by Alan, TS
“Does that mean we’re in agreement, in principle?” I asked, calling for a vote. “All in favor raise a hand.”
It was unanimous, with exception of France who instead voiced his opposition with an offhanded remark. “By all means, abandon the parapets and towers, and leave the gates of Rome unguarded while you take the Minnow up the river on a bootless errand.” As he stood up to leave in protest he accentuated his dissension with an outright insult rather than his usual subtle put-down, “Imbecile.”
I didn’t acknowledge his offence and continued with the other business. “Okay, before we conclude this meeting there was one other item I want to bring to your attention. I talked to Ryan a little while ago and he is concerned about his survivor group. He fears that the group that captured him may now know where his group is taking refuge. He asked me if we would consider rescuing them? He’d like to go with us, since he feels they may trust him more than a lot of guys with guns. Hands for yes… Great. Then 0700 tomorrow for a mission briefing and a 0900 departure. Unless there is something else this meeting dismissed.”
It took Sam only ten minutes to assess the condition of the ship. My plan was sunk by his report.
“It’s a six-cylinder Winton diesel engine,” he said, as he wiped his hands on a rag. “But it needs a complete rebuild. That’s the good news. The bad is the fuel tanks are empty and rusty, the electrics are shot, the steerage is busted, and there’s only a small storage closet forward… But if it makes you feel better it’s not taking on any water. Sorry J.D., I’d need six months to refurb it with an experienced crew of four. I’d also need a good machine shop, chainfalls, comealongs, and jacks. It’s just not going to happen.”
The gates to Rome were still standing when Sam, David, and I returned. Kermit still stood in vigilant watch on the parapet, and no Goths had tried another siege.
The news was bad, but not as bad as the news Ryan had received. At Ryan’s appeal, Kermit, David, and I went to the Theatre at St. Clement’s to see about those who he had been hiding with. In an upstairs room we found six men and one woman savagely mutilated and shot in their heads execution style. On the far wall, scrawled in the victims’ blood, were the words, “BABEs iN The WOOd”. Ryan was sure who had done it: the marauding survivor group headed by Stone, the King of New York.
There was no other ship we could use. The Lettie G. Howard and the Pioneer schooners were gone. So was the tugboat W.O. Decker and the wooden hulled Marion M. The Wavertree and the Peking were still docked in port, but they were ocean ships and too large to navigate the upper Hudson even if they had been operational. The Helen McAllister, another tug, was non-operational, and too small. It appeared we’d have to do a reconnaissance of Mechanicville by vehicle. It was best if we did it not by one Stryker, but by two. It was time that the rest of the team learned how to operate one, since Sam was the only one who knew how.
It took us only a few hours to get a hang of driving “the Cadillac,” but much longer to learn the computer interfaces of the command center. Some of the communication and troop location systems we simply wouldn’t or couldn’t use. The onboard weapons system was easier than it appeared, which made me wonder. If Marisol had figured out that she needed to acquire target distance through the laser range finder before she could fire accurately, why didn’t Joe figure it out?
In all the time we made our daily trips around the eastern part of Manhattan, we didn’t find any survivors or run into the group that had attacked us. The beacon hadn’t attracted anyone either. It had been nearly two weeks and we were readying for our recon trip in two days.
IX
God Save the Queen
October 13th—
I read over my journals, all five volumes. It was still somewhat surrealistic to me that the people I had known and loved and called friends were gone. I have decided to continue writing journal entries but not as an historical record, but for my own personal need.
We made contact with our own military in England. They were coming to get us.
I was entertaining Kermit and Marisol with my accordion in the Garryowen, when Sam called me over the internal PA system he had successfully repaired. The words, “J.D., J.D., come to the command center immediately. I have radio contact,” were words that I really believed I would never hear. I had never thought about survivors in England, but I should have since it was where the CCR-5 Receptor gene originated.
“Okay, Sam, I’m here,” I said as I bolted into the room, Kermit and Marisol following.
“Listen,” he joyfully said, then put the radio on speaker.
It was chatter. It was military chatter. It was an English voice from a base called RAF Croughton.
I was astounded. “Okay. I hear it. I don’t believe it, but I hear it. So who is it?”
“It’s RAF Croughton,” Sam informed us.
“Yeah, I heard that,” I replied. “But who is it?”
“I don’t know. I mean I know, but it’s wrong.”
“Sam.”
“RAF Croughton. It’s supposed to be a United States Air Force Base in England. Its home to the 422nd Air Base Group and one of Europe’s largest U.S. military switchboards that processes a third of communications in Europe. Except those aren’t Americans; they’re English. It sounds more like the Royal Air Force Command, which doesn’t make sense since that’s RAF Wycombe.”
“So, did you ask them?”
“No. I just heard it and called you. I thought you should make contact.”
I disagreed. “Me? I can’t pull off being military. Kermit, you should handle this. You’re truly the senior here.”
“I don’t know any of that radio protocol. I’m a chef, remember?”
“Sam. You do it. You know about radios,” I told him, but made it more of a request than an order.
“I only know HAM radio etiquette. I’ve never communicated over a military channel. You’re our leader.”
“C’mon, no one is going to believe me. I only know Charlie Foxtrot, How copy, and Over and Out.”
Kermit responded with an affirmation to my ability.
“You’ll do fine, and I’ll be right here to help, but I’d go with an MOS 18D.”
“See! I have no idea what that even means.”
“Medical Sergeant First Class,” Sam said, and then announced, “Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll make initial contact but they’re going to want to talk with the base commander—and that’s you!”
“Fine, fine.”
Sam began his transmission. “RAF Croughton, RAF Croughton. This is FOB MEDCOM Bravo in New York. How copy? Over.”
There was silence. Sam repeated his call. “I say again. RAF Croughton this is FOB MEDCOM Bravo, New York. How copy?”
There was a momentary silence again, and then a static-y reply.
“This is RAF Croughton. Say again.”
The operator’s voice was thick with its foreign accent, perhaps Scottish.
“RAF Croughton. This is FOB MEDCOM Bravo. Over.”
“Say again. No copy.”
Sam tuned the radio and repeated his message.
“I say again. This is FOB MEDCOM Bravo, New York. I spell. Foxtrot-Oscar-Bravo. Break. Mike-Edward-David-Charlie-Oscar-Mike. How copy? Over.”
I commented to Kermit and Sam, “And you two thought I could do this.”
Croughton responded, “Solid copy, MEDCOM Bravo. Proceed.”
“This is Corporal Samuel Drukker, U.S. Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases. To whom am I speaking?”
“This is Flight Leftenant Clay MacTarnaghan, acting communications officer for the USAF 4-2-2 ABG. Go ahead.”
He wasn’t an American officer; the leftenant confirmed it.
“Our NCO needs to chat with your CO.” Sam inquired, “Is there a U.S. Base Commander or any U.S. military officer present?”
“Affirmative, MEDCOM Bravo. He’s on his way. Wait out. Over.”
Sam ended with, “Roger.”
Sam had to clarify with w
hom he was conversing. The leftenant was from the 422nd Air Base Group and that wait out meant that transmission would pause for more than a few seconds. Sam knew more about military communications than he let on. He also gave me a few key acronyms I would need to know during the interlude.
We waited only a few moments before RAF Croughton called us. It was the lieutenant again.
“FOB MEDCOM Bravo. This is RAF Croughton. How copy? Over.”
“Solid copy. Go ahead Croughton.”
“Our CO is standing by. Over.”
“Roger. Proceed Croughton. Standing by.”
Sam motioned me on, and cautioned me with, “Never use, ‘Repeat.’ That’s for artillery.”
A voice came over the speaker. It was an American voice. “This is Major Russ Ramsey, United States Air Force, 5th Fighter Wing, RAF Crougthon. MEDCOM Bravo, I will need you to authenticate. Over.”
“It’s a test,” Sam blurted out. “Even if they did have a challenge-response authentication with this base, codes are only valid ordinarily for twenty-four hours. So you can’t authenticate.”
I took the microphone “Major Ramsey, the challenge-response authentication has expired, and I wasn’t privy to it when it was valid. So you’re going to have to take my word that we are who we say we are.”
“Very good. Please identify yourself and proceed with your transmission.”
“Affirmative, Major. I am Army Medical Sergeant First Class J.D. Nichols, Special Operations, 75th Ranger Regiment… FOB MEDCOM Bravo, New York City is a joint ASOC and AMRIID operation. We have re-established our position in the 69th Regiment Armory in Manhattan. We are conducting search and rescue operations and medical treatment from this base. Over.”
The major was skeptical. “Sergeant, FOB MEDCOM Bravo, New York was lost several days into the plaque. All remaining personnel were evacuated. Over.”
“Affirmative, Major, but not all of us made it to Stewart ANGB. Over.”
“If this is true, may I speak to your commanding officer? Over.”
“Major. I am the NCO of this base and operation. There are only three of us remaining, myself and two members of AMRIID.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Sergeant. Since I cannot verify or disprove your identity, I will give you the benefit of the doubt since you are transmitting on a secure band. How may I be of assistance?”
I was surprised. Had we actually fooled them?
“You can get us the hell out of here, sir. MEDCOM Bravo is a Charlie Foxtrot. We have come under attack by armed and hostile civilians, presumed to be former corrections inmates. We are outnumbered and will not be able to hold the base if we incur another assault. The city has also been infected with a secondary pathogen, a mutation of the original Trixoxen virus. We have designated the new plague victims as half-mutes. They are extremely violent and extremely dangerous. Over.”
The major questioned my knowledge in regard to the plague. “Sergeant. You seem to have details about the plague that we don’t. Can you explain? Over.”
“Major Ramsey, I could, but that would take a very long time. Let me just tell you that the information comes from AMRIID. Can you tell me about your situation? We are surprised to hear English voices over the comm. Over.”
“At this time all U.S. Military bases but Croughton have been abandoned. We have consolidated our remaining forces here. Unfortunately, we are less than sixty in both ground and air. However, the English seem to have fared better. They have sent us reinforcements from High Wycombe. Most of England is under control as are Scotland and Wales. Ireland has been evacuated. Joint Operational Forces have set up border check points for refugees as well as sea patrols off the coast. We have also had encounters with these mutations you’ve designated half-mutes. A couple of our personnel began to mutate after being bitten by them. Our limited resources have prevented us from finding an antiviral. Over.”
“Roger, Major Ramsey. We can help with that problem. I am in procession of research data, specimens, and a couple of test serums. I am requesting immediate exfil of all base personnel and civilians. Over.”
Marisol nudged me. She pointed to Max.
“And two dogs. Over.”
“Say again. Did you say two dogs, Sergeant? We will not be able to transport any animals. Over.”
“With all due respect, sir. That is non-negotiable. One is my search and rescue canine and the other is a rescue dog in training. I must insist they be transported with the rest of us. Over.”
“Affirmative, Sergeant. I’m sure we can make arrangements. How many for exfil?”
The doctor waved his hands frantically. I didn’t respond to the Major’s question.
“Under no circumstances will I leave. There is too much that still needs to be done, and I have all the resources I need right here. I am staying,” France adamantly stated.
I knew that was bullshit. He just didn’t want to go for fear those in England would figure out who he really is.
“Me too,” Ryan added. “I need to see about people, too.”
The Major repeated his message.
“MEDCOM Bravo. How copy? How many for exfil? Over.”
“Sorry, Croughton. I was just discussing the matter with the corporal. Possibly eight, depending if all the civilians wish to relocate.”
“Understood, Sergeant. Please relay exfil coordinates for rendezvous.”
“Major, we will need a few hours to determine a place. What is the mode of exfil? Over.”
“We can transport into Stewart ANGB with a C-17, then exile you out of Manhattan by helo. Over.”
“Roger, Major. We’ll call you back at—Quick, Kermit, what’s military time zone for New York?”
“Romeo.”
“1800 Romeo with exfil coordinates,” I said again into the radio. “Over.”
“Understood MEDCOM Bravo. 1800 hours Romeo. Croughton Out.”
“MEDCOM FOB Bravo out.”
I turned to everyone.
“I don’t believe it! They believed us. Except they’re never going to believe I’m Special Ops.”
“You did fine, son. The Air Force isn’t going to know you’re not who you say you are. You’re a Ranger. Those guys never talk about what they do or where they’ve been anyway, all classified. You have the medical background for an 18D and the rest is a lot of saluting with ‘yes, sir.’ ”
“This isn’t going to work. I have no dog tags, no military ID, nothing. I’m going to have to tell them who I am. If I get caught they’ll probably shoot me.”
“As far as I’m concerned you are who you say you are and that’s exactly what I’ll tell anyone who asks. You are a Medical Sergeant First Class, Army Ranger, 75th Regiment detached to the AMRIID. You think if they found out whom Sam and I really are they wouldn’t blame the whole end of the world on us? On second thought, maybe none of us should go. Maybe Mechanicville is our best choice.”
“In that case we need to leave. We already told them about the research. If we don’t call them back at 1800 hours they’ll come anyway.”
“Hell, they’re probably on the way right now,” Kermit said.
“All right. It’s about two thirty. That gives us three and a half hours to come up with a plan. Ryan and Dick to my office. Sam, we’re gonna need those maps out of the Stryker, and I hope you can read them. Kermit, let Julie and David know. We’ll meet in a half hour. We need to figure out a pickup point whether we go or not. At least they deserve the research.”
“Dick, don’t tell me you can fix this mutant apocalypse. That would be a movie cliché. There’s no one left to save except ourselves. Don’t you and Ryan get it? If the half-mutes don’t kill everyone, then those lunatics who attacked us a few weeks ago will finish the job.”
France stood firm in his decision. “There is no point in discussing this. I will not leave.”
I told him, “It’s Mechanicville or England.”
France refused to listen to reason. “No. I am staying! I have work to do. Perhaps you should thi
nk about your decision.”
I glowered at him. “Don’t be so sanctimonious. I know the real reason you want to stay… And what is your excuse?” I asked Ryan.
“I agree with the doctor. There is work to be done. We didn’t find anyone living who were hiding with me. There’s missing woman and children. They have to be somewhere. I want to wait and see. You saved my life; at least allow me to try to save someone else’s.”
“Even at the risk of your own?”
“Yes. Just like you risked yours to save mine.”
I couldn’t argue with him on that point.
“You’re both crazy. Neither of you know how to fix anything or defend yourselves. Dick, you haven’t even learned to use a weapon. However, since I’m not the boss of either of you, may your god protect you.”
“You’d be surprised at what I am capable of,” France remarked, but I dismissed his comment.
It had been decided. After an hour of discussion, we unanimously decided to go to England. It would be easier on us all. David and Julie were civil engineers and I was a paramedic, skills I’m sure would be needed where we were going. Kermit and Sam also had desirable skills and could remain in the Army if they so elected. As for Marisol, she hopefully could go to college and study mathematics as she desired. However it didn’t occur to me that I couldn’t go until I was washing my hands. A sudden realization hit me. I understood what France had meant when he told me I should think about my decision. I was a transmute, well partially. If I was able to fool them enough get on the helicopter, I couldn’t hide my condition forever. Once people found out what I was, I would most likely be sequestered to some secret military installation where I would become a test subject—poked, probed, injected, tissue and blood samples extracted most likely for the remainder of my life. I would become a prisoner, never allowed to see my friends again. I would have to stay and Marisol could never know my intention until it was too late for her to do something about it.