Black Tide
the tents. A moment later she returned with one of her T-shirts and the first aid kit. We had to hold his head up as she folded the T-shirt and pressed it into the wound. It was instantly soaked with blood.
    DeVries took a ragged breath and tried to say something, but choked. He gargled and blood leaked from the side of his mouth. Finally, in a coarse whisper he said, ‘Sorry. Sorry. The boat.’ In the distance we could still hear the Evinrude whining as it crossed the sound in an all-out dash.
    â€˜I wanted to come sooner but they’re not letting anyone in.’
    I could barely hear him and leaned in close. ‘Do you know what happened?’
    â€˜Some – some kind of poison gas,’ he gurgled. His lips were becoming thin and pale, like a hypothermia victim’s. ‘For 30 miles inland between here and Navarre, everybody’s … everybody’s …’
    â€˜Oh Christ, they’re all dead,’ Scotty muttered darkly and turned away.
    â€˜Not dead!’ DeVries gasped. His body began to tremble. We needed a fire.
    â€˜Not dead, not dead, not dead – different .’
    â€˜Like that man back there?’ I prompted.
    â€˜They’re everywhere. When the sun went down, they came out.’
    Scotty gazed nervously out over the sound.
    â€˜What in God’s name is he talking about?’ Heather said, pressing the T-shirt into the wound.
    I hunkered down closer to DeVries. ‘Does anybody know what’s happened?’ I asked gently. ‘What kind of poison it was? The changes in the people? Does anybody know what’s going on?’
    DeVries shook his head. His skin was losing its colour, becoming livid and hard, almost statue-like. The irises were shrinking. The T-shirt was sopping with blood and it was pooling in the sand around his neck.
    He said, ‘I’m very thirsty. Do you have some water?’
    Heather went to fetch a bottle. Scotty was sweeping his flashlight across the water’s surface. He turned it to DeVries and the man’s face began to smoulder. ‘Get that off him!’ I snarled and Scotty whipped the beam away as DeVries cried out weakly. Scotty hissed, ‘Jesus! It’s happening to him, too.’ DeVries began thrashing his head from side to side and moaned loudly, ‘Oh God. So thirsty! Please!’
    At that moment, Heather screamed. It was a sound I never want to hear again.
    Scotty leapt to his feet and aimed the flashlight at her.
    I saw people.
    Some were merely standing in place, staring dumbly, their blind eyes somehow seeing. Others were shambling across the lone dune, crashing through the paniculata in a noisy advance. Others were creeping stealthily out of the water, crouched like stalking creatures about to scramble and pounce. My first impression was that this resembled a scene from one of the old Revell monster models I used to build as a boy, of zombies staggering through a graveyard to set upon a hapless mourner. There was a peculiar, indescribably horrible quality to it all – the creatures seemed at once thoughtless and driven by single-minded purpose, if such a thing was possible. My mind averted from the idea of what that purpose could be.
    Scotty swept his flashlight across the horde and their bodies burst into flame. You could hear the flesh sizzling, and a barely audible wail arose, as if they were shrieking in the supersonics. A man at the very top of the dune went up like a torch and nearly galloped down the opposite dune face and hurled himself into the water. The others scattered and began to do likewise. They stumbled over each other as they scrambled into the water, to vanish beneath the surface in a roiling of bubbles and smoke.
    Heather was sobbing, ‘Oh my God, oh my God,’ and all I could think of was to get up and go comfort her. It was all I could think to do. I dropped to my knees beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
    â€˜C’mon. It’s

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