Walter Greatshell - Apocalypticon

"Anyway, this is juvie country all in here-the adults pretty much bunk forward or aft of us. We've got the best deal on the boat, don't you think?"

Bobby could hardly follow any of this, except for one word: "Boat? What boat?"

"What boat do you think, dude? This boat."

"We're on a… boat?"

"Not a boat, dipwad, a submarine."

"A summarine? No way."

"Yes way. This is a submarine, all this. Didn't you know that?"

Bobby recoiled. "You're crazy. There's no summarine." He looked past the older boy at the steel catacomb beyond, his eyes welling with furious tears. "You're lying."

"Dude, I swear to God. Ohio-class FBM-biggest one they make. We're about thirty feet below the waterline."

Eyes overflowing, Bobby cried, "You're lying! You're trying to trick me! We're not underwater! We're not! Let me go! I want my dad! Dad! I have to find my mom and dad! Dad! Mommeee!" The boy began to thrash wildly against his restraints.

Oh man, Sal thought. Here we go. Ignoring the stares from above, he hurriedly squirted a precious cc of Demerol solution into the kid's IV line, wishing Lieutenant Tran were there to supervise. "Take it easy. There you go… there you go. Don't worry, everything's gonna be okay. I miss my dad, too, man." Brightening, he said, "Hey, how 'bout some pancakes? I've been saving some for you, for when you woke up."

Bobby stopped struggling. "Pancakes?" he sniffled.

"Yeah, I got 'em right here." Sal held up a covered tray. "But you can't have any unless you promise to be cool."

"I will," Bobby said desperately, starting to cry again. "I will, I swear."

"Hey, it's all good." Sal passed him the tray and helped him sit up. Bobby trembled with eagerness at the sight of the food-not only pancakes, but dabs of applesauce and scrambled eggs. Everything was cold, but he didn't care. Wolfing it down, he scarcely noticed the rapt, hungry eyes following his every mouthful, nor did he realize that all activity in the vast chamber had paused to watch him eat.

Nearly drooling himself, Sal said, "Make it last, kid."

"How could she have gotten off the boat without you seeing her?" Kranuski said accusingly. "That girl was critical; her body is the only existing reservoir of Miska's serum! Without her, we have nothing."

Coombs shook his head. "I realize that, Rich. She's small, it was dark. She must have just slipped out with the others. I wasn't looking for her."

"Are you sure you were looking at all?"

"You're out of order, Lieutenant. Yes, I was looking. I didn't see anything. Apparently no one else on watch did, either. All I can think is that Albemarle must have shielded her with his body."

"Well, what happens now? If she's gone, that means we lose the Xombies, right? I mean, without her blood to control them, we can't take them back on board. So the mission is effectively over." Kranuski sounded eager for this to be so.

"Not necessarily," said Alice Langhorne, intently watching her video monitor. The image was a blurred green jumble of infrared. There would be little to see until dawn. "All it means is that she left with them. Whether she'll stay with them is another matter, but there is clearly some residual bond there. Maybe that's a hopeful thing-she's obviously much more capable of independent reasoning than they are. In fact, her faculties ought to be perfectly intact. Unlike the rest of them, she's been vaccinated with the actual enzyme, the pure concentrate, which should have preserved all her higher brain functions. If she's at all sane, they could probably use her help, and so could we. I mean look at this." Langhorne pointed at the poor picture quality. "How am I supposed conduct them under these conditions?"

"Come on," blurted Kranuski. "She saw the opportunity to escape and took it. Like any caged animal. We're never going to see her again."

Dr. Langhorne said patiently, "I can't predict what she's liable to do. All we know for sure is that so far they are still on task, and until that changes, there is no reason to jump to conclusions. Lulu led them when she was alive, why not now?"

"Give me a break. You're just stalling."

"You heard her, Rich," said the captain. "We're going to stick to plan… for now. In the meantime, I want you and Mr. Robles to develop some contingencies for resupplying our provisions in case Langhorne's expedition doesn't return-food stores are at rock bottom, and those kids are going to start crashing if we don't do something fast. I don't need to tell you what will happen if we have any deaths on board, if that room back there becomes a nest of Xombies. The whole city is at our doorstep: restaurants, shops, warehouses-there must be something we can do in reasonable safety, even without the Blue Man Group at our disposal. Make this your top priority. I want at least three serious options on my desk by 0600. Don't be afraid to be bold."

"Be bold…" Kranuski wasn't listening anymore. Gesturing at someone out the doorway, he said, "Captain, I'm afraid I have a very different priority right now. If you order us to stay here, against all reasonable expectation of success, and in complete disregard for ship's safety, I must advise you I intend to follow regulations."

Everyone froze. Suddenly the hum of the electronics seemed very loud.

"Don't do it, Rich. This is not the time." Coombs felt the hulking presence of Alton Webb crowding into the radio shack behind him. He was alarmed to realize that except for Dr. Langhorne, he was surrounded by Kranuski's gang: Webb, Jack Kraus, and even a civilian, Henry Bartholomew, who blamed Coombs for the death of his nephew Jake. None of Coombs's faithful was in sight. He said, "If I don't need a security detail to protect me from Xombies, are you saying I need one to protect me from my own crew?"

"It's not your crew anymore." Richard Kranuski took a deep breath, and announced, "Commander Harvey Coombs, I hereby relieve you of command and confine you to quarters, pending charges of incompetence and gross dereliction of duty. Mr. Webb, please escort the captain to his new quarters."

"Rich, I'm telling you to consider what you're-" Coombs tried to leap for the intercom. There was a brief, ugly scuffle, Webb overpowering the captain and taking him in a choke hold.

"Don't fight, you're just making it worse for yourself," Webb grunted.

"Oh that's great," said Langhorne in disgust. She turned to Kranuski: "That's just great. Brilliant move, Caligula. What comes next? Public executions?"

Richard Kranuski turned and leaned into her face, their profiles strikingly alike, one black-haired, one white, both icily handsome and equally contemptuous of the other. "You've got exactly until the next tide to prove to me that you're not a waste of space on my vessel," he said. "Then we sail-with or without you."

Although most representatives of the federal government and armed services acted heroically in the face of the crisis-and indeed died at their posts-there is substantial evidence that major resources were diverted to private interests at the time they were needed most to shore up the collapsing national infrastructure. Classified military records, preserved as part of the SPAM initiative, reveal hundreds of examples of elite forces providing extraordinary security and logistical support for private individuals and their families, while more vital emergency personnel were left exposed to be killed or infected in droves. While it is tempting to assume that these were merely random incidences of corruption amid the greater chaos, a pattern emerges that suggests an organized, methodical, and highly secretive program to abandon the existing government and establish an alternate one. -The Maenad Project "Hey, guys, guess what!" shouted Kyle Hancock from the rafters. "Captain Coombs has just been arrested! Kranuski's in charge now!"