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marystucki12 · 4 years

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So If I Survive, Then I’ll See You Tomorrow

The ship was on fire as the dinghy with three people sailed away. Screams and growling could be heard from the decks as the escapees slipped further away from the the inferno and illness. The young woman was in total shock. Her parents and brother were on that ship. And here she was, in the middle of the ocean with two men who were practically strangers- were actually strangers not even two days ago.

Georgia Leigh Hamilton. Eighteen and alone save for an old crotchety FEMA officer and young kitchen chef. People she had just met in the last forty-eight hours, and she was trusting them with her life. No- more than that. She and the kitchen boy, Kent Clark (Jack called him Mansuper), were both putting probably too much faith in Jack Mullally A.K.A. FEMA.

“So much for my last paid vacation,” Jack said to himself.

“Best job ever, my foot,” Kent groaned.

“Happy graduation to me,” Georgia said.

“You say something, Scarface?” Jack asked Georgia, suddenly broken from his trance on the dying ship.

“Just some sentiment,” Georgia replied, playing with the puckered scar on her clavicle- an absent minded habit- the benefits from cutting her own hair from boredom, dropping the scissors and cutting herself with them while trying to catch them.

“We are on the water. We’ll make it. I promise. Back to shore in a couple of weeks unless we are rescued,” Jack said. “Government will rescue us. Why, back in the Ebola outbreak of ‘95...”

“What if that broke out on the mainland?” Kent interrupted. “What if one of us has it, but hasn’t shown symptoms yet?”

“We will sleep in shifts,” Georgia suggested in a haze.

Have I only been out of high school for a week? So much for my graduation gift. A Caribbean cruise will be fun they said. That sounds like a start to a fun little story.

“...besides, we can wizz over the side. Scarface isn’t so lucky. She’ll need our help.”

“What?” Georgia asked.

“I said that we should sleep in shifts to keep an eye on each other. Plus, you will need help going to the bathroom...you know...you’ll have to submerge your lower half to go...Kent and I can just go over the side.”

“Yes, the glories of being a man,” Georgia agreed.

The ship was barely a glow on the horizon now, and Georgia shivered. Her thin sweatshirt, t-shirt, dark-wash jeans, and steel-toed boots would not be enough to keep her warm at night, especially now, as cold as she was dripping wet from the dive. She blew on her hands and said a brief but sincere prayer, “Lord, help us survive this ordeal.”

“I had a nap today while you guys put down the fuel. I’ll take first watch,” Jack volunteered as he slung a blanket and jacket over Georgia’s shoulders. She exhausted, did not protest.

Georgia laid her head on her arm on the edge of the dingy and sighed. Initially, she tried to comfort herself by reciting scriptures in her head, but as her brain began to slip, her mind drifted to song lyrics from her “Bad Mood Music” playlist. “I never bought a suit before in my life, but when you go to meet God you know you wanna look nice.”

****

Graduation. Georgia was finally out of high school, that horrible place, once and for all. She never had to set foot back onto that property again if she didn’t want to. Her open house had been the day of her graduation. After she opened her graduation cards, her mom made her deposit the checks, but she was allowed to keep the cash. Her older brother, Dakota, bought his first new car, and gave Georgia his Wrangler as a graduation gift. Her parents decided that they should take one last vacation, and even Dakota was able to go. Tickets were booked for a cruise to the Caribbean. The Hamilton family was ecstatic: they wanted to make the most of what could potentially be their absolute last family trip.

There had been some weird things happening in China, India, and Nepal but that wasn’t in America. The reports of people attacking each other didn’t seem real, and thus far had been attributed to drugs and mental health problems. None of the countries released official statements, only that they were gathering information to make accurate statements at a future date.

On the first of July, the family boarded the ship just a ways from Cocoa Beach, FL. Four days later, Georgia was sitting in a deck chair writing in a Darth Vader notebook when the first outbreak started in the ship’s kitchen, which, at that time believed to be a flu virus, and was even announced by the captain over the ship’s speakers. The passengers were just told to make sure that they washed their hands and took showers every morning and night. Everyone had to report to sick bay to be checked for marks and take a nose swab for a flu test.

The chef who had gotten sick died, and that was believed that was the end of it. No one else was sick. That is, until he suddenly jerked awake and bit the ship’s doctor on the hand, a nurse in the jugular, and another nurse in the leg. At first, security managed to keep the victims contained in the brig, but that didn’t work for long. The virus mutated and became airborne, making several people ill with the initial flu symptoms. Passengers were told to stay in their staterooms and a box of canned goods would be delivered by staff, as well as toiletries as needed. Most of the people on the ship became ill, including Dakota and Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton.

****

Weeping, growling, and screaming could be heard from the staterooms on either side of the Hamiltons. Karen, Georgia’s mother, said she was getting a headache. There was a sudden knock on the door. Dakota answered the door after seeing the crewman through the peephole.

“How is everyone doing in here?” he asked.

“Mom’s getting a headache and we are almost out of toilet paper.”

“I’ll bring some by. Meantime, here are some tools. Keep the sharp ones very handy.”

“What for?” Carl, Mr. Hamilton, asked.

“Just in case. It’s for the best.”

“What’s your name?” Carl asked.

“Kent Clark. I’m one of the kitchen staff.”

He looks exhausted. Those bags under his eyes look blue on his pasty skin.

“Thank you, Kent.” Dakota said as he closed and locked the door behind him.

****

Around the Hamiltons, the weeping and screaming stopped. There was only growling every once in a while. They prayed and sang quietly together, but Karen’s condition grew increasingly worse. She was burning up and in agony. Georgia wrote when it was quiet and could concentrate enough. She used the cover of the book to write down changes in her mom’s condition. None of the Hamiltons had any luck getting through to sick bay on the phones. There wasn’t even a dial tone after a while. Karen moaned from the pain often, and her children would help her drink water and eat small bites of crackers from the supplies Kent dropped off.

They heard a staff member out in the hall open the adjacent stateroom door. Then they heard him screaming, and the growling next door was suddenly loud and violent. This excited the other family in the room on the right. The growling was intense.

At some point during the din, Karen expired. Once they realized, Georgia began to cry, and Dakota tried to comfort her. To their shock, Karen began to groan, and Carl went to check on her. Karen wasn’t groaning in pain. She snapped to attention and chomped her teeth into Carl’s hand. On reflex, Dakota shot up, grabbed the screwdriver, and drove it through Karen’s eye. She stopped squirming.

Blood oozed from the wound on Carl’s hand. Georgia did her best to treat it with the first aid kit in the bathroom. Georgia cried as she bandaged her father’s hand. Carl traced the scar on Georgia’s face with his finger.

“I’m sorry, Gigi. That mark on your face is my fault. If only I’d looked before I pulled out into that intersection..”

“Daddy, no. It wasn’t your fault.”

It was true. She and her father had been visiting family in North Webster, Indiana to check out Camp Crosley as a possible place to hold a two week “preacher training camp,” when he pulled out into an intersection in North Manchester and they were T-Boned where Georgia was sitting. By the grace of God, both of them escaped with minor injuries and concussions. She had to get stitches in her face. It was an accident. She never blamed her father and she had forgiven the driver after it happened. Thankfully, the driver, had been okay, too.

****

Carl died. Dakota piked Carl. Dakota caught “flu” and died. Georgia didn’t pike Dakota in time. She was sitting in the corner crying when he rose from the bed and lunged for her, his eyes cloudy and teeth bared. She grabbed the screwdriver and her recently packed brown “bug out backpack” and fled to the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Just as the door shut, another set of hands grabbed her arm and pulled it toward his gaping maw. Georgia pulled her arm, trying to get away, but the thing was too strong.

Just before the teeth could touch her skin, a bullet zinged past her ear and hit the monster in the head. As she turned, her rust-colored bangs fell in her blue eyes, but she could see an older man, wearing a Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, boots, a red backpack, and a surgical mask.

“Are you okay, Scarface?”

There wasn’t time to flinch at the insult.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

“I’m Jack Mullally, a FEMA officer. Did you get any blood in your mouth? Are you suffering from flu symptoms? Do you have any bites?”

“No. I’m fine, Mr. FEMA,” Georgia replied just as Kent rounded the corner down the hall.

“RUN!” He yelled.

Jack and Georgia heard the moaning and growling. At least fifteen violent creatures were ambling behind him, reaching out for Kent, bloodthirsty.

“Follow me. We are getting off of this boat if it’s the last thing we do!” Jack said while turning the other way.

****

The group made their way to the deck with the lifeboats, gathering supplies along the way and hiding where they could. It took a day and a half to make it.

Kent had led them to the kitchen, where Mr. FEMA gave Kent a sack and filled it with non-perishables. He did the same to Georgia and himself. Inside the freezer, he found an ax, a hammer, and a cast iron skillet.

“I’m keeping the ax, Mansuper. Don’t even try it,” Jack said almost jokingly.

“Then I want the hammer,” Kent said.

“What, those things will think you’re a sissy for using a skillet? Give me a break,” Georgia said as she took the tool from Jack and gave it a few practice swings.

From the kitchen, they made their way to a maintenance closet, where all three of them could sit if they tucked knees to chins in three different corners or all against one wall. Jack suggested they all sleep against one wall, Georgia in the middle and Kent in the corner. Kent and Georgia agreed.

In the morning (according to Jack’s watch alarm), they looked through all the boxes in the maintenance closet, searching for supplies. Lighter fluid, two diesel fuel cans, duct tape, matches, and toilet paper were the rewards.

“Why is there diesel in a maintenance closet?” Jack asked Kent.

“According to Bill, who was the maintenance director, it’s here in case the engine was just short of fuel. Though, I’m not sure if he was serious, since it doesn’t seem like quite enough to do anything or go anywhere. Hard to tell with Bill.”

When Jack opened the closet door, there were two infected there. He shut the door, but the beings began pounding on it earnestly.

“Mr. FEMA, Mansuper, look up. The tiles.”

“Through the ceiling. I like this brain of yours, Scarface. Alright, Mansuper, get up there. And help pull Georgia in. I’ll bring up the rear.”

Using the wire shelves like a ladder, Kent hoisted himself into the ceiling. Georgia started after him and he pulled her up.

A fist broke through the door as Jack started up the shelving. Seeing a meal, the freaks doubled their efforts on the door, and were joined by some more. The door couldn’t hold the pressure.

Jack pulled his feet into the ceiling just as the door gave way.

The survivors looked at each other, relieved. As Jack replaced the tile, both beings ambled in, looking around for what they thought would be prey.

From there, they found their way over the staterooms, in disgusted awe of the carnage and sorrow. They saw a handful of other survivors, all of which refused to leave their rooms or were dying from bites; of course with so many decks, they knew it was likely there were others, but no way to reach them.

****

They reached the lifeboat deck as dusk was settling in. Miscreations were meandering around the deck.

“We will need to distract them,” Jack said, “so we will have to decide on a diversion. If we can find something that will keep them occupied long enough for us to get a boat over the side and in the water.”

“I’m not so sure that we can, though we know they like noise, because the screaming riled them up…” Georgia said.

“What if one of us stayed here in the ceiling and made noises over there on one of the ducts? It would draw them to one side. They can’t climb, so it’d probably be okay. Then, when the boat splashes down, they drop behind the zombies and dive over the side?” Kent suggested.

“It’s good in theory, but in practice? What will stop them there. There has to be a way to slow them down more than that, you know, to give the bait a fighting chance,” Georgia whispered.

“The diesel and lighter fluid. This duct goes in a circle, but there is probably enough of fuel and lighter fluid to make a trail all around the deck and on the crowd. Then, start the noise. Then, jump down and just before diving, drop a match,” Mr. FEMA said.

“The only thing wrong with that plan is we are losing daylight, and spreading the fluid will take time,” Scarface said.

“And it will take both of us guys to get the lifeboat off of the side. Georgia’s strong, but not that strong.”

“Since we won’t find anything else, I’ll be the bait,” Georgia agreed.

“I know it’s supposed to be women and children first, but I think this our best chance,” Jack said almost apologetically.

Time to prove that women are just as good.

****

Kent and Georgia spread the fuel over the deck and monsters. Kent and Jack took Georgia’s supplies. Georgia used her boots to bang on the duct, and while the noise kept the creatures occupied, Kent and Jack managed to get the boat over the side of the ship. Georgia could just hear the splash over the cacophony. She stopped banging. And the growling dispersed.

Perfect. Now, all I’ve got to do is get far enough away quickly and quietly, drop the match, climb, and then dive. Seems easy enough.

The joke was on her. She dropped down between two of the freaks. She managed to dodge and light a match all at the same time (by the grace of God), drop it, climb onto the railing and dive. As she swam for her companions, the screams began.

****

After being on the water for nearly 14 days, Kent smiled suddenly and jumped up. The boat rocked. Jack was about to scold him, when he yelled, “Another ship! We are saved!”

Jack looked out and agreed to that conclusion. Nearly starving but incredibly thirsty, Kent and Jack used the oars to manipulate their capsule toward the ship. Georgia was holding up her sweatshirt like a flag and waving it.

It took time, but the three finally made it close enough to the ship that someone on deck would be able to hear them.

“HEY! HELP! PLEASE!”

Two women and a man jumped off the deck toward them, and landed in the water. Then five more people. Those five did not come back up. And three sacks plopped aboard the lifeboat and the three survivors helped the newcomers aboard.

Georgia looked up, and saw a zombie pacing the deck.

“Mr. FEMA. Kent. Look up there.”

They did. Jack and Kent groaned.

Georgia reached out to help the last newcomer aboard, and a strange hand came up from the water and scratched her.

“Georgie…” Kent said.

“Now, Mansuper, we don’t know about scratches…” FEMA started.

“Yeah,” Georgia said with a shaky voice and a forced smile, “just air and bites…”

“I know how to amputate, but I don’t think we have the equipment here,” Jack said sadly.

The three new bodies sat in the boat and shivered and looked Georgia over as if looking at a body in a casket.

“It’s okay,” Georgia said as she handed the screwdriver to Jack, fighting the shake in her voice. “If need be, pike me. It’s okay. Meantime, it’s my turn to nap.” And make my peace with my life and talk to God.

Georgia laid her head on the side of the boat as it floated away from the second lost ship.

“If I don’t make it, I’ll see if God will let me come back and let you know if the cake is a lie,” Georgia said, knowing full well that was not a possibility, and Heaven is not a lie.

“What is she talking about cake for?” Jack asked Kent quietly.

“It’s from a videogame, Jack.”

“Oh. I see.”

As she closed her eyes the refrain from Bullet came to her mind: “So if I survive, then I’ll see you tomorrow, Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

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