by David Peters
“Okay,” Niccole answered back, “Let us have some discussions on this side and get back on the radio four hours from now.” She looked at the clock on the wall, “Let’s call it nine pm our time. We may be able to offer some help.”
“We’ll be waiting.” Charles set the headset down on the steel counter then turned to the radio operator, “I don’t think that went quite the way they had hoped.”
“Nothing ever goes the way we hope. Isn’t that kind of how life in the Navy has always been, sir?”
Charles smiled at the man as he stood up from the seat, “So I’ve learned.”
~2~
Caperson swirled his steeping tea as he spoke, “Three thousand people? With kids? Four hundred miles is a long damn ways to walk with kids.”
“Let’s be honest here, people. Four hundred miles is a long way to drive with kids, let alone walk,” Dylan added with a wink.
Niccole set the fresh kettle in the middle of the table as she sat down. She unfolded an older map on the coffee table between them, “We can’t leave them to hang. It’s a pretty straight shot from here and not a whole lot further than Folkesburg was. If the people from Folkesburg can walk here, then with our help, the people from Stennis can make it here. Kids and all.”
“She has a point,” Caperson agreed. “How do you propose we pull that off?”
Niccole continued, “Route twenty-six takes us through pretty much nothing and if we take some back roads we can pass well south and north of Salem and Eugene. Heck, half of that highway is nothing but trees and a gas station every fifty miles.”
“We don’t have any idea what is out on the coast,” Dylan said. “Our scouts have been primarily heading east and north. Everything fifty miles west of us is dark as far as we know. We already know that everything south of Boise is a no-man’s land.” He continued to run his finger down the map as he followed the roads. “That still has us passing right through Corvallis, and that wasn’t a small city back then.”
Caperson nodded, “I’ll have one of our long range scouts make a trip down highway twenty-six. Let’s see how far he can make it before he hits hive patrols. That should give us a pretty good heads up on what we are up against.”
“I’ll do it,” Dylan said.
Niccole looked surprised, “Caperson’s long range scouts can handle it, Cowboy. Why would you need to go?”
“Look at the map here,” He grabbed some crayons from Daniel’s drawing box on the floor. “This is roughly what we consider safe, correct?”
He drew a rough circle that covered all of their mountain and parts of the highway and Sumter. Part of the circle extended several miles west of Sumter and another section extended several miles along the highway to the west.
“We rarely if ever see ‘Rupts in this green area. If we do, they look like loners, scrawny and almost always alone. Half the time they don’t even attack, they just stand and stare.”
Caperson nodded, “I would agree with that. We might see one a month in that circle.”
“This area,” he made a much larger zone in yellow crayon.
The second, yellow circle extended another few miles in the north, south and east but was almost touching the green to the west.
“We occasionally see them in this range, mostly to the east but we don’t go very far west.”
“Yep,” Caperson said. “They tend to be more hostile and will always attack on sight.”
He then drew a much larger circle in orange.
“In this orange area, we start to see patrols and random Hunters much more frequently and often in teams. Once again, the eastern side is much larger than the western side.”
Caperson shook his head slowly, “I never realized how much area we control now. That’s a pretty big chunk of dirt.”
Dylan pointed at Caperson with the crayon, “Exactly my point. We control it, us, humans. That is the green zone you always wanted.”
“What’s your point, Dylan?” Niccole asked.
“If Caperson agrees with me, I think it’s time we start pushing out. Widen some of these zones. We have enough radios now that we could build observation posts, start pushing out further. We have more Dust than we know what to do with, even with all the crazy stuff Travis has invented. We could build lookouts that are safe from Hunters and protected from Sappers for the most part. Especially if we use the land and plan these things out. A single tower on a hilltop, several rings of Dust curtains. Make sure there aren’t wide open approaches so they can’t be overwhelmed in mass attacks. Stuff like that.”
Caperson turned the map so it was right-side-up for him. He stared at the map for several moments as he sipped his tea then nodded, “I see it now.” He grabbed a black crayon out of the box, “If we had a post here, here, and maybe one out here, we could open up a huge safe zone. If we get more labor, we could start to build defenses in some of these choke points. The mountains out to this point kind of make a natural bowl. We could realistically keep this entire zone clear and safe. That’s a hell of a lot of room and a lot of flat land down here in this valley for farming. We could quadruple our harvest with this stretch alone. It would also give us better access to this lake here. More water and more fish.”
“More game down in that valley too. If we can switch up between the he0rd to the north and that one we would be better off in the long run,” Dylan added.
Niccole nodded her agreement, “We could eventually wall off this valley here, and the cliffs will make a natural barrier to the north.”
Caperson continued to widen the circle he was drawing with his fingers, “We should also think about radio towers. If we had a tower like we do here on this mountain,” he asked Niccole specifically, “how far could you reach?”
“On a good day, probably out to the Rockies, maybe further.”
“Exactly.”
“And you want to use this patrol in order to see how far to the west we can push?” Travis asked.
Dylan nodded, “That and get an idea of what is out there. We make a lot of assumptions that survivors have radios. How many people out there are squeaking by? How many have no idea we are here? I’m willing to bet there are a lot of people scraping by, living in tents and caves. It’s time to switch it up. We ask every person that walks through those gates how they found us. What is the number one thing they say?”
Caperson answered, “They see the smoke from the chimneys.”
“Exactly. And the reason we don’t patrol further is because of the damn tunnel and the fact that you can’t see town after that. Scouts are alone enough out there without feeling as if they are the only one left.”
“I get it. There could be people not far out there that have no idea how close help is. What do you think, Niccole?”
Niccole turned the map so she could see and looked at the points Caperson had marked, “I would move this one, you have a hill between us and them. I would like having some early warning stations though, I can’t argue that. We could also give some of our salvage crews a place to stay when they are making the long trips. Let’s face facts, if we have three-thousand more people showing up, we are going to have to expand.”
Travis smiled, “I like the sound of that. More salvage is always good. Heck, if we build them right we could have people live out on the fringes and have the crews ship the stuff back. I would have so much crap to build with!”
Caperson laughed, “Now that is a terrifying thought. Too late to change my mind?”
“Just a little bit, yeah.”
“Then it’s settled, I’ll make the scout run and you folks do all the hard work.”
Niccole laughed, “Now the truth comes out. Slacker-boy here wants to go for a sight-seeing pony ride while all the heavy lifting gets done by us grunts.”
“That’s not it at all.”
Caperson laughed as he patted Dylan’s shoulder, “So you and I can switch then? You grab a tool belt and I’ll sip tea while I tour the countryside on horseback?” Caperson mimed being on a
horse, “Fine day for a soiree into the mountains,” he continued with poorly done English accent, “Pip-pip, cheerio and all that. Come along horsey, don’t make me spill my tea.”
“But you hate horses.” Dylan said.
“I don’t hate horses in any way what-so-ever. They have a severe dislike for me.”
“And my back hates manual labor,” Dylan added with a smile.
Caperson patted his friend on the shoulder, “That’s just your age, old man. I don’t ever see it slow you down, even on those days when it’s hard to stand.”
“You should hear him get out of bed in the morning,” Niccole said as she laughed.
“Probably sounds exactly like I do. Jen says it’s like waking up next to a crash victim the way I moan and groan.”
“Wonder if that boat has any chiropractors on it?” Dylan asked absently.
“I would make the trip just to pick him up.”
The group was quiet for several moments as they stared at the crudely drawn map on the table.
Dylan said, “I think it just comes down to the fact that I don’t want to ask anyone else to do this. I really do need to see it with my own eyes.”
Niccole smiled, “We’ll have everything ready and waiting when you get back, Cowboy.”
~3~
Charles tossed the clipboard onto the table and leaned back in his chair. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples before he leaned forward and spoke to the small group of people arrayed around the room, “So that’s it. We’re dead in the water and there is simply no hope of us fixing this pig. No miracle waiting in the wings?”
“If I go into the first reactor room I might, and that’s a big ‘might’, be able transfer the coolant to the second reactor with a hand pump but that stuff has been sitting in pipes rusting for five years. It’s not going to buy us much and will create a whole new set of problems that we simply aren’t in a position to deal with. Assuming we can fix it, we won’t be able to safely run it above ten percent and even then I won’t leave anyone in the room, it just isn’t safe anymore. This doesn’t even count the fact that a bunch of the propulsion plant is under water. I haven’t had anyone go back to see how bad the damage is but the fire was extensive. We’ve had issues that could only be fixed in the yard since we left the straights. Nothing in that department has changed.”
“So nothing?”
“Sir, if this was pre-end-of-the-world, we would be accepting help from the North Koreans at this point.”
“That bad?”
“That bad.”
The Captain nodded his understanding and added with a smile, “So no heroic run into the toxic, radioactive pool of water in the first reactor to save us all?”
“I guess that’s one silver lining for me but not so good for everyone else. Sorry, Captain. We’ve been running the compressor in engine room two on bailing wire and duct tape for too long. We can’t machine stuff to the tolerances we need and we don’t have the raw materials if we could.”
“So let’s talk about the pink elephant in the living room. What do we do now that we are drifting? Can we get any control of our course? How do we safely get off the ship?”
The room remained silent as he looked at all the faces. They were hoping for any answer that didn’t involve leaving their protective floating-fortress and facing what lived, and killed, on dry land.
With a sigh he began, “Any chance we could find somewhere flat that we could scuttle in deep enough water that we would be okay during storms? Make us a real island but far enough out that the Sappers can’t walk up to us?”
“No way. I’ve already looked into it. Tides in this area vary by as much as thirteen feet for the most part, sometimes higher. To get it deep enough to be any kind of steady would leave the hangar deck very exposed during high tides. Not to mention the problems we would have bringing in enough fish once our portable reef was crushed under the keel. We would also have to think differently about storms and storm surge. If we had one like we hit off of Baja, we would get pounded to a pulp. I just don’t think we can do it and not wind up drifting into something worse. Even if everything went perfectly, it wouldn’t work long term.”
“Not to mention that once we scuttled the ship, our machine shops and dry storage would all be under the waterline.”
He nodded his understanding, “Then let’s figure out how in the hell we get everyone off the ship and safely on the beach. Figure out what we take and what we can leave and for the love of God let’s hope we don’t beach ourselves in front of some hive.”
“I’d be happy with a beach, sir. I’m not real fond of pounding into a bunch of rocks with no steerage.”
“Right there with you, Nixon. A long strip of even sand might be a lot to hope for but the Oregon coast has more than its fair share of beaches that meet the need.”
“Some pretty damn big rocks too, sir. You ever seen Cannon Beach, sir? They got rocks that make us look small.”
“We’ll deal with it when the time comes, not much we can do about that. Sam, I want you and your team to verify every pill on the ship,” Charles said as he referred to the emergency life rafts, large drum-like canisters, that ringed the underside of the deck, “If it looks at all like it won’t make it, flag it. I don’t want to get people safely off the ship only to have them drown a hundred yards off the beach.”
“Yes, sir. They were already part of the weekly check when we were underway but I will have my team verify the contents and do a secondary seaworthy check just to give us some warm fuzzies as far as getting off this can. Most of the ERats on the boats are gone, I’ll make sure the other important stuff isn’t missing.”
“Why in the hell would they take the ERats? That stuff is horrible. It’s like eating wood when they aren’t stale-dated,” Lewis asked in confusion.
“They have a few chocolate bars, sir. Most likely the kids are doing it, but just to be safe we’ll check them all. There are other things that folks may have pilfered to make life easier.”
“We also need to start thinking about what we are taking with us. I want priority on food and clothing. Think light, we may have to pack this stuff quite a distance so make sure no single load is more than one person can carry. Guns and ammunition take a close second but don’t hand them out to the civvies. I don’t need someone shooting up our beachhead because some seagull startled them.”
Several of the heads round the table nodded their understanding.
Charles nodded, “We have work to do and the skies to the south look pretty dark. Let’s get something done before that storm hits us. I want to be damn good and ready for it.”
~4~
Dylan and Caperson walked around the heavily modified war wagon as Travis looked on with pride. He was covered in grease and a spattering of the blue Dust and still wearing his thick welding gloves.
“Did you add another powder shower to this or are the copper bands just to make it look pretty?” Dylan asked jokingly.
“You can see I added a second and third ring around the wagon,” Travis pointed out as he walked around the assault wagon.
“So we have three of those curtain shots now?” Caperson asked. “Are they individual shots or one massive blow-out?”
“They were pretty damn effective in Folkesburg and they were easy enough to add. Could make a big difference if we could keep the blue fog going quite a bit longer. Besides, they look damn cool when they fire off. Three separate shots are all controlled from the bench,” he pointed to three small rings with small chains attached, “you can fire them off individually or all at once. Three at once might make it a little hard to breathe if you are standing there.”
Caperson tried to shake one of the fifty-five gallon drums and found it impossible to move, “Why did you bolt these down to the base plate? Is there still enough room up there for us to crank them up to the right speed now?”
In Folkesburg, the three had used manual cranks to spin a large, heavy flywheel up to speed before engaging a modified
fan that would lift the deadly Blue Dust into the air.
“It took us nearly three minutes to get them off the rig when we hit that hive. Three minutes that could have been spent spinning them up. We were kind of lucky that the bulk of the baddies were already moving out. We could just as easily have pulled the cart right into the entrance and fired them off. Besides, I made some modifications to the gearing. We don’t need to be up there now.”
Caperson agreed, “Makes sense. Are those boxes on the side of the cans for something? That looks like a lot of welding.”
“That is the best part. That is a gear box. With them anchored down like that, I ran some gearing to the back of the wagon. You plug this sway bar into that square hole and rock it back and forth, kind of like those old man-powered rail cars back in the cowboy days. One person can do it well enough, two can do it faster with the third being on the TCannon. It’s the bomb, man. Way better than what we had at Folkesburg.”
“So that explains why you added a second TCannon on the back too?” Dylan asked.
“Rear one is removable, having Jokester in an overlook helped, I think it did anyway,” he looked toward Caperson for approval and got a nod, “but we could have used one on the cart while we waited for the dust to finish circulating. The front cannon is hard mounted and a little harder to cock back but it shoots a good fifty feet further than the rear one. You can use this pry bar to help but it limits the rotation. I figured Caperson would want it to shoot in all directions.”
Caperson nodded his approval.
Dylan was kneeling down looking at the underside of the wagon, “Where did you get the leaf springs for this? Those look heavy duty and not exactly stock.”