“Well, I was born Andrew Pike.”
“Did anyone ever call you Andy? Or Drew?” Shaidi wondered.
“Not that I recall. It was always Andrew growing up. Until I got called Brunt that is.”
Shaidi and Brunt continued talking, making sure that Freya was included in their conversation. They didn’t seem at all put off when they had to stop so she could write down what she wanted to say. Freya felt included with these people. It probably helped that they were all damaged in some way, at least for the moment.
“So did you see the goats?” Brunt pointed toward the back of the lifeboats.
Freya shook her head.
“Yup. They decided the lifeboats are good enough for injured, and goats.”
I saw pigs and sheep up in the boats at the front. I think they’re worried that hooves would slice open the bottom of the rafts. While wandering, Freya had seen a few bundled up chickens and ducks, along with more dogs and cats.
“Hmm, never thought of that. Good point though.”
“I like the goats,” Shaidi told them. “They’re entertaining. Every now and then one will escape and start hopping from boat to boat. I mean, it’s dangerous and they could easily hurt someone, but it’s hilarious as hell to watch their minders chasing after them.”
“Remember the one that jumped into the ocean before we started moving, and the minder had to tie a rope around his waist and jump in after it?”
“Yeah, and that other minder had no idea what to do with the other end of the rope, he just kept looking at everyone with his mouth hanging open.”
Freya couldn’t see the humour in it that they did, but their laughing and smiling was fairly contagious.
I should get going, Freya eventually wrote. Robin is teaching me sign language.
“That’ll be helpful,” Brunt nodded. “I’ve been meaning to ask her to teach me a few more things other than just what the off-shippers use. You know, if she wasn’t turning out to be such a good doctor, I’d say she should spend her time teaching a sign language course to everybody.”
“It was very nice meeting you, Freya,” Shaidi held out her hand.
Freya shook it briefly and nodded to her again, trying to convey that the feeling was mutual. She then turned and headed back toward her shared raft.
“Looks like you’ve started a trend,” Robin commented when Freya returned.
Gazing out over the rafts, she noticed a lot more people were moving about than there were yesterday, despite the rougher waters. Many of them were trying to walk along the raft edges like Freya had, but most of them weren’t very good at it. There were a lot of slips, and a few falls. Watching the expression of surprise as one girl tumbled sideways, and how she and those in the raft she fell into laughed about it, Freya thought that she understood the goat stories now.
She turned back to Robin and let her know that she was ready to continue her sign language lessons. They spent most of the day on the lessons, and Freya felt another stone move from her heart. That pile of rocks had felt like they’d always be there, however, now she thought she was actually becoming human again, one small gesture at a time.
***
The sun was considerably closer to the horizon again when the call of land rippled through the flotilla. Just about everybody stopped what they were doing to watch it grow ahead of them.
I have never been to America, Freya wrote and showed Robin.
“Actually, neither have I,” she replied. “The Diana once made a stop off Ellis Island for several days, and some non-off-shippers were able to go ashore for a bit, but I didn’t go with them.”
The land loomed closer and closer, until it filled the horizon. Freya thought she could see where they might be headed, as a few tall ships became visible inside a channel. They didn’t go as far up the channel as she expected, but far enough that the back of the flotilla was in it. The submarine slowed to a stop, until they were just floating there.
What now? was no doubt what everyone was thinking.
Looking ahead, Freya assumed the channel wasn’t a long one, and that they had to make a decision about where to go. She was proven right when they started moving again, and headed out into a massive bay.
They passed by a large, narrow jut of land that served no purpose that Freya could discern, other than to be the looping end of a long road. A surprising number of cars were clustered and parked around the loop. Freya was on the wrong side of the flotilla for a good look, but she thought she saw the long dead remains of a camp amongst the cars. She bet if they followed the road, they’d find a bunch more cars blocking it off. There was no way of telling if the camp was abandoned willingly, or forcibly.
The bay they sailed into seemed to stretch forever. There were hundreds of places the submarine could be taking them; however, they seemed to be following the shore along the left side. At one point, they motored past a sharp point of land, which was completely covered with houses and scraggly palm trees. A few large mansions dominated the shore, while smaller, more modest homes could be seen beyond them. It had probably looked attractive before everything went to shit. Now the grass and weeds were running riot, nothing was nicely pruned anymore, a few windows were broken, and several boats were half-sunk while still tied to their moorings. Then they were past the point, and continuing across the bay.
After a while, a large island crept by on the right, but they were too far away to see any details concerning it. A short time after that, another one appeared, or maybe it was a peninsula. This one they were headed toward; apparently, the submarine was going to follow its shore now, as they were much closer to it than the shore on the left. The land was flat, and undeveloped as far as Freya could see. The way this place looked, it probably hadn’t changed at all once the people were gone. They followed the rocky shore, gliding by a few remains of metal skeletal structures Freya didn’t understand. Eventually, the rocky shore became a sandy one, but the quality of the land didn’t improve.
By the time the sun touched the horizon and turned the sky orange, the submarine turned and towed them back toward the left-hand shore. Looking that way, Freya thought she could see where they were going. A jut of land on that side housed a shipping container yard. They didn’t cruise all the way to the yard however, where big cranes were once used to move the containers, but stopped at a large concrete dock just before it. At least the submarine stopped there; the flotilla was left trailing out behind it, near some circular structure that stuck out of the water. Everyone was quiet while they waited to see what was going to happen. Freya kept shifting in her raft, trying to get a better view, but there wasn’t one to be had.
After what seemed like forever, with the flotilla beginning to distort its nice lines as the current pulled at it, they began to move. The ropes had been disconnected from the submarine, and they were being pulled toward the large dock via a winch.
It was a long process getting everyone to shore. The dock was two long stretches of concrete, with a thicker section connecting them at their far ends. The submarine was docked at the end, while the lifeboats were untied from the flotilla, and powered around to the far leg of the dock. The rafts were pulled into the closer leg, where everyone had to climb from raft to raft to get ashore. The height of the dock also required the climbing of a rope ladder to get onto it, the animals and the weak being hoisted up with ropes. Once up there, everyone started to spread out, most people heading toward the submarine, where it was safer. Freya went the opposite way, toward shore. There was a smaller, lower dock there attached alongside the bigger one, but a boat had plowed into it, destroying a large portion and making it appear quite unsafe. Where the dock connected to the shore, several sailors from the submarine stood guard with guns and close combat weaponry.
“I’ve been here before,” a voice spoke from nearby.
Freya turned to find an Asian woman standing next to her. She sounded like she was talking to herself more than to anyone else in the area.
“Yeah, I have,�
� she nodded. “The Black Box is just over that way.” She turned and pointed at what could be a channel or a bay. If they had continued to follow the scruffy land, they would have gone right past it.
Freya placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and held up her notebook. She had written what’s the black box?
“Oh, it’s a Marble Keystone facility I worked at a long time ago. I liked living in Texas.”
The name Marble Keystone sent a cold shudder running down Freya’s spine. Everyone knew it was the company that had released the zombie virus, and hadn’t this woman just said she had worked for them? It was possible. The Diana residents were mostly Canadian after all, and that’s where the virus originated. Freya looked around at all the people gathering on the dock. She hadn’t thought of it before, but could someone here be the source of all this pain? Probably not. Not everyone here could have worked for the company, not people like Jon or Robin, and they would surely have thrown overboard anyone who had created this thing. Still, having a facility so close was unsettling.
Freya grabbed the Asian woman’s hand and began to pull her through the crowds.
“Hey!” the woman startled. “Where are we going?”
Freya didn’t have time to write down an answer.
With a speed and skill that was surprising for someone who seemed so distant, the woman pulled her wrist free, grabbed Freya’s arm and twisted it painfully behind her back. Freya gasped at the pain caused by the manoeuvre, one of the only sounds she could make.
“I don’t like people dragging me places I don’t want to go,” the woman hissed into Freya’s ear, no longer sounding distant. She then released Freya.
Rubbing her arm, Freya glared at the woman who glared back. She was small, but there was power in her eyes. Freya wrote in her notebook and handed it to her.
You should tell the leaders about this black box.
The woman read what she wrote and nodded.
“You’re probably right. It would be useful knowledge.” The woman began making her own way through the crowd, heading for the submarine where the remaining leaders were conferring with each other on its deck. Freya followed after her, wanting to make sure the woman really told them. There was something off about her that worried Freya.
At the submarine, they were briefly stopped from boarding by a sailor, but the woman explained she had information about the area and was allowed on. Freya followed closely behind her, indicating to the guard that she was clearly with this other woman. Although Freya had nothing to add, she wanted to hear.
“Sirs?” The woman walked up to the remaining leaders and snapped off a salute.
“Nicky? What is it?” Commander Crichton turned to her.
“We’re not far from the Black Box,” the woman named Nicky told them.
“What use have we for a plane recorder right now?” Bronislav brushed her off.
“No, I’m talking about a place,” Nicky’s sharp eyes glowered at him.
“I know of it. You say it’s nearby?” Crichton prompted her to continue.
“Yes. See that channel there?” She pointed to the same spot she had indicated to Freya earlier. “Through there, and not terribly far inland there’s an industrial park. The entrance to the Black Box was built near it, the thing itself expanding underneath some wooded areas.”
“Did they do any biological research there?” Lieutenant Boyle asked, perhaps worried about the same thing Freya was.
“No, the Black Box was for developing computer parts and programs. I’ve never seen anything medical or chemical being worked on.”
“And you’re sure it’s there?” Crichton asked. “You know better than anyone how your mind doesn’t always have things straight.”
“I know, sir.” Nicky looked briefly down at her feet, embarrassed, but then looked Crichton in the eye again. “But I know it’s there. I lived there for years.”
“Good. We’ll take it under advisement as we decide what to do. Would you like to help check the nearby buildings? We’re trying to determine if they’re safe enough to spend the night.”
“If you want me to, sir. But there’s something else you should know.”
The leaders all looked up at her, and the next thing she said made Freya’s jaw drop.
“Sir, they probably still have power down in the Black Box.”
24
Misha’s On The Mainland
Misha walked around the warehouse with Rifle. Once the area had been deemed safe, all the Diana residents had been moved inside for the night, save for a few guards who were patrolling. Misha wished he was inside now, where it was warmer, but Rifle needed some exercise and a chance to do his business. Pulling the fishing hat lower down on his head, Misha tried to protect his ears from the wind. Texas was colder than where the Diana spent most of its time. At least his wetsuit was doing a decent job of keeping him warm, but he wished he had shoes. Having no footwear seemed to be the standard for him whenever he changed locations. After this, he promised himself he’d never take his shoes off unless it was absolutely necessary.
Once Rifle seemed content, Misha led him back inside. The warehouse was crowded with shelves and boxes, the aisles filled with people. It was also dark, as the only light came from a few solar lanterns and flashlights. Stepping carefully over and around everyone, Misha made his way to where his group was clustered together next to boxes that were longer than he was tall. He suspected the boxes contained refrigerators, but the labels were written in a language he didn’t understand. The only one who wasn’t there was Cameron; she was too busy with the animals being kept in the other warehouse. Apparently, the horse required a lot of attention.
“I still feel like the ground is rolling beneath me,” Claire commented to Jon.
“That’ll go away,” Jon reassured her. He was the only one of their group who had really been on land since boarding the Diana.
Misha sat himself down between Jon and Danny. Rifle circled the space in front of him, and then laid down, his ears still alert and his eyes looking around. Misha wondered if he felt the rolling sensation too.
“So where do you think we’ll go?” Josh asked the group. He must have returned from making medical rounds while Misha was outside.
“I wonder if we should just stay here. You know, in the container yard,” Abby pointed to where hundreds of containers were still piled up in forgotten stacks. “Clear some out and we might be able to make a nice living space out of them.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Lauren told her as she tucked the blankets more firmly around Peter. Both Peter and Hope were already sound asleep in little nests of blankets and towels next to their respective parents. Dakota was the only child still awake, but she seemed to be drifting off. Misha felt sorry for her. She was currently in limbo, in terms of who would take care of her.
“Why isn’t it a good idea?” Josh asked her.
“You weren’t at the motel or the prison,” Lauren told him. “I remember what it’s like seeing the bodies pressing up against the barricades. We had a method to draw them off, but it was dangerous and sometimes the people who went out didn’t come back. The people who were at the prison say it was worse over there, because the zombies just kept piling up, and piling up. And the prison had large stone walls. Here we just have a couple of chain link fences.”
“But we’ve all heard the reports from the off-shippers. They say the number of bodies is decreasing. If we keep clearing them out, we might not have a problem. Isn’t that right, Jon?” Claire turned to him.
Jon shrugged. “Yeah, but that was before this mutation spread. We’ll have to set up a lot of new rules to accommodate it.”
There was silence after Jon’s words. The mutation had people worried. For now, it only seemed to affect people once they were killed, but there was concern it would mutate again, or affect certain people differently.
Misha leaned forward and stroked Rifle’s head. According to Cameron, he was fine, but Misha still worried.
“You should all try to get some sleep instead of talking about things you don’t need to worry about,” Riley suddenly spoke. “The leaders will decide what we end up doing. They’re gathering information and have access to maps and things on the submarine.”
Misha suspected Riley just wanted everyone to shut up so that her kid wouldn’t wake up. The conversation changed to a lighter, pointless subject, and dropped to a whisper. No one was tired yet, except for maybe Dakota. The little girl with the cowboy hat was losing that fight. She’d be asleep soon.
After at least another hour floated by, Cameron returned. She looked exhausted as she sat down next to Dakota, who was now asleep. The vet adjusted the girl’s blankets for her, making sure she was covered. Watching that, Misha speculated that Dakota would be just fine. Cameron had been looking out for her a lot on the rafts, and would probably continue to do so now.
Eventually, the conversation died down, and Misha started to feel weary. He stretched out on the cold floor, and Rifle shuffled around to lay lengthwise next to him. Misha may not have had a blanket, but at least he had a fluffy space heater. Wrapping his arm around the big dog’s side, Misha buried his face in Rifle’s fur. It smelled like ocean and dog.
Misha drifted off to sleep, and dreamed of being alone on a raft with Rifle, surrounded by sharks.
***
A firm hand on Misha’s shoulder drew him awake. Blinking groggily, the remains of his nightmare still clouding his mind, he looked up to see who was shaking him. In the darkness that was broken only by a weakening solar lamp, it took Misha a moment to realize it was Lieutenant Boyle. He dragged his mind into a more alert state, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.
“Sir?” he whispered, not because he realized people were still asleep around him, but because his mouth, lungs, and vocal cords were still waking up.
“Can you come with me?” Boyle whispered back. “Bring the dog.”
Misha didn’t like the sounds of that, but he did as he was told. Getting to his feet, he patted his leg so that Rifle stood up. Apparently, Rifle had already been awake, or at least had woken up a lot quicker than Misha did. The two of them followed Boyle across sleeping bodies, being as careful as possible not to step on anyone. Boyle led them all the way to a door and outside. The sun was rising, and the morning air was brisk. Misha shuddered slightly as it washed over him. The warehouse had warmed up with the press of the bodies filling it.
Survival Instinct (Book 3): Fighting Instinct Page 39