“Ship’s log, stardate 1605.30, 1930 hours, Technical Officer Fran recording.
“Finally made it to our next anchorage, which the maps say is the Anclote Village Marina. Speed run from Apalachicola, which we pulled off quite well indeed. Navigation was spot on, we found the river easily, and tied up with no problem. Tomorrow, we’ll see about refueling, restocking and hunting. There should be some deer about, and it’s been a long while since we had any red meat. Or even some pigs. Don’t remember pork. Eh, we’ll see what happens. Nice thing about late spring, long days to get more done. Time to shut down, kick back and relax. Not to mention raid the galley…”
Fran did the save and send to Rotterdam, then checked that the ship was shut down, moored, and on the generator. “Foster! You ready to relieve me?” she called out.
“Sho’ am, Fran. Glad ah got the shutdown watch tonight. Ah can doze some up here and still be fit fo’ scavenging tomorrow. You heah what Frick plans fo’ tomorrow?” Foster said from the saloon.
“Having Frieda and Frack fly to St. Pete to see if there’s anything worth going there for? I heard. Printed out maps for both of them. Camera’s charging, and I have some sample bags set aside for them. Hope there’s not too much in the way of critters out there,” Fran said after she entered the saloon.
“Aftuh that, you, me and Fred will head to town to see what we can fahnd. About a three-mile walk each way. Ah don’t mahnd the exercise,” Foster said as he filled Fran’s coffee mug. “Frieda’s upstairs fixin’ a fish stew.”
“What, did Frack break it?” Fran laughed as she took the mug.
“I DID NOT!” Frack bellowed from the after deck, where he had the covers off the mains, letting them cool before he did a maintenance check.
“If’n you didn’t, who the hell did?” Foster bellowed back. “The devil in the deep blue sea?”
Frack gestured with a wing at the greenish shallows around them. “He won’t come here! It's not blue here, it’s green!” he shouted back.
“Point to the Chief Engineer, Foster,” Fran said after a sip of coffee.
“Point conceded, Fran. Now, head upstairs and get yourself some stew. Ah’m doin’ some corn fritters here.”
“Just be neat, okay? Remember the last time? Frieda damn near pitched you overboard after you got grease spatters all over the galley!” Fran chuckled as she made her way out of the saloon to the bridge ladder.
Foster grimaced. He didn’t think Frieda could get that loud. Or commanding. Foster recalled he literally got down on his knees and kissed her feet in apology before giving the galley a thorough scrubbing. “That ain’t gonna happen now…” he muttered as he checked his fritter mix before frying.
The next morning, as Frack and Frieda winged their way southeast to Saint Petersburg, Fran, Fred and Foster readied the wagon as Frick monitored the refueling. “You all know what we need. Downtown’s about three miles east. Keep in touch,” were Frick’s orders to the team.
“S.O.P., Frick,” Fred said as he stood in the wagon’s harness, Fran fastening it in place. He made sure his radio was on and in place. When they were ready, the scavenging team headed out, plodding east on Anclote Boulevard. About a mile down the road, they found an open field to the south. There, the trio saw something they had never seen before- a herd of goats grazing in the field.
“Goats? That’s unusual,” Fran said as she looked.
“Not quite as unusual as you would think, Fran,” Foster drawled. “Goat’s pretty good, if made right. Several folk in Rapides Parish raised goats as a sideline. Ah know you been hankerin’ foah venison, but goat meat will do as good as deer meat.”
“Think we should try to bag one on the way back, or let Frieda handle the job?” Fran thought out loud.
“I would suggest letting Maw handle it, but I see no reason not to try, depending on what we find,” Fred said as he pulled the empty wagon.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” Fran agreed as she watched the goats graze.
In town, the three raided a Winn-Dixie, finding some good salvage. Fortunately, the windows had been broken in the past year, so the smell inside was tolerable. From there, they looked through a Home Depot for some small parts, like nails, screws, hose clamps, tape and glue. Their last stop was the local pharmacy, and there the three found traces of other raiders.
“Looks like someone’s been picking through the place,” Foster observed after they found the back door lock punched out and the door held shut by a simple bar lock.
“Doing so regularly, too. Whoever it is, he or she’s been doing so for a while,” Fred said as he looked at the drop bar. “At least whoever it is knows how to use tools. That’s good, sturdy work.”
“Let’s see if there’s anything here we can use,” Fran said as she got off the wagon and opened the door. Foster helped Fred unhitch before going in as well.
“Definitely selective raiding. Whoever it is knows exactly what they want, where it is, and how much to take,” Fred declared after a quick inspection of the pharmacy.
“Hope whoevah it is don’t object to ouah snitchin’ some stuff,” Foster said as he picked up several bags of cotton balls in his glow.
“Wonder where the person is. For all we know, we could stay here a week and not find them,” Fran said as she loaded a carry basket with some antacids and a few of the larger first-aid kits, along with two bottles of wintergreen alcohol.
“I hope we can meet up with them. Who knows how long it has been since they heard another voice,” Fred mused as he looked around. He then snorted. “Frick and Frack will be happy. Vanilla Coke and Jolt. There weren't any at Winn-Dixie, but some here. Wonder why.”
“For a happy captain, ah won’t complain, just accept. Frick sure loves his Jolt. Heck, so did ah when ah had a late patrol,” Foster said as he picked up a twelve-pack of each to bring out to the wagon. “Let’s load up.”
“Let’s do it,” Fred said. “After this, let’s see what we can pick up for lunch.”
“Right,” Fran said as she was first out the door. She stopped so suddenly, Foster bumped against her.
Standing next to the wagon was a diamond dog of extremely large stature, like a big bulldog up on two feet. He wore a large pair of shorts, held up with a set of red suspenders. “Morning, people. Welcome to this part of Tarpon Springs. I’m Will Sutton. Who are you all?” the brindle bulldog asked.
Fred pushed his way forward. “Hello, Mister Sutton. I’m Fred Halvorsen, First Officer of the trawler Deliverance, out of Fremont, Nebraska. With me are the ship’s Technical officer, Fran Vasquez,” as Fran gave a little wave, “and Security Officer Foster Hardegan, from Rapides Parish, Louisiana.” Foster nodded at the large diamond dog. “Hope you don’t mind the raiding. Best way to resupply,” Fred explained.
Will waved a paw to signal that it didn’t matter. “Not to worry. Right now, a man can only defend what he can watch over personally. What I or my partner can defend, it’s not up here. Saw you folk walking down the boulevard. Folk aren’t common here, wagons less so. Been shadowing you since the Winn-Dixie. How long you plan on staying?” he asked politely.
“Several days, at least. Captain’s at the village marina refueling the ship, while our two winged ones are heading to Saint Petersburg to check out something there,” Fred explained.
“Refueling? All the fuel’s gone bad. Won’t do you any good!” Will said, surprised anyone would do something that foolish.
Fred smiled. “Not if you know how to strain out all the bad parts and add some booster. It’s not all that hard to do. Gasoline or diesel makes little difference. Just make sure you use different pumps for each,” he told the startled dog.
“How do you do it?” Will asked, still a little shook by the revelation.
Foster held up the bags of cotton balls in his glow. “Y’all start with cotton lakh this, put it in a thick knee-length cotton sock, put the sock in a big enough pipe, then pump dirty fuel in one end and clean fuel out the other. We have an apparatus set up at the village marina. Want to come on over for some coffee and lunch?” he asked.
“Throw some conversation into the mix and I’ll say ‘hell, yes’ to that! Let me ride home and get my partner. She would be interested, too.” Will said with some excitement.
“Who is she, if I may ask?” Fred asked.
“Sue Butler. She’s a horse, like you are, Mister Fred. She I found wandering about a month after I woke up like this. We didn’t want to be alone, so she stays with me. I have a tent and campground set up, and when the weather gets nasty, we head inside a house until it blows over. Been working for a long time already.”
“Well, I just have to ask, will the Captain approve of visitors for lunch?” Fred asked in a loud voice.
“Damn straight the Captain approves! I’ll set up the coffee pot and break out some smoked fish. By the time you get here, the porridge should be about done!” Frick said from Fran’s radio. “Come on over and feel welcome, Mister Sutton! Sure, bring Miss Butler as well! Meeting others makes this trip bearable! Let me get cracking. Cornhusker One out.” The three from the boat all smothered snickers, with varying degrees of success, at Will’s startled reaction to the voice coming from the radio.
“Cornhusker Two clear.” Fred said seemingly into empty air. “You know where the village marina is, Will?”
“Sure do! Want me to bring some goat meat and milk?” he asked.
The three people literally stopped dead in their tracks and stared at Will. “Fresh milk?” Foster asked.
“Fresh meat?” asked Fran.
“Oh, yeah! Milked the goats this morning and I butchered one last night. Still fresh!” Will said with pride.
“Then, bring it! The Captain’s expecting you, and we should be there within an hour. How do you get around?” Fred asked.
Will ducked around the corner of the building and came back riding one of those huge tricycles retirees in Florida use for getting around the trailer parks. “On this. Gets the job done.”
On the handlebars were mounted a large horn, a bell and a big flashlight, crudely fastened with tape and hose clamps.
“Well, that works,” Foster observed as he helped Fred get hitched up. “See you and your friend at the boat?”
“Sounds like a plan! At last, company!” Will said with a happy laugh as he pedaled away from the pharmacy, heading south.
“Let’s head home, people,” Fred said as Foster fastened the last Velcro strap.
At the Deliverance, Frick had everything set up for company- spare coffeepot brewing, large pot of porridge at the ready, upstairs ready to fix goat. That was going to be Fran’s job. She wants goat, she can cook it herself!
The working party was first to arrive, but only by twenty minutes. Before the load was completely stowed, the visitors came up from the south, Will on his tricycle with a pink and yellow earth pony mare trotting alongside. After greetings and introductions, Will and Fran went up to cook the goat meat he had brought, while the three stallions sat with the mare downstairs, sipping coffee with goat’s milk (all privately thought it was better with the powdered milk, but didn’t say anything) getting her story.
She had Returned at her home ‘on a day that was cold and wet’ she recalled. She stayed home for days before hunger drove her forth to find food. Quickly, she had found the herd of goats, and watched them browsing before getting surprised by Will. They had known of each other ‘when we were people’, but were no more than nodding acquaintances. She was twenty, taking a break from college to stay with her grandparents, who needed some additional care, which she provided for room, board and a small stipend. Sue was describing how much she cared for her grandparents when the ship’s phone rang.
“Pardon me,” Frick said, getting up. Looking into the pilothouse, he levitated the phone handset to him. “Cornhusker Base, unit calling go ahead.”
“Base, this is Cornhusker Three. We’ve found Sunken Gardens, and it’s a treasure trove, like that garden in Kansas City! No breezies in attendance, but so far no hostile animal life. We’ll be heading back in an hour or so, after we let our wings rest a while. What’s news up there?” Frieda asked.
“Oh, not a whole lot, just chatting with the neighbors while Fran is upstairs preparing some goat meat that they so kindly brought, is all,” Frick said in as bland a voice as he could manage.
Dead silence reigned on the phone for a good half minute before Frieda spoke again. “You had better not be joking there, Frick!” she squawked.
“He’s not, Maw!” Fred said forcefully.
Again, silence for a good half minute. “We’re going to grab some plant samples, then start getting back. Good thing Frack’s a spot-on navigator! Cornhusker Three out!” she said before hanging up.
“Cornhusker Base out,” Frick said quietly before putting the ship phone handset on the saloon table.
“Cornhusker? You went to Nebraska?” Sue asked, sounding confused.
“All the crew but me, Miz Sue,” Foster said. “Ah joined later. Ah went to a podunk community college in Louisiana. They all have a Cornhusker call sahn, ah go by Pelican Six. What college you go to? Ah don’t believe y’all said wheah.”
“University of South Florida, in Tampa. I took a semester break, doing a few classes remotely while I cared for my grandparents here. Then, this happened and I became a horse, with my grandparents vanishing. Just what happened?” Sue said, nearly pleading.
Fred got up from his spot and moved to where he could sit beside the going-distraught mare. Wrapping a foreleg around hers, he just said in a calm voice, “Easy there, Sue. What happened to you happened to everyone all over the planet. Later on, when we’re all together, we’ll tell the whole story. You have a life to look forward to, and it does not have to be here. Just take a breath or two and relax. Breathe, okay?”
Sue nodded, breathing, calming down under Fred’s gentle influence. “Thank you, Fred. I needed that. I can wait until everyone gets here before telling stories. May I have a Coke, please?” she asked.
“Vanilla do you?” Frick asked as he opened the (admittedly very small) refrigerator.
“Works for me!” Sue said as she caught the can that headed for her. Fred showed her how to open it without spilling. “Haven’t had one since I came back. They don’t taste right warm.”
“Just what have you been living on, Sue?” Foster asked. “Ah know you don’t eat goat meat.”
“I graze most of the time,” Sue said. “There’s a place not far from camp that has a nice variety of tasty plants and some root vegetables, probably a left-behind garden. Plus, water from the bay, or collected rain, or something Will and I find while out scavenging.”
“Just where do you go to scavenge?” Fred asked. “Up north, the only place raided was the drugstore. The Winn-Dixie looked untouched.”
“We go farther south. We have canoes and rowboats, so we paddle down to the end of the bay. From there, it’s a short hike to Wal-Mart or Winn-Dixie. Why did you moor all the way up here?” Sue asked in return.
“After the run here from Apalachicola, this is the first marina we saw. It has fuel, so why look further?” Frick countered.
“Good point. What’s it like to sail over the ocean in this?” Sue asked, waving a hoof around. “I may live here in Florida, but I was never much for water activities. I like my gardening. It’s been a lot easier now than before.”
“That’s the magic of an earth pony, Sue,” Fred told her. “We have a way with plants, with the earth, with nature. We have books you can read that will teach you what you need to know about being a pony in general and earth ponies in particular.”
Sue sighed after drinking half the cold can of Coke. “Reading. Sounds like this whole thing was planned.”
“It was,” Frick said. “News at eleven on News Watch Seven.”
Sue actually smiled. “Down here, it’s news at eleven on Fox Thirteen,” she said.
“Back home, it’s news at Six on Six,” Foster said before some coffee.
By the time Frack and Freida returned from their flight, the goat steaks were thoroughly cooked through, a card table unfolded and placed at the end of the saloon table, and the eight sat down for a convivial dinner. Goat for the carnivores, mashed potatoes, rolls, porridge and a selection of jams and jellies to spread on the bread.
“One thing we noticed both ways are sinkholes. Big ones, scattered about. Wreckage and debris in almost all of them,” Frack mentioned while they ate.
Will nodded in agreement. “One opened up just this last week, down on Mango Street. It’s big enough to spread to the trailer parks on both sides of the road. Water on the bottom, too,” he told the group.
“How big is it? About fifty yards wide?” Frack asked.
“About that. Why do you ask?” Will countered.
Frieda spoke up. “Every sinkhole we flew over is about fifty yards wide, scattered between here and Saint Petersburg. Each one a few miles apart. Don’t think there’s much of a pattern. Could be wrong, though. We were more focused on our mission.”
“Sinkholes happen here in Florida, but so many here in Pinellas County?” Sue asked, confused. “That can’t be right.”
“It’s what we saw, Sue,” Frack replied. “Some buildings downtown have collapsed into the sinkholes, other places houses.”
“Why do I get the feeling that these sinkholes are not just random happenings?” Will said rhetorically.
“You may be right. I’ll ask Old Birdbrain tonight and see if he knows anything,” Fred said around a spoonful of porridge.
“Old Birdbrain?” Sue asked. That question led to an hour’s explanation about Fred’s meeting with Raven, Kolopin, and a couple of others.
“What about God?” Will asked.
“Not back yet, and when he does, his center of power will more than likely be the Middle East. Looks like this caught him with his divine britches down. If and when he gets here, I know I can look him in the face and ask, ‘what took you so long’?” Fred replied calmly.
“You seem rather blase about it, Fred. How can that be?” Will asked.
“I’m still following His word, and living by His laws. Not my fault he’s late for the party.”