Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom

by Richardson, Marcus

  Cami looked at Amber. “There goes the neighborhood,” Amber muttered.

  Chapter 12

  Camp Echo

  Port Jefferson, New York

  Reese opened the flap to the dining hall tent and stepped into the welcome smell of eggs, bacon, and coffee. Drawn like a moth to the flame, he followed his nose and inhaled the rich, strong scent of industrial brew stations and coffee black as coal. He got in line behind a handful of other civilians and a few soldiers, snagged his first cup of the day, and stepped over to the chow line.

  Unlike the day before, Reese immediately noticed a sharp division between civilians in gray overalls and white T-shirts, and soldiers in camouflage uniforms. The soldiers sat at the table closest to the food, civilians closer to the exit. Only a few tables accommodated civilians and soldiers as they ate.

  No sooner had he moved from the end of the line with a tray full of eggs, bacon, and toast, than Jo saw him and waved from a table at the far end of the tent. He carefully worked his way through the crowd and background chatter of dozens of conversations and found the table Jo had selected.

  Reese sat across from her and took a moment to appreciate the steaming—if watery—eggs and crispy-to-the-point-of-black bacon. "If tastes at least half as good as it looks, I'm going back for seconds."

  “It tastes about as good as you'd expect," Jo groused from across the table. "But it sure does hit the spot. No complaints here, compadre."

  "Have you seen Tony or Byron yet?" Reese asked as he gathered some eggs on his fork

  Jo put her elbows on the table and grasped her coffee mug with both hands. "Tony went off to fetch Byron, but that was about half hour ago or so..."

  "Yeah, Byron hasn’t checked in to our tent yet—I think he’s spent the entire time we've been here at the medical tent."

  Jo nodded. "Can't blame him. If my husband was as sick as Libby, I'd be at his side, too."

  "Yeah..." Reese said as he looked down. She was right. If it'd been Cami instead of Libby, the last thing Reese would be thinking about was food. He put his fork down and reached for his coffee. "Well, I hope they get here soon, I got some bad news."

  "Bad news? What is it?"

  Somebody Reese didn't recognize—a civilian—sat down next to him and nodded in silent greeting. The man immediately turned and began talking to the people he sat down with, completely ignoring Reese and Jo. She glanced at the newcomers in irritation, then shrugged and looked at Reese with a what can you do expression on her face.

  Reese glanced at her over the top of his coffee mug. "It can wait until everybody's here."

  Jo nodded and went back to her breakfast.

  They ate in silence for a few moments, and Reese noticed that Jo matched his slow pace—he didn't want people around while they talked, but he didn’t think it was safe enough to head outside and talk in the open, either, with so many soldiers. So, his first course of action was to eat slow and hope the newcomers went about their business and left.

  In a way, his plan worked. The newcomers finished their meals and continued their loud conversation about the day's work as they stood and left the table. However, by the time Tony and Byron arrived, Reese and Jo were almost finished with her own breakfast.

  "Here, I'll take your tray," Jo said as she reached across to grab Reese's empty tray.

  "More coffee?" asked Reese as he stood. "I'll get us some refills while Tony and Byron get their food.”

  “You have to ask? It’s like you don’t even know me..." Jo said with a wry grin as she left the table.

  Reese returned to the table and sat down with two mugs of coffee. He passed one over to Jo and nodded in greeting as Byron and Tony sat down opposite them. “Whoa, Byron you don't look so hot. How’s Libby?" Reese asked.

  Byron sighed heavily, and his shoulders slumped. He took the coffee Tony offered and tasted it. "She’s starting to come around. Woke up for the first time since we got here just a little while ago. I wanted to stay with her, but the doctors insisted I get something to eat.”

  “And get out,” Tony added.

  “They have to run some more tests,” Byron continued, “give her some more fluids—then I can come back and see her. We’re not out of the woods yet," he said and took a sip of coffee. "But she's a lot better off now than she was yesterday."

  Tony shook his head as he picked up his fork. "That was way too close."

  "Well thank goodness she's gonna be okay.," Jo said with a smile.

  "Amen," Byron said. His face looked more wrinkled than normal, and the strain over his wife had taken its toll on the old sailor’s visage. He looked like he'd aged 10 years overnight.

  "You haven't slept yet?" asked Reese.

  "Not really," Byron replied. He pushed his plate of food away. "Not hungry either. I just want to get back and be with her."

  Reese nodded. "Understandable. But I think we need to discuss something."

  "I'll say, I can't tell you how good it felt to take a shower last night!" Jo announced with a smile. "I don’t know about you boys, but I’m digging this set up they got here." She blew on her coffee and smiled at them over the rim of her mug.

  Tony grinned and dug into his food. "Well, as crazy as everything is, they got one thing going for ‘em—this breakfast is outstanding. I mean," he said as he put the food in his mouth. "For rehydrated eggs and bacon that's probably a year past its expiration date..."

  "It's better than anything we would've had on the boats, that's for sure," Byron added.

  "That's what we need to talk about," Reese said. He put his coffee down and leaned closer to Byron and Tony. “Did Tony fill you in on what they told him?"

  Byron nodded. "He did, but it all sounds like a propaganda scare to drum up some new recruits, if you ask me."

  "So, you're not concerned by the fact that we’re basically in the camp of a bunch of rogue National Guard officers and soldiers? According to the captain that talked to Tony, they were all supposed to have headed back to the mainland already."

  "Hey, does that mean these guys are like...mutineers?" asked Tony. “I thought that was just a navy thing...”

  "For goodness sakes, keep your voice down, boy," Jo hissed as she leaned forward. "I get the feeling them soldiers wouldn't like being called mutineers."

  "And why should they?" asked Byron. "Looks like they're doing all they can to help the people of Long Island—I heard the doctors talking about sending roving patrols out to the nearby towns to check on people who are sick and need medical attention." Byron shook his head. "Doesn't sound like a band of rogue soldiers if you ask me." He crossed his arms. "Sounds like someone stepped up and decided to do the job they were told to do in the first place."

  Reese let that hang in the air for a moment, narrowed his eyes, and whispered to Byron, "They confiscated the boats."

  Byron's eyes drilled in on Reese's face as he leaned forward. "You wanna run that by me again?"

  "I went down to the docks last night—I was hoping to run into you to explain it to you, but haven't seen you until now. They've been stripping Tiberia and Intrepid of supplies."

  "They what?" Byron demanded, as he slapped one hand down on the table. A few people nearby turned and looked at the clatter of silverware.

  "Keep it down," Jo hissed as she smiled at the other people.

  "They have no right—"

  "They have all the machine guns—they seem to think that gives them every right they need," Reese replied sourly. "But they're not just taking stuff—they've been installing electronic gear and I can't be sure, but I think they’re mounting a gun on Intrepid. It doesn't make any sense, but I couldn't find out anything else—they ran me off and threatened to put me into one of the work gangs with the other civilians."

  "Work gangs? You mean like the ones on the outside of the fence? The troublemakers?" Tony asked around a mouthful of food.

  "Hold up, y'all," Jo said raising both hands to stall the conversation. "You mean to tell me that they threatened to p
ut you into one of the groups we saw the other night?"

  Reese nodded. “I got a feeling the locals around here are quickly reaching their breaking point. That's why these guys are so hard up to get Tony to join ranks. They need more men with guns to counteract the hundreds of thousands—if not millions of people on Long Island that’ll descend on this place when they run out of food and realize these guys are sitting on a nice fat stockpile."

  "But what do they want my boat for?" Byron growled.

  "Beats me," Reese said as he leaned back in his chair and let his eyes survey the dining hall. It wasn't as crowded as it what had been a few moments before.

  "They can't do this." Byron pushed back from the table and stood. "I need to see for myself."

  "I'll go with you," Tony said reluctantly. He shuffled two last forkfuls of eggs into his mouth and stood.

  "Anybody else notice how quickly this place is emptying?" Jo asked.

  Reese looked around. The dining hall was nearly empty. "I think something’s going on outside. Come on—we better go check it out."

  "As long as it's on the way to the boats. I'm not gonna stand for this! Out and out piracy is what it is..." Byron grumbled to himself as the four survivors rushed to the exit.

  Reese pushed through the tent flap and found at least a dozen people working their way toward the east side of the camp. They quickly got in with the flow of foot traffic and soon heard a commotion in the distance. The closer everyone got to the source of the noise, the faster they walked, until some people broke into an all-out run to see what was the matter.

  They rounded the corner of a row of barracks tents and found an angry mob outside the eastern gate. "There must be a hundred people out there!" Reese called to the others as they slowed to a stop. They huddled together as more spectators arrived and gathered on the inside of the fence wall, blocked off by a cordon of armed soldiers.

  A man in combat fatigues climbed a ladder attached to the fence and stood on a rickety wooden platform. He brought a bullhorn to his lips and clicked the button, which made a horrible squeal. "My name is Captain Marsters," he called in a strong voice that echoed over the sound of the mob.

  "That's the guy I talked to," Tony said as he pointed at the figure in the distance.

  "You all are hereby ordered by Major Robertson, commanding officer of this installation to disperse and return to your homes."

  They were just out of range to clearly hear the words, but Reese thought he heard someone shout about food. The cry was taken up by dozens of voices, and the roar of the mob quickly overpowered the bullhorn. The captain called for order again and eventually drew his sidearm and aimed it into the air.

  He squeezed the trigger, and the pistol cracked like thunder, which silenced the crowd. "Now you people need to listen up—we’re not gonna let you in. I can’t hand out food to any mob that shows up and demands it. There is a system in place that works—we will deliver food and supplies to your location—"

  More people screamed and yelled, and angry voices rose up to counteract the bullhorn. Reese turned to Jo, and a sense of deja vu crept down his spine like ice water.

  "You two look like someone walked over your graves," Byron observed.

  "We've been in a situation like this before. In Maine, right after the tsunami. Guys, we need to get out here. This isn't going to end well," Reese warned.

  As the noise from the crowd rose in pitch, Reese pulled back on Jo, and urged Tony and Byron to retreat from the demonstrators as well. "Guys, seriously, this is gonna go downhill fast—we need to step—"

  Before he could finish his statement, a gunshot split the air, and people screamed. The captain, arms stretched out in a plea for understanding, toppled from the platform. More gunshots erupted on the other side of the fence, and the spectators inside the camp began to scream and run for cover. As Reese pulled Jo around the corner of the tent and tugged on Tony's arm with his free hand, the soldiers inside the fence opened fire. The raucous cacophony of automatic weapons drowned out the screams and sporadic single shots from the other side of the fence.

  Other soldiers appeared and urged anyone inside the camp to return to their sleeping quarters immediately—most of them with a good dose of force to get the message across. As Reese staggered through the fleeing crowd, he saw rifle butts rise and people stagger and fall who had not heeded the order to vacate the area immediately.

  In the general chaos, Byron screamed something about the boats, and disappeared into the river of people. Tony jerked free of Reese's grip and said something about the hospital tent, then he too vanished. Reese and Jo pressed on through the crush of bodies and eventually made their way to a cleared spot.

  Soldiers ran all around them, some with rifles up headed for the fighting, which continued unabated. Others, still behind civilians, shoved the crowd back deeper into the camp.

  "Remember how I said I liked that hot shower?" Jo asked as she wiped sweat from her forehead.

  Reese peered around the corner of the tent and ducked back as a person stumbled and fell to the ground right in front of them.

  "Yeah," he said nervously.

  "I take it back—if this is the price of being clean, I'd rather smell like wet gym socks for the rest of my life…"

  Chapter 13

  Spalding Residence

  Bee’s Landing Subdivision

  Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina

  Darien looked up from his inventory notebook when Spanner walked into the room. His right-hand man placed his pistol on the table in front of Darien as he unfastened the holster and removed it from his waist. "Things are getting rough out there, man."

  Darien put his pencil down." Oh? How so?"

  Spanner ran a grubby hand through his greasy, lank hair. "For starters, there's a bunch of people sick out there now. I went to three different houses tonight. You wouldn't believe what I smelled. You ain’t payin’ me enough to deal with that."

  Darien frowned. "Is that it? Your sensitive nose is out of joint and you—"

  "That ain't all,” Spanner continued. “People are getting scared. That Lavelle house, and the old man's place next to it—they ain't the only ones with plywood up over the windows now. The neighborhood’s on lockdown."

  "And that affects us how?" asked Darien.

  "It's a lot harder to break into somebody's place when they're expecting it," Spanner snarled. "And the places I am getting into don't have much. I was walking by a house I thought I'd hit tonight, but there were a bunch of people sitting outside talking."

  "So, you moved on to the next target?" asked Darien, as he picked up his pencil again.

  "Oh, I did more than that—I sat around and eavesdropped on them from the bushes. You know there's some kind of epidemic going around the neighborhood?"

  Darien looked up sharply. "What are you talking about?"

  "There's like four or five houses full of sick people now. Kids getting sick, parents...at least according to what I heard." Spanner sat down on the only other chair at the table and sighed. "It's getting freaky out there, man. I don't know how to describe it."

  Darien leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "Try."

  Spanner sighed again. "Look, it's not like people are using up all their supplies. The places that I was scopin’ out a few days back, I could see through the windows and when I walked by, they had flashlights and candles—plenty of stuff. Now I go back just a couple days later, and it's all gone? What are they doing with it? They shippin’ it somewhere, that's what they're doing with it," he said, as he answered his own question.

  Darien pondered this for a second. "Okay...let's assume you're onto something here," he said as he clasped his hands on the table. "We got rumors of some kind of sickness going through the neighborhood. To be honest, I kind of expected something like this. Folks don't have a way to get to a doctor, no electricity to keep medicine refrigerated...stuff is bound to get bad. And you're sure people are either using up or moving their supplies?"

 
; Spanner nodded. "I've seen it now at three different houses over the last couple nights. Not everybody's doing it, but enough are that I'm getting worried."

  Darien scratched his jaw. "They might be trying to put supplies in a single building or something...like a warehouse for the neighborhood."

  "If they are, I haven't heard about it," Spanner said. "But I wouldn't put it past them to try to set up shop at Lavelle's place. They've already proved they can defend their property..." Spanner shrugged. "I'm not criticizing, boss—I'm on your side, I'm just pointing out the fact that we hit ‘em, and they hit back. Hard. Other people are going to notice that, and—"

  "Look to her as the leader of the neighborhood." Darien clenched his jaw.

  "I know that was supposed to be you," Spanner said quietly. He opened his mouth again, but after a sharp look from Darien, he closed it abruptly.

  "Oh, we’re not lettin’ her get away with it," Darien said. "Now's not the time, though. Gotta be patient." He sat back in his chair and crossed his thick arms. "They're looking to her for leadership. I expected that—if I'm not there to take control, and the HOA has been neutered, then they’ll look for somebody to lead them through this mess." He shrugged. "You gotta respect her—she didn't set out to take charge, it landed in her lap. She’s being smart though, I like that."

  "So, what are we gonna do?" asked Spanner

  Darien picked up the notebook and flipped through the top couple pages. "We don't have nearly enough stuff to make it if people are locking down and everybody's getting sick. We gotta boost our efforts to get medical supplies now."

  "On top of more food," Spanner groused

  "Hey, you better get used to it—scrounging for stuff is gonna be a way of life for a while. We don't have enough people to do anything else." Darien closed the notebook. "But we do have enough people to finish cleaning out the Westin house."