At the End of the World

by Charles E Gannon

“You don’t have enough rank to pull, Larry. I’m still in the reserves and since I am the only military authority in the area, I am activating myself. Which leaves us at an impasse. If I’m being charitable.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you haven’t shared all of what you heard from Port Stanley, but I’d be gobsmacked if the commissioner didn’t declare martial law before he went ’round the bend. Hell, the old girl back in Buckingham might have sent that word herself, for the whole of the UK and its territories. In which case, I rank you, Larry.”

  Keywood was silent for a long moment. “As you say, we seem to be at an impasse. But I can’t have you corking off about the state of things out there, any more than I can allow you to fill my team’s heads with any of this Husvik nonsense.”

  “It’s not nonsense, Larry.”

  “No? There’s a month of winter left. Don’t know what you plan to do for heat. You can’t have much food left, and I’m not giving you any of our supplies. Might as well throw them in the bay.”

  “We’ll be fine, Larry. But we won’t be at Husvik now, so if you and your lot are still alive come spring, don’t bother to look for us there.”

  “So where will you be, then?”

  “As if I’d tell you, now.”

  “You won’t tell me? Why not?”

  The captain paused for a moment. Then: “When your visitors from the mainland arrive and you find yourself taped to a chair with one of your snowmobiles’ batteries wired to your balls, you’ll understand why I wouldn’t tell you.”

  “Damn it, Alan, that’s paranoid. The odds are at least even that there won’t be any raiders willing to come across a thousand miles of winter ocean. In which case, you and those poor young people will all have died for nothing.” Keywood paused; he may have stepped closer. “Come on, Alan: give it up. She didn’t die because of you, and those helicopters weren’t your fault. It’s time to let that go and stay with us. We have plenty of beds here, plenty of supplies. And come spring, you can—”

  “Come spring, anyone who stays here will be dead. It’s a bloody miracle that a boatload of cutthroats hasn’t already arrived from Buenos Aires or Montevideo or some Brazilian pest hole to winter over here and wait out the plague. And your own people know it. Just look at Lewis. He’s barking mad, he is. Playing at the old stiff upper lip until things return to normal. Which they never will. And you know it.”

  “Of course I know it. But what would you have me do? For now, that belief is all that keeps them going.”

  “That’s total shite, Larry. Deep down, they know that the world is gone. But they’ll deny it to each other and themselves as long as you let them ignore the facts. Right up until the Argies come steaming in and your plan for holding them at arm’s length goes fatally pear-shaped. But you’ve decided to believe your own lies, so this is pointless.”

  It sounded like the captain was preparing to leave. Keywood’s voice was urgent. “Very well; so we can’t agree. But I need to know: what do you mean to do?”

  The captain paused for a few very long seconds. “Tomorrow, I am going to wake my lot—my crew—up early and tell them they have a choice: stay here or come with me. I will not minimize the hardships they can expect if they come with me. I don’t want any hangers-on who aren’t fully committed to pulling their own weight. They’ll have about an hour to think it over. They’ll tell us what they’ve decided to do right after breakfast. Fair enough?”

  “Damn it, you owe them better than that, Alan. If you want to go out into the wilds, to do battle with whatever guilt and demons have been inside you since Paraquet, that’s your affair, your life to lose. But not theirs. They deserve to have a reasonable chance at survival.”

  “And that’s precisely what I’m offering them. Goodbye, Larry. Don’t come looking if you change your mind. You won’t find us.”

  The captain started moving again. I slipped out the back door, tried to make a stealthy getaway and then realized I was totally busted: I’d left footprints in the snow, too.

  So I just ran like hell back to the barracks.

  August 7

  As always, the captain was as good as his word. Got us all up before there was a glow in the east. Sat us down in the commons room and spelled out the choices: stay at KEP or go with him to some other place on South Georgia where we’d have limited shelter, have to get our own food, and we’d likely have to use up the last of the boat’s fuel for generating heat. We couldn’t live on the boat because it was too dangerous: it wasn’t likely in the last month of winter, but if the shallows froze up, it could be trapped, or even crushed—and us in it.

  It was a pretty bleak picture he painted, and while he painted it, he kept looking over at me. Probably wondered if I was going to say anything about what I’d heard the prior night. But I’d learned this much: when the captain was in his “commander-in-chief” mode, you didn’t speak unless asked to do so. So I didn’t.

  When he finished, he asked if there were questions. Giselle nodded, leaned forward. “What about this place you spoke about with Mr. Keywood—Husvik, I think? Are we going there?”

  The captain folded his hands. “I told Mr. Keywood that I have rethought that decision, and that we are not going to Husvik. If someone comes here and tortures him for information, he could have pointed them at us. Any other questions?”

  There weren’t any. He looked at me again—a long, hard look—and then stood up. “Breakfast in an hour. Don’t be late.”

  We weren’t. Breakfast was served promptly. Barely a word was spoken. When we’d all sipped down the last of our tea, the captain pushed back from the table. “I spoke to my crew about an hour and a half ago. They know the choice they have to make.” He looked around the ring of faces in the room. “If anyone is worried that my presence will exert undue influence, I shall step out.” He looked squarely at Keywood when he said it.

  The station leader pouted, as if considering, then shook his head. “Not necessary. I believe these young people know what is at stake and will speak their minds.” He looked at me. “Mr. Casillas, what do you—?”

  I didn’t even let him finish. “I’m going with the captain.” Chloe, who was sitting across the table from me, blinked, then frowned.

  Keywood nodded. “I understand. Your respect for Lieutenant Haskins is obvious, and he—”

  “Mr. Keywood, I do respect the cap—er, Lieutenant Haskins. But that’s not why I’m going with him. I just think he’s right. On the way down here, I heard some of what was on the radio. People were getting desperate. Crazy desperate. Maybe no one will think to come all the way to South Georgia Island. But I kind of doubt that. And if they make the trip, they’re going to come right here to King Edward Point.” I leaned back, crossed my arms. “So right here is where I don’t want to be.”

  Keywood frowned, then shrugged and went on around the table. Rod and Giselle answered as a couple: they were sticking with the captain, but they didn’t elaborate. Willow said the same. Johnnie just smiled at her and said, “Me, too.” Steve shrugged, then nodded.

  It was Lice’s turn next. She was looking down in her lap and was very pale, even for her. Keywood was about to ask again when she very slowly shook her head.

  “So, you don’t want to go?” Keywood asked.

  “No,” Lice whispered. “I don’t want to go.”

  Giselle leaned across the table, reached out her hand. Lice just shook her head again.

  I have to admit I wasn’t surprised. Ever since we pulled Lice out of the water, she avoided group talks, particularly those which focused on our future. Sometimes, when we were on deck, I’d see her looking at the water and I couldn’t help suspecting that she regretted not having the courage to take a lungful before we got to her. And in just the last twenty-four hours, she’d kind of detached from us. She’d spent most of her time hanging around the station team, who had reached out to her like they were trying to tempt a lost kitten to jump into their car. And now she had.

&nb
sp; Blake stared at her, stunned. The two of them had only one thing in common—they trash-talked their parents nonstop—but, at this moment, I’m pretty sure it was their need for parents that motivated them. Staying with the station team meant staying with surrogate moms and dads in a nice, cozy environment. Blake’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. With a helpless look on his face, he turned toward Chloe.

  Who, I discovered, was looking straight at me. But “looking” isn’t the right word. It was like she was dissecting me with her eyes. I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing, a bad thing, or a bit of both.

  I shrugged, and I guess I smiled as I did it. “Hey, somebody’s gotta keep calling me pequeño behind my back.”

  Her face changed really fast; I thought she was on the verge of either laughing or getting angry. But instead, she took a deep breath, got really calm, and looked at Keywood. “I’m going with them.”

  “Me, too.” Blake exhaled. He sounded simultaneously relieved and desperate.

  “Well, that settles it,” Keywood said through a long sigh. “If you change your minds, you know where to find us. But getting back here might be rather difficult.” That was an insane understatement: without Voyager, return was absolutely impossible until late spring.

  The captain stood; we did too. Except Lice. “Alice,” he said, “I promised I wouldn’t try to talk anyone out of their decision. But we’re leaving directly. Be sure this is what you want.”

  Lice either nodded, convulsed her way through a few silent sobs, or both; she was hunched over so far, I couldn’t see her face.

  The captain walked around the table and placed a very gentle hand on the back of her head. “I’m sorry, Alice-girl,” he almost whispered, “I’ll miss you.”

  The rest of us murmured something similar and filed out after him.

  Last to leave, I looked back: Lice was almost doubled over now and was shaking: whether from tears or terror, I could not tell.

  August 8

  About half of the crew stood at the stern, watching King Edward Point dwindle in the distance. I wasn’t among them. I was at the wheel on the weather deck and was glad to be there.

  Despite everything that had happened, this was the moment when it all grabbed me by the balls. Knowing that the world was going down the toilet faster and faster, realizing I’d never see my mom again, learning more practical skills in a few weeks than I’d learned in my whole life, finding myself having to make a life-and-death choice more serious than most adults ever had to: somehow, each of those felt like steps toward the edge of a cliff. But now, I had stepped off and was free-falling into uncertainty. KEP was the last vestige of the old world, and I’d left it. This—whatever was before me—was all that was left. I was so terrified and so aware of being alive that I shook. No, I didn’t want to watch King Edward Point drop behind us: for me, it was already gone.

  Getting out of East Cumberland Bay was a dull job. The wind from the east that had brought us in yesterday was now in our faces, so I had to tack my way up to where the east bay met the west bay and then slip out into open water. Once there, we had the wind almost directly athwart the beam, so we picked up speed. We stuck close to the coast, though; the captain was aiming for Stromness Bay by 2 PM, at which point we would only have a few hours of light left.

  Lunch was cold fish, which probably had more than a few of us wondering if we couldn’t have stolen some food from the warehouse at KEP before leaving. Snow started as we angled into Stromness Bay. The captain got out a pair of binoculars and started scanning the shore.

  “What are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Seal. Elephant, but fur would do. Penguins. Seabirds.”

  Willow heard this, came bouncing away from the sheets. “Oooo! Can I see?”

  “When there is something to see, yes,” the captain muttered. “But I’m not sure you’ll want to make too close an acquaintance with any of the animals.”

  “Captain, I came here to study those species!”

  “Ironic. Now you’ll be eating them.”

  “Sir?”

  The captain’s jaw set. “You’re a very smart young lady. I have to believe you’ve figured it out by now. We need more food, and we don’t have a net to fish with or enough fuel to trail one. And we can’t live on fish forever. On the other hand, the animals here are completely without fear of humans. If we take only outliers, and take them quickly, we shouldn’t even scare the others off.”

  Instead of recoiling, Willow seemed to lean forward into his words. At the end she nodded. “That’s true: we’ll need some red meat. So, we’ll have to hunt seal. But what about greens?”

  The captain nodded, probably more in approval of her rapid shift to practicality than anything she had said. “That’s the tough part. That’s why I haven’t let you young marauders near the power bars and why I’ve locked up the vitamins along with the meds. We’ll have to supplement very carefully. There is some edible—marginally edible—seaweed to be had, but remember: no one planted a colony here because you can’t survive on the local foodstuffs alone.”

  Willow looked along the coast. “So: seals. We’re looking for beaches, then. Particularly any that run back into valleys or grassy gaps. They always like a little extra room to waddle.”

  The captain looked at her like he’d found a one hundred dollar bill on the pavement. “So, you really have studied South Georgia’s wildlife.”

  “Ever since I knew I was going to come down here.” Her smile dimmed. “Although I think my plans to become a marine biologist are pretty much over.”

  Captain shook his head. “Maybe, but I suspect that knowledge will benefit more people than it would have before. Not many persons know the habits of these creatures. You do. And we have to be able to hunt them effectively. Starting tomorrow.”

  Willow sighed. “Okay. Tell me when your eyes need a rest.”

  I caught him smiling as she returned to her position near the mainsail. He caught my eye. “A good pilot only watches the swells and the tell-tales,” he muttered.

  “I’m doing so, sir. Question, though.”

  “Ask.”

  “How do you plan to hunt elephant seals, sir? I’m pretty sure I recall reading that the males average close to fifteen feet long and weigh in at over three tons.”

  By way of answer, he stalked past me, walking as easily and steadily as if he was crossing his living room, despite the swells. He went down the companionway, but emerged from it less than thirty seconds later. In his right hand he held a long, smooth-looking rifle with a big, squarish magazine protruding out from under it. “Ever fire one of these?”

  “No, sir,” I answered. Which was a true statement whether he meant that particular rifle or any gun at all. Hey, I grew up in New York City and L.A. Not a lot of legal opportunities.

  But Chloe must have been staring back in our direction because she comes flying back from the bow, her lips wide, and her deck-coat flapping. I swear, you could dress her in three layers of shag carpet and you’d still know she was a woman.

  The captain looks up, sees her rushing over, frowns, then almost smiles again when he realizes her eyes are locked on the gun.

  “A FAL, right? .308. Well, 7.62 NATO. Great gun for deer, even elk or bear if you’ve got some distance and a brass set.”

  The captain did not have a wide range of emotions that he displayed. I think this was his version of being “charmed.” “You’ve fired one?”

  “Damn, I wish! Uh…sir. But a neighbor had one, and we used to hunt together sometimes. But that was, uh…a while ago.” She looked away as she said it, and then quickly up at me. Don’t ask me why, but judging from that look, I suspect that as Chloe had come closer to womanhood, her neighbor’s choice of prey had probably undergone a dire change.

  The captain tucked the weapon back under his arm. “I’m glad you’re familiar with rifles. You’re going to be familiar with this one, too, by the end of the week.”

  Chloe only nodded, but her eyes looke
d like her brain was yelling, “yippee!”

  I could see the mouth of Stromness Bay, now. “Once in the bay, what’s my course, Captain?”

  “Due west. To Husvik.”

  Chloe and I looked at each other, then at him. “Sir, did you say Husvik?”

  “I did.”

  Giselle had heard and came stumbling over. “You mean the place you told Mr. Keywood we weren’t going to?”

  “Yes.”

  The others started gathering around the pilot house. “Captain, you lied to us!”

  He turned on Giselle very quickly. “I did not lie to you. I lied to Keywood.”

  “But you told us—”

  “I know exactly what I said, and it was this: ‘I told Mr. Keywood that I have rethought that decision, and that we are not going to Husvik.’ So, when you asked if we were going to Husvik, I only repeated what I told Mr. Keywood.”

  So the captain was not only a ninja; he was a shyster-lawyer, too.

  He must have seen the look on my face. “You had to believe it, too, at least until we left the station. Because I couldn’t take any chance that he believed we might still go to Husvik.” He looked away. “Not that it will necessarily do us much good.”

  Rod was frowning, but not like he was angry: he was confused. “What do you mean?”

  The captain glanced over at me. “He can tell you. He decided to eavesdrop on Larry and me last night.”

  Everyone looked at me.

  “What did you hear?” Chloe asked.

  I told them what the captain had said about the odds of KEP making it to spring without a visit from pirates, and how, since he’d mentioned Husvik to Keywood, that it was now the one place he wouldn’t take us.

  Giselle was frowning like Rod by the time I finished. She looked back at the captain. “So, are you worried that Keywood didn’t believe you when you said you wouldn’t go to Husvik? Is that why it won’t do us much good?”

  The captain shrugged. “No, Keywood believed me. But by then, it was Hobson’s choice when it came to Husvik. Once I mentioned it, torture would pull it out of him. But even after I denied it, torture just as surely will make him swear that we can’t be found there. Even a half-brained pirate will wonder if that can be believed. And if I hadn’t said anything? Well, they might have twisted him for other places we might winter over—and again, Husvik would have been high on the list. There’s a modern building there, as well as another original one that’s been kept up. The only inhabitable structures on the island, besides KEP itself.”