[THREE MONTHS AFTER]

A boat was not what Jonah expected to wake up to. Nonetheless, that was what happened.

His tattoos seemed to be living to some extent. They reacted to things better than he did. The one on his throat tightened in his sleep, almost strangling him awake. He jerked and was immediately awake. Another perk of resurrection.

He was dangerously close to the waterline -- halfway up one of the Appalachian mountains. He could see the bloody waves and the spidersilk magic waving through them. And on top of that magic water sat a boat.

It took him a moment to recognize it as such, the sunlight shining over the waves in blinding shards. He sat up, nearly knocking his chair over. The boat was tethered to a building not far out, and a small rowboat dragged up on the grass. A line of smoke drew up from the trees into the sky.

Jonah grabbed his radio, turning it on. "Anyone awake?"

He let the signal crackle for a moment before trying again. "By that, I mean I got something to say."

"Go," came Ian's stick-up-the-ass voice.

"Someone came in and docked during the night. Many someones, I think? I'm gonna go check it out."

"Don't die."

The radio clicked off.

"Thanks, Ian. Love you, too." Jonah huffed a breath out and slung his legs over the edge of the building, sliding down the ladder to the street. He had a knife on one thigh and a pistol on the other, both of them unfamiliar weights.

His tattoos moved faster the closer he got to the camp, whipping anxiously under his skin. Danger, they seemed to whisper. Which was ridiculous because tattoos can't speak.

He lengthened his stride and put a hand on his hip as he stepped through the brush and came into sight of the camp.

Lots of people. More people than he's seen in a while, anyway. They were all men -- intimidating and significantly more muscular than Jonah. They wore military camo and had heavy-looking black guns attached to their bodies. And they were completely silent.

The tent cities were full of mutterings and chatter even when some calamity was imminent. His little gang was always full of jokes and taunts even when they'd gone days without food. But these guys were funeral-quiet.

Jonah kicked an empty can. The clatter of hollow steel against dry roots rang out like a gunshot

At least five muzzles were on him before he could open his mouth.

"Oh, wow," he said.

"Who are you?" A man with an impressive grey moustache and black sunglasses stepped forward. He was one of the only men not pointing a gun at Jonah -- probably the leader. His hair was hidden with a bandana.

"Uh -- Jonah. Hi. Who're you?"

The moustached man didn't say anything for a few seconds. then he made a hand gesture and the rest of his men lowered their guns. They didn't put them away, though. "I'm Colonel Evan Peterson, US Navy. You been here long?"

Jonah shrugged, putting his hands on his hips. "Couple weeks, give or take."

"Alone?"

"Nope."

Peterson nodded. He took off his glasses to reveal wrinkly blue eyes. "I'll need to talk to whoever's in charge of your group. We've been picking up civilians all along the Appalachians. With the rate this water's rising, there's gonna be nothing left of the world in a few months."

Reasonable. Jonah looked around at the rest of his men. They were all burly, with impressive stores of fat above their muscles. "How many civilians do you have?"

Peterson lifted an eyebrow.

"Don't want to crowd you."

"Couple hundred. We can take twice that, don't worry about it. We lost a lot of weight when we lost the aerial equipment." Peterson smiled genially. "We've got a functioning food garden that's been holding steady since all this shit went down. All the food you could need. Water, too."

Jonah pursed his lips. "You guys aren't all Navy, are you?"

"Yes, son, we are."

"No, you're not." Jonah cracked his neck. His tattoos spread out across his entire body, licking up his jaw. "Colonel isn't a Navy rank, anyway."

Once he moved, everything was so slow. He could practically count the heartbeats as Peterson reached to his hip to pull out a gun. Jonah ducked beneath the weapon, snapping his arm with a nudge.

Bones broke and gave with half an effort, Jonah sidestepped bullets and blades with ease. His blood sang, hot with power. A skull cracked beneath his hand and he pushed it even more, smashing grey matter onto a tree. More, more, more.

Two left -- both running like the devil was on their ass. He focused on the nearest, picking up a fallen gun and shooting the man in the shoulder. He fell with a cry, flailing in the leaves. 

Jonah walked over to the fallen man, gun poised to finish him off. 

Something hit in square in the chest, cracking the same bones that Petra had shattered and sending him falling flat on his back. The second man had come back, this time with a shotgun raised. Jonah's lungs spasmed as he tried to laugh, bringing up only blood.

The tattoos whirled and retreated. He could feel them moving and thickening under his skin, spinning like a hurricane around the hole in his chest. The flesh and bone pulled together, clicking and aching, still bleeding. The silver tattoos hooked into him and yanked everything back into place. Then it was done.

Jonah gasped in air again -- though he had the feeling he didn't actually need it -- and pulled his knife from the sheath.

The two men leaned on each other as they walked away, talking nervously. Jonah stood up slowly, his spine popping back into place. He threw the knife.

The blade sank to the hilt into the back of the injured one's skull.

Jonah was on the remaining man in moments, flipping him onto his back and straddling his chest. "Okay -- that was fun."

The man screamed. 

Jonah slapped a hand over his mouth, wincing. "Quiet, you'll wake everyone up. If they weren't already awake. That was a lot of gunfire, actually."

The man's breaths were faster than his heartbeat. It was only when Jonah gave him a stern look and told him to stop that he calmed down a bit. "If I take my hand off, are you gonna scream?"

He shook his head.

"Okay, thank you." Jonah lifted his hand carefully.

"Wh -- what are you?"

"Complicated and tired. Why did you try to kill me?"

He started panting again. Jonah bit back a curse and looked down at the man's uniform. "Uh -- Levi? Your name's Levi?"

Levi shook his head frantically. "No -- this isn't mine -- I'm not a soldier, I'm a security guard. I'm just a guard. I'm just -- "

"What's your name?" 

"Walt."

Jonah nodded. "Was any of what that guy sad true?"

Walt shook his head again. He never stopped, actually. "No Yes--the garden's real. But we been taking water and stuff from people. It's just us on the boat, us and the girls."

Then he broke out into tears, full-body sobs that rocked Jonah. It was already an uncomfortable fit, with Jonah's knees barely touching ground across the man's broad chest. 

"What girls?"

Walt shuddered through another few breaths. "Not for sex! Well -- at first, it kind of, no -- there's something about them -- they've got superpowers or --"

Jonah rolled his eyes and crushed Walt's jaw into the ground. The bone shredded through Walt's skin and cartilage, turning to pulp in his palm. Jonah's radio crackled, a muffled voice coming through. He unhooked it from his belt. "Come again, I didn't catch that."

"Was that gunfire?" Donovan. Of course it had to be Donovan.

"Yeah. They weren't friendlies."

"Weren't?"

Jonah winced. Then he looked down at his bloodied chest. He'd nearly forgotten about that.  "They were trying to kill me."

Donovan's reply came sharp with concern."Are you okay?"

"I got shot. But yeah, I'm fine. Abby's voodoo put me back together." Jonah worried at his lip for a beat, looking around the carnage. "These definitely weren't good guys, though. They've got a bunch of witches on their ship. Didn't get the chance to find out of they're there willingly or not."

Donovan was quiet for a moment. "Stay where you are, we're coming."

"Bring Abbs if you can."

"Of course."

The radio clicked off. 

Jonah sighed and leaned back, falling off Walt's body. His tattoos pooled back across his body, feeling much like a satisfied cat. 

Fourteen dead men, all of them heavily armed and significantly larger than he was. Their corpses bunched together in piles throughout the campsite. Jonah looked down at his hands. The red was so thick it dripped from his fingers and pooled in the creases of his palm. He wiped them on Walt's uniform, scraping shards of bone against his skin. Blood still stuck in his skin, making the spiral of his fingerprints stark against his tan skin.

The purr of an engine made him look up. 

Adam was the first to launch himself out of the rover, taking the distance between them in moments as though the trees weren't there. His eyes were zeroed in on the massive hole in Jonah's shirt. Jonah plucked at the bloodied fabric and lifted it, showing his unbroken skin. "I'm good."

Adam sighed and practically fell into a tree. Jonah grabbed him before he could fall completely. "Holy shit. Don't scare us like that, you fuck."

Behind him, Donovan had one eye on the carnage and the other on Jonah. His face tightened and he swallowed hard, eyes flicking to Abby for a moment. "Come on, boys."

Abby didn't look up as Jonah clambered into the seat next to her. Her head was bowed over another textbook. This one was an academic analysis of tectonic plates and underground water sources. He didn't ask about it, instead shoving her up against the door with his shoulder. She hissed and kicked at him, not looking up from her book.

Donovan peeled away from the fake soldiers' camp and towards the rowboat. He slowed down when  the waterline came into view. That was where he stopped, switching the engine off.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked. He eyed the rowboat dubiously.

Jonah shrugged. "Big ship wasn't there when I fell asleep."

Adam glared at him. "Dude, you were on watch."

"I was."

Donovan rolled his eyes. "Who's volunteering? Because I'm sure as shit not getting in that boat."

With a sigh, Abby closed her book and finally looked up. "Me and Jonah should be enough."

"And me," said Adam.

"And Adam," she amended.

Jonah lifted his hand. "Do I not get a say?"

"No. You fell asleep on watch, Superman." Abby put her book on the seat and stepped out. She cradled her belly awkwardly as she did. 

She did have a point. Jonah groaned and melted out of the rover. Little strings of magic coiled up around the rowboat, lifting it from the grass and into the water. The oars slotted into place. Jonah winced at the smell. Adam's face went red as he tried to hold his breath. Only Abby was unaffected, sitting herself primly at the front of the boat and holding it steady for the boys.

Jonah tensed as Abby pushed off. The oars rowed on their own, Abby's magic propelling them through the water. Adam's knuckles went white as he gripped the seat. Jonah looked between the two for a beat before stretching.

"Abby won't let us fall, will you Abbs?" Jonah drawled, forcing himself to relax as the red water grew deeper around them. The magic lifted and leaned away from him, like he was the wrong side of a magnet. If he focused hard enough, he could see it wrap around Abby's body. 

"Be good and we'll see." Her lips barely moved as she spoke. Jonah lifted his eyebrows at her and shot his eyes towards Adam. She sighed, sagging slightly. "Don't worry, Adam. We're almost there."

He nodded absently, eyes fixed on the metal floor.

The massive ship that they came too was without a doubt military, all slate grey and metal. Abby tied the rowboat to the base of a ladder that they came to. 

"Up." Abby stared at Adam.

Adam glanced between them. "Me?"

"Yes, you," Jonah said.

"Why?"

"If you fall, either of us can catch you," Abby said.

Adam sighed, clearly refraining from cursing himself out. He grabbed the first rung. Then he pulled back with a shout, rubbing his hand on his jacket. "It's got water all over it!"

Abby squinted at the ladder and her fingers twitched. "Try again."

He gave her a suspicious stare before putting a single finger on the metal. Then his whole hand. He puffed his cheeks out and hauled himself up, one step at a time. As he got higher, his confidence grew, and soon he was near the top.

Jonah started climbing. Still high on the fight, he sped up the rungs. 

"Jesus -- slow down!"

"Speed up." Jonah grinned and pushed Adam's foot, sending him over into the ship. Adam's yelp make him snicker as he leapt the last few rungs and landed on the deck.

The deck was empty. Not that he'd been expecting a bustling crew or anything. He didn't turn around as magic pooled behind him, recognizing the eager flow. Abby floated down next to him, her sneakers squeaking against the damp deck.

"Can you feel anything?" Adam asked. He had his rifle out, not quite at the ready.

Jonah looked around, squinting hard to see the threads of magic. They were mostly attracted to Abby, identifying her as a witch. Some of the magic swayed away from her. "There're definitely witches here."

Abby waved her hand and the doors all opened. The pull of magic practically streamed down a hatch halfway into the ship. Abby led the way, her stride long despite the size of her belly. Jonah held her steady as they went down the stairs. It reeked of mildew and rot, the lights dim and fizzling out. Her hand sparked into a glove of fire, bathing the bare halls in orange. "This way."

She guided them down into the lower levels of the ship. The engines hummed in the background, steam hissing through pipes. Everything was grey -- either painted or corroded metal.

"Here."

She stopped. Locks clanked open one by one inside of the vault-like door she'd stopped in front of. Jonah put a hand on his pistol, more than aware of the blood staining his hands.

Dozens of frightened eyes stared back at them as the door swung open, cringing away from Abby's light. Adam squeezed past the siblings and knelt down in front of the girls. Jonah would estimate that they were between the ages of six and fifteen. Most of them were Asian girls, with a group of Latina kids pressed together in the corner.

"It's okay -- we're not gonna hurt you." Adam smiled and beckoned. "Come on out."

None of them moved.

"I don't think they understand," Jonah said.

Abby tugged on Adam's sleeve. "Let me. Pregnant lady might take better than creepy soldier guy."

Adam scoffed, affronted even as he stepped away. "I'm not a soldier."

She ignored him and smiled at the girls, holding her hand out. She beckoned to one of the older girls. "C'mere."

The girl looked like a starved rat, all dirty and matted-haired. She put both hands out for Abby, zipties stark digging into her dark skin. Abby didn't drop her smile as she stroked her hand over the ziptie, parting the plastic with a thought. The tie clattered to the ground. 

It went a lot smoother after that.

[FIVE MONTHS AFTER]

"Ah, fuck." Jonah squinted at the microprint on the manual. "What's the thing again?"

Adam reclined in his seat, for all appearances unbothered. "No fucking clue."

Jonah screamed internally as he looked over the array of buttons and lights. The sea was a flat line of red and grey out the windows, only adding to his disorientation and despair. Lois snapped at him in Spanish and pushed him out of the way, pushing a series of buttons. She pulled a keyboard from its slot and started rattling things off.

From behind them, Tracy and Donovan clucked over their own consoles. 

"How do we turn around?" Jonah called out.

"We're turning around?" Tracy looked up.

Donovan threw his hands in the air. "We're not turning around! Jonah, sit down!"

He scoffed and strolled over to Adam, plopping in his friend's lap. Adam was unperturbed. "I've always wanted to steer a boat." 

Adam poked him. "You've never wanted to steer a boat."

"You don't know everything about me."

"I know enough," Adam said. 

Jonah pulled a face and leaned back. Not hard enough to hurt him, just enough to make a point. Adam groaned as the breath was pushed from his lungs, shoving Jonah off. Jonah hit the ground silently. He clamped his hand over his mouth, shoulder shaking.

A dark shape flickered at the corner of his eye. He sat up abruptly. He'd stopped carrying weapons at the first opportunity, and regretted it for a split second before relaxing. It was one of the young witches. A Japanese one? He had a hard time telling them apart. She took a moment of staring at him before opening her mouth. "Abby almost has her baby. She wants you."

Jonah shot to his feet. "No -- are you sure? It's too soon."

Donovan looked up. "What?"

"Abby's in labor," Jonah said, breathless. 

"Oh, fuck." Donovan looked around, panicked. "Uh -- do you -- do you have this?"

Jonah most definitely did not have this. Abby had estimated another four weeks, it was too soon. Way too soon. 

He nodded anyway. "I have this."

He followed the witch down to Abby's room, where she had been "nesting" or whatever the hell that meant. It wasn't like in the movies, screaming and bloody. She just looked up with a scowl and a lifted eyebrow, sweat dampening her reddened face.

"You're late, dickface." She was crouched on the bed, her pants off. Jonah had the sudden urge to fling himself off the ship and test Abby's magic against the lethal water.

His tattoos were unresponsive. Cowboy up, they seemed to say. Please leave me alone, he wanted to say back.

"Okay -- this is good, right?"

Abby shook her head, voice straining. "Too early. She might not be viable."

Jonah blinked. He looked around, finding himself the only person in the room. "Am -- I should get Donovan."

"I asked for you, J."

He swallowed. He had to remind himself that this was his sister and they'd spent the last eight months getting ready for this. 

She already had everything set up on the sidetable already. Scissors, watch, rubbing alcohol, clamps, towels, and gloves. And a scalpel. He really didn't want to use the scalpel. There were other things that he wanted to use even less.

He grabbed the watch. "How long between the -- uh -- things?"

She dropped her head and glared at him through her hair. "Contractions. Don't bother, I waited as long as I could before -- ah -- calling you."

Her voice fizzled into a whimper, sending his heart into his throat. "Holy shit -- okay. So, like, the baby's --"

"Coming now? I don't know -- check."

He'd seen this before. He wasn't at all emotionally prepared for it. Or physically. He winced and pulled the gloves on. "Call me sooner next time? Just so I can psych myself up for a bit first."

She laughed breathlessly. "Sure. Next time."

He tried not to look.

"Oh, god, you feel so gross."

She laughed.

"Yep. You're sure pregnant." Sweat had built up on his brow, dripping down the side of his nose.

"God -- J, I'll kill you."

"It's doing the thing -- the cervix thing with the head," he stammered.

"Are you sure?" Abby lifted her head. "The head?"

"I know what a head feels like, Abby." He pulled his fingers out of her, pulling a face. Abby groaned and pushed herself up, fumbling for Jonah's support. He helped her into a squatting position, trying not to think about the various fluids he came into contact with.

"We're doing this now?"

"I'm doing this now," Abby hissed. Her hand squeezed his, grinding his knuckles together. 

"Am I -- what am I doing, remind me." Jonah's mind had gone blank. Simple words were all he could bring up. Sister. Baby. "In small words. Please."

She puffed some hair out of her face, and he pushed the rest out of her face. "You're catching the baby, stupid."

Right. He had the feeling it was something like that. "Do I have to?"

"I pissed on this bed. If you let my baby faceplant into my urine I'll kill you worse than before." Abby grunted and stiffened. 

She breathed hard but steady, crushing his hand. It was only when Jonah spotted the top of the baby that he shimmied free and grabbed a towel. She was using magic to ease the birth, little threads manipulating the flesh and pulling the baby out in intervals. He held his breath and grasped the baby gently.

"Harder."

"It's a baby."

"Pull harder, stupid dick," she said.

He cringed and got a firmer grip, tugging as hard as he dared. His entire being reduced to a single thought: don't crush the baby.

The baby popped free -- which he absolutely hated -- and he wrapped the towel around it immediately. It was quiet and limp as a doll.

"Uh -- Abbs?"

"Gimme." He put it in her arms.

She cradled her child gently, rubbing the corner of the towel over its mouth and nose. Magic came to life around the baby. It wove into its body along with the dart of Abby's eyes, poking and moving in the baby's skin. 

It finally took a breath. A wet, rattling thing -- but it didn't cry. 

The two of them sat where they were, staring at the tiny infant. It kept breathing.

"It's a girl," Jonah said.

"Yeah, I knew."

"She's kind of ugly," he pointed at her face, "all red and wrinkly like that. I wasn't gonna say anything if she died, but like--that's one ugly baby."

Abby huffed out a laugh, sinking into her dirty sheets. "Thanks."

"Yeah."