SALT: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller

by Colin F. Barnes

  Was it her fault? Had she not paid enough attention?

  “Eva, are you… okay?”

  A shadow enveloped her. She looked up. Jim stood behind her, with his hand held out. She took it and stood.

  “No, Jim. I’m not.”

  Jim brought her in close, wrapping his arms around her.

  At first she resisted, wanting to be the strong one, especially after finding Jim last night, but she realised none of them were the strong ones any more. Everyone was just as broken. She hugged him back, allowing herself to be consoled.

  Minutes ticked by, and memories of Mike came and went. The good times faded. Replaced with the image of his body slumped over.

  She heard his weird mutterings, remembered what Jim had said last night about the other group of boats, and wondered just what the hell Mike had seen and whether it related to the documents he had, and whether it was ultimately the reason for his death.

  Releasing Jim, Eva stepped back and wiped her face with her sleeve. “Whoever it was,” she said, “must have the infection too, or at least knows something about it. You wouldn’t go in there with Mike in the condition he was if you weren’t already ill. Why risk it?”

  “Maybe they just don’t care?” Jim said. “Do psychopaths think about those kinds of things?”

  “We might not be dealing with a psychopath. As brutal as these murders are, they could have been done like this for a reason. Either way, we need to test everyone on the manifest.”

  Eva and Jim left the quarantine and joined Annette at the front of Singh’s office. Eva noticed Graves had left without saying a word. Just typical of him.

  “Can you take samples from everyone on this list?” Eva said, handing Annette a copy of the manifest with all the main names she had identified as possible suspects.

  “I’ll have some of my crew come with you,” Jim added. “Just to make sure you’re safe, and in the meantime, you’re welcome to come and stay with us on the Bravo.”

  “Thanks, I’ll do that. What should I do here, though?”

  Jim looked to Eva. “We could take the supplies and move to a different location.”

  “Probably wise,” Eva said. “What about the bodies?”

  “I’ll have them looked after,” Jim said. “I’ll get some of my crew to come back for them. We’ll give them a proper sea burial, unless you need to examine them further?”

  Although Eva worked in homicide, she wasn’t a coroner or medical examiner and only knew the basics when it came to biology. From the looks of the bodies and the way the blood had clotted, she had a good idea that they were killed in the early hours of the morning. The wounds and causes of death were entirely obvious.

  “I’m good,” Eva said. “Better to deal with them now.” She hated how cold that sounded, especially with regards to Mike. But if she dared to open her feelings, she’d be no good in finding his killer. She had to remain distant. Or as much as was possible.

  “Annette, if you come with me, I’ll have you escorted back and accompanied while you take the samples. Have the other patients been taken care of?” Jim said.

  “Yes,” Annette said. “I kind of did it all in a panic, like autopilot, I suppose. After I saw Singh, I freaked out, but the routine took over.”

  “What do we do with them now?” Eva asked. “With no Dr Singh to analyse them, isn’t it cruel to just wait for them to die?”

  A hush descended between them as they considered the thought of euthanasia.

  “We could move them somewhere else, but we can think about it more later,” Jim said. “Let’s just get the bodies moved and the samples taken first. There’s no need to make any rash decisions. We treat them as human beings as normal until we can decide on how to proceed.”

  “What about their families?” Annette said. “They usually come by in the afternoon.”

  “I’ll put out a bulletin to the families and have someone stationed on the door to make sure they’re safe.”

  “I don’t think we should move them,” Annette said. “And, well, I’d like to carry on Dr Singh’s work. I don’t think there’s any risk to me. It seems like whoever did this wanted to get to Mike, and well, Dr Singh got in the way, I suppose.”

  “That’s how it looks,” Eva added, impressed by the girl’s stoic attitude and ability to think. There was certainly no motive to kill Dr Singh other than she blocked any access to the quarantine. “I think she’s right, Jim. It would be too much upheaval to move the patients somewhere else. We don’t have another place as well set up as this. Can’t you get some of your people to guard it until all this blows over? Let Annette here carry on her work?”

  Jim thought for a moment, looking from one to the other. “I guess you two know best here. I’ll speak with my crew when I get back. I’m sure someone will volunteer.”

  “Okay,” Eva said. “While you go back, I’m going to go pay a visit to engineering and see if anyone saw anything.”

  Before Eva left the room, she noticed a legal pad sticking out of a drawer within the overturned desk. It had Dr Singh’s handwriting on it, the words unintelligible. She realised Dr Singh had written out what Mike had been saying, or a close approximation. She tore the single sheet from the pad and pocketed it.

  Outside, in the corridor, while Annette locked the medical facility, Jim turned to Eva. “Do you want me to come with you?”

  “No, it’s okay. It’s only a minute away, and don’t worry, I won’t be asking any difficult questions. If the killer is there, he’s not going to do something stupid and attack me in front of the others. Either way, it’ll be a useful trip.”

  “Where’s all this going to stop?”

  “I don’t know, Jim. I just don’t know.”

  Jim shook his head and left, accompanying Annette.

  When they had turned out of the corridor, Eva took out her two-way radio and called Duncan.

  “Duncan, it’s Eva. Are you there?”

  The radio signal was weak, the static rising and dropping like waves. She tried again.

  “Duncan, it’s Eva. Do you copy? Over.”

  A few seconds passed, but then his voice came over the speaker.

  “I’m here. What’s up, Eva? Are you okay? I heard the news.”

  “Yeah, can you come and meet me at engineering?”

  “Sure, give me five minutes.”

  In the background when Duncan spoke, Eva heard raised voices, sounds of a struggle.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “I’ll explain later. Got to go. See you shortly. Over.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. It clearly sounded like something was going down, but she couldn’t worry about that now. She needed to keep a clear head.

  Securing the radio to her belt, Eva set off.

  Halfway to her destination she heard footsteps behind her, matching her pace.

  Chapter 24

  Jim climbed the ladder to the main deck of the Bravo, then turned and helped Annette up. The poor girl had sobbed all the way there. Although he would have preferred to wait, her state naturally drew questions from the various flotilla residents. The news had already got out via Heinrich, Monika and Dietmar, and he felt it best to tell the truth to avoid any rumours and the distortion of facts they often brought.

  On the main deck he saw Graves, along with Frank, Tyson and Shaley, and five members of Jim’s crew, including Duncan, armed with fire axes, clubs and, in the case of Graves’ lot, makeshift machetes.

  They formed a line in front of the main gun turret. A group of five of Faust’s supporters, dressed in their robes, backed away, all the while screaming expletives and threatening to burn everyone.

  Jim pulled Annette to the port side and edged away from the group, as Graves’ and Jim’s crew continued to f
ace them down, pushing them further away from the bridge and closer to the edge.

  “Dad, over here,” Duncan called, breaking away from the group. He pulled Jim and Annette behind him and turned to face the noisy group of zealots.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Jim asked.

  Marcus stepped back from the group and faced Jim. “It’s done,” he said. “Consider this a favour. One day, I’ll need to call it in.”

  At first Jim wondered what he meant by, ‘It’s done,’ but soon realised. He left Graves and his crew to deal with Faust’s people and dashed to the bridge, taking Annette with him. Once he ducked inside, he pointed to his office. “Go in there. I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere until I’m back, okay?”

  Annette looked at him like a scared rabbit and didn’t move.

  “It’s fine. It’s my office. You’ll be safe in there. I just need to check something. I’ll be no more than a few minutes.”

  “Okay,” Annette said. “But don’t be long. I don’t want to be on my own.”

  “Just a couple of minutes, I promise.”

  She shuffled to his office and closed the door behind her.

  He stood there for a few brief seconds, feeling sorry for her. She had no family on the flotilla, her parents having died of the fever six months previously. Dr Singh had taken her under her wing and trained her up. Annette felt she could make a difference, perhaps out of guilt for not being able to save her parents. He could understand that, and it was good the flotilla had someone like her, someone with genuine compassion.

  They were few and far between these days. The harsh realities of survival brought out the baser instincts in people. Much like the fracas outside, he thought. Seeing the hate in the eyes of Faust’s people never ceased to surprise him. When there were so few of them left, why they still felt the need to divide the group and make things difficult didn’t make any sense to him.

  Jim dashed through the narrow passages of the destroyer, sliding down the stairs, his feet echoing as they clapped against the steel deck. He passed the main quarters area and descended to the brig.

  “Danny?” Jim said with surprise. He halted as he reached the cells. The boy had his back to Jim and was staring in Susan Faust’s cell. He didn’t move or react to Jim’s voice.

  Jim approached and saw what Danny saw.

  Susan Faust was hanging by her neck. It had snapped, and her head was at an obtuse angle to the rest of her body. The makeshift noose was made from a belt, and its buckle dug into the side of her neck. She was still swinging, the leather of the belt creaking under the tension. Her face had turned a greyish-red colour. A trickle of blood, now dry, came from one nostril. It had dripped down onto her robe.

  Jim swept Danny up and carried him out of the brig section.

  When they reached the next level up, Jim took Danny into his cabin. A couple of his comics were still on the kid’s bunk.

  Jim sat Danny down and knelt down in front of him, looking him in the eyes.

  “What you saw back there,” Jim said, reaching for the words, “must never leave this room. Do you understand, Danny?”

  Of course the kid didn’t, how could he? He just looked back at Jim with tears in his eyes. Eyes that could well have been Mike’s, such was the similarity. And every time Jim looked at him, he saw Mike on the small fishing boat, leaving the flotilla because of Jim. And then the madness in his eyes when he had returned.

  “Susan was a very troubled lady,” Jim said. “And when troubled people can’t deal with their problems any more, they seek other ways of dealing with it.”

  “She’s dead, isn’t she?” Danny said, stating it more as a fact than a question.

  “Yes, but she’s with her god now. It’s what she always wanted.”

  “Is Mommy with god too?”

  Jim gripped Danny’s shoulder. “I’m sure she’s somewhere safe, just waiting to meet up with you in the future. You’ve got nothing to worry about there, lad.”

  Danny wiped a tear away with the sleeve of his arm.

  “When can I see my dad?”

  Even though Jim was expecting it, the question still caught him off guard. Words tripped up on his lips as he mumbled an incoherent response. He didn’t know if anyone had told Danny that Mike had returned, but given the way rumours spread on the flotilla, he guessed that even Danny must have heard the news.

  “Will you wait here for me? I’ll just be a minute.”

  Danny nodded, picking up one of his comics.

  Jim left the room and went two cabins down until he reached Duncan’s quarters. He found his son’s flask of grog in the nightstand and brought it back to Danny’s room. Similar to how Jim often shared a cup of grog with Duncan, he laid out the cups on the nightstand and poured in a finger of the watered-down rum into each cup. He handed one to Danny, downing his own in a single gulp before pouring himself another.

  “Have you had grog before, lad?”

  Danny nodded. “A little. Dad used to warm it for me when I got a cold.”

  “Here, it’s not warm, but it’ll warm you up and help settle your nerves.”

  The boy took the cup with both hands, cradled it like a bowl, and sipped from its edge, scrunching his face with each mouthful. Jim finished his second measure and poured a third, wanting to feel that burn.

  Danny’s nerves weren’t the only ones that needed settling.

  Once Danny had finished his cup, Jim put his hand on the boy’s shoulder and said, “About your dad…”

  ***

  Jim closed the cabin door behind him. Danny had quietened down after the news of his father. Jim’s hand shook. It was still wet with his own tears. He was an emotional wreck as he told Danny what had happened to Mike. He spared the boy the details, but it was never an easy thing to explain to a young boy that he had, through no fault of his own, become an orphan.

  It took another cup of grog and fifteen minutes, but eventually Danny had tired himself out and fell asleep. Jim left him to sleep while he made sure Annette was okay. On his way back to the bridge office, he came across Patrice.

  “Captain,” Patrice said, “I delivered your message to Duncan as you requested.”

  “Message?”

  “Oui, you asked me to let him know you wanted to speak with him on your return.”

  “Oh, right, yeah, sorry, it escaped me. I can’t even remember what it was about now.”

  “Are you okay, Captain? You look upset.”

  “It’s just been a difficult morning, Patrice. Listen, I’ve got some tasks for you if you’re free.”

  “Oui, anything, Captain.”

  Jim had always liked Patrice.

  One of the few good guys who just wanted to help and make a difference. Even though his new role on the flotilla did have the same status as his previous job, he didn’t have any pretensions. Anything that needed doing, no matter how “lowly”, Patrice would be the first there ready to get his hands dirty and do his duty.

  “Can you get some of the crew to remove Susan Faust’s body and put her over for the sharks.”

  Patrice blinked once as he processed the request. Jim thought he’d baulk at this. He wouldn’t have blamed him; it wasn’t exactly an everyday request. But, with a short nod and a bow, as befitted his former role as a sommelier, the Frenchman took it in his stride.

  “Of course. It’s a sad bit of business, but I understand.”

  “Thank you, Patrice. I appreciate your help and support.”

  The Frenchman grasped Jim’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “I know things are difficult,” Patrice said. “With the murders and the power struggles. But you can count on me, Jim.”

  “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

  Patrice gave him a quick smile and a nod and headed off to the crew�
��s quarters.

  Jim wondered why everyone couldn’t be more like Patrice. If more people were willing to drop their ego, the flotilla would be a much better place. They’d at least stand a better chance of surviving if everyone pulled in the same direction. It was a sad commentary on humanity that even when faced with extinction, they let their own issues get in the way of survival.

  With those thoughts in mind, he remembered Annette, still in his office, and set off to get her settled in one of the crew cabins. And then he’d send her out with Patrice to take samples from everyone on the manifest. He hoped that would at least help Eva find the killer. Now that Mike and Faust were gone—and not by his hand—the killer remained the last major issue to deal with.

  Unless Graves stepped up, of course. Who knew what game he was playing. Jim felt a wave of anxiety and depression sweep over him. There was too much going on for him to control. No matter how much he wanted to keep this place together, he had failed them.

  He had failed Duncan, Mike, Jean, everyone.

  Both Danny and Annette were orphans under his command, Angelina and her fellow researchers were seemingly lost, or worse…

  He thought about leaving, just taking a boat and heading north so that he wouldn’t keep screwing up. If Graves or someone else wanted to run the show, why not let them? He supposed they’d do a better job.

  Jim sighed and headed to his cabin by way of the galley. He knew they kept some flasks of rum there to add some zing to the food. He’d drink, try to forget, pass out into sweet oblivion. He realised at that point that, no, he couldn’t be a better man than he was yesterday. Yesterday was him; he couldn’t hide from it, pretend he was something better. Today, he was still what he’d always been.