“Grandpa!” Kaylee squealed and ran toward a short, pudgy old-timer with a straw hat and Hawaiian shirt that looked ridiculous with camouflage pants and dirty fishing boots. The man turned when he heard Kaylee’s ecstatic shouting, and even through the dark and rain, and with glasses as thick as a microscope, he ran to her as well.
Daniel and Jose stood and watched from across the street, Jose making no effort to hide that he was crying. Daniel smirked at him. “Screw you, man. I fuckin’ love happy endings.”
“Don’t get too excited. This story is just beginning.” Daniel said ominously.
Chapter 5
Jonathan Sitton Sr. was a retiree trying to live out his golden years in Florida, just like the rest of America’s aging Baby Boomers. His son, Jonathan Jr. was a senior distribution manager for a store Daniel had never heard of, but was apparently popular on the East Coast. John and Joanne hadn’t heard from their family since the day before the first cases were reported in Washington, DC. The call Daniel and Sergeant Graystone had made was the first ray of hope the elderly couple had had since the plague went global.
“Thank you so much for inviting us in. We’ll leave as soon as-” Daniel said, accepting the cup of hot tea Joanne brought in from the kitchen. John had a generator in the shed behind the house. He could start it and turn it off, all from the kitchen, which was good because the storm was getting worse outside.
“Nonsense.” Joanne seemed truly surprised. “We’re the ones who owe you boys thanks. You brought our Kaylee back to us.” She watched her progeny sit on grandpa’s lap.
Daniel could see the couple had already accepted their son and daughter-in-law might not be coming home again, so Daniel filled in what he knew. How he’d met Kaylee, where she said she’d last seen her mother and father, their time at Mr. Fisher’s house, Sgt. Graystone, the bridges, the train ride, all of it. Though deeply saddened that they may never see their loved ones again, knowing that Kaylee above all others was still alive meant more to them than they could ever express. Deep inside himself where no one else could see, Daniel tried to imagine this elderly couple was Korean, and that he was delivering Lea back home. He snapped out of it.
“I want you boys to stay as long as you can. You’re both welcome in my home for as long as I have one.” John said, passing the mashed potatoes to Jose at dinner. “My little Kaylee…” He held back tears as best he could, but failed and smiled because he knew there was a silver lining to losing his boy. His boy’s daughter was still alive. “What about your families?”
“I got two brothers in the Marine Corps. My sisters are both still in middle school. Alex and Juan Carlos got out when San Diego was overrun, which is where my mom lives, but I haven’t heard from them since. My dad’s in Tampa with my sister, but I ain’t goin’ there. Fuck that stupid sonof…oh. Sorry, pardon my French… Skipping ahead, I ran into my homie here on that train headed South like he said, thought I’d help him do one good thing before the world ended.” Jose finished his side of the story by crossing his chest and praying quickly in Spanish.
“My father lives in England.” Daniel admitted. “If it really has jumped the Atlantic, I don’t know how he’ll make it. They just don’t have enough troops, enough guns to handle this.”
“You’ve told me legendary stories about your old man, Dan. He’ll be okay, even if it’s just him playing king of the hill with zombies on top of Buckingham Palace.”
Daniel couldn’t help but smile. He could, and maybe should, write some spaghetti-westerns entitled “The Adventures of Col. Clyde Sawyer: Adventurer, Warrior, A True Man’s Man (Literally)”. He decided not to share that thought, and thankfully Joanne changed the subject before the wine John offered got to his head.
“At this point, anyone but our local uniforms are nothing more than thugs and highwaymen. Just using their badge to get a meal and car and be on their way. Good for nothing FEMA bastards took half our town’s patrol cars and ambulances. They made the National Guard go with them, some of the boys who were from here tried to stay, but they got made to leave with ‘em at gun point. We’re expecting to hear the President on the radio declare Marshal Law in the next couple of days. The government is barely working.” Joanne said, looking over the small kitchen-bar that separated them from the couch where Kaylee was sound asleep.
“We’re well aware.” Daniel sighed, thinking he’d had enough food for one day. “At this point I’m not sure traveling is a good idea anymore. I’m in the Wyoming National Guard, Jose’s in the Florida Guard, but being military might be more of a hazard these days than an honor.”
“Well you’re as safe as safe gets now.” John said, putting his coffee mug down. “We’ve got a town watch going. I know the cops said there’s a herd moving this way, but they’ve been saying that since day one. Right now, our only concern is if this tropical storm turns into a hurricane. The National Weather Service hasn’t been much help with all the ash in the air. For all we know we could be facing a simple rain storm, or a repeat of Katrina.”
“Stop being such a sensationalist. I swear, GNN isn’t doing you any favors, you’re so damned paranoid these days.” Joanne rolled her eyes.
Daniel stood, and politely excused himself from dinner. Among the things the agent hadn’t confiscated, including Daniel’s car keys, was the bottle of pills and some half eaten crackers in his cargo pocket. This time he took two, figuring, like anyone becoming addicted to anything, more is better. The hot water and a chance to really relax were just what he needed. Even though he was technically AWOL the entire time, Daniel felt what he had done was the right thing, as if he’d completed a mission far more important than anything he could have done with an entire army at his back. He felt…
“You’re awfully proud of yourself.” Lea said, rubbing Daniel’s back as the water steamed up the bathroom.
“For a hallucination you’re really good at back massages.”
“But… I thought we had settled that I’m an angel sent to guide you through the fall of mankind and its ultimate rebirth.” Lea said in a pouty voice. She was teasing him from the beyond. He wondered if the real Lea would have imagined a more sarcastic version of him, had he died instead of her. But then what would she have done with Kaylee? Could Lea have even put him down, if the tables were turned?
“Whatever. I just want one night where I can really sleep.” He turned toward the blurs of color to his left, meeting Lea’s eyes with his. Almost everything but her was shifting and melting like a Rembrandt. “Even if I’m crazy, or if you really are an angel… do you think you’d want to spend that night with me? I might be going back to the real world soon. I don’t think the Army psychiatrists are going to approve of our little visits, or these groovy pills.” Daniel turned around again, but Lea was gone. Figments of your imagination have the prerogative to do that it seemed. Daniel didn’t remember anything else after the pills really set in, just flashbacks of distorted lines and Jose’s laugh sounding like something from a demented clown’s song when Daniel fell off his bed.
By the time Daniel came to again, it wasn’t morning, but some time before one in the afternoon. The sun was bright, seagulls were squawking outside in a picturesque vision of vacationland Florida. Looking for his baton Daniel found a polished Colt .45 semi auto on the night stand next to his tan fatigues, which had also been washed and ironed. He wasn’t used to such lavish treatment, or being in the presence of such legendary weapons. John had left a holster for him too, which fit comfortably on his right hip and was close enough to the body for his tan fatigue blouse to conceal it.
In the kitchen, Jose was pouring more maple syrup on a stack on pancakes there was no chance in hell he could finish on his own. Just as Jose dug in Kaylee ran up to her seat and started too, the two of them competing to finish the pile. Joanne handed Daniel a cup of coffee. “None of you all are early risers I suppose, but then I don’t blame you.”
“Is the storm past?”
“Oh yeah, it died out around seven thi
s morning. I’d call her a tropical storm, but maybe it really was a small hurricane.” John was looking out the window that faced an inlet of water with a large island in the center. “Brought plenty of trash with her this time.” He stepped away from a telescope he’d been using to spy on the bay. Joanne had pranked John as a long running joke he was well aware of, something Kaylee would remember from previous visits. He had black mascara all around one eye and pretended not to know.
Daniel walked up and looked, joining in the prank for Kaylee. At first his sight was blurry, but he then he rubbed his eyes carefully to clear the sleep and adjusted a dial. “What’s that?”
“A Russian minesweeper.” John said, posing like the Captain Morgan Rum pirate for his granddaughter. He’d seen the boat hours earlier. “I was a Submariner long ago, even before I met Joanne. I recognize the bow configuration. She ain’t one of ours, that for sure. Probably part of Putin’s stunt to sail his Great Red Fleet around the world to ‘help’ with this crisis.”
“What’s it doing this far inland? I didn’t think the rivers here were that deep.”
“Normally they’re not. You can tell she ran aground in the storm, that’s why her stern is sinking. Must have been one hell of a tidal surge.” John lit a cigarette. He didn’t get to puff it but twice before Kaylee took it away from him and went running down the hallway to flush it down the toilet.
“Mommy said you can’t have any more cig’rets.” She said, making a stern face that would melt anyone’s heart. “You have bad clestrol.”
John’s eyes welled up with tears and he picked his granddaughter up over his shoulders. “It won’t be long before whoever’s still on that boat gets off. I’m not so much worried about a bunch of lost sailors as I am a couple hundred infected sailors walking across the bottom.”
“Do you have a boat?” Daniel asked.
“Someone does.” John shrugged. “It’s Florida.”
“You feel like taking a trip?” Daniel looked back at Jose, who was already putting his nicely cleaned uniform top on. Daniel and Jose both had to promise Kaylee they’d be right back, omitting to the small girl any detail of what they were doing.
At the docks that surrounded the Crystal River side of the circular bay, the few police and deputized citizens who’d stayed and weathered the storm were looking through binoculars at the collection of debris, boats and bodies that littered the water.
Daniel found a deputy that was wearing an actual uniform rather than just whatever. “Have you guys sent anyone to that ship on the far side?”
“What ship?” The deputy responded.
“The Russian minesweeper on the other side of the bay.” Jose pointed at a jut of land with too many large houses on it. Normally the houses were the only landscape besides trees, but in the clear morning one could see the outline of a vessel normally too large to have made it this far inland, like a drug baron who’d had put a private yacht in a pond just for the hell of it.
“Shit.” The deputy got on his radio. “Patrol One Zero Five to MC.”
“Master Control, go ahead Patrol 105.”
“Gonna need to launch the skiff here at the manatee docks. We have a foreign military vessel in King’s Bay.”
“…Copy last…” The dispatcher didn’t seem to know what to do. “Skiff en route.” She finished quickly. Someone else must have been in earshot to heed the call.
The deputy turned back to Daniel and Jose. “How did you guys see that? It’s all the way on the other side.”
“The family who took us in has a telescope.” Jose said.
“Ah. John.” The deputy smiled. “He was the first one to spot the infection moving into town. He says he used to be military, but I think he was a Spook.”
“Like CIA or some shit?” Daniel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but at the same time it made more sense than he liked to admit.
“Who knows. All I can say is he’s been everywhere and anywhere in the county since he heard about the first cases. He’s probably spent more time at the station looking for his son and granddaughter than I’ve been on duty all year.” It was an exaggeration, but it shed new light on Kaylee’s grandfather.
“Who owns that boat?” Daniel pointed at small trout fishing boat tied to the dock.
“No idea.” The deputy shrugged.
“Well then we’ll bring it back. Arrest us if you want.” Daniel and Jose started walking toward the boat, only to find the deputy had joined them.
“You’re bringing it back. That’s borrowing, not stealing.” He smiled, something that seemed practiced rather than natural. The man had purple rings around his eyes and hadn’t shaved in a week. He chain smoked, which made Daniel want to start smoking again. He’d quit during Basic, a place where you are allowed neither caffeine nor nicotine.
“Mind if I bum a smoke? I’ve never boarded a Russian destroyer before.” Daniel tried reciprocating the fake smile, letting the cop know they were both just as exhausted as he was, despite one good night and a hot meal.
“Keep the pack. A truck full of ‘em was abandoned in town.” The cop handed Daniel a pack with more than five cigs still inside. “Did you guys hear the news last night? That smooth talkin’ jackoff president declared martial law in the entire Continental United States. Ten minutes later Texas seceded from the Union and took possession of every military asset inside their borders.”
Jose had been hotwiring the boat when he stopped and looked at the cop. “I’m gonna need a smoke too.” The wires sizzled and their boat started in a cloud of carbon from the seldom used motor. “I heard he was going to try something like that. Juan Carlos said he’d join Texas if martial law was implemented.”
“What about Alex?”
Jose wanted to say he’d join Texas too, but there was a chance Alex was too in love with the America he’d been lied to about, to potentially turn on her. This was literally the definition of what makes a war a civil war. “I dunno, man.”
Deputy Gifford, as his nametag read, shrugged. “It’s not like it affects us much. We’re behind what GNN calls the Red Line, but most folks on the internet are calling it the ‘Dead Line’.” He puffed his cigarette. “So is that Colt the only gun you boys have?”
“Hardly. Seems a lot of them are just laying around these days.” Daniel said. “If there’s no one aboard, you’ll have to look the other way while I get myself a genuine Kolashnikov, though. If my old man is still alive, he’ll love it.”
“Stand in line.” Gifford said, sitting down while Jose put the boat in reverse. Slowly they turned toward the distant ship, which seemed to be larger than they’d previously thought. That, or the water level was receding during the rise and fall of the tide, exposing more of the vessel. There were no other boats on the water, at least none that were crewed and floating properly. Several luxury boats had been smashed on the docks of the affluent houses that arguably ruined the King’s Bay’s shoreline. Someone now had a cigar boat where their living room had been, an improvement on the gaudy mansion if you’d have asked Daniel. Bodies bobbed in the water too, but none were making the effort to attack the boat. Perhaps zombies didn’t float, an idea that was almost more terrifying than if they were to float like turds in a toilet bowl. Another very apt analogy.
At a few hundred meters off the ship’s port bow, Deputy Carl Gifford got on his bullhorn and aimed it toward the Russian boat. Her red flag tattered and hanging from only one hook looked pitiful. If the ship were crewed it was doubtful such a prideful people would let their ensign hang like that. The US wasn’t at war with Russia, as least as far as they knew, it would only be respectful to take the flag down carefully for them if no one had survived. A large chain where there had once been an anchor dangled from the port side where she was listing. Like most modern warships it wasn’t dotted with gun emplacements the way one might picture a ship during World War II. A few radar directed anti-aircraft guns were on the forecastle and a single barrel cannon was locked forward on the main deck. Other tha
n that it wasn’t too dissimilar from any large fishing trawler.
“Attention. Attention. This is the Crystal River, Florida Sheriff’s Department. If anyone is aboard, make yourselves known.” He repeated himself several times, but none of them spoke Russian so it wasn’t like they were expecting to have any meaningful conversations in the first place. When, after ten minutes no one showed themselves, and no undead attacked them, they climbed aboard. The ship’s stern was just inches below the waterline by now, but the demented idea that perhaps the boat could still be salvaged had already dawned on Daniel, who was looking forward to getting to the ship’s bridge. Jose had the Colt, Daniel a semi-threatening stick, and Gifford his standard issue.
Searching the available deck they found all the hatches had been battened down for the storm. The only open door was on the second deck of the forecastle, a large metal hatch that was propped open by an ammo box. There was no ladder, but they were able to use the ropes already in the fishing boat to climb up after half an hour of fumbling with the damned thing. None of them would have made good cowboys, they couldn’t lasso for shit.
“So who’s first?”
“I’m the cop.” Carl said.
“Exactly why you’re not going first.” Jose jumped in. “We’ve already encountered more than our fair share of panicked assholes with a badge. These people need you and every other cop like you alive. Daniel will go first.” Jose volunteered his friend with a twisted smile.
“You’re such a dick.” Daniel sighed, grabbing onto the rope and pulling himself skyward without much effort, something he could never have done a month ago. He’d lost some weight, what with all the running for his life and shit.
Reaching the top level Daniel crawled over the railing and breathed for a moment in silence, ready to roll back off the deck if a zombie lurched from the hatch. He didn’t want to admit it, but along with the irrational fear of bridges, Daniel wasn’t overly fond of anything lurking just under the water, which was half the ship. He’d had nightmares about ghost ships as a child, perhaps too young to see the campy horror flick Ghost Ship when it had come to video. The hatch on the other side was wide open too, giving him a clear view of the room beyond in the tropical light. He stood and went to clear the bridge before his friends climbed up. Daniel was no expert, but this looked like a radar control room, as there was no standard helm. Large glass panels with dry erase markings and Cyrillic lettering covered a map of the southern Atlantic Ocean and a course charted along the coast of South America toward Cuba. Ominously, the final destination was smeared under someone’s bloody handprint.
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