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CHAPTER 7
Melvin sat at the bar in the waning evening light, the dew sliding off his drink as the hot Cuban sun changed the sky from blue to pink. He took another sip, hoping the alcohol would help him forget what couldn't be forgotten.
"Hola, my friend," said Manuel, the world’s most patient bartender. "Another pina colada for you?"
Melvin nodded, holding up his empty glass. "Keep 'em comin', Manuel."
He couldn't be sure how many pina coladas it would take to erase the memories of blood in the water.
But the memories were an inescapable consequence of the life he chose. Melvin accepted that long ago.
Still. He'd never lost so many men before.
Melvin closed his eyes, listening to the wind rustle the palm thatched roof, felt the salty breeze tickle his skin. And an American news station buzzed beneath it all. Incessantly reporting on some scandalous email between a politician he'd never heard of and a sorority girl.
The bartender placed a fresh pina colada in front of Melvin. "Manuel," he sighed, "can you turn that off, or change the channel or something?"
Manuel just shrugged, leaving Melvin to help a tourist who couldn't pronounce cerveza. Melvin slouched, wanting nothing more than to enjoy the sea breeze in peace.
Not just one, he heard the anchor saying, but eight sharks were found, washed up on a highway near the coast of New Brunswick, Canada.
Melvin sat up.
The TV screen showed an image -- a shark, lifeless, covered in yellow puss-filled sores.
The photo trending on Twitter was taken from the cell phone of a local teen. Authorities in Point Chester are not commenting on what may have killed these eight incredible creatures, but are warning that this may be caused by pollution in the water.
Melvin placed his pina colada carefully on the counter. He'd drained it.
Manuel nodded at the empty glass, "You want one more?"
Melvin shook his head.
He was going to Point Chester.
Tonight.
Thanks for reading Zombie Shark Highway! New chapters coming next week.