He ate his meal in silence as he watched the bustling camp. It was strewn all over a wide, heavily treed plateau above the nearby marshlands. The camp stretched on for as far as he could see in either direction to the sides. Men, women, and children of all ages were busy eating their breakfast, ducking into the bushes to relieve themselves, or gathering in groups to talk. He was met with occasional glances, but the crowd was devoid of smiles; several people glared at him when their eyes met.
Darren finished his meal and stashed away the packaging, swiping his arm at several more mosquitoes in the process. He zipped up his pack and was about to hoist it over his shoulders when Sergeant Daniels approached with a grim look etched on her face. She snapped to attention and saluted, and he returned one in kind.
“Sir, we may have a problem.”
As if we didn’t have enough to begin with?
“What’s wrong, Sergeant?”
“Sir, I received reports of three sick passengers last night. I mean really sick, vomiting, diarrhea, the whole nine yards. It’s some pretty nasty stuff. In any case, I took a note and checked in on them this morning to see if they’re any better.”
“Let me guess. They’re not.”
“Correct, sir. None of the three are feeling any better today, and none of them are in any shape to travel. But it’s worse than that, sir. There are two new cases this morning.”
“Damn it,” Darren said as he scrambled to his feet and strapped the pack to his body. “Where are they at?”
Daniels turned on her heels and began to walk toward the rear of the group. “Two of the old cases and one of the new cases are back this way.”
“They’re not all together?”
“No, sir.”
“What about a doctor? Do we have one of those among our passengers?”
“I don’t know, sir.”
Jesus, Daniels, he screamed in his head. Either tell me right away when something goes wrong, or figure out how to fix it. He bit his tongue for a moment to keep from lashing out at his subordinate.
The pair made their way almost to the rear of the column, where Daniels pointed out a young man in his twenties, doubled over and vomiting. His skin was swirled with a muddy sweat, his short blonde hair matted and caked with dried vomit. A blonde woman of his same age knelt at his side, patting his back as he retched uncontrollably. Darren’s stomach turned and he had to put his hand over his nose and mouth to mitigate the stench. After a couple seconds of watching the horrific spectacle, he turned around and walked a few paces away, with Daniels on his heels.
“We need a doctor,” he muttered to her through his hand.
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait here with them.”
“Yes, sir,” she repeated.
Darren strode toward the front of the column. As he moved, he barked out, “Is there anyone here with medical experience? Are there any doctors among you?” He repeated this every fifteen seconds or so as he made his way almost all the way to the front. As he approached the head of the party, he was intercepted by a rather short Asian fellow.
“I was an ER nurse back in Cleveland, sir,” he said.
Darren nodded. “Can you help us out? We have several people who are quite sick.”
“I’ll do what I can. What medical supplies do we have?”
“A couple first aid kits and a combat medic’s kit. It’s pretty extensive, but nothing like what you’re used to.”
“It should do fine. Lead the way.”
Darren led the nurse back through the column, stopping briefly to retrieve the medic’s kit from one of his scouts, to whom he had entrusted it. With the supplies in hand they returned to where Daniels was guarding the sick passenger. The nurse opened the kit and grabbed a disposable mask and gloves, and then set to examining the patient.
“Hi there, I’m Brett. I hear you’re not feeling well today, huh?” he said in an oddly sweet tone. “We’ll get you taken care of. I’m just going to take a quick peek at you, okay?”
The patient managed a weak nod. He had, for the moment, stopped vomiting. His companion moved aside to give Brett better access, but her eyes never left him. Darren could tell she was very distressed; her eyes bulged and watered, and she wrung her hands so hard that Darren thought they would snap.
“What’s your name?” Brett asked as he began to probe his charge.
“D-Dave,” replied the patient, barely able to move his lips.
“Dave, I’m going to ask you a few questions here and then we’ll go from there, alright?”
Darren felt a little more at ease about the situation. He leaned in to Brett’s ear and whispered, “We’ll be just over there when you’re done. Let me know what’s going on.” He received a curt nod from Brett, and paced over to the base of a nearby tree just out of earshot. Daniels followed him and let out a huge breath when they stopped.
“The others are all like that?” Darren asked her.
“Pretty much, sir.”
“I want them all close together, and keep them all back here at the end of the camp. I don’t think that we can do a full quarantine, but we need to keep the others away from them as much as possible.”
“They can’t travel, sir.”
Darren sighed. “I know that. We’re going to have to halt the party here for a day or two and see how it goes. It’s going to put a bit of strain on our supplies, but if we’re smart about it and make sure people aren’t eating or drinking more than they have to, we should be fine. Send the scouts out to collect firewood. While we’re here, we need to see if we can extend our water supplies. I know that marsh looks like crap, but we should still be able to at least boil or distill water to help out.”
“Right away, sir.” She saluted and then darted off into the camp.
Darren turned back to where Brett was tending to his patient. He paced for a moment, but did not have to wait long for the nurse to finish his examination and find Darren.
“What have we got?”
“If you ask me, it looks like food poisoning or the flu. You’re right, I don’t have all the tools I’d like to have to treat him. He’s going to need plenty of fluids and rest, and I don’t think that he should travel,” Brett replied.
Darren gave him a slow nod. “No, we’re not traveling today. Keep an eye on him and the others. I’d like a report before nightfall and another one in the morning.”
“The others?”
“There are four more ill. Sergeant Daniels will have them moved together, and I want as little contact as possible between them and the rest of the survivors, just in case.”
“I understand.”
“Let me know if you need anything else, and I will try to provide it.”
“Well,” Brett said after a moment’s pause, “for now I need as much water as you can give me. Also if you can get some of the sports drink pouches from the meals. That will help a bit.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
Brett nodded and went back to tend to Dave. Darren leaned against the tree, running his hand over the coarse bark. He picked at it nervously with his fingers, but it wouldn’t flake.
He needs more water. I don’t have much to spare; that’s why we’re moving to the other site. Darren dug his fingers into the bark until his fingernails threatened to tear away. We need to keep moving, but I can’t just leave sick people behind. What if those jungle cats attack? No, we need to protect them, no matter the cost.
Capt Haruka Kimura
Planetfall +6 days, late afternoon
Eleven miles west of pod eight crash site
Haruka knelt at the edge of the river and splashed its cool water on her face. Her skin tingled and her thoughts began to feel clear again. There was little respite from the heat and humidity of the jungle, so the band of survivors took frequent breaks to soak bandanas in the water, or drink from their supplies. She looked around at the tall palm-like trees extending as far as her eyes could see. A colorful, four-winged bird flittered just above the surfac
e of the river, and then took a sharp angle up into a shorter gnarled tree, where it called out to some unseen companion. Haruka sighed and dunked a makeshift bandana torn from the sleeve of a spare flight suit into the river, then tied it around her forehead.
For Haruka, the rest stops couldn’t come often enough. Even the younger children like Marya and Gabi needed fewer breaks than she did. James had gone so far as to stop the column on her behalf; he didn’t make it known why, but he had ordered the halt when he thought that Haruka would pass out if she took another step.
“Is that helping at all?” he asked as Haruka splashed her face again.
“It is, thank you.”
“The sun’s getting to you.”
“I’ll be fine,” she protested.
James smiled and squatted next to her at the river’s edge. “You don’t need to prove yourself to anyone here. You don’t need to rush back and forth to make sure everyone’s following; that’s what Troy’s team and Luis’s guards are for. Just walk with the rest of us and enjoy the scenery.”
“The scenery is nice, but I’ll feel much better once it stops changing.”
“We’re still pretty far from the other pod, and you know how slowly we’re moving out here.”
“I blame it on the shorter days.”
“Let’s not forget how much bushwhacking we have to do just to keep ourselves close to the river. We could probably speed things up if we let the scouts find a path farther away.”
Haruka waved him off. “We’re less likely to get lost if we just follow the river to the sea. We know that Leight’s people are on the actual beach; it won’t be hard to find them once we get there. I just don’t want to lose any of the kids or run out of food because we’re walking in circles.”
“We could use the radio tracker you used to find our pod.”
“No, we can’t. Its battery is dead, so I left it back at the pod. It’s just dead weight now.”
He scratched at the rough stubble that darkened his chin. “I’d still feel better if we were moving faster.”
“Don’t worry, James. We have more than enough supplies to get there.”
A voice rang out from the top of the river bank, “Captain Kimura!”
She stood and wheeled around to face her top scout, Troy Bryant. Haruka stifled a chuckle when he gave her a sloppy salute. “You don’t have to salute me, Troy. What’s up?”
Troy scrambled down to the bottom of the bank. He huffed as he worked to catch his breath. “Something you should see. Just a little bit down river, around the next bend. We came up on it on our way back.”
“What is it?”
“Looks like wreckage from the ship, maybe a pod. It’s a bit banged up and smaller than the one we landed in.”
“That sounds like a cargo pod. Show me.”
Haruka and James fell in line behind Troy as they went up the steep bank and departed from the main party. They picked their way through the trees and navigated thorny fruit bushes for several minutes. The crash site was obvious as they neared; splintered chunks of wood and leveled trees heralded their approach to the craft, and a massive parachute lay tangled in the jungle canopy overhead. Haruka had no doubt that the object was indeed a cargo pod from Raphael. It showed some scarring on the exterior from its rough landing, but overall was intact.
She circled it until she found the door that once was docked to the lower level of the ill fated ship, and then punched an access code into the keypad. The door creaked and slid open two inches, then emitted a harsh metallic shriek and stopped. She grabbed the edge of the door and yanked with all her might. It budged just a mere fraction of an inch. She tried again, but it didn’t move. She was out of breath, and her head began to spin. She backed off and sat on a felled tree.
“Troy?”
“I got it,” he said as he stepped up to the door frame.
Troy yanked and grunted. He repositioned and pushed as hard as he could. He kicked and swore, and then gave it another try. Inch by inch, he was able to slide the door open just a little bit more. Haruka watched the effort as she caught her breath.
“That’s good. I think I can get in there now.” She handed James her rifle, took Troy’s flashlight, and stepped inside.
The interior of the cargo pod was dark, stale, and muggy. She flicked the light on and scanned the beam through the jumbled, disheveled racks of crates. The contents of the pod did not appear to fare as well as the outer structure. Haruka rummaged through a broken crate near the entry way and found numerous small, sealed packages. She held one up to the light and read the label: “Cherry, Wild.” Her heart skipped a beat. She turned the crate over to look at the damaged mechanism on the underside. The smashed control panel and leaking refrigerant tank confirmed her suspicions that she had stumbled upon one of the agricultural pods. She felt around the seal of the plastic heavy pouch and found no tears.
It might not be contaminated.
“Everything okay in there?” James called from the doorway.
“Better than okay. This is one of the most crucial pods.”
“Yeah? What’s in there?”
“Seeds. Do you have an empty pack?”
“No, should I get one?”
“Yeah. Hey Troy?”
“Yes ma’am?”
“Find a way to mark this area in case we have to come back.”
“You got it.”
Haruka opened more crates and blindly grabbed handfuls of packages. She tossed each fistful out of the front door, then went back for more. She made sure to plunder some from each crate that she could get to. When she was done and made her retreat out the door, there was a sizeable stack of scattered white packets. Troy walked over to her from the edge of the clearing and looked at the pile.
“So this is what a jackpot looks like, huh? I always thought it would be… well, green.”
“I call this winning the lottery. I don’t know how many thousands of square miles the wreckage is scattered over, and we could have easily missed this pod. Think about it, Troy.” Haruka snatched an envelope of pea seeds and waved it. “We can grow Earth crops. What if Gabi’s fruit is the only edible plant on this planet? We need these.”
“I guess that just means it’s a different kind of green than I imagined,” he said with a smile.
Haruka returned a grin. “Here, help me pick these up for when James comes back.”
The two worked for about five minutes to clean up the scattered mess and place them in piles on top of the felled trees. James returned with an empty pack and wide eyes.
“Did you clean the stores out there, Haruka?”
“Not even close, but just in case I want to take this stuff with us.” Haruka grabbed the sack and shoved pile after pile inside until it was so full that she had to zip it up just to keep the seeds contained. “This is a good day, gentlemen,” she said as she tossed the pack to James and picked up her ever present M4.
“I’ll take any victory,” James chimed in.
“Amen,” added Troy.
Haruka looked just over the tree line at the rapidly dropping sun. “We’ll be out of light in an hour or two. Let’s get back to camp, get some chow, and bed down for the night. Last one there gets trash duty.”
Troy stumbled on a log as the three bolted back along the river toward the camp. Haruka laughed for a brief moment until he stormed past her as they left the clearing. She tried to keep up with them, but couldn’t. She had to use the din of the busy camp to find her way home.
Damn it… I motivated them too well. Looks like I get the short end of the stick in this race.
Calvin McLaughlin
5 April 2058, 08:11
Michael
Cal’s eyes fluttered open, shaking off the sands of deep slumber. He reflexively brought his hands to his face and rubbed his eyes. Realizing that he was able to do so, he looked at his wrists. He was secured in the berth by the regular harness, but his arms were no longer bound.
I guess they don’t feel that I�
��m a threat any more.
His fingers brushed along the smooth aluminum ceiling. Cal drew in deep breaths as he tried to erase the memories of the nightmare from which he just woken up. He had dreamt of Alexis again. The dream started the same way it always had; Alexis pleaded with Cal to leave her alone. He respected her, and let her go. Then his horror began. As he wandered alone through the mists of the swamp, he came across her lifeless corpse, laid out beneath a brightly lit shade tree in a field of lush, green grass. Peaceful. Serene. But quite dead.
He remembered falling to his knees at her side. He remembered the searing pain, clear even through the dream state. The echoes of his agonized voice ran through his ears as he saw the red blossom of the wound in her belly. The slickness of the blood on his hands as he pulled her limp body to his chest.
No, this can’t happen. Not to us… not to her…
Anguish gave way to rage. He vowed to see justice given to her. Off into the mists he ran, trying to track down whoever – or whatever – had taken her life. He lived years of his life in mere seconds of the dream, and while he found his way out of the ever present fog and on to the civilization afforded by Michael after its landing, he never was able to garner any further information. Guilt gnawed at him for his lack of effectiveness. Only at the very end, as he was pressing some hapless colonist for information, did he remember that it was a dream, and rouse himself.
He had a moment of claustrophobia as the walls of the sleeper berth seemed to draw closer. Short of breath and panicked, he released the restraints and pulled his wiry frame out of the sleeper berth, and then drew in a huge gasp of the recycled air in the pod. He squinted as the bright hallway lights flooded his face. The chirp of the computer terminal gave away the presence of another of the ship’s crew.
“Ah, good. I was wondering when you were going to wake up, Mr. McLaughlin,” said Colonel Dayton.
Cal looked around the sleeper section and found that the colonel was the only person besides himself present.
Cal steadied himself on a bank of sleeper berths. “Where’s Doctor Taylor?” he slurred.
Project Columbus: Omnibus Page 40
