Seeking a Sane Society
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Copyright ©2016 by Albert Correia. All rights reserved. Proudly prepared for publication by Kamel Press, LLC.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means without permission from the author.
ISBN-13: 978-1-62487-047-7 - Paperback
978-1-62487-048-4 - eBook
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016938035
Published in the USA.
To Dena Fagundes:
big sister, lifetime role model,
constant supporter.
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Prologue
WHILE the Arthur family vacationed on their 41-foot ketch in the South Pacific, most of the world’s population was decimated by a nuclear holocaust. By the time they learned what had happened, the only people still alive had to fight just to survive.
The United States had possessed the largest stock of nuclear weapons and fared slightly better than most, but all of the country’s major-and medium-sized cities were wiped out. The President (POTUS), the Supreme Court, and most of Congress ceased to exist. There was little left of any police force or military, and anarchy reigned in every area where there were more than a few people. The Speaker of the House survived because he had been visiting family in the middle of the country. A local federal judge swore him in as the new POTUS. He, the few members of congress still alive, and a few surviving high-ranking military officers were expected to bring the Nation back to life. They, however, carried out all their planning and organizing in seclusion. Any attempt to go public before they had the strength to protect themselves would end their plans and their lives.
The Arthur family had to fight for every mile they traveled, but they were determined they would make it back to California. When they finally reached the mainland, there were slavers, vigilantes, and pirates awaiting anyone who dared try landing there. With the help of the lone U.S. Coast Guard cutter left on the Pacific Coast and a rogue Chinese submarine, they managed to reach the Two Harbors area of Catalina Island. There, the few permanent residents, along with a group of survivalists, had created a well-run settlement. After more than a month of battling killers and stormy seas, they were finally able to sleep without worrying about what new danger awaited them when they awoke.
* * * * *
Chapter 1
ZACH, a fit and trim man in his early forties, caught a glimpse of movement behind a tree as soon as he climbed up to the cockpit of their sailboat, the La Sirena. The tree was off to the left of where they were anchored in the Two Harbors area of Catalina Island. He set his morning coffee down and sat next to his wife, Stacey, never taking his eyes off the tree.
“What is it?” she asked, looking off in the direction he was looking.
“There’s someone behind one of the trees near the buildings over there,” he replied, nodding toward the northeastern side of the harbor.
She tried to get a better look. The rising sun was low and the trees and buildings in the area cast shadows over the landscape. “Which tree?” she asked. “I don’t see anyone.”
“Whoever is there is hiding,” he said.
Stacey didn’t doubt him. Her ex-army ranger husband saw things most people missed. She couldn’t figure out why anyone would be hiding out on this island. She had to ask, “Hiding from what?”
“From us, I think,” he told her. “A head peeks around every now and then, looking our way.
We’re being spied on, so I need to go check it out.” He took a sip of coffee before getting up and going to the back of the boat to lower their dinghy into the water.
“I hoped we were finally going to get some peace and quiet now that we’re here,” she told him.
“Peace and quiet?” Zach replied. He thought that over for a second or two. “We may have that as time goes on but, in a world gone crazy, it’s a relative condition.” Climbing through the hatch that led down to their aft cabin, he made his way to a cabinet on the starboard side. He took out a .38 caliber revolver and checked to ensure it was loaded before sticking it in the back of his belt. He un-tucked his shirt so it would hang loose and cover the gun. Pausing for a moment, he turned back to pick up a .22 caliber Beretta, as well, shoving it into his front pants pocket before heading up the ladder.
Stacey met him near the ladder leading down to the dinghy, which was now floating gently in the rippling water. She carried both their coffees. “I’m going with you, and I see no reason why we should miss out on our morning coffee just because of a snooper.” Stacey was in her late thirties, but she was in as good physical shape as her husband and people often thought she was in her twenties. She looked around and shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like they’re shooting at us, and two are better than one.”
He started to reply, but stopped when he heard someone moving around in the main cabin.
“Mom?” he called.
“Good morning to you two,” Mae Arthur responded. “I’m going to fix hot chocolate for Glen and Denise.”
“Thanks,” Stacey called out. “That will get them off to a good start this morning. There’s hot coffee in the pot if you want some.”
“I already poured myself a cup,” the older woman replied.
“We’re going over to talk with the people in charge,” Zach advised his mother. “We should be back soon; then we can discuss what we’re going to do on our first day here.” He climbed down into the dinghy first, and then steadied the small craft as Stacey climbed down. As soon as she sat, he shoved the dinghy away from the sailboat, inserted two small o
ars into the oarlocks, and began rowing. It took just a couple of minutes to reach shore in the narrow harbor. Zach jumped out and dragged the dinghy onto dry land.
Stacey got out and handed him his coffee. “Are you expecting trouble?” she asked.
“Not really,” he responded after taking a sip of coffee. “Captain Kotchel said these were good, reliable people. I think we can trust them.”
“I saw the bulge at your back when you climbed into the dinghy. I figured it had to be a gun, so I was wondering.”
“It’s like drawing up a contract when doing business with friends and relatives. You have faith in them without the contract, but feel a lot better when you know you have protection.”
“Did you bring one for me?”
“Of course,” he answered, pulling the Beretta from his front pocket and handing it to her. She slipped it into her own front pocket, and then took a sip of coffee. “Okay, now I feel better, too.”
“Good,” he replied, taking her hand. “So, let’s go find out who’s being nosy.” Their boat had been the last one into the harbor, so it was the one nearest the mouth and farthest from the settlement’s buildings. As they strolled toward the other end, the occupants of the other sixteen boats anchored in that harbor were beginning to stir. Several were already on deck, and they waved at Zach and Stacey as they passed.
Zach caught glimpses of a red shirt as a man crawled from the tree he’d been hiding behind to a large bush. Apparently believing the bush concealed him, he stood and walked quickly to a building, entering through a side door.
* * * * *
Chapter 2
AS they walked toward the building, the Arthurs passed a tractor that had small cultivating discs attached at its rear that could be lowered and raised hydraulically. Two men and two women were walking alongside the tractor. They carried gunny sacks and were dressed in the kinds of casual clothes people wear on weekends. They all waved friendly acknowledgments to the newcomers.
“We’re heading toward the hill over there to plant the seeds you brought yesterday,” the tractor driver called out, pointing to a low hill south of where they had anchored their boat. Zach and Stacey waved back in response. Speaking softly so only he could hear, she said to Zach, “They don’t look like spies.”
“True,” he concurred, “but my understanding is that spies make a point of not looking like spies.” The edges of his lips curled a bit.
She turned to look at them again as they moved toward the hill. “In that case, they’re doing a bang up job of fooling us.” She laughed lightly. “They don’t look the slightest bit like farmers, either.”
“I doubt that any of them were farmers before everything happened. Now, survival for a lot of people will depend on their doing things they never even imagined doing it before the war.” They came to the end of Two Harbors, also known as Isthmus, and walked across the narrow land mass between the two harbors at the northwestern end of Catalina Island. The buildings used by the people who had lived there year-round before the war and now the survivalists who had come to Isthmus Cove to live. That harbor faced the mainland and was the easiest access for boaters and for ferryboats when they dropped off curious tourists. The small hotel was usually full so most boaters slept aboard; otherwise, only the one hundred fifty permanent residents and a few campers slept there.
Two Harbors was now the headquarters for a new settlement, and the population was growing steadily. There were still a few buildings, some temporary shelters were constructed, and ground was ready for structures that are more permanent. The most prominent building was the one into which the red-shirted man had disappeared.
Zach and Stacey spotted Harry Peckham, the man they met the night before, who was acting “mayor” of the settlement. He was sitting alone at a table out front having coffee. It was the chandlery and general store for the area until a little over a month before. It still served those purposes for now, but they were also using it as the repository for critical goods. Peckham, a slightly heavy-set man of about forty, called them over. He stood and shook hands with them. “I see you already have coffee,” he said. “Here, sit.” He indicated two of the vacant chairs at the table.
They eyed the placement of the chairs. They were facing the building, so they would have their backs to the man in the red shirt if they sat there. Neither had any real concerns about their safety, but they had learned to use caution at all times. Zach pulled a chair out for Stacey to sit, and then pulled one out for himself.
“Did you have a good sleep?” Peckham asked once the Arthurs sat.
“Yes, it was good to sleep in calm waters and not worry about what awaited us,” Stacey said. She fixed her eyes on Peckham’s. “It was a bit of a shock, though, to find out we were being spied on as soon as we awoke.”
A look of mild surprise came over the man’s face, but there was no evidence of alarm.
Zach had been watching Peckham’s reaction. “You don’t seem concerned,” he noted.
“Oh, I’m concerned all right. Warren shouldn’t have been caught so easily. Certainly not in the first five minutes.”
“You knew about it?” Stacey asked. “You have people spying on us?”
“We prefer to call it watching.”
She started to object to any kind of surveillance but saw that Zach showed no signs of anger. She looked questioningly at her husband. “You suspected it was them, didn’t you?”
“There are some really bad people in this new world we’re living in,” he told her. “We’re still strangers to them. If I were in charge, I’d do the same. I’m glad it is them and not someone we actually have to worry about.”
“It’s good to hear you say that,” Peckham said. “Because of what is happening in the world, which is the reason we started this settlement, we put ‘watchers’ on all new people. You’re the first Warren has been assigned to watch. Apparently, he didn’t handle the job with great expertise.” He looked toward the store. “Hey, Warren,” he called, “why don’t you come out and meet the people you’ve been surveilling.” He turned back to the Arthurs. “You know what he’s doing, so he might just as well watch you from up close.”
A man in his early twenties opened the door and came over to the table. He was wearing a bright red shirt and carrying binoculars.
“This is Warren Sutton,” Peckham told them. He completed the introductions and then turned back to Warren. “You were spotted.”
“I heard,” the young man said sheepishly. “Sorry.”
“For what little it’s worth, I served as a U.S. Army Ranger in Afghanistan,” Zach told Peckham.
“If you’d like, I can give your people some training in surveillance and camouflage.”
“That would be really helpful,” Peckham replied.
“Warren, what do you think about . . .?” He didn’t get any further. The young man had the binoculars to his eyes, looking intently out to sea. Warren handed the binoculars to Peckham, pointing to a spot past the harbor entrance. “Look there, by Bird Rock.”
Peckham took the binoculars and trained them on a rugged rock that jutted out of the water on the way to Two Harbors. After a minute, he whistled and handed the binoculars to Zach.
Zach saw immediately that the other two were concerned about a large boat, probably fifty feet long. It had just passed the rock and was powering its way toward them. He counted nine men on deck. That didn’t include the pilot; there could be more below deck. Eight of those on deck were standing, grim-faced and holding assault weapons armed with extra magazines.
The ninth was on the bow, seated behind a machine gun that had loaded ammo belts hanging from its side.
* * * * *
Chapter 3
NO one made an effort to go out to meet the boat when it docked. The Arthurs and Peckham remained seated at the table. After a whispered word with Peckham, Warren went back inside the building.
One man with an assault rifle slung over his shoulder jumped from the boat and tied a bowline to a
cleat on the dock. He then went back and tied another line from the stern to the dock. When the boat was secured, six more men jumped onto the dock, and another came up from below. He didn’t carry an assault weapon but had a pistol in a holster at his side. One man stayed on board with an assault rifle to guard the boat, and another stayed at his post behind the machine gun. The seven men walked along the dock toward shore. The man with the weapon over his shoulder brought it down, and they all positioned their automatic weapons at the ready position. The man in charge saw Peckham and the Arthurs seated at the table but didn’t keep his eye on them. His gaze swept the area. The tractor was working the ground on the hill, and the men and women with it were planting seeds. Quite a few people were working on their boats. He did not see any people on the hills on the other side of the harbor but did see several buffalos and ten or twelve sheep grazing. He smiled as he took the three steps leading from the dock up to the wooden platform to Peckham and the Arthurs. Five of the men followed and took positions behind him. Each faced in a different direction, covering all but the shore area. The two men remaining on the dock covered the shoreline, one in either direction. Peckham stood to greet the man, extending his hand. “I’m Harry Peckham, the acting mayor of Two Harbors.”
Zach and Stacey stood - ready to introduce themselves.
The man shook Peckham’s hand firmly but cautiously. He immediately withdrew his hand and dropped it to his side, next to the holstered pistol, ignoring Zach and Stacey. “My name is Harlan McFee,” he stated evenly. “I am the representative of the Governor of California.”
“Governor?” asked Peckham. “It was our understanding the governor died over a month ago when Sacramento was destroyed.”
“The person who was governor then was killed, yes. I’m talking about the new governor.”
“New governor? I wasn’t aware of any election.”
“I’m sure you don’t get much news way out here,” said McFee, “but there was an election.”
Seeking a Sane Society: Nothing is the Same (The Seeking Series Book 2) Page 1
