Dockside

21 September

01:00


It was astonishing how, in times of crisis, people could fight through their hunger and fatigue and live the definition of the word benevolence. Dockside had fallen into relative order, and those who remained there worked hard together to keep it that way.

Barricades had been built from the rubble to help control the flow of traffic, and restrict access to the dock area. Earlier, Maia and Harry had gone through the few dozen men and women and figured who would be best suited for what. The sailors and workers fell in line, and something like a chain of command fell right into place. No telling how long it would last, but the short term might just be enough. Maia had been given the best marksmen, the fastest and most nimble, and those with the stomach to fight.

Sixteen in all... close to the number of her crew. She sent one of the marksmen to the highest point with a clear view, and the other to sleep through the watch. There was a pair for the gate as well, and that left twelve. Maia taught them the basics; how to strike and how to defend. It would have to do.

“The twelve of you will be on primary ground patrol in standard duty shifts of four hours a piece, round the clock. Each unit will consist of three, two units out at a time. You are not to split up, ever.”

As Maia divided the teams, she also distributed the air horns that had been found in one of the charred warehouses. Not everything had been lost, and these little things were a handy find; it was good of Harry to send a runner with some. Weapons were distributed, and every team was outfitted with range weapons, as well as things that were handy for close encounters. There was some improvisation; a few of the teams had cricket bats, one man was wielding an ice pick, but it would do in a pinch.

“You get in over your head, and you can’t run to base, use these. One M- that’s two even dashes- and no more. Sound will draw them from a distance, but not any faster than it will draw me and mine. When you aren’t patrolling, you are resting. The next few days will be long, and you need to stay fresh so that you don’t get stupid. Wilkins, Chen- your teams are on now. Hayes and Zorin, your groups will be up for morning watch.”

Her steely gaze moved over the faces assembled. Everyone was dirty, and everyone was grim, but all things considered, it was a good looking group. Their eyes were bright and their jaws were set. Maia had a reasonable about of confidence in them.

“Go to. Be smart, and be safe.”

Maia moved to what served as the main gate, for the time being. It was, by no means, the only way into Dockside, but with the barricades placed where they were (and the piles of ash and rubble elsewhere) most things that wanted in would have to come through her. Not to mention Jace or Broggun, the imposing pair who took turns by the bells sitting at that entrance. Their size wouldn't deter zombies, but it would likely deter other kinds of trouble.

Her eyes had adjusted to the blackness, and her nose to the stink of smoke on the salted air. Maia sent a silent prayer of sorts out into that darkness and up to the stars that she could not see.

One night. Just give us this one.

Dockside

21 September

04:07



The morning watch had just begun their shift, and Maia was beginning to feel a little bit of the ache in her back that typically came when her brain figured out that you had been awake a bit longer than was prudent. She was intimately acquainted with that feeling.

The middle watch had done well on patrol. A few small groups of zombies had fallen without incident, and some looters had been deterred and sent on their merry way. The success of the operation thus far had done good things for the morale of those at Dockside. All things considered, it had been a quiet night.

Maia leaned against the wall of one of the warehouses near the gate, sharpening her blades one at a time. Yes, her body was weary, but her mind was active beyond belief. She needed to keep something moving, something going, or she thought she might go mad. It was in this second-winded state that Hayes found her.

“I thought I told you to stay with your unit.”

“Captain…we need you.”

Maia looked up into the face of the young woman, and even in the dim light, she could see that Hayes had gone very, very pale.

“What is it, Hayes?”

“Just come. Please.”

The sailor and her captain crossed the area with haste, coming to a warehouse near the western perimeter. Casen and Rider, the two men assigned to work with Hayes, looked every bit as spooked as she did. Moans were coming from inside the building, and that aimless clunking sound of the creatures within trying to find a way out. Something sounded off. When a ghastly hand pressed to the thick glass of the window, Maia understood what she was hearing.

The white palm pressed to the glass was small. So very small.

“Captain, we trapped three of them in there. I know they aren’t… but we just…”

“Hayes, you don’t need to apologize. Continue your patrol.”

Hayes, Casen, and Rider all spent a long moment looking at Maia before they turned and moved away, back to work. Everybody tried not to think about what was about to go down in that warehouse. Everybody tried to be objective and rational.

Maia drew her blade and opened the door. There was nothing that felt rational about this.

Ten minutes later, she had wrapped the bodies in blankets and found a cart to move them in. Maia drew her face into a very neutral mask. There would be no more feeling that night. She would wait for the sun to shed a its light on the horror of the infection. The cart was wheeled to where they had started the carefully contained funeral pyre.

Harry was still running the show there. Maia brought the three herself, not solely because she wanted to spare someone else the horror, but because she wanted to see him. The Welshman looked rough. It was clear that the length and labor of the day (and the stress of losing the brig, no doubt) had caught up with him. The cart was left aside, with orders to stay far from it, and she moved to where he labored over the lost.

“Harry…”

He paused a moment in his labor, looked at her, then his gaze slid over to the cart she had delivered. Harry didn’t miss a trick. Before he could ask her, before he could say anything, Maia crossed to him and laid her hand gently on his back. The lilt of her voice, so often used to bellow over the tide, was inaudible to any but him.

“Come on, love. I need you to get some sleep. We should take shifts like the others, and there isn’t anybody else here I trust to watch my back while I am out. You first, let’s go.”

There was a long look between them. What she had just done, and the headspace she had needed to enter to do it, left not an inch for argument. Maia still had fire enough to run the show for a few more hours, and beyond if need be. No doubt he could see it, and so he nodded and he went along. She walked with Harry back towards the Balclutha, and watched until he was out of sight and on his way to bed.

Those who had been working to tend the fire with Harry were sent for coffee, just to give her the few moments that she needed. Once she was alone beside the flame that reached up into the sky, Maia finished the job. One of the children had been wearing a small, simple golden locket. With a steady, grimy hand, Maia unhitched the little clasp and added it to the box of photographs and names. The three bodies were added to the fire. It was a monstrous bit of mercy.

Dockside
September 21st
11:00AM

The quarters for the captain in the Balclutha had been refinished with Sirin Daltiya in mind. All warm oak and blue cushions on the chairs, a desk that was built sturdy and as much room as anyone ever can have on a sailing ship. The letter to her still sat on the desk.

"If there is such a thing as reincarnation, I like to believe that perhaps in another life, we'll get it right. But until then, here is something that does live; something saved, something that will survive despite everything."

He didn't think about how apt that was when Maia had sent him off the line to bed, but he did when he woke up. He turned it over in his mind for awhile, though he didn't touch the dusty letter on the desk.

He thought about the woman out there now. She'd taken great care with him, and it was appreciated. But he knew her look from his own mirror; don't think, don't feel, just do your damned job. Work until you just can't anymore, and then drop, then work again. Don't think about what you saw.

Don't think about what you had to do.

"...lay on your oars."

Harold shook his head, got dressed, and went back above.

--

In the light of day, it all seemed less horrific to him, not more. The glow of fires didn't seem so eerie. The sun was clear and bright, the day was warm but not unGodly so. Maia was still on the line, but she looked like she was about to the end of her endurance.

Not that it showed in many ways that most could see. Her icy eyes were still sharp, and her stance was still that of pure command, her voice was a little rough from smoke but still able to ring out clearly. But there was something that he could see under that. He couldn't define it, or describe it; it was just a certain knowledge.

"Your turn," he said, just a shade above a whisper. "Anything I should know?"

"We checked the last of the warehouses. There's nothing left but the living now. I had five more people come and volunteer, and I have set them to work. Your monarch reported as well." Maia tipped her chin up, looking past the Balclutha and at the sea beyond.

Harry nodded, studying her face for a moment. "All right, I've got it. Get some sleep, and I'll see if we can't finish the dirty work today and start the hopeful side of this Godforsaken task."

She turned her eyes back to him for a moment, and the corner of her mouth lifted only for a moment. He didn't know if it was for his benefit, or if it was because she wanted to feel that hopeful task approaching, but he did know that she needed the rest. And that with any luck, it would be kind to her. "Fair enough, love. I'll see you when I get up."

He took the liberty of kissing her cheek as she left, then turned to the task at hand.

--

"All right! I need these things in this order! Singer, go to the Red Dragon and try to find Icer, if you please. Ask her if she would be willing to take a flying patrol of the city and knock down any large structure fires still burning, as well as report back on any undead activity remaining. Tell her not to engage, just let me know where they are."

Harold was in his element giving orders. He could take them well, but he was a natural at giving them. Singer nodded and left his knot of people, and he focused back on them.

"I want the last of the bodies on the pyre by 2:00. Preston, take charge of that. Sindler, I want you to take three men and bring us all some lunch. Myers, go check on Wainwright's lot. Tell him that if Kalis-nar wishes to speak with me, I'll take some time during dinner and do so. Hayes," to the now rested, if not haunted looking woman, "widen your patrol range by a couple streets. We might as well work further into the city and see what we can accomplish by light of day."

Harry nodded smartly, clasping his hands behind his back. "By this evening, I want us to be in a more comfortable position than we are now. So, once the bodies we have are burned and we get what we can done, we're going to cut back the work crews for the night hours and up the dockside patrols to stand guard while we all get some more proper rest.

"Let's get to it."