How long do clothes really last? Were people with the skill to make textiles a critical need he had overlooked? There were people out there with only the clothes on their back. How long could the fabric of thirty-some thousand people last in ocean air? His mind wandered as he gazed out over the aircraft carrier’s landing deck.
Helicopters of varying shapes and sizes sat next to fighter jets that, Henry noted, were not as numerous as when he had first arrived on board the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan. A group of soldiers and sailors slowly loaded cargo onto a Chinook Helicopter that would eventually transport Henry and a dozen other men to the U.S.S. Boxer — an amphibious warfare ship that had been largely converted into a floating refugee center.
The cool sea breeze felt good, and the fresh air made Henry realize how much he had gotten used to the dank smell of mildew and body odor below deck. When he returned, Henry decided, he would have to make a point of getting more fresh air.
The sound of rotors preceded a green Iroquois helicopter’s arrival. It landed on the carrier deck, and six marines poured out… carrying two stretchers. They rushed toward Henry with alarming urgency, a marine medic held two IV’s in the air as they went. A man dressed in civilian clothes chased after them. His shirt was drenched in blood, and his face bore a look of anguish.
The marines rushed past Henry, and one of the soldiers broke off to intercept the civilian man before he made his way into the ship. “They’re in good hands, sir. Docs will have them stitched up in no time. Are you okay?”
Henry could see, as the civilian man came closer that his face was broken and bruised, and there was a deep gash in his right arm. Instinctually, he took a step forward to help and if necessary—inspect the man for bites. The marine seemed to have things under control, however, and Henry forced himself to stay out of the situation.
The marine removed some gauze from his backpack and began wrapping the civilian’s lacerated arm. The two men then began to move in Henry’s direction. As the marine worked, he looked up and acknowledged Henry… but continued tending to the civilian’s wound. “Okay, I’m gonna take care of this quick, so that you don’t bleed all over sick bay… and then you can see your kids.”
Henry allowed silence to linger for a few minutes before speaking. “What happened?”
“There’s a riot aboard the Sapphire Cruise ship.” The marine answered nonchalantly.
“They stabbed my kids!” The civilian man continued. “I tried to… I tried…” The man broke down into tears and was unable to continue.
“Come on, let’s see your kids,” the marine offered. The man’s sobs persisted, echoing up the steel corridor as the two men disappeared below deck.
“That’s a damn shame.” A familiar voice startled Henry.
He wheeled to face Senator Allan Nostrum. The overweight, balding man clutched a brown suitcase and frowned at Henry. Henry did not enjoy being startled, but he managed to calm his rising anger before responding in an even tone: “Yep… damn shame.”
The Senator held Henry’s gaze. He was a good deal shorter than the Doctor was, but the Senator carried himself with the presence of a much larger man. “The captain of the Sapphire’s been begging the Admiral for a security detail for over a month. Those marines were just over there inspecting the situation. Lucky they were there, else that man and his kids would be dead.”
Henry considered asking Nostrum how he knew about the Sapphire, but he arrived at the answer almost as soon as the question entered his mind. Nostrum was a politician with a knack for building networks of contacts. While Henry was busily solving the world’s problems, Allan was cultivating his power base. “Good thing I guess…” Henry replied, wary of the predator in his midst.
“There are gonna be a lot more riots. There are not enough soldiers to spread around. We’re gonna lose a lot more ships — civilian and military — before we make it to the Gulf.” Nostrum continued in his smooth New England accent. “A lot of people…”
“We’ll have to consolidate the civilian fleet into the larger vessels to maintain security. It’s all in my report,” Henry replied.
“I read your report,” Nostrum answered. He moved to the doorway and peered out at the soldiers loading the Chinook helicopter. “You have a forward-thinking mind, Henry. That’s good.”
Henry was reminded of the patronizing tone he had endured while working in the department of Health and Human Services as an analyst. He had almost forgotten about it. He had learned to ignore it, but after months of being the man in charge, the sting came back all at once. He struggled to keep his anger in check. “You can call me Doctor, Senator. Doctor Damico.”
“Then what will I call your wife when I meet her?” he smiled a toothy smile. “I can’t call you both Doctor Damico. That must be so confusing at cocktail parties.”
“What do you want?” Henry asked impatiently.
“Me? Nothing, I’m just waiting for my ride.” Nostrum responded in a tone that feigned hurt feelings.
“You’re going to the Boxer?” A sense of sadness washed over Henry. He had hoped to spend a couple days alone with his wife, and the thought of having to keep an eye out for a nosy Senator was not appealing.
“The Boxer? No, I’m getting dropped off on the Horizon Pacific container ship. The captain has had his underwear in a bunch since we pulled an Imminent Domain on him and started distributing his cargo of food to the fleet. I’m going to see if I can smooth things over.”
Henry set his jaw and nodded in reluctant approval. The resources on many ships had been commandeered by the military for a variety of purposes — food stuffs, supplies, fuel. The captains of those vessels had become entitled astonishingly quickly. There were no active ports in which to dock, and the corporations that owned the freight were defunct or dead. In their minds, they were the de facto owners of their cargo. They imagined themselves, in part, as new wealthy nobility who had inherited their fortunes by default. Small ocean-borne feudal societies had already begun to spring up — complete with courts comprised of the ship’s crews and protected by mercenaries or civilians willing to pledge fealty as “knights.” However, the military had stepped in to inform those captains that not only were they not the twenty-first century kings they fancied themselves to be, but they would also have a permanent military presence on board for security and distribution of goods. Once the illusion was shattered, those ship’s captains and crews had been thrust into a rocky relationship with the military. If not for the ever-present threat of the walking dead, the Mexican military and marauding pirates, many ships may have likely attempted to abandon the fleet.
Henry turned away from the senator and stared out over the tarmac. The world was becoming a very strange place, and men like Nostrum had a knack for navigating it. It was frustrating to see someone thrive amidst the chaos for which they were in part responsible.
“What do you want?” Nostrum repeated Henry’s question back to him.
Henry hesitated before answering. He had been operating on autopilot for so long he hadn’t really considered the question. “I want to see my wife.”
“Of course… but what do you want?” Nostrum stressed the word, indicating that his question was meant to be much broader than the answer Henry had given him.