The Missing
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A/N - this will be a series of one-shots about the search for family and friends by various individuals from The Last Ship. Each chapter is independent, so the dead may come to life. :) Upcoming one-shots include Carlton Burk, Sasha Cooper, and Gator. If you have a request or idea, let me know. I can't promise to write it but you never know until you ask!
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Character: Michael O'Connor
Setting: California - between seasons 2 and 3
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Michael Jonathon O'Connor held his breath as the Humvee slowed, Lieutenant Green maneuvering to avoid another obstacle blocking the road. He stared out at the freeway he had travelled a million times, one that was now barely recognizable, his hands gripping the bottom of the seat. Since making port in Long Beach twenty-eight hours before, there had been no time to think about how close he was to his home. First there was the rush of securing the perimeter and attending to the crowd that had gathered, looking for the cure, growing larger rather than smaller as word spread of their arrival. Then there was the actual matter of refueling the Nathan James, a process made automatically ten times more challenging because the berths were full of cruise ships that came in for supplies - and never left. Nobody wanted to be the one to have to clear those so, instead of trying to move one of the ships, Commander Garnett had created a daisy-chain of hoses from the fuel depo to the Nathan James.
As a result, MJ had been busy right up until the moment when Lieutenant Burk arrived. "O'Connor! You want a ride to LA or not?"
Before turning the fuel line over to Lieutenant Mir, MJ glanced at Commander Garnett for confirmation. She smiled at him, not the old smile that would light up her face, but a kind one nonetheless. "Go on O'Connor. I hope that you find them."
As he climbed into the Humvee with the TAC team and dog, MJ felt like he was already there. He could almost see his childhood home. The apartment where his dad said they were going to be in that text message MJ received as the Nathan James approached the East Coast, no clue of when it was sent. Their plan was to box themselves into the neighborhood, nobody in or out, not trusting some damn government run safe zone. An exact quote. Paul O'Connor might be a proud Marine who served his country in Vietnam, but he was also a skeptic and a bit of a conspiracy buff.
In other words, Paul was most likely one of those six million subscribers to the Valkyrie Network.
Since the team left the port, however, nothing had gone to plan. The last two hours had included delay after delay as they literally crawled the twenty miles from Long Beach to Watts, twice turning around when the congestion became impassable and once driving over the top of a mini after Green lost patience with Burk's attempts to guide them through a lock jam. Not that MJ blamed Green. Burk was damn good at boarding other ships, but he clearly knew nothing about LA traffic.
Nobody mentioned what might have caused thousands of people to simply abandon their cars on the freeway.
Now, only streets away from his destination, MJ was biting so hard on his cheek that he tasted blood. Around them scorched buildings had given way to giant red crosses, not a single sign of life. Halsey laid his head in MJ's lap and he absently stroked the dog's head, wondering if even an animal could tell how bad this was looking.
The Humvee stopped. Green turned around, his eyes landing on MJ. "The rubble is pretty bad. Are we close enough to walk?"
"Yes, sir." MJ managed to croak out the words.
"Everyone out!" Green ordered, and they flooded out of the Humvee like a clown car. "Don't leave anything behind, just in case."
Erik Miller was the first to speak, glancing at the ghost-town that surrounded them. "What happens if someone steals the Humvee?"
"Then I'll find us another ride," Green replied absently.
"You can hotwire a car?" Rick sounded shocked, leading to a round of laughter.
Green smirked, glancing at MJ. "Doubt that I'm the only one. Right O'Connor?"
"If I can keep the James' engine running, pretty sure I can get a car going." MJ replied with a nod, although he had to wonder whether Green was aware that the skill was not acquired during engineering training but rather during an ill-advised night out with his cousins when he was fourteen. One that had resulted in his father not just threatening but actually sending him to military school. Although, scratch that. Green and Benz were tight. Green probably knew better than anyone else here what it was like growing up in Los Angeles.
They made it three blocks before he felt it. The eyes. There were people watching them from the buildings and MJ couldn't decide if that was a good thing or bad. On the one side, people were alive. On the other, this could be another Baltimore. He could tell from the way that the team adjusted their weapons, spreading further apart, that he wasn't the only one to notice. Yet nobody spoke. Continuing down the street as though out for a pleasure stroll. Not a single suggestion that they back out, drop off some supplies with the cure, as MJ knew was the official protocol when ingress was deemed too risky.
MJ felt sweat dripping down his neck. The only reason that they were there was because of him. He hoped to hell that he hadn't brought them all here to die.
A door creaked open at the end of the street, the sound deafening in the silence, and the team's response was immediate. Fanning across the street, taking defensible positions. All except Green and MJ. Green because he was team leader and MJ because this was his turf.
A man stepped out, M4 in hand, eyes fixed on MJ. "Mikey, that you?"
"Yeah, Mr. Williams, it's me." MJ moved forward, feeling tears rise at the sight of the man who had run the corner grocery store for as long as he could remember. "Looking for my dad and brothers. You hear from them?"
"Paul is going to be so happy to see you!" Mr. Williams beamed at MJ, weapon dropping to his side. "He's been talking about nothing else since news came through about the Nathan James bringing home the cure. How his son was chosen for such an important mission. Come on, I'll take you to them. Those your guys?"
MJ nodded, reeling from the news. His father was alive! "Yes, sir. We're all from the James."
"That mean you got the cure with you?"
"Yes, sir." Green was the one to respond this time. "I have the shots right here. Once you take one, you're contagious. You spread the cure just by breathing."
Mr. Williams glanced at MJ. "He for real?"
"Yes sir," MJ responded again, grinning at the wonder on Mr. Williams's face.
"Okay then, give me one here." Mr. Williams responded. Before turning to yell down the street. "And the rest of you get down here and say hello to Mikey!"
As doors began opening, MJ found himself blinking away tears. Mr. Thompson from down the street appeared with his oldest son. Deandre and Darren, brothers a couple years behind him in elementary school, come out a doorway near Wolf. A few faces that were unfamiliar and then... "Nate!"
Meeting halfway down the street, he yanked his brother in for a hug. Tears flowing down both their faces. After a moment, Nate stepped back, grin splitting his face. "Knew you were too tough to kill."
"You too, man." MJ grinned back. "Ronnie?"
The smile on Nate's face slipped. "His ship didn't make it back. But, hey, you made it back from the Arctic. Ronnie could still be out there."
MJ found his own smile fading as he calculated the odds of another Navy ship still being out there. They weren't good. He changed the subject. "We got the cure with us. Come on. I'll get you a shot."
Ten shots later, they were moving again. Nate filling MJ in on what had happened over the past year. The government collapsing. The gangs fighting over territory. Some guy named Castillo from San Diego trying to horn his way into LA.
"We took care of Castillo, for sure." Darren threw in. "Damn asshole thought he could just roll on in. So we blew up the road. Should've seen them trying to get through."
The group began to recount the problems that they caused for the advancing guard, which explained impassable roads. They were almost to MJ's street when he heard Miller loudly whisper to Burk. "Why are they all staring at me?"
MJ could see Green was rolling his eyes, but Burk's voice was completely neutral when he replied. "Because you're white."
"There are no white people here?" Miller asked, again the whisper not as quiet as he must have thought.
Ravit reached over to hit him in the back of the head. "Damn farm boy."
Catching the way that a Deandre and a couple of the guys fell back, deliberately shadowing Miller the way they would with rich teenagers who came here looking for drugs, MJ turned, scowling. "When was the last time any of you took back a destroyer and routed a group of insurgents with hammers and a crowbar? Because until you do that, you show Miller there some respect."
That got Miller a few considering looks. He ducked, blushing. "I just helped. O'Connor climbed the damn anchor chain and scaled the nose of the ship. Eighty feet from the water to get back on board. With helos circling."
Now the eyes swung back to MJ. Mr. Williams whistled. "Sounds like you have some pretty good stories to tell, Mikey. And I know someone who wants to hear every one."
Looking in the direction that Mr. Williams was pointing, MJ felt something in his chest give way. There, only thirty steps away, stood Paul O'Connor.
His father.