by John Ringo
“Tina Black,” the girl said. She was a tiny thing with black hair and blue eyes.
“Let’s get you inside…” Stacey said, wrapping her arm around the emaciated girl.
“Despite her condition, we need to decontaminate, first,” Steve said.
“Steve,” Stacey said, dangerously.
“We’ve got some water in the tank,” Steve said, relenting. “Use the fresh-water shower.”
“A shower?” Tina said. “Is that what you meant? I thought it was… I don’t know what I thought.”
“We need to get you cleaned up is what it means,” Sophia said. “I’m Sophia Smith, the second mate. That’s my mom, Stacey. The guy who can’t seem to use normal words is my Da, Steve. And the hulking moron with a shoot-first attitude is Faith.”
“Bite me, Soph,” Faith said through her respirator.
“Don’t mind her,” Sophia said, wrapping her arm around Tina’s shoulders. “She’s adopted…”
* * *
“When Dad went I was down in my cabin,” Tina said, sipping tomato soup. She’d had a shower and her hair was combed. All three of the women were larger than her so the sweats she’d borrowed from Sophia made her look even tinier. “I heard mom…screaming. Captain Charlie blocked the door and put some food and water in my cabin. Then he made all the locks and told me to lock myself in the cabin. He’d… He’d told Dad that was what we should do in the first place. All of us in different cabins with a way to make it hard to get in or out. Then he…he went.”
“How long ago?” Stacey asked.
She’d geared up and gone over to check out the Fairline after Sophia had taken charge of the survivor. After a bit, and some toting of materials from the Hunter, she’d managed to get the engines running. The boat still had nearly two thirds of its fuel and the water tanks were full up. The reason that Tina had run out of water was the batteries supplying the pumps had finally gone dead.
“I don’t know,” Tina said. “There was a big storm…”
“We got hit by that too,” Sophia said. “That was about a month ago.”
“Then… About a month and a half,” Tina said. “I ran out of food after the storm some time. And… As long as the water lasted I’d drink a bottle of water, then fill it. Then the water shut off and I couldn’t flush or anything and…” She curled up into a ball.
“I can’t promise that nothing bad is ever going to happen again,” Steve said. “And I can’t bring your parents back. But I promise I’ll do my best. Okay?”
“Okay,” Tina said. She leaned into Sophia and tucked in her head.
“Hey,” Faith said, standing up. “Somebody should probably be on deck making sure we keep the boat in sight. I volunteer for watch.”
“Go for it,” Steve said. “I’ll be up in a bit.”
“Don’t mind her,” Sophia said. “She’s good at fighting zombies. Not so big on the whole helping others thing.”
“I guess you need people who are good at fighting zombies,” Tina said. “Can I ask… What did you do with my mom and dad?”
“We gave them a decent burial at sea, Tina,” Tom said. “The best we could under the circumstances.”
“Thank you,” Tina said.
“There’s something we need to talk about,” Steve said.
“Now?” Stacey asked.
“If not now, when?” Steve said. “It’s about your parents’ boat. This one is about done. The law of the sea, such as it is right now, is that if a boat is unoccupied it’s salvage. But you were on your boat. So it’s yours by right. Not to mention it’s got your name on it…”
“But you need to use it?” Tina said. “If you can take me back to Virginia…”
“Virginia’s not there, Tina,” Sophia said. “I mean, the land’s there but it’s all zombies.”
“All?” Tina said. “I mean… All?”
“We’ve been inshore a few times,” Steve said. “Everywhere we’ve been there are zombies on land. No lights at night. No sign of civilization.”
“Everything?” Tina said, looking at Sophia for confirmation. “New York?”
“We sailed out of New York harbor when they blew the bridges,” Sophia said. “We actually attended the last concert in New York.”
“And there hangs a tale,” Steve said. “But the point is, we need your boat.”
“You can have it,” Tina said. “I never want to see it again!”
“And that won’t work, either, honey,” Stacey said. “After we get it cleaned up, we’re all going to have to go back onboard.”
“Oh,” Tina said. “I’m not sure… I really don’t want to go back.”
“Cross that bridge when we come to it,” Steve said. “But we have your permission to use it?”
“Yes,” Tina said. “I mean, I’ll give it to you. Just for getting me out of there.”
“Probably ought to get that in writing,” Steve said. “But I’m not really worried about it.”
“Is Washington still…?” Tina asked.
“Let me see if I can put this in perspective,” Sophia said, getting up. She turned on the shortwave receiver and consulted a chart. “Hear that static? That’s the primary U.S. Federal Emergency Channel, the one that FEMA used to broadcast on. This…” she said, changing the channel. “That’s the BBC… This is ABC… CNN… Fox Radio…”
“Oh, my God,” Tina said, her eyes wide. She started crying again.
“You survived, Tina,” Steve said, taking her chin and making her look at him. “You survived. And as a parent I can tell you that it was more important to your parents that you survive than that they survive. You are important to them. So your job, from here on out, is to not only survive but do the best you can at it. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Tina said.
“As I said,” Steve said, standing up. “It’s not going to be easy. But we are not only going to survive. We are going to win.”
* * *
“That’s the first time I’ve heard you use the word ‘win,’” Stacey said. She’d brought him a cup of coffee. That was one thing they’d taken off the yacht first off. They’d been out for two weeks. “Penny for your thoughts.”
“I’m not sure I have any,” Steve said, looking at the other boat. “But so far all we’ve been doing is running and hiding. That was the right thing to do. Now… I’m not so sure. My basic plan was to find an abandoned island somewhere and set up shop. Maybe there’s a house somewhere with a harbor or something. Seeing Tina… Honey,” he said, taking the coffee and setting it down. He turned to her and shrugged.
“There are people out there, just like Tina. Hiding in compartments. Starving. Dying of dehydration. On life rafts. We’ve been avoiding them for fear of someone going zombie. But by now, most of them will have gone through the cycles. If they haven’t, we’ve still got some of Tom’s vaccine. We can save people.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Stacey said. “I mean, Steven, there’s only four of us. We’re not exactly the Coast Guard. Just tying up to Tina’s boat was tough.”
“Compared to, say, going to a concert in New York in a zombie apocalypse at night?” Steve asked.
“You’re never going to let that go, are you?” Stacey said with a breathless laugh.
“Zombies don’t think,” Steve said. “But whoever created that virus does. And I bet they had a plan to survive. I bet they’re out there. And that person thinks humanity is beaten. There’s no indication that anyone is doing anything. Everything is gone. There’s no government, no Army, no Navy, no Coast Guard, no Homeland Security. No Homeland for that matter. It’s all gone. The bastard won. Well, I’m not going to be beaten. I’m not going to have my children and grandchildren grow up hiding from the zombies. I’m not going to let that happen. I will not bow to the zombies!”
“Do you have a plan?” Stacey said.
“I have an inkling,” Steve said. “I have a goal. I have the goal of a zombie free world. I don’t know if I’ll see it in my
lifetime. But I’ll start with the U.S. and that’s going to have to be good enough.”
“Big plan,” Stacey said, shaking her head. “Steve, I love you for your paladin side. But ‘saving the world’ is usually a metaphor.”
“If not us, who?” Steve asked. “Tom, if he’s out there still, is locked into a fortress and can’t get out. Ditto any remaining government groups. There probably are government secure points that held out. But they’re trapped by the zombies. We have mobility. And there are other boats, ships, survivors out there. We’ll rescue them and organize.”
“You think they’ll go for it?” Stacey asked. “Tina’s a lovely child but she’s not going to be much help. They’re all going to be traumatized, terrified…”
“Some will,” Steve said. “Those that don’t…” He shrugged. “Cross that bridge when we come to it. We’ll cross every bridge when we come to it. We’re going to win and I’m not going to let the bloody damned zombies stop us. I will not bow.”
CHAPTER 16
Cleaning the Toy was an unimaginable pain.
The two zombies had crapped and pissed everywhere. Not just on the floor but on the seats and walls. Stacey had taken over checking the elctronics and engineering while Sophia did an inventory of stores. Which left Faith and Steve to clean up, ripping up the carpet and ripping out the seats. The Fairline wasn’t going to be nearly as comfortable when they were done but it was going to be livable.
The bunks in the port cabin were ruined. But they were the same size as the ones on the Mile Seven so they could be switched out. It was mostly a matter of ripping out most of the fabric and then elbow grease.
Tom took a break after two hours and went up to the helm. The seats there were just as messed up as the rest of the saloon but Stacey had ripped them out, stuffed in some pillows and started to work on the electronics.
“Figuring it out?” Steve asked. The console was so much more complicated than the Hunter he found it intimidating.
“Fortunately, Tina’s father was detail oriented,” Stacey said. “There are manuals for everything. He wrecked a couple of the screens, but they were for peripheral systems. The whole thing is networked and it was mostly the secondaries that were damaged. So, yes, figuring it out. Here’s one thing that you’ll find interesting, given our conversation last night.”
She flipped through a touch-screen menu on one of the screens, then brought up one that was a map of the Atlantic. A false color image of weather.
“What’s that?” Steve asked.
“Tina’s dad was a techie,” Stacey said. “It’s a weather satellite image?”
“A file copy?” Steve asked.
“No,” Stacey said. “Current. The GOES for the Atlantic. And here…” she said, changing screens. “That’s North America.”
“We’ve, sort of, got weather reports,” Steve said, sighing in relief.
“Sort of,” Stacey said. “All it gives us is the satellite.”
“I can’t believe it’s still transmitting,” Steve said. “They’re still transmitting. I thought they had to have ground stations.”
“I guess it’s like the GPS,” Stacey said, shrugging. “That should have gone down with Boulder. Didn’t. Secrets of the universe I guess. But then there’s this,” she added, bringing up a screen filled with red dots.
“Okay, lots of red,” Steve said. “That’s bad.”
“Little context,” Stacey said, zooming out. As she did, the outline of the North American continent came into view. The dots were in the Atlantic. And they were everywhere.
“Distress beacons?” Steve asked.
“Two different types,” Stacey said. “Three, really. One is EPIRBs,” referring to Emergency Position Indicator Radio Beacons, “the other is AIS.”
“AIS?” Steve asked.
“Automated Indicator System,” Stacey said, hitting a control. Most of the indicators disappeared. “AIS is a system on large vessels. Those are big ships or boats that are in distress.”
“Jesus,” Steve said, shaking his head. “I didn’t realize there were so many ships at sea at any time.” He leaned in and looked at something. “What are those clusters?”
“I wondered the same thing,” Stacey said, zooming in on Bermuda. There were a cluster of distress beacons along its southern shores. “Those are run aground. Seen enough of those.”
Every time they had run in sight of shore there had been ships and boats run aground. One time they even saw what looked like a submarine. It was partially submerged and it might have been the bottom of a boat turned turtle. But it looked like a sub. And not an American one.
“EPIRBs are going to be lifeboats,” Steve said. “We might find survivors on those.”
“And then there’s the third system,” Stacey said, zooming in on their position and hitting the menu again. “You know that emergency GPS thingy on the Hunter?”
“Right,” Steve said. “Push the button on the radio for five seconds and it sends out your location? Is that AIS?”
“No,” Stacey said. “That’s Digital Selective Calling. And that is…these.”
“How far?” Steve said, looking at the screen. There were at least twenty indicators on the screen.
“That’s fifty miles,” Stacey said. She pointed to an indicator at the bottom. “Twenty-four DSC in one hundred miles. And…” she touched another control and more dots popped up. “Sixteen EPIRBs, four AIS. So…there. Boats and potential survivors.”
“It’s going to take all day to get this boat even vaguely livable,” Steve said. “Then cross-loading. After that, we’ll get to the real work. Thank you, Milady. That would have taken me days and I’d have been tearing my hair out.”
“That’s why you have me around, my charming knight,” Stacey said, patting him on the arm. “I’d kiss you but then I’d have to take off my respirator.”
“And from the little bit that’s been getting through, you don’t want to smell this,” Steve said. “Or me.”
“And that is what salt-water showers are for…”
* * *
Steve took off his respirator and took a whiff.
“Ugh,” he said, shaking his head. “Still stinks. What did we miss?”
“I think it’s just baked in,” Sophia said, grimacing.
“I think we’re just going to have to get used to it,” Stacey said. “Once we get moving we’ll get some of the forward hatches open and air it out. Maybe that will help.”
“Hopefully,” Steve said. “Well, it’s as good as it’s going to get for now, and people are waiting. Time to cross-load…”
* * *
“What are those?” Tina said, wrinkling her brow at the small and obviously heavy cases.
“Ammo,” Faith said. “Bullets.”
“You’ve sure got a lot,” Tina said. She’d asked if she could help but had been told to just keep building her strength. She still could barely totter around.
“Not as much as we used to have,” Faith said, hefting two cases of 7.62x39. “And I think we’re going to need lots more if Da’s going to seriously clear every boat in the Atlantic.”
“Can you do that?” Tina asked, following along behind as Faith carried the cases up on deck.
“One boat at a time,” Faith said. “But I’m going to rebel if I also have to clean them all up.”
* * *
Sophia sounded the bullhorn as they pulled up to the inflatable life raft. There was no response but they hadn’t really expected any. They could see a zombie onboard.
“So how do we handle this?” Faith asked. She was rigged up and had her respirator on.
“Carefully,” Steve said, drawing his.45. He fired twice, missing both times. The combination of the roll of the boat and the lifeboat, called “catenary,” was something he was still getting used to. It wasn’t something he’d trained for in the paras or since. He hit the zombie on the third try. It clawed at the wound in its stomach and dropped back into the lifeboat.
“Ma
rk this one for later,” Steve said. “He’ll bleed out or die of sepsis. We’ll clear it later.”
“She,” Faith said.
“Easier for me to just call them all he or it,” Steve said, waving to Sophia. “Next beacon!”
* * *
“I don’t think anybody’s home,” Faith said.
The lifeboat was much more substantial. There was a deck aft and a solid covered area with portholes. It was marked “Carnival Cruise Lines 4416” which meant that some cruise ship had, not surprisingly, ordered abandon ship. The one problem, indicated as Sophia had circled the boat, was that there was a hatch and it was shut. Which meant anything could be inside.
“Get the grapnel,” Steve said. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Moving from the Toy to the lifeboat in armor was unhappy making. The waves had increased, probably because of a distant storm, and Steve had to be careful jumping from one boat to the other. If he went in the drink, the combination of armor and equipment would carry him down fast.
“We need to figure out lifevests for this or something,” Steve said as he landed on the deck of the lifeboat.
He tapped the hatch with the butt of his Saiga and waited. He was fully expecting a zombie to hit the hatch running.
He opened the hatch and looked inside, then stepped back, turned to the side, took off his respirator and puked over the side of the raft.
After a bit he spit to clear his mouth, put his respirator back on and entered the cabin.
There were shots from the interior. Steve hurried back out, unhooked the grapnel and crossed back to the Toy.
“What were you shooting?” Faith asked.
“The deck,” Steve said. “I think that’s one of those no-sink hulls but it was the best I could do. I pulled the EPIRB before I shot. Hopefully, nobody else will have to see what I just saw.”
* * *
1436 26 JUL EPIRB 1164598, loc: 33.797409,-70.927734. Four dead, no survivors.
1623 26JUL EPIRB 2487450, Loc: 33.797326,-70.926289 2KIA. Nosurv.
0814 27JUL DSC: “Cost Estimate,” 45ft sportfisher. Loc: 33.797298,-70.926327. 1 H7. 2KIA. Nsv. Cleared. Disabled. salvaged materials, fuel, water (see inventory). Scuttled.
