The Boat (6 page)

“Mitch, this is Steve, what’s the trouble? Over.” Steve’s voice over the walkie-talkie was concerned but not panicked. Adam looked across to ThreeBees and spotted Steve standing on the deck, facing the shoreline.

“We’ve got about eighty corpses on our tail, over.”

“Just shag ass, then, Mitch. How far out are you? Over.”

“We’re not far, but that’s not the problem, over.”

“Well don’t get shy on me, Mitch, what’s the trouble? Over.”

There was a long space of static and then it smoothed out and the engine whine was back. “Uh, it’s Mohammed, Steve, he was, uh…the fucking things got him and…” Engine noise over the open line and then a choked off sob and then silence again as the line cut off. Around the railing of the
Flyboy
, people’s faces had gone white. They began to wander away. None of them seemed able to look at Adam.

Steve’s voice across the walkie: “What happened, Mitch? How bad is he? Over.”

An even longer silence and then the engine whine as the line opened back up. Mitch’s voice was calmer now, bled of emotion. “We had to, uh…we left him. We had to. We…”

The line cut off again. Adam stared at the walkie, open-mouthed and then his eyes lifted to the deck of ThreeBees. Steve had turned to face the
Flyboy
; he seemed to be looking right at Adam. His stance was either that of anger or shock.

Behind Adam, a woman began to scream.

~ ~ ~

The first thing Adam did when he got to work every day was to mark off the day on the calendar and today was no different. He put a black line through June 6
. He dropped his lunch into his bottom desk drawer and docked his laptop. Carl and Anita were already tapping away in the cubicles across from him, logging into the help desk queue.

Adam hated the queue; hated it. He hated being part of the help desk for a pharmaceutical company. He despised the other employees who didn’t understand their computers. At thirty-six, he felt he should have been in charge of the department. Even though he hated it.

But he never got a break. Everyone was always against him. He’d seen it time and time again how he was passed over. He’d complained about it to Carl and Anita (both in their early twenties) back when they were new to the department and they’d all gone to lunch together on a regular basis. But those two would just shrug it off and change the subject. Couple of losers.

Adam had stopped going to lunch with them. He didn’t acknowledge to himself that they had stopped
asking
him to lunch. People came and went pretty quickly from the help desk; maybe he’d have more luck with the next person who came to work here.

His current manager had actually started out in the cubicle right next to Adam and now he was his direct supervisor. Just goes to show you what an ass kisser can get away with.

He logged into the queue. Only fifteen complaints so far today.
Strangely light. Although, maybe people were already starting to take long weekends. It wasn’t unusual in the summer in a town so close to the shore. A hand descended on his shoulder.

“Got a minute?”

Adam turned. His supervisor, Toby, was smiling at him, but it was a tight, perfunctory smile. Adam nodded.

“Yeah, sure. What’s up?”

From the corner of his eye, he saw Carl and Anita glance his way. Were they snickering?

“Let’s go into my office, okay?”

“Uh…sure.”

Adam followed Toby to his ‘office’ as he called it…that was a laugh. It was just another cubicle, really. The only difference being it had four walls and a door. But the walls didn’t even go to the ceiling for fuck’s sake and they shook any time someone walked past. Some office.

“I’ll get right to it,” Toby said and then contradicted himself by spending five minutes sneezing and blowing his nose. “Man, this cold is kicking my ass. And it came on so fast! I wasn’t even sick yesterday, but today…bam! Probably got it from my daughter. Her class is a cesspool of germs and…”

Adam stared at Toby, expressionless.

“Well, but anyway…we got another complaint about the department,” Toby said and shuffled through sheets of paper on his desk. Adam didn’t say anything, just crossed his arms over his chest. Toby looked up. “About you, specifically, I’m afraid.”

“Look, if it was that dingbat in marketing, that Carrie or Cassie…” Adam said, but Toby shook his head. Adam tried again. “Teshay? In accounting? Because she was the one who…Alan? Accounts payable?”

Toby continued to shake his head, but had closed his eyes, a pained expression compressing his features. Adam closed his mouth with a snap.

He’d ended up with another warning in his file. Had to sign it and everything. Fuck. They wouldn’t leave him alone. But this is what happens when you’re (figuratively) the tallest man in the room, he told himself. It’s jealousy, pure raging jealousy that kept everyone after him, wanting to pull him down. Bastards.

At home that night, he called his mother and raged to her about how unfairly he was being treated at work. She listened, but Adam got the impression her mind was elsewhere. Well, everyone else was shitting on him, why not his own mom, too?

“Ma. Are you listening to me?” he said. “Ma?”

“Yes, I am dear but it’s just…” She paused and Adam listened as she blew her nose. Disgusting. “I’m worried about your father. He’s very sick with this flu and now it looks like I might be getting a bit of it, too.”

“Ugh, I hope I don’t get it. Did he get sick this past weekend? Cause I was over there on Friday and he was probably still catching on Friday. I wish you’d thought to warn me, Ma.”

“Well, but…he
wasn’t
sick on Friday and not Saturday or Sunday either. He woke up sick this morning and he’s gotten a lot worse just in this one day,” she said and then coughed. Adam thought about his supervisor, that asshat Toby, coughing and blowing his nose…he’d left around ten and never came back.

“Well, I guess there’s something going around. Get rest or whatever.” His mind wasn’t on it, though. He wanted to talk about the warning he’d received. Well, not about that specifically…he didn’t want to tell his mom about that part. He just wanted to express how he was
constantly
tagged at that place.

“I think I should change to another industry. Banking maybe, some kind of finance. This pharma shit is for the birds anyway.” He sighed, not hearing his mother sigh on the other end of the line. She never knew what to make of this angry chick she’d raised. “So, can I talk to Dad? If you’ve got nothing to add to this? I know, I know, it’s just my shit, right? But you could at least have an opinion.” Impatient rage was heating up his face. “Is Dad there?”

“Well, he is, but like I said, he’s in bed and…I really don’t think he should get up.”

Adam sighed again. “Okay, well, whatever. Take care, then. I hope
you
feel better. Don’t worry about
me
at all, okay? Don’t bother yourself.”

“Oh, Adam, dear…it’s not like that, of course I care, we both care about you but…”

“Whatever, Ma. I’m hanging up. I have more important things to do than chat with you all night about your problems.” His voice had gotten higher as he spoke, petulant and whining.

“See you on Friday?” she asked.

“Maybe, maybe not,” he said, clipped and cold. “We’ll have to wait and see. Goodbye.”

“All right, dear, goodbye then,” she said and the phone clicked off.

She’d hung up on him.

God, his mother was horrible. A horrible monster. So selfish! Sometimes Adam wished he could just take off, move across the country and have nothing more to do with anyone on the east coast. Just start over. A fresh start.

That night, he watched a wholly unbelievable pay-per-view romantic comedy and went to bed with a very sour stomach.

The next morning, he was awakened by pounding on his apartment door. His heart raced in his chest. He’d never even had a visitor here, save his parents…why would someone be pounding on the door?

“Please, let me in! I need your phone. Hello?” Pound, pound, pound. “Hey? I need your phone! Do you have a cell?”

Adam peeked through the peephole. It was a girl he vaguely recognized as having the apartment under his. She was crying and jittering in an impatient way. Probably a junkie, a meth-head, planning on robbing him.

“What is it?” he yelled. Her head snapped up at the sound of his voice.

“Thank god! Can I use your cell phone? I need an ambulance!” Her eyes were huge blue marbles, wet and frantic. She wasn’t very pretty.

Adam hesitated and then unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door. She started in but he blocked the doorway with his body. She pulled up sharply and shock crossed her features. It made him feel powerful. Plus, he didn’t want her to see his apartment. He knew the jokes people made about adults who collected action figures. His apartment was full of them.

“What’s this about?” he asked, his voice impatient. Chicks like this thought the world was their oyster. He knew her type. Well, he, for one, wasn’t going to jump through her hoops.

“It’s my son…he’s very sick and the landlines aren’t working. Can I use your phone? I only want to call an ambulance.” She shifted from foot to foot, more tears welling up in her eyes.

“Yeah, okay, I guess so.” He dug his phone out of this laptop bag that sat on a table by the door and handed it to her. He watched as she dialed and then stood, a shaking hand over her eyes. She was skinny, but older than he’d thought at first. She was probably close to his age. No ring–probably lived on child support and goofed off with her kid all day. Women had it made in the shade.

She flipped the phone closed. She stared at him, confused. “No answer? At 911? Is that…how is that possible?”

He sighed. “I’m sure you dialed it wrong. Here, let me.” He took the phone from her, shaking his head. He punched in the numbers. Obviously this chick was too stupid to work, she probably never had a job in her whole life. He shook his head again.

The phone continued to ring. No answer. He pulled it from his ear and checked the screen. 911, right there. He hadn’t misdialed.

He put the phone back to his ear, but the call had dropped.

He dialed again, but this time he only heard a series of clicks and then the call dropped.

“That’s weird,” he said. “Something must be wrong with the towers in this area causing a service disruption.”

Irritation flitted across her features and she lifted the phone in his hand to her face and then turned it to his. “Five bars. It’s not cell phone service that’s out; it’s 911 that’s out.”

His face colored with embarrassment.

She’d turned away and was trotting down the steps that would take her back to her apartment.

“Hey, genius,” he called after her. “Why don’t you just drive him if you’re so concerned?”

She’d stopped and stared back at him in disgusted astonishment. “I don’t have a
car
. We’ve been neighbors for five years, Adam. You’ve never noticed that I don’t have a car?” She shook her head and continued down the stairs.

He was taken aback by her use of his name. How had she known his name? And had they really been neighbors for five years?

He went to his kitchen to start the coffee. It was earlier than his norm, but he might as well stay up now.

A muffled scream came from below him. Then another.

Fear slipped around him, pulling his skin into gooseflesh. He flipped open his phone and began to dial 911 before he remembered.

The scream came again. Was she screaming his name?

He slipped on sneakers, tucked his phone into the waistband of his pajama pants and descended to her apartment. The door stood open three inches.

“Adam, help me! Please help! Can you hear me? Adam!” Her voice was a frantic sob.

She was somewhere in the back of the apartment, where the bedroom was. He went in, noting the swirl of blankets on the couch–is that where she sleeps?–feeling creepy and oddly ashamed.

“Uh, hello? I’m here.”

“Oh Adam, oh thank god,” she came down the short hallway, sobbing, a child bundled in blankets in her arms. He looked way too big to be carried. “Can you take us to the hospital? He’s not…he’s unconscious, I think, and…” She stumbled as she got closer to him, her arms giving way under the weight of her ten-year-old son. Adam stepped back and the boy nearly fell between them before she recovered herself, hefting him more solidly against her chest.

“Is he sick? I don’t want to touch him!”

“No, you won’t have to touch him. Just drive us. I’ll hold him…in the back…please just, please drive us to…” Her sobbing overcame her words. Mucous ran freely over her top lip. Adam felt his stomach turn.

“Fine, okay. He’s not gonna puke, though, right? I don’t want anyone puking in my car.”

~ ~ ~

The emergency room at the hospital was bedlam. Eighteen people waited in the line to sign in and the chairs were all full. People were lined up against the walls. Everyone seemed to be coughing. And vomiting. Nurses ran back and forth, handing out kidney shaped pans to the heaviest pukers, their faces tight with fatigue.

Adam was about to turn around and leave when his neighbor shoved the boy into his arms, her face a white mask of determination. “Hold him. I’m going to find someone to look at him
right now
. Just stay right here.” She spun away before he could even voice a protest.

The kid was heavy; dead weight heavy.

Adam searched for an empty chair but there were none. He shifted the kid and scanned the waiting room. It was like a crazy version of hell–all that vomit! He decided to wait outside. It wasn’t too hot or too cold and he’d be able to see inside to the waiting room when his neighbor came back. When this was all over, he was going to give her hell over making him wait like this. Some people needed to be reminded that the world didn’t revolve around them.

The doors whooshed open before him and the fresh air was all the sweeter for not having the tang of vomit in it. And it was so much quieter, he’d never realized how loud the sick were.

He put the kid down by the wall where he’d be out of the way of anyone coming by and then scanned the parking lot. There was an ambulance parked at the curb about sixty feet away. How come they were parked there and not out retrieving sick people? It was obvious now that something was spreading like crazy, some new epidemic.