Deluge: The Conqueror Worms II

CHAPTER 59

They spent the next two hours meticulously searching the rest of the building, scavenging the wreckage for whatever meager supplies they could find. Most items were water-damaged or covered with mildew and mold. Gail was relieved that the mold was of the old-fashioned black variety, rather than the White Fuzz. One office closet held a janitor’s uniform and a raincoat, both of which Simon donned. Novak was able to fashion some crude oars by tearing apart a set of prefabricated bookshelves. Food and water were scarce, except for a lone can of garbanzo beans, a few bottles of water, some energy drinks, and an unopened bag of pretzel sticks. Weapons were more plentiful, although McCann was unable to find bullets for the gun he’d discovered during his previous search. They discovered a variety of knives and other edged weaponry—letter openers, utility knives, box-cutters and even an ornamental sword that had hung on the wall inside one office. The sword’s blade was dull and tarnished, but McCann brought it along anyway, telling the others even a dull sword was better than no sword at all.

When they had salvaged anything that might prove useful, they loaded up the boat and departed. McCann and Gail took the first turn at the oars, while Simon sat in the stern and Novak lounged at the bow.

“How are those oars working?” Novak asked.

“You did a good job,” McCann said. “They’ll suffice. Until they fall apart, at least.”

Gail felt her mood shift from hopeful to depressed once she was back out in the rain again. Although the office building had been damp inside, it had provided a brief reprieve from the constant feel of water droplets pelting her skin. Then again, she thought as she watched the half-submerged structure fade into the mist, the building had also almost been the death of them all. Not that the sea was any better. It wasn’t. Gail knew that. She seriously doubted they’d ever make it to this gateway Simon had mentioned, if indeed such a thing even existed. They were especially vulnerable in their current craft and their physical and emotional state. It was only a matter of time before something in the water made a meal out of them.

She gritted her teeth and rowed harder, wondering then why they were bothering to continue. Why keep trying if the grim end was already foretold? She couldn’t speak for the others, but Gail knew why she kept going? Because she lacked the courage for the alternative. She thought back to Novak’s suggestion of… how long had it been… had it really only been a few days ago? He’d wanted the group to take a vote on whether or not they should assist each other in a mass suicide. She turned to him, studying the older man as he gazed out on the waves, and wondered if he still felt that was a viable option.

Soaked to the skin within minutes, they drifted for what felt (at least to Gail) like hours. Her arms and back muscles began to ache, and she had to keep blinking water from her eyes. Eventually, Simon and Novak traded places with her and McCann. Novak rowed slowly, favoring his arm.

“If it starts to hurt too much, let us know,” Gail said. “McCann or I can take over again.”

“I’ll be okay,” he grunted. His tone, however, indicated that he’d be anything but.

McCann was silent as they bobbed on the waves. Gail wondered if he was just tired or if the recent changes she’d noticed in his behavior were continuing to manifest. Exhausted, she closed her eyes but was unable to sleep. Every time she started to drift off, she’d jerk awake again, expecting an attack. Luckily, they continued on their way, unmolested by the denizens of the deep. Occasionally, they spotted shapes in the water. Once, a humped, elongated black form broke the surface to their starboard side, but it slipped beneath the waves before they could get a good look at what it was. Then they passed by the floating corpse of a giant crab. The decomposing carcass was easily the size of a pick-up truck. It had swollen so much from internal gasses that its shell was cracked in places. It oozed rot into the water around it, and the stench was revolting. Gail gagged as it passed them by. Several seabirds were perched on the body, picking morsels out from between the cracks. McCann wanted to try shooting one for food, but the others talked him out of it. They were too far away to retrieve the bird without going into the water, and none of them wanted to row any closer to the dead creature than was necessary.

“Plus,” Simon cautioned, “we don’t know what adverse effects eating that monster’s flesh might have. If the birds have been eating it, and they are sick, then it’s possible any such malady could be passed on to us.”

“You can make fire,” McCann said. “Can you summon a twelve-ounce steak out of the air, while you’re at it?”

“If I could, do you think I’d be this thin?”

McCann smiled, and for a moment, he looked like his old self. But upon closer study, Gail noticed that the smile never reached his eyes.

Simon guided them as they continued on their way, occasionally changing their course. He had no compass or other navigational equipment, but the other three never questioned his directions. They saw several more sea creatures in the distance, but none of the beasts ventured close enough to the boat to be of any concern.

Gail became aware that Novak had stopped rowing. He was sitting up straight and staring intently at the horizon. She and the others followed his gaze.

“It’s a ship,” Gail gasped.

“That’s not just any ship,” Novak said. “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s our ship.”