Carol, Tasha, and Malik carefully crossed over to our side of the lifeboat. One by one, they sat down next to me on the bench. Runkle watched them closely. I scooted over so they’d have more room. As Malik turned around to sit, Runkle grabbed his arm.
“Hey” Malik shouted. “What you doing, man? Let me go!”
“S-shut up… you l-little… s-shit… When the chief… o-opened that s-storage b-box… I s-saw some… ropes inside… I w-want you t-to… take those… r-ropes… back there and… t-tie up C-Chief M-Maxey…”
“I ain’t doing shit.”
I sat up straight, my body coiled and ready to spring. “Let him go, you son of a bitch.”
Runkle twisted his arm and Malik shrieked. I started to stand up, but Runkle aimed the pistol at me again.
“S-sit d-down… faggot, or I’ll… p-pull his arm out.”
“You motherfucker.” I obeyed, sitting back down. “You sick, twisted son of a bitch. Let him go!”
He twisted Malik’s arm again. “D-do it n-now…”
“Okay, man.” Malik tore free from Runkle’s grip. “Damn. I can’t do shit if you’re gonna tear my arm off first. Bitch.”
Rubbing his bicep and frowning, Malik made his way across the lifeboat. Runkle didn’t turn to watch him; instead, he kept his eyes on me, Carol, and Tasha. I wondered why he didn’t simply get up and move to the far end of the boat, where he could watch all of us at the same time. Figured maybe he was farther gone than he appeared; not thinking clearly, dying a death that would not last, already thinking like a zombie rather than a man.
Another large wave tossed the lifeboat to one side. Debris rolled across the bottom of the boat. Icy seawater flooded my boots. Keeping his balance, Malik opened the storage box and rummaged inside until he found the rope. He pulled it out and slammed the lid.
“Y-you got it?” Runkle coughed again.
“Yeah,” Malik said. “I found it.”
“H-hurry… up…”
“Just hold up a second. Don’t rush me. You’re worse than my sister.”
Tasha scowled, but held her tongue. My eyes didn’t leave the pistol. Some hero I’d turned out to be. Professor Williams had been way off base, and I wished he was there so I could show him.
Runkle did not turn around. His eyelids drooped lower. The stain on his coat grew broader. A thin line of bright blood dribbled out of his sleeve and ran down his hand, dripping off his index finger. The water in the boat turned pink. Runkle’s other hand squeezed the pistol tighter. I watched as I rowed, willing him to die. I licked saltwater from my lips and hoped that the next breath would be his last. But it wasn’t.
Instead of tying up the chief, Malik quietly picked up his spear instead. Very slowly, he tiptoed toward Runkle, who still had his back turned. I looked away on purpose, so as not to alert Runkle, and silently willed Carol and Tasha to do the same. Malik lifted the spear over his head and crept closer.
“S-save some… rope,” Runkle wheezed. “I w-want… you… to t-tie up… the r-rest of… them… t-too.”
“Whatever,” Malik said, creeping closer. “You’re in charge.”
“T-that’s right… I am in…”
Runkle suddenly doubled over, clenching his side and gasping with pain. He squeezed his eyes shut and his gun hand went limp. The weapon pointed at the deck. With a shout, Malik lunged forward and drove the spear down into Runkle’s back. The boy struggled, putting all of his weight behind the shaft. Runkle stiffened, trying to stand. He opened his mouth to scream, but only a strangled sigh came out. The pistol slipped from his fingers, landing in a puddle of bloody seawater. Tasha leapt forward to grab it, but I warned her to stay seated. Runkle’s infected blood had mixed with the water in the boat. There was no sense in chancing it.
Malik continued thrusting the spear into Runkle’s back. The spear’s tip poked through his chest, ripping the peacoat. Runkle tried to scream again. Instead, he gurgled. Dark blood—almost black—bubbled from his gaping mouth.
Jumping out of my seat, I swung the oar like a club, striking Runkle across the face. The shock reverberated up my arms. Runkle grunted. His lips split. Blood and teeth flew through the air. Dropping the oar, I jumped to Malik’s side and grabbed the broom handle right above his hands. Together, we spun the impaled man around and pushed him over the side. His blood dribbled down the spear toward us. We needed to hurry. Runkle gripped the edge of the lifeboat, holding on for dear life. Malik and I pushed harder. The tendons stood out on his neck as he struggled with us. The spear sank deeper into his body. The blood ran closer. Tasha ran forward, scooped up the shotgun, and smashed his fingers with the stock. With a final shove, Malik and I managed to topple the crazed cop into the churning waves. We let go of the broom handle, letting Runkle take the bloody weapon with him.
“He shouldn’t have messed with us,” Malik said, puffing out his chest.
“Are all of you wearing socks beneath your shoes?” I asked.
Nodding their heads slowly, Carol, Malik and Tasha all looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.
“Help me get the chief up,” I said. “Runkle bled into the water in the bottom of the boat. I don’t want the chief swallowing it.”
Tasha looked worried. “How are we going to bail if his blood’s in the water?”
“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But first thing’s first—help me with the chief. Carol, pick up everything that doesn’t have blood on it yet, especially the food and our weapons.”
Out on the ocean, Runkle let out a choked scream. I looked up in time to see a huge gray shape rising up beneath him. Runkle waved his arms, frantically beating at the water. His eyes bulged. There was a flash of white, what looked like a fin, and then he was gone in a surge of spray. Whatever the creature was, it had dragged him beneath the surface.
Malik ran to the edge of the lifeboat. “What the hell was that?”
“Don’t worry about it now,” I panted, sliding my hands under the chief’s armpits. “Just help me get him up before he’s infected.”
Carol collected the weapons and food while Tasha and Malik helped me with Chief Maxey. We got him into a sitting position on the bench. His head lolled back and forth in time with the waves. His nose was swollen and bloody, obviously broken, and he was missing one of his teeth. But he was breathing. I gently patted him on the cheek, and after a few seconds, his eyelids fluttered.
“Are the water bottles okay?” I asked Carol.
“They seem to be,” she said. “There’s no blood on them that I can see.”
“Hand me one.”
I unscrewed the cap and put the bottle to the chief’s mouth. The rim must have brushed against one of his sore spots, because he winced and then opened his eyes. Spring water ran down his throat, and he choked, spitting it back up.
“Runkle?” he gasped, glancing around. “Where is he?”
He tried to stand, but I gently forced him back down.
“We took care of it, Chief. Relax. You okay?”
“My nose hurts like a son of a bitch. I think it might be broken. But I’ll live.”
“Good. Might want to pick your feet up and keep them off the bottom of the boat.”
He looked down, and then back to me. “Is that my blood or Runkle’s?”
I shrugged. “Both, I think.”
Tasha grabbed my arm and pointed off the bow.
“Something moved out there.”
I squinted into the darkness. “I don’t see anything. What was it?”
“I don’t know. Something jumped out of the water and then swam underneath again.”
“Maybe it was just a big wave,” Carol suggested. I could tell by the tone of her voice that she didn’t believe it herself.