Under a Graveyard Sky-eARC

by John Ringo

  “Then people started going zombie,” Dugan said. “And it really hit the fan. There was some sort of a split in the gang. We heard Socorro was killed, the leader of that faction, guy named Meloy, went zombie and the Africans, those that hadn’t turned, started loading the away boat. With, like, every bit of treasure they could get their hands on. And there was a lot. It was about that time that I…went into the compartment and sealed the door. Turned out Sari was already there…”

  “I had hidden when the fighting broke out,” Sari said.

  “There was a pause there,” Steve said.

  “What pause?” Dugan asked.

  “Before you hid in the compartment,” Steve said. “You skipped a step.”

  “I sort of locked the engines down and turned off the lights,” Dugan said, grinning thinly. “And locked down the engine room doors. I was the last surviving engineering officer. That’s what got them to leave the ship; no lights, no power, drifting. I figured, turn everything off, lock it out, hide in the compartment, wait for them to leave and then come out.”

  “Good plan,” Fontana said, drily. “Except for the zombies.”

  “Yeah, them,” Dugan said, shrugging. “Thanks for clearing them off.”

  “Mr. Dugan, you know the laws of salvage,” Steve said. “Any live survivors means it’s not salvage. Our…approach is slightly different. We allow survivors equal shares on all portable wealth of the boat. The boat is property of the Flotilla as well as half of the materials. We give… When there is a survivor or survivors who can run the vessel, we generally allow them to keep it if they want to join the Flotilla. Or if we don’t need it. In the case of this let’s say we’ll be extremely lenient in that regard. But if, as you’ve indicated, it’s still probably functional and has some fuel… I think this we may need.”

  “So… That sort of makes you pirates,” Dugan said.

  “Needs must is the best I can say,” Steve said. “Okay, flip it around. You take the boat. It’s not salvage. It’s not entirely clear, by the way. Are you going to finish clearing it?”

  “Uh…” Dugan said. “Can I get some help?”

  “No,” Fontana said. “I mean, face it, you already did.”

  “So even passing that,” Steve said. “Your stores will eventually run out. Where are you going to get more? Where are you going to get fuel?”

  “You can’t run this without support,” Fontana said.

  “On the other hand,” Steve said. “We can’t run it at all. You and a Coast Guard petty officer are the first qualified engineers we’ve rescued. I doubt that how ever many manuals she reads, my wife can even start the engines on this thing.”

  “Not the way I buggered the computer controls she can’t,” Dugan said.

  “So, obviously, we need your cooperation and I hope support,” Steve said. “This is well set-up to be a floating command and support ship. We need somewhere to put the refugees, give them a few days rest before we give them the choice of helping or being put into Coventry.”

  “You can get to Coventry?” Dugan said.

  “There are two sailboats we floated in Bermuda harbor,” Fontana said. “Which is filled with sharks that have gotten used to snacking on uncoordinated zombies. Anybody who doesn’t want to help out we drop on those. They’re hellholes, really, but there’s nothing else to do with them.”

  “Most of them are less sick, lame and lazy than tired and afraid of the sea,” Steve said, shrugging. “And there’s no great benefit, to their eyes, to bouncing around in tiny boats in a big sea. I think that some of them would probably go for being on this one. Even if it’s not in the big room.”

  “Cleaning this up…” Dugan said, shaking his head. “When I went to ground it had gotten bad, but not this bad.”

  “That’s the price of getting out of Coventry,” Steve said, grinning mirthlessly. “And the price of remaining out is continuing to provide support to a reasonable standard.”

  “I can run the engines,” Dugan said. “For as long as they hold out. And they’re good, don’t get me wrong. And new. But I can’t con this thing. Where you gonna get a captain?”

  * * *

  “What do you think?”

  Despite her surname, Geraldine Miguel could have been from Missouri. She had that Midwestern look. Blond hair, blue eyes, Scandinavian facial structure. She was actually from Texas, a ninth generation family that went back to the pre-Republic days. Most of the line, however, was Germanic rather than Hispanic, which explained the looks.

  “I think it’s going to take a hell of a lot of crew,” Geraldine said, looking around the still dark helm. “And one hell of a lot of clean up.”

  “I have a cunning plan on that,” Steve said as the lights came on and the panels started to light.

  “Which involves?” Geraldine asked.

  “Using an enemy.”

  CHAPTER 26

  “Sea Hooky, Tina’s Toy, over,” Steve said. “Sea Hooky, Tina’s Toy, over.”

  “Are you sure this is a good idea, Steve?” Stacey asked.

  “No?” Steve said. “But it’s the best idea I can come up with.”

  “What do you want, Smith?” the voice growled over the radio.

  “I want to meet you out here,” Steve said.

  “Fuck you, bite me and go away.”

  “You’re about out of fuel or out of fuel,” Steve said. “You’re fishing for your dinner and not catching a lot of fish. I’ll trade you a half a tank of gas to come out to this location. When you get here, I’ll throw in a load of supplies. The gas is just to be able to get out here. Or you can keep fishing for yellowtail.”

  “Yellowtail isn’t bad eating.”

  “When you’re catching any,” Steve said. “ It gets tiresome as sushi. I want to make you an offer I don’t think you’ll refuse.”

  “What offer?” Isham asked, suspiciously. “And why are you so nice all of a sudden?”

  “Because before you were a pain and a problem I did not need,” Steve said. “Now you are a potential asset. I’ll even loan you a respirator.”

  “Toy, Cooper. Are you serious?”

  “You want these headaches?” Steve asked. “You’re the second choice for this.”

  “No way,” Chris responded.

  “So there’s a hook,” Isham said.

  “Actually, I can see you seeing it as a positive,” Steve said. “You’re also going stir-crazy with nothing to do. I want to offer you an opportunity.”

  “This is going to be a doozy, ain’t it?”

  * * *

  “You son of a bitch,” was the first thing Isham said as he stepped onto the flush deck.

  “I feel the same way,” Steve said, holding out a respirator. “Take a walk with me.”

  “I know you don’t want me to captain this thing,” Isham said, putting the respirator on. “How the hell do you use this thing?”

  Steve showed him how to fit it.

  “You could barely figure out how to steer it,” Steve said, walking up the back deck. “However, part of the opportunity is being able to sleep on it in a very comfortable cabin.”

  “One that stinks,” Isham said, looking at the saloon. “Jesus, this is a wreck.”

  “And someone needs to clean it up,” Steve said. “Some ones. It will take a lot of people to clean it. And to run it.”

  “So you can have the big yacht?” Isham growled.

  “So that we can use it as an at-sea support base,” Steve said. “Somewhere for the refugees and the crews to fall back on for rest and refit. I don’t know if you’d realized it, but there are storms that are about to start sweeping down on this area. We’re going to have to leave soon. Our crews aren’t good enough, our boats aren’t good enough, to survive the North Atlantic in winter. Or a bad tropical. We need a base. The Large isn’t big enough.”

  “How are you…?” Isham said, shaking his head.

  “I’ll provide plenty of answers,” Steve said. “But I want you to follow me and se
e something, first.”

  * * *

  “Dead bodies,” Isham said. He’d seen quite a few on the way down. Since he hadn’t been working with the flotilla he’d had to stop and try not to puke at the first few.

  “Both in body armor,” Steve said. “Because there was a mutiny by the, well, mercenaries the owner hired. He wasn’t killed. They deliberately infected him with the zombie virus.”

  “Jesus,” Isham said. “Sick. What’s your point.”

  “This is why I threw you out,” Steve said, pointing. “And why I’ve thrown others out. What they wanted was the power and control. It’s what you want. But they couldn’t say ‘I’ve been given x amount of power and control and I’m fine with that.’ They wanted all the pussy and all the booze and all the gold. And they each wanted all of it.”

  “I wasn’t going to rape your daughters, Smith,” Isham said.

  “But you would have had others following you that would,” Steve said. “Or would try. Everyone talks about Faith but I would not suggest it with either one. This is the darkness that every one of us has in us, Jack. And this is what happens when we let that darkness loose. Fontana has it. I have it. And you have it but you use other means. What I understand, what Fontana understands, is that when you let it loose this is the result. No man can trust another. You desire power, control, prestige. I’m willing to give you those. But. The moment that I suspect that you are going in this direction… Then I will kill you, Jack. Without hesitation and without warning. This will not happen on my watch.”

  “You still haven’t said exactly what you want,” Isham said.

  “I want you to be the XO of the Flotilla and of this boat,” Steve said. “The operations officer if you prefer. I want you to, first, get this place cleaned up. We’ll recruit the people in Coventry for it. Which is part of the challenge because they’re not exactly self-starters.”

  “God no,” Isham said, grimacing.

  “They’re who we have,” Steve said, shrugging. “You’re a micro-manager. It will give vent to that. Then find the ones that can do jobs, actually do them, and set them to it on this boat. Others will be sent onboard that are actually skilled. I want this to be turned into a support boat, not a floating palace. And we need to get the resupply system under control, repairs to the boats, division of materials, organize salvage teams… That will all be on your shoulders. Something for you to do, Jack. Prestige, power, control.”

  “And the second I let it go to my head I get a bullet in the back of the head?” Isham said with a dry laugh.

  “I won’t say that we’re not playing fast and loose with the law of the sea,” Steve said. “But the law has always held that sedition, mutiny if you would, is grounds for the death sentence. Try to use the authority I’m giving you to take over and, yes, I will put a bullet in your head. Not because I want the power and authority and control. Because I know it will lead to this,” he said, pointing at his feet. “I don’t know if you understand that. If you ever can.”

  “I can’t exactly mutiny if you’ve got all the guns,” Isham said.

  “There will be guns,” Steve said. “I’m about done waiting for whoever that is on the phone to make up his mind. If I don’t get a call, soon, I’m going to strip that damned cutter without permission and damn to them. And one point to this is a place to put materials.”

  “You really have been talking to Washington?” Isham asked.

  “Washington is gone,” Steve said. “You know that. I heard about your trip to the coast. I don’t know who they are. Just that the subs, or some subs, follow their orders. Jack, I need someone to ramrod this, to get it done. You’re a get it done person. Can I trust you not to knife me in the back?”

  “You’re so trusting,” Isham said.

  “It is a well known fact that Australia is a nation populated entirely by criminals,” Steve intoned. “And criminals trust no one.”

  “Funny,” Isham said.

  “So you want the job?” Steve asked.

  “I dunno,” Isham said, rubbing his head. “Lemme see the cabin.”

  * * *

  “It got trashed out by the mutineers but not the zombies,” Steve said.

  The starboard side cabin was the size of a small home with a magnificent sweep of windows, and a bathroom that was worthy of any palatial home. On the other hand, some of the fixtures had been ripped out.

  “Gold?” Isham said, fingering a hole in the alabaster counter top where a faucet had been pulled out.

  “Probably,” Steve said.

  “I don’t suppose it’s still onboard?”

  “Funny story that…”

  * * *

  Steve turned the Toy away as the Alpha dropped anchor in Jew Bay and headed for the Livin’ Large.

  “Livin’ Large, Toy, over,” Steve called.

  “Toy, Livin’ Large. Just had to one up us, over?”

  “Something like that,” Steve replied. “Coming alongside for a chat.”

  * * *

  “Hey, Steve,” Kuzma said, shaking his hand.

  The Petty Officer looked much better than the last time Steve had seen him. And he had to admit that the Coasties had been a real help. Most of the refugees were being slowly moved back to Bermuda harbor. After a few days rest out of the waves they were given the choice of joining the Flotilla or going to Coventry. Those that volunteered for the Flotilla had stayed onboard the Large. The Coasties had been managing that process, taking some of the burden off of Steve.

  “How’s the personnel situation?” Steve asked.

  “Nominal,” Kuzma said. “Until we get more boats, we’ve got more volunteers than we’ve got slots.”

  “Good,” Steve said, hooking a finger. “That’s going to take some work. Any of them skilled?”

  “Two sailors,” Bobby said, shrugging. “Deckhands not captains but they know deck work and some mechanics. But I’ve got one kid you need to meet. I mean, you stopped by, want to cover that?”

  “Let me meet the ‘kid,’” Steve said.

  * * *

  “Lance Corporal, this is Commodore Wolf,” Kuzma said.

  The lance corporal jumped off his bunk and came to attention.

  “Lance Corporal Joshua Hocieniec, sir, pleasure to meet you!”

  Hocieniec was slightly under normal height, almost skeletally thin and darkly tanned, a sure sign of having been in a raft or lifeboat rather than stuck in a compartment. He had didn’t have a beard, which had become common in the flotilla, but he did appear to have a five-oclock-shadow.

  “As you were, Marine,” Steve said.

  The crew room was neat as a pin. There was clear evidence of zombie damage but it had been scrubbed to the walls and the Marine’s blouse was washed and neatly hung on the wall. He’d even polished his boots.

  “Where’d you come from?” Steve asked.

  “Life raft, sir!” Hocieniec barked.

  “The Iwo Jima,” Kuzma said softly. “Only guy in the liferaft.”

  “Sir…” Hocieniec said. “I swear, it was abandoned!”

  “Start from the beginning,” Steve said, sitting down on a chair. “Or, rather, what happened in general?”

  “We were in lockdown, but the bug got onboard somehow, sir,” Hocieniec said, precisely. “Just the flu at first, then people started to turn, sir. We tried to maintain control but… My team leader, Sergeant Fry, he turned in the middle of a clearance, sir, and then he bit PFC Conner. Finally, the acting CO ordered abandon ship, sir. I…the boats were going over the side just…going, sir. I couldn’t even find a boat and I was clocking out, running out of ammo, sir. And I’d got the flu. I didn’t know when I was going to turn, sir. I went over the side and into the drink. I was floating when I spotted the raft, sir. I climbed aboard. I tried to paddle to some other guys who were afloat but the wind was blowing…sir, I did absolutely everything I could, sir…”

  “Calm down, Lance Corporal,” Steve said. “No worries as they say in my homeland. Nobody was abl
e to hold onto anything. Generals, admirals, captains and commanders weren’t able to do more. And I’ll note that ‘Commodore’ is an honorary title in my case.” He considered the Marine for a moment. “How are you doing? What’s your condition in your opinion?”

  “Ready for duty, sir,” Hocieniec said. “I understand you need clearance personnel. I am ready to fight zombies any day you say, sir.”

  “Here’s the deal,” Steve said. “You might have heard rumor we’re in contact with higher. They haven’t called back in a while but the subs, which is how we communicate with them, are still out there. So, presumably is this unknown ‘Headquarters.’ They haven’t given me the right to order military personnel to provide support. But they know that military are working with us and haven’t objected. The situation is ambiguous. But we’ve got an SF sergeant, active duty, doing clearance. I don’t see them objecting to a Marine. However, it’s up to you. I can’t order you to do it. That being said, if you agree, it’s like enlisting. You then do follow the orders of whoever is assigned over you. You may just be trained in clearance by a thirteen-year-old female. Think you can handle that?”

  “I’ve…heard about Shewolf, sir,” Hocieniec said. “Shouldn’t be a problem, sir.”

  “Do you have a handle, Lance Corporal… Hoochken…”

  “ Hocieniec, sir,” the Marine said, his face very clearly not smiling. “Hooch or Burma, sir.”

  “Burma?” Steve asked.

  “If I don’t shave three times a day I get a shadow, sir,” Hooch, said, rubbing his chin. “Burma Shave, sir.”

  “All right, Burma,” Steve said, sticking out his hand. “Welcome to Wolf’s Floating Circus.”

  * * *

  “How’s the weather report look,” Steve asked. “If it chops up this is purely going to suck.”

  The ship wasn’t a tanker. It was an oil rig support ship. Which in a lot of ways was better. Support ships were designed with massive tankerlike bunkers because, oddly enough, oil rigs had to be resupplied with diesel. But it also had deck cargo room and some even had machine shops. It could be a real find. There being a few little issues. One of them was not whether it had diesel. They knew that because they could smell it. That was one of the issues. There was a leak somewhere.