I must conclude, and FEMA Regional Director Morris agrees, that it is likely that we may be the only survivors in North America.
Going forward, our plans include staying buttoned up in the bunker for 36 months, in order to allow surface conditions to stabilize. We will attempt to make the living conditions for everyone as good as our resources permit. You have been restricted during this crisis period for your own safety. I know that many of you are upset with the circumstances that brought you here. I had to look at the potential big picture, and make a number of hard choices, including the one that brought you here, without your friends and loved ones.
The hard fact remains, we may be the only humans left to repopulate the earth. There was no opportunity for the staff here to bring our family and friends, including my own wife and children. We are all in the same boat. In time the grief will pass, and we must move on.
The staff population includes about 100 women, and over 1500 men. Within the next few weeks we will be screening all of you, medically, professionally, and emotionally. We will have an assignment for each of you that best fulfills the needs of this community. Our objective is to develop a stable, productive, and prolific community that has a minimum of four children from each fertile woman.”
There was a great outcry and rage among the assembled women, and Kemp just stood there, while the troopers brought their weapons to port arms.
“You may not like it, but I have both a carrot and a stick. Those who cooperate will have an improved standard of living and a good life. Anyone that does not respect our authority will not be treated gently. You will be called in small groups for interviews, starting tomorrow.” With that he turned and left the room, and the women were herded back to their barracks.
Cindy was beside herself. “What are they expecting?”
Rose lit her last cigarette and said, “They want us to be brood mares and whores. We can’t fight it, they have all the guns, and rape is no fun. I know. All we can do is go along until we have an opportunity. Just stick with me, and I’ll help you through it. It’s not too bad if you don’t fight it, and sometimes it’s pretty good.”
That evening, there were two suicides by mothers who realized that their children were gone.
Over the next weeks many things changed. They now ate their meals in the General Mess. They were also welcome in the gym and pool, as well as the four clubs that had nightly music, limited booze, and many dark corners. The staff all had private rooms and women were welcome to enter and stay. Birth control of any form was not available, and when a women was confirmed pregnant then she had the option of staying with the presumed father, or moving into a room with another mother to be.
Cindy worked days in Director Kemp’s office, and Rose worked in the laundry. They went to the gym most days and to a club three or four times a week. Cindy met a cute young officer, Raymond Jennings, who was the pilot for the big helicopter. Rose was busy captivating a senior officer. He was in his 40’s, and commanded the Motor Pool Company. They both occasionally stayed overnight, but refused offers of a different arraignment.
Their lives seemed to stabilize, until the week when Cindy’s period was late, and she was sick every morning. When the test strip indicated that she was indeed pregnant, she went to Rose in tears.
Again, Rose was pragmatic. “So you’re going to have a kid. It’s not the end of the world. Move in with your guy the next time he offers. You must have set the hook by now. I know I have the Colonel wrapped around my finger.”
Reluctantly, Cindy agreed that moving in was the best option, for now. Two months later, when she admitted that she was pregnant, he kicked her out. She moved in with another mom who had suffered a similar fate.
When Lilly was born Cindy thought she was a miracle, and resolved that she would never have to live like her mother.
Chapter 7
There was a lot of debris in the water, shipping containers, parts of buildings, even the bow of a ship that was bigger than the Goose. The days had heavily overcast skies, with less than a mile of visibility. At night, there was none, and when the darkness returned, we struck the jib and drifted until the next morning.
Finally, on September third (Day 96), we approached what the GPS said was San Francisco Bay. I was looking through binoculars, trying to spot the Golden Gate Bridge. Dad pointed to a square, orange structure, sticking out of the water.
“I believe that’s the South Tower,” he said. “And over there, that must be the top stories of the B of A building. The sea level must have risen well over 300 feet.”
Everyone was out on deck, and the silence said it all.
Allison Jacobs asked, “Where did all the people go?”
No one had an answer that they were willing to voice.
We anchored the Goose for the night, and turned on all the lights. Even though we all looked until we were tired, we found no evidence of life.
The next morning, April Hall demanded that we sail up the Sacramento River to see if we could find her husband Eric. She had been through hell, not knowing, and no one argued with her.
The trip was slow, because of the amount of floating debris, and the fact that we had to navigate using the GPS, since the river was now part of a huge Inland Sea.
We reached what the GPS said was the Port of Sacramento by late morning of the next day. The city was mostly under water, except for some wrecked high rise buildings and houses on the foothills to the east. We followed the path of the American River, and passed over Folsom Dam. It was under over 150 feet of water according to the fathometer.
We anchored in shallow water near what the map called El Dorado Hills. Most of the homes appeared intact, except for blown out windows. Dad noticed smoke coming from a chimney on a home near the top of the hill. He tried calling out with loudspeaker, but got no response.
We turned all the lights on again that night, and waited. About two hours after sundown, Dad saw a couple of people sneaking down the hill with the night vision goggles. Doc turned on the spotlight on them, and they crouched down behind a wall.
Dad called out with the loudspeaker “We mean you no harm. Come back in the morning and we can talk.”
Doc then turned off the spotlight and all the external lights. Dad kept watch with the night vision goggles until the stranger left the area.
The next morning we unstrapped the inflatable and Dad ran it the 50 yards to the shore. I saw that he had a pistol under his shirt, and that both Doc and Mr. Jacobs had assault rifles out of sight on deck. The moms herded all us kids below decks. I fired up the TV camera on the main mast and we watched Dad’s progress.
Dad stayed in the open, and was soon joined by a man holding a long gun. They talked for a long time, and then shook hands. The man went behind a building and Dad returned to the boat.
He explained what he had learned. “Times are very bad around here. The flood, earthquake, and the storm killed anyone not on high ground and under cover. The survivors are desperate, hungry, and scared. Those that have provisions have to fight to keep them. There are roaming bands of thugs that take anything they want and kill anyone who objects. The man I spoke with, is Aaron Johnson, a CHP Sargent. He and his wife and two kids, live in the home where we saw the smoke. They have already had to fight off two different groups of thugs, and his wife was wounded in the last one. He asked if we would take his family to someplace that is safer. He has provisions and some weapons. It’s up to you Doc, but I vote we help them. He seems like a decent guy, and we may need another gun.”