Angel Island (2)

The destination was another dock at the northern part of the base. Following the road that ran along the beach, the vehicle slid northward. Small beaches flickered past the car window. Red buoys riding the waves. They must have laid mines. Gyeo-ul guessed the reason for not departing from the southern dock.

‘The road must be a mess. It’s probably no different from a haphazardly expanded urban area.’

A gigantic city where all sorts of ships gathered in disorder, laying anchor. And the streets flowing and trembling in real time. There was no way the roads snaking between them could be normal.

The northern edge of the base was blocked by a line of barricades. They were made by stacking containers. In the deepening darkness, the rusted brands piled up evoked an end-of-century feeling. Soldiers patrolled on top of them. With no lights or railings, it looked extremely dangerous. Tilting his head, Gyeo-ul briefly brought down his night vision goggles.

As expected. The entire barricade was illuminated with light outside the visible spectrum.

“It’s unexpected. I thought we could take a helicopter from here,”

Joanna expressed doubt. It was impossible to go directly to the CIA stronghold. However, riding to Angel Island should have been fine. Why take a boat again? Second lieutenant Baker answered.

“Ah, I heard that was the original plan. But now it’s not possible.”

“Why is that?”

“They overworked the helicopters for container transport and turned them into scrap metal. The maintenance crew gave up long ago; cannibalizing parts is at its limit too. Someone said it’s practically gambling with your life to fly one now. Even so, during the typhoon, they were forced to operate them, so now it’s just not feasible.”

“A typhoon…?”

“The barricade collapsed. We were on full alert. It’s a miracle we didn’t have a crash.”

“Ah.”

Joanna nodded. San Francisco was a city notorious for severe storms and floods.

One of those helicopters was near the dock as well. Its blades lay neatly extended. It looked fine from the outside. But the fact that it was parked this close to the sea meant they no longer intended to manage it.

The second lieutenant turned off the ignition.

“Let’s get off. You’ll need to transfer boats here.”

He led the way across the sandy beach. Every step crunched from debris washed up by the waves. Sand and water were scarcely visible. The side that rippled was the sea, and the other side was land. Gyeo-ul frowned. Somewhere nearby, a thick stench of gunpowder drifted in. Turning his head in that direction, he saw a pitch-black pile beyond the windbreak, as dark as twilight.

Joanna again wore a worried expression.

“With so much flotsam, won’t there be problems en route?”

The second lieutenant replied, unbothered.

“That’s why we’re sending another boat as escort and backup. The biggest problem is the fishing nets people set out, still trying to catch fish in this disgusting sea. If the net breaks, they never bother to retrieve it—just tie it to buoys and let it float. Engines and propellers get ruined all the time. Warnings don’t help either.”

He grumbled as a bonus. Usable boats had reportedly fallen to less than half.

There were two prepared patrol boats. Both were small, about 47 feet (14.6 meters) long. When speeding up, they’d bounce right off the water. Gyeo-ul hadn’t said a word, but the second lieutenant rushed to explain.

“A bigger boat couldn’t maneuver through that sewer maze out there. Anything larger than this makes it tough to turn around in an emergency in those alleys…”

Gyeo-ul cut him off.

“I see. But, alleys?”

“Ah. It’s slang around here. It’s similar to alleyways crowded with thugs if you go deep in.”

It fit.

A fast boat needed a crew of four. But Gyeo-ul’s boat alone already had a full squad waiting, each layered in body armor and life vests. When Gyeo-ul boarded, they all came to attention. Private First Class Lazaro led Gyeo-ul inside.

“Let’s go into the cabin. Even if something happens, the bulletproof glass will keep you safe.”

“Does combat happen here often?”

“Not… often. They know we’re their lifeline. But a few months ago, a boat did go missing. We’ve never found out which gang did it. Bastards. We should have made an example of them…”

Second lieutenant Baker pursed his lips.

“Hey. That doesn’t mean you can sacrifice innocent people.”

From his response, it was clear what kind of example the private first class was hoping for.

Gyeo-ul stood in the passenger cabin with Joanna. There were no seats, only handholds.

The two fast boats began to move, parting the thick sea. Tutuk, tuk, tutuk. The sounds of hard objects bouncing off the bow. Soldiers on the front and rear decks gripped the machine guns, endlessly scanning their surroundings. Joanna asked the second lieutenant,

“What about the weapons and ammunition loaded on Corona Triumph?”

“Ah, those will be transported separately later. There’s no way to bring them right now.”

“Oh. Some of those were specially requested.”

Frowning, she said no more.

The route twisted constantly. The natural paths formed in this city of derelict ships resembled a maze. Even so, progress was smooth thanks to the high-tech gear fitted to even these small boats. Gyeo-ul saw the gray silhouettes on the cockpit screen: a wide-angle infrared monitor. The clarity was remarkable.

‘No wonder this is the United States…’

But it was hard to pick up speed. Not just debris, but other boats were a problem too. Small, rusted ships that looked barely afloat. Some were wooden. He wondered what they could even be moving for.

The nearby island refused to get closer.

From the deck of a Chinese fishing boat ahead, a shirtless man watched them. His thick body was covered in tattoos, and a rusty kitchen knife was stuck in his waistband. He was picked up as a bright white figure on the infrared screen.

“Filthy chinky bastard. Trash like that should be shot on sight.”

Lazaro’s insult. He’d seemed edgy the whole time. Joanna shot him a disapproving look. Gyeo-ul could sense Joanna’s worry; the hatred the private displayed better not be a widespread sentiment among the US military in this area.

Regardless, the chance that the man with the knife was normal was next to none. His huge, fleshy frame alone marked him as a raider.

The man grinned slyly. Even as the machine gun’s sights swung toward him, he didn’t care—he put his hand into his pants, scratched his crotch, took it out and sniffed it, then twisted his face with an ‘ugh’—sheer provocation.

A little further, and the channel narrowed. Not the actual waterway, but because of the crowded small boats and planks drifting up. Ragged people rowing with their hands.

“Don’t come! Stay back!”

Soldiers on deck shouted all around. The gestures were threatening, easy to interpret even without a shared language.

But the ragged people didn’t give up easily. Their faces were blank, not even faking for sympathy, simply reaching out silently. If they were given anything, that was good; if not, so be it—that’s the resignation in their demeanor.

They were beggars for sure. Anything given to them would probably be taken away by others soon. If they ate it on the spot, they wouldn’t survive the night.

The only one showing emotion was a mother at the back of an overcrowded boat. She gazed pleadingly at them. Powerless, she tried again and again to part the unyielding people. Several times she fell, squeezed between gaps, but always clung tightly to her baby.

Joanna’s gaze met hers. The mother, as if asking them to take her child, lifted her baby. The baby looked about to cry, mouth opening and closing. But there was no sound—maybe because of the cabin or because the underfed child was too weak. The starved child resembled death itself.

Second lieutenant Baker glanced back.

“Don’t look. You’ll only hurt yourself.”

“I know.”

Her answer was unexpectedly composed. The FBI agent accepted the limits of reality as an obligation. Yet a flicker of emotion still glimmered in her eyes, which she quietly wiped away. She murmured as if to herself,

“Pity you can’t be responsible for is worse than giving nothing at all.”

She couldn’t take the child. Could she raise it herself? The best was to leave it to someone besides herself, perhaps someone like Gyeo-ul, or Fort Baker, which might have the capacity for one more child.

‘But that’s just passing on the cost of good deeds. It’s an irresponsible attitude.’

Then again, from the baby’s perspective, that might be preferable. And yet, staying with its mother might be better too. Who could be certain of the future? A child growing up without love faces a dark life. Some lives are harder than death.

As a directly involved party as well, Gyeo-ul felt there was no right answer.

Suddenly the island was much closer.

The end of a one-way trip that was emotionally long, but physically short. The soldiers, already adept at emotional labor, showed no sign of exhaustion. Joanna, by contrast, moved a bit sluggishly, walking like someone who had left regrets behind. Motherhood wasn’t reserved for the married; it wasn’t inherent by nature either, in Gyeo-ul’s experience.

He thought of his mother. And he recalled the world when she was alive.

“Ann.”

“Yes, Gyeo-ul?”

“Don’t you think people who grow used to tragedy are sadder than tragedy itself?”

“… Yes. That’s a frightening thing.”

“I’m relieved you’re not used to it yet, ann.”

Joanna let out a tired laugh.

“Wow, I haven’t felt this awkward in ages.”

She shook her head and hurried ahead. Second lieutenant Baker was waiting with a Humvee.

The Humvee convoy drove toward the north of the island.

There was another base where the submarine waited.

At the entrance, second lieutenant Baker bid farewell.

“This is where you go in. I’ll turn back here.”

“Ah, thank you for everything. Stay safe until we meet again.”

Gyeo-ul returned the farewell; the second lieutenant held up his hand in a strange gesture, touching his index and middle fingers together, then spreading his ring and pinky fingers—some kind of greeting.

“I wish the two of you long life and prosperity.”

It seemed to have something to do with Star Trek or whatever. Is this how you do it? When Gyeo-ul copied the gesture, the second lieutenant looked deeply pleased. The FBI agent beside him sighed.

—————————= Author’s Note —————————=

I’m not feeling well, so I’ll skip the afterword this time. I’ll reply next time. 🙂

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep