Noah's Ark: Contagion (4 page)

They spotted the raft immediately. In the time they had taken to get outside they were almost upon it.
 

“Ah, here come the boys now,” Coote said as Eric and Ewan emerged from the top of the tower. “Right then, shall we? Eric, you take the lead, Ewan can follow us up. Bring a rope hook with you.”

The first submariner clambered onto the walkway connecting the two vessels and made his way to the middle. Coote and Jake followed.

“Are you sure this is going to hold all four of us?” Jake asked, nervous once again.

“How many passengers have you seen piling down this ramp when you’re docked?” Coote asked, chuckling.

“Crowds of them. But never with the ramp stretched over such a distance.”

“Relax, it will be fine. And anyway, we’re hardly moving now. If it gives way, we won’t have far to swim!”

It was true that they had almost come to a complete stop. Jason’s instructions were clearly spot on. They were lined up in such a way that they were going to straddle the raft. It was already level with the bow of the
Spirit of Arcadia
. As the ship slipped slowly and silently through the water, it was as if they were scooping the raft out of the sea.

“Ready, chaps? Stand by with that hook!” Coote called.

“Over the top…” Jake said to himself.

“Indeed, old boy! Indeed!”

The raft was now almost directly under the walkway. The photonics mast on the submarine was turning slowly, watching its progress, Jason no doubt relaying directions to the bridge of the ship. There was a sudden roaring sound of propellers reversing, sending a jet of blue-green wash streaming up to the surface and towards the bow. The bubbling water sent the raft away from the walkway, but as momentum carried the ship forwards further, it bobbed back towards them.

“Ewan, it’s all yours!” Coote shouted to make himself heard over the sound of the last remnants of propeller wash.

The young submariner leaned out over the walkway as far as he could, the rope hook extended. He shuffled sideways, back towards the
Ambush
, and with a well-practiced and deft swipe, hooked the top of the bright orange canopy that covered the raft.

“Good shot, old chap, well done! Let’s bring her alongside, see who’s in there.”

The three other men rallied around Ewan. Eric held a rifle at the ready, just in case. Jake was getting worried; still nobody had emerged from the canopy. Whoever was inside was either immobile, unconscious, or just plain scared.

Brian had watched the rescue effort from his position on the conning tower. He grabbed another rope hook and climbed down the ladder on the outside of the massive fin, positioning himself just under the walkway. Only the tower and the very top of the submarine were exposed, so he was almost at sea level. As Ewan brought the raft close in, Brian grabbed it with his own hook and pulled it alongside. Within a minute the rest of the team were standing with him. Still, nobody had emerged from the canopy.

“Hello? Anyone in there? I’m Captain Coote of HMS
Ambush
. Terrible name, don’t let it put you off; we’re a friendly bunch really. Do come out and say hello!”

They waited, but the only response was silence.

“Ewan, perhaps you would do the honours?” Coote said. “Eric, you know what to do.”

Jake instinctively moved out of the way, letting Eric aim his rifle directly at the split in the canopy. The submariners nodded to each other, and Ewan extended his rope hook and carefully peeled open the bright orange fabric. All five men leaned in to see who, or what, was inside.

• • •

Excited voices chattered in the passageway. Scott tried to make out what they were saying, but he was too far from the cabin door to hear properly. Besides, the layers of conversations piled on top of one another, making it impossible to pick any one out and follow it. One word kept being repeated, and that word was ‘raft.’ He had no idea why a raft would cause such confabulation, and neither did he care. People were outside, and that meant help was at hand.

“Help me! Please, somebody help me!” he shouted as loud as he could, expecting assistance to burst through the door any second.

Nobody came.

Whatever this raft business was about, it was holding the attention of anyone and everyone who might possibly hear his cries. Doors were banging as people returned to their cabins, or went back outside to see what the fuss was about. He feared that he didn’t have long before the corridor would once again fall quiet. With a firm grip on the arms of the chair in which he was seated, he pulled himself forwards until he tumbled out and came crashing to the floor. The deep blue carpet was designed more to last the wear and tear of a thousand pairs of feet than for comfort, or soft landings, and Scott knew he’d have bruises in the morning. He tried pushing himself onto his hands and knees, but his legs refused to respond. Spurred on by the decreasing sound level, he thrust his arms out ahead of him and began to pull himself along the floor, legs dragging uselessly behind him.

“Erica? Andrea? Someone? Anyone! Help me, please help me! I’m in cabin 849. Please, help!”

The room wasn’t much bigger than the two beds which dominated it, and although Scott had felt a flush of disappointment upon first entering it at the beginning of the cruise, now he was thankful for its diminutive proportions. Still hauling himself forwards by his fingertips, he soon made it to the door. He reached up and found the chrome handle. The door fell open, and with a grunt he heaved his way through.

The hallway was quieter but there were still people milling about. Passengers were exchanging theories and stories about other survivors. Scott wasn’t interested in listening though, he was crying out urgently, waiting to be noticed.

“Please! Someone help me!”

“Gosh, do you think that man has had too much to drink?” he heard a young woman say.

“I’d like to know where he got it if he has. I’m sick of orange juice and desalinated seawater!” another voice replied, provoking a chorus of agreement.

“Daddy! What’s wrong?”

Scott heard his daughter’s voice cut through the hubbub, but couldn’t see her. Then an elderly couple were pushed apart, and Erica burst through the crowd, running towards him.

“What’s wrong, Daddy? I’m scared! What’s wrong?”

“It’s okay, my angel, daddy’s just a bit sick. I need you to be a big, brave girl for me. I need you to find the doctor. One of these people will help you,” he said, raising his voice, the people around no longer able to ignore the scene playing out on the floor.

“Help my daddy! Somebody help my daddy!” Erica shrieked. The sound of the stricken child finally provoked action, and within seconds a crowd had rallied around to assist Scott at last.

• • •

“What do you mean empty? How could it be empty? Where did they go? I don’t understand!”

“Calm down, Lucya, take it easy.” Jake put his hand on her shoulder gently, but she shrugged it away. Their recent relationship was no secret, but they made a conscious effort to try and remain professional while working. Surrounded by other members of the committee was not a suitable environment for displaying affection, although that hadn’t been Jake’s intention anyway.

“I am calm! Sorry, it’s just…I thought there were more survivors, that it was a sign things were not as bad as we thought.”

“It’s okay, Lucya, we all feel the same way. Well, those of us who knew about this last minute rescue operation,” Martin said looking at Jake pointedly.

“As an emergency, my understanding is that the bridge crew has the authority to act without needing to convene the committee,” Jake said defensively.

He looked around the table at the others on the committee, the recently created group of representatives for the three thousand or so people on board the
Spirit of Arcadia
, and the hundred submariners of HMS
Ambush
. The members from the cruise liner had been elected in a properly arranged democratic process shortly after Jake had retaken control of the ship. Silvia Brook, hotel manager, had been almost unanimously voted for by those formerly known as crew and staff. Doctor Grau Lister was included by default; his expertise was deemed a requirement for all important decisions concerning the future of the community. Chief Engineer Martin Oakley was included for similar reasons; his knowledge of the ship—their home—was second to none. Security Chief Max Mooting, and Lucya were both included in meetings of the committee, although they didn’t have a vote. Jake was used to working with all of these people on a daily basis and felt comfortable around them. It was the new faces that were going to take some getting used to. Amanda Jackson, a tall, thin American woman, was popular among passengers. Before the cruise she had been area manager for a chain of coffee shops. She seemed nice enough, a bit quiet, Jake thought, although he suspected she would make her voice heard in time. Ella Rose was much more forthright. Not one to shy away from expressing her opinions and making a statement, she even dyed her hair to match her name. Her life before the apocalypse had been one of respraying cars. She adored anything with an engine, and she’d struck up a strong friendship with Martin, the chief engineer.

Captain Gibson Coote was the sole representative from the submarine. The chain of command remained intact in their vessel. There was no question of anyone else from the
Ambush
having a vote on the committee.

“Yes, that is what we agreed, Martin, we all voted on it, remember?” Ella said, coming to Jake’s defence, and surprising Martin. “Although it might have been nice to have been told once you had changed course for this raft.”

“And I should have been involved in the reception,” Max chipped in. “As a potential security risk, I should have been there.”

“Mr Mooting, I assure you that my chaps are more than capable of ensuring the safety of our little community. And as it turned out, there was no risk as the raft was entirely empty anyway!” Coote said.

“Which,” Lucya butted in, “brings us back to the question of where did it come from, and how did it start transmitting a distress signal? It didn’t just pop up out of nowhere, did it?”

“Who knows? There was no ship’s name on it, no identifying marks. It’s a common model used by all kinds of boats and ships. I suppose it’s been floating around since the asteroid, and the beacon somehow set itself off. Is that not possible?” Jake rubbed his chin. He didn’t want to waste time on this discussion; there were more important things to do.

“Possible, yes, but highly unlikely,” Lucya replied. “They design those things specifically so that they don’t start transmitting for no reason. Can you imagine the chaos if rafts started broadcasting all over the place at random?”

“The real question,” Amanda began, taking everyone by surprise, “is should we go looking for the people that might have been in that raft? What if they fell out? What if there’s another raft? Or a boat in trouble somewhere?”

“A good question, Amanda,” Coote said. Jake had a feeling the captain had a soft spot for her. “But Ralf and his team have run radar and sonar sweeps, radio scans, and visual checks, and we don’t believe there is anything of interest within a hundred nautical miles of our current position. We have as much chance of coming across something if we head for Scotland as if we return towards the North Pole.”

“So you’re saying we should continue with the original plan and go to your military base?”

“Precisely. That was what we all voted for, and this little detour has done nothing to change my view. Food is very soon going to become a problem, and the base, if it has survived, is stocked with supplies.”

“Very well,” Jake said, standing up and placing his hands on the table. “Let’s wrap this up. We’re going to Scotland. The raft has been checked thoroughly, there’s nothing in there and no sign anyone was ever in it. We’ll hang onto it. It could prove useful, especially as we have no tender or lifeboats. Unless there are any objections, I’d like to get back to the bridge and get going. We’ve suffered enough delays already.”

“Well said, old chap!” Coote said. Everyone else nodded in agreement, some more enthusiastically than others.

Four

“H
ELLO
,
SWEETIE
,
MY
name’s Kiera. Can you tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know! What’s wrong with my daddy? Is he going to be okay? I’m scared!”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine. What’s your daddy’s name?”

“He’s called Scott.”

“Okay, my love, and what’s your name?”

“Erica. Are we going home soon? I want to see Granny, she’ll know what to do.”

“We can’t go home right now, Erica. I need you to be very brave for me, okay? Has your daddy collapsed like this before?”

“No!”

Kiera looked around at the group pushing to get a view of what was happening. “Did anyone here see what happened?”

“He was shouting for help, then he just kind of, I don’t know, fainted I guess?” a woman said. A few others nodded their agreement of her assessment.

“He were dragging himself along t’ floor,” someone else added, “like he couldn’t walk. I thought he were pissed meself!”

Kiera had already moved Scott into the recovery position. She took his pulse while the people around spoke. Happy that he was at least breathing normally and his heart was working properly, she leaned back and looked at the little girl. “Erica, can you stay here with your daddy for a few minutes? I need to get someone to help me take him to the medical centre.”

“Will you be able to make him better there?”

“I hope so. I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Erica nodded, although she clearly wasn’t happy about being abandoned.

Kiera sprinted to the nearest courtesy telephone, which was located by one of the sets of lifts. She called the medical centre but there was no reply, so she tried the bridge instead.

“Hi, Dave? It’s Kiera, is Grau on the bridge?” She listened intently. “Okay, how long is he likely to be? If you see him, tell him we have an emergency. I’ll find someone to help me get the patient down to medical, thanks.”

She hung up the phone and considered her options. Further up the corridor she could see Erica and the group of passengers watching her intently. She tried another number. “Barry? I really need your help…”