The Holocaust Engine, page 13
As I approached, Mayor Upton leaned toward me, searching for good news. “So, where are we?”
“We’ve finished securing the government areas. We found enough workers to build a wall of trash bins, roll-off dumpsters, and trash trucks from here to the police and fire buildings. The men are guarding two 18-wheelers that will serve as gates at the two entrances.”
“Will it hold?”
I shrugged. “Hold what? Right now, we don’t have a single visible case of infection running loose. Dr. Morenz is asking for us to get with them and start going door to door, but I think we’re still a long way from being ready for that. The hospital right now still held about a dozen, but currently our biggest danger is someone taking a random shot at us from a block away. If nothing changes before the government comes in, then yeah, maybe. Our secure area’s about a half mile all around, and nearly ten feet tall now. We’re filling them with whatever trash, tires, and brush wood we can find. Some are doing double duty as supply storage. They aren’t stone or steel, but we found a welder, Johnny Q, from the Bayside hot rod shop, and he’s got a team locking them in place as fast as he can. The secure area extends from around the government center to the police and fire buildings. Luckily, there haven’t been many raids in the past week, so we’re making progress.”
“That gives us walls,” said Malone, “but that’s not quite a stronghold.”
“Inside, we’re building out as much as we can. We have Bayview Park in the middle as a staging area and as an outdoor housing campsite. They’re building out some rain collection tarps to help with water. The few paramedics we have are building out a decontamination shower near the tennis courts, just water and bleach in some kiddie pools. It’ll burn and it’ll hurt, but it’s a start.
“We have people inside Keys Energy Services, trying to salvage what’s left of our power grid. They’re working in the dark when they can, to avoid attention, but we’re having to dedicate a security team to hold that building. We made a run on the library, to grab as many self-help and survival books as we could carry, and built out quite a little knowledge base in the conference room. We’ve also started stockpiling and sorting supplies. Antibiotics and medicine are being sorted by Dr. Janus—”
“The coroner?” Giri interrupted.
“Medical Examiner. He’s the most highly qualified doctor we have. Technically, he’s the only doctor we have.”
“That’s a bit morbid, don’t you think?” she continued. “He works with dead bodies.”
“He’s knows how they die. Hopefully, that means he can help us keep our folks alive.”
I refocused on the group, and said, “I have teams built up around security and communications, even found a former Navy radioman to work on some shortwave transmissions.”
“To talk to whom?” Malone Madison asked.
“Anyone who can help.”
“What about the Navy?” he asked. “Are they helping us?”
“So far... they’re doing what they can. Those first couple of days, while they were evacuating their own people, I’d have said yes, they were a great help. Now, I get the feeling they would shoot us as soon as they would shoot another boat running off Mallory Square.”
“So, they’re locking us in?”
“Oh, we’re locked in. Their concern is about infected people leaving the island.”
“After the thousands that got out? Good Lord, what are they thinking?”
Upton stopped him. “They’re probably thinking about their helicopters with the PAs that keep getting shot at.”
Hutchins chuckled at that. “I’d say our people are sick of being told to shelter in place. Wouldn’t you, Frances?”
“And they’ve scuttled ten boats,” I said, “and blocked the Garrison Bight with an anchored ship.”
“A prison island.”
I shrugged. “Their goal, as they reported to me, was stability. That will bring security, and then comes safety.”
“And no time frame for relief missions?”
“Not yet. We’ve secured most of White St. to the north, which gives us access to Trumbo Point. The Navy brass I’ve been talking to have hinted that supply drops will continue, including logistical support for secure distribution nodes near the gates. They’re talking about giving us some field security, trucks and maybe troops, to help us get supplies around the island. If that happens, we’ll be a long way toward stabilizing everything.”
“Are they still yelling at us from the other side of a double fence in HAZMAT suits?”
“It’s protocol.”
“Protocol. Okay, what about the rest of the city?”
“By my count, we have seven or eight, maybe as many as ten confines, places where folks are either holed-up in their own areas, or have carved out a bit of territory for themselves as groups, and are organizing under their own leaders.”
“So these areas are under our protection?”
“Protection is relative, but we’re working on that. We’re also working on food drops, getting relief to those who need it. It’s a pretty basic system, redistributing the government supplies to the confines: food, water, hygiene supplies, basic necessities—enough to help them help themselves until we can support them more fully. Some are... less trusting of anything official than others. A couple are aggressive. And those don’t include Protest City.”
“Oh, God, why didn’t they leave when they had the chance?” asked Mayor Upton.
“A few did, but I think some of them were enjoying the drama too much.”
“When she says protection,” said Malone, “I think the mayor means to ask, are these areas under our control? Protest City is certainly not, but what about these confines of yours?”
“You’re asking me who is in control?”
Councilman Hutchins leaned forward, staring at me over tented fingers. “We’re telling you that we are in control. Your job is to make sure that stays true. Can you do that?”
“We’re hoping to tie support agreements to food deliveries.”
“Support? That’s your mission, huh? Give them food and they’ll behave? Just buy off their cooperation? What about those who don’t? What are you willing to do to take control and bring order back to this city?”
I started to answer.
“Are the shipments coming through?” Peduto cut in.
“We’ve arranged daily air drops. Three helicopters drop directly onto Trumbo Point. We pick up the drops at the gate, inventory, and distribute at 5 PM every day. Unclaimed supplies are stored at the hotel.”
“How long can we keep it up?”
“It all depends on the military. If they come in next week, we’ll probably still be making our daily runs. If it’s a month... we might have a problem. Right now, our issues are raids, thieves going after the supply trucks as we move rations through the city, potshots from snipers. But what if the hospital shuts down? What if every other neighborhood takes after Williams Street and starts surrounding their houses with some kind of stockade? What if the military never comes?”
“What if they leave?” Giri Maniot waved her hand to get my attention. “Are you certain about this relationship with the Navy?”
“Excuse me, ma’am?”
She waved a yellow sheet of paper in the air. “We have a communiqué from the Department of the Navy indicating that they’re to evacuate the Navy base, and that any interference from local officials, citizens, or others, will be considered acts of aggression.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It means I would not trust your contacts with the Navy, especially if they won’t come out from behind their space suits and cross their little no man’s land to talk to you.”
I sighed. “The men at the wire keep telling us they’re staying. They’ve even deployed more MPs to the gates and the fence lines. Their presence on that peninsula is crucial. If that dissolves... well, I don’t see how that would do anything but... but compromise the security of the island.”
“Apparently, the Navy brass care less about our security than they let on,” Mayor Upton answered. “They gave up the Annex without so much as a whimper. What if they know something that we don’t?”
“Ma’am, I’ll be honest... I’ve spoken directly to the base’s commanding officer. He didn’t know everything, but he seemed to think that the Navy had some sort of unfinished business here on the island.”
Elmond slammed his hand on the podium. “Unfinished business. How delightfully ominous. Captain, I appreciate your need for the army to keep coddling you with supplies while they tug at your chain, but we need that compound. It has the tallest building on the island, access to docks, and space enough for helipads—all with secure entrance gates and surrounded by a military-grade fence on a defensible peninsula.”
“It might be best to remember which side of that fence we’re on,” I replied. “We need their help to solve our resupply problems. That seems crucial to keeping Key West up and running.”
“Conch Republic, Captain.” Elmond interrupted.
“What?” My stomach surged up into my throat. What the hell were they doing?
The mayor leaned closer to him, but her whispers still echoed through the chambers. “None of that has been decided.”
“Oh, don’t hold on to the past,” Elmond answered. “They’re leaving us to die. Admit it. You all know it’s true.”
“Be serious, Elmond.” Gian Peduto, commissioner for District 5, rocked back in his chair. His love of local culture and an intermittent accent gave him a false gravitas that rarely worked. “Robert and Rafael would never vote for that.”
Giri said, “But Robert and Rafael are gone.”
“Maybe they did shut us in here,” Mayor Upton answered. “To let the virus burn us out.”
“It’s a funny thing... when the world falls apart.” Elmond took a puff from his cigarette for effect before sending another ring into the air. “It exposes people. It reveals... things.”
“Like what?” Mayor Upton asked.
“Character, Madam Mayor. It shows the clear line between the strong and the weak, between the winners and the losers.”
Coucilman Peduto spun his chair toward the center. “And which ones are we?”
“Folks tend to forget who they are,” Elmond continued, as if he had not heard the question, staring at nothing in particular. “They lose their minds, run around, trying to hold on to a world they never really grasped, never knowing it has already slipped through their fingers. Cancer patients die every day, trying to hold on to who they once were. I’d rather burn out the bad parts, and play with what’s left. What does it matter if we lose some trailers or wipe away the ‘less productive’ parts of the island? The Conch Republic that wakes at sunrise will eclipse anything we’ve ever seen before. When we’ve rid the island of this Bontrager’s disease and brought all of these ‘confines’ back under control, we can turn this into a tourist Mecca. We’ll all be better off. Much better off.”
“In your case, I believe you mean richer off?” added Malone Madison.
Hutchins didn’t turn. He kept looking forward, talking—not like someone giving a speech, more like someone talking to himself in a dreamy monotone. “You can’t hate the winner of a game, just because he’s winning.”
My will to silence faded. “You hate the winner when all he cares about is the game.”
Elmond offered a smile like o knife. “Wise words from the man bearing the solemn oath to protect us, Captain Nelson. I’m sure your caring, dedicated service will continue to keep us safe. In fact, I’m counting on it.” Elmond finally roused himself and reached beneath the table, grabbing the map from beneath the mayor’s chair. He flattened it in front of him. “Key West, for all intents and purposes, is gone, cut off from the outside, trapped and alone, while the whole world watches, maybe waiting for us to shrivel up and die. Look outside. Residents and tourists look for safety and salvation. They gather into groups for survival. Some withdraw into well-stocked areas, hoping to weather the storm. Others are more... what were your words? ‘Aggressive,’ finding their way by their wits and cunning—in some cases, by their resolve to do whatever it takes. This island is a paradise of dreams and fulfillment. Now, it will smoke and flare, and burn and die, only to rebuild itself repeatedly as the will of the people ebbs and flows. It needs a stabilizing force, not of a city, but of a city-state. A nation. The United States waits beyond our borders. Its vessels float on the horizon ready to turn back our refugees, or worse, kill those who dare everything to leave. Their leaders stand and wait, endlessly posturing and studying this situation, while taking no action and leaving us trapped inside our own apocalypse. We... the people in this room... we’re charged with picking up this island from the ash heap and proving that we’re stronger than ourselves. We’re the best of this place, and we’ll prove it to the world again. That’s why we’re the Conch Republic.”
Malone Madison turned toward me. “I believe the Captain’s badge still says Key West, doesn’t it, Captain?”
Elmond stopped my answer with a wave of his hand. “And I am sure he will continue to serve the people of this island, regardless of the banner above.”
“You mean your banner?” asked Malone.
Mayor Upton slammed her gavel. “This is not the time, or the place, or even the audience for this discussion.”
Mayor Upton pointed the heavy mallet of the gavel at me. “Do you have anything else, Captain?”
“We’re doing all we can, ma’am. It’s not easy, but we’ll do what we need to do until the cavalry arrives. Not sure what they’ll think if they find us in open rebellion when they get here, seceding from the union and all, but I guess we can cross that bridge when we get there.”
“Or just blow it up with a pair of F5 Aggressors.” Elmond smiled.
Suddenly, the door behind me burst open, and Wisdom walked in quickly, holding a package in his hand. “Boss, the boys at Trumbo Point just received this in a package, handed directly from a chopper on a supply run. He said it came directly from the Naval Air Station, specifically Admiral Tisdale.”
“A message from the Admiral, directly to you?” Elmond said. His smile wilted a bit.
“It’s marked Top Secret.”
I peeled back the seal, noting the double-layer of security tape. I stepped into the corner, leaving Wisdom at the podium in front of the council. I could hear him asking inane questions about politics and the life of a councilman, including something about why they were not wearing robes.
The package was addressed to me, including a title of “Security Commander for Operational Zone: Key West.” I scanned the words, letting it all sink in. Inside, I found a black phone, powered on and with a number blinking on the screen. A hand-written note said to just push “dial.” I pressed it and waited.
The first voice was the communications desk at the Key West Naval Air Service. Five seconds later, Admiral Tisdale came on the line.
It took him only a few moments to change everything.
When he was done, I tucked the phone into my breast pocket and told Wisdom it was time to leave.
“What was in the letter?” Mayor Upton asked.
“Just a short update,” I replied, feigning calm. “No new timetables.”
“Then carry on, Captain.” Mayor Upton turned back toward Elmond, who still eyed me with suspicion.
A new round of arguments broke out, but I was already tuning them out.
Just outside the door, I turned into a short alcove, letting Wisdom step in behind me.
“What is it?” he asked. “Is it time to start planning the evacuation? Are they coming for us? Maybe just you?”
“Not quite. We have a mission.”
“A mission?”
“A search mission, actually. We’re going to hunt a military asset.”
“Why would they need us to hunt a military asset?”
“It seems one of their SEALs didn’t evac with the others.”
“What, they just noticed? It’s been over a month!”
“They just positively identified him from aerial footage.”
“They didn’t even know he was alive, but a drone spots him and now we’re supposed to serve a warrant on an AWOL SEAL? With everything else going on? Are you kidding me?”
“He’s not AWOL.”
“What then?”
“He’s infected.”
Florida, Florida, Uber Alles
Key West, Quarantine Zone
Day 37 - In the Ongoing Hot Mess Surrounding Max-A-Millions
You know about entropy? It’s how everything’s always changin’, always fallin’ apart, everything wigglin’ and shakin’—the stars heatin’ up, the oceans churnin’, everything burnin’ and rumblin’ into chaos. Everyone’s gonna lose what’s theirs soon enough. You can’t take it with you, so even the man with the most stuff’ll lose it on the day he dies.
What was Key West losin’? Its damn mind, that’s all.
I grabbed an old paper outside of Lewis’s. Check out this headline. “Outbreak: Officials urge residents to take precautions as patients flow into hospital.” What the fuck does that mean? It means chaos. It means folks are about to lose their shit. That was almost a month ago. If people had been listenin’, we might not be so deep in the shitwater as we are right now.
Me, I listened. I heard sirens blarin’, saw lights flashin’ as police and ambulances raced around town, heard folks standin’ around on the corners screamin’ about the end of the world.
Someone’s always been yellin’ about the end of the world, some apocalypse or somethin’. That’s just noise. Noise. That noise screws up your signals. Most things are just noise, bangin’ and clangin’ all around us, none of it makin’ a difference to anyone. You gotta know how to listen through it. I’m a musician, understand? Some folks hear melodies and music, even swayin’ their hips back ‘n forth. Me, I get into the notes, the spaces between ‘em, even into the soul of the musician. Hear that crosswalk beepin’? For most folks, it means hurry up, you’re about to get squished. For me? G sharp. A bit off tune, too, and the rhythm just ain’t right. I bet you never noticed that. That’s why you’re gettin’ fleeced by the system. Not me. I’ve got my own system.
