Blood Roots: Are the roots strong enough to save the pandemic survivors? (7 page)

The next day, everyone clustered around the radio set to follow what they understood would be the final transmission before Hank set off to meet Brad for the handover in San Diego. The transmission was short — a final check that everything was in order.

‘See you Friday noon at Date Street. Don’t be early. The girls will be working till eleven thirty. Their last clients won’t be out of the area till eleven forty-five. I need our arrangement to remain secret.’

‘Are you sure Julie won’t be missed?’

‘I run the place, remember. The few in the know will keep their mouth shut. They need their drugs. I’ll double up the schedules of the other girls while she’s away.’

‘Date Street,’ Mark said triumphantly as he turned off the set. ‘We know where the women are.’

‘Yes, but where on Date Street?’ Fergus cautioned. He was studying the street guide on the bulkhead. ‘It’s a hell of a long street.’

The winds did not blow offshore as Jane hoped but they were light and fluky.
AWOL
made slow progress. Though he said nothing to the others, it was clear to Mark they would not be in and out before Hank arrived. He became increasingly concerned as to whether they would arrive before the planned handover at all.

On Thursday evening, after the younger children had been bedded down for the night, the adults and Zach and Nicole gathered in the cockpit.

‘Are we going to arrive in time?’ Zach asked his grandfather as the sky began to darken.

‘If the breeze holds we will. I reckon we’re about thirty miles or so off the entrance to San Diego Bay. With any luck we should be in and anchored well before dawn.’

‘I think I can see land,’ Jane said suddenly.

Fergus lifted the binoculars. ‘You’re right. There’s a big headland off our port bow.’

Mark took the binoculars and looked for himself. ‘That’s got to be Point Loma, off the western entrance to the bay.’ He turned
AWOL
a few degrees to starboard and handed the wheel to Fergus. ‘I want you to hold this course. I’m going to get some shut-eye. Call me when we’re about five miles off. When you get closer in you should see low-lying land to starboard where the US Naval Air Station lies.’

Instructions given, he hurried below. His sleep was fitful and all too soon he felt his arm being shaken.

‘Dad, Fergus reckons we’re about five miles off now. We’re making four and a half knots.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Two thirty.’

He dressed quickly and followed Jane on deck. ‘Where’s Fergus?’ he asked when he found Jessica at the wheel.

‘Up here.’ Fergus was sitting up the mast on the spreaders. ‘You’re not going to believe what I can see from here.’

‘Believe what?’

‘The place is lit up like a Christmas tree.’

Mark looked ahead, but could see no lights so he climbed the
mast. Fergus was right: there was a cluster of bright lights obscured at deck level by the low-lying land of the airbase. He noted the position, descended the mast and hurried to the main saloon to study the chart on the bulkhead.

‘I’m guessing the lights are in the Downtown area here,’ he said to Jane, who had followed him, ‘which is exactly where we thought Brad’s group were holed up. They’re a good distance from the mooring area. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’m not stupid,’ Jane said angrily. ‘I can read the scale on the chart. And you’ll be even closer at Date Street, where Brad is.’

‘I’ll be fine. I won’t take any silly risks.’

Unwilling to debate the matter further, Mark scrambled up the companionway ladder and took the helm for the run into San Diego Bay. With a new moon, there was just enough light to make out the main channel. It was pleasant sailing, but they all felt the tension of venturing into the harbour.

‘What’s that noise?’ Fergus asked suddenly. ‘It sounds like someone crying.’

They caught sight of a buoy marking the channel ahead and saw shapes moving on it. Mark swung the helm over.

Nicole, who had charge of the binoculars, laughed. ‘Sea lions,’ she announced. Her laughter helped break the tension. Mark swung
AWOL
back on course.

As they proceeded up the harbour the wind gradually died and Mark became increasingly concerned they might not be anchored by dawn, even thought he kept assuring a nervous Jane they would.

‘Masts — I can see masts dead ahead,’ Fergus announced at last. As
AWOL
ghosted towards the mooring area the sky lightened and the breeze died completely.
AWOL
began to drift sternwards out of the harbour on the ebbing tide. They hurriedly launched the dinghy and with both Mark and Fergus rowing furiously,
AWOL
was towed into the mooring area.

Jane passed the bow-line through the mooring ring of a vacant buoy close to the seawall while Fergus and Mark rowed a stern-line ashore and passed it through a mooring on the wall. With
AWOL
secure, lying stern-to to the harbour wall in the same manner as many other yachts, the dinghy was hoisted onto the foredeck and everyone disappeared below.

Mark glanced at the saloon clock. It was six o’clock local time. Hopefully no one was up and about yet, though he knew from experience that in the post-pandemic world, life was ruled more by the hours of daylight than traditional work-hour conventions. He hurried to his cabin and returned moments later, rifle in hand.

Jane’s face was strained. ‘Dad, I don’t want you to go.’

‘I’ve got to go,’ he said gently.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ Fergus asked.

‘No. I want you to take charge here. If I haven’t returned by nightfall, sail without me.’

‘But …’ Jane began.

‘I must go now. I’ve got to get into the back streets before anyone’s about.’ He hugged Jane, Jessica and all the children and shook Fergus’s hand. Then he scurried up the companionway, pulled
AWOL
’s stern in towards the harbour wall, leapt ashore and hurried away.

He could hear Jane, Nicole and Zach crying as the weight of the mooring buoy chain pulled AWOL away from the wall. He was relieved that after so long at sea the yacht looked so scruffy. She didn’t look out of place. She was just one yacht in a line moored stern-to against the seawall.

Opposite Grape Street, Mark halted and looked each way along Harbor Drive. There was no movement and the only noise came from birds roosting on the ledges of buildings on the opposite side of the road. A barricade of burnt-out buses stretched two-thirds of the way across the road. He crept along the side of the vehicles and sprinted across the gap to the bushes on the other side of the road. As he made his way up Grape Street he was surprised not only by the quantity of skeletons lying on the pavement, but also by the number that had bullet wounds to the skull.

He nervously crossed the Pacific Highway and relaxed only when he had cleared the railway and tram tracks beyond. Turning off Grape Street, he made his way along State Street, hugging the buildings, until he reached Date Street. It was, as Fergus had pointed out, very long. It was also very wide. With only a few parked cars and the occasional bush encroaching over the pavement, there was little cover.

He quickly realised it would take him hours to search the buildings
on either side of the street. He was also concerned that while he was searching one building he would miss someone leaving or arriving at another. The only sensible option was to find a vantage point and keep a lookout.

At ten o’clock his patience was rewarded. Men in naval uniform arrived at an intersection further down the street towards the harbour. As they sauntered across the intersection a dog broke cover further down the street. All three raised their automatic weapons and fired a volley. The noise was deafening, as if they were fighting a full-scale war. They missed, however, and the dog scurried from sight.

Laughing and joking, they walked towards the entrance of a four-storey building at the opposite corner of the intersection. They were met at a doorway by a fourth man. Faded letters on the facade announced they were entering La Pensione Hotel. As all four men disappeared from view Mark was both elated and concerned: elated that he suspected he now knew where Julie and the other women were being held, concerned that he was outnumbered and outgunned.

Using abandoned cars, doorways and bushes as cover he made his way down the hill to the intersection of Date and India streets. As he ducked through the smashed-in door of a restaurant opposite the hotel he glanced nervously at his watch. He knew the handover was planned for noon, but he couldn’t be sure he had correctly guessed local time.

The men had entered the hotel through the main entrance in Date Street. He could see a side entrance beside a coffee bar directly opposite in India Street and considered making for that, but realising it would be risky crossing the wide open street, and not knowing where the men were in the hotel, he decided to remain where he was and keep watch through the grimy, cobwebbed windows.

At eleven thirty-five the three ratings emerged from the hotel and crossed the intersection a few yards from where he was hiding. He waited till they were out of sight then, rifle in hand, sprinted towards the side entrance to the hotel. Passing the coffee bar, he found himself in an open courtyard in the centre of the hotel complex. A ripped canvas shade sail slung between the buildings
gave only partial cover from the windows above.

Concerned he might be seen, he hurried across the courtyard into the corridor leading to the hotel foyer. The hotel register was open on the counter. The page was divided into three columns with the names Julie, Louise and Anne written above. Men’s names were written in each of the three columns against the morning ten o’clock to eleven thirty time slots. Louise and Anne’s columns had names scrawled against the two thirty to four thirty and the evening five thirty to seven thirty time slots too.

Worried as to where the fourth man might be, Mark hurried from the foyer. He found a staircase, climbed to the first floor and moved cautiously along the corridor. Most doors were unlocked and he quickly peered into dusty, unoccupied rooms. Where he found a locked room he knocked gently and stood back, rifle at the ready. His knocks went unanswered. He passed a second staircase. He had almost completed checking the fourth side of the courtyard when he heard female voices.

His heart raced as he slowly turned the door knob and pushed his way in. A woman stood to one side of the room, towelling herself. A second lay on the bed, resting. They were naked apart from a thick anklet on their right legs. They both gasped. A third woman in the shower to his right saw him and screamed.

‘You’re Julie?’ he said, recalling Hank’s description of his preferred woman.

‘How do you know my name? Who are you?’

‘I’m Mark. Don’t be afraid. I’ve come to get you all out of here.’

‘Who are you? Where are you from? Are you Australian?’

Before Mark could answer, they heard the sound of footsteps running down the corridor.

‘Don’t say anything,’ Mark whispered, placing his finger to his lips.

Julie grabbed him, pulled him into the shower room and closed the internal door. He heard the main room door crash open.

‘What’s all the screaming about? What’s going on?’ demanded a rough male voice. He recognised the accent. It was Brad.

‘Julie slipped in the shower room. But she’s all right.’

The door to the shower room was flung open. Julie was seated naked on the toilet. ‘Do you mind?’ she demanded.

‘What you being so coy about, you silly bitch? Hurry up and get showered. I’ve got a special assignment for you this afternoon.’

‘What do you mean a special assignment?’

‘Never you mind. I want you dressed and down in the foyer in ten minutes. You two hurry up and get dressed too. You’re on double shifts this afternoon.’

‘Why?’

‘Just do as you’re told.’

‘It’s not fair.’

‘Tough.’

‘But why are we on double shifts?’

‘Stop asking questions,’ Brad shouted angrily. ‘Now hurry up, Julie. I want you down at the foyer, twelve o’clock sharp. Or else.’ The door slammed shut and Brad stomped away.

‘What’s going on?’ Julie asked as she hurriedly covered herself with a towel.

‘Do you know a guy called Hank?’ Mark asked as he drew back the shower curtain and stepped out of the bath.

‘The astronaut?’ There was terror in her voice.

‘Does he live some way away from here?’

‘Yes, Edwards Air Base.’

‘That makes sense. He’s on his way to pick you up. You’re off to Los Angeles to entertain his friends.’

‘What?’ The terror in her voice was even more pronounced.

‘Let’s get the hell out of here,’ Mark said.

‘Where to?’

‘I’ll explain as we go. First we need to get safely out of the hotel.’

Julie glanced at her watch. ‘It’s nearly noon,’ she said anxiously. Mark sensed she was as frightened of Brad as she was of Hank.

The three women pulled on their dresses and, with Julie leading the way, they all ran along the corridor. At the foot of the staircase they halted and looked across the courtyard to the glass door leading
through to the hotel foyer. They saw Brad glance at his watch and then storm towards the other staircase, his face screwed up in anger.

As soon as he was out of sight, Mark led them across the courtyard towards the side entrance he had used earlier. As he passed the coffee shop he heard the sound of horses’ hooves and held out his arm to stop the women moving onto the street. In the reflection of the glass door they could see a lone horseman riding down the hill towards them, a second horse trailing behind.

‘What now?’ Julie whispered.

Before Mark could answer they heard Brad shout from the hotel corridor above them, ‘Right you bitches, where are you?’

The horseman heard the shout too. ‘What’s going on?’ he yelled from the street. Again Mark recognised the voice. It was Hank.

‘I won’t be long,’ Brad shouted back.

Hank brought the horses to a halt in the middle of the intersection. He was looking up to the windows of the hotel. ‘You’d better not be,’ he yelled. He was holding a gun, his finger on the trigger. From their hiding place Mark and the women saw Brad rush back into the hotel foyer and grab his own weapon before pushing through the lobby door to face Hank.

‘Well, is she ready?’ Hank demanded.

‘No. She’s disappeared.’

‘What do you mean she’s disappeared?’

‘All three of them are hiding somewhere in the hotel.’

‘Are you up to your old tricks?’

‘I’m not up to anything. They must have seen you riding down the street. It’s your own fault for treating them so rough in the past.’

‘How do you know they haven’t done a runner again?’

‘I was talking to them less than five minutes ago. They’re in the hotel somewhere. You’d better help me find them.’

‘You find them. It’s not my problem.’

‘It’s your problem as much as it is mine. You need to be clear of here before their two thirty clients arrive.’

Hank spurred his horse forward. The second horse tugged along behind.

‘I thought you’d tagged them,’ he said angrily as he dismounted.

‘I have, but the tracking equipment’s down at the base. Anyway I’m sure they’re in the hotel somewhere. We’ll soon flush them out.’

Mark looked down at Julie’s anklet. ‘How long will it take Brad to get down to the base?’ he whispered.

She shrugged. ‘Twenty minutes, maybe a bit longer.’

As Hank and Brad disappeared through the hotel entranceway, Mark and the women slipped through the side door and sprinted along India Street.

Anne and Louise introduced themselves as they ran. Mark guessed all three women were in their mid-to late thirties. Anne was blonde, of slight build and barely five feet tall. Louise was also of slight frame but taller, with ravishing red hair. Julie was dark and had a very generous figure. Despite being the eldest she was the most attractive. All three women had high cheekbones.

‘Are all your names Chatfield?’ Mark asked.

‘Mine is,’ Julie panted.

They stopped running but walked as fast as they could, periodically breaking into a jog.

‘My grandfather was named Chatfield apparently,’ Anne said when she had regained her breath, ‘but he wasn’t married to my grandmother.’

‘He was my grandfather too,’ Louise added. ‘We’re all related.’

‘So who are you?’ Anne asked bluntly as they hurried along. ‘How did you find us?’

Mark quickly explained the barest details — how he was also a Chatfield, how he and the other survivors were sailing from New Zealand to England, and how they had picked up Brad and Hank’s radio transmissions.

Julie looked nervously over her shoulder. ‘Are you taking us to your yacht now?’

Mark nodded. ‘Tell me about these anklets — how do they work?’

‘I don’t know what’s inside them, but Brad’s got some kind of direction-finding equipment. Last time we ran away he caught us within the hour.’

‘Why haven’t you cut them off?’

‘Brad told us they’ve got special metal reinforcing inside the rubber,’ Anne explained.

‘He inspects them every day,’ Louise added. ‘If you knew what he’s like, you’d understand why we haven’t tampered with them.’

Mark’s mind was racing. He guessed it wouldn’t be long before Brad and Hank realised the women had given them the slip and Brad would go and get the direction-finding equipment.

‘Fergus!’ he called as they neared the quayside.

Fergus stuck his head out of the companionway. ‘What the …’

‘Quick, find the bolt cutters,’ Mark shouted as he grabbed
AWOL
’s stern-line and pulled the yacht towards the wall. ‘Jump,’ he commanded as soon as
AWOL
was close. The women hesitated. There was a four foot drop. ‘Hurry, we need to get out of sight.’ He jumped down after them and they stumbled through the companionway and down the ladder into the cabin.

Everyone was talking at once. ‘We heard a burst of automatic gunfire a couple of hours ago — we thought you’d been shot,’ Jessica said.

‘Are we sailing now?’ Jane asked her father.

‘No, we’ll never get
AWOL
out of the harbour without being seen. And we need to get these anklets off.’

Fergus returned from the forepeak with the bolt cutters. ‘What are they?’ he asked, looking down at the women’s ankles.

‘Electronic tags.’

Commander Ball’s bolt cutters were massive. Even so it took the combined strength of Fergus and Mark to cut through the reinforcing. Once cut, it needed all Fergus’s power to force the severed gap in the anklets a few centimetres apart and slide them over the women’s feet. ‘Shall I ditch them over the side?’ he asked.

Mark shook his head. ‘We don’t know how sophisticated they are. The water’s not very deep here. I want to get them as far away from here as possible.’ He took the anklets from Fergus and began up the companionway. ‘Keep everyone below decks. If I’m not back by nightfall, leave as soon as you have a favourable breeze.’

‘We’re not going anywhere without you,’ Jane protested.

‘The safety of everyone, particularly the children, is paramount. Remember, I’m expendable,’ Mark said as he climbed the companionway steps.