To Sail a Darkling Sea - eARC (13 page)

“That’d be cool,” Derek said, grinning. “Use the
Alpha
. Marine Corps ball on a megayacht captured from zombies? I can dig that. Besides it’s more trashed out. You know how ball gets… ”

“Semper fucking Fi,” Faith said. “I get to go to prom.”

“We’ll make sure of it, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.

“Great!” Faith slurred. “So why do I gotta puke?”

* * *

“Oh, I’m glad I’m not on the gun boats,” Faith said, holding her head. “This is the other reason I don’t drink. Can we turn the music down, yet?”

“More water, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, holding out the tube of her hydration unit.

Dawn was breaking and there was a huge concentration of zombies at the end of the jetty. The
Debt
had occasionally fired overnight to make sure they had food to keep them sticking around. Now in the early morning light, they could be seen as a mass of naked infecteds, alternately feeding and concentrating on the light and sound from the boats.

“And now the last song,” Sophia said as the music temporarily stopped.

“In the quiet misty morning… ”
Faith sang. “Another good choice, sis.”

“When the summer’s past it’s gleaming, when the corn is past it’s prime
… ” Derek sang in a not bad tenor.

“Set me free to find my calling, and I’ll return to you somehow… ”
Januscheitis sang. He really didn’t have the voice for the song but nobody minded.

“In the quiet misty morning,”
Faith and Sophia sang in duet.
“When the moon has gone to bed, When the sparrows stop their singing, I’ll be homeward bound again.”

“All gun boats, open fire,”
Lieutenant Chen ordered as the second of official nautical dawn was reached and the song ended.

Both boats opened fire, the massive .50 caliber rounds chewing up the crowd of what must have been nearly two hundred infecteds. It took less than a minute of concentrated fire for the crowd of zombies to be reduced to so much offal.

“Landing team is a go,”
Chen radioed
. “Drop some of Captain Carrion’s Little Helpers on that pile on your way by.”

“Time to board the boats,” Faith said, hefting her AK. “And keep an eye out for some ammo for this thing. I don’t care if it’s a haji gun. It works. Let’s take that jetty, Marines.”

CHAPTER 9

[F]ar from being the Great Satan, I would say that we are the Great Protector. We have sent men and women from the armed forces of the United States to other parts of the world throughout the past century to put down oppression. We defeated Fascism. We defeated Communism. We saved Europe in World War I and World War II. We were willing to do it, glad to do it. We went to Korea. We went to Vietnam. All in the interest of preserving the rights of people.

And when all those conflicts were over, what did we do? Did we stay and conquer? Did we say, “Okay, we defeated Germany. Now Germany belongs to us? We defeated Japan, so Japan belongs to us”? No. What did we do? We built them up. We gave them democratic systems which they have embraced totally to their soul. And did we ask for any land? No. The only land we ever asked for was enough land to bury our dead.

General Collin Powell

“Permission to look for some wheels, ma’am?” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said.

“Oh, definitely,” Faith said, trying to keep from swaying. “There’s no clearing this place on foot.”

The lieutenant was in charge of, more or less, a fire team of Marines. But that suited Faith just fine. And they weren’t wearing “full fig” zombie-clearing kit, just basic combat gear with the addition of Tyvek suits, gas masks and hoods to reduce the chance of bites on exposed flesh. They had military headphones and mikes for radio communications and two of them carried Halligan tools and other entry systems.

All of them had a tendency to rock in place as the ground seemed to be moving. This was the first solid land any of them had stepped on in nearly six months.

“See if you can get something running that’s got a moon roof,” she added. “We can stick somebody out of the top with a loud-hailer. If my head can handle it.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Two-man teams. One checking for keys and functioning vehicles. One on sentry.”

There was a large parking lot on the jetty but it was mostly empty and none of the vehicles would crank. There were more cars at the square at the base of the jetty but those were, also, non-functional.

“The boats always have a spare battery,” Faith said. “Staff Sergeant, send a team back to get a battery while the rest of us clear these buildings. I think it was my job to think of that.”

“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Derek, Kirby, hump it.”

“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Derek said. “Let’s go, Kirby.”

“Clear this one first?” Faith said, pointing to a cafe. “I’m supposed to get input from my NCOs, Staff Sergeant.”

“I would suggest backing up the jetty, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, pointing to a building that was probably the harbor master’s office. “That way we know our rear is clear.”

“Make it so, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said.

“Pagliaro, Bearson, crack me that building.”

“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Lance Corporal Pagliaro said, hefting his hammer. “Come on, Bear.”

“Knock first,” Faith said. “Zombies don’t like impolite people.”

“I don’t got nothing,” Pagliaro said. He’d hit the heavy door with his hammer several times. “No scratching or nothing.”

“Open it,” Faith said.

“Open it, aye, ma’am,” Pagliaro said.

Pagliaro and Bearson made short work of cracking the front doors with the firemen entry tools. When they had the locks bashed, Bearson kicked the door in and they both backed off, hefting their M4s. Nothing came through the door.

“I don’t think anyone’s home,” Faith said. “Check it, though.”

“Pag, Bearson, clear the building,” Januscheitis said.

“Clearance ops, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Pagliaro said. “I’m point.”

* * *

“One dead infected,” Pagliaro said as they exited the building. “Usual mess. Old. Most of it’s dried up. Harbor master’s office, looks like. Some boat parts but they look like they’re for those bitty boats in the harbor.”

“Staff Sergeant,”
Derek radioed.
“We’ve got the battery and some jumper cables. Mind if we try to crank one of these down here rather than hump it back up the jetty?”

The smaller jetty was nearly two football fields long.

Januscheitis looked at the lieutenant and Faith nodded.

“Makes sense to me,” she said.

“Shewolf says roger,” Januscheitis replied. “Shall we continue clearance ops, ma’am?”

“Only if you feel like it,” Faith said. “We can’t open and clear every house in town. We need to sweep through the streets and see if we can find any survivors. I just wanted to see if the basic methods worked. From a supplies perspective, I’d say clear the tavern and see what’s up there while we wait for Derek to find us a ride.”

“Roger, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Pag, Bear, go break into that bar.”

“Oh, aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Bearson said. “We are all
over
that!”

* * *

“Ola!” Pagliaro boomed through the loud-hailer. “Anybody home? Hello? Anybody home?”

The unit had broken down into two three-man teams with Januscheitis taking charge of one and Faith, with Corporal Douglas, taking charge of the other. Douglas was driving while Pagliaro stuck his head out of the moon roof to try to find survivors.

The streets of the town were deserted. So far they hadn’t seen one single remaining infected and while there was some sign of them, the usual mix of decayed and gnawed bodies and fecal matter, even that was scattered. And there was, so far,
no
sign of survivors.

“Is it just me or is this creepy?” Faith asked.

“Little creepy, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, taking a slow turn around an even smaller body in the street. “Christ, I hope that some of these towns have survivors.”

“There are more towns up the road according to the map,” Faith said. “I suppose we could try to penetrate into the interior.”

“With due respect, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “I don’t think that was part of the plan.”

“Plans change, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “But, yes, we’d have to get permission.”

“Hey, I think we’ve got customers,” Pagliaro said. “Half a block, roof of the building.”

“Really?” Faith said, looking up through the cracked windshield. “Holy shit.”

A group of people were waving from the roof of one of the buildings. They were just in the process of hanging a sheet from the edge of the roof to try to attract the attention of the Marines.

“Hello,” Faith said, stepping out of the car. “Anyone speak English?”

She took off her gas mask. The smell wasn’t really all that bad and they hadn’t seen a single infected.

“Si!” one of the men yelled. “Hello! Thank you? Are all the
infectado
gone? Who are you?”

“Lieutenant Faith Smith, United States Marine Corps, at your service, sir,” Faith yelled. “We haven’t seen any. Come on down. Olly, olly oxenfree as we say… ”

* * *

“The building was a general stores house, si?” the man said, taking a sip of bottled water. “Ah, that is good. Very good.”

Valerio Villa had been one of five policemen for the District of San Sebastien De La Gomera. He had done what he could as the Plague took hold, then fallen back on the warehouse along with a small group of survivors from La Puntilla, the small town they’d been clearing.

“We had much trouble with water,” Conchita Casales said. “There is little rain.”

The five survivors, two women, three men, had found seeds and created “soil” from their ”waste,” fecal and urine, and sand for mixing concrete. They had even taken tubs onto the roof and buried the bodies of the dead in them, then planted on those. There had been a store of bottled water in the warehouse but that had run out eventually. They’d collected rainwater. Generally, they’d just dug in and survived.

“Have you seen any evidence of other survivors?”

“There were some,” Villa said, shrugging. “Across the town. We could see them. They did not have the stores we had, the seeds… ” He shrugged again.

“I think we are all,” Conchita said. She took his hand and shrugged as well then patted her belly. “But there will be more, si?”

“What do we do now?” Villa asked. “Is the US… Are we to be… ”

“The United States has fought on every inhabited continent,” Januscheitis said. “And the only land we’ve ever asked is enough to bury our dead. So, no, we’re not ‘taking’ this land. It remains a property of Spain, I guess. More or less independent right now, since there isn’t really a Spain. What you do is up to you. We can transport you back to the squadron or you can stay here. We’ve been asked to ask if we can put off some people here, if it comes up. We don’t have any land bases. But we’re pretty much adjusted to being totally at sea. And we’re planning on taking some US land bases in the near future.”

“If there are infectado left… I cannot clear this whole town by myself,” Villa said. “Among other things, I’m out of bullets.”

“We have plenty of spare M4s and 5.56,” Faith said. “We should be able to get authorization to pass some of those to you. We also have been clearing ships at sea and have some fairly sizeable stores. Or we can pick you up and take you back to the squadron as the Staff Sergeant said.”

“Can you help me ensure that some of the buildings are clear?” Villa said. “We have seen no sign that there are infectado surviving in them but… This is not the place to stay in long term.”

“Ma’am?” Januscheitis said.

“I’ll clear it with division,” Faith said. “But I don’t see that being an issue.”

“You know best,” Januscheitis said. “But I’d suggest concentrating on a traditional building and something near the water front. We can’t clear this whole island for you. We’re not even vaguely up to speed. The USMC is pretty much twenty something guys and the Skipper here and we don’t have a bunch of people to come in and fix your town. So you’d better be prepared to survive on your own. Food, power, water and security.”

“I think we can do that, yes,” Conchita said. “I think we stay.”

“We shall stay,” Villa said, looking around the shattered town. “If we can borrow some guns.”

“Not an issue,” Faith said. “But… would you mind if some people took some shore leave?”

* * *

“I’d say this has been a successful mission,” Lieutenant Chen said, taking a sip of wine. He was leaning back in a chair in front of the Restaurante Rincon del Marinero, which translated as “Corner Restaurant at the Marina.” Which was a description as much as a name. There were a couple of apartments over the restaurant that the survivors had already occupied, and between a generator and finding some stored food, it was more or less back in operation. “Our next objective is Playa De Santiago, followed by San Sebastian De La Gomera. I think if we find any survivors in either town we should encourage them to fall back on La Puntilla rather than remain spread out.”

The group would have seemed right at home in Israel. Although they were enjoying the late afternoon sun at a tavern by the marina, they all had their weapons ready to hand.

“San Sebastian is much the larger town,” Villa pointed out. “It is possible we should move there rather than they here. La Playa has the airport and the boatyard.”

He had an H&K G36 assault rifle leaning up against his chair, barrel down. There wasn’t a round in the chamber but a recently refilled magazine was in the well.

“Where you gather up is up to you, Officer Villa,” Chen said. “I strongly urge you, however, to concentrate in
one
area.”

“Preferably a defensible one,” Januscheitis said. “There are still infected in the surrounding towns.”

“Playa has much in its valley,” Villa said. “But there it is entirely surrounded by mountains. Here in La Puntilla we are in the Valle, si? There are towns all up the Valle. I could see the infectado slowly spreading this way. La Playa not so much.”

“You wish to move to La Playa?” Conchita asked, bringing out a platter covered in slices of sautéed albacore and tomatoes.

“It is easier to hold,” Villa said. “The harbor is not as good, but with the infectado gone, no more will wander in, si? I worry about the infectado coming down from La Calera.”

“Then we’ll move up and clear La Playa,” Chen said. “Then move your people over.”

“Si, that would be for the best I think, Lieutenant,” Villa said. “Conchita?”

“Yes?” the woman said, coming out of the restaurant. “I have more food coming. Thank you for the fish. It has been so long since we had any. And all the food; it is so wonderful. Gracias.”

“De nada,” Chen said. “This is the good part of this job. And having spent months on a lifeboat with starvation rations, I’m glad to have it, too.”

Villa and Conchita chatted in Spanish for a moment, then one of the other men interjected and it scaled up quickly to argument.

“There are guns and wine involved here,” Chen said, raising his hands. “Can I get a general text of the argument?”

“Some don’t want to go to La Playa,” Villa said, shrugging. “Others don’t want to stay here because of the infectado. Even tonight.”

“We’ve got some room on the boats… ” Chen said.

“Permission to speak, sir?” Sophia said.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant,” Chen said, slightly amused at the formality.

“I checked out that yacht tied up to the jetty,” she said. “It’s in good shape. I mean, we need to see if it starts, but if it does, we can just load people on that and pull it into the harbor for the night.”

“Point,” Chen said, nodding. “I’m still getting my head around grabbing any boat or materials that happen to not be nailed down.”

“Zombie apocalypse moment, sir,” Faith said, carefully. “For example, sitting in a really nice restaurant on a pretty little harbor with a bunch of guns sitting around just in case a zombie turns up. Also, salvage is pretty much all we do. Like, say, an assault carrier, sir.”

“Point again,” Chen said, chuckling.

“I’m actually thinking about asking if I can grab it, sir,” Sophia said. “The
No Tan Lines
is sort of beat up at this point and we could use more room. Or one like it, maybe, depending on what we find at La Playa and Gomera.”

“Officer Villa, this raises an interesting point,” Chen said. “Legally, a boat which is tied up or anchored in a harbor and abandoned is not general salvage, but property of the local government or the harbor owner if fees have not been paid… ”