Exodus from the Seven Cities

by Jay Brenham

“Isn’t there a grocery store close by that we could raid?” Rodrigo asked.

  “Probably, but that still leaves us with the question of who to send.”

  “Just send everyone with a gun,” Evan suggested.

  “That was brought up, but we found three major problems with that,” Quinn said.

  “And those are?” Evan asked.

  “First off, this isn’t a dictatorship. We can’t order people to go just because they have a gun. We still live in a free country.”

  Evan rolled his eyes. “I don’t see why you can’t. If they want to be a part of Raft City they have pull their weight and look for food.”

  “And how would you handle that once the food was found?” Rodrigo said, shaking his head as he spoke. “You took all the risk and then you’re going to come back and give it away? To people who risked nothing?”

  “Well, no—” Evan said before being interrupted by Quinn.

  “Exactly, which brings us to our second problem. How do we divide the spoils?”

  “And the third problem?” Sam asked.

  “If we send everyone with a gun to look for food, we leave Raft City undefended. Anybody with a gun could drive right in here and take what they wanted while everyone armed was away.”

  “So we sit and wait?” Matt said, throwing up his hands. “Stuck, as usual?”

  “Unless you have any better ideas,” Quinn said.

  “There has to be another way, Quinn. Eventually we’ll run out of water and food and we’ll act, disorganized and desperate. It’s better to make a plan now when we don’t have one hand tied behind our backs.”

  “If you come up with something I’m all ears,” Quinn said, “but until then we maintain the status quo.”

  Evan shrugged. Rodrigo looked deep in thought and Sam and Matt shared a worried glance. Everyone agreed that supplies were key to survival and that they were rapidly running out, but nothing was being done to change the outcome. It was like Raft City was a train headed for a collision and it couldn't switch tracks.

  After a few more minutes of conversation, the group drifted apart, exchanging goodbyes and heading off to their respective boats.

  On the way back to Matt’s boat, Sam noticed for the first time how no one seemed alarmed by the fact that firearms were being openly carried. Before the infection, people would have been scared to death to see two armed men walk across their boat decks. But they’d become habituated to the presence of guns in a short period of time. Guns had become a symbol of protection, not menace.

  #

  Sam had stood watch on the ship before but this was different. Watch on the ship was countless hours spent looking out at the horizon for something that would never come. Standing lookout in Raft City had a level of urgency and importance that his time in service never had. Yes, he’d been in the military during a time of war but it was war in the desert, not at sea.

  When the sun finally peaked over the land and shed its light on Mobjack Bay, signifying the end of his watch and the start of someone else’s, he was caught by surprise. He was always counting down the minutes on his Navy watch. Complacency on the Raft City watch could mean that people died. Violent deaths too, ones Sam would see and be responsible for.

  But the sunrise wasn’t the only thing which caught Sam off guard. It was also the restlessness he felt next to the others, who all seemed content with their new lives. He couldn’t be content with life here.

  A week. He couldn’t believe how quickly time had ticked away and left him with nothing to show for it. Sam couldn’t help but think that he was little better than the people Quinn had talked about as he rowed Sam from the craft to Raft City.

  Fuck my inner monologue, Sam thought. It was polluted with so many weak thoughts. But today was different.

  He stepped down into the small berthing on the Carver and found Matt already awake, dressed for the day.

  “Ready to find Quinn?” Sam asked.

  “Ready. Let’s see what he has to say.”

  Together they journeyed from the Carver’s place on the outer spoke in Raft City across dozens of other boat decks, always greeting anybody they saw.

  Quinn had not been entirely accurate when he’d described Raft City as having a morale problem. Raft City had a complacency problem. There was a difference. The only thing Raft City people talked about was, “When the government comes,” or “When the military rescues us.” There was no talk about any of this being permanent. To the people of Raft City, the infection was a temporary affliction, like the power going out or high gas prices. Why plan ahead when the government was going to save you in a week?

  It reminded Sam of how he and Jill used to buy lottery tickets and talk about what they would do with their millions. A miraculous rescue and winning the lottery were both pipe dreams, but at least he’d known he was dreaming. The majority of the people in Raft City actually thought they would be winning the lottery in the near future.

  Eventually they crossed the first east wing boat and onto Quinn’s catamaran. To say Quinn’s catamaran was large was an understatement. It was a yacht, nice by any standard. The inside was more like a mansion than a boat and Sam immediately understood something: before the outbreak, he and Quinn had lived in two different worlds. This yacht had cost more than Sam’s home. Although Matt’s boat had been well-maintained and durable, Quinn’s yacht occupied an entirely different category of luxury.

  “Morning fellas,” Quinn said cheerfully. “What brings you to the center of Raft City this morning?”

  Sam spoke first. “We wanted to talk to you about going out and getting supplies.”

  “Getting supplies? Is there something you can’t find through the normal barter system we’ve set up?”

  The Quinn that Sam had rowed to Raft City with was full of piss and vinegar, ready to set out and secure supplies for the city. The Quinn that stood in front of him was singing a different tune.

  This time it was Matt who spoke. “Come on, Quinn. We’ve talked about this a hundred times. You were on board! That’s why we brought Sam here. That’s why I told you he could stay with me. This city needs supplies!”

  Quinn looked exasperated; this was not how he’d envisioned starting his morning. “Look, Matt, I know. It’s just that I can’t ask people to go look for stuff when it could mean they get killed.”

  “That’s the problem, Quinn. It’s not the infected who are going to start killing us; it’ll be thirst and starvation. And then this idyllic community we’ve worked so hard to set up is going to come crashing down. Have you ever seen someone die of thirst?”

  “No, and neither have you, Matt,” Quinn said, annoyance clear in his voice.

  “You’re right. I haven’t. But I will if we don’t do something. The time to find resupply points is before an emergency happens, not during it,” Matt said.

  When they’d talked about pressing Quinn to go on a supply run, Sam had never expected tempers to fly. Sensing he needed to step in as the peacekeeper, Sam said, “Whoa, guys come on. I think it’s safe to say that none of us have seen a person die of thirst, but it’s also safe to say none of us want to either. Am I right?”

  Sam’s words silenced them both and he pressed his advantage.

  “We’re dealing with a couple of issues here. Quinn, you’re head of security. In Raft City that means keeping people safe. Making sure the watch transitions smoothly from one shift to the next and making sure rules are followed and enforced. Right?”

  “Right,” Quinn said.

  “Tell me if I’m wrong here, but I feel like you’re getting pulled in two different directions. On one hand, you need to make sure people don’t become infected, but on the other, if people don’t have food and water they’re in just as much danger

  Quinn chewed his lower lip, thinking. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “So why risk anyone when we have our immediate needs taken care of, is that it?”

  “Pretty much. I can’t ask people to risk their lives when they
may not need to. We could all be rescued next week.”

  Matt ran his hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. “Quinn.”

  Quinn held up a hand. “I already know what you’re about to say. We can’t think like that. We need to assume that we won’t be rescued. Assume this is permanent. I agree.”

  Matt’s jaw was clenched tightly. “Then why aren’t we doing anything?”

  Sam interrupted before Quinn could respond and gave Matt a look that told him to back off. “It doesn’t matter why we haven’t done anything,” Sam said. “We can’t change yesterday, but we can change what we do from here on out. Are we in agreement that something needs to change? That we need to look for supplies?”

  “Yes,” Matt said immediately.

  Quinn nodded.

  “Good. That brings us to the real problem: where do we look?”

  Matt sat at the mahogany table in the center of Quinn’s galley. Quinn followed Matt’s lead and took a seat as well. Sam considered this a positive sign: high tempers were falling by the wayside.

  Matt glanced at Quinn apologetically. “This is just like me to get all pissy about not taking action and then have no idea for follow through. We don’t even know if anybody is willing to leave Raft City. Sure, we’ve talked to some people but we don’t know if they were all talk.”

  Quinn cleared his throat. “Actually I know a few other people.”

  Sam figured his face probably looked like Matt’s—shocked.

  “Don’t look too surprised. I said I didn’t want to ask people to go out there, not that I hadn’t.”

  “Are you messing with us?” Matt asked.

  A smile crept across Quinn’s face. “Nope.”

  “Then why did you—”

  “Because I don’t want to ask people to risk their lives. I want the military to rescue all of us tomorrow. But as much as I want to tell people that we’re going to be rescued, I understand we need to plan for contingencies.”

  “How many people do we have?” Sam asked.

  “Six others, plus you two makes eight. But they aren’t up for any sort of commando-style assaults on the infected.”

  “That’s good because neither are we. We don’t need anybody playing Rambo. At the first sign of live infected we cut our losses and get out,” Sam said.

  “Agreed,” said Matt.

  Sam and Matt had talked about the possibility of having to scrap a mission on multiple occasions. Having both escaped from the infected, they were firmly on the same page: it was better to run from the infected than fight them.

  “We also have two inflatable Zodiac boats,” Quinn added.

  “That’s great,” Matt said. “We have two boats and two crews but what’s our target?”

  None of them knew.

  “What I wouldn’t do for an Internet connection right now,” Sam muttered.

  “No kidding,” Matt said.

  Quinn looked up suddenly, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head. “I don’t have an Internet connection but I do have charts of the area.”

  Sam nodded enthusiastically. “Good. At least we can see what’s around us.”

  Quinn stood up and went to a small teak navigation desk, opened a drawer, and sorted through a number of navigational charts. He pulled one out and spread it on the table.

  The chart sprawled across the mahogany table, showing Mobjack Bay and the surrounding area. To the northeast of Mobjack Bay was what appeared to be a tidal wetland and a series of small islands. To the south, lay the city of Hampton.

  “The area south of here is more populated but I know there are a couple of marinas around Mobjack Bay which could have some supplies,” Quinn said.

  “They might have supplies but they might have infected too. We aren’t trying to run into them,” Matt said.

  “Agreed. We don’t want come across any infected if we can help it,” Quinn said.

  “We?” Matt and Sam asked in unison.

  “I can’t ask other people to risk their lives if I’m not willing to go.”

  “You sure as hell can,” Sam said.

  “No,” Quinn said firmly. “I can’t.”

  Sam opened his mouth, but Matt held up a hand. “Quinn, I know where your heart is but you’ve gotta listen to me about this. You aren’t power hungry, you’re fair, and you actually give a damn about what happens to the people here. Your place is with Raft City. If something happened to you, I don’t think Raft City would hold together.”

  “He’s right, Quinn,” Sam said. “Like it or not, you’re the leader here. The other four leaders are important but they could be switched out. The city needs you.”

  Quinn frowned. “It doesn’t feel right to stay behind when there’s something that needs to be done,” he said.

  “It is right,” Matt said. When Quinn didn’t argue, Matt continued. “So the marinas are out. What does that leave us with?”

  Quinn shrugged. “I talked to some people about looking for supplies but I didn’t talk details.”

  Sam pointed at the map. “What about over here? What’s this?”

  Quinn looked to where Sam was pointing: small islands to the northeast of Mobjack Bay. They weren’t close by but they weren’t that far either.

  “Just some tidal islands,” Quinn said. “There’s nothing on them but grass, mud, sand, and probably mosquitoes.”

  Sam thought back to his honeymoon and the weekends he’d spent with Jill and Grant at his in-laws’ house on the eastern shore.

  “Tidal grassland, huh?” he murmured thoughtfully.

  “Yeah that’s about it. Nothing in the way of supplies,” Quinn said.

  Sam grinned suddenly. “You said you were looking for an idea Quinn. I just might have one. My in-laws have a place in Chincoteague, on the eastern shore of Virginia. When we go there we lay on the beach mostly.”

  “I don’t think we need to work on our suntans,” Matt said dryly.

  Sam’s smile widened. “We wouldn’t just sit on the beach. We would also dig for clams, oysters, and mussels when we wanted a free seafood dinner. And we dug the mussels and oysters up in tidal grass just like Quinn is describing. Those little islands look like they are secluded from the mainland, meaning—”

  “No infected,” Matt said.

  “That’s what I was thinking. This could be as free of a meal as we’re gonna get,” Sam added.

  “What about other things we need, like water and medical supplies?” Matt asked.

  Sam answered Matt’s question with a question to Quinn. “What does the city need most?”

  “We have enough water for now,” Quinn said. “Most of the boats have full ballast tanks. People are pretty good at sharing water because we have so much. It’s food that we need.”

  “We triage it then,” Sam said decisively. “Go for what we need the most. That way we can trade more for the food we gather.”

  “You’re going to trade the food you get? Not split it evenly?” Quinn asked.

  Sam shook his head. “You said it yourself: Raft City is capitalist, not communist. I’m not here to play Robin Hood.”

  “I know that. I just thought you would share the food with the people who needed it most.”

  “That’s all well and good in the movies but I’m out there risking my life for whatever we get. I’m not creating a Raft City food stamp program. I’m going on this expedition to get food for myself and enough extra so that I can trade for supplies that will get me back to my family.”

  Quinn held up a hand. “I’m not saying I disagree with you. I was just thinking differently.”

  “Let’s plan this out,” Matt interrupted, tapping the chart eagerly. “Who? What? When? Where? Why? And how?”

  “I’m a visual person,” Quinn said. “I’ll be right back with some stuff.”

  He returned a few minutes later with some Monopoly pieces and a handful of green army men.

  Matt and Sam gave him an amused look.

  “What? I don’t play with the
se things. My sister and my nephew used to come sailing with me all the time. He left some of his toys on here.”

  Quinn didn’t seem sad when he talked about his sister and nephew, Sam noticed. They must be somewhere that he believed was safe.

  Quinn placed the two miniature monopoly pieces and a handful of green army men on the chart: they represented Sam, Matt, and the other Raft City residents who would be going on the foraging expedition. This expedition would be an initial attempt, a rough draft of sorts, designed to gauge how possible it was to gather shellfish from the grassy wetland areas. It would be the first step in determining the long-term viability of Raft City.

  Low tide was at 6 a.m., which meant they would need to leave by four so they arrived when the shellfish were exposed.

  “Alright Quinn,” Sam said, “you go tell the rest of the people who are going and see if they’re interested. We’ll drop by later this afternoon to meet with everyone and go over the plan.”

  Quinn nodded, looking hopeful for the first time Sam had seen him. “Sounds good. See you then.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The stars still twinkled in the morning sky as the two inflatable Zodiacs cruised across the water toward their destination: an inlet north of Mobjack Bay, out of sight from Raft City. The water was flat and the air surrounding the crew was warm and stagnant with the smell of low tide. The plan was to anchor just offshore until daylight broke, then take the Zodiacs into the wetlands to look for food. If there were mussels and oysters to be gathered Sam and Matt would stand watch and provide warning and, if necessary, covering fire for the others as they escaped to the safety of the Zodiacs.

  The Zodiac’s small mushroom-shaped anchor was rusted but still in working order. Sam double-checked that the anchor was tied to the boat before dropping it over the side. In the other Zodiac, Matt did the same. It had taken the better part of two hours to get here. Now, they waited for daylight.

  Both crews of four sat in silence, watching the shoreline for any sign of infected. Rodrigo, who Sam had met at the Raft City marketplace, sat by the motor of Sam’s boat and scanned the mud flats with a pair of binoculars. He was quiet but Sam thought he’d seemed like a tough man. He’d volunteered to help forage right away.