John Ringo - Under a Graveyard Sky

“You gonna back up or not?” Shewolf screamed. Her pistol locked back so she tossed it forward onto a dead body and ripped another from her chest holder. The plethora of weapons was starting to make sense.

Bobby couldn’t back up, couldn’t lift his own weapon, all he could do was stare mutely at the black tide pouring down the corridor.

And then it was done. A refugee was the last, dropping more or less right in front of him, so fixated on the light-covered girl she hadn’t even noticed the frozen petty officer.

“That was almost too exciting,” the girl said. She reloaded both her weapons, retrieved the dropped pistol, reloaded that then hefted her shotgun. “Real zombie apocalypse moment there. You done with your break?”

“I think I’m done,” Kuzma said. “I think I’m just…done.”

* * *

Bobby sat on the flying deck of the Toy watching the dinghy coming back from the Campbell . He’d been in similar dinghies hundreds of times doing inspections of boats just like this one. In fact, he was pretty sure they’d done a stop on this boat. But when they were done, they went back to the cutter. They always went back to the cutter.

This time he wasn’t going back. He was never going back. After the scene in the corridor, he was never, ever going back. Not love nor money nor orders could make him go back aboard the WMEC-909, United States Coast Guard Cutter Campbell , “Queen of the Seas.” He wished he had a Harpoon missile to sink her like her previous namesake.

“You going to be okay?” Captain Smith asked, sitting down next to him. “I hear you had a little ZA moment.”

“That’s your daughter?” Kuzma asked, tonelessly. Shewolf was riding back in the dinghy. Second on, last off. The helmsman must have said something funny because the thirteen-year-old was grinning with her fine, blond, blood-splattered hair blowing in the freshening wind.

“Yes.”

“Is she…okay?” Kuzma asked. “I mean…”

“Do you mean is she freaked out by what happened?” Smith asked. “She said it was almost worse than New York. But not quite. If you mean is she insane? She was a fairly normally adjusted girl before the plague. She never threatened to bomb her school or shoot it up. She played soccer and was starting to date. She chased boys, sometimes literally. But she’d always quip that the worst thing about a zombie apocalypse would be pretending you weren’t excited by the prospect. So…she was fairly well adjusted to the previous world. She is well adjusted to this one. So, yes, she is okay. She’s even sensitive, which is hard in this job. She hates to shoot the children and lets others do so when possible. I take it you’re not okay.”

“No,” Kuzma said. “Not okay. Glad to be out of there. Just…glad to be out.”

“I am sorry that you observed the termination of your shipmates,” Smith said. “That is a very close bond.”

“I had to shoot some myself, getting to the stores locker,” Bobby admitted. “But… That was bad.”

“A large group of apparently uninfected had locked down in another stores locker,” Smith said. “And then apparently taken insufficient precautions to prevent spread.”

“And then eaten each other?” Bobby asked.

“More or less,” Smith said. “Which was why there were so many survivors. Zombie survivors, that is. I take it you don’t want to participate in the salvage operation?”

“Salvage?” Kuzma said. “You can’t salvage a U.S. Coast Guard cutter!”

“And there were survivors onboard,” Smith said, nodding. “But salvage it we must. For the small arms locker if nothing else. Petty Officer, I left New York with seven thousand rounds of double ought buckshot and a thousand rounds of frangible. For what I had originally planned that would have been more than enough. For this? I’m down to four thousand rounds. I’m half way through my supply, more or less, and I have an ocean of ships and boats to clear. I can find diesel, food, water from recyclers, even parts. But munitions? Weapons? If not from your storage locker, then where?”

“That’s a tall order,” Kuzma said, breathing out hard. “I mean… Will we help? Yeah, of course. But turning over the contents of a 270 to civilians…? If there ever is a Coast Guard again, I can’t see them not hanging my ass for that.”

“Well, I already purloined one thing from your boat,” Steve said. “Step out on the foredeck with me Petty Officer.”

Steve and Kuzma walked up to the front of the boat and Steve pulled out a Coast Guard walkie-talkie.

“I presume this doesn’t use civilian frequencies?” Steve asked, holding it up.

“No, sir,” the PO said, his brow furrowing.

“U.S. Navy, this is Commodore Wolf on Coast Guard frequency. I know you’re not going to talk to me, but will you talk to a Coast Guard petty officer? Here’s PO One Kuzma, spelling, Kilo-Uniform-Zulu-Mike-Alpha. Turning over now.”

“It may take a bit,” Steve said. He handed Kuzma the radio and walked aft.

* * *

“What now?” Scholz asked.

“Get me the Hole,” Bradburn replied.

“PO Kuzma, this is the U.S. Navy,” the radio squawked five minutes later.

Kuzma had started to wonder if it was all hoax and looked at the radio as if it was radioactive.

“Kuzma to calling station, who is this?”

“A submarine, obviously. Answer these questions without thinking. Mother’s maiden name?”

“Thomas,” Kuzma said.

“Birthplace.”

“Mine? Burlington, Kansas. Hers? Peoria.”

“First college attended.”

“University of Kansas,” Kuzma said.

“Verified. Stand by…”

“Petty Officer, it’s good to hear that some of you survived,” a new voice said. “This circuit isn’t secure, so there are some things you’re not going to be told. To give you two other answers, so you know I’m looking at your service record, you enlisted on April twenty-second and you hold the USCG rescue medal with two stars. What I’m going to tell you is that this is the highest level commander you’re going to talk to for…well, until someone finds a higher level one.”

“Yes, sir,” Kuzma said. “So… It’s really all gone?”

“More or less,” the voice said. “But you, or rather, and I quote, Commodore Wolf, called us, not the other way around.”

“Yes, sir,” Kuzma said. “The…commodore, and he really doesn’t like to be called that, sir, he’s asking for materials from the Campbell for his…mission. Specifically, they’re low on shotgun rounds. And he’d like to off-load fuel and supplies and generally, well, strip her, sir. I’m not… I can’t authorize that. I can see his reasoning. We can’t man her as is. But…. I can’t go with that, sir. I’m not even sure I can go with a voice on a radio even if you are looking at my service report.”

“How about if I can tell an attack sub what to do?” the voice said. “Is that sufficient authority? I’d rather not surface the sub just to show off, but if I order it, it will.”

“So do I turn over the stuff?” Kuzma asked.

“What do you think of Commodore Wolf?” the voice asked . “Is that even his real name?”

“No, sir,” Kuzma asked. “It’s his handle. He’s a former Aussie para or so he says.”

“Who are Seawolf and Shewolf?” the voice asked.

“His daughters, sir,” Kuzma said. “And that’s part of the screwy part. Sir, none of these people really know what they’re doing. I mean, Seawolf is fifteen for God’s sake and she’s up for her own boat. Shewolf is one of the people who cleared the boat. She’s thirteen . I mean she’s big for her age and she knows how to handle guns but… Honestly, sir, I… I helped clear the boat with Shewolf and… She’s scary. But the boats? None of these people have so much as a captain’s license, sir. And…I can see what they’re doing. I think we should help. I’m not so sure about… I’m not sure about anything, sir. And, sir, I just got out from clearing the boat and it was… Christ, sir, it was really bad. It’s just…I don’t even know if I’m coherent, sir…”