Keepers of the Flame Read online

  “There was no home to go to, and Captain Shaw was in shock, so it was up to me to inform the passengers, most of whom had family back on shore. I’d set a new course away from Seattle, which was in total chaos. Then I lost communication with cruise ship operations, and I gave the order to cut the boat’s internet signal and jam the limited cell phone service. I had the only legal gun aboard, the Glock 19 I taught you to clean when you were a young girl.”

  Milly nodded, transfixed by her mother’s story. Much of this was new to her.

  “The pandemic started in Asia and spread across the world like wildfire. What caused it, and where patient zero had been, is unknown. The plague hadn’t reached the United States when we’d cast off, but ninety-nine percent of the U.S. population became infected within two weeks.

  “The passengers and most of the crew were blissfully ignorant of the severity of the situation, but an announcement had to be made. I ordered the food stores secured, and locked down critical areas of the ship. I was worried the passengers would revolt and force the ship back to Seattle, so I issued all security and senior staff stun guns,” Sarah said. “That’s when I met Tye Rantic. He said he was a military man. Had a SAT phone that could get a signal anywhere on Earth.”

  “My friend Tye?” Milly said.

  “One and the same,” Sarah said. Candlelight danced across her face, and Milly’s head swam with new revelations as her mother’s words wove a tapestry.

  Sarah paced around the bridge of the Oceanic Eco, her gaze straying to a display carrying BBC news via the ship’s high gain antenna. The camera panned across a deserted Paris, the entrance to the Eiffel Tower in the background. The face of a man in a biohazard suit flashed across the screen and then the camera settled on a pile of bodies. They were stacked ten high; arms, legs, hair and blood intertwined like a car that’s gone through a trash compactor. Sarah threw up in her mouth; it burned her throat and she coughed. Many of the corpses looked bullet-ridden and torn up.

  “Did Rantic tell anyone?” Sarah asked Petty Officer Janus.

  “He claims no, but we’ve got bigger problems. People are complaining about their room service orders being denied, and several passengers have noted our new course.”

  Sarah knew when the passengers learned they weren’t going back to port, and why, their stages of grief would turn the Oceanic Eco into a turbulent sea of emotions and desperation. “Assemble senior staff and Rantic in the captain’s conference room for a briefing. I’ll show him what we’re dealing with and he can spread the word,” she said. “The days ahead will require many adjustments, not the least of which is developing a new understanding of the difference between needs and wants.”

  “And the Captain, Ma’am?” PO Janus said.

  Sarah ran her fingers through her hair. The captain had checked out, and his wife was barely hanging on, but he was still captain. “Yes. Help him attend. Get it done ASAP.”

  “Aye, Ma’am.”

  Everyone except Captain Shaw rose when Tye Rantic entered the conference room.

  “Hi, I’m Staff Captain Sarah Hendricks. At the head of the table is Captain Shaw and his wife, Jean Marie. He is ill, but we wanted him to sit in.”

  Captain Shaw’s mouth hung open, his eyes glassy nothingness, his posture that of a deflated balloon. Mrs. Shaw waved, but didn’t speak.

  “Shall I start, Captain?” Captain Shaw showed no sign he’d heard, but she doggedly plowed forward. “Yes, sir,” she said. “I’ve called you here to explain why I’ve… why the captain has given the order to ration food and not head back to Seattle. I have a duty to protect the passengers of this ship and take any action I deem necessary to preserve your safety.” Sarah lifted a remote and turned on a wall mounted TV, which displayed four stations on its divided screen.

  Tye Rantic fell back in his seat and let out a low whistle. Sarah knew he was military, and he looked the part; tight crewcut, clean shaven, good posture. A thin sheen of perspiration covered his dark skin, and his brown eyes blazed.

  Suffering and pain drove the wheels of civilization, but it didn’t look like the world would recover from this. One quarter of the screen showed BBC news, which had a tagline running on the bottom that gave emergency broadcast information because they didn’t expect to be on the air much longer. The BBC images flashed from city to city: Big Ben, Times Square, Beijing, Sydney, Moscow and Trafalgar Square. Everywhere the camera’s eye revealed the same: dead bodies lying in heaps. Humanity brought to its knees as the diseased preyed on each other. The other three stations showed much of the same.

  Sarah hit a button and a report from KING news out of Seattle filled the screen. The city was burning and people were tearing each other apart.

  “This footage was shot minutes ago at Seattle Center,” the reporter’s voice said as the camera followed a figure shambling down a walkway. The shaky cellphone footage zoomed in revealing a person covered in lesions and scabs. Engorged blood vessels pressed against tightened skin, creating a spider-work of black lines across the infected person’s face. The whites of the viral’s eyes had gone blood red, the person’s facial features chiseled away, and other than its basic body structure, it no longer looked human.

  The reporter’s voice continued as the video showed the viral tearing apart its victim. “This footage is difficult to watch, but it shows how the diseased have a period of blood lust coupled with a total loss of mental acuity. They are extremely dangerous at this stage and you should protect yourself from them with any means at your disposal.”

  Sarah turned off the screen, and the room fell silent.

  Doc Hampton said, “Now you understand why we need to stay away. The virus or the infected would have us as soon as we made port. They don’t understand how the disease is spreading, but they know it can live in ambient air for several minutes. Quarantining ourselves and waiting this out is the smartest move.”

  “Are you sure the virus isn’t already here?” Tye asked.

  “We’ve been at sea ten days. We’d have seen a case by now,” said the Eco’s Chief Medical Officer.

  “How do you know someone isn’t dead in their cabin?” Tye said.

  Sarah lifted an eyebrow. She hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll check into that. Inventory the passengers and make some visits,” she said.

  The ship hummed in response. Air moved through the room’s two vents. Someone sniffled.

  “So what’s the plan? We only have so much food and water,” Tye said.

  “Rocco, how far can we get?” Sarah said.

  The Chief Engineer looked put out, his normally combed jet-black hair a mess and his face dripping with perspiration. A long exasperated sigh like a tire going flat escaped his lips. “We filled the tanks when we left Seattle, and that was supposed to last us four tours. We’ve got seventy-eight percent of our fuel left, so…” He looked at the ceiling, counting. “Maybe six thousand miles at twenty-four knots. Probably a little more due to cancelations. I agree with Tye, seems food and water are the bigger problems.”

  “Can you shut off showers and sinks in all the cabins?” Sarah asked.

  “Not without killing the sanitary also,” Rocco Serregio said.

  “Aye,” she said. “How can we conserve drinking water?”

  “I was on a base once where the water only flowed certain times a day, in assigned areas, for a short time. Plus, waste will be minimized with decreased food consumption,” Serregio said. He worked pit for a Formula One race driver during the season and spent the off season keeping the Oceanic Eco’s four electric engines tuned and its Promas Lite integrated propeller-rudder system humming.

  “So we can reach Polynesia. There are many islands there that have what we need, and have small populations, and in some cases, they’re basically uninhabited. We’ll drop anchor and wait. We can hold out for a long time if we ration, and reconnoiter an island or two,” Sarah said.

  Nobody said anything.

  “There is more potential bad news. Terrible business,�
�� Captain Shaw said. Everyone turned his way, staring. The captain spoke as if from a dream. “News reports I saw before things got bad were about a group of religious zealots calling themselves God’s Brigade. They were trying to get their hands on nuclear weapons and go out with a bang, wiping out the American heathens who had brought on the apocalypse.”

  The captain fell back into his trance, and his wife said, “He supports whatever you think is best, Sarah.”

  “I’ll set course for Polynesia at twenty-four knots,” Sarah said.

  Despite the world falling apart on land, the ocean paid no mind. Eight days passed, and the Oceanic Eco made great time, but still Sarah was on edge. All television feeds had gone dark, and the military radio channels were sporadic and often in code. Captain Shaw’s warning had been justified. God’s Brigade took control of an ICBM site in Russia and promised to launch the missile carrying a twenty-five megaton R-36 nuclear warhead at the United States in God’s final cleansing. The people left alive in the States waited to see who won the game of Russian roulette.

  The Oceanic Eco anchored on the western side of the island away from the resort, and they’d been there three days when they heard the message about Los Angeles.

  Sarah sat at her desk in her office off the bridge, playing the naval message they’d intercepted seven hours earlier. She knew it by heart because she’d listened to it hundreds of times.

  “Foxtrot 19, I have confirmation. The missile has struck Los Angeles. I repeat to everyone on this frequency, and anyone still alive anywhere, avoid the western United States due to radiation and extreme temperatures. LA is gone.”

  There was a knock on her office door.

  “Enter,” she said without looking up. The naval message played again and Rocco Serregio waited. “What is it, chief?”

  “Ma’am, people are talking about you the way they do the captain.” When Sarah looked up Rocco didn’t meet her gaze. “I’m not saying you’re that… that you have any issues, but perception is reality and everybody is getting antsy. Perhaps we should let people go ashore. It might help them come to terms with the fact that they’re going to be here for a while.”

  “No,” Sarah said. “I’m not ready for everyone to scatter. We need a plan first.”

  “But I…”

  Sarah’s comm buzzed. “Go ahead.”

  “Staff Captain to the bridge immediately.”

  Sarah and Rocco ran for the door.

  A shrill klaxon wailed across the bridge and Sarah said, “What is that alarm, ensign?”

  “Tsunami warning system, ma’am. Whatever happened in LA has sent a shock wave tsunami our way.”

  “ETA?”

  “One moment.” Ensign Gregor tapped his keyboard. “Estimates… and that’s all they are… say the wave will be approximately three hundred feet tall and traveling at five hundred miles per hour. Given the relative distance, we’ve got about two hours.”

  “Two hours?”

  “Due to weather patterns and seismic activity, scientists were worried about a tsunami moving west to east relative to the west coast of the United States. Ours is moving the opposite way, and the system just picked it up.”

  “Two hours,” Sarah repeated. She fell into a chair, rubbed her forehead, and pulled her hair off her face. “There are seven hundred and six people aboard, and the Oceanic Eco is a mile offshore. We can’t move any closer due to the depth of the sea. There are only two functioning launches, plus lifeboats. Every second we delay evacuation means people will have less time to get to… where? The island?” Sarah went to the command console and lifted the communication receiver. “Ensign, put me on ship wide.”

  “Aye.” A pause. “You are a go.”

  “Attention all staff and passengers. There is a shock wave tsunami on its way toward us. We must evacuate the ship and head for high ground on the island. Staff, please help passengers into lifeboats and provide them with flotation devices before seeing to your own safety. Incidents of misconduct will be dealt with swiftly and harshly. God speed to everyone.”

  Ensign Gregor closed the channel and Sarah put the mic back in its cradle. “Ensign, find my husband,” Sarah said. In all the chaos she’d forgotten about Gary.

  “Aye.”

  Sarah breathed deep and rolled her shoulders. She went to the map table, folded the paper sea charts and put them under her arm. She took another deep breath and set her stopwatch.

  Sarah jumped from the launch and ran across the beach. An intense sucking sound rose above the wind and the yelling of panicked people. The massive pucker got deeper and louder as the water receded from the island as if the laws of physics had been reversed. The sea rose in a tumult as it was sucked around the island toward the tsunami.

  A white line crossed the eastern horizon and grew like a nightmare.

  The ocean surged higher as the sea flowed past the island as if it were a rock in a stream. “Run now. As hard as you can,” Sarah said. She and Gary ran up the mountainside, Sarah still carrying her pack and the Glock, and he hauling a container of food. She looked over her shoulder and saw that many lifeboats had been sucked out to sea as the ocean withdrew, but some had been pushed ashore as the sea coursed around the island.

  The thick wall of white on the eastern horizon was coming on fast. They sprinted down the thin path and the ocean disappeared as they entered a forest of shrubs and tree ferns. She had to make it to the top. If she did that, there was a chance. They all followed one beaten trail and Sarah hoped whoever blazed it had chosen wisely.

  She came around a bend and a child stood over a fallen woman, weeping. The kid’s hair was long and straggly, her eyes wild. “Help, please,” yelled the child.

  Sarah stopped. “Come on, honey.”

  “I’m Milly. I’m two years old.” The child held up her right hand displaying two fingers. “Help my mom? Please. She sick.”

  The island trembled, and the sucking was replaced with a thunderous roar. A mighty wind tore through the forest, and Sarah pulled the girl away from her fallen mother. “Run, child. I’ll take care of her.” Sarah knelt and took the woman’s pulse. She was gone.

  The child watched Sarah as people streamed by on the path, and the roaring of the sea rose above the cracking trees and smashing stone. Sarah wiped tears from her eyes and picked the child up. Gary yelled at her to run, but she’d tuned him out. She’d tuned everything out.

  “I have no memory of that. I must have blocked it,” Milly said, the spell of the story broken by the realization that her mother wasn’t her mother.

  Sarah put an arm around Milly. “You are my daughter. You were very young, and there is nothing for you to block.”

  “Until now, The Day was more of a dream, something I’ve been building in my mind more from stories than actual events I lived through. I believed you to be my mother because you are my mother. You don’t have to give birth to someone to be their mother and giving birth doesn’t make you a mother.”

  “Yes. Thank you, Milly. Thank you so much.” Sarah hugged her daughter and cried.

  “Don’t stop there. What happened? How did it all end?” Milly laughed. “We’re here, so I know how it ends, but you know what I mean.”

  “I thought we were being claimed by the sea. The wave broke over the island and the sea filled every empty space. The rumble of water, screams of pain, and the harsh whistling of the wind was like a cyclone. I clutched you to my breast. I needed to protect you. That’s all there was left to do. That and put one foot in front of the other.

  “We ran past boulders, fallen trees and uprooted vegetation as the water crashed up the slope. People behind us were sucked under the rushing tide. White water tore and smashed everything in its wake, and the ground became wet beneath our feet. The screams died away as water consumed the island, and you clung to my neck like I was a life preserver. Gary lost his package of food, but he struggled on in front of us as water rose on both sides of the path.

  “We broke free of the forest and I
saw the wave receding into the distance to the west. I knew if we didn’t find an anchor, we’d be swept away when the water receded. The mountaintop stood alone in the boiling sea, the land beneath our feet slipping into the depths. We reached a thick chestnut tree, its lower trunk a spider-work of raised roots. We scrambled into the tree canopy, Gary lifting you as the water rose to his chest. Like an incredible tide the ocean withdrew, and sea water surged over the chestnut’s lower limbs. We climbed into that tree as high as we could.

  “Until that moment I thought we’d make it. Everything wasn’t lost. We’d rebuild, bring the world back, but as the sea pulled everything into its depths, leaving nothing but a torn wasteland behind, I admit I didn’t know how we’d survive. Nothing remained, Milly. We were in the middle of the Pacific Ocean with no food or supplies. The rest of humanity had checked out, which left us among the last humans left alive on Earth.”

  “Do you think it’s that way still?” Milly said.

  “There are bound to be pockets of survivors running from the virals. Humans are a fungus. Give them a little sun and water and they’ll grow back, but who knows when or in what form?”

  Milly squeezed her mother tight.

  “I held you in that tree and caressed your head. I was Milly’s mother. I kept telling myself that over and over. I knew you would forget, and that’s what I wanted. For you to never relive the pain of The Day until you were old enough to understand.

  “The water drained away and solid ground was beneath us once again. We stayed in that tree long into the night, and only climbed down when I heard the call of our people, and saw the glow of the Perpetual Flame spark to life.”

  Chapter Three

  Year 2051, Respite

  Shadows danced on the infirmary walls, a single torch at the entrance filling the cave with flickering orange light. Tye watched from the shadows as Doc Hampton adjusted stones on the pillar at the center of the chamber. He pushed rocks into place and looked over his shoulder several times as he worked, grunting and sighing. When he was done, he stood up straight, cracked his back and groaned.