by John Ringo
“I am a Marine officer. I am versed in combat. But she was the warrior, sir, General. I was, am, a geek. I can fight. I have proven that. I have direct combat action in Iraq. But she was the warrior of us, Mr. Under Secretary, General Brice. She was our warrior half. Colonel Pierre, my wife was an Army officer. I would not prevent that young lady’s career in the Marines in any way. She would make a fine Marine. I would also not be upset if she chose the Army. Some Marines might. But I have known the warrior women of the Army and they are fine warriors. Honorable and courageous warriors, all.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Pierre said. “I wish I had met her in my career. Mr. Under Secretary, a serious suggestion?”
“Yes?” Galloway said.
“I would recommend that a recording of this be downloaded to all the still in contact submarines,” Pierre said. “There is damned little, currently, to build morale. Perhaps put it together with earlier bits such as Miss Smith’s response to her father’s question about back-up plans.”
“That, Colonel, is a really sensible suggestion,” Galloway said. “Commander, can we do that bandwidth wise?”
“Not an issue, sir,” Freeman said. “And, yes, I’d agree it’s an excellent idea. It sure as hell raised my morale.”
“Let’s hope her father is as heartened,” General Brice said. “I’m betting he hits the roof.”
* * *
“You okay, Faith?” Steve said, clearing the landing ladder. You couldn’t walk on the deck for all the bodies. He literally had to jump into an open ribcage to get off the ladder. When he’d gotten into contact with Sophia she’d been really noncommittal about how things were going. “Faith’s still there. No bites.” Now he knew why.
“No worries, Da,” Faith said, shrugging. She was absolutely covered in blood. “Fair dinkum scrum. Hooch handled it just fine.”
Hocieniec’s gear, while blood-splattered, was splattered, not covered. For that matter, parts of Faith’s heavy battle gear were torn. There were teeth marks everywhere. And she had some knives missing from their sheathes. And her machete was on the deck, bent. And her Halligan tool had matted brain matter and hair on it. It was long and blond and for a second Steve wondered if she’d somehow ripped some of her own hair out with it. Except hers was thoroughly covered by her gear.
“Trixie got a little messed up,” Faith said, reaching back to pat the teddy bear. “Trixie’s going to need a nice hot bath after this, isn’t she? Trixie says she got a little frightened but she’ll be okay. She shut her eyes during the bad parts.”
Steve had seen enough zombies dead from wounds at this point for a twenty-year career. And he knew wounds even before this apocalypse. Zombies were cut, smashed, bashed in heads, all the shot wounds had speckling around them from close or direct contact shots. Angles were insane on some of them. Shots down into the shoulder, which could only be done from…
“Okay,” he said. “No worries. Thanks for holding the high ground. You need to take a breather for a bit?”
“What I need to do is ammo up,” Faith said. “But I think most of my mags are so…messed up that they sort of need to be cleaned first. And I’m down to less than one mag of Saiga.”
“Pistol?” Steve asked.
“Uh, I’m down to three rounds.”
“I think that Fontana and I will hold this position while you go wash down your gear and ammo back up. Can you keep going? Seriously?”
“Try to hold me back, Da.”
* * *
“These doors are locked,” Fontana said, pulling at the hatch. The massive construction was one of the doors to the lifeboat deck and it was positively unwilling to open. A halligan tool wasn’t going to scratch it.
“Crap,” Steve said, looking around. “That means another pass card hunt.”
“Isn’t this Chris’s boat?” Fontana said. “Does he still have his?”
“I don’t know,” Steve said, keying his radio. “Sophia, all the exterior hatches we’ve found are locked down. Call Chris and ask him if he still has his pass key or whatever for the boat. And tell him we’re probably going to need his help finding our way around. Dallas, you monitoring?”
“Roger, Wolf actual.”
“Tell the Coasties as soon as they get here they’re to coordinate the evacuation teams. These people are going to need wheelchairs, stretchers, something. And right now getting them off the boat is going to be a professional evolution. They’ll need to primarily provide expertise and security. We’ll clear the zones, then they can come in and get the people. Copy?”
“Coast guard personnel to organize evacuation and maintain security presence, Wolf teams to clear.”
“Roger,” Steve said. “As soon as we can get a master key or something.”
* * *
“Wolf, Dallas, over.”
“Go ahead, Dallas,” Steve said.
“Retransing a call from the David Cooper, over.”
“Go ahead retrans,” Steve said.
“Wolf, Chris. Got in position to observe. First of all, you know this was my ship, over.”
“Roger, over,” Steve said. “What can you tell us, over?”
“Good luck. The Voyage is one of the largest liners in the world. Getting into it was only the first problem. The Staff Side Acting First intended to do a complete lockdown after all lifeboats were away. A complete lockdown closes and locks all interior doors and hatches including room doors in both directions. The only way to override it is from the central control, with the right codes or correct passkey, or using passkeys locally. Then it gets complicated. I’ve sent my key over for Faith to bring over to you. But it will only open certain internal common doors and doors specifically related to my job. I can move in all common staff areas and in all the kitchen and supply areas. It won’t, for most important example, open cabins. There was no reason a chef should have unrestricted access to the cabins.”
“Buggers,” Steve muttered.
“You’re going to have to hunt for a senior Staff side officer’s key… Standby.”
“Roger,” Steve said, looking at Fontana with a quizzical look. There’d been something in Chris’s voice.
“I didn’t really talk about leaving…” Chris said. “Or about before, much… By some sort of horrible coincidence you boarded right where I left. There was a…break… Standby, please. Sorry, Wolf…”
“Take your time, Chris,” Steve said.
“Steve, Paula, breaking in.”
“Go, Paula.”
“Look for the body or remains or clothing of a female senior staff side officer in that area,” Paula said. “First name is Gwinneth, don’t recall last, Third Officer, Staff side. Last seen directly opposite boarding area of Lifeboat Twenty-Six.”
“Cooper again,” Chris said. “With that key you’ll be able to access all areas except those specifically locked down by higher. That’s only going to be bridge and possibly engineering. If you can find Gwinn’s badge… That’ll do the trick. If not… You’re down to cutting torches. All the doors, including cabin doors, are steel.”
“Roger,” Steve said, gesturing at Fontana with his chin. “Any way to upgrade your key?”
“Only with power to the systems,” Chris said. “And you’d need to find and get into the Staff Side office… Break… Steve, I really don’t want to come over there. Can’t describe how much. But…”
“Once we’re to that point, I’m going to need you to liaison with the Coasties on clearing,” Steve said. “But if you’re talking now, no. We can probably find the cabins that are occupied on our own. We’re going to need help when we start clearing the crew areas and the working areas. But by then maybe we’ll have found a map or something.”
“Roger.”
Fontana came back shaking his head. No badge.
“Cooper, for what it’s worth, it’s not here. She’s not here. Will your badge get us into the interior?”
“All common areas,” Chris replied. “Passenger and crew and most support suppl
y areas. Food at least. But you’re going to be buggered getting to those passengers in cabins.”
“What about security, over?” Fontana asked.
“Security officers should, repeat, should have access to cabins. Also some housekeeping will access some but not all. Did you find a security officer?”
“Minimal clothing and materials cast-off in this area,” Steve said as Faith clambered over the side. “Faith’s here. We’re going to continue this operation.”
“Again, good luck, Wolf.”
“Thanks, Cooper,” Steve said.
“Chris said this isn’t going to get us in the cabins,” Faith said, handing him the card.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
* * *
“Zombies, zombies, zombies,” Faith said, banging on the hatch with the butt of her Saiga. “Customers.” She worked a stethoscope in under her gear and listened. “Okay, lots of customers.”
“Okay,” Steve said, trying not to snarl. They hadn’t even gotten off the lifeboat deck, yet. This was the third hatch they’d tried and they all had “multiple customers” lined up. “Faith, Hooch and Fontana, form a line, five meters that way,” Steve said, pointing forward. They’d gotten away from the entry area and the deck was mostly clear except for the usual fecal matter and occasional gnawed corpse.
“I will pop the hatch, then run like a bugger your way,” Steve said. “Do not fire until I clear the defense point. Let me make this very clear: Do not shoot me.”
“Sir…” Fontana and Hooch both said.
“Yes, one of you probably should do it,” Steve said. “But I’m going to. That’s an order. Just form up and don’t shoot me.”
“Try not to, Da,” Faith said, walking forward. “Just better run like a roo.”
“Weapons pointed down,” Fontana said when they’d lined up. “Locked and loaded, off safe, fingers off the triggers. Take position, prepare to point.” There was a large gap between himself and Faith. “Faith, locked and loaded?”
“Ready.”
“Hooch?”
“Prepared, sergeant.”
“Ready when you are, boss.”
Steve took a deep breath and keyed the door. It popped open slowly, fortunately, and he turned and started running like a scared roo.
“Don’t look back,” he muttered. “Don’t look back.”
He didn’t really need to. The howls of the zombies told him everything he needed to know.
* * *
“Oh, run faster Da,” Faith said. Ten meters didn’t seem very far unless it was the distance your Da had to run to outrun a pile of zombies that was, if anything, larger than her reception party. Da was loaded down with weapons, ammo and equipment. The zombies were not. They’d been slowed opening the heavy hatch but they were now catching up.
“Fire!” Fontana said, putting words to action with a blast of 12 gauge in a zombie’s chest.
* * *
Steve skidded to a stop and turned around, then lunged to fill the gap in the line. There were at least fifty zombies in the group that had been following him. They were tripping over the bodies of the leaders but that wasn’t stopping them, just, barely, slowing them down. He lifted his shotgun as he joined the line and pulled the trigger. It wouldn’t move. He grimaced, jacked a round into the chamber, took it off safe and pulled the trigger again. That time it worked.
“Back step,” Fontana called. “Stay on line.”
“I’m out,” Faith said, pulling a pistol.
“Going pistol,” Hooch said. Ten rounds goes fast when it’s a zombie horde.
“Shit,” Steve said. One of the zombies was still wearing body armor and a riot helmet. No pants but body armor. And shotgun and.45 did poorly against body armor.
The zombie zoomed in on Faith and tackled her. It had apparently figured out how to lift its face shield to deliver a bite and bit down on the juncture of her neck and shoulder.
“Fuck!” Faith said. “Not again!” Her hand scrabbled for a weapon.
“Pistol…won’t work… Kevlar… Knife…!” She reached down to her leg, pulled out a nine inch Gerber Commando and started to stab the zombie repeatedly and rapidly in the back through its armor. “I looove youuuuu toooooo…”
The wave had receded, the security zombie was pretty much the last.
“Reload,” Fontana said. “Faith, you going to get back to work any time soon?”
“He’s heavy,” Faith said, pushing the dead zombie off. “Use a little help here.”
Steve lifted the security guard off his daughter by the neck of his armor and gave her a hand up.
“That is why I hate mall cops,” Faith said, pulling out the knife with a twist and wiping it down with a rag.
“For future reference,” Fontana said. “The pistol would have worked. He had his arms up. Stick the barrel in the armpit.”
“Point,” Faith said, putting the knife away. “But I was pissed off. I couldn’t tell if he was trying to eat me or…something else.”
Steve rifled through the pockets on the armor and came up with a security card.
“Tada,” he said, waving it.
“Cross load ammo and reload magazines,” Fontana said, pulling off his assault pack. “Hooch, Faith on guard. Wolf and Falcon to load. Commodore, I would recommend, despite that card, that we remain together as a four man team until we’re sure that we’ve dealt with all similar large groups.”
“Agreed,” Steve said, pulling out ammo and reloading his Saiga mags. He’d never pulled his pistol. He held out his hand for Faith’s and started loading hers. “What could we have done better?”
“The overall plan was good,” Hooch said. He’d turned to face forward while Faith covered aft. “Except for one thing. I think in future with large groups and multiple possible entries… Or… I understand the thing about bringing them to you not going to them. But… Maybe open the hatch, then call for zombies?”
“If you have reason to suspect a large zone with multiple zombies, open the hatch, back off and then draw them to you?” Fontana said.
“Reasonable,” Steve said.
“It’s not really relevant here,” Fontana said. “But the one rule of Zombieland I’d like to bring up is always have a way out. Preferably with a way to lock it behind you.”
“What if we run into more security zombies?” Faith asked. “I tried for a leg shot but missed. Sorry.”
“Shooting a person in the leg is tough,” Fontana said, closing up his assault pack and handing Hooch his refilled magazines. “Melee weapons?”
“If you’re talking about a machete,” Steve said, standing up, “I don’t think so. Kevlar takes stabs and it will cut by I don’t see cutting through it with a machete.”
“Machete or a kukhri takes off their arm,” Faith said. “With enough force. And I still say a chainsaw is the way to go.”
“They’re heavy,” Fontana said. “And if you tried to cut a security zombie with one the kevlar would jam the chain.”
“Come up,” Faith said, making a motion of cutting up between the legs.
“Ooooh,” Hooch said, grabbing his jewels. “There’s things you just don’t say around guys.”
The area the zombies had come from was a corridor about ten meters wide with more hatches off of it. There was a faint light area where the exterior hatch was open but most of it was shrouded in darkness. It was impossible to tell how long it was but at least there weren’t any zombies immediately coming into view.
“Where to?” Fontana asked. They’d decided to go for the quiet approach and see how it worked.
“Sweep this,” Steve said, pulling out a tac light. The powerful hand-light carried to the far end but barely. Turning around the same happened. The corridor was as long as a football pitch. “Bloody hell. Falcon, Shewolf, forward. Hooch, on me. Pick up any cards you find. Meet back here.”
* * *
“We need some cave lights,” Fontana said, sweeping the taclight on his Saiga from side
to side. “This ship is too big for taclights.”
“No shit,” Faith said, then tapped hers. “I think mine took a beating. I’m going to need to switch it out.”
“I’ve got a spare,” Fontana said.
“So do I,” Faith said, stopping and pulling of her ruck.
“You guys had more Surefires than any one group should own,” Fontana said. “Not that I’m complaining.” He not only had one on his rifle but two duct-taped to his body armor facing forward and another in a helmet mount.
“Da always complains through movies, you know?” Faith said. “The idiot going into the basement in the horror movie with the light that doesn’t work pisses him off. We’ve got flashlights all over the house at home. And if we had to drop in the dunny in the dark he wanted plenty of light. But we never figured on clearing a bleeding cruise ship! What are cave lights?”
“You know those million candle power portable spot lights on boats?” Fontana said. “Like that but head-lights and hand lights. Smaller, too. They’d fill this up with light.”
“There,” Faith said, standing up and shaking her shotgun. “Better.”
“Must have been bad if you busted a Surefire,” Fontana said.
“Fair dinkum scrum,” Faith said. “And I don’t think it’s busted. Just messed up. This isn’t somewhere I want my taclight going out.”
The end of the corridor was a blank wall covered in instructions on boarding lifeboats. This was clearly the pre-boarding assembly area. All the hatches were either inboard or outboard. While there were plenty of “remains,” there were probably four times as many bodies as there had been zombies, all the zombies had been at the hatch. They picked up three security cards and moved back to the rendezvous.
“What now, sir?” Fontana said, handing over the cards.
Steve checked through them and stuck them in a pouch.
“No Gwinneth,” he said. “No senior officers.” He contemplated the hatches lining the corridor.
“Eenie-meenie-minie-mo?” Steve said.
