“Ready?”
Elliot raised his hand thumb extended.
“Shit, its locked!” Elliot said.
That was neither good or bad news, but Elliot had had enough already. It was getting darker by the second. Heavy clouds rolled in and the dampness could be felt. Darkness, clouds, loneliness—it all added up to foamers as far as he was concerned. And they were vulnerable.
“Fuck this!”
Elliot took a lunge forward and brought up his combat-booted foot and stomped hard on the edge of the white wooden door near the silver lever-style handle. The door gave way, splitting part of the frame as it swung wildly inside. Locking it again would no longer be an option. Enough light from the sun’s last rays allowed them to see as they entered the kitchen of the house.
“This is where we need a shotgun,” Elliot whispered.
Jerry nodded but indicated for Elliot to go ahead. Elliot didn’t protest. It made sense, it was much easier for him to maneuver through doorways and such with his revolver than it was for Jerry with the rifle. Together, they made a quick but thorough search of all the rooms, closets, and cupboards. Nothing. Satisfied they were alone, Jerry ran back outside for the backpacks and some drinking water.
“I think it’ll be a cold water and jerky meal tonight. I don’t want to risk using any light.”
“Yeah, I’m beat anyway. A good rest is all I want and that couch over there is mine!”
Jerry laughed as he looked around the living room. “All right, Elliot, you can have it. The recliner looks more comfortable anyway. Let me get the pen light from my pack and I’ll check to see if there are any blankets in this place.”
As Jerry searched through the house closets, Elliot pulled out his sleeping bag from his backpack and did the same for Jerry. He laid Jerry’s over the chair, pulled off his boots and climbed into his bag on the couch. The last sound he heard was of Jerry’s heavy-footed approach.
Jerry did a complete search of the house. Though he was fairly certain they were alone, he kept his rifle up as he entered each room, just in case they missed something. As he started collecting blankets and sheets without incident, he slowly became more relaxed.
With the hunt complete, Jerry returned to the living room. “Hey Elliot, I found—”
Jerry cut himself off when he saw Elliot was sound asleep on the couch.
“Well, I’ll just drape this over you.”
Jerry took a piece of jerky and a gulp of water, then crawled inside his sleeping bag on the recliner. He drifted off to sleep just as the first drops of rain fell.
Those first drops would turn into a torrential downpour and last for three days and nights. Thankful for the house as they were, Jerry and Elliot nonetheless weren’t happy about being stuck here for that period. With the weather now becoming cold and wet, it would become a major factor in the travel estimations. They had to live off water, jerky and some health bars; a fire was too risky. Since leaving Jerry’s hideout, they’d traveled less the five miles and were laid up for three days.
It was going to be slow-going. Both were aware of that, but didn’t speak of it; they had to focus on the positives if they were to succeed.
Getting away, getting back to Sandspit, avoiding foamers and radiation and—of course—staying alive.
Especially the latter.
Sandspit 25
Darkness had fallen over Sandspit, though not the total darkness associated with other places further south—it was more of a twilight. Nevertheless, most of the Sandspit occupants stayed inside their rooms at the motel. Others remained in what had become the community room, making small talk, drinking coffee, or playing cards. Light rain fell outside, which made it a bit darker than usual. And, of course, it was cold. Everyone was rugged up with as much clothing as they could fit. Thanks to the wind turbine they now had internal lights. They had running water and enough power for 12 cup coffee maker, but—as Chess suggested earlier—there probably wasn’t enough power to keep the heaters working. Continuous efforts were made on the motel’s solar energy which would help in that regard tremendously.
Even though most of the harbor could be seen from the motel, no one was fool enough to be outside with the cold and the never-ending wind. So no one noticed the giant ballistic-missile submarine sail to within half a mile of the Sandspit Marina.
“I can see some light on a building at the top of the rise there.”
“That’s where we’ve made our home, Captain.”
Mayer turned and looked up to the tall silhouette next to him atop the conning tower. “Call me Steve, there’s no need now for naval ranks anymore.”
Chuck nodded in agreement before asking. “Perhaps it would be a good idea if you and one of your officers accompanied us?”
“Yes, sure, I’ll take Lt. Goodes with me, he has good communication skills. For now, let’s get your ship up alongside. This light rain is keeping the waves down, so we should be able to hold it for you and your people to get in without a problem.” Mayer referred to the catamaran that was towed behind the sub on a short but strong line.
The light rain meant no wind and no wind meant calmer seas. The line on the catamaran was connected to a powerful winch that had no trouble pulling the cat in. A few crewmen stood on the aft deck of the sub and helped with the final guiding of the ocean-going cat alongside the sub.
Chuck and his team were coming up through the aft deck hatch, then waited for Captain Mayer. He overheard Mayer tell the commander he would be left in charge during his absence.
“Okay we’re good to go, Chuck!”
Two crewmen each had hold of a rope, keeping the catamaran close against the hull of the sub, while another crewman held the temporary gangway in place as everyone boarded the cat. Another member of the sub’s crew stood by with a spotlight near an open hatch that contained safety vests—just in case. The sea wasn’t rough, but the drift of the current made the cat want to pull away.
“Okay, start her up, Sam, and let’s get in before the rain gets any heavier.”
“Roger that, Chuck.” Sam went to take the helm, followed by Smithie and Brad. The others went with Chuck and Mayer, into the main cabin where some protection from the elements was to be found.
Chuck insisted that three trips be made because of the dark to transport the personnel from the cat to the harbor in the dinghy.
“I think that’s a wise move,” Mayer turned back from the window and agreed. “Are you ex—Navy?”
“No, just practical.”
“But you are former military, right?”
Mayer questioned Chuck as the dinghy was lowered into the water from the rear of the cat. In the near dark, Chuck could just make out Mayer’s suspicious look. He could tell the sub captain wanted an answer.
“Foreign Legion,” he said, then turned to address the others on the deck of the cat. “Make sure the heavy anchor is dropped before you leave.”
With light winds and relatively calm waters, it took the crew from the cat, nearly three—quarters of an hour to complete their fifty-yard journey. No-one wanted an overturned boat in the dark and icy water. Better safe than…
The rain came down heavier now, but all were ashore and the yellow safety rain jackets they were given by Mayer kept their upper bodies dry.
“We got a short walk to the town itself, won’t take a minute.”
“Okay I’ll let you lead the way, Chuck.” Mayer said. He and Goodes were armed with a pistol. It was more for appearances than anything else.
“We’ll take the road. It’s longer, but safer in the dark.” Chuck pointed.
Kath sat with a coffee in the community room, the former motel office.
“The coffee is getting good, don’t you—” Riley started.
“Hey, inside. Can you hear me?” a voice from outside called.
“Chuck! That’s Chuck’s voice.” Kath jumped from her chair.
“Wait a minute, just wait a—” Riley tried but she was out of arms reach and out the door be
fore he finished.
“CHUCK? CHUCK?” she screamed. The cold night air hit her cheeks with a rush as tears began to flow.
“I’m over here, over here!” Chuck yelled, his tone unmistakably excited.
Kath saw a group of yellow-jacketed men on the road—several with flashlights—and one who was taller than the rest; her Chuck.
In a scene, not unlike the movie Casablanca, she ran into his outstretched arms. As the rain fell, they held each other tight and kissed while the others looked on.
“Don’t mean to interrupt you, big guy, but I’m sure you can do that inside.”
“Yeah, yeah, and I’m glad to see you too, Sam,” Kath responded.
Still holding onto Chuck, she told the others. “There’s hot coffee inside for everyone!”
Then she saw the new faces. “Hi, I’m Kath Goodwin.” She said to Mayer, who in his yellow jacket, didn’t look like a navy captain.
“I’m Steve Mayer, pleasure to meet you, ma’am,”
“Let’s get inside. There’s a lot to talk about.” Chuck interjected.
Once inside, and with the greetings out of the way, the rain jackets were dispensed with and everyone saw the Naval uniforms of Mayer and Goodes.
“Where did you find these guys, Chuck?” Riley asked, more than a little shocked.
“Actually, it was them who found us, Riley. Is everyone here?” Chuck couldn’t see Bob, Chess, or Cindy. He didn’t want to start until everyone was present.
“I’ve sent for everyone, they’ll be here in a moment. Sit and tell us about your new friends,” Kath said as Riley came up by his side.
While more coffee was made, Riley looked over the new arrivals. “Are we missing someone?”
“We were attacked by mutants, we lost Don in the process” Chuck said.
Riley nodded, but didn’t ask any further. Kath put a hand on Chuck’s shoulder and squeezed, she knew how the mutants worried him.
When the others came from their rooms, short greetings were made as they were told to find a spot. There was an important announcement to make. Chuck sat up on the registration counter and introduced Mayer and Goodes, and they were from a US submarine now only a mile or so from the Sandspit harbor.
After the excitement of this news died, Chuck continued. “We came in with them on the sub, it’s huge, bigger than this motel.”
“You mean our Navy is out there looking for us?”
“It’s not exactly the Navy, Margaret,” Chuck addressed her directly. “I’ll let Captain Mayer inform you himself, he’s the commander of the submarine.”
“Thank you, Chuck,” Mayer said as he sat up on the counter in Chuck’s place. “I am, as Chuck just mentioned, the captain of the USS Louisiana, parked just a few blocks from here as we speak. I would prefer if you called me Steve. This is Lieutenant Goodes—Pete. Now I’m sure you have a multitude of questions and maybe I’ll be able to answer some, but let me state why we’re here—which I’m sure will give you more questions.”
Mayer looked around the room at everyone. Some continued to look straight ahead, while others whispered with whomever stood next to them.
“My submarine—I consider it mine, now as the US Navy no longer exists—is headed toward the South Pacific, specifically Australia or New Zealand, and we have enough room to take you all with us. Based on earlier reports, we believe the situation is better down there, or at least under some control. But,” Mayer raised an index finger, “we should leave tomorrow or the next day at the latest. We only have enough supplies to last for a short period and if all of you come along, then it will be even shorter. The quicker we get going, the quicker we get there.”
A murmur of voices traveled around the room before Cindy stepped forward. “How do you know things are any better in those countries?”
“I don’t know for sure, ma’am. But there is a possibility—based on information I had received from other subs—so it’s worth checking out.”
“Why don’t you make the trip first and if it’s okay, come back and get us?”
Mayer didn’t answer but looked over to Chuck, who stepped in. “It’s not a shuttle service, Cindy. They can’t be running back and forth.”
“There is something I’d like to add,” Bob spoke up. He had been down the back, so neither Mayer nor Goodes had set eyes on him until now.
“Mr. President?” Mayer jumped off the counter and stood at attention. His voice was full of surprise and his eyes as big as plates.
“Call me Bob. As you’re no longer a captain, I’m no longer the president, it’s that simple.”
“Yes sir, Mr—” Mayer started to salute when he remembered. “Sorry, Bob.”
Bob smiled back at him. “See, you’re getting the hang of it already.”
Mayer smiled back at his former Commander in Chief before glaring at Chuck.
“I was informed during the last days in office that Australia, New Zealand, and possibly Iceland fared better because of their remoteness. They weren’t connected to other countries, didn’t import a lot of foods, and—particularly in the case of Australia and New Zealand—didn’t allow as much chemicals or restricted their use in foods.”
“But a lot of European countries had chemical restrictions, too. Why wouldn’t they be in just as good a situation?” Cindy asked.
Mayer stepped in to address Cindy’s concerns. “We received some communications with other submarines regarding the situation in the South Pacific, as I said but, as with the European countries it’s just as the Pres—sorry, Bob, said. Those countries have land borders with others. If the outbreak occurred in one country, then it would only be a matter of time before it crossed the borders into other countries, no matter what the restrictions on food additives and chemicals.”
“Okay then. But we can’t leave tomorrow, that’s not even an option.”
“I’m sorry, but we have to, young lady, we—”
“Don’t ‘young lady’ me. Who the hell do you think you are?”
“Cindy!” Kath stepped forward.
“It’s okay. My apologies,” Mayer offered.
“What are you all thinking?” Cindy turned and looked at those closest to her—Kath, Bob, Riley, Chess, and Chuck. “Are you thinking of giving all this up, all we’ve worked for? And for what? A promise that maybe it will be better?”
“I’m sorry about this, Steve, I really—” Chuck, who looked embarrassed, said.
“Think nothing of it. I understand it’s not an easy decision.”
“And what about Elliot and Tom and the others? Have you forgotten about them, or are you willing to throw their memory to the wolves to save your own skins?”
Cindy touched a nerve this time. Many now gathered in the room hadn’t forgotten Elliot and the others, but the mention of a submarine and a possible way off this cold, windswept island had them thinking of things other than their missing friends.
Chuck hadn’t forgotten Elliot at all, but he understood the time limits. He wanted to speak to the captain alone, try to persuade him to wait it out. That they would have enough supplies here on the island for him and his men. But Cindy had broached the subject before he planned to.
“Who are Elliot and Tom? I-I’m not sure I understand?” Mayer asked.
“Could everyone go back to their rooms and give us some breathing space while we fill the captain in on Elliot and the others?”
Chuck felt the heat climbing in the small room and the air became stale. Those not part of the main leadership filed out the door.
“Good, thank you, I appreciate it,” he added.
The rush of cold, damp air through the open door provided welcomed relief.
Chapter Eight
Sandspit 26
With more coffee made, Chuck—with Bob’s assistance—explained the ballistic missile retaliatory systems in place in the former Soviet Union. There had been no indications anything had changed since the demise of the communist state, and the colloquially named “spoilsport” system wi
thin the US.
“Yes, I’m aware of the Russian system and, err…” Mayer looked around the room at the others.
“It’s all right, Steve. There are no longer any state secrets, you can speak openly here,” Bob assured him.
“Yes sir, I mean Bob.” Mayer said. “I was going to add the latest information I received was the Dead Hand system, as it is generally referred to, is still active in the Russian Federation. But I know nothing of this spoilsport system, which I find a bit surprising to be honest.”
“Why does that surprise you?” Bob asked.
“As a missile boat captain in charge of enough warheads to theoretically blow the planet apart, I would imagine I’d have been aware of such a system.”
“Don’t take offense, Steve, but you overestimate your importance to the state. I didn’t know even about it and I was the fuckin’ president! Guess I wasn’t considered trustworthy enough by the gatekeepers of all the evil that permeates this once-great nation of ours.”
“None taken. But I’m surprised you didn’t know of its existence,”
“That makes two of us then.” Bob smiled and left it at that.
“So how long ago did this Elliot and his fellows leave?” Goodes asked.
“Must be two weeks, maybe more. Kind of lose track of the days now,”
“Yeah, I see how that could happen,” Goodes answered Riley.
“In a small plane—provided they had enough fuel—I think they could have made it to the capital and back in this time frame. My bet is they didn’t—”
“Don’t say that. How dare you? You don’t know Elliot, you don’t!” Cindy angrily shouted, looked at all the faces in the room then stormed out. She slammed the door behind her so hard, an old oil painting of Sandspit Harbor fell off the wall.
“Did I say the wrong thing?” Mayer said.
“You could say that. She’s expecting Elliot’s child,” Kath said before she went after Cindy.
“Oh, err, excuse me, I…”
“It’s okay, you didn’t know,” Bob said.
“It does bring us to that point,” Chuck began, “while it does seem there has been enough time for Elliot and the others to make it back under ordinary circumstances, things have been far from ordinary. All of us here have been on land the whole time, and we’ve seen things worse than in your worst horror movie or nightmare. I’m going to ask you straight, Steve, can you wait any longer before leaving? Just a few more days—a week even?” Chuck brought it out into the open. He would much rather have asked in a quieter, one-on-one basis, but Cindy’s outburst circumvented that plan.
Beyond the Brink_Toward the Brink IV Page 22
