6th Horseman, Extremist Edge Series: Part 1 (36 page)

I’m happy to see him too. When me, Hana, and
Ian were at my house I felt so alone. My parents were gone. I felt
this weird feeling in my head that I’d never felt before.
Everything seemed hopeless. I grabbed my bike and helped Hana pump
the tires up. It wasn’t until we were riding down my driveway,
flying by a crowd of dead people, that Kat had found us. He jumped
over the neighbor’s shrubs and caught up with us. I totally freaked
out. I had to stop and say hi. He kept up with us the entire ride
back to the bay. That dog can run like Superdog.

When his paws hit the deck of the
Pioneer
he takes off. Gotta check the place out, you know?
Such a good dog.

“Whoa!” Ben says. “The dog’s gonna shit all
over the place.”

“I’m gonna shit on you!” I snap. “On your
face,” I follow up under my breath.

“Don’t be a jerk,” Hana says to Ben, sticking
up for me. “It’s the kid’s dog.”

Josh stops and pets Kat. “I should’ve grabbed
some dog food at the store.”

Andy runs to the dog and hugs him.

“Dog’s gonna starve. We don’t have food for
it,” Isabella says. “It will be your share that he eats,” she tells
me.

“I’m fine with that,” I say. “He can have all
my food if he needs it.”

Ben rolls his eyes, “You say that now.”

“Yes, you will be responsible for him,” Ian
reminds me. He’s starting to act like he’s everyone’s dad.

I follow Kat around as he explores the boat’s
deck. “He loves it!” I yell, but no one hears me. They’re all
unloading the rowboat. I help Kat down the ladder and let him run
around inside. I’d claimed one of the bunks earlier so I sit my bag
on it. I take out the photo of my parents and wedge it in a crack
on the side of the bunk.

The kitchen gets loud as everyone brings in
the food and water. I join them to see what kind of food they got.
Ben takes control of the kitchen. No surprise there — big guy, big
appetite.

“Yeah!” he exclaims as he takes out a bag of
cashews. “Buttery goodness,” he smells the cashews.

“There’s about five pounds of chicken in
there. It was in the freezer and didn’t feel completely thawed yet.
It should be good.” Markus says. “The rest of the meat is in
cans.”

Ben tosses a can of spam in the air, “Oh, I
love this stuff with eggs.”

Rice and Josh look eagerly at the food. I am
so hungry I could eat my shoe. “Can we chow now?”

“I got this,” Ben says. “I watch the cooking
channel all the time.” He looks over the food. “How about lunch
stuff? Some chips and tuna sandwiches?” He holds up a box of
individual mayonnaise packets. “Perfect, this stuff will last for
years.”

“I’ll help,” Markus offers.

Ian tells Isabella to pull the anchor up and
Hana to fire up the motor. We turn around and head out of Jamaica
Bay on our way south to Cuba. Ben hands me a sandwich and I give
half to Kat. We both want more, much, much more. Oh well. I might
have to get used to being hungry.

Josh and I finally get the water heater
working. We bypass the fried circuit board and rig the heater to
run directly off the batteries. It’s a simple heating unit so it
didn’t get fried. The water heater will run as long as our
batteries hold up. It’ll drain the batteries faster, but Hana says
the motor has its own start up battery so she isn’t worried about
using the hot water heater. Markus also finds a storage box with
eight brand new replacement batteries. We’re set. It’s like a fancy
cruise.

Rice is the first in the shower. She moans
the entire time like she’s in some soap commercial. It’s annoying,
but makes me smile.

Ben bumps my shoulder playfully, “She
fingerin’ her lady harp in there or what?”

I laugh.

We all take a turn in the shower. Quick
turns. The dial that says how much water is in the tanks is fried,
so we don’t know how much we have.

A week passes as we keep sailing south. We’re
running low on food and water. Each one of us has a limit on how
much we can drink and eat, and I hate it. I drink my part and I’m
still thirsty. I eat my share and I’m still hungry. I don’t tell
anyone, but I haven’t fed Kat in two meals.

We’ve tried to find a place to dock the boat
for over three days, but there were too many puppets. And they
continue following us. We’re like fugitives on our own planet.
Every time we get close to the shore we attract thousands. We would
never make it if we docked. Isabella says it would be a suicide
mission if we try and get food. I believe her. She, over anyone
else, knows when we’re outmatched.

So, we calculate our food and water and are
making a push for Cuba. We all take shifts to make sure we stay on
course. The night comes. It’s dark. Spooky dark. The stars are
everywhere and there’s a sliver of a moon. I try to see the shore
but there are no lights on the mainland. No one talks much. As it
gets late, everyone goes to his or her rooms. I lie on my bunk,
petting Kat. I can’t sleep. I don’t even like closing my eyes. A
few hours later, Hana opens my door.

“You sleeping?” she asks. I shake my
head.

“It’s my shift. You want to go up top with
me?”

I jump out of bed and go with her. Kat
follows, naturally. “I feel like I’m sleeping right now…” I say to
Hana as she takes the wheel and sends Ben to bed. I slump on the
bench next to the steering wheel with my head lying on the back of
the bench. “…and that I’ll wake up and be in my bed at home. My Ma
will be down stairs, and my Dad in front of the TV watching
football or something.”

“I think similarly,” Hana says. “I was dating
this guy before all this. We’d gone on our third date three nights
before everyone started getting sick. He’s probably one of those
puppets, walkers — whatever we’re calling them.” Hana sighs. “My
parents were pretty old. They were really good people. Tried their
hardest to do things right. They didn’t deserve what I did.”

“What did you do?” I ask her. My pulse
quickens and I sit up.

She shrugs. “Nothing. I mean, they didn’t
deserve to die.”

“There won’t be a funeral or anything. Not
for anyone,” I mumble.

“Well, your soul goes where it’s gonna go
with or without a funeral,” Hana replies, trying to make me feel
better.

“The Egyptians didn’t believe that,” Hana
didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m kidding,” I mumble. “I did a
project on the Egyptians last year. They were pretty crazy about
the afterlife. It was kinda boring at the time. Now I get it. Death
wasn’t the last stop, you know? It was like a waiting room for the
next place. You’d get resurrected into the final world. That is, if
you passed all the tests.”

“What sort of tests?”

I rack my brain, “Well, I remember it was
dangerous. The dead had to be protected from all kinds of demons.
They had to pass through seven gates. Finally, Osiris would judge
your life. You had to tell a ton of different gods why you had a
good life. Why you should get into the god’s world. You’d go in
front of Anubis, the god of death. Then it was Maat, the god of
truth. Then I remember Amemet would devour your heart if it wasn’t
pure, and Seth would finish you off.” I look into the darkness all
around us. I feel like we were passing through death into the
afterlife right now. Maybe we’re dead right now and don’t know it.
The darkness presses on me like I’m being squeezed. This creepy
feeling fills me up. Tears threaten to burst from my eyes.

“Well, I’m confident they’re all in a better
place,” she says softly. I notice she looks more like a woman
standing at the wheel instead of a cop. She’d taken off her cop
belt and gun.

“I like your necklace,” I say.

She touches her necklace lightly.
“Thanks.”

The boat rocks gently after a gust of wind
passes. Water slaps the hull regularly like a clock. I see my Ma in
my head. She’s looking at me, ain’t sayin’ nothing, just looking. I
can’t picture her any other way even though I try. “I wish I knew
my Dad and Ma were in heaven. Like,
really
knew, like you
do.”

Hana shrugs. “Well, there’s a little
skepticism in me, unfortunately.”

Markus comes up the cabin ladder and sits on
the bench across from us. He’d heard us and answers, “Even
representatives of God feel doubt. Jesus cried and prayed all night
before He was crucified. And He was the Son of God.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” I pick up
the end of a rope and fiddle with it. “You know, the day before all
this happened I caught my dad fuckin’ with another chick in his
office. They forgot to lock the door.” Tears flood my eyes,
finally.

Hana tightens the wheel so it can’t turn by
itself and gives me a hug. She sits next to me. “I’m so sorry.”

“I was so mad at him that I didn’t care what
happened to him,” I say through snot and tears. I’m crying in front
of Hana again.

She returns to the wheel. “We have to believe
that there’s a place after death for us to go, a place where
everything is better.”

“So why even live on Earth?” I ask.

Markus smiles at me. “Earth is our chance to
feel a physical body. To feel things that our spirits don’t get to
feel, like pizza and snow. We also get to feel the bad things, like
death and hate. Opposing forces pull and push us through this
physical existence. We become more aware and enlightened and we
take that with us to the afterlife. We finally become whole.”
Markus can see the doubt on my face because he changes his tone.
“Scientifically speaking, there should be no reason there aren’t
multiple dimensions that carry our souls between worlds.”

“Like the Egyptians thought,” I say.

Markus chuckles and nods. “Kind of. See,
those thoughts you have in your head? They’re your body and your
soul working together to give you intelligence. When you die you
leave your body behind, and your soul passes from one dimension to
another, along with all the knowledge you’ve gained.”

“I’ve never quite heard a preacher say it
like that,” Hana says.

I shrug. Some old man can tell me how the
universe works? Na. “I just want to know. Really know. That way,
what I did won’t be — ” I catch myself.

Markus puts a solid hand on my shoulder, “We
all want that. If you need to know how to pray, you come talk to
me. I’ll teach you.” Markus goes below to get some sleep.

It’s just me and Hana again.

“Earlier, you said something about doing
something. What did you do?” Hana asks, looking into my eyes.

I sit near the front of the boat, hanging my
feet over the edge. Every now and again water splashes my feet.

I pet Kat lightly. I don’t have enough energy
to play with him. He doesn’t have much energy either. I feel guilty
for not giving him food. He must be starving.

Hana joins us and hangs her feet over the
edge. “You can tell me. The boat can drive itself for a while.
We’re going due south and won’t hit land for a long while.” She
picks a strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear.
My Ma used to do that. I used to get so mad when she tried to groom
me like I was a poodle. Now I’d give anything to be prepped by
her.

“What if Cuba is like the U.S.? Too many
puppets to land?” I ask, barely able to push air through my voice
box.

“Let’s cross that bridge when we get there,”
Hana insists.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” I think
I’m going to cry. “I need to tell you something. Just in case. I
need to tell someone.”

She rubs my back weakly. Her energy is drying
up too. “Go ahead, but I promise you, we’ll be fine.”

Ian startles me. He’d been off on the dark
side of the boat. Hana stands. I don’t have the energy to do
anything but stare.

“Shift is up. You guys can go to sleep.”

I hurry down to my bunk. Andy is on the top
one. He clicks his flashlight on and shines it on me. “Hey.” “Why
aren’t you sleeping with Rice?” I cringe at the brightness and duck
from its illumination. I lie on top of the sheets. It’s way too hot
to bundle up.

“She snores and takes the sheets. I’m old
enough to sleep by myself.” He plays with the light on the ceiling.
“Do you miss your mommy and daddy?” He says.

“Yeah. Go to sleep.” A moment later I add
with a sigh, “My parents were cool. I was lucky. Some of my
friend’s parents were freaking wankers. Did you have good parents?”
I ask.

“Uh huh. My mommy read me stories and made
the best cupcakes, and my daddy liked to swim with me. He was going
to teach me to dive when he and mommy got back from their ‘parents
only’ vacation.”

The sinking feeling comes over me. That
feeling has become so familiar it’s like an old friend. It swarms
over my thoughts and body and turns the darkness into a tight
space. I want to take back what I did. I imagine that moment when I
stuck the USB in to the computer, but this time, at the last
moment, I change my mind. The world doesn’t end and I go home like
any normal day.