Authors: Luke Rhinehart
`Nothing special, sir,' the bosun reported to his superior, as he returned with the other three. 'Just a few fishing knives.'
`Good,' said the officer with a tired smile. 'Okay, captain, welcome to Morehead City.'
He motioned to his crew to return to their launch. 'And by the way,' he added, turning back to Neil and the others, 'without written permission from Colonel Nelson, no military-age men are allowed to proceed out to sea.'
`What's that?' Jim exclaimed.
`No vessel is permitted to sea without permission of the local military commander,' the lieutenant replied. His eyes narrowing as he looked at Jim, he added, 'We've had to sink three different ships who didn't think we meant it.'
And he left.
Vagabond then proceeded to motor slowly up the channel towards the almost totally dark small town of Morehead City, and in another hour was anchored a hundred feet off the main line of docks, Neil wanting them all to be able to get some sleep before they had to confront the world. Although it was four-thirty and dawn should have been beginning the storm system kept the sky a night-time dark.
As the boat was being anchored Jeanne came up on deck and went down to prepare hot tea for Neil, Frank and Tony, who soon joined her in the main cabin. She was pale, with a grey puffiness under the eyes from her long bout of seasickness, but now that Vagabond was merely rocking gently in the gusting blasts of wind and not playing at rollercoaster, she was feeling better. 01ly was already slumped asleep in the little corner jumpseat in the forward end of the room.
Ì could use a drink,' Tony announced, staring irritably at his tea. 'Aren't we supposed to celebrate a landfall?'
`Do you feel like celebrating?' Neil asked.
Ì don't feel a damn thing,' Tony answered, taking the bottle of brandy Jeanne placed on the table. I'm too beat.'
`Thank God we've made it back to land,' Jeanne said softly, standing with her back to the seated men. Neil, Frank, and Tony looked up at her and then Frank stood up and went to her. While the other two men looked on silently, he embraced her.
`Will we be able to find a place to live?' Jeanne asked Frank, looking up at him.
`They have a refugee camp,' Frank answered.
Ìs ... is that where we're all going?' she asked with a surprised frown. Ìt looks that way,' Frank said.
Àll the men aboard except Frank and 01ly have to report for military duty,' Neil said.
`But why?' Jeanne asked, freeing herself from Frank's arms and again looking surprised. '
What possible use can any of you be in the Army?'
`We're in a war, Jeanne,' Frank replied, sitting back down opposite Neil.
`No we're not,' Jeanne responded passionately. 'This isn't a war. It's . . . it's genocidal suicide.'
They all looked up at her.
`We're in a war, Jeanne,' Frank repeated. 'Our country has been attacked.'
`Neil, you don't believe in this draft, do you?' Jeanne said, looking flushed with anger or excitement.
Ì suppose it's like this ship,' Neil answered after a long pause. 'In a survival situation everyone has to belong to a military hierarchy or there's chaos. Drafting everyone is the government's way of keeping us out of mischief.'
Ànd we'll be needed in the Army too,' Tony said. 'They're not calling us up just to keep an eye on us.'
`They'll need everybody's help . . . if the war lasts long enough,' Frank suggested. The silence was not a happy one.
Ì'm not going, Dad,' said Jim, appearing unexpectedly on the companionway steps.
`What do you mean, Jimmy?' Frank asked, frowning.
Jim came down the three steps and stood near and slightly behind his father. Lisa appeared in the cabin entrance.
Ì can't report for military service,' he said nervously. 'I won't go.'
Frank turned to look at his son, and then returned his gaze to Jeanne who had sat down opposite him.
Ì'm afraid the President has ordered almost all of us to serve,' he said. Ì know, Dad. But I won't fight in this war. Not unless the Russians land troops.'
`No one likes fighting nukes,' Tony said, 'but we've got to serve.'
Ìt's not 'he nukes and radiation any more,' Jim said. 'It's just that I've decided this war is all wrong, no matter . .
`What about your country?' Frank interrupted, not looking at his son. Ì just think . . . I don't know . . . I want to sail south with you, Dad. Help Lisa and Jeanne and . .
`What about your country?' Frank repeated stonily.
Ì know, I know,' Jim said, an anguish on his face unseen by his father. 'I owe my country a lot. I know that. But the war seems so insane, the kind of killing so wrong . . . I don't see how . .
Jim can't save the country,' Jeanne said as Jim trailed off.
`BUT HE'S GODDAMN WELL GOING TO TRY!' Frank spat out
angrily, banging his fist on the table and tipping over the mostly empty bottle of brandy. As Tony righted it Captain Olly's body jerked upright and his eyes blinked open.
`Huh?' he said. 'What say?'
Frank swung his head to look at Neil. 'Are you going to report for duty?' he asked.
`What I do isn't relevant,' Neil answered. 'With my naval experience, in theory I can be of service, but untrained teenagers would only be cannon fodder. If Jim thinks the war is all wrong he shouldn't go. And I may not go either.'
Frank felt a strange sinking feeling and glared at Neil. 'I should have known,' he said. '
You've taken wishy-washy positions so long you've forgotten a man's duty to his country.'
Ì know my duty to my country,' Neil snapped back. 'I just happen to believe that my country is now located primarily on this boat.'
`That's inconvenient,' said Frank, 'because in that case I'm kicking you out of your country.' He felt both a senseless rage and an urge to cry. 'In other words you're fired.' The words seemed hollow even as he spoke them. Àre you going to force Jim to enter this war?' Jeanne asked.
`He's in it whether he likes it or not.'
Ì'm not going to report, Dad,' Jim said, now more steadily. Ì'd like to help sail everyone south.'
`You need Jim,' Jeanne said softly across to Frank. 'In this world if we've been lucky enough to have any children still with us, the last thing we should do is let them go.'
Frank stared at the cushion between Jeanne and Neil and unseeingly added more brandy to his empty tea cup, his eyes wet. A siren wailing off in the city half a mile away underlined the silence. Captain Olly again awakened.
`Don't recommend telling grown kids what to do,' he said. `No one asked you,' Frank muttered.
"S okay,' Olly replied. 'I don't mind volunteering good advice. People who ask for advice generally made up their minds anyhow.'
Jeanne rose from her seat. I'm going to get more sleep,' she said. 'Goodnight, Captain Olly, Tony. Goodnight Neil.' She paused. 'Goodnight, Frank.' She leaned down and held his head in her arms and pressed her face against his hair for several seconds. 'You're a good man, Frank, a . . . but you're absolutely wrong about Jim.' And she left.
`That's one sweet lady, that is,' Captain Olly said. 'Ain't met a woman like her since my last wife. She married?'
The ship's clock on the forward wall of the cabin struck six bells and Neil glanced at it.
`We should set a watch this morning, Frank,' he said. 'We haven't seen the last of pirates. I'll take the first two-hour watch and wake Jim for the second. We can all get up at ten.'
Frank looked up dully. 'You still trying to run things?' he said, then let his head fall forward.
Vagabond was back on land.
5
The town of Morehead City, over one hundred and fifty miles distant from the nearest nuclear explosion, a small city in the middle of a rich farming and fishing region, had, in a way, like most of the rest of the country, ceased to exist. Its restaurants, bars, drugstores, service stations, movie theatres, supermarkets, grocery stores, gift shops, banks, and most merchandise stores were closed. The only traditional commercial enterprises open for a few hours each day were the clothing and hardware stores, and one bar: all had become unofficial bartering centres.
The town had electricity, at least in theory, but the military authorities were systematically disconnecting electric service to all except businesses or institutions it considered necessary. The town had food, at least in theory, since a few fishermen still brought in catches and neighbouring farmers still had chickens, pigs, cows and a few early summer crops. But fuel was unavailable for either the fishing trawlers or farm machinery, and harvests from both sea and land were diminishing. No food arrived from outside the county and all food within was being requisitioned for distribution and rationing by the Army, much of it being shifted to areas with greater need. More than half the tillable acreage was planted in tobacco.
Since no private vehicles were permitted on the road without authorization, most normal social life had ended. Local draft-age adults had disappeared either into one of the services or into the faceless masses of refugees fleeing even further south. Those remaining consisted mainly of men over forty, the sick and the maimed, and women and children. Few people other than farmers and fishermen were still able to continue the same occupation they'd been in a week before. All newspapers and most local radio and television stations had ceased 'operating. Only one radio station operated on a limited schedule, its sole function to transmit official information and instructions from the national government or local military authorities. There was no music. The national networks had ceased to exist, but the government was able to use satellites to transmit messages to all stations at once. All manufacturing not directly related to military needs had ceased. All large department stores had sold out of basic items in the first three days of the war - flashlights, generators, batteries, coolers, knives, hatchets, tools, guns, fishing equipment, camping gear, cooking fuels, and so on, and now, filled with useless non-essentials - television sets, record-players, cosmetics, fashionable clothing - they remained closed, unguarded, and unlooted.
The churches alone were booming. Most held services of one sort or another every day, and street corner end-of-theworld preachers gathered small crowds around them immediately, people who listened listlessly, and then wandered away. The little town had received an influx of refugees from the areas of Norfolk and Washington, the first burst arriving by car and truck, those in the last few days by foot, bicycle, horse and cart, and by boat down the Intracoastal Waterway. Many were suffering from burns, blindness and radiation sickness.
When the survivors on Vagabond were awakened by Jim at ten o'clock they saw boats jammed into every available space, being rafted two and three deep in places. Neil eased Vagabond in against an apparently unoccupied luxury yacht, the only space large enough to take the filly-foot trimaran alongside.
After a reconnaissance trip ashore in the gusty wind and
rain it was clear that most of the boats had either been deserted for lack of fuel or lack of crew or were owned by people determined to get further south. Some hoped to continue down the Intracoastal Waterway, and a few were planning to go out of the inlet. Whether these latter would be carrying men officially called to duty and forbidden to leave was unclear most people were tightlipped about their plans and personnel. Posted prominently on several dockside telephone poles were posters, printed by hand and xeroxed, warning mariners that no ships were permitted out of the inlet with any male of military age without written authorization from the district military commander. Looking out towards the inlet Neil could see two US Navy vessels, one looking badly damaged, moored in the Turning Basin. He had never known warships to use Morehead City, but with the naval facilities at Hampton -Roads near Norfolk destroyed the Navy's options were clearly reduced.
As the morning wore on Neil became increasingly frustrated at his inability to get any reports on the fallout situation in the southeast. There were only three stations left on the whole A.M. dial, each broadcasting only sporadically. Official statements never indicated what people in the Carolinas could expect.
He was depressed too by the break-up of his ship's family. Jim was determined not to go in the Army, but had only a few hours to come up with a workable alternative. After breakfast Jim and Lisa had spent forty minutes talking quietly to each other on the docks in the rain. Jeanne said little about her plans. After talking to Frank she seemed to take it forgranted that the refugee centre was her only alternative. Although Elaine chatted pleasantly about being back on land - as if they'd just finished an interesting cruise - Jeanne was silent. She finished packing, cleaned up the galley and sat down in the wheelhouse with Skip.
As the boat-weary, war-weary, weather-weary crew of
Vagabond gathered themselves together that late morning the wind moaned through the shrouds, halyards slapped rhythmically against masts, the rain drummed down on the decks and cabin tops. Although the seasick appreciated the lack of motion all were exhausted from thirty-six hours of storm at sea. Tony was the first to leave, escorting Elaine and Rhoda ashore to find the refugee centre. Frank and Conrad Macklin left a few minutes later carrying Seth on a makeshift stretcher made from two oars and the last section of the jib they had used to jury-rig the awning for the new back wall of the wheelhouse. The plan was that they would take Seth to the hospital and that Frank would meet Jeanne later at the refugee centre in the high school. Macklin, ineligible for the draft because of a foot shattered on a mine in Vietnam, had announced he was planning to try to get further south by car. Neil hoped he would simply disappear. When Olly went down in the cabin to hide the weapons and disable Vagabond's engine Neil was momentarily alone with Jeanne, but Jim and Lisa came in from the rain and stood awkwardly side by side in front of her. Jim's face was partly hidden under the hood of the yellow foul-weather jacket, from which rain still dripped. Lisa seemed lost in the over-sized foul-weather gear she was wearing, and they both seemed to Neil ridiculously young.