Evacuation (The Seamus Chronicles Book 2) (2 page)

I reflect upon the survivors in our makeshift compound outside of San Francisco, those who were strategically vaccinated to survive a biological threat and sustain the world. We have Randy the materials science engineer from Louisiana and William the meteorologist from Houston. When we told Jane about Chicago and Pittsburgh being in the path of the fire, she had almost lost it. She admitted that there were other scientists there who had been vaccinated and survived, but she hadn’t said what their specialties were. They have not been active on the communication network and Dad flat-out refused to go back into that wasteland on a random hunt for two people without at least breadcrumbs on where they might be.

It was Dad’s refusal to search for survivors in Chicago and Pittsburgh that put Jane and Cassandra off the rails. Right after we completed the reactor she begged him to try Chicago before heading to Louisiana. The rest of us agreed with his stance that a guaranteed survivor was more important than a potential survivor. Until we had contact with someone, there would be no rescue mission. The next day began Jane’s unrelenting pursuit of something related to solar sail technology and traveling faster than light.

I wish a psychologist had survived. We could all use some therapy. I’m not sure we can have post-traumatic stress disorder because we are not post the trauma yet. We will probably never get beyond the trauma. There is a general “why me” feeling in terms of our survival. Personally I also have flashbacks to the fire and witnessing the heads explode on those two men that Dad shot.

“Mom, I know you didn’t want to talk about it, but I’m glad we did,” I say. It feels good to have cleared the air with her. Things are not all the way back to normal but they are much better than when I woke up this morning.

“I’m glad we did too. I hope you know that I love you so much. It’s hard for me to adjust to not having to protect you,” she says and she is hugging me so tight I can barely breathe. But it’s the first real hug I have gotten from her since she left home for the airport on a regular old business trip all those months ago before the world fell apart.

Dad and Liam have always been a team. When we were younger, I always thought it was because Dad liked him better than me. They would go off to do yard work together, play catch or go swimming. As I got older I realized that they always went off when Dad was trying to diffuse an argument or a brewing fight. Now they work together on the manual tasks needed to keep us comfortable.

There is no food manufacturing and Mom hasn’t figured out how to grow rice, wheat or potatoes in a way that we can harvest and use. Dad and Liam go out every couple of days in a refrigerated box truck and collect supplies. They focus on things like flour, rice and canned vegetables, but Dad is such a softy he can’t resist getting chips, crackers and cookies, too. At this point everything is past its “best if used by” date but we can still safely eat them. It kind of amazes me how much processed food we still eat. Someday this will have to stop.

They have also taken up hunting. A few birds have been brought home and we’ve had plenty of squirrel but as of now nothing substantial. I think Dad is better at it than Liam but he wants Liam to learn. Liam told me there have been a couple of chances for deer that Dad would not take and Liam missed badly. Dad is probably planning for the event that he has to leave again.

The two of them are kind of inseparable now. Liam needs to be around people and Dad occasionally needs help. They came into the lab the other day to change a light bulb. There was no reason for both of them to be there but Liam carried the ladder and Dad carried the light bulb. Which reminds me of the other thing they do here: maintenance. At any given time you can find them mowing the lawn, weeding a flowerbed or even repairing a roof. Just like in the old life, it all goes on in the background around me, barely noticed. I bet if they stopped, though, we would all notice.

Despite my reservations, I’ve become sort of a team with Cassandra. It’s a logical fit considering our advanced intellect and the fact that she was rather instrumental in helping me complete the dark energy reactor. After helping me build the coupling unit to connect the reactor to the grid, we rolled into some experiments with field manipulation. I realize now that it wasn’t just the fields that were being manipulated. Those tests quickly evolved into a project with her mother and then on to the regimented lab schedule and test list we have now.

William and Randy have their own labs that they work in diligently every day. I have no idea what it is they work on or why it is so important, but Dad and Mom don’t complain so I won’t either. I am suspicious though, because Jane flits about between the three labs like she is running a top-secret project and working toward a deadline. But we have no bosses or customers to satisfy. As far as I can tell, our timeline is pretty well open-ended.

The only time most of us get together is Sunday morning for inventory. This started a couple of months ago when we ran out of ice cream, of all things. It was a hot day and Sofie went to the kitchen to get the kids a treat. The day before they had eaten ice cream and left a whole gallon in the freezer. Overnight, it disappeared. Turns out that Liam had had trouble sleeping and gone to the kitchen for a snack. He took the gallon of ice cream and sat out looking up at the stars. I don’t know if he ate it all or if he fell asleep and it melted, but it doesn’t really matter. Dealing with the argument and “investigation” about the missing ice cream bothered us all.

Mom declared that Sunday morning was inventory time. Everyone was to gather in the commissary and take stock of what we have and what we need. Basically a glorified shopping list meeting. At the end of the inventory session, we take whatever is closest to expiration and make a big Sunday meal out of it. Then we all sit together and eat and socialize. Jane and Cassandra never miss the meal, but they have only made it to two inventory sessions. William and Randy are better at making it to inventory but not close to one hundred percent of the time.

Today we have some duck to complement the expiring food. Fresh waterfowl is good but it takes some getting used to; definitely not the same as a Purdue boneless chicken breast from the freezer. Sofie is having a glass of wine. I know I could help myself to one too without any protest from Dad, but I’m not that interested. I have no objections to alcohol, but for me it doesn’t taste that good, so I’m not going to work at liking it.

Mom is standing now and clinking her glass like she wants to make a toast. This is a first for the Sunday meal. “I wanted to take a minute to say thank you to everyone. I know that we have all had our own challenges adjusting to this new reality. You have all been working hard and I am glad we are in this together,” she says. I can see the business executive conducting her quarterly business review.

“I’m glad you’re here too, Mom!” Liam can’t miss an opening.

She smiles at him and says, “It’s time to make some rules, though, and make sure we are all sharing the burden of what unquestionably has to be our focus: survival.”

“Donna, we may want to take this offline,” Jane says, interrupting. It’s obvious she does not like the direction this is heading.

“Jane, there is no more ‘offline.’ With the exception of our wonderful first grade class,” Mom nods to the little kids, “we are all adults.” Jane is silent, not used to being dispatched so quickly. “Until now, Paddrick and Liam have taken care of provisions, shelter, heat and hot water and sanitation. Thank you. With Paddrick’s help, I have drafted a rotation of chores that all adults will participate in. If you consume resources in this community, you will contribute.”

If this is a strategy to figure out why they’re working so hard, I’m not sure I like it. She’s not just calling out the Crenshaws; she’s calling me out. I don’t love the science I’m pursuing, but it is way better than mindlessly riding around on a mower or carting trash to the incinerator. But that’s the old me thinking; the new me knows helping will feel good.

“But we’re all good at different things. Sofie can’t run my experiments and I don’t have the patience to stay with kids all day,” Cassandra says. She doesn’t like where this is headed either.

“No one will be asked to give up what they enjoy or excel at. But I can guarantee that no one here has a passion for washing dishes, changing light bulbs or taking trash to the incinerator. None of the chores in the rotation require specific abilities or strength. They are things that we all need done and are all capable of doing,” Mom says. She does not leave it open-ended and she is not asking if this is okay—she is telling us this is how it will be.

Jane looks around the table at Cassandra, then William and Randy, finally me. She is looking for support in refusing to participate. “And if we refuse?” slips from her clenched jaws.

“If you refuse, you will be banned from the commissary for one day for each chore you fail to complete.” Mom has thought this through very well. She is a natural leader and I think this bothers Jane as much as anything. Jane acts like a leader and works to be a leader, but it is mechanical, not natural. In fact, her leadership is much like her science: effort. She doesn’t really
see
many of the things we work on. Jane relies heavily on memorized facts and figures that she can cobble together and use to calculate a projected outcome. When she gets a little bit older and her memory fades, she will not be able to maintain enough figures to pass herself off as brilliant.

“I think this sounds fair.” William says, throwing his support behind Mom. “I’m sorry that I’ve been freeloading for so long. I got so wrapped up in my work I never took the time to think about how all the other things were getting done.”

“Me too.” I wish I had spoken up first. “I hate taking out the trash but it’s not fair to make Liam do it all the time. And it’s not like it’ll take me all day,” I add.

“Ditto.” Randy is in.

The others say nothing. They have been doing all the grunt-work so of course they agree. “Thank you,” Mom says, ready to wrap it up. “Paddrick and I will take care of cleaning up this mess today. Chores will be posted tomorrow.”

As if aware of the end of our conversation, the speaker in the corner cackles with static.

“Hello, hello, hello! This is McMurdo station hailing any and all parties.”

There are other survivors! McMurdo happens to be in the Antarctic, but they still count.

William walks over to the computer to answer the call like it is a routine Sunday check-in from home. “Hello McMurdo, this is William at the NASA Ames research facility.”

It’s funny to me how proud they are of working at this facility. There is plenty of history here, but the advanced researchers are all gone. Geography and buildings are all that’s left.

“Wow, are we glad to hear your voice. We thought there were no survivors.” The voice is clear and precise. “My name is Francisco.”

“Francisco! William! Are you real?” There is a new, far more excited voice on the line.

“I’m sure real, but I can’t speak for Francisco.” William is smiling from ear to ear. “Where are you calling from, friend?”

“This is David, calling from Hawaii!” the exuberance in his voice is clear. David is not as controlled as the scientists he’s conversing with. “I made port about four months ago and the islands are empty. There were newspaper stories that helped piece things together but it took a while to get the ham radio figured out and working. I never thought I’d get a signal from the mainland!”

“Roger that David. You have no idea how many blind hops and dead ends we connected to before we found this live node.” Francisco sounds like an engineer. “Good news is I could probably make you a map of all the places that still have power around the world.”

“Ha-ha that would be interesting to see.” William says. He is leaning back in the chair with his hands locked behind his head.

“If you guys are coordinating relief efforts up there, we could sure use a 130 evac at your earliest convenience. Command said they would come get us when the virus was under control, but I guess there is no command left.” Francisco suddenly sounds tired. There are confused glances bouncing around the room and silence from our end.

“Why don’t you all go walk off that fantastic meal?” Dad suggests, getting up to go to the computer. Grace and Sofie don’t need to be told twice. They sense the awkwardness and round the kids up to head outside.

Randy is rising, too. “Liam, wanna have a catch?” They both head to the door and William abandons his post at the computer to follow behind.

I’m not going anywhere.

“Hey, you guys must be getting pretty hungry down there.” Dad has taken the seat. “Is ketchup soup today’s special?” He lets out his nervous laugh.

“We’re not there yet but inside of thirty days I’m guessing ketchup soup will sound pretty good to all of us.” Francisco must be able to sense his reality.

“We don’t have any real pilots,” Dad says. He’s a little blunt but I guess there’s no use beating around the bush. I realize now that the 130 Francisco mentioned is a C-130 Air Force cargo plane. “I’ve been working on touch-and-goes in a little Cessna but there is no way I could get down there in one of those tiny birds.”

“Understood” is the only reply from Antarctica.

“I’m sorry.” David breaks in from Hawaii. He is alone and scared, but a tropical island is much better isolation than a frozen wasteland.

“Are there any contingency plans for this?” Dad is back on. “I could probably make Chile in ten or twelve days. I think there is a cruise ship in Tierra del Fuego. I could sail across the strait and pick you guys up?”

I am amazed at how ludicrous the suggestion is, but I know Dad is sincere. If Francisco says yes, Dad will likely be in the car within thirty minutes.

“Huh. Closest landfall is actually New Zealand, but I guess you can’t drive there from Palo Alto. I appreciate the offer, but you’re talking to a Navy guy and I wouldn’t be willing to make that sail solo. I definitely wouldn’t be willing to make the drive.” Francisco is managing humor, likely all he has left. “Besides, there’s no ship that could get close enough to matter.”

“Ideas?” Dad is looking around the room at those of us who are left. Our vacant stares are his only answer.

“I went to Stanford, sure do miss it,” Francisco says. “How many of you are there at Ames?” Francisco is buying us time to think.

“We have thirteen here now. We are hoping our numbers grow by one or two but have no expectations of much more.” I had to count, but Dad answered quickly. Not sure what he means about hoping for one or two more.

I need some fresh air. All they have left to do is discuss a graceful passing. There’s no way we can help them and I don’t know how you wrap up that conversation. Before I get to the door, Cassandra hurries up next to me.

“Can we go for a walk?” She’s taken my hand and is trying to bat her eyelashes. Her timing is terrible. Maybe she just doesn’t know how to feel bad about something.