by T I WADE
“What about those Chinese fighters we captured, General?” asked Preston, the group now heading back down the open space to consider room for hangars and other equipment.
“They are totally useless for much,” General Patterson replied. “Our engineers can’t work on them, apart from normal servicing and daily maintenance. We are thinking of using them as a barter card with the Chinese government for supplies or rare earth materials for electronic manufacture and whatever we can exchange them for. I’ve got this feeling that you want to learn to fly jets, Preston, Carlos?” The general stopped walking and looked at them eye to eye. Preston looked at Carlos and realized that the general knew what he was thinking. Carlos nodded that he was interested.
“It would be nice. What do you have available in a size 10?” Preston joked. The general looked at them sternly and carried on walking. “I’ll see what I can find. You guys are going to be the death of me.”
Preston asked the general a question he had refrained from asking since the first week he heard about then-Major Patterson, when the major had flown in to thwart the incoming enemy at JFK. Since then the poor soldier had not had a day off from duty and was the only one who had not gone home to visit family, or even worry about them.
“Don’t you have any family you are worried about, General?” Preston asked.
“Fortunately, I don’t and I suppose that gives me time and space to do my job,” General Patterson replied. “I was married for a couple of years, but did not have children and my wife left me a year or two ago and promptly had a child with a new man. My parents, like yours, Preston, were killed in an aircraft accident several years ago. I was an only child and I haven’t kept up with any other family members. I find solace in my job and keep myself busy. One day I’m sure the right girl will come into my life, but until then I must do my bit for my country.”
For the next thirty minutes they spaced the area between the two runways, placing hangars here and there including a maintenance hangar and a second fuel storage area. The engineer informed them that they already had five large 10,000-gallon underground tanks ready at Seymour Johnson and they were working on an extra-wide tractor-trailer unit to bring them in on.
There was enough hangar space for two Wings of aircraft and for several houses or accommodation units towards the northern end where the two runways would intersect. It would be a little noisy, but that wasn’t important at this moment.
Two houses could be built next to Preston’s main house: one for the President’s new accommodations, then a larger building to house a security unit and several rooms for pilots and crew with showers and toilets. Another septic tank or two could be placed there to add to the two units he used, one for the hangar and one for the main house.
A cold gust hit them from the north—maybe a cold front was coming in—and it was time to return to the hangar and join the party that could be heard with the increasing sound of music as they approached.
Chapter 7
Mo Wang – Island of Roatán, Honduras – February
Mo Wang found that his suitcase of one hundred dollar bills was still a worthwhile currency on the island of Roatán, just off the coast of Honduras, where he ended up after leaving the ship. Its main town, Coxen Hole, was a sleepy hollow and apart from no aircraft flying in, no Internet, no cell phones and no television or radio, the place was as it had always looked.
There were still old cars and trucks using the main roads. The island had many generators, the population always prepared for hurricanes in the summer months and these were all now in full operation. There was a little crime, but nothing more than the usual, apart from people crashing lines at the gas stations to get fuel for their taxis and generators. Even the electrical grid on the island still worked. They had been laying a new undersea line to the mainland, but it was not yet complete. Large Wartsila Generators had been installed to add to the island’s growing needs back in 2008/9 and the twenty-year-old models were still used as backups.
Along with the rest of the world, new electronic equipment failed at midnight Eastern Time. But the older models came back on with enough power to produce one-third of the island’s needs and give electricity to the several gas stations, restaurants, shops and houses for different parts of the day.
A system of electrical blackouts went into force, as they usually did after a hurricane had passed through. Each third of the island had power for two hours and then went without for four.
It was a bind, but the island was slow paced and prepared for this type of inconvenience which normally only lasted for a day or two. Unfortunately, this time it had been a couple of weeks since the power had gone out and the first ship from the mainland—a forty-year-old ferry which had not been in service for several years but still toured along the mainland’s coast for tourists—arrived to tell them of the chaos on the mainland.
With the first ferry of the year, six weeks late, arrived Mo Wang. He knew where he was, having a Chinese map of the area, and he disembarked, the only person to do so. The ferry captain told the tourists who had been waiting for transportation back to civilization, their lives and their jobs, that they were safer on the island until things got better and the world was turned back on again. He had orders not to return anybody to the mainland until further notice.
The ferry left, with its usual stocks of freshly caught fish from the storage warehouse for the mainland and the forty or so tourists who had waited weeks for a ship, sat about trying to figure out what to do next. Most had run out of money, the ATMs didn’t work and their vacations now became nightmares.
Mo Wang realized that these people did not know anything about what had happened to the world. There was no television news, or radio news apart from maybe working local stations and he was sure that they had Zedong’s Electronic parts installed here as well.
A group of five ladies sat on the wharf stunned that they were not going home. They looked to be wealthy Europeans or Americans, and as the others shuffled off to figure out what to do and how to pay for an extended stay, they just sat there on the ground, their suitcases packed and all looked at him, the only person left on the quay.
“How come we aren’t allowed to leave, but they let you on this island?” asked one of the two older ladies in a mixed foreign-English accent. She looked about forty and had two younger girls, twin daughters by the look of them, about seventeen or eighteen. The other older lady also looked like a mother with a daughter, about the same age as the first family.
Mo Wang raised his new hat, a fancy Panama Special purchased when he had left the ship. It had gone well with his escape clothes: fine European-cut trousers with a matching jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. He had three outfits of these well-made “Made in China” clothes as the attire he had planned to wear in New York when the ships arrived there. Now traveling for five days on dirty, dusty buses, he had dressed that day on the mainland into his only clean set to look like a tourist when he arrived at his destination.
He was about two decades older than the two older ladies, but he doffed his hat as a gentleman would, and now, used to speaking English following his conversations with Carlos and Lee over the satellite phone still in his jacket pocket, answered the lady.
“Yes, Madame,” he replied. “You might think this island is not to your pleasure at this moment, but if you knew what was going on in the world, you might be gratified to be here. It doesn’t look like a bad place,” he stated, looking around the buildings. He could see and hear music and normal sounds. He did not hear gunfire.
“Well, we were supposed to leave and return to Paris a week ago, but we have run out of cash, the ATMs don’t work and we have run out of vacation food in the villa we rented. What are we supposed to do if the banks or machines won’t give us money?”
“You are French?” Mo asked.
“Yes, but we usually live in New York most of the year. We live in Manhattan and use our family house just outside Paris for a few months of the year.”
“My name is Mo Wang, I live near Shanghai, China,” Mo stated, holding out his hand copying how westerners introduce themselves. The lady looked him over and reluctantly took it.
“My name is Marie de Bonnet, my two daughters Cheri and Annabel. They were born in America and go to school there. This is my friend from Paris, Beatrice de Loy and her daughter Virginie.” Mo shook hands with the second lady. “Can you tell us what is happening out there, Mr. Wang?”
“You said that you have accommodations here, Madame?” Mo asked.
“Yes, a very large villa a few miles to the east of the town and overlooking the sea. We are about to be evicted if we don’t pay for our extended stay and we have nowhere else to go, and nothing to eat until the banks accept international business. They have been closed for a couple of weeks now and nobody can get any money. It is very shameful.”
“I have money, and need a place to stay. If there is room for me at your villa and if you would be so kind to extend an invitation, we can solve two problems at the same time, Madame. May I make this offer?” Mo asked.
“First, let me ask you, Mr. Wang, why are you arriving here today on the island?” Mme. de Bonnet asked factually.
“One of my nieces owns and runs a dry cleaning business here on the island,” he replied truthfully. “I haven’t spoken to her for a couple of years and lost her address. I was hoping to surprise her with a visit, but had to leave my ship in Panama at the canal. There are problems in the world I don’t want to describe at this moment and many problems at the Panama Canal with no ships being allowed to pass through.”
The five ladies stood up. They were all tall and Mo was beaten by a few inches by all five girls, even the young and slender teenagers. He noticed that their clothes looked expensive and he recognized pure gold Rolex watches on both the older ladies’ wrists. He still missed his silver one he had been forced to use as payment to a Panama local to get off the ship and to dry land. The five girls were well-tanned, and he saw a very wealthy and an extremely beautiful group of females in front of him who needed help. He was just the man who would help beautiful ladies in distress.
On the way to the nearest taxi rank Mo noticed that the third store was a jewelry store; it was open and he saw several Rolex models as well as a newer version of his old one in the window. He asked the ladies for a few minutes and he came out ten minutes later wearing his new gold watch like theirs. The girls were looking at a clothing shop a few windows down when he caught up to them. The jeweler had bartered with him over price and once she saw Mo holding a fistful of American dollar bills, let the watch go for ten percent off for cash.
The small town was running much like it had always done and they entered an old minivan for the journey to the Villa.
Once up a hill and inside the villa’s gate, he paid the driver with local currency he had received in change for his watch purchase, asked the driver to wait in case he would be returning to town, and was quite shocked to see the size of the villa and the splendor the ladies were vacationing in.
The lounge and open kitchen faced the sea, a hundred feet below. He walked outside to see the view and saw steps down to a swimming pool half way down and then a small private beach with a long boat jetty below the pool. The boat jetty immediately grabbed his attention. Tied to the jetty was a large sailing boat, seventy feet or more. He didn’t know much about fancy sailing boats but it looked like it could travel a fair distance.
“There is a large bedroom and en-suite bathroom we haven’t used over here to the right of the lounge area, Mr. Wang,” Mme. De Bonnet showed him. “We are all sleeping upstairs and you can have the privacy of the only bedroom on this level. I’m sure the horrible agent will be by later to give us our evacuation papers, and I warn you she is a mean lady, a German I believe, and not someone I want to meet again.”
“How much money will she be expecting?” Mo asked politely.
“We are a week behind on our paid reservations; she took a check for three days from me at $1,000 a day, but there is a reduced monthly rate. We paid her $35,000 for the time we had planned to stay here, six weeks. Her next booking in this villa we assume hasn’t arrived and is a week or two late, so I’m sure she could be persuaded to take less than the usual daily fee.”
“I will see what I can do,” Mo replied. What about food and provisions?” he asked. “Where is your husband Madame, I was expecting to meet him here.” Mo had been expecting to be introduced to the men in the group upon arrival and then politely asked to leave by them.
“Oh! I forgot to tell you, Mr. Wang. My husband is still in New York; he is a commodities broker and couldn’t leave when I left for Paris before Christmas. We arrived here on the day before New Year’s Eve and he was supposed to fly in three weeks ago for our last week here. My friend Beatrice is a single lady.”
Mo realized that he was in a very luxurious residence with five beautiful women who needed his money, and his help. He wasn’t in a bad position after all. He pulled out three $100 bills and asked if the girls wanted to shop for food. The minivan taxi was still outside and he was sure they needed some.
Madame de Bonnet graciously accepted the money, asked her daughter to go to the bedroom for her checkbook and wrote him a check for the money loaned.
He realized that they knew so little about the rest of the world, her husband was probably a frozen corpse in their fancy New York accommodations, if there were any accommodations left, and the check was not even worth the paper it was written on. It made her happy to have something to go shopping with and Mo asked them to get a few good steaks a few bottles of red wine and champagne, handing her another $300.
They excitedly left in the minivan and left him to the stern German realty lady who arrived fifteen minutes later.
“And who are you?” she asked directly as he opened the door refreshed after a quick shower in his private gold-colored bathroom.
“A friend of the family,” he replied as unfriendly as she had spoken to him.
“I have several important customers arriving in the next day or two from the mainland and need you out of here immediately, unless you can pay your bill, Mister Friend of the Family,” she stated in a thick German accent.
“Do you accept American dollars?” asked Mo innocently. “There are none of your visitors arriving soon and the ferry service to the island is not working. Nobody will be allowed on or off the island until further notice.”
“That’s fine. I still need you out of here so that I can get it cleaned for the owners, or you can pay to stay on,” she replied. “It’s a thousand American dollars per day, the French lady still owes me for four days and another week will cost another seven thousand.”
“How much for a month?” asked Mo.
“Monthly fees are reduced to $25,000 per month, but that doesn’t allow you use of the yacht at the slip for sunbathing or any parties. Nobody is allowed to set foot on the yacht, understand?”
“Then we start our month from four days ago,” and he asked the plump lady to wait while he went to retrieve the money. Her eyes lit up at the large number of hundred-dollar bills he returned with. He handed her the money from his suitcase which now showed a small hole. It was not so full anymore.
“I will put a receipt in the letterbox at the front gate and, if you must leave, I will give you a pro-rata refund if the booked visitors arrive anytime in the next twenty-six days. Understand Mr. ….?”
“Smith,” Mo replied.
“Yes, sure, Herr Smith,” she smirked. “No funny business in this house. You are booked through to March 10th and you must be out by 11:30 am on that day, if nobody has arrived before then.” He nodded smiling to himself as she swept off in a beaten-up taxi, her fancy German car probably scrap metal.
The girls returned a couple of hours later and saw Mo down by the beach walking the pier and looking at the yacht they had illegally sunbathed on twice since their arrival. They got busy in the kitchen packing away the food having, for the first time
in several days, fresh food to eat. The bakery still had fresh baked pastries, bagels and baguettes and they must have cleaned the small shop out. They told him that the supermarket’s shelves were half empty, the store waiting for fresh produce from the mainland.
Madame de Bonnet had a feeling that it might be a few weeks before stocks were replenished and had decided to buy what they could. There was an old but in those days extremely expensive upright freezer in the villa kitchen and she used up the money Mo had given her to help fill it. Mo suggested that they return to the supermarket and purchase what was left, plus put in an order with the bakery for a few days’ time.
The taxi, expecting to be paid handsomely, was still waiting outside the door so Mo and the two older ladies returned to town to load it up with whatever remained after their first buying spree.
There were five bottles of good French Champagne left on the shelf and a dozen bottles of excellent and expensive French wine and Mo purchased the lot. Mo had brought another $300 and their final bill was still over by a couple of hundred dollars, and the store manager allowed Mme. De Bonnet to pay by check, knowing where the ladies stayed was expensive, and he could always visit if there was a problem when the banks opened again.
The driver, sweating profusely, was employed to carry in the second large purchase of food and was paid with the remnants of local money Mo had got from his watch purchase. The driver seemed pleased with the amount and his poor minivan which had crawled up the hill with the two heavy loads easily headed back to town.
Mo returned inside after chatting to the driver, getting to know him, to find the girls in the kitchen filling an old freezer and a second refrigerator with food. Even bread was being frozen and the amount looked like it could last them for a couple of weeks.
“Girls, let’s make lunch. I’m sure Mr. Wang is as hungry as we are.”
Over lunch Mo Wang was quiet. The women waited to hear what he had to tell them about the world out there. They still didn’t have a clue that modern civilization had come to a dreadful end and Mo didn’t want to ruin this interesting meal of bread, cheese, salad and wine. He asked them to eat first, enjoy the food and then he would tell them once they were sitting in the lounge. He had been placed at the head of the large table which sat eight and they just looked at him throughout the meal, hungry for food and information.
