October moved into November without any rain. We started making water runs again with a fleet of three milk trucks to nearby reservoirs. Water remained from the flood because no one was using it anymore like they had before.

       Everywhere among the village inhabitants, pregnancies were seen with obvious baby bumps and ravenous appetites. Melody was growing more than the others, but insisted on going on the raids. She wouldn't let me tell her that she was endangering both herself and the child.

       Even Dani Steffensen, first mate of the Rambler, was pregnant. I didn't dare ask her who the father was. The ship had a strict rule against cohabitation among the crew, but all bets were off after the pandemic, obviously. Other members of the crew were showing baby bumps and the hotel was full of girls as young as fourteen showing pregnancy. The village would grow because it was the natural order of things no rules could control. We would need young people to repair the damage. I was happy to be a new father at 18. What a responsibility!

       We continued our raids to gang locations into mid-November. Finally, removing all that we were aware of within 20 miles of the compound and port. It wasn't without casualties. We lost two volunteers who were killed when bullets from gang members penetrated their armor between their helmet and their vest. Twelve of us received wounds to arms, hands, legs and feet. I ended up with sore ribs after being hit twice. Some of us even got broken ribs if hit by a shotgun slug.

       Throughout the campaign that lasted nearly a month with many skirmishes and some firefights, we rescued thirty-five women and children and even some men who were being held by the gangs either as hostages or slaves. And our jails swelled with six women and three men we couldn't trust kept for observation and interrogation until we could. They all were emaciated and begged for help.

       Gathering up all the survivors with medical skills or training we staffed the village Medical Center to take our sick and wounded, relieving the infirmary on the Rambler that had been overloaded for so long. Stragglers kept trickling in, some from the distant suburbs and as far as the San Fernando Valley in the north and Irvine in the south. They all told us that they had heard we had food, clean water and a safe place to live. The one from the south told us perilous tales of crossing the flood damaged area of the Los Angeles River basin. Freeway pillars about to fall down with holes in them.

       Our two dead were given honorary funerals at sea for their service. They had friends that they had made during their brief time with us, but fortunately the two men were alone when they came to us originally with no family alive that they knew of. But we kept good records in the village offices of all of our villagers, in case relatives did show up and were looking for their kin.

       As we opened up sections of the medical center, a survival medical technician who had never done ultrasound scans took a look at the instruction book for the machine. She told the health and medical committee she thought she could operate the machine correctly, both from her training and understanding of the process.

       She was assigned to the job and soon there was a long line of women wanting to have her look at their pregnancies. Melody wasn't the first, but she was one of the first to get an image and invited Flower and me to come along.

       Melody's anxiety grew, as we approached the room after being called from the waiting room. "Dra, I hope everything's going to be okay. Remember that Marsha put the stethoscope on me and heard something strange about the heartbeat?"

       "Don't worry. You seem really healthy and you're growing faster than the others. Everything will be all right."

       As we entered the door the medical technician, a Chinese lady, named An, had melody come over to the table. But first she had her sit on the table while she checked her blood pressure and put a stethoscope on her.

       An said, "You seem to have an abnormal heartbeat. I don't recall ever hearing this in training. It sounds like two heartbeats."

       "Twins?" Melody was surprised. "Oh my God!" And Flower laughed.

       "Mommy, I hope I have a sister?"

       "Let's take a look at the 3D ultrasound and AI evaluation." I was as excited as she was.

       Melanie got on the table and the technician conducted the ultrasound with everyone watching on the big, curved screen overhead projecting the 3D image. The image was very clear of two fetuses with one normal and the other one breach in perfect symmetry with their arms and legs moving freely.

       Flower was jumping up and down, Melody was crying, and I was assured that the future of the village was not in survivors, but in future generations from babies born like this--starting over. We asked and got a copy of the ultrasound sent to us so that we could show everyone the fantastic results.

       In spite of the growing drought that had grown worse for several years, our backyard and rooftop gardens continued to provide the necessary vegetables and greens that we all needed for a balanced diet. Thanks to our irrigation systems that even provided water for fruit and nut trees, keeping them alive and producing for us.

       The drought had been interrupted some years occasionally by downpours that created more landslides and flooding, but nothing like the hurricane had back in July. We didn't know how much rain we would get when the rains came this fall or not. It was necessary to make sure we had a steady and reliable source of fresh water. I looked to the Los Angeles River for that. After the hurricane and flood, it had been flowing cleaner each week and it didn't dry up so far like it had before.

       Ray found that the water at the Santa Monica pier had cleaned up enough so that fish were returning to shelter under its shadow and feed on what grew on the pilings. With his net, he was able to bring fresh fish to our tables every few days. With kids, he also gathered mussels from the pilings and clams from the sand. Shrimp were caught where creeks entered the Pacific. Something that hadn't been done in a long time in that area but was coming back already.

       With all of that plenty and with children eager to return to normal, we had trick-or-treating in the compound over Halloween and we began to plan Thanksgiving celebrations. We were also thankful that even though so few of us survived, we were now thriving at the end of the first summer and really needed to celebrate.

       At a town meeting, it was decided that each of the locations would have a Thanksgiving dinner at home. So, we planned a traditional Thanksgiving in the compound on Thursday, inviting others who wanted to come and join us.

       On the following Saturday, the fish market planned a buffet of many dishes by all of the occupants in the village. It promised to be a wonderful affair with singing and dancing from live acts all day and into the evening as well as lots of Asian and other ethnic fish and seafood dishes.

       And then on Sunday, everyone was invited to a formal champagne dinner in the Rambler's main dining room that would be fully waited on by Rambler staff and volunteers from the village, to wrap up the Thanksgiving weekend celebrations with movies in the theater after.

       Two days before Thanksgiving it was a time of rut for California black tailed deer. When Ray, Derek and I, along with a couple of other volunteer hunters, waited for the sun to come up, we found the deer had all gathered in a running creek bed about a quarter mile from the gate.

       The bucks were all fueled with testosterone and more interested in the does that had also gathered to observe their champions and mate with them, than us. We snuck up on them easily downwind. We each picked out a buck and the three of us fired at the same time. We had fresh venison for our Thanksgiving dinner like the Pilgrims.

       The next morning, we waited in a blind we made for the sun and a flock of tom turkeys that had also come to that stream to drink where the we had observed them before. When they got within range, we opened up with shotguns and had five turkeys for our meal the next day. Along the way, we picked up some rabbits and quail as we returned to the compound with our kill to clean it.

       On Thanksgiving, about 100 people joined us from the port and the Rambler, including Van and Quoc Nguyen, Captain Jens Jensen and his first mate, Dani Steffensen, and some of his mates, as well as Sheriff Morgan Singh, leaving the security of the port in the hands of newly trained deputies and guards.

       To say everyone had a good time and went home with regrets for overeating would be an understatement. After it was all over, Melody and I went for a walk to try to get rid of all the excess and prepare for the feast to follow on Saturday. Nobody ate anything on Friday to prepare.

       Saturday came too soon and we left the compound to our electronics and booby-traps so that all of us could go to the fish market for the huge buffet that was available there. That party lasted well into the night and there were fireworks over the water everyone enjoyed, especially the children.

       Once again, Sunday came too early but we all fasted until about 4 o'clock when we closed the compound again and all of us went down to the ship to the main dining room. There, we were treated to anything on the menu, free-flowing champagne and exquisite desserts to go with the rich coffee and after dinner drinks.

       But, we were in the middle of our main course at the captain's table while being serenaded by an orchestra of talented musicians gathered from survivors when we heard "popping" from off the ship and telephones began ringing.

       I looked at Morgan as he answered his and I swear that his face turned white as he yelled at me and others, "They're breaching the gate! We've got to get going…!"

       The deputies with him all jumped into action and ran for the dining room entrance. Melody and I were close behind. But we needed guns and it took awhile for Captain Jensen to get to where the guns were stored and open it so that we could all get armed and loaded.

       The deputies were already engaging the marauders with their pistols from the ship's railings, but were no match for the AR-15s shooting from below. Most of those picking up weapons joined them at the rails shooting down with more firepower.

       In the meantime, the intruders had driven down to the fish market and were helping themselves to food and throwing it into their pickups. If anyone fired at them from the hotel, they fired back. But worse, the two guards at the entrance to the ramp to the Rambler were soon killed and the marauders got into the lower deck crew passageways to the kitchens above and other parts of the ship.

       All of the elderly, women, and children were escorted to the top floors and helped to hide in locked state rooms until it was clear to come out. The fear and panic as they all rushed up the stairs made a wave of desperate humanity with some stumbling and falling, screaming. Some of the elderly had to take the elevators and they were jammed. The crew locked the elevators as soon as the last elderly were safe for the moment to keep the attackers from using them.

       With Captain Jensen's help, we fanned out with AR-15 automatic rifles and headed down all of the stairs, including the staff stairs that were very narrow.

       We had to fight our way down as they came up. The sheriff and two deputies took the one main staircase. Melody and I, backed by some others, took the other main staircase. Fortunately, from our battles earlier, we knew how they would behave, but we were without our armor and no longer bulletproof. I feared for Melody and the babies and made her stay behind me as a shield.

       As bursts of automatic weapons were heard throughout the ship, we watched for the slightest movement below as we descended slowly making sure we had a deadly shot before pulling the trigger. We knew the attackers would fire wildly and if we got low they would shoot over us.

       Before we got to ramp on Deck 4 we were stepping over bodies of those we shot. It was gruesome. Fortunately, some of the crew of the ship had brought bazookas to the rail and fired upon all of the pickups, destroying them and anyone still there in or near them.

       So those escaping our firing on them did not have their vehicles and were fired on from the rails of the ship and the hotel. When we got to the ramp where the two original guards lay dead and mutilated, we heard firing down the Deck 4 hallways, so Melody and I moved down the right one that curved gently with the ship's hull toward the bow and the sheriff and his deputies down the left one to the rear. These hallways were so dangerous because any bullets fired would ricochet back down the hall. And good even get someone around the curve a long distance away.

       Fortunately, there was no one in that hall, although we heard firing behind us where Sheriff Morgan was. We came up behind two marauders firing up the crew stairs unaware of our coming and we quickly ended their attack.

       Suddenly, I realized that I had been grazed because blood was flowing onto my right shoulder and a pain in my side turned out to be a bullet that went straight through. Everything got dark and the last thing I saw was Melody reaching for me as I fell.

Copyright 2023 © Ronald W. Hull

11/12/23