â¦â
âVampires,â Scotty repeated.
â⦠iodine, proteins, amino acids, a product of the endocrine system, or even something as basic as fresh water. The human body is comprised of 75 percent water. And now that I think about it, thatâs something DeVries said before he lost consciousness. Remember? He said he was thirsty, very thirsty.â
âZombies.â
âIt could be the reaction taking place within their bodies has dehydrated the tissue, or their exposure to saltwater has plasmolysed the tissue. Who knows? It may take years of study to figure it all out.â
âWhy are they in the water?â Heather asked.
âTo escape light. Apparently, light ratchets up the chemical reaction a hundred fold, like photosynthesis gone wild. Only the chemistry is different.â
âOh, Lord God,â Heather sighed wearily. âThat sounds just as far-fetched as any vampire myth Iâve ever heard.â
I nodded. Then Scotty said something that shut us all up.
âWhatever the cause, weâd better figure out a way to get off this island. Look.â
He aimed the flashlight beam at our feet. The light was weak, and yellowish.
âWe have two more flashlights. And then itâs lights out.â
From out in the sound, we heard water being disturbed. We felt eyes, watching.
In the morning
Â
We slept until late in the morning, almost 11. Weâd been awake all night, none of us daring to nod off, none of us able to relax to the point that sleep could overtake us. The island was surrounded by stealthy noises â surreptitious splashing, the plod of wet feet on sand, the occasional animal cry of pain. Scotty had kept a frantic vigil with the flashlight until about 5:30 or so, when the sun had warmed the eastern horizon with a suffocating pinkish hue. The sounds of disturbance had faded, then, as the things presumably moved to deeper water. Scotty and Heather took the opportunity to drag DeVries, who had begun to moan and squirm sluggishly, into one of the tents. If the flashlight were capable of causing his flesh to combust, the full light of the sun would surely produce a more ⦠energetic reaction. The tent would afford at least some measure of protection.
All of us, then, had collapsed into what for me was fugue-like sleep.
I awakened to find Scotty and Heather standing on the beach, taking in a very different and unfriendly world in the light of day.
Across the water, fires still burned out of control. From the bridge to the east to as far as I could see west, individual plumes of oily black smoke merged into a single pall that drifted sluggishly northward. I uttered a silent prayer of thanks for that â all we needed was a stinking smoke cloud to add another layer of misery to our already miserable situation. In some areas, forestland had been ignited and was burning in a solid wall of flames. I couldnât imagine what the damage from this catastrophe would be.
Closer, Santa Rosa Sound presented an equally unsettling sight. The surface was layered with dead fish, dead birds, dead animals â and in some cases the bodies of people floating amidst the carnage. Why these animals and people had not been transformed into the things that had attacked us at night, I couldnât be sure. Presumably their exposure to the toxin had been sufficiently great to cause death, but who could say? Specimens would have to be collected, necropsies conducted â it might be years before anybody nailed down the pathogen and its killing method. In a former life I would have been intrigued by the challenge of researching what had happened here. But given our circumstances, I merely wanted to get off this island.
The authorities must be sending investigators and soldiers to find out what had taken place, to put out the fires and restore order. If we could signal to them â enough debris had washed ashore that we could easily lay out an SOS on the sand
âVampires,â Scotty repeated.
â⦠iodine, proteins, amino acids, a product of the endocrine system, or even something as basic as fresh water. The human body is comprised of 75 percent water. And now that I think about it, thatâs something DeVries said before he lost consciousness. Remember? He said he was thirsty, very thirsty.â
âZombies.â
âIt could be the reaction taking place within their bodies has dehydrated the tissue, or their exposure to saltwater has plasmolysed the tissue. Who knows? It may take years of study to figure it all out.â
âWhy are they in the water?â Heather asked.
âTo escape light. Apparently, light ratchets up the chemical reaction a hundred fold, like photosynthesis gone wild. Only the chemistry is different.â
âOh, Lord God,â Heather sighed wearily. âThat sounds just as far-fetched as any vampire myth Iâve ever heard.â
I nodded. Then Scotty said something that shut us all up.
âWhatever the cause, weâd better figure out a way to get off this island. Look.â
He aimed the flashlight beam at our feet. The light was weak, and yellowish.
âWe have two more flashlights. And then itâs lights out.â
From out in the sound, we heard water being disturbed. We felt eyes, watching.
In the morning
Â
We slept until late in the morning, almost 11. Weâd been awake all night, none of us daring to nod off, none of us able to relax to the point that sleep could overtake us. The island was surrounded by stealthy noises â surreptitious splashing, the plod of wet feet on sand, the occasional animal cry of pain. Scotty had kept a frantic vigil with the flashlight until about 5:30 or so, when the sun had warmed the eastern horizon with a suffocating pinkish hue. The sounds of disturbance had faded, then, as the things presumably moved to deeper water. Scotty and Heather took the opportunity to drag DeVries, who had begun to moan and squirm sluggishly, into one of the tents. If the flashlight were capable of causing his flesh to combust, the full light of the sun would surely produce a more ⦠energetic reaction. The tent would afford at least some measure of protection.
All of us, then, had collapsed into what for me was fugue-like sleep.
I awakened to find Scotty and Heather standing on the beach, taking in a very different and unfriendly world in the light of day.
Across the water, fires still burned out of control. From the bridge to the east to as far as I could see west, individual plumes of oily black smoke merged into a single pall that drifted sluggishly northward. I uttered a silent prayer of thanks for that â all we needed was a stinking smoke cloud to add another layer of misery to our already miserable situation. In some areas, forestland had been ignited and was burning in a solid wall of flames. I couldnât imagine what the damage from this catastrophe would be.
Closer, Santa Rosa Sound presented an equally unsettling sight. The surface was layered with dead fish, dead birds, dead animals â and in some cases the bodies of people floating amidst the carnage. Why these animals and people had not been transformed into the things that had attacked us at night, I couldnât be sure. Presumably their exposure to the toxin had been sufficiently great to cause death, but who could say? Specimens would have to be collected, necropsies conducted â it might be years before anybody nailed down the pathogen and its killing method. In a former life I would have been intrigued by the challenge of researching what had happened here. But given our circumstances, I merely wanted to get off this island.
The authorities must be sending investigators and soldiers to find out what had taken place, to put out the fires and restore order. If we could signal to them â enough debris had washed ashore that we could easily lay out an SOS on the sand
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