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whispered.
    I looked at him and wondered what was wrong as he reached for his rifle. I searched my head for signs of the dead, but came up blank. He wasn't acting like there was a threat. My eyes widened as he aimed his rifle at the eagle in the tree.
    “Gus, what are you doing?”
    He didn’t answer, but I promptly heard his gun fire. My ears rang as I watched the huge predatory bird fall from the tree. It landed in the tree line with a considerable thud. A huge grin spread out across Gus’ face.
    “We’ll be eating well tonight,” he said.
    “Gus! I can’t believe you killed it!”
    “You’ll be thanking me tonight!” he chuckled. I just shook my head. “C’mon, let’s go fetch it.”
    “Ewww.”
    We walked together into the trees and found the dead bird in short order. It was even bigger than I had expected.
    “Holy cow, it’s huge!”
    “They can have a wingspan up to seven and a half feet,” he said. “This one here looks like a female, and she’s young. See how her head isn’t all white yet? They stay brown till they’re about four or five years old, if I recall correctly. The females are up to twenty five percent bigger than the males.”
    “You know too much,” I said. “Way too much.”
    “Nah, I’m just old.”
    “Are we really gonna eat it?” I asked.
    “You bet. It’ll taste just like chicken, darlin’.” He grinned at me. “Let’s get back to camp and get it started for when the others get back?”
    “Ok.”
    “You can gut the bird,” he said, immediately followed by a deep laugh.
    I smacked his arm, and then held onto his elbow as we walked back to the shore to collect the crab and fishing gear. His other arm was busy holding the dead eagle upside down by its thick yellow legs. Its massive wings trailed on the ground.
    As we left the tree line, Gus left the bird behind to collect on our way back with the gear. I looked out to the water again.
    “Gus! Look!” I said excitedly. In the distance was a small yellow raft, similar to our orange version. It looked like it was drifting toward us as the tide was coming back in.
    “Zoe, best go to the tree line darlin’. Till we know it’s safe.”
    “No way, Gus.”
    We stood side by side and watched the small boat drift closer. The wind was blowing in our direction, aiding its course. Before long the breeze brought with it the unmistakable smell of death and decay.
    “Oh no,” I moaned. “Do you smell it?”
    “I do,” he said simply.
    The raft was almost to the beach now. We couldn’t see anyone inside, but I could sense one of the dead.
    “I can feel it now,” I said. “But it’s so weak in my head.”
    Gus had his rifle aimed now. The raft was bumping against the beach, still bobbling in the surf. We waited there together for horror to emerge. The back end of the raft would sway from time to time, still adrift, while the front end seemed well anchored. This went on for several minutes and I began to shiver, not from being cold but rather from knowing one of the dead was near.
    “Zoe,” whispered Gus. I want you to stay here on the beach. I’m heading over to peek inside.”
    “Ok.”
    “Promise me you’ll stay here till I tell you it’s safe.” He said this all without looking at me, never taking his eyes off of the raft.
    “I promise. Gus, be careful.”     
    He continued forward, rifle aimed at the raft as he walked. I had a sinking feeling in my gut, and the buzz in my head, while very faint, was irritating. I watched as he got close enough to the raft to be in real danger. The wait was impossibly long. Finally, Gus motioned me forward. I joined him, albeit hesitantly.
    As I made my way to his side, I was finally able to see into the bottom of the raft. Lying inside was a Roamer. Well, part of a Roamer. It had been dead for a long time, perhaps since the start of this plague. It was impossible to say at this point if it was a man or a woman. Its jaw was snapping back and forth, in search of