Chapter 21: Military Indoctrination

"We're planning on investigating what's left of our military infrastructure when we visit Norfolk, Virginia, on Wednesday. We know they had some operational ships because they used a nuclear submarine in their attack on Washington. Naval warships are sturdy, designed to withstand direct shelling. Hopefully a few small meteorites didn't inflict much damage. Whether there's anyone who still understands how—or enough people to operate—them, we can't determine until we arrive.

If anyone in Norfolk can hear this, either civilian or military, we're looking forward to working with you. The Navy had a lot of resources which would be invaluable now, like atomic power and portable generators. I don't need to tell you, those tools would aid an established community more than a couple individuals. If that group is capable of dealing with the plagues, potential members won't be as fearful.

We're also worried about the number of weapons. If anyone has broken into the Navy's arsenals, we may have a problem, as we aren't prepared for a protracted battle. Let me emphasize, we're not heading there to lay claim to anything. We're establishing self-sustaining communities and providing enough confidence in everyone's safety so they are no longer terrified to join in a recovery effort. If you've already established there, we have no problems with you. But we will have an issue if attacked.

We're especially concerned with violence because our people have been assaulted, and we've lost all trace of Debbie in Raleigh. We're only sending Natalie because we finally heard from Monique in Atlanta. Our signals were blocked by the mountains. Someone topped Stone Mountain to reach us, letting us know that Monique reached both Charlotte and Atlanta and was recovering after treating four people.

If I suspect our people are in any danger, I'll seriously reconsider sending them. I realize we're fighting a war against the Great Death, but I'm not going to risk my people if I can avoid it. If a region is deemed too dangerous, then I'll let everyone in the area die. It's that simple. If you have any say in the matter, or can run interference for Natalie, I suggest you ensure she doesn't come to any harm. Otherwise, you and everyone you know will pay for the misdeeds of a few. Evil succeeds when good men stand idle. We're trying to save lives, not just a handful but the entire human race. We can only accomplish that if we work together. We can't sacrifice the few who can make a difference on a lost cause.

We're also interested in the health of the Chesapeake Bay and the Atlantic. We're curious whether anything survived. Seagulls, who alerted sailors of the safety of shore, are scavengers. Fish, mammals and invertebrates swim in waters contaminated by diseased carcasses. Water and food are necessary for survival. If any aquatic species remain, we need to know. They can help populate all the waterways which have died off across the world. Realizing the extent of the die-offs will inform us how much of a cataclysmic event this was."

It took Natalie some time to reach Norfolk due to the obstructed and damaged roads. She kept doubling back to locate alternate routes which didn't always lead where she wanted to go. What's more, they were often tree-lined highways, which meant they were often blocked by downed trees—usually pines felled by the plague. With no one else capable of disposing of them without infecting themselves—though a few had tried unsuccessfully—Natalie undertook the task herself. She drove until locating an outdoor supply store, grabbed a chainsaw and supplies, and circled back. She chopped up each tree and swept up the diseased sawdust. She learned a lot, never having used a chainsaw before, but avoided removing any human limbs. She transported the wood to a nearby house where she posted notices warning people not to use the cut-up pine for firewood.

When she reached the Hampton Roads Tunnel, she discovered both directions were flooded. Doubling back, she tried the James River Bridge, but there were several sections which had collapsed. Returning again, she investigated the Monitor Merrimac Bridge Tunnel, where she encountered an Aircraft Carrier lodged midway through it. It had broken free—or drifted after everyone aboard died—and collided with the bridge. With all three bridges out, there was no way to reach Norfolk by driving. She needed to find another means of carrying her supplies and powering her equipment, including her radio for communicating with home.

The nearby Hampton Roads Port at the base of the tunnel housed several larger shipping and military craft. However, they were too large for one person to handle and most were heavily damaged. On the east side of the bridge, there was a small sheltered port for smaller boats. Yet, most of those craft had sunk or been used to sail elsewhere. Natalie drove up Newport News Creek, which was more sheltered, but those boats weren't in any better shape. The Newport News Port had several oil tanks for refilling ships. Apparently a meteor from the initial storm punctured one and caused the entire area to burn. Most of the boats docked across the Route 664 Hampton Roads Beltway had melted.

Newport News Shipbuilding had several small piers for boats, but they were too large to maneuver or suffered extensive damage. However, she'd noted smaller marinas near each of the other tunnels. The James River was too wide for a novice to sail on her own. She returned to where she started, the Rt. 64 Hampton Roads Bridge Tunnel. She'd noticed a small marina across from the bridge in Fort Monroe. If that one didn't work out, she knew the various rivers in the region housed several small marinas of their own.

Luckily, several boats moored at Old Point Comfort Marina were still sea worthy. Natalie selected the easiest to master and transferred all of her supplies. She used her battery-powered pump to fill the tank, which relieved her of learning to sail to the other side of Hampton Bay.

Motoring out of the marina was interesting. As she expected, the water was littered with carcasses: fish, sharks, birds and humans. Since she couldn't steer and shift the dead out of the way, she plowed through them. She ran over several, which threatened to jam the boat's propellers. She was forced to stop, lift the motors and clean the debris with her hands; a messy and grizzly job.

While maneuvering past the dead creatures, she drifted quite a bit. Each time she tried to recover and head back the way she wanted, the propellers would clog again. It was late evening before she entered the navy base's shipyards. She noted a smaller seawall to the side and motored into the Naval Sailing Center and Marina by the Naval Base Golf Course.

It was late when she finally moored her craft to the dock and crashed in the stateroom. It was so small and cramped it could hardly be called such. She fell asleep immediately, exhausted by her long struggles. She didn't manage to sleep for long.

The loud crash of the cabin's door being kicked open rudely awakened her. "Don't move!" a male voice shouted as a bright light shone in her face. Blocking it with her arm, she rolled out of bed but another figure intercepted her.

"Try to stand and you're dead!"

"Excuse me, I—"

"We don't care, Ma'am. Keep your hands up until we can search you and the ship."

"We don't take kindly to civilians entering a military facility."

"There are no more military facilities," Natalie reminded him. She tried to study the men, but the stark contrast between the light in her eyes and the dark cabin prevented her from seeing anything.

The first sailor studied her and the other checked out her supplies. "You're a little young to be doing this type o' shit, ain't ya?" Shifting so one figure blocked the light; Natalie could see the men better. They still wore their navy khakis, though their hair had grown out. One had streaked blond hair, while the other was black and sported an afro. The black sailor yanked her bags from under her cot and prepared to unzip her duffle bag.

"You need to be careful. They're medical supplies. If you puncture the IV bags, I may not be able to treat you if you touch anything I handled."

The man jumped back two feet, throwing his hands up. "You have the plague?" The blond by the door backed up as well.

Natalie sighed, knowing she had to go through this. She preferred revealing it under different circumstances. "I've suffered from each of them, all nine Great Death plagues. As such I'm immune, but I'm also a carrier."

"In that case, you better get the hell out of here." The blond pointing his gun at her seemed to be in charge, as he set the tone for how the two men responded. "There aren't many of us here, and most of us haven't been exposed to the plague yet."

"You expect me to navigate the bay, with all the bodies floating in it, in the middle of the night?"

"You've got electricity and lights. That's what alerted us when you arrived. You should be fine."

"Thanks, but I barely managed to make it here. Besides, I don't think you want to chase me away." Natalie waved her hands. "Can I lower my hands now, I'm not about to make a break for it while you've got me covered."

"Keep your damned hands up," the blond insisted, standing by the cabin door.

"Any reason we should care whether you live or die?" the second sailor asked.

Unable to lower her hands, Natalie instead used them to accent her speech. "Because I possess the cure to the plagues. I'm here to treat enough people for you to build a working community. Once I do, anyone nearby can come for treatment if they become infected. You'll need a separate group here if you hope to last, and that security will draw people. In case you haven't noticed yet, it's going to be a rough winter. Military barracks aren't known for being well constructed or insulated. Living on a metal ship in the middle of a blizzard won't be much more comfortable. You'll have to relocate to civilian housing if you expect to survive the coming winter."

The first sailor was about to object when he tilted his head, her words striking home. "Wait, you said 'cure'?"

"I did. We've been treating it for some time. We've been visiting various cities, setting up regional treatment centers. We've lost a few people, but most survive. By the way, you didn't touch anything on the way in, like the wheel I used to steer with, did you?" When the two men shot nervous glances at each other she shrugged and lowered her hands, convinced they wouldn't risk shooting her. "If you did, you may have been infected. I wasn't exactly expecting company, so I didn't scrub everything I touched. This area is extremely humid, so the cells which transmit the plagues can't dry out. If they aren't sterilized, they'll remain active indefinitely. You might want to consider a drier locale if you want to avoid the Great Death. Even with the treatment, it's not something to undergo lightly."

"We ... we touched the railing when we came aboard."

"Alas, I'm not sure which areas I handled. I was hoping to select the best candidates based on how many they can treat once they recover. If you're infected, hopefully you're a more common blood type."

"I'm O negative," the leader told her.

Natalie sighed. "That's not ideal. It means you're a poor choice for treatment. Since there are no antibodies in your red blood cells, they're concentrated in your plasma, which is how we perform the treatments. If infected, we'll have to decide whether we can save more people by treating you or simply letting you die."

"I ... I don't even know what the hell I am," the other man confessed.

His friend stared at him. "It's on your dog tag, idiot."

The man didn't stop to argue, ripping his shirt open and yanking his dog tags over his head. "I'm A positive. Is that good?"

"It's not ideal, but it's about as good as we could hope. That means you can treat one out of every three people, which is a decent amount. Positive and negative doesn't matter with plasma."

"So you can treat me?"

"Yeah, unless it's between you and someone who's AB. They can treat anyone, and thus can donate plasma for whoever who needs it, either here or for the surrounding communities. But let's not ... get ahead of ourselves. You might not even be ... infected." Natalie couldn't keep from yawning, but the two men were too busy staring at each other to watch what she was doing. "I don't suspect I can finish my nap? I've been working all day reaching here. If I'm going to explain what's involved, I'd prefer to be thinking clearly."

"We'll have to let the Commander decide how to handle this. If we leave you alone, you could do anything you wanted and if we arrest you ... well, you may not be as likely to treat us if we get sick."

Natalie cocked her head at the foibles of nature. "So an actual ship's Commander survived?"

"Well, no. We were getting into scrabbles over who was in charge, so we got together and voted who to promote. There was a Lieutenant Charles Bennet, so he's now Commander Bennet."

"And who are you? I'm Natalie."

"I'm Frankie Sanders, Ma'am," the blond replied, nodding to Natalie, signaling they were already thinking of her differently. They were no longer here to arrest her, instead treating her deferentially. Frankie stood a little taller. "I'm a Petty Officer, Third Class," he announced, showing the rank must have been post-breakdown as well.

"I'm Sammy Taylor, Seaman, Ma'am."

"That's good to know, but could we skip the Ma'am business. I'm a little young for anyone to call me Ma'am. You make me feel like an old lady. You two are almost old enough to be my Dad."

Rather than being offended, they both broke into smiles. "Sorry, even though we may swear like ... sailors, the Navy continually drills respect for ladies, so until you earn a ranking, you're stuck with 'Ma'am', Ma'am."

Natalie shrugged, tossing her sheet off and getting up. "Guess it can't be helped then. Let me get my stuff together. If I leave my gear here, will it remain secure? And by that, I mean do I have to scrub everything down so someone won't go through the boat examining anything which isn't nailed down?"

Frankie laughed. "Aside from one Navy wife, you're the first person to enter the base since the big die-off. We run a pretty tight operations here, although as you can imagine, we're a bit short staffed."

"What about my weapons? I normally carry a few because the world became a dangerous place of late."

"We'll safeguard them for you, keeping them secure until you leave. While you're here, you'll remain safe enough."

Sammy arched his eyebrow. "Unless you're selling us a line of bull."

"What weapons do you have, Ma'am?" Frankie asked, ignoring Sammy's implied threat.

Natalie pointed out where she stored them, and extracted extra gloves for the sailors to use to remove and examine them.

Sammy glanced at her rifle with a skeptical expression. "An M16? That's an antique. Where did you pick that up? A Vietnam Memorial?"

"No, our group defended a National Guard Armory when it was attacked. Needless to say, we never met anyone to turn over what we recovered."

"That explains it. Still, you've kept it in excellent service. Can you fire it?"

"I've had some terrific training, though I haven't had as long to practice as most of my people. I was a ... late addition."

"I'll tell you what, when you're ready to leave, I'll give you one of our more modern M4s. They're more dependable and more reliable at stopping someone." He paused, flashing her his best smile. "A delicate flower like you shouldn't be using such an old relic."

Sammy smiled. "We've always respected women who can take care of themselves."

Natalie halted her preparations and examined both men. "Am I going to have a problem here? Let's face it: you men have been doing without for a long time. Approaching me too closely means death, but that doesn't guarantee someone won't get stupid."

Frankie considered Sammy for a moment before answering. "We've spent longer at sea than the world has been shut down, so we haven't been doing without for long. However, I've got to admit the military has a long history of sexual abuses. Hell, rape of service personal by our own people is a long-standing problem the brass was never able to address. But I'll guarantee this, if everything you say is true, I'll make it my personal duty to ensure that no one tries anything."

"That wasn't the question," Natalie reminded him, pulling out her bag of medical supplies and stowing it under her arm. "I wasn't asking to be protected. If the Navy can't protect its own sailors from sexual abuse by their superiors, I can't imagine you can watch me twenty-four/seven."

Frankie shrugged. "Human nature is what it is. The service attracts some pretty aggressive and assertive people. We have enough stupidity to go around. So no, I can't guarantee some idiot won't try something."

"In that case, can you at least give me my knife back? If I'm attacked, I'd prefer to make them stop and think before it's over."