A New World: Reckoning (19 page)

“Sir, periscope in the water, 3,000 yards bearing 280 degrees,” one of the lookouts calls.

Before Leonard can issue the order to lock onto this new target and start another emergency dive, the hydrophone operator calls, “Transient noises, bearing 280 degrees, another sub blowing its tanks, sir.”

Whipping around to the new bearing, Leonard observes the surface of the ocean bulge slightly and another conning tower emerges from the depths. Water sprays outward as the sleek outline of another LA-class fast attack submarine broaches the surface. Turning back to the missile boat, Leonard observes flashes of light emanating from the top of the conning tower.

“Signalman to the bridge,” Leonard orders.

Leonard makes way for the signalman as he climbs up. Messages are passed back and forth between the missile boat, the attack boat, and Leonard. The LA-class sub is the
Jefferson City
based out of Point Loma, San Diego, and the missile boat is the
Maine
based out of Bangor. Leonard’s boat was only recently reassigned to Point Loma from Hawaii and he has never met either captain. Rather than keep the lights flashing, and perhaps overwhelming the poor sailors trying to read and relay messages, the captain of the
Maine
suggests that they meet on his boat. Both boats have a means of conveyance so Leonard and the other captain agree to motor over.

Water sprays outward as the rubber craft pounds across the water. Lifting over the swells and descending into troughs, the raft jars over the wavelets like motoring over a washboard-rutted road. Occasionally, catching a wavelet just right, sea water splashes over the bow, showering the faces of those aboard. Leonard, along with Krandle and another member of the SEAL Team, wipe the salt water from their goggles.

They make their way to the
Maine
, its dark shape lying low on the surface. The raft bumps against the almost black anechoic-coated hull with the smaller waves slapping against the sides. Shouts echo from above as sailors toss a rope ladder and other lines down. Leonard and the others climb to the sub as the sailors hoist the rubber craft to the deck. Another such raft, carrying the captain of the
Jefferson City
and some of the crew, is loitering nearby to await their turn to board.

Dried off and seated in the large mess room, Leonard gratefully takes a cup of coffee. With Krandle seated at the table as well, Leonard is introduced to Captain Castagne of the
Jefferson City
and Captain Jorgenson of the
Maine
. Although outranking the other two via their dates of rank, Leonard still feels like the newcomer. The other two have had some association with the military since the downfall of civilization whereas Leonard has basically been on his own.

Feeling the outsider, Leonard relates his story in detail between sips and refills of coffee with Krandle sharing his experiences.

“Why didn’t you reply to the radio calls?” Leonard asks, finishing his story.

“We received several previous messages using an older code which we didn’t trust so opted to see how events would transpire. Trust has been hard to come by,” Jorgenson relates, casting an eye toward Castagne.

“I guess that’s understandable,” Leonard answers, knowing his own distrust and caution during his sojourn down the seaboard.

“We received the flash and open-air messages and waited. We saw your scope and silently maneuvered until we could pick up your screws on the passive array. That took some time and wasn’t easy, but once we identified your acoustics and heard you surface, we did the same hoping you’d take it as a non-aggressive sign and not fire on us.
Jefferson City
was standing by and ready just in case,” Jorgenson states.

Even though all know that Leonard is the ranking officer present, the conversation is spoken as equals. Each has domain over their boats and Leonard is fine with keeping it that way.

“So, what’s the story here?” Leonard asks with a nod of his head toward the carrier outside.

With a heavy sigh, Jorgenson responds, “That is a long, interesting, and ultimately sad story.”

“Although based at Bangor, we were to report to Point Loma following our patrol. We arrived offshore and were ordered to hold our position. Things seemed to be frantic onshore and we were seemingly forgotten. On the night after our arrival, we received a message to call command. I was transferred directly to Admiral Casey who filled me in on what was transpiring. It was a mess and hard to take it all in. You know by now what’s happened so I won’t go into that detail, but the admiral told us that they were in the process of gathering family and staff aboard the fleet boats currently in port.

“He had lost contact with PACOM and PACFLT, in addition to any other commands and bases, and had taken temporary command until communications could be restored. The admiral let us know that most of San Diego had been lost to the infected, although I like your night runner term better. Although we aren’t geared for escort duties, we were ordered to accompany the fleet when it sortied. The next morning,
Jefferson City
arrived and was issued the same orders.

“I have to say that it was rather strange seeing the city by day. It just didn’t match what we were being told. There wasn’t any smoke rising or anything else that you’d associate with a disaster of that magnitude. It seemed, well, normal. At any rate, the fleet sailed out, ship after ship emerging from around the headlands.
Jefferson City
was put in the vanguard to provide a semblance of outer security. We accompanied them. Behind us, a seemingly endless stream of ships poured out of the port.

“I don’t think there was any game plan other than to get survivors out of the city. It may have been that they were going to loiter in the Pacific and wait for things to calm down ashore. Or, they may have stopped to get take a breath and head to Hawaii or Guam. However, they didn’t have a chance to do anything as outbreaks started occurring on all of the surface boats. That’s when we received our orders from Admiral Casey.”

Jorgenson pauses in his story as if unable to continue. Or maybe it’s that he doesn’t want to.

“The admiral, fighting the outbreak on his ships, decided San Diego was lost and ordered us to target it. He didn’t stipulate his reasons for launching, but I believe he was trying to stop the infected from branching out. Seeing he was fighting a losing battle aboard, it could have been a retaliatory strike, but I prefer my opinion. We weren’t far offshore…but out of sight of land. We separated from the group…” Jorgenson pauses again, “…and launched.”

Leonard, who didn’t notice that he was holding his breath, lets it out with a sigh. He knows the thoughts, fears, and doubts that must have circulated through the captain’s mind. That’s one question asked of most everyone put in control of nuclear weapons, ‘Would you fire on the United States if so ordered?’ That’s a tricky question and, knowing the odds of being sent such an order were low, most would answer ‘yes’ in order to get or keep their position. No, Leonard knows that order wasn’t an easy one to keep.

Jorgenson’s eyes take on a faraway look. “We surfaced immediately after the launch and were surprised to see the
Jefferson City
surface a short distance from us. The smoke trail was still visible, arcing into the sky until lost from view and slowly being blown apart by the winds aloft. We had the timer going and everyone on top was silent. There was only the sound of waves against the hull. The open tube and smoke trail were the only signs of what just transpired. Minutes upon minutes passed with only the breeze against our faces as we kept our eyes to the east. Our timers wound down to zero. Then, over the horizon, a bright flash. I felt sick watching the rapidly rising mushroom cloud leap into the sky, clawing its way upward.

“No one said anything. There was nothing to say. Most of those on top felt the same way, but we were unable to turn our eyes away for a long time. I remember the message from the admiral congratulating the entire crew of the
Maine
. Attached were further orders targeting the entire western seaboard. I crumpled the message and threw it overboard. That’s when I signaled
Jefferson City
via signal lamp.

“We both thought the situation hopeless. It must be the same as San Diego in other cities, but the orders to nuke them seemed ludicrous. Of course, we hadn’t been ashore, but it still seemed an act of desperation and, well, it just didn’t seem to be the right solution. Seeing the mushroom cloud on the horizon seemed to be a testament to the folly of those further orders. Castagne felt the same way. We came to the conclusion that it was only a matter of time for those on the ships anyway.

“Even though families were aboard, there wasn’t anything we could do. We didn’t dare take any aboard or we’d be in the same straits. That was a harder decision than launching, the one to do nothing. The crew of
Jefferson City
took it hard, but Castagne was able to present a clear picture of what was happening. We decided to separate from the fleet and wait. If they survived, we could apologize and more than likely be court-martialed.

“We ignored further communications from fleet and dove deep thinking the admiral would send the ASW escorts against us. I guess they had their own hands full as we never heard them working against us. The ships had gathered close together for whatever reason and we loitered on the fringes. We surfaced the first night after breaking from the fleet but didn’t stay for long. Screams from the ships drifted across the water and it was just too much to take. The next morning, none of the ships were underway and we saw a few people on the decks. We discussed closing and taking on the survivors, but we didn’t dare lest we become like the drifting boats.

“The next day, we didn’t see anyone. The only things on the surface were the ships slowly drifting apart on the swells. We stayed in the area for a while before we headed to Hawaii. We only arrived back here the day prior.”

“What did you see in Hawaii?” Leonard asks.

Jorgenson and Castagne give each other a meaningful look. “It’s gone,” Jorgenson states emphatically.

“So, you obviously never fired on the other cities, but I noticed you riding a little high. Do you still have the missiles aboard?” Leonard asks.

With a sigh, Jorgenson answers, “No. We safetied the missiles and fired them into the ocean. Seeing that mushroom cloud rising over one of our own towns, destroyed without good reason…well…I just didn’t want that kind of temptation to surface. I get the admiral’s reasoning to keep the infected from spreading, but if we had fired on the western cities, the entire country would have been laid to ruin from the radiation.”

Leonard nods his understanding. “What’s your plan from here?”

“We were in the midst of discussing that when you showed up. We thought about Guam or possibly Australia, but after seeing Hawaii, we thought we’d just run into the same thing. If there was someone around, we would have received some form of communication, well, valid ones that is,” Castagne says.

Having related the information that Walker provided, they know the previous ones were fake.

“We need outfitting, though. Seeing how we weren’t admitted into the port, we are both in need of supplies,” Jorgenson states.

“We need outfitting as well,” Leonard says. “The only place I know for sure where we can do that is at Bangor.”

“Did you happen to find any families around the base?” Jorgenson asks. “The crew will be anxious for any word.”

“We didn’t see anyone there, but that doesn’t mean anything as we didn’t leave the dock. It’s possible Walker will know something, but we’ll have to wait until we get closer to get into contact as we’ve lost satellite communications,” Leonard replies. “Plus, it will give us something to focus on. The crew isn’t going to take the news of their families well.”

“We each had our problems at first. There are still some who are upset, but we’ve gone through the hardest phase. Just give it time and let them grieve,” Castagne states.

With the captains back in their respective subs, they all sink below the Pacific swells and turn north.

On my knees next to Robert, with my arm draped across his back, I send Gonzalez after the doc. Robert, after throwing up, remains on his hands and knees. All of sudden, I feel a pressure in my head. It’s not overpowering or anything like a headache. It’s just, well, something else. Almost like a breath blowing through if that makes any sense. Robert turns his head abruptly and shoots a look at me. As soon as his eyes lock on mine, the pressure changes, shifts, and I can sense Robert.

“Dad?”
That was in my head.

“Yeah,”
I reply back mentally.

“What the fuck is going on?”
he asks.

“I don’t know. Are you okay?”
I ask, still stunned beyond compare.

“I…I think so. My head felt like it was coming apart a minute ago, but I feel fine now.
”

What I feel is similar to the way I can sense the night runners and understand them. There are some deep, fundamental differences though. The first and possibly the most significant one is that I can not only sense his physical presence, meaning exactly where he is located, but I can feel how he is physically. It’s so precise that I know he is telling me the truth and I can even read his emotions to a certain extent. Another aspect is that we are communicating in a speech pattern rather than in images like the night runners do.

Still in shock, I try blocking him out in the same fashion as I do the night runners. He vanishes from my mind. It’s like the opening and closing with the night runners, but this feels like it’s in a different part of my mind; like it’s in a different compartment. I open up to the night runners and don’t sense Robert.

“What just happened?” Robert says out loud, still looking intently at me.

I open up to him and sense both him and the night runners, each in their different compartments, yet presenting a whole within my reality.

“I closed up and shut you off,”
I say with my mind.
“Can you sense the night runners?”

“Is that what those pictures are?”
he asks.

“Yes.”

Being easier to show rather than say, I use night runner imagery to show Robert how to open and close his sense of them and me. Several tries and explanations later, I can feel him fade but not quite vanish. With work, he’ll get it.

Robert begins to rise from the floor as the doc arrives with Gonzalez following just behind. Looking at the mess on the floor, the doc takes Robert by the wrist and starts him toward the escalator.

“I’m fine,” Robert says, attempting to pull his arm free.

“Go with him,” I say.

“But really, I’m feeling fine. You know that, Dad,” Robert states.

“I know, son, but go with him anyway. Let him check you out,” I say, still shocked about what happened to Robert.

“We’ll take care of this, sir,” Henderson says, motioning his arm over the mess.

“Nonsense. I’ll get it. You go rest,” I respond.

“Sir, go see to him. This is nothing. We got it,” Gonzalez states.

Although my sense of Robert told me he was fine, this is so new that doubt creeps in. He has partially shut down and it’s hard to read anything from him at the moment. Better to let the doc see to him. The determination and peace I felt earlier is shaken a little as I watch Robert walk away, being led by the doc. I gather up his gear on the floor and follow.

A strange feeling descends over me as I climb the stairs. In my mind, I know I should be frantically worried about Robert. A part of me feels that anxiousness. It’s what I should be feeling, and I hold onto that because…well… it’s what I would normally feel. The odd thing is, I am truly not all that concerned. Well, that’s not exactly true. I am worried, but I also know deep down that he’s okay. That is, if what I sensed is true and I would stop second-guessing myself. What I’m more concerned about is how he might do in the future. I’ve been alright since I was scratched and the night runner blood mingled with my own, except for that minor incident of going into a coma for a couple of weeks.

I’m worried that this may not have run its course and Robert could do the same. It could be that his youthfulness was able to handle the infection better, or it could just be beginning. I’ll have to ask him how long he’s had headaches. I know that he’s had to have them but has perhaps kept silent about them. Or maybe he hasn’t. I just feel tired as I reach the top of the escalator and make my way to where the doc has taken Robert.

Looking tired from having been wakened, the doc gives him a complete physical, finding nothing wrong other than a slightly higher than normal heart and respiratory rates.

“That’s to be expected and they are within norms,” the doctor states, “but I’d like to keep him here and monitored for the rest of the night.”

With a heavy sigh of exasperation, Robert removes his outer clothing and climbs onto a bed set up for him. Pulling up a chair next to the bed, I pat him on the shoulder and sit down.

“I’m fine, Dad, really,” Robert says with a hint of dejection in his tone. “You don’t have to stay.”

“I know. I’ll just camp here for a bit. So…how long have you had the headaches?”

Robert looks sharply at me out of the corner of his eyes. “How did you know?”

“Don’t forget I went through this as well, so I’m guessing you’ve had them for a while now.”

“Just a week or so. They never really got too bad, more of an annoyance. Well, until tonight that is,” he responds.

“Do you feel them now?”

He is still partially blocked so, even though I am opened up to him, I can’t sense anything.

“No. There was just this sudden onset and then, with a flash, it was gone and I could see you,” Robert answers. “Sorry about the mess on the floor.”

“It’s all good. You can owe it to the team later. Open up like I taught you,” I say.

I suddenly sense him fully in my mind and delve into his physical being, searching. His presence is fully open to me and I can feel, with absolute confidence that he is, in fact, doing well like he says.

“That kind of tingles,”
he says, mentally.

“You do the same
,” I say, showing him what I just did.

I feel a slight vibration inside, and like he said, there is a faint tingle. I close off that portion and feel his exploration vanish, at least as far as his ability to sense me in that fashion. There is a faint pressure as he continues his probe.

“What happened?”
he asks.

“I closed that part off. Apparently we can do that and still communicate,
” I answer.

As interesting as these possibilities are, we both need our rest. The next several days are going to be busy ones. Near the cubicle door, I hear stirring. Turning, I see Lynn and several others poking their heads through the doorway. I give a nod letting them know that Robert is okay. With satisfied nods, most leave while Lynn enters and pulls up a chair.

“What happened? Are you sick?” Lynn asks Robert.

He shoots me a look that says he’s not sure what to say.

“Same thing that happened to me,” I answer her.

“What, so now he can hear and talk to night runners as well?”

“Yeah, that and we can talk with each other,” I say.

“You’re kidding! You mean, like mentally? Like with these images you say you can see from the night runners?”

“Well, It’s actually regular speech, but we can use the imagery as well,” I reply.

She shakes her head. I don’t blame her. This is rather new and I’m still feeling a little numb from the shock of it. The implications and possible use could be far-reaching. Of course, it’s not like we’d just pump night runner blood into anyone. We’ve also seen the other side of being bitten by them. And there is still the possibility that the changes within Robert are not finished. Although I sense that he is fine, I’m still worried that something else could happen.

“What else can you two supposedly do?” Lynn asks, facetiously.

“Well, Robert can cast lightning bolts from his fingers,” I say.

The look that she shoots at me lets me know that was just about the exact wrong thing to say. Backpedaling furiously, I tell her what I know so far.

“What about the others that were bitten that we brought in? Can you sense them?” Lynn asks.

“I haven’t tried as of yet but I plan to see if it’s the same. It could be that they closed themselves off early on without knowing what they were doing. I remember the one guy saying it was driving them crazy. Of course, they would have had to shut themselves off or they would have been found. I really don’t know,” I answer.

In the dim lighting, Greg, in an adjacent bed, rolls over with a groan and opens one bleary eye. The swelling on Greg’s cheek has receded remarkably and the white bandage across his scalp stands out starkly against his dark hair and skin.

“What’s up?” he asks thickly.

“Robert is staying the night to be monitored. He’s fine. It’s just a precaution,” I say.

Greg’s one eye rolls over to Robert. “Good, then I’ll have company.”

With that, he promptly closes his eye and drifts back to sleep. Another stirring at the door draws my attention. Michelle is standing in the doorway, her hair disheveled from sleep and her eyes filled with worry at seeing Robert on the bed.

I take that as my cue and rise as she hurries to Robert’s bedside. Lynn and I exit to the sound of Robert attempting to reassure Michelle.

In the morning, I rise and hurry to the cubicle where Robert spent the rest of the night. Seeing him lying on the bed, I open up and reach out. He immediately opens one eye, and peers over to me.

“Quit it, Dad. I’m fine,” he says drowsily.

“Okay, okay.” I then mutter upon leaving, ”Damn, a little sensitive.”

I know he’s doing fine if not a little tired from the brief perception I had. He’s catching on about how to block that out as I lost sense of him moments after I delved into him. The days are going to be busy with training—both for the teams and for Robert and Craig, assuming the doc is satisfied with Robert’s status. I know he’ll find Robert in good shape, but I’ll need to keep an eye on him. And he’ll need to be honest with me regarding how he feels if he doesn’t want me digging into him every five minutes.

Out in the parking lot, Lynn has gathered the teams and is going over a training schedule. I sit on a curb and watch as she details their plan for the day. Soon, they are walking across the compound to the vehicle storage hangars, leaving me alone with the chill of the morning. It won’t be long until these cold, clear days give way to the rain and clouds that the Northwest is noted for.

I’m glad for the clear days as that will make our initial training flights easier. For a couple of days, it will be low-levels during the day and hitting the night runners during the evening. We’ll have to get our rest periodically as time allows. Sitting in the shadow of Cabela’s, feeling the chill seep through my fatigues, and the day getting lighter as the sun works its way over the Cascades, I feel the calm, yet determined, feeling from yesterday settle inside.

My peaceful time alone is soon interrupted as others emerge from the building. The quiet parking lot is filled with murmurs of conversation followed shortly thereafter by the sounds of vehicles starting. The semis are left idling to warm up, emitting plumes of exhaust that climb into the still air. We had our day off and now it’s time to get on with things. I can sense the determination in the crews that will soon be off gathering supplies or working on our housing.

Robert, Bri, and Craig soon emerge with others that are coming out of the doors in both large and small groups. On seeing Robert, I open up and do a quick sensing of him. He gives me a look and I shrug, sending him,
“It’s going to happen. Deal with it.”

Before we head out for our training mission, I gather the others we found that were bitten and survived. I want to see whether there is the same sensory perception that Robert and I share. After some explanation, I open up but don’t seem to sense any of them. I talk them through how to mentally open, to find that compartment that seems to be part of the mind, yet separate. In the parking lot, we experiment and, at first, I can vaguely sense one of them. With practice on their part, I am finally able to sense them in the fashion that I can Robert.

With Bri and Craig looking on, we spend some time working on opening up and shutting down. The crazy old man is wary but goes along with it until he becomes a believer as well. He was always wont to think it was him going crazy, but he eventually comes around. I show them the difference between us and the night runners; that we can shut that, or any part, down.

I send Robert and the others over to the outer gate and we test it over distance. I can sense their presence, meaning their exact location, but the ability to sense their nature, emotionally and physically, appears to be limited by distance. They are about a mile away, and I can only vaguely pick out their feelings and physical state. I push farther outward to see if this makes a difference, but the vagueness remains. We can, however, communicate clearly.

I have them drive to the edge of the Nisqually Valley several miles distant. The hints that I felt of their physical and emotional nature vanishes altogether but we can still communicate clearly. With the others, it’s not as distinct as with Robert, but it’s clear nonetheless. Perhaps it has something to do with the genetics or the bond we share. Who the hell knows?