The Dying of the Light: Interval

by Kristopher, Jason

  “There’s nothing in the manual to cover this,” said Anderson.

  He and I were at a loss, other than the obvious death sentence, when the young and powerfully-built Captain Jeremiah Graves approached. He saluted Anderson, who smiled slightly as he returned the honor, and he started to salute me, but I waved him off. “I’m a civilian, Captain.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, turning back to Anderson. “Sir, I was ordered to report to Director Shaw, sir.”

  Anderson looked the young man up and down. “What group are you with, sailor?”

  “Special Warfare Group Three, sir. Delivery Vehicle Team One, sir.”

  Anderson whistled softly. “So is that a DDS out there on the boat?”

  Graves risked a small smile. “You bet your ass, sir.”

  “I’ve never seen one of those up close. Think I could get a tour?”

  “Yes, sir. Just as soon as I report to the director, sir.”

  “Stand easy, sailor. She’s down for the count at the moment, getting some rest.”

  Graves looked relieved. “Good to hear. She’s needed it for a long time. I… well, there wasn’t anything I could do, sir. Most of my men are dead, and… I wanted to help her, sir. But to tell you the truth, sir…” If I hadn’t known that SEALs don’t cry, I would’ve thought the man was getting misty. It seemed like a long-overdue confession was spilling out of him. “I believed what Warner said about her. I was an idiot. I’m glad her husband came back. He deserves her a lot more—”

  Anderson held up a hand, studiously ignoring the confession and the emotion displayed by the other man. “No need to explain. Now, what were you reporting to her for?”

  Graves took a deep breath and got himself back together. He glanced over at me before answering the question, and Anderson shook his head. “He’s cleared for anything and everything. Go ahead.”

  “Yes, sir. My men and I—and Sergeant Denson—followed the tracks left by Duncan, sir, but it was pointless. He took a vehicle of some kind and fled. No telling where he is now.”

  “Did you try his quarters?” said Shaw, walking up and leaning on the wall. He looked tired and beat, and I wondered what the hell he was doing out here instead of being asleep with his wife. “Might be a good place to start.”

  Graves tensed up as he saw the pilot, and he answered quickly. “We checked there, too. The place looked ransacked. If I had to guess, I’d say he’s hiding somewhere. Probably intends to stow away on one of the planes, if he can. He won’t miss his chance to escape with everyone else.”

  Anderson grunted at Graves. “Well, let’s do what we can to deny him that chance. Commander—”

  “Lieutenant, sir. They just called me captain because I was in command of the boat, sir.”

  Anderson raised an eyebrow. “Don’t correct me, Commander.”

  Graves swallowed and tried not to smile. One could hardly blame him after being bumped up two grades in less than a second. “Yes, sir,” he said.

  “I want you to take personal responsibility for the security of the planes. See that Duncan doesn’t make it on the flight home.”

  If it hadn’t been Antarctica, I would’ve thought the room chilled ten degrees when he said that. I couldn’t fault the logic, but it was a cruel thing to leave someone behind, especially here.

  Graves hesitated. “Sir, I cannot comply with that order, sir.”

  Anderson looked more surprised than I’d ever seen him. I guessed he’d never heard those words before, at least in that particular sequence, and certainly not from another SEAL. “What?”

  “Sir, I won’t be on the flights, either, sir.”

  “Why the hell not?”

  “I was planning to take the Texas to Washington, sir, to find out if there’s any government left.”

  “There is, but it ain’t in Washington, son. It’s in Bunker Five, in Pennsylvania, and it’s useless.”

  Graves’s face fell. “Useless, sir? Pennsylvania?”

  “I don’t think the new president is right in the head, commander. We haven’t even talked to him in three years, and then it was a bunch of babbling demands to comply with his orders.”

  “I… I see.”

  “But, I think your idea isn’t a bad one, just a matter of destination, is all. How many crew do you have left?”

  “Sixty-seven present and accounted for, sir. Just under half-strength.”

  “Here’s what you’re going to do. I want you to take the Texas and head for Norfolk Naval Station. Once there, I want you to train and equip skeleton crews on whatever ships you can find that will make it across the Atlantic. One to London, one to Paris, wherever you can. We need eyes and ears out there, Mr. Graves, and we’re not going to get it sitting in a bunker. The US, or at least what’s left of it, isn’t the only country out there, and we need to find out what’s going on before we even think about coming back up.” He turned suddenly. “What’s your armaments?”

  Graves grimaced. “The captain dumped a lot of it before… well, before I took command, sir. Said it just weighed us down and there was no one to use it on anymore, anyway. We still have a few Tomahawks, for whatever good those’ll do, and all our torpedoes.”

  “Nukes?”

  Graves shook his head. “No, sir. Those are all at the bottom of the Pacific.”

  “Good. Those Tomahawks might come in handy, but not nukes.” I looked at Anderson, startled. He glanced over at me and shrugged. “Just something I’ve been talking to George about. He’ll fill you and Kim in on it soon. Or I will. Anyway, Graves, what I want you to do once you’ve got those crew trained up is to take your boat up to Washington and check it out. You’ll stay in touch with us on a regular basis via satellite once you get around the Cape.”

  Graves nodded. “That sounds like a plan, sir. Good to have a purpose again.”

  Anderson smiled. “It is, at that. How soon can you leave?”

  “We’ll need at least a few days to power the sub back up; she’s been down for about three years, on shore power only, and that on an irregular basis. But we can be loading people and supplies while we do that. There’s more than a few of us that have wives here now, sir, and we’ll be taking them with us.” He said it as a statement of fact, not a question. “We’ll have nearly a full boat, but we could squeeze in maybe another thirty or forty who wanted to go with us. I’m sure there’s some of the European folks that might be interested, if we’re headed that way eventually.”

  “How are you for supplies?”

  “Well, since you’ll be taking the rest back a lot quicker than we can, I’d like to take the stuff from the aeroponics bay, if that’s all right with you. As for the rest, we should be just fine.”

  “I think that’s fair. Just don’t take the dietary supplements.” When Graves looked at him quizzically, he just shook his head. “That’s an order.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. Start prepping and loading the boat now. I want to be out of here as soon as possible.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Graves took off at a run, and Anderson laughed. I glanced over at him, and he shrugged. “It’s been a while since I’ve had anywhere worth running to, son.”

  “We need to do something about that… that ‘food,’” said Shaw. I flinched, having forgotten he was even there. “And we need to do it now.”

  “Already on, it, Colonel,” said Anderson, and I flinched again as he yelled in his parade ground voice. “Sergeant Denson, front and center!”

  Denson ran up, standing at attention.

  “I have two tasks for you, Sergeant.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Detail six of your men to guard the planes. No one gets on without my express permission, and I want a sweep of them straight away. Every nook and cranny. No unauthorized persons—and that means anyone who’s not our people—are allowed on board.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll take care of it myself, sir.”

  “No. I want you to take the rest of your men and go w
ith Colonel Shaw.”

  “Yes, sir.” Denson picked up his radio and began speaking rapidly into it as he stepped to one side.

  Anderson turned back to Shaw. “Colonel,” said Anderson. “I want you to destroy every trace of that dietary supplement. Then take the sergeant and his men out to that abandoned shed your wife mentioned and get rid of it, too.”

  Shaw nodded. “Yes, sir. Sergeant, you ready?”

  Denson followed the colonel out to the parking lot, and I turned back to Anderson. “This hasn’t been at all what I thought it would be, Frank.”

  “Me either, David. Me either.”

  Atkins found me the next day while I was looking through the detritus that was left in his lab. I couldn’t find anything useful—or at least, what I, the non-geneticist, would recognize as useful—and when he came in, I noticed a flash of annoyance cross his bearded face.

  Probably doesn’t like someone else playing with his toys, I thought. I get it. I feel the same way, sometimes.

  I held up my hands in mock surrender. “I swear, I haven’t touched a thing.”

  It took a second, but he loosened up a bit. “Well, just so we’re clear, there’s nothing left in here to touch.”

  “I kinda noticed.”

  “Let’s just say that the atmosphere here recently hasn’t been all that conducive to scientific research.” He snorted. “And by atmosphere, I’m not talking about the weather.”

  “Yeah, I got it. Warner’s a bastard, isn’t he?”

  “You have no idea.”

  “Actually, Jim, it’s you that has no idea.” I motioned to a couple of nearby stools, and we both took a seat. “I’m not supposed to be telling you this, but you’d find out eventually, one way or the other. You just have to promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.”

  Atkins snorted again. “Yeah, like I have no experience with that. I’ve been keeping secrets for years, Mr. Blake.”

  “Call me David. And why don’t you ask your lovely assistant to join us?” I said, raising my voice slightly.

  There was a soft curse from the hallway, and Sabrina Tanner entered, much to the chagrin of Atkins, who shook his head. “How did you know I was there?” she asked, her Australian accent coming to the fore quite strongly.

  “It pays to have great hearing when you’re alone with walkers for an extended holiday weekend,” I said, trying to make light of what had happened in Fall Creek. “Especially when you’re the only human left in a town full of zombies.”

  Atkins looked at me with what I hoped was new respect, if a bit guarded. That was a standard reaction whenever I told the story, nowadays. Before Z-Day, I would’ve just been one more sent to the looney bin if I’d said the same. Funny how things change.

  “So what happened?” asked Sabrina. “What’s the big secret?”

  After swearing her to secrecy as well, I told them the whole truth, leaving out none of it. Although Atkins already knew some of what Warner had done, he was breathing hard by the time I finished, trying to calm himself down. Sabrina was more than a little queasy, from the look on her face. I can hardly blame them. I don’t know what I’d feel like if I found out I’d had a little bit of human every day with lunch. A fragment of dialogue from an old sci-fi movie went through my head, adjusted for the situation. The dietary supplement is people!

  Atkins took a moment to collect himself, then asked, “What… what’s going to happen to Warner and Duncan?”

  “They’re… they’re staying here,” I said, expecting the look of shock I got from Atkins, but curiously didn’t get from Sabrina. Remind me never to piss her off, I thought.

  “You can’t just leave them here…”

  “Sure he can,” said Sabrina. “After what they did? I’d shoot them myself. He’s being nice.”

  “Nice? Nice? To let them stay here and starve?”

  “We’re going to give them a choice,” I said. “But what’s important right now is you, Jim. If your lab is in this kind of mess… the question is, did we come all this way for nothing?”

  Atkins glanced at Sabrina, who shrugged. “Might as well.”

  He looked back at me, and turned his back to Sabrina, who patted the back of his jacket. Which rattled. This time, I clued in a bit faster.

  “Let me guess… the hard drives?”

  “Got it in one, Mr. Blake. David. Safest place for them to be, I figured.”

  I relaxed, just a bit. “Whew! I was worried there for a second. I’m sure Dr. Maxwell will be more than happy to find the appropriate equipment for you when we arrive.”

  “I’ve never heard of her, beyond the mentions you made before. Has she done a lot of work in the field?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know anything about genetics, but Mary is one of the smartest people I know, and if she says she knows what she’s talking about, I believe her, and she seemed to know you quite well…” I broke off as Atkins began to chuckle. “What? What is it?”

  “Her name is Mary, you say?”

  I shrugged. “Yeah. Mary Maxwell. Though, come to think of it, she only got married after Z-Day. You might have heard of her by her maiden name—”

  “Lemme guess: Adamsdöttir?”

  Now I was the one flummoxed. “How the hell did you know that?”

  “She wasn’t the only one reading papers, you know. I’ve been following her work for years. I can’t believe I didn’t put it together before. She’s brilliant, if a bit unorthodox.”

  That certainly describes Mary, I thought.

  “I can’t wait to meet her. If anyone could help me solve this thing, it’s her.” He began talking rapidly, going on and on about gene sequencing and genetic modeling, DNA base pairs and the prion, and I just smiled and nodded as it all went over my head.

  Glad to see that someone is happy, I thought, trying hard not to worry about Kim and what was happening thousands of miles away. Just a few more days, and I’ll be able to talk to her again. Atkins isn’t the only one who can’t wait.

  I waved to Commander Graves from a safe spot on the shore as he stood in the sail of the USS Texas, now cleared of its icy prison. That had taken a bit longer than estimated, but Anderson had ordered some of the previous fuel reserves to be used to heat the warm water that had flowed in long makeshift hoses down to the sub. Though it cooled quickly as it passed through the raised hoses, it was still plenty warm enough to melt the ice from around the sub’s sail and rudder, as well as the Dry Deck Shelter Anderson had been so eager to tour. I’d never seen him look as happy as he had when he got back from his visit to the sub.

  Well, except for when he looked at Morena, that is. Just goes to show, having a kid can soften even the hardest of hearts.

  My radio blared as Graves contacted me one final time. “Tell the captain I said thanks, Mr. Blake. And from all of us, safe journey.”

  “You as well, Commander. Stay in touch, when you can.”

  “Aye, aye. Texas out.”

  He disappeared from the sail, and I thought I heard a hatch slam as the submarine began to slip beneath the ice. It took only a moment for it to sink below, and I could see the ice was already starting to refreeze in its place.

  Good luck to all of us.

  It had taken nearly four days to get everyone ready for departure, and as I climbed into the Jeep and headed back to the station, I marveled at the speed with which we’d been able to accomplish everything. Of course, it had helped that the McMurdo survivors had been prepared for our arrival for some time, but there was still an inventory of useful equipment to go through, and see just how many people we could fit on the planes. I was dismayed at the amount of useful material we had to leave behind, but now that both planes were toting more than four hundred people, there was no question of bringing it back. Not with our fuel concerns, I thought. I just hope Mahoney’s able to pull off a miracle back at Christchurch. We’d been able to top up the tanks on both planes, and had some in reserve aboard, just in case, but the pilots—all of them—flatly refused to f
ly with any more.

  Can’t blame them, really. I wouldn’t want to fly a bomb, either.

  I pulled up in front of the small shed that had held Jennifer Shaw for three years, and now had a new prisoner. As I got out, I noticed one of Sergeant Denson’s men guarding the door.

  “I thought all you boys were on the planes?” I asked.

  “Captain’s orders, sir. We’re to secure the prisoner until the final loading is complete.”

  I nodded. “Gotcha. Thanks.”

  “Yes, sir.” He opened the door for me, and I stepped inside, moving to stand next to Anderson, who was looking into the cell as its occupant yelled at him.

  “You can’t do this! It’s inhuman! It’s against the Geneva Convention! It’s—”

  “Shut up, Warner,” said Anderson. “You’re lucky I don’t just shoot you where you stand.”

  “But you can’t! I’m supposed to be on that plane!”

  “After what you did? I don’t think so.”

  Warner shifted his attention to me. “You! You understand, don’t you? I was only doing what had to be done. I cared about those people. It wasn’t like they suffered—”

  “What about the people they left behind?” I responded. “You even left notes that were supposed to be from them, making it so much worse.”

  “I thought that would be better than nothing at all. I was trying to help. I saved these people!”

  “The ends justify the means, don’t they?”

  “Yes! That’s it, exactly.”

  I turned to Anderson. “Does he really think I’m going to be more receptive to this crap?”

  Anderson growled at Warner. “I’ve heard that exact same speech before, Doctor. From someone I thought was truly evil. His name was Henry Gardner. But he was just a pompous, arrogant asshole who thought he could get away with anything, because he didn’t give a shit who he hurt. You, on the other hand, you’re actually worse than Gardner was. You knew these people, and cared about them, and yet you managed to rationalize this. That makes you more of a monster than Gardner could ever have hoped to be.”