John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“Works for me,” Sophia said, trying another appetizer. “You’re right, it’s all good.” She looked around and leaned over to Stacey. “It would be better with some of the wine…?”

Stacey slid her wine glass over and refilled her mostly empty water glass from the bottle.

“So that’s the trick,” Faith said. “Eat it with wine and everything tastes good?”

“Pretty much,” Tom said. “You don’t want to know some of the stuff I’ve choked down with alcohol.”

“Monkey,” Sophia said taking a sip. “Ooo. It is better with the wine.”

“Try sloth,” Steve said. “Which is, by the way, truly putrid stuff. Tried some on a bet one time. Helped that I was off my face at the time. Then I chundered. But I won the bet.”

“Ate a slug once,” Tom said, musingly. “No beer involved. We’d been in the back of beyond for a bit. Looked tasty. When you’re that hungry, they are.”

“Uggh,” Faith said. “Okay, no end of the world talk and no weird foods.”

“It wasn’t one of the slimy ground ones,” Tom said. “Tree slug. Colorful. Looked a bit like a red and blue mobile banana. Turned out they’re slightly poisonous. Was quite ill the rest of the op.”

“No eating red and blue tree slugs,” Sophia said, nodding. “Got it. Just in case it comes up.”

“Speaking of which, how are you doing for supplies?” Tom asked.

“We resupplied right after we got here,” Tom said. “Which means the boat is packed. But we should be good for a month or so. Depends on how long we spend in harbor.”

“Not much longer,” Tom said. “We’ll be moving the girls back to the boat after tonight. We’re shutting down the project Sophia has been working on. It’s…as complete as it needs to be.”

“Understood,” Stacey said. “And I’ll be glad to have them back. No offense.”

“It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure,” Tom said. “I’d say sorry again but…”

“What’s it you say about adventure, Da?” Faith asked.

“Adventure is something that happened to someone else preferably a long way away and a long time ago,” Steve said. “ When it happens it’s horror, terror or tragedy.”

“ Someday this will be an adventure,” Faith said.

* * *

“Okay, they’re right,” Faith said, burping as she picked at her tiramisu. “The food in New York is incredible. I should have gotten that fruit of the sea thing. I usually don’t like seafood but that was great .”

“And this is really just a neighborhood restaurant,” Tom said. “But one of the best in the city.”

“Do we have to go right back to the boat?” Sophia asked.

“It’s getting dark,” Steve said. “And there’s a curfew.”

“Which is hardly enforced,” Tom said. “Even with the National Guard they’re too busy rounding up infected.”

“And it’s getting dark ,” Steve noted.

“Up to the parents,” Tom said, shrugging. “There are some clubs still open and I hear there’s a more or less continuous concert going on in Washington Park. More of a rave, really.”

“Concert?” Sophia said, her eyes lighting.

“In the dark ,” Steve said. “In zombie infested New York city.”

“I’ve never been to a concert,” Faith said, sadly. “I mean, that’s one of those things you do when you’re a teenager. The way things are going, I’ll never get a chance. Or go to prom…” She sniffed.

“We are not going to a concert at night in a park in zombie infested New York !” Steve said. “And that’s final !”

* * *

“This band sucks ,” Faith shouted.

“Warm up band,” Tom shouted back. “They usually do. The good ones don’t come on until later!”

Nobody seemed to care that the band sucked. With enough alcohol and drugs anything sounded good. And from the litter the party had been going on for quite a while. The stage was set up right in front of the Arch and was apparently powered by a collection of generators which added their own cacophony to the din.

“No security?” Sophia asked, looking around. There was no sign of police presence and nobody was apparently in charge.

“I guess it’s us!” Tom said, grinning. “No, this is a totally illegal gathering under New York City law. But it has sprung up so many times and there are so many other problems that they’re not bothering to enforce it. You’re here at your own risk. Which I would not suggest if Durante and I weren’t here.”

“Got it,” Sophia said. The women in the crowd were either in large groups or accompanied by males. “Don’t drink from an open container. Don’t accept anything and for anything else I’ve got this,” she said, tapping her pistol.

“This will probably stop any problems in their tracks,” Tom said, tapping the large BERT sign velcroed to the front of her kevlar. He’d also provided “contractor” badges for the group. The badges, on neck lanyards, read “Biological Emergency Contract Agent.”

“What?” Sophia said, her eyes wide. “You mean the rumor that BERT vans are taking people to be made into vaccine? Nobody believes that!”

“Just keep repeating that,” Tom said.

Despite the implicit warning, Sophia gently drifted to the side of the group, getting a look at the crowd. Most of them were young. Her apparent age. Or maybe even her real age. The point was that you could never tell. And the whole crowd had a funny edge. They didn’t seem to be enjoying themselves as much as trying really really hard to enjoy themselves. The only ones that didn’t have that edge were the ones that, before it was even dark, were already so stoned or drunk they could forget why an illegal concert could go on in the Park without being broken up.

“Hey,” a guy said from behind her. It was as close to a whisper as you could use with nuclear level speakers blaring. “Top quality vaccine!”

She turned to look and the guy was holding a vial cupped in his hand.

“I can get syringes, too.” The guy was dressed in a vivid pink rayon shirt, a Yankees jacket and jeans. He looked like some sort of walking advertisement for bad drug dealers. “Clean.”

“Got some,” Sophia said. “Thanks.”

Sophia turned fully so he could see the sign on her body armor and neck badge and just gave him a cold, blank stare.

“Oh… shit ,” the guy said, his eyes going wide. He turned around and hurried away, occasionally glancing over his shoulder.

“Wow, that really does work,” Sophia said.

“Hey,” a girl said, looking around to make sure nobody could hear. “Can you score me some?”

“We don’t really make vaccine,” Sophia said, sighing. “And I don’t even work the streets. I’m support staff.”

“What do you do?” the girl’s male companion asked slowly. He was pretty clearly stoned but trying to track.

“Antibody tests,” Sophia said, shrugging. “Lab work. Making sure that our client’s aren’t infected. We’re contracted to a particular corporation. The rest is sort of NDA.”

“That’s cool,” the guy said. “Hey, want some ebomb?” he asked, holding out a handful of pills.

“You really don’t want a person carrying a pistol and a taser fucked up,” Sophia said, grinning. “No offense.”

“You here as security?” the girl asked.

“Nope,” Sophia said. “Just enjoying the show. Sort of. They really suck.”

“Yeah,” the girl said. “The good ones don’t start showing up until after dark…”

* * *

The girl was Christine, her boyfriend “he’s just a hook-up, really, cause he’s got a source” was Todd. They were both New York natives as were their friends. The group was huddled for protection against the increasingly rowdy crowd. There was a group right down by the stage, which had created a mosh pit, which explained the fence set up to protect the bands.