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Grandma Riggs began singing the strains to The Love Boat.

Love Boat, soon will be making another run.

The Love Boat, promises something for everyone.

"Are we really talking of a they?" Buckley said more to himself than anyone else. "Like there are other’s alive?"

"I think so," Sissy nodded.

"My God," Buckley said, wiping a maggie clear of his brow.

The sound of a fog horn split the air again.

"You know? It does sound like a cruise ship," Buckley said.

At those words, Little Rashad and Nikki high fived, then turned and threw their arms around Sissy. Sissy grinned silly happiness at Buckley and Grandma Riggs. MacHenry approached, and Sissy turned to him as well, but when she saw his face, her smile faltered, then dropped completely.

MacHenry gazed sorrowfully with red, bleary eyes at the happy group.

"How’s Gert?" Buckley asked, stepping forward.

"I salted her wounds." The words came out as a sigh.

"Like in the bible," Grandma Riggs said. "Lot’s wife transformed into a pillar of salt when she turned to look upon the angel’s destruction of Sodom and Gomorrah."

"If she was salt, we wouldn’t have this problem."

Buckley nodded towards the ocean. "Salt does seems to be the answer."

"Doctor told me to lay off," MacHenry deadpanned. "Said it would kill me."

Gert limped up behind MacHenry, thankful to have his shoulders to hang her arms and take her weight. She caressed MacHenry’s cheek. To Buckley she said, "Can we get a move on?" She tried to smile and almost managed it.

"Maybe we’re not the only ones still alive," Buckley said. "Are you okay, girl?"

"Don’t matter," she said through gritted teeth. "Just untie Grandma from that silly old chair. We’re changing plans and I’m driving."

Little Rashad perked up. "Driving?"

"What?" Sissy looked from Buckley to Gert to MacHenry.

"Yep. I've decided, we're-"

"Come on, Baby. We can-"

Gert pushed away from MacHenry, almost falling. She found her balance by holding out both of her arms. "Stop it. We both know it’s something I have to do, Travis. If we’re going to make it, we have to move faster."

"I won’t let you die," MacHenry whispered hoarsely.

"What can you do?"

MacHenry opened his mouth as if to speak, but couldn't find the words. Frustration and emasculation loosed silent tears. "I… nothing."

"Listen honey, Gert said softly. "If that’s a boat, it won’t wait forever."

MacHenry stepped towards her, but halted as she stumbled away from him. The determination in her eyes was no match for his desperation.

"In fact," she added, pointing to the boy, "Why don’t you pick out a ride for us, Rashad?"

"Anyone I want?"

"Anyone you want," Gert said.

The boy’s face brightened. He grasped Nikki’s hand and began wading through the morass of abandoned vehicles.

"Preferably one with the keys still inside," Gert added.

Little Rashad’s gaze danced across the cool lines of fast cars. He paused to stare longingly at a silver Trans Am- beautiful and fast, it would do little for the small group.

Buckley held out his flask of salt water. "You could drink salt water. It helps.

Gert ignored him. "Maybe a pick-up truck, Rashad."

"Salt water slows them down," Buckley said, raising his voice.

But Gert still ignored him, her gaze following Rashad and Nikki as they searched for a vehicle.

A maggie shot from the palm of Buckley. He held it out to her, close enough so that she had to watch. Pulling salt from his pocket, he dribbled some on the nasty beast. The maggie puffed smoke and turned to sludge.

"Nice trick," she said.

"Maybe you can live longer. Hell, maybe the people on the ship have a cure," Buckley said.

"That’s bullshit and you know it."

"But I-"

Gert lunged towards him and grabbed him by his shirt. "Don’t you do it!" Without the make-up of her profession and the hope to survive, her face looked twenty years older.

"What?"

"Don't give me hope," she snarled, like a cornered animal. "I can live with death. What I can’t live with is hope! I can’t die with it. I don't want it."

Grandma Riggs kicked Buckley in the small of his back. "Let her be. It’s her choice."

How could he leave her be? Buckley's whole reason for being was to motivate the group and get them to safety. Now to have one of their own infected and giving up hope, Buckley felt the failure on a personal level.

Sissy interrupted his thoughts. "Mr. MacHenry. Where are your clothes?"

Buckley spun and saw the middle-aged, former used car salesman standing behind Old Gert with a sloppy smile on his face and pale blue boxers around his private parts. No clothes meant no salt, translating to a quick death, if not corrected.

"MacHenry, what the hell are you doing?" Buckley asked.

Gert let go of Buckley and staggered to her lover. She placed both hands on his chest. "Baby? What are you doing? You can’t do this."

MacHenry smiled and grasped her hand in his own. "I’m doing what I wanted to do all along. I’m gonna go out like the brightest and the best of them. I'm going to go out in a blaze of glory"

"Oh honey."

"I’m not gonna leave you, baby. Just think of me as your Johnny Storm."

"No. Not Johnny Storm."

"Oh yeah," MacHenry said, looking at Buckley. "And it's time to flame on."

CHAPTER 30

The old gander's weeping,

The old gander's weeping,

The old gander's weeping,

Because his wife is dead.

An old primer gray pickup truck with a black roll bar, dualies and fifty inch tires rumbled down Highway 74, swinging from one lane to the other as it wove through the parking lot of once mobile cars. Cars and trucks littered the highway as if they’d been cast aside by children who’d been called away to dinner. Grandma Riggs was strapped to the roll bar, still facing backwards, cackling with each dip and bump. Little Rashad and Nikki held onto a length of rope tied both around their waists and to the bar facing backward, as well. Buckley and Sissy sat facing forward, wind whipping their hair, sweeping away each maggie in a maelstrom of afterbirth wind as it was born. In the cab, MacHenry sat behind the wheel, driving while Gert kissed and murmured a lifetime of I Love Yous into his ear.

The truck skidded sideways causing Buckley and Sissy to grab hold, wrapping their arms around the roll bar. In their path were a pair of caddies, grazing along the asphalt and concrete of the roadway like immense Pac-Men-like caterpillars escaped from the game. One rose up, spying their approach. The other continued chewing, unimpressed.

MacHenry spun the wheel, shot into the median, the off road tires gripping, sliding and slipping across the slick grass and clay. The treads bit down, grasping desperately at the loose soil, the stress on the frame threatening to flip the truck into a gymnastic nightmare. Just when Buckley thought they’d most assuredly crash, the wheels caught, the truck straightened and shot out from the median into the westbound lanes.

Everyone couldn't help but stare at the great length of the Caddie, this one easily a hundred feet long. Smaller, strange, creatures suckled between the jointed scales, perhaps offspring, perhaps parasites. The body rippled like a caterpillar as it moved incrementally. A smooth slimy trough was left in its wake where there had once been road.

The sound of the fog horn drew their attention back to their destination. Closer now, they let up a cheer as a clear, thin, blue line striped the horizon. The ocean! Buckley's heart leaped. That he'd survived this most improbable trip was nothing less than miraculous.

They passed Lee's Cut and crossed the bridge over the channel and merged onto Highway 76. From there on, it was a straight shot across Harbor Island to the outer island of Wrightsville Beach.