Paul Jones: Revelations

The soldier’s playful demeanor dropped away and he instantly snapped to attention, followed by a brisk salute. “Sir!” he said, twisted on his heels, and was gone, but not before he gave Rhiannon a playful wink and a farewell, “Ladies.”

“You’ll have to excuse Jimmy, modesty is not his forte. He’s a hell of a soldier but a bit of a charmer, I’m afraid,” the captain said, his voice taking on a tone of obvious affection for the man. He took Emily by the elbow and maneuvered her toward the door. “He left most of his troop back in Nova Scotia. They were a tight-knit bunch and he’s taken it pretty hard.”

Emily nodded. Everyone had lost someone because of the red rain. “Can you spare a few minutes to come and meet Jacob?” she asked.

Captain Constantine scanned the room, which had settled into a less frenetic scene. “Everything seems to be under control,” he said, more to himself than Emily. He caught the attention of one of the nearest sailors.

“Sir?”

“Ms. Baxter has asked me to accompany her to the other building. If you need me, you know where to find me.”

“Sir!” the man nodded his understanding.

Emily glanced to the back of the room where Thor still waited patiently. “Thor, come,” Emily said. The big dog was instantly at her side.

“He’s a beautiful dog,” said the captain, admiring the malamute as he joined them, sniffing the captain’s boots and trouser legs.

“I owe him my life,” Emily said matter-of-factly. She reached down and stroked the side of Thor’s head.

“Well I hope we’ll have the time for you to tell me all about your adventures, Ms. Baxter. Please, lead the way.”

Emily zipped her parka shut then made sure Rhiannon’s was also secured, flipping the girl’s hood into place, followed by her own.

“Call me Emily,” she said finally as she turned and headed toward the exit that would take them back out into the storm.

The squall had grown even more furious, whipping between the buildings so violently that it felt like multiple pairs of hands trying to push Emily over. She felt a sense of dread begin to permeate through the layers of clothing and chill her bones. If the red storm, which seemed to have slowed to a stop at the edge of the Arctic Circle, was once again pushing in on this tiny island, then there was nowhere left for them to run to. The effect of the cold on the creatures she had crossed paths with had been obvious: They either died or fell into some kind of hibernation, but she had no idea if the storm would be affected in a similar way. Surrounded on all sides now, she and the other survivors would have to hunker down here and hope that whatever changes the storm brought with it would at least leave them alive when it passed. If it passed.

“Use the guide rope,” Emily yelled to the others, pointing at the thick, red rope strung between the buildings that would ensure they did not stray off track in the blinding snow. Visibility was down to just a few feet. She pulled Rhiannon in front of her and headed in the direction of the main building where Jacob was still waiting, the light from its windows appearing periodically as a faint orange glow through the dense sheets of snow. At least there was no red mixed in with the dove-white flakes.

Even Thor seemed eager to get back inside. He loped on ahead through the storm, pacing impatiently at the entrance to the main building when they finally caught up with him.

Once inside they brushed off the snow and ice that had collected on their shoulders and around the hood of their parkas, allowing the warm air to revitalize their chilled skin.

Jacob was waiting for them in his room.

“Hello Captain,” he said, stretching a hand out in greeting. “I hope you’ll excuse me not getting up.”

Constantine gave a good-hearted chuckle and gripped the man’s hand in his own. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Emily told me a lot about you in our radio conversation.”

Jacob shot Emily a sharp look, but a second later the smile was back. “None of it bad, I hope?”

“All good, I can assure you,” the captain said, giving no indication that he was aware of the tension between them, but he quickly eased the subject away from Jacob. “I was just thanking Ms. Bax… Emily for your help, Jacob. My crew and I are indebted to you, more than you could know.”

“Well, I can assure you that your thanks should go entirely to Emily, Captain. She’s the one in command… apparently,” said Jacob with a smile and no hint of sarcasm. Before anyone could reply, Jacob wheeled himself out of the room. “If you’d follow me, please,” he said politely over his shoulder. He led the way to a larger conference room farther along the corridor, and gestured for them to take a seat.

“Can I get you a drink?” he asked, holding up a half-full bottle of whisky.

The captain declined politely.

“So, how can we help you?” Jacob said once they had all taken a seat and he had a half-filled glass of whisky in his hand.

“As I explained to Emily, we had originally planned on staying submerged for as long as we could, but the fire has basically scuppered that idea,” said the captain. “What we’d like from you is a place for our injured to rest while they recuperate. Only so long as this damn storm lasts, then we can repair our boat. And of course, we would like to make arrangements to deal with our dead.”

“And after that?” Jacob said abruptly, a smile still fixed disarmingly to his face.

“Well, that rather depends on you and how long that storm holds out for. If you’d like to come with us when we leave, we have more than enough bunk space for all of you.”

“And where exactly do you plan on heading?” Emily asked. She tried to hold back the note of uncertainty she felt edging into her voice.

“As soon as we are able we’ll reestablish communication with the nearest naval base and have them send out a rescue vessel.”

Emily felt her heart sink. “Captain, you said you’d maintained radio silence since the red rain fell, right?” He nodded, a question forming on his lips, but Emily ploughed on. “So you have no idea what caused the deaths or how wide spread the devastation is?”

The captain’s questioning look was replaced by one of uncertainty. “We assumed it was some kind of viral outbreak or maybe a highly organized and effective terrorist attack. You have information that would indicate otherwise?”

Emily sighed. In the confusion of the past six-or-so hours, Emily had not even considered the possibility that the British submarine crew would have no inkling of what was really happening in the world left behind after the red rain. And why would they? They had been submerged since the rain fell and maintaining radio silence. There was no way they could know.

“You’d better have that drink, Captain,” Emily said. “Because I’ve got a hell of a story to tell you.”

Captain Constantine sat in a chair and listened as Emily spoke, his chin resting on the interlaced fingers of his hands, eyes never leaving Emily for an instant, never interrupting her as she recounted the harrowing details of the events leading up to and during her trip. She chose to leave out Jacob’s outright deception (although she was tempted not to) and skipped over the more painful parts of the story after she met Rhiannon and her family; there was no need to stress the poor kid out.

When she was done, Constantine continued to stare at her, a look of wariness behind his steel-gray eyes. Understandable, she supposed as she returned his stare; Emily knew he probably possessed a highly tuned bullshit detector after years of navy service, but he must also be a highly intelligent pragmatist to have achieved the position of Captain of a nuclear submarine. It wasn’t like they handed out those positions to just anyone, after all. Still, his inscrutable gaze made her uneasy.