by Eric Walters
We moved to the very front of the boat. We were coming up to the dock and the three men. The gap of open water narrowed to almost nothing and I readied myself to jump. The boat suddenly decelerated and I was thrown forward, my mother grabbing me before I tumbled overboard.
“Jump, now!”
She was still holding me by the hand and we leaped into the air and crashed onto the dock, almost falling off the other side.
As we struggled to regain our footing, I heard the boat engine roar as it backed away to safety.
“That was quite the docking procedure,” one of the men stated.
“But welcome ashore and…you’re a captain,” one of the others said.
“Captain Williams.”
All three men stood at attention and then, to my shock, saluted.
My mother returned the salute. “At ease. You’re all Marines?”
“I am, ma’am. Warrant Officer Gonsalves,” the one with the semaphore flags replied.
“U.S. Army, ma’am. Sergeant Miller,” a second added.
“Lieutenant Wilson,” the third and obviously oldest man said. “Retired member of the greatest fighting force on the planet, the USMC.”
Really they hardly needed to answer her question because they all seemed so military.
“Ma’am, no offense, but we need to search you, and your um, assistant—”
“My daughter, Emma.”
“Yes, ma’am, and your daughter, we need to undertake a search for weapons before allowing you to enter the grounds. With your permission, ma’am,” Sergeant Miller explained.
“Certainly. Standard procedure.”
My mother held her arms above her head and I did the same. They undid the clasp on her holster and then proceeded to do a pat-down.
“She’s clean,” Gonsalves said as he finished searching my mother.
“Her too,” Sergeant Miller said as he finished his search of me.
“Please follow this way, the colonel is waiting,” the warrant officer said.
He led and we followed, with the other two behind us, through the gate. I hesitated for a split second, ducked my head, and went through the opening.
There was something so familiar about the way the three men moved. Military men had a stiffness to their backs, a certain swing of the arms, an exactness in the steps.
Ahead of us stretching into the distance was a long black tarmac. Off to one side was the control tower I’d seen from the lake. It had dark windows that circled the top layer, and it would have had a commanding view of the entire grounds and off into the lake. On the other side of the runway was a series of small buildings, bigger airplane hangars, and perhaps a dozen houses that looked very similar to the ones in our community.
Some of what had once probably been open or grassy areas had been put to cultivation: brown soil, ridges of dirt, and crops growing. I was surprised that not all the grass had been converted to growing food. As well, somehow their crops didn’t seem as tall, or as full, or as lush as ours. Was it the soil, or the seed? Or didn’t they know how to grow things?
Then I saw the planes—not one, but two Mustangs parked over on a small paved extension to the runway. There were a couple of small private planes peeking out of one of the open hangar doors. Beside them was another, larger passenger plane. It was also old school, with four propellers. I wondered if it was flight-worthy. Something that big could fly a lot of people over a long distance if it was—I could get to my father in that plane.
That thought hit me hard. I still wished he were here, or we were there. Everything had been so busy, so dangerous, so new that there were now days that I went without thinking about him at all, and that thought made me feel even guiltier. I hoped he was doing well. Even more, I just wished he was here with us. Somehow I figured that he could fix all of this, or at least protect us from what he couldn’t fix. I felt bad—it was almost disloyal to my mother to have those thoughts. She’d been here for me and Ethan, for all of us. Maybe it would have been better for my father if he were here to be looked after by her.
Looking back over my shoulder, I saw men with rifles spaced at regular intervals along the wall. They were certainly better armed than we were—unless some of those weapons were as fake as some of ours. I also noticed lots of people who weren’t on the walls—men, women, and children, and a lot of them seemed to be standing around, staring at us as we walked past. There were military personnel here, but these were obviously civilians. Were they the families of military people?
We came up to a side door leading into the terminal and were ushered inside. The large waiting room was now filled with beds and bedrolls separated by blankets that were serving as crude walls. There were lots of people, and many of them turned and watched as we were marched by.
“Who are we going to see?” my mother asked.
“The commander of our complex,” Sergeant Miller explained.
We entered an office area and Sergeant Miller knocked on a closed door. There was a brief silence and then a deep male voice called out, “Come.” The sergeant opened the door and my mother led us in.
An older man with gray hair wearing a Marine uniform was sitting behind the desk. He looked up at us and I saw he had an eagle on his lapel that signified his rank as colonel.
My mother came to attention and saluted. He returned the salute and then offered his hand and they shook.
“I’m Colonel Wayne—Robert Wayne.”
“Captain Williams, sir. Ellen.”
He started asking her questions about where she had been stationed, and it quickly became clear that they knew some of the same people. He mentioned a base where he had been stationed most recently.
“We lived there,” I said.
They both turned to me, and I realized I probably should have remained silent.
“This is my daughter, Emma, sir,” she said.
“Hello, Emma. So you’re a Marine brat.”
“Me and my brother.”
“My wife and I raised our boys on bases around the country.”
“Are they here?” I asked.
“I wish they were. Both are Marine pilots. They were stationed overseas when all of this happened.”
“My husband—my ex-husband—is stationed overseas in Iraq.”
“My boys too. They might be on the same base. Maybe I’m just trying to convince myself, but I can’t picture any place safer than a military base.”
“That’s what my mother said, too.”
“And that’s why we went out and brought their wives and our three grandchildren here. We’ve brought a lot of family here for safety and security.”
I was right about the civilians, then.
“Your uniform?” he asked.
“Yes, sir, it’s not Marine issue. We had uniforms made.”
“Uniforms? Are there more Marines than just you?” he asked.
My mother looked guilty. “In order to enhance our ability to survive I’ve allowed a number of people to dress in Marine fatigues.”
“Certainly not acceptable in normal situations, but this is far from normal.” He paused. “Can I assume that you’re from the community on Ward’s Island?”
“Yes, sir, I am a representative of that community.”
“We were planning on initiating contact with you.”
“You were?” my mother asked.
“What you’ve done over there so far is impressive.”
“What do you know about what we’ve done?” I asked.
“I’ve sent out recon teams to gather information. We’re aware of you, the small group occupying the marina, and half a dozen tent communities spaced out on Main Island. We’ve also done a number of flybys over your community.”
“I didn’t know that,” I said.
“They have always been at high altitude and not directly over top. Your walls look remarkably solid, your crops are growing well, and you have solar panels and electricity. You need to have better black-out shades.”
; “My mother’s been saying that, but at least we have some shades now.”
“We have shades on all windows,” he said. “The airport had an emergency generator system that we’ve been able to utilize. Unfortunately, it’s diesel-powered and fuel is at a premium so we can’t run it as much as I’d like.”
“Our solar panels produce enough power to light the houses and the searchlights on the walls,” my mother said.
“We saw those lights in use a few weeks ago and sent up the planes. You were probably too occupied to notice. I was at the controls of one of the Mustangs. I was impressed when you managed to sink that boat.”
“You saw that?” I exclaimed.
“Seeing it was the only reason I believed it was possible. If somebody else had told me a ship was sunk by a projectile thrown by a catapult I would have accused them of flying drunk!” he said with a laugh.
“Our crews have been working hard.”
“But it was unexpected that you’d be utilizing catapults and crossbows.”
My mother seemed surprised, as the colonel smiled. “We’ve had eyes on you from across the channel as well as from the sky. Basic recon.”
“Of course,” my mother replied.
“So may I assume that if the uniforms are fake, those assault rifles are also somehow fake?” he asked. My mother didn’t answer.
“I’m sorry. I can understand your reluctance to share information. What I’m going to offer to you is complete disclosure of our compound. I want you to see who we are and what we have. I believe that your community and our community can help each other. There are things we have that you might need, and things you have that we might need. Do you see that as a possibility?”
“Yes, sir. That was why we came here today.”
“Excellent. I’ll lead you on a tour. We’re pretty proud of what we’ve been able to accomplish.”
25
It was still early morning but the heat was already building. Wasn’t it supposed to start cooling off as August came close to the end? I walked along the path to Willow’s house, trying to stay in the shade as much as possible.
Out ahead, close to the bridge, there were two soldiers from the airport compound who were working with our people to improve the barricade system. There had been a lot of movement back and forth between our community and the airport over the past three weeks. We had sent people over to help them learn how to harvest wild plants, improve their farming techniques, and do things like make candles, put up preserves, and churn butter. We’d also given them ten of our forty-five goats—we really did have too many for the grazing land we had available.
As well, we’d helped them secure two boats—one with a functional engine and the second a larger sailboat—so they could go out onto the lake to fish rather than simply casting from the shore. They’d been able to increase their catch substantially. The boats were from a side trade with Jimmie and Johnny. They had more boats than they could use, and they needed almost everything in the way of food that was on offer. My mother had warned the colonel about Johnny and Jimmie and he’d appreciated the information. “Forewarned is forearmed,” he said.
In return for the things we’d given the colonel and his community they’d helped us with security, given us a few rifles, provided training, and made a promise to come to our aid if we were attacked. That last one meant a lot. We were an illusion, a house made of straw, and the fear was that if somebody blew too hard it would all tumble over.
Despite the increased fortifications, and the extra training, weapons, and support, my mother hadn’t abandoned our backup plan. Julian and Jim and I had been out to our little island the week before. We’d watered our crops, which were progressing well, and then stashed away some sealed containers of jam and jelly, and a couple of dozen candles. It felt wrong to take from the community’s supplies. I knew it was like stealing, but lots of things that weren’t right seemed to be okay now.
The partnership with the airport hadn’t been without problems, because of the historical conflict between the people who lived on the island and those who flew out of the airport. As well, there were some members of our community who felt we didn’t need any extra help. It was as if they’d been tricked into believing that we really were as strong and safe as we were pretending to be. We weren’t. We weren’t even close, even with all the changes that were taking place. After a lot of debate, though, Chris had been able to get full agreement to the new alliance.
As I got closer to Willow’s house, I could see him on his porch. He got up, his crossbow on his shoulder, and met me on the path. I, of course, had mine with me too.
“Emma, do you know what this is about?” he asked.
“With my brother, I’m hardly ever sure what it’s about. He just said he wanted to show us something.”
“That sounds mysterious, and important.”
“Knowing Ethan it could be anything, but important? Probably not.”
“I just wish he’d stop calling me names. Elm, Maple, Christmas, Palm, Oak…actually, I sort of like Oak.”
“I think you should go with Maple. Maple syrup, maple muffins, maple cookies. Anything with maple is always sweet and tasty.”
“So you think I’m sweet and tasty?” he asked.
I blushed and looked away. I didn’t know what to say to that.
“It’s okay, I think you’re pretty sweet too.”
“Um, thanks, I guess.”
My stomach started churning and my hands were sweating. This was stupid. I’d faced armed men, so why was this making me so nervous?
We walked in silence through the cottages and to a path around the woods that stretched out along the east side of the island. I think neither of us knew what to say next.
“I hear we might be cutting down these trees,” Willow said.
“That must be painful for you, you know, killing your tree brethren.”
“Funny. I see where your brother gets it from.”
“My mother said it would open up sight lines, provide some more land for cultivation, and supply firewood for the winter.”
“I don’t even like thinking that this could last that long,” Willow said.
“Do you see it getting any better?”
“From everything we’ve heard it’s only getting worse.” He paused. “Ever think about going over there?” He gestured to the city visible past our walls and across the harbor.
“I think it’s really dangerous.”
“Do you think we’re safe here?”
I hesitated before answering. “We’re safer, but not safe.”
“I know. I just like to pretend. Isn’t that a lot of what we’re doing, pretending, to make us safer?”
“We’re trying to fool the outside world but not ourselves. We can’t get caught up in believing the magic is real.”
“I guess we should be grateful for the airport people,” Willow said. “Some people are pretty upset about the flyovers but I like them. They make me feel better.”
A couple of times a day, one or two of their planes made a pass over top of the community. I found it familiar and comforting. Base planes did that all the time as a way to say hello or goodbye to their families below.
With those planes they had the ability to go farther afield and check out things that other communities could only wonder about. I’d been told by the colonel that they’d established contact with three other communities that had airstrips. They hoped that if they could get the big plane into the air, with somebody at the stick who could fly it, they could start trading larger commodities back and forth.
We went along the path that ran just inside the wall. At regular intervals we passed our guards. They were always in pairs, dressed in Marine costumes, one carrying a real weapon and the other a fake assault rifle. Those rifles certainly looked real. Each pair of guards was within sight of the next pair, and if one set saw something they could alert the entire wall. Each guard we passed said hello or nodded. It was getting to the point that I k
new most of the people in the community. And even those I didn’t know certainly knew me and my mother and brother.
“Do you think you could take me to the airport the next time you go?” Willow asked.
“I can ask my mother.”
“It would be great just to get off this island.”
“You could go out with one of the fishing boats,” I suggested.
“I don’t want to fish. I just want to be able to walk somewhere that isn’t here.”
I’d been over to the airport compound four times as part of our exchange groups. I liked being there. I liked talking to the colonel. He was nice and kind to me, and he was military. He reminded me of my father, and my grandfather, and all the military people and places I’d lived for most of my life. There were times when being a military brat and living on bases had seemed so restrictive that it made me want to run away screaming. Now it just seemed right.
My mother and I had talked about moving to the airport community. The colonel had made it clear that he’d always be willing to open his doors to a Marine and her family. In my mind it was sort of a Plan B to our other Plan B. It was a better backup plan than the one we had.
We came up to the eastern boundary of our community. The wall had been constructed well up from the beach, separated by some scrubland and trees and an open space. It was decided that the shoreline itself—a cliff that was as tall as a house—was the best defense. We followed along the fence until we came up to the northeast corner. There, a small guard tower had been constructed. It looked more like a little tree fort that a couple of kids had built than anything else, but it did give an elevated view. The guards up in the tower waved to us and we waved back.
“So where is he?” Willow asked.
I shrugged. “I’ll ask.”
We walked over to the base of the tower. “Have you seen my brother and his friends?”
“I’m seeing them right now,” he said. He pointed out over the fence.
Willow and I climbed up onto the little observation ledge and looked over the wall. I gasped, and Willow started laughing. My brother and one of his friends were out there—on top of two ostriches. They were riding them! A group of eight or ten boys were off to the side, watching and cheering as Ethan and his friend Justin bounced along, each riding one of the gigantic birds.