THE COLLAPSE: Seeking Refuge

by Frank Kaminski

  Tarra asked Sydney, “Why don’t you run the food out to the gate? Why do you both need to do it?”

  Sydney was blown away. She couldn’t think of a response to that logic. She and Julia had assumed that Tarra would have already have taken the child without question. The two women just wanted to go off and do something on their own, but the real reply simply wouldn’t suffice, Tarra wouldn’t accept it as a reason.

  Julia answered for the ditzy Sydney instead, saying, “Well, um…we’re going to take some food for all the guys at the gate, not just our husbands. It’s just too much to carry by one person.”

  Sydney looked at her friend and nodded her head in agreement, as if what Julia had said was actually the plan.

  Tarra knew it was a bluff, and that they were lying. She couldn’t help but to wonder what they were up to. But there was a more serious matter at hand.

  Tarra said to Julia, “One second, please.” She walked over to Carrie and quietly whispered, “The only reason I want to say ‘yes’ to this shit show is so I can get that poor little boy cleaned up. That’s all.”

  Carrie sighed in frustration and said, “You do whatever you want. I’ll help you get that boy cleaned up if that’s what you really want to do.”

  Carrie also added just as Tarra turned around, in a voice loud enough for the two other women to hear it, “I’ll tell you some things after they leave.”

  Sydney and Julia both tried to give Carrie some menacing, “don’t-you-fucking-dare” looks of warning, but Carrie had already turned around and was talking with the Kays at the table.

  Tarra accepted Dakota from Julia, and just before the two shameless women walked away, Sydney had seethed, “Don’t listen to her, Tarra. She’s just a stupid troublemaking bitch. You’ll see.”

  *****

  Stephen and Fish had assembled their fishing poles and organized their tackle boxes quickly before departing for the beach. Stephen still had anxiety about what might be waiting for them on the other side of the thick layer of trees that formed a comforting, protective barrier around The Park.

  Fish, on the other hand, was eager to check out his new area of responsibility. He craved action. He was also excited meet up with Alexis!

  The two had chosen a path that led to the beach parking lot, which was where Stephen had instructed his fishing teams to assemble. He had found out that a few of the residents had boats larger than the petty ones that people were using on the lake.

  As they emerged from the forested path that gave way to the parking lot, Stephen breathed a sigh of relief. There was nothing going on, other than his fishing team milling around a couple of trailered boats. Stephen looked to the water and saw a few boats in the distance, but they were too far away to be any kind of threat. It was nothing like he had anticipated. He thought it was going to be a war zone!

  “This isn’t so bad,” Stephen declared to Fish.

  “No, it sure isn’t,” Fish agreed, somewhat disappointed. He then asked, “What did you think it was going to be like?”

  Stephen shrugged and said, “I don’t know. Not like this, though.”

  “I need to find Alexis,” Fish stated, anxiously.

  “Go ahead. You can leave your fishing stuff with me if you want,” Stephen replied. But they wouldn’t need to find Alexis, because she was seen walking toward them from the north side of the parking lot. She was walking fast, and even though she was a good 70 or 80 yards away, she didn’t appear to be very happy.

  “Ah, never mind. There she is!” Fish said happily and waved with his fishing pole arm. Stephen wanted to accompany Fish during his briefing, as he was curious to find out what had been going on. After all, the beach was his area of responsibility as well. He needed to find out what he was up against.

  Stephen waved and shouted to his fishing team, “Hold on, guys! I’ll be there in a second.”

  A few of them waved in acknowledgment.

  They met Alexis half way. She was wearing a black Oak Harbor Police jacket along with her service belt and holster. All her other attire appeared to be civilian in nature. She really did look pissed! She angrily shouted at Fish, “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting all day for you.”

  Fish’s grin was wiped off his face. He replied matter-of-factly, “I had to sleep in. I’m going to be awake all night on my shift.”

  Alexis frowned and said, “Don’t you think the responsible thing to do would have been to get your briefing first, then go back to sleep if you really needed it so badly?”

  “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” Fish demanded. Stephen’s first instinct was to walk away from the conversation. He didn’t like the tension between the two of them. They were both Type-A personalities in conflict with each other. He couldn’t walk away, though. He had to make sure that Fish didn’t do anything stupid.

  “A fisherman, I guess!” Alexis barked an indignant laugh and flapped her hand at Fish’s tackle box and pole. She added to Fish in a childish voice, “Are you here to go fishing with your little buddies or are you here to protect The Park?”

  “Both!” Fish shouted, and was about to add something else but Stephen cut in.

  “Good afternoon, Alexis. We’re both here to help in any way we can.”

  Alexis looked at Stephen, pointed at his M-4 and huffed, “And you? What are you doing with a goddamned rifle? You’re just a resource manager.”

  The ex-cop shook her head in dismay, then scornfully added, “That weapon is a total waste of an asset in your hands, if you ask me.”

  Stephen was taken aback. This woman was either really frustrated or a real ball-buster. Or, quite possibly…both. Her eyes were a reddish color, and the skin around her eyes was dark, as if she had not been getting much sleep. Or maybe not enough water? She wasn’t right in the head, and Stephen could detect that something was physically wrong with her as well.

  Fish protectively stepped in front of Stephen and warned Alexis, “Whoa girl, you better ease down.”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m a fucking horse! You listen to me-“ she started, but Fish cut her off.

  “No, YOU listen to ME! You can talk to me any kind of way you want, but don’t you DARE fucking talk to Stevo like that!”

  There was a pause before Alexis responded.

  “Wait,” she said and put her hand up. She wasn’t shouting anymore. She looked like she might even throw up. She stated quietly, “I need to eat.”

  Fish and Stephen were both dazed. They just looked at each other, there was nothing else they could do or say at that moment. Alexis dug into her jacket and brought out a fruit-nut bar, then sat down on the curb of a vacant parking spot and began to eat.

  Fish produced a water bottle from one of the cargo pockets of his Wrangler Ripstop pants. He looked at Stephen as if to ask, “Should I offer this to her?”

  Stephen nodded his head, and Fish held out the bottle to the sitting Alexis. She sheepishly looked up at Fish and accepted the bottle. After taking a huge gulp out of it and another bite of her fruit-nut bar, she finally said, “Oh my god, thank you.”

  “Are you alright?” Stephen asked.

  “Yeah,” Alexis answered, “I’m just hypoglycemic. If my blood sugar drops too much, I get angry. Like, really angry. Like…stupid angry, as you just witnessed.”

  Fish guffawed at her comment, then started to say something but Stephen shushed him.

  Alexis continued, “I’ve been to the docs for this. They say that when I get angry, my adrenalin skyrockets out of control and feeds into more anger, which raises my adrenalin even more. Like a snowball effect.”

  Fish said, “So, what you’re saying is…that you’re basically the female version of the Incredible Hulk.”

  Alexis howled a hideous sounding laugh and answered, “Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it. It’s called ‘going hypo’ and I am really sorry about that.”

  “No worries,” Stephen started, “we’re just glad you’re okay.”

  Once Alexis
had recovered fully, she and Fish spoke about the situation at the beach. Now, the “beach” at Deception Pass isn’t like the brightly-colored, sandy California beaches you might see on television. If you’ve never been to Washington State, you wouldn’t know that most of the beaches are rather dark and dreary. Sure, there’s some sandy ones here and there, but the beach at Deception Pass was mostly covered in small, ocean-worn, dark colored rocks and pebbles. Not only that, but just about the entire perimeter of the beach was lined with a vast amount of driftwood. Smooth, bark-stripped logs and branches ranging in depressing colors from an ashy gray to bone white. Driftwood was normally illegal to remove from any of the Washington State beaches, but since The Collapse had begun, anything was fair game. Dry driftwood was great for fire-starting, it burned really hot and fast.

  It didn’t take very long for Alexis to figure out that Fish was a twenty-year Navy veteran that had served two ground combat tours in Afghanistan. Once she had ascertained that information, she assumed that she didn’t need to brief him on watchstanding procedures and countermeasures. She focused instead on the proper use of the air horns during an attack, and the location of rendezvous and rally points along the beach should an incursion actually occur. She informed both Fish and Stephen that the last two attacks were similar in design. Both times, the insurgents had landed their boats somewhere on the other side of the bridge (to the east), then they had traveled on foot using the trail that led under the bridge and into The Park. Both attacks had occurred at night (the men guarding the bridge were unable to see the infiltrators sneaking along the trail directly underneath them), and both times none of the intruders had left alive. At least, to their best knowledge nobody had escaped alive. They were just “thievery missions”, in her own opinion. An attempt to get at the modest amount of supplies that The Park had stockpiled. And speaking of supplies, she had asked if Stephen and Fish had visited Victor and Gerty Martinez yet, the provisions managers. Of course, neither of them had.

  Alexis was under the assumption that the attackers had originated from the Bowman camp across the water. She had referred to the scum at Bowman Bay as “Bowmen”.

  Alexis had also told Fish that “her policy” was to fire a warning shot at any watercraft that came any closer than three hundred yards from the beach. Alexis did not take invasion lightly. Her heart and soul had gone into defending The Park. She concluded her brief by adding a supporting statement that Claudine and William will back her up on any of her decisions, usually without question.

  During Alexis’ brief, Stephen had noticed a large sign on the beach, and another one about a football field away. He asked what they read, and Alexis laughed. She answered, “Why don’t you go check it out for yourself?”

  Stephen and Fish walked over to the closest sign, which was constructed of wooden 2-by-4 supports and a plywood front. There was even an LED light attached to the front, apparently to make the sign visible at night. The background of the sign had been painted white, and in large red letters was painted:

  DO NOT LAND HERE

  YOU WILL BE SHOT

  The words reminded Stephen of all the TSOS warnings that were emblazoned on the homes back in Oak Harbor. Trespassers Shot On Sight. Both the Oak Harbor and the beach messages were clear enough. The beach signs were huge, so there would be no excuse for an accidental shooting due to someone not noticing them. Unless, of course, the approaching boaters were illiterate.

  Once Alexis and Fish had concluded their conversation, Fish explained to her that he was going to help Stephen catch herring until the three o’clock meeting. She must have been feeling better, because she apologized once more for her earlier outburst and offered some of her team members as extra protection for the fishing party.

  Stephen and Fish thanked Alexis for her time and support. It was nice to finally get some reliable information, even if the bottom line was essentially gloomy. Stephen craved information equally as much as Fish craved thrill and chaos.

  The two best friends walked over to the fishermen by their boats. Stephen dug out one of his herring rigs from his tackle box. He was just about to show the fishermen how to set it up, when one of the men spoke up. A big, burly, hairy fellow. He was one of the three boat owners.

  “You don’t need to teach us how to catch herring, brother. We’re not stupid. Everyone around here knows how to catch herring,” the man said. The other men nodded their heads, as if Stephen was a total jackass, wasting their time.

  Stephen was initially under the impression that they needed his help, but what were they waiting for then? Stephen asked, “Okay, then why aren’t you guys already on the water?”

  “We thought that you were arranging some security for us,” another man said. He pointed at Stephen and Fish’s M-4 rifles and added, “Now that you’re here, let’s roll.”

  Stephen and Fish looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. Fish said, “Fuck it, we have a little over an hour until we need to leave for the meeting, so let’s catch some fish!”

  Before they launched the boats, Fish took an inventory of the fishermen’s available weaponry. Between the eight fishermen they only had a .410 shotgun and a .22 caliber pistol (unless you count the flare guns in the boat’s emergency kits). The man with the .410 had called out, “I only have snakeshot for it, though.”

  Stephen looked at Fish, confused. He had never heard of “snakeshot” before. Fish said quietly to Stephen so the others could not hear it, “It’s birdshot…just a different name for it.”

  “Oh, gotcha,” Stephen said thankfully to Fish for his explanation. Stephen didn’t want to look like even more of a dumbass than he did earlier when he attempted to teach a bunch of Washington State fishermen how to catch herring. Stephen almost slapped himself for being so stupid! He should have asked first! He did, however, know what birdshot was. He also knew that a .410 shotgun was the smallest bore of shotgun shell made. With snakeshot, the guy wouldn’t have much range, and he definitely wouldn’t have much human killing power at all.

  As they launched the three boats from the boat landing, Fish and Stephen split up. Fish left in the first boat, and Stephen went with the second boat. The other two guys with firearms went in the third boat.

  Alexis had sent two men armed with hunting rifles to follow and watch over the boats from the beach. Luckily, herring didn’t hang out far from shore.

  The fishermen used paddles to get the boats past the wavy shallows, none of them wanted to waste any fuel on such a short excursion. They ended up anchoring in a perfect triangle formation. As everyone got their gear ready, Fish yelled from his boat to the other boats, “Three boats…one hour…whichever boat brings in the most fish gets to gang rape Larry Paulson!”

  Most of the fishermen laughed at Fish’s ridiculousness and tossed out some of their own additional comments. Their morale was excellent. Even though Stephen had been embarrassed at the boat landing, he was still having a wonderful afternoon.

  Chapter 5

  Stephen was thankful not to see Larry Paulson at the three o’clock meeting. Even though Larry was no longer the official resource manager, Stephen couldn’t shake the gnawing feeling that the guy was going to show up anyway, just to spite everyone and raise hell.

  At the meeting, Fish informed Claudine and William that he had received his brief from Alexis, and that he was excited to start his shift that evening. Stephen had reported his progress from the day’s activities. The fishermen had caught a massive amount of herring, and his next order of business would be to construct two giant smokers for the fish, one at each wood station. Some of the other leaders contributed ideas for how the smokers should be built. Hal Hollingsworth was a self-employed carpenter in pre-collapse life, and he had said that all he needed was the materials and he could put them up in a jiffy.

  Stephen also requested better hand tools for his woodcutters. William informed Stephen that there was another “run” scheduled for the following day. Many of The Park residents still had homes in Oak
Harbor, and every couple of days the leaders would assemble a small convoy of volunteers to scavenge whatever they could from those homes (and anyone else’s, given the opportunity). Stephen remembered that he still had tools at his own house. They could swing by there, too, if necessary.

  The security teams had nothing to report, other than the half-dozen or so boats that came within Alexis’ pre-determined warning distance of 500 yards.

  Carrie McDonald reported Cole’s burn injury, and that Tarra had aided him. She said that she was very pleased with Tarra’s performance, and was glad to have her on her team. She also mentioned that they were currently watching Dakota Hollingsworth, which seemed to be a total surprise to Hal.

  Hal asked, “Why is my son at your site? Is there something wrong with him?”

  “No, not that I could tell, other than that he appears to have symptoms of a common cold and possibly an infection,” Carrie innocently stated. “Your wife dropped him off so that she and Sydney could bring you and your gate team some food.”

  “They never showed up,” Hal stated. He suddenly looked terrified, and said, “What time did she drop him off?”

  “A little after one o’clock,” Carrie replied.

  Hal’s face displayed pure dread as he yelled, “What if something has happened to my wife? I have to go!” Hal excused himself from the meeting and jogged away. The rest of the leaders did not look worried. There must have been something else going on that Stephen and Fish weren’t aware of (yet).

  The meeting was surprisingly short. Stephen thought that more information should have been disseminated, he wanted to know more about what was going on. But maybe…that was it! Just another day in paradise. Before the leaders disbanded, Stephen requested a few minutes of Claudine and William’s time.

  Stephen asked them both, “Do we have any knowledge of what’s going on outside The Park? The rest of the nation? Anything at all?”