Текст книги "Noah's Ark: Contagion"

Автор книги: Harry Dayle

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Текущая страница: 1 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

Contents

Title

A Note To Readers

Prologue

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Twenty-Four

Twenty-Five

Twenty-Six

Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Eight

Twenty-Nine

Thirty

Epilogue

Author's Note

Also By The Author

Copyright

Harry Dayle

Note To Readers:

This book is as British as its author. Readers used to American English may find some spellings and phrases differ slightly from those they are more familiar with.

Prologue

THE PALATIAL CABIN felt unusually oppressive. A pair of thick curtains remained tightly drawn across the windows. There wasn’t anything to see outside anyway; they hadn’t moved in two weeks. The bleak Norwegian sea looked much like any other. Only its name reminded Maryse of just how close to home she was.

The lights were off, too. Despite the recent announcement that normal power was now restored throughout the ship, she couldn’t help herself. Energy had to be saved. Resources were limited. Maryse remembered only too well how her mother had made her and her sisters conserve precious coal, and even more precious food during the war. She remembered how her neighbours, on hearing that Hitler had finally been defeated, forgot all about rationing. Life became a party, and Maryse had looked on enviously as they feasted and gorged themselves on everything they had stored up during those long, hard years. And she would never forget the howling and begging as they banged on every door in the street looking for scraps of food once the party was over and the cupboards were bare. Maryse’s mother had been wise. She knew the rationing would continue long after the occupying forces had left and the fighting had stopped. The girls lived frugally, but they lived.

Now that wisdom lived on in cabin 845. But not for much longer.

Maryse couldn’t feel the mattress against her back any more. It was as if the nerves had been removed, or simply switched off. Strangely, her feet remained sensitive. She wished they weren’t; the pain was becoming intolerable. The initial discomfort had been inconvenient, but she had put that down to her advancing years. At 81, body parts went wrong with alarming frequency. Doctor Lister had got to know her quite well over the duration of the cruise, as she presented a selection of minor ailments. But then the world had ended, and Doctor Lister had more than enough to deal with, without worrying about the frailties of an elderly Norwegian woman.

Which was why, when the paralysis had started in her feet, she hadn’t wanted to bother the friendly doctor. Nor had she made any attempt to see him when her legs came to a grinding halt. The phone beside the bed was within reach, and she knew that a single call would bring help, but at what cost? The medical facilities were limited to the doctor and his two nurses. If one of them was to come to her cabin, who would suffer? Someone on this ship needed attention more than she did, Maryse was certain of that. So she remained in her bed, and slowly lost the use of more and more of her body.

Her back had gone numb, her left hand became lifeless, and soon after, the whole arm. The right wasn’t far behind, rendering any desire she might have to telephone for help, completely impossible. Crying out was an option she had considered for an entire afternoon as she lay there unable to move, the pain spreading. The cabin walls were thin. Too thin really, given the money she had paid for the room. The couple in one neighbouring stateroom spent hour after hour arguing, shouting at each other, throwing accusations backwards and forwards. The making up afterwards was even louder. The other neighbour was much quieter, at least during the day. The night hours were a different matter, with a chorus of snoring that sounded like a herd of demented pigs snuffling for food.

Yet by the time the pain became too much, and Maryse finally tried calling for help, she discovered that her voice had deserted her. Barely a croak escaped her cracked, dry lips. Just a hoarse whisper, hardly audible even if someone had been in the room with her. Not that any such person would have required her to speak in order to know that something was very wrong. Any onlooker would immediately have seen the huge red blotches on the elderly woman’s face. They would have surely noticed that clumps of her hair had fallen from her scalp and lay scattered on the pillow. They would perhaps have glimpsed the deep red spots of blood that trickled from her ears. And they would most certainly have detected the foul stench of decaying flesh, flesh that Maryse herself could no longer feel. Not because of the paralysis, but because it was slowly rotting.

With nobody around to help, her immediate destiny was clear to her. She accepted it without fuss. She had lived eighty-one full and happy years. Even those throughout the war had been special in their own way. She had also, miraculously, been granted two weeks more life than most of the rest of the human race. Difficult weeks, for sure, but weeks that she considered a gift. The girls had brightened those days no end. She had read them stories, played their games, and enjoyed make-believe tea parties.

Now that time was at an end. Death was close by, and Maryse Wernström was ready.

One

“CAPTAIN NOAH? THEY’RE ready to try the turn.”

“Thank you, Officer Levin. Officer Masters, I’ll take the helm. It wouldn’t be fair of me to put the responsibility of this manoeuvre on the shoulders of a trainee, no matter how gifted you may be.”

“Sir, understood, sir.”

Captain Jake Noah placed his hands on the small controls that commanded the vast cruise liner. Such power in the delicate movements of one man’s fingers. One nudge of a dial was all that was required. One nudge to send an order to a computer, which in turn would relay the message to electric motors that would move the huge slab of a rudder, sending the Spirit of Arcadia on a new heading.

He looked through the windows, over the fire-scarred but brilliantly clean decks, and out to the horizon. It was freeing to be on the move again, to feel the ship pushing its way through the thick green ocean. Sailing in such silence was going to take some getting used to. Jake’s whole career had been spent aboard ships powered by noisy, dirty diesel motors. This one had been no different, with three huge oil guzzlers a source of constant vibration, felt through the feet wherever you went. The motors didn’t drive the propellers directly, instead they generated electricity which turned motors which spun the prop shafts. It was more efficient that way, though he couldn’t remember why. Martin had explained it to him years ago, when he was still a trainee mechanic, before joining the ranks of the bridge officers. Now the huge diesel generators lay silent and still, comatose in the hall of the engine room.

The Spirit of Arcadia had a new source of power; a source that made the motors look like a throwback to the steam age.

“Executing turn, twenty-five degrees west,” Jake called out automatically. His right hand made the necessary adjustment to the dial. He tore his eyes away from the window and fixed his attention on the compass. It began to swing, just as expected. Never had such a mundane action filled him with such anticipation. The others on the bridge felt it too, he knew that. He stole a glance around, taking in their expressions. To his right, Chief Radio Officer Lucya Levin was talking into her headset, her deep brown eyes fixed on the radar display built into the grey console at which she was sat, totally focussed on the task in hand. Next to Jake, Trainee Pilot Chuck Masters was standing to attention. He looked nervous but excited. The young blond sailor had proved his worth weeks before, rescuing him from the toxic ash that covered the land outside, navigating him back to the relative safety of the ship in a little inflatable life raft. Chuck’s reward was promotion to the bridge. He was to learn the job of helmsman, or ‘driver’ as the rest of the crew mockingly referred to the position. Jake was glad to have Chuck on the team. He was keen to learn, and surprisingly talented. Even so, his presence was a constant reminder of the loss of Pedro, the quiet, unassuming pilot who had been tragically killed right there on the bridge. Pedro had been one of two pilots; the other had never been found and was assumed dead, one of hundreds lost to the aftermath of the asteroid that had ended the world.

Standing by the leftmost window was Navigation Officer Dave Whitehall. He was acting as lookout for this delicate operation. There was no land for miles around, and it was highly unlikely there were any other obstacles they might run into. Apart from one. Dave was watching it like a hawk, constantly gauging the distance between it and the side of the ship.

“They’re turning, hands-off, looking good,” Lucya called out.

“Understood. Officer Whitehall, how are we doing?”

“Maintaining an even distance, sir.”

The compass moved more slowly as the ship completed the turn. Jake looked at his trainee. “Officer Masters, you have the helm. Maintain the new heading and speed.”

“Aye, sir.”

Jake moved away, allowing the young man to take up his position. It felt odd calling him officer. It felt odd using titles for any of the crew, especially after all they had been through. But this was work, ship’s operations, and it seemed right and proper to stick to protocol, at least on the bridge.

He joined Dave at the side window and looked out at the tightly bunched thick black cables. They sprouted from the midsection of the ship and swayed gently in the wind. Jake’s eyes followed them out over the water and down to the slender black fin to which they were attached.

The source of their power, their saviour.

“Amazing, isn’t it?” he said quietly.

“I’m sorry, sir?” Dave replied.

“To think, all that power from that little submarine. Enough electricity to push us both along, and keep all our systems running too. It looks like she’s matching us perfectly.”

“That she is, sir. There was a tiny lag when we started the turn, but apart from that she’s followed us round like she was stuck on with glue.”

“Excellent. Martin will be relieved. And Ralf, too. He’ll get to say ‘I told you so’ to all those who thought that linking our navigation systems would never work. We all should be delighted; this is a huge step forward. We can finally get out of these freezing waters and go somewhere warm. Somewhere we have a fighting chance.”

Jake looked back at HMS Ambush, the sleek black form of the Royal Navy nuclear submarine cutting its way through the water beside them. Its crew had saved his life, and now it was going to help save mankind.

• • •

“Daddy, why did the ship stop again?”

“They were just testing the new engines, angel. We’ll be moving again soon, I promise.”

The seven-year-old looked at her father, her head tilted to one side, a face that expressed a level of scepticism usually reserved for someone many times her age.

“Are you sure? You said that before, and we didn’t go anywhere for ages and ages!”

“Yes, but that was before, wasn’t it? Before we had the submarine to help us. Tomorrow we’re going to go to Scotland. Won’t that be exciting?”

“I don’t want to go to Scotland, I want to go home and see Granny!”

Scott Collins swallowed hard. He hated lying to his daughter, but he hadn’t yet found the words to explain that Granny was dead. That everyone was dead. She knew, of course, that something bad had happened, but not the details. He got to his knees, putting himself at Erica’s height, and took her little hands in his own.

“We can’t go and see Granny. But Scotland will be exciting. We’ll see mountains and snow! And then, when they’ve found lots of yummy food for us all, we’ll sail far away, south, where it’s sunny and hot all day.”

“Yay! Will we be able to go swimming again?”

“Yes, I’m sure we will be able to go swimming.” He gave her a big grin and hugged her tightly.

“And then we’ll go and see Granny! I’m going to go and tell Andrea. She can come swimming with us too, can’t she?”

Erica turned to run towards the cabin door, eager to share the news of their new destination with her best friend. Andrea was in a cabin down the hall. The girls had discovered on the first day of the cruise that they shared a birthday. To them, it was a sign of something mystical, a special bond. She took a step forwards and stopped dead, wobbling, as if balanced on a tightrope. Another step, and she wobbled again.

“Erica? You okay, sweetie?”

“Yeah, but my feet feel all weird.”

“It’s probably pins and needles, it’ll pass, give it a minute or two.”

“It’s okay, Daddy, I think they’re better already. See you later!”

She skipped out of the door, waving behind her.

• • •

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a bridge like this. One forgets so quickly what the sea looks like when spending so much time buried beneath it!”

“Well in that case, Captain Coote, perhaps you would like to take the captain’s chair? The course is laid in, just give the order and we’re away.”

“Captain Noah, I thought you’d never ask! It would be an honour and a pleasure. Do you know, I’ve never commanded a civilian ship before? Well, I suppose in a way we’re all civilian vessels now, aren’t we?”

 Jake held out a hand towards a very ordinary-looking chair.

“Please, it would be an honour for us. I’m afraid the driving seat isn’t quite up to the standards of the Royal Navy though.”

“Nonsense, lad, you’ve seen my office. This place has the ultimate luxuries: space and a view!” Coote eased himself into the comfortable cream seat, taking in the impressive vista. It wasn’t just the floor-to-ceiling windows running the length and breadth of the bridge that made the view so spectacular, it was the height. Up on deck ten, the captain could be master of all he surveyed, and he could survey just about the entire thirteen-deck cruiser. “Ah, now I could get used to this, you know.”

“You want to watch out, Captain Noah, he’ll be after your job,” Lucya smirked from her console.

“Not necessarily,” Coote said. “A magnificent view has its merits, certainly, but it also means one is very visible oneself. Those of us who are used to a life below the waves have come to appreciate the advantages of being inconspicuous.”

“Maybe so, but there’s nobody left to hide from now, Captain.”

“That remains to be seen, my dear. We shall remain vigilant. I have no doubt that if the Ambush could survive, many other submarines also made it, including some of your former comrades!” Coote chuckled merrily.

“We’re all supposed to be friends now,” Lucya said, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice. “You don’t need to worry about Russians.”

“I hope you’re right, Officer Levin, I truly do. Well then, shall we set sail so to speak?”

“Whenever you’re ready, Captain,” Jake said.

“Helm, one quarter ahead and steady as she goes!”

“Aye, sir,” Chuck replied.

As silently as during their test run, the Spirit of Arcadia began very slowly to ease forwards.

“Ambush reports they are matching us,” Lucya called out from her station.

“Excellent, really excellent,” Coote said. “We should be in Scotland by lunchtime tomorrow.”

Jake could feel the air of excitement on the bridge. He had felt it everywhere on the ship in the hours after their short manoeuvre the previous day. Morale had been up and down since the asteroid. After the shock of what had happened, there had been a mixture of disbelief and relief at their incredible survival. Then hope, as Flynn Bakeman had taken command, promising to find land and a new home. A hope that had been dashed when it emerged how he had planned to kill almost everyone on board.

When Jake and his crew had regained control of the ship, hope wasn’t so easily re-established. Too much had happened, and besides, the reality of their predicament was beginning to make itself felt. Many had begun to question the value of survival when there wasn’t much of a world left in which to live. Life was going to be hard, everyone understood that. They may well have solved their immediate energy crisis by connecting the ship to HMS Ambush and her powerful nuclear reactor, but there were many problems still to overcome, not least of which was finding enough food.

The previous day’s test had reignited the hope though, and it was infectious, spreading throughout the ship like a virus, imbuing everyone with smiles and excited conversation. If they could move, there was a chance of finding food, and maybe habitable land. Perhaps even other survivors. The hardships of living in a confined space and under strict rationing were easier to bear when cushioned by hope.

“Captain?”

“Yes?” Jake and Coote said simultaneously. Jake looked over towards Lucya. She wore an expression that told him something wasn’t right. Coote continued to stare out to sea, enthralled by the rolling waves.

“I’m picking something up. It’s quite faint, but it sounds like a distress beacon.”

That got the submarine captain’s attention. He swung round his chair, bushy eyebrows raised. “Are you sure? Could it be one of your rather clever little pink buoys you sent out there, like the one we found?”

“It’s not one of mine. I coded a subcarrier signal into my own transmitters so I could be sure not to confuse them with anything else.”

“She’s a smart one, Jake, you want to keep hold of her.”

“I intend to,” Jake said, and exchanged a smile with his chief radio officer. He’d been holding her at every opportunity the last couple of weeks, and he was sure that Gibson Coote was as well aware of their blossoming relationship as everyone else seemed to be. “Officer Levin, where’s the signal coming from? Please tell me we’re headed towards it.”

“You’re not going to like this. It’s behind us. Directly behind us.”

“And you say it just popped up? Wasn’t there before?” Coote got up from his perch and joined Lucya at her station.

“No, sir, it definitely wasn’t there until a minute ago. Look,” she pointed to a screen displaying a map of their location, circling an area with her index finger. “I think it’s coming from around here. I’ve got scans running on all channels twenty-four seven. As soon as the scanner finds a signal it locks on. It takes less than sixty seconds to scan the full frequency range, and there’s a second scan running on the emergency frequencies too. If anything starts chirping within range, I know about it within ten seconds.”

Jake joined the others at the navigation station. “Can you get a better idea of distance?”

“No, not with this equipment. If it’s a GPS beacon, and if the asteroid hadn’t knocked out half the satellite network, it would probably be transmitting precise coordinates. I’m just getting a basic distress signal.”

“Captain Coote, unless I’m mistaken you’re rather better equipped for this sort of thing, are you not?”

“I’ll say! I expect Ralf and the boys are probably already tracing the signal. Can we give them a call?”

Lucya punched a couple of buttons and summoned up the submarine on her headset. “HMS Ambush, Spirit of Arcadia, receiving?” A short pause, and then she relayed details of the signal.

“Can you put Ralf on the speaker?” Jake asked. She nodded, and flipped a switch.

“Ralf? Coote.”

“Captain, we’re seeing the same signal as Officer Levin. It’s approximately one hundred nautical miles north. We have a good reading, and eighty percent confidence in the location.”

“Thank you, Ralf, splendid work. Stand by for further instructions.”

“We have to turn round, no?” Jake looked from Lucya to Coote. “If there’s someone out there, we have a duty to help them out.”

“The Ambush also has a duty to return to base, Jake. End of the world or not, we have standing orders. We are obliged to get to Scotland.”

“Of course, but a two-hundred-mile detour won’t hurt, will it? I mean, you came for us. You could have left us here two weeks ago and gone on to your base, but you stayed here and worked on getting our two vessels connected.”

“That was a different situation, old chap. We couldn’t possibly leave nearly three thousand people stranded and without power. It was also in our interests to pool our assets. You need power, we get space above the water.”

“Are you saying you’re only here out of self-interest? I don’t believe that of you, Captain Coote.”

“We’re all here out of self-interest, old boy. It just so happens that our interests align nicely.”

“And what if that signal is another cruise ship, another three thousand stranded passengers?”

“I think that’s unlikely,” Lucya interjected. The captains both turned to look at her. “I mean, the signal is very weak. A big ship would send out something stronger. Even without power, emergency batteries would put out a better signal than this. If I had to guess, I’d say this is more like a lifeboat, or perhaps even a raft.”

“Even if there’s one person out there, we have to go and help them!” Jake couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

“You’re right, of course,” Coote said, smiling. “You have a good moral compass, Captain Noah; it’s a shame you chose the civilian route. You might have done well in the navy. Scotland can wait; we will absolutely go and find out where this mysterious signal is coming from. Ralf, are you still there?”

“Yes, Captain.”

“Inform the crew there’s a change of plan. Watch that signal like a hawk. If it moves or changes in any way, I want to know about it.”

“Understood.”

“Do we need to inform the committee of the new plan?” Lucya asked.

“I don’t think so; this counts as an emergency,” Jake said. “No point wasting time getting everyone together. The committee has already agreed that the bridge crew have full authority to act in urgent situations. I’ve decided this is urgent. Helm, take us around. New heading: zero one zero degrees. Let’s go and see what’s out there.”