The Roaming (Book 3): Haven's Promise

by Hegarty, W. J.

  “Road-weary travelers take precedence,” Ulrich offered with a wave of his massive arm, showcasing the large group of survivors.

  “Without a doubt.” The inventory-taker sighed as she returned to her work.

  “Welcome aboard, motherfuckers,” a scraggly man greeted the survivors and not exactly in a tone that any of them would have considered welcoming. His long, unkempt hair was held back with a worn-out red baseball cap. A filthy bluish-gray one-piece zip-up work uniform rounded out his disheveled appearance. “Everybody pick out a cell. Get comfy. You’ll be in there a while,” said the man overenthusiastically. “Ha, ha, fresh meat, boys!” His excitement was palpable. He almost tripped over his words and was nearly slurring behind his laughter as he continued. “Have fun in de-cons. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Krysler,” a tall, short-haired blond man ordered. “Leave these people be. They’ve already been through enough,” he growled through a thick hay-colored beard. His voice was booming throughout the chamber.

  The other workers scattered to make sure they looked busy upon this one’s arrival. His appearance contrasted starkly with that of other crew members gathering around the group. He was adorned from head to toe in white, and he wore scuff-free shoes and knee-high socks. Pressed white shorts and a matching freshly ironed collared shirt rounded out the ensemble. The man looked as though he’d just stepped out of an advertisement for a cruise line.

  “You’ll have to excuse my friend over there. He can be a little rambunctious in front of a new audience,” he said. “The man in the red hat with the unfortunate name runs de-cons for me. Let that sit for a moment, take it in. Now consider him as a cautionary tale why we don’t pick our own nicknames. You can call me, Todd. I’m the head of security around here. Welcome to Haven.” Todd’s stern but welcoming tone changed to commanding and authoritative just as quickly as he measured the room and took charge of the situation. “For those of you who may not have been listening, I am Haven’s chief of security.” He made it a point to hold eye contact with each and every one of the new faces. “Keeping this ship safe and secure from those things back on the mainland is my primary concern. Everything else—including your feelings—comes in a distant second.”

  “If I may?” Lancaster asked. He didn’t waste a moment in trying to ingratiate himself with those who were obviously in charge.

  “You may not,” Todd replied without missing a beat. “As I was saying, keeping this vessel free from infection is my sole purpose. This room is cut off from the rest of the ship—one way in, one way out—and locked from the other side. We call it de-cons, if you haven’t figured that out already. The abbreviation stands for decontamination suite.” Todd looked squarely at Bernie, who averted his eyes and scratched the back of his neck anxiously. Todd continued. “For the next seventy-two hours, you belong to me.”

  As Todd finished his brief introduction, the port supply door slammed shut. With that, the room grew dim as if to drive home the notion that the Pepperbush survivors were completely at Todd’s mercy.

  “Wait a minute. What?” Radzinski stepped forward.

  One of the greener guards drew down on the Marine. His fellow guards laughed at the kid’s inexperience as Todd lowered the guard’s rifle with his palm.

  “That won’t be necessary,” Todd said as he went face to face with Radzinski. Both men were of equal stature and each carefully sized the other up. “Not yet anyway,” Todd continued. “Proper introductions will take place in due time. For now, if you would all follow me, please. De-cons proper is this way.” Todd waved his arm in the direction of a pair of heavy doors flanked by two more armed guards.

  “De-cons?” Vanessa inquired.

  “Oh, it’s all routine and completely painless, I promise. All of us go through decontamination after an excursion.” Genevieve said as she removed more of her gear. “Every fucking time.”

  “But everyone here is okay. None of us were bitten.”

  “It’s only a precaution, trust me. You’ll understand soon enough why we employ such measures.”

  Todd interjected. He was standing uncomfortably close. “We have to make sure that you’re not carrying any germs, bacteria, and the like. Above all, we need to know that none of you have been infected.”

  “And if someone is?” Sam asked.

  “Then the necessary steps are taken,” Todd answered with a quick whip of his head in Sam’s direction. “Please follow me, sir.”

  ~~~

  Cortez and Miller finally joined the gathered masses. Cortez handed off his gear; Miller followed suit.

  The excursion team leader’s absence didn’t go unnoticed to the head of security. “You’re late. And you broke protocol.”

  “Report me then.” Cortez pushed past Todd and made a beeline for a narrow corridor beyond the heavy doors, all the while unbuckling the rest of his gear and dropping it on the floor.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Bernie.

  “Boss man’s in a mood. No worries,” Ahole added. The Aussie took off his shirt as he followed Cortez deeper into the structure.

  “How many times do I have to tell you guys not to leave your shit all over the place?” a distraught Krysler said to deaf ears as he begrudgingly gathered up the strewn-about gear.

  “Ah, blow it out your ass, Krysler.” Ahole pulled off his socks and threw them farther out of the way and down into the darkened hold. “Hey, Krysler, if you want to make yourself useful for a change, send our weapons over to the smith for a tune-up and a sharpening, will you?”

  “Heh, that’s what I’m talking about.” Bull followed suit: he tossed his pants at Krysler. The massive piece of clothing wrapped around the smaller man like a sheet.

  The weary group followed Todd through a maze of steel hallways ending in a large rectangular room. The center of the room was a long, straight walkway flanked on either side with small holding cells, twenty-three on each wall. As the last of the group entered the claustrophobic area, one of the guards pulled an oversized sea door shut behind him. Another guard remained outside, locking everyone in.

  “This is your orientation, people,” Todd said loud enough to break up the earliest bits of chatter.

  “Did you just lock us in here?” Radzinski was nearly losing it. He might look it at times, but he was no fool. They were outnumbered, outgunned, and in unfamiliar territory. Whether he liked it or not, they were well and truly at Todd’s mercy.

  “I did,” Todd answered, this time nose to nose with the increasingly irritable Marine. “During your time in de-cons, you will be under complete isolation. Do not try to talk to the guards, as they will not speak with you,” he instructed without a hint of remorse.

  “You mean we have to just sit in there alone?” Lillian snuck a peek inside the closest dank cell.

  “Whistle a tune if it makes you happy,” Todd remarked. “Do sit-ups for all I care.”

  “We’ll be fine, Lily,” Vanessa said, though she wasn’t convinced after looking at the unwelcoming décor.

  “Todd, please, you’re scaring them.” Petrova rubbed Lillian’s back as she made her way toward the farthest cells.

  “Who’s scared?” Radzinski was quick to add.

  “Not my problem, Petrova. Security’s my problem, and until those cell doors are closed and locked, Haven might as well be on red alert,” Todd insisted.

  “Have it your way.” Petrova called him an asshole in Russian. Todd didn’t know what she said, but he got the gist.

  Genevieve addressed the group as best as she could despite the cramped quarters; most of her attention was focused on a frightened Lillian. “The guards don’t speak with anyone during your stay in de-cons for fear of attachment. Please don’t worry, though. No harm will come to any of you during your stay.” Genevieve’s soothing voice slightly calmed Lillian’s nerves.

  “Attachment. What do you mean by that?” Bernie asked. By then, he was gripping Casandra’s hand tight.

  “In the even
t of exposure for anyone entering Haven, the proper steps are taken to ensure the safety of this vessel,” Todd explained. “Any premature attachments with potentially infected newcomers could cause a guard to hesitate in performing his or her duty.”

  “Care to elaborate on this duty, Todd?” Miller asked defiantly.

  “What? Are you dense?” Radzinski said. “He means if you’re infected, they shoot your ass. Christ, wise up, man.”

  “Isn’t that a little barbaric?” said Samantha.

  “It’s nothing our returning expedition parties don’t go through as well, ma’am. Now please step this way.” Todd marched toward the far end of the room. “Two rows, people. Keep walking until the person in front of you stops. Turn, stand back to back with the person beside you, and face your cell. Ladies to the left, and guys to the right. We don’t have all day. Let’s go. Enter your cell, strip, and throw your clothes out into the hallway. All the way down to the skin. We need to disinfect your clothing and be one hundred percent certain that none of you are hiding bite marks. You dirty pieces of shit aren’t bringing that filth onto my ship.”

  At this point, Joelle entered the room and stood beside Krysler. She was a tall, dark ebony beauty from the UK. Even in this dingy staging area, her long curly hair was impeccable; in another life, she could have been a model, and maybe she was. Behind her, four other women entered as well. All were dressed in one-piece blue mechanic-like jumpsuits.

  Todd continued. “Joelle and Krysler will hose you off while their assistants use horse brushes to scrub you from head to toe with a mixture of powdered soap and peroxide. Try not to get any in your mouth or eyes. Don’t worry, ladies. None of my men are going to sneak a peek. We want to be doing this less than you, I assure you. And for the men, the same courtesy will be extended to you, and by that, I mean Joelle and her girls won’t point and laugh at your tiny pricks.”

  Joelle nudged a coworker and made the universal sign for a small dick with her thumb and pointer finger.

  “Cortez, what is this?” Miller asked. He was nearly certain he had made a fatal error in trusting this stranger with the fate of his people.

  “Don’t worry, Miller. Everything will be fine,” Cortez answered with a quick tap on Miller’s back. “Just listen to Todd, and I’ll see you in a few days.”

  “A few days?” Lillian repeated.

  “Easy now, girl,” Sam said calmly. “If they wanted us dead, they could’ve just left us there on the beach. It would have been a lot simpler than all this.”

  Vanessa tried to assuage Lillian’s clearly growing trepidation. “Besides, we have no supplies for them to steal anyway. Let’s just see what they want.”

  “Yeah, but who’s to say it’s supplies they’re even after?” Bernie added while nudging past to stand between Todd’s people and Casandra.

  The Pepperbush survivors and Cortez’s excursion team members alike followed Todd’s instructions in the dimly lit narrow hall. Everyone was stopped in front of an open cell and told to step into it. The cells were all the same. They were devoid of comforts or accommodations except for a clear trash bag, a bottle of water, and an empty five-gallon bucket. A low-watt light bulb dangled from the ceiling, barely illuminating the center of the small room.

  Not a part of the orientation, Cortez, Genevieve, and the other members of the excursion team entered their cells and undressed. Cortez sat at the back wall of his cell; Bull stood leaning against a wall with his head resting in the pit of his elbow while Genevieve began a routine of sit-ups.

  “They really are getting naked.” Samantha gasped.

  “A bright one, huh?” Todd remarked as he kicked a garbage bag full of clothes into the center of the hallway. “Inside of your cell you will find a bucket. Inside of the bucket you will find a garbage bag and inside of said garbage bag—for your comfort—will be a standard towel. Fold it up and make a pillow or use it as a blanket or wrap it around yourself if you’re bashful. Use them or don’t use them. I do not care. Beside your bucket is a bottle of water and a little food. Make it last.” Todd continued his orientation with nary any emotion; he had done this countless times. “Everyone please remove your clothing—all of it. Place that filth in the trash bag provided. That means everything, people. Like I said, down to your birthday suits. No one gives a shit what you look like. We’ve seen it all before.” Todd’s booming voice echoed through the cold steel chamber as he paced the hallway.

  Aiko approached Todd with Casandra in tow. “Listen, I understand you have protocol, and I won’t argue it. I’m aware of what it can mean to let strangers into your home, but this one’s water broke less than an hour ago. She could go into labor any minute now.”

  “Or she doesn’t for another week,” Todd said bluntly. “I’ve heard it all before.”

  “What are you talking about? This baby is coming. Please, sir, I’m begging you.” Aiko pointed at Casandra, who by this point was leaning heavily against the bulkhead. Bernie was doing his best to keep her relaxed while Jeremiah kept her on her feet.

  Aiko continued. “Let us share a cell at least, please. She can’t deliver that baby on her own. I’m a medic in the United States Navy. I can help,” Aiko begged. “Do you want to be responsible for a pregnant woman’s death?”

  Todd hesitated for a moment before addressing Jeremiah and Bernie. “You two, help the pregnant one into her cell. This one’s going to bunk with her.”

  “Thank you,” Aiko said softly.

  “If anything happens in there, you’re on your own,” Todd snapped back before continuing down the hall.

  The excursion team members’ bags of clothes were thrown into the hallway before Todd finished speaking. Reluctantly, the Pepperbush survivors followed suit, some slower than others. Within a few minutes, a line of clear trash bags filled with filthy blood- and grime-soaked clothes lined the center of the tiny hallway. The guards made their way from the far end of the corridor, closing and locking each door as they went.

  Todd continued his instructions. “Good job, people. Well done. Record time,” he said in a condescending tone. “Your clothes, gear, and weapons are headed for a decontamination of their own and will be returned to you upon successful completion of your stay in de-cons. The clothes and gear will be returned, anyway. No one carries weapons aboard my ship,” Todd said while his guards gathered the garbage bags into a large laundry cart.

  Vanessa paced her tiny cell, rubbing the palms of her hands together furiously before she kicked her bucket across the room. Now more than ever, she wished she had listened to Lillian and stayed on the island. Miller sat with his head leaning against the back wall of his accommodations. Lancaster scurried into a darkened corner of his own and quickly wrapped his towel around his waist, though its modest size wouldn’t allow for the covering to be properly tied up. He shouted for any of his road-mates to exchange with him; maybe they had a bigger towel. No one answered. Markus and Samantha were in opposite cells. They were able to see each other, and the proximity helped ease the tension. Nisha wept. Alone in the dark and finally able to slow down, she could lament the loss of her friend. If there was anything else she could have done was a question that would haunt her for the rest of her days. Sam noticed that Miller and Cortez had arrived alone; everyone else that left the hotel with them wasn’t accounted for. He could tell by Miller’s posture that something went wrong, but now wasn’t the time to ask what happened.

  As the last of the cells were locked, Todd had a bit more to add. “In your cells—as I’ve noted twice now for the slower among you—you will notice a bucket and a bottle of water. Those items should be self-explanatory. If you can hold it for three days, good for you. If not, don’t be ashamed: shit in the bucket. Don’t make yourself sick. It could prolong your stay if you do. Some of you have probably noticed a small doggy door. It opens from the outside only after being unlocked. Don’t bother fucking with it. For the duration of your stay in de-cons, every twelve hours another bottle of water and a portion of food will
be placed in your cell through that door. This will happen most likely while you are sleeping, so do not pass out in front of the door. We will skip you.” Todd was slowly shaking his head. The thought of someone being so careless enraged him.

  Lillian sat in the center of her cell, soaking up what little light was available. Her knees were pulled up to her chin, her arms wrapped around them, and she was rocking forward and back. Marisol wasted no time lying down; she was asleep before Todd finished his instructions. Aiko used one of the towels to fashion a makeshift pillow for Casandra, who was already prone. The other towel would need to stay clean and dry for the delivery. Bernie was in a cell opposite and down a few from Casandra’s. The man prattled on with words of encouragement that she was eager to hear. Radzinski wished Bernie would shut up. He periodically let him know. Jeremiah and Isaac had little in common and rarely spoke more than pleasant greetings while on the road. That night, both men sat alone in their cells, praying, one for guidance the other for the safety of his fiancée and unborn child. Damon ripped up his towel into strips of cloth that he wrapped around his hands. To drown out the others’ conversations, he shadow-boxed the steel wall of his cell. The wraps were not meant to lessen the noise from his barrage. He didn’t care if the commotion bothered anyone; he didn’t like bloody knuckles.

  “All of this may seem bad now, but I assure you, you will thank me later,” Todd boomed. “This concludes your orientation of de-cons. Three days, people. I will see you in three days. Good night.” He slammed the hallway door closed behind him. Its locking mechanism clanked loudly into place, the sound reverberating through the cellblock. What remained of Miller’s unit and the survivors of Pepperbush were left alone in the dark.

  CHAPTER THREE

  De-Cons

  A wave of acceptance washed over the survivors of Pepperbush, for their fate was well and truly out of their hands. As the hours passed, tempers cooled and apprehension waned. For most. The consensus was that Cortez was telling the truth and that Haven would live up to its namesake. A forced quarantine was practical. One infected or even one generally sick person could jeopardize everything the people of Haven were trying to build here. Whatever that was. Cortez and his people stayed out of the conversations; some variation on we’ve heard it all before, so just be patient was repeated ad nauseam in those first hours.