Brian Keene - Dead Sea

A smile crossed his face. After a second, we both began to snicker, and then laugh. I bent over and clutched my stomach. I couldn’t remember ‘the last time I’d laughed that hard. It felt good, like a release.

“Walking toilets,” I gasped, straightening up again. “That’s good, Professor.”

“I always end my dissertations with a joke. That way I can tell if I’ve put people to sleep.”

The ladder clanged. We both turned, and saw Murphy walking toward us. He was stumbling in the darkness, his eyes not yet adjusted.

“Good evening, Mr. Murphy,” the professor called.

Murphy jumped, his hand flailing for the rail. He peered toward us, blinking.

“Who’s there? Professor Williams? Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me. Mr. Reed is here with me. He and I were just discussing mythology.”

Murphy crept closer. “Hey, Lamar.”

I nodded. “What’s up.”

Murphy stood beside us, his collar pulled up against the chill. Despite the summer heat, the ocean was cold at night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “It’s hot and I got the shakes. I’d kill for a drink right now.”

The professor nodded. “I think each of us have something we’d kill for at this point.”

I thought about the kids. Yeah, maybe I couldn’t kill for Turn, but I’d damn sure kill for them.

’A few of us have been talking,” Murphy said, his voice low. “We’re not so sure about the chief’s plan for this oil rig.”

“How come?” I asked. “Seems like as safe a spot as any.”

“Sure, if there are no zombies onboard. But what if there are? Then what? Do we really want a repeat of what happened the other day?”

The professor tapped his pipe on the handrail. The ashes drifted away. “So where would you suggest we go, Mr. Murphy?”

The big man shrugged. “My plan all along was to head for the wilderness. Go down into Virginia or West Virginia. Get high up into the mountains, where there is snow all year, and live there.”

I frowned. “I may be a city boy and all, but I don’t think there’s mountains in Virginia that have snow all year long.”

“And even if there were,” the professor added, “the zombies would find you there, too. The mountains are just as dangerous as the cities—perhaps even more. We have no idea how many members of the animal kingdom are now infected.”

Murphy rubbed his grizzled cheeks and sighed. He placed his shaking hands on the railing and sighed. I could tell that he was jonesing bad.

“I don’t think they would find us,” he said. “What are zombies? They’re just mobile corpses and nothing more. Cut off an arm or a leg, and they keep coming. They’re dead, but they can move and function and take a hell of a lot of damage. My theory is this—if I get to someplace where the temperature is below freezing, the zombies can’t move. Think about it for a second. They’re dead, so they have no body heat. There’s nothing to keep their bodies from freezing. If they tried to attack us there, they’d literally freeze in their tracks before they could ever reach us. That’s a lot more convenient than having to shoot them all in the head or setting them on fire.”

The professor looked thoughtful. “Well, biology and science aren’t my specialty, but I agree that makes sense. In theory, at least. If their blood and tissue freezes, then they would indeed become immobile. But you must consider something. Could we sail to such a location?”

“Basil had an idea,” Murphy said. “There are ski resorts in Pennsylvania and Virginia. We could pull into port and make for one of them.”

I shook my head. “That’s no good. First of all, we’d never make it there.”

“Why not?”

“A group this size? Come on, Murphy! Those things would slaughter us before we made it five miles. We’d have to find reliable transport, gas, more weapons, all that shit. But let’s say we did make it to a ski resort. What you gonna do then? Get the artificial snow machine running? Maybe. But that ain’t gonna chill the air—it’s only making snow. Snow won’t freeze them. You need to control the temperature for that. Sure, it would make a good winter hideout, but as soon as spring came, we’d be on the run again.”

Murphy muttered under his breath.

“What?” I asked.

“I said, I guess we didn’t think of that.”

“Your idea does have merit,” the professor said. “But we’d have to travel to a region where the temperatures remain below freezing all year round—Antarctica, for example. Such an environment would be hostile to the living as well.”

Murphy grunted. “Look around next time we go ashore, Prof. The whole world’s pretty fucking hostile.”

“Yes, it is. That’s why I support the chief’s decision. If the undead are aboard the oil rig, it would be far easier to exterminate their limited numbers than to do battle with an entire mainland population.”

Murphy still didn’t seem convinced. “We’re on a ship. Don’t see why we can’t go to the North Pole or Antarctica, like you said.”

“We could,” the professor agreed. “But a trek of that magnitude would require a lot more fuel than we currently have. Fuel we can possibly find at our current destination.”

I stifled a yawn. I’ll give the professor one thing—interesting as the old man was, he’d definitely cured my insomnia.

“Guys,” I said, “I’m gonna hit the hay. It’s been a long day and I’m wiped out. Murphy, make me one promise, okay?”

“What’s that, Lamar?”

“That we stick together. All of us. If you guys don’t like the chief’s plan, let’s talk about it as a group. The last thing we need right now is a fucking mutiny.”

He half smiled, half nodded. “No worries, man. Get some sleep.”

“Good night, Lamar,” the professor said. “Give my regards to the warrior.”

“I’ll do that. Night.”

The ship rolled beneath my feet as we crested a swell. Hanging on to the handrail, I made my way through the darkness, back down the ladder, and then through the hatch and down the passageway. I was surprised to find Mitch standing outside our compartment.

“Where have you been?” he whispered. “I came back and the kids were in there by themselves.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Couldn’t sleep. Went topside to get some air. Are they okay?”

“Yeah, they’re fine. I was just a little worried, is all. You okay?”

I nodded. “Yeah, man, I’m fine. How about you?”

“Sure. I was playing cards with Cliff, Tony, Chuck, and Tran.”

“Tran can play cards?”

“Well of course he can play, Lamar. Just because he doesn’t speak English doesn’t mean he’s an idiot.”

“Point taken. So how was the game?”

“I left early. Tony’s in a pissy mood—he’s having really bad nicotine cravings. I did find out that we may have trouble with Basil and Murphy, though.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Apparently, they aren’t too happy with our current course. Want to second-guess the chief. Even talked about forcing him to change course, head back to land.”

“The professor and I ran into Murphy. He mentioned it, too, but I didn’t think he was serious. Figured he was just bullshitting, you know?”

Mitch pulled a small square of gum from his pocket and popped it in his mouth. “Nicotine gum,” he said with a wink. “But don’t tell Tony. I don’t have much left and I need it to last. Anyway, I got the impression that it was more Basil than Murphy. Basil’s the ringleader. The question is, how many people has he swung over to his side and how serious are they?”

We walked down the passageway and back out into the night, so that we wouldn’t wake the kids up, and so no one else would hear us while we talked.