Colony East (21 page)

With her fork, Sandy pushed at her melon wedge. He thought she was listening to him, but he couldn’t be certain. He considered the news he had was like a nugget of uranium that could brighten the darkest day.

“Space dust destroyed all the weather satellites, so they have to find a new way to track storms,” he continued. “Surface ships will take barometric pressure measurements, and if they see something interesting, they’ll send the planes in for monitoring.

“Here’s what I learned from the Colonel. The meteorologists believe we’ll have a mild hurricane season. Since the epidemic, the ocean’s cooled a quarter of a degree. That’s a huge change. They think it’s even possible we won’t get a single storm. Sandy, we might dodge the bullet!”

When she nodded, a tear dribbled down her cheek. “Yeah, that’s really good news.”

He leaned forward. “Okay, are you going to make me guess what’s wrong?”

“With so many people suffering, I’m embarrassed to say.”

He nudged her foot under the table. “What?”

“I’m getting a promotion.”

Dawson whistled. “In the history of the military, I think you’re the first person to get teary-eyed over a promotion. Major Hedrick?” He winked. “Lieutenant Colonel Hedrick?”

“Mark, they’re transferring me to Atlanta.”

He dropped his fork.

“The admiral called me to his office last night. Apparently, Doctor Perkins is impressed with my training program. They want me to launch ‘Doctors of Tomorrow’ at the Atlanta Colony.”

Dawson muttered, “Don’t they have enough doctors down there?”

“PhDs in microbiology, genetics, immunology, chemistry, evolutionary biology. There are only two medical doctors.”

He used his napkin to wipe his mouth, and dabbed his eyes while he was at it. “A few months in Atlanta will be over before you know it.”

Sandy shook her head in a way that froze his insides. “When I finish up in Atlanta,” she said, “they’re sending me to Colony West.”

The noisy din of the cadets pushed down on him like a heavy stone, and he struggled to draw air into his lungs. “When are you going?”

She looked down, and he thought she might be crying. “Maybe early September. I’ll know for sure in a few weeks.” Her voice trembled.

He sighed in relief, at first fearing that she might have said a few hours. The Navy, as a whole, moved at the speed of a slug, but individual transfers often happened in a snap.

Dawson pulled his shoulders back and plastered on a fake smile. “Ours is not to reason why.” He raised his metal cup filled with fresh milk from the Lower East Side dairy herd. “To Major Hedrick.”

When Sandy kept her eyes lowered, he knew for sure she was crying.

CHAPTER FOUR
At Sea

Jordan kicked back and propped his feet on the rail. After sailing through squalls for much of the day, the seas were calm. The crew was below deck, all fast asleep. They had turned in early. He felt good, like he owned the night.

He gazed at the full moon. Yellow was the color the moon ought to be. Pale yellow, white, or even blood red was fine too. Anything but purple.

The breeze out of the southwest rustled his hair and kept the sails taut. Despite their heavy load,
Lucky Me
sliced through the water at twelve knots or faster. Jenny had acquired five hundred gallons of gas in a trade with a fuel king at their last port of call, the Trenton Trading Zone, and the cans were piled everywhere on the deck.

Colony East was off the port side. A light flashed atop the Empire State Building and the moon outlined the city skyline. Jordan chuckled, thinking the “seeds of the next society” were safe inside their hotels, tucked in bed. He wouldn’t trade places with them for anything.

Around midnight, the wind shifted and the temperature jumped several degrees. The breeze was blowing offshore. Jordan popped Sgt. Pepper into the boom box and sang along with 'Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds' and 'With a Little Help from My Friends'. It was even better, knowing he’d be singing those songs on the island before long. He’d surprise Abby and Touk, and he couldn’t wait to see their expressions. Jordan lowered his voice to avoid an irate crew yelling for him to shut up.

An hour later he adjusted course, moving the boat closer to shore where the wind was blowing slightly stronger. He pulled the mainsheet to trim the sail, making sure he was using the breeze to his full advantage. For every extra knot of speed he could coax out of the wind, he figured he’d arrive home that much sooner. As he held the line that controlled the sail, he marveled at the ropes of muscles rippling in his forearm. He’d left Castine Island strong and depressed. He’d return very strong and feeling much better about himself.

Jordan secured the mainsheet and took a moment to admire the frothy wake of moonlit bubbles
Lucky Me
left behind. Then he flicked on the flashlight and consulted the navigation chart. He figured they were passing the tip of Long Island. When he thought the danger of underwater rocks had passed, he changed course again, heading for the northern Connecticut shore.

Sometime later, the sound of an outboard motor caught his attention. He grabbed the binoculars and scanned the shoreline. A sleek boat sped on a course to intercept them. His heart raced. Should he wake up the crew?

Jenny had warned him about traders who might approach them at sea, hoping to get a better deal. “Don’t trade with them,” she’d instructed. “They arrive at the zone before us and trade our news. I’ve been burned too many times.”

Jordan lowered the binoculars. He’d let the crew sleep. He’d handled aggressive traders before.

With its two powerful outboard engines purring, the boat motored alongside the port side. Jordan played out the mainsail to slow
Lucky Me
. The moon sat low on the horizon and because the hull blocked the light, Jordan couldn’t make out the skipper in the dark shadows.

“How big is your crew?” the skipper shouted.

“Five, including me,” Jordan replied. “We have nothing to trade.”

“How many life jackets do you have?”

“We don’t need any life jackets.” Jordan grabbed the flashlight.

“Put on your life jackets and abandon ship.”

Jordan gripped the rail to steady himself. A pirate was attempting to take command of
Lucky Me
. He needed to wake the crew. When he trained the flashlight on the motorboat, he nearly fell overboard in shock. The pirate was a young boy. The ski mask did not hide the fact the kid was ten or eleven years old.

Just then, two other kids, also wearing masks, threw back the tarp they'd been hiding under and rose to their knees.

A smile crept over Jordan’s face. A crew of baby pirates had ordered him to jump overboard. Should he shout “boo”?

He quickly sobered. Each kid was aiming a rifle at him.

“Hurry up,” the skipper shouted.

“Jump,” one of the masked bandits squeaked in a shaky voice.

He raised his hands, thinking that if he stalled long enough, one of the crew might wake up, or the pirates might lose their nerve and leave. He wanted to avoid a confrontation that could result in someone getting hurt, including one of the misguided ten-year-olds. “What do you want?”

“Are you stupid or deaf?” one of the kiddie-pirates mocked.

He swallowed his anger. Thoughts raced through his mind. Should he dive for cover or crawl to the wheel and try to ram them? The crunch of wood smashing into fiberglass would get the crew up fast, and the confusion of two booms swinging above the pirates’ heads might send them on their way. Then he remembered the flare gun attached just inside the bulkhead door.

Keeping his hands raised, Jordan took a step toward the cabin. “I’ll get the captain. She’ll give you whatever you want.”

Something hot slammed into his leg as the crack of a rifle ripped through the air. The force of the impact knocked him across the deck. He couldn’t believe he’d just been shot. It felt like he was moving in slow motion as he flew through the air, crashed into the railing, and flipped overboard.

The shock of the icy water sped time up and flushed air from his lungs. He quickly became numb except for the searing heat inside his right thigh. Fearing he was losing blood, he cried out, but nobody could hear him
. Lucky Me
was sailing away.

Jordan quickly assessed his chances of surviving, and they did not look good. He did not have a life jacket. The wind was blowing offshore. If he didn’t bleed to death, he would probably die of hypothermia.

He slid his hand down his right side. The tear in his pants indicated the bullet had entered the outside of his thigh. If he stood any chance of making it, he’d have to expend as little energy as possible. He tried to relax. Dawn was an hour away. He set a goal. See the sunrise.

All of a sudden,
Lucky Me
came about. The crew must have awakened and discovered him missing. They were coming to rescue him. He watched anxiously as the pirates motored around the schooner like a shark circling its prey.

Jordan surged with excitement as a brilliant ball of white arced from
Lucky Me
. The flare, dropping sparks and trailing wisps of smoke, soared over the pirate’s boat and fizzled in the water.

The bow of the pirate boat reared up as the skipper moved it to a spot out of reach of the flare gun.

With the schooner bearing down on him, Jordan waved his arms, but he didn’t think they could see him. Then shots rang out, and the crew on
Lucky Me
dived for cover. Bullets struck the wooden hull with heavy thuds, and others tore through the canvas sails sounding like a whip snapping.

The bow passed within arm’s reach, and Jordan lunged in vain to grab the rudder.

Someone from
Lucky Me
fired another flare. It landed just short of the pirate boat. The pirates quickly answered with a fresh hail of bullets.

A moment later, the twin outboard motors whined loudly and the pirates headed straight for
Lucky Me
at top speed. Someone fired a flare from the schooner, but the fiery ball landed to the left of the motorboat.

As the pirates veered hard right, one fired a flare at
Lucky Me
from point-blank range. It struck the after-sail and dropped to the deck as the crew scrambled to put it out with a fire extinguisher.

The pirates made another run, firing two more flares. The first crossed the schooner’s bow and landed in the water. The second flare hit the forward sail. This time, a hole opened in the canvas, forming a rim of flames. That flare, too, dropped onto the deck. Fanned by the wind, the flames licked upward and soon the upper half of the sail was ablaze.

With the fire illuminating
Lucky Me
, Jordan’s heart sank at the sight of Monty and Jenny struggling to lower the sail in a desperate attempt to save the schooner.

The pirates watched from a distance of thirty yards as flames leaped from sail to sail.

Suddenly, a huge fireball erupted, engulfing most of the main deck and sending a plume of pink smoke into the air. More explosions followed an instant later. The booms of cans of gasoline igniting rolled over the water, like cracks of thunder.
Lucky Me
twisted upwards into a single tornado of flames and then the flames faded as she sank into the black water.

The pirates sped off.

Hot tears filled his eyes as he floated in a silence broken only by the sound of debris splashing around him. Now, more than anything, Jordan wanted to live so he could hunt down the pirates. They would not get away with this, he vowed.

Needing something to help him stay afloat, he spotted a can of gasoline twenty yards away. He fixed his eyes on the can and swam toward it as
Lucky Me
exploded over and over again in constant replay in his mind.

It took him several attempts, but he finally grabbed the can. Hugging it desperately, he sank. Cursing, Jordan knew he had to empty the can before it would float. His fingers were frozen, and it seemed to take forever to unscrew the cap. Holding the can upside down with his arms extended, he slipped beneath the surface, but the pain of the frigid water forced him to come up after only a few seconds. He had to do the maneuver two more times. He cried out in despair when he thought he had let go of the cap. Then he saw it, lodged in his clawed, numb hand. He screwed the cap back on, and this time, he and the can floated.

Fearing he would become separated from his flotation device and drown if he passed out, he undid his belt. He fed one end through the handle and then looped the belt under his chin and tied a knot. Commanding himself to go limp, he was able to keep his nose and mouth out of the water.

Jordan guessed the shore was about two and a half miles away. With the wind blowing offshore, he was being pushed further away from land. Out of strength and ideas, he closed his eyes and said a prayer for his friends on
Lucky Me
. If there was life after death, he would see them soon, or else, he’d settle next to them at the bottom of the ocean. Either way, he’d be joining them. Suddenly, Abby and Toucan appeared in his mind, urging him not to quit. Despite that he was already numb in the frigid water and the wind was blowing him away from land, his sisters refused to leave him alone. They persisted—stubborn Touk and bossy Abby—chiding him not to give up.

He fought to open his eyes and keep them open.

CHAPTER FIVE
Castine Island

Abby pulled Toucan closer when she heard a knock at the front door. Her sister mumbled groggily in response. The door creaked open downstairs and soon heels clicked on the wooden steps.

A moment later, a flashlight beam shone through the darkness and reflected on the window as Toby stuck his head in the bedroom. “Ready?”

Abby’s heart jumped into her throat. It was her last chance to change her mind. No, she thought, Colony East offered the only hope for Toucan.

She climbed out of bed and put on her sneakers. Next, she wrapped Touk in a raincoat and pulled a wool cap over her head.

Toby struggled to lift Touk. “She’s burning up,” he exclaimed before carrying her downstairs and out to the Jeep parked in the driveway.