We all declined. The air was cold. Crisp. It felt invigorating.
I saw the Coast Guard station. It had to be about a mile from the O’Rourke Bridge. We were close. Dare I think it, sanctuary?
“What happened to the Border Patrol people, the ones in the helicopter? Are they coming with us?” I said.
Marfione crossed his arms. I expected attitude, the way Spencer first treated us on the Humvee. Need to know basis and all of that. “They’re not coming with us. They’ve got a different assignment. More to do. They may meet up later. It’s been days. We’re still trying to assess everything,” he said.
“I can’t tell you how good it felt seeing them. When they spotted us,” I said.
Marfione just nodded. He understood. “You guys were lucky. We’re really not finding many people left. This whole thing, it’s kind of out of control. I don’t know how we’re supposed to fix it.”
Fix it. Hadn’t given it that much thought. Was there a way to come back from this? As a society?
“So, what’s the deal? I mean, where are we headed? We can’t be staying at the Coast Guard station. I’m guessing we’re going on a trip or something.”
“We are. Evacuating the area.”
“To somewhere safer?” Allison said. She laced her fingers with mine.
“For the most part. There’s an internment camp set up just outside of Fort Drum. State Park. Military occupied it. Secured the area,” he said.
“Internment camp?” Allison said.
“Relocation war camps,” he said. “Popular in World War II. Mostly along the opposite coast. We took Japanese-Americans, and locked them away,” he said. “Pretty much, they were guilty based on heritage. Couldn’t be trusted. Some were set up here. In New York and some down south.” It was said matter-of-fact. No prejudice in his tone of voice.
“Were they dangerous?”
“Doubt it,” he said, smiled. “You know Americans. Knee-jerk reactions become laws.”
“We have camps like that here in New York?”
“They’ve popped up quite-like all over the last few years. Have a lot of nervous politicians in office. Figure they might need a place to lock away hostile people at some point. Not sure if they had now in mind. They were thinking the places would be needed eventually, I guess. Amazing insight they have, don’t you think?” Marfione removed a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, offered them up.
“I’d love one, if you don’t mind,” I said.
“I don’t. Savor it. Not sure when we’ll find a supply to replenish though, you know?”
I thanked him. “I’m Chase McKinney and this is Allison Little. We were--before all of this, well, we were dispatchers at nine-one-one.”
“Nice,” he said. “Can tell by the uniform shirts.”
Always hated the uniform shirts; baby blue itchy material, decorated in para-police collar brass, nameplate and pointless badge. Meant to change out of it at when I was at the apartment Changed the pants, but things had been too hectic. Had a backpack filled with clothing, but left it when we ran from the Humvee. Here I was, Allison, as well, still donned in work shirts, and she in those irritating navy blue pants.
“Lieutenant Marfione. Matthew Marfione. Friends just call me Marf,” he said. We shook hands. “Let me go check with Spencer to see what’s what. But hey, do me a favor? Guys I just brought in, they’re pretty shaken up. If you can welcome them some, might make a world of difference.”
“We’ll do that, sir,” I said.
“Just Marf. And thank you. I mean it. Whatever’s going on, this world is a worse place than it once was, if you can believe that. Ranks and shit, it don’t mean much anymore. We’ve got to be more concerned about being humans, helping each other. The times, they demand it.” He walked past us.
I stared at my cigarette. I had no way to light it. The lake spray was going to ruin it. If I stuffed it in my pocket, I’d crush it. Regardless, I tucked it behind an ear. It would have to keep. “Want to come with me?” I said.
“You want to go over now?” Allison said.
“He’s right,” I nodded toward Marf. “Why wait?”
Before we could head over, we started to dock alongside a larger craft. The Coast Guard crew on our vessel yelled to the crewman on the other vessel. Lines were tossed and our ships were drawn together.
“Okay, everyone,” Spencer said. “We’re going to move from this boat to the other. One at a time. Coast Guard’s going to assist. You’ll get a life vest once on board. Put it on immediately. Secure it. If you need assistance, Coast Guard will help.”
“Guess it will have to wait,” I said.
The Coast Guard station was a large, old white house with a red roof. A plaque hung above the front door that read: Guardians of the Great Lakes.
“Supplies are loaded,” someone shouted. “Let’s get everyone onto this ship.”
Thunder boomed above us. Through thick grey clouds, I saw a crack of lightning slice the sky.
Chapter Six
1432 hours
The larger Coast Guard vessel was a 47 Motor Life Boat, which carried thirty-eight people and four crewmen safely. We had nine civilians, seven military, and eight Coast Guard crewmen on board. Twenty-four in all.
Cedar Point State Park was up the St. Lawrence. With the weather getting worse, we were informed we’d be traveling at roughly twenty to twenty-two knots.
The Captain of the Coast Guard station explained all of this. He was still talking. I zoned in and out, trying to mostly pay attention. I just wasn’t in much of a mood for a lecture about a boat.
He wore his full get-up. Guess he didn’t look at ranks being nonexistent the way Marf did. Different branches. Guess I could expect as much.
“Even if this thing rolls over, it’s designed to right itself,” Captain Travis Keel said. “And we’ve done it, during training. Tipped her and rolled her. Not here. Not on this lake. Swells never get that big here. Seven feet was the biggest we’ve had on Ontario, best I can recall. So you don’t have to ask. It works. The life jackets, purely precautionary.”
His smile, his laugh--they did little to settle my stomach. The jackets were like ones found on an airplane. Deflated. Pull on the cord, and they inflate. Not sure how big the waves were, but it felt worse below deck.
“We have roughly a five hour voyage ahead. Storm’s going to follow us the whole way. We’re going to try and stay outside of it, but that will only add time. We’re safe. Just isn’t going to be the smoothest ride. Regardless, we’re safe here. The bunks aren’t comfy, but the sheets are clean. I suggest you take advantage of the time and get some rest.”
“Thank you, Captain,” one of the men from the second Humvee said.
When the Captain went up top, the rest of us stared at the steps as if we expected someone else to come down.
I took a deep breath, remembering what Lt. Marfione had said. “Before we choose bunks,” I said, “I want to introduce myself. I’m Chase. My son, Cash, daughter Charlene, and this is my girlfriend. Allison.”
“I’m Dave. Dave Rivera, and this is Sues Melia.”
The man who’d thanked the Captain stood up. “My name is Tim Chatterton.” He had to be about twenty-seven, at least 6’2”. He was dark-skinned with a shaved bald head and a thick beard with no mustache.
We all shook hands.
“Were you two cops?” Chatterton said.
“Worked at nine-one-one. Dispatchers,” Allison said. Worked, she’d said. She understood the gravity of the situation. My shoulders fell. Only had a white t-shirt on underneath or I’d lose the shirt.
The second man waved. “I’m Nicholas Dentino. Nick,” he said. Physically fit, also in his early to mid-twenties and resembled a model who posed for clothing ads in magazines. Short dark hair, set jaw and hazel colored eyes.
I waved back. Shouldn’t hold it against him, but if he wasn’t going to make an effort to shake hands, neither was I. “How’s the arm?” I said.
“Healing, h
opefully,” he said, and snickered. Sounded like he was all right, but to look at him, I’d say he was scared. Guess we all were. No shame in that.
“I’m Crystal Sutton,” the woman said. Her shoulder length brown hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail. She had white skin that clearly revealed that she had not spent the summer bathing in sunlight.
With introductions out of the way, an awkward silence ensued. The idea of getting sleep was attractive. Being able to sleep, as the ship tossed back and forth might prove difficult. Part of me wanted to talk and hear their story.
I wasn’t as interested in sharing mine, though. Talking was funny that way. Supposed to be give and take. People clam up if it’s too lopsided. I call it being cautious.
“You guys know where we’re headed?” Chatterton said.
I shook my head. I watched Dentino. He didn’t look well. The boat rose and fell on the swells. Might not be as high as seven feet, but they felt huge just the same. “Was told an internment camp. Somewhere in New York.”
“By boat? Where could that be?” Crystal said.
“Up the St. Lawrence,” I said.
My son yawned.
Hard not to feel like the last nine people who’d been found alive in Rochester? Could we have been it? Was Border Patrol flying around searching for more survivors? Even if they came across some, what then? The Coast Guard station was empty. No crew was left there, and we were cruising on the biggest of their boats.
“I’m going to get some sleep,” Chatterton said. He stretched; arms went wide.
“Good call,” I said. “Maybe we can talk some more once we get to the camp.”
The other three silently nodded, trying to make it look like that would be a great idea. I wasn’t buying it though. Not sure why, but they made me uneasy. Might be the way I kept catching Chatterton eyeballing me. Felt like more than a size-up, a once over. The look seemed filled with disdain and I didn’t like it.
The bunks were made for one person, if that. Conserving space had been the intent of the thin design. Cash climbed onto one. He patted the mattress. “Sleep here,” he said.
I sat beside him. “Want me to lie down with you?”
“Yes,” he said.
Charlene gave me a look. “Where am I supposed to sleep?”
“Know what?” I said. “I bet the three of us can fit.”
It excluded Allison. Four of us would never fit. No way.
Sues and Dave took one bunk. Spooned. Dave hugged the silent woman tightly. If I needed to find out more about anyone, it was her. She was with our . . . group, if you wanted to think of us in terms of them and us. I knew very little about her or her story. There just hadn’t been time.
“You guys get in, give me a minute,” I said.
“Gonna tuck me in?” Allison said. She smiled.
“You okay?”
“Of course, I am. I’ll let it go tonight. You sleep with them. Tomorrow we find a king size bed. You on one side, me on the other, with them sandwiched between us.” She mashed her hands together.
Now, I smiled. “Love the idea.”
She pulled back the sheets, lay down and pursed her lips.
“What?” I said.
“Can you sneak me a kiss?”
“I can do that,” I said, and kissed her.
“Are we going to be okay now? Is the worst over?”
“I want to say, yes,” I said.
“But you don’t know.”
“No. I don’t know. We’re all together. It’s a start, you know. It all seems to be going in a better direction.”
She touched my face, forehead, and stared into my eyes. “Go get some sleep. Hug your kids.”
“Good night,” I said. I knew it was barely 3:00 PM, but I felt exhausted.
I laid down on my back with a kid on either side, their heads and a hand on my chest.
The boat bounced and rocked. Thunder echoed down here like cannons firing. The aluminum must act like an amplifier or something. There was no room on the bunk to move even a fraction of an inch. To make matters worse, I never sleep on my back.
Regardless, I closed my eyes and must have fallen asleep immediately.
# # #
Maybe it was the silence that woke me. My eyes opened. It was dark. Took me a moment to remember where I was. Where we were. In the belly of a large ship on Lake Ontario headed for the St. Lawrence. I couldn’t have moved if I wanted. Kids were still asleep, using my chest their pillow.
As I was about to close my eyes, trying to grab a bit more sleep, I heard it. A whisper. Someone talking softly, anyway. I recognized the voice, deep, with a little gravel to it. All bass. “It’s all I’m saying. Something about all of this, it doesn’t add up.”
“But what do you mean?” Had to be Nicholas Dentino.
“The flu shots, the ones everyone’s been pushing about that swine flu, the H7N9, right? You go into any corner store pharmacy, any doctors’ office, they want to give you the shot, right? I was in the military. Joined after high school. We had to get vaccinated for everything. And if we went overseas, there were like three-hundred more shots we needed,” Chatterton said.
“Okay, so?” It was the female, Crystal Sutton. I barely heard her.
“So, if the virus that is turning everyone into zombies was in those shots, how come these military and coast guard guys don’t have it? How come they’re not zombies,” he said.
“Because they would have been vaccinated,” Dentino said.
“Exactly. No way around it.”
I remembered the 9-1-1 call I’d taken. The professor or doctor who claimed responsibility for the mess we were now in. He’d kept rambling on and on about a contamination.
Was the outbreak more limited than first expected?
I’d seen the news. Heard reports. The nation’s capitol was in shambles.
A contaminated batch would not infect the entire country.
That meant one of two, no, three things. Either more than a single batch had been contaminated--possible and likely, and biting or scratching did spread the disease. Or both.
The kid we’d found in the woods by the grocery store, Jay, had been bitten, but he hadn’t turned into a zombie. He’d been killed by one. Torn to shreds. Had he been torn to shreds before there had been time for him actually to turn? How long did it take to turn, if in fact people did turn after getting bitten by one of the zombies? With Jay, we didn’t really give time for change. We’d buried him.
That changed everything. I’d been taking solace, granted just some solace, in the idea that the virus wouldn’t spread. That bites were bites. They’d hurt, but heal. Now, I didn’t know what to think.
Chatterton was right.
Something did not make sense. Regardless of the spreading, why were these military folks not infected, not walking dead? Could they have been immune to the virus, the vaccination? Or could it be something as simple as they just hadn’t been vaccinated against the swine flu yet? Maybe there’d be answers once we reached the internment camp.
“I think, if we get a chance, we should run,” Chatterton said.
“And them?” Sutton said.
“Guy’s got kids. Nothing against him, but that makes the lot a liability, not an asset. No, we keep this to ourselves. Did you see how those things hate the rain and the way they were falling into the river? I’m going to find me an island. A hideaway. You two think about it. Better the three of us on an island together, than locked away in some concentration camp. Don’t take too long though. I’m just telling you. Me? I see a chance, I’m out.”
There was no falling back to sleep. I felt the heat in my cheeks. If they looked at me, they’d know I was awake, and that I’d heard the entire whispered conversation.
So, my kids and I were a liability, huh? We’d have to see about that, wouldn’t we?
Thoughts of sanctuary sank. Nothing was over. If anything, it all just began.
Chapter Seven
2013 hours
I wante
d to talk to Allison. She needed to hear what I’d overheard earlier. Now wasn’t the time. Moments ago, the Captain woke us. The nine of us, the civilians, were herded together. The soldiers surrounded us. Might look like they were protecting us, keeping us safe from the sides of the craft, but I wasn’t so sure. The storm ended. Not sure how long ago. The waves were constant, but smaller. The thunder quit its ruckus a while back. I hadn’t seen a flash of lightning since we’d been on deck.
As I stood there, I thought two things. I really wanted a shower. I had to be raw. The last one was nearly a week ago, and somehow, I’d lost the cigarette Marf had shared with me. That pissed me off.
The rain had stopped. That was upsetting, as well. For obvious reasons, I’d come to love the rain since zombies did not.
I hated feeling suspicious toward everyone around us. Part of me, as much as I hated to admit it, really felt like better days were ahead. Chatterton and his two yanked that strand of hope I’d attempted to hold. I’d keep an eye on them. Although trust had never been established, now respect was sent overboard as well. Fuck him. Fuck them.
Ignorance wasn’t my goal, wasn’t bliss. Better to know where things stood than relish oblivion. Some people operated fine living lost in the world they’ve created inside their mind, but not me. The key was being prepared to accept whatever that truth might be. Some looked for answers, but buried their head in the sand because they didn’t like what was found. Way I saw it, the truth was essential. Me? I dug and dug until whatever hidden truth was there was unearthed.
“We’re on the St. Lawrence now,” Captain Keel said. “Made pretty good time, actually.”
Something had to be wrong with the Captain. Guy was always smiling. He didn’t look at one person too long. His eyes roamed back and forth over each of us. When they were on me, I didn’t like it, even before I’d listened in on Chatterton’s conspiracy theory.
“Be roughly forty minutes or so and we’ll be at Cedar Point Park. Don’t know about you all, but I’m hungry and looking forward to a nice meal. We’re getting in late. I radioed ahead this morning, and told them to expect us late tonight. Keep the kitchen open, and such. I was assured dinner would still be hot once we docked.” Captain Keel stood with his hands clasped behind his back. The waves were big enough that I’d lose my balance if I mimicked his stance.
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