by Micah Gurley
"It is," Kyle said, looking up at the darkling sky. Winter days were short, but he hadn't decided if that helped or hurt them. This winter seemed to be colder than usual and that definably wasn't a good thing. They needed supplies and they needed them bad.
A cry came from the other side of the fort. Kyle could see a man running along the top of the wall, in a circle, headed towards them. Kyle, confused at who the man was, waited for him. The young guy, no more than twenty, closed on them fast.
Kyle unslung his gun, he didn't trust new people running at him. Old Ben caught the barrel of Kyle's rifle and smiled.
"Relax Kyle, it's just Jack, that kid we saved this morning. I talked with him, and he's alright, so I put him on guard duty with me. He isn't carrying a gun, just another pair of eyes."
Kyle lowered his long arm, "Sorry, just touchy I guess."
"Don't say sorry to me young fella, just letting you know he's alright."
Kyle nodded as the kid slid to a stop in front of them, and relayed, through rushed breaths, what he saw.
"Hen’s eggs boy, slow down and speak clearly. Now again, slower."
"I was walking around the fort, like you told me Ben, and I saw a speed boat or maybe a small fishing boat coming up the river with a few people in it. It looked like it was headed this way. I was about to come tell you that, when I saw a really big ship coming in from the ocean. It's still out there a long ways, but you can defiantly see it and it's big."
Kyle nodded his head. "Jack is it?"
"Yeah, Jack."
"Good job, but now I want you to go get James for me. He should be below us. You know who he is?"
"The scary black guy, right?"
Kyle laughed, James could be a scary looking guy. "Yeah, go." The boy jumped down the stairs, caring little for safety. Moments later he returned, James following behind him, a calm expression on his face. Kyle explained the situation and what he wanted. James nodded once, never saying a word, then walked back down the stairs. Jack looked from Kyle to the departing James and decided to follow the scary guy down the stairs.
"Can you stay here and keep an eye on the front of the fort?" asked Kyle as he began to walk away from Old Ben.
"Don't you worry none about this, I'll keep it covered." replied Old Ben, waving his hands in a shooing way.
Kyle walked along the wall, in a wide circle, scanning the surrounding countryside as he did. The fort, situated at the end of a thin Island, only had a few things to see. A few hundred yards to the east lay the Atlantic Ocean, which at night showed little. Between the ocean and the fort only sand dunes and small vegetation lived; a perfect killing field.
Kyle walked until he came to the view of the Cape Fear River. The fort was originally built to guard the entrance to the river, though it became obsolete shortly after construction. Miles down the river lay the city of Wilmington, which at one time was a big seaport. The city still had a decent sized port, but nowhere near as important as it had been a hundred years ago.
Kyle took a knee, quickly joined by James, who'd collected Patrick, Abe, Jack and Edmund. James handed Kyle a pair of bio's and Kyle focused on the small boat Jack spotted earlier, the larger ship forgotten for the moment. The small boat was making good speed down the river, and was headed directly for them. Kyle guessed it would be here in minutes. He strained, but couldn't tell who was in it. He didn't know what to expect so he prepared for the worst.
"Let's get in the prone position about five yards from each other. No shooting unless I say so, or they shoot at us first. Everyone clear?" asked Kyle. Everyone nodded and lied down on the wall, five yards apart. Kyle took a second to find Abe positioned at the end and growled at his stubbornness.
James moved a bit further from him, but like Kyle, stayed on one knee and examined the small pleasure craft heading their way.
"Four people," said James, his voice deep and reassuring.
"That's what I got. James, I might be crazy, but look at the guy driving that boat."
James didn't answer, but kept following the boat as it neared. James said, "You're right."
Kyle laughed when he realized it. Apparently more of the security staff decided to come and visit, or at least one person did, and brought his family.
Kyle waited as the boat got closed on the fort, its speed dropping off. The fort sat about forty yards from the mouth of the Cape Fear River, with marshland between the two. Kyle had wondered how his friend would get here, try crossing through the marsh or go around the bank and enter from the ocean side. Kyle saw the decision.
The boat, a fresh water bass boat, pulled further out in the choppy river and did a 180. Kyle watched his friend push the powerful motor on the boat, its front end lifting out of the water. In seconds the boat closed the distance to land and then it slid up the small sand beach and into the marsh.
Kyle, in awe of what his friend just did, wondered why. He scanned and didn't see any diseased in the area. Was he being chased by something or just ready to get inside the fort? Regardless, Kyle called to everyone to stand down and go get some dinner. Should be about that time. Abe and James kept watch, waiting for his friend and three others to dismount the boat. They slung on some packs and began to trudge through the cold winter marsh.
Kyle turned his gaze from his friend, using the binoculars to search the river. A large, red hulled goliath of a ship reminded him of Jack's report. Kyle spotted the ship out past the river, well into the inlet, a kilometer off. He lowered his binoculars, not needing them to see the ship; it was huge. The ship seemed to rise over nine stories above him, though he really had no idea. Kyle slapped James and pointed, James spun and shouted instructions at those making their way down the stairs.
Abe bubbled with excitement at the ship. "It's the first normal thing we've seen since all this happened. Maybe this means things aren't that bad out there."
Kyle didn't say anything, but he had his doubts. There was no doubting the fires that raged in Wilmington or the diseased that walked the land. Maybe this ship had gotten lucky and missed everything. Kyle found that hard to fathom, they must have heard what was happening on the radios. He decided they needed to fire the generator up and call them. He soon found out he didn't need to.
The ship, despite its sized, moved quickly in the river. It made its way down the middle of the Cape Fear River, the only place deep enough to support its draft. It was a container ship, meaning it was stacked with level upon level of containers and seemed to be miles long. The three of them located the bridge and living quarters near the stern. The ship neared the fort, still two hundred yards away, but feeling closer due to its size. Kyle could make out people scrambling on the bridge wing of the ship. He raised his arm, waving a few times, but dropped it at their reply.
A barrage of explosion reached out from the ship. A gun, a big gun, sent bullets smashing into the brick wall they were standing on. Kyle spotted his friends, who'd just reached the bottom of the steps, flatten themselves on the ground.
The ship fired again, its staccato rhythm letting Kyle know it was a .50 caliber machine gun. Kyle, Abe and James all reacted; just differently. James and Kyle immediately flattened on the wall, pushing themselves back from the side. Abe, not realizing what it meant, raised his hand in exclamation and pointed at the ship. "They're shooting at us!"
"I know that idiot, get down," Kyle yelled over the sound of bullets impacting the brick wall. Kyle jumped up to his brother, grabbing his shirt from behind and pulling him down on the wall. Not waiting, Kyle pushed Abe towards the courtyard, and watched him disappear over the side. Kyle braced himself, then followed, dropping down onto the unforgiving brick bottom of the fort. Kyle's head bounced on the bottom, his thoughts scrambled as everything became blurry. The sound and impact of bullets tearing holes in the fort kept him conscience, but groggy.
James leaned downed, grabbed Kyle's arm and lifted him back on his feet. The big man didn't seem fazed by the bullets tearing up the fort like it was made of paper. Kyle found the
rest of this team sitting low next to the wall, waiting it out and hoping the bullets didn't make it through the brick.
The firing continued for two or three more minutes, the bullets eating into the two hundred year old brick. Most of the bullets from the .50 caliber machine gun hit the outside of the fort, but some made it over the wall, impacting the far side of the courtyard, thankfully empty now. Kyle watched the bullets pulverize the bricks, instantly turning them into rubble, and smoke.
The firing stopped, the ship moving past the fort. Kyle moved to the bottom of the stairs, starting to ascend to the top, when James pushed past him. Kyle looked up, annoyed at the big man, who for his part just ignored Kyle and headed up the stairs. Kyle sighed and followed, stopping when James reached the lip of the wall. Kyle, anxious to see what happened, moved to go past but was stopped by James.
"Hold," he said.
"Look James, I appreciate-"
"Okay, it's moved past," said the big man, moving out of the way. Kyle didn't respond, but followed James up. He walked to the edge of wall and looked into the river. Almost dark now, Kyle was just able to see the lights from the cabins and a red tinge coming from the bridge.
"They moved out of range," Kyle said.
"Good thing, almost tore the bloody fort down," came the high voice of Edmund. The young brit was on his knees, rubbing his hand along the side of the fort's wall.
Kyle had to agree. He stuck his head over the side to examine the walls. Someone provided a red capped flashlight and illuminated the damage. Pieces of the wall, a foot long and two feet, deep were missing. Chunks and pieces of red brick lay everywhere, with only mortar dust remaining in the section targeted.
"What do you think?" asked Patrick, who joined them on the wall. "A Yankee ship?"
Kyle laughed at the comment, he couldn't help it, it was funny. After everything that happened in the last few days, it did seem weird and that was saying something. Abe laughed beside him, thinking it was funny also, such a weird guy. Patrick looked between the two, smiled at his comment and started laughing also. The manic laughter made its way through the group as they climbed down the steps and into the courtyard.
Chapter 6
The commotion in the fort died down eventually, the story of the Yankee ship being passed along. People were shaken and mystified from the odd experience, but didn't let it bother them too much. Kyle, along with his ever present shadow James, walked into the courtyard to find their friend Billy talking to Patrick and Jasmine. Kyle knew Patrick was much better friends with the guy than he was, and that was good enough for him. It was good to have a solid guy like Billy here.
"Hey Professor, nice place you have here," said an older man, separating himself from his wife and walking up to Kyle. Of average height and build, Billy was a rock. He had grey hair in a short military cut, and steel grey eyes. The man radiated effectiveness and precession. He was a guy who could coordinate multiple things and play a game of tetras while doing so.
"We like it," Kyle answered, shaking the man's hand. Kyle noticed he looked more frayed than usual, something which didn't surprise him in this new world. His clothes and face were dirty, like he'd been in them for the last few days. "We're glad you made it. How is it out there?"
The man turned to look at his wife, a fire in the courtyard throwing strange reflections on her haunted face. "It's not good Kyle, not good at all. We barely made it here, just got lucky really. This is my wife Linda, and my boy and his wife, Johnson and Renee."
Kyle shook hands with the rest and told them to he was glad to have them here. Kyle looked at Jasmine. "Can you take care of them?"
"Of course Kyle, go do whatever you do."
Kyle smiled as others stepped forward to shake hands with the new arrivals. He moved back and let them have this time. It had been a big day for everyone, seven new people to the fort. Kyle felt happy with the extra man power, but worried about the food situation; they just didn't have enough. He hoped to change that tomorrow.
"James, is everything ready for tomorrow?" Kyle asked, heading to the area Eric had had taken for his workshop.
"The trucks are ready, and everyone's packed out for a few days."
"We'll check again in a minute. I need to speak to Eric, go ahead and check on everyone, then get something to eat and get some rest. You don't need to follow me around you know."
James grunted, but turned toward the encasement where the food was being made and left Kyle alone. Kyle walked towards the far side of the courtyard, into an encasement similar to the rest, except this one had been turned into a workshop for Eric and his odd apprentice Edmund.
"Knock, Knock," Kyle said as he stood outside the entrance. None of the encasements had doors, except the ones that had been used as recreations for the tourists. Kyle needed to speak to Eric about getting some, but that wasn't high on the to do list.
"Hey there Professor," said Eric, not looking up from what he was working on. Kyle took in the narrow room and saw that Eric had moved in everything from his work truck. It resembled a messy fabrication shop, with hoses, tools and an area for welding. Topping it off was a big dog box sitting on the far end of the room.
"Where's the girls?" asked Kyle, referring to the Eric's beagles. The dogs were Eric's pride and joy before everything happened.
"Oh, those young’uns mostly keep them over there and they love the attention. Ruining them for hurting I imagine, but it seems to help the kids, so..."
Eric finished with and held out the short sword Kyle had found in the museum. Even in the darkened room it sparkled. "All finished here, professor. I've got the other ones sharpened as well."
Kyle reverently took the weapon, almost in awe of how new it looked. The blade seemed to shine and was so clean it could have been used for a mirror. The handle, yellow brass, now had tiny finger molds so Kyle could hold on to it easier if his hand became bloody or sweaty. "Amazing."
"Aw, don't go soft on me now, it wasn't that big of a deal. I'll tell you to be careful though, that thing is so sharp you could shave with it. That's some good metal. I also made a sheath, so you can just strap it on your leg, since it's not that long of a sword. I already passed out the others ones to those you said. Yours is the last."
Kyle didn't know what to say. "Thanks Eric, fine work as always." He put the sword into the leather sheath Eric handed him and set it down on a piece of equipment. "That's not why I came over here tonight though." Eric looked up at him questioningly. "I need you to stay here tomorrow." Eric raised his furry eyebrows at that and began shaking his head.
"Sorry professor, I need to be going with ya, I-"
"You're more important here Eric, and I have something I need you to make me."
"But who's going to drive the truck? Old Ben can't go."
"Old Ben volunteered and he'll drive the truck," Kyle said and waited for the explosion he knew was coming. He didn't wait long. Eric slammed down a wrench he'd been wiping, then walked back and forth, mumbling to himself about an old man and delusions of grandeur. The tirade lasted for another two minutes, with Eric saying every degrading thing he could about old people. Kyle understood. Eric had lost his whole family less than a week ago, and Old Ben was all he had left, even if the two only fought.
"I'll try and keep him safe Eric, you know that," Kyle said, trying to settle him down.
"Professor, the world's gone crazy. You can't promise anything and you know it. We're all going to die here, sooner rather than later, and I just figured I'd like to go before him. Now that selfish son of a bitch is going to go and die before me!"
Kyle laughed at the complaint. He hadn't been expecting that. His friend was mad because his great uncle would die before him. Eric turned his mountain man head at Kyle's laughing and smiled. "Don't say anything to him about this."
"I won't."
"Now, what do you want, ole great protector professor," Eric said, making his southern accent more profound.
Kyle smiled at the jest, then told Eric what he w
anted. He'd been thinking a lot about how they were going to survive out here and this seemed one of their best shots. Especially if things got worse.
"You're not serious?" asked Eric.
Kyle nodded. "I am, and I need as many of them as you can make. Can you do it?"
"With the supplies I've found in the fort and the one's we brought, I can probably make two or three, but for more, I need some things.
"Tell me what they are and I'll get them for you."
Eric began to walk back and forth, rubbing his growing beard and throwing out what he'd need. Kyle began to write.
***
Abe woke early, the sun still an hour from making an appearance. He liked to be up early, liked to have things ready for the day; it was just his way. The end of the world had not changed that. He slid out of his wooden bunk and immediately shivered from the cold. He was already dressed, but clothes made little difference. He was just thankful there was no wind in these rooms. Each of these encasements had a fireplace, but they hadn't tried the one in this room yet and Abe didn't push it. He was still feeling his way around things.
He quietly stretched, pulling his sore muscles and preparing them for the day. Proper stretching could help avoid any number of injuries he knew. He dropped quietly down to the cold brick floor, and in fashion to make a marine blush, performed 75 pushups. He stood back up, stretched again and pushed out another 75 pushups. He felt better, and warmer. His blood warmed up, he washed his face and hands in the bowl of water he'd prepared last night before he went to bed. No doubt his brother would use this water, but that's what you got when you get up late.
The sun began to rise as Abe finished washing up, and he saw James quietly get out of his bunk, also being careful not to wake Kyle up. Abe watched the big man hit the floor, quiet as a ghost, and then do some stretches of his own.
Abe nodded his head in appreciation; not many people thought ahead like he did. The weak morning light began to filter its way through the open window, and Abe sucked air in after getting a look at James with no shirt on. He knew the guy was big, but James was cut like a chain. His muscles seemed like they were sculpted by Michelangelohimself. But muscles alone weren't what surprised Abe; James had scars, and a lot of them. More than a dozen scars, long and wide, covered his arms and torso. Abe didn't have time to see more, as James looked his way and gave a nod, his black eyes holding him.