Voices of the Apocalypse: The Collection

by Simone Pond

  Nick was a lanky white boy from North Carolina who had wedged his way into Cory’s life. First, through his unbelievable ability to snore at exceptionally loud decibels, keeping Cory up half the night––their racks were right next to each other in the berthing area. Later, Cory discovered the two shared a love for computers and Jesus.

  “Nah, go ahead.” Cory pushed the bowl over to his buddy.

  Nick bowed his head and said a quick prayer, then finished off the grits in three seconds. The kid ate more than any sailor on the ship. Cory’s mama would have loved having him over for dinner.

  “What?” Nick wiped his mouth with Cory’s napkin.

  “Just thinking about my mama. Been missing her.”

  Nick nodded. “We’ve been out on this ocean too long. I’m about to lose my mind up in here.”

  “We haven’t touched shore in over six months. This is the longest stint in two years. Seems like something’s up.”

  “Why do you always think something’s up?” Nick asked.

  “I know when things ain’t right. Growing up looking over my shoulder gave me a strong sense of discernment.”

  “Where I’m from, they call that paranoid.”

  “Doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” Cory grinned.

  “You don’t need to worry. You got the best secret weapon of them all.” Nick winked.

  “You talkin’ about Jesus?”

  Nick stood up and smiled. “I’m talking about me. I’m gonna get in a quick pump before quarters. See ya, man.”

  Cory glanced at the clock on the wall. He had about twenty-five more minutes of quiet time before lining up to hear their LPO spew out the day’s agenda, and then head to work in the Ice Box. That’s what he called the freezing office in the Communications Department, where he spent the day sending and receiving messages on the ship’s equipment. Cory’s specialty was cryptographic devices. The USS Nimitz, like all aircraft carriers, was considered the backbone of America’s Navy. The fleet of floating airports traveled in battle groups and operated in international waters. Cory helped protect the ship from potential outside threats by deciphering transmissions. In the two years he’d been working in communications, he had moved up the ranks and was given the title of petty officer first class. Still a “Blue Shirt,” but only one rank away from moving into the “Khakis” category and becoming a chief. His goal was to reach lieutenant, like his father.

  Cory went to the chapel and sat in a pew before the cross; he needed to get right with God before he started his day. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, something he always did when he talked to Jesus.

  “Hi Jesus,” he said. “I’m about ready to start this day and I’m humbly asking for your strength. I got a lot of people to protect on this ship. Things have been strange out on the water and I don’t know what’s up, but I feel it in my bones.” He paused a moment, remembering his old nickname. Bones. A flash of fear rushed through his chest, but then he remembered he wasn’t no coward. “Anyway, Jesus, I’m just asking you to help me be a better man, so I can face whatever is coming. Also, please watch over Mama. She’s tough, but she still needs you. We all do. Thank you for my blessings. Amen, in Jesus’ mighty name.”

  Cory stood up and almost bumped into Chief Petty Officer Voss. Though he was only one rank above Cory, he thrived at exercising his authority.

  “Sir.” Cory stood at attention. “I apologize. Didn’t see you there. I didn’t know you were a man of faith.”

  “I’m not, E6. Just keeping my eyes on you.” He flared his wide nostrils. A big fellow from Texas, Voss appeared to be one of those folks who used color as an excuse to hate.

  “On my way to quarters, Chief,” Cory said.

  “You always pray out loud?”

  Cory didn’t like where the conversation was going. It was none of Voss’s business how he prayed, but he kept his mouth shut and clenched his fists at his sides.

  “I asked you a question, E6.” Voss stepped up, getting close enough that Cory could smell the twang of his cheap aftershave.

  “Sometimes when I’m alone, I pray out loud, Chief.”

  Voss laughed and patted Cory’s shoulder a little too rough. “Seems like a waste of time to me. If God was real, I doubt he’d be wasting time on this ship of fools. We’re killers. You think you’re saved just ‘cause you pray?”

  “We’re all sinners saved by grace.” Cory wished he had the sense to keep his mouth shut; he knew better than to argue with a faithless racist.

  Voss stared at Cory for a few moments, his pinkish skin darkened to a red hue. “Keep your bullshit faith to yourself––and get to quarters, E6.”

  “Yes, Chief.” Cory walked out of the chapel at double speed. As much as he liked being a Christian, he didn’t like the part about turning the other cheek. Sometimes he fantasized about kicking Voss’s ass.

  After quarters, Cory put on his heavy coat and headed to the Communications Department. Someone ran up behind him and grabbed his shoulders. Cory swung around, holding up his fists, and settled back when he realized it was just Nick. “Easy there, E4. Not a good idea to bum rush a boy from the hood.”

  “Sorry, man. You got some pre-work jitters?”

  “Nah. Voss approached me in the chapel, acting all hostile and shit.”

  “Ain’t nothin’ but a thang.” Nick slapped Cory’s shoulder and zipped up his bulky jacket. “Hey man, you know why baby Jesus couldn’t be born in Texas? Because they couldn’t find three wise men or a virgin.”

  Cory didn’t mind that Nick acted so comfortable around him, not taking their ranking order too seriously. He made an exception for his buddy, probably because of their love for computers, and Jesus.

  Inside the Communications Department, something was definitely up. The machines were silent, but the officers ran around, shouting out orders. Cory and Nick raced to their stations to get started. Right away, Cory noticed something was off with his equipment. He called over Warrant Officer Riggins, a short black man with the shiniest bald head he had ever seen.

  “CWO Riggins, something is off on my RRCS.” Cory pointed to the radio control system. “It’s not picking up our sister ship.”

  “We’ve been experiencing all sorts of malfunctions this morning. The whole MOST4 system went to shit about ten minutes ago. We’re trying to get it back online, but right now, no messages are going in or out.”

  “Nothing? You think we got hacked, sir?” Cory felt a slight hint of validation for his earlier “paranoia,” although he hated it when he was right.

  “Whatever it is, it’s not good. I need to get back over to the boards; you work on locating that ship and call me over when you got it figured out. Understood, PO?”

  “Yes, CWO Riggins.”

  Cory leaned back in his chair and stared at the LED screen, trying to make sense of everything. A familiar twisting crept into his gut. Back home, the same thing would happen whenever Maze or Lil’ Nut were looking for fresh runners. When he was a kid, he could hide in the library or duck behind the trashcans in the alley, but not now. He needed to be a man and face the circumstances. Everything that had gone wrong with the equipment had the markings of an enemy attack. His first thought was China.

  He went to Nick’s station. “You having trouble with your equipment?” he asked.

  “Dead. Not getting any signals. This can’t be right.” Nick tapped away at the unresponsive keyboard.

  He sat next to Nick with his head in his hands. “Told you something was off.”

  Cory had noticed a glitch about two months earlier and thought he had solved the problem, but now he was having second thoughts. He wiped the sweat off his brow and headed over to the MOST4 system and asked permission to pull up the archive files. The PO sitting at the station looked beaten down and welcomed the assistance. Cory was in the midst of pulling up archive transmissions when CWO Riggins walked over.

  “What are you doing, PO?” Riggins asked.

  “A couple months back, I noticed something on o
ne of the cryptographic devices. It didn’t make sense then, I thought it was just a glitch.”

  “What type of glitch?” Riggins hovered over Cory.

  “Coordinates for an air missile attack.” He turned around and looked at Riggins. “The coordinates were for this location, and they were coming from NORAD––our own people. That’s why I thought it was a glitch. I studied the code over and over, and decided to make an inquiry.”

  “What happened?”

  “NORAD sent back a message, confirming it was a malfunction in the system, and that everything was back on track. But now I’m thinking something was off. Way off.”

  “You’re damn right something was off. We’ve lost all communication with our fleet and the U.S. This isn’t a malfunction; it’s a terrorist attack. The bastards hacked our systems. We need to call for an evacuation.” The CWO ran off to inform the captain.

  The remaining officers working in the Communications Department got up from their stations and headed toward the upper deck. Nick grabbed Cory’s coat sleeve.

  “You think we’re under attack?” Fear skittered in his friend’s blue eyes.

  “I think we need to get off this ship ASAP.” Cory followed the others down the corridor to the upper deck.

  “Oh, God. Holy Jesus. Lord, help me.” Nick started hyperventilating and dry heaving.

  Cory grabbed his friend and pressed him against the wall. “Get it together, E4. We gotta keep level heads.”

  “I’m scared, man.”

  “You got nothin’ to be scared of. Jesus is right here by your side. Breathe it out and have some faith.”

  “But what if Jesus wants the ship to go down?”

  “I don’t think Jesus wants that. I suggest you say some prayers and keep your shit together.” Cory headed down the corridor.

  Up on the flight deck, lieutenants and air wing commanders spewed off orders for the crew to get to the shuttlecrafts and transporters. Some of the naval aviators were already flying off the flight deck, while others made their way to the lifeboats. Unmanned aerial drones hummed above them in dizzying circles, their laser-guided shots taking out fighter jets as they took off. The planes burst into flames and fell into the ocean. Without any communication systems, they had no idea where the strikes were coming from.

  Cory yelled in Nick’s ear, “This has gotta be NORAD. It’s too perfect to be a terrorist attack.”

  “Yeah, man, there’s no way some piddly-ass terrorists could pull off something so massive. It’s gotta be an inside job.”

  The blasts hit with deadly accuracy. The deck swarmed with crewmembers, running to find shelter in the shuttlecrafts. Cory yanked Nick’s sleeve and darted across the flight deck. At the far end, they made it inside one of the escape pods just as a missile hit the Nimitz. The pod detached and slammed against the ocean’s surface, knocking everyone on top of each other. In all the commotion and shouting, there wasn’t time to strap in before another missile hit. The escape pod shot up out of the water and came crashing down, knocking half the crew unconscious, including Cory.

  ###

  When Cory woke up, straps held him in his seat and his head rested on Nick’s shoulder. He rubbed the huge knot at the back of his skull. The throbbing pain was enough to make him want to pass out again.

  “Got hit pretty hard,” Nick said.

  “Yeah, but we made it.”

  “You’re darn right we did. Praise sweet Jesus. Thank you, Lord.” Nick handed Cory a container of water.

  “Enough with the God talk,” a familiar voice came from the back of the lifeboat.

  Cory looked down the aisle to the last row, where Chief Voss sat hunched over, holding a bloody towel against his forehead. Of the six thousand crewmembers, why did he end up stuck with Voss? Being trapped inside the small escape pod would be a true test of patience and endurance. Cory remembered his favorite Bible verse: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

  He did a quick head count of survivors. Seven men total and everyone was busted up pretty bad. Cory searched their faces, hoping to find one that out-ranked Voss, but unfortunately, none of them did. All things through Christ . . .

  “Where are we heading?” Cory directed the question to the officer in khakis, who was sitting in the driver’s hatch.

  “West. Back toward the States,” Voss answered for the man.

  “I’m not sure we should do that, Chief,” Cory said.

  “I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

  “I’m ninety-nine percent positive those were our men firing at us.”

  “What the hell are you talking about, Anderson?”

  “About two months ago, I intercepted an encrypted message––coordinates for our location. I contacted NORAD, and they said it was a malfunction. But I believe NORAD fired on their own people. I suggest steering clear of U.S. and heading to the coast of Africa, until we have more information.”

  Voss laughed, shaking his head in disgust. “You hit your head too hard. Our country would never do anything so asinine.”

  “Has anyone made contact with NORAD since the attack?” Cory asked.

  “Negative. But that doesn’t prove anything. I’m ordering you to keep that God-fearing mouth of yours shut and stop wasting oxygen.”

  Cory would need a more convincing argument to sway Voss and the others. He wasn’t sure how that was supposed to happen since they were somewhere in the North Atlantic without any mode of communication.

  “I can see it’s gonna be like Lord of the Flies up in here,” Cory mumbled to Nick.

  “Huh?” Nick asked, confused.

  “This ain’t gonna end well.”

  Nick glanced back at Voss, then looked at Cory. “Maybe I can convince him? You know, me being white and all.”

  Cory smiled. “Give it a shot, white boy.”

  Nick stuck his head out into the aisle. “Chief, I was with Anderson in Communications when all hell broke loose. CWO Riggins saw the thread of communication between our ship and NORAD, and that’s why we evacuated.”

  “I don’t want to hear another word out of either of you Jesus freaks. Got that?”

  A surge of heat moved through Cory’s chest as though something had taken possession of him. Tired of turning the other cheek, he unstrapped himself, charged at Voss and began choking him. The others jumped out of their seats to pull the men apart.

  “Easy there, E6.” Officer Morgan shoved Cory back into his seat. He was ranked lower than Cory, classifying him as a seaman. But since he had a fist on him the size of a jackhammer, Cory leaned back and got his temper under control.

  Voss stomped toward Cory. “I don’t know what it is with you types always causing trouble, but you better keep your trap shut and your ass seated. This is your final warning.”

  Cory glared up at Voss. “Question, sir. When you say “types,” do you mean black or Christian?”

  Voss sucker punched Cory in the nose, and his head thumped the wooden bench as he fell, knocking him out again.

  In a half daze, Cory could hear the men talking as he slowly slipped away into a white silence. A blanket of warmth enveloped his body and carried him toward a gleaming light. Moving closer to the light, a chorus of beautiful voices sang his favorite hymn. The words grew louder and louder, resonating through his soul. He became weightless and free.

  My life goes on in endless song

  Above earth's lamentations,

  I hear the real, though far-off hymn

  That hails a new creation.

  Through all the tumult and the strife

  I hear its music ringing,

  It sounds an echo in my soul.

  How can I keep from singing?

  A hand that radiated like a million diamonds stretched out from the middle of the light, reaching to Cory. He held out his hand and grazed the fingertips; a heavenly gale of wind blasted through him.

  He sang out, “My Lord! My Lord! I’m home!”

  As he moved into the light, something yanked
him down into a whirlpool, sucking him away into darkness.

  He opened his eyes to a crushing weight as Nick pumped down on his chest and pushed air into his mouth. “Wake up, man. Please wake up.”

  “Stop,” Cory choked out.

  He didn’t want to be back in the lifeboat. He wanted to go into the light. But it was too late––Nick had revived his body.

  The others sat strapped in their seats, watching on. They smiled with relief, except for one person. Voss stood with his arms folded across his chest. “I didn’t mean to hit you that hard,” he said.

  “I wish you would’ve hit me harder. I was almost free.”

  “Whatever, man. Just keep your opinions to yourself.”

  Cory didn’t have the strength to argue. He got back in his seat, breathing in the stale air of the escape pod.

  “Lost you there for a few minutes. Praise sweet Jesus you’re alive,” Nick whispered.

  “I saw Him, buddy. Jesus touched me.” Nick almost jumped out of his seat, but Cory held his arm. “Cool it.” He motioned to Voss.

  “I ain’t afraid of that racist bully. You think I haven’t had to fight for Jesus before?”

  “It’s not worth it. Besides, it’ll be over soon.”

  Officer Morgan butted into the conversation. “What do you mean by that? Over soon?”

  Cory sensed Morgan might be a believer; he could usually tell by the eyes. His mama always said, “Most believers got lil’ extra shine to ‘em.” Without that extra light, most eyes looked flat or dead––like Voss’s. Morgan’s cobalt blue eyes had a special flicker.

  “We’re heading to the States, and the second we’re spotted on their radar, they’ll sink us,” Cory spoke quietly.

  “How can you be so sure?” Morgan asked.

  “Ever since I deciphered that code, something’s been nagging at me. I believe their intent was to destroy our fleet, and I’d guess the entire military arm of the United States.”

  “That sounds insane. You know that, right?” Morgan tried laughing it off, but worry shadowed his face.

  “Something’s happening. You can’t deny that. It’s either an inside job, or a terrorist attack on the U.S. So why would we head straight into the shit storm?”