Apocalypse Drift by Joe Nobody

Author:Joe Nobody [Nobody, Joe]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Todd was designated as the driver of David’s patrol craft, the thirteen-year-old controlling the small jet-powered boat as if he had been born on the thing. David had seen the teenager around the pier now and then, but didn’t really know him all that well. The kid’s father swore Todd was an ace with the craft, adding the family would be much wealthier if it weren’t for Todd eating up gasoline, running around the lake every weekend.

When they first detected people along the bank of the channel, David nudged Todd to move on ahead of the fleet. The slight, two-man craft had quickly accelerated away from the first boat in line, blasting past the shoreline at almost 50 miles per hour. When they had approached within 100 yards of the first group of people, Todd slowed to a stop, floating in the gentle current of the channel.

An audience began to gather onshore, gawking at the approaching line of boats coming down the lake. To David’s eye, many of them acted like they never seen a boat before. The few children in the group were pointing; most of the adults stood and blankly stared. In reality, the channel hadn’t seen much action of late.

David surveyed the campsite, noticing an odd collection of items. Several 50-gallon drums served as fire pits, while other spots of smoldering ashes dotted the ground all around the area. Much of the ridge was bare earth, the once thick carpet of green grass worn away. The men were unshaven, and all the spectators appeared tired and unkempt. As the outgoing tide slowly pulled them closer, David counted more than 20 people congregating on the water's edge, all of them now staring at Todd and him.

They looked more like refugees of some third world nation than citizens of the USA. Dark eyes, sunken cheeks, and lazy gaits painted a picture of little nourishment, minimal esteem, and less hope. Their camp enhanced the image – cardboard lean-tos braced with scrap lumber were mixed with two old campers and three faded tents. Tools, fishing poles and other items were scattered throughout the area.

One of the children waved, and both of the guys on the jet boat returned the gesture. None of the adults made any motion, friend or foe. A few moments later, they had drifted within shouting distance of the shore. One of the men yelled out. “Hey, do you guys have any antibiotics? We’ve got some pretty sick people here and zero medical supplies.”

David, remembering the incident by the pool, decided to play it out. He yelled back, “I don’t know. Let me check,” and then raised his small portable radio to his ear. “These people along the shore want to know if we have any antibiotics or medical supplies. They have sick among them.”

No one answered the radio call, and David hadn’t really expected a response. After a reasonable pause, he lifted the device to his ear and pretended to be listening to an answer. Looking back to the shore, he carefully chose his answer.

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