The Fallout

by Knox, J. C.

  Lying in the bed next to Sarah he doesn’t know what they will find in Iceland and this worries him. The weather has been unpredictable these past couple of weeks and he’s praying his fishing boat will be strong enough to travel in such unpredictable waters. George can make a prediction about how long they will be on the water but doesn’t know how long it will actually take but hopes it won’t be longer than a week. Distrusting the survivors across the water he has left the loading until this morning. Dragging himself out of bed he goes straight to the shower knowing it will be awhile before he’ll get another.

  Sarah is awake and making breakfast when he finishes showering.

  ‘Morning, I thought we should eat well before leaving,’

  ‘Morning, yes you’re right, but let me finish up, you should shower, you won’t get a chance when we’re out on the water.’

  George knows he is dying, he is coughing more blood each day, but Sarah is symptom free and as he watches her eat, he worries that he is putting her life in unnecessary danger.

  ‘Are you sure you want to come?’ he asks, terrified of the answer.

  ‘No, of course I don’t want to come, I hate the water, but I don’t have a choice, we’re in this together George, if you’re going, I’m going.’

  ‘But Sarah you know I’m dying, if I perish it won’t make a difference, but you have a chance of survival.’

  ‘I have no chance of survival without you, if we get to Iceland maybe you can get medical help.’

  He hadn’t thought about that, but he’s certain the cancer has spread beyond the help of medicine.

  Dawn is just beginning to break as they make their way down to the waters’ edge, it’s windy but not overly so, and the rain has stayed away. As they near the boat moored on the jetty George turns his head torch on, he didn’t want to be seen as they made their way here, but they need some light to get safely onto the boat. When he’s sure Sarah’s on safely he climbs aboard himself and carries out all the safety checks. Certain everything is in order he starts the engine, as the engine roars to life he’s aware of how loud it appears and hopes the sound doesn’t travel. He doesn’t think it will, but you can never be certain. It’s dangerously rocky around the island but George isn’t worried, even in the dark, he knows these waters like the back of his hand, he’s been fishing here since they arrived. Keeping the lights off, he navigates the boat out into open water before switching the lights on. The water is choppy, but he’s been out in a lot worse. As he pushes the boat further out into the dark water, George begins to relax. He looks around for Sarah, finding her standing at the back of the boat staring out at the dark water. He hopes she’s not suffering seasickness already; they’ve only just started; it’s going to be a rough journey for her if she’s feeling sick already. Cutting the engine, George waits until the boat is stable and walks to Sarah.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘No, as soon as we started moving my stomach started, I’m just going to stay here. It is how it is George, just carry on, I’ll be okay if you could bring me some water.’

  ‘If you’re sure?’ George said, noticing a slight nod from Sarah.

  Leaving Sarah hanging over the back of the boat he gets his wife a bottle of water, noticing how bright it is getting.

  As he starts the boat up again, he notices the sun’s rays appearing over the horizon as daylight begins. It’s going to be a nice day, the waves are still choppy, but it’s the Atlantic, he doesn’t expect it to be any less. Checking the map, he realises the land he can see to his right is Donegal, and wonders if there are any survivors up here. It’s far away enough from any of the blasts, and as long as the people had a bunker there could be survivors. Keeping an eye on the land for any sign of life he pushes the boat forward.

  ‘Whatever happens, I’m not stopping, I know there’s life in Iceland, I don’t want to survive I want a real life,’ he thought.

  ‘George,’ he hears Sarah calling from the back of the boat.

  Cutting the engine, George lowers the anchor, they’ve been sailing for hours and he’s ready for a break.

  ‘George can we stop. I need to rest; I haven’t stopped throwing up almost since we began.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m lowering the anchor, do you think you can come down into the cabin? Maybe get some food, it might help.’

  ‘Okay but get me a sick bag, I don’t want to throw up on my way down.’

  Sarah is decidedly green as she waits for her vacuum pack meal George is heating up. The rocking boat motion and the smell from the food cause her to try to empty her already empty stomach.

  ‘George, how am I going to get through this?’

  ‘This won’t be any comfort now, but it’s said that sea sickness normally goes after a while when the body adjusts to the motion.’

  ‘I hope so,’

  She takes the bowl George has handed her, it’s a beef stew and normally she enjoys it, but today she can’t bear the smell. George could I have some porridge I think I could handle that; you can eat my portion.’

  ‘Okay, you must eat something, or we will have to stop, and I don’t know what dangers lie ashore. There could be more survivors, more radiation we just don’t know.’

  ‘It’s okay I don’t want to stop, I want to push on, we may have to stop more often until this sickness passes and my body adjusts.’

  Leaving Sarah lying on the small bunk after eating, George heads up to the bow and begins to lift the anchor, looking out towards Donegal he spots a glinting that is flashing. Watching the flashing he realises someone is sending him a Morse code signal. He wants to ignore it and push forward, but his curiosity won’t let him. Dropping the anchor again he heads back down to Sarah.

  ‘Sarah, are you awake?’

  She groans and mumbles something he can’t understand, ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing,’ he said, backing up the stairs lifting his backpack as he goes. Out on deck he opens the bag and pulls out a small mirror. He watches the signal writing down the letters, reading the signal his heart sinks, HELP is what is being sent over and over. George is annoyed he has seen the message; he just wants to push on. Placing the mirror back in the bag, his mind is made up as he reels the anchor in. The engine roars to life and he pushes the boat forward, following the original route he’d planned. George sails until the light begins to dim, he’s careful to stay as far away from land as he can, estimating they are halfway past Ireland, he knows when they reach the top, he will need to change direction into the Atlantic. That is when it will get difficult. He’s hoping by then Sarah will have acclimatised a little, because the waves are going to get a lot worse. Lowering the anchor, he lifts the binoculars, thankful that all he can see is the horizon and knows it will only be any passing boats that may spot them at this location. The water is fairly calm as he descends the stairs into the cabin. It smells of vomit and urine down here,

  ‘Sarah are you okay?’

  George can see her slumped on the bed she’s not moving.

  ‘Sarah,’ he calls.

  Gently shaking her until she groans.

  ‘George, I’m going to die, I can’t even keep water down.’

  He can see that she is dehydrated, and delirious.

  ‘It’s okay, you will be okay! Give me a sec, I’m going to get some rehydration tablets.’

  Pulling out the medical bag, he grabs the large bag of soluble rehydration tablets and places one on Sarah’s tongue.

  ‘Just hold that in your mouth, when it’s gone tell me and I’ll give you another,’ he said, stroking her damp hair.

  Her eyes closed, she nods and begins sucking the tablet, he waits a while and when it looks as if she’s fallen asleep again, he pops another tablet under her tongue,

  ‘Come on Sarah, wake up,’ he said, wiping his brow.

  George checks Sarah’s pulse, 120 bpm she’s tachycardic. George hopes and prays the tablets will kick in soon. He places another tablet under her tongue just as she opens her eyes.

  ‘Don’t s
peak just keep the tablet under your tongue, it’s your third hopefully it’s starting to have an effect,’ he said, his jaw tight and his brows furrowed.

  The air smells of vomit as George sits in silence watching his wife, the tablets are having an affect she’s not sweating as much, her breathing is less laboured, and she looks more peaceful as she lies on the bunk.

  ‘Here have another,’ he said, placing another tablet under her tongue.

  Its pitch-black outside, as he looks through the small round window. The boat is steady rocking gently, for that he is grateful. He knows Sarah needs to keep something down if they are to proceed. George watches and cares for Sarah all night and in the early hours she sits up asking for a drink.

  ‘Thank goodness,’ George said, relief washing over him as he grabs a sealed bottle of water. ‘You had me worried there.’

  ‘I had myself worried,’ Sarah said, struggling to raise the bottle to her lips, with her shaking hand.

  Opening a packet of chicken soup, George watches Sarah as he heats it up.

  ‘You must try to eat something. I’m not sure how nutritious this stuff is but at least it’s something,’ he continues, helping Sarah spoon the soup into her mouth.

  ‘Thank you, have you eaten?’

  ‘Not yet, I’ll, get myself something when you’ve finished.’

  Sarah continues to vomit through the night, George is exhausted.

  ‘I don’t know what to do Sarah, this will be the easiest part of this journey. Tomorrow I will change direction, into the Atlantic. The waves will be bigger, and we will be moving away from land. Do you think you can do this?’

  ‘I don’t know George, I’m weak, but hopefully that’s the worst of the sea sickness over.’

  ‘We’ll see how you are in a couple of hours, but if there’s no improvement I will turn around and take you home. I’ll make my way to Iceland on my own, we can keep in contact over the radio and I’ll be back as soon as I know the situation. What do you think about that?’

  ‘I don’t want you to go alone but it may be the best option.’

  The wind has been increasing as the night draws on, by morning the boat is being thrown around like clothes in the washing machine. George is doing his best to keep Sarah hydrated but after she’s vomited for the sixth time in a row he gives up and decides to begin the journey home.

  ‘Come on Sarah I need you to come upstairs into the cabin with me,’ he said, lifting her out of the bed, holding her weight as he climbs the stairs into the cabin.

  George makes Sarah comfortable and runs back down grabbing a bucket, several bottles of water and more rehydration tablets. The chains clank loudly as he lifts the anchor before starting the engine. The small fishing boat is being thrown from side to side with the force of the waves. George can feel his own stomach churning as Sarah vomits relentlessly. After an hour of pushing back towards the island the rain starts. George doesn’t know what direction the rain is coming from, but he’s taking no chances and seals the cabin to keep them both dry. The boat is being battered by the wind and rain and George must rely on his navigational skills because he can’t see anything. After three hours of pushing through the storm, the sun comes out, even though the boat is being battered it helps that George can open the cabin and let some air in, the windows were steamed up and the smell of vomit is overwhelming. Stepping out onto the deck George takes large gulps of air. Looking out across the ocean he realises he’s not far from where he spotted the signal being sent. It doesn’t matter he doesn’t intend to stop this time either. The storm has passed, and George inspects the boat, he’s surprised to find it’s fared well, there’s only a small amount of damage and some excess water. He hears a noise and turns to find Sarah climbing out of the cabin, it worries him how unwell she looks.

  ‘How are you?’

  ‘Glad to have some air, what about you?’

  ‘Same as you, glad to be outside. I estimate another six hours and we will be home.’

  ‘I can handle that, but I think we should try to get a bite to eat, maybe some soup. Maybe if I eat up here in the fresh air, it will help.’

  ‘No probs I’ll get the stove and bring it up here.’

  Glad to see his wife looking a little better, George goes below deck to get all he needs to make them some dinner. Sarah is vomiting over the side when he returns, he’d thought her sea legs would have kicked in by now, but she’s not getting any reprieve. George sets up the cooking station, opening powdered packet chicken soup, using bottled water to make up the mixture, enjoying the smell. The sun is shining and a welcome relief from the past couple of hours of being blown all over the place. He’s planning on staying put for at least an hour to rest and hopes Sarah will keep the soup down for at least a short while. After they’ve cleared their utensils away, George and Sarah lie down on the deck in the sun and fall asleep.

  George wakes with a start, he can hear something, quickly realising that its voices, he can hear voices. Looking over the side, he spots a small boat with four men, just below.

  ‘Hello there,’ George calls, as four faces look up at him.

  ‘Hello, we saw your boat and came out to investigate,’ one of the men said.

  ‘Can we come aboard?’

  ‘No, I’ll be on my way now, I don’t want any bother,’ George calls, walking to the front of the boat preparing to lift the anchor.

  ‘Where are you going? We didn’t realise there were other survivors.’

  ‘Home, I’m going home.’

  George doesn’t care about these survivors and just wants to get away, he doesn’t want them to follow but knows their small boat won’t be able to keep up with him. The anchor is lifting when one of the men starts shouting for him to talk to them.

  ‘Hey, do you have medicine?’

  ‘I have a small amount of sickness medicine but that’s it.’

  ‘We have doctors and nurses in our group, we could help if you need medicine.’

  ‘No thank you, I just want to get home,’

  ‘Where were you going, we seen you go passed yesterday and now you’re returning, what did you find?’

  Ignoring the men George fires up the engine and pushes the throttle forward, leaving the men in the boat. He signals for Sarah to stay down until they are far enough away.

  ‘They said they have doctors George maybe we should have stopped for a while.’

  ‘I saw their signal yesterday, and they were calling for help,’

  ‘You ignored them?’

  ‘Yes, I must put us first and I was right, they lied; we don’t know what sort of mess they’re in. Are you feeling any better?’

  ‘Yes, the soup and sleep did me good, what about you?’

  ‘Same, I needed to sleep as well, I’m glad you seem to have stopped being sick, maybe just lie down again until we stop again,’

  ‘Will do.’

  Determined to get home as quick as possible and feeling rejuvenated after his sleep George pushes the boat forward for four hours while the going is good. The daylight starts to fade and Georges stomach grumbles loudly. He slows the engine until they stop and lowers the anchor. Sarah sits up; she looks the best she has, since they began this journey.

  ‘Fancy some food?’ he calls smiling.

  Sitting out on the deck watching as the sun sets, George heats some beef stew from the ration pack, he doesn’t know if it is because he’s so hungry or because it’s so nice out on the boat in the evening just him and Sarah, the food tastes so good.

  ‘I want to push on when we’re done, if that’s okay with you,’ George said, watching as Sarah finishes the last of her food.

  ‘Yeah, as long as you’re okay to keep going, you haven’t stopped.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, I just want to get home and get going again.’

  George washes up before making sure Sarah is comfortable and ready to set off again. He’s happy that she looks as well as she does, he was worried that he would lose her at one point. Lifting th
e anchor, he scans the horizon, there’s no one around. Turning the key, the engine roars to life first try and he pushes on in the dark until he reaches the island, waking Sarah as they near the jetty.

  ‘I have to say I’m glad to be back,’ Sarah calls, as she stands looking over the side, the wind blowing her hair.

  It’s pitch-black on the jetty, George turns his head torch on, as they walk towards the house. As they reach the front door George notices that it’s not closed. He uses his foot to push it open and finds Seamus and Connor sitting in the living room.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ George snarls at the unwelcome visitors.

  ‘Where have you been George? Evening Sarah,’ Seamus said, tipping an imaginary hat.

  ‘None of your business, now GET OUT OF MY HOUSE,’ George yells, holding the door open.

  Seamus and Connor sit their ground, ‘George you need to tell us where you’ve been?’ Connor said. ‘We don’t want any trouble, but we’re struggling over there and if you know something we should work together, we all want to survive,’ Connor continues.

  George stares at the two men, out of the two of them he prefers Connor, he appears to be the smart one and less threatening.

  ‘Okay, we went out in the boat to see if there were any more survivors, and we found a group up on the Donegal coast. They said that they have doctors and medicine,’ George tells the men.

  ‘What sort of set up have they?’ Seamus asks.

  ‘I don’t know I didn’t leave the boat, you know me, I’m not the most trusting of people.’

  ‘So, you didn’t see anything, just spoke to some, how many did you speak to?’

  ‘There were four men who came out to the boat, they wanted to know what medicine we had access too.’

  ‘And George is very secretive about what medicine he has,’ Seamus said smirking.

  ‘Give over Seamus’ Connor said shooting his friend an irritated look.

  ‘George the reason we’re here, I’ve picked up some chatter on the radio, I can’t understand what language it is and wondered if you’d heard anything?’