deal. Are you with Wolf Squadron?”
“Yep,” Olga said.
“Love Devil Dog radio,” one of the other men said, grinning. “Wait . . . You’re Olga? Like, the Olga? Seawolf’s sidekick?”
“I am not a sidekick,” Olga said. “And . . . yeah. Seawolf’s one of the pilots.”
“When did Seawolf start being a pilot?” another asked.
“Can we just get on with this?” Olga said. “There’s plenty of time later for questions. What is this place?”
The large shed was filled with containers still on trucks. Many of them were opened. There were, in places, large pieces of equipment with radiation symbols and warnings liberally scrawled on them.
“Customs inspection point,” Johnson said. “Bunch of workers brought their families to the port when things got bad thinking that it was secure and there were plenty of resources.”
“Then people started turning and . . .” Olga said, nodding. “I’ve heard this story a million times. How do we get everyone up to the roof.”
“Carefully,” Johnson said. “We’ll get it done.”
“First things first,” Olga said. “Hope you’ve got some blankets or something ’cause we are going to cover the edges of the hole . . .”
They got it done. Getting the pregnant women and the two surviving elderly up to the roof was a pain but they got it done. Two of the women had babes in arms. Olga just tucked the babies into her flight suit and carried them up one by one. She was afraid one of the pregnant women was going to have a baby right there on the ladder.
When they were all up on the roof, Olga had them line up on the peak with Johnson anchoring the rear. The other surviving customs inspector, Agent Simon Miller, took point.
“Dragon Three: We’re ready for extract,” Olga said.
“Took you long enough,” Sophia replied.
Olga could tell by the steadiness that Captain Wilkes had taken over the controls of the aircraft. This type of extraction was tricky, especially with high winds.
The ramp was at about waist height and was moving around slightly. Anna stood at the top, legs spread wide as the “duckbill” style grip of the .50 cal. rested against her thighs. This allowed the barrel to be pointed straight down, and therefore not at any of the loading survivors. She kept one hand on the grip, so that she could use the intercom switch, but she held out her other hand to help those who might need it. The ramp wasn’t hard to mount for someone in decent condition. Miller got up on the ramp and started assisting Anna with getting everyone aboard. Yu came to the back and started helping as well. The ladies with babes in arms handed them up to Yu or Miller, then clambered up easily enough. For the pregnant ones it was a touch harder, but with Olga and Johnson boosting and Yu and Miller pulling them up, they finally all were boarded.
“Tang, Port,” Olga said, plugging into the intercom as Anna raised the ramp. “All in. Advise Force that one of the women appears to have gone into labor.”
“Roger,” Wilkes replied. “Heading to Boadicea at this time.”
* * *
Nicola Simpson settled into a chair in the Piano Lounge of the cruise ship and looked at the lady next to her.
“In all future catastrophes,” Nicola said, grinning. “Remind me to bring along maternity clothes.”
Nicola was wearing a “maternity dress” made of stitched together bits of NavCam. The other woman, girl really, was in a size 6X T-shirt for much the same reason.
“I know, right?” the woman said. “When are you due?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Nicola said. “Any day now, I hope.”
“Same here,” the girl said. “Kiera Murphy.”
“Nicola Simpson,” Nicola said, shaking her hand. “I was in Mayport. Where are you from?”
“Blount Island,” Kiera said with a strong Southern accent. “My boyfriend worked at the port and said ‘Hey, there’s plenty of stuff there for an apocalypse.’ Then he turned,” she added with a frown. “I got the
“Yep,” Olga said.
“Love Devil Dog radio,” one of the other men said, grinning. “Wait . . . You’re Olga? Like, the Olga? Seawolf’s sidekick?”
“I am not a sidekick,” Olga said. “And . . . yeah. Seawolf’s one of the pilots.”
“When did Seawolf start being a pilot?” another asked.
“Can we just get on with this?” Olga said. “There’s plenty of time later for questions. What is this place?”
The large shed was filled with containers still on trucks. Many of them were opened. There were, in places, large pieces of equipment with radiation symbols and warnings liberally scrawled on them.
“Customs inspection point,” Johnson said. “Bunch of workers brought their families to the port when things got bad thinking that it was secure and there were plenty of resources.”
“Then people started turning and . . .” Olga said, nodding. “I’ve heard this story a million times. How do we get everyone up to the roof.”
“Carefully,” Johnson said. “We’ll get it done.”
“First things first,” Olga said. “Hope you’ve got some blankets or something ’cause we are going to cover the edges of the hole . . .”
They got it done. Getting the pregnant women and the two surviving elderly up to the roof was a pain but they got it done. Two of the women had babes in arms. Olga just tucked the babies into her flight suit and carried them up one by one. She was afraid one of the pregnant women was going to have a baby right there on the ladder.
When they were all up on the roof, Olga had them line up on the peak with Johnson anchoring the rear. The other surviving customs inspector, Agent Simon Miller, took point.
“Dragon Three: We’re ready for extract,” Olga said.
“Took you long enough,” Sophia replied.
Olga could tell by the steadiness that Captain Wilkes had taken over the controls of the aircraft. This type of extraction was tricky, especially with high winds.
The ramp was at about waist height and was moving around slightly. Anna stood at the top, legs spread wide as the “duckbill” style grip of the .50 cal. rested against her thighs. This allowed the barrel to be pointed straight down, and therefore not at any of the loading survivors. She kept one hand on the grip, so that she could use the intercom switch, but she held out her other hand to help those who might need it. The ramp wasn’t hard to mount for someone in decent condition. Miller got up on the ramp and started assisting Anna with getting everyone aboard. Yu came to the back and started helping as well. The ladies with babes in arms handed them up to Yu or Miller, then clambered up easily enough. For the pregnant ones it was a touch harder, but with Olga and Johnson boosting and Yu and Miller pulling them up, they finally all were boarded.
“Tang, Port,” Olga said, plugging into the intercom as Anna raised the ramp. “All in. Advise Force that one of the women appears to have gone into labor.”
“Roger,” Wilkes replied. “Heading to Boadicea at this time.”
* * *
Nicola Simpson settled into a chair in the Piano Lounge of the cruise ship and looked at the lady next to her.
“In all future catastrophes,” Nicola said, grinning. “Remind me to bring along maternity clothes.”
Nicola was wearing a “maternity dress” made of stitched together bits of NavCam. The other woman, girl really, was in a size 6X T-shirt for much the same reason.
“I know, right?” the woman said. “When are you due?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Nicola said. “Any day now, I hope.”
“Same here,” the girl said. “Kiera Murphy.”
“Nicola Simpson,” Nicola said, shaking her hand. “I was in Mayport. Where are you from?”
“Blount Island,” Kiera said with a strong Southern accent. “My boyfriend worked at the port and said ‘Hey, there’s plenty of stuff there for an apocalypse.’ Then he turned,” she added with a frown. “I got the
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