing with this tragedy.
After everyone eats, she helps Markus and Josh clean up. Ian sips coffee and stares into space. He says exactly what Hana is thinking, what everyone is thinking, “Why don’t I feel terrible? Billions of people died just days ago. Shouldn’t we still be in mourning?”
“You don’t know how many people have died.” Rice says. She scoops the remainder of her eggs and bacon onto Andy’s plate. “Maybe it only effected the states.”
“Well, technically, the virus could still be crawling across the globe. Maybe reaching more secluded places by now. We’re probably still in the middle of the event,” Josh concludes.
“Event?” Rice snaps.
Ian goes up top, and Hana joins him. There’s fog all around. She’s surprised at how thick is seems. Ian looks over a map. “I’m hoping we get to Atlantic City by nightfall. That way we can drop anchor and no one will have to keep watch.”
Because it’s early morning, a cool breeze flows over the boat. Hana feels it on her skin and smiles. She looks at Ian. He smiles back. “Now, this is sustainable living,” he says. “Too bad we have to use diesel fuel and not a renewable energy source like solar panels.”
“I’m sorry, but this is far from sustainable,” Markus says, sitting on a cushion next to the wheel. “We will run out of fuel eventually.”
“Already burned half the tank,” Isabella mutters. She’s pacing for some reason. “And we’re not even to Atlantic City yet.”
“If we run out, we get more.” Ben says, joining us up top. “Shit, we’ll need more gas for the stove, eventually. Those four tanks won’t last us that long.” He’s sipping on rum.
“Going to the store is a huge challenge. It’s not like running a quick errand.” Markus says.
Andy and Rice make their way up top. “We’re not gonna be on this boat forever, are we?” Andy asks.
“No, just until we find safety. Even if that’s Cuba, that’s not that far south,” Rice answers.
“But I like it on the boat. There are no. . . dead people.” Andy’s eyes are full of worry and fear.
“Eden won’t have dead people either, little man. It’s the survivor city,” Ian says, and winks.
“Isn’t there a chance we get there, and it’s gone, too?” Josh asks. “What keeps them from getting sick?” His hands are shoved deep into his pockets as he shifts nervously.
Markus says, “A thousand shall fall at thy side, and ten thousand at thy right hand; but it shall not come nigh thee. That’s from Psalms.”
Tanis ignores Markus. “So, we’re gonna join a bunch of survivors on Cuba and restart the human race?”
“As long as they have hot water, I’m in,” Rice takes Ben’s rum and sips it. “We rebuild society and have some babies.” She looks at Ian. Hana wants to laugh, but she doesn’t. So Rice has a crush on Ian. He’s a good-looking man and smart, too.
“Maybe make some changes while we’re at it,” Ian ads. “No more capitalism. We’ll just live off the land, keep everything fair, and outlaw pollution of any kind.”
“What a pipe dream!” Ben snips. “Keep smokin’. Then pass what you’ve got over here so I can puff puff, too.”
“Shut it,” Isabella says. “Ian’s right. We make new rules. Ones that change things for good.”
Rice shakes her head, “You two sound like communists.”
Josh points at Rice. “I’m with you.” Then he looks at Ian. “Sounds like you want fairness, which is an inherent impossibility. There are genetic differences that determine all our abilities. Some are smarter than others, some are stronger. It’s a matter of survival of the fittest. Always has been. We’re just animals with opposable thumbs. Fairness is an illusion. Children use fairness to get what they want.”
“You sound like my father.” Ian replies. “And the only reason you think there’s no fairness is because you’re programmed to protect the system by the very school that taught you about the world. You let people get so rich they take over countries and pollute entire hemispheres, all because you’ve been taught that being dirty rich is the American dream.”
“No,” Josh retorts. “I’ve got my own mind. I can look at the evidence and weigh its reality and its consequence. I’ve also learned from historians how corrupt all communist governments have been. Talk about fairness. If you were the government, you always had more than the little people. The little people were under your boot. In fact, the communist governments were the worst polluters of all. They just hid it from their people through control of the media. I’ve done the research. Even socialism creates more poverty than it saves.”
“People should always have the right of self-determination,” Markus adds. “That is why capitalism worked for so long.”
“Before it killed the world,” Ian injects.
“Some stupid virus killed the world, not capitalism,” Josh corrects. “You can’t kill the world for profit. Because money becomes useless. Where’s the incentive for that?”
“Got a point there, Brainiac.” Ben laughs.
Josh goes on, “Tom Palmer understood that libertarianism is the application of science and reason to the study of politics and public policy. That is, libertarians deal in reality, not magic. Government doesn’t have magical powers. They can’t ignore the laws of economics and human nature.”
“Ah, but capitalism did get out of hand,” Markus clarifies. “Greed took over. Television and entertainment warped the minds of too many people. Eden should be pure. The rules should be strict but according to God’s will.”
“No way!” Ben snaps. “No way I’m living under religious rule. They’d off me for sure.”
“Yeah, I still like the idea of freedom,” Josh says. “Natural rights are always the same. No matter what president or leader is in power. No matter what system you have, the natural rights are life, liberty, and property. When you break those rights your system fails because people will eventually fight to regain the natural rights. We know what they are because we all understand them at the very core of us.”
“But our system was so corrupt,” Tanis replies. “The natural rights didn’t mean shit. And we couldn’t do anything about it. Like anyone’s vote mattered. Every election since Taft was rigged. Democracy is a joke.”
“It’s only corrupt because every election it becomes more controlled by government!” Josh snaps. “The more there is central control over our lives, the more the politicians and the rich work together to enrich themselves. You keep blaming capitalism for our problems when the problems originate with federal meddling and manipulation. More socialism, more corruption. It’s clear if you look at the facts.”
“How would you run a government?” Ian asks.
“You just make a bunch of rules that work and that’s it. No messing with it,” Tanis answers.
“That’s what a constitution is, Dork.” Ben laughs again.
“Yeah, but not some outdated thing written by posers in wigs.” He throws a cookie at Kat who is going from person to person sucking up attention.
“I’ve got some ideas about what should be in a constitution,” Ian says.
Josh steps in. “There’s a theory out there that has yet to be disproven. It’s called spontaneous order. It’s
basically the understanding that most of the order in society, from language and law to the economy, happens naturally, without a central plan. The constitution should only protect the law which protects the freedom.”
“Well, it needs to level the playing field, too. Because true democracy could get oppressive. Especially to minorities,” Hana interjects.
“Trouble comes in when you strip rights from one, say rich people, and give to the other. That’s not fair. You can’t fix unfairness with more unfairness. That is logically flawed,” Josh says. “The U.S. grew one of the largest middle class groups in history. That’s how I know it was as ‘fair’ as was possible.” Josh sighed. “Look, if you expect government officials to fix millions of lives you’ll be disappointed every time. Unless you’re delusional. There are, what, thousands of policy makers in our Federal government. They have to write rules to govern three-hundred-million lives! They can’t. They can’t save poor Sally, because when Sally gets her free money, Nancy goes poor. That’s why business has been more successful in solving problems. There are millions of businesses solving issues out there. Capitalism and free trade give us more choices than we can fully appreciate. Businesses should have been left to solving Sally’s poverty problem. I like those odds better.”
Ian hands the wheel to Isabella and walks off, giving up on the conversation. Hana watches him walk to the front of the boat. She knows what he’s feeling and is empathetic. It’s confusion. Even in the morning light it is dark around the boat, an eclipse that blocks out all hope.
She sits in the middle of the ship, trying not to think about those that she’s lost, when Andy comes up to her. He’s so young and cute. “Hi there.”
He sits. “I’m hungry.”
“I’d cook you the biggest cake you’ve ever seen if I could.” Hana pokes his nose. He doesn’t smile. The boy is very traumatized. His brain needs a distraction. “Here, let’s make some food.”
His eyes widen. “Really?”
In front of Hana is the rear mast and behind that is a large box full of tools and supplies. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Sapaghetti,” he says, saying it wrong like every kid does. “And corn.”
Hana pulls out a bag and a few items from the supply box and dumps the stuff on the settee. They pretend that bolts are corn, tape strips are noodles and rubber plugs are meatballs. Screwdrivers are the utensils. They eat slowly and delicately and talk about school and friends.
The fake dinner is interrupted by Ian’s frantic calls. “Survivors! Come quick!”
Everyone runs to the font of the boat and stares into the heavy fog. Deep in the shrouded horizon they see another boat. It’s a beautiful sight, and she wants to jump up and down like a cheerleader.
“There it is!” Rice yells, tears flooding her eyes.
“Can you get closer?” Markus yells to Isabella. She throttles down. A small fishing boat bobs on the waves a hundred yards off the port side.
“There are two men aboard, fishing!” Ian says.
They all jump up and down, waving and screaming as the boat gets closer and closer. Hana isn’t sure why she’s so excited, they might be creeps, but then again, they might have news. Maybe they’re getting close to the containment line!
Hana squints to see through the fog but has to wait until they get closer. She doesn’t see anyone on board. A thick cloud of fog pushes between, and she loses sight temporarily. When visibility returns, the boat is right in front of them. Hana screams for Isabella to stop. Everyone braces. The Pioneer rams the boat. Neither boat was going very fast, but the Pioneer is a steel beast and its bow bends back their safely railing, cracks their fiberglass hull, and smashes the front window.
“Jesus!” Rice yelps.
Ian runs along the side. “Hey! Sorry! Is everyone okay?” He yells to the fishing boat.
There is no answer. The boat rocks away in the turbulent waves.
“Hello?” Hana yells. She’s wholeheartedly embarrassed that they rammed them and did so much damage.
No one is on deck, and it’s hard to see through the cabin windows because they’re foggy with salty corrosion.
“What happened to them?” Rice asks. “I thought you said there were two people on that boat.”
“I didn’t see anyone,” Josh interjects.
“I didn’t either,” Hana says.
The name of the boat is, Day Job. It’s a large fishing boat, and by the look of it, rigged with nets and ice chests and fishing poles. “Josh, I need your help.” Hana runs to a jumble of ropes and untangles one.
“What do you need?”
“I need to find something like a grappling hook. I want to get alongside the boat and hook it to us.”
Josh runs off. Hana drags the thick rope to where they are closest to the Day Job. Josh returns with a large pole with a hook at the end. The boat floats farther away. She ties the rope to the pole and throws it, javelin style, to the deck of the Day Job. “Someone hold the end of the rope,” she orders.
Ben takes the rope and wraps it around his arm.
“Anybody there?” yells Rice. Still no answer.
Ian shrugs. “I thought I saw someone. Really, I did.” His brow is tight, and his jaw clenched.
“They have fishing poles!” Tanis yells.
“If there’s no one aboard, let’s get what we can,” Markus says. “God has given us some help.”
“Tell him we need a PlayStation, too,” Ben says. “Oh, and some Cajun spices.”
Ian has his hand on his forehead. “There were two people there. I saw them holding fishing poles, standing on the back deck.”
“Must be the light playing tricks on you,” Josh says. “The refraction of light in these water vapor clouds can be misleading. Probably happens all the time.”
“Nerd alert!” Ben hollers.
Hana slips off her pants and shirt and jumps overboard in her underwear and bra.
The water isn’t too cold, but it shocks her system. She feels the bubbles flow over her body. They tickle. It’s amazing to feel something other than fear and regret. She breaks to the surface and breathes, salty water finds her tongue. She swims to the deck at the back of the Day Job and climbs up the ladder.
The boat is a mess. There’s bird poop everywhere. Whoever was out in this boat must have had a good catch before they disappeared. Hana studies the mess. There were at least two men aboard. She sees signs of a struggle: blood splatters on the hand railing, the cabin window is broken, a box of hooks is spilled over the deck. There are two full cups of coffee, cold now, two sandwiches in the cooler, and two tackle boxes. There are a dozen fishing poles, but that’s typical.
There’s a splash and a moment later Ian climbs aboard.
“Need some help?” he asks. They are both standing in their underwear. She notices his thin but muscular body, then turns from him quickly, blushing, as she remembers that she’s in her underwear as well.
“Yeah, um, there was a struggle here,” Hana planned on becoming a detective once she did her time. She has an eye for detail. “Looks like the two men had a fight and probably fell overboard.”
“I agree, but I can’t believe they just fell overboard seconds ago. I must not have seen them fishing.” Ian holds the top of his head and looks worried.
“Sorry, Ian. These men have been gone for quite a while. There’s mold on the coffee cups, and the fish ice has melted. I don’t think you saw anyone fishing. Look at the poles. All the lines are pulled in. See the bait? It’s dried up.” She points to the bird poop. “Do you see how the poop is on top of the blood? So they went overboard a long time ago,” she concludes. “You could have seen a—”
“Ghost?”
Hana laughs, “No, a mirage or something. Like Josh said. The fog played tricks with your eyes.” She steps near him and puts her hand on his forearm. “You wanted to see survivors. So did I.”
Ian nods and looks at her eyes. Her mind clears like wiping a dry-erase board clean with one swipe. Hi
s eyes linger on hers. She can tell he’s not thinking about the fishermen anymore. He takes a breath and lets his gaze slip down her face, down her neck and to her breasts. She lets him linger for the briefest of moments then crosses her arms. He clears his throat, returns to the task at hand and so does Hana.
“Jesus! Get a room!” Ben yells, laughing from the deck of the Pioneer.
They enter the cabin and poke around. Maps and books litter the table, and stairs lead down into the belly of the boat. Ian steps down into the gloomy, moldy interior with caution. There’s a galley, dirty dishes piled in the sink, and rotting fruit hanging from a basket. Ian looks at the door leading to the stateroom. He takes a few steps and pushes the door open.
A man lies face up on the bed. The top of his head is nothing but dried clumps of exploded brain tissue. His arms are cut in multiple places, and his hand grips a gun. Ian backs away and closes the door. “Not a walker, at least.”
“I guess they weren’t infected on the boat.”
Ian scratches his head. “I wonder what the fight was about.”
Hana shrugs because she’s done thinking about it. All it shows her is that some find it easier to give up than to keep fighting. Loneliness is the most powerful demon. “I’m feeling creeped out over here. Let’s grab some of this fishing gear and get off this ghost ship.”
They recover two tanks of propane, some rum, whiskey, lots of beer left in the cooler, and a ton of fishing gear. Ian siphons off the remaining diesel fuel from their tank, giving them about eighty gallons to add to their supply.
Later that night everyone crowds the deck of the Pioneer and shares the whiskey.
“I tell you Ian, when it was my watch last night I saw some shit in the dark. Thought I saw a couple of boats. There might have been a light, too, farther out to sea. It flashed. On off, on off. Then it moved over here and then over there.” Ben points around to illustrate. “But they weren’t lights, they were too faint. I was seeing shit. I was seein’ ghosts,” he says, lowering his voice. “But I saw them plain as the zits on my ass.”
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