by Lee Thomas
The Event
Expansion
Copyright © 2015 Sheldon Friend
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
Chapter 1
Sept. 11th, 2020 - Friday
Reviewing records and maps for probably the thousandth time, I just couldn’t shake the feeling I was forgetting something. There were new satellite pictures of the peninsula to the north that comprised most of what was once known as Delaware and Maryland. After what had become known as the Event, there was no such thing as states anymore, or even countries to speak of. As far as North America was concerned, our group was the largest that we knew of. We had managed to contact a group that had holed up in the old military bunker known as NORAD. A small group of military and politicians had seen and acknowledged what was happening, even though most of the world ignored it until it was too late, and quietly gathered themselves and their families in NORAD. Located deep within a mountain, with months’ worth of supplies already there, they brought as much food and ammo with them as they could carry. They told us they had a group almost as large as ours when they started, but lack of a way to replenish their food supplies led them to go on supply runs. That was not an easy task as gasoline for their trucks was in limited supply and not easily replenished. Their ranks had since diminished, due to lack of food, infected attacks on the supply runs, and people giving up.
Several small groups had found their way to us, or we stumbled across them as we went on our own supply runs. We took those in that wanted to stay, and work, and provided supplies for those that choose to go their own way. For each man, woman, or child that stayed, I felt a personal responsibility for each of them. Once the group I led from Oklahoma made it here safe to the ship, I started delegating different areas to different people in the group whose skills and talents I knew would be better suited to those areas. Most everyone still deferred to me for major decisions, but I was trying to distance myself from that position by letting others make decisions for their respective areas. The sailors and soldiers we brought with us and that were already on board when we arrived did not make that task any easier as they still insisted on calling me admiral since they saw me as in charge of the whole show.
Pushing aside the papers, I sat back and sighed, trying to wrap my head around the whole situation one more time. It was still, after almost three years, so hard to believe that the world had essentially ended. What had become known as the Event was a virus that wiped out most of the world’s population. There were now only scattered bands of survivors throughout the world, each struggling to survive, fighting against the monsters the virus turned people in to. There was no name for it, officially, and the general term that had started getting thrown around was ‘zombie’, but we usually just called them ‘infected’. As time went on, we had noticed something new, so we had to classify them into two groups, adding ‘mutants’ into the equation. Most of the infected seemed slow, mindless, simply moving forward and attacking, eating anything that crossed their path. The mutants however, seemed to be able to plan, and think. They were faster, stronger, and seemed to increase in muscle mass, almost like putting a gorillas’ muscle structure on a human frame. They also grew sharp, pointy teeth, losing the human molars.
I finally gave up on pondering for now, deciding to head out to the flight deck to enjoy the day. Being in charge did have one perk, in that I didn’t necessarily have an assigned job every day like most everyone else. I put my boots on and headed out towards the catwalk, deciding to not go through the tower so I could avoid the bridge for now. I made sure the outer hatch closed behind me, then looked out over the pier. I was about fifty feet above the concrete here on the catwalk, with another five feet added on up on the flight deck itself. The wind was almost nil here today since it was coming off the bay, which was on the other side of the ship. The metal clanged with each step of my heavy flight deck boots, but they had excellent grip and were very comfortable. As I walked up the stairs and my head came over the edge of the flight deck, the wind picked up, a wonderful breeze, and caught at my shirt edges. The sun was bright today, but it was slightly cloudy as well so shade came and went as the clouds passed by. Several people were on the flight deck already, enjoying the day as I was. Most nodded to me, a few saying hi, and some of the military folks up there even saluted. I returned each greeting, smiling and nodding back, and returning the salutes, even though I was not wearing a hat, or uncovered in military speak.
I stopped near the port side, which was the water side, and let the breeze blow by, just listening to the slap of waves against the ship, the sea birds cawing, and the laughter of men and women having a good time. Laughter and splashing made me look down as well, and I saw a group of adults and children swimming and jumping off the aircraft elevator. We had a floating dock down there with stairs back to the elevator, and it was a common thing to see the braver teens trying to flip, corkscrew, or perform some other kind of move by jumping off the elevator, trying to one up each other. The day was heating up, so a swim sounded good later, I thought to myself.
“There you are, I’ve been looking for you.” Jeff said, coming up behind me. My friend for almost as long as I could remember, Jeff was my second in command, part of the glue that helped me hold this group together on the road, and here on the ship. He ran most of the day to day stuff, being much better at that type of stuff than I was.
“What’s up man?” I asked him as we fist bumped each other in greeting. We had been friends so long that we were well beyond hugs or handshakes.
“Nothing much. Just wanted to let you know that new group decided to join us, some wanting to stay at their camp, others opting to come here. We have a team already heading that way to bring the ones back that are coming back, but also taking supplies and men to stay there to help secure the camp, reinforce the walls, that kind of stuff. You said you wanted an update.” He informed me, staring out over the water with me.
“Good, good. I like it when things go smoothly, we haven’t had enough of that lately.” I replied, thinking of the trip here, the losses we all suffered, the trials of getting the base secured, and trying to survive in this new world. The last few years had been extremely difficult, even for those of us used to living paycheck to paycheck before. So many luxuries gone, so many hobbies no longer important, or possible, survival was the main goal now.
“Have you heard from Shane yet?” he asked, getting to the heart of the matter that was bothering me the most. I laughed as he always knew how to just cut through the bullshit and get right to it. That was one of the main reasons I trusted him, and respected his opinions so much. If I was ever starting to go off half-cocked, getting too stressed, or began doing something that would not be beneficial for the group, he would stop me, or make me stop and think about it first. He was on a very short list of people I trusted like that.
“Got a preliminary report the other day, but I know Shayne will want to be as thorough as possible, so I’m waiting on his final one. It's not looking good though, as the quick look says there may be a problem with the propeller shafts. The Jefferson may be a fixture here. If that’s the case, the Nimitz will go north instead.” I told him. I was thinking that was probably going to be the case, which would be fine, I would simply move everyone not going on the northern trip over to the Jefferson. Since she was a Nimitz-class carrier, the layout would be the same on her as here.
“I’m guessing you are still hell-bent on going on that mission yourself, aren’t you?” he asked. I knew he wasn’t happy about me saying I wanted to go north and help clear the peninsula myself. He was former Army, and still military minded enough that the commanding officer didn’t go charging into battle, and
since that’s how the sailors and soldiers saw me around here, that’s how I was treated. I had received quite a bit of feedback about that particular announcement.
“Why, are you going to try to talk me out of it again?” I replied. We had been having this conversation ever since I brought up the fact that when we started this northern mission I planned on leading it. I was worried about it, I couldn’t lie about that, but I knew once it was done we would have a totally secure, safe place for people to live, grow food, be happy without the risk or stress of wondering if an infected attack is going to breach the wall today. None of the infected seemed to be able to swim, so destroying the bridges and setting watch stations up along the coast meant the entire peninsula would be completely secure. The bridges had already been destroyed, except for one to the north, and the western bridge had two sections that turned, allowing large ships to pass by. Leaving them turned meant nothing was crossing that bridge, which meant we could have only a small guard unit, but could turn it back to allow teams to leave or return safely.
“Yes, I am, until you decide to pull your head out of your ass and decide to stay here, like you should. For some reason, most everyone here defers to you, and trusts you, but you are not trained for the type of searching that will be needed to clear the peninsula. I say let the better prepared men go, and you stay here to help solve other issues.” He stated. It was the same argument he had used before, and even Michelle had chimed in on it a couple of times. I was starting to consider it because I knew they were right, I didn’t have the right training to be an effective part of the mission, but I didn’t want to risk people without sharing the risk either. I could see their point however, so it was something to think about.
“I’ll make up my mind for sure in a few days, ok? That’s the best you’re getting today.” I said, earning a glance and a glare from him. I just continued to look out over the water, listening to the sounds of life around us. What was noticeably missing however, if one would stop and think about it, was car and airplane noise. No rushing vehicles, no screaming jets, or even honking horns. The air also seemed to be a little clearer most days, and smelled better without the constant pollution of such. We had vehicles, and a pretty decent stockpile of gasoline for them, but we tried not to use them if we could help it. We used the electric carts around the base, and saved the gas vehicles as much as possible.
“Fine, stubborn ass.” He growled at me. I chuckled and punched him on the arm, turning to head back inside. Even with the breeze, the sun was starting to be too much. I didn’t do too well with the heat, and summer was still clinging to life as long as it could. I left him standing there as I headed for the tower to check in with the bridge before going back to my quarters. Even though I was not running this as a military command, the bridge still kept to being the center of all the information available to us. We had video cameras all along the wall, as well as under the flight deck of the ship, and all the feeds were directed into one of the old ready rooms of the flight crews. Ready Three, as it was called, was our camera room, where two technicians sat at all times, watching, recording, an extra set of eyes backing up the guards on the wall.
Ready Two was now our meteorology room, where the equipment and monitors were set up to provide us with weather forecasts. We had two meteorologists, who were training others as well, so we usually had a few days’ notice of any foul weather headed our way. I liked to poke my head in on those two offices every few days at least, just to see what is going on. Both departments sent daily reports to the bridge, just to keep a routine going, and that was something I saw every day. I had a general report of all departments daily, everything from how the farm animals were doing, the ship systems, to the guards on the wall, everything that impacted how we lived, and stayed safe.
Raising my hand before the expected ‘attention on deck’ call could be cried out, a habit the sailors had anytime I entered a room I was trying very hard to break, I simply nodded at the sailors on duty and went for the clipboard they kept the daily reports on.
“How are you today, sir?” one the petty officers on duty asked. Sandford, by the name tag.
“I’m fine, but I would be doing much better if I could ever get you guys to stop calling me sir. My name is Sheldon, and I’m in this mess just like you guys, nothing special about me.” I replied. I had been saying a form of this spiel for almost three years now, and it hadn’t helped yet. Some of the younger sailors were finally getting the hint and trying to drop the ‘sir’ thing, but most of the older, or longer term ones were still stuck in the habit.
“Yes, sir, er, I mean, Sheldon.” Sandford corrected himself. The other sailors on duty up there laughed slightly, as they had dealt with me enough to finally understand I wasn’t trying to be snotty with it, I really didn’t like the whole ‘sir’ thing. It made me feel like they thought I was above them, or better than them, and I did not want to foster that kind of mentality amongst the group, partly because in a lot of ways, most of them were better than me. A quick review of the daily reports so far showed me nothing new to look at, everything seemed to be running smooth, or was already fixed. I asked them to call me if there was any need or problems, and headed down to my cabin. The only perk I allowed myself of this whole being in charge thing was the captains’ cabin. It allowed me the space to be alone when I wanted, or needed to be, but also had the sitting space with a small table to review maps, reports, and have discussions around to make plans.
Stepping into my cabin, I noticed a lunch tray sitting on my bar, and a jug of what looked like tea sitting next to it. Since I knew I hadn’t ordered it, I wondered who brought it. My unspoken question was answered when I looked into the sitting area and saw Michelle sitting there with her own plate.
“Sub and chips, huh? Looks good.” I told her as I picked my section of sandwich and spread some mustard on it. I took my plate and cup of tea and sat next to her to eat and figure out what she wanted. We hadn’t spent much time together since everything went to hell, and I did miss just talking to her.
“You haven’t been down to the cafeteria to eat in the last few days, and I know you don’t keep much up here. You need to eat, and this is what I had available.” She replied, taking another bite of her sandwich. She had a point, I had been so caught up in making sure everything worked, and everyone was safe, I was neglecting my own health. Sitting across from her, I dug in and looked at what she was looking at. The maps and reports were all still strung out over my table, and she was obviously glancing at them before I showed up.
“You really think this new plan of yours will work?” she asked, pointing to the map of the peninsula. We still needed to come up with a name for it, but we never decided on an official name for this area, we simply referred to it as ‘the base’, even though a large portion was town land as well.
“Yeah, I do. It will be a lot of work, but ultimately it will allow us to live a more normal life. Farmers will produce the food, we can set up market areas in different areas for people to go shopping, and I can finally take you on a relaxing sailing trip.” I replied, taking another bite out of my sandwich. Michelle had never been on a sailboat before, and I had claimed a beautiful sloop that I wanted to take her out on. While I had been out on the fishing boat a few times, I hadn’t taken the sloop out yet for anything longer than a quick circle in the bay to test her out.
“Good. I’m getting tired of being on this boat. Ship, I mean.” She corrected herself when I looked up as she said boat. She smiled, and I knew she was just giving me a hard time about the terminology, only because I made such a big deal about it in the past.
“I know you and the girls are landlubbers, and really don’t like being onboard. I did say you could have moved onto the base somewhere once the wall was built, you know.” I reminded her. I knew the girls spent a lot of time off ship, with Angie being on the guard rotation with my nephew Dustin, Cassi was always working with the horses, and Desi was training to go out with the hunting teams. Michelle occasiona
lly left, although I think she mostly did it just to see the girls, and get some fresh air. A part of me thought she was still scared to live on base right now as the whole zombie thing freaked her out in the beginning.
“Brat.” She said, throwing a piece of sandwich at me over the landlubber remark, and I just chuckled as I finished off my portion. The tea was good, and sweet, just like I liked it. I knew sugarcane was something we were having difficulty growing, so it was usually reserved for special occasions. It was like my mint plant I was growing with a sunlamp on the counter, every so often I would pluck a leaf off and chew on it. I loved mint, and it added a delicious flavor to tea when a leaf was crushed in it. We finished eating in relative silence after that, making small talk about various things. I had put her in charge of the galley when we got here because of her cooking skills, but since she was never a morning person, another person was in charge until she got up and made her way down there. She had delegated more and more of the duties to her, I believe a Petty Officer Grayson if I remembered right, so that Michelle had little left to do as the Mess Officer, which was the official title of the position. Eventually, we had officially designated Mrs. Grayson as the Mess Officer, gave her the title of commander like all department heads had, and Michelle stepped back to take care of herself and the girls more, and let others focus on the rest of it. I liked that Mrs. Grayson had kept most of Michelle’s recipes, and was good at recreating them too. I still preferred Michelle’s small batch cooking to the galley’s large batch, but with what limited food and seasoning we had, they did their best. A knock on the door stopped our conversation, and I called out ‘enter’.
“Sheldon, Jackson just sent a report in that he wanted you see. Apparently, there is a storm front that developed quite rapidly to the southwest, and Jackson thinks it could get quite strong by the time it makes it here.” Petty Officer Allen Trainor reported, reading the note as he stood at an easy attention; some Navy habits are hard to break after all.