“All military communications have ceased. I’ve tried everything. I’ve run tests, and our equipment is operating within acceptable limits. I’ve run some tests on our communications satellites, and they’re fully functional. The bottom line is nada, absolutely nothing to indicate our military or for that matter any military in the world is able to communicate.”
Sanchez then turned to the ship’s Medical Officer. “Doc, what the hell happened?” Doctor Raymond Fleming cleared his throat. “Before communications went to hell in a hand basket, I was in contact with the experts back in Bangor. They were in constant contact with the CDC. Let me tell you the facts, and then I’ll give you my take on what’s happened.
“Eighteen weeks ago a highly virulent strain of Ebola began spreading throughout the world. It was unique in several respects. First, it could be transmitted through the air, and the airborne virus was highly contagious. Second, unlike previous forms of the virus, patients could transfer the disease prior to their showing any symptoms. Third, exposed persons became contagious two weeks after infection but didn’t show symptoms until four to six weeks after exposure. Finally, once exposed, the disease was 100 percent fatal.”
Sanchez asked, “Then how come there’re survivors?” “I’m getting to that. It looks like about one person in one thousand is immune. The CDC doesn’t know why. Maybe it’s genetic, but probably not; more likely some form of innate chemical protection some people have, and this protection appears to be totally random; young, old, black, white, male, female; it doesn’t matter. The CDC checked out the survivors, and they can’t find any virus in their blood. So it doesn’t look like they’re carriers of the disease. For unknown reasons, all the virus in their bodies is gone.
“Because people were contagious long before they showed symptoms, the disease spread at lightning speed across the world. Even our Carrier Task Forces were affected because of travel between land and sea and between ships at sea. The only areas probably not affected are in remote sections of the Amazon Jungle and other isolated areas around the world.”
Sanchez then asked the key question. “Is it safe to return to our base?” Doctor Fleming frowned. “I wish I knew the answer. At this point the virus needs to run its course. I worked up some mathematical projections given certain assumptions. If the lifespan of the virus is similar to previous strains of the virus, and that’s a big if, I’d give it another one to two months, but if this virus can survive outside the human body for long periods of time then all bets are off.”
Sanchez thought for a few minutes and then addressed his senior officers. “Okay, so let me see if I understand. If we return to our base now, we are unlikely to find any of our family or friends alive, and we have a chance of becoming infected ourselves. If any of us become infected, the whole crew might die. If we wait for a couple of months, we still won’t have friends or family alive but we may have a better chance of surviving.”
Doctor Fleming answered, “That about sums it up.”
Sanchez continued, “Suggestions please.” Gordy Phillips, the ship’s Executive Officer and second in command said, “Captain, the way I see it, we no longer have responsibility to protect the United States from our enemies. Our responsibility right now is to the survivors in our own country. We need to find a way to help them. I suggest we begin a tour of our coastlines with a focus on the big cities. We may be able to make contact with small groups of survivors and get more up to date information without leaving the ship and risking exposure to the deadly disease.”
Marty Collins the Chief Engineer said, “The men are going to want to go back to their families.” Sanchez answered with tears in his eyes, “Marty, my wife and two children are probably dead. So are my mom and dad and two sisters. Your wife Rachel is also probably dead. Think of the odds. I’ll bet if we ran the numbers, our crew of 143 sailors might have only one or two relatives who made it. That’s just the way the numbers will work out.
“I’m thinking about another problem. There is no Federal Government. There probably aren’t any functioning local governments anywhere in the country that’re in a position to help their residents. I haven’t made use of my degree in behavioral psychology since I graduated, but here’s how I think this will all play out.
“There will be two distinct groups of survivors. The good guys will want to work together for the common good. They’ll probably band together in small groups, and they’ll almost become like clans. Maybe in a few years some of the clans will join together. They’ll be trying to work together to bring things back to normal.
“Unfortunately there will also be groups of bad guys, the misfits; the types of people who want to get something without working for it. There will be some egotistical leaders of these groups who want to take things from the good guys. That’s just the way our species has always been, good guys and bad guys. We need to be the protectors of the good guys. We’re going to need to help keep the peace and ensure the good guys win. Am I making sense?”
Lieutenant Charlie Westerbrooke said, “Captain, unfortunately I think you’re spot on. We’ll need to appeal to our crew’s sense of duty. You need to convince them of the worthiness of this new mission, and all of the officers, including myself, have to be 100 percent committed to this effort.”
Captain Sanchez went around the room, asking each of his officers to vote on Gordy Phillip’s plan. There was no reluctance on the part of any officer. They were unified in their commitment.
Sanchez said, “Okay, I want the entire crew mustered in the mess area ASAP. Marty, Dave, and Lester, you guys shut the ship down and just keep her in a stationary position. The rest of the officers will join the crew as we work through this problem. Any questions?”
There were none, and Captain Sanchez lifted his phone and punched in the number for the public address system. “Attention all crew members. This is Captain Sanchez. As you are all aware, there has been a global pandemic. We have lost all communication with the outside world. All crew members, regardless of whether you are on duty or not, will meet in the mess area in ten minutes. We will discuss the situation in detail and review our game plan. That is all.”
Chapter 6
The captain and most of the officers walked into the mess area. The Chief Warrant Officer shouted, “All hands, attention!”
Captain Sanchez said, “At ease gentlemen. This is going to be an informal meeting. Please feel free to interrupt with your questions, and we will have a free exchange of ideas after my introductory remarks.”
The mess area already quiet suddenly became totally silent. Sanchez looked around the room at his men; he was proud of them all; they were the best crew he had ever led.
“Gentlemen, each of you may know much of the facts that I’m about to discuss. I know the grapevine on board this ship is very efficient.”
There was brief laughter from the crew, and the captain’s little joke provided relief to the men who had been in a high state of stress for many weeks.
“You all need to understand the facts today. There are medical facts, political facts, and of course there are some facts affecting each of our personal lives. These discussions will be very difficult, but they are necessary, because we must decide our course of action within the framework of what we know.
“First, here’s the medical situation. About eighteen weeks ago the world was hit with a highly infectious strain of the Ebola virus. At first the experts thought this would be just another outbreak they could control with the usual isolation protocols. Unfortunately, they were wrong. This new virus could be spread through the air, and people were contagious long before they exhibited any symptoms. Once infected, the disease has proven 100 percent fatal. Some citizens, about one in a thousand, for unknown reasons, appear to be immune against the virus. Before communications broke down with our base, the CDC predicted, except for people who had not been in contact with others for several months, everyone in the country would be dead, except for these fortunate people with a natural immunit
y.”
There was not a sound from the sailors in the mess area. Sanchez, after a brief pause continued. “Being immune seems to be a totally random occurrence, so it’s not like a few families survive and everyone else dies. I’m not an expert on mathematical odds and probability, but it seems pretty clear to me that only a few of our crew, maybe one or two of us, might have a living close family member. My wife and two children are probably dead. Your wives and children, your fathers and mothers, your brothers and sisters are all probably dead. Those are the medical facts and we need to accept them.”
Sanchez looked around at his men. Many were close to tears; all were grieving in one way or another.
One of the sailors who worked in the torpedo room raised his hand. “Captain, how can we be sure about the fatality rate? It seems the CDC didn’t understand things in the beginning. Maybe they got the death rate wrong too.”
“Tony, that’s certainly a possibility, but in communications with our base in Bangor, they were predicting the same types of numbers. At our last communication before the system shut down, the last remaining person who understood how to communicate with us said the death rate on the base was already above ninety percent, and he and most of the remaining survivors were already showing symptoms.”
Everyone was processing the information and Sanchez allowed a full minute of silence before he continued. “So gentlemen the question is quite simple; what do we do now? Unfortunately, the answer is very complex. I have discussed various options with your officers. We are all in agreement as to our next steps, but I want to share our thinking with all of you because you may think of some alternative course of action that might be better.”
The crew had never heard their captain or any officer ask for their inputs in any major decision affecting their lives, but they seemed to all understand the wisdom of Captain Sanchez’s approach.
“Your officers believe our military mission is essentially on-hold. There will be no need for a strong military to provide security to our country for many years to come. The situation in the United States is no different than in any other country. Our mission now is to help our country’s survivors anyway we can. Doctor Fleming feels the period of contagion will dissipate in the weeks ahead, and we may be able to land on our soil in a few months without fear of becoming infected, but he admits this is just an educated guess on his part.
“It makes no sense to head back to our home base now. We all would risk death. If any of our loved ones are still alive, they will probably be alive a few months from now when it’s safe to return.
“Instead, I propose we begin a monitoring and surveillance mission of the United States coastline. We will attempt to communicate with survivors but from a safe distance. We will not risk exposure to the disease. Our goal will be to determine where survivors are grouping together, and begin to understand what their needs might be. We will try to help out as best we can without risking the health of our crew.
“I believe this will be a mission worthy of the high standards of this ship and its crew. I will now open the meeting up to questions.”
A sailor who worked the weapons area asked, “Captain, surely there must be other submarines in the fleet just like us.”
Sanchez answered, “Good question Fred. We have tried to establish contact with not just other submarines, but any of our surface ships and without success. As you know when we left port, many of our sister ships were returning. We happened to leave port just before the beginning of the outbreak. Other ships leaving port later were already infected, and returning ships were infected as soon as they arrived home. As for the surface fleet, as all of you know the military travels between ships on a daily basis. If it’s not transferring crew, its delivering food or other necessities. We’ve never seen a disease as infectious as this one. A sneeze could infect a hundred people; someone touching a doorknob could infect another dozen people; that’s why the disease spread so quickly.”
A sailor who worked the galley asked, “Sir, we only have provisions for another month. You said we might need to stay out for several months. How will we replenish our supplies?”
“Greg that’s a great question, and to be honest none of the officers have thought about that. I’m guessing we may be able to find a deserted island where we can find some food. We may be living on coconuts and wild game for a few weeks, but I think we can make due.”
There was silence for a few minutes, and then Chief Warrant Officer Cotter spoke, “Captain I can’t speak for the whole crew, only myself, but I believe given the facts you have presented, you and the officers have made the best possible decision. I want you to know I will do whatever needs to be done to support your decision.”
There was a uniform outburst of support from the entire crew. Captain Sanchez spoke, “Thank you all for your support. If any of you would like to have some private discussions with me, I am available at any time. Crew; dismissed.”
After the officers met, they all agreed the crew was 100 percent behind the ship’s new mission.
Chapter 7
After breakfast George, Jessie, and I left on our day’s assignments. We took three cars, because we had no idea of what to expect, and we might find some other survivors along the way. We headed north on Route 41 and then switched over onto Livingston Road. Our first stop was Jessie’s house where she wanted to find the information her father had collected on solar power systems. Jessie lived in an upscale gated community. We bypassed the security office by driving through the exit lane.
Jessie’s home was one of those typical Tuscan style single story sprawling structures so common in the Naples area. We parked in front, and Jessie led us through the front gate and into a beautiful courtyard. Flowers were dying now from lack of water, but you could tell someone in Jessie’s family loved to work in the garden. As if sensing my impression, Jessie said, “My mom loved to keep the garden up. It’s too bad everything is dying off.”
We took a left turn after walking through the unlocked front door and entered what must have been her father’s office. It took her only a few minutes to find a manila folder labelled Solar. She gave it a quick look over and then handed it to George. He was our resident electrical engineer after all.
While George and I looked through the brochures, Jessie excused herself. The local solar company, Opti-Solar was located near the Naples airport in the industrial park.
I went looking for Jessie and found her standing in the backyard clutching a picture frame.
She had found a couple of beautiful red geraniums and had placed them over three fresh graves overlooking a wooded area. Her eyes were swollen and red. I put my arms around her and kissed her on the cheek. She refused to cry; she was one strong lady.
She showed me the picture. Jessie and her brother were smiling with both parents behind them. The background was some place in Disney World. Jessie said, “We went there for David’s birthday. It was a fabulous vacation; I’ll always remember it.”
We found George still studying the OptiSolar brochure. “They sell two types of solar power kits. One is a stand-alone system, and the other is designed to be hooked into the power grid. We can use both types. We’ll have to see what they have in their inventory after we explore Florida Gulf Coast University.”
The three of us climbed in our cars and headed north on Livingston Road. The entrance to the university campus was located just off Ben Hill Griffin Parkway and a few miles south of the Fort Myers Airport. The roads were deserted. As we passed some major intersections, a few cars were parked alongside the road and appeared abandoned. Perhaps there were people in those cars, but if there were, they were certainly dead.
We turned into the university’s main entrance on Florida Gulf Coast University Boulevard. I had never been to the school before and really had no idea of what to expect. About fifty yards onto the property, I saw a young woman under a palm tree. As soon as she saw our cars, she jumped out of her chair and began waving her arms up and down.
We stopped, and she ran over to greet us. She was crying, and tears were running down her cheeks. “My God, I thought nobody would ever come. I’ve been waiting here every day for the last two weeks.”
Her name was Rebecca Wilson, and she was waiting for her parents to pick her up. She probably knew they would never be coming, but she seemed to have nothing else to hope for. She was just glad to see another living person. I said, “Rebecca, where can we go to talk? We need to speak to you about what’s been happening.”
“We can drive over to the engineering campus.” Rebecca sat in my car and led us over to the center of the engineering campus and to Whitaker Hall. I looked at the building in amazement. Lights were on in some of the windows.
I asked Rebecca, “How can they have lights there? Florida Power and Light shut down their power plant”
“We have a solar field, and it supplies the engineering campus with electricity during the day.”
We left our cars in front of the building and George screamed, “Look, they have power. How can they have power?”
“Rebecca told me they have a solar field supplying electricity to the engineering campus during the day.”
“We need to see it right now.”
Jessie interrupted George. “Let’s talk to Rebecca first. We’ve got to accomplish a lot today. We can visit the solar field after we talk to her.”
Of course Jessie was right. We were lucky to find Rebecca, and we needed to confirm this was going to be the right place for us to live. We followed Rebecca into Whitaker Hall, and the temperature instantly dropped to a comfortable seventytwo degrees. The air-conditioning felt wonderful. We wound up in a room with various vending machines. Rebecca said it was for the staff. She opened a large refrigerator and offered us a choice of water or Diet Cokes.
Survivors Page 4
