by Scott W Cook
Banks sighed, “Pirates, Decker. There have been raids up and down the east coast. Nothing in our area yet. Probably due to our military presence. But this isn’t the first time we’ve spotted an unidentified submarine.”
“Any guesses, Chief?” I asked Pool.
She looked to Banks.
“It’s okay, Pool,” he said, indicating me, “This is Captain Sam Decker, retired. Navy SEAL, pilot and sub driver extraordinaire. Sam, this is Chief Monica Pool.”
“Pleasure sir,” Pool said, shaking my hand. She held my gaze for a long moment but I couldn’t determine what was in her eyes, “Well, it’s definitely a nuke. My guess would be a Russian Akula, Victor or Sierra fast attack… but no real idea.”
“Could be an older Alpha,” I offered, “They sold a lot of their gear to foreign powers over the last twenty or thirty years.”
“Commander Hall is aloft in our EP3,” Banks explained.
I nodded.
“Coordinate with the Stockdale and Hall,” Banks told Pool, “Keep an eye on it. I can divert the Jones to the area if need be. It’ll be a lot harder for that boat to hide from a destroyer.”
Pool acknowledged, gave me another lingering glance and left.
“Well,” I said, “if it’s all the same to you, sir, I’m going down to sickbay to check on Commander Sturgis.”
Banks nodded, “Okay. I’ll be around, I pretty much live aboard. Spend a little time poking around and let me know what you think in the next day or so. Glad to see you again, Sam.”
I thanked him and headed below. I found Tony sitting on the edge of an examination bed in sickbay. A nurse was applying a new dressing to the incision I’d made in his back.
“How is he?” I asked.
“Everything looks good,” The nurse, a youngish woman with a homely but friendly face replied, “nice bit of field work, on both sides.”
I grinned at Tony, “See? I told you it was awesome.”
Tony rolled his eyes, “Pardon me if I wanted a second opinion.”
“Everybody’s a critic,” I said with a shrug.
The nurse handed him a small bottle, “Ampicillin. Take these twice daily for the next week and everything should be okay.”
“Thanks,” Tony said. He looked over to me, “How’d your meeting with Banks go?”
I smiled pleasantly, “Fine. He’s asked us to take a look around and see what we think of his operation. You up for a stroll?”
“Always.”
We headed over to the gangway and walked back down to Mallory dock. I didn’t say anything until we were off the carrier and far enough away from anyone so that we wouldn’t be overheard.
“Now that we’re away from prying ears,” Tony pressed as we strolled back toward The Galleon, “How’d it really go?”
I sighed, “I’m not sure, Tony… something is bothering me, though. He’s got this town all locked up and seems to have an idea that we need to organize and start taking the country back.”
“Sounds like your idea,” Tony responded.
“Yeah…” I said thoughtfully, “Except I want to resolve the big issue. Banks seems to think that maybe it’s time to restart things but as he wants them. His thought process seems pretty marshal. I don’t’ know, I’m just getting a weird vibe.”
Tony considered that for a moment, “I guess we should take his suggestion, then. Really check the place out. Should we call for the others?”
I frowned, “I guess so… but that leaves the boats unattended.”
Tony stopped and looked at me, “Sharky, what’s bothering you?”
I sighed, “I watched one of those videos we recovered. A marine colonel named Williams said in his final report that he’d been in contact with the Admiral and asked for assistance… and it never came. Yet when I talked to Banks just now, he said that a trip to MacDill might be in order. There were still resources there that could be put to use.”
Tony grunted in understanding, “So why didn’t he do that when it would’ve counted?”
I shrugged and kept walking, “Exactly. Maybe it’s nothing. Hell, I’m hardly in a position to judge.”
As we made our way back to the dingy to grab a radio, I told him about the potential submarine out in the Florida straits as well as the rest of what I’d seen and heard aboard ship.
I radioed the boats and told everyone to pile into the other dink and come ashore if they liked. I also told them all to bring a pistol but to keep it concealed.
Twenty minutes later, Sexual Heeling’s inflatable pulled up behind mine and tied up. Andrea, Andy, Brenda and Tara climbed up onto the dock. Andrea casually slipped me my Desert Eagle and gave Tony his favorite Kimber .45 semi-automatic.
“Where’s Carl?” Tony asked.
“Opted to stay home,” Andrea said after she kissed me, “he said he’d watch over things while we checked it out. Wasn’t in the mood for going ashore.”
“He’s been weird ever since you guys got back from MacDill,” Brenda offered.
“He had it rough,” I said, “Kind of shook him up. Probably just wants to lay low for a while.”
Tony frowned at that but said nothing.
We went back across the floating dock maze and onto the sidewalk. We turned left this time and wound our way toward Alonzo’s, or what had been Alonzo’s. The restaurant was closed down tight and depressingly vacant. It was the same for the Boat House as well. I was beginning to think we should go in another direction when we came around the harbor side of the Boat House restaurant and saw that the Conch Republic was actually open and had a decent crowd inside.
The Conch Republic was one of the staple restaurants along the harbor’s waterfront and was always packed every time I’d been. This day was no different. There was even live music playing.
“Nice to see some life,” Andrea commented.
“Strange, though,” Tony offered, “A lot of uniforms.”
“To be expected,” I said.
As we neared the northern side of the restaurant and rounded the eastern corner, Tara stopped. She was looking toward the far end of where we were walking.
On the south side of the Conch Republic were the intersections of Green and Elizabeth. There was a small paved square where once upon a time people could hang out, take pictures and book a variety of excursions from an open air kiosk.
“What?” Andy asked in confusion.
We looked where Tara was looking. A slightly pudgy and balding man who looked to be in his early fifties and wearing a BDU was walking toward the restaurant with two women. Both women were wearing matching black bikinis that showed off well-proportioned bodies. The man wore a big pistol in a hip holster and seemed to swagger as he walked.
“Does that seem weird to you?” Tara asked.
I chuckled, “In Key West? Not particularly. It is a warm day.”
Tara frowned, “Those women don’t look all that pleased.”
She was right. Both women looked to be in their twenties and when I looked close, they seemed to have an air of… I wasn’t sure… submissiveness, maybe? They tended to look down a lot and I got the impression they weren’t having as much fun as the man.
“They look timid,” Andrea commented.
“Yeah,” Brenda said, “Like they wish they were somewhere else.”
Andy looked at me and then at Tony. We looked at our female companions. I could see how they might get that impression.
“Who knows,” I said, “times are strange, indeed.”
“I’d like to know more,” Andrea said, pointing surreptitiously, “They’re going inside, let’s follow them and scope it.”
I nodded and we proceeded. The man and his two women took a seat at the huge half empty bar that dominated the south side of the restaurant. We arranged ourselves at the inner corner so that we could all talk to each other and overhear the trio a few stools away.
Chapter 28
Andrea’s diary – 12/7/2019
It was just fucking weird.
/> I didn’t really notice it until Tara said something. Then I picked up on it pretty fast, and so did Brenda. I think the men were a little slower on the uptake, but they saw it, too.
Those two women looked like they were being forced or coerced by that fat fuck. I know, at the time it was just a hunch, but a woman’s intuition is more than just something to joke about. It’s a real thing, and in this new world where we all have to be hyper alert… three broads sensing the same thing can’t be wrong.
So we sat at the Conch Republic bar. In and of itself, it was nice. If you let yourself, you could really forget that the world had been eaten by zombies and that we were all having a great Keys vacation.
Almost.
The number of BDU’s, peanut butters and navy blues in the joint clearly indicated something wasn’t right in the world.
And fuck me, I don’t care if it was around seventy-five that day… it was December and seeing two girls in matching two-pieces being escorted by a pudgy middle aged dude just wasn’t kosher.
My Pina colada with a sidecar of Bad Bitch Rum, a local Key West rum I was told, came and it was amazing. Again, not hard to pretend that all was right in the world.
“What’ll you have, Rog?” The bartender, a stocky civilian in his late twenty’s with curly blond hair and a goatee to match asked the pudgy fuck.
“Captain and pineapple,” The guy said.
“And for you, ladies?” The bartender asked with a friendly smile.
“They’re not drinking today,” Rog said with a bit of nastiness in his voice.
The bartender raised his eyebrows, “Since when? I know you girls usually order—“
“Not today,” Rog replied sternly.
The bartender frowned and moved off.
“See?” Tara hissed at Sam.
We were arranged so that I was closest to the trio with Sam next to me, Brenda next to Sam and then Tony, Tara and Andy around the corner.
Sam nodded and sipped his rum runner carefully. He’d already inhaled like a quarter of it and had just gotten over a wicked brain freeze.
“So what do we do about it?” Brenda asked quietly.
“At the moment,” Sam said, savoring his frozen drink, “Nothing. We don’t know the story and some guy acting like a dick isn’t reason to start trouble. We’re guests here, and before I upset the apple cart, I want to make damn sure of what’s going on.”
“Maybe next time,” Rog was saying to his harem in a voice that was low but loud enough for us to overhear, “you’ll remember what’s going on around here. You’ll keep in mind who’s in charge and maybe show more appreciation that you’re under my protection. I don’t have any tolerance for lip. Been serving this fucking country for almost thirty fucking years and I’m sure as hell not about to take any flak from a couple of twats who don’t know their place.”
“We didn’t mean anything, Roger,” One of the women, a redhead on his far side said, leaning in to look at him, “It’s just… it’s just we don’t like the games, is all. You know it’s nothing against you.”
“Yeah, honey,” the brunette chimed in with a cheerfulness that was faker than her tits, “Don’t we treat you good?”
“Not the point,” Roger – fuck Rog – retorted, “It’s about obedience. You think I got these up and downs from taking suggestions?”
The women were quiet. I looked over and saw that Tara’s face was red with fury. I was having a hard time not going over and feeding this fucking jarhead – I guessed that’s what he was because he was wearing the marine version of the BDU – his arrogant little testicles.
I could see that Tara was about to blow her stack and I couldn’t blame her. But Sam was right. This wasn’t the time to be overly assertive.
“Take it easy,” Andy said gently, laying a hand on her arm.
Oh Jesus, I thought. Telling a woman to relax when she was pissed off was usually a sure fire method for getting her more pissed, especially at you.
She looked over at Andy, “Take it easy?”
I think he realized his mistake because his eyes got wide, “I just—“
“I know,” She said calmly, although with fire still in her eyes, “I’m not mad at you, baby…”
“I just meant I didn’t want you letting it get you too upset,” Andy said, “Not that you don’t have a right to be pissed off. Hell, so am I, for that matter.”
Tara closed her eyes and leaned into Andy. He drew her close and wrapped an arm around her. Brenda leaned over and gave me a wink, “Pretty smart kid.”
The bartender brought asshole his drink and asked if they wanted to eat. Roger ordered and said that Trina and Jessica weren’t hungry. I swear I saw red. I wasn’t the only one.
“Oh, fuck this!” Tara exploded. She jumped up from her bar stool and ran around behind us before Andy or any of us could react. She covered the distance between us and Roger in three long strides.
“Hey, fuck face!” She growled, “What the fuck is your problem!”
I moved to get up and bumped into Andy as he moved behind me to go after Tara. Things were about to happen fast.
As Roger turned to no doubt give her a piece of his mind – a small piece – she threw what was left of her margarita in his face.
“What the fuck, bitch!” Roger shouted, jumping to his feet and rounding on Tara.
The slim girl stood her ground even as Roger was reaching for the pistol at his hip. Andy appeared beside her, “Don’t touch that gun, shit for brains.”
“Get the fuck outa here, kid,” Roger said, his own face growing red with rage, “I’ll break your ass in two. Your little cunt crossed the fucking line and there’s gonna be payback for it.”
Andy drew his Glock and grabbed Tara’s shoulder to pull her back at the same time. Roger, who was probably a seasoned marine drew his own weapon. I’m not sure what it was, but it was a big bastard.
I drew my own Glock and leveled it at him, “Don’t you fucking dare, marine! What’s your rating!”
Roger looked at me, momentarily thrown off track, “What?”
“You’re fucking rank!” I bellowed in my best marine officer tone. I could tell by the chevrons on his sleeve but I wanted to be sure. Anybody could put on a set of utilities and I wasn’t totally convinced this guy was actually in the Corps, “Because mine is major. And that’s my son you’re holding a weapon on. My Navy Lieutenant son, by the way! So as a professional courtesy, I’m giving you exactly two seconds to holster that rod or I’ll blow what little brains you have out the back of your head.”
“Master Sergeant, ma’am,” Roger said a little more civilly. He did lower his weapon.
“Andy, put your pistol away,” I said sternly, “Take Tara for a walk.”
The girl looked fierce, I have to admit. She looked like she’d be more than willing to take on the marine who was easily eighty pounds heavier.
Tara looked back at me with a bewildered expression on her face. I nodded and pointed toward the Green Street exit.
Andy put an arm around her and they went back around the bar and out. I turned back to Roger, “Master, we couldn’t help but notice how badly you’re treating these women. We’re new here, so maybe we don’t know the rules, but you can understand how Tara would be upset.”
“Hey,” Roger said, “I paid the price. These girls are mine to do with as I please. Those are the rules here, ma’am. I think you’d better understand that before somebody decides to put her up on the block.”
“Slavery?” Sam asked, suddenly at my side. I never moved my eyes away from the Master Sergeant but I could feel Sam’s tension even without touching him, “You’re talking about human trafficking, Mister?”
Roger nodded, “It’s a new world and we’ve got a new economy. Maybe nobody explained things to you people, but I’d strongly suggest you get caught up.”
He sat down and turned away from us, completely ignoring protocol and my rank. I stepped up to him.
“Snap to, marine!” I bellowed ri
ght in his face, “I don’t give a flying fuck what you think the rules are here. You’re a United States marine, and so long as you where that uniform you’d damned well better act like one.”
Roger sneered at me, “With all due respect, ma’am – you’re not in this chain of command, so why don’t you let me get on with my business.”
I thought I was going to explode, but a powerful hand wrapped around my middle and crushed me against a hard chest and I was lifted off my feet and back. The arm was brown… Tony.
I would have struggled to free myself in my rage except for what I saw. Sam stepped forward, clamped a hand onto Roger’s shoulder and jerked him backward off his stool and into the retaining wall five feet behind him.
Sam pressed his powerful forearm under the man’s chin and leaned in close, speaking through gritted teeth, “Watch yourself, fucker. And I’ll tell you something right now. When this officer speaks, you fucking listen. Furthermore, if you think that you’re going to take this out on these two women later… you know, try to recapture and repair your bruised ego by abusing two women… think twice. Because I’ll fucking find you. I’ll find out where you live and where you sleep and if I find out you hurt these two girls… I’ll break every bone in your body, You read me, Marine?”
Roger gritted his teeth, “Fuck you.”
Sam leaned in, cutting the man’s airflow off and producing a gag, “Understood?”
“Yeah…” Roger wheezed.
“Yes, sir,” Sam said and released the man, who leaned against the wall spluttering. He turned to the bar and away from the silent crowd who’d been watching the spectacle.
“What do we owe for the drinks?” he asked coldly.
The bartender leaned over and grinned, “On the house, sir. It’s nice to see that somebody in this fucked up world still has some integrity… it’s in short supply in this town lately.”
