Free Outpost by Adam Baker

scrunched paper into a mug.
    'Do
you think Tiger Woods is dead?' he asked.
    'He's
probably sipping martinis on a private island somewhere. Times like this, the
rich buy their way out of trouble.'
    'But
imagine if we were the only people left. The last men on earth. I'd be the best
golfer in the world right now. You'd be the only priest. And Ghost would be the
only Sikh. Imagine that. A four-hundred-year religion terminating in a
dope-head grease monkey.'
    'I
thought you liked the bloke.'
    'I
do. But think about it. All the people that made you feel worthless and small
down the years. The bullies and bosses. All gone. It's exhilarating, if you
think about it. Freedom from other people's expectations. We can finally start
living for ourselves.'
    'We
can't be the only survivors. There must be others like us. We just need to find
each other.'
    Jane
found a yellow Peli case on a shelf: a crush-proof, watertight plastic
container about the size of a shoe box. She turned the box over in her hands.
    'Do
you mind if I take this?' she asked.
     
    The
crew ate dinner in the canteen. Mashed potato, a sausage, a spoonful of gravy.
    'Eat
it slowly,' advised Punch. 'Make it last.'
    Rawlins
lifted his plate and licked it clean of gravy. The crew copied his lead.
    Jane
stood on a chair and called for attention. They looked up, wondering if she
were about to say grace all over again.
    'Okay,
folks. Here's the deal. We've got a bunch of helium weather balloons
downstairs. A week from today I am going to launch one of the balloons with
this box attached. The prevailing wind should carry it south to Europe. If any
of you want to write a letter to someone back home, then drop it in the box.
Million-to-one shot? Maybe. Even if the box lands in the sea, one day it will
wash up and one day someone will find it. You may think it's a stupid idea, but
do it anyway. Put it down on paper. Put a message in the bottle. The things you
wished you'd said but didn't get a chance. I'm going to leave this box in the
corner. It's a good opportunity to unburden yourselves. Make use of it.'
     
    Sian
sat in the corner of the canteen, pen poised over a sheet of paper.
    She
had a stepfather. Leo. A carpet fitter. He was a nice enough guy. He cared for
Sian's mother during that last year of ovarian cancer. Sian spent each
Christmas Day at his little terraced house, ate a turkey dinner in front of the
TV, but they never progressed beyond superficial pleasantries. It had been
three years. Sian often wondered if he had a new girlfriend. A divorcee with
kids of her own. Maybe he wanted to drop Sian from his life, but didn't know
how.
    Leo
was a fit, capable man. He kept a bayonet beneath the bed in case of burglars.
He would be all right.
    Sian
screwed up the paper. Better this way, she thought. No one to worry about but
me.
    The
coffee urn. She filled a Styrofoam cup. Punch no longer supplied milk powder or
sugar. Everyone took it black and bitter.
     
    Jane
sat in her room with a pad on her lap. She wrote love-you letters to her mother
and sister. Then she wrote on behalf of the crew.
     
    My name is Reverend Jane Blanc. I am chaplain of Con
Amalgam refinery platform Kasker Rampart. We are marooned in the Arctic Circle west of Franz Josef Land. We have supplies
to last four months. Winter is coming. By the time you read this we may be
dead. We have little hope of rescue and we are so far from inhabited land any
attempt to sail to safety in an improvised craft would almost certainly fail. I
often promise the men we will all get home, but I have no idea how this can be
achieved or what horrors might await us beyond the horizon. So I appeal to
anyone who may read this note: please do what you can to ensure that one day
these letters reach the people for whom they are intended, so that they can
know what became of us.
    God bless,
    Jane Blanc
     
    Jane
sealed the notes in an envelope and took it to the canteen. She slotted the
envelope into the Peli case.
    Sudden
PA