by David Peters
“Jokester, get the T-cannon set up next to that squad with the mortar,” Caperson yelled.
“On it!”
“Travis, start handing out Dustbombs to that southern line.”
“You want me to train these guys?”
“No. Just tell them it’s like an M-83 and move on. They’ll know what to do. If they don’t, they’ll figure it out after the fighting starts.”
“Don’t you mean if?” Travis corrected him.
“I always plan for a fight, Travis. If I’m wrong, I’m happy to be wrong. Positive thinking will only get you so far.”
“Whatever you say, dude. You’re the soldier.” He smiled and threw a lazy salute before jogging off to the combat line.
Caperson motioned to Dylan, “I’ve got the security aspect covered. You should probably go make your introductions. Keep it short,” he added with a smile, “I hate the beach. Sand mixed with water goes against my nature.”
Dylan smiled and nodded to Niccole, “Shall we?”
“Let’s.”
~10~
“Don’t forget the carts in the next sortie. I don’t want people trying to walk this heavy stuff across the sand,” the man said to another sailor. “Only the ones with the big-ass rubber wheels.”
“Yes, sir,” the younger sailor said quickly as he turned to run back to the water’s edge.
“You must be the captain?”
“No, ma’am. Mr. Lewis will be the last one off the ship. I’m Neil. You must be the PF folks.”
“I’m Niccole, this is my husband, Dylan,” she said as she shook the man’s hand.
“Glad to finally meet you folks in person,” Dylan said as he returned the hand shake.
“I guess you could say I’m his second in command on the civilian side but that isn’t exactly correct. I kind of manage all the crap that wasn’t military. My job kind of evolved out of nothing. A liaison you could say. Make sure the civilian pieces meshed up with what the Navy dudes needed to get done.”
“How long is it going to take to get everything you need off the ship? We don’t have long before the ‘Rupts decide to check out what made all that noise and they tend to do that in large groups.”
“You think there are more left in that town?” he said as he looked down the beach toward the south.
Both Niccole and Dylan nodded.
Niccole spoke first, “We haven’t seen the hive but if it’s a big one, that was less than a quarter of what they can field. They’re big on numbers and low on patience.”
Dylan agreed with a nod, “Based on the number of Guards they had, this is a big one.”
“Guard? Those the big-ass mounds of muscle?”
“You missed the heavily armored part, but yeah.”
“Damn,” Neil said as he looked toward the south. He clicked the button on his radio, “Hey, James.”
“Go ahead.”
“Let’s pick up the pace. We may have more of these things coming and we don’t want to fight them in the open.”
“Roger that. Load ‘em until they barely float.”
Dylan signaled to one of the wagon riders standing on the dune between the parking lot and the beach. The young man jogged down to where they were standing.
“You need something?”
“Let’s get a bucket brigade going.”
The young man stared at him as if he weren’t speaking English.
Dylan chuckled to himself as he realized the man didn’t know what it was, “I want a chain of people from the water’s edge up to the wagons. We can hand stuff up that way. These guys have a ton of supplies and we need to get loaded up and out of here as quickly as possible.”
“I’m on it, bossman.”
The man ran back up the sandy bluff and began to bark orders to the people milling around. A chain of people began to grow from the long line of wagons down to the growing pile of supplies.
Dylan returned to the man with the radio, “Negative, damn it! We don’t want a single civie off Stennis until we are ready to go. The last thing we want is a bunch of kids poking around the beach when a pack of those Hunter things show up.”
“Roger that, Neil. They are getting damn antsy though. We’re listing a good ten degrees now. Captain says the bottom has about a two hundred meter gash. Ass end of the ship is sliding across that last rock and making a hell of a racket every time she slips so much as an inch.”
“How much more crap do you have to move?”
“Starboard ramp is clear, about half-way through the port side now. Maybe another twenty minutes.”
“Roger that.”
“We need more hands to load this stuff,” Dylan pointed out. “Some of these things are too heavy for one person to carry.”
The ever growing pile of containers had everything from worn out cardboard boxes, handmade wooden containers and the ever present military issue waterproof cases.
Neil spoke into his radio, “James, send some of your lifters to this side. We need help getting this stuff loaded.”
“On it,” came the short reply.
Out on the massive elevator at the back of the ship, Dylan could see people stepping down onto the boats before they were pushed away and made their way toward the shore. Several of the boats would be filled to the gunnels with water after making their way through the surf, overloaded with cargo. Several people from the ship would lift one side and dump the water out before pushing it back out for another trip.
Niccole came up behind Dylan, “Looking good on load out. Lots of room for kidlets to ride on the goods. They have everything broken down into easily carried bits for the most part.”
They both jumped as several gunshots rang out from the bluff.
Neil looked concerned, “Are they coming?”
Dylan shook his head, “Has to be a patrol, no Sapper boom. That means our time is short though. They get restless when patrols don’t make it back. They’ll likely send a Guard to see what happened.”
Niccole clicked her radio, “This is Niccole. I assume that was a patrol?”
“Affirmative, Niccole,” the voice said. “Two Hunters came in from the woods across the freeway. It wasn’t their standard route so they were coming down to check out the noise.”
“Keep your eyes open. We are going to pick up the pace down here.”
“Roger that.”
Niccole turned to Neil and Dylan, “I’m going to walk the line down on the beach. Do you have things under control here, Cowboy?”
“Yeah, we’re good here. Tell Caperson we will be heading out in twenty minutes.”
“Will do.”
Neil threw a concerned look, “Hey, are Sappers the ones that explode?”
Dylan looked around the beach, “Yeah, explode like napalm.”
“So they have one that is a tank, one that is a fighter and one that goes boom?”
“Yep. They also have a grunt that kind of puts around and a stealth model they use to build new hives,” Dylan added with a smirk.
Niccole added as she walked away, “Don’t forget the little bastards that fly.”
“These things can freaking fly?”
“Some of them, yeah.”
“I’m missing my ship already,” Neil said under his breath.
~11~
Captain Lewis held the rope as the ensign stepped down into one of the two remaining boats. On the shore he could see a long line of the white rafts pulled up away from the line of surf. A steady stream of people were making their way to the long line of wagons that lined the edge of the parking lot and up the long road into the forest.
“You sure you’re okay, Captain?”
“You set the charges as I requested?”
“Yes, sir. Checked all the connections myself. I have be honest though, I don’t understand why. She’s already dead.”
“I have my reasons. Get to shore, I won’t be far behind you.”
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s the last time I want to hear ‘sir�
�,” he said with a smile, “I will be retiring from the Navy in a few short minutes. Next time I see you, it’s just Charles.”
The ensign returned the smile but said nothing as he started the small outboard and made his way toward the nearby shore.
Charles walked back into the massive hangar. The makeshift town was destroyed with a majority of the buildings having fallen over when they struck the series of rocks and anything that wasn’t lashed down was sliding toward the port side of the ship as the massive hulk continued to lean further toward deeper water. He felt a small tremor as the ship slid on the sand and mud. The deck angle changed as the ship listed another degree. The underwater hillside was slowly giving way under the massive weight of the ship. It was only a matter of time before she slid further.
He followed the long line of electrical wiring and checked the connections as they ran into propped-open bulkhead doors. Every door he passed was open and it took an intentional act of will not to pull them closed as he passed through the thresholds. Those doors would keep any breach in the hull from flooding more rooms and possibly sinking the ship. The exact opposite of his present intentions.
He picked one of the connections and followed it into an empty bunk space. The wires lead up to a shoebox sized device magnetically attached to the inside of the hull wall. Inside there would be a large, shaped charge that would punch a two-foot wide hole through several inches of spaced steel and into the open sea water. The hole would grow much wider when the detonation met the incompressible wall of water.
He was happy with the connections he found in the lines and made his way back to a small, olive-green box sitting near the edge of the elevator. As the ship continued to list, the elevator was slowly rising above the rolling ocean below. Already it was a nearly twenty foot drop to the lowest swell. On the opposite side of the ship, the elevator was under water, the swells pushing several meters into the hangar, lapping at the remains of the town.
He took one long look at the hangar before turning the handle on the small green box. An electrical charge ran down the wires to small explosives placed against the hull below the water line. A ripple of shudders moved under his feet while all he could hear was a series of muffled ‘whumps’ moving along the far side of the ship. A push of high-pressure air rushed from several of the hangar bulkhead doors. Water would be rushing in to the now open compartments. By flooding the far side of the ship, the list would increase rapidly and the weight would pull the ship further down the undersea hill.
Charles climbed down the rope ladder and started up the motor on the last remaining life raft. He could see nothing different as he motored away from his command. His home for the last eleven years of his life. He had gone around the world, traveled hundreds of thousands of miles and grown to feel as if it was where he belonged but it could never replace the hole left inside of him.
As he rode the growing waves toward the shore, he turned to look back at his last command. Through the hangar doors he could make out the remains of the small, wooden town that had evolved out of nothing. The sides of the ship were rusted and battered. The low water line was six meters above the rolling surf revealing a reef of barnacles and anemones. Several of the work shacks on the top deck began to fall and slide down the heavily slanting deck and into the water.
From several hundred yards away he heard a long groan from the ship as the weight of the water began to stress the keel of the ship. Underneath the fantail there was a wrenching sound of metal as something underneath tore loose. A rush of air made the water appear to boil as one of the remaining screw shafts tore loose, pulling a long gash open several dozen feet under the waterline.
He watched his ship die and could feel nothing but a tremendous weight lifted from his shoulders. It had been his duty to watch over the crew of refugees. His duty to make sure they had food, water and safety. His duty when all he could ever think about at night was that he had failed to protect his family. Failed in the one thing a husband should fight the most for.
With his command in her death throws behind him, he could finally rest. All he had to do now was get these people behind a wall where they could be safe then he could rest. He would no longer need to force himself awake at night to avoid the nightmares. He could finally sleep the eternal dreamless sleep. That thought alone made him smile as he turned his back away from the slowly sinking ship. It had been so very long since he had smiled.
~12~
Dylan rode along one side of the wagon while Niccole rode her horse on the other.
“Sure is good to finally put a face with a voice,” he said with a smile.
“I’m just glad you guys were able to bail us out. Speaking of being bailed out, how much further do we have to go? I thought the chairs were bad in the CIC but this thing is borderline torture.”
“We have been in what we consider our home since we passed that dead hive two days ago. We still aren’t in safe territory yet though. We don’t scout out this far yet, it’s another day before we get to what we consider safe.”
Niccole added, “And to answer your question, another two days give or take before we are at the front gate for Paradise Falls.”
“Good Lord, I don’t think my butt will make it.”
“We can switch you out with one of the escorts if you would rather ride for a while. I’m sure they would love the trade.”
“Been a long time since I rode a horse but I’ll take it. I look forward to being able to stretch my legs.”
“We’ll find you a good place to rest when you get behind the walls. Almost there, Charles,” Niccole said with a smile.
Dylan adjusted himself uncomfortably in the saddle, “I’m looking forward to a rest too but we couldn’t lose the time setting up a camp and defenses. I’m sure there are Hunters sniffing our trail already.”
Niccole said, “We will catch up with you in a few hours. We want to make sure everyone is doing well.”
Charles gave them a tired wave and turned back to the road ahead of him.
Dylan and Niccole pulled off and watched as the wagons slowly rode past them. People were tired and edgy after the long ride. They hadn’t stopped for so much as a bathroom break as they moved down the highway. If someone had to use the facilities, they would jump down and move off the road into the bushes. When they were done they would either sprint back to their own wagon or jump on the next one that passed by.
The two of them had spent so much time focusing on the wagons and making sure things were running well that they hadn’t looked at the people. Each wagon that passed had a dozen or more eyes peering back from under the large canvas roofs. Dylan would tip his hat and smile, Niccole waved occasionally when someone would smile or wave at her.
Niccole watched another wagonload of new faces pass by and felt a wave of sorrow pass through her.
Dylan saw Niccole’s face go white as a wagon passed. He waited for a gap and moved his horse over to hers.
“Everything okay, Coco?
“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said dismissively.
“You mad at me?”
“No, not at all. Just memories. Nothing to do with you, Cowboy. Just ghosts.”
“Ghosts?”
“Yeah. Ghosts from the past. I was reminded of people I haven’t thought about for a long time and it hit me kind of hard.”
Dylan gave her space and continued to watch the rigging and wheels as the wagons passed. His wife sat with a blank stare. She caught him looking her direction and threw out a weak smile. Sometimes the past would work its way back to the surface when you least expected it. He had more than a few of those moments in his past.
~13~
Dylan and Niccole rode in silence when a voice called out to the two of them, snapping them back to reality.
“Dylan!” a rider yelled as he galloped up to them
“Everything okay?”
“Have a lady and some kids on the side of the road. They say we offered them help but she ain’t letting anyone get close.”
The two of them followed the escort rider toward the front of the caravan
Ahead they could see the old gas station Dylan had passed on his initial scouting mission. At the entrance a disheveled woman stood with two dirty children hiding behind her. In one hand she held a very large revolver and in the other a rusty machete.
Two escorts, still mounted on their horses, stood at the edge of the property with their rifles out but not pointed at the woman.
“What’s going on here?” Dylan asked.
“She is demanding to talk to the rider that was here before.”
Dylan dismounted and walked closer to the woman. She began to raise her pistol but thought better of it when the escorts pointed their weapons at her.
“Everyone calm down. We aren’t going to hurt you, ma’am. I’m the one that rode through here and left the food. My name is Dylan. What is your name?”
“Evelyn. You promised you could help.”
“We can. Can you put your weapons away? We aren’t going to harm you.”
She looked nervously at the riders standing behind Dylan.
He turned to the two riders, “Go on ahead. I have this.”
The two nodded and slung their rifles back over their shoulders before riding toward the front of the still passing caravan.
Niccole walked past Dylan and showed her empty hands, “I’m Niccole, Dylan’s wife. Are you okay, are your kids okay?”
“We’ve been doing okay.”
The woman’s clothes were in rags, her boots held together by weathered tape. Her hair was filthy as were her face and hands. The children were both in similar clothing that was far too large for them. Neither one was wearing shoes.
“How long have you been out here?”
“Since everything turned bad. My husband was with us for the first few years but he got sick one winter and didn’t make it.”