by Scott W Cook
Patterson leaned back in his chair, pulled a pack of Marlboros from one of the breast pockets of his BDU blouse and lit a pill. He took a long and thoughtful drag and said, “Fucking governor of East Tampa Bay my ass. It never ceases to amaze me… the depths that we humans can sink to so quickly. The world goes to shit a few months back and now we’ve got a bunch of thugs running around acting like they’re duly appointed little dictators.”
At first I didn’t notice exactly what he’d said. I thought he might be referring to Drake and his men. Then it clicked. The Colonel had said east Tampa Bay. So Drake wasn’t an isolated incident… and he wasn’t alone.
Even more alarming was that this other party had used the same wording. Governor… were we looking at something organized?
“Little piss ant tells me that my base is in his territory so he could do what he wanted with it,” Patterson scoffed, flicking an ash into a tray, “Nipped that in the bud fucking quick.”
I smiled. A marine was a marine, high ranked officer or not.
“I tried to contact Admiral Banks about this governor thing,” Patterson continued, puffing liberally, “And have thus far gotten no response. Maybe something’s happened down there… I don’t know. All I really know is that we’re pretty much fucked here. We’ll take down as many zombies as we can and those of us who are left will try to make it out. As to where? I’m not sure yet. Other than Admiral Banks, I’ve had no contact with anyone in the government or military for months.”
There was a long pause. In the background I could hear the chatter of small weapons fire and the throatier staccato bursts of fifty caliber machine gun nests opening up.
Patterson set his jaw, “It’s starting. We were once a great nation. In a matter of weeks… fucking weeks our civilization collapsed and now we’re hanging on by a thread. God help us all.”
The screen went blank and I sat back with a pang in my heart. He was right. The zombie plague had swept over the nation, hell the globe, remarkably fast. It was almost inconceivable how quickly order dissolved into chaos.
The military had been overrun, for the most part. People had turned on one another in a vain attempt to find shelter or food… and six months later the world was little more than a ghost planet.
Would that be our fate? A world of corpses, eternally traveling its elliptical course around its star? A relic of what had once been the home of a flawed yet unique species of ape?
I wondered for a moment what some travelers from a distant star might see should they arrive at our little blue marble in the darkness. How confused would these explorers be to find a world populated by beings who were dead and yet somehow still managed to wander through the ruins of their former lives.
It was a chilling thought. I shut my laptop down and went on deck. I needed to see the sun right then.
Chapter 27
From the personal journal of Samuel R. Decker
The approach to Key West was surreal to say the least. Everything looked so… normal, at least from a distance.
Having taken the Northwest Passage, we approached the island from the west. The first thing I noticed was the number of boats anchored behind and around Sunset Key and Wisteria Island. Just as it always was. You could almost believe the world was once again sane and that we were waking up from a terrible nightmare.
What threw it off was the sight of the U.S.S. Theodore Roosevelt, a Nimitz-class super carrier tied up at Mallory dock. There were two Navy oilers tied to the pier behind the huge carrier as well. It was odd not to see a couple of cruise ships there and seeing the battleship gray of military vessels instead.
“That’s weird,” Andrea noted as we chugged up the channel toward the naval vessels.
“Yeah,” I agreed, “a little unnerving.”
“Where are we going?” Tara asked.
“Good question,” I said, “I’m thinking I’d like to stay on the hook for now. Going in and tying up at a marina just makes it that much easier to keep us there should something go awry.”
Andy raised an eyebrow at that.
I grinned, “So I think we’ll anchor on the west side of Wisteria Island and I’ll dink into town. That way, God forbid, you guys can slip away in the night should that become necessary.”
I turned left and headed behind the two small islets and had Andy drop the anchor in fifteen feet of water about a quarter mile from Wisteria Island. Sexual Heeling followed suit and I lowered my dinghy into the water.
“What do we do in the meantime?” Andrea asked.
“Relax,” I said with a shrug as I yanked on the outboard’s pull starter, “I’ll check in ASAP. If you don’t hear from me by nightfall, however… it may be a good idea to try and slip out of here. Make your way up the Keys and slip in behind Marathon or Islamorada.”
“With the zombies?” Andy asked.
“No bad guys,” I said, “Let’s play it by ear.”
I idled over to our other boat and helped Tony climb into the dink. I then pointed us back between Wisteria and Sunset Key and opened up the throttle.
I wasn’t sure where to go ashore now that the world had changed. As you went past the Malory dock area and turned east, you entered Conch Harbor. This harbor was partially walled in by a large rock pile breakwater and contained several marinas as well as the town’s dinghy dock. Both Tony and I were surprised at the number of boats still at the marinas and in the harbor. As we passed through the breakwater, we could see people strolling along the boardwalk from Mallory dock and around the corner where we were heading in and out of the Galleon hotel and even the Sunset Grill restaurant.
“Looks like a normal day in Cayo Hueso,” Tony commented as I slowed us down for the no wake zone.
“Bizarre,” I offered, “I can even smell food cooking at The Sunset Grill, I guess. It’s as if nothing happened here.”
“A little creepy,” He commented.
I grinned at him, “You’re just never happy, are you?”
“I’m just overly suspicious,” Tony replied with a smile. The first I’d seen in a while, “It’s a black thing.”
I gave him a questioning look and a crooked smile, “Really, man? Only black folks are suspicious? That what you’re telling me?”
“Think about it,” Tony continued, “Here we are, basically living a horror movie. Fucking zombies eating up the world and shit. And here I am, the only chocolate man surrounded by honky’s—“
“Really?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Oh, sorry,’ He said with a big grin, “Crackers then… anyway, I’m surrounded by all you whiteys. You know what happens to every brother in every horror movie in that situation.”
“Fuck you, man,” I said with a laugh, “I got your honkey swingin’.”
Tony flipped me off with a smile.
I chuckled and pointed to the Galleon’s marina. It consisted of a series of floating docks that spider-webbed out into the harbor. There were a respectable number of boats filling the slips. There were also plenty of empties.
“You want to tie up here?” Tony asked.
“Might as well,” I said, angling for an empty slip near the outer edge, “It’s close to the carrier and I doubt they’ll charge us just now. If they even use money here.”
We secured the dink and made our way along the docks. We didn’t see anyone between where we tied up and the main gangway up to the sidewalk outside the hotel, yet as we came up the ramp, we did notice that while there were plenty of people wandering about, many of them were in military uniforms. We saw Navy khakis, navy blues and marines in MCUU’s similar to what Tony and I were wearing.
A tall lean man in marine utilities with Sergeant’s chevrons met us as we came up the ramp, “Can I help you, gents?”
“Captain Sam Decker,” I said, extending my hand, “And Commander Tony Sturgis. Admiral Banks wants to see us ASAP.”
The man grinned, “You both Navy?”
I nodded.
He snapped to attention, “Yes sirs! Just f
ollow the walkway around to Mallory dock. I’m sure you saw the carrier on your way in. The admiral should be on board.”
“Thanks,” I said, “it’s okay if we leave our dinghy tied up out there?”
“Oh, sure, Captain,” The man said. He had an easy good nature about him which helped allay my own feelings of worry, “No problem. We’ve got plenty of room out there since the tourism has slowed down.”
Tony chuckled and we headed around the corner. Once again I was struck by the sight of the thousand foot aircraft carrier huddled along the pier. While there certainly were cruise ships that were far longer, there was something imposing about the wide flat top that tended to dominate a landscape.
“Damn,” Tony said as we walked along the waterfront toward the huge ship, “She seems so out of place.”
I nodded.
We eventually came to the ship’s brow and were met by a fresh faced ensign and two hard-looking security men. One a marine lance corporal and the other a first class petty officer.
“Can I help you?” The young woman asked, eyeing us coolly.
“Navy Captain Samuel Decker and Commander Tony Sturgis to see Admiral Banks,” I said, “Commander Muñoz should have called it in.”
The woman consulted an iPad and nodded, “Oh, yes sir. I’ve got you here. The Admiral’s in the CIC now. I’ve also got a note for Commander Sturgis to go to sickbay?”
I smiled, “Yes. Little checkup after some field surgery.”
The ensign eyed Tony’s sling, “Oh, of course. Have you ever been aboard a carrier, sirs?”
“We have,” I said, “This one, in fact. We know our way. Permission to come aboard?”
“Permission granted, sir,” The ensign said, snapping to. Her two security guards did so as well.
In point of fact, there should have been side boys and a boson’s mate to pipe me aboard, due to my rank. I didn’t make a stink about it though.
I walked with Tony to sickbay. The carrier was relatively empty of personnel. Usually, a Nimitz-class carrier carried more than five thousand crew and you couldn’t go along any passageway without crossing paths with dozens of people rushing about on one errand or another.
I left Tony in sickbay and proceeded up to the command information center. This dimly lit room was fairly vacant as well. Only two crewmembers manned consoles and at the center of the room stood Admiral Jethro Banks.
Banks was in his early fifties and had a military man’s lean physique. He was of medium height and had closed cropped salt and pepper hair and a lantern jaw. He turned when he heard me come through the hatch.
“I’ll be God damned,” Banks said with a grin, “Sam Sharky Decker. I should’ve figured you’d come through the shit in one piece. How the hell are you, Decker?”
I shook the admiral’s hand and grinned back, “Not too shabby, sir. All things considered. A bit overwhelmed, to be honest. I’ve been eking it out up in Saint Pete while you’ve been down here re-building civilization.”
“Walk with me, Decker,” Banks said, indicating the hatchway I had just entered, “Keep your ears open, Pool. Let me know when Commander Hall has her report.”
“Aye aye, sir,” One of the techs, an attractive brunette chief replied from her seat at one of the consoles.
Banks led me along to the officer’s wardroom where he pulled two bottles of Landshark from a refrigerator, “Join me in a beer? Little celebration in honor of your return.”
“Sure,” I said glad he didn’t offer me coffee. I love coffee, but not usually at four in the afternoon.
“Cheers,” Banks said, clinking our bottles together, “Here’s to a new beginning.”
I took a long pull and settled onto a leather easy chair across from Banks, “Sir… I guess I have a lot of questions. Not to mention some things to report, I suppose.”
“I’m all ears,” Banks said, “Let’s hear what you have to say first before we get to the meat of it.”
I quickly told him about the last few months as well as our trip to MacDill and the incidents with the bikers. I left out Colonel Williams’ report though. Something in it had bothered me. Clearly, Banks had a lot going on here, but he also had a complete air wing on the carrier. He could’ve sent planes and troops to assist when MacDill was being overrun but he hadn’t.
“Jesus,” Banks said, taking a long pull from his own bottle, “That’s a hell of a story. Too bad about MacDill, though.”
“Agreed,” I said.
“From what you say, however,” Banks continued, “It sounds like a trip up there might not be a bad idea. There’s still some things worth salvaging.”
I said nothing. What I wanted to do was point out that if he’d acted when the Colonel had called for help, maybe there’d be more. I wisely chose to keep my mouth shut.
You could rarely go wrong in the service by doing that.
“I guess you’re wondering about our setup here,” Banks said.
I nodded.
“What did Commander Muñoz tell you?”
“Just that when the shit hit the fan, you brought the squadron here and took steps to isolate and protect the lower Keys,” I said.
He nodded and sighed, “It wasn’t easy. Yeah, the islands limited the outbreak… but it was still a struggle. We’ve maybe got ten thousand civilians here and in the other Keys south of the seven mile bridge. Power isn’t a problem, neither is water. Between our desalination plants and the cities still intact cisterns, we’ve done well with water. It’s food that’s a bit of an issue.”
“I swore I smelled food cooking at the Sunset Grill,” I commented.
He nodded and smiled, “yeah, we’ve kept a few restaurants going for morale sake. Plenty of seafood around here. We got here before the power had gone out completely, so a lot was saved. We consolidated dried and frozen goods from restaurants and hotels both for the general populous and to keep a few places open. Kind of maintain some level of normalcy for sanity’s sake. We’ve managed to isolate a few farms around the everglades with cattle and produce. So we’re okay, but in the long run, more has to be done.”
I nodded again.
“The country is in chaos, to say the least,” Banks stated.
I scoffed, “it’s a damned disaster.”
Banks sighed again, “Yes… it’s a dead world out there. But most of the infrastructure and agricultural capability is still out there, it’s just a matter of getting those that are left and getting organized. On that front, we face two major obstacles.”
“The zombies,” I offered.
“For one,” Banks agreed, “For another, it’s the survivors. They’re either fighting amongst themselves, hiding or falling victim to the fucking ghouls. We need to organize quickly or this near complete disaster will be fatal and mankind disappears from the face of the Earth.”
“I agree,” I said, “On that note, though, sir… what’s left? Have you heard anything from the government? From other nations?”
Banks scoffed, “Fuck the government. They failed us. Even if there was something left, which I haven’t seen any signs of… why would we want to trust them again. No, it’s up to what’s left of the military. Mostly the Navy because of our shipping. I’ve had contact with a few holdouts. Not many, though.”
“What about the CDC?” I asked.
Banks clenched his jaw, “Gone. At least the personnel. Like hospitals, the center was overrun by G’s. Not sure why, but what limited contact we’ve had with them was lost months ago.”
“Maybe it’s worth taking a look in person,” I suggested, “Gather what data may still exist.”
Banks said nothing for a moment and only sipped his beer. Finally he looked at me, “What was your plan, anyway?”
I shrugged, “Don’t really have one, sir. We left because of that asshole Drake who has proclaimed himself governor of West Tampa Bay, by the way. I guess my thought was to sail around and go up the east coast. Maybe try and make it to the CDC, maybe Washington… try to establish contact and se
e if something definitive could be done. Although I guess you’ve already started that.”
Banks nodded and smiled thinly, “We’re working on it. The difficult part is expansion. But with more and more good people on our team, Captain, I truly believe we can take our country back and make it better than it ever was.”
I sat back and sipped my beer for a moment, “Admiral… are we free to go if we choose?”
Banks spread his hands, “of course, Captain. You aren’t a prisoner here. Yet I’d like to ask you to stick around for a bit, though. Check out our operation and see if it’s something you might like to get on board with. Any reason you want to leave?”
“No,” I replied with a grin I didn’t truly feel, “Just wondering. I’ve got this… itch… that I just have to scratch. I need to know why, I need to know how and I want to find a way to truly fix the cluster fuck that our world has become.”
Banks sighed and tossed his empty bottle into a trash can, “Admirable. But frankly I think it’s a waste of time. I watched closely as everything fell apart, and fell fast. We’ve tried to find answers… but the truth is that it doesn’t make much difference. The zombies are here, and they’re here to stay. We’ve got to find a way to live with them. That’s to say, a way to live and keep them separate until they can be dealt with somehow. But there’s no cure for it. Once you become a ghoul, you’re dead. You’re a zombie and there’s no going back.”
That was true enough. I downed the last of my beer and said, “Yes, but maybe we can keep others from joining them. I don’t know… but as you say, I’m very curious about what you’ve got going on here.”
Banks smiled, “Great, we could use a guy like you, Sam. Why don’t you and your people have a look around? I think you’ll be surprised. Hell, we’ve even kept Sloppy Joe’s open.”
I chuckled, “thank you, sir. I’ll do that.”
“Good,” Banks said as the chief who’d been in the CIC entered, “Because it may not be safe to sail away just now. Report, Chief.”
“Stockdale picked up a subsurface transient about fifty nautical miles southeast of Key West,” Chief Pool replied with a serious expression on her face, “Commander Hall converged on the spot and dropped sono buoys. There was definitely a submerged contact confirmed but they were unable to identify the machinery signature. The boat went deep when they started actively pinging her. They got muddied hydrophonic returns… probably the sub was using its bow sphere to send out counter acoustics”
