five-by-five, what’s your twenty,
over?”
Critias could hardly
believe their luck that he had inadvertently held the transmit
button down while they had talked. He exclaimed, “Holy Hell,” to
voice his elated surprise on multiple levels. The Fat Jack that
Critias knew from history was an important man associated with the
saga of King Louie. They remembered him as a founding father of
greatest esteem. “My name is Critias and I’m with my partner
Carmen,” he transmitted back. “We’re hiding out in our truck behind
these three sand hills on the east bank of the river. There are
some barges here and big rusty conveyor arms sticking out over the
water. We’re here trying to find the great King Louie.”
“ Stay quiet then and keep
your heads down,” Fat Jack advised. “There are a lot of unfriendly
natives in your vicinity. We’re familiar with your exact location
and aren’t far away. King Louie will be happy to receive visitors
and offer sanctuary for those asking. This is a lucky day for
everyone involved. Keep hidden and I’ll contact you within a few
hours.”
Critias replied,
“Understood. We’ll be waiting.”
Carmen made conversation
while they waited, “That is an interesting name his ship has.” She
sensed that Critias’ thoughts were on something similar.
He agreed with her in that
he liked the sound of it, “Are you going to make me ask before
telling me what it means?”
She informed him, “The HMS
Thunder Child was an ironclad warship in a novel by H. G. Wells.
The first part means, ‘his majesty’s ship’, in this case presumably
King Louie. The Thunder Child fought against invading lifeforms
from the planet Mars armed with their technologically superior
battle machines. It was about brave men with crude technology
fighting against an insurmountably more advanced invader. If you
would like, I could recite the story to you. I think you would
enjoy the parts with the brave ironclad as much as I do; it’s my
favorite.”
“ I would like to hear it,
and we do have the time to start.” He adjusted his seat to listen
comfortably, “Tell me the story so long as you can do it quietly,
and explain the parts I don’t understand.”
Carmen beamed that she was
pleased with his participation and started telling the novel in a
low voice, accurate to the letter, but with clever character voices
where there was dialog. Her story progressed unabated until two and
a half hours later when Fat Jack called them on the radio
again.
The hushed storytelling
hadn’t attracted any of the scavenging infected that passed through
the immediate area. Several times some wandering ghoul had
blundered near to their hidden place at the center of the sand
hills. If one of them had spotted food and then started to howl
about it, all that noise would have summoned in many more feeders.
It was fortunate for Critias and Carmen that to the ghouls, one
truck appeared the same as any of the other abandoned vehicles that
endlessly dotted the landscape in every direction.
“ We’re just about there,”
Fat Jack told them. “There is a pier just north of you that we’ve
used before and will support your vehicle. When I give you the
word, drive out on that dock and we’ll do the rest.”
Carmen pointed out a dark
column of smoke that streamed up into the sky from something that
floated down the river, “That must be Fat Jack.”
The man radioed, “Time to
go.”
Carmen started the engine,
put the truck into gear, and then accelerated the half-slipping
tires through the loose sand. Once the truck was free of the
barrier sand mounds, they saw the Thunder Child clearly. The ship
was a retrofitted paddleboat that had been an antique for
generations long before the Outbreak.
However humble her founding
origins in antiquity may have been, the restored Thunder Child was
perfectly adapted to a survival necessities world where she was a
confidence inspiring transport. Apart from being clad in ghoul
repulsing
over?”
Critias could hardly
believe their luck that he had inadvertently held the transmit
button down while they had talked. He exclaimed, “Holy Hell,” to
voice his elated surprise on multiple levels. The Fat Jack that
Critias knew from history was an important man associated with the
saga of King Louie. They remembered him as a founding father of
greatest esteem. “My name is Critias and I’m with my partner
Carmen,” he transmitted back. “We’re hiding out in our truck behind
these three sand hills on the east bank of the river. There are
some barges here and big rusty conveyor arms sticking out over the
water. We’re here trying to find the great King Louie.”
“ Stay quiet then and keep
your heads down,” Fat Jack advised. “There are a lot of unfriendly
natives in your vicinity. We’re familiar with your exact location
and aren’t far away. King Louie will be happy to receive visitors
and offer sanctuary for those asking. This is a lucky day for
everyone involved. Keep hidden and I’ll contact you within a few
hours.”
Critias replied,
“Understood. We’ll be waiting.”
Carmen made conversation
while they waited, “That is an interesting name his ship has.” She
sensed that Critias’ thoughts were on something similar.
He agreed with her in that
he liked the sound of it, “Are you going to make me ask before
telling me what it means?”
She informed him, “The HMS
Thunder Child was an ironclad warship in a novel by H. G. Wells.
The first part means, ‘his majesty’s ship’, in this case presumably
King Louie. The Thunder Child fought against invading lifeforms
from the planet Mars armed with their technologically superior
battle machines. It was about brave men with crude technology
fighting against an insurmountably more advanced invader. If you
would like, I could recite the story to you. I think you would
enjoy the parts with the brave ironclad as much as I do; it’s my
favorite.”
“ I would like to hear it,
and we do have the time to start.” He adjusted his seat to listen
comfortably, “Tell me the story so long as you can do it quietly,
and explain the parts I don’t understand.”
Carmen beamed that she was
pleased with his participation and started telling the novel in a
low voice, accurate to the letter, but with clever character voices
where there was dialog. Her story progressed unabated until two and
a half hours later when Fat Jack called them on the radio
again.
The hushed storytelling
hadn’t attracted any of the scavenging infected that passed through
the immediate area. Several times some wandering ghoul had
blundered near to their hidden place at the center of the sand
hills. If one of them had spotted food and then started to howl
about it, all that noise would have summoned in many more feeders.
It was fortunate for Critias and Carmen that to the ghouls, one
truck appeared the same as any of the other abandoned vehicles that
endlessly dotted the landscape in every direction.
“ We’re just about there,”
Fat Jack told them. “There is a pier just north of you that we’ve
used before and will support your vehicle. When I give you the
word, drive out on that dock and we’ll do the rest.”
Carmen pointed out a dark
column of smoke that streamed up into the sky from something that
floated down the river, “That must be Fat Jack.”
The man radioed, “Time to
go.”
Carmen started the engine,
put the truck into gear, and then accelerated the half-slipping
tires through the loose sand. Once the truck was free of the
barrier sand mounds, they saw the Thunder Child clearly. The ship
was a retrofitted paddleboat that had been an antique for
generations long before the Outbreak.
However humble her founding
origins in antiquity may have been, the restored Thunder Child was
perfectly adapted to a survival necessities world where she was a
confidence inspiring transport. Apart from being clad in ghoul
repulsing
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