They moved to the woman next and did the same. Again, the body slipped below the surface, returned to the top, and then floated into an unseen current, following the old man. They watched in macabre fascination as the couple floated off and into the stronger currents of the Saginaw River.
“I feel like we should say something,” Jesse whispered.
“Let’s go, we need to be set up below before the sun comes up,” Stephens whispered to them.
Jacob swallowed, still watching the couple drift away, wondering who they were, how they died, and why they didn’t sail away when they were so close to entering the big lake and making their way to Canada. Maybe they passed early on or were ambushed back when people were hiding and sheltering in place trying to wait things out like he had done. Jacob hoped they passed peacefully, maybe an overdose of pills, or carbon monoxide poisoning. He blinked his eyes hard, pushing the thoughts away; he’d seen enough death that these things shouldn’t bother him anymore.
Stephens called out to them again to get below deck. Jacob shook off the dark thoughts and grabbed his gear, making his way to the large cabin. As soon as he entered the hatch, the stench hit him. The rot and decay of death was in the air, so thick it seemed to cling to his skin. He hesitated in the door, not wanting to enter. He wondered if he could negotiate a way to stay outside. James barreled out, carrying a folded up mattress. He pushed Jacob aside, making his way through the cabin entrance and dumping the soiled blankets and linens over the side. When James returned, he pushed Jacob ahead of him. He moved forward, closed the master cabin door at the end of the galley, and sealed it with duct tape. It helped cut down on the smell.
Rogers was moving around, opening hatches to circulate air and powering off all the main electrical breakers. Marks moved in behind him. “How’s it looking?”
Before answering his leader, Rogers opened another panel and flipped down a long set of breakers. “Solar and wind chargers seem to be up—but the radios and navigation lights bled the system dry. We should have something tomorrow once the sun comes up, assuming the battery can hold a charge.”
“Radio?”
Rogers nodded. “We have comms open with the ship. They're pulling back the UAV and will anchor up in forty mikes. I can get the big antenna up once we get some daylight. I don’t want to stumble around up there in the dark. Cables and lines are twisted everywhere.”
Marks slapped the man on the shoulder. “Nice work. Let’s button up and wait for the sun then.”
The team settled in below deck, leaving only James on the top to stand watch with the night vision. Jacob moved into the small galley and sat at a booth-shaped dining table. Scooting himself along a bench so that he was against a wall, he lifted a foot to the seat and placed his rifle on the table in front of him. The smell of death was still prevalent, but with the master cabin door closed and sealed, it was tolerable. Stephens pushed buttons and spun dials on the galley stove. He was rewarded with the hiss of a small, blue flame. Smiling, he found a small coffee pot and a can of grounds. Pouring water from a bottle in his pack, he quickly went to work brewing.
Jacob sat without speaking as the boat gently rocked. He felt the air pick up with the breeze that cut through the porthole windows. The boats in the marina shifted with the wind, their skeleton framework creaking and cracking as the boats crunched together. The sailboat in the slip next to the cabin cruiser rubbed against the dock, wailing and screeching as the water lifted it up and down, the hull protesting as it scraped against the docks. Jacob cringed with every impact of the neighboring vessel.
Looking up from the brewing coffee, Stephens noticed the new man’s discomfort. “It’s good, the noise; it covers our sound,” he whispered. “Anything in this area would have grown accustomed to it.”
Jacob nodded. “So why are we here? Why us? If this is real, shouldn’t they send everything they got after it? Don’t they have Special Forces guys for stuff like this?”
Marks nodded and moved across the cramped galley. He pushed into the bench across from Jacob. Stephens poured a cup of coffee and set it in front of the officer. “There aren’t enough of us left to make a big push for it… not anymore. Doesn’t matter, anyway; whenever we show up in force outside the wire, they crush us. Two months ago, every team that went out was fifteen to twenty men strong. We found it’s too hard to move without getting caught in those numbers. If they see us, they swarm and bog us down, forcing an evacuation… or worse.”
“That leaves all the snoop and poop work to small teams like this now,” Stephens added.
“Really, though? We're the best they can do?” Jacob said.
Marks sipped at the coffee and quickly pulled away, blowing on the liquid before taking another sip. “Do you really think they’d augment my team with you and your buddy if there were plenty of experienced operators left? Most of us are gone, all used up. Yeah, this really is the best they can do.”
A rapid tapping at the cabin roof shifted their eyes to the porthole windows. Jacob’s hand touched his rifle as he spotted movement on the nearby docks. Two individuals, barely silhouetted in the dark by the backlighting of the stars. “Deltas?” Marks whispered.
Stephens held a pair of lowlight binoculars already to his eyes, searching. “Two of ‘em, both with weapons, moving this way.”
“They on to us?”
Stephens eased away from the porthole,
