Project Terminus: Destiny

by Nathan Combs

  For easier access and to be closer to the lighthouse, they moved the ships to the Macao Ferry Terminal. That same night, Chen began sleeping on the junk he would captain. He liked the sound of the water lapping softly against the hull and especially liked the stretching sounds the rope hawsers made as they strained against the movement of the boat with the tide. The soft and old familiar sounds relaxed him.

  As Chen’s plan progressed, so did his enthusiasm, and on a warm summer night, he, Jiang, and Ya sat cross-legged on the deck of his junk, sipping green tea and discussing the coming journey. A single candle flickered merrily between them.

  Chen said, “I have told you why we must go to separate ports, Jiang. I will explain it again with a different perspective.” He spread the palms of his hands upward. “Regardless of our abilities and our desire to succeed, this will be an arduous and dangerous journey. We must ensure our race survives. The odds of success increase if we sail separately, thus, you will take half of the people and animals and sail to Liverpool, England, and I will take the other half and sail to San Diego, in the United States.”

  Jiang nodded.

  “Your nod indicates you understand?”

  “Yes, but that does not mean I am happy about it.”

  “We will be fine, Jiang. We have two ham radio sets now, and we will rig the proper antennas so we can communicate during the voyage, as well as with England and Texas. When you arrive in Liverpool, you must find your way to the English settlement seventy-five kilometers inland, and I must find a way to travel to Texas. The ships have desalinization equipment aboard, so fresh water will not present a problem. We must train the people in the way of the sea and devise a method to feed the animals during the voyage. I estimate it will take you two months, perhaps three, to reach your destination. My sea voyage should be shorter, possibly one month, but if I cannot locate functional motor vehicles and fuel, the walk to Texas could take six additional months.”

  Jiang looked at the ground and slowly nodded his head.

  While Chen knew Jiang was not fond of splitting up, he also knew his friend understood the reasons why they must. He turned his attention to Ya, who had been staring at the night sky for many minutes. “Grandmother? What are you thinking?”

  Ya turned her head slowly and looked at him. “I have never seen the sky so full of stars, Chen. I have never seen the night so black. I have never felt so small.” She smiled a sad smile. “It has occurred to me that the Earth is huge, the universe is vast, and man is but a speck of dust in the cosmic wind.”

  “That is very profound, Grandmother.”

  “Is it? Perhaps. Regardless, it is true, Chen. Man’s reign on Earth will end one day. One day, we will be a footnote in the annals of time. One day, another creature will crawl from the sea and the cycle will begin again.” She turned and looked directly into his eyes. “I am curious, Chen. Do you suppose the astronauts are still up there?” She nodded toward the heavens. “If they are, I wonder what the world looks like to them. No light on the entirety of the planet, nothing but endless darkness? Except for this one candle? Do you imagine they could see it?”

  Chen smiled. “I do not believe the astronauts are there, Grandmother, but if they were, they would see your candle, and they would smile.”

  Three weeks later Chen again sat with Ya on the stern of his junk, which he had renamed Leguan.

  “Leguan in English means hopeful. It is a good name for our boat, Chen.”

  He smiled. “It is a ship, Grandmother.”

  Ya’s health had rallied, and she was in good spirits. She smiled. “Boat, ship…they are the same to me. I am hopeful that Hopeful will see us safely to our new home.”

  Chen smiled back. “The people are excited, are they not?”

  “Yes, indeed, they are. They enjoy the daily sailing practice. They have taken to your instructions quite well.”

  “Yes. Relocating the ships to the Ferry Terminal has minimized travel time and facilitated their training.”

  “The relocation has also provided you with a degree of privacy.”

  Chen started to deny that privacy was essential to him, but she cut him off. “You deserve it, Chen. It allows you time to think without interruption. Have you finalized your plan?”

  “No. It is not yet finished, Ya, but I am close.” He got up, walked to a crate on the deck, and continued talking. “The searchers have returned with five metric tons of rice in eleven-kilogram bags and nearly a ton of noodles. They also found many boxes of green tea leaves, bags of rice flour, and one of your favorites, mandarin oranges.” He handed her a can from the crate. “I know you do not wish to contract scurvy.”

  Ya’s smile made his day, and as she munched on the oranges, he said, “We have overcome the obstacle of feeding the animals during the voyage. The grasses in the park are long, and we have many bales put up. We also have earthworms that are capable of reproduction and gallons of grubs stored. Swine can eat scraps and garbage. They will be fine. The plan is in a state of flux, but it is proceeding nicely. It is July. We will depart toward the end of September, when the risk of a typhoon is diminished. We have two months to finalize preparations.”

  At the end of August, Chen’s plan was complete. Since his voyage was shorter, he would take more people and more animals, thus allowing Jiang to carry more food because his journey was longer. Every villager was taught the ways of the sea, and many had become accomplished sailors in their own right. They maintained biweekly communications with both Texas and England and could hear both stations loud and clear. Unfortunately, their own signal remained weak and neither site could receive them well enough to carry on a conversation.

  “When we get to sea, Jiang, our signal will be stronger, and they should be able to understand what we are saying.”

  Jiang grinned. “Perhaps. And perhaps it is our English that is the problem.”

  Chen laughed. “I did not think of that. You may be right. In any event, we will begin the inventory and loading of the supplies tomorrow.”

  With the junks bobbing softly 100 feet from the Ferry Terminal building, Chen stood, clipboard in hand, and checked off each package and bundle as it was brought inside the building and stored in two separate piles. He frowned and waved his hand toward the ever-increasing mountain of gear, medical supplies, clothing, and food.

  “I am concerned, Jiang.” Chen spread his arms wide. “We need to ensure the ships can carry this.”

  Jiang nodded. “It is intimidating. I will measure the size of the cargo holds and of the packages. I have estimated we will need eighteen square feet per person below deck during rough seas. I will do the computations and have an answer for you by tomorrow. I will need to know the size of the animal cages and containers in order to produce an accurate figure.”

  “The cages for the fowl are at the rear of the lighthouse storage. We have yet to locate containers for the swine.” He frowned and shook his head slowly side to side. “I am concerned for them, Jiang. The fowl can survive in the cages, but it will be harsh for the hogs. Perhaps someone has a better idea.”

  “I will check, Chen. We are getting close.”

  “Yes. As soon as the typhoon risk abates, we will sail.”

  The last week in September, Ya, Chen, and Jiang stood on the deck of Leguan, watching low hanging, wispy gray clouds drift across the sky. High above, cirrus clouds appeared stationary.

  Chen said, “A storm is approaching, Grandmother.”

  “How do you know?”

  He pointed to the sky. “The low, dark clouds are tropical in nature. It is always thus preceding a typhoon.” Turning to Jiang, he said, “It would benefit us to have weather radar, would it not?”

  “Indeed, it would, Chen. Perhaps this is simply a tropical storm.”

  “Perhaps. But we must assume it is a typhoon.”

  “Yes. Where will we shelter?”


  “The lighthouse has withstood many typhoons in its history. It will survive one more. Put someone to work boarding the windows and securing everything of value. You and I must move the ships from the harbor and berth them inland. Perhaps we will be lucky, and the storm will pass to the south.”

  Four hours later, outer rain bands from the cyclone began to rotate through the city just as Chen and Jiang were finishing their preparations for the junks to ride out the storm.

  “The winds are from the northeast, Jiang, so the storm is to the south. We must hurry and return to the lighthouse and reassure the people. It is likely none of them have experienced a typhoon.”

  By the time they headed to the lighthouse, the storm had grown in intensity. The winds had increased to typhoon strength. The rain beat down on them in sheets. Walking was difficult and dangerous. The darkness of the night and the driving rain rendered the light from their flashlights hopelessly inept. Struggling to see, they strained mightily to locate landmarks. Debris and roof tiles became deadly missiles sailing over their heads and crashing into the darkness on their flight to nowhere. When they reached the fortress that contained the lighthouse, they entered the side door and found the forty-six villagers huddled together at the rear foyer, fear clearly etched on their pale, anxious faces.

  Yelling to be heard over the din, Chen reassured, “You are safe. This is normal. It will end soon.”

  For the next hour, the entry door creaked and groaned, the roof popped and moaned, and the wind howled as the storm raged around them. By dawn, the sky was still angry. Occasional rain bands meandered through, and although the wind gusted, the center of the storm had moved on. At 9:00 a.m., the villagers emerged, stood on the top steps of the lighthouse, and looked out over the park. Felled trees and trash from the city littered the ground.

  “This was not a major typhoon, Grandmother, but the answer to your question is that while it is possible to survive such a storm at sea, we would make every effort to avoid one since it is equally possible that we would perish.” As he always did when leaving her, Chen bent and kissed her forehead. “I must leave to check on the ships and supplies. Please reassure the people and put them to work cleaning around the fortress. I will return soon.”

  Arriving at the ferry terminal Chen found Jiang finishing his inspection of the storm damage.

  “We were lucky, Chen. The terminal has escaped with mostly broken windows. The ships are undamaged, and the tarps we placed over the supplies kept the water from them. But I shudder to think of being caught in such a storm at sea.”

  “Yes. It would be frightening.”

  They stood looking at each other in mutual understanding.

  Chen broke eye contact and nodded. “We will bring the ships to this pier tomorrow and begin loading. We will depart in two weeks.”

  Two days before the end of September, Ya summoned Chen to her meager quarters. “Chow Ming is very ill, Chen.”

  “What do you mean, Grandmother?”

  “She is nearly as old as me, but she has always been of good health, so perhaps it is Father Time paying her a visit. Perhaps not.”

  “What symptoms does she exhibit?”

  “It is not a cold or the flu. Chow Ming sweats profusely, but she is freezing. She has difficulty breathing and swallowing, and she is incoherent. The onset was sudden. One minute she was healthy. The next, she was ill. She has been thus for six hours. I have given her what medicines we have, but they do not seem to help.”

  “That does not sound like the plague.”

  “No. Her sickness is nothing like the pathogen that ravaged the world.”

  Chen nodded. “I mean no disrespect to Chow Ming, but that is a relief. We are in the process of loading the ships. I know you will care for her.”

  The next morning, Ya updated Chen about Chow Ming. “She just stopped breathing, Chen. I suspect it was respiratory failure.”

  “I am sorry, Ya. I know she was your friend.”

  That evening they buried Chow Ming in the park by the flower garden, and after a brief ceremony, Ya bade her farewell, turned to Chen, and said, “I have a bad feeling, Chen.”

  Two weeks later, the junks were loaded and ready to sail.

  Ya’s stern face confronted Chen. “You do not appear concerned that we have lost six more people to this sickness in twelve days’ time.”

  “Of course, I am concerned, Grandmother. It is sad. But what are we to do? We are packed and ready to sail. In any case, I am not a doctor, and my evaluation would likely be wrong. However, all six were old. Thus, it appears that whatever it is afflicts those of age.”

  “Have you forgotten, Chen? I am old. I may be next. I do not wish to die on a boat and be fed to the fish.”

  Chen smiled in spite of himself, then put his arm around her and gently drew her to him. “Grandmother, should I be deprived of your company while we are at sea, I will not feed you to the fish. You have my word.” Chen hugged her and went ashore.

  Waiting for him at a table on the pier, Jiang said, “Please go over my route one last time, Chen.”

  Chen stood at his side and traced the route with his finger. “You are going to pass the Parcells off the coast of Vietnam, transit the Malacca Straits to Singapore, go past Sri Lanka and enter the Gulf of Aden, and then the Red Sea. Next, you will pass through the Suez Canal, which does not have locks, and enter the Mediterranean Sea. From there you will parallel the Spanish coast, go north to the English Channel, and finally, to Liverpool. You must stay as close to the coastline as possible. And you must constantly monitor for radiation. If possible, you can go ashore to search for supplies or to make repairs.”

  Jiang shook his head slowly. “I must admit, Chen, I am intimidated. And I am afraid. I have never considered a journey of this magnitude.”

  “I understand, my friend. I also enter this voyage with apprehension. But we have no choice in the matter. The people are counting on us to lead them safely to a new land.”

  The next morning, the goodbyes were unemotional as sixteen villagers boarded Jiang’s junk, and the remaining twenty-two walked the gangway and settled in on the deck of Chen’s.

  Chen and Jiang shook hands.

  “We have radios, Jiang. You will land safely in Liverpool. I will land safely in San Diego.”

  Jiang nodded once, boarded his ship, and cast off the lines.

  Chen did the same.

  On a brilliant October morning, they sailed in tandem until they cleared the harbor, then split off, Chen heading east into the morning sun and Jiang west toward the distant horizon.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Guerillas in the Midst

  Wade walked Tyler and Chris out of the command center, into the gathering dusk and the remnants of the thunderstorm. Two ex-Army Rangers, Jim Callahan and Robbie Johnston, were standing near a Ford F350 pickup equipped with double saddle tanks and rigged with brackets that held twelve five-gallon cans of gas. The truck pulled a four-horse trailer.

  Tyler told Wade, “We have 146 gallons. More than enough to get to Corpus.” He grinned. “We can steal some from the natives if we need more. The detour’s gonna add a few miles to the trip, but we’re driving straight through, so I’m guessing twenty-four hours.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  They shook hands all around.

  Wade clapped Chris on the back. “Be careful, son. Come back in one piece. I love you.”

  Chris nodded. “I love you too, Dad. Take care of Sara and my girl while I’m gone.”

  “You know I will, son.”

  Tyler had decided that using I-10 wasn’t a good idea since Kirilov might have snipers posted along the route. Instead, he plotted a course on lesser roads south of the interstate until they reached Pensacola. From there they skirted the blown bridges over Escambia Bay and the Escambia River, detoured north, cleared Mobile, and continued to H
ouston via state highways and back roads. From Houston, they went south through Port Lavaca, and at 0400 hours, they entered Corpus via the Nueces Bay Causeway.

  Tyler was driving with night-vision goggles, and in the middle of the span, he casually stated, “I don’t like being on this damned bridge, Chris.”

  “Me neither, Ty, we’re too exposed. In retrospect, we should have come in from the north, but it’s too late now. Pull off as soon as we’re across, and we’ll find a base.” Motioning with his head toward the backseat. “I’m gonna wake up the sleepin’ beauties.”

  After crossing the Harbor Bridge over the main turning basin, they exited onto Power Street and Tyler parked the truck between the PODS Moving and Storage Building and the Box Office.

  Inside the Box Office’s office, Tyler broke out the sat maps. “We’re eleven miles from the airport, and—let’s see, we checked a house when we were here on the initial recon, and…yeah.” He tapped the map with his finger. “Here. It’s rundown and isolated from the adjoining neighborhood, lots of trees for cover. Hopefully, it’s still vacant.”

  Chris looked. “Good choice. Close to the Valero refinery, the airport, and the tanker terminal. It’s only 0430.” He raised his eyebrows. “Your call, Ty.”

  Tyler folded the map and put it in the map case. “Let’s do it,” and headed toward the door.

  By 0530, the house was cleared, the pickup was secured in the unattached garage, and the sat maps were spread on the kitchen table.

  With his penlight on the red filter, Tyler turned to Callahan and Johnson and tapped areas on the map. “Check out these houses, the church, and this neighborhood to the west. Chris and I will recon the refinery and the Tule Lake Channel. Back here before daylight.”

  Sunrise would be at 0721.

  At 0645, their combined intel revealed that no one lived in the houses behind or in the adjacent neighborhoods, and the church showed no sign of use. The Tule Lake Channel had three tankers tied up at the piers, but no security, and although men were moving around at the refinery, there were no guards.