John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“I threw him over the side,” Fontana said, shrugging. “Then I had to deal with him when we went over. But we got into a raft. There was another guy, Terry…”

“Can we skip that?” Sadie asked, looking pleafully at Steve. “He had to do what… He had to do it. He…turned.”

“Strangulation?” Steve asked, taking a sip of tea.

“Yeah,” Fontana said, looking at him oddly.

“The only people who have survived in the lifeboats are people who have killed zombies,” Stacey said, shrugging. “And generally the only way to do that is strangulation. On a liferaft you can’t even avoid it.”

“It was horrible,” Sadie said, tearing up.

“Most of this world is,” Steve said. “But it has some compensations.”

“What?” Fontana asked.

“We’re doing good work?” Steve said. “The sea is beautiful when it’s not trying to kill us.”

“Need help?” Fontana asked. “I sort of need to get some food in me, but if I can help I’d like to.”

“We always need help,” Steve said. “What did you do in the… Rangers was it?”

“Bite your tongue,” Fontana said. “Fifth special forces group. I was an eighteen bravo. Cross train in Eighteen Echo and Delta. Six times in the Stans, some training time in Africa. You?”

“Rifles sergeant,” Steve said. “Also in the Stans. Then later a history teacher. Question, did you happen to know someone named ‘Donnie’ who was a special forces officer?”

“Know him, no,” Fontana said. “He was out before I joined. But I’ve heard of him. Missing both legs?”

“He was, unfortunately, a casualty,” Steve said, nodding. “Okay, I’d say you’re in.”

“No, I’m not a poser,” Fontana said, grinning. “And I notice your wife’s wearing a pistol and you’re wearing a pistol and taser. Still. Problems?”

“Some,” Steve said. “But we deal with them as they come along. How do you feel about clearance?”

“With a crowbar?” Fontana asked. “Not so happy. With a firearm? Please!”

“Are you sure, honey?” Sadie asked, unhappily.

“We’re not going to send him in unprepared,” Steve said. “Among other things, we still have some vaccine. That goes first to clearance personnel. And we’re careful to avoid bites and blood spray. But we do need more people willing to do active clearance. We have two vessels waiting for clearance teams. We were on our way to one of them. And right now it’s only myself and my daughter doing it.”

“You’re afraid if you give me a gun I’ll try to take over,” Fontana said, nodding. “Makes sense. All I can say is that until something better comes along, I’m your man. I’d like to get a piece back from these zombies. And I’m seriously missing my gun collection. The one thing I’d like to know, though, is there anything in it? I mean, I’ll help out but what is it, share and share alike?”

“More or less,” Steve said. “Clearance teams get a spif on every boat they clear. Besides first choice of loot, which is pretty obvious. The real question is, how open-minded are you about your partner…?”

* * *

“So, how do you usually handle this?” Fontana said, trying not to be amused by the thirteen-year-old girl in full assault rig.

“Usually like this,” Faith said, drawing her H &K. She measured the catenary carefully and shot the zombie clawing at them from the back deck of a 60' fishing boat.

The round hit the zombie high on the right chest. It clawed at the wound for a moment, then slipped on its own blood and fell over the side.

“Then the sharks take care of it for us,” she said.

“Works for me,” Fontana said. “You got a handle.”

“Shewolf,” Faith said, reloading the expended round in her magazine, then seating it again. “Got a problem with that?”

“No, ma’am ,” Fontana said.

* * *

“Seriously?” Fontana said, as he levered open the stuck hatch. “I’d heard of Voltaire but I never really got into that kind of tunes.”

“Seriously, it was a hoot,” Faith said as a zombie arm clawed out of the compartment. “Hang on a sec.” She lifted her Saiga and put it to the doorway. “Ware bouncers.”

“Roger,” Fontana said, holding the hatch gapped.

“You want some?” Faith said, firing the Saiga. The arm started spasming. “Who else? Huh?”

“Watched a lot of Aliens , have we?” Fontana said.

“Love that movie. You? You want some …?”

* * *

“Wait,” Faith said, holding out her hand as Fontana started to step over the coaming.

“Looks clear,” Fontana said, flashing his tactical light around the compartment.

“Zombies do not like impolite people,” Faith said. “Always announce your presence. ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES! OLLY OLLY OXENFREE!”

“That is so…wrong,” Fontana said.

“You’re used to trying to sneak up on people,” Faith said as there was a scuffling sound. “There…” The zombie was emaciated and clearly on its last legs. She put a round through the infected’s chest as it stumbled towards the lights.

“Where the hell did it come from?” Fontana said, waving the light around again.

“Da thinks they spend a lot of time sleeping really deep to conserve energy.”

“So…make enough noise to wake the dead?” Fontana said, chuckling.

“Something like that. ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES… COME TO SUPPER!”

* * *

“I wonder what most of this stuff does?” Fontana said, looking around the engineering compartment. “I mean, obviously, there’s the engines…”

“Yeah,” Faith said. “Never futz with the engineering compartment. If there’s a zombie in it, let it out and take it out in the corridor. You get one bad round in engineering and you don’t know what’s going to go wrong.”

“I think we need a manual,” Fontana said.

“I think we need to find a SEAL or something who knows how to do this…”

* * *

“Pistol,” Faith said, shaking her head as the zombie came up the companionway.

“Ooo-kay,” Fontana said, changing weapons. He put a round into the zombie’s chest, then went for a double-tap and missed the headshot.

“Damnit,” Faith said, ducking back as the round caromed off the deck and, fortunately, into the darkness below. “That’s why I said pistol. One round. Targeted! One zombie, one round, no bouncers!”

“Roger,” Fontana said. “Sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have snapped,” Faith said. “I sunk a boat that way, though…”

“How many times have you done this?” Fontana asked.

“I dunno,” Faith said, drawing her H &K and tagging the next zombie coming up the companionway. “I’d have to check a log. Boats this size only…three. Small yachts? Twenty or so?”

“Jesus. And there I was floating around in a raft.”

* * *

“So, now, we use Da’s superty-duperty new gimmick,” Faith said, looking at the beetles askance. They were clambering around the interior of the bag that made her more ill than bloated zombie bodies.

“Think it will work?” Fontana said, dubiously.

“He said give it a few days and leave the interior hatches open,” Faith said, dropping the beetles into the interior and shutting the exterior hatch. “We’ll see…”

* * *

“Holy cow,” Steve said as they approached the target boat.

“Oooo,” Sophia said. “Can I have that one?”

It wasn’t so much that the boat was large; the Victoria was larger. It was that it was just enormous and beautiful . Sleak as hell. It looked fast and it was darn big.

“It’s probably trashed,” Steve said. “And it’d be a bitch to maintain.”