Push Back: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (The Disruption Series Book 2) by R.E. McDermott Page A

Wright’s swimming pools as reserve water storage for excess production, but they seem confident they can tie the shore facilities into the potable water system from Maersk Tangier and use her water pumps to pressurize it all. Her tanks are more than adequate to supply our needs on a day-to-day basis. They’ll have to dig up and disconnect the old supply from the city system, but after that, we’ll have running water in the terminal again. They said two or three days max.”
    “That’s good news. We’ve been wasting a lot of manpower hauling water, and I for one will gladly give up the joy of flushing with a bucket.” Hunnicutt grimaced. “As long as the sewage lines aren’t plugged up, anyway.”
    “Actually, there’s good news on that front, too,” Butler said. “The treatment plant’s only a mile or so downriver, and the snipes figure if we’re the only ones with running water to flush, it will take a while before we top out the storage capacity, even if the plant’s not running. And if we can get a generator and some fuel down there, they figure they might be able to restore the plant to at least limited operation. They think it will be more than enough to meet our needs.”
    Across the table from Butler, a petite, dark-haired woman sat up straighter in her chair. “So does that mean if we can get water restored at the country club, we can establish some basic sanitation for the refugee camp? It’s horrific there. The port-a-potties you brought in were overflowing by the second day, and people are back to doing their business behind any bush. The stench is overpowering and it’s only going to get worse.”
    The request caught Butler by surprise. “Maybe, Doc,” he replied, “but I don’t think there’s any way we can get water pressure back there and—”
    “We could use the toilets in the clubhouse and swimming club. I think there are even some toilets over by the tennis courts. You told me yourself you’ve got a container full of portable generators from China, and we could pump the flushing water out of the small lake there. It’s fed by that little creek, so we should have plenty of water and—”
    Butler held up both his hands in a stop gesture. “Whoa! Doc, slow down. I know you want to get things done, but you’ve been here less than a week, so I don’t think you fully appreciate how stretched we are. We can’t do everything at once and—”
    The woman’s eyes flashed. “And I don’t think you fully appreciate what those people are going through, Lieutenant Butler. But I was in that hell for three weeks and I can’t forget. Just because I was fortunate enough to be offered shelter here, I’m not going to turn my back—”
    “We’re not turning our backs on anyone, Dr. Jennings,” Hunnicutt said, “and we recruited you from among the refugee population not only because we needed a doctor here, but to form a medical team to help the refugees as much as we can. But Butler’s right. We have to use what resources we have wisely, or else we won’t be able to help anyone.” He turned back to Butler. “But the Doc’s right too, Butler. The camp’s already turning into a cesspool; can we get sewage service reestablished, and if so, how long?”
    Butler rubbed his chin. “I expect the country club area is served by the same treatment plant since it’s on this side of town, but I don’t know how long it will support us here and thousands of refugees. The engineers figure there’s probably enough room in the facility’s holding ponds to last a while before we have to get the treatment plant running. But they weren’t considering several thousand folks from the refugee camp. If we dump that output into the system, I think the plan goes out the window; they’ll have to get the plant running sooner rather than later.” He sighed. “And they have their hands full now. They were hoping to hold off on addressing the treatment plant for a couple of weeks.”
    Hunnicutt nodded.