“She was the ship’s librarian, wasn’t she?”
“A task she begged to be allowed to pursue. How could I say no?”
Tess’s eyes had caught the two photographs screwed to the wall. One showed a large family group of at least thirty people enjoying a springtime picnic beneath flowering trees. The other was of the captain, in uniform, though only displaying a commander’s rank, standing next to a boy of about fourteen who was wearing her hat.
“Is that your son?” Tess asked.
“My greatest victory,” Adams said, glancing around to look at the photograph. “So far his greatest act of rebellion has been a threat to join the army. He’s terrified of the sea, too.”
“Thanks to Pippa, we saved those kids, and the African Union,” Tess said.
“But it is only the convoy’s advance guard,” Adams said. “Which is a generous description of how many reached Cape Town.”
“Why are we worried about radiation?” Tess asked. “And how worried should I be?”
“Considering the insane number of warheads launched, it’s doubtful any precautions will make a significant long-term difference, but it is important to maintain protocols. Important for morale.” Adams stood and walked to a cabinet on which stood a flask. “The convoy made good time through Mozambique. A few vehicles disappeared. The occupants took their chances alone, elsewhere. But a few more refugees were collected. When they reached the border, their numbers had swelled by around two hundred. On crossing the border, the general changed their route. The ambassador wished to maintain as straight a course here as possible. The general wished to take a more westerly route, via Mahikeng in the North-West Province.”
“Was that where he lived?” Tess asked.
“Laila thinks so,” Adams said. She handed Tess a cup. “Iced tea, I’m afraid.”
“Thanks. The doc wanted me to cut down on coffee anyway,” Tess said. “I guess the general got his way, the convoy went west?”
“They did. The ambassador had only a few dozen people who’d follow her orders over his. She went with the general, in the hope that, after they reached Mahikeng, she could direct the convoy south, to here, and sent Laila ahead to give us the warning.”
“So we don’t know where the African Union is, or when they might arrive, or if they’re still alive?”
“Laila had to drive away in the middle of the night,” Adams said. “She’d requested permission to come south and it was refused. She didn’t have time to find a Geiger counter.”
“That doesn’t sound good. She saw craters on her way south?”
“One near Ladysmith. It had completely obliterated the road. They’d been attempting to go south towards Durban, from where they’d follow the coast. Instead, they detoured around Lesotho. They picked up a survivor who’d travelled through Bloemfontein. He died. She’s certain it was radiation poisoning.”
“I’m trying to recall the map, but would they have travelled anywhere near Port Elizabeth?”
“No, these would be different craters, different bombs. One inland, one near Ladysmith, and at least one on the coast near Port Elizabeth.”
“South Africa got a pasting. Why?”
“And from whom?” Adams replied. “They triggered the dosimeter when they boarded the helicopter. We think the contamination was on some ammunition and food they found at a military checkpoint near Middleburg. We’re leaving their gear in the airport, and getting them to wash and change when they reach Robben Island. We’re decontaminating the Seahawk, and from now on, we’ll use the civilian helicopters to ferry them. You know about the civilian helicopters?”
“Two were found at the airport.”
“At the stadium. In the middle of the pitch,” Adams said. “No sign of the pilots, but it’s an obvious location to land if you are unfamiliar with the city.”
Tess took a sip of the cold tea. “Radiation isn’t an immediate problem for us?”
“No, though it will be for the African Union if they drive due south.”
“What kind of range do those civilian helicopters have?” Tess asked. “Is there any way of reaching the ambassador?”
“Not by helicopter. Not by radio. Laila lost contact with them abruptly, an hour into her drive south. It could be they were out of range, or the soldiers switched frequency, or the radio broke, or something equally innocent.”
“But maybe they got into trouble. We can’t help them. They’ll arrive or they won’t, so our immediate priority is making contact with the other locals in the city. A hundred survivors were at the stadium?”
“A hundred in that group, another twenty who’d quit the group yesterday, but were thought to be in the vicinity.”
“Let’s hope they make themselves known when they see the helicopters buzzing back and forth. We’ve got to consider that group of thieves, too. How many others do the stadium-folk think there are in the city?”
“A few thousand,” Adams said. “Two days after the outbreak in Manhattan, the planes were shot out of the sky. That’s when people began leaving. All ships were commandeered and formed into a loose fleet. The naval base was attacked. That was day five, before dawn, long before the nuclear attacks. The ships scattered. More people fled. The city, effectively, collapsed. Anything with wheels was driven east, to join in the evacuation to Madagascar. Those who remained had no transport, while the number of infected, of course, grew.”
“Sounds grim,” Tess said.
“Very. Though the survivors have been getting along until recently. Initially helping, sharing what they had. When supplies ran low, they stopped sharing but they didn’t attack one another. Not until this incident with the thieves and the food supplies you found.”
“But we’re only getting the story of one group of survivors,” Tess said. “I better speak to them. They’re on Robben Island?”
“It’s the safest location. So far, five zombies have been found and neutralised on the island. Two sailing yachts were in the harbour. Seven corpses inland. Four were probably undead. No living survivors have yet been found, but even one person, alone, could deal with five zombies.”
“They’d have made themselves known by now if they were hiding,” Tess said. “Are there any food supplies on the island?”
“A little. Bulk basics. Rice and milk powder. I understand there is even a little coffee.”
“There is?”
Adams smiled. “I abused the full weight of my authority to demand two servings were set aside for you.”
“Don’t tell the doc,” Tess said. “How much food? How many meals?”
“Taken with what you found, and assuming that we can fish offshore using one of those yachts, enough for two weeks with our present numbers. But we hope those numbers will increase tomorrow.”
“So we’ve got to find more food,” Tess said.
“Or hope that the survivors have a surplus,” Adams said. “There is fuel on the island. Diesel for the ferries. A pipe links it to the mainland tanks. Robben Island will have electricity, and we have enough to return directly back to Perth.”
Tess rolled her fingers around the cup. “How much diesel did the African Union have?”
“Enough to reach Cape Town.”
“Four tankers, right?” Tess asked. “But if they’ve gone west, and are now driving around looking for lost relatives, at some point they’ll have used up so much, they can’t drive south. If we linger here too long, we’ll run out of food.”
“We’ll run out of aviation fuel first,” Adams said. “I can’t decide how long we can stay here until after tomorrow. After we’ve searched for more survivors and gathered a more complete picture of what happened here. We’ll use the rest of today to collect the ferry the survivors from the airport to the island. Tomorrow, at dawn, we’ll bury Pippa Sullivan.”
Before she went ashore, Tess went to find Zach. He wasn’t in his cabin, but on deck, at the very rear of the ship, watching the waves.
“Seen something interesting?” Tess aske
d.
“Sharks,” Zach said. “There really are sharks down there.”
“Big ones, too,” she said, peering down. “How are you doing?”
“Tired,” he said.
“Me, too. I’m sorry about Pippa.”
“I didn’t know her,” he said. “I mean, all the sailors knew her for longer. She was just fun, that’s all.”
She nodded. She understood. For the last month, he’d been surrounded by people twice his age. Finally, here, he’d found someone he could relate to as an equal rather than be treated as a mascot. Whether there was more to it, or whether it could have led to anything more, was moot.
“Doc Flo gave me more homework,” Zach said. “I mean, that’s weird, right? Someone dies, and she hands out homework.”
“She’s cursed with intelligence,” Tess said.
“What d’you mean?”
“She knows she is the smartest person on this ship, maybe even on this planet. Thus she feels like she should know exactly what everyone should do to stay alive, to win, to beat the zoms. As long as everyone does what she says, they’ll stay alive.”
“And when things go wrong it’s because we don’t listen,” he said.
“Nope, it’s because she overlooked something or didn’t explain it properly,” Tess said. “In that respect, she’s no different to anyone else, but she’d never believe you if you told her. No, she’s just like the rest of us, consumed by guilt and regret. But there’s nothing she could have done to stop the outbreak, and nothing we could have done to stop Pippa from being shot. The guilt lies entirely with that sniper. Those people could have shared the food, or fired a warning shot.”
“But if—” he began.
“Nope,” she said, cutting him off. “Whatever scenario you’re about to concoct, she still would have died. The sniper waited until we were inside the toy-store, and waited until he had a clear shot before pulling the trigger. Sullivan was always going to be put on guard by the door because she had the military training.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” he said.
“No. Only time will do that,” she said.
“She was going to open a library,” he said. “I was going to help her. We were going to make a fortune.”
“How do you make money from a library?” Tess asked.
“Because all the books are digital now, aren’t they, but they were all stored on giant computers in America and places. We were going to copy them from e-readers, and then print them out. Or loan out e-readers. We were still working on the details. Not just books, either. Movies. Music. Everything.”
“Neat idea. You knew a librarian, didn’t you? Ms Godwin?”
“Yeah, I’d go to the library after school. They stayed open late, and she let me stay later.”
“We certainly will need libraries,” Tess said. “I don’t know if we can spare the paper to print books out, or the electricity to charge up e-readers. If the copyright was held by a publisher in Manhattan, who gets paid now? It won’t be easy, but this sounds like a job for you and Ms Godwin to figure out.”
“She’s dead,” Zach said. “Hit-and-run last December. Only five people went to the funeral. They wouldn’t let me stay late in the library after that. Didn’t matter. Wasn’t like it was that cold at night.”
Tess nodded. She’d thought he might be running away from something, though it sounded as if he’d had nothing to run from. No family. No friends. No future. That was why he’d signed up, and why his grief ran so deep.
“Time makes it easier,” Tess said. “Each loss is different, so I don’t know how long it will take, but we’ve got to keep going. Keep on fighting for those still alive.”
“Yeah, but it’s not many, is it? Only twenty-eight made it.”
“So far, it’s only twenty-eight,” Tess said. “Let’s go see what they have to say.”
23rd March
Chapter 22 - At Sea, On Land
Table Bay, Cape Town, South Africa
As the sun rose, the ship’s crew gathered on deck for the funeral and burial of Pippa Sullivan.
Though the words were very different, the formality of the ceremony reminded Tess of a long-ago funeral she’d been unable to attend. She’d watched it on a screen instead. This time, like that other time, the mourners were mostly faces and names, people she knew of, but didn’t know, but in the grief wracking each face, she saw a reflection of her past loss, and her present fears.
Nothing was so loud as the splash as the weighted body sank into the water.
“Our daily struggles have grown so hard, it’s increasingly easy to believe we have no future,” Captain Adams said. “Behind us lies Robben Island where Nelson Mandela broke limestone rocks with barely more than his hands. For eighteen years he was imprisoned on that island. He never abandoned the struggle. He fought on. Ultimately, he won. He fought on, as did so many others, in so many ways, across all the centuries of our collective past, against horrors as unimaginable to us as our present nightmare would be unimaginable to them. Their friends, brothers, sisters, compatriots, and comrades died, but they fought on. Our friend, our comrade, our sister has died, but the fight is not won. They fought on, she fought on, and so shall we.”
The crew were dismissed. Those who were off-duty began forming up to board the boats for compulsory shore leave.
“C’mon, Zach, you can help me with the cameras,” Leo said.
“Nah, I was going to catch up on my reading,” Zach said, his eyes on the ocean.
“You will not, Zachary,” Avalon said. “You will see President Mandela’s cell because not all lessons can be learned from books.”
“You don’t need to tell me that,” Zach said.
“Then we are in agreement, and so your opposition is pointless,” Avalon said.
“So is arguing with her, eh?” Leo said.
“Leo, please, show some respect!” Avalon said. “Poor Zachary is grieving. We all are.”
“You didn’t know Pippa,” Zach said. “I didn’t know her. Not really.”
“We’re grieving for everyone we lost,” Avalon said. “All of us have lost almost everyone and everything, but we have not had time until now to acknowledge it. A visit to the past will bring a perspective on our future. Come. And do hurry up, Leo. I hate it when you make me late.”
Tess returned to her cabin, grabbed her gear, and returned to the helicopter deck, where she found Clyde, Oakes, and Hawker geared up and waiting.
“All set, Commish,” Clyde said. “We’re just waiting on the boat to bring Toppley and Laila.”
Tess had sent Teegan ashore to collect the nurse as a mutually agreed ploy to have her absent during the funeral. Grief and anger were often compatriots, and the old crook was too obvious a target.
“Are you sure about Toppley, boss?” Oakes asked.
“Absolutely,” Tess said. “She’s probably the most experienced negotiator left in the world. If we stumble across that group of thieves, we’ll need someone who can talk them out of revenge.”
“Who’s going to talk the crew out of revenge for Sullivan?” Oakes asked.
“Can I see your rifle, Commish?” Clyde asked.
She handed him the MARS-L assault rifle, taken from the ship’s armoury. In addition to the modular rifle, the armoury carried a number of useful accessories such as the breaching-shotgun beneath the barrel of Clyde’s rifle, the grenade launcher on Nicko’s, and the suppressors on them all. Once again, they were wearing naval combat fatigues. Again, the body-armour read Police. This time, clipped at the front, were coiled lengths of green rope.
“Why do we have rope?” Tess asked.
“It’s the compromise I reached with Dr Avalon,” Hawker said. “Dosimeters, spare ration bars, spare water bottles, extra ammo, and rope.”
“How is that a compromise?” Tess asked.
“That’s what we agreed to take with us,” Oakes said. “We’d have needed a cargo plane to carry all the gear we’re leaving behind.”
“Doc Avalon is that worried?” Tess asked. She turned to look aft, towards where the boats were departing for Robben Island. Instead, she saw Toppley and Laila. The nurse’s hijab had been replaced with a red and white scarf of nearly the same hue as the red cross and crescent painted on her body-armour.
“G’day,” Tess said. “How’s the island?”
“Peaceful,” Laila said. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
“An experience we’ve shared too often,” Tess said. “While we’re waiting on the pilot, let’s run through our plan. We’ve two locations to investigate before the helicopter will have to return to refuel. A hospital and a school.”
Hawker gave a reflexive, though brief, glance at the square of map velcroed to his wrist. “The hospital is twenty klicks due east, where the east-west N1 road meets the northbound M16. The school is three klicks north from the hospital, up the M16. Terrain will be urban and hilly. We’ll take a looping approach there, surveying the city for smoke and movement, but take a direct path to the ship on our return. That’ll indicate to any locals the direction they should come if they’re able to make the journey alone. If the helicopter is shot at, or if we’re shot at on the ground, we’ll retreat.”
“Laila, we’re acting on your information,” Tess said. “What did the locals say about the school and hospital?”
Life Goes On | Book 4 | If Not Us [Surviving The Evacuation] Page 21