The Doomsday Infection (29 page)

CHAPTER 41

20:45 PM

“Ah, this is the life,” sighed Luke slowly releasing the sweet smoke from his lips as he passed the joint to Sophie, who sucked at it tentatively. They were both lying on the floor of the main cabin; hands behind their heads in what they agreed would be the most likely hippy pose when taking drugs. “It’s so peaceful.”

Sophie choked on the joint, but persevered, “It is stronger than I thought,” she remarked.

“It’s Acapulco gold,” Luke said. “Erm, I expect,” he hastily added.

She regarded him balefully; he w
asn’t fooling her for a minute.

“I could get used to living like this,” Luke sighed.

“You might have to.” She said.

“Come again?”

“If this outbreak spreads throughout the United States, or god forbid the world, the infrastructure would collapse with no one left to run it, gasoline would eventually run out, they’d be no electricity or gas almost immediately, no communications,” she took the proffered joint and took another hit on it. “We would be back to living in the middle ages, growing our own food, making our own clothes bartering our surplus for other necessities.”

“I’d love tha
t,” he said, then giggled, stoned.

“Money, shares, stocks and bonds would all be completely worthless. Can you possibly grasp such an idea?”

“Bring it on,” he smiled.

She leaned on her side and said. “When we jumped the drawbridge, you said you’d done it before?”

“Yeah, that’s right, but that was in a car, and I was drunk, so I don’t remember much about it.”

“Who was driving that time?”

“I was.”

“Why did you jump the bridge?” she asked bemused.

“Because I was drunk. I thought I’d just said that?”

She laughed and rolled onto her back, took another hit on the join
t and passed it back to Luke.

“So,” he asked. “What do you think of dope?”

“Not bad, but do we have to lie on the floor?”

“Where do you suggest?”

“The bedroom?”

“I thought we were in the bedroom,” he said in genuine surprise. “Lead the way.” He stood and nearly fell back down again, and smirked, stone
d. He helped Sophie to stand as she was in a bad way too. She giggled, he held his hand up for her to high-five, which she tried to do but missed and ended up slapping him in the face instead, making her roar with laughter.

20:46 PM

Pandemonium reigned below decks of the USS Thomas Jefferson. The Commander had ordered the below deck doors locked
, effectively sealing the men in to a metallic tomb.

Tyler
Buckman was not going to lie down and die like some of the others He stood at the door in a short corridor on the lower deck. He and the other men trapped with him were Bilge-Rats, the guys who worked in the engineering compartments. He had always known that working on the lower decks in wartime would be dangerous, that his life expectancy would be considerably less, then that of someone topside. If a torpedo hit the ship that breached the hull and they started to take on water then it was standard procedure to contain the breach and seal the affected area, trapping men below.

Although the commander had earlier stated that the ship would be scuttled
he had imaged that he would be out on deck, in the fresh air, on parade nobly going down with the ship. Not like this, locked in the bowels of the ship like rats.
Bilge rats
. This was not the way. He could not believe it when his fellow sailors locked them in. People he knew well, had gone drinking with, had stood shoulder to shoulder with in bar room brawls. Guys he trusted to fight alongside with in battle, to the point of sacrificing himself, only to find them quietly and cowardly locking him down in the airless bowels, while they breathed the clean air above.

The boat started to list, this frightened the men behind him, and they surged forward crushing him up against the door. “Back off! Back off!” he gasped as the air squeezed from his lungs, he was about to pass out when the crowd fell back and he could breathe again. “We need to bust open the door,” he said. “Fetch me something to lever it open.”

“Aren’t the doors watertight, Buckman?” asked his pal.

“They’re also airtight. Do you fancy running out of air, do
ya, huh?”

“Fuck no.”

A sailor handed him a metal rod, and he worked it into the seal of the door and grunted as he focused his efforts into the door-jam. He sweated buckets and made little or no progress, when a taped message sounded accompanied by a siren. “
Abandon Ship! Abandon ship!
” The noise sent the enlisted men wild in panic and they surged forward once more and shoved Buckman into the door.

20:47 PM

In the bedroom cabin aboar
d the barge Luke and Sophie lay spent after making love for the second time in twenty-four hours. This time though they did not rush at it. They took the time to enjoy themselves exploring each other’s battered bodies seeing what got a response and what didn’t.

The bed itself was made of crushed velvet and heart-shaped, the point of the heart formed by the sides of the hull, meeting at the bow. “I hate hippies,” Luke said regarding the ‘way-out’ bed and the ‘far-out, groovy man’ decorations that consisted of a cherub and heart motif.

Sophie had her head rested upon his chest, her eyes closed, and she smiled dreamily, when Luke’s statement penetrated her thoughts. She stirred and looked up at him. “Huh?” she said puzzled by his statement.

He noticed the recent six-inch scar on her shoulder and traced it lazily with his finger, an angry welt, red and painful looking. Luke found it surprising that she hadn’t mentioned it, or appeared to find it sore.

“How did that happen?” he asked casually.

“I was in an auto-wreck. Three weeks ago, back in my homeland. I was on a quick trip. I volunteer at a hospital down there when I can.”

“What happened?”

“It was a glorious
ly hot day, a nice warm heat, not like this humid energy-sapping furnace up here. There I was happily scooting along Main Street lost in my thoughts when I was side-swiped by a bus.”

“Who’s fault?”

“His, of course.”

“Do you have to go back for the court case?”

“There won’t be one.” She said.

“Why not?”

“He died in the crash along with five school children, turned out he was drunk.”

“Serves him right,” Luke said. “What happened to you?”

“I was in hospital, intensive care, I almost died,” she told him. “It was touch and go for a while. I had to have many blood transfusions -” she stopped mid-sentence. A thought had struck her but then vanished.

“What is it?” he asked.

“No it’s gone. I suddenly made a connection. I’m sure it was important, but it’s gone.

He cuddled her to him. “When did you get back?”

“I got back to the states Monday evening.”

“So you went straight into work?”

“I did not want to stay at home alone. I would have only dwelt on it.” She snuggled into his chest once more. “I wish I could remember what flashed into my mind.”

“We need to retrace our steps. What were we doing before hand?” He smirked lewdly. “Oh yeah, I remember . . .” He roll
ed her over and kissed her with passion.

20:48 PM

On the lower deck,
Buckman frantically worked the metal rod into the crack of the door, having little effect, unsurprising as the doors function was to contain countless pounds of water pressure, but he persisted bravely making the smallest of indents. An idea struck him. “Get me a grenade,”

“That would kill us all!” said his shipmate, Joey.

“No, we’ll take it apart; pour the gun-power in the hole I’ve made. It might blow it open.”

“I’ll zip down to armaments,” Joey said. “I noticed that it’d been left unattended.”

Buckman continued with his endeavors watched by the restless crewmen.

Joey ran along the
confined corridors, the temperature was rising, he thought with a panic, the air was definitely getting warmer.

He turned into the armaments
room down near the brig and grabbed a couple of grenades, when he heard the whooshing of water. He stood stock-still and strained his ears, the sound was getting closer. The ship suddenly lurched to the starboard side as the scuttling continued and another hatch had been opened in the hull.

He looked down and saw water around his feet. “Oh Christ,” he muttered to himself. He glanced down the corridor and saw the water rising fast. He watched for a m
oment to judge its speed and calculated that it was rising two feet a minute. He had to get back to tell the others quick.

He glanced at the water filling the corridor and realized if the ship had not been listing
front-to-back the water would already be up to his knees. “Fuck.” He spun on his heels and rushed back the way he came. He rounded the corner, took a fleeting glance backward and saw that the water level had risen considerably, almost up to the ceiling at the far end and would engulf him soon enough.

He debated whether to spend
time closing the watertight door behind him, but the water was already around his ankles and if the boat should list the other way, water would engulf him. He chose not to waste time and sped along the next corridor.

CHAPTER
42

20:49 PM

Joey raced up to
Buckman completely out of breath. He sagged against the bulkhead, drawing in the thinning oxygen. He pointed behind him, “The water -” he started.

“What about the water?”
Buckman asked.

“It’s coming!”

The crewmen in the cramped corridor surged forward once more hindering Buckman’s labors. He took the grenade from Joey, and pushed the crowd back. “Gimme some room, for Christ’s sake.” He carefully took apart the grenade and fed the explosive powder into the small gap he’d created.

One of the crewmen spotted the water creeping along their corridor and screamed out. The panic spread, and the men surged forward en masse.
Buckman pushed back against the heaving crowd. He lit a fuse fashioned from a paper straw. “Stand back!” he yelled and pushed everyone to the far end of the corridor, where the freezing water was already knee high.

Some of the crewmen were undecided, not knowing whether to face the blast or the certainty of drowning if they stayed in the sinking corridor.

The powder ignited with a ear-splitting roar in the short corridor the door blew open. The men surged forward with a cheer, and knocked Buckman down. He crawled on his hands and knees in the ice-cold water, and tried to stand, as men poured over him, but was flattened in the crush. He finally stood, felt groggy and realized that he was up to his waist in the freezing water. He waded up the corridor, as the ship tilted further backward and could see by the braying crowd beating on the next door, with dread in his heart that it was locked.

He splashed up to the group, where Joey pulled the pin of the second grenade and placed it in the handle of the locked airtight door. The men nearby had only a few seconds to register what Joey had done and no time to flee.

With a mighty bang the grenade killed the nearby men instantly, ripping limbs off half a dozen others, blinded several and concussed even more. Buckman was hit by smaller pieces of flesh and the odd piece of small shrapnel.

The grenade killed Joey instantly and
Buckman sagged downhearted. He waded to the door through the waist high water. The grenade had had no effect whatsoever. He knew that the game was over.

The men shuffled close to the door, at the high end of the corridor, as the aircraft carrier sank fast. When the water reached
Buckman’s neck, he took a few moments to think of his wife and kids, and a tear trickled down his cheek, as he knew he would never see them again.

The men to the side and behind him thrashed about as the
y ran out of life giving air. The water passed his mouth; he turned his head sideways to gain a last mouthful of air and then completely submerged. His cheeks puffed out, in the fading light and he could see the floating bodies of his crewmates, and one by one they sucked in the water, and drowned in what looked like agony.

His lungs burned and were fit to burst. He felt light headed as the air to his oxygen-starved brain diminished. He thought once more of his wife and kids then breathed in. The water stung his nose,
he coughed and spluttered and as his lungs filled with fluid he eventually died.

In the conning tower of the USS Thomas Jefferson, Commander Roscoe watched grimly as the men rioted as the boat sank. The
tannoy announced. “
Abandon ship!
” on a continual loop. Commander Roscoe had ordered that all doors be sealed, containing most of the men below decks. From his position on the bridge nine floors up the conning tower, he could still hear the screams of the dying men and the odd burst of machine gunfire. He remained resolute in his determination, along with his crew, to go down with his ship.

Lebec
, one of the few men left on the bridge acted nervously. He wore a protective suit, and he was healthy, so no need for him to die. Lebec had valuable information to share with high command; maybe he should make a break for it. He shuffled slowly to the door and the ship suddenly lurched to the starboard side, listing as is slowly sank.

“Stay at your post!” said the commander, without turning. “Be a man, show some backbone.”

“Aye-aye, sir,” Lebec said dejectedly. The commander must have eyes in the back of his head, he thought. Well, damn him, I’m getting off this sinking ship if it’s the last thing I do. The doors from the lower decks burst open interrupting his morbid thoughts and men swarmed out, most had weapons and fired up at them on the bridge. The commander stood firm as one or two shots were on target and ‘pinged’ off the bulletproof glass.

Lebec
looked down on the throng, who appeared to be fighting amongst themselves. He saw one sailor sitting on the back of another repeatedly stabbing him in the throat, the arterial spray covering the attacker, painting him red with the blood. Others were kicking a fallen crewmate, until his neck snapped and his head flopped from side-to-side. Another group was in the process of gang-raping one of the enlisted men.

Lebec
wondered what the sailors had done to warrant the wrath of their shipmates, then it dawned on him, they would have been the Swabbies instructed to seal the hatches and lock the doors, dooming their shipmates to death by drowning. Serves them right, thought Lebec, until he concluded that the mob’s next target would be the men in the bright orange suits, tucked away safely nine floors above them in the conning tower. This realization made him sweat even more in the stifling hot suit. He choked, the claustrophobic garment made him feel suffocated.

The ship made another lurch further to the starboard.
Lebec used the distraction and promptly stripped off the telltale suit that would mark him out as one of the elite, deemed more special that the enlisted mob below. Ones considered worthy of saving. Unlike them, the great unwashed, who were about to be swallowed up by the mighty Atlantic ocean. He understood their rage and was determined to get off the gigantic metal leviathan that would suck them down to the bottom of the seabed.

He remembered a girlfriend who thought the ending of Titanic had been SO romantic, uh-uh, not him, he thought it stupid. There was plenty of roo
m of the makeshift raft for two. Failing that, push the bitch off; he could have found himself a much hotter babe than that snooty broad. Nope, there was nothing at all romantic about drowning. He shuddered at the thought, imagining the water filling his lungs as he held his breath to bursting point, with his lungs burning as they were depleted of oxygen, fighting his body’s own reflexes to breath, and then the final, fatal moment when he would suck in a lungful of water.

The Commander may have a noble, lofty notion of going down with his ship, and of containing the disease, to ‘sacrifice oneself for the protection of the many’. Fuck that, he thought, who did he think he was, Mister Spock? He’d look after number one; it was every man for himself as far as he was
concerned. He would get off this crate one way or other. He’d stripped off the suit, when the commander snapped, “What the hell do you think you are doing?” He glared at him and looked him up and down as if he was something he’d found on the sole of his shoe, “Lebec? Lebec. There’s obviously French somewhere in your ancestry, no wonder you’re trying to run away – it’s in your cowardly country’s yellow nature. You sicken me, get out of my sight.” He turned to the African-American Petty Officer. “Arrest that man for dereliction of duty!” he instructed.

What
’s the point? thought the Petty Officer, we’re all going to be dead shortly. He unclipped his sidearm thinking that the brig was below decks which meant leaving the conning tower and maybe, just maybe have an opportunity to escape.

He grabbed
Lebec roughly by the arm. “Come with me you worthless piece of crap.” he waited for Lebec to acknowledge him then gave an over-exaggerated wink. “You’re coming with me.” He manhandled him from the bridge. Lebec played along acting as the cowardly snake, begging for his life.

They left the bridge and when they were out on the internal staircase, the African-American let go of his prisoner. “Let’s get out of here, pal, before the crack-pot changes his mind.”

“Thanks buddy,” Lebec said gratefully. “I owe you my life.” He scooted on ahead, as the African-American lumbered down the metal staircase hindered by his awkward hazmat suit.

Lebec
was easily a floor below the petty officer, when he heard the noise of the mob clanging up the metal staircase. He stopped dead in his tracks, looked left and right, up and down, and gulped hard. There was nowhere to run, trapped between the mob and the commander back up in the bridge. His mouth dried and he was in a blind panic, and when the horde approached he shouted. “Up here, this way!” He turned and ran back the way he came now at the head of the mob, and bumped into the petty officer, when they rounded the bend, Lebec shouted. “Get the nigger! He’s one of them!”

The mob enflamed by the sight of the orange suit, were on the petty officer like a pack of wolves, tearing at the loathed suit, they ripped off his hel
met and kicked and punched him.

A blood lust passed from one man to another and they kicked him mercilessly. A heavy steel toe-capped boot smashed into his mouth and broke some teeth. Blood poured from his nose, and a stubby thumb hooked into his eye socket and popped out an eye, and
left it dangling on his cheek.

Lebec
booted him on the side of the head, joining in with the blood lust. The petty officer’s head jolted around, his good eye locked onto his. Lebec felt the hatred slide down his back like an icy hand when the African-American’s head was lifted by the hair, and his throat cut, and then cast aside like an old rag doll, as the mob continued up the stairs led by Lebec. “Charge!” he yelled, and they howled their revenge.

20:50 PM

“It’s worse than
we thought,” said Quinn Martell to Vice-Admiral Reed, via his smart phone. He paced the corridor along from the Oval Office. He watched as Reed’s face crumpled. “He’s dismissed the Speaker of the House and has surrounded himself with his college buddies and they’re fooling around as if they were holding a frat party, they’re not taking this seriously. Because it’s never happened before, they can’t grasp the fact that we are facing a Doomsday scenario - an extinction level event.

Vice-Admiral Reed sucked on his teeth. “We’ve got to act fast. You’re on the inside which is good, but you will need back up. If he got the slightest inkling of what we have in mind, well, he’s surrounded by guards sworn to give their lives for the
President, they’re utterly devoted to him and would follow his orders to the letter.”

“Even Hamilton’s?” said Quinn.

“Most would respect the position of President, if not the man. Who has the military presence to sway the guards?”

“You, but you’re needed where you are, trying to keep the warmongers under control. There are too many willing to shoot first
and ask questions later.”

“Agreed, but at the end of the day, it’s the Chief Executive that’ll give the order.” He sucked on his teeth again. “There’s only one thing for it. I’ll come join you, before it’s too late.”

“Thank you, Vice-Admiral. I think this will need someone of your caliber to pull this off.”

“We must play this carefully
, the timing is crucial. Tell no one, we have to act stealthily for this to work. You know, if he gets wind of this what’ll happen?”

“I’ve thought of noth
ing else,” Quinn Martell thinned his lips and stiffened his resolve. “I’m prepared to do what is right, no matter what the consequences to myself.”

“The way he’s behaving at the moment
, Hamilton will perceive our actions as traitorous and will put us on trial for treason, can you accept the fact you could go down in history as a traitor?”

“
I’m prepared for that, let’s pray he doesn’t get wind of our intentions.”

Along the corridor
, sat at his desk in the Oval Office President Hamilton had heard every word, watching on a CCTV camera, he grinned to himself and rubbed his hands together in delight.

21.00 PM

As the sun dropped below the horizon, the fantail succumbed to the waves as the bottom heavy aircraft carrier sank. The conning tower the only part of the vessel still visible,
as huge bursts of bubbling water frothed and foamed all around as the behemoth sank into the murky depths.

Up at the top of the conning tower, outside the bridge, the commander and three other men, had their helmets stripped from them and were swiftly r
eplaced with a hangman’s noose.

Lebec
was doing his best to play a mess-deck lawyer as they held a kangaroo court. “. . . And are guilty of mass murder, namely the force-feeding of lethal drugs, the killing of your own men, and ordering the locking of doors, trapping the men below decks leaving them to drown and . . . loads of other horrible shit. How do you plead?”

“I will not dignify that with an answer,” the commander said stiffly.

“Good, because you’re as guilty as fuck.”