John Ringo - Islands of Rage and Hope

“When do you get off shift?” Troy asked.

“God knows,” Sophia said tiredly. “Walker, Decker, Condrey and I are the only ones who are supposed to have contact right now. Walker and I ’cause we understand the protocols. Walker won’t talk about his exact background but he was an SF medic. He’s good. Very good. I think he was actually a colonel or something. Decker and Condrey because, well, the only thing they can really do anymore is very precise protocols.”

“Why?” Commander Daniels asked.

“There are so many stories,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “Short answer. Just before they evacced the Iwo Jima, Decker was ordered by his gunny to ‘take care of the lieutenant.’ He was a newbie LT. And he had the virus and he turned. So Decker and Condrey took care of him. Kept him alive. As a zombie. On a rubber life raft.”

“Holy hell,” Troy said. “Are they nuts ?”

“They’re Marines, sir,” Sophia said. “They are sort of looked at as the epitome of Marines these days. But they’re so totally inflexible at this point, they’re only good for stuff that is very simple, very strict, protocols. Like, say, cleaning out the five-ton and sterilizing it thoroughly. So, yes, they’re nuts. Sir, we’re all nuts. I’m nuts. My sister is nuts. Every single survivor, pretty much, is nutty as a fruitcake. But we’re getting the job done.”

“Evacced the Iwo Jima ?” Troy said. “The assault carrier?”

“Yes, sir,” Sophia said. “Which we cleared right after the Voyage Under Stars . That’s where we got about half our Marines.”

“What about the other carriers?” Troy asked.

“They’re scattered,” Sophia said, shrugging. “Maybe the Hole knows where they are. But we’re on a priority mission right now. You guys and trying to find materials to make more vaccine. And…when you can sit up you can see a wreck out the window, on the point. That’s just one of…thousands. And more ships floating. Talk about oil slicks? Every tanker on Earth, pretty much, has gone aground or sunk. Seen some bad-ass oil slicks. And there’s about four thousand of us, total. Only about three thousand are helping or any real help. Or sane enough to help. We got plenty of people in rubber rooms. So the rest of the world is going to have to wait. We just do what’s in front of us and push the plan.”

“What is the plan?” one of the Russians asked. “Is there one?”

“Clear the planet,” Sophia said, shrugging. “Find survivors and convince them to help and just keep building until we’re old and gray or we’re done. Da says there’s a plan, sort of. Won’t get into it. Says he needs the sub crews to be able to get to the next step. So we’re sweeping the Caribbean for medical supplies and stuff to make the vaccine. Notably polyacrylide gel.”

“That will be difficult to find, I would think,” Rizwana said, sipping soup. “There was a great deal of research going on at the end and it was being used widely.”

“A lot of it was going into vaccine production as well,” Sophia said. “Speaking of which, when Walker gets here we’ll give you your primer shot. You can turn it down, given that it’s from human spinal cords and has all sorts of other negatives. Various possible side effects include causing the disease, auto-immune reaction against your own nervous system and standard allergic reactions. In which case, we’ll move you to a cabin to see if you turn. Which with your immune systems, you will.”

“That’s cold,” Dr. Price said.

“There used to be seven billion people on this planet,” Sophia said wearily. “Right now we know the condition of about six, seven thousand . Every coast is littered with wrecks. Some of them probably have trapped survivors in them who are running out of food and water and air and time. Every shore is patrolled by infected. Every town we’ve cleared has had about one percent survivors.

“You’re astronauts. That’s cool. You’re all really smart and really capable with lots of degrees and stuff. That’s cooler. God knows we need people like you and don’t want you to turn or die. We can’t keep you in a bubble until hell freezes over. We’re holding here, instead of continuing the mission, to give you time to get vaccinated and have it take hold. Or turn. Which is a possibility. We don’t want that. We need your skills, and who wants more zombies? But we haven’t got all the time in the world.”

“Understood,” Commander Daniels said.

“So if you don’t want the vaccine, the cabins are more comfortable anyway,” Sophia said, shrugging again.

“And we’ll get H7D3 and go insane,” Tom said.

“Probably,” Sophia said. “And we’ll put a bullet in you and in your case probably give you a nice funeral like we did for Anarchy instead of just letting your body be picked by the seagulls. Which is what we’ve done with several thousand other humans who turned. Probably tens of thousands, come to think of it. Beside the wreck, when you can stand up, you can see the pile of bodies my gunboat division created on this pretty beach. The more infected we kill, the more people we can save and maybe save civilization. That’s how we roll. Welcome to Wolf Squadron.”

“That is the most world-weary fifteen-year-old I have ever met,” Tom Shelley said as Walker gave him the vaccine.

Doing so had required getting them out of their suits. All of the astronauts, besides being physically weak as kittens, were skeletally thin. But that was common with survivors. One wag had called the apocalypse “the best diet plan in history.”

“More just weary,” Walker said. “Seawolf is also one of the brightest young ensigns I’ve ever met. Her entire family is quite extraordinary.”

“Is there some more detailed information we can get than ‘it’s really bad’?” Colonel Kuznetsov asked. “For example, is there any continuing Russian government?”

“Fourth Strategic Rocket Command,” Walker said. “Although General Kazimov apparently committed suicide by shooting himself repeatedly in the back when he tried to order a nuclear strike on Washington.”

“The world has gone utterly mad,” Tom said.

“By definition,” Walker said, straightening up after his last shot. “If you define sanity as what is normal for the standard human, then sanity is being an aggressive animal with no higher brain function, Doctor. I was in a pitch-black stores compartment for five months passing the time doing knot work. Besides the three people who succumbed to the virus in the compartment, I had to kill an additional member of the party when he went stark mad and began attacking people at random.

“There was some issue with hooking up the TV. On the outside of the container; they don’t have to come in. When it’s working, we’ll run the basic brochure then the video they show new arrivals. It’s rather good propaganda but it is also truth, which is odd for propaganda. When you view it you will get a new appreciation for that world-weary young lady….”

“You guys okay?” Sophia asked as she entered the container.

“They finally got the TV working,” Troy answered. “They just ran the Welcome to Wolf Squadron video.” It was possible the former SEAL was the only one able to talk.

“Your family started this,” Tom said.

“Yes, sir,” Sophia said. “That shot of me in a suit was where I was working in New York producing vaccine. Like I said, I’ve pulled half the squadron over a transom. We’d get you all the other briefing stuff but it’s paper and there’s no good way to decontaminate it and ditto with moving a computer in here. I’m not sure what they’ll be playing, next, but I hope you can hang in there with it. We’re going to have to crash. After that, we’ll be going to four-hour shifts until you guys are recovered and we see if the vaccine holds. Shortest period for turning we’ve seen is three hours. So we’re going to have to secure you while we pass out. Light restraints; you can get out of them if you’re sane. Then Mr. Walker will be back in about four hours.”