(no subject)
Continued from Part 4.
What was going on was this. William was in the Control Room, aware that Jon was back on the ship, and was deciding whether to set sail straight away back to Australia, when there was a commotion coming down the ship.
“The escape hatch!” Michael shouted. “Fuck!”
William frowned and went over to the periscope quickly. He couldn’t see anything from this angle. “What?”
Gabe Saporta came running into the Control Room. “It’s Travis. Travis Clark. He’s out!”
“What, like. In the water?” William couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Gabe nodded. “Said something about how this was where he wanted to die and just let himself out.”
“Is everything secure?”
Gabe nodded again.
Michael frowned. “That’s your concern, Commander? That nothing’s secure?”
“No, of course not, but…” William didn’t know what he meant. The water wouldn’t be radioactive but the air was, and if Travis went ashore there was no way he could be allowed back on the ship. The contamination risk was too great. Fuck, he knew something wasn’t right when Travis had asked to come. He should have said no. Travis was going to die and it was all his fault. “Fuck!” he said, frustrated.
Michael was still frowning but no one else moved, all eyes on William, waiting for instruction. William looked in the periscope again and ordered the Visual Displays. They could see a small red head bobbing along on the surface as Travis swum to shore. He reached the same ladder that Jon had gone to and climbed up.
William had the loudhailer microphone in his hand and he spoke into it, hearing himself amplified a second later. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Abandoning ship, sir,” Travis said, standing up on the pier. He had peeled his wet shirt off and even from this distance William could see him push his hair back from his face.
“We can’t let you back on board. You do realise that?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t want to come back on board.”
William pressed fingers to his temple. “You’ll have to die here.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what I want to do.” Travis’ tone was almost cheerful.
“Again, Clark, what the fuck are you doing?”
“This is where I’m from, okay? I love Florida. I didn’t think I’d never see it again. I want to die here.”
“Fuck.” William didn’t say this into the microphone but just to the Control Room generally.
Michael took the microphone from him. “You sure about that, Lieutenant Clark?”
“Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. I’m from Bradenton, so I’m gonna go there and maybe go back to my house. Maybe find my friends. I don’t know yet.”
William swallowed, feeling sick. This was terrible. A man was going to die under his command because he had made a mistake and had let him come with them.
Michael said, “It’s been a pleasure to serve with you, Travis.”
“You too, sir.” The tone was still cheerful, which made William feel worse, somehow. “It’s been a pleasure to serve on the Philly and it’s been a pleasure to serve under Commander Beckett. I’m where I want to be, though.”
“God bless,” Michael said, and handed the microphone back to William.
“I’m sorry,” Travis said.
“There’s nothing else I can say,” William said into the microphone. He fought again to swallow tears. “Like Captain Chislett said, God bless.”
“Thank you,” Travis said, and then they all saw him put down the loudhailer, pick up the bicycle and pedal merrily off.
William excused himself to his bunk. He was devastated. He had failed his men.
Michael started to say something as he passed but William wasn’t listening. There was nothing he could say.
*
Michael watched William go. Everyone in the Control Room was staring at him, waiting for him to take control. He needed to make a decision and quickly.
“Just idle here, okay,” he told Conrad and DeLeon. “I’ll be back.” He set off down the ship, looking for Ryland.
Ryland and Jon were just getting dressed in the locker room. The look on Michael’s dace must have said it all.
“What?” Ryland asked.
“Lieutenant Walker, you’re off duty until further notice,” Michael said. “Go take it easy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jon said. He picked up his dress shirt and walked out.
Michael told Ryland what had happened.
“Fuck!” Ryland said.
“I know.”
“Beckett blaming himself?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
Ryland sighed, hands stilling on his buttons. “What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Travis couldn’t come back aboard even if he wanted to, not after being exposed to that much radiation.”
Ryland nodded. “Jon’s reading was still a little high, even after his shower. Not enough to worry about, but still elevated, and he was protected by the suit.”
“Exactly. But Travis didn’t want to come back, you know? He was happy with his decision.”
“Then we have to respect that. It’s not William’s fault.”
“You and I both know that,” Michael said. He felt helpless.
Ryland stooped to fasten his boots. “Where’s he from, anyway?”
“He said Bradenton. Do you know it, is it far?”
“Oh. No, not at all. He just has to go over the bridge we came under and he’s there.”
“He had the bike Jon had.”
“So he’ll be home in no time.”
“That’s what he wanted,” Michael said.
Ryland nodded. “So what do we do now?”
“Carry on with our plans, I guess. Turn the sub around, get back down into the Gulf, through the Panama Canal and back across the Pacific.”
“And Beckett?”
“Leave him to me,” Michael said.
Ryland smiled. “As you wish, Captain.”
“Let people know what’s happened, yeah? No point lying about it.”
“Absolutely,” Ryland said.
Michael clapped his arm. “See you later.”
Then he went off in search of William.
*
William blamed himself. He wouldn’t come into the Mess to eat, and Michael was worried about him.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Carden said. “Me and Travis got on okay, you know? And I had no idea that he’d got this in mind.”
“No one did,” Michael said. He took a plate of food from Alex, smiled gratefully, and wandered to the bunk room to try to get William to eat something.
William was lying in Michael’s bunk, because, he said, it smelt like Michael and that was comforting. Michael could deal with that. He knelt down and pulled the curtain back.
“I shouldn’t have let him come,” William said by way of greeting.
“He wanted to come.”
“Yes, but I should have seen. I knew it wasn’t right when he asked, I felt it and I knew. I should’ve said no.”
“What would be the point? Travis did what he wanted to do, Will. He’s dying where he’s happy. I think a lot of people understand that.”
“But if he’d been back in Australia-”
“If he’d been back in Australia, William, he would have died anyway.”
William was crying, Michael realised. What a bloody mess. They had a month still to travel and he wasn’t sure if William would make it in this state. “Budge up,” he said.
“What?”
“Move your bony arse and let me get in.”
William shifted, back against the sub’s hull.
Michael slid in beside him as best he could, although his bum was mostly hanging over the edge. Still, it didn’t matter. “You did the best you could with the information you had available.”
“I let a man down.”
“Travis made his own decision.”
“Stop being reasonable.”
“Stop being dumb,” Michael said. The plate of food was between them - small pieces of cheese on crackers, and some grapes. He picked one up and pushed it into William’s mouth, not giving him a choice.
William chewed with effort and swallowed eventually. “That poor boy has to die alone.”
“I know. I know, that’s real bad. But he really did make his own decision.”
“I’m kind of jealous. I’d like to die in Chicago, I guess.”
Michael fed him another cracker. “Yes, exactly. That’s what everyone’s saying, pretty much. No one is blaming you.”
“Really?”
“Really. And Ryland’s worried.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“After. Eat and sleep first.” He picked up another cracker.
William took this one and put it into his mouth himself. “I didn’t know we had cheese.”
“Suarez was saving it for a special occasion.”
“I qualify for that?”
“No, but he felt bad.”
William smiled, finally. Michael couldn’t help grinning back. Soon, all the crackers and grapes were gone.
“Okay,” Michael said. “Now sleep. I don’t care how long for. Me and Ryland and Saporta and everyone else can manage, okay?”
William nodded, then hugged Michael tightly, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbled.
“I know,” Michael said, squeezing him back. “I know.”
It was the first time William had said it. Michael hadn’t expected to ever hear it. But there it was. It was a shame that it had taken such a crisis.
*
William pulled himself together. He had no choice but to carry on. They had to get back to Australia as quickly as possible. They headed back to the Panama Canal. Its locks still worked, powered by hydro-electricity and automatons. Thank god, because now, there were no humans left here to work the mechanisms. Going through the canal was slow going, though, and the submarine had to float almost on the top of the water, barely submerged at all.
William was eating in the Mess when something he had never imagined happened. The ship almost imperceptibly bumped on something, and stopped.
You got used to the slick movement of a vessel at sea, whether it was a ship or a sub. They never stopped, just glided along, unless at war, when they moved faster. But for a vessel to stop was almost unheard of. It felt weird. It felt wrong. William swallowed the last mouthful of food and stood up.
“What now?” someone said, and William didn’t know the answer but he was sure he wasn’t going to like it.
He set off down the sub to the Control Room, catching up with Michael on the way.
Saporta was in the control seat, looking incredibly worried. “I think we hit a sandbar.”
“What the fuck?” William said.
“Seriously?” Michael asked.
Saporta nodded. “They used to dredge this stretch a whole fucking lot. Clearly they haven’t in a while. It’s built up.”
William groaned. Of course. With natural water, the tendency for sand drifting and settling into something to cause trouble was a lot higher. Without dredging, they had hit a sandbar of who knew what length and width. “Put the thrusts on the back side, full pelt,” he ordered. “As soon as possible.”
It was 4am, and William’s body clock was all off. He had slept most of the afternoon and night, and woken up to eat, and had been about to start a shift. Michael looked dead on his feet, about to sleep. He nodded in agreement with William’s order.
The order went down the ship and the noise of the thrust could be heard. The ballasts would be drained of water, too, to make them lighter than the surroundings and hopefully force the sub even more upward than it already was. It should be enough. William hoped it was enough.
Tom Conrad came speeding down the ship. “Sir, there’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” William asked, eyes on the controls in front of Gabe.
Michael yawned and blinked at Tom in concentration.
“I’m not sure. The pistons aren’t working. They’re not moving us upward.”
Fear clenched William’s heart. If they were stuck here, what the fuck would they do? They had no cyanide on board. They wouldn’t die in the submarine for a good few months. They’d all have to go on land and die there, wait for the radiation to get them. None of them would see Australia again. Australia wouldn’t know what had happened to them. Michael would never get home.
That meant a lot, that Michael wouldn’t get home, and that none of them would get back to the places they had begun to call home. What the fuck would they do?
Michael chewed his lip. “We’re gonna have to get out there and fix the damn thing.”
“It’s too radioactive,” William said.
“No, it’s not. The land is, but the water isn’t. We’ve got SCUBA suits on board, right?”
“Yes. Two, I think. Maybe three.”
“Alright. So we get out there. And fix it.”
“Captain Chislett, with respect-”
“With respect, Commander Beckett,” Michael said, and William got a flash of the man he had known way back on their first voyage, the man who seemed poised to pounce critically on everything William said, “I’d prefer to not die in a canal in the middle of the bloody Americas, thank you.”
William hid a smile. “Okay. I suppose we ought to take a look. Who, though?”
“Well, I’d’ve thought that was obvious,” Michael said, grinning wickedly. “Me.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” William said, shaking his head, convinced Michael was only speaking from tiredness. “We’ll talk about it at noon, okay?”
Michael got some sleep, William did his shift and Ryland woke up, and they meet again in the Control Room at noon. Michael dismissed Saporta and sat down in the control seat himself.
“You do realise that I can’t tell what the radiation readouts in the water are?” Ryland said. “Other than ‘ridiculously high’. We can’t get a sample on board. I can’t take that risk.”
Michael nodded. “We’ll be fast. Three of us, in SCUBA suits that we get rid of straight away. No broken skin on any of us, full masks and breathing equipment, et cetera. I think we can do it.”
“You’ll have to be quarantined,” William said.
“Then we’ll do it.”
“The equipment room is lead-lined,” Ryland said. “They can stay in there for twenty-four hours.”
“And if we’re off the charts, we’ll stay there,” Michael said. “What comes, comes, you know? But I have to try. I can’t not try.”
“I can’t believe you want to go out there,” William said.
“I don’t want to,” Michael said. “We need to see what’s up, though. We have to get home.”
“I don’t want - what if you get killed? Not by the radiation but by falling or something?”
“I won’t get killed.”
“But you might.”
“Look, if someone else goes out there, on your command, and something goes wrong and they do end up dead, you’re only going to blame yourself again, right? Like with Travis. Wouldn’t you rather it was me? Volunteering?”
He had a point. William would almost always rather have volunteers. He just wished it wasn’t Michael. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Not here. Not like this. He pulled at his lip, sighed heavily and then nodded. “Okay. So who do you take?”
“Like I just said,” Michael said. “Volunteers.”
*
Carden volunteered straight away. He stood up and said that was something he could do.
Michael smiled at him gratefully. “It requires quarantine. And I can’t promise that the water out there isn’t going to kill us.”
“You gotta die fucking fighting, Chislett,” Carden said. “Can’t let the bastard sneak up on you.”
James said he would volunteer too.
“Are you sure?” William asked.
Michael was so grateful. James hadn’t wanted to come on this voyage but again Rachel had persuaded him to. With James helping on this, they could solve it, definitely. They’d get free and they’d get home. Michael had to believe that.
“Yeah,” James said. “I was a technician back on my own ship. I’ll be able to have a good look at the ballasts.”
William nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant Rudder.”
“We gotta be fast,” Michael said. “Or we get left behind. And I really don’t want to die here.”
The three of them got suited up, firstly wrapped in plastic wrap since it helped to protect somewhat against the radiation. None of them had any broken skin. Then they were helped into the SCUBA suits, fussed over by Ryland. Someone came to check that the air tanks were still working. Michael gave a rudimentary lesson in SCUBA sign language, since Carden had never been diving. Ordinarily this would have made Michael think twice about his volunteering, but Carden’s dedication and brute strength would make up for it.
Last to put on were the masks, full head covering diving masks, like the old-fashioned ones. These would hopefully stop any radiation in their mouths and noses. Michael signalled he was okay to Ryland.
The submarine switched off all but its essential power, and the silence was deafening. They had to go out of the air lock one by one, and Michael went first, saluting at those in the room as he did so. The water was cold and it hit him with a shock. He swam upwards on to the surface, and waited for the others.
They both signalled that they were okay, so Michael signalled to dive. It was hard to dive from the surface, but not impossible, and soon enough they were all underwater.
The Philly had indeed hit a sandbar. Sand always looked so innocuous, and Michael felt like if they all pushed hard enough they would move her off it. They couldn’t, of course. He knew how badly sand could stop a ship.
They half swum and half walked on the sand around to the back pistons, which weren’t functioning properly. Michael was slightly scared staring straight into them, given that usually there was usually gallons of air and water gushing through them. Now Michael could see the fans, stilled.
The problem in the pistons was much easier to pinpoint than they had thought. Carden reached in and pulled out what was stopping the fans from moving freely. James took what he was given and swam fifty metres away to deposit the bits.
That was a good idea. Michael took pieces from Carden too and relayed them to James.
They were shredded pieces of Jon Walker’s red dinghy.
Of all the fucking ridiculous things that could have endangered them… Michael cursed himself. They hadn’t even given it a second thought. Jon had been told to just leave the dinghy and he had. It must have got caught as they’d turned around in Tampa Bay and no one had noticed until it had caused a problem.
Carden started to climb into the fan chute, reaching back as far as he could. Michael kept a hold of him, ready to pull quickly if anything happened. God bless Carden for doing this - it was the sensible thing but Michael hadn’t fancied doing it himself. It was dark in the chute. Michael wasn’t keen on the dark.
Finally Carden shrugged at him. They had cleared as much as they could. Now over to the ballasts. James opened a hatch with some difficulty and Michael wobbled on the sand, holding it so it didn’t shut on James.
Michael had no clue what he did but he came back up signalling thumbs up. They secured the hatch and went back to the airlock, waiting to be let back in.
*
Carden couldn’t fucking believe this. They were standing at the airlock, waiting for it to open, and nothing was happening.
The longer they were fucking standing here, the worse it would be, right? Carden didn’t know a lot about radiation but he knew that the longer you were exposed the worse it was. Carden hammered on the metal, not hearing it underwater, but he knew it could be heard inside. He pressed the button again.
Then he realised - fuck. William was probably having a fit inside, probably questioning his decision to let them out. He’d be so convinced that they would be radioactive that he’d be wavering on letting them back in.
Well fuck that. Mike Carden was not about to die next to a fucking submarine if he could help it. He hit the metal again, frustrated by the lack of power in his fist, held up by water resistance.
He held up his hands, gesturing at Michael and James, wanting them to help. They just gestured back, though and Carden eyerolled at them. So fucking ineffectual. If they all hammered they’d have more chance of making a lot of noise. Somehow, that would bring William out of his craziness. It had to. He hit again, pounding and pounding and pounding on the metal. Fuck, just fucking open, he thought. Let me in.
Mike put his shoulder into it and slammed against the metal. Fuck, he’d feel that later. He was not about to let William’s paranoia kill the three of them.
Finally, mercifully, in what can have only actually been a minute later but which felt like forever, the airlock opened beneath him.
Their radiation readings were high. They were stripped naked and made to shower. That lessened the radiation somewhat. Then they had to irrigate each other’s mouths and noses with saline solution, which was fucking unpleasant and made James sneeze a lot.
William’s voice came over the radio. “Good work.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “So good you nearly fucking left us out there.”
Michael shushed him, fucking shushed him.
“It’s true!” Mike protested. “Took you fucking long enough to open the lock.”
“Carden,” Michael said. “We’re back in now, okay?”
“How can you fucking defend him? He’d have left us there, just fucking left us there to die!”
“I’m not defending him,” Michael said.
“Anyway,” William’s voice said. “You all need to stay in here tonight and someone will take your readings tomorrow. We’ve set sail again now. Thank you for volunteering.” With that the radio bleeped and cut out.
Mike turned to Michael. “He would have left us. He was on the verge of doing it. I know William.”
“I know William too,” Michael said, palms upward, defenceless. “He might have panicked. Anyone can panic in that kind of situation.”
“He’s the Captain. He’s not supposed to fucking panic.”
“Fuck, Carden. We all panic, alright? Captains aren’t any different to anyone else. He panicked because he’s a good Captain, because he’s trying to keep everybody safe, not just the three of us!”
Carden opened his mouth to protest but shut it again. That made a lot of sense, actually. He’d never thought about it like that before.
They were declared clean enough early the next morning and they walked down the ship with everybody shaking their hands and saying thanks. Mike liked that part, although that wasn’t why he’d volunteered.
In the Control Room, William reached forward and shook their hands. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m proud of you all.”
*
Back in Australia, it was the end of the summer. The shadows were longer than they had been. The streets were deserted. There were barely any shops left, and the only ones lit up were the pharmacies. They had no staff in them, but each one had a huge pile of cyanide capsules in the middle of the floor for people to help themselves to.
It was weirdly both anarchic and conservative. Everyone was staying home, close to their families, but lawlessness ruled the streets. Looters were everywhere.
Michael could barely stand to see his home city look like this. It was like a different place, like a different planet. He was at least grateful that no one had broken into his house while he’d been gone.
William came to stay with him, indefinitely. They both knew that “indefinitely” meant “for as long as they had left”.
But it was nice. It was nice to wake up with someone. Especially someone he was in love with.
Weird, finding love in the middle of a nuclear apocalypse.
Michael had been given a Star of Gallantry when they’d got back. He felt incredibly uncomfortable about it. He wasn’t brave or any of that macho bullshit. What the hell did ‘gallantry’ mean, anyway? He wasn’t sure he’d ever been gallant in his life. He’d done what had to be done. But Commander Robertson wouldn’t listen to his protestations and had awarded it anyway, in a small ceremony with just William, Ryland, James and Carden there. It had been kind of nice to wear full uniform one last time, and Michael laughed when he was told he was now permitted to use the letters ‘SG’ after his name. Michael Guy Chislett, SG. It definitely had a ring to it.
James received a Medal for Gallantry and was permitted to use the letters ‘MG’. (“See,” Siska joked later. “That’s what you should have had. Then you’d be MGC MG.” Michael laughed.) Michael shed a tear, watching his friend accept the honour from the Commander.
Carden received a Bronze Star medal. Michael watched William pin it on his lapel and then hug him gently. “Well done,” William had said.
Michael was still proud to have served his country. He had never expected a medal but he kept it on his bedside table and looked at it periodically.
Later, after the ceremony, William had kissed him and had said he was proud. And that he loved him. Those words still didn’t come easily from William but every time they did Michael felt happy.
Like he said, weird, finding love like this.
Everyone was on down time. Now that the Philadelphia had returned there was no need for the Navy anymore, so the submarine sat in the docks next to Her Majesty’s Australian Ships and William discharged his men. Commander Robertson discharged all the Australians and that was it. Waiting to die. Waiting for God.
Michael couldn’t just sit still and do nothing, though. People still sold fresh milk in the streets, and he took to waking up early to go and buy it, just for the want of something fresh.
Pernambuco in Brazil had gone out in February, while they had been away. Jakarta had gone out just before the Philadelphia returned.
They still had Johannesburg. While ever they still had Johannesburg Michael felt like they would be okay. Even though he knew that things couldn’t get better, he somehow felt like they would.
Life still continued.
One morning, Michael was on his way back from buying milk when Commander Robertson rode past him on a bike. He stopped.
“I was just on my way to your house,” he said.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. Bad news, I’m afraid. Darwin went out.”
Michael felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Fuck.”
“I know.”
“What about Cairns?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It felt different; it was no longer an abstract. This was real. It was Australian, now. Australian people were dead. Suddenly it felt a lot more personal.
“I thought I’d let you know. You’ve got family there, haven’t you?”
“Yes, yes I do.” Michael was aware that the tense wasn’t right now; he no longer had family in the North.
Peter patted his shoulder. “Do you have plans?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t leave it too long, hmm? The sickness will come before any of us know it.”
“Yes. I know.”
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“I’m sorry too. What will you do, Commander? Do you have plans?”
“Me and the wife have been talking about those capsules.”
“The cyanide.”
“We’ve got ‘em in the bedside drawer. I keep saying one of these nights we should just take ‘em right after making love, and die happy.”
Michael smiled. “Good plan, sir.”
“One you young ones could take heed of, if you ask me.”
“How do you mean?”
“Die with who you love, Michael. It’s the only way.” He was giving Michael a significant look. He knew.
“How did you know?”
“Word gets around,” Peter shrugged.
“It just happened,” Michael said, feeling like he should be making excuses.
“These things tend to,” Peter said stoically. “Anyway, I better get home.”
“I suppose I might not see you again.”
“Yes, that’s true enough. Goodbye, Captain Chislett.”
“Goodbye, sir. It was a pleasure serving under you.”
“It was a pleasure knowing you.”
They saluted each other, and Peter got back on his bike and rode away.
Michael watched him for a moment then turned back the way he was going, heading for home.
There were tears streaming down his face but he didn’t stop them. Fuck, if he couldn’t cry now when could he?
By the time he got home he was angry that this had happened. He banged the front door, startling William, who was reading in the kitchen.
“What is it?” William asked.
“We lost fucking Darwin.”
“Oh god.”
Michael banged the milk down on the counter, sloshing some of out of the open container. “You know something? This wasn’t even our bloody war in the first place!”
“What?” William looked confused.
“It wasn’t. Australia never went to war with you or against you either way. Egypt started it, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And you, and the bloody British, who always did just do whatever America told them to, bloody pushovers, you all just went to attack!”
“It wasn’t quite like that-”
“Wasn’t it? The US wasn’t trying to show its might? Fucking Egypt, what did they ever do?”
“An uninstigated attack, Michael, they attacked the States and we went after them.”
“Like 9/11 all over again.”
“Oh, don’t. That was a farce, and everybody knew it. Obama-”
“What the fuck did Obama do, anyway? Nothing, from what I could see. Egypt attacked, and then-”
“Egypt attacked, and the US put sanctions on them and then attacked back. It was all legally done.”
“Just because it was legal didn’t mean it was right!” Michael exploded, furious now, stupidly angry at William just because William was American, even though it wasn’t his fault at all. “What did you think they’d do?”
“Stop, of course! That’s why we did it, to get them to stop! It’s not MY fault they went nuclear, Michael!”
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DO IT BACK. TWO WRONGS DO NOT MAKE A RIGHT!”
William stepped back as if he’d been slapped.
Michael knew he had gone too far. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just so angry, you know, it’s not fair to take it out on you.”
“Damn right it’s not.”
“Please. Don’t be mad. It’s just I just saw the Commander and he told me about Darwin. Cairns will be next, then the Gold Coast, then us.”
“Leaving Melbourne and New Zealand.”
“For a little while.”
“I wonder if Johannesburg will go before us?”
“It’s very slightly further north,” Michael said. Fresh tears fell down his cheeks and he rubbed them away with the heel of his hand. “So it might.”
“Fuck, this is all so fucked.”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“You’re right, the British were complete pushovers.”
Michael smiled and sniffed back more tears.
“The Egyptians had nuclear capabilities far beyond what we knew about,” William said. “No one had any idea.”
“You were probably bloody selling it to them twenty years before.”
William smiled. “Probably.” He sank down into a dining chair. “I never said my country wasn’t completely fucked, you know.”
“Yeah, but why did you have to make mine completely fucked too?”
“I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry to every single Australian, okay?”
Michael laughed, tears still falling. “I accept your apology.”
“Thank god. I thought you were going to carry on yelling until we died.”
“Nah. Too much effort.”
“Have you thought anymore about it?”
“Death?”
“Yes.”
They had been discussing it. William still half-wanted to sail the submarine past the twelve-mile limit and wait for his fate there. Michael didn’t want him to. He wanted them to die together. But whether that involved cyanide or not, he couldn’t say.
“No,” Michael said. “Not now, okay? There’s a little more time left.”
William held open his arms. “Would you like a hug?”
Michael nodded and went over to him and knelt at his feet. He rested his head on William’s knee and let William hug him. “It’s so surreal that so soon there’ll be no one left.”
“Yeah. Just the cockroaches.”
Michael laughed, and it bubbled in his throat and mixed with the tears. “Yeah. Them and the bloody rabbits. Just them and the rabbits.”
Fin
(Master post here.)
What was going on was this. William was in the Control Room, aware that Jon was back on the ship, and was deciding whether to set sail straight away back to Australia, when there was a commotion coming down the ship.
“The escape hatch!” Michael shouted. “Fuck!”
William frowned and went over to the periscope quickly. He couldn’t see anything from this angle. “What?”
Gabe Saporta came running into the Control Room. “It’s Travis. Travis Clark. He’s out!”
“What, like. In the water?” William couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
Gabe nodded. “Said something about how this was where he wanted to die and just let himself out.”
“Is everything secure?”
Gabe nodded again.
Michael frowned. “That’s your concern, Commander? That nothing’s secure?”
“No, of course not, but…” William didn’t know what he meant. The water wouldn’t be radioactive but the air was, and if Travis went ashore there was no way he could be allowed back on the ship. The contamination risk was too great. Fuck, he knew something wasn’t right when Travis had asked to come. He should have said no. Travis was going to die and it was all his fault. “Fuck!” he said, frustrated.
Michael was still frowning but no one else moved, all eyes on William, waiting for instruction. William looked in the periscope again and ordered the Visual Displays. They could see a small red head bobbing along on the surface as Travis swum to shore. He reached the same ladder that Jon had gone to and climbed up.
William had the loudhailer microphone in his hand and he spoke into it, hearing himself amplified a second later. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Abandoning ship, sir,” Travis said, standing up on the pier. He had peeled his wet shirt off and even from this distance William could see him push his hair back from his face.
“We can’t let you back on board. You do realise that?”
“Yes, sir. I don’t want to come back on board.”
William pressed fingers to his temple. “You’ll have to die here.”
“Yes, sir. That’s what I want to do.” Travis’ tone was almost cheerful.
“Again, Clark, what the fuck are you doing?”
“This is where I’m from, okay? I love Florida. I didn’t think I’d never see it again. I want to die here.”
“Fuck.” William didn’t say this into the microphone but just to the Control Room generally.
Michael took the microphone from him. “You sure about that, Lieutenant Clark?”
“Yeah. Yes. Absolutely. I’m from Bradenton, so I’m gonna go there and maybe go back to my house. Maybe find my friends. I don’t know yet.”
William swallowed, feeling sick. This was terrible. A man was going to die under his command because he had made a mistake and had let him come with them.
Michael said, “It’s been a pleasure to serve with you, Travis.”
“You too, sir.” The tone was still cheerful, which made William feel worse, somehow. “It’s been a pleasure to serve on the Philly and it’s been a pleasure to serve under Commander Beckett. I’m where I want to be, though.”
“God bless,” Michael said, and handed the microphone back to William.
“I’m sorry,” Travis said.
“There’s nothing else I can say,” William said into the microphone. He fought again to swallow tears. “Like Captain Chislett said, God bless.”
“Thank you,” Travis said, and then they all saw him put down the loudhailer, pick up the bicycle and pedal merrily off.
William excused himself to his bunk. He was devastated. He had failed his men.
Michael started to say something as he passed but William wasn’t listening. There was nothing he could say.
*
Michael watched William go. Everyone in the Control Room was staring at him, waiting for him to take control. He needed to make a decision and quickly.
“Just idle here, okay,” he told Conrad and DeLeon. “I’ll be back.” He set off down the ship, looking for Ryland.
Ryland and Jon were just getting dressed in the locker room. The look on Michael’s dace must have said it all.
“What?” Ryland asked.
“Lieutenant Walker, you’re off duty until further notice,” Michael said. “Go take it easy.”
“Thank you, sir,” Jon said. He picked up his dress shirt and walked out.
Michael told Ryland what had happened.
“Fuck!” Ryland said.
“I know.”
“Beckett blaming himself?”
“Yeah. I think so.”
Ryland sighed, hands stilling on his buttons. “What do we do?”
“There’s nothing we can do. Travis couldn’t come back aboard even if he wanted to, not after being exposed to that much radiation.”
Ryland nodded. “Jon’s reading was still a little high, even after his shower. Not enough to worry about, but still elevated, and he was protected by the suit.”
“Exactly. But Travis didn’t want to come back, you know? He was happy with his decision.”
“Then we have to respect that. It’s not William’s fault.”
“You and I both know that,” Michael said. He felt helpless.
Ryland stooped to fasten his boots. “Where’s he from, anyway?”
“He said Bradenton. Do you know it, is it far?”
“Oh. No, not at all. He just has to go over the bridge we came under and he’s there.”
“He had the bike Jon had.”
“So he’ll be home in no time.”
“That’s what he wanted,” Michael said.
Ryland nodded. “So what do we do now?”
“Carry on with our plans, I guess. Turn the sub around, get back down into the Gulf, through the Panama Canal and back across the Pacific.”
“And Beckett?”
“Leave him to me,” Michael said.
Ryland smiled. “As you wish, Captain.”
“Let people know what’s happened, yeah? No point lying about it.”
“Absolutely,” Ryland said.
Michael clapped his arm. “See you later.”
Then he went off in search of William.
*
William blamed himself. He wouldn’t come into the Mess to eat, and Michael was worried about him.
“It wasn’t his fault,” Carden said. “Me and Travis got on okay, you know? And I had no idea that he’d got this in mind.”
“No one did,” Michael said. He took a plate of food from Alex, smiled gratefully, and wandered to the bunk room to try to get William to eat something.
William was lying in Michael’s bunk, because, he said, it smelt like Michael and that was comforting. Michael could deal with that. He knelt down and pulled the curtain back.
“I shouldn’t have let him come,” William said by way of greeting.
“He wanted to come.”
“Yes, but I should have seen. I knew it wasn’t right when he asked, I felt it and I knew. I should’ve said no.”
“What would be the point? Travis did what he wanted to do, Will. He’s dying where he’s happy. I think a lot of people understand that.”
“But if he’d been back in Australia-”
“If he’d been back in Australia, William, he would have died anyway.”
William was crying, Michael realised. What a bloody mess. They had a month still to travel and he wasn’t sure if William would make it in this state. “Budge up,” he said.
“What?”
“Move your bony arse and let me get in.”
William shifted, back against the sub’s hull.
Michael slid in beside him as best he could, although his bum was mostly hanging over the edge. Still, it didn’t matter. “You did the best you could with the information you had available.”
“I let a man down.”
“Travis made his own decision.”
“Stop being reasonable.”
“Stop being dumb,” Michael said. The plate of food was between them - small pieces of cheese on crackers, and some grapes. He picked one up and pushed it into William’s mouth, not giving him a choice.
William chewed with effort and swallowed eventually. “That poor boy has to die alone.”
“I know. I know, that’s real bad. But he really did make his own decision.”
“I’m kind of jealous. I’d like to die in Chicago, I guess.”
Michael fed him another cracker. “Yes, exactly. That’s what everyone’s saying, pretty much. No one is blaming you.”
“Really?”
“Really. And Ryland’s worried.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
“After. Eat and sleep first.” He picked up another cracker.
William took this one and put it into his mouth himself. “I didn’t know we had cheese.”
“Suarez was saving it for a special occasion.”
“I qualify for that?”
“No, but he felt bad.”
William smiled, finally. Michael couldn’t help grinning back. Soon, all the crackers and grapes were gone.
“Okay,” Michael said. “Now sleep. I don’t care how long for. Me and Ryland and Saporta and everyone else can manage, okay?”
William nodded, then hugged Michael tightly, burying his face in Michael’s shoulder. “I love you,” he mumbled.
“I know,” Michael said, squeezing him back. “I know.”
It was the first time William had said it. Michael hadn’t expected to ever hear it. But there it was. It was a shame that it had taken such a crisis.
*
William pulled himself together. He had no choice but to carry on. They had to get back to Australia as quickly as possible. They headed back to the Panama Canal. Its locks still worked, powered by hydro-electricity and automatons. Thank god, because now, there were no humans left here to work the mechanisms. Going through the canal was slow going, though, and the submarine had to float almost on the top of the water, barely submerged at all.
William was eating in the Mess when something he had never imagined happened. The ship almost imperceptibly bumped on something, and stopped.
You got used to the slick movement of a vessel at sea, whether it was a ship or a sub. They never stopped, just glided along, unless at war, when they moved faster. But for a vessel to stop was almost unheard of. It felt weird. It felt wrong. William swallowed the last mouthful of food and stood up.
“What now?” someone said, and William didn’t know the answer but he was sure he wasn’t going to like it.
He set off down the sub to the Control Room, catching up with Michael on the way.
Saporta was in the control seat, looking incredibly worried. “I think we hit a sandbar.”
“What the fuck?” William said.
“Seriously?” Michael asked.
Saporta nodded. “They used to dredge this stretch a whole fucking lot. Clearly they haven’t in a while. It’s built up.”
William groaned. Of course. With natural water, the tendency for sand drifting and settling into something to cause trouble was a lot higher. Without dredging, they had hit a sandbar of who knew what length and width. “Put the thrusts on the back side, full pelt,” he ordered. “As soon as possible.”
It was 4am, and William’s body clock was all off. He had slept most of the afternoon and night, and woken up to eat, and had been about to start a shift. Michael looked dead on his feet, about to sleep. He nodded in agreement with William’s order.
The order went down the ship and the noise of the thrust could be heard. The ballasts would be drained of water, too, to make them lighter than the surroundings and hopefully force the sub even more upward than it already was. It should be enough. William hoped it was enough.
Tom Conrad came speeding down the ship. “Sir, there’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” William asked, eyes on the controls in front of Gabe.
Michael yawned and blinked at Tom in concentration.
“I’m not sure. The pistons aren’t working. They’re not moving us upward.”
Fear clenched William’s heart. If they were stuck here, what the fuck would they do? They had no cyanide on board. They wouldn’t die in the submarine for a good few months. They’d all have to go on land and die there, wait for the radiation to get them. None of them would see Australia again. Australia wouldn’t know what had happened to them. Michael would never get home.
That meant a lot, that Michael wouldn’t get home, and that none of them would get back to the places they had begun to call home. What the fuck would they do?
Michael chewed his lip. “We’re gonna have to get out there and fix the damn thing.”
“It’s too radioactive,” William said.
“No, it’s not. The land is, but the water isn’t. We’ve got SCUBA suits on board, right?”
“Yes. Two, I think. Maybe three.”
“Alright. So we get out there. And fix it.”
“Captain Chislett, with respect-”
“With respect, Commander Beckett,” Michael said, and William got a flash of the man he had known way back on their first voyage, the man who seemed poised to pounce critically on everything William said, “I’d prefer to not die in a canal in the middle of the bloody Americas, thank you.”
William hid a smile. “Okay. I suppose we ought to take a look. Who, though?”
“Well, I’d’ve thought that was obvious,” Michael said, grinning wickedly. “Me.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” William said, shaking his head, convinced Michael was only speaking from tiredness. “We’ll talk about it at noon, okay?”
Michael got some sleep, William did his shift and Ryland woke up, and they meet again in the Control Room at noon. Michael dismissed Saporta and sat down in the control seat himself.
“You do realise that I can’t tell what the radiation readouts in the water are?” Ryland said. “Other than ‘ridiculously high’. We can’t get a sample on board. I can’t take that risk.”
Michael nodded. “We’ll be fast. Three of us, in SCUBA suits that we get rid of straight away. No broken skin on any of us, full masks and breathing equipment, et cetera. I think we can do it.”
“You’ll have to be quarantined,” William said.
“Then we’ll do it.”
“The equipment room is lead-lined,” Ryland said. “They can stay in there for twenty-four hours.”
“And if we’re off the charts, we’ll stay there,” Michael said. “What comes, comes, you know? But I have to try. I can’t not try.”
“I can’t believe you want to go out there,” William said.
“I don’t want to,” Michael said. “We need to see what’s up, though. We have to get home.”
“I don’t want - what if you get killed? Not by the radiation but by falling or something?”
“I won’t get killed.”
“But you might.”
“Look, if someone else goes out there, on your command, and something goes wrong and they do end up dead, you’re only going to blame yourself again, right? Like with Travis. Wouldn’t you rather it was me? Volunteering?”
He had a point. William would almost always rather have volunteers. He just wished it wasn’t Michael. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. Not here. Not like this. He pulled at his lip, sighed heavily and then nodded. “Okay. So who do you take?”
“Like I just said,” Michael said. “Volunteers.”
*
Carden volunteered straight away. He stood up and said that was something he could do.
Michael smiled at him gratefully. “It requires quarantine. And I can’t promise that the water out there isn’t going to kill us.”
“You gotta die fucking fighting, Chislett,” Carden said. “Can’t let the bastard sneak up on you.”
James said he would volunteer too.
“Are you sure?” William asked.
Michael was so grateful. James hadn’t wanted to come on this voyage but again Rachel had persuaded him to. With James helping on this, they could solve it, definitely. They’d get free and they’d get home. Michael had to believe that.
“Yeah,” James said. “I was a technician back on my own ship. I’ll be able to have a good look at the ballasts.”
William nodded. “Thank you, Lieutenant Rudder.”
“We gotta be fast,” Michael said. “Or we get left behind. And I really don’t want to die here.”
The three of them got suited up, firstly wrapped in plastic wrap since it helped to protect somewhat against the radiation. None of them had any broken skin. Then they were helped into the SCUBA suits, fussed over by Ryland. Someone came to check that the air tanks were still working. Michael gave a rudimentary lesson in SCUBA sign language, since Carden had never been diving. Ordinarily this would have made Michael think twice about his volunteering, but Carden’s dedication and brute strength would make up for it.
Last to put on were the masks, full head covering diving masks, like the old-fashioned ones. These would hopefully stop any radiation in their mouths and noses. Michael signalled he was okay to Ryland.
The submarine switched off all but its essential power, and the silence was deafening. They had to go out of the air lock one by one, and Michael went first, saluting at those in the room as he did so. The water was cold and it hit him with a shock. He swam upwards on to the surface, and waited for the others.
They both signalled that they were okay, so Michael signalled to dive. It was hard to dive from the surface, but not impossible, and soon enough they were all underwater.
The Philly had indeed hit a sandbar. Sand always looked so innocuous, and Michael felt like if they all pushed hard enough they would move her off it. They couldn’t, of course. He knew how badly sand could stop a ship.
They half swum and half walked on the sand around to the back pistons, which weren’t functioning properly. Michael was slightly scared staring straight into them, given that usually there was usually gallons of air and water gushing through them. Now Michael could see the fans, stilled.
The problem in the pistons was much easier to pinpoint than they had thought. Carden reached in and pulled out what was stopping the fans from moving freely. James took what he was given and swam fifty metres away to deposit the bits.
That was a good idea. Michael took pieces from Carden too and relayed them to James.
They were shredded pieces of Jon Walker’s red dinghy.
Of all the fucking ridiculous things that could have endangered them… Michael cursed himself. They hadn’t even given it a second thought. Jon had been told to just leave the dinghy and he had. It must have got caught as they’d turned around in Tampa Bay and no one had noticed until it had caused a problem.
Carden started to climb into the fan chute, reaching back as far as he could. Michael kept a hold of him, ready to pull quickly if anything happened. God bless Carden for doing this - it was the sensible thing but Michael hadn’t fancied doing it himself. It was dark in the chute. Michael wasn’t keen on the dark.
Finally Carden shrugged at him. They had cleared as much as they could. Now over to the ballasts. James opened a hatch with some difficulty and Michael wobbled on the sand, holding it so it didn’t shut on James.
Michael had no clue what he did but he came back up signalling thumbs up. They secured the hatch and went back to the airlock, waiting to be let back in.
*
Carden couldn’t fucking believe this. They were standing at the airlock, waiting for it to open, and nothing was happening.
The longer they were fucking standing here, the worse it would be, right? Carden didn’t know a lot about radiation but he knew that the longer you were exposed the worse it was. Carden hammered on the metal, not hearing it underwater, but he knew it could be heard inside. He pressed the button again.
Then he realised - fuck. William was probably having a fit inside, probably questioning his decision to let them out. He’d be so convinced that they would be radioactive that he’d be wavering on letting them back in.
Well fuck that. Mike Carden was not about to die next to a fucking submarine if he could help it. He hit the metal again, frustrated by the lack of power in his fist, held up by water resistance.
He held up his hands, gesturing at Michael and James, wanting them to help. They just gestured back, though and Carden eyerolled at them. So fucking ineffectual. If they all hammered they’d have more chance of making a lot of noise. Somehow, that would bring William out of his craziness. It had to. He hit again, pounding and pounding and pounding on the metal. Fuck, just fucking open, he thought. Let me in.
Mike put his shoulder into it and slammed against the metal. Fuck, he’d feel that later. He was not about to let William’s paranoia kill the three of them.
Finally, mercifully, in what can have only actually been a minute later but which felt like forever, the airlock opened beneath him.
Their radiation readings were high. They were stripped naked and made to shower. That lessened the radiation somewhat. Then they had to irrigate each other’s mouths and noses with saline solution, which was fucking unpleasant and made James sneeze a lot.
William’s voice came over the radio. “Good work.”
“Yeah,” Mike said. “So good you nearly fucking left us out there.”
Michael shushed him, fucking shushed him.
“It’s true!” Mike protested. “Took you fucking long enough to open the lock.”
“Carden,” Michael said. “We’re back in now, okay?”
“How can you fucking defend him? He’d have left us there, just fucking left us there to die!”
“I’m not defending him,” Michael said.
“Anyway,” William’s voice said. “You all need to stay in here tonight and someone will take your readings tomorrow. We’ve set sail again now. Thank you for volunteering.” With that the radio bleeped and cut out.
Mike turned to Michael. “He would have left us. He was on the verge of doing it. I know William.”
“I know William too,” Michael said, palms upward, defenceless. “He might have panicked. Anyone can panic in that kind of situation.”
“He’s the Captain. He’s not supposed to fucking panic.”
“Fuck, Carden. We all panic, alright? Captains aren’t any different to anyone else. He panicked because he’s a good Captain, because he’s trying to keep everybody safe, not just the three of us!”
Carden opened his mouth to protest but shut it again. That made a lot of sense, actually. He’d never thought about it like that before.
They were declared clean enough early the next morning and they walked down the ship with everybody shaking their hands and saying thanks. Mike liked that part, although that wasn’t why he’d volunteered.
In the Control Room, William reached forward and shook their hands. “Thank you,” he said. “I’m proud of you all.”
*
Back in Australia, it was the end of the summer. The shadows were longer than they had been. The streets were deserted. There were barely any shops left, and the only ones lit up were the pharmacies. They had no staff in them, but each one had a huge pile of cyanide capsules in the middle of the floor for people to help themselves to.
It was weirdly both anarchic and conservative. Everyone was staying home, close to their families, but lawlessness ruled the streets. Looters were everywhere.
Michael could barely stand to see his home city look like this. It was like a different place, like a different planet. He was at least grateful that no one had broken into his house while he’d been gone.
William came to stay with him, indefinitely. They both knew that “indefinitely” meant “for as long as they had left”.
But it was nice. It was nice to wake up with someone. Especially someone he was in love with.
Weird, finding love in the middle of a nuclear apocalypse.
Michael had been given a Star of Gallantry when they’d got back. He felt incredibly uncomfortable about it. He wasn’t brave or any of that macho bullshit. What the hell did ‘gallantry’ mean, anyway? He wasn’t sure he’d ever been gallant in his life. He’d done what had to be done. But Commander Robertson wouldn’t listen to his protestations and had awarded it anyway, in a small ceremony with just William, Ryland, James and Carden there. It had been kind of nice to wear full uniform one last time, and Michael laughed when he was told he was now permitted to use the letters ‘SG’ after his name. Michael Guy Chislett, SG. It definitely had a ring to it.
James received a Medal for Gallantry and was permitted to use the letters ‘MG’. (“See,” Siska joked later. “That’s what you should have had. Then you’d be MGC MG.” Michael laughed.) Michael shed a tear, watching his friend accept the honour from the Commander.
Carden received a Bronze Star medal. Michael watched William pin it on his lapel and then hug him gently. “Well done,” William had said.
Michael was still proud to have served his country. He had never expected a medal but he kept it on his bedside table and looked at it periodically.
Later, after the ceremony, William had kissed him and had said he was proud. And that he loved him. Those words still didn’t come easily from William but every time they did Michael felt happy.
Like he said, weird, finding love like this.
Everyone was on down time. Now that the Philadelphia had returned there was no need for the Navy anymore, so the submarine sat in the docks next to Her Majesty’s Australian Ships and William discharged his men. Commander Robertson discharged all the Australians and that was it. Waiting to die. Waiting for God.
Michael couldn’t just sit still and do nothing, though. People still sold fresh milk in the streets, and he took to waking up early to go and buy it, just for the want of something fresh.
Pernambuco in Brazil had gone out in February, while they had been away. Jakarta had gone out just before the Philadelphia returned.
They still had Johannesburg. While ever they still had Johannesburg Michael felt like they would be okay. Even though he knew that things couldn’t get better, he somehow felt like they would.
Life still continued.
One morning, Michael was on his way back from buying milk when Commander Robertson rode past him on a bike. He stopped.
“I was just on my way to your house,” he said.
“Oh yes?”
“Yes. Bad news, I’m afraid. Darwin went out.”
Michael felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Fuck.”
“I know.”
“What about Cairns?”
“Not yet, but it won’t be long.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” It felt different; it was no longer an abstract. This was real. It was Australian, now. Australian people were dead. Suddenly it felt a lot more personal.
“I thought I’d let you know. You’ve got family there, haven’t you?”
“Yes, yes I do.” Michael was aware that the tense wasn’t right now; he no longer had family in the North.
Peter patted his shoulder. “Do you have plans?”
“Not really.”
“Don’t leave it too long, hmm? The sickness will come before any of us know it.”
“Yes. I know.”
“I’m sorry, Michael.”
“I’m sorry too. What will you do, Commander? Do you have plans?”
“Me and the wife have been talking about those capsules.”
“The cyanide.”
“We’ve got ‘em in the bedside drawer. I keep saying one of these nights we should just take ‘em right after making love, and die happy.”
Michael smiled. “Good plan, sir.”
“One you young ones could take heed of, if you ask me.”
“How do you mean?”
“Die with who you love, Michael. It’s the only way.” He was giving Michael a significant look. He knew.
“How did you know?”
“Word gets around,” Peter shrugged.
“It just happened,” Michael said, feeling like he should be making excuses.
“These things tend to,” Peter said stoically. “Anyway, I better get home.”
“I suppose I might not see you again.”
“Yes, that’s true enough. Goodbye, Captain Chislett.”
“Goodbye, sir. It was a pleasure serving under you.”
“It was a pleasure knowing you.”
They saluted each other, and Peter got back on his bike and rode away.
Michael watched him for a moment then turned back the way he was going, heading for home.
There were tears streaming down his face but he didn’t stop them. Fuck, if he couldn’t cry now when could he?
By the time he got home he was angry that this had happened. He banged the front door, startling William, who was reading in the kitchen.
“What is it?” William asked.
“We lost fucking Darwin.”
“Oh god.”
Michael banged the milk down on the counter, sloshing some of out of the open container. “You know something? This wasn’t even our bloody war in the first place!”
“What?” William looked confused.
“It wasn’t. Australia never went to war with you or against you either way. Egypt started it, yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And you, and the bloody British, who always did just do whatever America told them to, bloody pushovers, you all just went to attack!”
“It wasn’t quite like that-”
“Wasn’t it? The US wasn’t trying to show its might? Fucking Egypt, what did they ever do?”
“An uninstigated attack, Michael, they attacked the States and we went after them.”
“Like 9/11 all over again.”
“Oh, don’t. That was a farce, and everybody knew it. Obama-”
“What the fuck did Obama do, anyway? Nothing, from what I could see. Egypt attacked, and then-”
“Egypt attacked, and the US put sanctions on them and then attacked back. It was all legally done.”
“Just because it was legal didn’t mean it was right!” Michael exploded, furious now, stupidly angry at William just because William was American, even though it wasn’t his fault at all. “What did you think they’d do?”
“Stop, of course! That’s why we did it, to get them to stop! It’s not MY fault they went nuclear, Michael!”
“YOU DIDN’T HAVE TO DO IT BACK. TWO WRONGS DO NOT MAKE A RIGHT!”
William stepped back as if he’d been slapped.
Michael knew he had gone too far. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m just so angry, you know, it’s not fair to take it out on you.”
“Damn right it’s not.”
“Please. Don’t be mad. It’s just I just saw the Commander and he told me about Darwin. Cairns will be next, then the Gold Coast, then us.”
“Leaving Melbourne and New Zealand.”
“For a little while.”
“I wonder if Johannesburg will go before us?”
“It’s very slightly further north,” Michael said. Fresh tears fell down his cheeks and he rubbed them away with the heel of his hand. “So it might.”
“Fuck, this is all so fucked.”
“Yes. Yes it is.”
“You’re right, the British were complete pushovers.”
Michael smiled and sniffed back more tears.
“The Egyptians had nuclear capabilities far beyond what we knew about,” William said. “No one had any idea.”
“You were probably bloody selling it to them twenty years before.”
William smiled. “Probably.” He sank down into a dining chair. “I never said my country wasn’t completely fucked, you know.”
“Yeah, but why did you have to make mine completely fucked too?”
“I’m sorry. From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry to every single Australian, okay?”
Michael laughed, tears still falling. “I accept your apology.”
“Thank god. I thought you were going to carry on yelling until we died.”
“Nah. Too much effort.”
“Have you thought anymore about it?”
“Death?”
“Yes.”
They had been discussing it. William still half-wanted to sail the submarine past the twelve-mile limit and wait for his fate there. Michael didn’t want him to. He wanted them to die together. But whether that involved cyanide or not, he couldn’t say.
“No,” Michael said. “Not now, okay? There’s a little more time left.”
William held open his arms. “Would you like a hug?”
Michael nodded and went over to him and knelt at his feet. He rested his head on William’s knee and let William hug him. “It’s so surreal that so soon there’ll be no one left.”
“Yeah. Just the cockroaches.”
Michael laughed, and it bubbled in his throat and mixed with the tears. “Yeah. Them and the bloody rabbits. Just them and the rabbits.”
Fin
(Master post here.)