rescue teams. Whatever took out the Vella stayed around for a while and went after the rescue boats. We didn’t get much of a description, just lots of yelling. Whatever it was, somebody finally hit it with something and sent it down. We weren’t a part of that action but I think I speak for the entire crew when I say we found it rather disturbing. I’m sure you can understand.”
Jon nodded. “Yeah, I understand.”
“So then we get orders for the battle group to return to port in Norfolk. We had a big problem at Suez. Apparently, no one was around to let us through. Didn’t matter, though. We sent teams ashore to take care of that. There aren’t any locks on the Suez, so it’s not nearly as big a deal as Panama. Must have been late July when we were half way home. What happens then? The group gets split up.”
“Split up?”
“A bunch of the smaller, escort ships got rerouted to ports all over the place. The Newport News was ordered to the Azores to pick up some VIPs flown in from Europe. I think they were U.S. ambassadors being evacuated. That was not a comforting thought.”
“What? What do you mean?”
“Remember, we were hearing next to nothing. The satellite news services were off the air and the fleet commanders were too busy doing their own business to fill us in on the situation. But we knew something bad was going on. Most of us figured terrorists got a hold of some big bang or other. Or maybe there had been a coup d’etat in Russia or China. All we knew for certain was that Hell had broke loose. Of course, none of us realized how true that was.”
Farway paused. The sound of the white caps breaking against the bow droned on.
“Then we get to the Azores. A couple of landing parties later and we realize there is nothing on the island but lizards the size of bulldozers and what looked to me like some sort of flying dinosaur. I lost a couple of good men those two days.”
Jon could only say, “Wow.”
“So we set out to sea again and tried to raise someone and we get static. Nothing on the ship to shore. Nothing ship to ship. Dead air. Of course, by this time we are running low on food and everyone is on edge and going stir crazy. Part of that was because…because…”
Farway stopped.
“Go ahead.”
“General, have you spent much time at sea?”
“No. Almost none.”
“There’s a way about the ocean. Don’t get me wrong, it can be as unpredictable as a woman. But there is a…a rhythm to it. An order, if you will. When you spend as much time as I have underneath these waves you get to know that rhythm, especially when you can’t really see things, so you hear them. You spend a lot of time listening to the ocean, through the sonar of course, but also just with your ears.
“Let me tell you, Jon, it changed. I could feel it. The whole crew could. We all came to realize that we weren’t safe out here in the middle of the ocean; we couldn’t hide under the waves from what had happened.”
Jon said, “Just like things happened on land, I guess. Monsters, everywhere.”
“You think there are some bad things walking around back home? Let me tell you, I think there are worse things down here. I’m just hoping we can quietly slip by without waking them.”
Jon smiled and reminded the Captain, “I thought you weren’t much for this crazy bull shit.”
The Skipper returned the smile.
“I’m not. I suppose that’s why now, today, I take orders from people like you and Mr. Stone. I think this world belongs to people like you now. I wish you luck.”
Jon returned his eyes to that unseen horizon and the horrors that waited.
I’m going to need it.
–
General Jerry Shepherd felt the frustration boiling over.
For all his effort to bypass Wilmington and rely on Hunter-Killer teams-not his Division-to pacify that city, his progress still faltered miserably.
While Nina and the Hunter-Killers invested Wilmington that afternoon, General Jerry Shepherd marched his 1 ^ st Mechanized Division around the western outskirts of the city and then southwest on Route 17.
The first sign of trouble came when two Armored Personnel Carriers ran out of fuel. That is when he realized that that morning’s fuel convoy never arrived. After a few heated radio calls, the General came to realize that he would not see those trucks until after dark.
With no fuel reserve, Shepherd halted his advance. The lack of gasoline meant he could not maneuver if they stumbled upon a Hivvan force of any consequence.
He had expected that, by Sunday night, his force would be approaching the South Carolina border. Instead, they bivouacked at a crossroads named Spring Hill about six miles outside of Wilmington.
At that point, he made another strategic decision based on his supply levels. Shep ordered a complete restock. He put in for ammunition, more fuel, medical supplies; the works. He knew the home stretch loomed and like a clever stock car driver he decided to take an early pit stop with the hope he would have fresh tires for the last laps of the race.
The convoys began arriving around dawn, but Shepherd knew they would not be in a position to march for a few more hours. He hoped that if they started up again by ten o’clock, they might still reach the border before sunset.
Nonetheless, the path ahead provided a small sense of trepidation. The impassable Green Swamp encroached on 17 from the north and east, filled with dense evergreen shrub bog, long leaf pines, and thick patches of yellow pitcher plants not to mention the immediate threat of alligators as well as plenty of non-Earthly hostiles.
Furthermore, 17 remained the only passable route heading for the border and his destination of Conway, South Carolina. While the Green Swamp kept a barrier between his army and the disorganized, retreating Hivvan forces falling into a pocket to the west, if enemy command in Columbia learned of his maneuver and managed to send a substantial force up from the south, they could easily block his advance.
However, there were advantages, too. First, that barrier the swamp provided meant he did not have to sacrifice as many units to man checkpoints to solidify the trap. Second, aerial reconnaissance spotted what appeared to be a major human settlement along the way. Their liberation would be a nice bonus as part of what could be a major victory for the newly christened “Empire.”
So on the morning of Monday, August 24, while Jerry Shepherd sat in his temporary command post inside an old truck rental garage waiting for his troops to receive re-supply, cavalry scouts from his army galloped south to survey the road ahead.
Captain Cassy Simms rode on horseback with a group of four other patrollers. The sun’s beams shot at them from the east across the coastal plain.
Cassy had joined Trevor’s band of survivors as part of General Stonewall McAllister’s party. However, she proved her mettle on several occasions and earned a command of her own. That opportunity came with a brigade in General Shepherd’s 1 ^ st Mechanized Division.
While she left behind Stonewall, she did not leave behind the notion of riding on horseback. The speed and maneuverability often provided great advantage on the battlefield, not to mention the pure shock value of a mounted warrior.
Besides, horses were not slaves to gas. So while the Humvees and Bradleys sat idle waiting for a drink of their precious fuel, Cassy Simms led a handful of mounted scouts on a reconnaissance mission, per General Shepherd’s orders.
She moved them along the wide, four lanes of Route 17 south on the path the rest of the army would soon follow.
Mid-morning, they passed what had once been called Town Creek, North Carolina. The forest and bog there came right to the pavement at some points. Isolated homes dotted the landscape, all apparently empty giving the area a peaceful feel, despite the occasional roar of something unworldly from the surrounding wilderness.
