by Scott W Cook
“Yes,” The tall and almost lanky man said, “Generator. I’ve set it up so that we use only enough light and other power. It’s surprisingly efficient. My chief engineer is also working to complete a solar array on the roof. On a facility this large, we should be able to generate enough power to run the climate control systems most of the time in addition to refrigeration. Turning this place into a safe and comfortable fortress. At least that’s one of my long term plans.”
“You gotta give up them guns,” Another man in black, one of the ones who’d opened and closed the curtain said.
He contrasted immensely with our host. This guy was about Tara’s height, pudgy and had a shaggy beard and hair to go with it. On top of his black jeans and black T-shirt, he wore a long black leather coat as well. He also wore a sneer I didn’t like and had an eye for Tara I liked less.
Andy saw it too, and by the glare he was giving the man, he wasn’t a fan either.
“That’s quite all right, Snake,” The big man who was clearly in charge said, holding up a long hand, “They’re military and our guests. I think we can trust them. Would you at least remove the magazines and clear your weapons, though, please?”
The three of us looked at one another for a second and then I did so. I ejected my magazine and slid it into my chest rig. I then pulled the charging handle back and caught the unexpended round in the air, pushing it back into the magazine. Andy and Tara followed suit.
“Thank you,” The giant said, “To answer your question, soldier, my name is Trent, Nathan Trent. I’m the Governor of the Treasure Coast from West Palm to Port St. Lucie.”
He said that like it meant something. And he was right. I felt a shiver run up my spine at the words. In retrospect, I suppose I shouldn’t have been that surprised. After all, we’d already run into one asshole who claimed to be a governor and I’d heard of another. Should it be so surprising that there was a third… at least?
I caught Andy and Tara’s eye and held their gaze for a moment. I hoped they got the message not to volunteer too much.
“You seem a little confused,” Trent said with a grin.
“I…” I began, “I guess I am, Mr. Trent.”
“Governor Trent, “He corrected with a hard edge to his tone, “And who might you be?”
“Captain Sam Decker, United States Navy,” I said.
He nodded, “Oh, a navy boy. Shopping for a boat, Captain?”
I smirked, “Not exactly. Just stopped in for a few supplies.”
“And you thought the mall would be a good spot,” Trent said, “how’d you get here? I’m sure you didn’t come on foot, even though it looked like you three just walked out of the woods.”
I debated whether or not to say anything, but assumed he either already knew or that it didn’t make any difference, “By locomotive. We’re headed up the coast. Seemed like a safe way to travel, at least for a while.”
Trent nodded and waved a hand to dismiss the four riflemen who’d been outside. He then began walking down the upper promenade and indicated that we and the two curtain handlers should follow.
“What is it you’re looking for?” Trent asked.
“Well, at the moment just some camping gear,” I replied, “sleeping bags and pillows, really. We’re okay with other things, although we’ve had to burn through more medical supplies tonight than I’m happy with.”
Trent sighed, “Yes… it’s a dangerous world out there. Camping gear, eh? I think we can help you, there, Captain. As you can see, we’re pretty secure here and were able to take this mall early on before looters destroyed it or zombies tainted everything. Currently, there are slightly over a hundred people living and working here. And because of the considerable merchandise… admittedly some of it is useless now… we’ve managed to set up a flourishing little trading post. We’ve got quite a variety to trade here, although I’m afraid medical supplies aren’t abundant. Although, like just about every mall I’ve ever been in, there was a drugstore. What do you need?”
I shrugged, “not much, yet. A few bags of normal saline, gauze, rubbing alcohol and bandages. We’re not out, but I was only able to bring enough for the missions.”
Trent nodded, “Alcohol, gauze and bandages, at least the civilian variety, I can offer. Follow me.”
He began walking down an escalator which was not in operation.
“Now what?” Andy quipped just loud enough for Tara and I to hear, “The escalator is broken, and how do we get down?”
Tara elbowed him and giggled slightly. I shook my head and began walking down the stairs.
We were near the center of the mall, or at least at an atrium-like junction. There was a fountain that was lit up and actually running in the center and a glass elevator. Another wide hallway led to what appeared to be the food court. We could even smell food wafting toward us. And there were people milling about, lots of them.
Many of them wore the black that seemed to be some kind of uniform. Probably Trent’s army or at least his direct subordinates. Yet there were others in every day clothing milling about among large U-shaped tables with goods displayed on them. There looked to be several hundred people in the well-lit area.
“What the hell…” Tara asked, “It’s like two in the morning. What are all these people doing…? Are they shopping?”
Trent smiled at her, “Of course, miss. I know the hours are odd, but many people like to move about at night these days. It’s safer, or so they believe. So we keep the bizarre, for lack of a better word, open until two or three in the morning. Take a look around.”
The sight was bewildering. We hadn’t seen so many people mixing together since Key West and none of us thought we’d see it here. There were tables with a whole host of items running the gamut from weapons to MRE’s to clothing to trinkets. There were several desks with labels like clothing, shoes, bedding, hardware and other miscellaneous placards. I tapped Trent on the shoulder and pointed.
“Ah,” He said in a pleasant tone more like that of a tour guide rather than a military governor, “These folks are in charge of the various stores in the mall. People check in here, let the clerk know what they have to trade and then are taken back to the wares in small groups. It makes certain there is no theft and fairness is guaranteed.”
At one booth, four young and pretty women were lounging in outfits that were obviously designed to draw the male eye, as was their liberal use of cosmetics. Trent saw Andy and I glance over and chuckled, “Well, Captain, we do offer more than goods here. There are certain… services… that some of our patrons seek as well. Let me know if you have any interest. I’d be happy to extend you a little credit as a courtesy for our brave men and women in uniform.”
Andy blushed and Tara looked disgusted. She only pursed her full lips and said nothing until she saw the wilderness supplies table. She began walking in that direction.
“Governor,” I said, taking Trent’s arm. It grated on me to even say it, but when in Rome… “I don’t think we’ve got much to trade. Even our excess ammunition, which is in short supply, is necessary for our mission… what would half a dozen sleeping bags cost us?”
Trent only smiled his friendly smile, “Captain… for you on this trip, it’ll cost nothing. Just let our proprietors know what you need and I’ll personally take care of the bill.”
I was suspicious and I suppose he either noticed or took my look for confusion… He only patted me on the shoulder and waved a hand dismissively.
“Are you certain?” I asked.
“It’s taken care of,” Trent said.
“That’s… awfully generous,” I said guardedly.
Trent laughed, “Suspicious, Captain Decker? I understand. But I’m sincere, I promise you. It’s better to make friends when possible than enemies. One never knows when one may need a friend, especially in these trying times.”
“That’s a refreshing attitude,” I admitted, “Not one I’ve run into of late.”
He nodded sagely, “Had some troubl
es recently, have you?”
I chuckled and told him a little about St. Pete. He only nodded and sighed as I went on. I left out a great many details, of course, but gave him the highlights. I left out the other self-proclaimed governors as well.
“We’ve got what we need,” Tara came up and said, “Seven sleeping bags, two water purifiers, extra thermal socks which we don’t really need in Florida but they’re comfy and portable pillows, too. They said we could have more but…”
“That’ll do,” I said, “Where is everything?”
“Being gathered,” Andy commented. His eyes were constantly on the move.
“Well, Captain,” Trent said, extending his hand, “It was a pleasure to meet you. I hope we can speak again. My two men will escort you out. You can use the western entrance from here. It’ll be quicker. Have a safe trip.”
With that, the tall lean man strode off. I couldn’t help but feel I was in some weird dream world. Even when three people brought out bundles that contained the gear and handed them over. There were three big hefty bags of the stuff which the three of us slung over our shoulders as we followed the two men in black to the curtained off exit.
One man held up an iPad and scanned it, “Clear.”
They pulled back the curtains, undid a locking mechanism on the sliding door and we were out in the quiet cool winter night once more. A few seconds later, the curtains were drawn and it was as if no life existed beyond the glass doors.
“That was weird…” Tara said, “Why do I feel like we just stepped out of the Twilight Zone or something?”
I shrugged, “It’s a weird world. Let’s get the hell out of here and get back on track… get it!”
“Oh boy, grandpa,” Andy jeered, “That were a good’n.”
Chapter 38
From the personal journal of Samuel R. Decker
The sleeping bags, although better than nothing, did little to cushion us from the hard floor of the locomotive’s cabin. I think it was more that we were all just so dog tired that let us get some rest.
Even better was that our first railway drawbridge over the Loxahatchee river in Tequesta, pretty much Jupiter, was already closed and we could quickly zip across. I was glad because I wasn’t sure I wanted to try this secondary system in the dark.
Somewhere around three-thirty in the morning, when we were just passing Hobe Sound and entering Stuart, I had Tony bring us to a halt and we all bedded down, including Tony and Vicky. I didn’t bother with a watch, figuring that the train was safe from zombies and that with so many of us crashed out on deck that nobody could try to get in without us knowing.
We started waking up a bit after dawn, with sunlight beginning to light up the landscape and shine through the front windows. It was just after seven, and the four hours was hardly enough, but it had helped.
“Christ…” Tony grumped as he struggled to his feet and stretched, “I’m not sure if it would’ve been better to just stay up.”
I was going to rib him about whining and then remembered that he, like the Gunny who was still crashed out in the bunk forward had been wounded not so long ago. His shoulder wound had been worked on aboard the carrier a few days ago but was probably sore as hell. Tony still couldn’t use his left arm to its full extent.
“We’ll stop later today and get some real rest before hitting the base,” I said, “maybe find a motel. Hell, I should’ve asked the governor about it.”
“Another one,” Andrea said as she started re-packing her sleeping bag, “What the fuck is going on, Sam? This can’t just be a bunch of people making up phony titles for themselves, can it?”
I shook my head, “I can’t imagine. What’s even odder is that this Trent guy didn’t ask us about our mission. Didn’t ask us who we were attached to or anything. I find that odd.”
Vicky frowned, “Do you think he already knows?”
I eyed her for a long moment, “You’ve been attached to Banks’ squadron from the beginning. You tell me, Commander.”
She shrugged, “I’m just a sonar officer. Not in the chain of command. I haven’t heard much. Usually scuttlebutt flies fast, but since we’ve been to Key West, all I ever hear is about Key West. And that mysterious boat prowling the Straits.”
I sighed, “It’s something to consider… and to look into. But for now, let’s roll.”
Tony and Vicky took their places and Tony got the train rolling again.
“Captain,” Vicky said as she turned to me, “We’ve got our next bridge coming up. In about five miles or so. System says the Roosevelt Bridge.”
“I guess it’s time to test this auxiliary system of yours, Vicky,” I said.
The train rolled past neighborhoods and an industrial park before approaching downtown Stuart. I could see the waterway ahead. The train bridge was level, about a dozen feet over the water. Next to it was a towering new fixed bridge that spanned a wide open portion of the inland Indian River lagoon.
“Come to a stop before the bridge,” Vicky told Tony, “Captain, there’s a set of cables stored in a locker under the forward compartment outside. According to this, you just have to plug them into the port on the engine and there should be a port on a small transformer just ahead.”
“Okay,” I said, slinging my M4, “I’m not going to get electrocuted plugging us in, am I? With the engines running?”
“No,” Vicky said with a smile, “I have to activate the system once you’re done. It’s cold now.”
“Roger that,” I said, “Andrea, want to watch my back? Andy, can you check on the Gunny?”
Andrea and I went outside into the bright clear morning. It was one of those beautiful early December days in Florida that people envied. The temperature hung around sixty-five and a light breeze blew. It was blessedly quiet as well. No zombies close and no humans, either.
“Almost makes you forget, huh?” Andrea asked as she put an arm around my waist and squeezed.
I kissed her and smiled, “Almost. Although if you look toward the little downtown area, you remember again.”
Stuart was a modest sized seaside town, the county seat for Martin County. There had been a pretty large number of people living in the area, but it was spread out and not over developed like the southern cities. There was a lot of inland water and it was probably a great place to live if you were a boater.
The small “downtown” area, which consisted of some older two-story buildings that contained shops and restaurants looked like it’d been through a war. A fire had raged and most of the structures were nothing more than blackened husks. Cars and trucks were scattered about, some burned and some smashed… and remnants of bodies lay everywhere, nearly carpeting the streets that we could see.
The bodies had long-since decayed down to the bone, or had been picked clean by sea birds and other scavengers. What was odd and more than a little disturbing was that some of the bodies were far less decayed than others. I wondered which had been zombies and which human.
“Fuckin’ cock…” Andrea breathed, “What happened here?”
“Nothing good,” I muttered, “come on.”
We climbed down and went around to the front of the locomotive. Sure enough, there was a compartment with about thirty feet of thick cable in it. It kind of reminded me of a shore power cord for a boat, only thicker. This one must have been a couple of hundred amps, because it was as thick around as a cucumber.
The ports were very much like those found in the shore power system for a boat, though. On the train end, there was a three pronged female port which I plugged the cord into and gave it a quarter turn to lock it. Then I went to what looked like a transformer unit you’d find in a residential neighborhood. There was a heavy duty cover and a male port here which I plugged into as well. I turned to the train and waved.
Tara leaned out around the side of the cabin, “Vicky says you should probably step away just in case.”
Andrea and I walked down the slight rail bed embankment and looked toward the bridge, the fo
ot of which was about fifty yards away.
“Okay, here we go!” Tara called down.
There was a metallic click from the transformer, or inverter or whatever it was and then it began to give off an electrical hum that was loud enough that I was glad we were fifty feet away. The locomotive’s engine, or probably the generator, revved up.
After about a minute or so, the upright span of the train bridge began to lower. Andrea and I clapped as we watched. The big steel draw, only beginning to show a little rust, settled into place. The locomotive quieted and the hum stopped.
“Okay,” Tara said, “The system is off, you can unplug us.”
I went back up to the box and looked at the connection with a frown. I turned back to the train, “Are they sure there’s no residual current in this thing?”
Tara ducked away and then came back in a few seconds, “It should be fine. Vicky says if you’re not sure, there should be a button or handle or something. A manual bleed circuit she says.”
I inspected the box and saw that next to the port was a small lever about the size of my thumb. Above it was a red light, which was glowing. A label above this said CURRENT BLEED. I depressed the lever and watched as the red light began to blink. It blinked slower and slower and finally went out. I let go of the big switch and saw that the light was dark. I pressed it again and nothing happened.
Satisfied, I unplugged the cable from both ends and stowed it back into the compartment. Andrea was grinning at me.
“What?” I asked.
“Better you than me,” she said.
“It’s good to be loved,” I quipped as we got back aboard.
Now that it was daylight, I had Tony speed up. I wanted this trip over with. And with who knows how many more bridges to tackle, it would take forever and a day if we didn’t double time it.
So we cruised up the Treasure Coast at about fifty. I felt that was a bit too fast, but Tony and Vicky assured me that without a huge train behind us that the locomotive could be stopped in plenty of time. We'd see whatever it was miles ahead on the straightaways and could bring the engine down to a crawl much faster than I thought. We actually tested this somewhere around Port St. Lucie. I had Tony slow us from fifty to a dead stop and it only took about fifteen seconds.
