Cal waited a few more seconds, wanting as many of the raiders on the ladder as possible, and then he leaned over and gave them a long burst of rifle fire, sending men tumbling, screaming, falling back into the boat or into the water. As the ladder cleared, he grabbed the hook and tossed it over the side.
Better-targeted gunfire poured up at him, and he ducked and scrambled a few feet to the left before standing again and aiming down at the boat below him. He took his time to pick targets. There were four men in a large motor launch. He took out the one at the wheel first, one shot, then took three shots to get the next one. Shit, he had to do better than that.
“Shoot the fucking engine!”
He almost jumped out of his skin at Bren’s voice right beside him. She was gone before Cal could answer, running across the deck, shouting orders at the defenders. Some of the noncombatants ran around handing out ammunition to the soldiers at the rails. Inez dropped a box of rifle clips at Cal’s feet and ran on before he could thank her.
Cal turned back around and fired at the small boat’s outboard. He didn’t trust his marksmanship enough to get it in one, so he sprayed a burst at it until his rifle clicked empty. The outboard exploded, and the two men still alive on the boat leaped into the water to escape the black smoke and the fire.
Cal sank to one knee, legs almost giving out. Where was Mitch? He must be in charge of the defenders on one of the other sides of the rig. Was he okay? What if he was hurt? Dead? Shit, where
was
he? He sucked in deep breaths and tried to get his pounding heart under control. This brief lull, nobody to shoot at that precise moment, gave him the time to be scared. Gunfire rattled all around him, voices shouted orders, from up here on deck and below. There was no panic, though. The only one he feared might panic was him.
No. Must
not
panic. Must not be a pussy, while these little fucking
girls
did the fighting. While these manicurists and waitresses and cashiers defended the rig. He took a breath and rose again, looking for the next target. As he stood he heard a whooshing sound and Bren’s yell.
“RPG! Get down!”
Too late. The explosion threw him against the railing, and for a second he feared he’d go over. But he flung himself away from the railing to the deck, hiding his eyes from the flames shooting up from the rig’s superstructure. What had they hit? Was anyone still in there? Where had the noncombatants gone? Were they safe? The kids? Where was Mitch?
“Fire-control teams with me!” Bren ran past, gathering up the “civilians” who’d been handing out ammo. “Rest of you, return fire! Return fire!”
Discipline! Cal made himself turn away from the blaze and back to his position. Bren’s team was handling it. There were more boats down there. He aimed, and the rifle clicked empty.
Fuck
. He ejected the empty clip and slapped in the spare.
Pick your targets. Aim. Target the engines on the outboards. Target the guy at the wheel on the larger boats
. Cal fired and fired and fired.
* * * *
The gray dawn light showed up the damage clearly. A good quarter of the working level of the superstructure was gone, either torn apart or gutted by fire. Mitch thanked God this place had such good fire equipment, or they’d have been diving off the rig into the water before the night had ended. They had a few minor injuries to people caught by debris on deck, but all the noncombatants had been safe in the shelter.
He emerged from checking the damage, and the first thing he saw was Cal, sitting among the other soldiers on deck, all of them smoke-blackened and exhausted. Inez, Ella, and Dolores were handing around food and water bottles to the troops. Bren was standing at the rail, looking out to sea. No, looking toward the shore, though it was too far away to be visible. The shore where the enemy had finally retreated to.
He was torn. Go to her, or go to Cal? The new, intimate connection he’d forged with Cal warred with the old, deep connection he had with her—one born of saving each other’s lives and guarding each other’s sleep. In the end, Cal solved the dilemma. He saw Mitch, rose, and came over to him, bringing a basket of bread with him.
“Get something to eat,” Cal said. Mitch took a piece. He nodded toward Bren, and they both went over to her.
“Well?” she asked, not looking around.
“It’s bad,” Mitch said. “The schoolroom is burned out. Couple of rec rooms, offices. But the worst part is the infirmary. It took a direct hit. It’s totally destroyed.”
“Fuck.” Bren looked down.
“The staff?” Cal asked, looking worried. Maybe he’d assumed they were in there waiting for casualties from the battle. He’d assumed wrong. The doctor was too valuable to risk.
“They were in the shelter,” Mitch said. “It’s deep in the superstructure, all metal construction. Safest place on the rig. All the non-coms go there in the event of an attack.”
“Yeah,” Cal said. “Attack. I don’t mean to sound rude here, but what the fuck just happened? Who the hell was that?”
“I told you we had enemies other than zombies, people who’d try to attack the rig. It was—”
“It was Ethan,” Bren said. She turned to face them. Tears, perhaps caused by the wind, perhaps not, had made trails through the dirt on her smoke-blackened face.
“You can’t know that,” Mitch said.
“I heard him. I’m sure of it.”
“Who the hell is Ethan?” Cal asked.
“A guy who used to be here,” Mitch said. “He…left.” He glanced at Bren. The rest of it was her story to tell and none of Cal’s business. “And if I’d caught him before he left, I’d have cut his balls off and thrown him to the sharks to finish.”
“Looks like he’s got himself some new friends,” Cal said.
“Doesn’t have as many this morning,” Bren said.
Mitch shivered in the cold morning air. There were bodies floating in the water below them. He’d had to become used to killing in the past two years, but mostly zombies. For all his big talk to Cal, he hadn’t in fact executed any of the men they’d expelled from the rig, though one or two had left with a good-bye kicking from him. Shooting live, warm people, even if they were threats, was not something he’d ever get used to. He’d never shot anyone dead while he was a cop.
Well, you’re not a cop anymore
, he reminded himself, looking at Bren and Cal and the rest of his troops.
You’re a soldier.
“Mitch, Bren.” It was Ella. She nodded a greeting at Cal but spoke to Mitch and Bren. “There’s an emergency council meeting in two hours. To hear damage reports and make plans.”
“Right,” Mitch said. “Two hours.”
Ella left. Bren looked at Mitch and then past him, at Cal. She gave him a tired smile. “You did okay, by the way. We’ll make a soldier of you yet.” With that, she moved away, toward the women sitting on the deck. “Okay, girls, let’s go find some coffee and real food. Up we get.” She hauled up anyone too slow to rise and chivied them inside, toward the accommodation. Inez followed close on her heels. Bren’s shadow. As the noise of their boots on the deck died away, Mitch turned to Cal.
“She’s right. You did do well. I saw you in action.” The words made his mind flash back to the other kind of action they’d been indulging in the night before, and he felt sick thinking he might have chickened out of doing that. One or the other of them could have been killed in the assault, and he’d never have known…
“Thanks.” Cal stepped forward suddenly, pulled Mitch close, and kissed him. Startled, Mitch went with it, tasting smoke on Cal’s lips, tasting and smelling sweat. Cal cupped Mitch’s face. His hands stank of gun oil and cordite. They were both unshaven and filthy. It didn’t matter. They were alive.
When they broke, they were alone on the deck, and the sun was breaking through the gray clouds, shining into Cal’s eyes. It turned them into the most beautiful green Mitch had ever seen.
Chapter Eleven
The council met in one of the undamaged offices, though the smell of smoke was as strong in there as it was throughout that level. Mitch and Bren sat together, only staying upright because they were leaning against each other.
Kathy didn’t bother with the gavel, and nobody took minutes, though Ella had a notebook and pen ready. Dolores gave the damage report, and the biggest worry everyone had was of course the infirmary.
“Doc, the vaccine research,” Bren asked. “What about that? Please don’t say we’ve lost everything.”
Phyllis shook her head and patted a bag she was carrying over her shoulder. “I’ve got all my notes in here. There were samples destroyed, everything physical that was in the refrigerator. But I can reproduce the work if I can get the equipment. And not just for that, of course. We need to restock the entire infirmary. Drugs, instruments, equipment, everything. We’ve got some drugs stored elsewhere, and I can use a fridge from the galley if I have to. But we need to restock as soon as possible.”
“That means going ashore,” Bren said.
“What if this is a ruse?” Mitch asked. “To draw the soldiers away so they can attack again? We can’t leave the rig unprotected.”
“Then what about sending a small party ashore?” Ella asked. “To get the most essential supplies. Leave the rest of the soldiers here.”
“We must have antibiotics,” Phyllis said. “And antiseptics. Surgical instruments, dressings.”
They were going to have to do it. Whatever the danger, they had to resupply. The doctor had to continue her work on the vaccine. If she was on to something with that, if the vaccine had protected Cal from the infection, then it could be the most important work anyone was doing anywhere in the world right now.
“Okay,” Mitch said. “How about I lead a small party ashore? No more than five of us. Bren will stay here and command the defenders.” She looked torn about it, as torn as he felt, but she nodded after a moment.
“Agreed.”
“We’ll head to the naval base at Greenstreet,” Mitch said. It was a town about twenty miles up the coast, and they’d gone there for supplies before. “We’ll use the
Cora
, get straight off the boat at the base’s dock. No going across country, and easy to get back out.”
“I’ll make a list of the most urgent supplies to get,” Phyllis said. “And don’t forget to check expiration dates on the drugs.” She started writing in a notebook immediately.
“You need to go as soon as possible,” Ella said.
“We’ll leave before dawn,” Mitch said. “To arrive there at first light.” The days were getting shorter as winter approached; they had to make the most of every moment of daylight. And Ethan—if it was Ethan—surely wouldn’t attack the rig during the day. They could get back in time to secure the rig for the night.
“Take Cal with you,” Bren said.
“Cal?” Mitch’s heart skipped. “No. We’ve only been training him for a couple of weeks. He hasn’t done any work with the group.”
“He’s also been surviving ashore for longer than any of us ever did, and more recently.”
“And got bitten by a zombie,” Mitch pointed out.
“Well, I’m sure he’s learned his lesson, then.”
Annoyingly, she talked a lot of sense. Why wouldn’t Mitch want Cal to come with them? Did he think he’d be distracted by Cal? Did he not want to put him in danger? He didn’t want to put
anyone
in danger, and he’d known the rest of his soldiers a lot longer than Cal. Well, that was the point. He’d known them longer; he knew what they could do and that they could handle themselves. Could Cal? Mitch couldn’t know that for sure.
“If he volunteers, I’ll take him,” Mitch said.
“Are we done?” Kathy asked. “There’s a lot of cleanup to be getting back to. Do we need to take a vote on this, or do we all agree to the plan?”
There was a chorus of nods, no dissent, though everyone looked worried. “Adjourned,” Kathy said, and they scattered, hurrying to the many jobs they had to do.
* * * *
Cal stripped out of his filthy and smoke-blackened clothes and dropped onto his cot, exhausted. He’d have to drag himself along to get some lunch in a few minutes, but for now he just wanted to lie here and get the kinks out of his back, strained from hauling debris out of the damaged areas all morning.
With the leisure to think again, his thoughts returned to the track they’d been running on earlier, as he’d sat on the deck with the other soldiers, almost as if he were one of them.
But he wasn’t one of them. He was never one of anything. He was just one.
This was not part of the plan, going into battle against flotillas of boats led by some guy with a monumental grudge against the rig’s residents. Cal had no illusions about what those guys attacking wanted—the women. They certainly didn’t want him and Mitch and would undoubtedly shoot the pair of them and toss them over the side just as soon as they took over. Mitch might be prepared to die defending this place, but Cal wasn’t so sure he felt that way.
He’d stayed too long. As soon as they’d let him out of the chains, he should have taken his boat and left. But the temptation of getting his hands on Mitch’s cock had made him weaken. He should have known there’d be some grit in the lube. There always was when he settled even for a little while.
He’d started to doze off when the door opening brought him awake again. Mitch, looking as tired as him.
“Cal, hi. I was looking for you.”
“Just came to get cleaned up.” Cal felt abruptly rather self-conscious about lying on the cot in only his shorts. He sat up, grabbed his dirty shirt from the floor, and slipped it on, leaving it unbuttoned.
“We’ve decided to send a small party ashore to get some medical supplies,” Mitch said. “There are some things we need urgently. I don’t like to leave the rig right now, in case Ethan comes back, but we don’t have a choice.”
“I’ll come,” Cal said. “When is it?” Mitch looked taken aback. Damn, what if he’d already selected a team? But this might be Cal’s chance. If he wanted to leave, there couldn’t be a better time. He’d help them get their supplies, see them safely back to the rig, and then take his boat and go.
“I’m leading the party,” Mitch said. “We’re going before dawn tomorrow. I’m still deciding on who I take.”