by Franks, JK
“God, I hope not. If it is, though, no wonder we haven’t found her.”
Scott climbed the pile using the same rope and on top watched as the Navy investigator worked his way down to where the body was lodged. He could see the arm was stiff and pale, almost bluish. Warburgh moved some of the debris, and more of the body came into view. He looked up at Scott and shook his head. Finally working his way to the spot, he reached down and slowly detached the arm and held it up. People with a vantage spot back up the bank gasped in unison.
“It’s plastic,” he said. “Probably a store mannequin blown out here in the storm.”
Scott didn’t know how to feel, disappointment at it not being Diana didn’t feel right, but it would have been resolution. He could see Bobby holding Kaylie tightly to his chest, her sobs evident over the mostly silent crowd. The emotional toll was too much for them. No matter the outcome, he decided right then to scale back the search to official personnel only. He couldn’t put his niece and others with a connection to the girl through any more of this.
Bartos was leaning against the scaffolding looking at the jury-rigged filtering system. In the weeks since the ordeal, his collarbone had mended, but the knee was still hurting. The ligaments, he was told, needed longer to knit back together.
“Scoots, this shit is nasty. You sure it’s still good—not contaminated?”
The other man nodded and grunted something unintelligible.
Bartos shook his head, “If any of that flood water got it, we’re going to have problems when we fire this puppy up.”
“How much are you starting with?” Scott asked from the floor below. The pumps were sucking the waste oil out of the dilapidated tanker truck and into what Bartos had said was a holding tank. The hoses carrying the thick fluid were thumping and moving across the floor in tune with the pumps’ rhythmic heartbeat. The whole contraption looked like something the coyote would have built to catch the roadrunner in those old cartoons.
“Five hundred gallons. Any less and we’d probably just wind up with tar. The pressure vessel can hold about three times that much, but we want to start small.”
Scott nodded, he understood the process in principle. Heat up the oil to a certain point, run it through a series of filters and you should have useable diesel. “So, how far away do we need to be when that thing starts up?”
“Stop being a pussy, Scott. Just because I am heating oil up to incredibly hot temperatures inside a container that certainly wasn’t intended for this kind of pressure or heat, what’s the worst that could happen?”
“We could all die, Bartos.”
The bald man snorted, “Well, yeah, there is that, I s’pose.” He climbed down the rickety framework. “I’d say about half a mile then.” The whole contraption made an ominous sound. “Maybe a little bit more.”
Chapter Fifty-Seven
“So, am I going to turn into a zombie?”
“Hush, my husband-to-be…and they were never zombies.”
“According to Sky, they acted a lot like zombies.”
“Well, even if they were, you would be immune. I hear they only eat brains.”
Gia stuck the needle deep into his butt cheek. “Ow! That hurt…on multiple levels.” He rolled off the exam table and pulled up the somewhat ratty shorts he was wearing.
She pulled him close and kissed him. “My poor baby. Your test was all good. Just wanted to give it enough time to be sure.”
“So, what was that you gave me?”
“The latest antiviral,” she said with a grin.
“Wait…what? You have the treatment—a cure?”
She shrugged, grinned and began replacing items into their respective drawers.
“Holy shit, does anyone else know?” he asked excitedly.
“My team knows we are close.”
He knew they had been keeping Skybox over at the bio lab on the Navy ship the last few weeks. “So, was this something you developed from Sky’s blood?”
“Yes and no,” she said still grinning. “The version of the pathogen he carried was too far removed from the current one to be of much help. What his bloodwork did tell us was how to isolate the gene mutation. Once we were able to get samples of the current virus, coming up with a way to treat it effectively was much easier because of what we learned with him.”
Several thoughts occurred to Scott simultaneously; he asked the most pressing one first. “You say treat it…not cure it. So, we, and I mean me, will not be…you know, immune?”
Some of the joy left her face, “Maybe, honestly, I don’t know. I think you are safe from the version out there now, but if it keeps mutating, who knows? A small percentage of people have a natural immunity. Sky’s appears to be unnatural, but honestly, at some point, a variant of the disease could prove lethal to them as well.”
“Have you taken it?” he asked.
His head was resting on her stomach, the pregnancy now far enough along that you couldn’t miss the bulge poking out of her loose-fitting lab coat. “I can’t take the risk, Scott.”
“What risk?”
“This is a new transgenic treatment. It will alter your body to fight the Chimera disease. Who knows what effect that might have on a fetus?”
“What about the effect the disease could have on you, G? We know it is on the way, hell, you work with it every day.”
She shrugged, he knew he wouldn’t win this battle, but he had to try. “Just promise me something, if we know we can’t help being exposed, please take it. The baby won’t make it if you don’t.”
She nodded reluctantly and embraced him as tightly as she could; he placed his hand on the baby. This was a terrible time to have a child, yet he couldn’t imagine life without one now. He knew Gia would do anything to protect it, including sacrificing her own health. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
The group acting as the town council were grouped in a circle of chairs. The slight chill in the air was held at bay by the small bonfire in the middle. The talk so far had centered around the failing search for the missing girl, better news on Bartos making workable fuel and progress reports from Tahir and Todd on the improving condition of the AG.
“By the way, Scott, congrats again,” Bobby whispered during a lull in the conversation. “Can’t believe I am finally going to be an uncle.” Scott just laughed, “You guys are awful.”
Making the second announcement several days earlier had been the epitome of anti-climactic. Everyone was in on the secret except Scott and Gia. Apparently, Bobby and Sky didn’t keep secrets as well as they thought.
They had assembled the entire community after the late meal several days earlier. Scott and Gia stood up and made the big announcement. He had gone on and on about family and community and this being the first new baby in the community; the audience had just looked at them. No one clapped, no one smiled, no one even stopped eating. A few shrugged their shoulders and went back to chatting with friends. Scott was humiliated, Gia looked dumbstruck. It was then that Todd could contain himself no longer and busted out laughing. The whole crowd erupted at that point, lining up to give hugs and congrats.
“Total assholes.”
“Yep!” Bobby agreed. Scott was pretty sure it had been his idea.
“Why are we meeting out here, Scott?” Bobby said.
“It's nice out, and we never do this anymore.” Scott brushed the hair out of Jacob’s eyes. He was amazed the boy had even let him hold him. Bobby and Kaylie were watching him, he knew that. He’d never been around children much, and being a parent scared the bejesus out of him, but he wouldn’t openly admit that. “Also, Gia is coming, she has some news.”
“Oh shit, twins?” Jack said.
“No, not…just wait for her,” Scott said flustered.
The firelight flickered across the faces gathered there. Scott studied them all, one by one. The group was quiet, all seemingly caught up in the moment of relative calm. Jack was back for the moment, Todd sat with Angelique who was holding
DeVonte’s hand. Tahir was on the other side of Kaylie sitting next to Bartos. Solo was curled up next to the fire. Roosevelt was leaning back appearing to be asleep.
Scott hadn’t planned to say anything tonight as it was Gia’s show, but these were his friends. There were others, of course, Skybox, DJ, even Garret and Scoots, but this group right here was his family unit. The reason he was still here, still alive.
“You know, since that night two years ago, Todd, Liz, Bartos, and Solo befriended me. We sat on the porch of my cottage and watched the lights of the aurora dance across the sky. Jack, I’d met the day before. He introduced me to the others. I don’t think any of us had any idea then just how serious it really was, certainly not how bad it would become. You guys saved me, gave me a purpose and a mission. This community means everything, guys. When I was on the bike, hell, whenever we go anywhere, the people are missing. So many have fled or are gone, so little of what was remains. I am not sure we take enough time to realize how special what we have really is. We face one problem after another, each one more insurmountable than the last, but we keep fighting, keep believing, keep loving. Now, this chapter of our lives is coming to a close. Where will we go, what will we find out there—when can we come back?”
Angel let out a tiny sob as Jacob silently crawled off Scott’s lap and went over to sit closer to the water. The somber moment cracked when Roosevelt snored loudly. Everyone chuckled. Scott felt soft, familiar arms around his neck and looked up to see Gia’s gorgeous face, her red hair shone like flame in the firelight. She leaned over and kissed him mouthing, “Love you.”
She sat in the empty chair beside him. Everyone waited for her to speak, but she just looked around the fire at the group smiling, seemingly soaking in the love radiating out like warmth from the fire. “I have no idea how to follow that,” she said with a shaky laugh. The others smiled and nodded. “I haven’t known most of you that long, but you have become family to me as well. In all the chaos in the world, you guys…this place is my safe harbor.
“Now, I know my work is not that helpful to the community—not directly at least. I can’t run a kitchen nor a whole ship like Angel. Can’t fix things like Bartos or Tahir. Can’t find supplies or make friends like Jack. Can’t lead or protect you like Scott or Skybox, but I do finally have something to contribute.”
Scott reached for her hand.
“You does plenty already, Ms. Gia,” DeVonte said. “You keep Mr. Grumpy here from bothering da rest of us.”
She laughed before continuing. Okay, out with it already, she thought. She drew in a deep breath and began, “We believe we have a working treatment for the pandemic.” The look from all gathered around the fire was of shock and excitement. Gia registered the emotions and anticipated many of the questions. “It seems to be safe and effective. Scott and a few others have already received an earlier version of it. We’re making more as quickly as we can, that’s what DJ is doing now over on the Bataan. The treatment isn’t perfect, though, and it needs time to make certain changes to your body’s defense system to be fully effective.”
Angel spoke a question on all their minds, “Does that mean we can stay here? Not have to leave?”
Gia shook her head, “Sorry no, I don’t know that we can make enough to treat everyone by then. Also, once this news gets out, the Navy people will likely control distribution. Perhaps the biggest reason to keep making plans to evacuate is the infected themselves―this vaccine won’t do anything to keep them from attacking.”
“So, how long?” Todd asked. “I mean, before the rest of us can get it.”
“Probably a week, maybe a little longer. The bio-vats at the lab are pretty small, but as long as they are monitored closely, we should have enough by then.”
Everyone began clapping, and Gia looked embarrassed. Kaylie and Bobby came over to give her a hug, then the rest of the group joined in. After all the drama and chaos, this night was just what was needed. Scott was unbelievably proud of his fiancée and all her dedication and hard work. He sat there silently wishing their wedding day could get here a little quicker.
Todd got the little meeting back on track. “Assuming we are still leaving, we need to determine a destination. Scott asked me to try and head that up, and I have a few ideas I’d like to run by you. First, understand we have some limiting factors, the biggest being fuel. No matter how much the Cajun can make, the ship can only carry a limited amount, and that’s likely all we have from then on. If we keep enough fuel in reserve to return, then that cuts our maximum range in half. Kind of the same with food, except, we must pick a destination that can sustain us. So, it must be a temperate, long growing season and some natural occurring sources of sustenance to keep us going until we can grow our own.”
“So, we are heading to Hawaii?” DeVonte asked with a laugh.
Tahir spoke up, “That would actually be ideal, great climate, year-round growing season and far enough from infected areas that, likely, we would never see the pandemic reach there. The problem is fuel. We couldn’t make it even halfway.”
“The kid is on the right track, though,” Todd said. “An island would be ideal or someplace with low existing population and natural barriers to help keep us isolated. What we have come up with is this,” he held up a printout with three locations circled, all close to each other. He began passing it around.
“Costa Rica?” Bobby said, looking down at the paper.
“It’s the best for us. Not that far, we can likely reach it on less than half of our diesel. Which gives us the chance to move on, if need be, or come back here eventually. There is a mid-size island about twenty miles off the coast which is where we think we should go initially. It had a large sugar-cane plantation on it, but twenty years ago part of that was cleared for a luxury resort. It has a deep-water dock on a natural harbor, so we can pull the Goddess right up to the resort.”
Tahir jumped back in, “The resort had been closed for renovations when the CME hit, so our expectation is that few people are there. It is also close enough to the mainland that we could go there to fish, hunt, and trade with the surviving locals. While the pandemic might burn itself out before it reaches there, we have to assume at some point it will reach it. The good thing is that until then, it may be one of the safest places on earth.”
“Any chance they have electricity?” Angel asked. “I have really gotten used to having it again, dread going back now.”
Everyone nodded heads in agreement. Tahir smiled and shrugged, “We don’t know, they have a line to the mainland and emergency generators for hurricanes, but we have to assume no. I do have some ideas on that, though. I need to talk to Commander Garret, but long-term, I think we can get power.”
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Unknown Location
She lay in silence, her body racked with pain but absent of moisture to any longer form tears. No longer was she restrained by chains, now leather bindings around her arms and legs held her to the bed. The thin mattress beneath was more of an illusion of comfort than actual padding. Her fingers could just stretch down to feel the metal tray beneath the padding.
A hospital bed, a gurney maybe. She knew she was no longer in the dark, wet space; the sounds were different. It smelled antiseptic with a less pronounced odor of human activity. A blindfold of some type covered her eyes, but she got the feeling the room was bright. What are they planning? Who are they? Please, God, just make all this stop!
It didn’t stop. It didn’t stop for a very long time, and when it did, she would no longer be the same. She wasn’t so sure now that she would be dead, but she knew she wouldn’t be the same. Someone, a man, she thought, stood over her, watching. What does he want? she wondered. She was naked, of that she was certain, but long past caring. Modesty was the least of her worries. What if he raped her? She couldn’t be sure that hadn’t happened already. The thought seemed detached as if it had broken off and somehow was no longer a part of her.
The pounding in her head was growing
worse, she felt the fever returning. “Hello,” she tried to say. Nothing came out, she was unable to speak. Something was in her mouth, it was round and hard but it was not the man, of that she was sure. This was a gag of some type. What if she vomited, would she choke? Choking would mean death, death meant release from this torture. Oh, what a welcome release it would be. She should vomit just to piss off whoever was out there, the watcher.
Despite her mentally forcing herself to be sick, she could not. It would not come—nothing. It felt like her stomach was devoid of actual content. She was empty, wasted, a discarded husk of the girl she had been. The pounding in her head kept her from working on it further. She was so weak, she couldn’t even die. Please, please, please stop, the voice in her head begged.
* * *.
The pain didn’t stop, it ebbed and flowed but stayed her tormentor. New pains joined it, cuts, scrapes and pinpricks. At one point, she was sure her entire body was covered in ice. She might be freezing to death, she wasn’t sure. What is happening to me? Every nerve in her body seemed to be on fire. She knew now her ears were plugged as well, or maybe they had destroyed her hearing. Taken a sharp object and punctured her ear drum, that wouldn’t have surprised her. She only realized she was deaf when she failed to hear herself moaning anymore.
Her back had sores where she had been strapped to the bed, unmoving for too long. She could feel herself using the bathroom at times. How? She wasn’t eating or drinking. In fact, how am I alive without water at least?
Time had long since become unimportant. She was here, this was now. Yesterday’s pain was irrelevant, she refused to consider what tomorrow might bring. To lay in agony and torment hour after hour with no relief and no hope had numbed her. She no longer thought about rescue, she only wished for death.
