Vivian and Doris were two women we picked up outside of Martinique, tourists, and they got to know the men on the yacht real well. Maybe too well, and now and then I had to separate men from fighting over them for ownership. People do funny things when they’re desperate, and those two gals didn’t make it easy and they took over Tom’s room, using it like a damn brothel. As long as they kept the men happy, I didn’t make waves, but I had to maroon one French fella, Pierre, who knifed Travers in the back for no good reason at all. Afraid of a mutiny, I had no other choice and then I armed my original crew of ten and laid down the law.
Curfew was at 10:00 p.m. and all non-essential personal had to be in their rooms, doors locked, and remain there until 7:00 a.m. I limited one cup of rum a day, like they used to do when men sailed tall ships, but I was less inclined to enforce strict discipline, until a man from St. Kitts stole a gun from Travers and tried to shoot Doris. I had the man stripped of his shirt, tied to a post, and I lashed him twenty times, until I made my point – no fighting on my ship. He later jumped ship when we reached St. Lucia and picked up two more passengers, including a Poodle named ‘Skippy,’ that I was quite fond of and it got to following me around on deck.
For nearly two years, we survived by making quick stops at islands that I knew to be less inhabited by folks to get fresh water or supplies. I had sent in Travers with a team of five, while we waited off shore, and we never kept our running lights on at night, nor raised any flags, not until Michael had the idea of running up a damn pirate flag he found in a tourist shop. It kept pirates off our backs, since they seemed to think we were one of them, and I didn’t let anyone use the radio except Travers. Michael seldom left the bridge, he and two other officers who acted as guards, and that way none of the passengers were able to attempt to commandeer the ship. Folks wanted to come ashore and search for their families, and we’d been lucky, real lucky, avoiding trouble by never staying in one place for too long. But over time, I lost ten more folks on away teams, caught by zombies, or by scavengers, and so we stopped taking on new passengers, until one day we hit a storm off Bermuda.
Four people suddenly just appeared on my deck. I don’t know how they got there, we couldn’t see any other boat in the water. Lt. Travers wanted to kill them, but there leader was one Captain Picasso, a retired U.S. Army Ranger, with twenty-five years of service, and he was calm as ice, seemed to know what was going on, and I liked him. He was accompanied by Logan, Lenora, and Captain Pallaton. He scared me, so I didn’t try to piss him off, and after a while, Pallaton convinced me he was trustworthy. I liked Lenora, she was helpful, but Logan had a fresh mouth and he soon took in with Vivian, and Doris didn’t like that. However, they were with us for a month or so before Captain Picasso told me that the world had changed considerably while we were at sea.
Like what?
A lot of it would sound like conspiracy theory to you. They told me how some of the world leaders were steering the zombie apocalypse, using it to achieve their own political aims, decimating troublesome populations, driving hordes towards some areas so that the local government would be forced to pay them a fortune for intervention and protection. Don’t get me wrong. There were many heroes during the War, all good-hearted people who gave everything for the cause of humanity. But there was also a lot of manipulation going on behind the scenes, some psychopathic people who used the War to become rich or more powerful. A lot of people real high up, the decision makers, they were either compromised or they were being misled with false information by advisors who were compromised.
It’s still going on . . . .
So, what happened when you came to Miami?
Picasso wanted us to keep close to shore, but Logan didn’t want to return. He said the strangest things at the time, and I swear I heard him call Lenora his ‘mother,’ but she couldn’t have been more than a few years old than him. Pallaton had one eye and it always turned bright violet, sorta seemed to glow whenever he was angry, and he wasn’t the friendliest sort. Like I said, it was Captain Picasso I trusted, and so did my crew, so when he said to contact Miami to let them know we were coming, I did what he said.
The Navy was supposed to send someone out to meet us, but instead Travers picked up some radio chatter with the USS Swordfish and a ship in distress. We listened in and found out a man named ‘Captain Milo,’ needed assistance, but Picasso and Logan both agreed it was a trap. It was the first time I ever heard them use the term ‘Shirkas,’ and they finally told me about how the virus had mutated and some zombies had evolved enough to remember who they were in the past. These Shirkas ate their own, those that were slow or crippled or so far deteriorated they weren’t use to anyone, and they were fast and strong.
The USS Swordfish was a Cyclone class ship, one of five that survived the War, and patrolled Florida. She was capable of 35 knots, and armed with two MK 38 25 mm machine guns, four .50 caliber machine guns, two MK 19 40 mm automatic grenade launchers, and twin M-60 machine guns. When Captain Milo suddenly announced he had taken over the USS Swordfish and was coming for us, I knew we were outgunned and outmatched. We heard Captain Milo and his zombie crew kill the sailors, and we spotted two ships on the radar, headed straight for us.
It was Logan’s idea to run the yacht onto the beach, so we could make it to one of the abandoned hotels outside of the Wall, while Picasso, Lenora and Pallaton took command of a rescue boat and headed out to meet the Shirkas. I didn’t see how the three of them could fight with two Shirka crews, and one on board the USS Swordfish, but that’s what they did, and they gave us time to reach Cocoa Beach where Logan drove the yacht right onto the sand.
We fought our way through a crowd of zombies, all tightly packed together, the moonlight making long shadows on their faces so it looked like they didn’t have eyes. But those Shirka managed to jump from their ships and swim to shore. They just didn’t look normal, I mean, some of them had the heads of dogs, or three or four arms, and they talked amongst each other, saying all sorts of awful things as they came onshore. Those monsters caught and killed Michael. Travers wanted to go back for him, but I knew we had to reach the hotel up ahead or we were goners. Vivian turned back to help Doris who fell in the sand, and I fired my gun at the Shirkas, dropped two, but they got back up . . . they got back up and they tore those two women into shreds. I saw Vivian’s arm stuck on the body of a Shirka, and it attached, as if it belonged there, and then they were on us from all sides.
At some point, we heard a Navy assault helicopter and it appeared overhead, firing on our yacht and everything in the water that was making its way to shore. The two ships pulled back, but the Shirkas were on the beach, and the commandoes were unable to tell us apart, so they shot everyone, everything, and Logan tackled me to the ground. He saved my life. Lenora and Pallaton suddenly appeared on the beach, but Picasso wasn’t with them – I think he’s dead. They saw Logan and me as we ran toward the helicopter. The commandoes jumped out, ran forward, shooting at everyone. I don’t know how I got on board, so I guess Logan carried me inside, and then Sergeant Lamone arrived, and he told us to shut up and buckled up. We did what he said and his unit climbed inside, without a single fatality, and we took off.
Lenora, however, was pissed. She saw what the commandoes did, and she knew they had killed my crews, folks who weren’t bitten, who screamed for help, and who were silenced in blood. And that’s what Lamone wants – silence. He warned us not to tell anyone what happened, and when we arrived at the Navy base, he took Logan, Lenora and Pallaton away.
I’d like to meet your mysterious friends, Captain Kirkpatrick. Their side of the story would be very interesting.
I haven’t seen Logan, Lenora or Pallaton since we arrived a few days ago, and I don’t suppose I ever will. I checked the heliport logs, there’s no record of their names or of them ever being here but I know they’re real . . . I didn’t just imagine it . . .
As soon as we’re through here, I’m supposed to be evacuated to Fort Bragg. I think you had
better come with me, girlie, because those monsters, that Captain Milo . . . they will be back. As God is my witness, I know Milo will return to Miami, storm the Wall of Liberty, and they’ll eat the weakest and use their body parts to rebuild their damaged bodies, and then they’ll turn everyone. They’ll turn the Marines and the police and everyone they encounter into Shirkas . . . zombies who can think, talk, and run. I never want to meet Captain Milo face to face, and he’s coming, girlie . . . oh, he’s coming here!
[A chill runs down my back. In the distance, I can hear gunfire.]
I think you just convinced me to leave with you. A few Marines are headed this way, Captain Kirkpatrick. Why don’t you take my arm and I’ll tell them that we’re ready to leave Miami.
[He’s my ticket out of here – I’m not about to let him go.]
Please. Please do that for me, miss. I’m scared out of my wits. I’m so . . .
[Captain Kirkpatrick has a complete meltdown in front of me. The Marines take him off my hands, and a SFC gives me a hard look, motioned for me to follow and we’re taken to a parking lot where a large Chinook is waiting. I climb on board with Captain Kirkpatrick, not saying a damn thing, because I want out of Miami as fast as he does. When we are in the air, I look out the window at the Wall of Liberty, and at all the assault towers. There are soldiers in black uniforms who stand beside those of our own military on the Wall. I can see the American flag flying beside a red flag with a black symbol, but it’s hard to make it out from the air.
Is Captain Kirkpatrick’s story real, or just a result of his obvious post-traumatic stress disorder at seeing his close friends killed by ghouls? If what he says is true then this War is not over, not by a long shot, but I don’t know if anyone will be left in Miami to cover the story. I know it won’t be me . . . I’m brave, but I’m not a damn idiot, and I know the smell of death, and Miami is one giant grave just waiting for the bodies to fill it.]
PALERMO, SICILY
Interviewer: Mick Franklin
INTERVIEW 21:
Mount Pellegrino overlooks the bay of Palermo. There are a number of private boats in the water as well as an oil rig, the Maersk Discoverer, which dominates the port. The city looks remarkably untouched by the War. Don Orazio wears a white suit and hat and a light blue shirt. He sits in a plastic lawn chair eating an ice cream.
When you see movies and television shows you just see the Mafia as a criminal element, some kind of problem that everyone would be better off without. The reality is that we are an important part of the community. I’ve always loved this city, even when I ordered people killed or I had shipments of heroin brought here.
Before the War our main business was the protection racket, drugs and keeping other criminal organisations in line.
For example, we charge small businesses protection money, which a lot of people resent because they feel it is money paid just to stop some local thugs from trashing their premises. In reality we also stop any other criminals from attacking that business. See, we do look after the community.
What about the port? Did you have to bribe or threaten the police to stay out of your business there?
[Laughs.] The Mafia owned the port, even before the War. There were literally never any police officers or customs officials around. We were free to bring in absolutely anything we wanted, including huge containers of heroin or weapons. No one was able to stop us, or certainly not within the port itself at least. We could also smuggle people, for the right fee. Usually that was some criminal who wanted to evade authorities and make it to the mainland.
What crimes were you yourself involved in?
Who, me? I’m just a businessman [laughs.] Okay, I oversaw some of the crimes going on in the city. For example, a lot of weapons came in from the port. A lot of drugs, too. There were many prostitutes, a lot of them operated around the port to attract the legitimate civilian sailors who were working there. The Mafia were so well organised that the working girls even had functional barcodes tattooed on their arms! [Laughs.]
What about the prison? Is that still active?
Before the War a lot of the Mafioso were locked up in Ucciardone Prison. If you took a bus tour through the city the tour guides always took great pride in pointing it out. All these tourists would try and get snapshots of it from the road, but that’s as far as any outsider was allowed to it. There was a huge wall around the prison which prevented anyone from really seeing in and it also prevented anybody throwing packages of drugs or weapons into the yard for the inmates to collect. Not that there was any shortage of drugs and weapons inside. [Laughs.]
I saw a lot of years behind bars. I would sit in a room in the prison and look out over the port, what little I could see from there, and count the boats. My time was very comfortable, I was surrounded by my brothers and the guards always watched their manners with me no matter what. I don’t recall any of them ever laying a hand on me.
How did you end up in prison?
I can tell you that not one of my brothers ratted me out. Not one [bares his teeth for a moment before settling back to his apparently congenial self.] No, it was a girl. A Sicilian beauty by the name of Marianna. The police got to me through her. At that time there was a lot of pressure from the public to put some Mafia guys away. I mean, the cops were usually paid off by us or they were intimidated by their own colleagues into not interfering with our business. If some cop really wanted to be a hero and try to arrest us then we would take a serious look at him. Maybe his boss could arrange for him to be transferred. Maybe his own family wasn’t safe anymore. Who knows?
The bottom line is that the public expected someone to be arrested. Normally what happens in that case is that we allocate someone for the police to pick up, someone who is low to middle level in the organisation, and it is explained to him that he has to go and do some time behind bars for the Family.
However, this time that person getting locked up was me.
I still remember it, being led out of my home in handcuffs. My home was on the side of Mount Pellegrino. That night there were lines of trees all over Mount Pellegrino set on fire, you could see it from everywhere in the city. That was not to cause any type of damage, it was just a Mafia symbol to say, “We’re still here.”
None of my brothers testified against me and I told the court nothing against them. The girl, Marianna, who gave me up … she was found in a hotel room with her throat cut.
When did you first learn about the War?
When I first heard the screaming outside the prison walls! Honestly, I was a man who paid very close attention to everything that happened in the city –I had to, I always wanted to know who the next tough guys coming up through the ranks were and what every single Family was up to. But I didn’t pay much attention to international news so when the zombie war hit I was kind of taken by surprise. I think we were all taken by surprise, all us career gangsters looking at each other in confusion. The guards were panicking, although we were perfectly safe inside. There is a giant wall around Ucciardone prison, remember? There was no way the zombies would ever get in. On the other hand, it was our city out there that was being torn apart by the ghouls.
I spoke to the Warden very gently, instructing him to let us all go free. He was practically crying, telling me he had a job to do. I placed a hand on his shoulder and told him these were extraordinary circumstances, he needed men like us, men who weren’t afraid to get our hands dirty and get the job done. For all our faults, and I must admit there’s not one of my brothers who does not have a black heart, we are still loyal to our people.
We were let out, armed with shotguns from the prison armoury. The city was in absolute chaos at that time. One of those double decker tourist buses had crashed and fallen on its side near the prison gates. Everyone inside was ripped apart. They began stirring and coming back as zombies. That was our first clash with them. I saw Pietro, an old school gangster who had served more than forty years behind bars, stabbing this one ghoul in the chest repeatedly. He w
as relentless, gritting his teeth and absolutely determined to kill this ghoul, not realising he had to go for the head, while four other ghouls wrestled him down onto the road and ate him alive. All the while he was still trying to kill this one ghoul.
Once one of us got a headshot and the zombie stayed down for good we understood what we had to do to stop them. We fought our way to our local hangouts where the rest of our boys were already fighting with the zombies. There was laughter and smiles and a lot of gangsters hugging and kissing each other on the cheek. We were happy to be reunited.
All the Families came together to fight off the zombies. We used everything we had, armoured cars, snipers, to clear a path to the port. When we got there we had a serious discussion about leaving. All the Families were there, gathered in one place, the whole city screaming behind us. Each man was asked what he wanted to do, fight or flee? Only three men voted to leave, and when the votes were finished those three were unceremoniously shot through the head.
The oil rig docked in the port became one of our bases of operations. The only way to get onto the oil rig was to climb the single stair case, which was easily defended or simply locked off. The deck is thirty metres above the port and the oil rig legs are impenetrable, at least for zombies. The other base became the prison. We took in a lot of frightened Sicilian refugees. Keeping them safe while we cleared out the city.
How are the Mafia viewed by society in Palermo now?
We’re back to our rightful place as protectors of the people! We take a very small fee for protecting the public. This can be food, materials or whatever supplies we may need and in return we are quick to respond to any outbreak. Any time the ghouls return we are always there, shooting them down or hacking them to pieces with long knives.
Zombie War: Interviews From The Frontline Page 16
