Fulcrum: V Plague Book 12 (25 page)

The mariachi music continued to bellow from a large boom box
strapped to one of the tower’s struts.  Not only was it annoying as hell, but
it was also sending the females along the sand into a fever pitch of desire to
reach me.  Motoring along the channel, I finally had enough, drew my
pistol and put the damn thing out of its misery.  Sure, I could have just climbed
up and turned it off, but where’s the fun in that?

Rounding the stone jetty, I spotted the small wooden boat,
heaving a sigh of relief when I saw Rachel, Tiffany and Dog looking at
me.  I steered alongside them, cutting the engines to an idle as the two
hulls gently bumped.  Tiffany came first, then Rachel sent Dog, who
scrambled on the smooth fiberglass deck.  He would have slipped into the
sea if Tiffany hadn’t grabbed his shoulders while Rachel shoved on his ass.

He made it aboard safely, then I had to maneuver again to
pick up Rachel.  When she gave Dog a push, the small boat had moved away,
leaving a six-foot gap between us. 

“Hold on,” I called down to her as I brought the sports
fishing boat alongside again.

Leaving the engines idling, I scrambled down to the deck and
found a coil of light, but strong, nylon line.  Holding an end, I tossed
it to Rachel, the rope uncoiling as it flew through the air.

“Tie an end to the handle on the bow,” I shouted. 

Rachel nodded without asking questions, and while she did as
I asked, I made the other end fast to a cleat on the stern of the larger
boat.  The smaller craft was perfectly good, and there wasn’t any reason
not to take it along.  I couldn’t think of a scenario where we’d have a
need for it at the moment, but it’s always better to have something you don’t
need than the other way around.

Line secured, I helped Rachel onto the boat.  Turning,
I wasn’t surprised to see Tiffany had already climbed to the top of the tower
and had taken a seat on the narrow platform.  Dog had claimed a spot on
the bridge and sat watching her survey the surrounding sea.

“What was with the music?”  Rachel asked, following me
to the bridge.

“Crew left a boom box hooked up.  It came on when I
started the engines.”

“Any problems?  I heard a gunshot.  Did a female
make it onboard?”

“No,” I said, grinning sheepishly and pointing at the
shattered stereo.

Rachel looked at it and started laughing.  I slipped
into the captain’s chair and advanced the throttles, pointing us southeast. 
My plan was to start at the only point I had been told about.  Between the
current and winds, once at the location, I believed our best bet was to search
along the eastern edge of the small sea.

I called Tiffany down to the bridge.  After a brief
discussion, she took Rachel’s night vision goggles and climbed back up. 
She understood that she was looking for anything floating on the surface of the
water, but also knew to keep an eye out for an infrared strobe.  Rachel
would relieve her in half an hour, then it would be my turn.

We were all tired, and I didn’t want any of us to miss
something because we were on lookout for too long and zoned out.  Tiffany
had protested that she was fine, but I overruled her.  We had a man’s life
as our responsibility, and there was no room for personal ego or pride. 

“So how far do you think he may have drifted?”  Rachel
asked.

“That’s the problem,” I said.  “He’s been in the water
for more than 30 hours, or at least that’s the best information I have. 
We’ve got no way of knowing what the winds have been like, or how currents may
have affected his drift.  Our starting point is 40 miles southwest of
Rocky Point.  That’s all I got before the comms went down.”

I pushed the throttles farther forward.  Our speed
increased to 30 knots, and I did some mental math to figure out how long before
we reached the pilot’s last known position.  Never having been a sailor,
calculating distances like this was foreign to me, but at least I understood
the concept.  If there’s a better way, without GPS, to navigate on water,
I don’t know what it is.

After thirty minutes, Rachel took over as lookout.  The
sea was fairly calm, but at the top of the tower, every move of the boat was
exaggerated.  When Tiffany sank to the deck on the bridge, she looked a
little green around the gills.  I’d found a case of bottled water stored
below, and she gratefully opened one and began sipping.

“You OK?”

“Don’t like boats,” she said in a weak voice, then took
another sip.  “Can’t do roller coasters or anything like that.”

I truly felt for her, as I had the same problem.  The sickest
I’d ever been was one time when Katie and I went salmon fishing in
Alaska.  We’d gone out on a 26-foot boat the morning after a storm had
blown through.  The sea had been rough with ten to twelve-foot waves, and
by the time we were 12 miles out into the Bering Sea, I just wanted to curl
into a ball and die.  While Katie fished, I chummed the water with my
breakfast and seriously considered just jumping overboard so it would
end.  We came back with two huge fish Katie had reeled in, and I had sworn
never to go back to sea in a small boat. 

As usual, when I say I’ll never do something again, I wind
up doing it anyway.  And I wasn’t feeling too hot at the moment.  The
swells were no more than three feet, but there’s just something about my
innards that doesn’t like to be tossed around like a rubber ducky in a
bathtub.  I was dreading when it was my turn to climb the tower, knowing
the motion would be dramatically worse, but I don’t like the idea of not
pulling my weight.

A little more than half an hour later, if my math was
correct, we were in the general area of where the Admiral had told me the pilot
was drifting.  I cut the engines to idle and shouted up to Rachel to do a
slow, three-sixty scan.

She climbed higher until she was standing on the narrow platform
intended to be a seat.  Taking her time, she spun a very slow
circle.  Watching her, I debated the wisdom of doing this at night.

Sure, if my supposition was correct, and the raft was
equipped with an IR strobe, we had a better chance of spotting it with night
vision.  But, if there wasn’t a strobe, or it was damaged, the limitations
of the NVGs would hamper our efforts.  Daylight and a good pair of
binoculars would be much more effective in that case.

But, we were racing the clock.  The pilot had already
been adrift for a long time, with no shelter from the sun and wind.  He
would dehydrate quickly, floating on a sea of undrinkable water.  Perhaps
he had some emergency rations with him, but I had no way of knowing.  If
not, he had maybe another day, or day and a half at the most, before there was
no point in us continuing to search.

“Nothing,” Rachel shouted after completing the circle.

“OK, let’s switch,” I yelled back.

She scampered down and noticed Tiffany sitting with her head
hanging between her knees.

“She alright?”

“A little seasick,” I said, getting out of the captain’s
chair so Rachel could take over.  “You drive.  Follow a zigzag
pattern.  I still think the wind is going to push him to the east. 
Right now, we should be at the western edge of any area he could be in. 
Start out going east/southeast at 20 knots for half an hour.  We’ll turn
west/southwest at that point after we change the watch.  Got it?”

“I got it, but you don’t look so good.”

Rachel had pushed the NVGs off her eyes and was peering at
me in the bridge lights.

“I’m fine,” I said, turning to climb the tower.

“Hold on,” she said, grabbing my arm to stop me.  “If
you’re feeling sick down here, it will kill you up there.  We can’t afford
to have you out of commission.  I’ll go back up.”

I looked at her for a long pause, everything telling me just
to suck it up and get my ass moving.  But she had a point.  If the
extra motion at the top of the tower pushed me into full blown seasickness… 
Well, I remembered what that was like in Alaska, and Rachel was right. 
I’d be next to useless.  With a sigh, I nodded and stepped aside so she
could climb back up.

“Wow,” she said, pausing with her foot on the first
rung.  “You’re getting mellow.  You never do what I suggest.”

“Go away,” I grumbled, giving her a smile, so she knew I was
kidding.

She grinned and scampered back up to the top.  I
glanced at Tiffany, who hadn’t moved or even raised her head, and was glad
there was one of us who wasn’t easily susceptible to motion sickness.

Sliding into the chair, I got us moving as I’d described to
Rachel.  I had considered trying to do a grid search, a much more
effective method for finding someone or something that’s lost, but without
charts and a GPS, it was essentially impossible.  At least for me.  There’s
probably some old sailors out there who could have looked up at the stars and
laid out a pattern in their minds, then followed it with uncanny
precision.  Unfortunately, there wasn’t one of those with us.

So, I did the next best thing and drove with one eye on the
compass.  Rachel stayed in the tower when I made the first turn. 
Tiffany had climbed to her feet, and offered to change places, but she was
wobbly and looked like she’d been hit by a truck.  That’s the thing about
getting seasick, at least in my experience.  Once it starts the only thing
that will stop it is to get your feet on solid, dry land. 

Rachel had looked down at her and told her just to sit and
sip some more water.  Tiffany didn’t argue, and I had to admit I admired
the young lady’s grit.  When I’d first come across her group, I’d expected
a bunch of spoiled princess types.  My preconception couldn’t have been
more wrong, at least when it came to Tiffany.  Now, we just needed to come
up with a name for her that matched the iron in her backbone.

“Tell me about the girls that were taken by the militia,” I
said to her after making the next turn.

I was tired and needed the distraction so I would stay alert. 
Hopefully, Rachel was doing OK.  She seemed to be.  Every time I
looked up, she appeared focused on her task as she continually swept through a
full circle.

“The popular girls,” Tiffany answered after a long pause.

“What does that mean these days?  Well, what did it
mean?”  I asked, slowly turning my head to scan the horizon.

“We’ve all been together as a team since junior high. 
When we got into high school, there were four girls who were just a little
prettier and a little perkier.  They kind of made their own clique within
the team.  If not for softball, we wouldn’t have all stayed together after
high school.  Most of us went off to college, but they were too busy going
to clubs and parties.  A lot of us have rich parents, so…”

“Why aren’t you playing for your college team?”

“Cal Tech doesn’t have one,” she said.  “And, I love
playing the game, and we’re damn good.  So there you have it.”

“Is your sister one of the popular girls?”

“Wants to be.  She’s younger than me.  Would have
been a sophomore in high school this year.  Tagged along on the trip with
a friend who’s the little sister of one of the clique.  They were all
together when the militia took them.”

“I’m sorry we had to wait to go find her,” I said.

Tiffany raised her head and looked at me, stretching her
legs out.  Dog grunted his disapproval at her moving, then stood up,
turned a circle and laid down with his head on her lap.

“I get it,” she said.  “I really do.  But, I’m
responsible for her.  I’m sure my parents are either dead or one of those
things by now.  That means I’m all she’s got left.  And she’s all
I’ve got.”

I nodded my understanding.  I had the same feelings
about Rachel, I just couldn’t talk to her about it.  Every time I looked
at her, or thought about touching her, guilt came crashing down.  Maybe if
I had just focused on getting to Arizona, I could have saved Katie. 
Instead, I got wrapped up with Rachel, then pulled back into the Army.  If
I had to do it over again…

I shut down those thoughts as my throat began to
constrict.  Logically, I knew that I couldn’t have done anything
different.  It was only dumb luck that had put me in the same place as
Irina, giving me access to a vaccine.  If not for that, I’d probably
either be dead or one of the stumbling, shambling horde by now.

“You OK?”

Tiffany’s voice startled me, and I realized I’d stopped
scanning the horizon and had been just staring at a point in space.

“Fine,” I said, reaching up and wiping a tear from my cheek.

I checked the compass and clock.  It was time to turn
back to the west.  Gently moving the wheel, I steered for our new course.

“Wait!”

Rachel’s shout galvanized me.  Sitting forward I
slapped the throttles to idle, then stood and looked up at her.  She was
leaned into the wind, intently staring at a point to the southeast.

“What did you see?”  I called out after nearly a minute.

“A single flash of light,” she answered.  “Tell me
again what the strobe will look like.”

“White flashes.  You only saw a single flash?”

“Yes, and I caught it as I was turning my head, so I didn’t
even see it straight on.”

“Hold your arm out in line with the direction you saw it,” I
said.

She did, and I looked at the compass, noting the
bearing.  With a feeling of optimism, I got back in the seat, shoved the
throttles forward and steered a course towards the point Rachel had indicated.

“If it’s a strobe, why would she only see one flash?” 
Tiffany asked, coming to stand next to me.

“Maybe both the raft and us happened to be on the crest of a
swell at the same time,” I said, shrugging.  “If he’s a long way off,
maybe even over the horizon, we could catch a brief glimpse if there was the
right combination of waves at the same time.  It’s worth a few minutes to
check out.”

I wanted speed.  Wanted to get into the area as quickly
as possible.  But, we couldn’t count on that single glint of light. 
I shouted at Rachel to keep scanning as we progressed.

She could have seen some debris on the surface, something
shiny catching the moon just right.  Or it could be a glitch within her
night vision goggles.  Or any of a dozen other things.

“Saw it again!  A bunch of flashes before I lost
it.  That way!”

I looked up to see Rachel pointing ten degrees to
starboard.  Feeling better about what she was seeing, I pushed the
throttles to their stops and steered to the new course.  We were moving
fast, and I realized that Rachel was probably getting more of a ride than she
bargained for at the top of the tower.

Looking up, I saw her standing on the platform with a firm
grip on the surrounding rails.  Her long hair streamed behind her as she
leaned into the wind. 

“Definitely got it!  I can tell it’s going up and down
on the swells.  I lose it for a few seconds, then see it again when it
comes up!”

She was excited, and the surge of adrenaline had erased the
lethargy that had begun to settle over me.  Within a few minutes, I
started catching glimpses of the strobe as it rode to the top of a wave. 
I made a slight adjustment to our course, heading directly for it. 

In another few minutes, I pulled back on the throttles as we
approached the strobe.  With the boat at a more sedate speed, Rachel
climbed down from the tower.  The waves were slightly higher here, probably
four or five feet, but we were now close enough only to lose sight of the
strobe when it dropped into the very bottom of a trough.

Another minute and I could make out the tiny inflatable raft
in my night vision.  I thought I could see a form curled up in it, but was
still too far away. 

“You drive,” I said to Rachel, moving away from the wheel.

She took over as I grabbed a long pole with a hook on the
end and moved to the pointed bow.  Now I could tell there was definitely a
human form, balled into the fetal position.  He was unmoving, and I hoped
that only indicated unconsciousness.

Rachel slowed more as we came within a few yards of the
raft.  It was no more than four feet across and looked like it was simply
an inflated ring with a piece of material stretched across the inside. 
The pilot was curled up because that was the only way he could fit. 

A little closer and I could see that the ring was only
partially inflated, causing the raft to ride very low in the water. 
Either there had been a problem when it was deployed, or it was leaking
air.  Regardless, this guy was one lucky bastard.  I didn’t think
that thing would have floated another eight hours.

Hooking on to a rope that was attached around the perimeter
of the ring, I tugged and walked the raft down the side of the boat to the
rear.  Rachel, Tiffany and Dog all joined me there, the girls helping
muscle it onto the platform.

The pilot stirred once we had him out of the water, looking
up at Rachel and blinking several times as if trying to focus.

“Hi, beautiful,” he croaked.  “I sure hope this isn’t a
dream.”

With that, he lapsed back into unconsciousness.