A New World: Conspiracy (27 page)

The next morning, it seemed to be over.
There weren’t many people to be seen out and about. The few that
were out walked aimlessly down debris-ridden streets, stopping to
sift through some of the rubble from time to time. They appeared
dazed. Smoke poured from many of the buildings and many of the
vehicles lay smoldering in the thoroughfares. It was the next night
that showed that it wasn’t over by a longshot.

As the darkness fell, screams again filled
the avenues. Those that were out were attacked by gangs and
mercilessly torn apart. Neighbor’s houses were invaded and their
screams of terror and pain echoed throughout the community. The
horror of that night passed and the man speaking, Chris, gathered
the survivors in his neighborhood and made for the marina in the
light of the day. They took to boats and made for the seeming safer
waters. Over time, they came to realize what they were dealing
with. Since then, they scrounge for supplies during the day, never
venturing far into buildings, and bring the boats out into the bay
where they tie together and anchor for the night.

“There used to be more of us,” Chris says.
“Over the past few months, we’ve lost a few when we ventured too
far into darkened spaces and once, we lost eight when they didn’t
make it back to the marina in time.”

Leonard remains quiet, running the images
presented by Chris through his mind. He feels thankful he and the
crew came into this the way they did and hates to think of having
to survive an ordeal such as Chris and his group went through.
Leonard glances over to Chief Krandle and thinks of what the chief
and his team went through on his mission. A feeling of remorse
courses through him when thinking of the way he treated the chief
upon his return.

How could I know
?

He thinks back to the ordeal Walker told of
and shudders again at what these people went through. The mere fact
that they survived is miraculous, and to have achieved what they
did, even more so. It lends faith that humankind can survive this.
What form that survival may take is yet to be seen. The sheer
number of night runners is overwhelming. However, here they are,
still plugging away, and that gives an air of confidence. Finding
the group barely holding on farther north dimmed that hope.
Discovering Chris and his group in as good as shape as they are
brings hope that they will find their families in San Diego safe
and sound. The base will have resources beyond what this group has.
Perhaps they loaded the survivors onto the docked naval vessels and
put to sea.

But, if that’s the case, why hasn’t there
been any communication?

The thought only makes Leonard more anxious
to get home.

“So, Captain,” Chris says, breaking through
Leonard’s moment of reverie, “where does that leave us? Are you
able to take us with you?”

“Are there any injured in your party?”
Leonard asks.

“No, sir. We are all fit to travel.”

“We don’t have the facilities to take any of
your group on, but we can direct you to a location where a safe
haven has been established,” Leonard answers.

With a nod from Leonard, Chief Krandle pulls
out an atlas and pinpoints Walker’s location.

“It’s two full days of travel if you choose
to drive, providing you don’t run into any problems and have to
divert. If that’s the route you decide, I’d recommend finding a
place far away from any populated areas to spend the night. I’ve
traveled some of the route in northern California and Southern
Oregon. Finding unpopulated areas shouldn’t be a problem. I think
you’ll be safer if you can find vehicles and stay in them in the
unpopulated areas rather than a fortified building in any area that
used to be populated. There may be roving marauders as well.

“Now, the safer way that I’d recommend is to
use the boats you have. Put ashore at the various inlets along the
coast during the day to take on fuel and supplies. The most
difficult portion will be along the northern California coast where
the rocky shores will make it hard to go ashore and there aren’t
any ports. I’d recommend taking along as much fuel as you can
carry. The risk factors depend on how comfortable you are with the
vessels at your disposal. The sea route will take you considerably
longer, and that carries its own risk,” Krandle says.

“I’d feel more comfortable in the boats,”
Chris states. “I’m not very fond of going too far inland, and
they’ve provided a haven of safety for us so far.”

“Be careful of the currents at the mouth of
those inlets. They can be tricky and I’d recommend staying away
from them with the tide receding. Make sure to take a tide book
along,” Leonard offers. “When you do arrive, make for the port of
Olympia and work your way to the haven. Ask for Captain Walker and
let them know I sent you. You’ll be welcomed there.”

“Thank you, Captain and…”

“Krandle…Vance Krandle,”

“Thank you. May I take this?” Chris asks,
holding the atlas.

Krandle nods. “Feel free. We have
others.”

With nothing more to be said, Leonard and
the two men say their goodbyes, wishing each other luck. Before
long, the two descend the rope ladder and push away, making their
way in the choppy seas. The skiff vanishes behind the lead boat and
several minutes later, the boats turn and proceed toward shore with
a hail of friendly waves directed the sub’s way.

“What now, sir?” The XO asks after
everything is secured.

“As much as I’d like to speed home, XO, I
want to take a look at the port around Long Beach. We’ll continue
sounding the foghorn as we make our way around. Afterwards, we’ll
submerge and wait for night. The man said they heard gunshots, so
I’d like to see if we find anything. Tomorrow morning, if we don’t
discover anything, we’ll turn up the screw and set a course for
home. We can check on the remaining coastline afterwards. It’s past
time we were there. I’d like to arrive prior to evening, but we
need to approach cautiously. If anyone is still around and still
active, they won’t be expecting us. Let’s just be cautious,”
Leonard answers.

“It’ll be good to be home, sir…regardless of
what we find.”

“That it will, XO…that it will.”

Rounding the rocky point, the large port
slowly comes into view with the long strand of Huntington Beach
stretching out of sight to the south. Ships of all sizes and types
anchor inside the immensely long breakwaters. The docks are
partially filled with container ships in various stages of loading.
It’s like a snapshot was taken and time stopped. Nothing moves
except for the slow creep of the shadows from the tall cranes as
the sun works its way toward the horizon.

Parking the sub in the middle of the bay,
Leonard continues sending their signal hoping for a response.
There’s nothing except a periodic glint off an occasional window
from the declining sun. With the sun hitting the horizon, Leonard
turns the boat around, wanting to start at the northern end of the
basin as night falls, and work his way south. If they don’t find
anything during the night, they’ll be that much closer for the
sprint home come morning.

Maneuvering under a twilight sky, the first
points of light begin to show against a darkening background above.
Leonard sees the white outlines of Chris’ boats bobbing gently
between him and the shore. The wind dies down with the fading
daylight leaving gentle coasters rolling toward the shore.

Leonard opts to stay on the surface during
their night observation. It may be that the gunshots Chris
mentioned hearing a few nights ago could have been someone
signaling; although that seems unlikely with the number of night
runners that must be prevalent. Noise, light, and smell will
attract them and would amount to ringing the dinner bell.

Like a switch was thrown, the soft slap of
waves rolling down the length of the sub is replaced by a chorus of
faint shrieks reaching out across the water. Going below deck,
Leonard looks in the periscope and catches periodic glimpses of
night runners as they lope along cross streets near the shore.
Details become clearer as he zooms in.

Passing the entrance to the marina, he spies
a large group of them standing opposite where Chris and his group
are moored offshore. They appear agitated, running up and down the
beach. Some take runs at the water, splashing into the small
rollers. Several have waded in up to their waist and have their
heads tilted upward with their mouths wide open – looking for the
world like they are howling at the night sky. Some of the ones in
the water punch at the incoming surf as if angry with the
waves.

Leonard watches one wade farther in. It
starts swimming madly, flailing its arms and legs in the water, but
it makes progress. After several seconds, the contortions calm and
it starts swimming in a much more deliberate movement. Fascinated,
Leonard observes. Several others start after it in a similar
fashion. Small waves roll over the night runners. Leonard watches
as they surface behind the breakers and continue after thrashing
about some. The lead night runner reaches an area where larger
waves are breaking. He loses sight of it after one large wave
rushes over it. Leonard looks past the wave expecting the night
runner to surface and sputter before continuing its foray into the
bay. He sees nothing. Looking everywhere, he finally catches sight
of the night runner as it rises out of the water much closer to the
beach. It stands with water pouring from it and tilts its head
upward. Its arms are rigid by its side and it opens its mouth wide.
The anger and frustration its form presents is readily apparent.
Leonard notices the others that attempted to swim have been swept
ashore as well.

Good to know. They can swim, but they’re
defeated by moderate surf
, he thinks, continuing to watch the
gathering as the sub slowly transits the area.

He observes as others attempt to swim out to
the group anchored off the marina, but they all meet with the same
result.

As they patrol south, sandy beaches begin to
give way to the steep cliffs of the Palos Verdes headland. Leonard
doesn’t expect to find much as they can’t see over the tall bluffs.
About to pull his eyes away, he catches a quick flash. Looking
back, the area is dark.

“Ask the top deck if they observed a flash
of light,” Leonard directs.

“Topside reports negative, sir,” a crew
member reports moments later.

A faint flash from the same location is
followed quickly by a second one. As Leonard is about to ask if the
lookouts saw anything, they report the two flashes.

“Mark the location,” Leonard orders.

Staring intently toward the spot, his eyes
feel dry and gritty. Blinking to bring moisture to his eyes, he
looks again. He has a difficult time bringing the view into focus.
It’s been a long day and he feels weariness descend. Realizing he
won’t be doing any good, he tells the Officer of the Deck to call
him if anything happens. With a mix of eagerness at possibly
pulling into their homeport tomorrow and weariness that makes his
every step feel like his shoes are made of lead, he retires to his
cabin.

* * * * * *

Morning finds the
Santa Fe
on the
surface offshore from where they witnessed the three flashes of
light. Patrolling the length of the LA basin area didn’t reveal
anything further during the night. With two other lookouts, Leonard
and Krandle stand topside looking over the escarpment, shielding
their eyes from the glare of the freshly risen sun. A faint breeze
carries the blare from the foghorn toward shore where it echoes off
the cliffs.

“I don’t know about this one, sir. I’m not
so big on urban environments to begin with and that’s a large
sprawl of one. I wouldn’t mind so much if we didn’t have to travel
far, but the only way I see to get on top is to put ashore to the
north and hike in,” Krandle says, describing the only way he sees
to get to the top to investigate the source of the lights.

“It’s your call, Chief,” Leonard
replies.

Krandle stands, staring at the bluff rising
sharply out of the water. White shows along the waterline where
waves splash against the rocky shore. They are slowly navigating
around the headland so that Krandle can have a better look at the
environment. Bringing the binoculars up, he doesn’t see anywhere
they could come ashore without having to go the long way around.
There are a couple of steep paths leading upward, but the team
would be vulnerable ascending those. If it were night, it would be
different, but scaling those paths during the day if someone
unfriendly was up there would lead to their quick annihilation.
It’s the long way or none at all.

He feels torn. If there is actually someone
who needs their help, then he feels he owes it to them to provide
it; but it’s risky. So far, they’ve only ventured into small towns
where they could extract easily enough. Going into a large complex
such as this creates additional hazards, especially where the route
out is a long one. He hasn’t run into any unsavory types as of yet,
but he remembers some of the stories Captain Walker told. Even if
he didn’t hear those, he knows human nature and is sure there are
those who wouldn’t welcome their presence…or would be openly
hostile.

“You know, sir, those flashes could have
been from gunfire,” Krandle says, still not sure what the right
answer is.

“I understand. There isn’t a right or wrong
answer here. Do only what you feel comfortable with,” Leonard
replies.

Leonard’s words help, but he still isn’t
sure what to do. Their mission, as he sees it, is to help those
that need it but not to the point that he overly exposes his team.
Before, it was much easier. Those decisions were made for him. He
received his mission, briefed his team, and away they went. There
wasn’t the choice to go or not, they just did. He isn’t used to
this situation.