Shawn, a laid-back skate-punk and poet, was sexy in a Madison-Avenue-exploitation-of-youth kind of way, a walking hipness barometer with piercings like chrome acne, who seemed fascinated by everything that was going on. Unfazed by Tyrell's jokes, he carried around a note-pad at all times, scribbling down lyrical thunderbolts as they occurred. He had been the deejay back at the factory.
The other four were quiet and withdrawn, more obviously in shock: Sal was angry and said nothing that wasn't bitterly sarcastic-not that he said much. Ray was his best friend-I first assumed they were brothers-who spoke with a long-suffering weariness that reminded me of Eeyore in Winnie the Pooh. They both worked listlessly and had to be prodded to help.
Lemuel was the huge kid I had noticed on deck. I had thought he was Samoan or some other Pacific islander, but found out he was actually Native American, of Narragansett ancestry. His mother had worked the buffet at Foxwoods Casino. He was very shy, perhaps distrustful, though his size and physical strength made him conspicuous among us. He kept stealing glances at me.
Cole Hayes was in his own world and barely took notice of us or anything else. It was like he was watching a movie only he could see. He did what was expected, but he was a tall kid and kept bumping his head on hangers and lights, reacting to the pain with an incomprehension that reminded me of King Kong getting strafed. I learned later that he had been a high-school track star from the projects in South Providence, courted by the best colleges in the country. His future had been a vision of paradise like no one in his family had ever imagined. Then Agent X came along.
I returned their nods, hoping they were starting to overcome their suspicion. 'Nice to meet you,' I said in general. To Hector, I asked, 'How long have you all known each other?'
'Some of us went to school together, and I've known Julian and Tyrell a long time because our dads were friends. The rest I met up with for the first time at the plant, but we've all gotten to know each other pretty good since then.'
'How long ago was that?'
'About a month.'
'And you know everyone by name?' I was terrible with names.
'You learn it doing roll call twice a day. Plus it was kind of my job to get to know everyone-I was floor safety monitor.'
'Narc!' snorted Jake, the orange-haired kid, still feigning sleep.
'Safety Squirrel,' I said.
'Yeah.'
'How did you wind up in the factory?'
'It was really weird. We all got brought in under police escort, right before Agent X took off. It was Christmas break, and this big bus convoy goes to all our houses, picking everyone up like for camp or something, except it was the middle of the night. My mother and sister were freaking out thinking I was being arrested for something, until the security men told them my stepdad had authorized it-that there was something very important going on at the plant, and I was to take part. I think they gave her a note from him, too. We could see a lot of other guys already in the buses, so I started to think it might be some kind of lame father-son bonding thing sponsored by the company. As soon as they knew I was the guy on their list, they kind of raided my room, stuffed everything into duffel bags, and put it all on the bus with me. Sheila and my mom were standing out on the step in their nighties-I remember wishing they would go back inside, I was so embarrassed. That was the last time I ever saw them.'
He stared down at the fake wood grain of the tabletop, tracing patterns with his finger.
He continued, 'A couple of weeks into the whole thing, there was a rumor at the plant that old women and little girls hadn't caught the disease, and a bunch of the men demanded to leave the compound so they could search for family members who might have survived. It got pretty hairy before Chairman Sandoval finally agreed to let them try. We all wanted to go along, but they chose a couple of hundred adults and said that was enough. My stepdad was crazy to go, but they said he was too important.' Hector slowly shook his head, the mask blurring his features.
'They didn't find anyone,' I said softly.
'They never came back at all.' As if brushing these matters aside, he said, 'What happened to you?'
'Um…' I was caught off guard. My mind had turned away from all that as from a stinging-cold wind, and I didn't know what would happen if I faced it. 'I'm from California,' I said noncommittally. 'My mother and I came out here to find Fred Cowper.'
'That old guy who's in command? Is he your grand-father?'
'I think he's my father. My mother was after him for child support. I never really knew him.'
The boy named Tyrell piped up, 'Yo, that was cold, the way he turned you out to be bait for them Xombies.'
'Yeah,' Hector told me, 'but he brought you here. Don't count that out. I never got along with my stepdad, but he probably saved my life bringing me here.' Avoiding my eyes, he added, 'Anyway, I, I just wanted to apologize for before… the way some of those guys were treating you. That wasn't too cool; I should've done something sooner. I'm sorry.'
Why did he have to keep apologizing for everything? 'That's all right,' I said in confusion. Changing the subject, I asked, 'How do you guys know so much about the sub?'
The severe one, Julian, replied, 'They don't know shit, but you live in a submarine factory long enough, it kind of seeps in by osmosis.'
Tyrell laughed. 'Why you say that, man? He's fuckin' with you-they drilled us hard on that shit. Told us we couldn't go on the boat 'less we passed BESS.'
'Bess?'
'Basic Enlisted Submarine School,' explained Hector. 'Of course it was all crap-the boat was never for us. They were just jerking us off to keep their workforce on the job until the refit was done, and they could ditch our asses. Almost worked, too… if you and Cowper hadn't come along.' There was a long, drowsy pause, as if everyone was digesting this point. I couldn't tell if they were grateful or blamed me for prolonging their agony. Then, as my attention seeped away, I realized that their feelings were exactly like my own:
They didn't care at all.
Everyone awoke to Cowper's amplified voice ringing in our ears: 'Attention all hands. Remove and stow EAB equipment-the air has been deemed fit to breathe. All nonuseful bodies-that's you kids-report to Mr. Noteiro in Stores. He'll show you how to whip up a great big batch a hot cocoa.'
The clock on the wall showed 3:45 A.M. It was blissful pain to rip off those masks and smell the sea air circulating through the sub. I was very thirsty.
'Cocoa.' Jake Bartholomew sighed reverently. There was a cherry red imprint around his face from the respirator.
'That cocoa's not for you,' Noteiro said gleefully, appearing in the galley. 'You'll be servin' it up top. Chop- chop!'
It was almost worth lugging a boiling-hot plastic drum up two flights of stairs and a ladder to see the reaction it drew. People had been huddled together for warmth most of the night, and no one had gotten any sleep. Sandoval-the man who'd hurt his leg jumping across-had moaned in agony the whole time, and apparently there had been serious talk of ditching him over the side. When they heard shots fired up the sail, then felt the diesel, there were surges of excitement, but as the night wore on, their hopes dimmed. Those of us who had gone below were written off as dead. The rest, lingering in that moonless vacuum like shipwreck survivors on a bare atoll, didn't expect to last much longer.
When the forward hatch popped open, it was light none of them had ever expected to see again. Then to have us come up bearing hot cocoa, cookies, and blankets-we were treated like heroes, like some kind of miracle. Grown men wept and thanked God for their deliverance. The deck became a party.
I say 'we' were treated-actually the crush of congratulations centered on Hector and other guys, but he held them off and pointed at me. 'She's the one you should thank,' he said. 'Without her, we wouldn't have nailed the Xombies.'
'No, it was obvious,' I said demurely, and people were happy enough to take me at my word, thanking me
