A New World: Conspiracy (26 page)

“Walker…Jack, wait,” Leonard calls out,
having reached a decision.

Walker looks over his shoulder. Upon his
return, Leonard tells him of the messages they received and the
target they were given.

Walker pauses, staring intensely at Leonard.
“Well, I can’t say that I like that news much. I’m glad you didn’t
turn north.”

“It didn’t seem right. I concur that we’re
dealing with a rogue group and it’s apparent they have DoD file
access. We’re still heading to our home port and not sure where
we’re going from there but, I’ll make the same offer to you. If you
need anything, give us a call. If we have to go deep, we’ll make
sure and come to periscope depth at dawn, noon, and sundown if
possible,” Leonard states; the two groups are now working
together.

He knows that there will still need to be a
conversation about leadership but sees that Walker seems to
understand this as well. Leonard is content with that for the
moment.

“Thank you, Captain. That’s very much
appreciated. And thanks for not lobbing missiles at us.”

“Jack, keep in mind that we won’t be able to
arrive at a moment’s notice, nor do we carry armament capable of
taking out a bunker of the magnitude you mentioned,” Leonard
states.

“Duly noted. You and your crew are welcome
north anytime. I know you mentioned that we need to have further
conversations, and I welcome it. To be honest, between you and me,
I’m tired and ready to throw a hammock up between two palm trees
and call it good.”

“I’ll be fighting you for those palm trees.
Good luck with picking up your team,” Leonard says.

“And you with your search,” Walker says.

Walker looks over Leonard’s shoulder in the
direction of the chief’s team and nods. He then turns and begins
marching through the sand towards his team. Leonard watches for a
moment longer and then does the same.

* * * * * *

Gav watches the video replay the control
room sent to her laptop. She had directed the personnel there to
continue watching for the
Santa Fe
. She read their reply
verifying receipt of their first message but nothing upon sending
the second one…the one targeting Walker and his group. She knows
they received it but chose not to reply. She had focused the
satellite surveillance on both the northern coastlines of Oregon
and Washington and the southern shores of California. She ordered
both to be covered as she needed to know which avenue the
Santa
Fe
would take regarding the target mission.

Looking at the screen, she has her answer.
They chose to disregard the instructions sent. There is a small
chance they never received the communication, but she doubts it. On
the monitor, she watches as a C-130 from the camp A-US-1 flies down
the coastline and lands. Fast forwarding to the location of the
video given by the control room, she witnesses the
Santa Fe
surfacing near where the Hercules landed. Watching the events
unfold, she is not happy. She knows that her game is up in that
arena. She played her hand there and lost again.

A lifetime of successes and now this.
This is the worst possible time for things to start going
wrong
, she thinks, reaching over to stop the video.

She isn’t used to failure and is doubly
frustrated by the timing of having to deal with it.

* * * * * *

Returning to the sub, Leonard opts to travel
inside of the Channel Islands. He is satisfied with his decision
regarding Walker and that the two groups help each other. He is
nervous over the technological advantage of the rogue group. The
anxiety is alleviated to an extent considering the limited force
Walker says they have. It doesn’t appear they can strike back
quickly without traveling great distances and then all Leonard has
to do is put out to sea.

That’s assuming Walker has told him
everything. He’ll still operate on the cautious side just in case.
He offered help to the northern group, but that doesn’t mean he
wants to get caught up in a battle between the groups. It’s funny
how quick humankind returns to that form of conduct when dealing
with each other – might makes right.

Perhaps there’s only a small remnant of
those types that made it through the downfall
.

Leonard hopes this isn’t going to be the
norm for the last traces of humanity. He doesn’t agree with the use
of force as an initial tool, but has no hesitation whatsoever about
using it to protect his crew. And, if it really came down to it,
humankind. The story Walker told, if true, is a chilling one.
Contingencies and theories are one thing, but actually putting
something into practice like that…purposely bringing about the
downfall of humanity…is downright evil. Leonard briefs his officers
on the meeting and the decision he reached.

Oil derricks dot the open water as the
Santa Fe
makes its way south. Rugged hills hugging the
shoreline give way to towns where the hills open up. Strands of
pristine beach, miles long, front the large cities with beachfront
houses and businesses running right up to the edge. Between the
large settlements, bluffs rise abruptly out of the water with rough
hills and deep valleys beyond.

Rounding the Malibu point, the metropolis of
Los Angeles opens up – twenty miles of beach and waterfront
property. The buildings of the past civilization stretching over
twice that far inland and farther south past the cliffs of Palos
Verdes. Most of that is lost from sight due to the curvature of the
earth as Leonard looks through the periscope. He notes the lack of
the brown haze that usually sits over the megalopolis.

Turning his view south, he can barely make
out the bluffs of Palos Verdes and catches a glint from the vast
residential areas that lie on top. Much farther to the south, he
spies a barely visible dark smudge lying on the horizon.

Pulling as close to the shore as he dares,
Leonard surfaces the
Santa Fe
. With Walker’s information, he
isn’t feeling as exposed as he did previously. He’s cast his trust
with that group and, if he’s been led astray, then so be it. If
information surfaces that Walker has been less than honest with
him, he’ll deal with it at that time. The northern group had
several chances to take them out if they wanted to, and Leonard
hasn’t seen any indication that they’re being led on. He’s rolled
the dice and, for now, he’ll let them roll.

Water streams from the sleek hull as the
dark shape rises from the depths, parking about midway and just
offshore from the large waterway leading to Marina Del Rey.
Standing atop the tower, Leonard isn’t able to see into the channel
itself due to a tall, rocky breakwater shielding the entrance. The
low, resonating sound of their foghorn rolls across the water and
into the outskirts of city.

Sunlight sparkles off the rolling swells and
bathes the land beyond, the calm broken only by occasional blasts
of the horn. Leonard wants to give anyone who can hear the sound
time to respond. In a city this large, there certainly has to be
survivors. Although, it could be the just the opposite - that a
place of this size would have an exorbitant number of night runners
making survival next to impossible.

Raising the high-powered binoculars, Leonard
traces the shoreline. Several dark figures stand out against the
light-colored sand. At this distance, he can’t make out much
definition but they haven’t moved from the time he first spotted
them. He can definitely see that they are bodies and they are
either sunbathing in the middle of an apocalypse or dead. A closer
inspection reveals the beach is strewn with dead bodies.

“Sir. We have activity around the
breakwater,” one of the lookouts states.

Leonard looks to the area and focuses on the
movement. The white hulls of several boats appear from behind the
rocky breakwater. More follow and they all turn toward the
Santa
Fe
.

“I count nine of them, sir,” the lookout
reports.

“I see them,” Leonard says.

White sprays out from each of the boats as
they plow through the swells – they are approaching quickly having
sped up after clearing the seawall. The vessels themselves are
large, sea-going pleasure boats. Not quite yachts, but not far from
it. Focusing on the boats in front, Leonard sees several figures
atop the decks and in the steering houses.

Contacting the control room, he has the sub
turned toward the open water and preparations for an emergency dive
initiated. Although they are adequately protected, he doesn’t know
the intentions of the people rapidly closing in on their position.
He doesn’t want to risk the chance of a stray round damaging his
boat.

“Have Chief Krandle and his team standing
ready,” he says, finishing.

As the boats approach, they spread out so
that they are approaching line abreast. This configuration and the
fact that they haven’t slowed doesn’t make Leonard feel any kinder
toward their intentions. They have no outside armament with which
to engage surface vessels, or anything else for that matter. He’ll
let them approach to within hailing distance and tell them to halt.
If they keep coming on, he’ll order full speed and slip beneath the
waves, leaving the ones advancing to themselves.

The outlines of the vessels become distinct
without the aid of binoculars. Bow waves splash out from the
oncoming boats as their hulls pound into the face of the swells.
Leonard feels the sub heel as it begins its turn to face the ocean
and deeper water. He shifts positions to keep the approaching boats
in sight.

Raising the bullhorn, his voice is amplified
across the intervening space. “That’s close enough.”

The vessels continue without altering their
speed. Repeating the message, he notes the decrease in spray as the
boats slow and then come to stop a short distance away, running
their engines only to maintain their relative position. The
Santa Fe
continues its turn and halts with its long stern
pointing to the line of boats.

“Sir, the men I can see are armed,” one of
the lookouts says.

“What are they armed with?” Leonard asks,
not taking his eyes from the boats.

“It looks to be a mix of rifles…hunting
rifles mostly, but I see three shotguns.”

“Are they acting in a hostile manner?”

“No, sir. Not that I can see. They are
carrying them, but at their sides. I can’t see any that are
actively aiming at us,” the lookout reports.

“Very well. Keep an eye on them.”

“Aye, sir.”

“State your intentions.” Leonard calls out
to the group facing them.

“We heard the foghorn and saw you sitting
out here. We were foraging, so it took us some time to make our way
here. Are you really Navy?” an amplified voice asks.

“I am Captain Leonard of the
USS Santa
Fe
. Who am I addressing?”

Leonard raises the binoculars again and the
figures on the lead boat zoom into greater clarity. The validation
of being a member of the Navy, or armed forces in general causes a
reaction as the five people he can see all look to one another and
seem to be talking animatedly with each other.

“I am…Christopher…Christopher Malkin,” the
voice responds.

“And how many are with you?” Leonard
asks.

“We have thirty-seven men and women here
with us, Captain.”

“Is that all in your group?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Are there others in the city that you know
of?” Leonard asks.

“We heard gunshots far to the south a few
nights ago, but we haven’t met anyone else,” the man answers.
“Captain, is there any way you can come aboard or us come there.
It’s easier than shouting at each other across the water. Or we can
meet ashore if you’d prefer.”

Leonard ponders the situation and knows that
if they are to have any meaningful dialogue, the man is correct,
they will have to conduct it personally.

“Do you have a means to come to us?” Leonard
calls.

“We have an attached skiff. We can make it
to you.”

“Two of you may approach and come aboard.
Make sure you are unarmed.”

“Give us about fifteen minutes,” the man
replies.

Leonard informs the control room and has a
crew readied on the deck to receive the two. He quickly briefs
Chief Krandle and his team that they are to provide security.

“If you see anything amiss, and I mean the
smallest thing, you’re clear to engage as you see fit. The boat and
crew are to be protected at all costs,” Leonard states, finishing
his brief.

A small boat emerges from aft of the lead
boat and approaches through the choppy waters. Leonard halts the
boat a short distance away while the lookout crew carefully
searches the open boat with their binoculars. Finding nothing awry
or some haphazard box which may go boom, Leonard directs the boat
to continue its approach.

Boat hooks grab the skiff and bring it close
aboard. The crew ties the vessel off and two men climb up rope
ladders thrown down the side. One of Krandle’s team thoroughly
searches each of the men and gives the okay.

“Have them brought to the crew’s mess,”
Leonard says and disappears below decks.

Leonard rises from his seat as the two men
are brought in. They appear well-kempt and clean. After handshakes
and introductions are made, the men seat themselves. Krandle and
another of his team stand by the near wall with their weapons
lowered but ready.

The men tell a story of the mayhem that took
hold of the city seemingly overnight. The fires, screams, and
gunshots that filled the night streets at first. It seemed like
similar riots that have taken hold of the city from time to time so
they initially thought this was just another one and stayed indoors
to wait it out. They heard throngs of people screaming as they
passed in the night and thought they were looters out to steal what
they could in the resulting mayhem. They knew of the sickness that
gripped the populace and thought the riot was caused by the lack of
available law enforcement.