by Bob Howard
Jean was the same way. She had worked with some of the nurses on the Atlantic Spirit for a long time. The doctor they worked for wasn’t the kind of person who inspired her enough to feel guilt, but she was close with the rest of the staff. She handled her guilt better than Kathy, though. There was no explaining why, but maybe it was because she knew she couldn’t do anything for the others. She knew that there came a time when you had to take care of yourself, and on that given day, she had done what she could to keep herself alive.
Cassandra didn't know she was experiencing survivor’s guilt, but Bus pulled me and Jean aside and pointed out that Cassandra had to live with knowing the Mercy Ship was right out there in the water, but she couldn’t tell exactly where. A marker might warn other ships, but it would also give Cassandra a visual place to direct her feelings. It was much the same as paying one’s respects in front of a grave stone.
Doc Bus suggested that it would be a small thing to do considering the mental effects on a member of the Mud Island family. So, we agreed we would discuss it once we returned from patrol. It would take some careful planning because it meant finding a buoy that could be anchored at the site.
Hampton pointed out that there were plenty of channel markers around Georgetown that could be relocated to the spot, and they could be positioned in a way that kept people from getting too close to Mud Island. Warnings that there were sunken ships and hidden reefs would be one more layer of security.
We were all putting the final touches on our preparations to leave the shelter on patrol, and we had to keep our minds on what we were doing because it was already dangerous enough outside, but the idea of moving a channel marker from Georgetown was an instant reminder that Hampton had left behind people he had grown up with, and he too was bound to feel the effects of survivor’s guilt if he returned home.
Needless to say, we were forgetting one of the things the Chief had reminded us about every time we opened the door to our shelter. We needed to have our heads on straight, or someone was going to die. Maybe that was why we forgot to take one last glance at the security camera views of the shelter door. We didn’t have our heads on straight.
I spun the big locking wheel and opened the door.
“Gloves….…everybody make sure you have your gloves on,” yelled Jean.
There was somewhat of an alcove outside the shelter door. From a distance it was like any other natural erosion on the side of a hill. Tree roots were exposed, and a casual observer would think it was a good place to get out of the rain. Few people would get close enough to see the big door in the darkness at the back. This time the alcove was filled with the infected, and they had blue crabs clinging to them. The only thing that saved us from having them flood inside was the fact that the door opened so quietly. Before they could react, I was already closing the door.
“Where the hell did they all come from?” yelled Bus.
“We'll worry about that later,” yelled Hampton. “Right now we need to push them back enough to get the door closed.”
For the next few minutes we pushed them back on each other while avoiding the pincers of the blue crabs and the grasping hands of the infected. When we finally had room to close the door again, I took advantage of the opportunity and spun the lock into place.
We were all relieved and more than a little guilty when we considered that everyone was supposed to check the cameras. We still had to deal with where they had come from, but it had been too close. After all, we had spent months trying to establish a perimeter around Mud Island that we considered reasonably safe, only to have them show up on our doorstep.
“They must have been trapped somewhere nearby and just got free,” said Tom, “and I’m glad we were the ones surprised by them instead of Kathy and the Chief. At least we had the numbers to deal with them.”
Tom and Kathy had grown even closer throughout the summer months, and his concern for her had just gone up a notch.
“We had the numbers,” I said, “but we got lucky. I’m going to put up a sign on the door that says to check the cameras before opening.”
“Better yet,” said Colleen, “why don’t we have an alarm system? You said your Uncle insisted on the latest technology when they built these shelters.”
“I never could figure that out,” I said. “He had visual equipment put in, but he didn’t even bother to put a string of cans or trip wires outside.”
“Well, while we’re putting out a marker for ships to avoid that reef, why don’t we get what we need to put an alarm system around the island?” asked Cassandra. “We could even bug the woods on the other side of the moat, and then we could stop patrolling it every day.”
“Sounds like a plan,” said Tom, “but first we have to go out the escape tunnel and deal with those door to door salesmen.”
We all gathered up our gear and started for the escape tunnel in the room that used to be the master bedroom. Since we had turned it into an upper level storage area, we had to keep a clear path to the exit, but that was no problem. We even built a set of steps up to the hatch that was recessed into the wall so it would be easier to climb in.
The tunnel that ran to the surface was much longer than it appeared to be when we would crawl through it, but it was well lit and didn’t make anyone feel claustrophobic.
As we passed through the living room on our way to the hatch, I asked Molly to turn on the outside monitors at the door and at the escape hatch.
“Uncle Eddie, I was just about to ask you why everyone was going outside when there were so many infected out there.”
“Because we were dummies and didn’t check the cameras first. What about the emergency exit?”
Molly switched to that camera view, and we were surprised to see so many infected. The camera for that view was located across the moat, so it showed a good angle back toward Mud Island.
“The place is crawling with them,” said Tom. “Where are they all coming from?”
Molly switched the monitor to the view that showed all of the cameras, and it was like it had been back at the beginning of the infection. Every angle of the island showed the same thing.
“The Mercy Ship,” said Cassandra. “Some are wearing crew uniforms.”
She sounded like someone who was having the same nightmare every time they went to sleep. She sounded like she was resigned to live with seeing the entire crew again, even when her eyes were open.
“It’s not just the crew,” I said. “There were hundreds of people on the beaches that night, and most of them died out there in the water.”
“But that was months ago,” said Colleen. “How are they getting here now?”
“Longshore drift,” said Hampton. “The current was strong enough back when we pulled Cassandra off of that ship. It most likely carried hundreds of them south along the coast, and some got tangled up in the marshes along the Intracoastal Waterway. If they didn't get eaten by the bottom feeders, they eventually got washed ashore.”
“Makes sense, but that sure is a lot of them,” I said.
“It makes me wonder if they haven’t found a way to get through Georgetown.”
I was never too sure how Hampton really felt about coming back to Mud Island and being this close to where he had grown up, but I always expected that sooner or later he would want to know. His suggestion about getting a buoy from Georgetown may have just been a clue that he at least wanted to see it for himself.
My thoughts were interrupted when Molly said there was something on the camera facing the main beach area that we should see. We all gathered around the monitors where Molly shifted the picture to the main screen.
The camera was aimed slightly to the northeast, and there were two ships moving slowly toward the south. The one in front was flying a United States Navy flag and appeared to be either a destroyer or a cruiser. I would have needed a desk reference to be sure which it might be. The second ship was a huge submarine that was traveling on the surface.
In my video game days, I h
ad played one that included Ballistic Missile Submarines, and I was sure I was watching one of them cruise by.
While we were watching them silently brush past the coast of South Carolina, we all saw the activity on the deck of the surface ship, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what they were about to do.
The bursts of machine gun fire from the deck of the destroyer were not totally unexpected, but the devastation was. A weird shaped structure on the deck of the destroyer had rotated left and right for only a few seconds, and every infected dead on the beach was down. Some were still moving, but they had mostly been sawed in half or outright shredded by the bullets.
Another camera angle that showed the tree line of Mud Island also showed that trees had been cut down by the same bullets. It was like a hurricane had passed over the area.
“What was that?” I asked no one in particular.
Jean said, “That ship is like one of the ships that warned us away from the Atlantic Spirit before it was sank.”
Tom and Hampton were searching through reference books that had been stocked in the shelter, and Bus was busy doing the same through data drives connected to the computer.
Hampton found it first.
“It appears they just used their missile defense system to obliterate the infected that were walking around on the beach.”
Hampton laid an open book out in front of us and put his finger on the place in the text with a picture next to it.
“If it was painted blue and white, I would think it was a big R2-D2,” I said.
The thing was actually more rounded and smooth than the famous Star Wars robot, but from a distance they weren’t all that different.
“That’s the nickname they use for it,” said Hampton, “but it’s actually a Phalanx CIWS, which stands for Close In Weapons System. It’s the last line of defense for a ship to shoot down an incoming missile.”
"It seems like they found another use for it,” said Tom. “I’m glad we weren’t out there when they opened fire.”
“What now?” said Cassandra. “We’re still going out, aren’t we?”
“Now we have a better reason to go out,” I answered. “We still have to watch for infected that might try to bite our ankles, but that's a lot more manageable than going out while they’re able to walk. Besides, we only need to wait about thirty minutes for the crabs to do their thing.”
Everyone glanced back at the screens to see what I had pointed at. The ships had already left the range of vision covered by our cameras, but the main attraction was the swarm of blue crabs that had emerged from the surf. Judging by the thousands of scurrying crustaceans, there wouldn’t be much left on the beach in a few minutes. They climbed over each other as if they were one shifting, undulating blanket as they covered the remains of the infected that had been cut to pieces by the odd shaped gun on the destroyer.
“That bothers me,” said Hampton. “The crabs could have come out of the water after the infected before they were minced by the bullets. Why didn’t they?”
“They were probably already on their way,” said Bus, “but they’ve evolved. It could be their instincts have evolved, too. It’s easier for them to feed on the infected that are not able to walk.”
“Molly, is the beach clear around the southern exit, and did the gun do anything up at the front door?”
Molly switched to those views, and my questions were answered. The southern tip of the island was covered by the blue blanket of crabs. The front door was clear of infected dead that were in one piece, but trees above the entrance had been shredded, and several had fallen from on top of the overhang above the door. I had to laugh at that.
“Those trees have fallen across the opening in a way that conceals the main entrance even better than before,” I said.
Jean tried to see through the trees and asked, “Will we be able to go out through them?”
“They don’t bite, so we can clear them enough to get through and leave the rest as camouflage over the entrance,” said Tom. “When Kathy and the Chief get back, we can tell them we made some improvements while they were gone.”
Cassandra asked, “Why didn’t we try to establish radio contact with those ships? They could be searching for survivors.”
We all regarded each other in silence for a few moments before answering.
“We have to consider the possibility that the Navy has operational orders of their own,” I said.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“Let me explain,” said Hampton.
“According to Captain Miller, the Navy was under orders that caused the task force where he was located to be wiped out. After he and his squad left, who knows what became of the remnants of that force, but one thing was for certain. They weren’t happy about him pulling out his troops.”
“So the military might see them as deserters,” said Cassandra.
We all nodded, and Hampton continued.
“In case you’re wondering, the Navy was bringing the infected back to their ships to study. They thought they could keep it contained while they tried to find a cure. As you well know, a ship at sea is hardly the place to play around with this virus, or whatever it is.”
“Does the military know about the virus getting into the food chain?” she asked.
Bus answered, “It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if they know by now. Every navy in the world must have learned it the hard way. Those that were lucky learned it from other ships at sea.”
“You mean like mine,” said Cassandra. “When it became obvious that the crew of the Mercy ship had become poisoned by the food, they had the sense to begin broadcasting a distress call that warned everyone about the food.”
“Where do you suppose they were going?” asked Jean.
Tom said, “I think I can give some suggestions about that, but it would make just as much sense for them to be going north.”
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
“Well, they’re either on a mission, or they’re going south to any of the many ports that need to be guarded from foreign invaders. That Russian corvette that parked behind Mud Island just wanted a place to hide, but the last thing we need is a foreign navy parking in Charleston, Savannah, Jacksonville, or Kings Bay. Those two ships won’t be the last ones to go by. As the US Navy regroups, they’re going to spread out up and down the coast. Norfolk, New York, and Boston also need to be protected.”
Colleen had been listening quietly as everyone else shared their thoughts about the two ships, and Hampton noticed she had a distant frown on her face.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
She didn’t answer right away and seemed to be a million miles away. Colleen was startled when she realized everyone was waiting for her to answer.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I was in a world of my own,” she said.
“We saw that. Care to let us know what’s going on inside that beautiful head of yours?”
Hampton had been captivated by Colleen’s Irish nose and freckles since the moment he met her. He hadn’t even known a woman with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes before Colleen, and if the world was a normal place, he would want to visit Ireland.
“I was wondering something,” she said. “Didn’t anyone tell the military about the shelters? I mean, what if those two ships are searching the coast for this one. Someone important was supposed to come to this shelter but never made it. Who was that person, and why hasn’t anyone come here to see if they made it to the shelter?”
“We’ve actually had that discussion with Bus,” I said. “When my uncle died and left me the shelter in his will, he didn’t tell me anything about the shelters being built as a means to keep the country’s command and control functions intact.”
Bus cleared his throat to get our attention, and then he dropped a small bombshell on all of us.
“By now all of you have noticed that the Mud Island shelter is the smallest of the shelters you’ve seen. That’s because Uncle Titu
s wasn’t going to be required to share it with some unknown dignitary the way the rest of us were supposed to.”
“What are you saying, Bus?” I was as surprised by the news as everyone else, but I didn’t connect enough dots to know why he was telling us this piece of news now.
Bus smiled as he answered, “Mud Island wasn’t on the list that was given to the military. As a matter of fact, the only shelters on the list given to the military were the shelters that were to receive people in the line of succession to the Presidency.”
“So they know about Fort Sumter?” asked Jean.
“Most likely, but there are two things we will never know when we see US Navy warships go by. We won’t know if they were considered as needing to know the shelter locations, and we won’t know if they are acting under presidential authority or on their own.”
It was a sobering thought to consider they might have somehow become rogue, but the conditions of the world could have caused anything to happen.
“If they do know about a shelter,” I said, “it doesn’t necessarily mean they know how to get inside, does it?”
Bus smiled as he shook his head back and forth.
******
For a second time we gathered at the main entrance to the shelter. The cameras showed that there was nothing moving outside the entrance. On the beach and on the southern tip of Mud Island the blue crabs were still feeding on the bodies of the infected that were scattered in the sand.
We made the trip from the door to our boat dock as quickly as we could, and as expected, we ran into several stray infected dead that had wandered far enough from the beach before the arrival of the US Navy. Our training was obvious as we removed threats faster every time we found another.
We piled into the boat as we cast off the mooring lines, and Bus expertly started the engines and pulled away from the dock seemingly at the same time.