Dean smiled widely. “I appreciate that, but you’re wrong.”
She felt her face flush. “I’m not wrong.”
“Elizaandra, you are the only person between us and your test subjects and whatever they did to the crew on that ship. If at some point, they choose not to be our friends, it is you who may make the difference between life and death or God knows what. This is not an argument. This is the way it is. We cannot afford to have you killed. Is that clear?”
Eliza set her glass down and stood. “I hear you. I respect your point of view. And for the most part I agree with you. However, today was an exception. I think you’ll agree that we were within seconds of losing that battle and therefore everything this mission stands for. We don’t know what the pirate’s intentions were, but clearly they were lethal. Had we not all acted when we did, the way we did, the tide very much may have turned against us. Gretel and Hansel were no use to us against that machine. Whoever designed it made it well suited to deal with pucks too.” She stood back from the table. “There may be other exceptions. I will continue to take action if the moment not only warrants it, but requires it.”
As she turned toward the door Dean said, “Elizaandra.” She had opened the door, but allowed him a pause. He continued, “This may be a case where we will have to agree to disagree.”
She shut the door again to retain some privacy and looked him square in the eye. “Captain Dean, I believe our business is finished. I would prefer it if you referred to me as Ms Sherr or if you must, Eliza. Elizaandra is reserved.” She opened the door again and let herself out. “Good night.”
Dean sat at the table with his eyebrows lifted in mild surprise. A moment passed and Cookie let himself in, saying, “I’ll be getting the dishes, Cap, so you can retire.”
Chief Hernandez was a wreck. She barely saw or heard the voice of Lance Corporal Katherine Kelly, who was doing her best to console her, something that KK had never been good at.
Sergeant Green decided to use the opportunity to express his disapproval. “Been saying all along, Chief. You can’t shit where you eat. You can’t fuck a soldier you rack with, or eat one in yours and Gomez’s case. Get it? Where you eat?”
Hernandez launched herself at the man and landed two good punches before being pulled off by Kelly. Green wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. “Feel better?”
“Fuck you, Sergeant.”
“No. Thank you. Having you weep over my dead carcass doesn’t turn me on.”
Dez tried to launch herself at Green again, while KK put her into a full nelson, saying, “Shut it, Tim. Asshole.” “You and I rack together and you’ve sure as shit tried to fuck me.”
The Special Forces team had been given a small cabin in the forecastle. The dead Corporal Gomez’s Rucksack sat in the corner still unpacked. Hernandez found herself unconsciously stroking it as she let a few tears stream down her face.
Despite what she’d said to Green, KK was pissed off at Dez. She wouldn’t say it now, but she agreed with Green full on. She’d nearly gone to MacAfee before they even started out on this thing except the Chief kept saying “You got my 6, right KK?” Dragging her into the stupid love conspiracy. Now it was moot. She was pissed that Gomez was dead, pissed that it fucked up Hernandez and pissed that on day one they were down to just the three of them. Most of the crew had seen some kind of action during Omega. Kelly was just a little girl then, but none of them had any dealings with The Children until now. Only after seeing what happened to the crew of the Eagle had the crew truly gotten how fucked everyone would be if those fucking devils decided to come across the Terminus. Kelly and her team had mission experience spying on the clans that were at the edge of the Settled U.S. These kids, pucks, Hansel and Gretel. Stupid names. Whatever. They were like innocent sheltered school babes. The Children out there were something all together different. She wanted to slap the tears off of Hernandez’s face. The very reason that relations were forbidden in the Army was coming true before her eyes. Hernandez was a mess and KK could tell that she would likely stay that way. She’d seen it before - some soldiers, despite massive training, didn’t do well when a close friend was killed. Became almost instantly demoralized. Just like combat, there was no way of knowing how you’d react until it happened to you. Well fuck that! She stood and slapped Dez across the face. With pure reflex built on real combat and intensive relentless training, Hernandez kicked Kelly’s legs out from under her, and then they were at each other’s throats. Like two ultimate fighters they used every method available to them to get an advantage, screaming, kicking, punching, head butting, eye gouging – Green cheering them on, loving the bitch on bitch violence. Bam! The door to the small room was flung open, MacAfee stepping inside. The soldiers leapt to their feet and stood at attention. The colonel looked at them hard. Hernandez had a trickle of blood roll down her cheek. He looked down at Gomez’s rucksack then back at his soldiers. “There’s just three of you now. I need you to focus this wasted energy on training the crew. Understood?”
The soldiers offered a Sir, yes, Sir.
“Good. At o-fuck early, you pull your shit together and focus on the mission.” He held up a flask. “Compliments of the captain, whose retired Navy Seal ass made you three look like you were standing still today. I won’t even mention the young scientist who climbed the rigging for that hook. Oh, I just did.” They appeared chastised enough so he changed his tone. “Gomez is dead. Think about it. Not about how it’s a critical loss to us, but rather how you’ll prevent it the next time.” He shoved the flask into Green’s hands. “Breaking the rules tonight. Drink that, make like friends and get some sleep.” He picked up Gomez’s rucksack and threw it over his shoulder. Then he looked hard at Hernandez. “Bury it, soldier. She’s gone. No time for being a civilian. Understood?”
Hernandez was caught out. The Colonel clearly knew all about her and Gomez. She was embarrassed, but that didn’t stop her from looking longingly at the rucksack for a moment more. Then it was over. A steely gaze signaled a shift in her demeanor. “Sir, yes, Sir.”
MacAfee turned and shut the door behind him.
Hernandez gave Kelly a quick punch to the left kidney, dropping the soldier to a knee, grimacing in pain. “You don’t hit a superior. Understood, bitch?”
KK gritted her teeth, then smiled to herself. “You’re welcome. Bitch.”
Dez turned to Green. “And you! Fuck you, Sergeant.”
“Fuck you back, Chief.”
Sailors Paul Monroe, Patty Smith and Todd Campbell held the first topside watch. The three had been the only members of the Ginger Girl crew who weren’t former military. As such, they stuck together to protect themselves from the natural ostracizing that they received from their crewmates. The three would later debate over which one of them had thought of mutiny first. They talked about their options for more than an hour and concluded that there was no way the rest of the crew was going to see it their way. They had been told that they would receive the gene therapy en route, that the process took weeks and involved several injections. Indeed, everyone had been given their first of five injections upon lifting anchor back at Plum Island. After today, Monroe, Smith and Campbell were convinced that the odds where simply ridiculous that they would accomplish this mission and live to enjoy being free of disease. They had volunteered, right? They could change their minds.
Each took a turn quietly fetching enough of their gear to survive on the high seas for the few days “at the most” that Campbell had promised it would take for them to work their way back to Nantucket. He had become a fairly good navigator and despite the lack of ability to take star shots or use the now defunct international GPS system, he was certain he could get them all home. Nobody back there would know anything of the Ginger Girl’s voyage. The thing was a secret to their brothers and sisters on Nantucket. They’d make up a story about a storm, them being the only ones to escape. If the Ginger Girl did miraculously make it back, so what? What would the
captain do, banish them?
Monroe snuck into the dispensary where the FNDz inhibiter drugs were held and doled out daily to the still infected crew. He grabbed a little extra just in case and put the pills in a small leather bag. Twenty minutes before they were to change watches, they lowered one of the two whaleboats into the sea. As they worked, Campbell pumped a steady stream of lubricant on the block-and-tackle to minimize any squeaking while the ropes moved through the blocks. They assured each other again that this was the right thing to do. Campbell and Smith handed their gear down to Monroe and then climbed down into the boat themselves. With a nod from her compatriots, Smith cast off the lines and Campbell and Monroe pulled against the oars.
Frayed nerves, mixed with a deep sense of shame and betrayal caused them to commit two grave errors. The first (after tearing all of their gear apart three times) was to accept that they had left the dark little leather bag holding the inhibiter drugs on the deck near the railing. The Ginger Girl was already out of sight when they concluded their search. Campbell offered his reassurance that it wouldn’t matter - that they would be home long before the drugs already in their systems wore off. The second error was Monroe and Smith’s alone: they had accepted Campbell’s boast that he was the navigator he claimed to be.
After three days of looking at endless ocean, they ran out of food. On the fourth day they each sipped their last drop of water. On the sixth day they began to become delirious with thirst. On the seventh day Monroe got the fever; the first sign of Cain’s. In twenty-four hours or less and he would completely succumb to the disease. Campbell and Smith, knowing that they wouldn’t make it another day without water, waited until Monroe was nearly comatose with fever before bashing his head with an oar, just enough to insure that he was unconscious, but not enough to kill the man. They then took turns slacking their thirst, licking at the heavy bleeding that poured from the pumping gash in Monroe’s scalp and keeping the wound open until the man bled out. The next day Campbell got the fever and it wasn’t but a few hours later when Smith did too.
In the end the fiendish bacteria in Smith won the race with Campbell’s, turning the sailor into a raving, homicidal, lunatic who mindlessly, gleefully gutted open her friend with a large filleting knife that she kept strapped to her leg. For many more days, Smith both satisfied her primal sexual urges, grinding against her shipmate’s carcasses, while at the same time gorging on them. Mercy finally arrived in the form of a squall, which capsized her asylum and drowned her proper.
On the night that the fugitives had taken off with the whaleboat, the twins lay awake in their bunks taking in the random thoughts of the crew. Many were asleep and they rode the dreams of these people together like shadows lurking off stage in the dreamer’s minds. They were aware of the three who were taking the hunting boat, but didn’t see how it had anything to do with them and so ignored it.
I could taste the fear of the ones on the Eagle.
It was delicious.
They wept with fear.
They did. Wept. Fouled themselves. I could smell their piss and shit.
We aren’t supposed to use those words.
No. But we like those words.
Could smell their piss and shit and vomit.
Yes.
I would like to do it again. Make them piss and shit and vomit.
They both giggled at the bad words.
In the morning, Dean stood by the empty whaleboat bay with his hands behind his back, one hand holding the other’s wrist so that he could keep himself from punching the railing. Twenty-four hours out on this Godforsaken mission and five of his eighteen crew were dead or missing. He chose to show Palmer and Sanders nothing but a calm game face. No point in beating a dead horse on this one. There could be nothing learned except – “Mr. Sanders. Please poll the crew one last time and determine if we are going to have anyone else jump ship.”
“Aye, Cap.” Sanders began to turn.
“Oh, and Sanders?”
“Aye.”
“If anyone says that they are indeed interested in leaving,” he waived a hand toward the frigid ocean, “inform him or her that they may swim. We’ll most definitely be needing the services of our other boat.”
“Aye, Cap.”
“I’ll let Palmer turn The Girl out, Mr. Sanders, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all, sir. Mr. Palmer’s next in line. Crew could hear more from him. I’ll just make my way around and quietly poll as you asked, Cap.”
“Thank you, Mr. Sanders.” Dean turned to his bosun. “You may prepare to make way, Mr. Palmer.”
“Aye, Cap’n. And sir?” Dean turned his gaze from the iceberg that they were still anchored to and gave his full attention to Palmer. “Not so bad, sir. Monroe, Campbell and Smith, sir. They never quite fit in – if you know what I mean, Cap’n, sir.”
Dean felt a bloom of heat move up his neck as he tried to retain his steam. “That will be all, Ensign. Make way.”
“Aye aye, sir.” Palmer stepped to the front of the poop. “That’s it then,” he called out to the crew. “Wall and Cinders on the windless. Everyone else, man you’re stations. We’re making way.”
Children Of Fiends - Part 1 Winter Is Passing: An Of Sudden Origin Novella Page 9
