by Marcus Sloss
“My plan was to blend in, rent a warehouse, and hide for a month while we made a new and improved plan. Harvard used our money to buy a palace. Not rent, buy—which emphasizes how rich we were with that loot. Apparently, expensive, large homes are hard to maintain and the old Saudi population had an excess of them. When I look at our mansion I see some of that old palace. Six months we stayed. We were not idle. We hit a few military depots, police stations, and killed wealthy people when we could. Not exactly the best way to stay low but our hits were never tracked back to our palace and were always done at night. We didn’t have a choice, we had to prepare for the last leg of the journey. At this point, between the six-plus months at the shipyard, a half a month to reach the capital, and then six months there, we were at over a year. We even made friends.
“Actual friends. Sure, we bought their friendship with business dealings. They actually thought we were mercenaries hired by the SSC to calm any sudden rebellion. It was a decent cover story. The thought that Americans still roamed the area was forgotten. The new Saudi governments were doing okay. Not great, but the worst was over. The country was finally healing after its long bout with a horrid post-war. I had gone dark on my Gtube and people figured I was dead, even back home.
“We left late one night for the local dealership. Dumb man lived with his family on the lot. He was not willing to hand over the keys, so we made him—well, Bonnet did. We drove out in new trucks with a limo in the middle. Those police stations we had smashed while we planned had sirens. When we hit checkpoints we never slowed down with horns blaring and lights flashing. If they refused to stand aside, we killed them. There was no talking or slowing our retreat. Finally, we made progress. All under the false cover of escorting a VIP.
“At some point, the word spread to let the VIP through or face the consequences. The mission succeeded with a smooth arrival to Jazan. Those friends we made in Wadi knew a cousin Mohammed in Jazan. I kid you not. Mohammed worked at the Jazan port. We stuck with our disguise: we were escorting a VIP. It was Bonnet, who was playing a pretend princess of one of the SSC leaders. If Mohammed saved her by helping us locate a long-ranged ship to get her to America, well, he would be handsomely rewarded. So well, he could even guard the princess while getting a bonus. She was known to converse with her guards. Dumbass bought it hook, line, and sinker. We picked a repurposed oil tanker—Holy Bastion—owned by some Save Somalia group. They were running water from one desert to another. But… it could make a much longer voyage. We would merely need to pay the port manager Abdul a bribe. He would top the tanks off and not say a word. This took two weeks to organize. As much as I wanted it to happen overnight, that was not how the Saudi Southern Coalition worked. Trust me, I bitched and moaned, but it got me nowhere.
“The crew were a bunch of Iranians. It was at this point I realized we were about to pirate the wrong vessel. The issue was, we were in motion when I learned the crew was not Somali or Saudi. We had hidden in the hold until the ship pushed off. We fought trained soldiers. My troops used grenades, advanced tactics, the element of surprise, and we still lost eight.
“I stewed on the losses. I should have realized no one moved water at a loss. Even if it used the cover of charity work funded by western countries.
“I started broadcasting on Gtube again. My best video was fishing for sharks with human parts. The comments said it was obviously doctored because the hands were way too big. The reality was they were huge, bloated from death and exposure to the sun. We needed to eat and a shark was about a million times better than a dead human. Anyway, those videos had an anonymous supporter help us.
“It took time but we figured out what was happening about halfway to Somalia when we were in the Gulf of Aden. The crafty water haulers had covered their tracks well. Saudis were sending water to Somalia, medical supplies were coming back. The sanction on Iran meant they needed vital resources for their sick. They were trading clean water to Somalia through bribing the SSC. In turn, the SSC would haul the medical supplies to Jazan, across the new SSC country by trucks, and then across the Persian Gulf. Somalia got water, Iran got medical supplies, and the Southern Saudi Coalition got gold. A win for all parties until some asshole Americans pirate your boat and piss off three ruthless organizations.
“I now understood why I had to turn the radios off as we cruised the Holy Bastion out of the Middle East. The ship was a turd in the water. A freaking massive fat pig. I thought I was bored in a palace in Wadi. Nope. The massive tanker was the worst. Thankfully, the crew we killed left behind some great fishing gear. We would lower the preserve boats to fish a few feet off the water. Trawling at a few knots was perfect until you got sick of eating fish. There is a little demon inside of me that falls asleep during peaceful times. Only gets antsy when events are going too well.
“The Iranians were not letting their prized medical vessel be discovered by the West. The ship would sit idle if the crew died for some unknown reason. Before some other nation could claim the prize, they raced out another crew. The alert caught me bored in the captain’s chair—collision alert. I remember realizing we had less than an hour to prepare. The crew sealed every bulkhead. We readied in ambush points and I waited.
“So, the commander on the Iranian ship never slowed. My guess was they were coming to grapple onto the ship and regain the controls. After all, what were the odds a rogue US military unit was on the ship? They never got the chance. I reversed the Holy Bastion while cranking the wheel. The destroyer slammed into the port side and buried into our belly. There were internal fires on both ships. The destroyer stopped kicking wake behind it so I ordered a cleanse. I went down myself to do the deed. I was beyond sick of losing soldiers.
“The enemy commander recovered from their daze after putting out the fires. They holed up in the galley. I arrived as they were slamming the door. I tried to stick my cybernetic hand in, but I tripped on a discharged fire extinguisher and most of my arm went into the gap. The door compressed on my elbow. It became a competition between my arm being severed at the elbow and the force of those trying to turn it into mush. Thankfully the pain from the crushed elbow left the limb numb. They sprayed rounds into my exposed forearm inside that galley. Idiots. I shoulder the door, dropped a grenade in with my good arm, and retracted my ruined arm. The enemy fled to the door behind the galley. When they sealed themselves in, I let them. We barred their only exit. A slow death for them meant me and mine took no risks. A tourniquet was applied to my arm above the elbow and we field amputated.
“The news was bad, but not the worst. The Holy Bastion survived the collision. We assessed that if the destroyer was removed, we would sink. Our five- to seven-week trip to home would now take five to seven months.
“Forty days later, I wished I had waited longer to open up the destroyer. We removed the lock on the door to the trapped Iranian sailors. Well, we knew they had water. The desalinator was active from solar power, yet they had no food. Except they did. I have no idea how many we locked behind that door until forensics people could match bones to bodies. They had eaten each other. The last three were all senior officers. That gun battle was how Jevon lost his pinky finger. You will never notice—he keeps a permanent sleeve on it. I lost more of my sanity. I had forced men to turn to cannibalism to survive while I sunbathed and ran on the top deck.
“Almost two years to the day from when I stepped foot onto Saudi soil I arrived in New York Harbor. Harvard had even requested emergency repairs through official channels, making our arrival legit and anticipated. They expected to see a converted water tanker limping in with an Iranian crew and an engine problem. Instead, we arrived at the Statue of Liberty. I parked the Holy Bastion right off the rocky shores. We used the emergency boats and were greeted by security that we swiftly overwhelmed. Who brings tasers to a gunfight? The tourists saw us. Our actions were incredible to them: soldiers storming the Statue of Liberty! I needed a grand entrance home. One that President Hansen couldn’t hide. I certainly hit the mark
when I recorded the whole thing on Gtube.
“That is the story of how I was left behind in a foreign country and stopped at nothing to get myself home. Mass murder, villainy, torture—no rape, though—and killing as we went. Even piracy twice. The Pentagon protected us. We were given a full-honors welcome home. The atrocities we committed were fake and we were forced to swear to that fact. The news spun us as heroes. When President Hansen saw his poll numbers go up from helping us reintegrate, he went on a national campaign blitz. He was proud to show how much he cared about veterans. The Pentagon hid us away and we were forgotten. A few months later I arrived at DU. I avoided Perci while trying to hide from my past. I courted Willow, trying to build my future. I fought depression and suicide. I had no one left to protect. No one left to sacrifice for. Until the aliens came, I was a ship lost at sea trying to find my way.”
The truck rolled to a stop not far from RV3. “Thank you for your help, Daphne.”
“I don’t get it. Since the time of the aliens’ arrival, we have been fighting for survival. There are no rules for how we interact. Morality is not a concern for the crixxi. You survive or you die,” Daphne said. She twisted the handle to pop the door open. Before she shut it she said, “I do appreciate you taking me along for the trip, Tribe Captain.”
“Just Cap,” I shouted back to her too late. “Well, Jill, Willow.”
There was a silence. Willow turned to glance at Perci over her shoulder.
“He didn’t ask you because you already knew.”
“Well done, Willow. The man I fell in love with comes home and shuts me out. You think I didn’t use money, leverage, and… There were a few who just needed someone to talk to who could relate but were not there,” Perci said with a loud exhale. “Yes, I knew his story. Yes, it is bad. I never once wavered from loving my man because I would have been at his side if I could. It was good to finally hear it from him. You girls have the floor.”
Willow and Jill eyed each other while Perci left the truck. Willow cleared her throat to go first.
“I’m not sure how I would have reacted to this in a dorm room at DU when humanity was still becoming more and more liberal. We did not learn any of the truths of how bad things became in Saudi Arabia. When I say that, I mean for the Saudis themselves. I feel you would have told me, and at the time I would have supported you. Then I probably would have left you because I could not comprehend. I know, it’s a harsh thing to say, but I know me. The thing is, you took drastic actions to protect those in your care,” Willow said. She leaned over and gave me a soft kiss. “I have seen the better version of you. The humanity you still hold. I also find solace in the fact that if things get worse, you will do what it takes to protect us. I have seen the reports, the dead, and the terror that is out there. I am with you to the end, Eric Yang.”
Jill returned to the middle seat in the back.
“I guess if Willow stays, it is okay. Humans are not perfect. I am not condoning your war crimes. I am actually very shocked they covered them up. I do understand why the president or former president comes to visit you now. I… There was…” Jill fidgeted in the back seat. She was a mix of nervousness and discomfort. “I was not always faithful to Jarod. He wore a latex suit for sex. It was the absolute worst. I strayed—just sex. He also departed for business trips frequently and a girl wants something besides plastic that goes vroom. Plus, I would get a thrill from the adventure of it. However, while random sex with fit college men pleased me, it never made me happy. Jarod was amazing for a life partner. With virum, he is being forgotten. I added the stones to try to hold onto the memory I have of this sweet, nerdy introvert. I tell myself to give him thirty days to come home. Mary is happy, I am happy, and I want more. That more is—”
“Jill, I am speaking for the girls. We would like for you to take your thirty days. Move out if you need to. Eric has a full bed, but you are right. He makes a great dad. Eric slid into your life aggressively. He tends to do that. He also draws you in. Let that draw fade by giving him space. Get time around others. There are still single men. Eric is different. Daphne already asked to join his bed. For the good of the community, is actually what she said, and we did not object. Crazy as it sounds, Perci, Nancy, and I simply do not see who shares Eric as an issue. Especially since the virum. I remember having these huge reservations about Nancy. Hell, with Perci, I figured I would hate it and fade to hanging out with Tina. Except the opposite happened. I fell in love with both of them. I fell in love with this place. For the end of the world, Stronghold Mansion is magical. I have never been more powerful. I am not a shut-in girl exploring university life. I am a warrior woman and my man I fuck is a Viking king. Whoa! That felt good to say. Jill, Eric is not Jarod. He never will be a meek gamer. He is sweet, compassionate, and caring, sure. But he will be getting a bigger bed in this society. Give us time if you want to join it. We will welcome you if you do.”
I raised an eyebrow at Willow.
“I get some of it. We’re in a different society, even without the virum. Hell, even before the aliens, throuples were becoming very common as extreme introverts were being eliminated from the gene pool. When I think about it, I shrug. Is everyone happy, are my love languages being fulfilled?” Jill said, and I snickered. “What, you brute!? Like I said, Jarod got me. He was a fucking awful father and ugh… the sex. He never picked Mary up. He was always too consumed with work to interact with her. I would push her his way and he would shriek, ‘Did she shower?’ He’d ask it in this condescending tone. Like I said, a great friend and life partner. Shitty lay, and a terrible father.”
“I agree with the queens. Take some time, play the field. If our family is what you want in thirty days, then I will—”
“Honesty, Eric. This ride has been about honesty. Is Jarod alive?”
“Rationally? Not a chance. We saw the reports. Australia has all but fallen. What city was he in?”
“Perth.”
“All red. The planes shut down. Unless he is on a boat braving the oceans—”
“He owned a sailboat. We fought about it endlessly. The mooring fees were horrendous. He bought a truck not too different from this. That one,” Jill said, picking out another steel-alloy truck with her finger. “He used that truck to tow the boat up to the storage lot. When you gave that distress call for people needing refuge, we arrived in that truck.”
“Well, then there is always hope. We are not too far from the West Coast. I want to be positive for you and Mary. It is the right thing to do. I will not change how I interact with her. Maybe I’ll hold off on lovingly admiring our interactions,” I said with a wince. “I know, I can’t help it. She makes me smile and my heart feels alive seeing her so happy. My father was the most boring dad. I always wanted more for my kids. She is lost without a dad and I feel I can help. I would like to see her, even if you pick a crixxi male.
“I will be back, Eric. You are right, we should take it slow if this is what we both want. I do not resent you for your past. I merely hope you will guide us with a loving hand into the future,” Jill said with a brief cackle. “And stomp your boot onto anyone who tries to harm my Mary. There were sick people in this world before the aliens. No knowing how many twisted individuals are causing chaos across our planet. We need a strong leader willing to do what is necessary to keep us alive. For the community. Come, Willow, help me work with Perci to find a new place to sleep where I do not hear how amazing master’s cock is.”
“For the community,” I said, watching the ladies leave.
I was not tired but somehow I felt exhausted. Killing some aliens would alleviate any sappiness of the evening's long conversation. I watched Jill and Willow chatting on their walk to RV3. I certainly was a very lucky man.
INTERMISSION
Tasman Sea—Eight days after arrival
Jarod stood on the bow of the Pearly Dream while it swayed on the gentle seas. The sails were snapped tight, pushing the hull against a slight chop. The sound of the wind whipping the sail
s was peaceful to Jarod. The midday spring sun felt glorious as it blasted heat down onto him. He glanced at the solar panels knowing they were greedily taking in that energy. The Pearly Dream needed the extra power. A week of dense overcast finally broke this morning.
Jarod had had the best week of his life. The man smirked when he gazed down on his shirtless body. He was ripped with muscles so big it was amazing. He saw reality TV shows referring to what he had as beast mode. He found it fitting, so much so that he let his animalistic nature take hold. The weak-minded fright of germs was a thing of the past. Words couldn’t describe how enthused he was to never worry about getting sick again.
He walked to the stern of the boat where the deep freezer rested by the grill. He creaked the lid open with a billowing of cold air quickly escaping. Inside were the guts of fish and some filets to eat later. The boat had a few fishing rods in the crew cabin that he had repurposed into trawling rigs. Not the best, but doable. Today was different, though. They were going to chum the water. With a slow drift, clear sunshine, and semi-clear water, this was their best chance to spearfish. Tucked off to the left side of the freezer were the remains of the two merfolk he killed. Perfect for luring in hungry creatures of the sea.
Bubbles hip-checked him over. She carried a pillow sack with some holes in it. Bubbles was savage as she dug into the freezer with a grin. Frozen entrails were shoved into the sack. Bubbles giggled when the head of her former master was tossed into the water. Same with the female she named Jelly. Jarod tied strips of fishing line to limbs. He planned to drag extra chum behind the Pearly Dream. They worked in silence, occasionally stealing longing glances at each other.