Brian Keene: Dead Sea

“Get away from it,” I warned them all. “Don’t let the blood come in contact with you.”

The GPS suddenly rang a shrill alarm, distracting all of us for a second.

“I see it,” the chief shouted. “The oil rig. I see it, on our port side!”

We all looked in the direction he was pointing. There was a black dot on the horizon.

“That?” Carol asked, squinting.

“Yes, indeed,” the chief said. “That’s the jack-up. Ladies and gentlemen, we made it.”

We cheered, staring in disbelief. Tasha ran over and hugged me. Carol began to weep with joy. Malik raised the shotgun over his head and laughed.

“Let’s go,” the chief yelled. “Hold on tight.”

Before we could even heed his warning, he turned the lifeboat in a wide arc, flinging us all to one side. We grasped the benches and the sides, trying to avoid slipping or falling into the dolphin gore. The boat whipped forward, racing across the surface, the front end shaking as it bounced up and down on the waves. The zombies fell farther and farther behind. A scarlet cloud spread out in our wake as they turned on the other creatures of the sea.

“We can make it,” the chief shouted over the engine’s roar.

I wondered who he was trying to reassure—us or himself. I waited breathlessly for something else to go wrong, for the engine to smoke or sputter, for us to run out of fuel or for another school of zombie sharks to suddenly emerge in front of us. But nothing happened. We rocketed across the ocean and the oil rig drew nearer. We could see it easily now—a big black barge with an oil drilling rig and living quarters attached to it. Its size was astonishing. Like a small town. As we drew closer, I noticed there was even a tanker truck and several forklifts parked on the platform. I remembered that either the chief or Turn had told us that a jack-up was actually a small operation. I wondered just how big a full-sized oil rig was.

“Usually,” the chief said, “the oil companies bring their personnel in either via helicopter or boat. There’s a landing pad on the platform and lower level docks at the water’s surface. I’ll pull alongside that. Lamar, you stand ready with that rifle while Carol and the kids disembark, just in case any of those things try a last minute attack.”

I nodded, and he continued, turning to the others “Once you three are safely on the dock, Lamar and I will hand the supplies to you. Then I’ll tie us off and we’ll be home free.”

Unless there are dead people onboard, I thought.

“How do we get up to the higher levels?” Carol asked. “It seems awfully high. I hope there aren’t any stairs. My legs are killing me, and I banged my knee when that dolphin jumped onboard.”

The chief gently rubbed his injured nose. “Don’t worry. There aren’t any stairs, at least not in that section. Not sure what they’ll have, though. Some rigs have elevators, and others use cranes to lift all their personnel up to the top in man baskets. But that’s not anything to be concerned about. If there are any crew members left onboard, and the rig doesn’t have elevators, we’ll ask them to haul us up in the basket.”

“And what if they refuse?”

“Then Lamar and I will shoot them.”

Carol looked shocked, but then the chief grinned. She smiled back at him.

I checked our pursuers, but they were gone from sight. There were signs of battles being fought below the surface all across the open water-splashes and plumes and red-tinted surf. But none of it was close enough to the lifeboat to cause me any immediate concern. I hoped the fish would continue fighting each other and ignore us long enough to get aboard the oil rig.

We drew closer. The massive jack-up loomed over us. We scanned the decks and catwalks, looking for signs of life, but all we saw were seabirds. They covered the rig, perched on every antenna, crane, building, and safety net. There were hundreds of them. At least now we knew where all the ones we’d seen earlier had come from. They must have flown back and forth from the mainland. And with all the offal now floating on the waves, they wouldn’t even have to make that trip.

The chief pulled alongside the lower level dock and shut off the engine. I stood guard with the rifle, watching the sea for signs of trouble while Carol, Malik, and Tasha climbed up onto the platform. The ocean remained clear, but the signs of the terrible battle beneath its surface increased. Huge clouds of blood now floated on the tide like pools of oil. Severed heads, tails, and organs rolled on the waves. A seagull darted down and gripped some fish entrails in its claws, but before it could take flight again, a large blue-and-green fish leaped from the water and seized the bird in its mouth. The bird squawked in alarm. Its wings beat at the water. Then it was pulled below. I turned back to comment to the others, but none of them had seen it happen.

Once Carol and the kids had safely disembarked from the lifeboat, the chief handed the supplies up to them. They set the containers and bags on the deck. Malik started to explore, but Carol warned him to stay close to the rest of us. Sulking, Malik complied. To distract him, the chief handed the shotgun to Malik, stock first, and Malik set that aside as well. Then the chief turned back to me.

“Are we still clear?”

I nodded. “So far, so good.”

“Okay. You go on up, and then I’ll tie us off.”

I eyed the drilling platform. “Is this thing stable? Seems like its just floating out here.”

“It is,” he said. “Basically, the oil company just floats it out to wherever they want to drill. But there are jacks that extend down to the ocean floor, raising it up and stabilizing it. Kind of like an anchor. So we’re not going anywhere.”

I passed my rifle to Carol, who took it hesitantly. It was obvious that the weapon made her nervous. Smiling, I clambered up onto the dock and took it back from her. Her posture and expression relaxed again. I stared up into the rigging. If the jack-up was occupied, nobody had come out to greet us. Maybe it was abandoned, or maybe they were dead.

In the lifeboat, the chief began whistling while he gathered up the ropes.

“Hey, Wade,” I whispered. “We still don’t know if this thing is deserted. Maybe we should try to be quiet.”

“You’re right,” he agreed, lowering his voice. “I’m sorry. Shouldn’t be whistling anyway, I guess. It hurts my nose. I’m just excited.”

He turned back to the ropes and hauled them over to the side, grunting with the effort. I turned my attention back to the jack-up. Malik and Tasha followed my gaze. Carol watched the chief.

None of us saw it in time.

Our only warning was when the creature surfaced. There was a rushing sound, like a blast of steam from the world’s biggest iron. We turned back to the ocean and the chief froze, the ropes hanging from his hands. The ocean’s surface rippled with a motion not caused by the pull of the tide. A huge black bulk surfaced from the depths, rocking both the lifeboat and the dock. The motion knocked the chief off his feet.

Water streamed down the creature’s sides as it rose higher. It was a whale—an undead whale. Horrible wounds covered its bulk, and the stench wafting off its hide was worse than anything I’d ever smelled. It was like every corpse in Baltimore had been bottled up and brought here. Gagging, I bent over and wretched. Carol did the same. The kids turned away, coughing. When I turned back, I caught a glimpse of one huge, soulless eye—bigger than a dinner plate and black as night. Then the lifeboat capsized, turning over completely and tipping the chief into the sea. A mouth the size of a car opened up beneath him, swallowing him whole. He didn’t even have time to scream. Carol screamed for him. Screamed for us all.