by Lundy, W. J.
“Good news, Chief. The skipper of the Barry says he will allow you all to bring on weapons and a basic supply of ammo, as long as you have a locker to secure them in.”
“Great work Hanson, I knew you could do it,” Sean replied.
Tony came forward and explained that there was a large tool box below that should hold everything. Hanson agreed, so they opened the engine room hatch and the sailors helped them bring the tool box out onto the deck. The crew, one at a time, verified that their weapons were clear as one of the sailors observed and then placed their weapons into the tool box.
With everything loaded in the box, Tony snapped its hatches shut and they loaded the box onto the Zodiac. Hanson quickly ushered everyone aboard.
“What happens with the attack boat now?” Brooks asked.
“Oh, it will become part of the fleet. You have a good amount of supplies on board; they will come in really handy,’ Hanson said. “Don’t worry; my guys will take good care of it.”
They had all boarded the Zodiac with the exception of two sailors, who stayed on board the attack boat. They untied the line marrying them together before the engines came to life and the boats headed in the direction of the fleet. As they got closer, the attack boat peeled off and went away from the Zodiac.
Brad sat in the center of the Zodiac with Chelsea beside him. The small boat rode very rough in the water; plowing through swells. Brad bounced along and reached out to steady himself. As they drew closer to the vessel that he assumed would be their destination, Brad saw the number ‘52’ stamped on the hull.
“52?” Brad asked no one in particular.
A sailor next to Brad turned around. “She is the DDG-52, the USS Barry,” he said.
“What is it, some kind of battleship?”
The sailor laughed. “Nahh man, this is a destroyer!” the sailor said, with obvious pride in his voice.
The Zodiac pulled in close to the side of the large ship. Many men were on the deck tossing lines and shouting instructions to the Zodiac’s crew, directing them toward the back. The crew quickly secured themselves and they rushed Brad and his friends onboard. Brad watched as a group of men brought the tool box aboard and sat it on the deck near them.
They found themselves sitting on a large helicopter landing pad, but the helicopter was missing. Brad knew they were on the back of the boat and that was about it. A group of officers also dressed in digital blue uniforms approached the group, but ignored everyone and walked directly to Sean. One of the officers stuck out his hand.
“Chief Rogers, welcome aboard,” the man said.
“Thank you sir, good to be here,” Sean answered.
“Good, good. I’m Commander Shepherd, the Executive Officer of the Barry. I wanted to greet you firsthand. I wish we had more time to talk right now, but we have protocols to follow for new arrivals,” Shepherd said.
“Protocols?” Sean asked.
“Yeah, nothing to worry about. You are going to sit in a twenty-four hour quarantine. But don’t sweat it, Chief. Enjoy the downtime, okay? Try and get some rest. I will be down to debrief you about this time tomorrow. Sorry I can’t stay, but I am extremely busy today. Once again, welcome aboard,” Shepherd said smiling, shaking Sean’s hand again before walking away.
As the officer left, another man stepped forward. He was short and solidly built with a gold anchor on his collar. “I’m Master Chief Swan; I want to welcome you aboard. You have no gear so that will make this easy. I need you to follow the instructions of my masters at arms and follow them below. You will all have an opportunity to shower and clean yourselves up. We will provide you with appropriate rest, gear, and get you a clean rack and some hot chow for your bellies. I know you all have questions, but seriously, the sooner we start the clock on this quarantine, the sooner I can get you all out. So let’s get moving.”
Quickly a group of younger enlisted sailors stepped forward and ushered them into the ship. They were split into groups. Sean was quickly pulled aside by the master chief while Brad, Brooks, and Nelson were taken away by two men. They watched as Chelsea was led away by two females and Tony was taken in another direction by two other sailors.
They were led deep into the ship and down various passageways. Brad was quickly lost and didn’t have a clue where he was. They were brought into a small compartment that looked like it might possibly be a workspace. The two sailors guided them into the room and asked them to sit down while they waited outside.
Brad took a seat across from Brooks and sat quietly. Nelson was sitting in a corner looking nervous and uncomfortable. “Relax brother, this is all part of the game,” Brooks said to him.
A new face entered the room: a middle-aged tall black man, obviously enlisted by the way he carried himself. He introduced himself as a Navy corpsman and asked the men to remove their shirts. He dropped a small bag on a table and pulled out a number of syringes and vials. He walked up next to Brooks and readied the needle. Brooks quickly snapped up his hand and grabbed the corpsman by the wrist.
The two masters at arms men looked in the doorway with nervous stares.
“Would you mind telling me what this is before you just go sticking me with it?” Brooks said in a calm voice.
“I’m sorry; this is just a batch of antibiotics. The next is a host of antivirals. It will kill any crud you may have picked up and help keep you all from getting sick on the boat,” the man said nervously.
“Oh cool, thanks for explaining that to me, Doc; proceed,” Brooks said, letting go of the man’s wrist.
The corpsman went around the room administering drugs. He left, and promptly their two escorts got them back to their feet and ushered them further down the passageway. They walked past a cage door where a female sailor handed them a pillowcase with two sheets, a pillow, a pair of ugly blue shorts, flip flops, and a yellow T-shirt.
Again they were led down a long passageway, ending up in what looked like a locker room. A man was waiting for them; he sat them in a chair one by one and shaved away the beards and unkempt hair. Then the escorts handed them a number of heavy Ziploc bags. They were instructed to dump all of their belongings into the bags and to strip naked and discard their uniforms into a large, black plastic trash bag.
Brad placed everything from his pockets into the bag and started to seal it. He stopped, pulled his unit patch and the American flag off his uniform, and added them to the Ziploc. Then he stripped down to his boxers and sat back on the bench. One of the escorts looked at Brad and shook his head. “All the way naked, Sergeant,” he said.
Brad shook his head and stripped off and tossed his boxers into the bag. “Damn Navy meat gazers,” he joked to Nelson.
Nelson laughed and stripped down next, then stood and thrust his hips at the sailor. “Am I naked enough for you seamen?” he laughed.
“Okay, that’s enough,” Brooks said to the two of them, trying not to crack up himself.
The bag of soiled uniforms was taken away and they were led around a corner and instructed to shower. When finished, they dressed in the Navy athletic uniforms, which made them all, except Brooks, feel very awkward. The two escorts again led them down a hall and into another room.
This room had two sets of bunk beds and a table in the center. The table held trays of food and a pitcher of water. The escort informed them that they would have to stay in the room for twenty-four hours under observation. If they needed anything they should pound on the door. Then he stepped back into the passage way and closed the door, locking it behind him.
24.
Brooks walked across the room and tossed his bag onto a mattress. “I call bottom rack,” he said.
“Yeah, me too,” said Brad as he tossed his onto the other bottom mattress.
“Cool, I got top!” Nelson said with fake enthusiasm.
Brooks sat down at the table and pulled a tray close to him. He took a scoop of the food, slowly tasted it, and feigned a thoughtful expression before he shoveled down the rest. Brad and Nelson fo
llowed suit. Soon the food was gone and the pitcher empty.
Brad walked across the room to fill the pitcher from a faucet. They were lucky to have the rare berthing space equipped with a working head and running water. Almost like a prison cell. There was barely any water pressure, but it was enough. He sat back down and set the pitcher on the table. He saw that Nelson had already climbed onto a top rack and was snoring away on his pillowcase full of bedding.
“Damn kid didn’t even take the time to make his bed!” Brad laughed, pointing.
“Yeah, but he’s got the right idea,” Brooks said as he pulled the bedding from his bag and stretched it across the mattress.
“Where do you think Captain Bradley and the air crew are at?” Brad asked Brooks.
“Don’t know, man, I’m thinking maybe they made it to the island? Or possibly they landed on one of the boats. Your guess is as good as mine. I’m sure Chief will find out.”
“Yeah, hopefully we find out a lot more tomorrow. I think it’s strange, you know, finding a fleet just parked here in the middle of nowhere. Shit, you would think they would be hauling ass home.”
“Yeah maybe. But I’m glad they were here. You mind hitting the lights. I’m ready to check out for a while.”
Brad nodded and finished making his bed before walking across the room and shutting off the lights. He made his way back to his rack and lay awake, staring at the bunk above him. He could already hear Brooks snoring and Nelson was tossing about but still sleeping heavily.
They were safe, he should be able to rest now, but something still didn’t feel right. Brad tried to clear his thoughts and make his mind blank so he could sleep, but his mind continued to wander. He thought of the men he’d left behind in the compound. He wondered if Hassan was okay back in the village where they had last seen him. Too many things. He closed his eyes and tried again to clear his thoughts.
There was a clicking at the door as someone used a key on the other side to unlock it. The door lock mechanism clanked and the handle turned. The door squeaked open and someone flipped on the lights. Brad lifted his head from under a heavy green blanket. He saw one of the young escorts had replaced the trays on the table with new trays filled with eggs, while another man placed a fresh pitcher of water on the table.
Brad rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head. He heard a third man enter the room and water was poured into a drinking glass. The third man dismissed the two guards and asked them to close the door. Brad heard the door close, but he could still hear movement in the room.
Brad rolled over in his rack and saw a man sitting at the table. He was wearing a blue button-down shirt and black rimmed glasses. He was skinny with a pointy head. The man looked up at Brad.
“Good morning,” he said.
“Umm, is it morning already?” Brad said, slowly easing himself out of the rack.
“Well … actually early afternoon. Almost eleven a.m.,” the man said. “I trust you all slept well. No problems?”
“No, we’re fine … Who are you?” Brad asked, forcing himself into a sitting position. Brad stood and walked to the latrine. He relieved himself as he waited for the man to answer.
“My name is Mr. John Smith,” the man answered.
Brooks lifted himself from the mattress and sat up stretching; he let a big yawn then smiled. “Mr. Smith, aye? Not really original is it?” Brooks said with a grin.
“Well anyhow, since I’m not going to get your name; why are you here, Mr. Smith?” Brad said as he walked back to the table and sat down.
Mr. Smith said he was their debrief officer. Brad listened to him explain things as he slid a tray across the table and took in a heaping fork full of eggs. “Damn man, powdered eggs. Not cool,” Brad scowled. “Hey, do you know where Captain Bradley and the rest of our people are at?” Brad asked.
“They are fine, Sergeant; they landed on the island,” Mr. Smith answered.
“The island? Then why didn’t we go there?” Brad asked.
“Just a matter of convenience. We would have directed them here as well, but they made it to the island before we could intercept them.”
“Intercept, aye … Doesn’t sound too friendly,” Brad said, grinning.
“Sorry, the island has been designated a safe zone. Under normal conditions, no one is allowed entry until quarantined and debriefed. The admiral spent a lot of resources clearing the island. We would like to keep it that way,” Mr. Smith explained.
“That’s why you brought us here then?” Brooks asked.
“That’s correct; your Captain Bradley was flying low and fast over the water. We didn’t pick him up until he was already on approach. And by that time he refused to change heading and landed on the island. No harm though, they’re going through a similar process at the airbase.”
Nelson woke and jumped from his rack. “Hey, you guys didn’t tell me chow was here. Who is this?” he asked, pointing at the skinny man.
“He is the man whose name we dare not speak,” Brooks blurted out laughing.
Nelson laughed along, “Oh cool, well nice to meet ya then.” Nelson took a tray and began eating.
“Anyhow, each of you will be debriefed by a member of our team. Nothing to be concerned with; just basic information. Where your unit was located. What you remember about the fall. If you know the names and locations of any other survivors,” Mr. Smith said.
Nelson started to ramble, as he took a bite of rehydrated sausage. Mr. Smith quickly cut him off and said they would be debriefed individually; this now was just an introduction. Mr. Smith stood from the table and stepped toward the door. “Finish your breakfast. Your presence will be requested shortly,” Mr. Smith said as he knocked on the door and was let out by the guards.
“And the fun begins,” Brooks said as he grabbed the glass of water and drank it down. “Don’t worry about that guy, he’s either a shrink or a spook, nothing to worry about. Just be honest with him and ask a shit ton of questions.”
There was a quick knock at the door. The female sailor that had issued them the bedding a day earlier entered with three partially-filled sea bags. She sat them on the table and handed each of the men a form that she required they sign. She said very little, and once she received the signatures she left the room.
“Chatty gal, that one,” Nelson joked.
The uniforms they were given were Navy issue, but not the blue type. They were of a tan desert pattern. Brad didn’t really care what they looked like as long as the boots fit, and was happy to find that they did. He removed his Ziploc bag and placed the personal items back in his pockets, then he attached the Velcro unit patch and the flag on his sleeve.
Brad stood to look in the mirror. He laughed. “Damn, I look like shit. Must have lost about twenty pounds.”
“We all have buddy, we all have,” Brooks answered.
The door opened again and one of the escorts walked in the room.
“Sergeant Thompson, Mister Smith is ready for you,” the guard said.
“Well shucks, don’t want to leave him waiting,” Brad said as he moved towards the door.
25.
Brad was led through the passageway, down stairs, and around corners. He felt like he had been brought lower in the ship, but it was hard for him to tell. Eventually they stopped at a stateroom door. The room appeared to be a dorm room of sorts, and the guard pounded on the door before opening it. Mr. Smith was sitting at a desk; Brad was directed to a chair next to the bunk.
The man quickly asked Brad a list of generic questions: Name, social, home of record. The questions went on and on. He asked where Brad had been stationed during the fall; the names of as many people as he could remember from his unit; the disposition of this unit. The man asked Brad to tell his story in detail. During parts of the story, he would stop Brad to ask questions. He wrote everything down in a spiral note book.
When Mr. Smith finished, he sat the notebook on a desk and offered Brad a cup of coffee. While Brad sipped at the coffee, Mr. Smit
h went through the notes, flipping the pages of his notebook while making marks on the paper. After an uncomfortable silence, the questions began again. Often the information was a repeat of earlier answers, asking for more elaboration.
The time spent in the room was exhausting. Finally the man offered Brad a refill of his cup and asked if he had any questions of his own.
“Well sir, my mind feels like it is going to explode, but right off the bat, is there a plan to get the rest of my people home?”
The man looked at Brad seriously before answering. “Sergeant, honestly, we have heard sporadic reports of survivors across the globe. Some we have even verified by satellite or drone. But as of today, recovery missions are very rare. Our resources are scarce, so no. I mean I cannot say for certain that it will not happen. But I wouldn’t count on it.”
“There has got to be something we can do. All we need is an aircraft and we can get them all here.”
“I’m sorry, Sergeant; it’s possible it could be done. All of these notes will be sent to the command; ultimately it would be their decision,” Mr. Smith answered.
“I see. And when will we be rotated home?”
“Home? You mean back to the United States? Boy, you really have been out of the loop.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean there is no home; the United States as you remembered it doesn’t exist.”
“What about all of the people? We had heard less than a few weeks ago that there were groups of survivors, that a war was waging,” Brad said.
“It’s complicated. Yeah, there are people there, but nothing is the way it was. Everything has broken down. Yeah, at first people went back there, but a lot of them didn’t stay. Some of our crew actually fled the States. Shit, nothing is the way it was.”
“Well what are we doing here, why aren’t we floating off Virginia or something?”
“You know what, I’m going to try and take the time to explain things to you. It is not my job, and you are not going to like it. I can guarantee you that.”