There will be a retrospective, just like my other stories.
Epilogue
Morning came in the blowing wind.
Early light crept through the shut blinds. The room was small and isolated, with a purpose of hiding. Concrete blocks and hasty reconstruction patched the structure of it together, leaving barely enough room for day to day furniture. Inside sat a bed, just big enough to squeeze in two people, a set of desk and chair, a wooden makeshift closet, and a few light sources. Such a rudimentary setup would never be fit enough for a commander, yet here it was, in these difficult times.
Cindy was awoken by the air of sun rise. She sat up on the bed. There was nothing strange about this morning, except for the fact that she was alone in the room.
A knock on the door came.
"Who is it?" Cindy fixed up her clothes while getting out of bad.
"Me." She recognises Francis well enough. "Zoey in there?"
"No."
"We need her out the training yard by eight."
"Ok."
She heard footsteps of the biker walking away.
Cindy hastily grabbed some clothes and fixed herself up. The first few nights here, she was struggling to fall asleep, but had since then gotten used to sleeping on something that isn't the floor. Now that she had become comfortable, keeping her garments in check was becoming more of a problem.
Not taking any more time than she already had, the Witch stepped outside.
She walked across the second floor halls of the old fort. Her morning ritual involved checking on the integrity of the floor, as well as construction efforts downstairs. As she passed the pile of rubbles, the working group noticed her. Most of them inadvertently took a step back, but one made the effort to greet her with an awkward smile and hoarse voice. She waved back at them, all of them.
Cindy continued on. Her aim was a ruined gate at the back of the fort's ground. It lead to behind the structure itself.
From the other side, she could see a patch of land, wrapped within the ocean vast. The sea had its wonders, of which she had become rather intimate with. The land, however, was riddled with gravestones. There was a unique one, with rectangular shape instead of plaque, and a white outline.
Next to it sat a familiar face.
"Good morning, Cindy." Zoey turned to the Witch, showing a pained smile. "I'm sorry I left before you wake up."
"It's ok." Cindy shortened the distance between them. "How's Louis?"
"I think he's doing ok." Zoey handed the Witch a white wild blossom with her left arm rested on her thigh; her right arm hung uselessly.
"What about you?" Cindy placed the flower on the headstone.
"I'm fine." Zoey stood up and was readying to leave. "What did you come here for?"
"Francis wants you on the ground at eight." Zoey checked her watch.
"We have thirty minutes." She started walking, prompting Cindy to follow her. "We should get some breakfast first."
It was a silent walk to the mess hall. This facility was abandoned after the failed reconstruction in 1987, but since the island became sustainable due to the purge of the infected, it was finally put into operation. Instead of stored supplies, soldiers and refugees could now afford to eat actual cooked meals. It was one of the reasons everyone was so on board with the infrastructure upgrades.
"Good morning, commander," said one of the soldiers as he walked past the two.
"Good morning, private."
The two of them came through the food line. It was a simple serving of eggs for both of them, but it was bliss regardless. They had eyes tailing, but no one spoke aloud. The two just took it as a sign of good faith. It took people a long time to get used to having a Witch walking around amongst them, and she still had to live in a secluded room just in case someone went crazy, but today was a fine day.
"Open up." Zoey scooped up a slice on her spoon and held it near Cindy's mouth. It was such a scene every morning: a cripple feeding a Witch, whose claws for fingers rendered her incapable of delicate motor skills. "Don't be embarrassed."
It was impossible not to be mortified if one was being cared for like they were infants. Regardless, Cindy struggled through conflicting feelings, and ate the food handed to her. Zoey finished feeding first before eating her own share, without a single deviation from her smile.
The clock strikes eight in the morning.
"I have to go Cindy. Don't wait up for me."
The Witch nodded in compliance. She was free to do whatever she wanted. Perhaps she'll try making acquaintances again.
It didn't take long to get to the field from where Zoey was. At times like these she wondered if she should have prepared the uniform, but ultimately decided against it. If she went in with jackets and jeans, she's going out with jackets and jeans. There was no platform to stand on, no microphone to yell into. All of that government bureaucracy had long since been removed from Fort Jefferson. Every meeting required everyone involved, in person. She deemed it was the best way to build trust, and few disagreed.
"Men." She stood in front of the thirty soldiers, military salute. "Today marks the sixth month of our independence. Since then, each one of you has been assigned a task and a group. Report."
"Second month of farm running. Smooth operations, commander." First row.
"Progress on the road?"
"Road is prospected to finish within thirteen days, ma'am." Second row.
"Reconstruction?"
"The right wing and the gate has finished. Left wing will take another thirty days, commander." Third row.
"Ten days ago you said the same thing, private. What's your excuse?"
"There was a miscalculation in materials." Third row's answer clearly did not satisfy her. "We have no excuses, commander."
"You're not late yet. Take ten volunteers. You have 15 days." She tapped him on the shoulder with her good hand. "Else you're demoted."
"Understood."
"Scouts have finished clearing both Bush Key and Long Key, commander. All remaining infected bodies had been purged." Last row.
"Very good." A pause. "Your task is now to bring the pier back to working order."
"Yes, commander."
"Ten minutes until eight thirty. Anyone has anything else to share?"
Silence.
"Good, dismissed."
Francis was waiting for her on the wing. There was no more than a hundred people in the fort, but it still made her glad to see him.
"You're doing well." He offered her a sandwich; she turned it down. He shrugged and started eating it. "Sorry I'm not being very supportive."
"I know you have troubles with authority, Francis." Zoey had operations to oversee, but otherwise today would be another peaceful day. "Can't believe you volunteer for the farm though."
"Cindy told you that?" He scratched his head in embarrassment. "She loved the animals."
"She did. She also said you helped her learn to read." Zoey caught him off guard with a hug. "Thank you."
"I know you're busy. I try my best to help." He beamed a satisfied smile, patting her on the back with his clean hand. "I know you're also busy in your private times."
"Can we not talk about that?" She pulled away, cheeks flushed.
"It's not my fault that I'm the only who's not getting any." They both laughed.
"Try treating random people with a little more respect, Francis." They were on the move once again. "Maybe then people would start looking at you, and not your attitude."
"Fine, but if they start talking shit about my jacket, I'm out."
They parted ways in front of the captain's office. It had been modified a lot since the times when Washington still occupied the place. The array of books once present had been moved to the library, along with the bookshelves. Most of his personal belongings were distributed among the soldiers for private use. The only things that was still here was the office furniture, official documents and the dusty announcement set.
Sitting down, Zoey opened a compartment under her desk. It held a pistol, the same one that took away her right arm. She stared at it for a few moments, then stashed it away.
Her true attention was on the schematics on top of the desk. It was the design for the renovation plan of the fort. Since every piece of land that was connected to here have been confirmed to be clear of infected, it should be fairly easy to utilise a lot more land once Fort Jefferson was fixed up. Once everything became truly self-sustained, it would be the best place to be.
Marking down the progresses reported, Zoey's mind drifted. She remembered her conversation with Bill from what seemed like a life time ago. She recalled how headstrong she was, how she wanted to fight back instead of just running away, how everything she did was still under these holistic ideals.
She realised how close she was to that probability.
Priorities were priorities, however. Zoey had far many more people under her care than before, and if anything, she had the responsibility for their well-being. It was exhausting, but it was still better than being on the run again. What good could she do now, anyway?
She briefly peered at her right arm, still hanging by her side.
Sighing, Zoey wrapped up the papers. There wasn't too much going on.
A knock on the door.
"Can I come in?" It was Cindy standing outside. Naturally, Zoey let her in. "I found something."
Intrigued, Zoey followed her out. She noticed how the Witch was dripping wet, which was normal since swimming was always something people liked doing. Soon, she found herself standing outside the fort, by the pier, lost in the sea waves. Cindy, however, seemed to be very concerned with a car by the water edge. It was wet as well.
"Where did this car come from?"
"I found it underwater when I was swimming." Zoey smiled faintly. "I was curious, so I pulled it up."
"Only you could do something like that Cindy."
Zoey approached the once submerged vehicle. It seemed to have been sealed off before going under, and had not been breached by the water pressure. Perhaps it was in shallow water, though it was a mystery as to how deep Cindy could actually have swum. She grabbed at the handle, but it was locked.
"Want me to open it for you?" Zoey nodded. Even if she had both hands, it was still a tossup whether she could have managed this on her own.
Cindy tried pulling, but to no avail. Frustrated, she simply tore of the car door by its hinges. It was an expected outcome. Discarding the hunk of metal onto the sand bed, both of them peeked into the car's interior. Zoey turned on her flashlight, and focused on the object in the driver seat. It was hard to really examine it.
"Cindy, can you bring that out and hold it for me."
The Witch did just that. She held in her hands a bulky, metallic mechanical device. It had a keyboard, a base, a large needle, and several constructions she could not identify.
"What is this, Zoey?"
"Looks like a telegraph machine of some kind." Zoey took a moment to estimate the situation. "Bring this back to our room, please. I'll look at it after dinner."
The sun soon faded. Zoey and Cindy were alone, with this strange machine in hand.
"Do you know how this works?" asked the Witch. She was eagerly peaking at every corner of it.
"These days it's usually more e-mails and instant messages." Cindy only stared in silent. "I remember seeing something like this in a museum."
Zoey plugged in the machine, and attempted to work it. She had prepared the sheets of paper needed, and slotted them in. Treating the device as a monitor-less computer, she were typing in Morse codes, button combinations, and just plain random messages. Nothing worked, however, and she was left frustrated.
"Is it broken?"
"I honestly have no idea." She had no choice but to give this endeavour a rest. Midnight was approaching quite soon. "I'll ask around tomorrow. There ought to be someone here old enough to vaguely know how to work this."
"So what now?"
"We're taking a shower, then going to sleep." If there was any commander privilege that Zoey asked for selfishly, it was a personal bathroom for the two of them. "Come on, Cindy."
The two left the room, ready to finish up the day. Within the dark cover of lonely, chilling concrete, the machine sprang to life.
It was printing a live message.