Chapter 2

“We’re coming up to the beach areas now,” said Hannah Austin, one of the Delmarva community’s qualified pilots. Abby’s tour from aloft was under way. After taking off from Dover, Hannah had headed southeast and maintained a low altitude. It wasn’t like there was a lot of air traffic in the region to worry about. Motioning ahead, she directed Abby in the front left seat, and Essence in the rear, to look outside.

Kara had begged off from accompanying them; she had a few pressing matters to attend to. “Don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything,” Kara had assured Abby. “My office door is always open. I want to make sure that for as long as you are with us, you won’t be wanting for anything.”

Hannah, the pilot, was a mere twenty-three years old with the appearance of a teenager. She was a pixie-like young woman with a baby face, fair skin and short dark hair. Abby (and Essence, too) had felt somewhat nervous about getting into the aircraft with Hannah in the pilot seat. But Hannah had quickly put their fears to rest; it turned out that she was a more than competent pilot with a confident air that put them both at ease. The aircraft was an old military plane which seated four, seemingly in decent shape; Abby wondered how they had managed to keep it in good working order for all those years.

“I don’t see anybody,” Abby finally commented as she gazed out the window. “Is that the boardwalk at Rehoboth Beach?”

“What’s left of it,” replied Hannah.

Indeed, as they drew closer, Abby could see that large chunks of the boardwalk were missing, apparently washed out to sea by twenty years’ worth of coastal storms, and no one around to make repairs.

“We’ve known all along that there was nothing in the way of civilization to the south of Dover, all the way down to the bottom of the Delmarva peninsula,” said Essence. “But looking at it from up here kind of drives it home.”

The former bustling seaside town of Rehoboth Beach was in ruins. Beach houses, after two decades of weathering and not being maintained, were collapsing everywhere. The neglected roads were cracked and deteriorating. And everywhere, stillness dominated as complete human absence reigned.

Putting the remains of Rehoboth behind them, Hannah swung out over the ocean and eventually made a loop, coming back in toward the shore. From there, she set a northerly course, parallel to but in close proximity to the beach, the waves breaking directly beneath them. This allowed Abby to view the shore from her side of the plane. Hannah once again pointed ahead. “That’s Ocean City,” she told them. Abby gazed downward, not believing what her eyes were telling her.

Abby had made at least one trip to Ocean City practically every summer she’d been alive, whether it was with Steve, or with girlfriends, or even with her mother during childhood. Going to the beach during the summer was a thread which ran through every stage of her life. But now? Crumbling high-rise condominium units marred the landscape. Blocks upon blocks of damaged buildings dominated the view from above. And Ocean City’s famous boardwalk was scarcely recognizable. Indeed, there was a large Ferris wheel that had toppled over sideways, crushing everything in its midst. Other amusement rides and food stands were rusted out and falling apart. Twenty years of absolute neglect had produced the same effect as a series of bombs. The effect was dramatic, and it would give Abby nightmares.

“Well,” Abby sighed, turning to Essence, “if I had any doubts that you were telling me the truth, they’re gone.”

“Do you want to see where you lived, Abby?” Hannah offered. “I can swing over that way before we head back.”

“I’m not sure about anything at this point. But yeah, maybe we can go over there and take a look.”

Hannah brought the aircraft into a slight bank, veering away from the ocean and heading off to the northwest. It didn’t take long at all. Before Abby knew it, Hannah said to her, “That’s the Centreville area right up ahead. Do you recognize anything?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Abby replied tonelessly. “Wait a minute. That looks like the old church that was next to the entrance to the park where I used to live. Looks like it lost its steeple.” The steeple was nowhere in sight.

Abby paused for one more sad look at the remnants of her former home base and then turned her focus away from the outside. She spoke directly to her two traveling companions.

“Everything is gone. The place where I lived – it just doesn’t exist anymore. Depressing isn’t a strong enough word.”

Turning to Hannah, she continued, “Thanks for the tour. I’ve seen enough. Maybe we can head back to the base?” Hannah nodded and brought the plane into an eastward course for the short homeward trek.

Back on the ground in Dover, Abby and Essence repeated their profuse thanks to Hannah.

“If you want to do something like this again, it might be better to use our helicopter instead.” Hannah pointed out.

“Can you fly that, too?” wondered Essence.

“I’m being trained to fly it, but I haven’t finished the course yet. You can always ask Noah, though.”

“Who’s Noah?” Abby queried.

“You haven’t met Noah Benjamin yet,” Essence answered with a grin. “He’s our community jack-of-all-trades. He knows how to do everything.”

The tall, fit, dark-skinned man put down his drill and screwdriver, having just wrapped up the menial task of installing a new set of hinges on a greenhouse door. Another man stood nearby, chatting with him and watching him complete the job. The old hinge set on this particular greenhouse was still functional but becoming corroded, and a recent scavenging expedition had given the community a new supply of metal hinges, among many other things. Noah Benjamin, repairman extraordinaire, opened and closed the door a few times to insure a good fit. “There you go,” Noah said to his companion. “It’s all set. Snug as a farmer’s dick in a ewe’s cunt.”

Lars Eldridge, Kara’s husband, broke out in a hearty laugh at that comment. Lars was generally a reserved and contemplative type – an excellent counter to his gregarious, people-person wife – but he enjoyed Noah’s antics as much as anyone. “You’re a sick man, Noah. A sick man. Anyone ever tell you that?”

“Guilty as charged, and damn proud of it.” Noah was indeed a jack-of-all-trades, as well as a frequent provider of comic relief in a humor-starved society. Besides minor everyday Mr. Fixit assignments such as replacing rusted-out hinges on greenhouse doors, Noah also oversaw the repair and maintenance the community’s fleet of automobiles and trucks, a good portion of which were nearing the ends of their useful lives. He even took care of maintaining their airplanes, their helicopter, and a few boats. He spearheaded the community’s recycling efforts. He was one of two people (Hannah Austin was on the verge of becoming the third) who was qualified to fly the helicopter. Noah also taught a basic course on firearm use for those who needed it. And, on top of all that, he was the community communications expert. With no Internet to speak of, Noah had converted a simple office into a worldwide communications center, complete with shortwave and ham radios galore which had been scavenged from elsewhere. He spoke Spanish fluently – he was half Mexican, half African-American – and this allowed him to communicate in real time with survivor groups in Spain and throughout Latin America, of which there were several. He was in the process of teaching himself French and German, hoping to touch base with more groups in Europe. The information he uncovered through his efforts was a godsend to the Delmarva community.

As for Lars, he and Kara had been married for six years. Both had been married previously but had lost their spouses during the Second Incident. Prior to the crisis, Lars had worked in the agriculture industry. He’d used that expertise to direct the construction of a set of greenhouses that were pretty much state of the art in the present world. They numbered about thirty and were located in the northeastern part of the community. The greenhouses supplied much of the food for the residents. But the plants grown within were not limited to food sources; many were for medicinal use as well. Essence and her group used plant extracts to synthesize a wide variety of medicinal compounds, including a relatively new class of antibiotics, and a class of pain relievers that were almost as potent as opiates without the danger of addiction. Not only were these used by the community, they were also quite valuable in trade.

There were a couple of chicken houses on the north side as well. Chicken and eggs were staples in the community diet. There was also a cattle grazing area, a recent addition, but there was not yet enough cattle to provide a source of beef. Rather, they were utilized as a source of milk. Any beef they consumed was obtained through trading with their friends down in Virginia who were blessed with a large grazing area and a much larger herd of cattle.

Another plentiful food source was fish; the community organized fishing expeditions out on the Delaware Bay, and even out into the open ocean. With the human population thinned out as it was, the water had become much cleaner and the fish population had exploded. The community boats – three of them, again obtained through scavenging - were stored in a boat house, located near a road which led from the edge of the community down to the bay. Noah and a couple of others kept their precious marine vessels seaworthy.

There was yet another delicious seafood option in abundance. Heading north on the Delaware River, and then westward through the canal, brought them into the upper Chesapeake Bay. This allowed them to harvest large amounts of Maryland crabs, whose population had also exploded due to the decreased human activity. Elena and her crew used them to make delicious crab cakes that were the equal (or better) than those available before the crisis. These were a huge hit at the community lunches.

Their enclave was well protected against unwelcome visitors, or at least as well as could be expected in these uncertain times. Their area included the entire former Air Force base, plus an extension to the west and southwest to include a large residential area. This area also included a stretch of a fast-moving creek which was an important water source, plus a couple of small reservoirs. It was in this southwest extension where almost all of the residents lived, occupying housing that had formerly been used by families of military members. There was also an extension to the north, taking the limit of the community clear up to what used to be known as Little Creek Road. The greenhouses and the chicken coops had been built here.

Through the tireless efforts of the community over a two-year period, the entire area was surrounded by an eight-foot stone wall topped with barbed wire. Much of this wall had been built before the crisis, years before the air base had closed, enclosing it entirely. This existing wall had been extended outward to include the new areas. Now, the wall was one continuous structure with a circumference of almost ten miles. There were four guard stations at strategic positions near the wall, well-armed and staffed by four people around the clock. There was also a nighttime patrol which moved around the community at night to keep watch. Near the center of the enclave was an air tower, a remnant of the site’s former status as an Air Force base. It was old but still structurally sound and kept in good repair, as the residents were well aware of its value. The tower soared over 120 feet in the air, and an observer at the top had an excellent view of the entire community, as well as the surrounding area outside the perimeter wall. It too was staffed by a security crew, both day and night.

The community at large tried to limit expeditions on foot outside the wall. Small groups sometimes ventured outside during daylight for hunting purposes. Deer were plentiful and they served as another food source. At night, the danger level was such that no one dared set foot outside the perimeter, except for the foolishly brave and the stupid. Wild animals were the problem, and dogs were the number one culprit. Sadly, dogs were no longer man’s best friends. In the time of disorganization following the Second Incident, almost all domesticated dogs entered the wild and quickly turned feral. It wasn’t long before the larger and more aggressive canines took over; the small, docile breeds were simply not able to compete in the wild. Now, wild dogs ran in packs in the nighttime darkness, a few generations from domestication, looking for prey, terrorizing any humans who were dumb enough to head out into the night. And to be sure, it wasn’t just the dogs; coyotes, wolves, and even bears and cougars ran rampant, having thrived with the decrease in the human population. Thankfully for the Delmarva community, it was quite rare for dangerous animals to get inside the wall, and those that did were shot on sight.

When it came to basic utilities, the community was fairly well set up. They had access to all the clean water they needed and then some. There were the reservoirs and the creek in the western extension. The residents had constructed a small water purification facility nearby, contained inside an unoccupied house. But by far the biggest source of water was the bay itself. Desalinization of salt water on a large scale had been perfected in the 2040’s, and the residents were in possession of a small desalinization plant. It was located on the east side close to the bay; water was delivered to the plant via an underground pipe. It had been built in the complex’s closing days as a military base.

Electric power was another matter; the community had barely enough to get by. They had scavenged a large number of solar panels that were far more efficient than the ones in use fifty years prior. That, by itself, was not suitable for their needs. A limited amount of electricity was delivered from the power grid up in Philadelphia. But their saving grace was provided by their friendly neighbors in southern Virginia. They had all the power they needed from various sources, helped along by a massive offshore wind farm that they had managed to maintain since the crisis began. As part of the trade agreement, they had agreed to deliver to the Fragment of Delmarva a fixed amount of power through underground cables that had been put in place not long before the crisis began.

Strict conservation measures were enforced with regard to electrical power. Hot showers were forbidden. Climate control in residences was severely limited; air conditioning in the summer was a thing of the past. In cold weather, thermostats had to be kept at a chilly 55 degrees. Some residents were able to remedy this by constructing fireplaces. In addition, there was a curfew each weeknight from 11pm until dawn. During these hours, all outside lights except a select few were turned off, and near total darkness reigned. On Friday and Saturday evenings, to allow socialization, the curfew began at 1am.

The three-hundred-plus residents had coined an informal nickname for themselves: Fraggers. It originated from “Fragment of Delmarva”, which was actually another self-created designation. The term “fragment” seemed appropriate, since they were nominally under the control of their overlords to the north but also possessed a great deal of autonomy. They’d also created nicknames for the various groups around them. The group to the north, of which they were a part of but yet not a part of, had been dubbed the Patriots due to their ongoing quest to recreate America and capture Washington. The Virginia group, which had come to the Fraggers’ rescue by providing them with a much-needed source of electricity, were known as the Saviors. There was a friendly group all the way down in Florida that Noah Benjamin frequently communicated with. Just as the Fraggers had occupied the former Dover Air Force Base, this group had occupied the former Kennedy Space Center at Cape Canaveral. As a result, that group had been labelled the Spacers.

The most colorful nickname, however, had been bestowed upon the most potentially troublesome group. This was the clan that was waging an ongoing war with the Patriots for Washington. They were a loosely organized yet aggressive collection of individuals who occupied the valleys beyond the Shenandoah Mountains of Virginia and West Virginia, somehow surviving out in the open with little in the way of shelter. Apparently, they didn’t have much in the way of entry requirements, and a sizable number of their population was comprised of people who had been asked to leave other communities because of transgressions or actual crimes. This made them unpredictable troublemakers; many of them were not that far away from correctly being called feral humans. No one understood why they had such a fascination with controlling Washington, well removed from their home turf; but the Patriots had often attested to the fierceness of their fighting. In addition to Washington, they had also stirred up trouble with the Saviors in the Richmond area. This ragtag assortment of perhaps five hundred individuals – a barbaric bunch who liked to travel long distances to wreak havoc – was known as the Huns, and as an illustration of how perfect that designation was, they were also described that way by both the Patriots and the Saviors.

It was the Huns that brought the most fear to the residents of Dover, despite their distance and the presence of a large body of water – the Chesapeake Bay – which acted as a barrier to the west. Although the Fragger community was well fortified, they had much that potential plunderers might covet, and they were acutely aware of that fact. The Chesapeake Bay Bridge, which crossed the bay, was still navigable, and the Fraggers feared it might provide the Huns with a way to bring an attack force across the bay and into their midst. Kara had actually taken the step of flying up to Philadelphia (in a plane piloted by Noah) to meet with their leaders and request to have the bridge destroyed. She made the case that its continued existence might cause more harm than its destruction. Her pleas fell on deaf ears, as the Patriots deemed the bridge to be a necessary means of approach to Washington as they continued their needless war.

Through a combination of hard work, resourcefulness and good luck, the Fraggers were holding their own, if not exactly thriving. They had allies and one potential enemy. They knew, however, that their worst enemy was not of this world. It was both invisible and invincible. And the worst part was, they had no idea if, or when, it was going to reappear.