For Those In Peril (Book 1): For Those In Peril On The Sea (24 page)

Even with three boats and eight people, it took us several hours to locate the first of the drifters. It had been carried by the tide and was about a mile from where it had first been seen. Using the binoculars, I examined it from a distance. Unlike most drifters, this one wasn’t clinging to some flotsam or
jetsam. Instead it was being kept afloat by a bright orange life jacket. The buoyancy aid was worn and tattered, and the polystyrene floats were coming through in several places. The infected was small, no more than a child; a boy, maybe about five or six years old. His chin rested on the top of the life jacket, matted hair clinging to the side of his face. His head rolled slightly from side to side as each wave passed, lifting him up and dropping him down again, but other than that, he was still.

As we edged closer, I kept watching, but he remained motionless. Just as I was beginning to think he was dead, his head snapped upright and turned towards us. I saw his crazed eyes staring straight at me. As with most of the infected, when no prey was near, he’d been in a hibernation-like state. Yet unlike a hibernating animal, he’d sprung back to life as soon as he sensed we were there. I could see he was now trying to work out exactly where we were and how he could get at us. I watched as he thrashed at the water, whipping it into a frenzy as he tried to move in our direction. While the infected could run, it was clear they couldn’t swim, even when wearing something that would keep them afloat.

I picked up the rifle and dispatched the boy, then I thought about what I’d just done. I had quite calmly taken aim and shot a small child. While he might not have been human any more, he was still alive and he’d once been someone’s son. Yet I’d killed him without a second thought. This was how far I’d come, how far we’d
all
come, since the world had collapsed around us. It troubled me how much I’d been forced to change.

It was a further hour and a half before we got the other two. They had been adults rather than children but they too had been wearing life jackets. This was a new one on me and I pondered this unexpected turn of events. There was no way an infected could have worked out how to put one on, nor would it have seen any need to do so, so they must have been wearing them when they turned. I couldn’t believe they’d been in the water from the start as there was no sign they’d been nibbled and bitten by the many sea creatures that would have fed on flesh floating in water. It seemed more likely they’d been on a boat in Boat Harbour and, having been swept over the side in the recent hurricane, they’d been drifting around since then.

I wondered how many others like them were out there and considered the implications. Drifters were one of the biggest problems we faced, and in many ways they were the most difficult to deal with. They were an unpredictable but ever-present risk. If it were not for them, we’d be completely safe on our boats and we could relax most of the time. Instead, we had to be constantly on guard in case one suddenly appeared nearby. As this morning had shown, they could be difficult to spot, even when we already knew they were there, meaning they could easily be overlooked until it was too late. We also were limited in the ways we could deal with them and I dreaded the day when the bullets finally ran out and we couldn’t just shoot them from a distance.

The existence of drifters also had implications for our long-term survival. While I objected to most of David’s plans, I had to admit that deep down I, too, hoped that one day we’d be able to return to some kind of life on the shore. I think we all did.

Clearing islands would, undoubtedly, be difficult, but maybe it wasn’t impossible. Maybe David was right and it could be done, especially if we chose an island that only had a few infected on it to start with and we took our time. But the real problem wasn’t clearing them off in the first place, it was keeping the island clear afterwards. It would only take one drifter to come ashore undetected in the night and we would all be finished.

No matter what we did, there would always be the risk of drifters. With hurricanes and tropical storms, and even the intense afternoon thunderstorms, new ones would be created all the time so that even if we could get rid of all that were out there at any given moment, there would always be more in the future. With all the islands in such close proximity within the Sea of Abaco and its relatively sheltered nature, infected could survive for weeks in their hibernation-like state, until they drifted ashore and realised we were there.

We wouldn’t be safe on the shore until all the islands that lay around us were free of infected. It was only then that the risk of drifters would lessen. While the infected would probably die off eventually, they seemed quite capable of surviving for the foreseeable future. This meant the only way we could be rid of them with any certainty, any time soon, would be to do it ourselves. Even if David was right and we could clear a small island — one with maybe a few tens of infected on it at the most — there was no way we could ever think of tackling something that might have a few hundred, let alone something the size of Great Abaco where there were thousands.

If we stayed in the Abacos, we’d need to give up any thoughts of going back to the land any time soon. Until this point, I’d only really thought about having to live on our boats for a year, maybe two or three at the most. I think, subconsciously, I’d figured something would have changed by then and somehow the threat from the infected would have receded, so we could use the land once more, or at least some of it. Now, I had to accept it might not be safe to do so for many years, possibly even decades.

I thought about what this meant for our little community. Even though we had the floating gardens set up, they weren’t really a permanent solution to our need for fresh fruit and vegetables. They would eventually rot and sink to the bottom of the harbour. And as David so often pointed out, our own boats wouldn’t last forever either. At some point, the engines would break and we wouldn’t be able to find replacement parts, the fuel would run out, the sails would split for the final time, the decks would crack, the hulls perish and because of the drifters, if the infected were still around when this happened, we’d never be able to find somewhere safe on land, not in the Abacos.

In other words, if we were still here when our boats finally gave out, we’d be doomed.

I pondered this for the rest of the morning and well into the afternoon. As I did so, I felt a realisation growing slowly inside of me that what I’d come to view as home could only ever be temporary; it couldn’t last forever. I was still thinking about it when Jon reminded me I’d promised him we’d take the rib out for a test run. Maybe this was why I didn’t realise straight away that something wasn’t quite right.

We left the Hope Town anchorage at six, Jon, Andrew and me. There were a couple of hours before sunset and that was more than enough time to give the rib a thorough workout. We wouldn’t be going far or for long so we didn’t take the rifle. I couldn’t foresee a need for it, but I grabbed one of the hand-held radios and clipped it to my belt just in case. After an hour, I was satisfied the engine was working fine so I told Andrew to turn the boat back towards Hope Town.

We were just east of Lubbers, a small island off the southern end of Elbow Cay, when I noticed Andrew kept having to increase the throttle to stay up on the plane. A few minutes later, the rib lurched unexpectedly and the hull started ploughing through the water rather than skimming across it. As it did so, a wave of water washed along the deckboards and across our feet.

‘Where the hell did that come from?’ Jon sounded confused. The rib was still moving slowly, but it was rapidly filling with water. I didn’t worry too much as the inflatable pontoons would stop us from sinking, but it was still a concern.

Andrew angled the rib towards Elbow Cay.

‘We’ll be okay. Just keep away from the shore.’ Andrew didn’t seem to hear to me so I tried again. ‘Andrew, keep away from the shore. Andrew, are you listening to me? Andrew?’

Finally he looked round. ‘If this thing goes down, I don’t want to end up in the water, not out here.’

‘Don’t worry. The pontoons will keep us afloat, just keep away from the shore.’ Jon was trying to reassure him when the deck suddenly disappeared from under us. Somehow the rigid hull had come away from the pontoons and, with no buoyancy of its own, it sank like a stone taking the engine with it. As I dropped into the water, I felt the radio slip from my belt. I lunged after it but it was too late and it sank from sight. I turned to the others. Jon was holding onto both Andrew and the pontoons. As I grabbed on, I felt them softening beneath my hands as the air leaked out. My first thought was that they’d ruptured when the hull separated, but I’d never heard of a rib undergoing quite such a catastrophic failure before. I didn’t have time to dwell on what had gone wrong. The priority was to work out what we were going to do. It was less than an hour till sunset and we no longer had a radio to call for help. By the time anyone realised something was wrong it would be starting to get dark and it would be too late to send out a search party. Andrew was beginning to panic and I had to admit I wasn’t far behind him.

‘We’re going to have to go ashore.’ Jon was the first to express the thought that was gradually dawning on all of us.

‘No, we’ll never make it.’ I was dead set against the idea.

‘Look.’ Jon nodded towards the shore. ‘We’re right across from the lighthouse. The peninsula’s only three or four hundred yards wide at this point. We rarely see any infected on this side of the anchorage. They’re mostly over on the other side, in Hope Town itself. If we move fast, we could make it across before sundown. I’m sure someone will spot us if we go out onto one of the docks and they can pick us up. And if not, we could always swim out to one of the boats in the anchorage.’

‘Apart from the swimming bit, I’m with Jon on this one. I’d rather take my chances on the land than spend the night floating in the water. At least on land you can see them coming and try to get away. A shark will just come up from below and the first thing you’ll know about it is when your legs disappear and you’re bleeding to death.’

Grudgingly, I had to admit it was the only real option we had. We had little chance of surviving the night in the water and we’d at least have a chance if we could get across the peninsula to the harbour. With the pontoons deflating around us, we kicked for the shore, getting there just as the last of the air seeped out.

‘Are you two sure about this?’ I
glanced at Jon and Andrew, and they both nodded. ‘Okay, let’s do it.’

We pulled ourselves onto the rocks and surveyed our surroundings. The bush started almost immediately and we could see a little more than
forty feet in any direction. Keeping low, we crept forward, alert to any sign of movement around us.

Suddenly there was a rustle in the undergrowth up ahead.

‘What’s that?’ Andrew whispered.

‘Just a mockingbird,’ I whispered back as a small brown bird darted into view.

‘Fucking birds!’ Andrew spat out.

If it hadn’t been for the situation we were in, I’d have laughed. Instead, we just kept creeping slowly towards the opposite shore.

Thirty minutes later and we were on the edge of the clearing around the lighthouse houses. As at Hole-in-the-Wall, there were two octagonal buildings for the keepers, a handful of outbuildings and the lighthouse itself. This was the first time we’d have to leave the low scrubby bush that covered most of the peninsula. We would have the advantage that we would finally be able to see a good distance around us and could move faster, but it also meant we could be seen more easily.

I scanned the open area around the buildings and saw the desiccated remains of someone, presumably one of the lighthouse keepers, lying on the ground just outside one of the houses.
The body was partially skeletonised where infected had picked and chewed at it. What flesh remained had dried taut across the bones, leaving a grotesque mummified corpse. Beyond, I could see the boats in the anchorage, our own and Jack’s included, and I could even make out people moving around on some of the decks. After five minutes, we’d seen no sign of movement between us and the water, and I took a deep breath.

‘Okay let’s get this over with. If we make for the dock in front of the lighthouse, we should be able to get someone’s attention.’

I looked at the others. They didn’t say anything but they knew it was time.

‘On the count of three, just run for it, but try not to make any noise.’

‘And there was me going to skip down to the dock while whistling “Dixie” as loud as I could.’ Jon’s tone was jocular and despite the seriousness of our situation, both Andrew and I stifled a giggle. Jon smiled back at us.

‘One, two … three.’

We sprinted across the open ground towards the dock, pausing when we reached the base of the lighthouse. The door was open and we didn’t know if there were any infected inside. Even if there were, we had no choice but to carry on. While it must only have taken seconds for us to cross the twenty yards between there and the dock, it seemed like hours. After so long on the water it felt so wrong to be this far from the sea, but we made it to the dock without incident. Looking back, I saw the door of the lighthouse sway in the wind but nothing emerged. As quietly as we could, we tried to attract someone’s attention, but no one seemed to notice and we had no choice but to make enough noise to be heard.

‘Hey!’ Jon’s shout echoed around the harbour and I saw a number of people look up, including Mike. He disa
ppeared inside and reappeared almost immediately with Jimmy, Jeff and CJ. They grasped the seriousness of the situation instantly and were in the runabout within moments. As they approached I saw their attention being drawn to our right. I turned and saw a small group of infected moving purposefully along the shoreline.