Under a Graveyard Sky

how he’d beat his way most of the way to the lifeboats before finding out, from Gwinn, that they were all gone.

She’d protested heading to his hide-out. She’d been bitten at the boats and then again from the zombie he beat off of her. Then there was the blood splatter from the beating. But he’d insisted. He didn’t know why even then. Maybe it was the thought of such a pretty lady becoming a zombie or being eaten by them. And he kept in the back of his mind that he had a crowbar and a bunch of painting plastic if it came to it. But in the end she’d accompanied the burly fifty-three-year-old engineering officer into the bowels of the ship.

It had been fortunate he’d brought her with him. They were half way to the forward maintenance shed when the full lockdown hit. Even his card didn’t work, which pissed him off. Maintenance, as he mentioned to her at the time, was supposed to have access to the whole ship. Especially in an emergency. But Gwinn’s continued to work all the way to the shed.

It had been touch and go with Gwinn. She’d gotten real sick. Fortunately, he had plenty of water to feed her and a pretty decent supply of medicine. He’d had a lot of friends in the crew.

But she was a tough lady. Easy on the eyes until the lights cut out on day three. Easy on other areas as the months went by.

The “months” was starting to be a problem. He’d thought he’d stocked enough food for pretty much any reasonable period. And they’d been careful with it. But he realized that it was no five year stock. Eventually, they were going to run out. And being in a compartment, even one as large as this, with anyone, even someone with as much common sense and decency as Gwinn, occasionally made you contemplate the crowbar.

“I spy with my eye…” Rob said.

“If you ever want to have another of something that also starts with a B, don’t even think about it,” Gwinn said.

“Queen bishop to Knight four.”

“Queen to rook five. Check.”

“Your bishop is at king six, right?”

“Right.”

“Damn. King bishop to…” He paused as there was a strange sound in the distance. “You know, even if all the zombies would go away, fixing this thing is going to be a shipyard job.”

“I doubt there’s much use for a…” She stopped as there was a distinct, rhythmic, clanging in the distance. “Was that…”

“Shave and a haircut?” Rob said, rolling to his feet. He didn’t even have to fumble his way around the compartment anymore. He walked to the hatch and started banging on it regularly. “Come on!” he said, banging harder. “I don’t care if you’re fucking pirates!”

“I sort of do,” Gwinn said, then paused. “No, I’ve changed my mind. I’m fine with pirates.”

* * *

“Nothing,” Faith said, lowering the steel pipe. “You wanna check it?”

They’d found some survivors in the crew cabins. Some of them weren’t even in horribly bad shape. The crew had, it turned out, been stocking up. And several of the cabins that were empty had quite a bit of stores. Some of them even had stuff that was sort of comical in a black way. One of the steward’s quarters had five pounds of caviar in it. Fontana had pointed out that caviar was originally designed to be long storage and was a good source of protein. Faith had learned two things that day. That and beluga caviar was icky. Even on some really expensive kind of cracker.

“Roger,” Fontana said, keying the lock. As he did, there was a distant clanging.

“Customers?” Faith said. “Seriously?”

“Sounds like it’s coming from forward,” Fontana said, moving down the corridor. “Try it again.”

Faith banged on the walls, hard, and was rewarded with more banging.

“Guy’s in good condition,” Faith said.

“This way,” Fontana said, continuing.

They followed the sound around a cross-corridor to a door marked “Forward Maintenance Support.”

“Figured it would be a food supply locker,” Fontana said, keying the door. He’d stood to the side to keep from blinding the people. He popped a chem-light and tossed it through the door.

* * *

Rob had put his arm over his eyes when the door clicked to keep from being blinded. He heard something rattle on the floor and, Gwinn’s comment about pirates still in mind, panicked that it might be a flash bang.

“That will help your eyes adjust,” the guy on the other side said. “Just slowly let them creep open. How many?”

“Two,” Rob answered. “You coast guard?”

“Wolf Squadron,” the guy said. “We’ve got some Coasties with us but it’s mostly a volunteer civilian effort. You sound in good shape.”

“Stocked up,” Rob said, shifting his arm just enough to get a little light. It was blinding and he quickly covered it again. “And there’s a water tap in here. Can we get out, now?”

“Wait for us to finish clearing this area,” the guy said. “Get your eyes a little adjusted. You know of anyone else in this sector?”

“Other than the infecteds?” Rob said. “No. And all those are dead up to the main sector hatch. There are some on the other side.”

“That hatch four-six-one that leads up to the main passenger area?” a female voice asked.

“Yeah.”

“Took care of that for ya,” she said, coldly.

“If you guys can walk we’ll finish clearing then come back for you,” the guy said. “Just hang in there another fifteen minutes. No more. Oh, if you hear us banging, bang. This place is a fucking maze.”

“If we do get lost,” the woman said, “you can actually self extract if you’ve got the strength and the guts. It’s clear. We’ve spent two weeks and nearly ten thousand rounds making it that way.”

“We’ll wait,” Rob said. “Fifteen minutes?”

“Should be about that,” the guy said. “Be back.”

The hatch shut and locked and Rob cracked his eyes again. If he looked away from the chemlight the light was only slightly blinding.

“Rescue,” Gwinn said, wonderingly. He hadn’t seen her in months and chemlight wasn’t usually considered romatic but she was the prettiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Like him she was stark naked. The compartment had been so warm and stuffy, they’d stopped wearing their clothes after the first couple of weeks.

Rob went over, sat down next to her and put his arm around her shoulders.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes,” Rob said. “I wonder how we could spend the time.”

“You old goat,” Gwinn said, shaking her head. “Maybe by getting dressed?”

“Spoil sport.”

* * *

“Sunglasses,” the guy said, sticking a pair through the cracked hatch. “We’re using taclights. You’re going to need them. And for outside.”

“Outside,” Gwinn said, wonderingly. “What’s the weather?”

“It’s kicking up,” the woman answered. “There’s front that’s headed down. We may have to suspend ops depending on how bad it gets. Don’t look directly at the lights.” She opened up the hatch, then paused. “Son of a… Are you Third Officer Gwinneth Stevens?”

“Yes,” Gwinn said, holding up her hand to the lights.

“Son of a gun,” Fontana said, laughing. “Chris said you got bit.”

“Chris survived?” Gwinn said. Her hand flew to her belly and she looked at Rob.

“Miss Stevens,” the woman said, carefully. “Chris was on a small boat for two months. Uhmm…”

“Don’t sweat what happened in the compartment,” the guy said. “You’re not the only one who has been friendly with others, Miss. We’ve got a saying…”

“What happens in the compartment, stays in the compartment,” the woman said.

“He found someone?” Gwinn said. She couldn’t decide if she was hurt or relieved.