“Mrs Sherman, are you really telling me that the only way to stop this thing is to incinerate an entire city!?”

“No, Mr President. What I’m telling you is that because you waited to have this conversation, we’ll have to nuke several.”

–Dr Ava Sherman. Washington, DC. 4 Days After

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This was definitely taking longer than Liam had expected.

It had been well over a week at sea, and though his raft was as strong as ever, his body could not say the same. His lips were chapped and split against the endless sprays of saltwater, and his skin had turned bright red. The sun beat down without mercy, making it difficult to recover properly from the concussion he had gained back at Purgatory.

Fresh water was also running low. That had always been a possibility, though he had been lucky enough to use the typhoon to his advantage once he’d cleared the coastline. His sail had been designed in such a way that rain funneled into a centralized barrel, where it had remained for collection. But then some days later, a few rogue waves managed to pollute it with seawater, and he’d been stuck with rationing out Thirsty ever since. For all his ingenuity, he could not have accounted for everything.

Which was what made this next risk all the more appealing.

Off at the cusp of the horizon, a cargo ship sat. At first, Liam had assumed it to be a mere mirage, no more than a passing fever dream spawned from his injury. But the more time passed, the longer it persisted, until he was certain of its existence. He’d then started his firepit, using rubber from the plane’s wheels to create a thick, blackened smoke. If there ever was a time to launch his home-made flare, it would have been then.

But the ship had not moved. It appeared to only drift with the current, and after getting his raft within a kilometer of it, the sight of rust and stillness did little to ease his mind. What were the chances of finding a derelict in the open ocean like this? Or, better yet… What could have happened to cause one to form?

Liam watched the monstrosity floating in front. The current was pushing the cargo ship back west, but the wind had brought his raft’s momentum onward to the east. The two were now moving in different channels, and even if Liam had all the strength in the world, he suspected that he would not be able to close the gap by hand.

There was no way out of it. To explore this new environment risked sacrificing his current one. Another uncertainty, another timetable that wasn’t on his side. Why was the world always so cruel?

Liam sat immobile, his eyes fixed on the cargo ship. This was his prayers answered, the best shot he could take, his nightmare born anew. It was the apple being dangled in front of Eve. Was it worth risking his life another time?

Promise me. Again Liam thought of Nelly. Of the memory of her voice. Of his hand in her hair. Of that moment the two had first met. Of their years together in Alaska, living the life they’d always dreamed. He thought of Lilith, and the moment she had let go of his hand to walk a few steps on her own. He thought of how old she must be by now, and how much she had suffered without his love. He thought of all the mistakes he’d made in putting his pride over her well-being.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Liam knew what he had to do.

* * *

Swimming the kilometer of distance proved simple, as did scaling up the fourty meters of rusty ladder to get from the water to the main deck of the derelict. No, what ended up being the most difficult task was opening any bulkhead door in sight.

Liam sat stumped. He’d caught the name, at least. The Xin Yue Jiang, just visible in both Mandarin and English from the side of the vessel. The main deck was easy to traverse, as its cargo capacity was low and easily navigable. There was no telling how long the Xin had been drifting at sea, but based off the level of degradation, it had to have been years. The usual multicolored crates were cast in a smear of brown rust, matching the rest of the ship’s hull. The windows on the bridge were smashed in more than one place, and the radio tower had collapsed entirely.

What seemed most confusing were the tents up top. Some crates appeared to have been removed to make room. Liam ascertained that perhaps fifty people had camped out right on the main deck of the ship, though it was difficult to tell as most of the fabric had disintegrated with time.

Perhaps refugees? It was certainly within the realm of possibilities that this ship had left a war-torn country long ago, only to be abandoned on the shore of another. One wrong twist in the tides, and the Xin Yue Jiang could have been trapped at sea for decades without being seen. Liam had heard reports of that type of behavior from the Chinese government before. But then, why would the passengers leave their belongings behind? It seemed that they had left in a hurry, as there were the remnants of rotted food, half-empty luggage, trash piles, and clothes sprawled about. There were even tools available, with everything from hammers to screwdrivers to crowbars…

Liam gasped. “Oh, Thirsty, I’m such an idiot.” He’d been living alone for so long that he’d forgotten that other people could make other tools, and he could use those tools. He waltzed over to the most undamaged crowbar and gave it a spin. “I guess we can get to the bottom of this mess, yeah?”

With the added leverage of a crowbar in his hands, Liam was able to yank his way through a bulkhead door, straight into the bridge. An effluvia of rot immediately burst out from the screen of black. He coughed and withdrew a step, nearly passing out from the stench alone.

“Maybe we’ll need a little more help,” Liam decided.

He had been sparse with his own equipment, and only had his high-altitude pilot outfit, Thirsty, and a knife fashioned from flint. Anything more would have slowed his swim down. But fortunately, the prior residents of this ship had left a survivalist like Liam with a cornucopia of options. Within five minutes of preparation, he had a sustainable fire going, several torches at his disposal, some luggage to hold supplies, and an improvised spear. One never knew what to expect in an old vessel.

Moving through the bridge of the Xin Yue Jiang filled his mind with more questions than answers. The source of the odor was immediate. The remnants of bloodstains splattered the walls, though no bodies were in sight, and it had oddly turned jet black. Pipes had been trashed and fluid was leaking, though he didn’t know enough about ships to guess their identity. Any signs had been written in the ship’s native Mandarin, adding another layer of complexity to an already enigmatic puzzle. He could hardly make heads or tails from any compartment in sight.

Until he found the kitchen and its matching storage room a deck below. His stomach roared. Whatever had caused this derelict to form no longer mattered. The instant his eyes fell on this trove, he thought of nothing else.