by Dave Brown
“Oh, the usual. Cookin' potatoes, swabbin' the deck, blowin' shit up.” He was keeping the launcher up and aimed at the sub, but he took a brief moment to scan the water below. “I can't remember if the Los Angeles class has ventral hatches or not. Keep an eye on the water. If you see somethin' that looks like a diver, drop one of those grenades on it.”
Pablo dropped to his stomach and crawled toward the edge of the deck, pushing the crate along as he did so. Patty went back to fidgeting with the five rockets still on the deck. The walkie on Jones' hip squawked to life and Anne's voice came out.
“What the hell, Jones?” She sounded on edge.
The Texan reached down and flipped a switch on the radio, locking it in speaker mode. “Just givin' 'em somethin' to think about.”
“Did you have to kill them?”
“They'd kill us, Anne. Don't forget it. There was no way I was lettin' six armed pirates board the Folly with you all still on it.”
“What's to stop them from torpedoing us?”
Jones smiled. “They won't, not if they want to get on this flight deck anytime soon. We got the only escalator in town.”
For a moment everything was quiet and Patty started to calm down. Then they heard a hungry, mournful moan behind them and her nerves lit up like the Fourth of July.
Chapter 9
Stoneham pushed the hatch open all the way then looked back at Errol. “Stay out here and watch the corridor. Don't shoot unless they're right at that hatch.” His voice was just above a whisper. He pointed to the last opening they had come through, twenty or so feet away. “Just tell me if you see them.” Then he stepped through into the small arms locker. Errol took a quick glance inside and saw a young sailor sitting on the deck, a pistol in one hand and a pile of snack food wrappers on the floor beside him.
All the other hatches in this section of corridor were closed, a small comfort to Errol in this otherwise terrifying situation. He saw nothing through the open one ahead and there were no more tell-tale moans to be heard. Perhaps the way sounds bounced around these metal corridors threw off the creatures' ability to home in on them. He hoped that was the case.
“Lenny, we need a remote detonator and then we need to get the bloody hell out of here, right now.” Errol glanced back into the storage room and saw Stoneham looking around on racks of equipment.
“Detonator's right here. Where we going?”
Errol heard the sounds of equipment being shuffled around and then the two men emerged from the compartment. There was still no activity in the corridor. He turned around to get a better look at their new friend. The kid was twenty-three at most. He looked like he'd been running on corn chips and fear for weeks. His fatigues were rumpled and smelled of sweat. Stoneham laid a hand on his shoulder.
“This gentleman here is Captain Stimsky of the research vessel Errol's Folly. They pulled up along side this morning and helped me get out of the bridge. We're going back to his ship and leaving Lusty behind.”
“Why the detonator, though?” He sounded as though he already knew the answer. When Stoneham just looked at him for a moment, it was confirmed. The young sailor nodded and Errol saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He thought he could guess what the kid was feeling. They had to destroy his home of four years. Not just that, but their last link to the old world. To mighty Britain and the Queen's Navy. The thought gave Errol goose bumps and he quickly blinked away an empathetic tear of his own.
“Stealth or speed?” he whispered to Stoneham.
The signalman shrugged. “Speed, I think, but let's not make any noises we don't have too. Let's see if we can sort of rush quietly, yeah?”
Errol nodded and then tried to give the kid a confident smile. Stoneham had insisted on introducing him as “Captain” so he might as well try to use that to keep the young man going. “Ready?”
Lenny nodded. They formed a line, Stoneham in front and Errol in the back. He thought they were doing quite well, shuffling a long half crouched. It was slower than a run but much faster than the careful plodding they had employed on their way in. They slowed at every open hatch or turn off, allowing Stoneham to execute one of those maneuvers Errol thought of as cop corner checks. Each time he gave them a quick motion with his free hand and they hurried forward. Soon they were just thirty feet from the hatch leading to the stairs and Errol was starting to wonder how long their luck would hold out. That was when they heard the first explosion. It could have come from anywhere but Errol thought it might have been the stern.
“The charges!” Lenny yelled. He broke into a run, bumping roughly around Stoneham. “She's going down!”
“Lenny!” Stoneham hissed, and began hurrying after him. The kid made it through the last hatch before the stairwell. Another explosion resounded off the hull, this time sounding much closer. As Lenny passed a turnoff to port a pair of hands reached out and grabbed him.
“LENNY!” Stoneham yelled. Errol was right behind him. They were ten feet from where they had last seen the kid. Eight feet, and another explosion echoed through the ship. Six feet. They could hear him screaming. It sounded wet and thick. Four feet. There were grunts and other noises Errol couldn't begin to process.
They reached the turn off and stopped short. Lenny was lying on the floor, his arms and legs thrashing weakly. The kid's face was warped into a mask of terror, his throat a bloody mess. A dead man in a uniform was kneeling over him, biting into the doomed sailor's stomach.
“Captain?” Stoneham said in a breathless voice. The creature raised its head and looked at them. It moaned, long and low, then started to get up. Errol saw a name tag pinned to its shirt. RALEIGH it said. He brought his gun up and did his best to aim, but fear rushed his hand. He fired three times, taking a second each time to adjust. The first shot obliterated the name tag, the second tore a gouge in the thing's neck. The last one went through its left eye. Captain Raleigh collapsed back to the deck, sprawled across the young sailor's body.
Stoneham just stared at what was left of his former captain, his mouth hanging open. Another moan sounded out and Errol looked down the side corridor to see three more of the zombies plodding toward them. “We gotta go, Reg.” Stoneham continued to stare at the body. Errol grabbed his arms. “Reg, now!” he yelled.
The sailor looked up and saw the approaching creatures. “Right,” he said. They ran toward the stairs, stealth abandoned. Errol was amazed at how easy it seemed climbing back up and assumed it was adrenaline and fear giving him some massive energy boost. They heard more moans below them and kept pounding their way up. As they got closer to the top it seemed like the hungry sounds changed direction, coming from above instead of the way they had come. Errol shook off the thought. Just the acoustics, he told himself.
They reached their level and ran through the corridors back toward the flight deck. Errol smelled the sea air and it gave him a fresh burst of hope and speed. He pulled ahead of Stoneham and bounded out the last hatch, into the sun and ocean breeze. He turned to his left and took several steps toward the stern despite what he saw. Then he stopped short, Stoneham bumping into him and then stopping as well.
A dozen of the things were crouched around a red mess lying on the deck. Errol took a few steps to the side, knowing he would see one of his own there but unable to stop himself. As the creatures shifted and scrabbled over the remaining meat, he at last made out the dead face lying there. Pablo Elirez, the electronics genius he had recruited from UNLV, was being torn apart by the dead.
It was Errol's turn to lose all will as he simply stared at his friend's cold face. He heard Stoneham move behind him and farther to port, but could not take his eyes from the grisly scene. The sailor returned and whispered in his ear.
“The crane's gone. We'll have to try to get around them.”
Errol looked at Pablo's eyes. He suddenly remembered the first time they had sat down with a Go board between them, three years ago. Pablo had seen some of his books and wanted to learn how to play. He improved quickly and wa
s regularly besting Errol within a year. In their last game, the day before over lunch, Pablo had played an amazing series of cuts and captured a massive area in the center. It was one of the most fascinating games Errol had ever played.
“Errol!” Stoneham grabbed his shoulder. The creatures devouring Pablo heard the noise. They let out a collective moan and Errol's perception snapped back to the present.
“Come on,” he said. They jogged to port and then toward the stern. The dead sailors had risen to their feet and began shuffling toward them. Once the way to the rear of the ship was clear Errol and Stoneham broke into a run. It didn't take them long to reach the edge of the deck. The creatures were still fifty feet behind them. Back at the tower, more were starting to come out of the open hatch.
Anne was standing on the deck of the Folly looking up at the carrier. When they saw her she jumped once and then raised a radio to her mouth. “The crane's jammed up!”
“Bloody hell!” Stoneham shouted. Errol looked at the rest of his ship and saw the rope ladder hanging by the tower.
“Come on,” he said. “We jump. Try to stay rigid, point your toes at the water. Soon as we hit, swim for the ladder.”
They took a few steps away from the edge and then took a running jump. The seconds stretched as the Pacific rose up to embrace them. Errol had the idea that they might never actually reach it, and then he was under it and had to remind himself to start kicking. It was colder than he thought it would be. He broke the surface and saw Stoneham already a yard ahead of him, paddling confidently toward the ladder. His own strokes were shaky, undisciplined. For all the time they'd spent on the sea, he had done very little swimming.
He reached the ladder just as the sailor got both feet out of the water. A second after he grasped the first rung, Errol heard the first of the splashes. The dead were throwing themselves off the carrier to try and catch up to their prey. He knew they were in no danger. The creatures sank like stones, something that always confused Errol. He hauled himself up the ladder and onto the deck of his home. Jones and Anne were there with towels and Stoneham had collapsed in a heap against the port side rail.
“What were those explosions?” Errol asked.
“We had a visit from the raider,” Jones replied and Stoneham's head jerked up. Jones pointed northeast and Errol turned to see a surfaced submarine cruising quietly away. “Pablo and I persuaded them to turn around.”
They were all quiet, remembering their lost friend. Errol broke the silence. He had to know. “How did he die? I mean, I know how he died, but... what happened?”
Jones looked at him steadily. “The bastards caught us by surprise. Patty was closest to them and she panicked. One of them almost grabbed her. Pablo ran and tackled it but he tripped and fell. He yelled for us to run. They were almost on him. I grabbed Patty and shoved her toward the crane.”
Errol looked around the deck. Patty was standing against the starboard rail near the bow, her shoulders shaking. She and Pablo had been close. “Anne,” he said, and nodded toward their grieving friend. The botanist walked over and put an arm around her shoulders.
Jones stepped into Errol's line of sight. “When we get the crane goin' again, I'm headin' back up there. I know Patty's not up to it. George assisted her and Pablo enough to know how to finish strippin' those choppers.”
“What about those things?”
Jones shrugged. “It's just like before, we've lured 'em all off the deck. It should be clear.”
Exhaustion settled over Errol like lead apron. “I don't know, man. We've already lost... too much.”
Stoneham put a hand on his shoulder. “Captain, if I may, I believe your friend would want his sacrifice to buy as much as possible. I believe Mr. Jones is correct, the deck should be clear at this point. I'll go as well. We'll work as quickly as we can.”
Over on the starboard side, Patty was leaning into Anne's embrace, her shoulders heaving with sobs. Errol turned away, unable to bear the sight of her grief. “You're right. We go back.”
#
The sun was almost down over the Philippines to the west. The Folly was anchored just under a mile north of Her Majesty's Ship Illustrious. The entire crew was lined up at the starboard rail, looking out at the ill-fated warship. Errol stood next to Stoneham in the center of the line.
“Pablo Elirez was nothing short of a genius. More important than that, he was our friend. We lost a good man today.” He looked at the young man from Britain standing next to him. “But I think we gained one, too. Reg?”
“Thanks, Captain. I'm not one for speeches so I'll just say Lusty was a fine ship and... she had a fine crew.” Errol could see tears in the man's eyes and turned his own back to the carrier out of respect.
It had been decided that Stoneham should be given the duty of pressing the detonator's trigger since, as far as they knew, he was the highest ranking member of the carrier's crew still alive. Stoneham held the device up in front of him, but did nothing. Errol was confused at first, but then realized why the man was waiting. The sun dipped lower and lower, until finally its last gleaming edge disappeared behind the island. Stoneham pressed the trigger.
First Respite
A clanging sound woke her, metal on metal. She sat up, still groggy. “Damn it, Errol,” Anne muttered. Then she thought about the sound again and realized it was a hatch opening. She got out of bed and went to her own door, opening it as quietly as she could. Looking up and down the hall she saw the hatch to Pablo's room standing open.
Reg's room, she corrected herself. Pablo had died two days before. Reg slept in the lawn chair on the bridge at first, but Patty insisted on giving him Pablo's quarters. Anne had helped her clear out some of their lost friend's personal items just that morning. Reg had come to them with just the clothes on his back, so the crew had agreed to let him have most of Pablo's things. The clothes were a bit big on him but Barbara had become a competent seamstress in four years of practice.
Anne listened carefully and heard a hatch opening on a higher deck. She walked down the passageway and started ascending the stairs. A minute later she arrived at the bridge. George sat in the lawn chair, a paperback open in his hand. He looked up when she came in and then pointed at the ceiling. The hatch leading out onto the roof was open.
The ocean air was chilly but she felt okay with it. She saw Stoneham sitting with his feet dangling over the edge. Anne sat down beside him. “Can't sleep?”
He nodded. “This ship sounds quite a bit different than Lusty.”
They sat in silence and listened to the ocean. Time passed but Anne was too tired to guess how much. When Stoneham spoke again her attention snapped back into focus.
“Pablo wasn't the first man you lost, was he?”
“No. Three years ago our mechanical engineer died. His name was Bob. He had one of those congenital heart things you don't know about until it's too late. He was cleaning the engine one day and just keeled over. Hayes tried but there was nothing he could do.” She looked at him. “How did you know?”
“All the weapons we brought back had to go somewhere. I heard Jones and Errol in a minor argument over using somebody's quarters. It sounded like Errol wanted them left as they were.”
Anne nodded. She knew exactly what he was talking about. “Bob was the only person he knew from before the Folly. They went to college together.”
They slipped back into silence again. Anne heard splashes somewhere behind the ship, some nocturnal fish thrashing around with its breakfast. A shiver rattled her shoulders and Stoneham put his arm around her. His warmth spread slowly into her upper back. She looked at the side of his head until he turned and looked back. Maybe it was the novelty of a different face, maybe it was the accent. Most likely it was just the five long years since the last time she'd been with a man. Whatever the case, she kissed him, and he kissed her back.
Part 2
The Plane, The Island
Chapter 10
Reginald T. Stoneham, formerly a Chief Petty O
fficer aboard Her Majesty's Ship Illustrious, hauled his fishing net over the port side of the Folly's skiff. He could hear his partner for the day's duty, Dr. Bernard Hayes, grunting behind him as he pulled his own net back inside.
“Eight,” Hayes said, sounding confident. Reg counted the flopping fish in his net, though he had no idea what kind they were, and grinned.
“Ten,” he said.
Hayes let out an amiable groan. They had been competing for biggest haul all day. The record was twelve, set by the good doctor on their second throw. Reg was surprised how much he enjoyed the work. In fact, he hadn't had a single job on the Folly's rotating duty schedule that wasn't satisfying. Even though his radio expertise put him as their top electronics man, everybody on the ship moved through the different jobs. The system of shared responsibilities and opportunities was new and exciting for the eight year naval veteran.
“So...” Hayes said.
Reg threw his net again and heard the small splash from starboard that meant the doctor had done the same.
“Yes?”
“So, you and Anne.”
Reg rolled his eyes at the clear blue sky. “Oh, bloody hell.”
“What?” The doctor sounded offended but after a month getting to know the man, Reg knew it was feigned.
“I thought four hundred people was a small community. It's a bloody civilization compared to you lot. Yes, Anne and I have become involved. What else is there to say?”
“Sorry I asked,” Hayes said.
They fished in silence for a while, except to announce their counts with each pull. After ten minutes Reg noticed a quiet buzzing sound.
“Did you start the motor or something?”
“No, just throwing the net. Why?”
Reg looked at the instruments for the skiff's electric motor, powered by solar panels that covered the bow. The boat had been rebuilt from the original covered lifeboat that came with the ship. The closed compartment was shortened to allow for net fishing over the side, and a solar powered electric motor was added to let her putter around the sea looking for good catches. Now all the dials read zero except the battery charge. The motor was off. The buzzing grew louder.
