by Rob Mclean
As he understood, his crew were still scouring the rubble that was all that remained of the devastated megacity of Cairo. The medical and humanitarian effort would be all consuming. He vaguely remembered there had seen some reports on CNN, back in Bahrain, about an outbreak of plague. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, conditions must be appalling.
As the heli-pad of the AEGIS cruiser loomed up from below, outlined by winking landing lights, he took stock of all that had happened to him since leaving. He thanked God at length for delivering him safely back to his people.
His thoughts went back to the captives still being held back at the Bahrain base. His previous notions as to who were with him and who were not, now had to be reassessed. As far as the new criteria, as set down by the alien AntiChrist himself, many of his fellow Americans back at the Bahrain base, who had rejected religion, had effectively become the enemy of all he held precious and holy and had set their swords against him. As the helicopter touched down, he decided he could no longer concern himself with their fate in the hands of the Saudi zealots.
Nevertheless, either out of haunting remorse from betraying his fellow Americans, or from a sense of righteous duty, he vowed to redouble his efforts against the AntiChrist. But first he had to see Lieutenant Gray.
While the rotors were powering down, he wondered if she would be outside, as part of the welcoming committee, to meet him. If she was, he would have to maintain official protocols, at least in public, and fight down the urge to hold her close. His thoughts of what he’d do next were interrupted when the flight crew slid the bay doors open.
Outside, every available vantage point was lined with, what seemed to the Admiral, just about every person on board. A rousing cheer rose as he stepped out of the helicopter and he acknowledged them with an all-encompassing salute.
He straightened up and squared his shoulders as he basked in the reception. He took in the proud, but weary faces, and thanked God for these wonderful people He had provided. People who would help fulfil his vow to fight the Alien AntiChrist and all those who stood with him.
He scanned the many faces, but could not see Lieutenant Gray. His posture sagged slightly, but he was determined not to let his disappointment mar the otherwise heart-felt, warm reception.
“Welcome back Sir,” said Captain Jerry Alpaine, commander of the AEGIS cruiser U.S.S. Maryland, a hard faced, wiry Texan from El Paso. The Admiral knew he had twin crucifixes, one tattooed on each of his forearms, now hidden under his uniform, making his faith credentials as distinctive as his drawl.
“Got ourselves a whole truck-load of problems I’m mighty glad to be passing onto someone higher up,” he gave the Admiral a dry grin, “Someone just like yerself.”
“Snafu, Captain? Always good to know nothing much changes.” He returned the Captain’s grin.
“We’re waiting to get word from the top as to what they want to do about the Saudi insurrection. The Royal family’s been overthrown and as far as we can tell, fundamentalist elements of their armed forces have taken over.”
“A coup? Been there,” the Admiral said. “They didn’t give me a t-shirt.”
The Captain smiled politely, but his expression turned more serious as they made their way inside the hangar. Once inside, he was greeted by Captain Weslowski.
“We are overjoyed to have you back Sir,” Weslowski saluted. “We thought you had been caught up-”
“You thought I was dead.”
“That there possibility had occurred to us,” the Texan admitted.
“Has command State-side been informed of my return?”
“No Sir,” Weslowski said. “We thought we’d wait until you were safely on board.”
The Admiral nodded his approval. “I don’t see any reason for that not to continue, at least as far as command is concerned.”
“Sir?” The officers chorused.
“They don’t have to know I’m back yet. They’ll only want me back in custody if they did.” The Admiral gave the pair a long look. “Does anyone have a problem with that?”
“No Sir,” they said in perfect military unison as they saluted.
“Very good,” he returned their salute, satisfied with their compliance. “Now what’s been happening since I left?”
“Officially, we’ve been instructed to continue our assistance in what’s left of Cairo.”
“And?”
Weslowski and Alpaine exchanged looks before the Texan answered. “We and the sixth fleet in the Med are awaiting orders. My guess is we’ll be redeployed to keep the Straits of Hormuz open and to initiate some kinda payback. Hell, we might even help retake the Bahrain base.” The Texan grinned. “But you’d have to ask Capt Weslowski if he’s heard any different. He’s been acting while you’ve been gone.”
Weslowski frowned. “No Sir, truth is we haven’t heard much from command at all. We figure things are pretty messed up at home at the moment.”
“Not too sure who’s in charge,” the Texan added. “With the referendum and all, we got ourselves a new government – at least on paper.”
“But after the assassination of President Palin and the V.P. stepping down after the referendum results,” Weslowski added, “no-one knows who’s going to be President or how much of the country is left to govern.”
“Most of it went with the Alien’s generous offer,” Captain Alpaine drawled.
“And therein lies the problem,” the Admiral espoused as they walked. “Are we serving the good, ol’ God-fearing U.S of A or are we now part of this New World Order?”
“Washington, the Pentagon and the Department of Defence are all saying we’re now part of the new U.N., and are busy converting the U.S. dollar to the new coin, so officially we’re against those who oppose the Alien,” Weslowski offered.
“That’d be the Alien AntiChrist, you’d be referring to,” Captain Alpaine corrected, to the Admiral’s approval.
“Of course,” Weslowski snapped.
“Fact is, things are pretty confused at the moment,” the Texan continued. “Back home, they’re declaring independence, all the while preparing for war. They even made an alliance with the Mexicans and the South Americans.” They all fell silent for a moment as they considered that scenario, before the Texan added, “all the while people are fleeing the state in droves and the religious refugees are coming in to take their place.”
“In Vermont, my folks tell me they’ve been rounding up the religious folks, putting them on buses and trains and sending them out of state,” Weslowski added. “House prices have gone through the roof, on account of all the people leaving the religious areas.”
“Reckon a lot of folks would be getting’ the hell away from where they think the fighting will be starting.”
“And where might they be going Captains? Antarctica?”
“Canada, mostly sir,” Weslowski said.
“In the Last Days, not even the islands would be spared,” Captain Alpaine quoted.
“Gentlemen, one thing has become clear to me during my ‘vacation’ in Bahrain,” the Admiral made sure he held their attention as he spoke, “that is, the nation states are no more. The Alien AntiChrist has deftly split our great nation asunder with his devious offer. There is no more Texas or Vermont. Those states are names of geographical areas that are either with or against God. As is Saudi Arabia or Israel or Egypt. In one stroke, he has created the largest worldly empire mankind has ever known, all set against the righteous.”
“Just as it’s set out in the Book of Revelations,” Alpaine said.
“Sir?” Weslowski wore a worried expression. “Where do we stand?”
“We used to be part of the U.S. navy, but now what’s left of the United States is aligned with the New World Government. I, for one will not be part of that.”
“Me neither,” said the Texan.
“Nor me,” Weslowski quickly added.
“Glad to hear it gentlemen, but not everyone in the fleet would feel the same way.”
/> “So, you’re saying our fleet is divided?”
“Not just our fleet Captain, but all the armed forces.” He studied their faces as they took the information in. They had to understand that they were standing against the most sophisticated war machine in human history, backed by the dark forces of the AntiChrist himself. With such odds, it was unlikely any of them would evade their chance at glory.
“Who do we know on the other ships?” Alpaine asked. He had surmised, as the Admiral had long ago that it would get down to the individual commander’s allegiances.
“I have already separated this fleet in to those with us and the others.”
“That’s what the reassignments were about,” Weslowski said. It pleased the Admiral to see a look of reverence on the Captain’s face. “Just before the whole Cairo… incident.”
“That’s right Captain. We run the capital vessels in this fleet, but it’s the commanders of the sixth fleet in the Med that I’m most worried about.”
“There’s a few I’d count as God-fearing men,” the Texan declared.
“Give me their names and I’ll find where they stand,” the Admiral said. “Now has anyone seen my P.A.?”
“In the infirmary, Sir,” Weslowski said, then seeing the worried look on the Admiral’s face, added, “She’s helping the medical staff. They’ve been snowed under. Our resources are at full capacity across the fleet.”
The Admiral had no doubts about that. The casualties from a nuclear strike on a city as big as Cairo would flood the relief efforts of the entire navy.
“Alright, gentlemen, we’ll meet again at 15:00 hours, along with the rest of ‘our’ fleet commanders.”
The Captains recognised the order and saluted.
“Carry on.” The Admiral returned their salute before dismissing them. He acknowledged that he was blessed to have such dedicated people with him. He only hoped he could find others like them in the other fleets.
He made his way down to the infirmary, exchanging salutes and greetings along the way. While it delayed his reunion with Lieutenant Gray, he didn’t want to disappoint the people whose lives he was responsible for.
As soon as he stepped out of the stairwell, opening onto the deck with the infirmary, the smell of lingering illness and astringent antiseptic assaulted his nostrils. In his mind, the battle for ascendancy between decay and preservation waged in the bodies of the casualties, as well as in his nose. The source of the smells, he saw were filling the passageway to the infirmary, with stretcher beds and gurneys, filled with bandaged and disfigured bodies, lining the walls.
He knew these were only the most urgent of cases. Most would not make it to such intensive treatment, instead being treated in hastily constructed, dusty, field hospitals, or when there was no hope of recovery, simply given palliative care.
He also knew that this sort of triage would be duplicated aboard every vessel with the capabilities in all the attendant fleets. Even so, many more were being flown out to hospitals across Europe and the Middle-East.
He found Lieutenant Gray, head down, behind a desk, filling out a pile of paperwork. Lost in her work, she didn’t hear the commotion of salutes and greetings that surrounded his arrival. He had always admired her hard-work ethic and dedication to the job, but he couldn’t help feel a surge of disappointment and irritation now.
“Morning, Lieutenant,” he said.
She looked up with tired, unfocussed eyes. At first she squinted and frowned, fatigue blunting her response.
“Oh, you’re here, already?” she said mostly to herself as she checked the time and struggled to her feet to greet him formally with a salute.
“At ease,” he said, stepping closer to help her.
She threw her arms around his neck and held him tightly, whether for support or in a carefree show of affection, he didn’t know or care. It felt so good to have her in his arms again.
“I’m so sorry,” she half said, half whispered, “I meant to get topside to be there when you got in, but I lost track of time…” She stood and steadied herself with one hand on the desk for support. “It’s been so crazy…”
“No, it’s fine.” He could see now from her creased, worn and stained uniform, her dishevelled hair, and from the sharp tang of her scent that had filled his mind as they hugged, that she had been at this job for many long hours. It might even be that she hadn’t slept.
“There’s so many…”
“You need to rest,” he said firmly, conscious of the many eyes and ears in the room.
She looked as if she might argue, but fatigue had drained the fight from her. She nodded as he took her hand before she could sit down again.
He put his other arm around her shoulders and guided her from her work station.
“You really need to rest,” he said. “When was the last time you slept?”
“Oh, I can’t remember. It’s been a while,” she gave him a weak smile, but it looked like she was about to collapse. “It’s been so busy…”
“I know…” he said.
“No, Karl, you don’t. Everyone’s dying.”
“Yes, but I’m sure we’re doing all we can to help them.” He wanted to tell her dying was an inevitable part of war. While he resented her naïve sentimentality, he also wished she wasn’t in the middle of it all.
“But we haven’t been able to save one Karl.” She shook her head, “not one.”
“What are you on about?”
“They’re coming in with some sort of resistant organism. Nothing we have stops it. It’s spreading and everyone infected with it dies.”
“Aren’t they being quarantined?”
“They are, but there’s so many of them we’ve put them on the Matthew Perry.”
The Admiral recognised it as one of the many supply ships. He had assigned a worldly officer to run it.
“It doesn’t have the medical facilities,” he protested.
“But it has the room,” she said solemnly, then added, “they aren’t there to get better.”
The Admiral nodded gravely.
“We’ve sent samples to W.H.O. in Geneva and Infectious Diseases in Atlanta, but we’re still waiting for results. In the meanwhile, if we can’t contain it…”
“We can more afford to sacrifice the Perry than a combat vessel,” he completed her words.
Was the situation really that bad? He found it hard to believe that they couldn’t contain an infectious outbreak. Admittedly, antibiotic resistance had been on the increase for years and strains of bacteria had emerged that had developed resistance to all the antibiotics known to mankind. That meant a higher mortality rate amongst the infected, but keeping those infected away from everyone else was an entirely different matter.
He would have to check with the co-ordinators of the other rescue efforts amongst the other fleets and on the ground, to see if they were facing the same problem.
In the back of his mind, however, a persistent fear gnawed at him. He couldn’t help but wonder if it weren’t somehow related to his attack on the alien spaceship. He couldn’t see how, but the worry wouldn’t be dismissed.
“Oh, your wife, Elma called two days ago,” Lieutenant Gray stated without a trace of the discomfort he felt at the mention of her name. “She says to tell you that she might have to move away from L.A. soon and that her contact details might have to change.”
“Move?” The Admiral asked. Somehow he hadn’t thought all the upheavals around the Alien AntiChrist would affect his family. No matter where he had been deployed, or what assignments he had been assigned, he had always assumed his foundation, his family would always be there.
“You should call her, Karl. Before she goes.”
“She? Don’t you mean ‘they’? What about my daughter?”
“She’s staying in L.A.”
“Staying?” He had always thought his daughter’s rebellion was a stage she would grow out of as she matured, but if she was staying in that God-forsaken city…
“You
should call her. She needs you.”
He felt a stab of guilt at her concern for his family. He had intended to call them at some stage, but in truth it was more of a chore. In blunt contrast, the anticipation of seeing his mistress again had eclipsed any thoughts or concerns for his own family.
He hung his head and was about to look away to hide his shame. It was then he saw a red, raised rash on the back of Lieutenant Gray’s hand.
Chapter 42
John had taken two weeks off after Jarred had found him at the kitchen table in his pyjamas, staring at a blank report form on his laptop.
Recurring images of burning monks, where he had yet again stood by impotently, knowing what was going to happen and unable to do anything about it, had left his mind reeling and his heart racing.
No matter how he tried, John couldn’t get the horrors of the Buddhist temple incident out of his head. He couldn’t get in the detached, professional mindset to find the right words to write his report objectively. He had just sat numb, his motionless body at odds with his racing mind, until Jarred had asked him if he was okay.
“They burned,” was all he could say.
“I know, bro’, I saw it on TV.”
“Not a sound,” John shook his head. “Not a freakin’ sound, not one.”
“Yeah, don’t know how they could do that,” Jarred sad as he moved around to see what was on John’s laptop screen. “And now you have to write it all up?”
“Uh huh.”
Jarred slid the laptop around and with a stuttering of staccato tapping and slick clicks proceeded to write it up for him. John didn’t check it before Jarred sent it off, but when Eloise rang, he wished he had.
At first John didn’t recognise her voice. Her tone was concerned and surprisingly caring. Eloise had been most understanding and accommodating and fully agreed that some time off would be a sensible course of action, or, as she tried to joke, inaction in this case. She wished him well and even asked if there was anything she could do for him, without any hint of salacious overtones.