“With your permission, Emily, we’d like to use your station facilities, if you have the room for us?”
“Of course,” Emily said without hesitation. “Do you know our location?”
“We have your coordinates on our charts. You can expect us within the next two hours. I’ll sound the boat’s horn when we put ashore, so you’ll know to expect us. And Emily, thank you. Over and out.”
“Over and out,” Emily repeated awkwardly, trying but failing not to smile at how odd the words felt.
Emily turned from the radio. Jacob was sitting stone-faced in his wheelchair at the doorway. “You don’t think it would have been a good idea to ask me if they could come here, before you invited them?” he asked.
“No,” said Emily, flatly. “No, I did not.”
“Jesus, Emily. Did you stop to think about how their presence is going to impact us? We only have so much fuel and supplies to last. I really can’t allow you to—”
Emily felt her blood rush to her head as she took a step toward Jacob, her hands bunched into tight fists at her hips. “You are not in a position to allow me to do anything,” she spat. “You dragged us here for whatever reasons you had, and while I’m still not entirely clear how I feel about that, while we are here you will have no influence over my or Rhiannon’s life. Am I clear?”
Jacob held her gaze for a moment, his own face flushing red from either anger or embarrassment, then he swiveled his chair and stalked off in the direction of his room saying nothing.
The argument had woken Rhiannon and she stared up from her chair at a red-faced Emily.
“Come on,” she told the girl, “I need your help.”
“What? What for?”
“We’re expecting visitors. We need to make sure we are ready for them.”
“Visitors? Who?”
“I’ll explain later, just grab your coat and follow me.”
With a huge sigh Rhiannon pulled herself up off the seat. “That was comfy,” she said as though she had just been asked to give up her bed for the night.
“There will be plenty of time for sleeping later; right now you need to get your butt into gear and follow me.”
Emily tracked Jacob down in his bedroom.
“The other buildings,” she asked, “are they heated? Capable of holding the injured?”
“Yes,” Jacob said, the sullen tone in his voice making it obvious he was cooperating under duress. “Each building has its own generator. You’ll need to fire it up though. I’ve had them all turned off since… well, you know, since everyone left. The generator is in the small outbuilding adjacent to each of the living quarters. There should be more than enough fuel to power them for the next day or so.”
“Okay, I’ll find it.”
“But Emily, I’d suggest you leave one building turned off.”
Emily looked at him questioningly, expecting another attempt to re-exert control.
Jacob glanced sideways at Rhiannon, sighed, and spoke. “For the morgue, they’ll need somewhere to put the bodies.”
“Bodies?” Rhiannon asked. “What bodies?”
Emily found the generator where Jacob had said it would be and fired it up. Seconds later she heard the whine and rumble of the big industrial-strength heaters on the roof sparking into life, circulating the cold air out and replacing it with warm.
The inside of the second building was still above freezing thanks to the layers of thick insulation squeezed into the wall spaces, but only just. Within a quarter of an hour, though, the air was warm enough for Emily and Rhiannon to drop the hoods from their parkas. Ten minutes later the coats were off and draped over the back of a chair.
The two girls did a quick walk-through, moving from room to room. This building’s layout was similar to the one Jacob had claimed as his own, but it had a larger meeting area with four smaller office areas leading off of it. There were also several other rooms that served as sleeping quarters, the beds nothing more than hard-looking mattresses on a metal frame.
“The bigger room will work as a makeshift first-aid and hospital area. We can put the more seriously injured in their own rooms. What do you think, Rhiannon?”
The girl nodded enthusiastically. Rhiannon was obviously thrilled about the new arrivals. “Do you think there will be other kids?” she had asked, unable to keep the excitement out of her voice.
“Maybe,” Emily had replied cautiously, not wanting to dampen her enthusiasm. She didn’t think there would be many children serving on a modern hunter-killer submarine.
The main room had chairs and tables that needed to be moved to make space for their new guests. They stacked them out of the way against a far wall, then moved into the sleeping quarters and manhandled six of the ten beds out into the cleared room. Rhiannon found clean blankets and bedding in a storage locker and brought them to Emily.
“Good job, kiddo, now see if you can find the first-aid kits around here.” Emily had no idea what supplies the sub crew would have with them, but she figured every little bit would help.
The girl disappeared down the corridor and was back five minutes later carrying two large boxes with the distinctive red cross embossed on their lids.
“Will these do?” she asked.
“Perfect. Put them over there on the table.” Emily pointed to a foldout table with some of the supplies they had brought with them from the other building. It also held a large coffee machine that was already sending a steady signal of steam and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee into the air.
They were almost finished making up the beds when a deep bass ululation rumbled through the walls of the makeshift hospital. It could only be the horn of the sub, which meant their company would be arriving soon.
Emily stationed herself at a north-facing window, blotting away the condensation that had collected on the inside of the glass with the arm of her sweater, and watched. From her vantage point she could look out past the other buildings and have a clear, almost unobstructed view of the land to the drop-off that led down to the northernmost beach of the island. For minutes nothing but the occasional whirligig of snow moved between her and the distant edge of the world, but beyond that, a scarlet wall of angry clouds, shot through with deep purple layers, rolled and tumbled, filling the sky. The red storm—it lurked like some mighty beast, prowling the horizon, waiting for a chance to pounce.
Then, in the distance, Emily saw a silhouette emerge over a bank of snow. At this distance, the newcomers looked like a single entity, but as they drew closer the silhouette resolved into individual shapes and she could see it was a procession of parka-clad individuals, their heads bowed against the freezing wind as they trudged across the snowy ground toward the base. At the front of the procession were several men carrying the injured on stretchers; Emily counted eight stretchers in all. Behind them, each shouldering a large military backpack similar to the one Emily had used, came several sailors, wobbling as they tried to keep their balance on the treacherously uneven ground. And rifles, Emily noted somewhat nervously, all the figures carried rifles.
“Here they come. I have to go and meet them,” Emily told Rhiannon. “Can you finish these up?” She nodded at the remaining beds still left unmade, sheets and blankets stacked neatly beside them.
“I’m on it,” Rhiannon said in her singsong voice, and Emily felt a surge of pride swell in her chest. The kid was really turning out to be something.
Slow to button her parka as she stepped out of the building’s exit door and crunched down onto the snow, Emily felt the freezing hand of the ever-present wind push its way between the layers of her clothing, grabbing at the exposed skin it found there. She quickly zipped the rest of the jacket up and flipped the hood over her head. Dear God, how does anything survive in these conditions? It was a thought worth pondering, especially as she had no idea just how long she and Rhiannon would have to call this place home.