There was only one bed in the captain’s quarters, so Dakota had to sleep on the bunks with the rest of the crew. Because of all the training shadows on board, it was a little bit crowded, but not overly so. Not like it would have been for those who crossed over from Europe, or even for those who had fled the Black Box.
Dakota lay on the bunk above Peter’s. He was already deep asleep, not even stirring when she climbed up past him. More than one person was snoring, and Dakota thought it would keep her awake, but was proven wrong. Her exhaustion and the gentle rocking of the submarine quickly sent her into a deep and dreamless slumber.
***
When she was shaken awake, Dakota’s thought was that she hadn’t fallen asleep at all. It hadn’t seemed like enough time had passed. And perhaps not enough had. She didn’t bother to ask the time, but considering that everyone was waking up, it was likely morning. Peter was the one shaking her.
“I’m awake,” she mumbled as she propped herself up on her elbows.
“Bronislav is on the bridge. I figured you should be too,” he mumbled, sounding apologetic for waking her.
“It’s okay.” She slid off her bunk, unable to tell if Peter understood that she was accepting his unspoken apology. Her clothes were rumpled, since she had slept in them, but there was nothing for her to change into. She used the tiny toilet stall when it was available, then followed the main group of people to the kitchen for her breakfast ration. It was disheartening how small it was. Without much sleep, she would have to rely on the food to sustain her, but it didn’t look like that was going to be possible. Since the destruction of the Black Box, she had grown used to the feeling of hunger. There were times when that revelation was more awful than the hunger itself.
Bronislav was where Peter had said he would be. She sidled up beside him as he read through a report of some kind. The writing was very small and cramped, and Dakota guessed that the large dots separated various messages. Some were likely much older than others; paper had become rather scarce. The tiny letters went all the way to the margins, and there was barely a space between words. Bronislav squinted as he read. Maybe he needed glasses. They had a small pile of reading glasses stored away at the container yard somewhere. Maybe Dakota should suggest he look through them when they got back. Provided there was anything to go back to, reading glasses included.
When Bronislav was done with the report, he gave orders to his men before turning to Dakota.
“We’re going up closer to the surface,” he told her. “We have to check on the storm to determine whether we are to go back today.”
“We might not go home today?” Dakota was under the impression that the sub trip would only be for a single night.
“The worst of the storm has likely passed over us, but the seas could remain rough for some time. Days even. The rains as well.”
Days? Dakota hadn’t considered that possibility. Surely Cameron had been informed, and so she wouldn’t worry. Well, she’d worry, but she’d have something to latch onto, to convince herself that she was being silly.
Bronislav spoke on the phone and his voice echoed throughout the submarine from overhead speakers. An alarm sounded briefly, the same kind as when they were preparing to dive.
“You may want to hold onto something,” Bronislav told her. “I suspect this will be a short yet rough journey.”
Dakota went to the corner she had discovered the other day and held on to the bar there. Everyone standing, which was mostly shadows like herself, had found something to cling to. Bronislav reached a hand up and held onto a pipe above his head.
As they rose, the swaying of the submarine got worse. The deck beneath Dakota’s feet moved in unexpected ways. They rolled, pitched, and yawed, never in the direction that she thought might be next. She had never been on a roller coaster, but imagined it was somewhat similar.
Bronislav was barking a continuous stream of orders. His first mate, the German he had left in charge during yesterday’s tour, was relaying a constant stream of information back to him.
People around the bridge began to get green around the gills, even some of the experienced sailors. No one left their post, however. It seemed too dangerous to move, to try walking anywhere. Dakota was also beginning to get queasy.
When they reached the surface, Dakota could only tell because of a change in Bronislav’s orders, and a change in the sounds the submarine made. It was raining hard out there; she could hear it hammering on the hull. That meant there was still a downpour at the container yard. She felt sorry for those left behind. Even if it turned out that everything remained safe and secure, they would have to travel through this weather in order to get food or use one of the toilets. At least they didn’t have to worry about distilling seawater, as rain was usually safe to drink. It should also wash away anything that remained of that gross slime the zombies had left behind.
They spent some time on the surface, rolling with the waves, then the dive alarm sounded again and they began their descent. As soon as they reached calm enough waters, several people ran off to find somewhere to throw up. Dakota was determined to keep her meagre breakfast down, so she sat in one of the abandoned chairs, taking deep breaths.
“You would actually feel better if you threw up,” Bronislav told her.
Dakota shook her head. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe that she’d feel better, it was just the best answer she could give that didn’t involve opening her mouth.
“Don’t throw up on the instruments.”
Eventually the crewman whose seat she had taken returned, and she was forced to stand again. Her legs felt a little stronger than before she had sat down, but she wasn’t feeling completely better yet.
“Why did we spend so much time on the surface?” Dakota asked, hoping to take her mind off how she felt.
“You weren’t listening to what I was saying,” Bronislav pointed out.
“It’s hard to follow when I don’t know the lingo.”
“And when you feel sick.”
“Yes, and when I feel sick. So, why?”
“I thought it best to run the air exchangers for a bit. Of course, our fresh air has now been spoiled by the reappearance of people’s breakfasts, but better they spoil fresh air than stale.”
Dakota nodded, not really sure if she agreed or not. It just seemed like the easiest answer.
“We’ll be maintaining our position for a while. We won’t be testing the waters above again until evening. Would you like me to start teaching you the lingo so that you can follow along next time?”
Dakota nodded again, although if next time was anything like this time, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to follow along even when she knew the words. Perhaps agreeing to shadow Bronislav on the submarine had not been the best decision.
21: James
8 Days After the Bombing
Several booted feet entered James’ field of vision. Many hands grabbed his limbs and hauled him off across the road. They didn’t try to blindfold him at all, so James could see clearly that they brought him into the garage, the one his group had considered staying in instead of the post office. There were no windows for the attackers’ lights to shine out.
Inside the garage, James was dropped onto the cement floor beside a lantern. The people who had carried him quickly dispersed into surrounding guard positions, but there was one who was already sitting on the other side of the light. James struggled upright, pulling the rag out of his mouth in the process. He noticed that they had allowed him to keep his knife.
“Sorry for that,” the woman across the lantern from him spoke. “Without knowing who you are, we felt it safer getting one of you alone.”
James looked around the space and counted six other people, the woman making it a total of seven. His group outnumbered them.
“Can you speak for your party?” the woman asked. “Or is there a leader we should be communicating with instead?”
“I can speak for them,” James told her.
“Excellent. So who are you?”
“Travellers. We’re trying to get to the Theatre.” The Theatre was what Evans had called the place, but James hadn’t a clue whether that was a moniker known to others.
“Oh? Are you now? And why are you trying to go there?” Maybe the woman knew where he was talking about, maybe she didn’t.
“We were told it was the kind of place that we could go to.”
“And who told you that?”
“A friend of ours. Goes by the name of Evans.” James hoped to see some sign of recognition in the woman’s facial expression. He saw nothing.
“And who is Evans?”
“Another traveller.”
“Like yourselves?”
“Different. We come from a specific place; he calls nowhere home for long. He’s been a lot of places; you may have seen him without learning his name. Six foot four, blond hair and beard, carries a big sword?”
Nothing from the woman. She either didn’t know, or was very good at masking her reactions.
“My name is James, may I know yours?”
“Dinah.”
“And are you a traveller as well?”
“No. Where is it you come from?”
“A place by the sea.” That seemed like a safely vague enough answer to James. “We are hoping to connect with other communities, in order to trade.”
“Why are you only doing this now? Why not before?”
“We lived on a ship before.” James wasn’t going to bother mentioning that they had lived on land for the past five years. Let her think their arrival was new.
“What happened to your ship?”
“An unfortunate encounter with pirates. Where are you from?”
“Not far. Not close.” She was matching James’ vague answers, although he knew it had to be relatively close, given the way the buildings here had been stripped. “What is it you are looking to trade for? And what are you offering?”
“I am only to discuss that with the leader of a community.”
“And if that leader was a tyrannical dictator?”
James shrugged. “Everything has to be played by ear. Why? Are you led by a tyrannical dictator?”
Dinah made a scoffing sound, which was accompanied by a few snickers from the surrounding guards. Whoever they were led by, most definitely didn’t fall into the tyrannical dictator category. That was good for James.
“We shouldn’t be far from the Theatre. Surely you’ve heard of it? Are they led by a dictator, is that why you mentioned it?”
Dinah gave away nothing. “The people you travel with: there is someone injured among them?”
“Yes. Skip has had his hand crushed, but Aaron is our major concern. He was bitten on the ankle by an infected pig. We managed to remove the limb in time, but he is not doing well. We’re worried about infections, and don’t have the medicine needed to treat him ourselves. I was hoping that when we reached the Theatre, someone there would be able to help him.” When it came to those who needed help, James didn’t hold back any information. He wasn’t going to gamble anyone’s life in some weird attempt to make his group look stronger. Aaron was desperate, and they would take help where they could get it.
“You are concerned for your friend.” It wasn’t a question; Dinah was just stating a fact. “What do you have to offer for healthcare?”
“Are you offering healthcare? Because if you’re not, all I need from you is a point in the right direction to the Theatre. Or your camp, if it’s closer.”
“How many guns does your group carry?” Dinah asked.
James kept his mouth shut on that one. They may outnumber the seven, but in the lamplight he could see pistols on their belts, and more than one rifle slung over a shoulder. In a fight, his group would lose.
“How do I know that we can trust you?” Dinah asked instead.
“How do I know that I can trust you?” James countered. “Neither of us can answer that question if we both refuse to bend. We are both in a difficult position. You don’t want to lead hostiles to your home, and I don’t want my people to be robbed or injured any more than they already are.”
Dinah had nothing to say to that. Her arms were crossed and her finger tapped against her bicep as she thought. Or maybe as she waited. Waited for James to fill in the silence. He knew how to play that game too, but he wondered if he should.
“Would you trust me if I told you a little bit more about my community without telling you exactly where it is?” James decided.
“Maybe.”
“Very well. We live in a shipping container yard.” A dedicated person with time and a good map could eventually find them, but James trusted that there were a number of container yards along the stretch of sea within a reasonable distance of where they were. “We built a wall out of the containers to protect us. That wall was recently put to the test. We were first attacked by raiders, who attempted to uproot us from our home.” It seemed best not to mention the Black Box, and instead bend the truth a little. Thanks to Chant’s radio broadcast on the Day, everyone around the world had learned that the Marble Keystone Corporation had deliberately released the zombie virus into the population. James would not be treated kindly if they knew that anyone from his community, or that he personally, had any affiliation with them, whatsoever. “We managed to defeat the raiders, but at a great loss to our supplies and growing lands. While attempting to recover from them, we were attacked a second time. I don’t know if you’ve ever encountered this horde of zombies before, but I actually hope you haven’t. I have never seen so many in one place.” James hadn’t been there, but he had heard the stories and seen the photos the runners had carried with them. He had also seen the mess that was left behind. “Our walls are maybe sixteen feet high, but the zombies got over them. We were extremely fortunate to have survived. I have no words for that mass of dead flesh. Maybe you’ve seen their wake? A massive trail of guts, and blood, and bits of flesh, flattening everything in its path.”
A guard at the edge of James’ vision shifted uncomfortably. They had seen it then, or at least knew of it.
“Even now, we’re still disposing of the ashes of the burned bodies.”
“No one could have survived that horde,” Dinah finally said. “I don’t believe you.”
“We had help. Runners, who had been tracking the mass, reached us first. They managed to warn us. We had hoped for the zombies to just go away if we stayed quiet behind our walls, but they didn’t. The runners warned us of a smart zombie in the pack, the smartest one ever seen.” Another lie, a smaller one, for James had watched Roy, a zombie who had taught other zombies to hurl dead children over the walls of a prison. “They also had some men outside. Those men were able to signal us the co-ordinates of the super smart thing, and we had skilled men and women who were able to get grenades to that point. Most of the fast zombies were clustered around the smart one, so we got most of them too. The group that gave us the co-ordinates were also able to set off fireworks, to lure away a large chunk of the zombies at the rear. With preparedness, discipline, and the sacrifice of too many, we were able to overcome the dead that came over our walls.”
“Tell me the names of these so-called runners?” Dinah unexpectedly asked.
“Boss, Betty, Tommy, Mark, and Suzanne. They called the mass of dead the comet horde. Before I left, they were still living in my community, however they hadn’t yet decided whether they wanted to stay or go somewhere else now that they didn’t feel a need to track the zombies. They think that with the super smart one dead, the comet horde won’t reform.”
Finally, a twitch on Dinah’s face. She must know the runners, or at least know of them. “Perhaps you’re telling the truth,” she said. “There are details in your story that would be hard to make up so quickly. And you also told me more than you probably would have liked. Your community’s food supplies are low, and it’s very likely your ammunition is as well. You’re seeking aid from the Theatre, and not just for your man Aaron
.”
James knew it had been a risk to say so much. He didn’t confirm for Dinah that she was right, but she was smart enough not to need him to.
They sat in silence for a few seconds before Dinah finally spoke again. “We’re from the Theatre.”
James breathed a sigh of relief. He had been hoping that this was the case, but had no way to be certain. “May we have an audience with your leader then?”
“If I allow it, you will have to tell them the entire truth.” Them, so they were likely led by more than one person.
“I will. Every detail.” Although he’d probably turn the Black Box into a normal bunker that they had stumbled across. No need to mention Keystone.
Dinah thought for another second, and then sighed. “I suppose anyone who can claim to have survived the comet horde as truthful sounding as you have deserves an audience. We’ll take you to the Theatre once the sun comes up.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.” James poured every ounce of sincerity that he could muster into his words. “I take it you’ve had a run-in with the comet horde?”
“We heard that they were coming, warned by the runners you talked about. Maybe one of our leaders even knows this Evans guy you mentioned, but we’ve all heard of Boss, Betty, Tommy, Mark, and Suzanne. With their warnings and plans, we were able to use portable sirens to redirect the horde away from us.”
James nodded. “I just wish my home could have done the same.”
“Perhaps they could have, if the runners hadn’t seen an opportunity to kill the one they called Dean. They were obsessed with finding a way to destroy him.”
James nodded again. He had heard about their obsession from Boyle, and could see it in the way they now appeared lost without their self-assigned purpose.
Survival Instinct (Book 5): Social Instinct Page 32
