by W. J. Lundy
The sun slowly rose, letting rays of light spill through the now leafless trees. Shane watched as the ship’s crew steered the boat toward the center of the wide river. They tossed heavy weighted drag anchors over the side, and the ropes pulled tight, halting the forward motion of the riverboat. The crew refused to travel during the daylight, when the things ashore were least active. They picked those hours to sleep and lounge about in the hot sun.
It was the opposite on dry land but, out here, he had to trust the crew, or at least accept their decisions. He wasn’t in charge and was relegated to being nothing more than cargo; a possible trigger finger if the need arose. The crew posted watches while the rest of them walked into the pilothouse and pulled dark shades over the windows. A door slammed and the girl startled awake. She struggled to sit up. Shane quickly moved to her side and calmly placed an open hand on her chest. She relaxed her tensed body and smiled at him. “Shane,” she said calmly and grabbed his gloved hand, hugging it.
She was skinny and frail in Shane’s eyes. Not that he had much experience with children; they all looked tiny and fragile to him. When he first found her in the aid station, he wanted nothing to do with her. He just wanted to keep moving, get on his way. But there was something different about her, maybe in the way she looked at him. Maybe because she didn’t appear afraid. Something in her demeanor calmed him, but more importantly, she made him feel useful again.
He grabbed her below the arms and lifted her into a seated position on his rucksack. Then, he pulled a small bottle of water from his pack and used it to clean her face. He asked if she was hungry and she nodded. Shane pulled a small chunk of a granola bar from his pocket and handed it to the girl. She gave him a sour expression. “You need to eat, Ella,” he said softly. She looked at him dreadfully, then took the bar and bit off a small piece. Shane placed the water bottle in her free hand and turned back to face the center of the riverboat.
The rest of the passengers were up and stirring about now. Families and loaners alike, with a few suspicious looking characters mixed in the group. None of them on a direct path and yet all of them just trying to stay ahead of the things on the shore. A quick movement in his peripheral caught his attention. A man dressed in rags had reached past Shane and snatched at Ella’s wrist going for the morsel of granola. The girl winced in pain as Shane quickly turned and tackled the man to the ground. Shane had drawn his knife without realizing it and had the blade pressed against the man’s neck.
Shane was prepared to pull the blade horizontally and open the man’s throat. A fearful pleading scream behind him caused his grip to relax on the man. Shane rose up slowly, leaving the stranger lying flat on the deck of the ship. Ella was crying softly now. Shane moved back toward her, keeping his eyes on the man. A young woman ran forward and grabbed the ragged man. Forcing herself between Shane and the thief on the ground she pleaded, “Please don’t kill him mister, he was just trying to get food for our boy.”
Shane looked stone faced in the direction the woman was indicating and saw a child lying in a mess of blankets. His checks were shallow, obviously suffering from starvation. For many of them, the cost of this voyage was a significant store of food or fresh water; for some of the women, the cost was greater. Shane continued to move back, preparing to sit next to the girl when he heard a shout—this time from a male voice.
A man had stepped forward and was pointing to the girl. “She… she’s bit!” the man yelled.
Shane turned looking at the girl. He could see that in the short struggle with the thief, the girl’s sleeve had been torn, exposing the scabbed and bloodied wound on her arm. Losing his footing, Shane nearly tripped and fell into the corner where the girl was sitting. He raised his rifle and looked the shouting man in the face.
“It’s not what you think, sir. Now go back about your business,” Shane said calmly, as the girl curled tightly against his back to shield herself from the man’s cold stares.
The young woman, who had come to the thief’s aid, now stood and pointed as well. “No. It’s true, I saw it, she been bit.”
Others started to gather around, causing Shane to grow more concerned. He pushed back against the rail, keeping Ella between him and the ship’s edge. “You all need to back up now, the girl isn’t infected.”
“She bit!” the young woman screamed again, causing Shane to focus on her.
The pilothouse door swung open and the old captain stormed out. The shouting man used the distraction to his advantage and dove at Shane to try to get to the girl. Shane dropped levels and spun, firing a single round that caught the lunging man in the chest. As the report of the rifle echoed off the river valley walls, the man dropped hard to the deck and rolled to his side. Blood spilled from his mouth as his eyes fluttered. The rest of the passengers pushed away in fear. Shane stood tall, still shielding the girl with his body. He looked back at the passengers. “I said she wasn’t infected! You all know that, we’ve been with you two days! She would have been gone by now!” Shane yelled.
The captain walked calmly toward the shot man lying on the deck. He pushed the man with his boot then turned to look at Shane. “He’s dead. You killed him.”
The woman rushed to the captain’s side. “She bit Captain, the girl got to go,” the woman screamed.
The captain held up a hand, silencing the woman. “Well, soldier, is she bit?”
Still holding the rifle at the ready, Shane looked at the captain. He could see other members of the crew were walking out of the pilothouse, several of them armed. Shane lowered the muzzle of the rifle, hoping it would ease the tension, but as he did so, he saw the crew instead move more aggressively toward him. Shane let his free hand reach into a front pocket of his jacket. He pulled a M67 frag grenade. As he held the grenade forward, displaying it clearly to the armed men around him, he used his thumb to pop the already loosened pin and safety.
He watched the body language of the crew grow more fearful; they changed direction and moved away from him. The captain also moved back, raising his hands in the air. “Calm down now, soldier; no need for all of that.”
“I already told you she ain’t infected,” Shane said, keeping the rifle on the captain with his right hand as he held the grenade with his left. “Her wound is nearly healed, the infected turn before they heal.”
The captain frowned. “I reckon we’re beyond that now, soldier. You know the rules on this riverboat. No infected, no killing. You broke both those rules. Even if she ain’t infected, you still killed one of us. Now you know you got to go.”
Shane looked at the captain and pointed to the man on the ground. “He came at the girl. It was self-defense.”
“You knew the rules when we let you on. You got to go.”
Shane pumped his hand on the grenade. “You put us out there, we’re dead,” he said softly trying to reason with the man.
The captain nodded and took a step closer. He spoke in a low voice so that the others couldn’t hear him. “Son, I’m giving you a chance here. These people won’t let you be after what you did. And the woman says your daughter is bit. I know it ain’t possible with how long you been with us. But she ain’t gonna let that rest.”
“She’s not my daughter,” Shane said.
“Son, it don’t matter to me who she is. If I walk away right now, my crew will shoot you dead—grenade or not—and those passengers will tear that girl apart out of fear of the virus.” The captain looked back at the passengers and his crew, then back to Shane. Speaking louder for all to hear, “The water is fast here and it looks to be nice weather. You get moving now and you could make it pretty far, maybe even get to shore safely.”
“We won’t last out there,” Shane said.
“I’m sure you’ll get along all right. Now, I’m gonna give you a minute or two to get your shit together and get off my vessel. If you’re still here, my men will shoot you down,” the captain finished off quietly.
CHAPTER 4
Brad was in the center of the smal
l inflatable with Sean and Brooks flanking him on either side. His hands were pressed flat on the bottom, trying to steady himself as the craft cut the wakes. As soon as Gunner gave Sean the choice of selecting his team, Brad knew that he would be on the short list. He would have preferred sitting this one out and watching it from the sidelines for once, but Sean had made it clear he thought of Brad as one of his team now. Brad was no longer a stranger to them and, truthfully, Brad knew he would have been disappointed if he hadn’t been selected.
He hadn’t picked up on much of Gunner’s conversation with the British sailors. He could clearly feel the tension though. After their time with the fleet, he wasn’t expecting rescue but he was still surprised at the attitude of the visiting sailors. Things happened fast once Gunner gave orders to board the foreign vessel. Sean called Brook’s name, then Brad’s, in quick order. Gunner told them they wouldn’t need their weapons or armor. Brad had scrambled his way to the dive deck and was quickly ushered aboard the small boat. He didn’t have time to talk to Chelsea or any of the others. When he looked back at her on the upper deck near the rail, he could see the worried and confused expression on her face.
As they drew closer to the submarine, he could see a group of armed men gathered on the front deck. Not a welcome party but more of a guard force. The sailors onboard the small craft hadn’t spoken, other than to call out commands to each other while completely ignoring the Americans. Brad watched as one of them stood in the bow of the boat just as they bumped into the side of the submarine. Men aboard the sub tossed over a net and told them to climb.
Brad followed Sean’s lead as he grabbed the netting and pulled himself up. When Brad reached the surface of the deck, he felt a strong grip around his wrists as he was pulled up and onto the deck. He swung his foot below him and slowly regained his balance. Brooks was similarly pulled up behind him, and then the rest of the sailors crowded them forward, toward the center of the deck.
He stepped forward and saw that he was surrounded by armed sailors. Just as Sean was about to speak, they quickly stepped back creating a hole. Two men stepped toward them and stopped when they were only a few paces from Sean. The taller of the two men examined their uniforms then looked at Sean. “And who is senior in this group?” he asked without introducing himself.
Sean smiled and looked over the tall, broad-shouldered older man. His hair was silver and cut short. Unlike the others wearing raincoats, this man was dressed in a pressed dark blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to just below the elbows. He had officer insignia on his collars and was wearing a holster on his hip, but his firearm was absent. His younger—and far more intense looking—sidekick was wearing the same uniform and an identical empty holster. The tall man caught Sean’s obvious gaze at their lack of side arms.
“Ah yes, I was informed that you would be joining me unarmed. I thought it only fair to leave my weapon in my quarters,” the man said, in a softer tone than before.
Sean chuckled. “Nice gesture. Forgive me if I don’t celebrate. I see you still brought plenty of muscle,” he said, looking left and right at the armed men surrounding them.
“Do the weapons bother you?” the officer said.
Sean smiled. “Nah, the sergeant behind me is a trained attack dog. I give the word and… well, you don’t want to know,” Sean said, laughing.
“Bloody Yanks,” the officer said, letting out a small chuckle. He extended his hand to Sean. “I am Commander Stuart. This is my executive officer, Lieutenant Commander Chatham, the ranking officers of this vessel. And you?”
Sean returned his handshake and made introductions. He then gave a brief description of their journey and how they had managed to come by the Canadian ship. Commander Stuart leaned in and listened with skepticism before walking them closer to the bow of the boat, creating a distance between them and the armed men. Once he was certain he was out of earshot of his guards, he turned to Sean. “You understand, Chief, we were expecting Canadians. If we had known you were Americans, we may not have surfaced.”
“Do you have some aversion to Americans?” Sean asked.
Stuart smirked. “Yes, of course,” Stuart said as if remembering a minute detail, “Richardson informed me that you are not up on current events.”
“Please enlighten me, Sir,” Sean answered, hiding his frustration.
“For starters, the last American flagged vessel we approached fired on us…”
Brad shook his head. “Impossible, why would they fire on you?” he said, stepping forward and making his disagreement obvious.
“Your government has broken into factions. My home government is, of course, loyal to your nation’s capital and President—if he still lives. It seems that makes us an enemy to some, even though we are not a hostile force. We have to take precautions when approaching strangers,” Stuart answered.
“Really… well, what are you doing out here, anyway?” Brad asked.
“Looking for answers; global communication lines have faltered. We were sent here to search for assistance. Our home is no better off than yours,” Stuarts said.
“Assistance in this? What are you supposed to be bringing back?” Brad mumbled.
Sean raised a hand to silence Brad and then gave Stuart a concerned look. “What is it you could possibly need from us?”
“To be blunt, we are looking for help and stability. There are men within your borders who are not interested in that,” Stuart said, the infliction in his voice building. He was clearly not used to being doubted.
Sean smirked. “That still doesn’t explain who, or why, anyone would fire on you, specifically.”
Stuart frowned and turned to his executive officer. They briefly exchanged hushed words before turning back to face Sean and the others. “Very well, please come below with me. I have something to show you that will help in your understanding.”
Before Sean could respond, Stuart and his first officer turned and walked past them. The armed men quickly ushered them to follow. They were escorted toward the sail of the vessel and through a hatch which led into a smaller space that revealed a ladder to descend below. Both officers quickly dropped in, followed by an armed guard, and then Sean was signaled to follow.
Brad watched Sean, then Brooks, drop into the armored hull of the submarine. Brad hesitated before stepping forward and placing his boot on the rung of the ladder. As he dropped into the body of the submarine, he could hear the humming of electronics and machinery. He ended up in a circular darkened space with grates on the floor. When he began to look around, more men came down the ladder behind him and forced him forward to follow the others. He moved through the awkwardly narrow passageway, trying to catch up with the others. Brad could see that the walls were lined with stacked containers of food and dry goods. He looked down at the containers curiously until a sailor pushed him ahead.
“Excuse our mess, we have to fit food wherever we can on board,” the sailor said as he grinned and motioned him forward.
“Where do you find it all?” Brad asked him as he ducked to move though another hatch.
“All over. Mostly aboard dead vessels we find on the water. The ports are no longer safe.”
“What about the infected on board?” Brad asked.
The sailor smiled. “We have become quite good at dealing with them. You would do well to get inside now, I expect the captain shall be looking for you,” he said as he ushered Brad through another hatch and closed the door behind him.
The rather cramped room he entered was brightly lit. There were tables lined against the far end. Comfortable looking chairs, wood cabinets, and a large TV filled the rest of the space. Brad saw that Sean and Brooks had already been seated at the table, so he hurried to find a spot next to them. As he sat down, an enlisted man poured him a small cup of tea.
Stuart leaned against a wall while they were seated. “Welcome to the Officers Wardroom. I’m sure you would rather have coffee, but this will have to do,” Stuart said and then took a seat across from Sean.
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Sean sipped. “This will be fine. Now please, what is it you need to show us?” Sean asked, barely hiding his impatience.
A loud knock at the wardroom door grabbed everyone’s attention. Chatham, who had not yet been seated, moved to the door and slowly opened it. Seeing who it was, he pulled the door the remainder of the way. In walked a confident young man dressed in dark camouflage with British insignia, followed by a tall older man in a worn United States flagged flight suit.
CHAPTER 5
He allowed the rifle to hang from its tactical sling as he used his right hand to stuff his meager belongings into the rucksack. As he worked, he held the grenade out with his left to keep the other passengers’ attention. Ella was sitting against the rail watching him with wide eyes. He could see the onset of fear in her, and he wanted to calm her but knew he had to stay focused on the threats around him. Shane placed the last of the blankets into the bag and pulled the drawstring as tightly as he could.
Shane paused and looked back at the captain, considering arguing his case one more time. He could see by the look on the man’s face that pleading would be pointless, though. He lifted the pack and moved it closer to the rail. “Ella, climb over,” he said to the girl.
She looked up at him with frightened eyes but still slowly got to her feet. She placed a foot on the rail and he helped her to the outside. The riverboat only rode a couple feet out of the water and would make for a very short drop.
Keeping an eye on the passengers, he hoisted his rucksack over the rail with one arm and told the girl to grab onto it. “Ella, you don’t let go of this, do you understand? No matter what, don’t let go.”
She grabbed the bag’s straps and hugged it tight. She then looked up at him with fear and nodded her head, showing that she understood. Shane took the bag and swung it out from the side of the riverboat, the weight pulling at him, and let it drop. She hit the water hard and sunk below the surface before popping out and surging into the current. Shane could see the girl’s head above the surface and her arms still tightly locked to the straps. Shane took a step onto the rail, still carefully holding the grenade over the deck. He saw the guards ready their weapons and slowly edge forward, as if preparing to shoot him the second he hit the water.
