Soil (The Last Flotilla Book 2)

by Barnes, Colin F.

  It had been so long since another person had done that for him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Stay with me, won’t you?’

  ‘As long as you don’t do anything dumb and get yourself killed.’

  ‘I’ll try my best.’

  ‘Then we have a deal, Mr Captain.’

  They set off at a brisk pace, leaning into the wind and rain and following the footprints around the bay. It took them longer than expected owing to the slipperiness of the rocks, but eventually they ascended the small rise and came to a large, open section of stony land strewn with boulders. Farther west along the coast, Jim saw more of the desalination units squatting like beach huts he used to stay in on the Anglian coast. Given the number of units, he figured there was easily enough fresh water to accommodate at least a few hundred people. So far he’d counted almost twice as many as they’d had on the flotilla.

  In addition to the desalination units, the coast was strewn with flotsam and jetsam: pieces of shipwrecks and other trash. There were nets tangled around traffic cones and old, broken buoys, the usual amorphous mass of plastic, and dozens of other pieces of boats that foretold tales of tragedy.

  Using the flashlight in short downward bursts, Jim continued to track the muddy footprints. The others followed him, keeping an eye out to the sides and rear. But there were no signs of torches or other lights. It was as though they were the only ones here, space explorers discovering an alien landscape.

  That illusion was soon shattered when Jim found a human-made staircase of sorts, leading up a steep incline. Metal rods protruded from the rock. Rope from a sailboat was tied around these, providing a series of handholds up the side of the rise.

  Pieces of mast and wooden boards were laid down to provide steps. Up and up they ascended, a step at a time, testing the strength of each board before applying their weight.

  These installations made it clear to Jim that whoever had built these had decided they were staying on this island for good. A part of him appreciated their ingenuity; the part of him that was sickened by the murder of those two men soon overrode those positive emotions.

  Gloria and Jim reached the top first and helped the others up the final few steps. They were on a summit, a flat area on top of the island, flanked by cliffs bordering the perimeter. When Jim looked back the way they had come, he saw a series of fissures like deep, dark veins spidering across the landscape – remnants of rock plates colliding. The wind whipped with greater vigour at the higher altitude, stinging his face and making his eyes water. He pulled the hood from his waterproof jacket up over his head to block out the worst of the gale.

  ‘Where now?’ Ahmed asked him, as he knelt next to Jim and took a deep breath. The climb had drained everyone’s last reserves of energy.

  ‘Onward,’ Jim said, pointing towards the edge of the summit. ‘There’s a couple of posts over there – perhaps another set of steps leading down. And beyond that I think I can see a haze of light.’

  ‘I can hear voices,’ Karel said. The Russian had barely spoken since they had left the sub. He looked intently at the posts Jim had pointed out and gestured in the same direction. ‘Over there, I think. Listen,’ he said.

  The group did just that.

  Jim found himself holding his breath as though that would magically improve his hearing. And yet . . . When the wind didn’t blow so strong, he thought he could hear voices too.

  Then he was jogging to the posts, eager to see what beyond the summit’s edge had everyone excited. He reached the edge and stared down.

  Below, in a kind of wide, almost elliptical valley with sheer sides, was . . . The only thing that came to his mind was a village scene – with electrical lights. Maybe only half a dozen small ones, attached to tall poles, but enough to make out the details before him.

  Around the edges of the space, which he guessed to be about the size of a football field, were dozens of huts made from wood and sheet metal, scraps of boats and detritus. At the north end, where the valley narrowed to maybe fifty feet or less, a second level rose above the others and held considerably better-built cabins.

  He looked around for barely a few seconds, yet caught every fine detail as his body filled with adrenalin. When his gaze stopped, lingering on a scene in a clearing in the middle of the space, his blood ran cold.

  On their knees were a group of three people. They were facing towards Jim so he could make out exactly who they were: Marvin, Victoria, and . . . Duncan.

  Rage filled him. He pulled the pistol from his holster and peered down the sights, scanning the scene. Standing around the three crewmembers were a dozen men and women wearing hooded ponchos.

  ‘My God, that’s them,’ Brad said, nearly bumping into Jim. The others grouped around him and gasped.

  One of the hooded figures approached Duncan with something dark in his hand. In the poor light and the wind and the rain, Jim clutched the pistol tighter, never believing he’d make the shot; it was too far away and the conditions were awful, but what else could he do?

  ‘Oh fuck,’ Patrice said.

  Jim spun round to find a group of the same hooded figures surrounding them. They were armed with rifles. Two of them had Gloria pressed to the ground on her knees, her rifle knocked from her hands. In no time at all, they had guns to the backs of everyone else’s heads.

  A single figure stepped forward. ‘Put the gun down, or you all die,’ a female voice said.

  Jim closed his eyes, his hands trembling, a finger on the trigger. He counted nine of them. He only had six rounds . . .

  ‘Do it, Jim,’ Gloria said. ‘They’re not screwing around. Don’t do anything stupid, please.’

  Her words pierced his fury, and, with a feeling of defeat and utter futility, Jim dropped the pistol to the ground.

  ‘Hands behind your head and turn around,’ the voice said.

  Jim looked the woman in her eyes. She stared back coldly, with the unemotional eyes of a well-fed predator.

  He did as she asked. A second later came the crash against the back of his skull, and he was falling, sinking to his knees. His vision blurred and sounds became muffled.

  ‘Take them to the cells,’ the woman said, her voice sounding so very far away.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Eva and Marcus scaled the cliff face and reached the top using one of the rope ladders draped over the side. Some time earlier, they had seen Duncan being dragged over the top and had gone in search of him.

  ‘Shit, would you look at that,’ Marcus said, pointing down the other side, and into a kind of valley. ‘Looks like an entire town or something. Incredible. They’ve even got power – you see the lights?’

  ‘Yeah, I see them . . .’ she trailed off, something catching the subconscious lizard brain’s attention. ‘There – they’re dragging Annette into a building on the right.’

  ‘I can’t see the others,’ Marcus said, then after a moment, a movement caught his attention.

  Eva noticed it too. On the right side of the valley, a row of five single-storey, flat-roofed huts lined the rock walls. The buildings were crafted from a wide variety of boards and metal sheeting. A pathway wound between two of the huts. A group of four figures stepped out, pushing Marvin and Victoria ahead of them with the barrels of their rifles. The rain glittered, backlit by the electrical lights, which illuminated more buildings on the far side of the valley.

  At the northeast side stood a larger building with a pitched roof and a makeshift balcony. Two individuals, without ponchos, stood beneath an awning, their hands gripping a metal pole used for the balcony’s fence.

  They took Duncan away to a hut on the edge of the open space and then returned for the others. They dragged Marvin and Victoria to the middle of the clearing and tied them to two vertical poles driven into the ground. A moment later, a pair of opposing floodlights switched on, bathing the centre of the clearing in bright white light, creating deep shadows in the gaps between the buildings.

  Eva assumed it was Grac
efield’s alternative energy initiative, his Banshee Project, that was responsible for the power: she couldn’t see any solar panels or banks of batteries, leaving few other options – unless they had managed to wire up a system powered by the reactor on Gracefield’s nuclear sub.

  ‘You spineless bastards!’ Marvin yelled at the two people on the balcony. His voice echoed around the steep-walled valley, the hard surfaces bouncing the sound around, giving the whole place the feel of an ancient coliseum. ‘You’ll stand by and watch this? You believe in all this madness?’

  The two figures shifted uncomfortably but said nothing as the hooded figures walked away from their victims. A light came on in the window of a building to the northwest that stood on its own and loomed larger and grander than the others.

  ‘We’d better hide,’ Marcus whispered. ‘We’ll be seen.’

  They took cover behind a pile of rocks. A thin gap enabled them to watch the proceedings. The door to the grander building opened and a figure in a suit walked out and onto an attached balcony.

  ‘No guesses who that is,’ Marcus said.

  Eva recognised his lanky form immediately: former US president William Gracefield.

  ‘He looks so out of place in that suit,’ she said. ‘Do any of these idiots really buy that?’

  Marcus shrugged. ‘In my experience, most people are, or want to be, sheep. Give a guy a good suit and an ego and he can easily become a leader. It’s how cults work, ain’t it? Old Charlie Manson wasn’t exactly a wallflower, was he?’

  ‘I guess not.’

  The two figures turned from Marvin and Victoria to regard Gracefield. He leaned over his balcony; a small yellow light, inset in the overhanging roof above him, lit him like a holy figure. Eva saw that he carried a public address microphone in his hand that reminded her of the kind her principal at her old high school used to use: a brown plastic base with an arched handle propping up the cone-shaped mic. He brought it to his lips and spoke, hushing the atmosphere.

  ‘Admiral Johnson,’ he began, eyeing his former friend. ‘Frankly I’m surprised you’re still alive.’

  ‘Go to hell, Bill,’ Marvin shouted, then spat on the ground in disgust.

  Gracefield shook his head as though he were watching the actions of a petulant toddler. All this seemed to amuse him, bringing a cruel, thin smile to his sharp features. Eva noticed that among the thirty or so onlookers around the circumference of the central area, some were arguing, creating a hubbub of dissenting voices.

  The two figures that had dragged Marvin and Victoria into the centre approached the small group, brandishing rifles. They leaned in and said something, and the dissenting group hung their heads and became silent.

  ‘Seems everything isn’t perfect in paradise,’ Marcus whispered. ‘We might be able to use that. If they’re not all on the same page . . .’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Eva said. ‘At least we know they’re not all completely united here. Gracefield’s influence has limits after all.’

  ‘There is no hell, Admiral,’ Gracefield said. ‘You know that. I know that. There’s only here and now. That aside, I’m actually pleased to see you here, and that you’ve brought new friends. But before we deal with them, we need to address your crimes. You know, if you had just stayed in McKinley, you’d not have this problem. You could have lived your life out until its natural end. Still, you’re here now . . . I’m charging you with treason, conspiracy, and insurrection. The penalty for that is death, naturally. Our new community cannot abide criminal attitudes, Marv. You can understand that, can’t you? Oh, and that goes for you too, Victoria. Don’t think I’d forgotten about you.’

  The woman had her head down, refusing to meet Gracefield’s gaze. Eva couldn’t tell if she was just breathing rapidly or sobbing, the rivulets of rain tracking down her face obscuring any tears – if there were any.

  Marvin struggled against the restraints, but it was clear he was going nowhere.

  Marcus leaned into Eva. ‘The guy really is fucking nuts, ain’t he?’

  ‘Unmistakably so,’ Eva replied with a whisper.

  ‘So you want to execute me for not wanting to be part of your sick games?’ Marvin said, then stared at the two figures on the other side of the valley. ‘And, you two – how could you let this maniac continue on like this? How could you follow him and be part of his lies? Don’t you get it? He used you, your money, and your resources for his goddamned project. And what did you get out of that investment, eh? Total destruction. Was it worth it? To see your businesses drown along with the rest of the world?’

  Eva watched their reactions. The two men returned Marvin’s stare, their faces shadowed as they turned away from the admiral. Eva saw looks of regret on their faces, as though they knew what Marvin said was true, but were unable to do anything about it. If Marvin was right, and they had helped to fund Gracefield’s project, then they’d likely be racked with guilt, responsibility, something the ex-president would use against them.

  ‘Enough,’ Gracefield said, with the bored disdain of a schoolteacher. ‘On second thought, Marv, and you too, Victoria, perhaps we could get off on a better footing? Let’s say you plead guilty to your crimes – apologise to the community and admit that your own inadequacies were at the heart of your accusations against me. Then . . . maybe they’ll have mercy. You could perhaps, after some time, rejoin us in some capacity – assuming you passed the infection screening. Given your time at the base with the others, there’s a high chance you have contracted the bacterium too.’

  Gracefield held the microphone away from his face and stepped back from the edge of the balcony. A figure moved forward from the shadows and spoke into his ear. Gracefield nodded once and dismissed the messenger. Eva watched the figure move to the right edge of the balcony and disappear down the right side of the cabin. A moment later, they reappeared in the shadows on the other side, heading south down the west side of the valley between the clearing and a line of ramshackle huts. She traced the figure’s route all the way to the base of the bluff where she and Marcus were currently hiding, and had an idea.

  The huts, or cells, where Duncan and the others were being held were on the east side of the valley. She and Marcus could kill two birds with one stone.

  ‘Marcus, listen to me,’ she said. ‘We need to take Gracefield out. It’s clear the guy’s got a hold over these people. Once he’s out of the picture, we might be able to convince the rest that there’s a way out of this. Show them Victoria’s journal, explain to them what Gracefield has been doing with his project – and his real reason for killing the scientists: his cover-up.’

  ‘There ain’t any guarantees the rest of this lot aren’t as screwed up as Gracefield, but it’s worth a try,’ Marcus said. ‘Either way, the fucker should die for what he’s done.’

  Eva knew her idea was a long shot. But she had to be optimistic. These people were human, after all; many of them were individuals from areas of government and commerce. If she could just break Gracefield’s hold on them, pierce through the small cracks of dissent, she might be able to bring some humanity to the table, and use that to bring everyone together for the right reasons. ‘If you could cause a distraction,’ she said to Marcus, ‘perhaps get the others free, I’ll have a direct route down to Gracefield’s cabin.’

  Marcus grinned. ‘Distraction, eh?’ He pulled a grenade from his backpack and weighed it in his hand. ‘I think I can handle that. While you’re chopping the head off the snake, I’ll see if I can get to the others, put up a defence of sorts against Gracefield’s loyal subjects – however many that might be. But if they are super loyal to Gracefield and can’t be persuaded, how are we going to get off the island with them hunting us down?’

  ‘I’m not sure right now,’ Eva admitted. ‘But we have to get Duncan, Marvin, and the rest free first. And then figure out a plan. Once Gracefield is out of the picture, we can think about what’s next. Let’s just focus on the first stage first.’

  Readdressing the crowd,
Gracefield said over the PA, ‘Well, Admiral, it looks like we’ve got a few more of your friends to join you. I appreciate you bringing them to me like this. It’ll make the upkeep easier – assuming they agree to become one of our thriving new community.’

  ‘You’re out of your mind,’ Marvin said. ‘But then, I always knew that.’ He turned to the two figures still watching from their balcony. ‘But, you two . . . You sicken me the most. How can you still buy into his lies, his deceptions? This is madness!’

  Gracefield sighed with boredom. ‘Okay, someone take him away. Lock him up and get him and the others prepped for tomorrow’s trial.’ Then, looking around into the darkness, he said, ‘Where’s Dillon? I heard she’d been found. Bring her out here.’

  Behind Eva, soft footfalls sounded. She turned to see Bella approaching cautiously, sniffing the air, her tail between her legs and head low, ears flat. She whimpered and stayed a few feet away, but seemed interested in something on Eva. Marcus moved to reach for a weapon in his backpack.

  ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘She looks wounded, or sick.’ Eva rummaged around in her pockets and found half of a protein bar. She held it out to the dog. ‘Is this what you wanted, girl? Come here, Bella, there’s a good dog.’ Eva opened her palm, presented the small piece of food, and waited. Bella inched forward, her movements stiff and unsure. She came closer and sniffed Eva’s hand once, her wet nose tickling Eva’s palm before she carefully took the food and chewed it twice before swallowing.

  ‘Come on,’ Eva whispered once more, and this time Bella decided Eva wasn’t a threat and nuzzled up against her coat, sniffing for more food, before lying down next to her, panting. Eva ran her hand through the poor dog’s sodden fur.

  Down in the valley, a couple of the hooded figures dragged Dillon Wood out into the middle of the space. She flopped there on her knees, looking up at Gracefield as though she were a peasant in the presence of an emperor. The figures dragged the ranting Marvin and the silent Victoria away to the same huts on the east side to which Eva had seen them take Annette.