Along the Knoxville stretch of the Tennessee River, the water was broad and slow.
The river carried silt and weeds down from upstream, winding around the city before curving east.
On both banks, the old docks, warehouses, and riverside parks had all been reduced to ruins.
Walkers occasionally appeared along the riverbank, but they disliked deep water. Because of that, this waterway had unexpectedly become a relatively clean stretch in the apocalypse.
About three or four kilometers from the eastern edge of the industrial park controlled by Rock Fortress, there was a fairly calm backwater bay.
The current was steadier here, with fewer hidden reefs below the surface, making it one of the favorite mooring spots for a group of survivors living on the water.
Their camp was not fixed in one place. Instead, it was spread across several reinforced and modified boats.
A forty-eight-meter medium trawler, the "Old Catfish," served as their core mothership and command post.
Two motorized cargo boats, the "Otter" and the "Rapid Current," had been fitted with steel plates and canopies, and were used for transport and fishing.
They also had several nimble speedboats and small skiffs for shore searches and short trips.
Jack stood on the roof of the "Old Catfish" wheelhouse, holding a pair of binoculars with scratched lenses.
"Captain, still watching over there?" First Mate Louis climbed up the ladder and handed him a flask. It was filled with homemade fish mint liquor, sharp and pungent.
Jack took it and drank a mouthful, squinting from the burn. "Yeah. There's more and more activity."
He handed the binoculars to Louis. "Look for yourself."
Louis raised the binoculars and adjusted the focus.
His view passed over the abandoned riverside warehouse district and a patch of mixed woods just beginning to turn green again, then landed on the outline of the massive industrial park in the distance.
He watched for a long while, then lowered the binoculars, looking confused. "It's just buildings. Nothing special… wait."
Louis lifted the binoculars again and looked closely at the sky above the industrial park, especially in the direction of Block B.
"Something's off. There's no smoke, but the color of the sky over there… I don't know how to put it. Feels like there's more going on. And listen."
The two fell silent and listened carefully.
Aside from the nearby sound of flowing water and the occasional faint birdcall in the distance, there seemed to be nothing unusual.
But people like Captain Jack and First Mate Louis, who had spent years on the water, were unusually sensitive to sound. They could catch faint, broken echoes drifting inland with the wind.
That was not a natural sound, and it was not something walkers could make.
"Machines," Jack said with certainty, taking the binoculars back. "And not just one or two. Also…"
He pointed at a tiny silver-gray speck in the sky above the industrial park, almost too faint to see. "That thing. I've seen it at least three times over the last few days. It flies steady and high. It's not a bird."
"A plane?" Louis was startled.
"Doesn't look like it. Too small. More like those remote-controlled little planes they used to show on TV." Jack frowned.
"Add in the fresh footprints our people saw at the edge of the woods, plus the traces found near Block A that weren't ours and weren't walkers…
There's definitely a new group in that factory area, and they're not small-time. They're fixing machines, they have a lot of people, and they may even have technical people."
Louis clicked his tongue. "They set up their nest in the industrial park? That takes some guts. There are plenty of walkers over there, and Block D is even worse. Just rowing past downwind from that place is enough to make your skin crawl."
"That means they have strength." Jack's gaze deepened. "If they can clear out such a large area, hold their ground, and get machines running…
This group isn't ordinary. They're a hell of a lot stronger than the people we've met before, the kind who take over a supermarket and start acting like gods."
"So… what do we do? Stay away from them?"
Jack was silent for a moment, then took another drink. "Stay away? Louis, what are we short on?"
"A lot. Medicine, tools, sturdy cloth, salt…" Louis counted on his fingers.
"Exactly. We have fish. A lot of fish. More than we can eat, so we dry the rest. But fish can't get us pills, and fish can't get us a wrench to tighten the bolts on the boats."
Jack pointed toward the industrial park. "Them? They've taken over factories and can repair machines. They must have stockpiled plenty of good stuff.
With that many people, if they're relying only on hunting and canned food, they're bound to be short on meat. Our fish would be fresh meat to them. Real fat and protein."
Louis understood. "Captain, you want to… trade with them?"
"Why not?" Jack grinned, showing a mouthful of tobacco-stained yellow teeth. "We're on the water, they're on land.
We don't know their background, and they may not dare come onto the water easily. Both sides have things they need and things they're good at. It's worth trying, better than sitting here burning through supplies.
If it works out, then along this stretch of river, we'll have a 'neighbor' who can look out for us a little. That's not a bad thing."
He turned and shouted down toward the deck, "Send two men. Take a small boat, head to the old pier near the factory, and leave our mark there. Make it clear. Then come back and report."
"Aye, Captain!" a burly, bronze-skinned man answered from below.
...
A few days later, while Night Hawk One was carrying out an expanded reconnaissance mission around the industrial park under Bossie's control, its high-definition camera captured several wave markings carved into the pipes at the old pier.
The symbols were fresh, cut through the thin layer of dust, no more than two days old.
"Our people didn't leave these," Bossie said with certainty during the report. "The marking style is casual, but the direction is clear.
It looks like someone has been watching us and left some kind of signpost or message. That wave pattern is probably meant to hint at their identity."
"Toward the riverbank…" Calista looked at the map, at the Tennessee River and its tributaries winding through Knoxville.
Tennessee had an extensive water system, and fishing had once been an important industry.
In the apocalypse, land routes were full of danger. Open water, where walkers had trouble reaching, might really have become a natural shelter and transport route for certain survivors.
"Strengthen the sentries along the river-facing sides of Blocks A and C. Extend the daily patrol range of Night Hawk One, Two, and Three toward the riverbank. Focus on signs of boat activity."
Almost at the same time, Rory's squad, responsible for perimeter patrols, also discovered fresh signs of suspected human activity at the edge of the riverside woods in Block A.
The reports were gathered and sent to Calista.
She looked thoughtfully at the marked riverbank area on the map.
"Leaving a mark on purpose is both a greeting and a test," Leah said with interest, looking at the crude wave symbol. "They're watching how we react."
"Choosing the water was smart," Calista said, arms folded as she nodded. "There are too many walkers on land, and most safe resource points have already been picked clean over and over.
There are dangers in the water too, but at least there are fewer walkers, and fish are a renewable resource. Anyone who can pull a group together and survive on the water isn't simple."
Leah rubbed her chin. "They might have been in that line of work before. Fishermen, sailors, something like that."
Calista tapped her fingers against the table. "Since they've reached out, we need to respond. Strengthen the lookout posts and patrols along the riverbank. Notify Danny that if he receives any unidentified radio signal from the water, he's to handle it according to the plan."
She had a feeling contact would come soon.
That mark was their first stone thrown out to test the waters.