The Battles of Rock Harbor: A Bugging In Tale of the Apocalypse

by J. B. Craig

  “Damn, Pappy, that’s an un-fitting end for such a nicesh bottle.”, he slurred. “Don’t worry, I’ll be joining you soon. Greg leaned down and sucked up as much of he could of this world-class bourbon. It was less-than-world class with the metallic taste of the boat, and the grit, sand, and general fish and foot-funk on the boat hull. Then, he went aft past the oars, and sat on the stern of the row boat again, where the outboard motor used to go when he had gasoline that wasn’t bad. He looped the noose around his ankle again and tightened it. He had to get this part right, or suicide would suck. Today was a special occasion. The rock was from Grandma’s garden, by way of Hawaii. For years, it decorated her garden entrance, and he splurged on this stone, hoping for it to make a connection with any of his family in Heaven. He used the last few feet of the precious para-cord from his BOB so that he could put his final plan into place.

  The drunken plan was thrown together, at best. His goal was to die quickly, but not be a bother to someone else. He didn’t want to be the reason that someone left alive on the peninsula had to dig another grave. He hoped to have enough time to push the rock, then pull the trigger, then fall off the back of the boat. He was pretty sure that the tide would bring the rowboat back to the harbor area when it ran back out of the Nomini, or at least beach it on the sand bar. This was his last gift to the people that he lived and suffered with for much of the last year, even if it felt like a decade. Being an officer sucked, but he hoped another would emerge in their own version of democracy. His money was on either Ski or Gunny.

  Maybe the boat would drift a different direction, and he could help a stranger. He hoped that someone would at least find the boat and add to their survivability. Well, half-assed or not, it was his drunken plan, and it was time. He didn’t want someone to have to give him last rites. He wanted to feed the crabs.

  Greg wrapped the cord around his ankle and pulled it tight. Then he picked back up the 9mm revolver and put it in his mouth. He looked up, and said “God, I don’t know what else you want from me, but I’m done. I hope I at least earned enough time with you to explain why you fed me this shit sandwich. If my wife and kids are not alive, I want to at least see their faces one last time. I hope Leigh and Jennifer don’t have an eternal cat fight! I’m coming, girls.” Greg then pushed the rock off the back of the boat… and heard the happy hour bell ring three times at the old homestead – as the rock started to pull him back off the boat.

  Greg yelled “Wait, shit!” as he tossed the pistol towards the bow, and tried to grip the aft seat of the row boat with his ankles. Although he was in much better shape than when this started, the rock was BIG. One of his ankles was yanked out from under the seat by Grandma’s Garden Rock, and he could not hold on with his wounded leg. Anyone watching from a distance would have heard “Fuuuggggghhhhhhhh!!!!” (and a large splash) as Greg’s head went under water.

  As Greg was being pulled to the bottom of the Nomini river – the deep part, because of the extra line, and his not wanting to be a floater – he wondered what armed force was approaching his new family. He had to go help them, but was being dragged into the deep. “Thank you, God, for at least showing me that you have a sense of humor, too.” He thought. Then he remembered his ever-present Bench Made switchblade clipped to his pocket. “Funny that I didn’t think to leave that for the others”, he thought, as he reached in his pocket, and cut himself free.

  After swimming to the surface, and wondering at the sense of Humor, and mysterious ways of God, he reached the stern of the rowboat. After dragging his now skinny (by his definition) behind back into the boat, he pointed the bow towards the Rock Harbor House Dock and started pulling on the oars. It was a long trip, but the tide had turned and helped him run back down the Nomini and up into Rock Harbor. He had spent the last 6 months rowing, so it wasn’t too much of an effort, but took time. This former 300 lb. fat boy who needed blood pressure medicine to keep his heart from exploding before the dark days came had moved back through “buff” – his fighting weight of 220 lbs. at his prime when he was a soldier, and right down to the neighborhood of what he thought of as a skeleton – at 180 lbs., with his “big bones”, 6’1 inch was just plain skinny. As he turned past the sandbar, which was almost blocking the inlet to Rock Harbor by now, he heard the Happy Hour bell ring again, and saw someone on the back deck.

  Greg saw a strange sailboat tied to the dock. It had to come from either DC, Point Lookout, or farther down the bay, because nothing passed him as the incoming tide and his rowing took him up the Nomini river. A few minutes later, as he rowed towards the dock he yelled out “Who’s that ringing my bell – you better have brought happy hour food, cuz I’m all out!” The figure on the deck moved away from the bell, and towards the deck rail. In the candlelight from the house, he saw a thin woman in silhouette with long dark hair, probably around five and a half feet tall. He watched her lean over the rail and put his binoculars from inside the back door to her eyes.

  A young man came up behind her and pointed what looked like an assault rifle in the general direction of Greg, but not especially threatening him. He’d seen much, much worse in the last year, and this man wasn’t really a threat, even if he did look competent enough to handle what looked like an M-16, or AR-15 type weapon. Este clamped one hand down on the front of the gun and another on the man’s shoulder. Leilani stood behind the female, but was more comfortable, as they chatted. Greg’s guards were cautious, but still on guard duty, as the self-appointed bodyguards didn’t want to answer to Gunny or Ski for messing up. Annie was playing in the sandbox and chatting happily under the light of a torch, which was weird for the middle of the night. There was still no sign of Jennifer, who hadn’t left her bed in the last 4 days.

  As he pulled up to the dock, Greg realized who it was, by the light of the solar powered piling LED lights around the dock and porch. He could barely contain his emotions, as he cried out “Thank God, Maria! You finally made it!”

  Greg threw a line over the dock piling, and his daughter came running down the stairs, the man under Este’s watchful eye on the deck smiled and said “Dude, does your Dad always go fishing with only rocks and a pistol?”

  Greg laughed out loud. The first laugh in a few weeks. As he hugged his baby – make that grown woman, as she was now 20 years old, tears of joy ran down his face. Then she asked a question that instantly turned his joy into anguish… “Dad, where’s Mom and Jared?”

  Greg’s eyes filled with tears as he paused to gather his thoughts. “I think they’re dead, but we’re together again. The bad guys nuked Atlanta. Even if she lived, you know how she was so stubborn about eating her Glock if the air conditioning ever went out. I don’t think we’ll ever know, but I believe she’s gone. Jared was even closer to the airport that blew up. Some nights I pray that they just died quickly in the blast. Other days, I hope they’re still on their way.”

  “What?!?! Why didn’t you go get her?” She demanded

  “Baby, I’ve steeled myself to go every damn day. Then I’d plan my trip to your school. I was like a donkey between 2 bales of hay! The fact is, IF they’re alive, I could walk into a nuclear dead zone and pass her on the way there, if I’m sleeping by day, and she’s walking. There are a dozen routes here from there. If, against odds, they are alive, we have to wait for her here. I waited for you, and here you are.”

  Maria sobbed as father and daughter fell to the dock in the same spot they had taken so many happy fishing pictures in the past. Some of those pictures were mounted on the wall at home in Atlanta, and copies were in the house behind them. They were mourning and hugging each other, but at least they were together again, at last.

  Jennifer limped out onto the balcony, not looking her best, but still she stole Greg’s breath away. Apparently, her fever had broken while he was trying to kill himself, as she looked more human than she had in a few days. “Your dad has told me a lot about you, Maria. Let’s get you some food. I, for one, am starving.”

  Leilani took th
e cue and ran into the kitchen to get started. Maria looked at Greg with a questioning glance.

  “We’ve got a lot to get caught up on, baby girl. Let’s get some food, and you can introduce me to this young man.”

  “And YOU can introduce me to these folks, who seem kind, but why are they living in our family house?”

  “That’s a long story, but we’ve got plenty of time. I can’t tell you how many nights I’ve looked out over the water, hoping to see you. Tonight, you snuck right by me.”

  Just then, Bannon, Greg’s nephew stuck his head up out of the hold. Hey, is someone gonna help me unload this big-ass Ham Radio? I told Dad we’d call when we arrive!

  “Bannon! Greg bounded down the boat to his Nephew and his megawatt smile. What a fantastic Surprise. You mentioned your dad.”, he paused thinking of how he might shift the mood immediately. I’ll want to learn more about everyone else after we eat.

  “That’s OK, Unc. I know in my heart they’re both still alive. Reid joined the Marines to go find Mom in Baltimore.”

  “Damn, a Marine? He’s wanted to be Army forever.”

  “Yeah, but the Marines drafted him.”

  “Yeah, we have a lot of catching up to do. Now, Maria was called Captain? What does that make you?”

  “Boat Thief.” He laughed, and then handed a Ham Radio transmitter to his Uncle, making sure that Unc had both hands on it, so it didn’t go swimming. “Let’s go find something to eat and catch up.

  “Unc, do you know how many sailboats she’s wrecked in the last half of a year? All I can say is that she now knows what NOT to do with sailboats, as she has learned from her mistakes. You always said mistakes create wisdom, so she’s pretty sailing-wise by now.

  She said she remembered seeing others stranded on the sandbar, and laughing at them, so we waited for the tail end of incoming high tide. The wind was perfect.”

  “Well, let’s let ‘Captain Maria’, eat, and you can tell me all about it.”

  Just then, a stunning redhead came out of the cabin of the sailboat. She smiled at Greg, and then asked Bannon to grab her pack from the boat.

  “Uncle G, this is Kelly, the love of my life. She’s also a hell of a warrior. Kelly, this is Crazy Uncle Greg.”

  Kelly smiled, curtseyed, and said “I’m so glad we’re here. I couldn’t stand to hear Maria whining about her daddy any more. Nice place you have here.” Then she reached for his hand, and Greg pulled her across the gap. She threw her arms across Greg’s waist, and kissed his cheek. I’m so glad you’re here and OK. Maria, Pete and Bannon are like family to me. Now, show me around, you big hunka man.

  The trio went back up the deck. Greg gave the radio to Este so he could put one arm on Maria’s shoulder. They all walked them into the kitchen area, where Leilani was already preparing some sort of feast that smelled wonderful. Este was whispering into the young man’s ear, with an arm clamped on his shoulder and one around the radio. Annie followed them all in, tugging on the young man Pete’s sleeve.

  “Hey, you pretty boy. What’s your name? Wanna play Polly Pocket with me?” Pete smiled at Maria, shrugged, and winked.

  “Hey Little one. My name is Pete. I’m a fireman. Who are you, beautiful?” The handsome young man smiled, handed his rifle to Este, and followed Annie to the screened in porch where the breeze was best. There, he sat on the floor in the light of the candles as the first light of false dawn lit the sky in the East and played Polly Pocket make-believe games. “Polly Pocket, huh? Maria told me all about her games with her Dad, Polly and their friend, Bug. Oh, is that Bug?”

  The End?