Isolation Z (Book 1): Dead Sea

by Riva, Aline

  “So why not Greg?” Amy asked, “You'd better decide quick, I haven't seen Hayley look at him in that way but he seems to be on pretty good terms with his pilot...”

  Vicki laughed again, covering her mouth with her hand as she stifled the sound, then as she stopped laughing her face was flushed and her eyes danced with the kind of amusement her sister had once feared she would never see again.

  “This is terrible... if we end up here for years and it's just the six of us...I guess I'll have to make a move on Greg!”

  She laughed again.

  “Greg's kind of cute,” Amy added, “And he's really sweet, too. I think I heard him say he was going off to the kitchen to make sandwiches for everyone...”

  Just at that moment Greg opened up the door to the residential block and stepped out, he stood there in his suit with his jacket off and his shirt open, pausing to bite down on a sandwich.

  “Hey, where ours?” Amy called to him.

  Greg looked over at her with a mystified expression on his face.

  “You know where the kitchen is?”

  “I thought you said you wanted to make some sandwiches?”

  “For me!” he replied, then took another bite of his food and strolled across the platform towards Marc.

  “See what I mean?” Vicki remarked, “He's so... so...annoying!”

  The two women laughed again.

  “Maybe we can share Marc?” suggested Vicki.

  “In our dreams,” Amy replied, “He's got his mind on getting out of here. I just hope when he does, he takes me with him!”

  “In your dreams!” Vicki reminded her, and they giggled as for a moment the horrors of the world were forgotten.

  As Greg joined Marc they stood together looking out at the vast expanse of open water. There was nothing on the horizon, the world beyond was all sea and sky with no other signs of life.

  “This place will do for a while,” Marc said as he watched the water, “We have everything we need – for now. But food supplies won't last forever. When we run out we'll have to take a chance in that chopper whether Hayley can fix the leak or not.”

  “Maybe there isn't a leak, maybe the fuel gauge is malfunctioning. I bet she hasn't thought of that.”

  “She's a pilot, not a mechanic. She's doing her best but I don't think she will find the cause.”

  Greg clutched at the rail and looked to the horizon as he felt guilt weigh heavy.

  “The cause is the bullet holes. That's my fault.”

  “And blame is a waste of time now. We just have to work around these problems.”

  “Why are you so forgiving?” Greg turned his head as the breeze ruffled his hair and he met the gaze of his oldest friend.

  “Don't ask stupid questions,” Marc replied, “You're my best friend. I don't like what you did, but we can't change the past. What matters is carrying on and finding a way through this mess.”

  Then a sound filled the skies, distant at first, but growing closer by the second. Hope sparked in the eyes of the two men and they turned to see a gleaming black helicopter heading through the summer skies.

  “We're saved!” Greg exclaimed, then he began to wave frantically, “Hey!” he yelled, “Help us!”

  The two women had jumped up too, and Marc looked to Amy and yelled an instruction:

  “Go and find Hayley, fetch the flare gun!”

  She ran off in the direction of the residential block as Vicki jumped up and down, frantically waving her arms as she looked skyward. Up on the helipad, Emma had come out from under the chopper and shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched the large helicopter loom large in the skies above, it was closer now, its engines like thunder. She wondered where it could land because the helipad was taken, then she guessed they would have to hover if they were to carry out any kind of rescue.

  On the lower level, Greg was still waving like crazy. Then as it swooped, the helicopter opened fire and a volley of shots peppered the rig as those below scattered for cover.

  Hayley and Amy had just returned with the flare gun, as Hayley opened the door to gunfire she dragged it shut, grabbed Amy and they fell together to the floor of the corridor as outside bullets peppered the walkway and bounced off metal. On the platform Greg had run for cover, diving under pipework as shots slammed into pipes and metal thudded on metal. Marc had dashed for the maze of metal frame work where he stood concealed, his gun in a two handed grip as he tried and failed to take aim at the chopper above as more shots rang out and he ducked and stumbled deeper into the complex maze of metal. Through a small gap he saw Greg on the ground, far below a large pipe as he lay there concealed. Vicki had run for the cover of an area beneath the helipad, she looked up to hear more shots ring out and then suddenly Emma rolled, caught the rung of the ladder, took them two at a time as the shooter flew around again, then she jumped, landing hard but safely beside Vicki.

  “Not here!” she said urgently, “We've got time if we're quick before it swings around...Move!”

  As Emma grabbed her hand, Amy had no time to think, just to follow as they ran towards another section of the rig, where they dived for cover behind machinery. The chopper swung back, thundered closer and then hovered. Suddenly the voice of a man on a loudspeaker rang out, addressing those below:

  “This is your last chance. Lay the goods on the platform, Fitzroy.”

  From his hiding place, Marc saw Greg under the pipe, laying there looking terrified. Marc shook his head, mouthing the word No, and Greg nodded, staying tight up against the wall beneath the heavy pipe and out of sight.

  “Last chance,” said the voice from the chopper.

  It hovered. On the rig below, there was no movement, no sign of life as those on the platform stayed hidden. For what seemed like forever, the chopper hovered, its thunderous sound overhead, waiting for the demand to be met.

  “Time's up,” the shooter announced, then the chopper rose higher, turned around, swung back and another volley of shots peppered the rig, then it fired heavily at the helicopter on the helipad, punching bullet after bullet into it. A final bullet hit the fuel tank and the chopper exploded in a ball of orange flame, then the armed helicopter turned away and finally flew off, heading back towards land somewhere in the far distance.

  No one moved until the sound of the chopper had vanished completely. Then as Marc emerged from hiding, he holstered his gun and looked to the helipad in alarm – the chopper was on fire, burning out to a shell. And Emma had been up there...

  “We're okay!”

  As Emma and Vicki ran from their hiding place on the other side of the rig, Marc breathed a relieved sigh.

  “I made a run for it when the chopper swung around,” Emma said, then she looked up at the helipad and the sight of the burning helicopter – their only way out was gone...

  “Oh shit!”

  “My thoughts exactly, “ Marc replied, then he turned to the place where Greg had rolled for cover to see him crawling out from beneath the pipe.

  “Are you hit?” he asked.

  Greg shook his head.

  “No...” he said in a trembling voice as he got to his knees and brushed down his clothing. He was visibly shaken.

  Raised voices were approaching now.

  “Hayley, don't!” Amy said in alarm.

  “I won't let you stop me,” she said firmly, “Get out of my way!”

  Marc and the others hurried over as they saw the loaded flare gun in Hayley's hand. Greg had picked himself up from the floor of the platform now, and had been brushing down his clothing some more, but what was said next distracted him at once.

  “This is your fault,” Hayley said coldly.

  He looked up and his eyes widened in alarm to see she held a flare gun, and it was pointed right at him...

  “Put it down!” Marc said sharply, but her aim stayed steady.

  “We're all trying to survive out here,” Hayley said darkly, “You, Mr Fitzroy, almost got us killed. Start talking.”
r />   “Put it down!” Marc repeated.

  Then Hayley heard a click and glanced at him, saw he was aiming his weapon at her and she quickly lowered the flare gun.

  “Put it on the floor,” Marc ordered, “No one is killing anyone here.”

  She shot him a look of pure ice and set the gun on the platform.

  “Thank you,” he said, keeping the gun trained on her as he picked it up, then he moved his hand from the trigger of his own weapon and holstered it once more.

  “Now,” he said, raising his voice as the look in his dark eyes hardened, “Listen up: I won't have that shit happening again! We're all on the same side here!”

  Greg was shaking.

  “I'm sorry...” he sounded tearful and Marc put a hand on his shoulder.

  “Let's go inside and sort this out,” he said, “You need to tell them everything.”

  Greg shot him a horrified look.

  “They'll kill me!”

  “You know I won't let that happen. Let's go inside and talk, shall we?”

  He looked to the others. Hayley nodded. Vicki glanced at her sister and Emma just looked to Greg in utter confusion as she wondered why the hell strangers had come along and destroyed their only means of transport and asked for her employer. Then they went inside, with Marc and Greg leading the way.

  “This will end badly,” Greg said as his voice trembled.

  “No, it won't,” Marc promised quietly, as he hoped he could contain the anger that would follow as the truth finally came out.

  They gathered in the recreation room, sat on comfortable seating around a coffee table as Greg locked the door behind them to be sure no one would go running for the second flare gun. Vicki was sat beside her sister, Amy looked angry and Vicki's pallor had returned as she trembled still in shock from the shooting. Hayley took a seat and glared across the table at Greg, that look did nothing to calm his frayed nerves as he ran his fingers through his hair and looked away, thankful that Marc was now sat beside him.

  “What the actual fuck is happening here?” yelled Emma as she sat down, eyes ablaze with fury at the recollection of the destruction of the helicopter.

  “Would you like me to explain?” Marc asked his best friend.

  Greg swallowed hard and shook his head.

  “No, I should do it,” he said in a hushed voice, then he looked up at the angry faces around the table.

  “Before...I mean, before the world as we knew it fell apart, I was a very wealthy businessman. The business was a cover. I was making my money from importing large amounts of cocaine. Before we left the mainland I was supposed to have it delivered to someone even higher up the chain than me, but my people were dead or turning into those creatures so I figured, the best thing to do would be take the stash and run, use it for trading... money means nothing now but drugs will. That's why I kept it. I've got two cases of coke all bagged up in that luggage. You might thank me for it one day, it could save our lives! It's valuable!”

  He was met with silence. Emma was staring at him like she was looking at a stranger.

  “You bastard!” she said angrily, “All those times I flew you up and down the country thinking it was just business -”

  “Most of the time it was!” he protested.

  “You're a drug baron? Look at you sitting there shaking and scared, you're not very tough for a dealer, are you!”

  “That's because other people took risks for me. I paid a lot of people -”

  “I bet you did!” she said bitterly, and he blinked away tears.

  “We almost got killed because you brought drugs on to this rig?” Hayley said in fury. Even though she was no longer armed, her anger was bordering on murderous thoughts as she recalled the shots ringing out.

  Greg paused to gather his thoughts as he wished he could stop trembling. Over the years his biggest fear had been the battering ram at the door of his mansion and a police raid, being taken away in cuffs, going to jail for many years... None of that mattered now. The law was gone. All that mattered was what five other people thought of him, as they sat there judging him and all he wanted was to not be hated because they could be stuck here together for a very long time...He still wasn't entirely sure if Marc had meant it when he said he was forgiven. He felt as if nothing could ever be the same again.

  “I'm not a bad guy,” Greg added, “Well, maybe I am...I guess it's open to interpretation. But I brought those drugs with me so I had something to trade. Something that could save my life - and now yours too!”

  Hayley was shaking her head.

  “You make me sick...”

  “They shot at us because you took that stash?” Emma said sharply, “Do you really think they'll stop at destroying the helicopter?”

  Greg had stopped shaking now.

  “They fucked off, didn't they?” he yelled, “What can they do, Emma? Your chopper's burnt out on the helipad, they can't land. They've fired at us from the air, if they send anyone down we have guns!”

  “So you think you and Marc can take them out, a couple of hand guns and flares will handle it?”

  His gaze was unwavering as he saw deep anger reflected in her eyes.

  “Yes I do! We've got this far, we made it off the mainland and that was crawling with corpses! I'm sure we can handle a few of the living, Emma!”

  She held him in her furious gaze. He glared back. She looked down at the table.

  “If this goes wrong, our blood is on your hands.”

  “It won't,” Marc said, speaking up and thankful to take over because he knew Greg was at breaking point again, “It's possible they won't return – they've fired on us, they blew up the chopper. They know we're stranded. Just because this place is well stocked with food, it doesn't mean it will last forever. If they can afford to wait -”

  “Oh god...” Amy's face had paled.

  “What?” asked Vicki. Her sister didn't look at her as she replied, not wanting to see the horror on her face as she spelled out the truth as she glanced around the table at the others.

  “When the food runs out, we're screwed. We're on a rig in the middle of the North Sea with no chopper and no boat. We're stranded. We're going to starve to death.”

  “Maybe that's what they will wait for,” Marc replied, “They won't need to risk their own man power, just wait until we die and then drop someone down to pick up the stash. It depends how desperate they are for the goods. If this rival of yours is powerful he's probably doing okay for himself at the moment. How impatient is he, Greg?” he glanced at his best friend.

  “Zackary likes his own way. He doesn't tolerate others holding him back. But I think you're right – he can afford to wait. I mean, we are screwed now. We can't get off this rig if we wanted to.”

  “Are we going to starve?” Vicki said quietly.

  “Don't think like that, something will turn up, a ship, maybe,” Amy said to her sister, “Over the next few months there's bound to be passing vessels – eventually. We have enough food here to last for a while.”

  Suddenly hope sparked in Greg's eyes as he saw a way to redeem himself.

  “I have an idea! Why didn't we think of this before? We're on a rig in the middle of the ocean – we can fish! It's full of fish out there!”

  Emma bowed her head in despair.

  “Oh god...” she muttered.

  Hayley gave a cynical laugh and looked away, shaking her head again.

  “What?” Greg demanded, “It makes sense!”

  Despite the grim reality of their situation, Marc raised a smile but quickly banished it because the last thing Greg needed was his best friend laughing at him at a time like this.

  “Greg,” he said carefully, “It's not a river out there, you can't go in and tickle a trout. A fishing rod would be no good either. Without a trawler we have no chance. Even if we did set up a net and catch a few fish, by the time the power goes off – and it will eventually – what do we do then? Eat sushi forever? It can't be done. It was a nice thought but it wo
n't work out.”

  Hayley's anger had started to fade as she thought on the food situation.

  “If the power goes off, the freezer goes off. The food rots. We'd have maybe a week's supply of food left. This situation could go critical at any time.”

  “I'm scared...”Vicki was shivering.

  “We'll work something out,” her sister promised, hoping she could keep her word on that, but it was looking bleak...

  “So what do you plan to do with the drugs, Greg?” asked Hayley, “I say we wait till they come back and give them what they want and maybe they might not kill us.”

  “Let's not make any decisions today,” Marc replied, “We're all worked up and we need some breathing space. That chopper won't come back yet. They've made their point, they must know we're thinking about our next move. Hayley, I'm with you on waiting. They may never come back. If they came from the mainland, it's dangerous back there. They may not live to make another assault on the rig.”

  “Let's hope so,” she replied.

  “And now I think we should all take a deep breath and calm down,” Marc added, “Getting worked up won't solve anything.”

  “I need a lie down,” Greg said as he rose from his seat.

  “You look like you could use some rest, “ Marc agreed.

  Hayley got up too.

  “I'm going to put something together for tonight's meal.”

  “I'll help,” offered Emma, and they went to the door, Hayley slid back the bolt and the two women left together.

  Marc left the room with Greg, now only Vicki and Amy were left at the table. Vicki was still pale as she spoke in a hushed voice.

  “I don't want to starve to death!”

  “We won't,” her sister promised again, then she drew her into a tight hug as she silently hoped for a way off the rig, and soon.

  Miles away on the Scottish coast a tanned, muscular man with short fair hair watched at a distance from a jeep, looking through binoculars as he watched the boat loaded with cargo. He smiled as he watched the loading, then as a crate was placed on the boat, a poorly closed seal popped on impact with the deck. The door crashed down and the dead crammed within poured out, decaying, dead white eyes set on the living as they stumbled towards their prey. Two men opened up a burst of machine gun fire and the crisis was over. Zackary chuckled as he watched through the binoculars, seeing the bodies then the crate thrown over the edge and into the sea, before the final crate was loaded. Then the men prepared to leave shore.