Sloanesucked in a breath behind me.
I swallowed.
“Define down,” I said into the mic.
Static crackled before the reply came.
“Major cities overwhelmed. Communications infrastructure is failing across the board. Military is attempting containment but…” A pause. “It does not appear to be working.”
The signal wavered. I adjusted the frequency knob carefully, tightening the channel lock, keeping my hands steady through sheer willpower.
“What about ports?” I asked. “Any harbors still operational?”
A brief silence.
“Negative. We attempted contact with several harbors earlier today. No response from any of them.”
More static.
Then:
“We made the decision not to dock. Currently holding position approximately twelve miles offshore. Open water seemed… safer.”
Sloane’s fingers dug into my shoulder.
Holding position.
Waiting it out.
Like you wait out a hurricane—except hurricanes pass. Hurricanes have an eye and an eyewall before they dissipate. This thing didn’t have a shape, it didn’t have a trajectory; it was simply spreading.
I pressed transmit again.
“SS Mariner, do you have any confirmation on what we’re dealing with? Infection? Chemical agent?”
The captain exhaled audibly before answering. I could hear the exhaustion in it, the weight of a man who had spent the last twenty-four hours making decisions with no good options.
“Best information we have is a viral outbreak of unknown origin. Spreads through bites or direct blood contact. Incubation appears rapid—hours at most, possibly less.”
Sloane whispered behind me. I couldn’t make out the words.
The captain continued.
“Once infected, subjects become extremely aggressive. They do not respond to pain. They do not respond to verbal commands. They do not stop.” Another pause, heavier. “Only confirmed method of neutralization is catastrophic trauma to the brain. Destroy the brain, they drop. Anything else, they keep coming.”
The footage Jason had shown us on his phone flashed through my mind: the way that woman had kept walking after her arm was nearly severed, how she’d keptreaching.
I keyed the microphone.
“Mariner, how long do you expect to remain offshore?”
The longest pause yet.
Then the captain answered, and I could hear him choosing honesty over comfort.
“Until the fuel runs low. Or until we have reason to believe there’s something left worth coming back to.”
The radio crackled softly.