Dead Reckoning: A Post-Apocalyptic EMP Survival series, page 4
He couldn’t have done it without them. But Spencer doubted they wanted anything to do with the seagoing life or this rust-stained steel tub. All the trio was looking for was a ride to Jacksonville. Unless, of course, they had nothing left there. What if they wanted to stay aboard? He couldn’t very well deny them a place on the trawler, nor did he want to. But these were things that didn’t warrant much thought yet. They hadn’t even made it to Stuart, after all.
Spencer always believed that if he possessed a superpower, it would be the ability to worry about events that hadn’t yet occurred. He shook his head and laughed at himself while depressing the plunger on the Jetboil. Finn resumed his position on the padded seat near Ciro, who’d taken Spencer’s hint and settled in on his perch.
Spencer did his best to quiet the noise and unnecessary thoughts in his head. His coffee was ready, and that’s really all he had the capacity to control at this moment in time. It was going to be a long day.
CHAPTER SIX
After swallowing a few gulps of hot coffee, Spencer made sure to glass the horizon in all directions.
“Still alone. Just the way we like it, Finn.” Spencer raised his coffee at the good news.
But the dog was oblivious to the comment, already asleep and snoring quietly in a bright spot of sun beaming in through the window. He wondered if Rob and Nat were still sleeping. Who could blame them if they were? The gentle rocking of the boat against the glossy swells that had gradually built to solid one-footers since sunrise was enough to lull anyone to sleep or keep them in their racks.
Spencer was happy to see the swell and wind working in his favor. He had reason to believe that if the following seas persisted—or, if they were really lucky, increased—they’d shave some time off the trip to St. Lucie Inlet. Spencer glanced at the radio. How nice it would be to get a weather report. Normally, getting an updated forecast would be as easy as tuning into the NOAHH weather broadcast. But not since the EMPs hit.
Spencer turned the radio on and let it scan through station after station of static. He’d turned it off when he first came up on the bridge and realized there was nothing to pick up but noise. A boat the size of the Black Bird was required under maritime law to monitor VHF channels 13 and 16 when operating within U.S. territorial waters. A rule he had no choice but to break.
He spun the knob counterclockwise until it clicked, and the bridge fell into relative silence once more. He didn’t expect to pick up any broadcasts and had given the VHF another try out of sheer boredom more than anything else. There was no room to complain, though. They might have been starved for information, but the fact remained: they’d been incredibly lucky to wind up on the Black Bird. The shipboard systems were functional for the most part, and with each passing mile, Spencer’s confidence in the boat grew.
And thanks to the missing certificate of registry, Spencer still wasn’t sure where the Black Bird hailed from, but apparently, her home was well outside the area affected by the EMPs. Either that or the former captain and crew had conveniently happened to be offshore at just the right time and distance to avoid catastrophic failure of the boat’s electronics and engine. But Spencer imagined the first scenario was the most likely.
He wasn’t sure if any of the Bahamas had been affected by the EMPs. If not, it was very likely the Black Bird had come from that direction. Approximately seven hundred islands and 2400 cays made up the Bahamian archipelago. With only about a third of those being officially inhabited, the cluster of West Atlantic Ocean islands was the ideal place for a band of misfits and murderers to hide out from the law.
Depending on where in the Bahamas the boat was located, the Black Bird could have steamed into position after the bombs went off and been ready to take advantage of fleeing boats from the mainland within hours. At less than a hundred miles from the Florida coast, the Bahamas weren’t far at all. Spencer couldn’t remember the exact distance but knew there was less than sixty miles between Palm Beach and the town of West End on Grand Bahama Island.
He and Kate had made the crossing on Restless more than once, although their destination had been the southern Bahamas. On a boat like this, the trip from shore to shore would take half as much time as it had on the Hunter. Without plotting it out, Spencer guessed they were probably just a few hours from Bimini or Freeport right now.
He thought about the bowl of wedding rings and wondered how much of the stolen property had been acquired recently from people fleeing the country and trying to escape the craziness taking place on land. He could only imagine their surprise when the ocean turned out to be just as dangerous—or, in their case, deadly. Spencer shook the thought from his mind and stepped out onto the balcony from the side access. He took the binoculars with him and glassed the horizon once more. No boats, but he smelled coffee and bacon, which was surprising. He wasn’t sure how that was possible and thought maybe the hunger pangs in his gut were playing tricks on his mind. Then he noticed the galley vent just below his location.
Spencer came back inside to an alert Finn. The dog was mid-stretch with his nose in the air, picking up on the same aroma that had brought Spencer back inside.
“Well, it’s not just me, then. Somebody’s in the galley making breakfast.” Spencer was glad that the couple, or at least one of them, was awake. But as good as breakfast smelled, it brought to mind the need to conserve any and all food on board.
“Come on, boy. Let’s see what’s going on.” Spencer took one last look at the instruments and surrounding ocean before heading down to the main deck. Finn followed, still half asleep but encouraged by the pleasant aroma riding the draft of air up the stairwell.
“Good morning.” Nat trumpeted her greeting in a cheerful manner, throwing Spencer off guard. Maya remained silent, fully engrossed in mixing something in a large bowl, her stuffed turtle sitting next to her on the counter.
“Good morning.” Spencer returned the greeting as he surveyed the galley. The place had been a disaster less than an hour ago when he came down for coffee, but that was no longer the case. There was still work to be done; however, the improvement was immediately recognizable.
“Wow. You guys have been busy,” Spencer complimented the two.
Nat moved a dripping plate from the sink to the drying rack. “We finished up below deck for the most part, and I thought I’d get a jump on the mess up here and make us a little breakfast while we’re at it.”
“Finished up below deck?” Spencer’s brow wrinkled.
“Well, I shouldn’t have said finished, but we cleaned up the best we could. Rob should be up any minute. He was just gathering trash when Maya and I left him.”
Suddenly, Spencer felt guilty and a little lazy. Here he was, worried about getting the others motivated to chip in with cleaning up and they’d been doing just that while he’d been taking it easy on the bridge by comparison.
“I was going to surprise you with breakfast and coffee, but I see you’ve already made some.” Nat eyed the cup in his hand. “Refill?”
“Yes please. And thank you, for the coffee and for cleaning up.” Spencer held out his mug while Nat poured.
“No need for thanks. Just doing our part. Right, Maya? Besides, you’ve been up all night keeping things running. It’s the least we can do, and the place needed it… Still needs it.” Nat smiled and glanced past Spencer at the mess deck.
Spencer made his way to the sink and turned the faucet off, not wanting to spoil the mood by informing Nat that they couldn’t afford to run the water like they could on land.
“Sorry, it’s just that we need to be careful with our water usage,” he said with a shrug.
“Oh, sorry, I guess I wasn’t really thinking about that. I already got it from Rob this morning,” Nat replied.
Spencer noticed that both she and Maya were freshly showered, their hair still wet. The thought of the family taking turns in the shower made him cringe a little, but he held his tongue in hopes that Nat would heed his warning from now on about water usage. They were heading into shore, but Spencer doubted they would have the opportunity to top off the freshwater tank. Or anything else, for that matter.
“Mornin’, Spence.” Rob struggled to clear the open hatch with two large trash bags as he made his way up the ladder from below deck.
Spencer set his cup down and helped Rob up by taking the bags from him.
“Thanks. Man, what a mess down there.” Rob was sweating profusely, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he’d had a shower as well but hoped he hadn’t.
“I appreciate you guys helping out.” Spencer stashed the bags in the far corner of the mess deck and returned to the galley for his coffee.
“Ah, it’s no big deal,” Rob said. “We can’t live like this. The former occupants weren’t big on cleanliness, it seems. There’s more to do, but I think I might be getting a little green down there. Figured I better come up and get some fresh air.”
His comment concerned Spencer slightly. If the man was feeling seasick in these conditions, a real swell would do him in.
Maya finished stirring the bowl of eggs and slid it across the counter toward her mother.
“I’m helping my mom make breakfast.” She grabbed her turtle and climbed down from the crate she was standing on, making her way to Finn.
“I see that. And what a good job you’re doing. How did Lewis sleep last night?” Spencer asked.
“Pretty good.” She laughed, trapping the stuffed animal between her and Finn as she hugged the dog.
“We found the food in the refrigerator. I hope you don’t mind.” Nat flashed him a look of uncertainty.
“That’s fine. We just need to watch what we use. No telling when or where we’ll get more provisions,” Spencer warned.
They had plenty of room aboard the Black Bird for everyone, but not enough food if they kept eating like this. Spencer would have to sit down with the others and go over a few things. He was sure they’d understand, although he was disappointed that conserving resources wasn’t more obvious to the couple. Living aboard a sailboat made these considerations second nature to him. But he had to remember these people weren’t used to living like this. Still, the EMPs and the total deterioration of society should have clued them in.
What was done was done, though, and there was no point in bringing it up now. He’d at least wait until after breakfast. On the bright side, with a meal like this, they wouldn’t need to eat again for a while. There should also be no excuses for a lack of energy today while they tended to the many things that needed doing around the vessel.
Spencer helped Rob clear a spot at the table and also took a couple of minutes to check the horizon for other boats. Soon, they were all sitting down to an impressive spread. Little was said as they ate. They were all too hungry to waste time talking initially, but it didn’t take long for the pace to slow. Maya slipped Finn a piece of bacon under the table, and Spencer pretended not to notice. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have cared, but these were anything but normal circumstances. He’d wanted to wait until after breakfast, but now was as good a time as ever to have the talk.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Spencer did his best to lay out some basic guidelines and rules when it came to using water, food, and any other limited resource on board, and he tried to do it in a way that he hoped didn’t sound too harsh. But the reality of their situation couldn’t be downplayed.
The conversation was awkward at first until Rob and Nat confessed to getting carried away this morning in an attempt to show Spencer their gratitude for getting them and their daughter out of Marathon. They both committed to being more responsible and doing their best to conserve resources on board moving forward.
Spencer also reminded them that just because Jacksonville was the end of the line for them didn’t mean that was the case for everyone. Without the Hunter, this was his and Kate’s new home regardless of what was left on land. They had nothing else and nowhere else to go unless they stayed with her folks or his, and that might not even be possible, depending on the conditions in Stuart and Buxton.
Spencer was dreading the potentially confrontational discussion, but now that it was out in the open and they were all on the same page, he felt a weight lift from his chest and a sense of newfound confidence when it came to the future.
He finished off the rest of his breakfast as quickly as he could without being rude and was about to dismiss himself and get back up to the bridge. Then he noticed Rob’s vision fix on something off the port side as a look of concern passed over his face. Without asking what had Rob’s attention, Spencer turned in his seat to see what he was so interested in.
The recent moment of optimism that had replaced Spencer’s constant state of worry promptly faded at the sight of the big white cruise ship off the port bow. Spencer stood up from the table and swiftly relocated to the windows along the port side of the mess deck for a better view. How had he not seen the ship from the bridge? He checked his watch, confirming that he’d only been down in the galley for about half an hour. Too long away from his post, obviously, but hard to believe the boat had gotten this close in such a short amount of time, unseen. Spencer guessed the distance to be less than a mile, much too close for his liking.
Clearly, the cruise ship had always been there, but maybe he’d mistaken the massive off-white ship for a cloud when glassing the horizon. Staring out at an empty, open sea for hours on end could definitely play tricks on a person’s eyes as well as their mind.
“That’s a big one. Looks like a cruise ship,” Rob said and joined Spencer at the window.
“It is. I want to get a better look at her from the bridge.” Spencer pushed back from the bulkhead to hurry topside, but before he could turn away, he saw a glowing-hot, orange ball of fire shoot skyward from the cruise ship’s upper level, leaving a trail of twisted white smoke in its path.
“Was that a flare?” Nat asked as she and Maya joined them, their noses almost pressed against the glass like Finn’s. Finn pulled back at the sight of the flare and barked his disapproval of the big foreign object looming in the distance. Spencer felt the same about the sighting and needed to get his head wrapped around the situation. The ship had clearly seen them and was asking for help. It was adrift, judging by the angle of the boat and its lazy, deliberate movement to the north. It was hard to tell if it was dead in the water or not, but considering the recent EMPs, he had a feeling it was.
The cruise ship’s massive propellers sitting idle below the surface would act like two giant sea anchors, catching the Gulf Stream’s currents and slowly pulling the vessel northward. Without intervention, the ship would find itself being sucked out to sea as it drifted farther up the coast. Eventually, somewhere around the Outer Banks, the current would shift east toward the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and Bermuda.
Spencer nearly tripped over Finn as he crawled his way up the ladder to the bridge; the narrow, steep set of stairs leading to the upper deck wasn’t big enough for them all to climb at once, and Finn’s manners were nonexistent in his excitement. Eventually, Spencer made it to the helm, grabbing his binoculars from the shelf to get a good look at the vessel.
She was a cruise ship, all right. The multicolored waterslide track weaving its way between the main engine stack and the bright blue climbing wall covering the aft section of the ship was unmistakable. The ship belonged to Carousel Cruise Lines, one of Spencer’s least favorite. Not that he cared for any of the big cruise companies or their practices, but Carousel was known for its flagrant skirting of environmental regulations and had been found guilty and fined several times in the past couple of years alone. In Spencer’s opinion, the amounts levied against the conglomerate consisting of forty ships or more worldwide weren’t enough to keep the cruise line honest. And according to what was available on the web, the company made as much in a week’s time or less, easily offsetting the penalties.
Spencer continued his investigation of the distressed behemoth through his binoculars, identifying the vessel as the Opulence. A fitting handle for a ship that was guilty of overfeeding its guests and violating the environment in the name of profit.
“What are we going to do?” Nat asked from the weather deck just outside the pilothouse. She and Rob were taking turns looking at the big ship with a pair of binoculars Spencer had found earlier while searching the bridge.
“Nothing. I mean… what can we do?” Spencer answered without thinking through his initial reaction.
“But they need help,” Maya said, surprising Spencer with her insight and ability to make him feel immediately guilty about his statement.
Spencer shrugged. “There are thousands of people on that ship. We’ll be overwhelmed. And I’m not sure what we can actually do for them outside of letting the Navy or Coast Guard know about them if we happen to cross paths with either one of them.”
As if the cruise ship had somehow heard his oversimplified explanation, another flare rocketed skyward from the upper deck.
“Spencer’s right,” Rob said. “We can’t do anything for them. They probably have more food and water than we do. And if they’re smart about it, they’ll be fine for a long time.”
Spencer didn’t agree with Rob, at least not all of what he’d said. And he heavily doubted the average cruise goer’s propensity for intelligence, although he knew deep down that wasn’t a fair assessment, just his bias leaking through.
“We can’t just ignore them. Can we at least let them know somehow that we’ll send help?” Nat ran a hand through her tangled hair.
Spencer and Rob eyed each other with the same expression, one that Spencer thought expressed their mutual disbelief in the notion that they could find any help to send. It also expressed their disdain for getting any closer to the ship than necessary. There were thousands of people on board, and those people were no longer on vacation. Instead, they were on a quest to survive by any means necessary.
