Under a Graveyard Sky btr-1

by John Ringo

  “Do I want to ask?” Faith said.

  “We never did,” Paula admitted. “The first time Donnie and Chris took a woman, it was Tom’s girlfriend. They went out back and then Donnie came back in and then a bit later Chris. And he just said he’d handled it. That happened nine times. Then Donnie got bitten and he turned. He stayed out on the back deck, tied up, knowing he would turn. He said he’d been special forces and he…he really went out like a hero, you know? And you could hear when he turned and Chris just went out and… Came back. And then it was just Chris. Nobody would help him with them. I…I wanted to but I… I’m not like you.”

  “I didn’t get bitten but I screwed up and got a cut,” Faith said, showing Paula her thumb, which still bore the mark of the injector needle. “Then I got into a fight with one on an elevator and the bitch bled all over me. And I got it. But I’d had the vaccine, at least the primer, and I only got a little. So I just got sick. Really sick. It’s the worst sick you can imagine.”

  “I sort of saw,” Paula said. “Donnie didn’t go down easy. You know what was really crazy about Donnie?”

  “What?” Faith asked.

  “He was missing both his legs above the knee,” Paula said, shaking her head. “He said he’d lost both of them in 2001. In Afghanistan. Then went through all the process to go back on active duty and went back to Afghanistan.”

  “That’s double tough,” Faith said, shaking her head. “I can only wish I was that tough.”

  “So… What was the thing about the last concert in New York?”

  * * *

  “We need to have a crew meeting,” Steve said, poking his head out the back door. He wasn’t sure what Faith had been telling the survivor, but the woman’s face was dripping with tears. “You okay?”

  “Oh, my God!” Paula said, howling with laughter. “I can just see Voltaire doing that!”

  “It was sooo not my fault,” Steve said. “It was her idea!”

  “It was Uncle Tom’s idea!” Faith said. “And at least I remembered my shotgun!”

  “Anyway,” Steve said. “Crew meeting. Chris is taking the helm.”

  “Okay,” Faith said, getting up. “Work, work, work…”

  “At least I didn’t have you clean up that last boat,” Steve said.

  “That boat needs to be sunk not cleaned,” Faith said.

  * * *

  “We have a potentially serious security issue,” Steve said.

  “Who?” Faith asked.

  The meeting was taking place in the master cabin, which was the only place outside the saloon or the back deck that would take them all.

  “All of them,” Stacey said.

  “I like Paula,” Faith said. “You’re talking about them taking over the boat? I don’t think she’d take over the boat.”

  “I like Paula, too,” Steve said. “Paula, Chris, Patrick, I like all three. I’m not sure about the lady with the white hair.”

  “Jack’s a dick,” Faith said.

  “But I don’t fully trust any of them,” Steve said. “And, yes, Jack’s a dick. That was one of the big glaring holes in my plan that I can see but not really fill. There’s no…the term is ‘controlling legal authority.’ There’s no government to enforce anything. If one of them tries to take over, the best we’re going to get is a firefight.”

  “There’s guns,” Sophia said. “And we’ve got all the guns.”

  “Which is the point,” Steve said. “And we’re going to have to keep it that way for a while. But that means keeping someone on the guns at all times.”

  “I don’t want to just sit in a cabin, guarding guns,” Faith argued.

  “Isn’t how we’ll do it,” Steve said. “We’re going to have to hot-bunk, anyway. So… All four of us will hot bunk in here. With the door locked and bolted, whoever is in here will have plenty of time to respond if anyone tries to break in. Carry at all times. We were when they boarded. We’re just ‘one of those families.’ Gun nuts. And if anyone goes for a gun, we’ll deal with it.”

  “That’s a way of putting it you might want to avoid,” Faith said. “‘Deal with it’ has a really special meaning for these guys…”

  * * *

  “You guys have been asking about the land,” Steve said as they left the next EPIRB. The liferaft had held only two corpses. “We’re going to kill two birds with one stone. Bermuda is about two hundred miles from our current position. We’ll clear in that direction. When we get there we’ll spend some time in the harbor. You can get a look around.”

  “I could do with a Bermuda vacation,” Tom Christianson said.

  Until the conversation with Stacey, Tom hadn’t really been on his radar. Now he was keeping him under more or less constant covert surveillance.

  “Like I said,” Steve said, shrugging. “Anybody who wants to get eaten can go ashore. Up to you. This is an all volunteer operation.”

  “If it’s all volunteer, where can I get off?” Isham scoffed.

  “You want off?” Steve asked, calmly. “There’s a great big ocean. Go jump in it.”

  “Fuck you,” Isham snapped.

  Steve drew his pistol, walked over and put it to the man’s head.

  “When I kill a zombie, I kill a human being,” Steve said. “I am fully cognizant of that. Zombies are not, by a long stretch, the first people I’ve killed, Mr. Isham.”

  “Mr. Smith,” Paula said, shakily. “He was just…”

  “He was just being Jack,” Steve said, pulling back the hammer. “Mr. Isham, there is no controlling legal authority, period. Now I’ve said, as soon as I can find a place to put you, I’ll move you off this boat. You can go ashore. But if I put a bullet in your head right now, who can gainsay me nay?”

  “Wh…what?” Isham stuttered. “Can you just put the pistol down?”

  “No,” Steve said. “That’s the problem, you see. I can’t put it down. Because I can’t trust you, Jack Isham. Because you are a revolving pain in the ass, want to be the boss and contribute nothing. Why, exactly, shouldn’t I put you over the side? You’re just consuming stores that others need and everything about you tells me you’re a threat to this boat, myself and especially my family.” He pulled the pistol back, decocked it and holstered it.

  “I swear to God I won’t try to take over your boat,” Isham said. “I mean, if you’re mad about me not helping…”

  “‘If it’s all volunteer, where can I get off?’” Steve quoted. “You’ve said repeatedly that you’re not interested in helping others, period. You dominate and wrest for control…”

  “You’ve been talking to Chris too much,” Isham growled.

  “I didn’t have to have Petty Officer Phillips’ confirmation,” Steve said. “I don’t care who or what you were before this plague. What you are, now, is a passenger on my boat. I am the captain, the chief, the boss, the head guy. And given the situation, I cannot afford or abide any threat to that authority. So, Mr. Isham, you will need to swallow your pride, swallow your sarcasm and understand that you are under discipline on this boat or I will, I assure you, put a bullet in your head and put you over the side. Do you understand.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” Isham said.

  “How ’bout me?” Faith said, coldly. “Cause I really, really think you’re a prick.”

  Isham felt the barrel of her pistol against the back of his neck and blanched.

  “Ah,” Steve said. “That you can believe I see. Now, I’m going to give you some words to say. And if you cannot say them, then Faith will pull the trigger.”

  “Please let me pull the trigger,” Faith said. “I bet you dollars to donuts this guy’s hurt plenty of people in his time.”

  “I…” Isham said.

  “Repeat after me,” Steve said. “I, Jack Isham…”

  “I… Jack Isham…”

  “hereby swear…”

  “Hereby swear…”

  “To do my level best…”

  “To do my level best…”

 
“to quit being a prick…”

  “to quit being a prick…”

  “to follow the orders of the crew…”

  “to follow the orders of the crew…?”

  “without the question mark, Mr. Isham and, yes, that includes the young lady with the gun to your head…to follow the orders of the crew…”

  “to follow the orders of the crew…”

  “of the rescue boat Tina’s Toy…”

  “without backtalk…”

  “or sarcasm…”

  “to the best of my ability…”

  “until I can get the hell away from these nutjobs…”

  “So help me God.”

  “You can holster, Faith,” Steve said.

  “Damn,” Faith said, decocking and holstering.

  “For everyone else,” Steve said. “I was a para in the Australian Army. I am a combat veteran long before this current brou-haha. I am a naturalized American citizen. Immediately prior to the plague, I was a history teacher. I actually understand these times because they have been common in history. Oh, not zombie plagues but similar situations. Once we have more than one bloody boat for people to be on, we can determine who gets the boat and who goes on it. And we’ll do that by vote. Not that you get a vote about taking this boat anywhere. But when one comes open, anyone who fears for their safety with we mad people, or who is unwilling to aid in this Great Endeavor can move to that boat. Or, as I’ve said repeatedly, when we approach shore you can take your chances. But until I’m assured that you are not going to mutiny, do not become a security threat. Do I make myself very clear? A chorus of ‘yes, captain’ would be appropriate.”

  “Yes, captain,” the group said.

  “Aye, aye, captain,” Chris said from the galley. He was spinning a rather large knife. “I’ve got asahi coming up if that meets with the captain’s approval?”

  “Thank you, Chris, that would be superb,” Steve said. “The next boat that we come to, if there are no security threats, you’ll be clearing the EPIRB Mr. Isham. Clear?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Isham said nervously.

  “Clear, Captain or Aye, aye, captain,” Steve said, trying not to sigh. “There really is a reason for it. So… Try it again…”

  CHAPTER 18

  “Toy, this is Cooper.”

  “Cooper, Tina’s Toy, over,” Sophia said.

  Sophia sometimes thought about complaining that she was on the helm about fourteen hours a day. She, like, never got a break. The problem being, she knew she loved being at the helm.

  They’d picked up two other boats and six more survivors. Isham, Christianson and four others that volunteered to leave had been put on one of the yachts and told they could go anywhere they wanted, don’t let the door hit you in the ass and don’t get in our way.

  Chris was now running the Daniel Cooper, a 75' “flush deck trawler.” It wasn’t as cool looking at the Toy but Sophia had to admit it had more room. And it had taken less of a beating from zombies.

  “Uh, Captain Chris wants you to come over here…”

  “Where is here and why, over?” Sophia asked.

  “There’s a big boat here. He says it’s a Shewolf job.”

  “Give me your location, over,” Sophia said, trying not to snort. She was actually at fault for the nicknames. She’d been talking to Paula, at the helm as usual, and telling some stories from Da’s old days. His old para nickname of Wolfsbane had come up. That got changed to “Captain Wolf.” Then people started calling her, Sophia, “Seawolf.” So now it was “Papa Wolf” or “Captain Wolf,” “Mama Wolf,” “Seawolf” and “Shewolf.”

  She took down the coordinates, then another voice crackled over the speaker.

  “Seawolf, Cooper, over,” Chris said.

  “Roger, Cooper,” Sophia replied.

  “Need to talk to your Da, over.”

  “Da,” Sophia said, keying the intercom. “Cookie’s on the horn. Says there’s a boat that’s a ‘Shewolf job.’”

  “I hate you!” Faith yelled from the saloon. She was engaged in cleaning some of the guns.

  “It’s not my fault your adopted,” Sophia sang out.

  “I’m not adopted,” Faith said.

  “She’s not adopted,” Steve said, walking onto the bridge. “Cooper, Toy actual, over.”

  “Got a big job here, Toy. Forty, fifty meter tug. Zombies, plural, on deck. Lots of corridors. Not our cuppa.”

  Steve had supplied Chris with some weapons to clear open boats but not something like that. Besides, he’d expressed an unwillingness to do serious clearance. “I was a chef not SBS.”

  “Roger,” Steve said, thinking about it. “We’re about to clear a purb. We’ll vector after that.”

  “Roger. We’re on to other clearance then?”

  “Roger. Continue clearance. We’ll handle the big job.”

  “Better you than I. Cooper, out.”

  “Shewolf job?” Faith said. “Big job?”

  “You are about to get your wish, I think,” Steve said. “Big ocean going tug. Hundred and fifty feet or so. Zombies on deck.”

  “Which means zombie city,” Faith said, excitedly. “Boo-yah!”

  “You’re too weird not to be adopted…”

  * * *

  The EPIRB had been another bust. The tug was another matter.

  “Assuming it didn’t run its engines out and it’s diesel that’s a boomer of fuel for the taking,” Steve said.

  The tug was enormous. Next to it the Toy looked like, well, a toy. And, as reported, there were zombies on the deck.

  “I can get an AK and try to shoot them off,” Faith said.

  “You mean I can try to shoot them off,” Steve said. They were certainly lining up for it. “I’m a better hand with a rifle.”

  “Bet I get more than you,” Faith said. “Bet you dishes.”

  “The problem is bouncers,” Steve said, considering the angles. “We’re going to hit low some of the time. We don’t want them bouncing back. That would be unwelcome.”

  “I was thinking from the flying bridge,” Faith said. “But if we fire from down here, they’re going to bounce up, right?”

  “There’s a bit of a lip,” Steve said, pointing to the metal balwark. “Either way, we’re going to have some come back and down. 7.62 tends to keep going you know. Like going through your mother, going through the hull…”

  “Frangibles?” Faith said.

  “We’re a bit short on those,” Steve said. “Full up body armor, ballistic glasses, shotgun and hope like hell we don’t kill anyone but zombies or sink the boat.”

  “Shotgun spreads, Da,” Faith pointed out.

  “It also is relatively low velocity,” Steve replied. “When, not if, it bounces it hopefully will not go all the way through the hull. The family will rig up, everyone else below decks.”

  * * *

  “Think you put enough holes in the boat, honey?” Stacey asked, nicely. There was a large one right in one of the saloon windows.

  “I’m just glad nothing worse happened,” Steve said. He was finishing rigging for the entry. This time an assault pack made sense. But they’d put lifevests on outside everything. They were going to have to climb a boarding ladder to get up to the tug’s deck. That was going to be a new experience. “We’re going to have to figure out a better way to clear zombies off the deck.”

  “Like water cannon maybe?” Sophia called. She’d taken off her helmet but was still in armor. And she hadn’t liked it when a bouncer had come through the cabin.

  “As I said,” Steve said, “we’ll have to find something better.”

  “I’ll go get the fiberglass patches…” Stacey said.

  “I still got more than you did,” Faith said. “You’re on dishes tonight.”

  * * *

  “We need to use the dinghy for this,” Steve said, grimacing. “I don’t want to put the boat alongside until we can get some of those big balloon things from the tug.”

  “Going up t
here from the dinghy is going to be tough,” Faith said.

  “Which is why we’re going to do it very carefully,” Steve said. “And wear lifevests.”

  * * *

  “Pirates make this look so easy,” Faith said, throwing the grapnel again. “Damnit!”

  “Don’t hole the dinghy,” Steve said as she pulled the rope back in.

  * * *

  “Son of a b-blug-blug…” Faith spit out a mouthful of water and flailed at the surface. “This vest isn’t…Blug!”

  Given the weight of her gear, the vest was barely keeping her at the surface.

  “Grab the rope, Faith,” Steve yelled. He was up on the deck already and dangling a recovery line to her. Fortunately, the vessel wasn’t moving much in the light swells.

  “Ow!” Faith said, as the hull hit her helmet and pushed her under. She managed to get a hand on the recovery line, though, and Steve pulled her back out from under the tug.

  “Tell me there aren’t any sharks,” Faith said, flailing with one free hand for the boarding ladder.

  Steve looked around and considered his answer carefully. The recently terminated infected had, after all, bled out. The scuppers were, in the old term, running with blood. And, yes, there were a few shadows. And fins…

  “You might want to hurry…”

  * * *

  “We need a better way to get onto boats,” Faith said. She was sprawled out on the deck of the tug.

  “You realize you’re lying in infected zombie blood, right?” Steve said.

  “I sooo don’t care,” Faith said. “We’re going to wash-down when we reboard, anyway. Christ that sucked. I was getting ready to dump my gear. If we didn’t need it and if I could figure out a way to do it without taking off the vest I would have. But all I could think was if I took off the vest I was doing the deep dive with sixty pounds of gear to take off on the way down.”

  “We’re going to have to figure out better protocols,” Steve said. “That’s for sure. But we’re still going to have to use the ladder.”

  “I hate those,” Faith said. “I really do.”