Burnt Sea: A Seabound Prequel (Seabound Chronicles Book 0) (21 page)

“Hey, don’t worry,”
Michael
said. “I won’t
follow you home. Maybe something not serious is just what we need.” He tapped
her on the nose and grinned.

 
“Yes,” Judith said,
pretending not to notice the way his thumb brushed her face when he dropped his
hand, the way his warmth lingered on her lips.

“We’ve had enough seriousness lately. Race you back to the dining
hall?”

“With your scraped side and my smashed foot, it’ll be a contest for the
ages. You’re on.”

Chapter 18—Contact

Simon

For three days the
Catalina
sailed west. Simon roamed the ship, checking on the progress of the
cleanup effort, monitoring the new rations stations, and making sure people
knew their duties. There was a sense of industry and purpose on the ship that
was even better than he had hoped. The melancholy and tension of previous days
began to subside.

It made Simon proud to see everyone working hard and following his
advice. It felt like when a recalcitrant student turned in a truly excellent research
paper. The closer they got to making landfall, the more sure he was that they
would be okay, even if they had to stay offshore for a little while before
disembarking.

Esther thrived. She kept getting underfoot in the engine room until
Reggie and the crew gave her tasks like sorting through bolts and oiling pumps.
She had the run of the ship by now, and she’d taken her young friend Neal and
some of the other children on tours of the lower reaches of the
Catalina
.

More and more debris floated on the water the closer they got to Asia.
They salvaged anything they could, even if they didn’t know how it could be
used yet. Metal. Plastic. Fabric. The items often came wrapped in seaweed, and
they saved this too, spreading it out on the deck, coaxing it to dry in the
occasional weak sunlight. Ana and her team invented new ways to prepare the
seaweed, adding it to their diminishing diet of nonperishable food items.

They stored the salvage in the shops around the plaza and sorted
through the remaining merchandise. They began working out a system so that everyone
would have the same number of outfits. Those who still had their luggage
donated their excess clothes, or at least some did. Simon was pretty sure
others were still holding back. The porters raided the hotel supply for
uniforms, towels, and sheets and distributed them evenly. Manny discovered a
windfall in the form of bowling shoes. Some people had boarded the ship with
nothing more than flip-flops. Soon the hard-toed orange and blue shoes could be
seen tramping about the deck on people of all ages.

Simon visited the bridge regularly, but there was little news. No one
had been able to connect to the Internet since the last storm. It was as if
Nora had taken their last hope of contact with her to the bottom of the sea.
They were cut off from the rest of the world.
Vinny
and Kim tried to find out more information on the radio, but so far they’d only
managed to reach a lone Japanese speaker and once heard a barrage of shouts in
a language no one recognized. They were alone.

To compensate for the lack of communication with the outside world,
people began gathering each night to mingle and chat. They told stories and
sang
a cappella
—everything
from campfire songs to sea
chanties
to Christmas
carols. Sometimes Michael would bring out the guitar and others would join him,
Reggie, and Willow Weathers in entertaining their fellow
Catalinans
.
The divisions between the passengers, runners, and crew became less distinct
the more people pitched in. When everyone was working and eating and sorting
through salvage, it was easier for them to forget how they had ended up at sea.

There were arguments, of course, but they were sent to the council
whenever possible. Simon tried hard to remain impartial. Decisions were put to
a
vote,
a practice he hoped would stave off politicking
and hard feelings. He considered how the council’s operations could be made
even fairer. Maybe serving on the council should become a rotating duty too.

The high morale and general industriousness lasted until they reached
the waters around the Philippines and saw the first bodies.

Judith

Judith
flipped over a clump of damp seaweed. Manny worked beside her, spreading the
dark, oily plants across the foredeck. Michael came over to them and dumped
another pile onto the deck from a laundry basket.

“How’s it looking?” he asked.

“It takes forever to dry,” Judith said.

“We are thinking it will need two more days,” Manny said. He scratched
at the scab that was peeling away from the cut above his eye. He might have a
scar.

“Let’s hope we’ll be back on land in two days,” Michael said. He knelt
beside Judith and began spreading out the new seaweed load.

“Yes, but like Simon says, people might not just hand us food right
away.” Judith moved on to the next pile, putting a hand on Michael’s shoulder
as she shifted around. Her rope burn was healing well. It itched more than hurt
now.

Michael’s sprained foot was taking longer to heal, but he claimed the
pain wasn’t too bad. He’d been working hard alongside the crew, very serious
about pulling his weight. He and Judith had spent a lot of time together over
the past few days. They tried to keep it light, but they were hanging out
pretty much whenever they weren’t working. He was sweet and kind and reassuring.
Even though this flirtation of theirs wasn’t supposed to be serious, he was
already the brightest spot in Judith’s life. She didn’t want to think about
what would happen when they reached land.

Michael grinned at her. “Maybe we can sell them some of our seaweed.
It’s so tasty.” He lifted a clump of the stuff toward her face.

“Yeah, delicious,” Judith said, avoiding his hands and ducking to poke
Michael in the stomach.

He tried to tickle her with his seaweed-covered hands.

That’s when they heard the scream. It was an ugly, earth-rending sound,
reminding her of those terrible moments in San Diego, of the fear and the ash.
The three of them leapt up and ran to the starboard lifeboat deck.

Bernadette, the lavender-haired woman Judith had first seen cooing over
the pregnant lady, was the one who had screamed. She leaned over the railing,
trembling like a scared puppy. Michael put an arm around her shoulders and
pulled her away from the edge. Judith and Manny exchanged glances and looked
down together.

The water below was a murky brown. Debris floated thick here: mattresses,
chairs, wooden street signs, plastic dishes,
even
canned food. A bloated body bobbed amongst the detritus. It was facedown, but
it was clearly a woman. The wind swirled, stirring up the aching, nauseating
scent of decay.

Further out to sea the water was thick with floating junk and rotting
corpses. It looked like an entire town had washed out to sea and then drifted
on a current straight into their path. Judith held her breath, wishing she
could keep holding it forever. People around the ship began to notice what was
going on. Some joined them at the railing to stare. Others fled for the safety
of the
Catalina
’s depths.

“Where’s all this coming from?” Judith asked. “We’re getting close to
the Phil— ”

She turned and saw Manny’s face. His dark skin looked gray, drained of
blood.
Of course.
They were entering the waters around
the Philippines. This was Manny’s home. She had endured the horror of seeing
California buried in ash. Now it was Manny’s turn.

He stayed very still. While the others moved around the ship,
discussing where the debris had come from in low voices, Manny simply stared,
face impassive. He must have gone into shock. Judith put her hand on his arm,
but he shook it off and stayed where he was.

Simon came onto the deck. He shook people out of their stupor with
quiet, measured words.

“I’m sorry, folks. Let’s take a few minutes of silence. I’m sorry,
folks.” He repeated the phrase like a mantra. “Let’s take a few minutes and
then see if we can make our way through. I’m sorry, folks.”

As he walked among them, the people turned to him like he was a
prophet. Some touched his arms as he passed, as if to draw strength from him.
He stayed calm. Judith couldn’t imagine how. They sailed further into the
flotilla of the dead. She tried to imitate his stance, his facial expression,
anything that would grant her some of his poise. She caught sight of Michael,
who had returned to the deck after depositing Bernadette inside. He, too,
looked at Simon as if he were an apparition.

“I’m sorry, folks. I don’t think we’ll find solace in these islands. We
need to make sure nothing gets caught on the ship. We don’t want to carry any
diseases with us. I’m sorry, folks, but we need to get to work.”

As if in a trance, the people followed Simon’s lead. They lowered the
lifeboats until they hung a few feet above the water so they could use billiard
cues, curtain rods, anything they could find to push the rotting, potentially
disease-ridden bodies away from the hull.

After some debate they decided to pull up any sealed food items: bags
of chips, canned vegetables, even packages of noodles. They risked bringing
disease aboard, but they were becoming desperate. They would run out of food
soon. Even if they managed to reach land, they had to get what they could from
these waters. There was no guarantee there would be any food left for them on
land.

When the groups had been down for long enough to fill their boats, they
hoisted them up and unloaded the salvage, piling it on a sectioned-off portion
of the deck to be examined and scrubbed clean with laundry detergent. Then they
dropped the lifeboats back down toward the water.

Judith joined the unloading crew, while Michael climbed into one of the
lifeboats. He and the others covered their mouths and noses with clothing
before they approached the putrid water. Michael met Judith’s eyes before
disappearing below the ship.

Manny didn’t join the crews in the lifeboats. He wasn’t the only
crew member
from the Philippines by far. Some cried, lying
prone on the decks. Some wept as they worked. But Manny just stared at the sea.

They worked in near silence. A few of Judith’s scabs opened, staining
her blouse in a pattern like bird tracks. Her hands grew sore from lifting the
slick items. They smelled like fish and death.

After an hour a new group of
Catalinans
,
organized by Simon, took over for the salvage crew. He instructed the first
workers to scrub themselves down with laundry detergent on deck, then go
inside, get some food, and try to find some peace. Judith tried to get Manny to
come with her, but he stayed exactly where he’d been since they first saw the
bodies.

Judith didn’t think she would ever eat again, but she picked up her
ration from the dining hall—bread made from some of their last remaining
flour—and brought it up to Manny. She offered him the bread, but he
didn’t react. He just stared at what had once been his home. Judith didn’t know
what else to do.

It grew colder. Judith tried to get Manny to come inside or even to sit
down, but he didn’t acknowledge her. So she stood beside him instead, joining
his silent vigil.

Simon

The
only coherent thing Simon felt was relief that he’d stopped Esther from going
outside.

When the first shouts filtered through the corridors, he’d told her to
gather Neal and the other children and see if they could figure out how to get
the projector in the cinema deep inside the ship to work. That would keep them
occupied for a while. He’d found Bernadette at the entrance to the deck looking
as frail as a baby bird and asked her to go down to watch over the children.

On the deck the cool night air carried death. Simon forced away all
feeling, clinging only to the relief that his daughter was protected from this.
There were too many things he couldn’t protect her from, but this was a sight
she didn’t need to carry to her grave.

Despair lurked among his people. They stared, rigid, at the bodies in
the water, or broke down in tears. They’d seen too much, had their hopes
shattered too many times. Simon couldn’t allow that despair to touch him too. So
he walked among them and voiced the sorrow he refused to feel.

“I’m sorry, folks. I’m sorry, folks. I’m sorry, folks.”

Then he made them get to work.

The process was both cathartic and traumatic. They had to move, act,
sweat
. They had to feel that they were doing something,
anything, in the face of a world that had spiraled so far out of their control.
He told them to gather everything that might have a shadow of a possibility of
being useful one day. Even if their fuel ran out and they never found land,
they could feel like they were preparing for something better.

Simon himself felt nothing.

When he saw the first child-sized body, he nearly lost the tenuous grip
he had on himself. So he followed his own advice and returned to the interior
of the ship to coordinate a new shift of workers. Figuring out who would need a
break and who was available was soothing. He made sure everyone scrubbed
their
clothes and hands thoroughly before going inside. They
couldn’t risk contaminating their little world. The work helped to consume his
attention, and eventually he was able to climb to the top deck and survey their
position with a clear head.

From a higher vantage point, he could see the hunched shapes of islands
sprinkled around them. At first he’d mistaken them for low-lying clouds. It was
getting darker, but there were no man-made lights. Where were the warm, humming
windows?
The coastal campfires?
Where were the people?
Could it be that whatever storm surge or tsunami had swept through the islands
had scoured them of all life?