by zombie.”
Bob Charles cast an approving gaze at his former chief of staff. Tom hadn’t had to mention the former president at all. It was Tom and Tom alone who had developed and executed the evacuation plan. This was one reason Bob admired him so much. Tom was selfless and went out of his way to include others. He never wanted the limelight—that’s why he’d chosen to work behind the scenes.
“I don’t know anything about this island. Is there housing there? And how do you know about it?” There was more than excitement in the Tall Man’s voice; there was hope.
“Yes, there are houses around Sandspit. I spent some time there as part of a government delegation,” Tom said.
“Graham Island is quite a ways from Vancouver. How did you plan on getting there?” Mulhaven knew the distance from Vancouver to Graham was not much different than that between the island and Prince George.
“We hadn’t planned that far ahead. We didn’t have time, which I’m sure you understand.”
Mulhaven nodded, as did the others around the table. Their current situation didn’t leave room for plans.
“What is it, Chuck?” Kath noticed the Tall Man staring into space.
“This could be it. An island. What’s the population, anyone know? Does it have any agriculture? And this time, Elliot, you need to get out there and check the weapons and ammo, because we might have a whole island to clear out!”
“Right away, Chuck.” It wasn’t an order this time, and they all needed the information. “Cindy, Allan, come with me.”
Mulhaven, an avid collector of information, recounted what he knew of the island. “According to the Internet, the population is about four thousand. It’s very cold. Windswept most of the time, covered in thick pine trees—well, except where they've chopped them down; timber is the major industry. Fresh water is plentiful during the winter, and fish is your only food source. Perhaps if we had a hothouse, we could grow our own food. We might be better off taking a boat to the island. I don’t know who here is able to pilot a boat, but the closer we launch from, the safer it would be. We don’t want a long sea journey.”
Tom agreed with Mulhaven’s description of the island, but added that he didn’t know anything about hothouses or growing vegetables.
“It could be possible with enough heating,” Kath told them as she rifled through a drawer for a map. “Overhead lamps and dual-paned glass. Like the hothouse I have outside.”
“Lamps would mean a generator, and that requires fuel.” Mulhaven, too, showed interest.
“Or wind power like I have.” Kath waved her arm in the direction of the wind turbine that supplied her power. “Prince Rupert would be the best place to go. It’s on the Yellowhead Highway, just under nine hours’ drive from here.”
Mulhaven and the Tall Man leaned over to see where Kath tapped her finger on the map. “What do you think?” the Tall Man asked.
“Well, if we can follow the highway right in, why not?” Mulhaven told the Tall Man.
Right now, neither man was in a mood for long detours. If they were to drive, they would go straight on through. Their only consideration would be supplies.
“I can inform you that as this pestilence has spread, the manufacturing and supply of goods has all but ceased across the country.” Tom Transky confirmed their fears.
“You already have your generator set up. Sandspit may not have what we want.” Ewan, the pilot of the Global Express, spoke up. “Can we dismantle it?”
“Damn good idea. That would work!” The Tall Man smiled for the first time in a while.
“Let’s not lose sight of the goal here. Our aim is to survive. In order to reach that target, we need to make certain we have everything in place to facilitate our transition.” Bob spoke like the president of a nation—which he once was.
The Tall Man liked the positive attitude displayed by the former head of state. More supplies would be
Bob Charles cast an approving gaze at his former chief of staff. Tom hadn’t had to mention the former president at all. It was Tom and Tom alone who had developed and executed the evacuation plan. This was one reason Bob admired him so much. Tom was selfless and went out of his way to include others. He never wanted the limelight—that’s why he’d chosen to work behind the scenes.
“I don’t know anything about this island. Is there housing there? And how do you know about it?” There was more than excitement in the Tall Man’s voice; there was hope.
“Yes, there are houses around Sandspit. I spent some time there as part of a government delegation,” Tom said.
“Graham Island is quite a ways from Vancouver. How did you plan on getting there?” Mulhaven knew the distance from Vancouver to Graham was not much different than that between the island and Prince George.
“We hadn’t planned that far ahead. We didn’t have time, which I’m sure you understand.”
Mulhaven nodded, as did the others around the table. Their current situation didn’t leave room for plans.
“What is it, Chuck?” Kath noticed the Tall Man staring into space.
“This could be it. An island. What’s the population, anyone know? Does it have any agriculture? And this time, Elliot, you need to get out there and check the weapons and ammo, because we might have a whole island to clear out!”
“Right away, Chuck.” It wasn’t an order this time, and they all needed the information. “Cindy, Allan, come with me.”
Mulhaven, an avid collector of information, recounted what he knew of the island. “According to the Internet, the population is about four thousand. It’s very cold. Windswept most of the time, covered in thick pine trees—well, except where they've chopped them down; timber is the major industry. Fresh water is plentiful during the winter, and fish is your only food source. Perhaps if we had a hothouse, we could grow our own food. We might be better off taking a boat to the island. I don’t know who here is able to pilot a boat, but the closer we launch from, the safer it would be. We don’t want a long sea journey.”
Tom agreed with Mulhaven’s description of the island, but added that he didn’t know anything about hothouses or growing vegetables.
“It could be possible with enough heating,” Kath told them as she rifled through a drawer for a map. “Overhead lamps and dual-paned glass. Like the hothouse I have outside.”
“Lamps would mean a generator, and that requires fuel.” Mulhaven, too, showed interest.
“Or wind power like I have.” Kath waved her arm in the direction of the wind turbine that supplied her power. “Prince Rupert would be the best place to go. It’s on the Yellowhead Highway, just under nine hours’ drive from here.”
Mulhaven and the Tall Man leaned over to see where Kath tapped her finger on the map. “What do you think?” the Tall Man asked.
“Well, if we can follow the highway right in, why not?” Mulhaven told the Tall Man.
Right now, neither man was in a mood for long detours. If they were to drive, they would go straight on through. Their only consideration would be supplies.
“I can inform you that as this pestilence has spread, the manufacturing and supply of goods has all but ceased across the country.” Tom Transky confirmed their fears.
“You already have your generator set up. Sandspit may not have what we want.” Ewan, the pilot of the Global Express, spoke up. “Can we dismantle it?”
“Damn good idea. That would work!” The Tall Man smiled for the first time in a while.
“Let’s not lose sight of the goal here. Our aim is to survive. In order to reach that target, we need to make certain we have everything in place to facilitate our transition.” Bob spoke like the president of a nation—which he once was.
The Tall Man liked the positive attitude displayed by the former head of state. More supplies would be
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