by Bob Howard
"How long have you been on the move, Captain?"
"A couple of months. We've just been looking for a place that would be secure so we can rebuild to fighting strength."
"Maybe we can help with that," said Jean. "The beach isn't as secure as being inside the shelter, but it looks like you have everything under control out there. You can use the houseboat as a command center.”
"We'll take you up on that offer for now, Jean, but food is becoming a big problem. The mess officer wants to catch seafood, but so far enough of us are worried about the fact that the fish and crabs have been eating the infected dead. If we don't find another food supply soon, we may have to try the seafood.”
Jean must have turned pale or maybe a shade of green, because Captain Miller got a bit worried. She told him she used to eat a lot of blue crab, but since blue crab really seemed to enjoy feeding on the infected, she had lost her taste for them. She told him about the people at the marina and how they were using the infected as bait to catch more crabs.
"Captain, how many people did you say you have out there?"
"Just over a hundred," he said.
"Well, we can't feed all of them for a long time, but if you set up a base of operations here, maybe we can find a food supply and bring it here to the island. One of our group, Molly's father, says the only perfect shelter protects you from the infected, protects you from people who will take what you have, and protects you from the elements. With your people here, Mud Island can be the perfect shelter."
"I thought you said you lost your main power supply," said the Captain.
"We did. That's where everyone went. They're supposed to be bringing back a cable laying barge so we can connect a spare cable across the moat. I'm starting to get worried, though. They've been gone for days."
"Maybe I can send a squad down the coast to look for them."
Before he could even finish the suggestion, Jean stopped him.
"Captain, no disrespect intended, but your people look like they could use some rest and maybe some good food. I'm worried, sure, but they're a pretty good bunch when they go out. There must be something just slowing them down. Why don't we take care of your troops first?"
The Captain couldn't disagree with Jean about his people. They had been through a lot, and they could use some decent food.
Jean said, "Let's start there. Maybe you could sent in a few people to carry out some cases of MRE's. They aren't the best things in the world, as you know, but they're nourishing."
"Sounds like a plan. How much can you spare?"
Jean started to laugh but stopped herself. In the first place, this world turned upside down had produced different societies. Some people would take what you have, yet he wasn't assuming she would have enough to give. Secondly, they not only had plenty of rations, they had a whole shelter full in Guntersville they could tap if they started to run low. They could fly there a few times a year and replenish their stocks any time they wanted to.
"We can spare more than you're going to believe, Captain."
Molly finished her pie and chocolate milk and asked to be excused. Captain Miller was impressed that even during the end of civilization as they knew it, a child could still use manners.
"Is she your daughter," he asked?
"No, but she could be my little sister. Her parents are on the trip with my fiancé and the Chief. We also have a doctor and a Charleston police officer. Some of them were with the Chief when he helped you guys at Fort Jackson."
Jean pushed back from the table and put their dishes in the sink.
"Let's go, Captain. Your people could start getting those hot showers. You probably noticed there were several stalls in the decontamination room. We can run them through in groups for the showers, but we can feed everyone at the same time since you have your mess tents set up already."
It was nice to walk outside for a change without worrying about being blindsided by a stray infected dead that had gotten tangled up in the bushes. Jean explained about the infected being drawn literally up onto the beach side of the island by the tremendous explosion of the Russian ship. Captain Miller didn't know if the US military had anything to do with it, but he had a theory.
It never really occurred to Jean or her group that Mud Island was putting out enough energy that its heat signature would be detectable by a satellite. Captain Miller explained that they had been using the heat signatures to know where survivors were holed up, and they had sent out patrols to try to make contact. Some of the patrols were welcomed, and some met with open hostility. It had become somewhat of a given that the US government had been playing around with biological agents, and that one had escaped. Other people were smart enough to know that it was worldwide, so any government could have been the guilty party.
Jean let Molly come with them when they walked out of the shelter, and the sight of the cute little eleven year old was almost more than some of the soldiers could handle. They had all lost families, girlfriends, boyfriends, or just people they had cared about, and it picked up their spirits to see a happy child smiling back at them. Jean had carried a sidearm just out of habit, but she saw that this group had secured the entire northern end of the island as well as a large stretch of beach. Molly had one case of MRE's in her arms that she started to pass out.
The Captain called together his NCO's and told them to organize a detail to help bring out the food. It wasn't long before everyone who wasn't on watch was getting a hot meal, and the overall mood of the troops was sky high.
"Captain," said Jean, "you never finished what happened to the rest of the military. You were on ships somewhere off the coast. What went wrong?"
The Captain looked like the question was painful. He looked out at the water as if he could see something on the horizon. It was a clear day, and the water looked flat as far as the eye could see.
"It was supposed to be safe out there," he began. "There weren't supposed to be any mistakes. We all knew that a bite was fatal, and before each mission, we ended the briefing with a reminder that no man left behind had taken on a new meaning. If you were bitten, you had to think of your comrades in arms. You couldn't bring the infection back to a ship."
"So, what went wrong?" asked Jean.
"Someone changed the plan. The plan always was to establish land bases and then expand outward. If we could control territory, we could gradually repopulate safe zones. We were keeping an eye on Mud Island because your group was showing us how it should be done. There are other heat signatures that are bigger, but they never change. That usually means no one is drawing energy. Through the winter, for instance, your energy bloomed just enough for us to know someone was consuming energy."
"When the Russian ship blew up, I'll bet you saw a bloom, didn't you?”
"Actually, it must have blown up after we lost control at sea, so we didn't see it happen, but it may not have been an aggressive strike."
Jean was confused. "What does that mean?"
"It may have blown up on its own," he answered. "We were picking up a heat signature inside the Russian ship from the time it arrived in your front yard until it parked in your moat, as you called it."
"You mean you were watching it the whole time?"
"Sure, but it wasn't really a threat, and they ignored our radio hails. We figured they were suspicious of our motives, and they didn't believe in safety in numbers. They were right, as it turned out, but it looks like there isn't much safety in keeping to yourself, either. In any case, their heat signature appeared to be increasing after they parked in your moat, and no one was doing anything to reduce or consume the energy. They may have blown themselves up by neglecting to control their own systems."
"Well, they would have needed to have someone alive to do that I guess," said Jean.
Captain Miller gave her a quizzical look.
"The crew was dead? Everyone? How?"
"They made that fatal mistake everyone seems to make. It's a long story, Captain, but let it be enough to
say for now that the moat wasn't a great place to drop anchor. They got hung up on something, and when they sent divers down to find out why their anchor wouldn't come back up, they found out the infected dead are just as dangerous in the water as they are on land. The Russians pulled at least six bitten crewmen aboard their ship and tried to treat their wounds."
Captain Miller groaned openly. He could imagine what happened next.
"That was when they captured you, so you were actually onboard when the infection started doing what it does," he said.
"I was in a cell. I had to escape from the cell and then escape from a ship full of those things. That was when I got scratched by one of them, and it caused a really nasty infection. If my fiancé and the rest of them hadn't gotten there when they did, I wouldn't be here right now, but even though it was just a scratch, they treated it as if it was a bite. We didn't know if it was the same as a bite, either. Doctor Bus treated me, but I was kept in quarantine and strapped to a bed."
"Were you pregnant at the time?"
"I know what you're thinking," she answered. "There's no way to be sure if it had an effect on the baby, but Bus does prenatal checks, and so far the baby seems to be quiet healthy. Back to your story, Captain. You didn't finish telling me what happened."
"Oh, yeah," he said. "Someone in the upper ranks changed the plan, as I said. When our attempt to establish a forward base at Fort Jackson failed, they started talking about trying to find a cure. To find a cure, they needed test subjects."
The thought gave Jean a chill because she could see the only direction that decision could take.
"Let me guess," she said. "If someone was bitten while on a mission, they weren't going to be left behind anymore. They would be brought back to be studied."
"It gets worse," said Captain Miller. "If no one was bitten, we were supposed to make contact with survivors and bring them back to be used as test subjects."
"That's terrible. Did you do as ordered?"
"No, Jean. None of my people were bitten, and the other squads felt the same way we did about killing innocent people, but it was inevitable that someone would be bitten, and when they were, they were brought back. The Vice President's security detail was one of them. One thing led to another, and before we knew what happened, crewmen on the Navy ships were bitten by their test subjects. We escaped to the mainland with limited supplies. I told my men and women to carry ammunition, weapons, and water. Most of them carried far more gear than normal. We managed to make it ashore with helicopters, but as I mentioned before, they were all low on fuel, so we landed on the coast and started working our way south. We figured we would try for the heat signature at Mud Island, and then we would check out a massive heat signature at Fort Sumter."
That got Jean's attention, and Captain Miller saw the reaction.
"Jean, I thought you said your friends were trying to locate a boat that lays power cables. Does that have anything to do with Fort Sumter?"
Jean wasn't ready to make decisions about what could or could not be said about the locations of shelters, but it sure was looking like the cat was out of the bag. If this was any other military officer, she might have played dumb, but this one owed his life to the Chief. She decided to at least neglect to mention that there were over thirty of them, but when she thought about it for a second, maybe it wouldn't be a bad idea to have Army friends running the show from there.
"Captain Miller, I haven't had radio contact with my friends in days, but I can tell you this much. Someone with guns and control of Fort Sumter shot at us when we tried to enter Charleston harbor the last time, and we figured they had to be dealt with before a line laying barge could be liberated from the harbor. We had reason to believe there might be a shelter like ours under Fort Sumter."
"Reason to believe?" Captain Miller smiled at Jean's discretion, which obviously meant they had reasonably good intelligence about where shelters might be located, but right now he was only interested in one shelter.
Jean tried to hide her own smile, but couldn't help herself.
"Okay, so let's just say we found out there was a shelter under Fort Sumter, but the cretins who controlled the top of the fort weren't likely to know what was below them."
"Why's that. Is there an impenetrable door like yours?"
"I don't know, Captain. Like I said, no radio contact, but if you're wondering about how a small group like ours could consider taking a fort away from someone, we also knew where the back door was located."
A Corporal approached and told the Captain it was mandatory exam time. Jean suggested they set up at the showers and let everyone get clean at the same time. The men and women under Captain Miller's command were more than glad to accept, and they eagerly lined up at the entrance to the shelter.
This was one time when Jean was glad she opened the door.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Home
It was supposed to be a celebration of a job well done as we gathered at the end of the dock, but we were a somber group as we left for the final part of our mission. The Chief was in the wheelhouse of the Cormorant with Kathy at the remote controlled guns. Tom was their lone deckhand who would help attach the towing lines.
The outboard boat was mine to drive, and Chase was with me. The plan was simple. I would dock with the line laying barge and release it from its moorings. If it had an anchor, I'd raise it. Then I would toss over the towing lines, and we would be on our way.
Bus had the best job. We decided he could do a quick pass over the harbor in our newly acquired Beaver, and he would just see if there was any trouble waiting for us at the barge. The Chief was obviously wanting his turn flying the powerful bush plane, but he reluctantly agreed Bus should continue back to Mud Island. Bus had been able to establish radio contact between the plane and the Coast Guard ship, so we were all hoping he could make contact with Mud Island and then relay information back to us. It would be nice to know Jean was safe. I had wired in the radio I had gotten at the marina and was looking forward to testing it.
We didn't have any trouble persuading Olivia to stay at the shelter with Sam and Whitney. All three of them were still badly shaken and were in no shape to go along for the ride. We considered shipping them out with Bus in the plane, but in the end it was decided that we should just keep them inside. The Chief locked the elevators and the stairwell door for their peace of mind.
We launched the Cormorant first so Bus would have plenty of room to taxi away from the dock. When he took off, we were all impressed by the sound of the engine in the Beaver. It sounded like it could tow the barge by itself. Bus headed off in the direction of the barge, and as we approached in our boats, we saw him make several passes then he turned in our direction.
As the Beaver roared overhead, Bus radioed and said, "Be advised the barge is clear of activity, but the surrounding area has multiple infected, over."
That was no surprise to any of us, and we had hunting rifles with scopes with us this time. If we could reduce the number of infected dead in the area by shooting them at a distance, it would make life a little easier.
I keyed the microphone and said, "Roger your last, Bus, and have a safe trip home, over."
The Chief came over the radio and said, "Thanks, Bus. Let us know what's happening back home if you can. All of us want to know how Jean and Molly are doing, over."
"Will do, Chief. Can't wait to park this baby next to the dock at home. Maybe I'll let you take it out for a spin, over."
The Chief kept the microphone button keyed up, and we all heard him say, "Kathy, target the Beaver."
We heard Kathy say, "No."
Then we heard the Chief say, "Please," in a really sweet voice.
Kathy said, "No," again, but we could tell she was trying not to laugh.
The opportunity to improve our collective mood was needed, and we seemed to be at our best when we joked a bit. Not one of us forgetting that we had lost a good kid today, but we had to put it behind us.
As
we cruised past Castle Pinckney on the way to the barge, I wondered if Tom realized how close he was to where Allison died. I knew that I would be thinking exactly that if it had been Jean. I could see him on the deck of the Cormorant, but there were no outward signs giving me a clue about how he felt.
It was only a matter of minutes before we were at the barge. I tied us off at a cleat on its flat surface and climbed aboard. Chase handed a rifle up to me and then climbed aboard.
"I'll get the lines and the anchor," said Chase.
I gave the Chief a thumbs up as the Cormorant began to rotate its stern toward us. As I was sighting in on the infected that were milling around on the dock, I thought myself there was no doubt about it I had come a long way from that first day when I went into town for some video games.
******
"Beaver to Cormorant, over."
"Cormorant, here, Beaver. How's everything at home, over?"
I had to admit, it seemed like the brightest, prettiest day ever when Bus said he had a visual of Mud Island, and the US Army has set up a large safe zone on the entire northern end of the island. He said Jean and Molly had spoken with him by radio, and they said it was the Chief's friend from Fort Jackson. They were outside waving at him as he made a pass, and he would be landing in seconds. Then came the really bad news.
The Oconee Nuclear Plant in the far northwestern corner of South Carolina had a meltdown. He didn't have many details, but radio contact with someone broadcasting near Charlotte said a radioactive cloud was drifting roughly in the direction of Mud Island.
The Chief relayed the message down to us, and the obvious question was how much time did we have. If that cloud dropped on us we would be forced inside, possibly for years if the fallout came down heavy in our area. My first thought was Jean, and whether or not it would have an effect on her pregnancy.
Once we got the towing lines in place, the Chief began to ease the barge away from its berth. The Cormorant wasn't really designed to tow something the size of the line laying barge, but there were two things working in our favor. The current was so strong in the passage between the mainland docks and Castle Pinckney that the barge moved practically on its own. The second thing was the open stern of the Cormorant. An extra line was tied straight through the back of the ship, and it gave us more pull where it was needed the most.
