John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“They come every night,” Todd said. “It’s their concert.”

“What?” Sophia asked, her eyes wide. “Don’t they…? Don’t you get attacked?”

“They bite some people,” Christine said. “Sometimes they eat. I’ve been waiting to get bitten. But they haven’t taken me, yet.”

“WHAT?” Sophia screamed. The infected was inside fifteen meters so she put two rounds in her chest and turned back, keeping her weapon pointed downrange and looking over her shoulder. “ WHAT ? Are you flipping nuts ? You WANT to be a zombie?”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of if you’re a zombie,” Christine said, starting to cry. “You just are. You just exist. It’s like…”

“It’s like zen, you know?” Todd said, swaying back and forth. “You just exist in the moment, man. There’s no stress. No school, no work, just eat or be eaten. It’s like Rousseau’s noble savage, the beast inside every man.”

“You are absolutely batshit fucking nuts,” Sophia said, looking back to the target zone. Another inbound. “I am not going to be turned into a zombie. My sister got infected but she pulled through and we are not going to be zombies. We are not.”

“You just don’t get it,” Todd said. “Myrmidon.”

“Idiot,” Sophia said, double tapping the next inbound. She looked around and had time so she quickly reloaded her magazines.

“And now you’ve brought the fucking soldiers here,” Christine said, disgustedly. “They’re going to just blow us all away! Babykillers!”

“You want to be a zombie?” Sophia asked. She grabbed Todd by the arm and walked him over to the nearest fresh corpse. Then she pulled out a clasp knife. “Cut your arm. Wipe some of the blood on it. Instant zombie.”

“I…” Todd said. “Let go of me…”

“You’re not going to because you’re afraid,” Sophia said, holding the knife up to his eye-level. “You’re afraid because you’re not willing to fight back . You’re the poet. What’s the thing about the raging and darkness?”

“You mean Dylan Thomas?” Todd said, disdainfully. “‘Rage, rage against the dying of the light’?”

“Do not go gentle into this good night,” Sophia snarled, waving at the darkness all around. “Old age should burn and rave at close of day;/Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

“That is what you should be doing!” she finished. “Raging against the dying of the light. You’re not even in old age !”

“You knew the poem,” Todd said, wonderingly.

“I got an A plus in a really tough AP English class,” Sophia said. “ And AP Physics. And Calculus. And I know how to kill zombies. What the fuck have you been doing with your life?”

“You want to tell us what’s been going on here, miss?” the sergeant of the three man team asked. They weren’t up and pointed but you could tell they were here for a fire-fight.

“We’re having a poetry and philosophy discussion,” Sophia said, holstering her pistol. “I’m glad you could join us…”

* * *

“Contractors,” Copley said, disgustedly. “Never thought I’d have to deal with you guys in New York City. I had enough of you in the Stan.”

“Hey,” Durante said, shrugging his shoulders. “Be glad we were here. Otherwise half this crowd would be going zombie.”

“From what I got from Sophia, that’s happened before,” Steve Smith, “President of Blue Water Security, LLC” said. He hadn’t even known he was a “president” until Tom handed him the certifications. “When’s NYPD getting here?”

“They’re not,” Copley said, shaking his head. “We’re not even getting coroner’s office. I’m told to take down the information, then await graves registration.”

“It’s gotten that bad, huh?” Tom said. “And your ROE probably still says ‘do not fire until fired upon.’”

“It’s better than that,” Copley said. “But not much.”

* * *

“So… You guys get to shoot ’em?” Randall asked.

“Not usually,” Faith said. “Usually we have to taser ’em. There were too many this time. You guys gotta wear that rig all the time?”

The National Guardsmen were in masks, hoods and ponchoes.

“Keeps the blood off,” Randall said.

“Makes sense,” Faith said. “I got in a scuffle with one the other day and it bled all over me. Ended up very nearly going zombie myself. You do not want to get it even if you don’t zomb. Sickest I’ve ever been in my life .”

“Damn,” Randall said. “So… You’re not going to zombie, right?”

“Certified immune,” Faith said. “My immune system got it. Low dosage of the virus I guess. Don’t even have any antibodies anymore, which is medicalese for ‘you’re not going to be a zombie.’ Shook it off completely. Not that it was much fun. Horrible sick.”

“I’ll keep my poncho on, then,” Randall said. “Let me tell you, this shit is hot, though.”

“Better or worse than the Sandbox?” Faith asked.

“Oh, better,” Randall said. “But not much.”

“Nice rig,” Astroga said. “What is that rifle?”

“Shotgun,” Faith said. “Saiga. It’s an AK variant that fires twelve gauge.” She dropped the magazine and cleared and handed it over to the private. “Ten round magazine. Which beats a pump all to hell.”

“Is it reliable?” Randall asked. “May I?”

“Sure,” Faith said. “As long as I get it back. Especially if we get any more visitors.”

“Nice,” Randall said.

“Love the kukri,” Faith said, gesturing at the combat knife on his belt.

“Carried it in Iraq and the Stan,” Randall said. He hesitated for a second, then handed it over. “Thought it might come in handy.”

“Sweet,” Faith said, examining it. It had the word “Boosh” carved on the handle. “I’ve got one on the boat. They said it was overkill for tonight. Famous last words.”

“There is no overkill,” Randall intoned. “There is only open fire and reload.”

“Schlock fan, huh?” Faith said. “I knew the world was coming to an end when Schlock didn’t update.”

“It’s heavy,” Astroga said. “The Saiga.”

“I’ll take the firepower any day,” Faith said, gesturing with her chin at the M4. “The U.S. started to go downhill when it changed from a round designed to kill our enemies to one designed to piss them off.”

“Nice quote,” Randall said. “That one I don’t recognize.”

“Read it on some blog,” she said, then looked up. The entire skyline had gone black as had all the lights in the park. “Oh, that is not good. Getting home is going to be a bitch and a half.”

“I wonder if the subways are out, too,” Astroga said nervously. “I’d hate to be in a subway in the dark in this.”

“We’ve got…” Faith then paused. She reached for her Saiga. “Wasn’t what I was going to say but what we’ve got is movement .”

A woman was running through the park pursued by a zombie. Before she could get to the relative safety of the group of concert-goers, another came at her from the side and knocked her down. She started screaming.

“Move it!” Copley said, waving.

The threesome ran to the woman, stopping just short to fire tasers into the zombies attacking her. One of them seemed to be trying to sexually assault her.