Z Plan (Book 2): Red Tides

by Lerma, Mikhail

  “Ah. Greetings,” Moretti switched to English.

  Russo ordered Aldo to go back and help the rest of the crew, and the man turned, retreating without protest.

  “What news do you have of the world, my friends?” Moretti asked them.

  “It’s gone. Overrun by those things,” Naeem answered.

  “So you’ve come to Heaven for refuge?” Moretti asked.

  “Just a temporary stay,” Cale answered. “I’d like to get back to America.”

  “Both of you?” Moretti inquired.

  “No,” Naeem spoke for himself.

  “Come on up,” Moretti offered, “Let’s discuss your stay.”

  Russo pointed to the cabin door and then took his leave. He hated being on the Heaven; it seemed a blasphemous place to him somehow. Cale and Naeem entered the cabin, where there was a long corridor with open doors on either side. The space was filled with music and laughter, and clothes and bottles littered the floor. At the end of the hall was a flight of stairs. As they passed through the hall they looked back and forth into each open door. Some rooms contained groups of people lying about, totally stoned. White powder was piled on numerous surfaces. In other rooms people were drinking and dancing. In one room, an impromptu orgy had broken out, with naked bodies gyrating against one another. The moans drowned out the laughter of the other partygoers. Cale spotted one woman performing fellatio on a man, while another took her from behind. Suddenly, he felt very uneasy about being here, while Naeem didn’t seem bothered at all.

  Cale ascended the stairs, fleeing what was happening below. He was outside again, where the deck wrapped around both sides, and brought them to Moretti. From here they could see the rest of his attire. He wore only a black Speedo and sandals. He obviously wasn’t hitting the drugs as hard as some of his guests, and so wasn’t as haggard. His black hair was short, with tufts on top that reminded Cale of a Mohawk. On his right hand he wore large rings on each finger. On his left arm was a large gold watch.

  “Welcome my friends,” he said, extending his hand.

  Cale and Naeem took turns shaking the man’s hand and introducing themselves.

  “Come, let’s have a seat,” he said, motioning them to an open booth, “I’m grilling some fish if you’re interested.”

  “No, thank you,” Cale answered, “Captain Russo provided a meal for us.”

  “Ah. Good man. He just needs to loosen up,” Moretti said with a laugh. “I am Salvatore Moretti.”

  Cale and Naeem sat in silence. Was his name supposed to mean something to them? Cale stared awkwardly at Moretti as he waited for praise. None was forthcoming.

  “Yes, the same Salvatore Moretti who starred in the Blood Streets trilogy,” he explained.

  Still neither man showed any recognition. Cale hadn’t heard of either him or his movies, and Naeem had never been to a movie in his life.

  An even more awkward silence followed.

  “Really?” Moretti said. “You’ve never heard of any of my movies?” He was beginning to sound annoyed. “I was told it did exceptionally well in the United States.”

  “I’m not much of a movie person,” Cale lied.

  At that point, he’d have done anything to get off the ship. Moretti’s face turned red for a moment, whether because of anger or embarrassment Cale wasn’t sure. The host motioned two girls over, who took seats next to Cale and Naeem. The naked blonde, who’d sat next to Cale, placed her hand on his groin. He seized her wrist and pushed it away.

  “Please, don’t,” he said, still trying to be polite.

  The woman looked at Moretti, who then nodded toward Naeem. She moved to the empty space on his other side. Naeem didn’t protest as Cale had. He wasn’t married, and it had been some time since his last sexual encounter. Unlike some of the other soldiers in his militia, he didn’t approve of rape.

  “Women not your thing?” Moretti asked.

  Cale was angry, “I’m not here for your little soiree. I was told you might be able to help me get home, and I’d appreciate if you didn’t waste my time.”

  Moretti was surprised by the American’s aggressiveness. Maybe some of the stereotypes about them were true. He waited a second to calm himself before responding.

  “Down to business then,” he said, waving the girls away.

  “Yes, please,” Cale shot back.

  It was rare for someone to warrant hostility from Cale. Normally, he was very easy going, giving everyone the benefit of the doubt, and getting to know them before passing judgment. It was quite clear to Cale, however, that Moretti wasn’t worth his time. The guy was full of himself, fishing for praise, and used people to manipulate situations. He hadn’t even bothered to ask their names.

  “Right. Well, I can’t get you home. None of these ships will make it, except for mine, and I’m not going anywhere,” Moretti said with a snide smile.

  “That’s fine,” Cale shot back, “just give me a boat and some supplies, and I’ll go on my own.”

  “Are you two not together?” Moretti asked.

  “No,” Naeem answered, “We were both captives, and escaped together.”

  “Our end goals aren’t the same,” Cale said.

  “And what do you want, friend?” Moretti asked Naeem.

  “A clean slate,” Naeem answered honestly, “I just want to live wherever I want.”

  “Given the current situation, I think living anywhere you want is very possible. If you can survive the plague that is,” Moretti said.

  Moretti knew that both men wouldn’t be on his ship now, if they couldn’t hack it against the infected. His intention, when he’d first loaded up the boat, had been to embark on a six-month hiatus. He’d even joked about having enough supplies to survive an apocalypse. He, the ship’s crew, and the models, had set sail just before the initial reports of illness in Africa had surfaced. Once it was clear that they couldn’t dock anywhere without fear of infection, the crew quit being the crew, and joined the party. It was amazing what people would do when they thought the world was ending, and how easy it was for some to lose their inhibitions.

  Thunder rumbled in the distance, drawing the attention of all three men. The wind picked up a bit, carrying the smell of rain with it as it passed. Negotiations would have to continue at a later time.

  “Gentlemen,” Moretti began, “I can offer you a place to sleep for tonight. We can continue this discussion tomorrow over breakfast.”

  Cale and Naeem both agreed. Cale knew that he wouldn’t be able to load up and leave immediately. It would take at least two days to get his plans in order. He’d still like to take the yacht, but Moretti was adamant about it not being a possibility. He wondered if he could take it by force, but knew immediately that there was no way he could make himself okay with the idea. Once, as a kid, his friends had thought it would be cool if they all shoplifted. The four of them took turns grabbing something and walking out. Cale recalled John stealing a pack of trading cards. Wade took an old western that was on sale, and Chris stole a Hansen CD. Cale was the last to go, and he just couldn’t do it. He ended up paying for the candy bar he claimed to have stolen. Theft just wasn’t in his character. In a world like this, though, it might have to become part of it.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” Moretti said, as he stood. “You’re welcome to explore the community and see what it has to offer,” he directed at Naeem.

  Naeem nodded, as he pondered the offer. He might just want to walk around a bit. He’d been confined to that sub for the last couple of months, and though it was nice to be able to move about the vessel, all the corridors looked the same. It made him feel like he was never actually going anywhere. Moretti told him which vessels he was welcome to board, and which to avoid. It seemed that not everyone was eager to partake in the festivities.

  Despite his uneasiness at being aboard the boat, Cale was relieved to be shown to a bed. After sitting atop the empty container and hoping for rescue all day, he was exhausted. The room he was in had been
a crew member’s room. It was small and had only one bed. The original owner was currently involved in the orgy on the opposite side of the vessel, and hadn’t slept in it for weeks. Cale volunteered to sleep on the floor, but Naeem told him to just take the bed. He was going to go for a walk, and there was no sense in tripping over Cale when he returned. Once the sleeping arrangements were settled, Cale was left to himself. It was weird hearing music and laughter coming from other rooms.

  Cale emptied his bag onto the floor. A few bottles of water and two cans of food were all it contained. Out of his own cargo pockets, he pulled out the Ziploc bags containing his iPod and Zach’s book. The book was waterproof, but he still had the habit of bagging it. Now alone in the room, he unwound the iPod ear-buds and lay down. He sorted through his playlists ‘til he found his ‘Mellow’ track. He’d gotten to the point that he couldn’t sleep unless he was listening to it. The ship rocked more aggressively as the storm came closer, and its motion helped lull Cale into a deep sleep.

  20.

  Separate Ways

  Cale was aware that he was dreaming again. Once more he stood on a beach at night, smelling the sea breeze. A fat yellow moon hung just over the horizon, and palm tree leaves rustled behind him. Any second now the undead would make their appearance. He waited for them.

  “Hey,” said a voice from behind him.

  Cale turned to face the speaker. It was Zach. A faint mark could be seen on his forehead in the moonlight where Cale had shot him.

  “How’s it going?” Zach asked.

  “Shitty. I wish you were around,” Cale answered.

  “You’re surviving though, and that’s what’s important,” Zach said. “You still need to deliver that message to my wife,” he reminded him.

  “I know man,” Cale started, “it’s just been so tough.”

  “Yeah, but you’re a fighter, Cale, a survivor. If anyone can make it home it’ll be you. You gotta keep fighting, promise me,” Zach demanded.

  “Zach…” Cale said.

  “Promise me,” he urged.

  “I…I promise,” Cale acquiesced to his friend’s urging.

  Cale woke, still speaking his pledge to Zach, aloud. He opened his eyes to the real world. He was alone in the room and had been for the last two days. The breakfast with Moretti had proved fruitless, as he continued to stall him. Frustrated, Cale had spent most of his time aboard the Bella Donna. The storm had forced Moretti’s partygoers indoors, so Cale used that time to get his bearings and explore the area. He was free to move about most of the vessels inside the inner parameter of the flotilla. The ships along the outside however, had signs posted. Cale had asked what they said, and learned that they were ‘no trespassing’ signs.

  Captain Russo and Aldo had taken the time to show Cale where they were located on a map, only a few hours from land. Taking it upon himself, Cale asked around, hoping someone would give him a ride to shore. A Frenchman with a small speedboat was the only one willing to provide transport for free. Most everyone else took a quid pro quo stance, wanting payment of some kind for their troubles. Unfortunately, Cale had nothing he was willing to part with. He pondered for a moment when a man asked for Zach’s knife as a fee, but Cale knew he could never part with it. The Frenchman had agreed to take him to shore today.

  Naeem had made friends with some men on another fishing boat who were from the same part of Sudan. They quickly offered him a spot among their crew, which Naeem accepted. He would be leaving today as well, going however, in the opposite direction.

  Cale gathered his meager belongings, and the supplies he’d been given. He had an extra set of clothing, a sleeping bag, and some food. The community had more than enough to spare. After a couple of minutes he left the cabin and crossed to another boat. He was on his way to say his goodbyes to Naeem and the crew of the Bella Donna. Hopefully the Frenchman was getting the fuel he needed.

  Cale weaved in and out of the crowds of people enjoying Moretti’s latest party. Naeem was helping to move canisters of fuel onto the fishing boat when Cale walked up. Seeing Cale, he stopped and wiped his hands on his dark green button up shirt, and then reached out to shake Cale’s hand. Cale extended his hand in turn.

  “Just wanted to come by and wish you luck,” Cale said.

  “The same to you. Thanks for everything. I hope you find your family,” Naeem responded.

  The two men stood a moment, remembering when they’d first shaken hands in the brig of the submarine.

  “I also wanted to thank you,” Cale started, “you saved my ass a few times.”

  “Only returning the favor. Go with God, my friend,” Naeem finished with a smile.

  They nodded to each other, smiling once more, and then Naeem watched as Cale walked away. He truly hoped Cale would find his family. He’d learned that not all Americans were easy to hate, despite what his father had told him. Cale wasn’t at all what he’d been raised to believe.

  Cale stopped by the Frenchman’s speedboat on the way to the Bella Donna, but the man was nowhere to be found. He was probably still negotiating with Moretti for the fuel. The man really got on Cale’s nerves. He’d outright dodged his requests for transport, eventually telling him that he needed to ask someone else, that he didn’t control what the people did with their boats. Cale wondered if he got off on wasting his time.

  The entire crew of the Bella Donna was attending the party, save for Russo, De Luca, and Aldo. Cale stopped at the edge of the vessel where the three men stood.

  “Permission to come aboard,” he said jokingly.

  “Granted,” Captain Russo said with a chuckle.

  This had been a running joke for the past two days despite the language barrier.

  “Today is the day, huh?” Aldo asked, shaking the American’s hand.

  “Yep,” Cale answered.

  Russo couldn’t take him ashore. Going near land reminded him of the fate his family had suffered.

  “Good luck out there,” Aldo said.

  “Thanks,” Cale replied.

  “I’m glad you’re here,” Aldo continued, “Who did you say took you captive?”

  “The Egyptian Armed Forces, why?” Cale was curious.

  Aldo’s face grew pale.

  “What’s going on?” Cale asked.

  “I was listening to some radio chatter between Moretti,” Aldo paused for a second, “and someone claiming to be with the Egyptian Armed Forces.”

  Cale couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Aldo had to be joking.

  “What…what was the caller’s name? Did he say?” Cale asked frantically.

  “I don’t remember,” Aldo confessed.

  “What did they say?” questioned Cale.

  “They wanted to arrange a meeting,”

  “We gotta get out of here. They’re dangerous,” Cale exclaimed.

  Aldo translated to Russo the situation. The two spoke together for a moment.

  “We can’t leave; the rest of the crew is on another boat,” Aldo explained.

  “Fuck,” Cale sighed.

  21.

  Propositions Gone Wrong

  The submarine surfaced and slowly moved into position. Selim had given the order after his negotiations with a man claiming to lead the cluster of vessels; ‘Heaven’ he’d called it? The man who called himself Moretti was eager to meet Selim and his men, especially when Selim extended a business proposal, but he wanted to talk about it in person.

  The floating community watched as the new vessel halted next to a Spanish barge that had been renovated into an outdoor cafeteria. Moretti was already en route to meet his new guests, and potential business partner. Two men wearing only baggy shorts lowered a wooden plank across to the submarine to serve as a bridge.

  Lieutenant Commander Amun was the first to exit the hatch. Behind him were eight men in dark green uniforms, armed with rifles. An order was shouted by the lieutenant commander in Arabic, and the eight men snapped to attention. Admiral Selim stepped out into the sunlight. He squin
ted involuntarily. It had been quite some time since he’d been outside the submarine, and the sun seemed much brighter than he remembered. He blinked a few times to allow his eyes to adjust.

  “Friends,” Moretti said, as he started across the wooden plank and onto the sub.

  Amun shook the Italian’s hand, while Selim looked around at the community. Moretti had foolishly informed them that no one on Heaven was armed.

  “Mr. Moretti?” Selim inquired as he shook the man’s hand.

  “In the flesh,” Moretti said with a smile.

  Admiral Selim forced a pleasant smile in return as he sized the man up. This imbecile was going to make it too easy.

  “I am Admiral Selim,” Selim introduced himself, “and this is my first officer, Lieutenant Commander Amun.”

  “Yes, we had a little chat on the radio,” Moretti said, acknowledging Amun, “You mentioned something about a business proposal.”

  The Admiral nodded.

  “Your men can see what we have to offer while we discuss business,” Moretti said.

  “No, we’ll hold our discussion here,” Selim stated coldly, and the smile disappeared from his face.

  A crowd was beginning to gather. The curious residents of the flotilla wanted to know what was going on.

  “The rest of our ships will be arriving within a few minutes. When they get here your little…community,” he said the word with contempt “will be dismantled. Your supplies and personnel will be distributed among my fleet,” Selim explained.

  Moretti was initially too stunned to object. He took a moment to absorb what the Admiral had said before speaking. It had to be a joke.

  “You’re guests in my house,” Moretti started, before being cut off midsentence.

  “It’s not your house anymore. You and your supplies are now the property of the Egyptian Armed Forces,” Selim informed him.

  The Admiral pushed him aside and approached the growing crowd. He looked around at them. There were men and women of all races and nationalities. Some were dressed, some half-dressed, and others were completely naked. Selim thought for a moment as he looked at their faces. He carefully prepared his words, so as not to incite violence. He wanted to achieve this with minimum bloodshed; they needed a lot of people for their scavenging teams. After some internal deliberation, he spoke.