Below deck, Radzinski attempted to lecture Miller on command decisions. The two soldiers had been butting heads since their respective units were forced together during the Philadelphia siege. The subsequent week’s trials only served to further divide the men.
Radzinski was nearly shouting. “This is why we don’t leave the big decisions up to the civilians. You took logistical advice from a man you just met. Now look at us: adrift, God knows where. Fucking wonderful!”
“Don’t come at me with this bullshit, Radzinski. I didn’t hear you offering any suggestions. As usual you were, and remain, only concerned about your own well-being. When things are going good, you go with the flow, but when the situation goes fubar, you’re always the first to toss around blame.”
“We should have at least looked for Conrad’s unit when we were near Alexandria.”
“Well, we didn’t. That was my call and I’ll stick with it. We were beat up and on the run. There was no way I was going to lead this group into a potential massacre.”
“Instead you led them to starvation. Much better.” Radzinski held up the okay sign with his fingers, but Miller knew he was really calling him an asshole.
“We can have this out right now if you like.” Miller got in Radzinski’s face, nose to nose with him.
Before either man could escalate things further, Jeremiah interceded. “Enough, the both of you! Look around you. These people are frightened. They need to look up to us. They need to know that we have this situation well in hand. The two of you bickering betrays a lack of control.” Jeremiah admonished both men equally.
Miller took the cue to peer at a small sample of the group just in earshot. Some were out on the deck, looking in. Others were down the corridor, farther away in the interior of the boat. Those who were paying attention looked on in wonder, perhaps asking themselves if they’d chosen the right leader following the deaths of Takashi and then Tobias. Miller couldn’t help but wonder himself.
“Miller, I believe in you,” Jeremiah stated calmly. “We all do, but don’t get caught up in a pissing contest with him. He’s only trying to unnerve you. No offense intended, John.”
“None taken. Go fuck yourself, Jerry. I don’t need this shit.” Radzinski sauntered off topside.
Jeremiah spotted a few curious onlookers and pulled Miller aside, away from prying eyes, and leaned in for a whisper. “Keep in mind that society as we know it is finished. No matter how optimistic you may feel, it is over. We have no real authority over these people. If they become dissatisfied with our leadership, a revolt is not out of the question. They have the numbers, and scared people are capable of acting on impulse alone. We both know it. That is a situation we must avoid at all costs. We cannot risk the group’s safety over the two of you measuring cocks.” Jeremiah’s sternness was not at all unusual, and Miller conceded to his wisdom.
“You’re right, as usual. Thanks for that, Jerry. I don’t know what it is with that guy, but he really knows how to push my buttons. He has since day one. When we’re in the shit, I can count on him. Otherwise, he’s becoming a liability.” Miller turned his gaze back to the darkened motor room.
“John Radzinski is without a doubt a hard case. Unfortunately, in light of our current circumstance, that will have to remain a problem for another day,” Jeremiah suggested.
Soraya rose early, as she always did. Instead of lamenting the group’s newest problem, like so many others would on a daily basis, she instead focused on another route for a possible solution to their dilemma. She had the radio ripped apart down to exposed circuit boards. Every countertop in the room was littered with the stuff. The radio didn’t work. It never did, or at least not as long as they had been on the boat. Back at Longleaf Bay, when she and Bernie brought the Emerald Star back to life, she didn’t bother checking the radio. Stupid, she thought in hindsight, but at the time, getting off the road was paramount.
“Whatcha doing?” asked Samantha as she crept into the room, silently taking in what for her was an incomprehensible mess.
“Hello, Samantha. How are you this morning?” Soraya asked. There was always time for a proper greeting and manners, no matter the situation.
“The same, I guess. Scared shitless to be honest,” she replied, arms crossed as if to fend off a chill.
“Stay positive. It helps. Believe me,” Soraya offered, knowing it most likely wouldn’t quell the woman’s fears, but she’d try all the same.
“Thanks, I’ll give it a shot. Markus has been a real help in that department.”
“Good, it is important to have someone near to you.” Soraya never took her eyes off her task.
“So what is all this stuff, anyway? Really, what are you doing? I have no idea what I’m looking at,” Samantha asked while peeking over Soraya’s shoulder, avoiding a small plume of smoke emanating from the soldering iron.
“This damned radio will not work no matter what I do,” Soraya said. “I don’t have the right parts, and the antenna is crap anyway, so…”
“Is there anything I can do to help, maybe?” Samantha asked, slowly pulling up a seat beside Soraya.
“You can keep me company, if that is alright,” she offered with a smile.
“I’d love to,” Samantha said while fingering a small blue capacitor. “So what does this do?”
DAY THREE
“Well, that’s it. The rest of the food was eaten last night.” Vanessa tossed an empty can onto the deck. It rolled a few feet before coming to rest against a growing pile of garbage.
“I saw some fish swimming around earlier. Maybe we can make a net with our shirts or something. What do you think?” Lillian suggested while nudging Ayn with an elbow.
“Go for it, guys. I’m going to go lie down for a while. I’m not feeling so well.” Ayn slowly made her way across the deck.
“Is she alright?” Lillian asked.
“She’s just hungry. We all are. Bernie’s been trying to fish since before the engine broke. No joy.” Rachel tossed an empty can into the water. She watched it float away, convinced the garbage would find land long before they would.
“Aaaargh,” Damon screamed as he fired his sidearm into the ocean. While a cathartic release of sorts for the young man, the display was merely an annoyance for the others trapped alongside him.
“Relax, buddy. You’re not going to catch any fish that way,” Bernie suggested, upbeat as usual.
“Who knows? Maybe he’ll get lucky and hit something,” Isaac suggested as he passed with a box of garbage. “Lord knows we’re due for some good fortune.”
“Have at it then. Nothing else to do, right?” Bernie shrugged. “You want to give me a hand with this?”
“Sure, like you said, what else have I got to do?”
The men disappeared below deck as Radzinski leaned in for his own bit of advice. “We may need those bullets later, kid. Holster that thing. My advice, you got frustrations to let out, pick one of these sorry sacks and work them over. That’s what I would do.”
Damon nodded in agreement while scanning the crowd of frightened survivors and smiled. The thought of pounding on anyone of them appealed to him immensely. He already had a few in mind as he focused his gaze on Samantha over at the other end of the vessel. She too was scanning the horizon for land.
Damon and Radzinski’s exchange and quiet laughter did not go unnoticed by Markus. If this situation didn’t change soon, Damon and his new friend might become a problem.
DAY FOUR
Most of the group rambled about the deck. Gear and thick, impractical clothing days ago shed in an attempt to find relief from the heat and blistering sun. Even the soldiers stopped carrying their weapons, save for sidearms and sheathed knives. “What was the point?” became the consensus. Was a crazed civilian going to orchestrate a mutiny? Then what? Where would they even go? Four days adrift, and for the most part, arguments were a nonstarter. Again, what was the point? Most would agree. Not everyone saw it that way, though. Lancaster paced the deck. Fr
esh wounds still healing from the most recent beating he took less than a week ago stung in the salty breeze. No doubt adding to his own chagrin over current circumstances.
“You people and your plans. Making decisions for the lot of us has led this group to ruin,” Lancaster announced.
“Now wait a second, Mr. Mayor, if it wasn’t for the soldiers, we’d all be dead by now. We owe them our lives,” said Elliot.
“You don’t know that, son.” Lancaster leered at a few of Miller’s unit across the way. “For all we know, those creatures would never have set foot in Pepperbush if not for these so-called heroes leading them straight to our doorstep.”
Soraya stood within striking distance. “Believe what you choose, old man. I know what I saw, for your part anyway.”
“You saw nothing. You have no idea what you’re even talking about. Delusional, the lot of you,” Lancaster shouted.
“You left your family for dead. You are a coward. Marisol should have killed you.” Soraya’s clenched fists spoke volumes as she inched toward the man.
“Please,” Lancaster grumbled. He waved her off as if the petite Israeli was no more than a bothersome fly. “I don’t have to take this, especially not from some half-illiterate, Third World sand—” Lancaster stopped short of finishing his insult. He wasn’t accustomed to losing his composure; the feeling was humbling.
Jeremiah stepped forward. “By all means, continue. Please don’t stop on my account, Donald.”
From Lancaster’s vantage point, he had no idea the medic was observing from only a few steps behind him. “What I was trying to say was—” Lancaster stammered before being cut short.
Jeremiah continued. “Oh, believe me. We all know what you were trying to say, Donald. It’s been written all over your face since the night we arrived in your precious little town. I’m sure you’re not the first bigot Soraya has encountered. Unfortunately, even in these harsh times, you probably won’t be the last.”
Marisol quickly led the former mayor toward the darkened confines of the boat’s interior. “Get your ass below deck, Lancaster. I’ve heard just about enough out of you today.” She shoved him toward the stairs.
“It’s far too bright out here, anyway,” Lancaster retorted on his way below, implying that it was his destination in the first place.
“Everyone alright over here?” Marisol asked with a yawn. The commotion had stirred her from a nap.
“It would take a greater man than Donald Lancaster to unnerve me, but thank you all the same,” Jeremiah answered.
“He is nothing. No problem. Maybe I beat him too next time, yes?” Soraya added, and the two women shared a much-needed laugh under the hot sun. Even Jeremiah allowed himself a smile, slight as it was.
Below deck in Casandra’s makeshift quarters, she was finally awake and sitting upright. Her fever passed in the night, much to the relief of Bernie and also Aiko, who was running dangerously low on antibiotics. Bernie fashioned a sling out of an old sheet that, as it turned out, made for a horrible fishing net. Casandra kept her arm propped to her chest, keeping as much weight off the damaged limb as possible.
“I feel much better. It almost feels like I just passed the worst part of a cold. It’s all smooth sailing from here, right?” She tried to chuckle, but her face contorted and her free arm shot to her wound immediately. “Okay, that sucked.”
“Take it easy, girl,” Bernie cautioned. “Keep that up and you’ll be passed out again in a heartbeat.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right.” Casandra carefully lay back down.
She looked up to Bernie, who already had a bit of water and a damp cloth at the ready. She held his hand in hers and smiled. “Thank you, Bernie. For everything.”
“Think nothing of it, sweetheart. Now, why don’t you get some rest?”
“Rest? I just woke up. What I need is a bath. I feel disgusting and I reek. If you even try to lie and say you can’t smell it, I’ll smack you.” She waved her hand in front of her nose.
“Not gonna lie, girl, you are getting pretty ripe. Tell ya what, I’ll head topside and fetch a bucket of seawater. See if we can’t get you cleaned up. But only if you stay put. Deal? I don’t need you falling down in here with those nonexistent sea legs of yours.”
“Aye-aye, Captain.” She coughed before pinching her nose closed. “Hurry back. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”
DAY FIVE
“You really need to drink something, honey. Come on, help me a little here.” Vanessa desperately tried to get Ayn to drink some water, but the girl was unresponsive. An occasional moan or a few incomprehensible words were the only indication she still lived.
Lillian stood nearby, arms crossed tightly against her chest, taking in the scene.
“Oh, man. She looks bad. Is there anything I can do to help?” Ryan asked.
“There’s nothing to do,” said Lillian.
“I’m fucking starving!” Damon shouted. “I told you getting on this boat was a stupid fucking idea.”
“Oh, save it, man. Nobody wants to hear that shit today,” Markus replied, already annoyed with the conversation.
“Just take it easy, Damon,” Samantha calmly suggested. “Don’t overexert yourself. The stress will only make it worse.”
“Fuck you, bitch. Nobody asked you,” Damon snapped.
“No. You know what? Fuck you, Damon.” Samantha stood her ground this time. “This was a stupid idea? So what was your grand plan to save us all? Oh, that’s right. You didn’t have a plan. You never do. You’ve never had one single positive thing to say about anything anyone does to contribute. You’re nothing but a waste of space and a drain on resources. You’re an asshole, Damon. If we all die out here, I hope you go first. At least it’ll spare the rest of us your mouth.” Samantha turned her eyes from him, the bleak endless sea a far better sight.
“Guys, guys, calm down. All you’re doing is wasting your energy,” Elliot suggested as he sauntered by. “All of us just need to relax.”
“Go fuck yourself, Elliot,” Markus replied.
High above the deck in the wheelhouse Miller leaned into the window, resting his head against his forearm. The group’s safety weighed heavily on him, always. The very real possibility of every one of them dying out here adrift, far from land, couldn’t be ignored. The group was beginning to unravel. That was plain enough to see, though he would never admit it to the others, he wished Takashi was still alive. Takashi might not have had a solution to their current predicament, but at least the burden of leadership—a task he never asked for, much less wanted—would be off of Miller’s shoulders. He observed the comings and goings-on the deck below from the relative privacy of the wheelhouse. The darkened room’s contrast with the brightness on deck offered its occupants a certain advantage over those outside.
Circumstances had grown exponentially worse since the group fled Pepperbush. It seemed no more than a handful of days would pass between someone else dying on the road, and it all led to this: stranded on a boat with the slow death of dehydration looming on the horizon. For more than an hour, Miller watched as Bernie tried in vain to fish with a makeshift net; the only proper net they had drifted away days ago. Elliot and Ryan tried to use the thing unsupervised but with calamitous results.
Of the group, some took advantage of the calm and enjoyed the occasional breeze while others huddled in a corner, obviously terrified. At the front of the boat, Radzinski sat motionless, alone staring off into the horizon as if land would magically appear through sheer willpower. There was no love lost between the two, and Radzinski still had it out for him; that was clear. Miller was far beyond caring at this point. His only concern regarding Radzinski was the possibility of the man pointing out Miller’s shortcomings as de facto leader. A splintering of the group would be devastating now.
Miller listened to the door open behind him but didn’t care to look around and greet whoever it was. Why bother? he thought. Most likely they would just have more questions he
didn’t have answers to, anyway. Marisol entered, followed by Aiko, who gently closed the door behind her and joined Miller by the window. She rubbed her stomach as she leaned in for a closer look at the deck below.
Miller noticed her discomfort. His friend’s seeming distress helped him regain focus. “You feeling okay, Aiko?”
“Who? Me? Oh, I’m fine, Miller. Just hungry is all.” Aiko stopped fiddling with her stomach and moved to the wrinkles in her tank top, smoothing them out with the palm of her hand as if that was her intent all along.
“So how are we looking out there?”
“Well, half of them haven’t even bothered to get up and walk around yet today. Obviously, that’s not good.”
“I don’t blame them. Honestly, I’m feeling pretty weak myself.”
“A few more days of this and things will start to get serious,” Marisol suggested.
“Things already are serious.” Aiko gestured below to Ayn. “The blonde still won’t drink. She’s almost unresponsive at this point,” Aiko informed him. “They carried her out to the deck this morning, hoping the breeze or the sun would magically snap her out of it.”
“She looks awful. Is there anything you can do for her?” Marisol seemed despondent.
“Unfortunately, no. Without fresh water and a minimal amount of protein, her condition will continue to deteriorate.”
“And the others?” Miller asked.
“It’s hard to say. It really depends on their individual health and mental fortitude. If they think they’re going to die out here, chances are, they will. Obviously, age plays a role as well.”
“Jesus, Ayn can’t be a day older than twenty-five and she’s obviously the worst of the bunch. What’s that say for the rest of us?” Marisol took a step back from the window.
“Most likely she wasn’t eating much these past few weeks, and just by looking at her, I’d say she wasn’t keeping herself properly hydrated, either. Now it’s caught up with the girl,” said Aiko. “Expect to see more of this soon.”
The Roaming (Book 2): The Toll Page 17