Life Goes On by Tayell, Frank (large ebook reader txt) 📗

“You’ve a weird idea of holiday-research if you learned about the military bases.”

“Nah, last year we were approached to help clean up the Colombia-Venezuela border,” Clyde said. “Politically, it was expedient to use French Guiana as a staging ground, and get the European Union to cover some of the costs. We were still negotiating access come February.”

“We’ve struck oil!” Zach called out, as he and Avalon came out of the pump-room.

“Diesel,” Avalon said. “A scientific mind prizes precision, Zachary. But that is not what will be of most interest to our detective. There is a log of all the ships refuelling here since the outbreak.” She held up a transparent plastic envelope.

“A single piece of paper?” Tess asked, taking the sheet out of the envelope. “I count twelve ships. Lists their names. And… okay, some writing in French, some in Spanish, and some in Portuguese. Can you translate?”

“It’s twelve entries, but only eleven vessels,” Avalon said. “Nine went north. One returned and went south. The other two only went south. The second entry claims to be from the Aconit, a French warship, though it is distinctly unmartial in its phrasing. La France est morte. L’Europe est morte. Le nord est radioactif. Would you like me to translate?”

“I get the gist,” Tess said. “What’s the most recent note say?”

“It’s from a ship called Isabella la Bella,” Avalon said. “The captain writes that Natal was destroyed. Their vessel was going north, despite the warning left by the French warship.”

“Zach, photograph the note. Return it to its envelope, and to where you found it. We’ll ask Captain Adams if she wants to write an entry from us.”

“Saying what?” Zach asked.

“That’ll be up to the captain,” Tess said. She glanced down at the dosimeter. “Doc, go back to the boat, and radio the ship. Tell the captain there’s fuel, and it seems safe enough to bring the Te Taiki in to dock. Tell her about the log, too. We’ll take a look ashore.”

“There’s a croc!” Zach called, peering over the rail close to the gate. “There’s a croc in the water!”

“Nonsense,” Avalon said, following him over.

“Its eye just opened,” Zach said. “Don’t you tell me that’s a log.”

“It’s a caiman, not a crocodile,” Avalon said.

“What’s a caiman?” Zach asked.

“A type of alligator,” Clyde said.

“We’ll take a look at the military base,” Tess said. “Clyde, watch for zoms. Zach, watch for crocs. Flo, go call the captain, and tell Mr Mackay he better come up onto the platform.”

“What are we looking for?” Zach asked as Clyde pushed open the gate.

“Supplies, survivors, and the story of what happened,” Tess said, as they walked side-by-side down the perforated metal planking covering the pier. “But if eleven boats have already docked here, we’ll be salvaging the dregs of the dregs.”

The military camp was more clearly visible now. Ringed by the same type of fence as the pier, and that fence seemed to be all that was keeping the rainforest at bay. Single-storey huts, a few vehicles, and a radio antenna dotted with CCTV cameras so it could double as a watchtower.

“No smoke. No lights. No greeting,” she said. “No one’s here.”

“What if we find people?” Zach asked. “We’ll help, right?”

“Always,” Tess said. “Don’t ask me how. Not until we find them.”

“Because not many people lived here, but Brazil was huge, wasn’t it? Loads of people lived there, and it’s not that far away.”

“Suriname is immediately to the northeast,” Clyde said. “Brazil is to the south and east. To the north, across the sea, are the Caribbean islands. Rainforest and rivers are everywhere except where it’s water. But someone targeted the coastal cities in Brazil. You saw the images the helicopter brought back? Belem wasn’t nuked. It was shelled.”

“Why do you think they did that?” Zach asked.

“Orders,” Clyde said. “Because that’s what soldiers are trained to do.”

“Yeah, okay, but why were those orders given?” Zach asked.

“Debate it later,” Tess said. “Focus on the present. On what you can see, and whether that means danger for our ship.”

“I can see jungle,” Zach said.

“I think this is rainforest,” Tess said.

“What’s the difference?” Zach asked.

“Taller trees,” Tess said.

“There’s more crocs down there,” Zach said as they neared the shore. “A lot more.” He stopped. “Boss?”

“I see them,” Tess said. “Don’t worry, they’re no threat to us up here.”

The shore-side of the pier was blocked with another high gate, again with a lock, which had been professionally destroyed and then re-secured with a length of chain held in place by a half-metre-long steel road-tie.

“Someone left a note here, Commish,” Clyde said, pointing at a corner of paper still taped to the broken lock.

“Probably a message warning people not to go any further,” Zach said.

“Probably,” Tess said. Beyond the gate were bones. Five femurs, a few smaller bones. No skulls. While the bones danced with insects, barely any muscle and flesh remained. Beyond the bones, the fence continued for another ten metres. At a sentry-post checkpoint, the fence branched left and right, following the shore. Beyond the sentry post was a battered military four-by-four, and a bullet-flecked civilian bus. On either side of the road were regimented rows of military prefabs, tall lampposts, and scraps of bone-filled clothing. But Tess was drawn to the figure in the lurid flower-patterned shirt. Definitely the kind of shirt someone would buy for an equatorial holiday. Probably after they arrived. Had it been someone from France, visiting Cayenne? Or had they taken their vacation on an island but made it to the mainland before the infection had found them? The feet and hands had been chewed, but not eaten, whereas the bones by the gate had been gnawed.

“Zom!” Clyde said. “The left.”

It wore military green, though without any boots, and