by J. F. Krause
While the surviving Tristanians were waiting for their first contact after everyone else had died, they managed to properly bury all of their loved ones who had fallen victim to The Sickness. Of all the heartbreaking accounts from the day everyone died, theirs seemed to be among the most poignant. The survivors somehow found the strength to go on living while at the same time, they buried their entire extended families and fellow islanders. And now, after all they had gone through, Brian and Gabriel stoically offered their help and personal knowledge to make this moral quarantine experiment as successful as possible. They not only played hosts to the crewmembers from the two ships, but they offered a crash course on survival for the exiles themselves. Under heavy guard, the chained prisoners were taught how to maintain the gardens, the community potato fields, and the farm animals. There could be a good life ahead for the exiles, albeit one without female companionship. But it was a life that required discipline and hard work. Their punishment was banishment; the rest was in their own hands.
The plan was for a medical supply ship, along with fuel to run the emergency generators for the communications and medical equipment, to visit twice a year. There was also a supply of subsistence food rations in case of crop failures. To that end, volunteers among the exiles, had been given first aide training and instructions on how to run the equipment. It was anticipated that there would be periodic additions to their numbers as well. No one really expected these particular men to prosper because the whole endeavor required self-discipline, a quality that was very possibly missing in this population group. On the other hand, perhaps their self-serving characteristics could substitute for their inability to make good decisions.
Enrique was one of the doubters, though. As he stood watch over the men who had chosen to listen to Brian and Gabriel explain the workings of the farms and get hands on experience with the different equipment they would have to know how to use if they were to have any hope of comfort in their lives, he realized that few of the prisoners were really keen on listening to their instructors. He doubted that any of them were going to remember everything they would need to know in the coming days. The old saying ‘you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink’ came to mind.
Finally, the hour of departure had arrived. Enrique was surprised at how quiet the group had become. Their anger and rebellion was overcome, for once, by the reality that this was really happening. They were to be left to their own devices in every meaningful way. All of the men were left chained together in groups of eight or nine at the pier. Five hundred yards away, in three different directions, they would find the keys that would unlock their chains. As soon as the last armed guards were safely aboard their landing crafts and heading out to their ships, the signal would be given to the prisoners that they could make their way inland where they could free themselves from all restraints except the one that would be with them until their deaths.
Enrique wondered how long it would be before they murdered Stanley Hawkins, their failed leader who had precipitated this calamity. Or perhaps they would vent their rage on the child molesters in their midst. That was hard to predict since most of them had been child molesters themselves during their rampage in Indianapolis. They had gotten very lucky in that one of the newly convicted members to their group had been a nurse’s aide in his former life. Would that be enough to spare his life when they found he had raped and tortured mere children? Enrique didn’t actually care and hoped he never had reason to find out. His last few months of having to associate with these creeps had left him with a near obsessive desire for a shower.
As he stepped into the boat with the last of the guards and took his seat, they released their boat and it moved swiftly toward La Unueco. Almost simultaneously, he saw the flare signaling the groups of linked men that they were free to move toward their keys and freedom. The flare was merely a formality since the men were already heading inland. As soon as the last guard had turned his back to get into the boat to leave, the prisoners were already hobbling up the inclines to their destinies.
June 28
Enrique reported back to Bobby’s office as soon as he landed at the San Luis Obispo Airport. There had been nine other passengers on his jet from Boston where La Unueco was temporarily stationed. A couple of the other passengers had appointments with Bobby, too, but Enrique’s was first. He was looking forward to seeing Bobby again, having become close friends with him, first in Orange County and later while he was guarding him after threats from the Hawkins Gang back in SLO. Bobby had a way about him that made Enrique feel comfortable and appreciated. Bobby, and Kevin too, for that matter, were always offering Enrique coffee or some sort of snack while he was on duty. Of course, he never partook of their hospitality, but, even more importantly, Bobby always did what was asked of him. Bobby made it clear that he understood that whoever was assigned to guard him was also in harm’s way, an understanding that was borne out when Jovantha Barnes ended up being shot while guarding Bobby not long after the Hawkins Gang was neutralized.
“Enrique, welcome back! Tell me everything!” Bobby shook Enrique’s hand as he pulled him in for a back-patting hug.
“Thank you Sir, it’s good to be back in SLO.”
“Please don’t ‘sir’ me when we’re alone. I get that from everyone. I’ve even had a few ‘your excellencies’ and someone even called me ‘your highness’ once. It can get creepy now and then. My friends call me Bobby.”
“Yes Sir, uh, Bobby. I’m sorry about your wound. Is everything okay now?”
“You’re looking at the scar. I use it to part my hair. Of course, it’s on the wrong side, but I just use a little more product to keep it down. Tell me about Tristan da Cunha. I’ve always wanted to see Tristan da Cunha, but now it looks like that won’t ever happen. What do you think will happen now that the Navy has left the exiles in place?”
“Actually, my money’s on them killing themselves off by the time we come back to resupply them. I’ve never seen such a collection of human garbage in my life. I’ll bet by the time we go back, there’ll only be two of them left alive, and they’ll be living on opposite sides of the island. But I’ll be well into my Gap Year before the resupply run to Tristan da Cunha. Hopefully, I won’t have to go again, or at least not any time soon.”
“So, I guess that means you’re planning to go on with the military after your Gap Year?” Bobby was a good listener. Enrique himself wasn’t immediately sure what he’d said to tip his hand on his plans after the Gap Year.
“Where do you want to be stationed after your Gap Year? I might be able to help out a friend, if you don’t mind?”
“Well sir, uh…, Bobby, I was thinking I’d like to go to officer training, sir. I’d really like to take the OT course being held in France, sir. I can understand French since it’s a little bit like Spanish, and that’s actually my first language. I know we have officer training at West Point, but I’d sort of like to see the world, or what’s left of it. I’ve already put in for officer training, but I’d appreciate it if you could put in a good word. Never hurts to cover your bets.”
Bobby smiled and indicated he’d be happy to give him a good recommendation. They talked for a little while catching up on the world and Enrique’s plans. Then they pivoted to Bobby and Kevin’s kids, and all the changes that were coming about in SLO. Soon after that, Enrique excused himself to check in with his friends still there in SLO. A few of them would be going on to Pendleton on the same bus with Enrique. It was decided that now was the time to send the young soldiers, airmen, and sailors for their Gap Year experience while the world was still peacefully recovering from the day everyone died. Otherwise, they might never have the chance again. To Bobby, the Coalition was living through a very temporary lull, and soon, it would have to be all hands on deck.
Bobby
July 1
I get to go to Australia! As a boy, I dreamed of living in Australia, but of course that didn’t happen. Now I get to actually visit. I’m breaking
one of my rules about traveling, but this one is worth it, and, anyway, it won’t be the first time I broke my no flying rule. A ship carrying refugees from the Middle East has arrived just outside Perth. It reminds me of the St. Louis, a pre WWII ship filled with Jewish refugees that was turned away from every country they asked help from. Only this time, Australia is their first stop and Australia has no intention of turning them away having been planning for them for the last couple of months. The Australians report that there are well over fifteen hundred men, women, and children aboard. Most are former foreign workers or expats with contracts in the Persian Gulf region, but some are Arabs, Kurds, Assyrians, Iranians, Circassians, and Turks. Religion-wise, they are Muslim, Druze, Christian, atheist, agnostic, Zoroastrian, and Yazidi and maybe even some other things. On top of that, the Muslims are a mixture of Sunni, Shiite, and secular as well as other permutations, and the Christians are just as varied with Catholics of several stripes, different Orthodox varieties, and a number of Protestant groups. It’s a pretty diverse band of refugees. It’s so diverse, in fact, that they don’t even all speak Arabic, and they have to use English to communicate within their whole group.
The foundational assembly of refugees make up about a fourth of the ship’s passengers and wants to stay together, something that is amazing considering how truly mixed their group is.
The ship was captained by a Lebanese doctor who started out by gathering up a few fellow survivors from Beirut, Lebanon. At the start of their odyssey, his group didn’t seek out any particular group and quickly became an eclectic little tribe of people trying to find a peaceful place to settle. Initially they were just hoping to find a place where Caliphate fighters weren’t gathering and causing trouble. But as they grew in size, no one was willing to take in such a large group of refugees from so many backgrounds since a group their size could change the cultural makeup of wherever they decided to settle.
Finally, they decided to leave the Middle East entirely and settle in California, taking me up on my early offer of refuge to all comers. After crossing the ‘fertile crescent’ from Syria to Iraq, they worked out a scheme with the brand new Coalition Communities in Kuwait and Qatar to take on any expats that wanted to join them. In exchange, the locals fitted out a cruise liner complete with navigators and sailors. Before The Sickness, there were literally millions of expats (foreign workers) in the Persian Gulf and most of the expat survivors wanted to go home to places like India, Philippines, Bangladesh, Europe, Africa, and the Americas. Ultimately, everyone currently on the ship rendezvoused in Qatar, and they set off for Australia, the disembarkation point for all the expats for their journeys to their homelands. It was quite a feat.
I don’t really have much of a job to do except to be the face of the Coalition as we greet all the refugees on their way to their homelands. That left the original Beirut group that had now grown to almost 400 people. The Australians would be happy to have them join them, and so would SLO. It won’t be that easy, though. The Australian communities are mostly small, and even the largest of them couldn’t absorb 400 refugees without it changing the fabric of the host community. On the other hand, SLO is large enough to handle that many new comers, but the group would probably end up getting absorbed and assimilated, something they aren’t all that keen about since they’ve come to like their little mosaic of cultures born of all the different people from the Middle East. Putting 400 people anywhere as a group, and that is what the refugees want, will be difficult, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.
July 3
There was no way I was leaving Kevin and the kids behind, even Dinah, so we all packed our bags and hopped on the next plane to Hawaii. Joining us were Jane, Julie, Kyle, Irma, Carl, Eric, Todd, and Cynthia. Aside from the crew, everyone on the flight except for my body guard, Jovantha Barnes, and my assistants, Elaine Hansen and April Watanabe, is coming just to have fun and teased me that I needed to drag negotiations out for a couple of weeks.
Our flight attendant, another Julie, started us off in a good mood by announcing to all of us that she was engaged to our co-pilot, so we all cheered. A few minutes later her fiancé came out to meet us, and we all congratulated them both again. Then Chad, who I guess had heard too many conversations at dinner, asked if she were pregnant. I was mortified but I heard Kevin laugh, a few more chuckles, and Jerry start to shush Chad. Julie just beamed, “How did you know? I’m not even showing. The test just showed positive a few days ago!”
Literally everyone looked at Chad who realized he said something that maybe he shouldn’t have. He looked at me, and I nodded to reassure him. But he misread my smile to mean he had my permission to continue. “Pop says it looks like all the women are getting pregnant. He…” I signed to him to stop talking, so he did, and just in time. He’s right, of course. I’ve never seen so many pregnant women.
“Good, I was afraid you were a mind reader or something. Some of us were talking about how now would be a good time for evolution to advance humanity or something.” And just like that, the conversation was changed and we were on to all the different evolutionary changes they would like to see happen to humanity. Since almost everyone on the plane was my friend, I know they helped change the subject, but I resolved to be a little more careful about what I said when Kevin and I were around the kids.
Oh heck! Who am I kidding?
I spent some time reassuring Chad that he had done nothing wrong. But I asked him to remember not to tell people what we talked about at home. Unfortunately, now and then I make comments at home about things from work. After our talk, he was fine and he promised never to tell anyone what Dad and I talk about at home without our permission. Then I thanked Jerry for trying to help me and told him Chad and I were cool.
Fun flight.
July 7
When we arrived on Oahu, the local community had a luau in honor of my visit. It was really hard to say no. In any event, it was exhilarating and educational, not only for the kids but for the rest of us, too. I think someone must have clued them in that I’m a pretty intense introvert because when they wanted someone to join them in the hula, they dragged Kevin and the kids up with the dancers and taught them a few moves. Dragged is probably a poor choice to describe the situation since all of them jumped at the chance to try it out. While Kevin’s not bad, the absolute stars were Chanelle and Chad. There’s a reason why Chanelle wanted to learn how to play the drums: her rhythm and timing are impeccable. Chad on the other hand is musical beyond my comprehension. He quickly looked like he had been born to be a dancer. I was going to remember that about both of them when we got back to SLO.
By the time we arrived in Perth, a couple days later, the Australians and the Beirut group had everything worked out. The Middle Easterners were going to settle in Broome, several hours up the coast from Perth. Five former inhabitants from Broome or nearby were returning with them to show them the ropes and planned to stay on as the part of the community. In addition to the five former Broome residents who were returning with the group, the Australians were sending several people to assist the refugees in getting established in their new homes. Many of the refugees are fluent in English so that will be a help. By the time I arrived, everything was locked and loaded. I only had a few hours to meet the New Australians in a sort of celebratory welcome ceremony before they were due to begin boarding busses and trucks for the trip north.
One of the concerns the Australians had originally had with finding a settlement for the refugees was that they didn’t want to overwhelm one of their existing communities with an entirely new culture. Even though the refugees came from so many different backgrounds that there was no overarching culture or language group that had emerged to dominate even their own small community, they had already begun to create their own unique pattern of life. The group that started out from Beirut was urban and more Christian than otherwise, but along the way it had become a majority minority pastiche of religious, ethnic, cultural, and language pluralities. If it was f
rom the Middle East, this group probably had it.
The group had ricocheted around Lebanon, Syria, Iraq, Kuwait, Arabia, and Qatar. Along the way, every time another group or individual joined the group, they had adjusted, accommodated, and compromised. In the process, they experienced their own renaissance. I couldn’t help but find myself in awe of this group of self-actualizing men and women who, time and again, rose to meet every challenge facing them. While I was able to spend only a short amount of time with them, I promised myself I would keep a close watch on them as they developed. They had a lot to teach us about acceptance and inclusion. And they seemed to have done it through sheer necessity. The need to get along had prevailed over the desire to be alike.
July 19
We took a week off in Australia and returned via Auckland and Tahiti. All told we were gone for two weeks. The New Zealanders have done a good job of pulling themselves together. Auckland has about two thirds of the remaining population. They have farms up and running and a school and medical system that would be the envy of pre-sickness days. A number of their people are away receiving advanced training in different fields, particularly medicine, and mechanical and electrical engineering. They also have a great salvage program and lots of interest groups. Like most of the other communities, they had a spate of suicides early on, but they took matters very seriously and haven’t had any suicides in over three months. And of course, they have their share of Gappers.
Also, from what I heard, they have a rash of pregnancies occurring. Let me rephrase that. They have been blest with fertility. Something I’ve found very encouraging is that they already have a detailed plan in place for how to deal with the effects of having so many newborns at the same time. Older citizens have already signed up to serve as school substitutes, and teens will be put on a school vocational exploration track so they can fill-in in some of the work assignments that are short of workers should the need arise. They’re confident that with their crèche system they will be able to weather this and thrive. Clearly, we need to make sure all of our communities share their good ideas in dealing with this unique situation.
