Extinction Level Event (Book 4): Rescue

by Jones, K. J.

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Oh, maybe for about two weeks.”

  “Hopefully it’s just a bug.”

  “Yeah.” Emily stood up. “Okay. Let’s go.”

  “You sure? We could lay down and nap. I’m always game for that.”

  Emily smiled. The candles they carried made her face soft and beautiful. Even with her short hair oily and flat on her head.

  “I’m good.”

  “Alright. Onward and upward.”

  But at Eric’s open door, Emily suddenly shoved the plate at Phebe and ran, holding her hand over her mouth. Her candle illuminated the doorway of a neighboring room. A moment later, Phebe heard her vomit in the bathroom.

  “Oh.” Suspicion rose on what was Emily’s problem.

  The candlelight resumed moving in the bedroom. Emily appeared and rested against the door frame.

  “That was fun. Matt’ll be annoyed that I puked in his toilet.”

  “Was it the Eric smell?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Come closer and find out.”

  “Oh. God. Do I have to? It’s worse than ever.”

  “No. It’s not actually. Just Eric BO. I think he’s used the deodorant even.”

  “Argh. No. You go.”

  “Alrighty.” Phebe repressed a smirk. She hadn’t the heart to tell Emily what could cause these symptoms. “Hold my candle for me.”

  Phebe crossed the threshold. Plate in hand.

  His was the only room with electricity. Orange outdoor extension cords ran through his window to a generator. The top of the window sash was nailed shut so he wouldn’t try to climb out.

  “Din-din time.”

  He startled like a skittish cat. The whole thing in the hallway, he apparently hadn’t noticed.

  “Ghost Phebe here.” She smiled.

  “I have things for you.” He stood from his chair and moved to the altar.

  “Oh. Yay. More things.” She put down the plate on the tiny bit of cleared desk surface. “Oh, that’s my hairbrush. Nice. Could I use it maybe?”

  He looked at the hairbrush on the altar and thought it through. “No.”

  “Alrighty then. There’s always more out there. Eat your dinner. Do you want a beverage?”

  “I have my waters.”

  The plural was appropriate. A tower of water bottle cases that would provoke envy for a hurricane prepper. He wasn’t supposed to be hoarding. But no one wanted to deal with it.

  “Good, good. You’re all set then.”

  “Have you seen my mother?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Uhm, no, no, not recently. Maybe she’ll pop by later.”

  “I hope so. I have things for her. But …” Worry entered his deep brown eyes. “It’s tradition to burn them. The gifts.”

  “Oh no. We’ve covered this before, Eric. No fires. You’re not allowed any fire.”

  “But how do I get these to you?”

  “Just as they are. It’s different here. Remember? The veil between the living and dead is thin here. So we can use the stuff just by it being on the altar.”

  Peter came up with that. He used the resource of remembering things the Wiccan girlfriend had talked about, back when he thought that stuff was cool. He still liked anything pre-Christian Celtic sounding, and during a house loot, he located a book he read when dating her. It was The Mists of Avalon by Marion Zimmer Bradley. Phebe was forbidden under marital status law to ever tell the others he read such things. The mocking would be terrible if they knew what it was and how girly. Mazy and Mullen did know the book, and when it was spotted on his nightstand, Phebe had to claim it was hers.

  At least he was getting material to use on Eric.

  Mazy knew something about the ghost beliefs in Chinese culture. She said this was the hungry ghosts who needed to be appeased or calamity would strike.

  As if he had no memory of what they just talked about, he resumed his seat at the computer bay and stared at the screens, soon typing on the keyboard.

  Almost all of Rupert’s furniture had been removed and distributed to others. The next step would be padded walls if Eric grew more troublesome.

  “So, we’re good?” she asked.

  “Huh? Oh. Phebe.”

  “Okay then. Bye-bye.”

  She went out to the hall where Emily lurked.

  “Wacky doodles as ever.”

  “Smelly as ever.”

  Phebe cocked a brow. When Emily looked at her, she quickly covered with a non-committal smile.

  “Mission accomplished. Let’s go downstairs.”

  “I wish I felt better.”

  Eric yelled in Mandarin.

  Phebe couldn’t wait to tell Peter the news and hurried down the stairs ahead of Emily. Gossip was rare and usually boring.

  2.

  Her gossip moment usurped. Nia came in and announced the chicks had begun to hatch.

  “Doesn’t that take a while?” Mazy asked.

  “About twenty or so days,” Brandon answered.

  “We’ve been here that long? Doesn’t feel like it.”

  Phebe touched her abdomen. Maybe it wasn’t gas after all.

  “Stanton’s with them,” said Nia. “I gotta get back. Rats and snakes, ya know.”

  “Let’s go look, y’all. Get some positive in our lives.”

  Mazy was still grumpy from the near-death experience in the cruise ship.

  Part IV

  Chapter One

  1.

  The US Armed Forces had blown up all the connecting bridges. Base platforms remained. Bridge roads abruptly ended as they jutted out over the water. A big gap and they resumed on the other side. Deep bodies of water hid the rubble of fallen segments below the surface. Seagulls made themselves at home on rubble above the surface in shallower water or low tide to tidal rivers.

  Reconnaissance by boat was the fastest. They used outboard engine skiffs, so the engine props could be raised. Both the Ashley and Coopers Rivers were laden with obstacles.

  Peter and Matt learned how to proceed on the rivers from Tyler and Brandon. Someone always had to be in the bow to watch out for objects. Recon by water had to be done in daylight. Increased dangers from potential hostiles during the day. In the desolate silence, engines were loud and broadcasted human activity.

  West, or inland, of the Charleston Bay, the Cooper River snaked around islands. People of the Before when driving into Historic Downtown Charleston wouldn’t have noticed the small islands below the bridges. Some had no human structures, such as Drum Island. Wildlife was reclaiming these places fast. The usual: alligators and seagulls. Weeds everywhere. Warm afternoons of coastal South Carolina early spring encouraged flora growth of the most aggressive plants. Things humans would have been paid to mow now grew unfettered. The plant that plagued the eastern seaboard South, the invasive vining kudzu, was already creeping up the bridge bases. The green leaves made the structures look like earthen mounds.

  “So,” Peter hollered from the stern, operating the outboard engine. “Life without People was a little off on their weed overtake calendar.”

  They followed the Cooper River close to the southern bank.

  “I watched that show,” Ben responded from the bow. “It was pretty cool.”

  “Do you see their timetable working?”

  “Did they ever cover this area?”

  “I don’t recall Charleston being on an episode. I don’t remember alligators being everywhere. They did have Washington, D.C., retaken by swamps, which it apparently originally was.”

  “I never liked D.C. Really hot and humid. Too many people. But I had to go for the Smithsonian Native American museum.”

  “Was it everything you hoped for?”

  “Never is. I’m not into the theme of we are benign, wise people. I mean, we are wise.”

  “Compared to who? Not seeing a lot of competition back in the day. Not clear-cutting forests and wiping out whole animal species makes people way wise an
d in tune with nature.”

  “That’s true. But we weren’t as benign as we’re being made out to be.”

  “Were the Sioux featured there?”

  “Not really. How many Cherokee does it take to screw in a light bulb?”

  “How many?”

  “One-one hundredth. That’s all it takes to be a Cherokee. There’s the joke.”

  “I’m laughing on the inside, brother.”

  Ben chuckled. “You didn’t get that, did you?”

  “Guess not. Boston isn’t the biggest place for Native Americans. Definitely, Iraq wasn’t.”

  “Yeah. There is that.”

  “Sioux don’t like Cherokee, huh?”

  “We feel they gave in to the white man too easily. Emulated their ways and paid the price for it.”

  “God knows, your people didn’t give in. Even I know that.”

  “I really dislike how we get grouped together like we are the same people. It’s like saying all of Europe gets represented by France.”

  “Yeah. That wouldn’t go down well.”

  “Exactly. We look badly at the Navajo.”

  “Why? Aren’t they kind of cool?”

  “Hey, they got a problem with skinwalkers. We don’t.”

  “Thinking that means something to you.”

  “You know what a skinwalker is?”

  “Anyone into the horror genre does.”

  “Some say that if you have a problem with them, that’s an indication of corruption of your people’s ways.”

  “I like that everyone hates each other.”

  “Makes life interesting.”

  “Maybe a little too interesting. Seems to be our nature.”

  “Slow.” Ben signaled with his hand. “We got sunken shit coming up. Raise prop.”

  “Gotcha.”

  2.

  “Down,” Mazy yelled before she slipped onto the floor.

  Bullets hit the metal side of her skiff.

  Brandon dropped as low as he could get while still steering the outboard engine.

  “We got survivors over here,” she yelled into the radio. “They’re on the Yorkshire. Over.”

  Ben’s voice responded, “We are backtracking to you. Over.”

  Mazy and Brandon had the north shore recon and started out after Peter and Ben.

  Directly across the Charleston Bay from the sinking cruise ship sat the USS Yorkshire, a retired World War Two aircraft carrier turned museum. The USS Laffey WWII destroyer docked near it. And a Cold War submarine, the USS Clamagore. Ferry’s out to Fort Sumpter launched from the marina immediately east of the maritime museum. A sailboat school and plenty of sailboats berthed at the marina.

  But survivors had taken the area. And they had a fantastic view of the cruise ship and their marina.

  Explained a lot.

  Shooters stood on top of the Yorkshire’s flight deck, firing at the snooping skiff.

  Brandon turned the engine to the skiff out of reach of assault. The ping sounds from hits on the metal hull stopped. Little eruptions in the water as bullets hit at their maximum range.

  Peter slowed next to their skiff.

  “Should we moon them?” he asked.

  Ben scanned the maritime museum with binoculars. “That is a sweet hold up. I bet people were using the USS Carolina in Wilmington.”

  A retired battleship turned museum.

  “We never did get that far into town.”

  “We should’ve taken these retired ships.”

  “We never seem to have our act together well enough for that. Probably my fault.”

  “Well, now it would be my and her fault.”

  “Then I will blame youse two.”

  Mazy said, “I’m not taking the blame. You can have it all, Ben.”

  “I got broad shoulders.”

  Brandon asked, “These are those guys everyone keeps killing?”

  “Explains why they seem a bit miffed at us.” Peter waved at them. A friendly smile. “Use up your remaining ammo on shots that can’t reach us, dumbasses.”

  Brandon stared at the sunk cruise ship to the opposite bank of the large bay. “They are right there to us. We’re right over there.” He pointed.

  “But they have no reason to come over,” said Mazy. “Cruise ship is obviously gone. And we keep killing their men.”

  “Are these Henderson’s buddies?”

  Ben scanned through binoculars. “I don’t see any of those flags or anything. Nothing to indicate they have a fucktard theme. Oh, one guy just gave me the finger.”

  Peter laughed. “The international greeting.”

  “Yeah, they’re all about being happy over us. Let’s all wave.”

  “Stop antagonizing, boys,” Mazy said.

  “They started it.” Ben smiled.

  3.

  “If this motherfucker thinks he gonna shoot at me.” Chris watched a guy on a dock aim at their skiff.

  “We should mount the SAW on the bow,” said Tyler.

  “This here all hospitals?”

  “That’s what the map says.”

  “Where did Matt and Mullen go?”

  “Up there on the other shore. Something about a citadel?”

  “The Citadel, kid. It’s a military cadet school.”

  They floated on the water of the Ashley River. Chris in bow and Tyler at the engine. They watched the marina docks outside of the hospital complex.

  “This definitely got survivors,” said Chris. “Looks like they come out of a fucked up Eighties movie. Their hair more fucked up than your blue was, former Smurf.”

  Further down the river, they had checked a Coast Guard station. Empty. Abandoned. No weapons or watercraft left. Whether this was done by the Coasties or by looting survivors, they did not know.

  The radio crackled. Matt’s voice, “Chris, meet us upriver. Over.”

  “Roger that. Over.”

  Chris hand signaled Tyler to go forward. Then signaled him to keep left as they crossed under bridges. Wreckage at the middle of the bridges section, the choice was left away from survivors or right where they could be picked off.

  “Matt, how far we going? Over.”

  “A ways. The river parts around an island. Keep to the north bank. Over.”

  “North?” Chris asked Tyler.

  “The right-hand bank.”

  “I thought the Citadel was on the left-hand bank.”

  “Don’t know.”

  “Why in the hell couldn’t Phebe do this water shit and not me. Even Emily. Somebody that not me. I don’t know water.”

  “You gonna learn.” Tyler smiled big.

  “I’ll pitch you right off this here boat, child.”

  Tyler laughed. “Then you have to drive.”

  “Nuh. I’m gonna camp right here with all them gators. Live a quiet life.”

  After what felt like hours to Chris, Tyler slowed the engine and drifted to a marina dock. Mullen flagged them down.

  He was all smiles.

  Chris hauled himself onto the dock, leaving tie up to Tyler.

  “What’s with the shit-eating grin, kid?”

  “We think we found the hacker’s yacht.”

  “The who the what?”

  “Follow me.”

  Tyler hurried to catch up.

  “Not much to look at around here,” said Chris.

  “There’s a marina.” Tyler pointed.

  “There’s always a marina here.”

  Mullen said, “We don’t care about any of that. It’s this yacht.”

  “Nice looking boat,” said Chris.

  It was huge. The kind of yacht in movies, but no one actually knew anyone who owned such a thing. A yacht of the mega-rich.

  “Matt says it’s really expensive,” said Brandon.

  “Yeah,” said Chris. “Ya think?”

  Matt came out of the cabin of the yacht. “The whole cabin is fitted out with computers. Think this is the hacker the Navy was after.”

  They had to
climb a rope ladder to get on board. No dock stairs.

  The windows of the cabin were tinted black. An array of satellites and antennas on the roof of the wheelhouse, more than the Molly had and vastly more sophisticated.

  Matt led the way into the saloon.

  “Open a dang window, man,” said Chris. “It musky in here.”

  “Since when are you sensitive?”

  “Hey. I’m very sensitive. I’m in touch with my feminine side.”

  Matt laughed. “I’m not even.”

  “Go on and show what you wanted us here for.”

  “The body’s in the bedroom. Gunshot wound to the head. Hand still holds the gun. But I think it’s female.”

  “Female hacker?” Mullen’s brows raised. “Damn.”

  “This that hacker who broke into the Navy’s system?”

  “Yeah. But Mullen could tell us more.”

  Mullen sat in a swivel chair at the computer bay. “This is a sweet ass setup.”

  “Could she have been the hacker?” Matt asked him.

  Tyler asked, “What if it was a guy hacker and he killed her?”

  Mullen tossed a framed photo at the kid. It had sat between two monitors.

  “What is this?”

  “A girl and a guy,” Matt said.

  “They Asian,” said Chris.

  “I think they’re Vietnamese.” Mullen leafed through a lavender-covered journal. “Some of the writing. It’s not Chinese.”

  “You now know Asian shit?” Chris snickered in disbelief.

  “It has Vietnam written in English.” He held it up for them to see and smiled.

  “You cheated then, boy.” Chris turned to Matt. “We need a look-out here?”

  “I haven’t heard or seen anything but wildlife. The marina is totally empty. Pell’s out there.”

  “Y’all check on this shit. I’ll go get some air and watch our asses. Just in case.”

  “Chris, tell me you don’t have nicotine products?”

  Chris walked out the way he had come in. “You sound like a fucking commercial, son.”

  Matt shook his head. “He’s such an addict. Why he can’t stay quit is beyond me.”

  “I thought a nicotine addiction was as bad as heroin addiction.” Mullen rocked the swivel chair back and forth as he flipped through the journal’s pages. “Oh, she’s definitely the hacker. Her brother was in the Marine Corps. She writes about wanting to get him out.”