Under a Graveyard Sky

them.”

“How’s Isham doing?” Steve asked. “This is the sort of thing I need to talk about.”

“Doing fine,” Stacey said. “He found one of the SSLs that’s a premier scrounger who turned up, among other things, boxes of Cuban cigars. Isham’s up in Mickerberg’s old office smoking big black cigars and running things like he’s General Patton. It’s funny to watch in a way. I think until this came up he really wasn’t… In the game? But now he is. And he’s doing a good job at it.”

“Keep an eye on him,” Steve said.

“I am,” Stacey said, shrugging. “But when we had a moment alone he brought it up. And he pointed out that you’re the one with the subs backing you. That headquarters gave you the authority. Not him. He said ‘Broken down and busted or not, I’m not going try to buck the United States Government. It’s still got nuclear weapons.’”

“Now that sounds like it might be honesty,” Steve said.

* * *

“Okay, wow,” Faith said, shoveling down the breakfast. “This is really good. Do I want to know what it is?”

“Eggs,” Sari said, laying the plates out for the clearance team. “With more eggs.”

There were the scrambled eggs, which were awesome, a really good canned fruit salad and fried potatoes. There was even fresh baked english muffins. With butter.

“It’s got a bit of a fishy taste but a good one,” Fontana said. “What’s the meat? It tastes like…lobster?”

“Scrambled eggs with lobster,” Sari said. “And some secret ingredients.”

“I’m going to let you keep the secrets,” Steve said, looking out the window of the “dinette.” The small compartment, relatively it being the Alpha, had a good view of the growing flotilla of boats working on the Voyage. He could even see the Campbell drifting in the distance. The Alpha and Grace had rendezvoused with it overnight and transferred clearance materials as well as medical supplies. Fortunately, it had lots of both. The cutter had seemed like a big ship when they first cleared it. Now they had a new appreciation for “big.” But for its relatively small size, it was absolutely packed with disaster material. Which made sense given its jobs.

“Today is pure clearance,” Steve said.

“Oh, thank God,” Faith said. “Wait… Zombie killing clearance or checking cabins clearance?”

“Zombie killing clearance,” Steve said. “We’re going to sweep all of the remaining untouched areas on the port side cabin zone, then work our way across the ship and sweep the starboard side. If we run into survivors doing that, unlikely, we’ll call for extraction or extract them ourselves. The Coast Guard personnel are going to manage the extraction in cleared areas and provide security. That’s mostly for the people doing the actual removal.”

“I can handle that,” Faith said. “Sorry, but I’m just…”

“Nothing, at all, to be sorry about, Faith,” Fontana said. “This is getting to me. And I thought I’d seen pretty much every horror possible in Iraq and Afghanistan. The fact that you’re not completely round the bend is pretty remarkable.”

“I know the Trixie thing is freaking people out,” Faith said, shrugging. “But…”

“It’s a way for you to compartmentalize,” Steve said, nodding. “People who do this sort of thing have to do that. Everyone does. You just happen to have an outward expression. The question, since you raise it, is are you going to be okay continuing?”

“I’m fine if it’s killing zombies,” Faith said, shrugging. “And I can handle the usual sort of stuff. But Hooch had to take over checking the cabins. I… I can’t do that right now. Even finding live ones… Half the time I was like: What’s the point?”

“We’ve lost some,” Steve said. He’d had a quick briefing that morning before breakfast. “And according to the doctors at the CDC we’ll probably lose some more over the next week. But most of them are making it. We’re saving people. But for today… We’ll just blow some zombies away.”

“That’ll help,” Faith said, grinning.

“Weaponry,” Steve said. “There are some large areas we’ll be clearing. Despite my fear of bouncers, I think we need at least one rifle. There are sure to be more security zombies and we need to start conserving our shotgun rounds to the extent it’s possible. Sergeant Fontana, you’ll carry that.”

“Roger, sir,” Fontana said. “Any word on the ammo from the Campbell.”

“We got a resupply of two hundred rounds of shotgun,” Steve said, grimacing. “That was all that was in the ready locker or found scattered onboard. There’s a magazine but it’s apparently a vault. And nobody can find the keys. And since it’s a magazine…”

“You can’t exactly cut it open with a blow torch,” Fontana said.

“There’s a team looking for the keys at the moment,” Steve said. “According to what I got, there should be two thousand more rounds of twelve gauge in there. Another reason to use the rifles whenever possible. We have, also, a limited amount of seven six two but we’re currently better on that than on shotgun. So when it’s possible, Sergeant Fontana will take the shot. Please make sure that all rounds go into the target.”

“I will,” Fontana said. “But you get bouncers from shotgun as well.”

“They tend to be caught by the body armor,” Steve said. “And the spots not covered by armor that are likely to kill us are small. With the exception of the face, of course. Which is why in addition to all the other stuff we’re carrying, we’re going to be adding ballistic face shields. The Campbell had six onboard. They’ve already been mounted to the helmets.

“Kuzma has set up a fresh-water decontamination shower on the lifeboat deck, forward. If we get as bloodied up as we did yesterday, Faith, we’ll run through that. There’s also a forward support post set up with food, water and ammo, and we can drop back to it and take a break. One thing we’re going to have to look for is a forward point that we can set up as a permanent secure point on the Voyage. Not too big, not too small, some exterior light and most of all secure.”

“That’s all I’ve got for now. Let’s eat.”

* * *

“Just sip,” the lady said, putting a straw to his lips. “It’s chicken broth…”

Rusty still could barely do that. He was feeling better. Not human but all the water they’d been pumping through him was helping. He still could barely lift his arms.

“Thank you,” he said, leaning back on the pillows when the small cup of broth was down. He was so far gone, he actually felt full. “Are you a nurse? And where…?”

“Okay, first of all, you’re on a support ship called the Grace Tan,” the lady said. “I’m Amanda. No, I’m not a nurse. We’ve only got one nurse survivor and she’s organizing this. I’m a survivor like you. I was on a lifeboat. I was on the Voyage, too. The way things worked out… I’m glad I made it to the lifeboat. But a lot of those…” She shook her head.

“So… Is it the Navy or…?” Rusty asked.

“It’s a long story,” Amanda said, smiling. “If you feel you’re up to some reading, they’ve made a little pamphlet…”

* * *

“I can’t believe we’re trying to unrep from a cruise liner,” Gardner said.

Unrep, or “underway replenishment,” was a tricky business in the best of times and circumstances. The basic idea was to create sort of zip-lines between two ships and slide stuff back and forth. Simple on land. Two rocky points tended to stay reasonably the same distance apart down to the subatomic level. Ships, however, did not. So what usually happened was that your package, be it ammunition or food or toilet paper or, God help them, people, tended, if the ships closed, to go into the drink, or if they separated, be flung upwards at a high rate of speed. In extreme circumstances the package could fail to choose between being crushed as the too-close following ships collided or being flung upwards, the rope part and go flying into the far distance.

One unfortunate, and extremely disliked, lieutenant commander in the Navy in the 1960s had all four happen on a single attempt at moving between a destroyer and a carrier. The lieutenant commander was first dunked, then popped back out rapidly enough to thoroughly dry the ropes as they hyperextended. This, of course, had the effect of bouncing him up and down like a tightened rubber band. He was then dunked, again, repopped at which