Under a Graveyard Sky

“A horrible thing to ask,” Tom said. “But it’s necessary.”

“Let me go get them,” Steve said.

* * *

“We get to get off the boat?” Faith said.

“Let me get this straight,” Sophia said, carefully. “My uncle is chopping up people to make vaccine?”

“Possibly,” Tom said, calmly. “And yes.”

“And you want me to help?” Sophia said.

“You wouldn’t be directly involved in termination,” Tom said. “Or harvesting. Or certain other aspects. Just working in the lab with Dr. Curry to produce the vaccine. The worst part is the first bit. Dr. Curry will handle that. After that it’s just centrifuging and irradiating materials.”

“I’ll help,” Faith said. “If it gets me off this boat!”

“I’ll find something else for you to do,” Tom said. “Although I’m not sure what. I can’t exactly put a thirteen-year-old on guard duty…”

“You don’t trust me?” Faith said. “Thanks a lot!”

“At my back, sure,” Tom said. Okay a little white lie. He’d rather have her in front so he wouldn’t get shot by an AD. “In a lab? Let’s face it, Faith, you’re not detail oriented.”

“True,” Faith said, grinning. “You’d trust me at your back? Really?”

“Really,” Tom said. “And I’ll figure out something useful for you to do. But not anything involving securing, terminating or harvesting. Oh, and if this does come out and the authorities become involved, nobody knows nothing. Understood?”

“Oh, yeah,” Faith said, making a zipping motion on her lips. “Sealed tight.”

“I’ll do it,” Sophia said, shrugging. “It needs to be done and I can see why you chose me. I…appreciate the trust if not… Really don’t want to chop up people stuff. But… Okay.”

“I’m sorry I’m asking,” Tom said. But he’d already been back and forth enough on the subject. “But…yeah. Thank you. And there’s another bit,” he said, pulling out some paperwork.

“You need to hire me?” Sophia asked.

“You’re going to be an intern,” Tom said. “We’ll handle that paperwork at the bank. This is paperwork making your parents ‘associated security contractors’ with the Bank and paperwork to permit the vast store of weapons I’m sure Steve brought to be legally held in New York harbor…”

“You can’t even have weapons in New York harbor?” Steve said. “What the hell is wrong with this place?”

“The law on it is iffy,” Tom said. “But what they’ll do is have the Coast Guard board you with some NYPD harbor patrol people along. If there are weapons, they may not, legally, be able to seize them but they’ll do a bend and spread on you looking for an excuse. Right now, the City and various corporations, hem, hem, are hiring security contractors left and right. This is all the paperwork. You fill it out, I’ll file it and get the certification back to you. Technically, you’re not fully legal until the certs have been authorized by the appropriate bureaucrats. But with the certs pending review, you’re covered enough. And the office that does the certifications is overrun right now so nobody should geek.”

“When do we leave?” Faith asked, standing up. “I need to get dressed.”

“As soon as your parents finish filling out the blanks on the paperwork and you get packed,” Tom said. “Why do you think I brought the big boat? And dressed how?”

“Dressed for Zombie New York!” Faith said. “You don’t think I’m going walking through the streets of a New York overrun by zombies in street clothes do you?”

“Yes,” Tom said, carefully. “Yes, I do. Because you’re a thirteen-year-old girl. If you go walking through the streets of New York dressed up like a zombie contract hunter in Fallujah, you’re going to get escorted to juvie. Where, like as not, some kid will go zombie and bite you. So, yes, you’re going to go dressed in street clothes. I’ve got security waiting to pick us up at the dock.”

“Are there zombie contract hunters in Fallujah?” Steve asked.

“Yes,” Tom said. “And like I said, the idea is catching on in the States. Better to have contractors securing them than police. Put a bounty on them. There are legal issues. There always are. So go get packed for a few days at Uncle Tom’s cabin. Or condo in this case.”

“Can I bring my gear?” Faith asked. “Just in case?”

“No firearms,” Tom said, rolling his eyes. “Other than that, if you can carry it you can bring it.”

“Oooo! Got that!” Faith said, darting below.

“And no bows, crossbows or blowguns!” Tom called after her.

“I hate you Uncle Tom…!”

* * *

“Well,” Kaplan said, catching the tossed rope. “I can see the family resemblance…”

Sophia had packed one “good” outfit: a cream business suit and matching shoes. Which was what she was wearing. She was carrying a briefcase and had a backpack over her shoulder. And, because she wasn’t stupid, she was wearing a nose/mouth respirator.

Faith on the other hand…

She had on body armor. And a full face mask respirator. And a tactical helmet. And a full coverage uniform. And tactical boots. And tactical gloves. And a radio. And a machete. And a kukri. And two or three more knives. And three, count ’em, three tasers, cause Uncle Tom hadn’t mentioned tasers…

“Can you move in all that, kid?” Durante asked.

“Yep,” Faith said, her voice slightly muffled. She bent down and picked up one of Sophia’s duffles, then tossed it through the air to hit the former SF NCO in the chest. “Shoot, move and communicate. That get through to you?”

“Loud and clear, kid,” Durante said, laughing. “Let me guess: You’re the lab rat.”

“Like she knows a pipette from a test tube,” Sophia said, stepping delicately onto the dock. “I see you have the bags, Faith dear.”

“Like hell I do,” Faith shouted. It was muffled by the respirator, which sort of ruined it. “Get back here and do some work for a change!”

“We’ve got it,” Kaplan said, climbing in the boat. “Just head up to the car.”

“Where’s the zombies?” Faith asked, jumping onto the dock.

“Faith,” Tom said, trying not to laugh. “Just get in the Expedition,” he added pointing.

“Where’s the screaming crowds?” Faith asked, throwing her hands up in the air. “Where’s the random gunfire?”

“Queens,” Kaplan said. “But that’s sort of normal.”

“This sucks!” Faith said. “I’m bored.”

“Oh, just do NOT start,” Sophia said.

“ME start?”

“This is going to be sooo much fun,” Tom said. “I should have looked in the phone book under ‘deranged minion.’”

“Craigslist,” Durante corrected. “There’s a whole section…”

* * *

“Mr. Smith…” the security guard said, carefully. The retired NYPD cop was, after all, talking to his boss. “You realize that most of this stuff is illegal to carry in New York City, right?”

“Just humor her,” Tom said. “It’s not worth the argument.”

They’d taken a side entrance to the building but it still had a manned security checkpoint where Faith, over protest, was being forced to disarm herself.

“God this is embarrassing,” Sophia said, hanging her head.

“You’re embarassed?” Faith said, pulling out yet another knife. Then the brass knuckles… “I’m being disarmed! In New York! In a zombie apocalypse!”

“I’m in charge of building security,” Tom said, shaking his head. “Me. I’ll make sure you don’t have to fight any zombies while in my building.”

“Like that’s being a friend,” Faith said, dropping a sand bag cosh onto the pile.