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

situation in the Pacific had become, but the scientists were too valuable not to be put to work. They had still lied. There would be consequences. Someone would be blamed. She wouldn’t let it be Zach, so she’d reassigned him, away from the scientists.

“France is gone, Europe’s gone. The north is radioactive,” Clyde said, reading from a tablet. “That was the message from the French warship, the Aconit. It’s a grim start to the report, but it sets the tone. And there’s that sub. Did it recently come south, or has it been in these waters for weeks?”

“Which sub d’you mean?” Zach asked.

“Both,” Tess said.

“Speaking of those subs,” Clyde said, “why did the Adventure want to sink the Vepr? How many ships did either submarine sink since the outbreak?”

“Write the questions up on that board,” Tess said. “We won’t answer all of them, but it’ll help keep us focused on what answers we’re looking for. Ah, this could be something. The first ship to travel through Dégrad des Cannes wrote its name, and the direction it was travelling. The others who came through copied that. So we know the Viaje Segura was going north. We don’t know where they sailed from, or when. But it’s a Spanish name.”

“It means safe journey,” Clyde said.

“I hope, for them, their journey was,” Tess said. “But a Spanish name suggests they were from a Spanish-speaking country. So not Brazil. Potentially, then, they came from Uruguay or Argentina.”

“We don’t know the ship’s range,” Clyde said. “Or where else they might have refuelled.”

“No, but we do know the coastal areas of Brazil were devastated during the nuclear war if not before,” Tess said. “We can’t draw a conclusion, not yet, but most of these ships were sailing north. We’re not likely to find a refuge in the south, but there could be another fuel supply.”

“But why didn’t they go south around the Cape?” Clyde asked.

“That’s another question to go up on our board,” Tess said.

“What does the rest of the message say?” Zach asked.

“My Spanish isn’t great,” Tess said. “But I think this means: we cannot go home, so we’ll look for a harbour in the north.”

“So if we know where they came from, we know where to avoid,” Zach said. “We could ask Doc Leo for help with the translation.”

“No, we should let the two scientists work,” Tess said.

“The message from that French warship is weird,” Zach said. “It’s not very naval. Bet their captain was dead.”

“Rule-seven in policing: leave the jumping to the kangaroos,” Tess said. “All we can say is the message probably wasn’t written by the captain. When we return this way to refuel, if the zoms are gone, we can take a look in the barracks.”

“Or search the city of Cayenne,” Clyde said. “We’d be more likely to find food there.”

“Oh, yeah, good idea,” Zach said. “Is it lunch yet?”

“Not even close,” Clyde said. “Let’s take a look at those photos of the zoms.”

“The coolest one is… here,” Zach said. “You can see two crocs each going for a different leg.”

“Strewth, mate, no,” Clyde said. “I want to look at the uniforms. See if we can piece together where they came from.”

Tess returned to the photograph of the note left by the ships’ captains. The notes were brief. Six in Spanish, four in Portuguese, and two, both from the warship, in French. She walked over to the whiteboard, and added another question: Where did the French ship go?

When she’d invented this make-work exercise, she’d expected it to be little more than a distraction for her and for the crew. Questions would produce theories they couldn’t possibly confirm, but the more she stared at the map, at the list they’d found at the French harbour, and the summary of their recent voyage, one of those theories was beginning to solidify.

One line had been repeated three times by three different crews though with a slight variation: the Atlantic was dangerous.

“This photo’s interesting,” Clyde said. “I count three uniform jackets here.”

“Do you know whose they are?” Zach asked.

“No, but someone in the crew might,” Clyde said.

“Clyde, would a sub commander have orders for what to do if satellites went down?” Zach asked.

“Yep,” Clyde said.

“So someone gave them an order to plaster South Africa and Brazil?”

“Yep,” Clyde said. “South Africa is in the Southern Hemisphere. Relatively safe from fallout. Situated at the confluence of two oceans, it’s a logical hub for regrouping and re-organising.”

“But why attack it?” Zach asked.

“Because the purpose of nuclear weapons was to wipe out the species,” Clyde said. “That’s what it comes down to. Probably worth asking Leo for the details on that.”

“Not at the moment,” Tess said. “Three ships wrote that that the Atlantic was dangerous. Twice in Portuguese. Those would be ships from Brazil. If you were a ship sailing out of Natal, wouldn’t you consider going east? The Aconit was a French stealth frigate. Not quite new-out-of-the-box, but still a piece of top-ranked military hardware. They didn’t stay in Dégrad des Cannes, on either occasion, and they didn’t go east, either.”

“Do you think it was because of the subs?” Zach asked.

“Could be,” Tess said.

The alarm rang for battle stations, even as the background engine thrum changed. “This is the captain. A wreckage field lies dead ahead, the result of a recent battle. We will look for survivors.”

“Can we go to the deck and help?” Zach asked.

“Once you’ve secured everything here,” Tess said. “But I’m going to take advantage of rank and go up to the bridge.”

The captain stood by the bridge window, surveying the wreckage. The sea’s surface was rainbow-slick from spilled oil, dotted with strips of sailcloth, split masts, and fractured fibreglass. A more intact hull was ringed by a pool of greenish-white foam.

“Was there