Damariscove Read online

Damariscove

  By Jeremy Cook

  The Island

  The sun glistened off the sparkling water. The air was crystal clear, as the fog had just lifted off the coast, allowing the bright rays of the sun to shine down on the deep blue ocean water. The cool, crisp May air ruffled through the trees and grasses that lined the coastal islands. The sea salt permeated the cool morning air, giving off a clean, sharp scent. This was the kind of morning when Aran loved to be on the ocean. It was just cool enough not to sweat, but just enough warmth from the sun so that he didn't need to bundle up. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and he was headed for his favorite spot. Aran loved living on the coast of Maine and it was mornings like this that reminded him of why. He had always lived in Maine. He was born in Maine, grew up in the same house and, as far as he was concerned, he was going to die in Maine. The ocean was where he belonged and the Maine coast was the perfect place to for him be.

  As Aran slowly paddled his kayak past lobster pots and seagulls, he relished the thought of navigating the channel and heading into his perfect little cove. Every Saturday, he would load up his kayak with his notepad, a lunch and his phone and paddle out from his house to his favorite island. Aran was an avid writer and he found that the quiet and peace of the island gave him the best outlet for his stories. Sure, he wrote on other days and in other places, but he always felt his work on Damariscove was straight from his soul. The journey took him nearly two hours from his house in East Boothbay, but he didn't care. Once he was on the ocean, time had no meaning. Each paddle stroke was like music to his ears and each rumble of surf pounding on the rocks was symphony written and composed just for him. As he headed past Squirrel Island, he could see Damariscove sitting out in front of him, waiting to greet him as she did each weekend.

  Getting there was part of what he liked about his weekend excursion. The only way to get onto the island was through its one and only cove. The cove was accessible through a single channel that stretched into the open ocean like the neck to a bottle of vintage wine. Aran had navigated the waters countless times, so much so he felt as if he new every rock and every ripple of water. Round the large buoy and head straight down towards the inlet was the only trick, making sure to avoid the razor sharp rocks that lined either side on the channel, waiting to slice open anyone who ventured too far to either side. The only warning they gave is the white foam of breakwater when the tide was low enough.

  This morning was a particularly easy paddle as the weather had been calm for days, keeping the swells of the open waters subdued. Aran paddled down the channel, always looking at the breaking surf on either side serving as a warning against being careless. He liked to remember the time he and his friend Tuck took the SeaRay through the channel on a particularly rough morning. The swells were rolling the boat from side to side and on more than one occasion, the ocean would send the little craft dangerously close to the rocky edges. Tuck had been able to correct it each time, but it made for a harrowing experience. They ended up waiting on the island until it was nearly dark before the swells finally subsided and they could head back out the channel.

  But today the paddling was swift and light and before he knew it, Aran had passed the rocks and into the cove, leaving any trace of rough water behind. The cove was so sheltered from the wind and waves; it was calm even on some of the roughest of Maine days. To say that cove was small would be an understatement as there were two public moorings, and a small, wooden dock for dropping people off or tying up a dinghy. Most days there was at least a sailboat or two in the cove, but today only the caretakers little sailboat and Boston Whaler were tied up on the private moorings reserved for the families that took care of the island in the high season.

  The island was donated to the government of Maine many years ago, but the old coast guard station was still privately owned. The owners always invited caretaker families to spend some time on the island in the warm season and look after the old station. The family that had been taking care of the house for the past two summers were from a little ways down the coast. He looked forward to seeing them each Saturday and they would often invite him to breakfast if he came to the island in time. This morning was no different. As he headed for the small dock, he could see Mrs. Akers waving to him from the porch of the grey guard station. He waved back kindly and paddled the kayak to make a smooth and perfect approach to the dock. He tied up, grabbed his bag and hopped out the boat.

  Aran was a tall for his age standing about six feet with brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was a well-built kid for seventeen, with broad shoulders and thick, sturdy legs. He was the kind of kid who the football coaches always begged to play, but could never convince. On the whole he was happy with his life. His parents were easy-going, his home-life was stress free and calm and he lived on the ocean; his favorite place to be. He was not the most popular boy in school, but he was by no means an outcast, and was friends with people from all walks of school life. He liked not being part of a single group, but a bit of a loner who could mix and blend with most anyone. Even though he had many friends in school, Aran still preferred to be alone more often than most teenagers his age. His parents generally left him alone to his writing, although his mom often worried that he spent too much time on his own and not enough time playing and socializing with his friends like a typical teenager. But Aran was not a typical teenager and many people mistook him for much older that he really was, often not believing that he was just a junior in high school. He felt things deeply, but rarely showed his emotions on the outside, instead choosing to keep his feelings private with his writing as his outlet for the pent up thoughts and emotions he experienced.

  He spent his days with his pencil in hand and his writing notebooks in his lap, scrawling down story ideas, character traits and magnificent settings. His stories were incredible, although he rarely allowed anyone to read them. He guarded them like he guarded himself, never really trusting anyone and keeping his characters and plots that graced the vivid stories to himself.

  There had been one time he had shared one of his most prized and sweeping stories with a girl he liked in school only to have her take his story and turn it into the English teacher as her own. He never forgot the standing ovation she got after she read the story in front of the class and how he so wanted to shout out, to call her to the carpet for what she was; a thief. But he never did. He let it go and instead, closed his book of stories to anyone but himself. Not even his parents got to read his stories.

  It was during this time of closing off his writing that he discovered his affection for the island. After his trust was betrayed and his story stolen and reused like a cheap tin can, he grabbed his backpack, pencil and notebook and headed out in his kayak. Paddling longer and harder than he had ever paddled before in his life, he found himself on the south side of Damariscove Island, looking at the windswept grasses and rocky shoreline. Paddling down the channel he headed for the harbor and took solace in the quiet of the island and the solemnness of its character. The island itself was like a character in one of his stories. Vivid and lively with its own personality and presence, the island became a central figure in Aran’s life, a second home where he could leave the real world behind and play in his imagination. That fateful day was still cold and the guard station was closed up for the winter, leaving the island calm and deserted. He walked around until he found the perfect spot on the top of a knoll where he just sat and cried. He wasn’t even sure the exact reason he was crying, but regardless, his emotions came pouring out like a faucet, tears streaking down his cheeks and pattering on the bright white lined paper of his journal.

  It was that day he fell in love with the island and from then on, he returned each week no matter the weather or what was happening in his life to that v
ery knoll and spent the day writing and reflecting. His thoughts often wandering in a completely different place than his body.

  He pulled up the kayak up onto the wooden dock and stowed the paddles inside the small hull. He shouldered his backpack and headed for the guard station, hoping spend time with the Aker family before heading to his special spot for the day. The large grey building that once served as the coast guard station was a typical Maine coast building with the dominant part of the structure being a tall tower shaped like a lighthouse. The grey wood paneled siding and the white window shutters helped to block the glass from the pounding of the coastal weather that often ravaged the outer island. From the top of the tower you could see all across the island and down the channel towards the endless horizon of the open Atlantic. The coast guard once used the station to keep an eye on the rocky shores for ships that might run aground on the shallow and dangerous waters that surrounded the island. Since the station closed, it had been a private residence and many efforts had been made to turn it into a home where people could be comfortable and enjoy the beauty of its surroundings. As he rounded the house the porch came into view with the familiar faces of the Akers family eating at the wooden table that faced the harbor.

  He met the Aker family last year when they came to the island to take care of the home for the summer months. He always introduced himself to whoever the caretaker family was since he was such a frequent visitor to the island. Mrs. Akers had taken to Aran and often would walk with him around the island, talking about all sorts of things ranging from school to girls, basketball to writing. He was convinced she took such a liking to him because she had two older daughters and no sons.

  "Ready for some breakfast?" she called out to him as he came into view. "French toast and waffles."

  "I’d love some," he answered as he took off his bag and sat down at the long table that was set out on the porch.

  The Akers family were already sitting down drinking juice and waiting for the main course to arrive, enjoying the crisp, salt air. Mr. Akers was a short, thin man with a weathered face that told you he spent his life on the cold Atlantic waters. He was a lobsterman, boating around each day, pulling up traps and emptying their contents. In his older age he started to lessen his workload, taking off large chunks of time in the spring and fall to relax on the island. The work of a lobsterman was grueling and cold. They had to go out on the water regardless of the weather and in Maine, the weather could be brutal and bitter. He would often tell Aran stories of how his fingers would be so cold at the end of the day that they throbbed with a pain that was almost unexplainable. His two daughters were close to Aran's age, Liz being thirteen and Elle being sixteen. Although he liked them both, he had a bit of a crush on Elle. She was shorter than he was with long red hair that hung down her back and swayed two and fro as she walked. She was on of those athletic and sporty girls, which made her even more attractive to Aran. Nothing, however, could match the feeling he got when he looked at her face and into her eyes. In all his life he had never seen someone with such a kind and beautiful face and he often found himself lost in her beauty. Her soft, blue eyes were so warm and inviting he felt as if he could look upon them forever. There was no doubt about it, he was completely crazy about her and spent the whole winter thinking about how he was going to ask her out.

  The two of them had become quite close over the previous summer and he was so excited to discover that the family was returning for another summer in the house. Most of the time, a family would stay for a single year and then move on, but the Akers were good friends of the owners, so they came back for a second season. The girls attended a private school during the week and came to the island on the weekends, so Aran got to see them even though school was still in session. The fact that he could see Elle and enjoy the serenity of the island at the same time was something he felt very grateful for.

  Aran sat down at the table, dropped his bag on the ground and pulled out his notebook.

  "What are you working on?" Elle asked as Aran placed the book on the table.

  "I have a few things that I'm working on. None of them are really fleshed out though."

  Aran loved to talk to Elle. She was smart, funny and he loved to listen to her talk about school and anything else that was on her mind. She did seem a bit put off by the fact that Aran wouldn’t let her read his stories even though he explained that he still felt so unsure of sharing his ideas after what had happened in the past. He had been running the idea of letting her read his newly completed story through his mind for weeks and he finally felt it might be the right time to let her see it. If he was going to progress his relationship with her, he was going to have to show her that he trusted her and the first step would be to let her read his story.

  "I have one story that’s nearly complete," he said, trembling a bit as he spoke. "I’d really be honored if you would read it through and let me know what you think."

  As he spoke, he realized what the gesture really meant especially as Elle's face broke into a wide smile.

  "I’d love to read your story,” she said softly, “I thought you’d never ask."

  Aran smiled weakly. "I haven't shared my writing with anyone for a long time," he replied. "Not even my mom gets to read my work anymore."

  He chuckled a bit and took another bite, but Elle was silent. He knew this was the moment he’d been waiting for. This was the first step in a journey that would hopefully lead to something magical between the two of them. He reached into his bag, took out his blue notebook and handed it to her, brushing her hand as she took it. He felt a surge of feelings as her soft hand touched his. She took the book and placed her hand on the cover, running her fingers down the front and stroking the smooth cardboard binding.

  "This means a lot that you would let me read this," she confessed. "I have always wondered what you could be writing about with all with all those hours you spend up on the bluff."

  As if she knew what Aran was thinking, she placed the book on the table without opening it.

  "I’ll read that today," she whispered. "It’ll be nice to have something to read on our sail today."

  The Akers owned two boats that they moored in the harbor while they stayed on the island. The thirty-four foot sailboat was their pride and joy and they would always spend one weekend day out on the water, enjoying the beauty of the rocky coast. Aran had joined them several times in a sail around the neighboring islands and he loved being out on the water with Elle. The other boat was a twenty-foot Boston Whaler that they used mainly to get to town or to go out fishing or cruising.

  "Where are you sailing to today?" Aran casually asked as he finished his breakfast.

  "We’re going to sail around the point then head to town to do some shopping and have some lunch," Mr. Akers replied. "We haven't had a nice excursion into town this year, so we thought that today would be as good as any."

  Mr. Akers stood up and picked up his plate. "Besides, today is the first day that many of the stores will open for the summer season."

  They finished up their breakfast while chatting about the weather and the approaching summer holidays. Aran was happy to hear that the girls would be finished school and coming to the island full time in just a couple of weeks. This was going to be the summer where he officially asked Elle out on a date. He had been thinking about it all winter long, planning how he would ask and what he would say. He actually had a little notebook where he wrote down lines that he could use if he got stuck.

  When he first saw her earlier in the season, he was so afraid that she had found someone during the winter, making her unavailable. The constant thought of her with someone else had often made his winter days miserable and lonely. He spent the entire fall and winter cursing himself for not getting her phone number, or at least, her email address. He had no way to get in contact with her and it killed him to not see or hear from her for such a long time.

  It took him a few days of beating around the bush and asking rou
nd about questions to discover if she had found anyone over the school year. His stomach eased when she told him she was still unattached and that nothing happened over the winter except a few dates and a couple of dances. It made him nervous just thinking about asking her out, but as he looked at her sitting at the table, wind ruffling though her long hair, he knew that he had to muster the courage before someone else did.

  They finished breakfast and cleaned up the dishes and remaining clutter on the table. Aran was hoping that Elle would be able to take a walk with him, but the family was heading into town right after breakfast. He thanked Mrs. Akers for the food, said goodbye and started on his way across the island to his favorite spot. He was about half way down the path to the dock when he heard Elle calling out to him.

  "Aran, wait up a second." She came running down the grass to catch up.

  Aran turned around, his heart in his throat.

  "Do you want to come with us?" she asked, breathless as she caught up.

  Aran thought for a moment. He would love to go with Elle and spend time with her on the boat, but something was holding him back and he was still so nervous about what he wanted to say to her. He was also a bit reluctant because he disliked shopping and strolling and feared the day would be spent with Mr. Akers sitting on a bench waiting for the girls to browse through the town’s boutiques and shops.

  "Thanks, but maybe next time" he said softly, regretting the words even as they left his mouth.

  Elle seemed disappointed at hearing his answer and Aran could see it on her face. He hated the look she gave, but for some reason he just couldn’t bring himself to change his answer.

  "When you get back, come up to see me. I’d love to have some company out there; someone to talk to"

  Elle smiled and looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact and blushing at the same time. Aran knew that he might have just fixed any awkwardness he caused by not accepting her offer. He never asked anyone to join him on the bluff and he could tell that Elle knew it was a special moment, even though it went unspoken.

  "I’d love that," she replied softly, lifting her head and looking into his eyes. She then smiled and before he could even react she leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, her soft lips caressing his cold face. Aran blushed, clearly taken aback by her sudden act of intimacy and she just stood there smiling at him.

  Without thinking, he leaned in himself and kissed her back, but on the lips instead. It was magical and he could feel his blood pump and his heart race as their two lips locked together. He released the kiss slowly and looked back into her sparkling eyes. He could tell that she was caught off guard, but her smile and flushed face told him that she had enjoyed the moment. He was about to say something to her, but before he could form the words she quickly turned around and bounded back up the hill toward the house, leaving him in a frozen state.

  "I’ll come up as soon as I get back," she called back to him. "Wait for me, okay?"

  "I will. I promise," he called back.

  At the sound of his words, she sauntered up to the house, anxious to get the boat trip started.

  The Storm Hits

  The walk to the bluff took Aran about a half of an hour as he took his time strolling along thinking about Elle and their kiss. He could think of little else but her since the end of last summer and now his mind was truly racing after what had just happened between the two of them. So many questions were rolling around in his head now that he could barely keep himself from tripping and falling on the uneven ground. This morning had moved up his mental timetable for divulging to her his true feelings, making it obvious that he had to talk to her sooner rather than later. After he kissed her that morning, he couldn’t just leave it sitting out there like and elephant in the room.

  Originally he planned on waiting until June, or at least until he could spend more time with her to get a better idea of how she might be feeling about him, but today he got his answer. But now he had made the decision to tell her as soon as she came back to see him. His stomach felt weak and his heart pounded at the thought of how he was going to start the conversation. Over and over again, he played out the words in his mind as he slowly made his way across the island.

  When she kissed him on the cheek it was like time stood still and world around him came to a sudden halt, freezing the two of them in a single moment. All he could feel was the warmth of her kiss, the soft, moist touch of her lips against his own, connecting them together for the first time. He could hardly think of anything else but Elle as he trudged across the barren island.

  Damariscove, due to its location and brutal winter winds, was almost devoid of trees and tall vegetation. Only low shrubs and grasses could survive the harsh Atlantic’s wrath, beating upon the rocky bluff with brute force. Aran picked his way through the grasses and past the inland pond that sat in the center of the southern portion of the island, which, depending on the time of year was often stale and murky. Today, it was filled with fresh rainwater from the storms earlier in the week, giving it a strange, turquoise look to the surface.

  In order to get to his favorite spot, he had to cross a narrow spit of rocks that connected the two parts of the island together and some days, when the surf was rough and the tide was high, Aran was unable to cross, forcing him to stay on the south side of the island. But the tide was low and the sea was calm and gentle, so crossing was a simple matter of balancing on the sharp rocks. He stepped from rock to rock, being careful not to slip until he reached the far side of the neck and stepped out onto the northern part of the island. He enjoyed the trek out to the bluff, taking in the fresh salt air and smelling the familiar and wonderful scent of the sea. When he finally arrived at the top of the small hill that looked out over the mainland and the other neighboring islands, he put his book and pencil down and closed his eyes. The sounds of the surf and the smell of the sea air cleansed his brain and made his thoughts flow more freely.

  Today, however, his mind was aflutter with thoughts and feelings of Elle and he could already tell that it was going to be difficult to concentrate on his writing. He opened his eyes and looked across the water, taking in the beautiful views and trying to decide how to proceed despite his current mental state. The view was magnificent that day, with the crystal blue sky mingling with the dark blue bay waters, mixing together like a fine work of art. He could see the houses on Squirrel Island sitting on the rocky edge of the sea, facing the open ocean and providing the owners a fantastic vista. He could see Ram Island Lighthouse, sitting on it's own little rock, warning boats of the approaching shallows. Running in and our of the inlets and waterways between them, were dozens of powerboats and sailboats, filled with residents and tourist all trying to take advantage of the miraculous spring weather they were having.

  After a few moments of taking in the view, he opened his notebook and flipped forward to where he left off the last time he came up to the island. He wasn't quite sure whether he was going to continue with a previous story or begin a new one. He sat staring at the final sentence of his story, trying to pull up some source of inspiration to continue what he had started.

  After quite a long time of staring, he finally decided to put his old notebook away and take out a new one, opening its stiff cover and exposing the fresh, bright pages. He had always wanted to try to write a book of poems, but he never really had the inspiration, or the motive to begin one. Now, with his possible relationship with Elle, he wanted to try his hand at writing down feelings and imagery that could explain how he now felt inside.

  He grabbed his pencil and began to scribble down words furiously on the page with almost no sense of order or reason. He felt his pencil moving at a speed that he had never experienced before as the words flowed across the page like split milk, coming faster than his pencil could move, but yet still making sense to him as he wrote.

  Before he realized it, he had written a page of words with both meaning and beauty and they blended themselves together like a beautifully woven tapest
ry. He shook his hand and looked down at what he wrote, skimming the words and taking in the images that they conjured.

  Again he closed his eyes and imagined Elle. He imagined her standing on the bow of the sailboat, wind in her red hair, eyes closed and holding her arms out to her side in the cool sea breeze. She was an angel and he so desperately wanted to see her, to hold her tight in his arms, kiss her cheek and slide his hand into hers. He wanted to sit and talk for hours. His mind was fixated on her, making the image seem so real and wonderful, but it was the sound of his phone that knocked him out of his trance.

  He reached for his bag, unzipped the front pocket and grabbed for his phone, sliding back the lock button and answering the call. Nothing. There was no one on the other end; just dead silence met his ear. He shrugged his shoulders, put the phone down on top of his bag and glanced to the horizon. As he did something caught his eye, giving him reason to pause and focus his attention. He squinted against the bright golden sunlight in complete disbelief at what he was seeing.

  Several lines of black smoke were arching towards the sky, clearly visible on the horizon above the mainland and the town of Boothbay. Some of them were thin and wispy like plumes of smoke from a chimney, but others were thick and heavy as if several people had started brush fires all at once. Not only did the smoke draw his concern, but he swore that he could hear faint sounds of car horns, sirens and rumblings like distant thunderclaps coming from someplace out of his sight. He cupped his hand to his ear to listen, trying to discern the muffled sounds he was hearing, but the wind was gently blowing off the water, pushing the sounds away from the island and over the mainland. After a moment of trying, he gave up and returned looking at the smoke plumes that were increasing in both size and number all across the horizon.

  Again his phone rang, breaking the silence and startling him a bit. He picked it up and squinted in the light to try to see who it was. Although the sunlight made it hard to see, he could make out the words "mom calling."

  “Hey mom,” he answered

  "Aran? Aran?" his mom called from the other end, clear panic in her voice.

  "Mom, are you there? What do you need?” he said.

  "Oh thank God," she whispered. "You're okay"

  Aran was puzzled. Why wouldn’t be okay? He had come out to Damariscove for years now and she had never been worried before. Why today with the weather so calm and tranquil?

  "Mom, what's wrong?" he said, trying to stay calm himself.

  "Listen, Aran," she said quietly, "Are there any people on the island with you? Anyone?"

  Aran glanced back to the harbor to see if anyone had moored or docked up since he was last there with the Akers, but there were no sailboat masts in the harbor and he could see no visible signs of anyone else around.

  "I don’t think so. The Akers left for town a while back." He replied, “I can’t be positive though. Why does it matter?”

  "Good," she sighed, "Listen to me. You have to stay on the island. DO NOT come back here. I don't care what you hear or see, you have to stay there."

  "What’s going on Mom?" he said nervously "What’s happening? I see smoke over the mainland."

  The phone was silent for a moment, not a word from his mother until he realized that she was quietly crying on the other end of the line. In the memories of his childhood, he could remember only a handful of times that his mother cried and they were when something really terrible had happened.

  He remembered her crying at his grandfather’s funeral, sobbing into his father’s shoulder as they brought the casket down to rest for the viewing. He had died suddenly in the night, without any warning and she had taken that really hard. For the most part his mother was a strong and confident woman who always took change and acted in control, so hearing her crying on the other end of the phone, so meek and quiet gave him a horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach.

  "I love you Aran,” she whispered in a barely audible voice. “Please don't leave that island and don't tell anyone where you are. If anyone comes on the island, you hide. Okay."

  "Mom, what is happening?" he cried into the phone.

  The other end of the line was silent. There wasn’t a sound. The call had ended and he was left with nothing but questions; questions laced with sheer terror. He tried to call back, but the connection wouldn’t go through. Panicking, he tried over and over again with the same result. With tears streaming down his face he dropped to his knees, unable to grasp what was happening, his head swimming and his heart racing in his chest.

  Aran's face was pale and afraid, his mind churning with so many questions and no answers to satisfy them. He opened his phone app and re-dialed his mother one more time, just to make sure. This time the call connected and hope rose within his mind, but to his dismay the phone rang and rang with no answer. Frustrated, he tried his father's cell phone and got the same response. The fear was continuing to build inside him and his mind continued to race in circles trying to make sense of his mother’s cryptic and bizarre phone call. With each passing second, the fear and panic kept building, reaching near fever pitch. He tried to focus his mind and think clearly before he went completely out of control and lost rational function.

  He dialed 911, hoping that someone could at least go and check in on his mother, he didn’t care if he got in trouble, this was an emergency for him. The first attempt was unsuccessful, the call not connecting. He tried again and got the same result. He tried several times after that, with nothing but a lost connection. He opened his address book and started dialing numbers from his contact list, trying desperately to get a human voice that could help him explain what was happening, to make sense of it all.

  Down the list he went, dialing his friends and family, all with the same result, either no answer or no connection. When he reached his friend Tuck, he could barely keep his hands still enough to hit the call button, shaking with fear and anticipation. With each passing ring, his heart tightened as he fought the urge to scream into the ringing phone, scream for help that he wasn’t receiving. All he could hear was his mothers voice over and over in his head telling him to stay on the island and her nearly silent tears of fear coming through the receiver. As the phone continued to ring, trying to connect with Tuck, Aran was silently counting the rings to keep his mind from going completely haywire. Then just as he was about to give up hope, a click on the other end and the familiar voice of Tuck answered.

  "Tuck, Tuck," he yelled into the phone. "What the hell is happening?"

  He heard nothing for a second, nothing but dead silence on the other end and then Tuck's voice came across the line, but quiet and afraid.

  "Where are you?" he answered in a low, scared voice.

  "Forget where I am,” Aran blurted, “tell me what the hell is going on"

  "Please, just tell me where you are,” he whimpered, “I don't have time to explain.”

  Aran couldn’t think, he couldn’t even move and he remembered how his Mom had been so adamant about not telling anyone where he was. Did she mean anyone or just strangers? Tuck was one of his closest and oldest friends, how could he not tell him where he was? Whatever was happening out there, if his Mom believed the island was a safe place, then Tuck would be safe too and he just couldn’t see what could be bad about that.

  But there was something eating at his mind, tearing apart his thoughts and a deep feeling in his gut told him to just hang up and forget it. But how could he leave Tuck to whatever they were facing on the mainland? How could he just hang up the phone? In a moment of shear impulse he blurted into the phone, completely ignoring his mother’s last words of warning and telling Tuck where he was.

  "I'm over on Damariscove, up on the bluff at the end of the island," he said quickly before he changed his mind, "Now what the hell is going on?"

  "I'm gonna try and get over there,” Tuck said between great gasps of air. “I don't know if I can make it."

  Tuck’s voice trailed off and the phone disconnected, leaving Ara
n with nothing but a dead line for the second time. He tried to call back, but he couldn’t get a connection and as he tried more numbers, he found there was just no connection at all. How he wished he hadn't blown his data plan out of the water, causing his Mom to disconnect his internet service for a month. Without the Internet or phone he couldn't connect to the real world, which seemed to be experiencing some sort of crisis. The smoke was much heavier now, billowing from the shores like giant black curtains.

  He was alone on the island and it was clear that whatever was happening on the mainland was not happening out on Damariscove. He looked all around, his senses now prickled and on edge, looking for any signs of people on this island, for the danger his mom was worried about. Part of him felt relieved that he was safe from whatever was happening, but he had never felt so alone and isolated before. For the first time, he felt trapped on the island, like a rat in a cage and his urge to grab his kayak and paddle back to his house, burst though the back door and hug his mother was overpowering his rational thoughts. He wanted to leave and go to his family, he wanted to know what was happening to them, but instead he was alone and scared on the far end of a tiny island, wondering what terrors the people on the shore were going through.

  Aran quickly gathered his things, shoved them into his backpack and threw it over his shoulders, breaking into a flat run towards the house with so many images running through his head and so many questions spinning around in his mind. He needed to get to the house and get inside; he needed to get out of the open. He suddenly felt so vulnerable outside, so visible, and there was nothing out on the end of the island to give him cover, to hide him from the view of world. He was sure that the Aker's would have a television or internet that he could use to get some answers to what might have happened. There would surely be something on the local news or a story on web.

  He bounded down the grassy path, but as he neared the thin neck of rocks that connected the two parts of the island, he stopped short and his heart began to beat in his chest harder than he'd ever remembered.

  Out on the water, he saw a powerboat speeding toward the island at a great clip and from his vantage point he could tell it was a fairly large vessel. Aran stood fixated on the craft as it barreled toward the island, not slowing down or changing direction. His mother’s words were running through his mind over and over again and he could almost hear her panic.

  “If anyone comes to the island, run and hide. Don't tell anyone where you are.”

  If these people got on the island, what would he do? Where would he go? He focused back on the boat and as it approached. Aran suddenly realized that it was going way to fast to be stopping on the island. The boat sped toward the neck of the island without wavering or turning, like an arrow heading for its target, straight and true. Aran jumped down the large boulders and ran toward the edge of the rocks, waving his arms back and forth and shouting at the top of his lungs. He was determined to get the boat driver's attention before it was too late. What were they thinking? Did they not know that the neck of the island was nothing but razor sharp rocks covered in dark, slippery seaweed? Maybe they didn’t know the waters, but they had to have seen by now, they had to have seen that the neck was a solid wall.

  "Stop!" he screamed as the boat continued to hurl itself toward the rocks.

  The boat was clearly not stopping. Aran couldn't watch; hiding his eyes from what he knew was now inevitable. The boat, which showing no signs of slowing or any attempts to correct its course, slammed into the rocks on the neck of the island with a sickening crunch.

  The collision was catastrophic. The fiberglass hull shattered against the sharp rocks sending pieces of the boat into the air in every direction and launching the remaining part of the craft up into the neck. The motor roared as the stern rose out of the water, exposing the propellers to the air before smashing back down against the barnacles. The boat landed back down with another lurch and tilted to the side, sinking the shallow waters just below the line of rocks making up the narrow neck of the island.

  Aran dropped down to where the boat was quickly sinking in the freezing ocean waters. The climb down was not easy. The rocks were slippery and covered with seaweed making each step a challenge. The boat was nearly submerged by the time he managed to climb down to where it had crashed. He frantically looked around the wreckage for any signs of survivors, but he couldn't see anyone moving. Then, suddenly, he saw something that made scream and cover his mouth. He turned away from the boat, retching against the seaweed-covered rocks. What he saw was something that he could have only imagined, but there was no doubt, this was not his imagination, this was happening. The windshield of the cabin was smeared with red blood, nearly covering every square inch of the glass as the boat sat nearly submerged in the water. The very thought of the fate that these people must have suffered or what must have been going through their minds in the last seconds before the boat crashed made his stomach turn again. He felt dizzy and his head was screaming from the intense amount of stress he was dealing with. He sat down and stared, comatose, at the boat as the light surf lapped against its battered hull. Why had they not stopped? How could they have not seen the island right in front of them? He could only hope that it was just one person driving the boat, just one death in this horrible accident, but somehow he knew that there was more than more person trapped in that watery tomb, suffering a fate that he couldn’t bear to think of.

  Empty House, Empty World

  The shock of the boat crash was still fresh in Aran's mind as he made his way across the rocks and headed for the house. With each step he took, a new vision entered his mind and plagued his thoughts with terrible images of death. As the house came into view, he prayed he would see the Aker's unloading their boat with shopping bags and laughing as they walked up from the dock, erasing the memory of the phone call and the boat crash. He imagined seeing Elle running toward him over the green grass and jumping into his arms, hugging him and never letting go. He could hear the squeaky laughter of Liz as she caught sight of her sister in Aran's arms, knowing all along how Elle had felt for Aran. But as he got closer to the house, his dreams came crashing down as the reality of the moment set in. It was deadly silent and still on the island, like a graveyard after midnight. The Akers were nowhere to be seen and the harbor had an eerie calm about it, as if it knew what terrors existed on the mainland. Normally, Aran loved it when the harbor was still and quiet, but today the silence was foreboding and unnerving.

  He made his way up the path and headed for the house, hoping that the Aker's had left the door unlocked. The porch creaked as he walked toward the front door, breaking the silence and echoing against the stark walls. Thankfully the door was left unlocked and he walked into the open living room and looked around. The room was decorated exactly as you would expect a Maine house to be decorated. It had wooden furniture made in that old New England style, an inviting fireplace that sat at the far end of the room and he could make out the small kitchen off to the right. Typical Maine tourist trinkets adorned shelves and tabletops. The sailor in the yellow slicker, birds glued to driftwood and wooden lobster buoys of different colors and shapes adorned the darkened room.

  “Mr. Akers? Elle?” he called out.

  He shook his head as he spoke the words, knowing that the house was as empty as the island and that the only response he would get was the slow “tick tock” of the large banjo clock on the mantle. He reached into his pocket, took out his phone and flicked it open. He opened his settings menu and looked for a wireless signal. He moved from room to room, but there was nothing coming up on his phone, no signs that the house had any sort of router transmitting a signal. Aran shoved the phone back in his pocket and went searching for a television. He was sure that there had to be one somewhere in the house. He frantically looked in every room, opening cabinets and closets, but he found nothing at all. Did the Aker’s really live here with no TV and no internet?

  He wandered into the kitchen to think things out
and possibly find something that he could eat. He needed to find out out what was happening, but he had no way to access the outside world other than getting in his kayak and paddling back to his house. As Aran fumbled though the cabinets in the kitchen, looking for something to snack on, he came across a CB marine radio stashed in drawer. He snatched it and took it back into the living room.

  When he plugged it in and switched it on, his ears were met with static and he slowly tuned the dial to find a channel with human voices. As he switched into the hundreds, he came across a channel with garbled chatter, some barely audible voices speaking back and forth. His heart raced as he tried to discern what they were saying.

  After what seemed like ages, Aran flopped back onto the sofa, exasperated. He had been through all the channels several times and was met either with static or voices so muffled that he could not make out any words. It was like trying to listen to someone talk underwater. He went back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator to get something to drink. He grabbed a soda and closed the door, but just as he was about to walk away he caught a glimpse of a note on the door of the refrigerator, stuck on with a lobster magnet. It was a short list of marine channels for the Boothbay harbor region, scribbled in barely legible handwriting. He pulled the note off and ran back into the living room. He switched the dial to 162.400, which was listed at the marine emergency station for the area. As soon as he dialed in the channel, the static disappeared and he was met with silence, something unexpected for an emergency band. He ran his hands though his hair and covered his eyes.

  “Why?” he whispered. “Why is this happening?”

  It was the sudden buzzing sound that brought Aran out of his thoughts and into reality as the familiar sound of Emergency Broadcast System was playing through the marine CB. He bolted upright and leaned in close to make sure he could hear every word. When the buzzer ended, a crackled message began to play. The man who spoke sounded robotic and unemotional.

  “This is a national emergency. There has been an outbreak of an unknown, deadly airborne virus across the contiguous United States. The source of the virus is unknown. Outbreaks have been recorded across all regions of the country. All citizens are being advised to remain in their homes. There have been reports of widespread destruction in many major metropolitan areas. If you come into contact with an infected person, you must make any and all attempts to vacate the area. There have been reports of victims attacking healthy persons. At the current time, hospitals and clinics are overrun and unable to assist, so please remain in your homes. The symptoms of the virus include, rapid heart rate, hallucinations, severe headache, vomiting and death. Initial reports indicate victims die from the virus within an hour of contraction. If you feel the onset of these symptoms, please do not leave your home and potentially infect others. Please stay tuned for more information.”

  The CB went quiet after the message ended, leaving Aran sitting alone with nothing but the echo of the man’s emotionless voice rattling around in his head. Since the moment he spoke with his mother, all Aran wanted to know was information about what could be happening. But now all he wanted to do was go back to being in the dark. The idea that a deadly virus was sweeping across the country wasn’t something that Aran was prepared to think about, let alone deal with. This message gave so little information and left even more unanswered questions that Aran felt he would have been better off not knowing anything.

  His mind instantly snapped back to his mother. Had she gotten the virus? Was she speaking to him as she was dying? Where was his father? The thoughts that began to plague his mind were terrible and he paced around the room trying to fight off the panic that was welling up inside his body.

  After what seemed like hours, he felt he had been trapped in the house for too long. He burst through the front door and into the fading afternoon light. He hadn’t realized how much time had passed. It was already almost six and he knew that he had just an hour or so of light before he would be plunged into darkness. He glanced around to see if anyone had come into the harbor or if there was any signs of movement, but he saw the same still scene as he saw hours earlier.

  He raced back into the house and began to turn on the lights running to each room in haste. The very idea of being alone on this island, with the country in utter chaos and in the complete darkness, scared him to death. As he flicked the switch to a small den, he saw a beautiful pair of binoculars sitting on a side table under the window. He snatched them up and headed back out to the living room. He found the door to the tower and climbed the spiral staircase to the very top, ducking his head against the low, cement ceiling. The top of the tower had several, small square windows that allowed for a somewhat panoramic view of the island. Panting from running up the stairs, Aran held the binoculars up to his eyes and glanced out the first of the windows, adjusting the binoculars to fix the blurry scene. He wasn’t even sure what he was looking for or what he was hoping to see, but he felt that he was, at least, doing something.

  Even though the view through each window showed nothing, Aran’s nerves were shot and his mind was ripped open, allowing all sorts of radical thoughts to push through. He was moving now on pure adrenaline, barely able to breathe or concentrate more than a few seconds. With each breath he took, he imagined he was contracting the virus that was floating through the air.

  When he finally determined that he was still alone on the island and that no boats were heading his way, he made his way back down the stairs and into the living room. He sat for a moment on the couch before realizing how hungry he really was. He hadn’t actually eaten anything since the tiny bowl of cereal he ate before rushing out the door that morning.

  He got up and made his way back to the kitchen and pulled out some bread and peanut butter, making himself a sandwich. He stood in the small kitchen, eating his sandwich and wondering what he was going to do next, where he was supposed to go. His mom had told him never to leave, but was he supposed to stay on the island forever? How would he survive without supplies and food? How could he live here forever on his own with no one else, no one to keep him company? He felt a wrenching in his gut and fought back the instinct to throw up the food he just put in his stomach. He gripped the sink and looked out the window, staring into the cool grey evening. The world seemed so different now, yet nothing had changed on the island. The birds still flew overhead and the sea still crashed against the rocks, but the world beyond had changed and left Aran alone in the process. He tried to look at the positives of his situation, tried to think of the horrors and pain that so many people must be experiencing and how he has been shielded by it, protected by the island he had grown to love. He tried to remind himself that he was in his favorite place in the whole world and that he would be okay there. But no matter how hard he tried; his mind kept going back to his mom crying on the phone and telling him to stay on the island.

  The sun finally set and the last rays of light were disappearing quickly from the sky, leaving muted shadows across the barren island. The island was dipping into darkness and Aran made sure that all the windows and doors were closed. All the downstairs windows had latches on them, which made him feel much better. He knew that it would be hard to get to him out on the island in the middle of the night, but he still wanted the comfort of knowing that it wouldn’t be easy to climb right in. He sat on the couch and stared at the blank walls around him and for the first time since he entered the house, his mind wandered to Elle.

  The Aker’s had left just a hour or so before his mother called and now he began to wonder what had happened to them in all this mess. Was Elle okay? Were they safe from all the madness of the mainland, floating aimlessly on the open sea? He closed his eyes and tried to focus his mind on Elle. Unlike before, the thought of Elle now caused a sharp pain in his gut as he agonized over what her fate might be. What he would give to be holding her tight, stroking her hair and listening to her sweet voice. The world had turned on a dime and an instant Aran had gone from complete a d
ream to an utter nightmare, skipping the steps in-between. He felt angry and frustrated at how things had unfolded. How could he be given such an amazing gift like Elle, only to have it taken away in an instant, before he could even enjoy the gift he’d been given. If only she hadn’t kissed him, maybe he wouldn’t feel such heartache, such longing, but she had given him hope and now that hope was fading fast.

  He pulled his knees tightly to his chest to try to fight away the tears, but try as he could, he couldn’t fight any longer. Aran cried like he’d never cried before, great sobs wracking his body, shaking his soul to the core. He cried for his mother and father and for his friends. He cried for Elle and the love he felt he was robbed of, the bliss that he could have experienced had this whole thing not happened.

  As the tears streamed down his face, he tried to wrestle with the idea of living on the island all by himself for the rest of his life, but it seemed so impossible to fathom. It amazed him that just a day ago, he would have given anything to be all alone on this island without the annoyances of other people, but now, however, he would give just about anything to have other people around him to help shoulder this burden. The wind outside was picking up and with each gust, Aran felt a shudder roll down his spine, the weather a reminder of how cold the world had gotten. Suddenly the CB burst with sound and a man’s voice calling clear as a bell.

  “Will the person on Damariscove please answer if you can hear me!”

  A Voice in the Dark

  Aran almost fell over backward off the couch. Had he heard the voice right? Was he imagining things? But just as he was about to dismiss the voice as a figment of his imagination, the CB blared with the man’s voice loud and clear.

  “Please,” he said sharply, “will the person on Damariscove please answer if you can hear me.”

  Aran wasn’t sure what do. This could be someone who needs help or it could be someone who wants to come and take what he has. His mom had told him not to tell anyone where he was, but he felt he had to answer the call; something inside made him believe that it was the only thing to do. He had to make contact with someone who might be able to help him, or explain what was going on.

  “I’m here,” Aran said

  “Listen,” the man replied, “you need to shut off your lights right now. Go and do it. Please!.”

  Aran felt a surge of fear pulsing through him that rooted him to the seat.

  “Why,” he stammered, “Why would I do that?”

  “Because you are lit up like a beacon. You don’t want anyone knowing you’re out there. Trust me. Do it now.”

  Even though Aran was hesitant, he somehow knew that the man was right. If hundreds of people had died during the daylight hours, then most people would not have had their lights on when the sun went down. With darkness like that, you would be able to see the guardhouse on the island from miles away, like a giant neon sign advertising that someone was alive and well. He sprang to his feet and ran to each room, switching off the lights he turned on earlier.

  He came back into the living room and switched off the last light, cloaking the house in complete darkness lit only by the faint glow on the CB display. He took out his phone and flicked on the screen, using it’s dull light to see the handset.

  “There,” he said “They’re all off.”

  “Good. You should be okay. No other boats ‘round here that I can see, so I doubt anyone saw you”

  “Who and where are you?” Aran asked, “How’d you find me on the CB?”

  “Name is Adam. I’m out on my boat about a mile off of the tip of Southport. I found you by calling on all the channels I could. I’ve been at it for over an hour now trying to get your attention”

  “Thanks,” he replied “My name is Aran.”

  “You don’t sound much older than twenty kid, how’d you get out there?”

  “I’m only seventeen and I came out here this morning to do some writing. I come here every weekend. I guess things went down and I was the only person on the island when it happened. The family that takes care of this house went into town this morning and never came back. My mom called and told me to stay out here, so I stayed.”

  “That was a good move kid. Do you have any idea what is going on? Do you know what’s actually happened?”

  Aran thought about the emergency message he had heard earlier.

  “I don’t know much, “ Aran said, “I heard an emergency broadcast message that said it was a virus that was killing people. That’s really all I know.”

  There was a long pause on the other end.

  “You don’t know the half of it kid,” he said, “you need to prepare yourself, you hear me?”

  Now Aran was afraid. The man’s voice sounded afraid and if there was something worse than a deadly virus outbreak and he couldn’t imagine what that could be.

  “What’s going on out there?” Aran asked.

  “Yeah, well the virus is only the beginning. People get the virus you see, and within an hour they die; just drop dead of the thing. Whatever that virus does to the body, it does it fast. But that’s not where it ends. After a time, those people come back.”

  “Come back?” Aran said, “You mean they don’t actually die?”

  The pause on the other end told Aran everything he needed to know. As teenagers, he and his friends had all gotten caught up in the apocalypse stories with zombies, nuclear weapons and that sort of thing. They all liked to talk about what they would do when the apocalypse came, what weapons they would use to kill the zombies and how they would survive by finding some amazing mansion of a dead rich guy. But this was reality and in reality, people didn’t die and come back as zombies, they died and rotted in the ground.

  “No kid, they’re dead, but they come back. They wake up and when they wake up they attack.”

  Aran couldn’t keep his sandwich in his stomach any longer. He bolted to the kitchen and threw up in the sink; his insides churning. He looked at himself in the dull reflection of the kitchen window and saw a boy that looked like he’d aged ten years in a single day. He shuffled back to the radio and sat down, trying to recompose himself.

  “So why aren’t we all dead then?” Aran asked as he spitted out chunks of crunchy peanuts.

  “I reckon that some people are immune to the airborne virus, like you and me. But from what I know, no one is immune to the blood-borne strain.”

  “Blood-borne?” he asked.

  “If you get bitten, you’re dead. End of story,” Adam replied. “The bite transfers the virus to your blood stream.”

  Aran’s mind was spinning and he couldn’t breathe. He kept waiting for the punch line, for the joke. This was all just too surreal and he felt as though he was on the verge of losing his mind completely.

  “How’d you get away?” Aran asked, trying to re-gain some control of his ever-spiraling mind.

  “I was out on the boat when it all went down. My family and I decided to take a cruise around the islands and make a day of it. We had been out a couple of hours when it started to happen.”

  “At least you have your family with you,” Aran replied.

  He was met with nothing but silence on the other end.

  “Are you still there?” he asked.

  “Barely kid. Barely.” Adam’s voice sounded on the edge of cracking.

  “Thing is,” he paused letting out a gut wrenching sigh, “my wife wasn’t immune to the virus like I was.”

  Aran felt like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. He couldn’t imagine what that must feel like; couldn’t imagine seeing a person you love, your family, die of such horrible circumstances.

  “I’m so sorry, I had no idea,” he said.

  Aran desperately trying to hold it together.

  “Yeah, I didn’t realize until it was too late. She attacked my boys first and I had to…”

  Adams voice trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

  “What did you do?” Aran replied.

  “I had to put all three
of them down.” Adam cried.

  The full picture was now complete in Aran’s mind and it overwhelmed him to the point where he broke down and wept on the couch. This man had to kill his own wife and children. He had to do it himself, with his own hands. Even though they were dead already, he still had to put them down and out of their misery. He couldn’t imagine having to do that. He couldn’t imagine how you could go on living knowing that you had to end the misery of your own family. How could anyone kill the people they love? How could life even allow that choice to be possible? The CB crackled again and Aran heard Adam’s voice.

  “Listen kid, you need to stay on that island as long as you can, you hear me?”

  “Okay,” Aran replied, barely able to control his tears.

  “You get yourself a weapon. Get a gun if you can, but you need something. You protect that island.”

  “Why don’t you come over here? We could help each other take care of this place,” Aran asked.

  He hoped that Adam would agree because he needed someone who knew what to do, someone who could take charge and tell him exactly what needed to be done. All his life he was waiting until he could be the one in charge; the adult who could make all the decisions. He wanted all the adults in his life to just leave him alone, to let him be. But now, more than ever, he wanted an adult to protect him, to help him and tell him that things were going to be okay. He didn’t want to have to go through this alone.

  “I’m sorry kid but I have got to try to find my daughter. She’s away at college in Boston and she’s all I have left. I’ve got to try.”

  Aran’s heart sank. He understood why Adam needed to go, but it didn’t make it any easier. Adam was the first person he had talked to since this nightmare had started and now he was leaving. He wanted to tell Adam the he would go with him, that he could help him find his daughter, but he knew that wasn’t the right thing to do. He needed to stay on the island and protect himself. He needed to survive.

  “I understand,” Aran replied. “I hope you find her, I really do.”

  “Me too kid. You take care of yourself out there, okay?”

  Aran’s eyes welled with tears again. He felt so sad that Adam was leaving and even though he had never met him, he felt some sort of a connection to him.

  “What do I do about supplies?” Aran asked quickly.

  “You need to see what you got out there first. See how long you can live on what’s in that place there. Remember you have thousands of lobster pots to pull from if you’re able to get out on the water. Just don’t try to go for supplies on the mainland until it is life or death, so stay away from any areas that had load of people. You may have one of the only safe places left, kid and you need to understand that. You have a chance and that’s more than most people right now.”

  “I will protect this place,“ Aran replied.

  “All the best to you kid. If I find my daughter I’ll get back here and I’ll take you up on your offer as long as you don’t mind two of us imposing.”

  “I hope you do come back,” Aran said through his tears, “I could use the company.”

  “One last thing kid,” Adam said, “If you run into anyone who looks at all injured, you take them out, understand. You can’t take any chances.”

  “I will.”

  “You take care of yourself kid, okay?”

  “Yeah, you too.”

  With that, the CB went silent and Adam’s voice no longer filled the living room with the comforting sound of human companionship. The only sounds Aran could hear were his own tears mixed with the rattling of the wind and pounding of the surf. It was going to be a long night and Aran knew that getting to sleep would be difficult with the images that were floating around in his head. He slowly walked upstairs, found the closest bedroom and put his phone down on the night table. He climbed into bed, closed his eyes and tried to get himself to sleep. The windows rattled and the wind made howling sounds as it whipped around the old guardhouse. The images of attacking corpses ripped through his conscious mind, but after a while he was able to drift off into an uncomfortable sleep.

  Devils Hand

  Despite the horrible dreams that plagued his night, Aran found that he was able to get a few hours sleep and woke up to the rising sun streaming into his small bedroom. He slowly got out of bed and walked over to the window, glancing across the harbor and out to the open sea. Somewhere out there, Adam and his boat were heading south toward Boston, making a desperate attempt to find his daughter. But if the disease had really struck the entire country, Boston would be a disaster zone. How could Adam ever think he was going to find his daughter in a big city full of those things, all trying to attack him?

  He looked back at the harbor and imagined Adams boat slowly motoring up the inlet toward the harbor and he could almost see his daughter standing on the bow, ready to cast the line through the mooring that lay in the center of the small cove. He imagined running down to them and helping them off the boat on onto the hard ground. But he knew deep down inside that he would never see or hear from Adam again nor would he ever meet his daughter.

  As he headed for the stairs he suddenly realized that he had been wearing the same clothes since he woke up yesterday morning and he was starting to stink. He rummaged though the dresser in the bedroom that he slept in the night before, but found nothing but sheets and some towels. He found the master bedroom where Mr. and Mrs. Akers slept and in the closets and dresser he found some clothes that fit. He and Mr. Akers did not share the same taste in clothes, but they were close in size at least. He also managed to find a drawer with plain white undershirts and underwear that worked as well, but the thought of wearing someone else’s underwear freaked him out. He put on the best pair of jeans he could find with his white shirt and the cleanest looking pair of underwear in the drawer, which was the best he could hope for in such desperate times.

  After his clothing excursion and a quick breakfast, he set out at his first task on the island; taking a needed inventory of what he had in the house and the surrounding grounds that he could use to survive. He wanted to gather everything from food to outdoor gear and assess what he had to work with and what he might need to find.

  He found a notepad in the kitchen and began to scribble down all the things he found in the house as he went from room to room, searching every inch for anything useful. The basement was stocked with quite a lot of food and supplies and Aran guessed that since the Akers had only been back on he island for a couple of weeks, their supplies hadn’t had a chance to run low yet. In a small, unlocked cabinet in the basement he found something that he had hoped he would come across, something that would help him feel safer. Sitting upright it its case was a riffle. Aran knew nothing about guns, but he figured he would have to learn fast. The riffle looked almost new, dark black in color and sported a scope and a long barrel. It was obvious that this gun was meant for hunting, especially at a distance and Aran wondered why Mr. Akers even had it out on this island since there were no animals except the occasional seagull. It also meant he could hit targets from a distance away, which made him feel much better. Beside the gun were several unopened boxes of ammunition and after his discovery, he felt a bit better and began the arduous task of bringing everything he deemed of value into the living room to sort through.

  It wasn’t until afternoon that he finally finished with what he had set out to do and he had quite a bit of supplies and food that would certainly help him live in the house without having to venture to the mainland anytime soon. With Adam’s suggestion of going out in the boat and pulling lobster traps; he felt he could last several weeks with what he had and possibly even longer.

  Both a generator and solar panels powered the electricity for the house in case the main power was shut off from the mainland. From what Aran could tell, the main power was still on and running but he had no idea if the backup worked or how to turn it on. He knew that he would have to figure out how to turn the power over to the panels and the generato
r because the electricity from the mainland would surly fail in the coming weeks.

  In the storage room next to the old boat ramp he found a few barrels of marine fuel plus plenty of fishing gear and outdoor equipment. He also had the luxury of finding the keys to the Aker’s twenty-foot Boston Whaler that was bobbing up and down in the little harbor. The main thing he worried about was the supply of fresh water because he had no idea if the house’s water was pumped from the mainland or whether it had it’s own well.

  Most people who lived on islands or right on the coast had either city water pumped in or wells that pumped partial salt water into the house. Aran was afraid that if the house was only on city water that he would lose that luxury when the pumps on the mainland finally lost power and stopped. He did find about sixty large bottles of water in the basement in case that day arrived sooner rather than later and even though the ocean water was cold, he could always use it to clean himself if he needed.

  With the supplies organized and put either in the kitchen or the living room he decided to take a walk around the island and clear his thoughts. Now that he completed what he set out to do, he could feel the terrible thoughts and images creeping back into his head. He was hoping that a walk around the island would help keep those thoughts at bay. He also decided he was going to bring the riffle and try to take a few shots to see how it felt. He slung it over his shoulder and headed out in the afternoon sun, a sense of determination in his stride. Nothing had changed since he last walked over the barren landscape just a day ago, but everything in the world had certainly changed, including himself.

  He walked along the coast of the island, as near to the rocky shore as he could get, watching the sea crash against the jagged, seaweed covered rocks that jutted out of the water. He constantly scanned the water, looking for other boats or signs of life. The smoke was still billowing from the mainland, but instead of single trails of black smoke, it was just a solid wall of smoky haze. He tried not to think about everything that must have happened once people started to die and then come back or about parents turning on their own children, husbands attacking their wives and friends destroying each other in the blink of an eye.

  At times, he felt so ashamed that he was safe and shielded from the horror that they faced, but he also felt grateful at the same time that he didn’t have to see or experience any of it. He had been spared the terror of what those long hours must have been like. He didn’t have to see it. He may be one of the only people still alive and certainly one of the only people that saw nothing of what happened when the virus struck.

  His scan of the ocean had produced nothing so far as there wasn’t a single boat to be seen in any direction. He’d half hoped to see someone on the water, some sign that life might go on after this mess, but all he saw were seagulls and whitecaps as he looked across the water at the smaller islands to the north. He had been so focused on scanning the water; he hadn’t realized that he had already made it to the neck of the island and up ahead in the water he could still see the submerged outline of the boat that had crashed there the day before. Just yesterday he couldn’t fathom how the driver had just plowed into the rocks like that, but after what he had learned from Adam, he wondered what might have happened on that boat before its terrible demise. He looked back over the sunken shell and decided he needed to see for himself.

  His heart was pounding as he climbed back down the rocks to the wreck, which had sunken a bit further since the day before. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting to see, but he felt he needed to at least take a look. The day before he had stayed quite a bit away from the wrecked boat, but this time he edged as close as he could on the rocks. Looking down through the water he could clearly make out the windshield of the boat now sitting about two feet below the surface of the water. The glass was still covered in red blood, just as it was when he left it the day before, the water only diluting the mess that was splattered on the inside. The boat had now completely filled up with water and some of the blood was washing away from the glass. Aran looked around him and grabbed a stick that was floating amongst some shallow rocks.

  Taking the stick in his hand he jabbed at the windshield of the boat through the water, thumping it against the pane. He still wasn’t sure what poking at the boat would accomplish, but he kept doing anyway as if enticing something to come out. After a few more stabs, Aran gave up and tossed the stick as hard as he could in the ocean, watching it float on the water until he could no longer see it past the waves. He was just about turn to leave when something moving in the boat caught his eye. He looked again at the windshield and saw nothing at first but just to make sure, he leaned in as close as he could. Out of the gloom of the water a hand slammed against the inside of the boats window, smearing the blood back and forth like a windshield wiper, struggling to get out. Aran was so startled that he lost his balance and fell headfirst into the cold Maine water.

  The instant he hit the water, he was scrambling and in a full panic. He was acutely aware how close he was to the boat and whatever was banging on the inside. He screamed and struggled in the cold water, trying to find a rock to grab that would help get out and away from the boat. In his mind he could feel the hand grabbing his shoe and pulling him toward the watery grave of the crashed speedboat. He could almost feel sharp teeth biting into his shoes, puncturing his flesh and turning him into the same monster that was attacking him.

  He snatched hold of a rock and pulled himself up and out of the water, his breath so heavy it caused his vision to blur. His pulse was racing and he coughed and sputtered on the salt water that forced its way into his mouth. Added to the utter fear of seeing the hand and falling in was the icy cold water that now soaked his clothes and began to freeze his skin. He knew he had to get back to the guardhouse and change before hypothermia set in. The Maine water was cold, even during the warm summer months, but early the early May sun wasn’t strong enough to heat the water back up from the icy depths of the winter.

  With his heart pounding, he gazed down again at the window of the boat and sure enough the hand was still pushing and sliding back and forth across the inside of the window, smearing the blood around like a deranged finger painting. It was too dark to tell what condition the hand or arm was in, but Aran knew that no one could have survived being underwater for that long and certainly not in that cold. He jumped up the rocks as quick as he could, making sure not to slip and fall back down again. He sprinted across the island towards the house, tripping numerous times, but still keeping his balance. He felt like he was being chased, like the corpse from inside the boat had gotten loose and was lumbering after him, relentlessly hunting him down. He bolted up the steps, burst into the living room and ran for the stairs. He half expected to see people in there and he almost yelled out what he had just seen, but just like yesterday, the house was empty and solemn.

  He tore off the wet clothes and grabbed some new ones from the pile he had made of somewhat acceptable clothes from Mr. Aker’s wardrobe. He slipped into some dry cargo pants and a wool sweater that had seen better days. He flopped down on the bed, shivering from both the cold and sheer fright from what he had seen.

  Feeling warmer he grabbed the binoculars and headed for the windows in the top of the tower. In the moments since he saw the hand in the boat, many thoughts kept entering his mind. If the corpse got out, could it climb up on the island? Could other corpses do that? What were they actually capable of? He was kicking himself for not asking Adam these questions on the CB last night and he began to feel so clueless again. All the knowledge he gained last night, now seemed so feeble and superficial. All he knew was that people who died of the virus came back and attacked the living, but he had no idea what the dead were like. In the movies and books, the dead who rose were usually slow and dumb, but that was fiction and this was the new reality and in the new reality, he had no idea what they were capable of.

  Once at the top of the tower, he moved from window to window, looking for anything that mov
ed on the horizon and on the island itself. He could see nothing out of the ordinary and his pulse began to slow as he realized that, for now, the island seemed as empty and desolate as before. It wasn’t until he got to the last window, the one that looked over Cape Newagen, that he froze in his tracks. A small zodiac boat was slowly motoring along the coast of the island, a tiny speck amongst the swells and whitecaps of the churning sea. With the sound of the engine completely obscured by the din of the wind and water, the boat silently made its way toward the large buoy that marked the turning point to the Damariscove channel. Aran stood fixated on the little craft as it meandered about on its slow path towards the marker. He closed his eyes tight and pulled down his binoculars.

  “Oh Tuck,” he said in a whisper, “You made it.”

  Impossible Choice

  Aran bolted down the stairs two at a time, his riffle slung over his shoulder and his binoculars bouncing up and down around his neck. He burst out the front door and into the light of the afternoon, squinting from the sun that was peeking though the clouds. He couldn't believe it. Tuck was making his way to the island in his little zodiac boat. He had completely put the idea of Tuck coming to the island out of his mind because so much had gone on since he answered the phone call the day before that he had completely forgotten about Tuck. The thought of having someone else on the island to talk to was exhilarating and the fact that it was his good friend was just icing on the cake.

  He bounded across the rocks, heading for the coast by the entrance to the small harbor of the island, trying to get there before Tuck made his way down the channel. The sea was a bit rough, but nothing that Tuck couldn't handle and the wind seemed to be blowing from a favorable direction, which made it easier to keep straight through the narrow path. He stopped at the edge of the water and watched the little boat round the large ocean buoy. His stomach was churning with anticipation thinking about all he wanted to ask when he got on shore. Tuck had been on the mainland when everything happened, so he must know things. As Tuck awkwardly turned the boat around the buoy, Aran pulled the binoculars up to his eyes to have a look. He could barely see Tuck sitting behind the small steering wheel of the little grey zodiac raft. He strained his eyes, but could only catch a glimpse of the very top of his head from the angle he was looking. He put down the binoculars and waved his hands in the air, trying to get Tuck's attention, cupping his hands to his mouth and shouting.

  "Hey Tuck, you made it!"

  He looked back through binoculars and saw the little boat was weaving back and forth, almost as if Tuck couldn’t keep the craft in a straight line. The waves were forcing the boat towards the rocks and Tuck wasn't correcting the movements like he should be. Something was wrong.

  "What the hell is he doing?" Aran cursed.

  Suddenly a tall swell turned the boat to the side, pointing it toward the rocky shallows. Frantic, Aran tried to see what Tuck was doing and as the boat moved again he was suddenly able to see the problem. Aran looked intently for a second and then lowered the binoculars from his face, tears beginning to well in in his eyes and stream down his cheek.

  "Please God why?" he whispered to himself.

  Tuck's neck and left shoulder were covered with blood and although it was hard to make out, Aran saw what looked like huge gash marks. His torn shirt revealed more tears in the skin along his shoulder as well. Aran dropped to his knees. He could hear Adam's voice echoing in his head.

  "If anyone comes near the island and looks at all injured, you take them out, understand. You can’t take any chances.”

  He could barely take a breath.

  "Take them out," he whispered, "Take them out."

  He began to sob, his whole body going into convulsions. How could this be happening? How could he be faced with this? He closed his eyes and pictured Elle. He pictured her smile and her hair blowing in the wind and he could hear her soft voice and see her supple lips curling into a smile as she gazed back into his eyes. He could feel the touch of her hand on his shoulder.

  "Please help me, Elle. Tell me what to do." he whispered.

  Elle smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. Then she moved slightly away from his face and looked directly into his eyes. Her bight, beautiful smile had given way to a deep sadness and she gripped his shoulders with both hands. With tears building in her eyes, she looked at the riffle slung over Aran's shoulder.

  "You know what you have to do," she said. "You have to be brave. You have to be brave for me."

  Aran opened his eyes. Elle was gone, but he felt as if her presence was still with him, wrapping him up like a warm blanket. Choking back his tears, he unslung the riffle and placed the sight up to his eyes. The image in the crosshairs was shaking violently as he tried to control himself and his balance through the tears. Taking a deep breath, he aimed the sight directly at Tuck's head. He lowered the gun, gasping for air and crying uncontrollably. He closed his eyes and held his breath, trying to control himself.

  "You can do this," Elle's soft voice said in his head. "This is better for him. You need to release him before he turns into one of them"

  He raised the gun against his shoulder and again he could feel the tears building, making it hard to aim. He focused as best he could and squeezed the trigger. His aim was good, Tuck lurching backwards in his seat. Aran's tears began to pour down his cheeks, dripping against his hand and dampening his shirt. He raised the sight again to look.

  "Oh please No!" he cried.

  Tuck was still moving, struggling to regain control of himself as the boat motored aimlessly out of control.

  "Please forgive me," Aran said as he placed his finger on the trigger and pulled. Tuck's head slung back with the force of the bullet striking his temple, sending him careening against the side of the small boat, disappearing out of sight. Aran stood with his eyes transfixed on the scene through the lens of the scope, watching to see if Tuck would get up again.

  The boat, without a driver, had run itself into the shallows on the edge of the channel and was jammed between two rocks jutting out of the water. The motor was still running, pushing against them, wedging it in tighter.

  Aran dropped the gun to the ground and collapsed in a heap. He curled himself into a ball and cried until his eyes burned and his stomach hurt.

  "I'm sorry Tuck," he screamed out between sobs. "I'm so sorry."

  He tried to find the strength to get up and walk back to the house, but all he could do was lay and weep.

  Last night he had felt such empathy for what Adam had gone though and it hurt to think of a person having to take the life of someone they care about. Never in a million years did he think his time would come so soon. He and Tuck had been friends since the third grade and although they had their arguments, they remained good friends throughout their school days. He could remember so clearly the day they headed out past Damariscove and gotten fogged in. It took them hours of slow motoring to get back home, trying not to run aground or get tangled in a lobster trap. Now Tuck was gone forever and Aran was the one who ended it, shooting him in the head and leaving him in a rubber boat to float aimlessly in the sea. What was Tuck thinking as the first bullet struck him? What went through his mind?

  The worst part of it was that Aran didn't even know what caused Tuck’s wound. Was it possible he tore his neck and arm on a fence trying to escape the mainland? Maybe Aran was supposed to save him and nurse him back to health. All he could think of was Adam. Adam and his crazy quest to find his daughter in Boston and that if they ever did come back, he wanted this island to be a haven for both of them. He knew he needed to protect it. He knew he needed to keep it safe from the dead and Tuck could have threatened that.

  "What now?" he whispered and he lay the hard ground.

  He could feel the soft touch of Elle's hand on his face as she lay down beside him.

  "You keep going. You survive. You live to see the dawn that so many people will never see." she murmured. "You are strong and you must fight. Fight for me!"


  Aran slowly got up and dusted himself off. He looked toward the water and saw Tuck's boat struggling to free itself from the rocks.

  "Goodbye Tuck," he said as he turned and faced the open ocean. "I truly am sorry."

  With that he slowly turned his back and headed back to the house with the sweet sound of Elle's voice still resonating through his mind.

  "You did the right thing," he heard her say. "I promise it will get better."

  Desperation

  Aran stumbled into the house and threw himself on the couch with the shock of what just happened beginning to wear off and the true realization of what he had done beginning to set in. He had just killed Tuck, killed his good friend with no way to spin or twist it. No matter what happened to him, he would have to live with the choice he made and it would haunt him for the rest of his life. He would have to suffer the consequences of making a judgment call, saving himself and the island instead of possibly saving Tuck.

  He sat on the couch and stared at the wall until the light faded from the late afternoon sky and night fell across the island. On the coffee table in front of him sat a tall, nearly full bottle of whiskey that he had found in the cupboard in the kitchen. He had been staring at it for hours now, either too lazy or too gutted to sit up and grab it.

  Groaning, he reached for it and took a giant swig of the brown liquid. He could feel it burn as it poured down his throat and he nearly spit half of it up the second it hit his mouth. The somewhat revolting punch of liquid a bit too much for his palette. It didn’t take long before one swig became five and soon he began to feel the effects of the alcohol flowing thorough his system, clouding his judgment. He thought that it would make him feel better, that it would actually make him forget what had happened. Maybe it would allow him a few moments of inner peace, but what Aran discovered was all the hidden pain he had been masking was coming to the surface.

  For the first time since everything had happened he thought about his parents and realized how much he missed them. The thought of his mother, maybe slowly dying, but still able to call and warn him tore at the very fabric of his heart. Did she know what had happened to her, or was she so selfless that she wanted to make sure that her son was safe first? The true realization was beginning to set it and he realized that he was probably never going to see his parents again. He would never give his mom a hug or play a game of basketball with his dad. He was an orphan, stuck on an island surrounded by nothing but water and silence.

  He suddenly had an urge to run, to hop in his kayak and go home and he imagined that everything was just a dream, a living nightmare that was playing in his head. He could see himself bursting through the front door and seeing his family there, sitting in the living room as if nothing was wrong; like a normal evening.

  They would ask him where he had been and he would tell them about his horrible nightmare and how sorry he was for all the terrible things he had ever said. He would throw his arms around his mother and kiss her on the cheek. He would turn to his father and wrap his arms around his thick chest, squeezing him as tight as he could. They would all sit around the living room and he would tell them how vivid his dream had been. His mother would look at him with her kind smile while he talked and his dad would stare at the ceiling, making the mental picture in his head. He was trying to convince himself that everything was a dream, one big nightmare and if he could just get himself home, he would wake up and it would all be over.

  Stumbling to his feet, he lurched into the kitchen and swiped the Boston Whaler keys from the peg he had put them on earlier that day. Swaying from the effects of the whiskey, he flung open the front door and ran down the steps of the porch into the night. The air was cold, but clear and the moon cast a bright silvery light over the island, giving it an eerie, washed-out look.

  He tripped and fumbled his way to the dock where his kayak still lay overturned on the wooden boards, left there from the day he arrived. Somehow, Aran managed to get the kayak in the water, get in and paddle his way out to the moored Boston Whaler that belonged to the Akers family. He pulled himself into the boat with some effort and then hauled the kayak in behind him, tossing it on the deck at the back. He spun around with the keys in hand, ready to fire up the boat and head for home.

  As he moved toward the steering wheel, the boat slowly swayed underneath him causing Aran to lose his balance and lurch forward. He fell hard, his head slamming against the console while his legs buckled under him, sending him tumbling to the floor. His vision blurred and he couldn’t focus on any single point in front of him, his head a swirl of pain and drunkenness. Just as he was about to try to lift himself up, he heard a soft voice calling out to him in the still night breeze.

  “Aran, where are you going?” the voice spoke.

  Aran knew the voice well, he heard her in his dreams every night.

  “I was just trying to go home. Just going home,” he whispered.

  “You are home, she replied, “This is where you belong now.”

  “But I want to go home, I don’t want to be alone through this, alone on this island.”

  “You aren’t alone, Aran,” she said calmly, “I am here with you. Always.”

  “Stay with me, hold me,” he said as his eyes became heavy.

  “I won’t leave you Aran, I promise.”

  As Aran’s eyes slowly closed he could feel Elle’s touch on his face. He could feel her warmth as she embraced him tightly, protecting him from the cold night air.

  “Are you an angel?” he whispered

  “I’m your angel, Aran. I will always be by your side.”

  Aran’s world went black as he lay unconscious on the floor of the Boston Whaler. Only the occasional nightmare caused him to stir though the cold Maine night, the memory of Elle keeping him safe and warm.

  The List

  Aran woke up the next morning, shivering and miserable, his head feeling like someone was hammering his temples and his clothes damp and cold. He sat up, grimacing as every muscle in his body rejected the idea of moving after such a long cold night. Looking around he realized where he was, although he could hardly remember why he was there. He pulled himself up, wincing in pain as he got to his feet. He was not looking forward to getting back into the kayak and paddling back across the harbor, especially with how he felt. The combination of a hangover with aching muscles from sleeping on the hard boat deck was going to make for a painful trip to shore. With a bit of effort and a lot of struggle, he managed to slowly make his way to the dock and haul himself up and onto the shore. He lay on the hard, wood surface for a few moments, staring up at the sky and cursing himself for how he felt.

  The fog that often enveloped the Maine coast was as thick as could be, making it hard to see across the small harbor. It masked the contours of the island in a blanket of white.

  Aran spent the day either napping or reading from the small library of books that was left on the shelf in the living room. It was nice to just laze around, although there was always the dread in the back of his mind. No matter what he did and no matter how hard he tried to feel normal, he was always aware of what going on all around him. Even though his day consisted of doing next to nothing useful, the time actually went by quickly and before he realized it, the sun's light was fading from the foggy sky. His quiet day was highlighted by his discovery of a phone charger stuffed in a nightstand. His battery had run out and he had been unable to use the phone in any capacity, but simply plugging it in and seeing the small white apple logo made him feel just a bit better. He knew that once the phone recharged it wouldn't connect to any kind of cell service, but he was excited to be able to play games as a distraction and have some much needed music to keep his mind off things.

  Once the phone had charged, he plugged into the small stereo he found on the dining room table and turned on some much needed music. He spent remainder of the evening trying to think of things that he could do around the island to better protect himself while at the same time, giving him
something to do each day to occupy his time. He scribbled down some notes on a piece of paper, trying to come up with as many chores and tasks as he could think of.

  He decided that a top priority was to construct some type of a wall or fence around the unprotected part of the house to deter anyone who might get on the island from getting to the house easily. He knew that if people got onto the island, that they could get through the fence easy enough, but it might hold them up long enough to give him some time to escape.

  He also needed to get the Whaler moving and head out to start pulling lobster traps. He knew that if he could pull about a dozen or so traps, empty the lobsters, bait them and set them back, he could have a constant supply of fresh lobster for quite a long time. Some other ideas on his list included going to some other deserted islands around the area and finding small tress that he could replant on Damariscove. He didn't really know how it would help or if it would work, but he felt it could give him many days of busy work not to mention sprucing up the area around the house and giving it some needed protection from the wind.

  A few of the ideas were a bit dangerous and far-fetched, but he wanted put everything he could think of down on the list, perhaps triggering some better ideas at the same time.

  One idea he had was to find an abandoned sailboat that he could use to cruise around and enjoy the ocean on. He didn't want to waste the fuel in the Whaler for anything but pulling lobster pots or other important tasks that could arise, but he wanted to be out on the water, enjoying the ocean during the warm, pleasant summer months.

  Aran knew that since it was still early May, many of the sailboats in the harbors had not been occupied or used yet since many of the owners were seasonal residents. These boats were possibly free of any dangers and if he was able to get to a small harbor and get onto one, he could sail it back to the island with ease. The trouble was getting there. He didn't relish in the idea of kayaking that far without knowing exactly what he was looking for and he also needed to find a sailboat with a motor so he could navigate the channel into the island. He had seen some people do it by sail before, but it wasn't easy and he wasn’t a confident enough sailor to try it.

  He also thought about finding another small island that he could start setting up a second shelter on in case something happened to Damariscove. If he could find an island that had some sort of an empty structure on it, maybe he could start supplying it for emergencies. It could also serve as a vacation spot away from his own home where he could go for a few days at a time for a change of scenery. This idea seemed a bit like a waste of time, but he was looking for anything that could help pass the days by.

  The last thing on his list he put a star next to and it was the one that scared him the most. He put it last because he knew it was not urgent, but of all the things on his list, he knew the last one would have to be done at some point. He looked down at the words "mainland supplies" and shuddered. The lobster could sustain him for a while, but he would still need other supplies and items as the time passed. Until the last item, none of his ideas, no matter how trivial they were, involved coming into direct contact with the dead. Getting supplies would require him to go to a populated place and in populated places there would be lots of dead bodies walking around. But no mater how he looked at it, he knew that eventually he would have no choice but to face them head on.

  He scanned the list again and again, trying to think of more ideas and crossing out ones that were either too dangerous or not worth the effort. He kept passing "find other survivors," not sure whether to cross it out or not. He would love to find other people out there like him, but he knew that if he did anything to reveal his position, he might attract people who would only want to take what he had.

  In times of unimaginable horror, even the most kind and sane person was capable of terrible and desperate acts. He had to remember what Adam had said about how lucky he was and how ideal his setup on Damariscove was. He had food, shelter, warmth, water and electricity, which was not that far away from the modern conveniences he was used to. He thought about the situations some people might be in on the mainland. He couldn’t imagine sitting in a dark, cold house with no electricity, surrounded by dead bodies pounding on the outside trying to get in. He had it pretty damn good considering everything and he needed to make sure he protected that at all costs.

  After quite a lot of thought, he decided he was going to combine his idea of finding a new island with finding people who may have survived like him. If he could set up shelter on another small island and stock it with enough supplies to make it seem like he lived there, he could try to attract any surviving people to his new island. If they ended up being good people, he could take them back to Damariscove and if they ended up the bad sort, he could afford lose the island and the small amount of supplies he would stock it with. The risk would be worth it as long as Damariscove stayed protected and he stayed as safe as possible.

  Scouting

  Aran woke up the next morning with new determination about trying to better his life and make a new start on the island. He had woken earlier in the night after a vivid dream of finding other survivors and eventually bringing them to Damariscove to set up a little community. It was so clear in his mind; unlike any dream he had before and he could feel a glimmer of hope welling up in him.

  With a renewed purpose, he decided to put the task of finding a second island and trying to attract the attention of potential survivors on the top of the list. He re-checked the barrels of marine fuel in the boathouse to make sure he had enough fuel to use the whaler to scout and still have enough for emergencies and lobster fishing. Pulling off the caps to the drums, he determined that three barrels were full and one was just a few gallons short. The Aker’s must have just refilled their marine fuel supply when they got to the island just a week or so earlier. He wasn't positive, but he was pretty certain that each barrel held about fifty-five gallons of marine fuel, giving him quite a lot of fuel for the time being. The Boston Whaler had a seventy-five-horse power motor, so he figured that he could use the boat quite extensively before he would run out of fuel, especially if he was conservative with his speed and acceleration. He was hoping that the Whaler had a full tank onboard, which would add to his stock of fuel and give him precious time on the water.

  Hanging on the wall in the den was an old, but still usable map of the Boothbay harbor region and it's surrounding islands. He took it down and laid it on the coffee table, examining the extensive rocky coast that made up central Maine. He found Damariscove on the map and began to look around the area to find a suitable island or island chain to explore. He needed to make sure that whatever island he found was far enough away from Damariscove because he didn't want people discovering his own island on the way to his decoy.

  He found that there were quite a few islands very close to him, but he was not comfortable being in sight of Damariscove. He looked beyond Pemaquid point and saw clusters of islands in Muscungus Bay. The bay was far enough from Damariscove that he could easily set up another shelter without ever bringing attention to his current position. By looking at the map he guessed it would take about a half an hour to get out into the bay, making it a bit farther then he would have liked. He couldn't tell from the map whether the islands were uninhabited or not, but he made the decision to go and at least have a look. He could also pull lobster pots on the way back.

  He boarded the whaler a couple of hours later, turned the key in the ignition and the motor roared to life after just a few turns. Aran looked at the gas gauge in relief because the needle was sitting just below the full line. Even though he had plenty of gas, he wanted to be careful because he had no clue how long he would actually be out on his own and he viewed the use of a powerboat as one of the most important resources he had.

  He could be on his own on the island for weeks, months or possibly forever and much like his food stores, he knew that eventually he would have to go and get more fuel which he knew would not be an easy assig
nment.

  He maneuvered the boat around and untied its rope from the mooring buoy. The day was beautiful and the sky was free of clouds, making it perfect for exploring the coast. The waters were calm and the trip out of the channel was easy. Aran kept looking around the channel for Tuck's boat which seemed to be nowhere in sight. Aran assumed that the boat either broke free from the rocks and sped off aimlessly into the open water, or that the motor died and the boat floated away with the tide. Regardless, he was just glad that he didn't have to look at the effect of the decision he made.

  Once he left the channel, he sped up allowing the wind to blow in his face and his hair to slick back in the breeze. It had been a while since he'd been out on the water in a powerboat and he let the speed of the boat and warmth of the sun begin to melt his fear. For the first time since everything started, he actually felt good, like things might eventually be okay.

  He kept to the southern end of the islands trying to avoid going to close to inhabited areas and the mainland. The sun was bright and beautiful and Aran could almost imagine that he was living in a normal world where people were going about their daily activities, fretting about bills and work instead of worrying about the walking dead.

  It was hard to think that on such a beautiful day, nothing but horror and death awaited anyone who stepped foot on the mainland, which was still clouded a haze of black smoke. Off to his left he could see the black and white tower of Pemaquid Point lighthouse sitting on a rocky outcropping as it guided ships away from the jagged coast of the point. Just beyond the point lay Muscongus Bay; a huge open expanse of water dotted with little islands and shoals.

  Aran was hoping that one of those islands could serve as a place to setup a shelter and try to attract anyone who might have survived. The more he thought about his plan, the more confident he was that he was doing the right thing and that what he had on Damariscove should be shared with others like himself. What good was surviving if he was alone for the rest of his life, miserable and trapped on his island?

  Steering the boat into the bay, he began to look through his binoculars at the islands that were scattered around the interior of the bay. He passed by some that were just too small and barren to set up as a shelter and for nearly an hour, he sped around the little shoals, looking for something suitable.

  Finally he came across a small round island with a large clump of pine tress in the center that looked big enough to shelter, but small enough to easily protect. He circled it several times and discovered, to his delight, that there was a run down shack barely visible through the trees. There were no boats on the shore and no signs that anyone had stepped foot on the island for quite a long time.

  "This is it," he said to himself, "Perfect!"

  Aran dropped his anchor as close to the shore of the island as he could and tossed his kayak into the water. He paddled to the shore, finding some shallow rocks to pull up to and haul the boat on shore.

  All he brought with him was his riffle and a large kitchen knife he found in a drawer. He planned to bring back supplies once he found the perfect place. His plan was to scour the island, make sure that it was completely empty and then make a list of things to bring back on his return.

  The island was very small and rocky with no easily accessible place for any kind of a large boat to pull up and it was well hidden from the open expanse of the bay. He felt comfortable with the idea that anyone in a boat would have to anchor and either swim or take a smaller craft to get on island.

  He circled the perimeter of the little island before he got up the nerve to move into the forested area that covered the center like a tuft of hair on a balding head. The island was sheltered from the open ocean just by being in the large bay, but also because of the other little shoals and islands around it blocked the wind and waves along and obscured it from view. The coast all around the island was nothing more than rocks and the occasional tide pool making a quick entry and exit a difficult process. There was no trash littering the rocks nor were there any signs of camping or fires along the shore. There were no signs of people, no boats tied up and the shack that was barely visible through the trees looked liked no one had touched it in a decade.

  Even still, he didn’t like the feeling that place gave him. It was a silent and foreboding feeling, like a hundred unseen eyes were boring through him. On Damariscove, he could see everything around him and nothing could sneak up on.

  Aran turned and faced the center of the island. In front of him stood a large grove of tall pine trees surrounded by thick undergrowth that gave the patch of forest a dark and shadowy look. The island was sheltered enough to support this grove of trees which was little more than the size of a football field, forming a rough circle.

  Moving towards the small shack, Aran drew his riffle just as a precaution in case he came across anything. The woods seemed so silent and still that each footstep he took sounded loud and intrusive, echoing against the thick trunks. He walked slowly, trying to keep his calm, but feeling the butterflies in his stomach. He knew the place had to be empty, but somehow it seemed so frightening and full of danger.

  The tiny porch of the cabin was nearly collapsed and the floorboards were rotten beyond repair, making a trip to the front door like an obstacle course. The front door itself was half smashed and hung at an odd angle, barely holding onto a single rusted hinge. The roof looked intact, but many of the shingles had fallen off, exposing the beams that lay below them and giving small animals a perfect place to burrow and make their home.

  He circled around the back of the small place, trying to get a good look in one of the windows. The side window of the shack was small, but Aran was able to stretch up look in. As he peered through the glass, a black crow that had been sitting on the ledge, burst into flight sending Aran falling backwards onto the ground.

  Panic rose inside him and his urge to run took over as he scrambled to his feet. He ran around the back on the house and as he rounded the corner, he slammed right into a canoe that had been propped up against the back wall. He fell to the ground with a thud, the canoe falling right behind, hitting a small tree as it fell and making a loud clattering sound. Aran sat on the ground a moment, taking in deep breaths and trying to regain control before getting to his feet. He had just run like a madman from a silly crow and he was still letting his nerves get the best of him. He looked over at the canoe, chuckled and kicked at it with his foot.

  “Damn thing,” he cursed as he stood up, brushing off the leaves and dirt from his pants.

  He was just walking back around to the front of the shack when he stopped dead in his tracks. He listened closely and in the quiet of the forest he could hear a sound that seemed like it was coming from inside the shack.

  It was a soft sound, like a large animal lumbering across the old, wooden floor. As he turned around he again saw the canoe lying on the needle-covered ground. He looked at it, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. The boat was a dark green color, but the paint looked new and the stainless steel interior wasn’t rusted or dirty. The canoe was fairly new and that newness did not fit the condition of the shack or the surrounding area. Aran began to put the pieces together. Panic began to well up inside him. He stood frozen to the spot, too afraid to run. He listened acutely but couldn’t hear the shuffling noise anymore and as he looked at the small back window, his blood froze in his veins.

  Staring back at him from the window was the sunken, grey face of old man slightly visible in the shadows of the small room. He was wearing a fisherman’s hat on his head that was covering a clump of matted hair, his eyes were a solid grey color and sunken into his skull. His teeth were barred and his lips were drawn back, revealing colorless gums and chunks of missing flesh. His mouth was moving up and down slightly and his face was scarred and tattered, his skin drooping from his face like an old sack.

  His eyes locked onto Aran and he let out a horrific wail that pierced the silent of the woods. The man raised his hands and pounded on the gl
ass, trying to get to Aran. Aran stood fixated on the man, unable to move and transfixed in horror. The man just kept pounding the glass from the inside and wailing until one of his fists shattered a section of the mullioned window, sending shards of glass to the ground. But he kept pounding and tearing his hands on the already shattered shards of window glass, numb to the fact that his hand were being shredded by the razor sharp pieces of window left in the frame.

  At that moment, Aran broke free of his trance and began to run, everything a blur as he bolted past the side of the shack, heading for the waters edge. The fear gave him strength and speed like he had never felt before and he dashed across the ground and over the rocks faster than he ever could have imagined. He grabbed the kayak, threw it into the water and jumped in. He paddled like a maniac and didn’t stop or look back until he was able to grab onto the Whaler and hoist himself up and into the boat.

  He hauled in the small kayak and began pulling up the anchor that kept the boat secured just off shore. It seemed to take ages to haul it up and each pull seemed to last an eternity as the slimy rope slid through his hands. When he finally stowed the metal anchor, he leapt to the console, started the engine and slammed down the throttle, launching the boat forward.

  As soon as he was clear he dropped the boat out of gear and fell to his knees, throwing up over the side of the boat. Half in tears, half glad he escaped, he flopped into the seat of the small boat, wiping his face with his shirtsleeve.

  “So much for deserted island,” he said exasperated.

  White Flag

  Aran must have woken up a dozen times that night in a cold sweat, his nightmares particularly horrible after his encounter with the man in the cabin. He couldn’t shake the image of his sunken face out of his head, especially the way his pupils had gone gray. The thought of his cold, lifeless fists slamming on the window until it shattered was an image that he was failing to remove from his subconscious.

  Since his return to Damariscove, he decided to scrap the idea of finding a new island, at least for the time being. He had a great setup where he was and he was determined to make sure it stayed that way.

  He did feel sad and he was still desperate to find a way to contact survivors that might be around the area and bring them to the island. He kept thinking about how great it would be to have other people around to talk to and spend time with, to share the burden of life in this new place. Being alone was a luxury Aran enjoyed in the past because he knew that at anytime he wanted he could break the solitude and spend time with his family or friends. Now, he had the luxury of ample alone time, but no way to end the solitude.

  He lay in the bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about Elle. He had been through so much over the past few days; he hadn’t really had time to just lay and think about her. He could feel the emptiness that he absence left in the pit of his stomach, eating at his insides like a virus. He missed her. He missed her like he couldn’t even fathom. The simple thought that he would never see her again brought a flow of silent tears to his eyes.

  “I miss you,” he whispered, wiping away the tears from his cheeks. “I should have told you to stay. I should kept you with me ”

  Aran could feel the guilt of his decision weighing on his mind. She had asked him to come with him, but he had said no because he needed time to write. Aran had no idea if she would have stayed on the island that day if he had asked, but the guilt of not making the offer was killing him.

  “It’s my fault you left,” he said, “I should have asked you to stay.”

  The tears that streamed from his eyes were distorting the ceiling pattern as he tried to focus on the directions of cracks that ran through the light blue paint. It seemed that each time he felt he was able to get past a painful memory or reality, another one was right behind it ready to pounce and thrust him back into misery. The past few days had been such a whirlwind of emotions and events, that he hadn’t had a chance to let the pain of losing Elle seep into his conscious.

  Maybe it was just such a painful fact for him to accept that his brain had fought back the memory and kept it from entering into his conscious thoughts. Now, it seemed, that reality was beginning to hit home and he ached just thinking of her.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Aran finally rolled out of bed, got changed and made his way downstairs. He meandered into the kitchen and fixed himself a plate of scrambled eggs, using some of the eggs that the Akers had left in the pantry. He knew the eggs would go bad pretty quickly, so he ate them as often as he could. He would delve into the canned stuff later on when the fresh food was exhausted.

  After the events of the previous day, Aran really felt like sitting around and doing nothing, but he knew that would just lead to wallowing and self-pity, which was the last thing he wanted. He picked up his list of ideas and scratched out the one about the new island. Glancing at the paper he knew the next logical task to complete would be to go out in the Whaler and pull up the lobster pots that were closest to the island and empty their contents. Although he loved eating lobster, he was not looking forward to hauling up each pot by hand and pulling out the lobsters. The water was freezing cold, the lobsters pinched and the traps were heavy and cumbersome for one person to haul without power winch.

  Nonetheless, he dressed himself up in warm clothes that he knew would get wet and filthy and headed out to the Whaler.

  The day was cloudy, but free of fog and mist, making it decent to attempt the job. He loaded the Whaler up with buckets for the lobsters and brought some gloves and tongs that he found in the kitchen. The lobsters were going to be difficult to handle because he had no rubber bands to bind their claws closed, which could make for a painful pinch if he wasn’t careful.

  His plan was to circle the island first to see how many traps were nearby and easy to reach. Afterwards, he planned on heading back between Squirrel and Ram islands, where he knew he would find plenty of pots in the deep waters between the shores. In the boat shed he found a can of green spray-paint that he brought along to paint the top of the lobster buoys so he would know which ones he had already pulled. This way he would be able to pull up all the pots in the area first and then start the process of baiting the ones he’d emptied and putting them back down to catch more. He thought that if he could just pull, bait and set ten to fifteen pots, he would be set with lobster meat for a good long time.

  The day before had been such a shocking turn of events that it made him feel even more connected to the island and the life he was going to make there. This small piece of rocky land was his home now and the more time he spent on it, the more a part of it he felt. He turned around and looked at his small island home and felt a sense of pride. He had always loved the island, but today that love went deeper than before. He knew that it was the only friend he had in the world and that friend could protect and shelter him in these horrific times.

  As he passed by the ocean buoy, he headed left and around the east side of the island, looking for the first signs of lobster buoys. Because Damariscove faced the open ocean, there weren’t the abundance of lobster pots around. He motored around the island before he came to his first buoy, a red and white pot that reminded him of the Swiss flag.

  He slowed the motor and pulled up alongside the buoy, grabbing it with his hands and tugging on the rope. He could feel the trap below him moving slightly, but he had to put in a huge amount of effort to dislodge it from the sea floor and get it moving upwards. What had seemed like an easy plan was turning out to be much more challenging that he’d thought. The rope was slippery and the trap was heavy, making it very slow going to get the trap up to the boat.

  After fighting for almost ten minutes, he could see the trap just under the surface of the water, it’s seaweed covered grill coming into view. He latched his fingers around the metal wiring of the trap and hauled it onto on the deck, soaking himself in the process. Looking at the trap he found seven decent sized lobsters inside, struggling to get back to the ocean. Undoing the lat
ches, he reached in and tried to pull out the writhing crustaceans as they snapped and flailed around. The seven of those lobsters put up a hell of a fight and by the time he tossed the empty trap back in the water, his hands were sore and he was soaked with cold seawater.

  He looked down into the bucket at his catch, smiling a little. Those seven lobsters would give him meat for at least five days of meals if he kept the meat frozen and thawed it out each day. He could boil them, shell them, take the meat out and put it in the freezer bags he found in the Akers kitchen. Fresh lobster was the best kind, but he felt that under the circumstances, just having food was quite the luxury.

  He spent the remainder of the morning hours pulling traps, emptying their catch and tossing them back in. Each time he would spray the buoy so he knew which ones to come and bait later. Some of the pots had decent catches and some were lacking, having just a few baby lobsters trapped inside.

  All in all after pulling his last pot for the day, he found that he had thirty-one good-sized lobsters to bring back to the island and cook. Their meat alone would be enough to keep him fed for a few weeks, which gave him a comforting feeling. As he dropped the last trap into the water, he breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a tiresome day, but he felt accomplished and satisfied. He felt like he did something positive and nothing had gone wrong in the process, which seemed to be a first for him. Each of the preceding days had been met with a major dilemma or problem that tainted anything good that could have come out of the task.

  Today, however, everything had gone pretty much as planned and besides it being tough and cold work, it went smoothly. Aran pulled off his gloves, sat down behind the wheel of the Whaler and headed off towards home. He pushed the motor into full throttle and opened her up, the speed and the wind in his hair felt great after working so hard.

  He decided to take the boat for a spin before heading back to the island, enjoying the fresh air and the speed. He hadn’t just gone for a cruise yet and he felt it could be a great ending to the day.

  He wanted to head around Outer Heron Island and then back home, taking a long way back to enjoy the sea and the air. Speeding around the backside of Outer Heron, he kept watch on the shore for any signs of movement, as he was now fully aware of the dangers that any of the islands posed after his encounter the day before. He couldn’t make out any bodies or people along the southern shore so he turned the corner toward the far side of the island. As he rounded the back and came around the rocky shore, he slammed the boat into neutral.

  Just near the end of the island, floating in the water was a small boat and on the back was a boy waving a white towel madly in the air as he saw Aran’s Whaler come into view.

  Aran couldn’t believe what he was seeing and he tried to stop for a second and think before making a quick decision. This was a situation that he knew could change everything, this could be the chance he had been waiting for to find other survivors and bring them to Damariscove. This could be the start of making a valuable life on the island instead of a lonely, miserable existence. He couldn’t tell from a distance whether or not the boy was injured or not, but he knew that it probably wasn’t a trap. There wasn’t any boat traffic on the water; so sitting out beyond Outer Heron waiting for an unsuspecting passerby would be a useless ploy and a waste of time.

  “What should I do?” he whispered to himself. He closed his eyes and tried to visualize the image of Elle sitting next to him on the bench, her hand in his.

  “You need to help him,” he heard a soft voice in his head say. “Don’t be afraid.”

  Aran opened his eyes and made up his mind in that instant, thrust the boat into gear and sped towards the boy as his boat bobbed up and down on the water. Aran reached down under his seat, grabbed hold of the riffle and slung it over his shoulder. He knew exactly what he would have to do if he saw any signs of open wounds on the boy and he knew that he had to be the aggressor in this case; he had to be the one in control.

  He pulled the boat up close and dropped out of gear, letting it glide to a stop about ten feet from the stern of the boy’s small craft. Aran raised his riffle slowly, taking aim at his head and making it obvious that he was doing it. The boy looked back in alarm and panic at the sight of the riffle. He was a tall, thin kid with longer brown hair and very boyish face. His eyes seemed to sparkle in the dull sunlight and he had a kind, gentle demeanor about him. It was easy to tell that he was an athlete just by looking at him. He was into basketball, maybe soccer, but definitely an athlete. From the looks of him he was a few years younger than Aran. At the sight of the gun, the boy raised both hands over his head, clearly shaking with fear.

  “Have you been bitten?” Aran yelled.

  “No, my boat died and I have a girl here who needs help. Please,” the boy pleaded.

  “Is the girl bit?” Aran yelled back, not lowering the gun or changing his stance.

  “No, No, she’s unconscious and she needs water and food. My boat ran out of gas a while ago and we’ve just been floating out here. You’re the first boat we’ve seen.”

  Aran thought for a second. The boy seemed to be telling the truth, but it was impossible to tell. By the looks of the boat, no more than two fully-grown people could fit in the small cabin in the bow so it didn’t seem plausible for him to have people stashed down there waiting to ambush when he boarded.

  “How do I know I can trust you?” Aran said.

  “Trust, me?” the boy shouted, “Look, my name is Ellis. I was up here visiting relatives for a few days when this went down. I was out on the water fishing when I saw hell breaking loose on the mainland. I’ve been out here for days with almost nothing to eat or drink so if you can’t help me, then pull the damn trigger because I’m dead anyway if you leave me here”

  Aran slowly lowered the gun. This kid wasn’t trying to trap him or trick him. He was a scared teenager, just like himself, trying to survive in this place and he needed help; help that Aran could provide. He lowered the gun, slung it back over his shoulder and motored the boat up close to Ellis’ stern. He tossed out a rope and Ellis tied it on to a cleat on the boat and pulled it tight, connecting the two boats together. Aran climbed onto the bow of the Whaler, took Ellis’ hand and hopped aboard the small boat.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  Aran just nodded and looked around the boat. There was a bag full of garbage sitting underneath the steering column that looked like it consisted of some chip bags and a bottle of Gatorade.

  “How’d you survive with nothing to drink out here this long?” Aran asked.

  “I had two small bottles of water that I brought in that bag,” he said, pointing to the trash. “Luckily I hadn’t drunk them yet when things started happening. I’ve been having sips here and there and trying to get some down the girl’s throat.” He pointed to the closed door to the small cabin.

  “Who is she?” Aran asked, curious why he hadn’t used her name.

  “I don’t know,” he said, sitting down on the back seat. “Towards the end of the first day, I came across a sailboat floating about on the other side of Pemiquid Point. I pulled up to see if it was like; See if it is was just a floating coffin full of those things.

  Aran shifted in his seat, trying not to think about the face in the window, trying not to allow that image to break though his mind.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “When I got around to the stern, I saw this girl waving her arms wildly and screaming for help so I pulled up close and asked her what was wrong. She started crying and babbling about her family and she begged me to take her on board, practically jumped into the boat. When she got on, she fell in a heap in the seat there, babbling and shaking.”

  Aran listened as Ellis’ told the story, fighting the urge to smile at the fact that he actually was hearing a real person’s voice and even though he was telling a horrific story, he felt elated for the first time since everything started.

  “So I asked her where her family was and she just bawls and sobs and points
to the boat. So I jump aboard the little sailboat to find them,” he said.

  “Damn, not a good plan. Didn’t you think first?” Aran asked.

  “Freak, how was I supposed to know?” he replied, “My mind was moving so fast, I didn’t have time to think, I just acted.”

  “So what happened?”

  “So I go towards the cabin doors and I see a fist banging on the glass and I just wasn’t thinking man, so I opened the freaking door.”

  “Holy God,” Aran gasped, imagining the scene unfolding in his mind.

  “Damn,” Ellis cursed, “As soon as those doors opened these corpses come lunging out at me, arms stretched and screaming like some horrible banshee. A woman, a man and a young girl come tearing out, all of them torn to hell. They had flesh hanging off of wounds and bloody faces; real scary stuff.”

  Ellis was clearly having a hard time retelling his ordeal and Aran could see the fear in his face and the tears in the corner of his eyes as he relived the incident. Aran had been through a lot in the past few days, but this kid had a much worse encounter than he ever could imagine.

  “So I just turned and ran,” he blurted, “I jumped over the side and hit the water.”

  “I would’ve done the same thing,” Aran said

  “Yeah, I just found the nearest edge and jumped,” he sighed, “Freaking cold water let me tell you. Anyway, I swam for my boat, imagining those freaks jumping in after me, but they just stayed on the boat screaming and reaching for me, clawing at each other. I climbed back on my boat and I saw the girl just staring at the corpses like she was in a trance. She yelled out to them and then collapsed on the floor and she hasn’t woken up since.”

  Aran tried imagining what that must have been like for her. To see your family as corpses trying to kill you must have been a horrific experience. He couldn’t even fathom what he would do if it were his parents were mangled, dead and coming for him. He’d probably pass out too.

  “Where is she?” Aran asked.

  “She’s laying down in the cabin,” he said walking over to the small sliding door that closed off the front of the boat. He flung the door open and Aran poked his head in for a better look. The girl was lying on her side motionless, but clearly alive: her chest slowly rising and falling.

  "She's been like this for a couple of days?" Aran asked.

  "Yeah, she hasn't woken up since she saw her family on the deck and I've been trying to get her to eat or drink."

  Aran stooped down and pulled back her hair from her face and as he did he gasped and dropped to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. He rested his hand on her shoulders and looked into the girl’s beautiful blue eyes.

  “Elle,” he cried in her ear, “I found you.”

  Company

  Aran and Ellis carried Elle into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. They lay her down on her bed and Aran covered her with her blankets, trying to make her as comfortable as he could. She looked so peaceful lying there in the bed, but Aran knew that she was far from peaceful in her mind. He sat down next to her and stroked her silky hair, looking into her sad face. Tears began to roll down his cheeks as he thought about all the terrible things she had to see and go through. He thought about the people who didn’t survive this mess and wondered if they had it better. It seemed that everyone who had somehow made it past the virus, had to face unspeakable horrors.

  Looking down at Elle, he didn't even know if his tears were of sadness or joy. He was endlessly happy that he had found her alive, but he was scared at the same time. He was afraid that she might never wake up and with each passing hour she lay unconscious, she was one step closer slipping away.

  The trip back to the island had been simple and uneventful and all Aran wanted to do was sit next to Elle so he could be with her in case she woke up. He couldn’t believe the turn of events; that Elle was alive and somehow they had found each other. He feared that it was all a dream in which he would wake up in his bed covered in sweat and alone of the island once again.

  But so far, it all seemed real enough. He went from being alone to have having Elle and Ellis there with him. The girl he dreamed of all winter and whom he thought he'd lost was alive and back on the island. The only thing left was her condition and all he wanted in the world was to for her to wake up.

  Ellis brought in another cloth chair from the main bedroom and put it in Elle's room next to the deep, leather chair that was already there. He sat down and laid his head against the back of the chair, obviously exhausted from his ordeal. Aran got up and headed downstairs to make up some sandwiches and snacks for the two of them. He put them on a tray and brought them back upstairs to Elle's room.

  "Have some food," Aran said, putting the tray down on the small nightstand next to the bed.

  "Thanks," Ellis said, grabbing the sandwich and trying his hardest not to stuff it down his face.

  Aran turned back to Elle and watched her for a moment. She was as beautiful as he remembered and even though it had been only three days since he last saw her, it felt like an eternity.

  "Your gonna stay right?" Aran said.

  Ellis nodded, swallowing the mouthful he had already bitten. "If you want me to stay, I’d love to stay," he said, "I've got nowhere else to go anyway."

  Ellis stood up, walked over to the window and pulled back the thin curtains, looking out over the harbor.

  "This is a hell of place you got here man,” he said, “How'd you get so lucky?"

  Aran sat up on the bed, never letting go of Elle's hand as he told Ellis the entire story of the island and how he ended up in the situation he was in. Ellis sat and listened as Aran told him about Tuck, the man in the cabin on the island and his relationship with Elle. When Aran finished his story, all Ellis could do for a moment was shake his head in disbelief.

  "You mean the girl that I found on the boat lived on this island?" he asked. "And you two were close?"

  "The last time I saw her, she kissed me," Aran said quietly, looking down at Elle and squeezing her hand gently.

  "That's insane," he said, flopping back down in the chair. "I really thought we were screwed and I kept trying to figure out what the hell I was going to do if no one came by."

  "You could’ve tried to paddle to the shore of Outer Heron," Aran said.

  "Yeah right," he snorted, "After what happened on the sailboat, there was no way I was going anywhere near the shore. Look what happened to you on that little island."

  Ellis got back up and started pacing around the room. Aran could tell he was anxious because he kept looking out the window scanning the surrounding area.

  "Relax," he said, "There are no corpses out there. We're safe here."

  Ellis shut the curtains and walked back to the other side of the room. "I know," he said, "it's going to take me a while to settle down."

  "I hear ya," Aran replied, "I still can't sleep well and I feel on edge most of the time, but I feel safe here now. You will too."

  "So what do we do next?" Ellis asked.

  Aran pondered the question for a moment. He never really thought about how other people would feel if they ever came to the island or what they would see as a future. He had an idea of what life could be like on the island, but he was unsure if anyone else would see it the way he did.

  "We survive," Aran said. "We make sure the place is secure and we survive."

  Ellis nodded, but looked like he was not satisfied with Aran's answer.

  "What about our families?" he said distantly.

  "Come on man," Aran said, trying to keep himself composed. "You know they're most likely gone. Besides, what can we do? We would die trying to find them."

  Ellis flopped back down in the chair and looked up at the ceiling.

  "Who'd you leave behind?" he asked

  "Mom and dad," Aran said, "What about you?"

  "Mom and Dad, a younger brother and an older sister"

  "I'm sorry," Aran whispered.

  The room was silent for what se
emed like an hour as both boys' minds were lost in thoughts of their families. Aran had lost his parents, or at least he assumed he did, but Ellis had lost two siblings as well. He was alone out there on that boat, scared out of his mind and this must be the first time he was letting his guard down and his emotions flood in. Aran knew first hand that when you let your guard down, memories and thoughts start to creep in.

  "You said you were visiting,” Aran asked, “Where did you live?"

  "Virginia Beach."

  "Did your whole family come up to Maine?"

  "Just me," he said solemnly, "My sister went visiting colleges with my mom and my brother and my dad went to Boston."

  Aran could tell that Ellis was on the verge of a breakdown. He could see it in his eyes. His family was nowhere near Maine and, worst of all, they were all split up. He would never be able to find them, even if he tried.

  "Could you find them?" Aran asked.

  "Mom and Elizabeth were at UVA on the day it happened. My dad took my brother to a Celtics playoff game. They were probably in the Garden when it broke out."

  "Damn, I’m truly sorry," Aran said.

  Aran thought about what it might have been like inside a basketball arena when it all happened. People would be scrambling to get out, knocking each other to the ground and trampling one another. Then, when the first people turned, it would be total mayhem and chaos. There was no way anyone could have survived that.

  "What about your folks?" Ellis asked, "Have you gone back to see?"

  Aran shook his head and fought back the tears.

  "No, I just don't want to face it. I know they’re gone"

  Ellis jumped to his feet.

  "You need to go and check it out. You need to go now," he shouted.

  Aran was taken aback by Ellis' sudden outburst.

  "Look man," Ellis continued, "Your parents could be alive. You need to know one way or the other."

  "I know they’re gone," Aran said firmly.

  "How do you know?"

  "I just know okay.”

  "I have no way to check on my family. They could be dead or reanimated or worse. You can at least find out. Wouldn't you rather know the truth? Don't you want to find out?"

  "You wanna know the truth," Aran shouted. "The truth is I'm scared to death of going to the mainland. If I go to my parent’s house, I'm going to have fight through the dead and I'm not ready to do that right now!"

  There was a long pause and Ellis put his hands on his hips and walked around.

  "I get it," he said calmly, "I know that eventually we’ll need supplies. We’re going to have to face them soon enough. Why not try to find your folks first? You said your house was on the water, so it might not be that hard by boat"

  Aran thought for a moment. Ellis had a point; there was no doubt about it. He had, on a few occasions, thought about going home. He thought that maybe his parents were locked up in the house, just waiting for help or waiting for him to come and rescue them. Each time, however, he remembered Adam’s words about staying away from the mainland and how good he had it on Damariscove.

  “You’re right,” Aran finally said, standing up and walking to the window. “I need to go see if my parents are dead. Their house is on the water, I can get close and try to see.”

  “When are you going to go?” Ellis asked.

  This was the moment he’d dreaded. There was no way he was going to leave Ellis on the island without him there. Ellis seemed genuine, but he wasn’t going to just leave him by himself, not yet. They both couldn’t go and leave Elle lying in her bed because if she woke up while they were gone, she would freak out and possibly hurt herself. The last thing he wanted to do was to drag Elle out on the Whaler in her condition, especially since the boat had no cabin or soft place for her to lie.

  “I’m not going until she wakes up, or until…” Aran stopped, choking on his words. He couldn’t even fathom what he would do if she died without waking up or how he would handle it.

  “I just can’t leave her. I left her once and I almost lost her. I’m not leaving her side, I just can’t. My parents might be alive, but Elle is alive and I’m going to be with her when she opens her eyes.”

  “Yeah, I get it. If, I mean, when she wakes up you should be here. We can go when she comes around.”

  The sun had gone down and the last light of its rays were fading from the windows. Ellis had decided to shower and head for bed. Aran imagined he must be exhausted and that he probably got little to no sleep out there alone on the ocean.

  “Goodnight,” Ellis said, sticking his head in the door to Elle’s room, “and thanks.”

  “Anytime,” he replied, “just go get some rest.”

  Ellis nodded and disappeared from the door.

  “Hey Ellis,” he called.

  Ellis popped his head back in the door a second later.

  “I never thanked you for saving her.”

  “You would have done the same thing. I couldn’t have left her there like that. I couldn’t have lived with myself.”

  “I’m glad you’re here Ellis. It’s good to have some company for a change.”

  Ellis gave a weak smile.

  “I’m glad I’m here,” he said quietly. “I appreciate you taking me in.”

  He was just about to turn around and walk down the hall when he paused for a moment.

  “You know you can hear them,” he said quietly.

  Aran wasn’t exactly sure what Ellis was talking about.

  “Hear who?”

  “The dead,” he said, “In the middle of night, when everything’s quiet, you can hear the moans and screams.”

  With that, he slowly turned around and lumbered into the bedroom, closing the door behind him and leaving Aran with a horrifying mental image.

  After a few moments he could hear the soft noise of Ellis lying down on the bed and tossing in the sheets, trying to get to sleep. Those were the sounds that people took for granted when the world was normal. The small sounds of life and of human company that people never really realized existed until they’re completely alone.

  Awakening

  Aran spent the whole night in the room with Elle, sitting by her side and praying that she would wake up. He talked to her, held her hand and stroked her hair, whispering words into her ear in hopes that it would trigger something in her to get her brain working. He lay down next to her, dozing in and out of sleep for much of the night, only waking to check her pulse and her breathing. Once he swore that she had changed positions while he slept, but, when the morning light came through the bedroom window, there was no change in her condition.

  Aran knew it was just a matter of time before it was too late. He knew a person could only go so long without water and food before they could no longer sustain the needs of their body. He had a bottle of water by the bedside that he kept trying to get her to drink, but most of the time it ended up just spilling down her cheek onto the bed sheets.

  He got up, stretched and made his way downstairs to grab some breakfast. It was only half past eight and he knew that Ellis would probably be out for hours with everything he'd been through. The house was silent and still and each step he took down the stairs echoed the faint creaking sound of the old, aging wood. He rummaged around the kitchen, looking for something appealing to eat, Elle occupying his every thought.

  He sat down at the small kitchen table and ate his bowl of cereal, his mind wandering to terrible places.

  "Morning," Ellis said popping into the kitchen.

  "Never expected you to be up this early." Aran said as Ellis sat down across from him.

  "Slept better than any other night, but its lousy sleep," he replied.

  "Yeah...I wonder when I’ll actually sleep through the night again," Aran said dimly.

  He slid the box of cereal over to Ellis and pointed to the cabinet where the bowls were kept.

  "So what's there to do for fun around here?" Ellis asked, smiling.

  Aran laughed
. "This place is full of stuff to do," he said sarcastically, "You should see the nightlife."

  After a short chuckle, the boys sat in silence, eating their breakfast and staring around the dim lit kitchen. Both of them had so much on their minds; it was hard to decide what to share and what to ponder. The sun was trying to break through the heavy layer of fog that shrouded the small island giving the inside of the house a grey, eerie feeling. Usually when fog was this dense, the constant drum of the foghorn rang out in the quiet Maine air, but with no one left to man the station, everything in the world was quiet.

  "How are the supplies out here," Ellis asked, breaking the silence.

  "Pretty decent I guess," Aran replied, "I figured I was set for a few months, but that was with just me. If Elle wakes up, we have enough to last maybe six weeks."

  Ellis nodded and sat back in his chair, letting out a deep sigh.

  "Then what?" he asked

  Aran thought for a moment, although he knew the answer already. He knew what they were facing and that it was inevitable that at some point, they were going to have to make a run to the mainland for supplies.

  "We’ll have to go and get supplies from the mainland," he said, "Not really a choice. We can keep pulling the lobster pots, but we will need more stuff."

  "Have you thought about a plan or anything?" Ellis asked.

  "Not really. I've got enough here now, so I never really thought beyond that point honestly. I guess I was a bit delusional in a way."

  “How so?” he asked.

  “I just kept thinking it was all temporary you know. Like one day everything would just go back to normal. So I never really wanted to think about having to worry about supplies down the road. It’s stupid.”

  Ellis nodded and got up. He emptied his milk into the sink and washed out his bowl and as he did, he flipped the faucet on and off, watching the water start and stop.

  “It’s not stupid,” he said as he washed his dish in the sink. “I kept thinking the same thing out there. I was scared as hell, but I kept thinking that someone was going to fix it all. This is the United States, how can this happen?”

  Aran shrugged his shoulders. “I did happen though and I wonder if it will ever be the same again.”

  "Not to change topics, but is this place on well water or is it pumped from the mainland?" he asked as he dried his bowl and put it away.

  "Don't know," Aran replied. "I know the electricity comes from the mainland, but there is solar panels and a backup generator as well, but I don't know about the water."

  "My dad is..," he paused, "was a plumber. I know a bit about plumbing systems. I'll check out the basement and see if I can figure it out."

  He opened a cabinet, grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap taking a long drink.

  "The water tastes pretty clean." he said. "If they had a well, it would have a salty taste. I think I remember dad calling it brackish water or something like that"

  Aran nodded. It was nice to have someone who could help him figure out all the little things he overlooked. The future was so uncertain that it was hard to think about all the things one would take for granted when the world was normal. How would they continue to find food once all the mainland food went bad? How would they survive the cold, brutal winter that was sure to greet them in November? What if the water shut off? All these questions were too big and complicated to think about, but he knew that at some point he would have to start answering them before it was too late.

  "We need to make a plan for getting supplies," Ellis said.

  "Yeah, I know," Aran replied.

  The two boys both knew what that meant, but neither one of them said it out loud. It meant that they were going to have to face the dead. Not only were they going to have to face the dead, but they were probably going to have to fight them off in their attempt to push to a place where supplies were. Aran knew by the way the man in the cabin came after him that they were aggressive and the thought of the man's fists smashing the glass and tearing his hands wouldn't leave his mind. He couldn't imagine hundreds, or thousand of those things bearing down on him, all trying to get to him. Those things were probably everywhere and neither of them knew anything about what they were capable of. That made it so hard to plan ahead when it came to confronting them because all they knew was that one bite and you were dead, end of story.

  Aran slumped into the couch in the living room and Ellis sat down beside him, letting out a long sigh.

  Just as they sat back they both heard a sound coming from somewhere in the house; a low moaning sound was coming from upstairs.

  "Elle!" Aran shouted, jumping up from the couch.

  Ellis grabbed him by the arm before he had a chance to bolt up the stair to her room.

  "Let go of me!" he shouted, "What are you doing." Aran struggled to break free of Ellis' grip, but he held fast.

  "Listen," he said calmly, "We need to be careful. If she died up there, she could have turned. Don't do something stupid."

  Aran thought for a moment and stopped struggling against Ellis' grip. He nodded and put his arm on his shoulder.

  "Yeah," he said, "You're right. I never thought of that."

  His mind was racing now. They didn’t even know where the virus came from or how it was spread. He was pretty sure that both he and Ellis were immune because they had both come in close contact with an infected corpse and they were both just fine. But what if someone died of other causes, would that person come back? He felt his stomach tighten as he imagined Elle thrashing about in the bed, trying to get to him and Ellis.

  Aran looked around the room and spotted a long metal fire poker leaning against the brick fireplace. He grabbed the iron rod, looked gravely at Ellis and slowly began the accent up the staircase. As he reached the top he could hear soft moaning sounds coming from the bedroom causing his stomach to wretch. What if Elle had turned? Could he actually beat her down with the poker? Horrible thoughts surged through his head and it took all he could muster to push them aside and open the door.

  Ellis was right behind him, on his heels and just as afraid as Aran was. The boys slowly approached the bedroom door, the groaning sounds coming in intermittent spurts from inside the room. Aran reached out his hand and pushed open the door, slowly revealing the room. As he opened the door wide with the poker held firm in his hand, a flood of relief overwhelmed him and he dropped it to the floor.

  Elle was sitting up in her bed, looking around and clearly confused. At the sight of Aran, an even more puzzled expression filled her face, followed quickly by a weak smile.

  "Aran?" she said, "What are you doing here?"

  Aran wasn't sure exactly how to react, but he ran over to her bed and grabbed hold of her. He threw his arms around her delicate body and hugged her tight as if he intended to never let her go.

  "I thought I was going to lose you," he cried, refusing to let her out of his arms. "I can't believe I found you."

  Elle pulled slightly away from Aran with her soft, weak arms and wiped the tears from his eyes.

  "You look so sad," she said softly, "Why would you think you lost me?"

  Aran lifted his head and looked at Elle and then over at Ellis who had a blank expression on his face.

  "Who are you?" she asked, looking at the tall boy standing in the doorway.

  "I’m Ellis," he said.

  Aran took hold of Elle's other hand and held it softly in his own as he was beginning to realize that what she had suffered had been so traumatic that she was not remembering any of it.

  "Do you remember anything that happened on your boat?" Aran asked her.

  She tilted her head slightly in thought.

  "I can't remember the boat. Did we go out on the boat yesterday?"

  At that moment, Aran realized that her memory of the entire day must be gone, erased by the horrific experience she went through. She must be thinking she just woke up from the previous day like any other day. No wonder she was so surprised to see him b
urst through her bedroom door. She was clearly still a bit groggy and confused, but eventually she was going to have to be told the truth and Aran knew he was the one who would have to deliver the news.

  Aran sat up on the bed, holding Elle's hands in his. He sat staring into her beautiful eyes for what seemed like an eternity and she just looked right back at him. It was that very moment that he knew. He knew that she felt the same way about him that he did for her. He could tell by the way her eyes sparkled with a kindness and affection that felt so comforting. He slowly leaned toward her and kissed her on the lips, feeling his emotions boil over with the first touch of their skin. Without letting go of his hands she kissed him back and the two of them locked into the most wonderful kiss that Aran could have imagined.

  When he released her, he felt his heart pounding and his stomach fluttering making everything was a blur. This was what he'd dreamed over the past year. This was his vision of how his first kiss with Elle would be and it was everything he could have hoped for.

  Now that he was floating on air, he knew that he had to tell Elle everything. From what he could tell, Elle had lost all memory of the day it happened and he knew that most of the horrific details would remain locked in her brain for all time. How was he going to tell her that her family was dead? How could he possibly explain that the world was now teeming with hordes of walking corpses? But he knew it was inevitable. This was the new reality and Elle would have to come to grips with. It did her no good to think everything was normal when it wasn’t.

  "Listen," he said softly, "I need to tell you some things and they're not going to be easy to hear. You just have to trust me, okay"

  "I trust you," she said sadly. "I know something is wrong. I just know it. You’re here in my room and with some strange boy that I don't even know."

  "What do you remember?"

  Elle scrunched her face, trying hard to think back to the last remaining memory she was able to recall.

  "I remember kissing you," she said with a weak smile.

  Aran's heart jumped and he could feel his palms sweat a bit as he held her hands tight. He knew that what he was going to have to tell her would nearly destroy her. It had nearly destroyed him and he didn't have to see it in person like she had. He struggled with how to begin. How do you explain to someone you care so much about that her entire world is gone? Everything they once knew is no more and everyone they ever knew or loved is dead or re-animated. He moved closer to her, the comforting smell of her hair filling his nose.

  "You can tell me," she said. "Tell me everything."

  "You don't want to know everything," he said sadly, looking away from her face, trying to hide his tears.

  "I want to know the truth, Aran."

  "Okay," he whispered. "I'll tell you everything. Everything I know."

  Aran spent the next fifteen minutes retelling the story of what happened to him on the island and the things he'd learned from Adam and from Ellis. He told her about killing Tuck and about talking to Adam on the radio. He told her about the cabin on the island and how the man inside it was tearing himself apart to get to him. He told her about his parents and the frantic call he got from his mom when it all began. He saved the story about how Ellis rescued her and what he had seen on the boat until last, knowing that it would be the hardest pill for her to swallow. He held out his arms and she fell into them, sobbing uncontrollably at the torrent of information that she had just heard.

  All Aran could was do is hold her and console her and that's all he ever wanted to do. He wanted to be her hero, her savior, her angel. He was all she had left in the world and she was all he had. He was going to make sure that he did anything and everything for her. But as much as he wanted to be her protector, he knew he needed her just as much as she was going to need him. He was miserable without her when the world was normal and in this new world, he needed her more than anything, more than each and every breath he took.

  A Ray of Light

  The days following Elle’s waking were not the easiest of times for Aran. Every morning seemed to bring new memory issues for Elle and Aran ended up having to retell her some of the most painful stories multiple times, each with the same reaction. She was not taking the deaths of her family well at all and Aran ended up spending half his days holding her as she rocked back and forth, sobbing with distraught tears. The horror of what she saw that day and what she must have gone through obviously had devastating effects on her mind. Aran was worried that she was never going to fully recover. He and Ellis took turns keeping watch to make sure that she didn’t do anything to harm herself.

  On the third night after she and Ellis had arrived, Elle woke up in the middle of the night screaming at the top of her lungs. It took Aran almost half an hour to get her to stop and calm down. Ellis was so worried about how loud her screams had been, that he went outside with the riffle and watched the harbor to make sure she hadn’t drawn any attention. She spent the rest of the night, shaking and crying on Aran’s shoulder, muttering about her sister and her mother.

  Ellis was faring much better, although he had his moments where Aran could see that he was struggling as well.

  Aran was doing his best to hold it all together himself. He was so excited when he first brought Ellis and Elle to the island that he never thought about how much extra work it could be with two grieving people to take care of. At times, he felt it was almost easier being on his own because when it was just himself, he controlled his own life.

  Now he had two other people to think about and he had to take them into account when it came to planning long term and short term decisions that needed to be made.

  Aran sat down in the living room on the morning of the fifth day of Elle’s waking. She was upstairs sleeping and he had come down for a bit of alone time and to grab a snack. As much as he loved being there for Elle, it was mentally hard to console her almost every waking moment of her day. It was hard for him to look into her deep, blue eyes and see such sorrow and pain. Her eyes carried so much sadness, he ached to be able to fix it and make it all better. He so desperately wanted her to be her old self again, to be the happy, carefree girl that he had fallen so hard for last summer. The girl upstairs only looked like Elle on the outside and Aran was afraid the person who kissed him on the cheek just a week ago might never come back again.

  He grabbed the notepad with his “to do” list and sat back against the couch cushion. The last time he looked at his list was before he found Ellis and Elle and he almost laughed out loud at his entry about finding survivors.

  “What'd you got there?” Ellis said as he walked into the living room.

  “Just a to do list I made a while back,” he replied. “Nothing too exciting.”

  “You mind?” he said, gesturing to the notepad.

  “Help yourself,” Aran said tossing it over.

  Ellis looked over the list and tossed it back.

  “We’re going to need supplies,” he said after a while. “I know you have that on the bottom of the list, but it’s got to be at the top. We need medicine, more food and clothes. Luckily Elle lived here, but she told me yesterday that she only has few things because she was only here for the weekend.”

  Aran felt the knot building in his stomach. He could feel his neck tense and his heart beat in his chest. He knew Ellis was right, but he didn’t want to face the idea of having to go and do it. Going for supplies meant facing the dead and that was something that he had been dreading since the start of this whole thing. Each night he fell asleep, he had nightmares about seeing them and being attacked, but with the exception of seeing the man in the window of the cabin on the island, he had never actually seen one of them. Ellis had actually come face to face with Elle’s dead family, although he hadn't talked about it since the first time he told the story.

  “You’re right,” Aran said tepidly, “We do need to plan a supply run. Any ideas?”

  “Well, now that Elle is awake, we can go by your parents house and check i
t out.”

  Aran shuddered at the thought. He was hoping that maybe Ellis had forgotten that he had said he would go and see if his parents were okay. Since the whole mess started, he thought about whether his parents were okay, but the truth was he was too scared to find out. At least now, he could hope and dream that they were safe and unharmed which made him feel better somehow. If he went to his house and found his parents had turned like Elle’s family, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

  “Yeah. I need to,” was all that Aran could muster in response to Ellis’ idea.

  “I’ll go with you,” Ellis said softly, “We’ll do it together.”

  Aran instantly felt closer. He had just agreed to put himself in harms way to help him. This boy that he had met only days ago had seemed so distant and withdrawn, but his offer to go with him and risk his own life just to see if his parents were okay was a huge gesture.

  “How much planning do you think we’ll need?” Aran asked.

  “Depends on how much ground we have to cover to get you your house,” he replied.

  “Not much, our dock extends off the shore at the bottom of the backyard. Maybe twenty-five yards from the dock to the back porch.”

  “Do you have a fenced in yard?” Ellis asked.

  “Naw, My parents liked to be able to interact with the neighbors. They always said fences made them feel trapped.”

  Ellis rubbed the back of his head and started pacing the room.

  “If you have no fence, it means that any number of those things could be wandering around your lawn. We need to just drive by in the boat and see what the lawn looks like and if it’s clear we should dock up and make a run for it.”

  “We need weapons,” Aran said as he stood up.

  “Besides the riffle, what do you have around here?” Ellis asked.

  Aran thought for a moment about all the things he had found on the day he did his inventory. All the tools he found were too small to be effective. The hammer and the big wrench would mean getting way to close to them before striking. Broomstick handles and poles from around the house would be broken after a few hard hits and logs and wood from around the property would be too awkward to wield as a weapon.

  "While I'm thinking about it, I'm gonna go down and take a look at the water system in this place and see what type of setup they have," Eliis said. He got up and made his way toward the kitchen. "Try and gather as many things that could be used as a weapon that you can."

  "If you need anything, just shout," Aran replied.

  He watched Ellis leave and then headed up the stairs to Elle's room. She was sitting up in bed, looking out the window. When Aran walked in the room, she turned to him and smiled.

  "I am so tired of being sad," she said softly as Aran sat down next to her on the bed. "I want this feeling to go away, I want to feel normal again." She leaned her head against Aran's shoulder, but managed to keep from crying. Aran understood exactly how she felt because he so desperately wanted to feel normal again too, but every time he tried, he thought about how hopeless it all seemed.

  "We have to try to decide what normal is," he said. "Normal is not what we thought it was and it certainly isn't going to be easy to feel normal again, but we are going to have to try. I fight back tears everyday, but I try to focus on the present and not think about the past or the future."

  Elle sighed and lifted her head to look at him. He smiled back, her face filling him with a sudden sense of hope and purpose. Maybe all he needed was Elle. Maybe that was the one thing in his life that was important and he could build the rest of his future up around her. When she looked him the eyes with her soft gaze and loving expression, he felt as if everything could eventually be okay again.

  "I don't know what I would do without you here," she said. "You saved me."

  Aran smiled back and gave a bit of a laugh at the same time.

  "Well, actually, it was Ellis who saved you."

  "You know what I mean," she said smiling. "You're the one who was there for me when I woke up and it was you who've tried to comfort me. I've been so useless and you have been so patient. I can’t ever repay you?"

  "You don't have to repay me for anything. You don't owe me a thing. Just you being here with me is the greatest repayment I could ask for."

  "You don't have to say that," she said. "I know I haven't be easy to deal with."

  Aran knew she was feeling guilty and he was desperate to prove to her that that he was privileged to have her company.

  "Listen," he said, "when this whole thing began and the reality started to set in, the very first thing on my mind was you. I was so sure that I had lost you forever, that I couldn't even think straight. I know I should have thought about my family first, but the truth is that you were the first thing I thought of. You kept me going when I had to kill Tuck and you spoke to me when I was frozen and bruised on the Whaler. I was able to wake up each morning on the slim hope that I would see you again. When I saw you in Ellis' boat, I had never been so relieved in all my life."

  Elle had tears streaming down her face. She grabbed Aran's face with her hands and locked her lips in a hard and passionate kiss. In that moment, she fell in love with Aran. She knew that he was everything she could ask for and everything that she wanted. With each passing second of their kiss, she felt the sadness of her family begin to slowly melt away and the happiness of her love shine through the darkness. She was going to be okay. She was going to survive and live on and she was going to do it by Aran's side.

  The Journey

  The next morning dawned bright and beautiful. Aran woke up as the bright sunlight pierced through the windowpane, illuminating his face. His heart was beating rapidly and his face was flushed.

  Today was the day he and Ellis were going to his house to see if his parents were still alive or in need of help. He tried to sleep that night, but he kept waking up in cold sweats and night terrors. For the first time, it had been Elle who comforted him by stroking his hair and whispering words into his ear. His breakthrough with Elle the day before had given him such a high and the feeling of dread and fear about going to his house was in such stark contrast to that.

  He got himself ready and slowly made his way downstairs. Elle had headed down before Aran was even out of bed and by the time he got to the kitchen, she had already made him some breakfast. She was bustling around the kitchen with renewed vigor and purpose. Aran was so happy to see her up and moving around for the first time.

  "Are you sure you're going to be okay here on your own?" Aran asked as he took a bite of his toast.

  "Of course," she replied, "Just make sure you come back," she said pointing a spoon in his direction.

  She sat down next to him and tickled the back of his neck, giving him goose bumps. Aran closed his eyes and let the sensation of her delicate hands tingle though his body. If the world were normal, this would be a perfect moment. This was the type of moment he had been dreaming about over the last year. This was what he wanted. Unfortunately, the world had to crumble around him to get his wish, but he wasn't entirely sure he would trade his current relationship with Elle for a normal world. She sat down next to him and started eating her own breakfast.

  "Have you thought about what you guys are going to do if you get into trouble?' she asked, grabbing hold of his hand.

  Aran shook his head. It was one thing they hadn't really thought about. What would they do if something bad happened? He shuddered at the thought of being stuck out there with no way out.

  "Don't know," he replied with a forced smile, "I guess we'll have to improvise"

  Just then, Ellis came into the kitchen swinging a length of black pipe.

  "Mornin you two," he said smiling, "Glad to see you up and about my dear."

  "Thanks," Elle replied, "It feels good be outta bed."

  "Look what I found down in the basement," he said smiling.

  He gave the length of piping a good baseball swing. It looked to be about three feet long and made of
solid iron. It would make a great weapon and Aran felt a bit better knowing that they both would have something to use if they got into trouble.

  "So what's deal with the plumbing?" Aran asked.

  "Well, the bad news is that we are running on city water right now," Ellis said.

  Aran sighed. Running on city water meant that when the power finally went out and the pumps shut down, the water flow would stop.

  "Is there any good news?" he asked hopefully.

  "There is," Ellis said with a smile. "The people who set this place up dug a well and must use it sparingly or during the winter when the mainland water pipes are turned off. The pipes that run to this island sit above ground, so they must have to shut them off when the temperature drops below freezing or the pipes would freeze solid and burst."

  "How does it work?" Elle asked.

  "So, there is a separate system for the well. All you do is flip a big handle and turn on the power to the well pump and it’s set to go."

  "Can we drink it?" Aran asked.

  Ellis just shook his head.

  "The water is brackish, which means it has some serious salt in it. If you drank too much, you would dehydrate yourself. Plus it wouldn't taste good either."

  "At least we can shower and clean dishes and stuff," Elle said and she started to tidy up the plates from breakfast.

  "Don't think it's salty enough to ruin clothes or anything, but when we go for supplies we’ll need a ton of fabric softener so our clothes won't be stiff after we wash them," Ellis replied.

  "You're a regular house husband," Elle joked.

  "Hey, I had to help my mom out all the time. I know some domestic stuff."

  The three of them laughed, taking quite a bit of tension out of the air.

  Ellis continued to pace around the kitchen and twirling the pipe in his hands, very anxious to get their day started. Aran wondered if he was looking forward to coming face to face with the corpses by the way he was acting. Aran was certainly not excited about the prospect, even though he felt better with the pipes. If he had the choice of going out to face the dead, or spending the day with Elle, he knew exactly what he would choose.

  Aran sat back down at the table and Ellis sat down beside him.

  "So," he said, "You ready to get started?"

  Aran put his hands on his forehead and pushed hard against his skull.

  "I guess," he said

  "It's gonna be okay," Ellis said reassuringly.

  "You sure about that?"

  "Look, we pull up to the dock and if there are a ton of those things, we turn around and come back."

  "What if things go bad? Aran asked. "How are we going to get back?"

  Ellis just sighed and looked out the kitchen window.

  "We fight," he said softly. "We use our weapons and fight our way back to the boat. I found a couple of these pipes down there, so we both have one along with the rifle."

  Elle sat back down next to Aran and pulled his head against her chest. She stroked his hair and smiled at him.

  "You'll be fine," she said softly. "Nothing will happen to you because you have to come back to me."

  Aran could feel the tears trickle down his cheeks. He didn't want to leave Elle behind, but the thought of taking her into danger was not something he was willing to do. He lifted his head and kissed her on the lips and without another word he stood up.

  "Let's go," he said, grabbing the black pipe that Ellis had laid on the kitchen table.

  Ellis hopped up and followed him out the door and into the living room, a certain bounce in his step. Aran had a sudden sense of determination. If he was going to survive this new world, he was going to have to face it. He was going to have to be able to go out into the world with those monsters and face them. He couldn't hide on Damariscove forever and pretend that world around him wasn't dead, rotting and dangerous. He had to protect Elle and to do that he was going to have to be strong.

  "Good luck," Elle said as the boys left through the front door and headed out into the bright sunlight. Aran turned around and ran back into the house scooping Elle up and spinning her around, kissing her over and over.

  "I promise I will come back," he said. "I promise."

  Elle just smiled at him and touched his cheek.

  "I know you will," she said smiling. "Now go!"

  Aran ran back out the door to catch up with Ellis who was already at the dock. They had decided to park the Whaler at the dock the day before so that it would be easy to board on the day they left. Ellis immediately began to until the bowline, unwinding the wet rope from the iron cleat.

  "Do you think they make noise like in the movies?" Aran asked.

  "Yeah," Ellis groaned as he held the Whaler against the dock. "They make a horrible sound."

  "What does it sound like?" Aran asked as he jumped into the boat.

  Ellis tossed the bowline in the boat and untied the stern. He gave the boat a slight push and jumped in as Aran threw the throttle into gear and slowly motored the boat through the narrow harbor.

  "It's a screaming sound," Ellis said as they were underway. "It's not like in the movies. They don't moan and groan. When they see you, they scream this horrible, high-pitched scream. I can still hear it in my head."

  Aran cringed at the thought of a dead body lunging at him screaming in a high-pitched wail. He would have preferred a moaning sound like in all the zombie movies he watched. He tried to shake the image out of his head and think about something else.

  They passed through the channel and out into the open water of the Atlantic. It was a quiet and calm day on the ocean with little more than a few ripples breaking the surface of the blue-grey sea. With each passing minute, his heart pounded harder and harder as he thought about what they might face when they got to his parents boat dock.

  "Hopefully today will give us an idea of what these things are like to deal with," Ellis shouted as the boat sped toward the mainland of East Boothbay.

  "I hope we don't see a single one of them," Aran yelled back.

  Ellis just shook his head. "We need to get an idea of how they act and what attracts them. I know that you want to avoid them, but we need to prepare ourselves for when we have to go for supplies, when we don't have the option to turn back."

  Aran knew he was right, but he just couldn't get excited about the idea of coming face to face with a rotting, walking body. He steered the boat around the channel buoy and saw the main strip of land that made up the end of East Boothbay. His parent’s house was just minutes from coming into view and he felt sick to his stomach at the thought of what he might encounter.

  "Can you get closer to the land?" Ellis shouted.

  "A little, but it's a bit rocky over there, the last thing we want is to run aground."

  Aran got the boat as close to the shoreline as he could safely go without the danger of running into the shallows. Ellis pulled out a pair of binoculars that he grabbed from the house and began to scan the shore.

  "I can see some of them wandering around," he said. "Hard to tell how many though."

  Aran felt like someone had just slugged him in the gut. He knew that they would see them, but somehow he had this fantasy that it was all just a dream. He imagined opening the door to his parents house to see them sitting in the living room and jumping up when they saw him. His mother would run to him crying and screaming

  "Where have you been Aran, we were so scared." she would say.

  His father would say nothing, but just shake his head and hug him along with his mother.

  "Slow down," Ellis yelled as he gripped Aran's shoulder, "Now!"

  Aran throttled down and the boat sank down in the water, sending wake towards the rocky shore.

  "They can hear the sound of the boat," Ellis said, "They're following us."

  "What! Are you serious?" Aran said as he tried to look for himself.

  The boys sat motionless in the boat, silent as a grave.

  After several moments of bobbing up and
down in the water, Ellis looked back on shore.

  "They seem to have lost the sound, they are wandering around a bit more but don't go any faster, I don't think they can hear the engine at idle speed."

  Ellis came back and stood next to Aran as he navigated the boat around the corner and toward the hub of Boothbay harbor. Ellis clapped a hand on his shoulder and laughed.

  "Well, now we know they can hear," he said, "We learned something at least; don't make any damn noise."

  "Yeah."

  As they moved down the shoreline he watched the familiar houses pass slowly by. He wondered what happened to his friends and neighbors that he was so accustomed to seeing out and about. He thought about old Mrs. Jackson and her insanely manicured garden and Mr. Page and his oddly painted house that sat on the end of the cul-de-sac. Then he saw it, looming in front of him like a beacon. His parents’ small dock came into view, looking exactly same as it did the day he stepped off it and into his kayak.

  Aran's parents owned a small ocean cottage near the end of East Boothbay that sat on a little bluff just up from the waters edge. It had it's own small boat dock that his parents used for sitting and relaxing. Aran would tie up his kayak there, but he had never been able to own a powerboat and always felt jealous of the kids who sped by on their own boats or jetskis. The dock had a wooden ramp that extended to the edge of the lawn where it was met with a stone pathway that wound it's way through his mother's gardens up to the back porch of the house.

  The little cottage was single story and white with black trim and shutters to close during the harsh winter storms. Even though his house was small, he loved how cozy it felt. His room was a good size, but felt close and comforting. What he liked most about the house was that he could hear all the sounds of an occupied home. When he woke up in the morning, he could hear the clinking sound of his mom eating cereal and the ruffling of his dad reading through the newspaper on a Saturday morning. On top of the familiar sounds from inside, he could also open the window and drown out all the inside sounds with the calming sounds of the ocean.

  "There it is," he said to Ellis as he slowed to idle.

  "Wait," Ellis said. "Go out into the water a bit, let's check it out before we tie up."

  Aran turned away from the shore and made a big arc before aiming the boat directly at the dock. Ellis jumped up on the bow to get a good look.

  "I can see a couple of them a few houses down, but I don't see any in your parents lawn." He jumped back down. "Let's do this. Pull up to the dock."

  Nervously, Aran pulled the Whaler slowly up to the little dock and when the bow bumped the wood, Ellis jumped off and pulled the boat into place, tying off the bow and stern lines to the little cleats on the edge of the dock. Aran cut the motor, shouldered his riffle and grabbed the pipes. He tossed one to Ellis before he jumped out onto the dock.

  This was it. His heart was racing and his adrenaline was running high. He actually felt good. He felt alive and ready to take on anything that came their way. It was so strange to feel this way after being so nervous and sick just a few minutes before.

  He followed Ellis up the ramp and into the yard. Ellis turned quickly and put his hand to his lips, signaling Aran to keep quiet as he pointed to the left with his other hand. Aran looked and immediately saw what Ellis was pointing at.

  In the neighbor’s back yard, two bodies were milling about like they were in some sort of a trance. At first it looked as if they were two normal people walking around their lawn, but a closer look told another story. The man, who wore a blue and white checked shirt, was missing his arm from the shoulder down and strands of muscle and tendons were hanging from where his arm used to be attached. He was wearing a Red Sox hat that was slightly tilted and dirty with brown stains. The woman looked a bit better, but it was clear by the huge gash in her neck and the tears in her face that she was not a normal, living human being. The couple seemed unaware that Aran and Ellis were there, but he knew that could change in an instant.

  They were pretty sure that the corpses could hear, but they had no idea what the state of their vision was. The bodies in the lawn next door were not walking with the classic outstretched arms, but more like a slow meandering stroll. Their heads were constantly moving and looking in different directions, but they had not seen or heard the boys yet. Ellis stopped, and turned back to Aran.

  "I think we need to make some noise on the other side of their lawn and see how they react," he whispered.

  "Are you nuts? You want to DRAW their attention."

  "No, I want to throw something over there that will make a sound and see if they follow it."

  Ellis looked around the immediate area and saw a broken piece of edging brick near his mother's vegetable garden. He bent down and picked it up, tossing it lightly in his hand a couple of times. He looked at Aran and he gave him a slight nod. As hard as he could, he threw the piece of brick at the neighbor’s window, shattering the glass with an ear-piercing crash.

  "Damn, nice shot. Now get down." Aran whispered.

  Ellis dropped to the ground, pulling Aran down at the same time. The couple in the lawn spun around as if on a dime and ran toward the source of the sound at an alarming speed. They started pounding on the remaining broken pieces of glass from the window and although the sound they made from the pounding was loud, Aran didn't hear the screaming that Ellis had mentioned.

  "Jesus those things are fast," Ellis said. "Did you see that?"

  Aran had seen it and it made him jumpy and nervous. The speed at which the couple had crossed the lawn to the window was astounding, especially given that they were older. They had to have been in their sixties, but they sprinted like they were teenagers. If they all were like that, it would be a major problem if they were discovered and if old people were that quick, how fast would younger corpses be.

  "How the hell could we outrun them if they're that fast?" Aran whispered as they watched the couple continue to mangle their hands trying to tear through the window.

  Ellis just shook his head. "Let's keep going," he said.

  Aran followed Ellis as he made his way through the gardens and up to the back porch. The house seemed exactly the same as when he last left it and he could almost envision his parents sitting in the sunroom reading and watching the boats pass by on their way to and from Boothbay.

  "Check the windows first," Ellis said as he slowly approached one that looked into the little house. Aran's fear was now creeping back in and this was the moment he dreaded. Were his parents going to lunge out at him, screaming and running? He peered into the window that looked in the kitchen but everything seemed to be normal. Nothing was strewn across the floor and there were no signs of blood or bodies. He walked over to Ellis and looked in the window attached to the living room.

  "It's seems to be clear," Ellis whispered. "You ready for this?"

  "No, but let' go," Aran gasped as he grabbed the porch door and opened it slowly.

  The inside of the living room was dark and gloomy and the curtains had been drawn. There was a light smell of dampness that seemed to hang in the air. The house had been closed up for more than a week now and the damp sea air was making the house start to smell funny.

  Both boys moved slowly and cautiously into the room, scanning constantly for any signs of movement. They both knew now how fast the bodies moved and how quickly and easily it would be to be ambushed.

  Neither of them made a sound as they slinked through the room, heading for the kitchen. Aran cautiously opened the door to the kitchen and peeked around the corner. Nothing moved and no sound came from the eerie, dark room. Just as Aran opened the door a bit more, his cat jumped from the top of the refrigerator and leaped towards the door. Aran ducked, but Ellis was unaware of what was happening and in a panic swung his pipe like he was at batting practice. The pipe cut through the air and collided with the doorframe with a deafening crash. Both boys looked at each other in horror.

  Aran moved first. He turned around and
bounded up the stairs, two at a time with Ellis close on his heels.

  "What the hell are you doing?" Ellis whispered as loud as he could manage. "Have you lost your mind?"

  Aran wasn't listening. He dashed down the upstairs hall and flung open the door to his room. Just as before it was empty and untouched, looking the exact same as he left it on that fateful Saturday morning. His books lay on his bed and his clothes were still strewn all over the floor. He had never been a very organized kid, which was evidenced by the condition he had left his room in. His mother was always nagging him to be more neat and tidy, but it just wasn't something that was important to him. Now looking at his messy room he felt a bit guilty; Guilty for not listening to his mom and even guiltier for leaving that morning.

  It was in this moment, Aran could feel the silent tears running down his face as he began to realize all that he'd really lost and all that was now sitting on his shoulders. Even though Elle was his own age, he felt responsible for her now and it was his job to keep her alive and to protect her against this new world. He felt an obligation to Ellis too. He knew that Ellis was just as self-sufficient as he was and perhaps even more so, but he was the one who brought Ellis to Damariscove, so he felt as though he needed to keep him safe as well.

  Ellis poked his head around the door, looking in the room with a look of worry on his face.

  "Are you mad?" he said, slightly out of breath. "We agreed to do this slowly."

  "We also agreed to do it quietly too," Aran replied. "Who knows how many of those things you attracted with that pipe."

  "Sorry," Ellis muttered.

  "Not your fault," Aran said patting him on the shoulder as he walked past him in the doorway. "You just reacted, that's all."

  Aran moved down the hallway, opening the guestroom first and then moving on to his parents’ room.

  "You check the guest room," Aran whispered back to Ellis. "I'll check my parent's room."

  Ellis nodded and headed slowly into the small guest room that was adjacent to Aran's bedroom. Aran opened the door to his parent’s room and stepped inside. The room was a mess. The drawers of the dresser were hanging open and the closet was torn apart. It was clear the instant Aran saw the room that his parents had packed and grabbed stuff in a terrible hurry. He closed the door and headed downstairs, passing the guestroom where Ellis was looking around. At the base of the stairs he turned and made his way through the kitchen to the garage.

  He opened the small door that led from the kitchen and saw exactly what he had thought he would see. His mother’s Mazda Miata was sitting on the far side of the garage, the top still down from her last pleasure trip. His father’s SUV was gone from its usual spot nearest to the house.

  Aran didn’t quite know how to feel. On one hand he was relieved that he didn’t find them dead or returned, but on the other hand, he had no idea where they had gone or what could have happened to them. If they got away safely, why hadn’t they come to the island since they knew he was out there? The questions kept popping in his head and now that he knew they hadn’t died in the house, he wanted even more to know where they had gone.

  A sudden flood of emotion washed over him and he staggered to a kitchen chair, where he struggled to catch his breath. The island and all the dramatic things he had to deal with had suppressed the pain and the loss of his old life, until now. Now that he was in the familiar home that he grew up in, the magnitude of the situation began to bear down on him. There was a very good chance he would never see his mother or father again. So many small pleasures that he had once taken for granted, were never going to happen again. He could almost smell the hot chocolate, hear the kettle on the stove, and his mom bustling around the kitchen.

  “Aran!!” Ellis’ voice suddenly rang out in the silence of the house.

  Startled, he bolted from the table and flew up the stairs; cursing under his breath at how much noise Ellis had made yelling his name. He burst through the room to see Ellis standing and staring out the small window that overlooked the little street below.

  “What the hell was that?” Aran half whispered and he walked over to the window.

  Ellis didn’t answer; he just stood and stared out the glass pane. As Aran moved closer, a deep sense of dread hit him in the pit of his stomach. The way Ellis was standing at the window, silent and stiff was very unlike his usual posture.

  “What’s the matter,” Aran asked, becoming more nervous with each passing second.

  Still he said nothing. All he did was lift his arm and point out the window. Aran moved closer and looked out through the textured windowpane to the most horrific sight he had ever seen.

  Trapped

  “We’re screwed,” Ellis whispered as Aran slowly inched closer to the window.

  The street below was hardly visible due to the massive crowd of bodies that was forming outside the house. There were hundreds of them, a huge mass of mutilated corpses trying to force their way towards the house. Aran’s gaze moved from body to body, watching in horror as they ripped and tore at each other in an effort to get closer to the source of the sound that must have attracted them.

  “What do we do?” Aran said quietly.

  “I don’t know,” Ellis said, not moving a muscle. It was as if he was rooted to the spot, completely unable to move. Aran continued to watch them, transfixed on the sea of dead corpses pushing themselves forward and against the house. It was only going to be a matter of time before something gave way and the sea of rotting bodies flooded into the downstairs.

  “We’ve gotta move,” Aran said, “now!”

  Ellis seemed to break out of his trance and the boys moved from the window and out into the hallway. They ran down to the small window that looked out over the back of the house. Aran put his hands against the glass to see through the glare of the sunlight.

  “Oh God!” he said dejected. “They’re all over the back yard.”

  Ellis pushed to the window to look for himself. The backyard was much clearer than the front street, but there were still at least twenty or thirty bodies all over the back yard. Some of them were just milling around, but others were at the back windows, banging against the glass. They could hear the numbing sound coming from the stairwell as the bodies beat endlessly on the sides of the house.

  “How are we going to get past them,” Ellis said. “You saw how fast they are, they’ll swamp us in like two seconds.”

  Aran thought for a moment. It would not be much longer before something gave way and those things started getting in. They had to get out. Aran’s mind raced as he tried to think of something. Suddenly he bolted back down the hallway and into his room.

  “Hey,” Ellis called behind him, “where are you going?”

  Aran ran to his closet and started rummaging through the boxes that were stacked at the back.

  “What are you looking for?” Ellis said

  “Last year we went to South Carolina for a wedding and on the way home we bought a ton of fireworks. I only used some of them last summer. I know the rest are here somewhere.”

  Ellis immediately understood what Aran was doing; he was going to divert their attention.

  Ellis jumped in to help. The two boys tore apart the closet as the steady pounding of the dead continued.

  A crash of broken glass rang out and the boys looked at each other in terror. They had broken the window. It would not be long before some of them would get in and once that happened it would be very hard to get out. Aran tipped over a big, cardboard box and out poured what they were looking for.

  “These bottle rockets might work,” Ellis said as he started grabbing handfuls of the moon rockets. “They don’t go far, but they make noise.”

  Aran wasn’t paying attention, though; he was still digging through the box.

  “To hell with bottle rockets,” he said. Aran pulled out a backpack and tossed it over to Ellis. "But fill that thing up with everything you can, we might need them later."

  Ellis shoved e
verything he could find that made noise into the bag, forcefully zipped it closed and slung it.

  "Now what," he said.

  “This thing might do it," Aran said holding up what looked like a really thick paper towel tube attached to a square base. “This mortar shell is pretty big and it’s super loud when it goes off.”

  “Yeah, but those things shoot straight up,” Ellis said, “We need the corpses to go away from here.”

  Again Aran didn’t respond, he jumped up and ran from the room. Ellis just shook his head and left with him. He bolted down the hall and into his parent’s room. He immediately ran to the dresser and ripped open the top drawer. He grabbed a lighter that he knew his dad kept for his cigars and ran back through the door.

  When Aran reached the guest bedroom, he ran for the window.

  “This isn’t going to work,” Ellis said as Aran flipped the latch and started pushing up the window.

  “It has to or we’re done for,” Aran replied. “Now get over here and help me hold this.”

  Ellis just shrugged and walked over to the window.

  “Look,” Aran said, “If we point this thing at an angle it should explode on the other side of the house across the street. Maybe they will hear the noise and start moving away.”

  “Worth a shot I guess.” Ellis grabbed hold of the base and they angled it out the window.

  “Won’t it make noise once it goes off,” Ellis asked, awkwardly holding the base.

  Aran shook his head. “No, it has a little sound, but the loud noise comes when the shell goes off.”

  Aran lit the fuse and watched as the spark moved quickly up the green wire. Aran and Ellis both held the base tight to make sure that when the mortar fired, it stayed aimed the way they wanted it. When the fuse burnt to the base, the mortar fired with a dull thud.

  The tube launched the mortar ball over the street and a few houses down. When it finally exploded the noise was terrific. Not only did the shell explode with a loud crack, but it sent smoke and colorful sparks everywhere. Even in the daylight, it was easy to see.

  The boys dropped the smoking base, stood up and looked out the window. With bated breath, the boys watched in delight as a large group of the corpses began to move quickly in the direction of the explosion.

  “I think it’s working,” Aran said breathless. “Go to the hallway and see what’s going on in backyard.”

  Ellis ran back down the hallway and looked out the small window. The crowd of bodies had thinned significantly, leaving just a handful trying to get in the house.

  “There’s still some out there,” Ellis called out in his loudest whisper.

  Aran came down the hallway and looked out for himself. His stomach knotted at the sight. He had really hoped that they would all have gone away.

  Both boys stood at the window, watching the few remaining bodies beat on the back windows. They both knew what had to happen and neither of them wanted to face it. Ellis’ skin had gone pale and the confidence that he showed earlier in the day had faded. He was no different than Aran. They were both scared teenage boys faced with the most terrible situation and nothing that they did could change that reality.

  “We should get out of here,” Aran said as he leaned against the small windowsill.

  “Yeah, I know,” Ellis replied, not moving.

  Aran was the first to react. He pushed past Ellis and made for the stairs. Trying to keep his nerve, he went to the kitchen to grab the metal pipes that they had left on the counter. He heard Ellis coming down the stairs behind him. He handed him one of the black pipes and nodded, trying to silently convince himself he was ready. Without a word, Ellis nodded back and the two boys headed for the back of the house.

  They crept slowly into the living room, very aware that the infected corpses were still pounding against the large glass windows that looked out over the back lawn, making a drumbeat like some kind of macabre marching band. Aran could feel the fear gripping his mind. He held the pipe up in a batter’s stance as they crept slowly and silently across the room towards the back door of the house. Aran caught a glimpse of one of the bodies in the window out of the corner of his eye. It was a little girl, bight blonde hair to her shoulders and a pretty face that seemed so innocent. Aran stopped and looked at the little girl and she coldly stared back as she thumped against the glass. She looked so sad, but yet so enraged all at the same time. For a split second he actually thought the girl might be a survivor trying to get in and just as he was about to call out to her, she turned her head, revealing a massive chunk torn out of her neck. Aran spun his head and wretched on the floor, gagging on the horrible image that would never leave his mind.

  Ellis moved forward and looked out the small window at the top of the back door, trying to see what else awaited them in the shadows.

  “There is one of them right outside the door,” he whispered, with a shaking voice.

  “What do you think we should do?” Aran asked.

  “We have no choice,” Ellis replied, “we just have to open the door and swing.”

  He heard the words exit Ellis’ mouth, but he couldn’t believe what he was saying. Was this the best plan? To just open the door and hope that they could dispatch the thing that lurked on the other side.

  “But the others will follow once they hear us,” he whispered back in a panic.

  “What other choice do we have?” Ellis said sharply, “This is the only way to the backyard and you know what it looks like out front. There’s no other way.”

  Aran knew deep down that he was right, but the idea that they would be fending off multiple corpses was not something he was ready to face. He felt frozen and petrified. Tears began to well up in his eyes and utter panic set in. Aran looked over at Ellis and saw that it was happening to him too and put his hand on his shoulder. He felt bad for Ellis, but even more he felt empathy. He felt the exact same way.

  “It seemed so easy to talk about back on the island,” Ellis said quietly.

  “What?”

  “Back on the island. I was so confident that this would be easy; like playing a video game. I was so stupid. What the hell was I thinking?”

  Aran could see the guilt and remorse etched on Ellis’ face. For some reason, Ellis believed that it was his idea to come, but Aran wanted to do it. He had to come and see if his parents were still here despite his hesitations to face the dead. He didn’t want Ellis to take the emotional burden of what was happening because it wasn’t his fault.

  “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that we have to get the hell out of here. Now! Let’s just do this. I will throw open the door and we’ll take this thing on. You ready?”

  Ellis nodded and gripped his pipe, gritting his teeth and opening his legs in a split. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Aran gripped the doorknob and slowly turned it until he heard the small latch release and the door move slightly in his hand. Counting down in his head, he flung the door open and took his stance.

  The corpse made a horrible screeching sound and advanced on the open doorway as soon as it heard the creak of the door. Aran didn’t hesitate; he took a hard wide swing like he was back in school playing ball on the school field. The blunt end of the pipe made contact with the corpse’s skull with a sickening crunch. The body staged over and fell to the ground, landing at an awkward angle with its legs sprawled across the grass. With all the commotion, the other corpses that were banging on the window turned and began to advance.

  “Run!” Aran yelled as he bolted across the porch and jumped down to the lawn. Ellis followed, narrowly missing a lunge by the same little girl Aran had just seen in the window. Ellis could feel the girl’s hand try to grab the back of his shirt as he ran for his life. He felt the cold hands of a dead woman graze the back of his neck as she tried to take him down and tear his flesh.

  The scene was a blur. Both boys were running as fast as they could across the back lawn, trying to get to the dock and into the safety of the Boston Whaler. Bodie
s seemed to be coming out of nowhere as they sprinted around the gardens. Ellis saw a particularly fast moving corpse coming at him from the left. He knew there was no way he was going to avoid running into it unless he acted. Still at a full run, he swung the pipe with one hand at the sprinting body trying to hold onto the pipe and keep his balance at the same time. The pipe nicked the corner of the man’s head, taking a chunk out of his skull. The blow caused the body to stagger and slow for split second but it corrected itself and continued to pursue him. Ellis felt the bile rise in his throat as he stumbled headlong toward the dock. The blow from the pipe slowed the corpse enough for Ellis to run past, but it was still after him and close on his heels. Ellis could no longer control his body as he lurched forward and threw up the building bubble of churned bile and processed food in his stomach. The adrenaline of the situation along with the strain of running and the pain of vomiting made Ellis’ world go hazy. He could barely see in front of him and the world seemed to be moving in slow motion. Every sound was dulled and every motion he made seemed labored and cumbersome. He could see stars in front of his eyes and his vision started to blur as he stumbled down the sloping lawn towards the wooden boat dock.

  Aran got to the dock first, bolting down the narrow ramp toward where they had left the Whaler tied up. He jumped into the boat and turned the key in the ignition. The boat roared to life, flooding Aran with relief. But the relief was short lived. He looked up the dock and saw Ellis struggling down the lawn; two corpses close on his heels. Aran had no time to run back. It was too far and he would never make it.

  Without thinking, he grabbed the riffle and raised the sight to his eye. As best he could, he aimed and pulled the trigger. The riffle report thundered in the air and one of the bodies dropped like a sack to the ground, breaking an arm as landed and rolled across the ground. Aran aimed again and pulled the trigger. The riffle rang out again, but this time his aim wasn’t as true. Ellis let out a gut-wrenching scream that pierced the cool spring air. In that same instant, Ellis fell to the ground, tumbling from his momentum like a rag doll and landing with a thud.

  “Oh dear Jesus Ellis,” Aran cried.

  The second corpse was nearly on him. Quickly, Aran aimed for a third time and pulled the trigger. Nothing. The bullet whizzed past and buried itself in a nearby birch tree, splintering the trunk like it was a pencil. The body jumped and grabbed hold of Ellis’ his leg as he was slowly writhing on the ground. As calmly as he could, Aran fixed the scope against his eye for the fourth time. He focused on the head of the woman that was trying to tear into Ellis’ leg. When he was confident he was ready, he squeezed. The riffle kicked back against his chest and the corpse’s head exploded in a torrent of blood and gore. The body fell limp and against the ground.

  Aran jumped from the boat. He could see the hoard of bodies that were tearing around the house, aroused by the sounds of the riffle shots.

  “Ellis! Ellis, get up!” Aran yelled as he ran down the dock to the edge of the grass where Ellis lay in a heap.

  “Oh God, please get up.” Aran cried as he bent over Ellis’s body.

  Aran could not make out where the bullet had hit him. He grabbed hold of his legs and dragged him down the dock, not caring if he hurt him further or not. The teems of bodies were in the backyard now and moving fast.

  “Come on!” he yelled as he pulled Ellis along the splintery boards towards the idling Whaler.

  The fastest of the corpses was halfway down the lawn and moving like the wind. He was almost to the dock and Aran pulled with all his might. For half a second, he thought of just leaving Ellis on the dock and getting away. He contemplated using Ellis as bait to ensure his own survival. He thought about Elle and how he had to get back to her. He had to see her again and feel her soft touch on his skin. But how could he possibly face her knowing that he’d not only shot Ellis by accident, but left him for dead on the dock. He shook off the idea and kept dragging.

  By the time he got to the Whaler, the corpses were on the dock and closing in. He heaved Ellis’ limp body into the boat and started to push it away. The first of the bodies was suddenly on him. They were faster than he realized and Aran knew that they would swamp the boat if he didn’t do something. Reaching down, he snatched the pipe that was still clutched in Ellis’ hand and swung blindly at the oncoming body. The pipe struck the corpse across the lower torso, disrupting its balance and sending it flailing into the cold water.

  Aran jumped into the boat and threw it into gear. The boat sped ahead leaving behind a crowd of corpses pushing each other into the water, still trying to reach the escaping boat.

  As soon as he was clear, Aran put the boat into neutral and bent over to look at Ellis. He rolled him on his back and put his ear to his heart. He could hear a slight heartbeat and feel the pulse slowly beating through his neck. A small pool of blood was forming on the floor of the boat, springing from the wound Aran inflicted trying to save Ellis' life. Aran looked him over, trying to find the source of the blood. After several frantic moments, he saw the wound.

  Just under Ellis' left arm, Aran could see a tear in his shirt and a circular pool of blood that was spreading. He tore off the shirt at the site of the hole, trying to assess the extent of the damage. After wiping away the blood, relief spread over Aran and he sank back on his heels with a sigh. He had only just grazed Ellis, leaving nothing more than a surface wound that could easily patched with a large Band-Aid.

  He used Ellis' torn shirt as a bandage and patched him up the best he could. He lay Ellis down on the floor of the Whaler and quickly made for Damariscove, leaving the hoard of corpses riled and angry on the shores of East Boothbay. Tears rolled down Aran's cheeks as he slowly realized that he would never be able to go home again.

  Supply Talk

  The next morning dawned bright and sunny, but the mood in the house on the island was not a happy one. The boys’ trip had been a complete failure. A simple outing to Aran’s house had resulted in a massive hoard of corpses surrounding the place in the matter of minutes, trapping them inside and forcing a dramatic and near-fatal escape. Now the realization of how dangerous the dead world actually was began to seep into the boys’ minds.

  They certainly had their questions about the abilities of the corpses answered and the answers they got where not what they wanted to hear. The bodies were fast and strong, running the boys down like marathon sprinters. Even the corpses of old people and kids showed remarkable speed and agility. Everything they learned to expect from reanimated corpses from movies and television had been dead wrong. These corpses weren't slow moving, ambling creatures that were easily outrun; they were fast, dangerous and very alert to their surroundings. If they had been ambushed on a small street, how would they possibly get to a major grocery store or shopping center that was in the middle of a high population area?

  Elle and the boys sat in the living room, talking and discussing how they were going to proceed and what they were going to do. Each idea seemed as impossible as the next because no matter how they spun it, a supply run involved going back to the mainland.

  "We need to hold out as long as we can," Aran said adamantly.

  "But if we wait until we are too low, we are going to be forced to make a quick decision. If we plan it now, before the supplies get low, we can go when the conditions are the best."

  Aran ran his hands through his hair, remembering the near disaster of the day before. "We nearly got trapped in my parents dinky little neighborhood. If we got to Hannaford's, there's gonna be hundreds of those things."

  Elle sat next to Aran, her head resting against his shoulder and stroking his hand as the boys discussed their plans. She was nervous and as they tried to figure out a solution and she tried to push the thought of losing the boys out of her head. She had just started to come to terms with the loss of her life and her family, These two boys were all she had left in the world. Losing either of them would be a devastating blow that she wasn't sure she would be able to handle.


  "What if you found some place right on the water?" Elle said suddenly, lifting her head from Aran's shoulder. "That way you wouldn't have much distance to go."

  "I don't think there is any place that will have supplies that's right on the water except restaurants and they won't have enough things to make it worth while." Ellis said.

  "What about the Marina?" Elle asked. "When my parents get gas for the Whaler, my sister and I always used to go into the shop and buy stuff. They have a bunch of grocery supplies and lots of bottled water."

  The boys looked at each other.

  "If it's a marina store, they should have containers and gas and marine supplies. We won't be able to get everything we need, but we should be able to get some stuff." Ellis said excitedly.

  Aran felt a bit silly that he was the only permanent resident of Boothbay, but he had never been to the marina. He never had a reason to go because his parents never had the desire to buy or use a powerboat, so there was no need to buy marine fuel.

  "What's the setup at the marina?" Ellis asked. "Is it easy to get in and out?"

  Elle nodded her head. "There's a dock where you tie up to fuel and from that dock a long ramp leads up to the store. You don't ever leave the dock, so it might be easier to avoid those things."

  "I think that sounds like a good idea," Ellis said. "We should go as soon as possible, that way we can get everything we can from the marina and then we can better figure out our next run."

  Aran sat and nodded as he stroked Elle's beautiful brown hair. He was falling deeper and deeper in love with her everyday and sitting there in the quiet and safety of the living room, he actually felt content and happy. He could live this way. He could easily wake up each morning to her beautiful face and her warm smile. He could spend the days wrapped in her arms and stroking her hair. As much as he missed his old life and his family, he felt like he could be happy here as long as Elle was by his side.

  The boys spent the day planning for the Marina run, with Elle helping draw up a rough map of what the marina layout looked like. Neither of them were very keen on going back to the mainland so soon after the near disaster. Even though their last trip nearly killed them, both Aran and Ellis felt as if they had learned a lot about the corpses and how they react.

  From what they had observed, they were very aware of sound and the slightest noise could attract them. Once a crowd started forming, the noise of the crowd attracted the others at an exponential rate. It was also clear that they could see, but it seemed that their sight was much less acute than their hearing, which gave the boys the advantage of being able to walk in closer proximity as long as they stayed quiet.

  Later that afternoon while the boys sat in the living room planning out their run and discussing all the possible hiccups that could occur, Elle came into the room and stood firmly next to the coffee table, looking down at the boys as they planned.

  "I'm going," she said sternly.

  The boys stopped mid sentence and stared up at her.

  "What do you mean?" Aran asked.

  "I'm going with you to the marina," she replied.

  Aran sighed and flopped back on the couch. "I don't want to you to come," he said softly.

  Elle did not seem pleased at Aran's reaction.

  "And why not?" she said with a look of disgust on her face.

  "Because it's not safe out there," Ellis replied, trying to take some of the heat off of Aran.

  "It's not safe for you two either," she snapped, "I can defend myself just as well as you can and I know the marina. Neither of you have ever been there."

  "I don't want anything to happen to you," Aran said. "I nearly lost you once. I don't want to go through that again."

  Elle just stood there for a second, silent and pondering what he had said. She clearly understood how Aran felt, but at the same time she wanted to help and she hated sitting by herself in the house, hoping they would return.

  "Look," she said, "I understand, but I can't just sit here praying you two will come back. You are all I have left in this world. The thought of being out here on my own because you two didn't make it back is worse than dying with you guys out there. We need to stick together. We live in this new world together and we die together. No more separating."

  Aran hung his head, completely understanding Elle's point of view. It wasn't fair that he ask her to sit and wait while they possibly got themselves killed. It had almost happened once and he knew that it could easily happen again.

  "Alright," he said solemnly, "You can come."

  The Marina

  The morning of the trip to the marina dawned with a feeling of angst and fear in the house that hung in the air like a wet blanket. The three survivors sat around the kitchen table, eating their cereal and hardly saying a word to each other.

  They had gone over the plans for getting into the marina a hundred times using drawings and sketches, but no matter how much they discussed it, they never felt quite ready. Each day that came, one of them had a reason why that particular day wasn’t going to be a good day to go.

  Two days ago, Ellis claimed that his ankle was sore, making it too risky for him to attempt to run. The previous day, Aran was convinced that the weather and the seas were not favorable and that they would be risking themselves to attempt it.

  The current morning, however, all excuses were off. The sun was shinning brightly and the seas were calm as glass, making for the perfect conditions to tie up to the dock and make for the marina store. The plan was simple and straightforward. They were going to break into the store, get as many supplies as they could carry out and get back to the boat. If the way was clear, they were going to try multiple trips, stocking the boat as full as they could. If it was dangerous, they had a short list of needed supplies they would grab before making a quick getaway.

  Elle was almost certain that they would have a clear path, since the dock led directly to the marina store, with only a small parking lot near the entrance. The marina store would have a limited supply of food, but it would have a ton of marine supplies that could help them maintain the boat and the house.

  Ellis wanted to try to turn on the fuel pumps and fill the boat’s gas tank along with whatever fuel containers they could locate in the store because marine fuel was going to be the quickest resource they would deplete.

  The boys got up from the table, glanced at each other but neither of them said anything to each other. They gathered the things they needed and headed for the door, both of them tense and apprehensive about the journey. Elle’s mood had dramatically changed since her proclamation to the boys that she was going. What was once such a confident attitude towards going to the marina had turned to fear and doubt. Elle held it in though, not allowing the boys to see that she was scared out of her mind.

  Elle was never the girl who was first in line to try things, but she never shied away from a challenge either. Once when she fourteen, a group of her friends went to the quarry near her neighborhood and dared each other to jump in from the top of the rim. The water was murky and the cliff wall was high and sheer. If there were rocks lurking beneath the surface, it was impossible to see in the gloom. Elle sat back and watched as the first of her friends made the plunge before joining the group and diving in the freezing cod water. Elle was popular in school and intermixed with many different social groups. She was generally kind to other students, but often hung out with the other popular girls. She cold hold her own athletically, but she was no athlete. She was on the cheer squad and attended dance classes throughout the winter months, but she never joined any school teams. Her best friend at school was Tabitha Jones who was the captain of the cheer squad and the most popular girl in school. Even tough the two were friends; they couldn’t have been more opposite. Tabitha had a constant stream of boyfriends in her life, never staying with one for very long and always in need of the next one. Elle had only one boyfriend during high school and it lasted just a few months. She tended to be picky and never real
ly found anyone in her school acceptable. When she wasn’t with her friends, she had ner nose buried in books. She could knock out a book in day and spent many weekends up in her room, reading everything she could. She looked forward all year long to being on Damariscove because she could spend her days reading in peace. It was so strange that the place that she used to consider her freedom from life, had become her prison.

  The three kids walked out the front door into the radiant sunlight of the beautiful spring morning, strolling into a near perfect day on the central Maine coast. They prepped the boat and motored away from the island, leaving behind the comfort and safety of their little world and entering into the dangerous and vicious place that they once considered a comfort.

  The ride towards the harbor was uneventful and easy, although none of them looked toward the shore in fear that they would catch a glimpse of a corpse. Squirrel Island passed by on the left. Seagulls flocked around the rocks and the small waves from the open ocean lapped up against the barnacle-incrusted shoreline. No one said a word as the boat sped onward toward the entrance of Boothbay Harbor, the ever-growing fear eating away at their confidence with every passing minute.

  As the small boat passed through the mouth of the harbor, the yellow umbrellas of the marina could be seen on the right shoreline like a signal flare. The harbor itself was quiet and intact. The sailboats and lobster boats that were moored further from shore lightly rocked back and forth, their small bells clanging in the morning air. Boothbay Harbor was normally a bustling port town full of tourists and locals motoring in and out of the wide harbor. It gave Aran a chill to see it lifeless and silent.

  It was Elle that spotted the bodies first. The slow meandering corpses ambled along the shore, milling in abandoned parking lots and shuffling around cramped balconies. It was an unnerving sight to see how many of them there were, dotting the harbor like ants on a dropped piece of food.

  “I thought you said they’re fast,” Elle whispered to Ellis as Aran veered toward the marina dock.

  “They’re crazy fast,” he replied, “but they have to be aroused or woken up. I think that maybe they go into hibernation or something.”

  “And it’s sound that gets their attention right,” she said.

  Ellis shrugged his shoulders. “We think so. That’s what did it last time, but that doesn’t mean that they can’t be stirred by sight too.”

  “We need to find out somehow,” Elle said as she scanned the marina.

  “Yeah,” Ellis laughed. “And how do you propose we do that?”

  Elle just smiled, but her mind was racing with ideas. If the corpses only were stirred by sound, could they walk silently by them without a passing glance? The ability to slip around them unnoticed would be an asset they couldn’t afford to not know about. But how could they test the idea without putting themselves in danger?

  “Here we go,” Aran said as he slowly docked the whaler up where the boats would tie up to get fuel. He killed the engine and Ellis hopped onto the dock and tied the lines to the cleats. Aran stepped out onto the dock and helped Elle down off the side of the boat. They scanned the docks for signs of the dead, but there was no one nearby.

  The setup at the marina was pretty simple. Parallel to the shore about fifty feet out was a long, wooden, floating dock where small and large boats alike could pull up and get gas. A single floating dock ran from the gas docks to a rooted dock and a ramp that could raise and lower with the tides. The ramp led to the front of the store and offices with a small parking lot to the left that was blocked by a line of potted trees.

  “There are a few of them in the parking lot,” Ellis whispered.

  Aran looked up and saw the tops of a few heads slowly moving around the small, paved lot. The row of plants seemed to block the corpses’ view of the entrance to the marina store, so the concern seemed minimal.

  “What if some of them are in the store?” Elle asked, clearly shaken.

  “We just have to take them on,” Ellis said, putting his hand on her shoulder. “We’ll take care of you, don’t worry.”

  “Thanks,” she said looking into his face. “We’ll take care each other.”

  They slowly and quietly walked down the docks and up the ramp toward the marina store. They could hear the soft sounds of the corpses moving around the parking lot as they made for the glass door with the marina’s logo on it. Ellis reached out and slowly grabbed the handle, giving it a slight pull. The door opened without a sound and they carefully slipped inside, adjusting their eyes to the dim light.

  The store was small, with a few rows of shelves housing everything from sea charts to fishing supplies. The register sat at a small counter near the front on the store and was stocked with the usual candy and treats to entice buyers as they checked out. Near the center of the small room, were two shelves that carried food and snacks and a series of refrigerators at the back filled with drinks. The store seemed empty and the three of them stood stock still for several moments before deciding that the coast was clear.

  Aran reached for a metal basket that was in a stack near the front counter and headed toward the shelves with food. Ellis was given the task of determining what marine and boat supplies could be useful and Elle was going to get all the useful liquid and refrigerated goods. They split up and took to task as quickly and quietly as they could, making sure that they didn’t create any noise that could arouse the nearby corpses.

  Elle stole to the back refrigerator and began to toss all the things she could into the cloth shopping bags she brought. Even though the store was small and lacked a good selection. She found quite a lot of deli meats, cheeses and lunch-type food, which would be great to have around, even though the expiration dates on much of it was fast approaching.

  Aran’s did fairly well in his task too. Most of the food he found were snacks like cookies, candy and chips but he knew that anything was better than nothing. He loaded up his bags with things like Fig Newtons, Lays potato chips and enough Pepperidge Farms cookies to make anyone fat.

  Ellis carefully walked up and down the aisles that housed the marine and boat supplies, looking for anything useful. He found a section containing about eight new five-gallon gas jugs and a ton of marine oil. He also grabbed a bunch of fishing gear and tackle, knowing that eventually they would have to live off of the ocean when all the processed food went bad.

  After several minutes, they three met back up with their items, looking over what each had found.

  “What now?” Elle asked, putting down her heavy bags.

  “We run this stuff down to the boat and then come back and get more,” Aran replied. “We need to make as many trips as we can. Get all of this stuff out of here while the coast is clear.”

  The three took a deep breath and made their way outside into the sunshine. Just like before, the scene was deathly quiet. The only audible sound other than the cawing of the seabirds was the slight shuffling sound from the parking lot next door. They stole down the docks and unloaded their find into the whaler, turned around and went straight back up to the store.

  They went back and forth for nearly an hour, loading up the boat with stuff and going back for more. Ellis was particularly excited about the fact that the gas pumps were still on and he was able to fill up all the gas jugs and the forty-gallon tank for the whaler.

  Aran cleaned out the food shelves and worked his way to the clothing section, grabbing sweatshirts with Boothbay slogans and marina gear, knowing that clothing would eventually become an issue. Elle quickly emptied the refrigerators and went around the shop looking for anything else that they might have missed.

  Aran and Elle grabbed the last of the useful things from the store and headed for the door, taking one last look to make sure nothing was left behind. Satisfied, they closed the door and made for the boat. Just as they passed the parking lot, Elle stopped.

  “I want to test my theory,” she whispered to Aran.

  Aran shook his head vigorously. “No way. Too dange
rous.”

  Elle lowered her shoulders with a pout, but said nothing. They walked back to the boat, dropped the last bags in and got ready to go.

  “We need to test the idea,” Elle said again firmly, “We have to know how well they can see.”

  “And exactly how do you want to go about doing that?” Ellis asked.

  Aran shook his head, clearly not wanting any part of the idea at all.

  “Well,” Elle said, “I’ve been thinking about those bodies that are in the parking lot up there. If one of us slowly walks into their line of sight, we will be able to easily run away if they spot us.”

  “You have no idea how fast they are,” Aran said firmly. “They will run you down.”

  “If the boat is running and ready to go, it should be easy.”

  Aran shook his head again and pulled Elle tight to his body. “There is no way I’m letting you walk up to those things, now way!”

  Elle rested her head against Aran’s chest. “I’ll be safe, I promise,” she said quietly.

  “I’ll do it,” Ellis said, although his voice was shaky.

  “Really?” Elle said, letting go of Aran.

  “Yeah. I’ll get close enough, but stay far enough away so that I can run back here.”

  “Thank you,” Elle said, giving Ellis a hug.

  “Besides,” he said with a smug smile, “I’m way faster than you are.”

  “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Aran said.

  “It’ll be fine,” Ellis said. “Kinda like throwing rocks as a wasps nest.”

  “I’ve done that before,” Aran laughed. “They stung the hell out of me.”

  “Let’s hope I fare better than you,” he said, rubbing Aran’s head.

  Aran got the boat started and untied the bow and stern lines, leaving Elle at the wheel as he stood on the dock, holding the whaler from drifting away.

  “Alright, you ready?” Aran asked.

  Ellis nodded and walked up the dock toward the ramp, trying to act tough and keep the nearly paralyzing fear at bay. He knew he had to be brave. He wanted to be the brave one. Ever since he got to the island, Aran seemed braver and more put together and he was jealous of that. This was his chance to show Elle that he was just as tough as Aran, maybe even tougher. He was going to stare down those corpses and live to tell the tale to Elle, maybe even proving her theory right.

  He walked up to the trees that divided the entrance of the marina store from the small parking lot adjacent to the building next door. Taking a deep breath, he peered around one of the trees into the space beyond, trying to assess what he was getting himself into.

  His eyes met a terrible sight on the other side. Milling around the parking lot were several families of corpses, all with small kids who had obviously turned on each other at some point during the mayhem. A small, blonde girl was ambling about with massive chunks torn out of her arms and her leg bent the wrong way with a piece of her bone protruding through her skin. One of the small boys was missing half of his face and a tiny toddler was crawling around, his foot completely missing. It was a scene from hell and Ellis had to concentrate with all his might to keep his composure.

  He took a deep breath and slowly walked through the trees, stepping out into the parking lot and keeping as quiet as possible. He began to walk along the edge of the lot, trying to mimic the movement of the corpses to see if they could see him.

  Ellis had always been the brave one amongst his friends. He was always poking fun at his friends and making them feel like chickens for not doing the risky things that he set forth. Ellis was an adventurous boy. He loved climbing trees, hiking along cliffs and sports that walked a bit on the wild side. In school he was a bit of an outsider. He preferred to be on his own most of the time, although he loved bringing his small group of friends on his crazy adventures.

  It was the little blonde girl who noticed Ellis first. She raised her mangled head and let out a blood-curdling scream, fixing her dead eyes on him in a wicked stare. Ellis froze, unable to uproot himself from the spot and run, paralyzed by the sound that emanated from the little girl. The rest of the corpses turned to look as the little girl began to run across the parking lot toward Ellis, sprinting at an alarming rate of speed.

  But Ellis remained frozen. Something inside him was refusing to move, refusing to make his legs work. Within an instant the little girl was almost on him and the rest of the bodies were not far behind. From out of the crisp air, a shot rang out and the little girl’s head split wide-open, splattering Ellis with gore across his chest and face, covering him in a reddish filth. Ellis snapped back to reality, looking down his front in horror before seeing the splattered remains of the five year old girl slumped on the ground at his feet. Before he could process what had happened, he heard the shrieks of the other corpses bearing down on him like a runaway train.

  He turned and ran, bursting through the trees and sprinting down the dock toward the ramp, trying not to look back over his shoulder at the bodies that were surely closing the gap between them. He could feel them though, almost smell them on his heels and at that moment he thought he wasn’t going to make. He was sure he wasn’t fast enough. He felt a hand swipe the back of his shirt and heard the pounding of their feet on the boards as he hurtled himself down the steep ramp which was severely angled due to low tide.

  Again, out of nowhere, a shot rang out and Ellis heard a body crashing to the deck along with the sickening sound of cracking bones. He turned his head to see a corpse wedged against the boards at the edge of the ramp, causing the others to stumble and trip. This was his chance to escape. He had a split second of precious time to get to the boat before the rest of the group got over the barricade and regained their terrifying speed.

  He tore around the corner and signaled Aran to get in the boat, waving his hands like a madman. Aran jumped into the boat and helped Ellis in the second he was close enough to grab hold of his hand.

  “Punch it Elle,” Aran yelled as soon as Ellis was over the side.

  Elle slammed the throttle and the boat tore away from the dock, leaving the corpses screaming across the still harbor.

  “Guess Elle’s theory was a bit off,” Aran said, trying to lighten the moment.

  “Just a bit,” he replied panting.

  “Who the hell fired the shots?” Aran asked.

  “I have no idea. I thought it was you.”

  Time Passes

  May quickly turned to June and the weather began its steady improvement, with more and more days of sunshine and warmth. The boys spent the days building a makeshift fence around the house in an attempt to slow down anyone or anything that made it to the island. They also decided to begin regular patrols around the perimeter of the east end of the island, making sure no boats had tied or washed up along the shore.

  Elle spent the days walking with Ellis or Aran on the patrols, or making her garden outside the house. With the boys help, she scavenged soil from the island and dumped it in a nice gully near the front porch. Elle knew that her mother had planned to make planter gardens that summer and had already purchased a variety of seed packets containing everything they cpuld possibly try to plant. The boys both agreed that the idea of having garden was great, increasing the amount of food they had to eat.

  The boys spent every third day pulling lobster traps, baiting them and bringing home the days catch. The three of them would then boil each lobster, pull out the meat and freeze it in one of the two huge chest freezers that were down in the basement. They tried to eat lobster as much as possible, only using the other food they had sparingly. Luckily, right before he left the Marina, Ellis found a freezer full of sandwiches and meats, which he brought to the boat.

  On the last day of May, the mainland power finally went dark, forcing Aran and Ellis to switch the house’s power over to the solar panels and the generator. Since they used very little electricity during the day, they always had a nice surplus of power and never really worried about running out. T
here were several huge batteries down in the basement, which were hooked up to the generator. The batteries stored electricity in case they went several days without sunshine and the ability to generate solar power.

  The water, amazingly, was still on and they were taking full advantage of the fresh water, knowing that it could all be gone at any second. Each time they used a bottle of water they immediately refilled it from the tap, keeping a huge supply of fresh water on hand at all times.

  The mood in the house was generally good, although each of the survivors had their moment of sadness or regret, thinking about all they had lost. Each one took turns helping the other through the hard times and they found that a very strong bond was forming between the three of them.

  Aran loved Elle and he took whatever chances he could to spend time with her. They would spend hours talking about all sorts of things. It was amazing how little they both knew about each other and Aran found that he learned something new and surprising with each conversation. The topic of sex and intimacy had come up numerous times and it was always an uncomfortable subject for each of them. They both wanted to go all the way and spend a wonderful night together, but without protection they were both scared to death about what could happen. Neither of them wanted to contemplate dealing with a pregnancy and a baby in the conditions that they were in and neither of them had any clue of how to take care of a child.

  So they came to the decision that on the next run, they would look for contracewptives so that they could be safe and not take the risk of Elle getting pregnant.

  Ellis spent his days thinking of new projects and working around the island. He would often take Aran’s kayak out and just paddle out to the open sea, keeping to himself and trying to hide his sadness. He felt like a third wheel and he hated the fact that Aran had Elle and he had no one. He also had to live with the fact that he too loved Elle. He loved her from the moment he saw he on the boat those many weeks before but Aran came and changed everything. He was so glad for Aran, because he knew that he would never have survived without him, but he hated the fact that he and Elle knew each other and took away his chance of telling Elle how he felt. It was an impossible situation and he felt that no matter what transpired, it was never meant to be.

  Ellis and Aran sat down one evening to go over a growing list of things that both needed to be done and things that they wanted to do. Along with some of the ideas from Aran’s original list, Ellis had compiled some ideas that he thought needed to be done, including some rather intricate and difficult tasks.

  “We’re going to need firewood for the winter,” Ellis said, taping the list. “We can’t survive out here in the cold and wind.”

  “We’ll need a chainsaw for that,” Aran said. “All he have here is a hatchet and that’s not going to work.”

  “We can get one on the next run,” Ellis said. “There are tons of uninhabited islands here covered with trees that we can safely cut down.”

  Aran nodded his head, not saying another word, just thinking about the inevitable next trip.

  “What else you got?”

  “Well, it might be a long shot, but what would you think about finding a bigger boat?”

  “How big are you thinking?”

  “Big. Like a forty footer. Full cabin, living space and beds.”

  Aran thought for a moment. The idea was good and made a lot of sense. It was a last resort; a plan if something ever happened to the island a caused them to desert Damariscove.

  “We could stock it with non-perishable stuff just in case we ever have to leave,” Ellis said

  “It’s a good plan,” Aran said quietly, “I think we should do that next.”

  Ellis nodded his head, sitting back in the chair and letting out a deep sigh. The idea of getting a large boat seemed simple enough, but he knew that it was going to be harder than it seemed. They would need to find a boat with the keys available and one that was clear of corpses. The best place seemed like the marina because it had the best chance of having a boat with keys in it.

  “We could try one of those boats at the marina,” Ellis said.

  Aran shook his head vigorously. “I don’t like the idea of going back there.”

  “Why not?”

  “Look, whoever shot those corpses and let you escape is still there. We have no idea who they are or what they want. I don’t want a problem.”

  Ellis had been thinking about the gunshot everyday since the marina, wondering who could have pulled the trigger. Someone shot that little girl in the head, saving Ellis from certain infection and death but had never shown themselves.

  “Maybe they need help,” Ellis said slightly under his breath.

  Aran knew what Ellis was thinking, but he wanted no part of it. They had no way of knowing who was out there or how many they were. One person would be okay, but he didn’t want to think about a huge group of people using up their precious resources and crowding their little island.

  “We just can’t take the risk,” Aran said. “I understand what you’re feeling, but we can’t take any chances with this place.”

  Ellis nodded. He knew Aran was right even though he hated the idea that someone who saved his life could be suffering. He had risked his life to test Elle’s theory. Even though he knew it wouldn’t work, he did it for her anyway. He wanted to show her that he was just as brave as Aran, maybe even braver.

  “So where should be look for a boat then?”

  “Christmas Cove maybe,” Aran said. “It’s close to here and usually has quite a few boats tied up there. We are just going to have to find one with the keys in it.”

  Ellis thought about Aran’s plan and couldn’t find fault with it.

  “What about a sailboat?” Aran said after thinking a moment.

  “Might be a good idea,” Ellis said. “If we found a big one with a decent motor, we could use sail power and save fuel. I never thought of that.”

  “Okay, let’s just get it done then,” Aran said. “If it’s nice tomorrow, we’ll head over there and look for one.”

  The boys spent the next hour going over the rest of the list, prioritizing the items and eliminating things that seemed either silly or impossible. And as always, the major mainland supply run loomed at the bottom of the page, sitting there like an omen of things to come. They all knew it had to be done eventually, but none of them actually wanted to confront it.

  Bella Notte

  The next afternoon, the boys returned to the island with a beautiful sailboat complete with everything they could have wanted. They had an easy time of finding it too, making the trip a total success.

  After boarding several different boats, they came across the Bella Notte, a huge thirty eight foot sailboat moored in the small harbor of Christmas Cove. It was a magnificent craft, sitting in the water like a giant wooden slipper. The sleep hull was long and narrow with a deck of brilliant cedar wood, contrasting with the deep blue color. It had a tall main mast and a small foremast, complete with sails of brilliant white and all capped off with a beautiful Swiss flag flying atop the tallest mast.

  The boys climbed aboard and carefully checked to make sure that there were no unfavorable guests on board. Once the coast was clear they dropped down into the hull for a better look. The inside was flawless, complete with marble counters in the kitchen, two bedrooms with top of the line furniture and enough space for the three of them to live comfortably if anything went wrong on the island.

  It was obvious by the state of the boat that the owners were extremely wealthy, stocking it with the best trimmings, including a small storeroom full of high end canned and non-perishable food that could easily last several weeks. The kitchen shelves were also stocked full of food, proof that the people who owned the boat must have been about ready to head out for a long journey.

  After thirty minutes of rummaging around, they found a spare set of keys, hidden in a small box in one of the bedroom drawers. This was something they had not been able to find on the other two
boats they boarded. The finishing cap on the success of the boat was the fact that the sail and rigging system was completely automatic and run by a computer system next to the captain’s wheelhouse. The system allowed a single person to raise and lower the sails at the press of a button, removing the need for a crew to haul and pull on lines to work the sails.

  Ellis, having more experience with larger boats, was the one who took the Bella Notte back to Damariscove, putting her under power as he navigated out of Christmas Cove and down the river towards the island. It took less than twenty minutes to arrive back on the island and Ellis carefully navigated the long, lean sailboat down the channel and into the harbor.

  The boys were met with cheers and squeaks from Elle, who was so excited to see them and home safe. They could have come back with nothing and she still would simply have been ecstatic that they returned safe. They all jumped on board on the sailboat and headed back out for a pleasure cruise, taking advantage of the beautiful weather and stiff breeze that was blowing in from the south.

  It was a marvelous afternoon and the boat was under sail the entire time, keeling over under the power of the wind and driving the boat at a fast clip out into the open blue ocean.

  With Ellis at the wheel, Aran and Elle sat in the bow of the Bella Notte, feeling the wind in their face and enjoying the freedom of the open sea. If they closed their eyes long enough, they could almost imagine that it was just a normal day out on the water. A regular day in June day like any other. They tried to push the thoughts of what happened out of their minds, letting the salt air blow through their hair and the smell of the sea overtake their senses, blocking out all their bad thoughts.

  “I wish we didn’t have to go back to the island,” Elle said. “I wish we could just stay out here forever.” She wrapped her arms around Aran and kissed his neck, snuggling into him as the swells rolled under the boat.

  Aran understood what she meant. Even though he knew Damariscove meant safety and comfort, it had memories and it reminded him everyday of what they’d lost.

  But, no matter how bad he felt, he needed the island. He needed Damariscove. The island had become his parent, his mother and father and he knew that it could protect him as long as he made the effort. It was the perfect spot, far away from the mainland, a protected harbor and a hardy house that could withstand the hardest Atlantic storms. Damariscove was home.

  After spending several hours out on the water, they lowered the sails and motored back into the harbor, the familiar buildings and shacks of the island greeting them like children on a front lawn. It was a great feeling to have the Bella Notte at their disposal, a beautiful sailboat that could take them across the Atlantic if they needed it to, using the force of the wind to take them anywhere the wanted to go.

  “That boat has duel eighty gallon gas tanks,” Ellis said later that evening. “And they’re both full, which means we could use the boat under power for quit a long time.”

  “Doesn’t seem like a big engine,” Aran replied.

  “It’s big enough to push us to twenty knots I think, but it shouldn’t suck very much gas.”

  Even though Aran loved the island and planned on making it his home until the rest of the world sorted itself out, it was nice to know that he had a backup plan. He had a way to leave and be safe if the time ever came to go.

  Aran fell asleep that night next to Elle, his arm draped over her, holding her tight and feeling good for the first time in a while. They had a backup plan, ample supplies and the summer weather was finally making its appearance. Despite the horrors on the mainland, he actually felt good and slightly hopeful for the future. For the first time since before the virus hit, he actually felt like things were going to be okay.

  Island in Peril

  Aran and Ellis decided that they would open up the tower that sat on top of the bluff, overlooking the harbor. It gave a complete, three hundred and sixty degree view of the island and the surrounding waters, which was an excellent way to keep a look-out without having to roam around the islands walking trails.

  The old fort tower was bare inside, and the boys brought some chairs and things from the house to spruce it up a bit, making it a nice place to sit and relax. They both agreed that they would each go up to the tower twice a day and keep a look out for anything unusual, especially boats that could be approaching or in the area.

  Ellis had the idea of setting barbed wire across the two paths that led from the far side of the island, putting it low to the ground to hopefully catch anyone coming across the island in their direction. They hoped they could easily hear a power boat approaching their end of the island, but it would be much harder to hear a boat if they somehow managed to get ashore on the northern end.

  Getting on the island would be no easy task, most likely damaging a boat beyond repair if anyone attempted to drive it up to the rocks. Sadly, with the state of things, they knew people would be much less concerned about their boats and much more concerned with survival.

  Anyone who read the mock survival guides for the apocalypse knew that the best place to be was an island. They were protected, hard to get to and usually minimally inhabited. The Maine coast was dotted with islands that could serve as a safe haven from the hordes of dead bodies that roamed the mainland. The trouble with the islands of the Maine coast was the access to them. They almost always were completely surrounded by rocky shores and brutal ledges, making it possible to dock with a kayak, but nearly impossible with any other kind of craft.

  The boys were confident that if a boat decided to anchor off shore and use kayaks or some other small boat to paddle ashore, they could see it and head them off before they became a threat.

  July seemingly came and went in a flash. Elle had a great looking garden going; most of her planted crops were coming along nicely. Her corn was getting tall, the tomato plants were showing signs of yielding nice ripe tomatoes and her other vegetables looked good as well. Both the boys were always commenting on how good a gardener she was and she would just smile back and thank her mom for showing her how to garden.

  One bright afternoon, Aran slung his riffle and headed up the tower trail to their makeshift observation station for his second lookout of the day. Even though he often found them annoying, he liked the walk up to the bluff. The narrow path through the high grasses and low bushes, winding up to the top of the bluff high above the harbor was a beautiful walk and Aran loved slowly hiking up, taking in the breezes.

  The afternoon was glorious and the sun was shining off the deep blue water. The cloudless sky was making the scene look like something from a tourist brochure. When Aran reached the top of the bluff, he gazed out across the tiny harbor, slightly smiling to himself. Despite everything, he was happy. He could see Elle down on her knees, working in her garden and Ellis busy cleaning out one of the outer sheds that was used by the caretakers to store equipment. Aran held his hand up to his forehead to shield himself from the light, cursing the fact that he forgot his sunglasses in the house. As he hid the sun behind his hand and looked further west, he felt his heart jump.

  A lobster boat was motoring up the channel, passing the ocean buoy at a high rate of speed. Aran didn’t know what to do. They’d never actually thought about a procedure for sending a warning down to the house if they saw something alarming.

  Even at his best run, he couldn’t get back down the long path to warn them before the boat entered the harbor. He cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled at the top of his lungs, trying to signal one of them, but the wind was blowing in from the southwest, sending his voice in the opposite direction. He knew that he could use the riffle if he had to, but it would be a long shot from that far away, leaving both Ellis and Elle vulnerable if they didn’t see the boat in time.

  The boat moved quickly up the channel and headed into the harbor. Looking through the scope, he could make out two men. One was driving and the other was standing next to the driver, both dressed in typical attire for Maine lobsterman; full
length orange jumpers, heavy rubber boots and dirty white tee shirts. The boat was an old and aging with red peeling paint and the name “Betty Lue” painted in white letters across the back and sides.

  Elle still hadn’t noticed the boat and Ellis had ducked back inside the shed and had not seen it either. The brisk breeze was carrying the sound of the boat away from the house, making its motor hard to hear. Aran had no idea what to do. He felt he was too far away to accurately take a shot but he couldn’t get down to warn them either.

  He began bounding down the steep, brush covered slope, trying a direct route down to the harbor, but it wasn’t easy going as the branches and brambles tore at his legs. He kept losing footing on the rocky slope, nearly falling several times. He was determined to get closer so he could get a cleaner shot off.

  The two men pulled the boat up, docked and disembarked heading towards the garden where Elle’s back was towards them as she tended her plants. She stood up, her hair glowing in the afternoon sun, clearly startling the men, the first of who drew what looked like a gun. He could hear Elle’s shout of alarm, followed by a loud, deep voice of the man holding the gun. Elle raised her hands up above her head and glanced up at the hill, looking for Aran.

  Aran cursed under his breath, stopping in his tracks and unslinging his riffle. He looked down the barrel of the gun, trying set up a good shot of the man with the gun. He was scared and his nerves were causing him to tremble slightly, which made the small figure of the man in the scope even harder to get a lock on.

  Ellis, clearly alerted by the shouts, tore out of the shed anand r full speed down the path from the far end of the harbor.

  “Don’t let them see you,” Aran said under his breath, hoping Ellis would keep low once he realized what was happening. If Ellis came barging up, he would be in the same spot as Elle and unable to help.

  No matter how hard he tried, Aran just couldn’t get a shot from his distance, so he continued down the slope, trying to keep his balance and close the gap. Each second felt like an hour, hoping that the men would give him time to get to a good position. As he tried to steady his decent, he tripped on a jagged outcropping of small rocks and tumbled down the slope, crashing as he slid out of control.