Extinction 2038

by P. R. Garcia

  Max brought the arctic cat out, fueled and ready to take them to the coast. To save on fuel, he disconnected the second compartment and back storage area. They had dwindled their belongings down to the bare minimum, so the additional room was not needed. While they waited for the Space Station to pass over, he and Lachlan carried their belongings, food, water, equipment, research data and messages from the astronauts to the cat. Gayle stayed inside to listen for any radio signal.

  At last, it was time. The three huddled around the screen as Max entered his password. “Ice Station 462 calling Space Station One. Is anyone there?” Silence filled the room. “Space Station One, can you hear me?” Max looked at the doctor.

  “Let’s give them a few minutes,” he somberly said.

  “Space Station One, this is Ice Station 462,” Max repeated. “We are preparing to leave the Station. This is our last attempt to reach you.”

  “This is Space Station One,” came a shaky voice. It sounded like Major Wesley, but they weren't sure. When the screen came online, all three were horrified at the sight before them. It was Major Wesley, but he looked like a talking corpse. His eyes were sunken into his head with dark circles around them. There appeared to be almost no muscle left on his face. His skin was shrunken in, showing all of the skull and bones. He had no hair.

  “Thank God, Paul,” Dr. Q immediately said, trying his best to cover his reaction to the Major’s condition. “We thought we lost you all.”

  The Major took a breath, then said, “Lost Maria and Achman.” His voice was raspy. The three on Earth could see it took a great effort for him to speak. “Little time. Storm. Vessel ready offshore. Sending coordinates.” His breathing became labored, as he gulped for each breath. Barely able to lift his hand, he somehow found the strength to push the send button. “Go. Victoria coming.” A low, long breath escaped the Major’s throat as the last of his life drained away. Now preserved for all time, the Major sat at the console doing his duty. A meager shadow of the man they had first met.

  Lachlan reached over and pushed the screen button. As the Major’s image disappeared, he said, “Major Wesley signing off for the last time.” Wiping one tear away, he ordered. “Max, print out the coordinates the Major sent. Then let’s lock this place up and head towards the coast.”

  The ride in the arctic cat to the coast took four hours and thirty-six minutes. During the journey the three went over their plan several times, making sure each understood his or her role. During a moment of silence, Gayle asked, “Lachlan, what do you think Paul meant when he said Victoria is coming?”

  “I’m not sure,” Lachlan replied.

  “Was that his wife’s name?” Gayle asked.

  “No. I believe it was Maureen or something like that.”

  “Maybe he meant to say that victory was coming,” Gayle added.

  “Or it’s something Brits say,” Max suggested. “You know, Queen Victoria.”

  “Paul wasn’t British,” Gayle stated.

  “Actually, he was,” Lachlan said. “He told me he was born in Manchester and didn’t come to live in the United States until he was twelve.”

  “Isn’t that a shame,” Gayle stated. “I've been speaking with this man every day for months, and I never knew he was British.”

  “There was never much time for idle chitchat,” Lachlan replied. “We were both so busy collecting data, making requests, deciphering information that there was little time for personal items.”

  “When did he tell you he was from Manchester?”

  “During the past few weeks Paul and I would talk for about thirty minutes while you two slept,” Lachlan confessed. “The time was devoted to family, childhood memories, unfulfilled dreams. I guess he needed someone other than one of his crew members to talk with. It was if he needed someone here on Earth to know that he actually existed so that he wouldn’t be entirely forgotten when he died.”

  “Do you think there’s any chance his wife or kids are still alive?” Gayle asked.

  “No way to know,” Lachlan replied. “It depends on where they were at the time the virus struck, if they were immune and if they could find a safe location to live.”

  “Might Victoria be the name of a storm?” Max suddenly asked as he drove across the ice.

  “Could be. Why?”

  Max raised his right hand and pointed to the east. “Because that looks like a big storm heading this way.”

  Lachlan and Gayle turned to see what Max was pointing at. The eastern horizon was a dark gray, stretching several miles into the sky. It spread across the land as far as the eye could see.

  “That looks like one hell of a storm,” Lachlan said. “Can this cat go any faster?”

  “I’m sure going to find out,” Max said, as he stepped down on the pedal. He was actually amazed when the rover’s speed increased by 8 mph. Apparently, the lack of weight from the other compartments allowed the arctic cat to go faster.

  “Should we try to go back?” a frightened Gayle asked.

  “We’d never make it back to the Station before it reached us,” Max replied. “And out here in the open I’m not sure we’d survive.”

  “Plus, that storm could push the boat out past our reach,” Lachlan added. “Or even sink it. No, we’re almost to the coast. I say we continue with the plan. I think that’s what Paul was trying to tell us, that is was now or never.”

  Gayle looked over at the small folded rubber dingy. She usually didn’t have a fear of the ocean, but the thought of being on the open water in such a fragile vessel did not give her any comfort. “But that storm is really going to kick up the ocean. And that raft is tiny. Are you sure we can survive in that?”

  “Hopefully, Paul was right and there’s a bigger boat on board the Hercules,” Max stated. “Remember, that plane is built for rescue missions. It should have a ribbed boat with an outboard motor. It can sail through the biggest waves.”

  “And if there isn’t a ribbed boat?”

  “Then we’ll make do with what we have,” Lachlan said, giving her an encouraging smile. “Even in his weakened condition, Paul would not have sent us out to our death.”

  “There it is, about two miles to our left,” Max shouted as the LC-130 Hercules came into view. She looked like a huge pile of snow sitting on the ice, her white colored finish blending in with her surroundings. From what they could see, it appeared she had survived the winter storms and was still intact. All three said a silent prayer that somewhere inside was the needed ribbed boat.

  Max pushed down on the accelerator a little harder, getting a bit more speed out of the caterpillar. They bounced across the rocky terrain and pulled alongside the enormous aircraft. To their sadness, a huge hole filled the area where the right side of the plane should have been. It looked almost as if some hungry sea beast took a large chunk out of its flesh. Cargo was scattered across the ground, dashing their hopes that they would find the needed vessel.

  Lachlan looked over to the horizon. “That storms getting close. I estimate we have about twenty minutes to find the ribbed boat. We still have about two or three miles before we hit the ocean. If we can’t locate the inflatable in twenty minutes, the one in the back will have to suffice.”

  The moment Max stopped the cat, the three hurried through the gaping hole and frantically began to search for the PVC boat. After several minutes, Max stopped and closed his eyes. He needed to calm down and think clearly. Taking several cleansing breaths, he began to analyze the situation. The boat would be somewhere where it was readily available in an emergency. It wouldn’t be hidden inside some cargo box but strapped to the wall, close to the tail where it could be deployed within seconds. He opened his eyes and began to search the inside walls at the back of the plan. Within two minutes he located it, still securely attached to one of the plane’s ribs. “I found it,” he yelled, as he ran towards it. Gayle and Lachlan followed.

  “Great work,” Lachlan said, helping Max remove the straps that held it in place. “Looks like it
’s in perfect condition too.”

  It fell with a “thud” onto the steel floor, the sound echoing inside the empty plane. “Heavy too. Max, can you drive the cat inside so we can load it in the back.”

  “I’m not sure we can lift this up,” Gayle said, trying to move the folded boat.

  “No need to raise it,” Max said. “It should have wheels. If you two can lift this end, I’ll extract them.” To Gayle and Lachlan’s surprise, as they lifted the one corner of the inflatable, Max reached underneath and lowered a small wheel. They did the same with the other three corners. Max then pulled out a bar for moving the vessel. “This attaches to the back of the caterpillar, so all we have to do is connect it once I get the cat inside here.”

  “Where’s the motor?” Gayle asked.

  “It should be located beneath the boat on the frame,” Max replied. “Along with a pump that will connect to the arctic cat and inflate it.”

  “How do you know all of this?” Lachlan asked, amazed at the grad student’s knowledge.

  “I used to go out with the Coast Guard on marine life rescues,” Max said, as he raced out to the caterpillar. “They taught me how to put one of these things together.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” Lachlan chuckled. He looked over at Gayle, who still wasn’t too sure about the stability of the boat. “You know, we just might survive this.”

  BEAVER ISLAND

  It only took them an hour to reach the coast, unpack and inflate the ribbed boat, unload their few belongings, food and water, put on their life preservers and depart into the sea. The waves were already cresting at three feet as the tip of the storm whipped up the waves. To maximize their chances, each had a lifeline tied securely around their waist that was connected to both the boat and each other. The sky overhead was becoming darker with each click of the clock, making it hard to spot their drifting lifeline.

  “Any signs of the ship?” Lachlan shouted above the roaring wind.

  “Not yet,” Max yelled back. “It could have shifted position with this storm. There’s the possibility that it’s miles from here.”

  “Lachlan, let’s go back,” Gayle said. “We’ll never make it in this storm. I don’t want to drown out here.”

  Lachlan took her hand and looked into her eyes. “You are not going to drown. None of us are. You just keep your eyes on that device in your hand.”

  Gayle looked down at the tiny device she held. It was a locator, something the military used. Along with the coordinates of the floating vessel, Major Wesley had sent them its locator frequency. Max had programmed the signal into the small handheld device Gayle now held. If they came within four or five miles of the elusive vessel, even in this storm, it would start to give out a signal. As they drew closer, the signal would intensify and provide them with the direction in which to proceed.

  “Anything yet?” Max yelled at Gayle.

  “Nothing,” she said, desperately clinging to the seat grips. The waves were growing in strength and height, making it almost impossible to stay on her bench. Then she heard a beep. She looked down and saw the locator was blinking. “It’s working,” she screamed.

  “Give it to me,” Max yelled.

  Carefully, so as not to lose their only chance of locating the drifting ship, Lachlan took the locator and passed it down to Max. He tied it around Max’s hand. A massive wave crashed into the boat, almost knocking Lachlan overboard. Gayle was able to grab his life preserver strap just in time and yank him back into the boat.

  Following the signal, Max brought them closer to their destination. But now the waves were so high their visual recognition was compromised. Spotting the boat was going to be difficult.

  “I see it,” Gayle shouted, firmly hanging on to the seat straps. “It’s straight ahead. Maybe a quarter mile.”

  “I see it too,” Max shouted, as he raised himself slightly above his seat for a better view, being careful the waves did not claim him. It was a rough ride, but the ribbed boat was designed to navigate such conditions. Within five minutes, Max had the small inflatable adjacent to the forty foot skiff. “Dr. Q, take those lines and tie us to its side.”

  As Max went to step up into their new boat, the ocean suddenly grew very calm. He stopped and, like the other two, looked upwards. A huge circle of sunlight shined down upon them and their craft as if they were in the eye of a hurricane. There was no explanation for the occurrence, for around them they could see the ocean churning as the storm raged on.

  “What’s happening?” Max asked.

  “Are we dead?” Gayle inquired, wondering if they had actually drowned and didn’t know it.

  “Some divine intervention or something,” Lachlan replied, staring in disbelief. “Maybe Mother Nature is trying to help us succeed.” He smiled, wondering if perhaps Major Wesley was somehow causing this, although he knew realistically that was an impossibility. “Let’s not waste the opportunity of whoever is doing this. Get the supplies onboard.”

  Leaving their lifelines attached, the three quickly moved the boxes onto the ship then climbed aboard. Since they weren't sure what condition their new form of transportation was in, they decided to bring the ribbed boat along. Max tied her securely to the stern, then hurried into the captain’s cabin. He couldn’t believe their continued luck, for there in the ignition was the key. Someone surely was watching over them. Holding his breath, he turned the key to the right and watched the fuel needle rise. It hit the quarter mark, then the halfway line. Would it go higher? It hit the three-quarter mark and continued to increase. It stopped two marks below the full indication.

  “What’s the verdict?” Dr. Q asked when he poked his head inside the cabin. “Do we have gas?”

  “Do we have gas?” Max chuckled. “How about a full tank?”

  “You’re kidding?” Lachlan asked in disbelief.

  “Look for yourself,” Max stated, stepping to the side while pointing at the dial. “And if I’m reading this display correctly, the second tank is full too. I’d say we should be able to sail hundreds of miles before we need to refuel if the wind holds. Possibly as far as Argentina or Brazil. As long as there’s a good wind, we can use the sails instead of the engine.”

  Just then Gayle stepped into the cabin. She had been inspecting the galley below. “A lot of rotten, spoiled, moldy food downstairs. But there’s also crates of canned goods, bottled water and these.” She held up a large Hersey chocolate bar. “Whoever owned this vessel must have had a liking for chocolate, because there’s a huge case of these babies downstairs. Thanks to the cold weather, most of them are edible.”

  “So we have fuel, food and water,” Dr. Q smiled. He looked out the door at the sky above. The circle of blue above them was becoming wider, pushing the winds further away. To the west and the south, the sky was still menacing, a dark grayish-blue of storm clouds. The storm was thinning to the east and almost gone in the north, which was their direction. “I suggest we take advantage of this weird break in the storm and head towards Argentina. Max, you’ve got Major Wesley’s list of where we might get more gas?”

  “Yes, Dr. Q,” Max replied, patting his left shirt pocket. “Got it right here. I also put a copy in Professor Dilbert’s bag.” Max knew the immense importance of the information Major Wesley had sent them. The Space Station team had recorded all the areas along the east coast of South, Central and North America where there were marinas or groups of stranded ships. It was the hope that the ships would contain the fuel Dr. Q and his team would need to continue their journey. If not, it was going to be a long walk to Tennessee. In addition to where they might find fuel, the map also contained areas where fresh water could be found and edible vegetation. The primary obstacle not on the map was areas where humans might still exist. A seaworthy vessel would be a desirable commodity. There was no way to anticipate if any encountered humans would be friend or foe, so it was decided they would try to avoid all contact.

  “Any idea how long it will take us to reach the coast?” Gayle
asked.

  “I estimate somewhere between three to five days,” Max replied. “It will depend on how fast this ship goes and the size of the waves we encounter. Even though the sea is calm now, I am sure it won’t stay that way for the entire trip. At least, we will at least ten hours of sunlight the entire way, so we should be able to avoid any obstacles.”

  “I am surprised the ocean isn’t littered with debris,” Dr. Q said. “I didn’t expect a lot of ships, but I thought we’d have floating marine corpses.”

  “From my surveillance over the past few weeks, Lachlan, the ocean is pretty clean now,” Gayle stated. “I think the majority of the bodies have drifted down to the seafloor. Anything that still floated has been washed by the waves and current to the shoreline.”

  “Which might make landing a little tricky,” Max suggested.

  “No sense worrying about something that might or might not be true,” Dr. Q said. “As we planned, two of us will stay awake while the third sleeps. We’ll take four-hour shifts driving the boat. Gayle and I will fix us some late lunch, then Gayle, your time to rest. Max, if you do encounter any floating corpses, give me a yell. I want to take samples of any animals we encounter.”

  “Will do,” Max answered.

  ____________

  “Dr. Q, we’re approaching the area where we have to turn towards the Falklands or Argentina,” Max softly said as he gently shook the professor.

  “Hmm? What did you say?” Dr. Q asked as he opened his eyelids, trying to orientate himself to where he was.

  “We’ve reached the point where we have to decide which way to go,” Max repeated.

  Dr. Q sat up and stretched. The rocking of the ship and smell of the ocean breeze had lulled him into the best sleep he had had in months. He thought he might consider moving to the sea permanently once they returned to the U.S. “How’s the ocean?”