Under a Graveyard Sky

fairly narrow with booths down the right side and tables filling the middle. It was also surprisingly crowded. The conversation muted for a moment when Faith and Durante entered, then it picked back up.

“For you and you friends,” Mr. Fattore said, gesturing to a booth at the rear.

Faith found herself blocked in getting to the booth.

“Hem, hem,” Faith said.

“You is sitting at the table,” Fattore said in a whisper. There was an empty table by the booth which would only take four anyway. He clearly wondered why he had to explain.

“I’ll take the table,” Tom said, grinning. “This night out was Faith’s idea.”

“We can squeeze up,” Stacey said. “You and Faith on that side.”

“Works,” Tom said, then looked at Faith. “I don’t do inside.”

“I’m the one with all the guns,” Faith pointed out. “I’m not sure I can slide in.”

“Gimme the Saiga, Faith,” Durante said.

“But what if somebody zombies?” Faith said, clutching it to her chest. “I’m really serious. I am not going through that again unarmed.”

“And I’m really serious that it’s my job to take care of it,” Durante said, holding out his hand. “Saiga. Then you can fit in the booth.”

“Okay,” Faith said, unclipping the semi-automatic, magazine-fed shotgun and handing it over. “But I’m totally hanging onto the pistols.” She had three. One in a fast rig and two on chest rigs. She was also, at Tom’s insistence, carrying a dual-fire taser X26 and spare cartridges. Since all those, in her opinion, might need refueling she was also carrying more ammo than Durante.

“You can hang onto the pistols,” Tom said. “Now slide in.”

“Smells good,” Stacey said, looking at the menu. It had been printed on paper and clearly was “this is what we could get today.” “What do you recommend?”

“Anything,” Tom said. “It’s all good. I usually get the Frutti di Mare.”

“I’m not sure I’d trust seafood in these conditions,” Steve said. “Supply chain is getting totally screwed up.”

“I think you can trust it,” Tom said. “He’s got pretty good suppliers.”

“I want appetizers,” Faith said. “And…stuff. I don’t even know what to order. All I ever get is spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Don’t get greedy,” Steve said.

“Let her,” Tom said. “It’s on expense account. And the money’s just going to turn to electronic trash. The meatballs are to die for.”

“How long?” Stacey asked.

“Depends on the model you look at,” Tom said. “If we’re going to enjoy a night on the town, better make it tonight is all I can really say. Don’t ask me about tomorrow night. Pretty much it things will continue limping along and then they’ll stop. When the tipping point hits, it will cascade fast.”

“Can we talk about something other than the end of civilization tonight?” Sophia said.

“How bout something interesting and peripheral?” Tom said. “They’re quietly evacuating all the major art museums to an ‘undisclosed’ remote site. Basically, even if things fall apart completely, they’ll have saved all the big artworks. Ditto classic manuscripts.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Stacey said. “I’d hate to see Titians burn.”

“What about stuff in private collections?” Steve asked.

“Not sure,” Tom said. “I guess if they find out and turn them in for protection, I don’t see the Museum of Art turning down a Van Gogh. Most of those ‘private collections’ tend to be associated with big corporations. And most of them have remote jump sites. We’ve already been doing that for the Board and the Corporation. I’m not sure if they’ll hold. Heck, I don’t know if the museum remote site will hold.” He shrugged.

“How’s your plan?” Faith asked.

“Solid,” Tom said. “Thanks in good part to Sophia. This is on expense report because of what you’ve been doing, not Faith by the way.”

“Well thanks a lot,” Faith said. “All I did was stop zombies from taking over you building and nearly die doing it!”

“That, too,” Tom said. “Just twitting you. Dr. Bateman said he appreciated both your efforts.”

“Are you ready to order?” the waitress asked.

* * *

“I don’t know what most of these are,” Faith said, looking at the load of appetizers. Tom had basically ordered one of everything on the appetizer menu.

“This is great,” Sophia said. “What is it?”

“Squid in ink,” Tom said.

“Oh, gross,” Faith said, setting the piece down.

“Try it,” Steve said. “Just a bite.”

“I’m not six,” Faith said, taking a bite. “Okay, it is good. I hate the texture though.”

“Works for me,” Sophia said, trying another appetizer. “You’re right, it’s all good.” She looked around and leaned over to Stacey. “It would be better with some of the wine…?”

Stacey slid her wine glass over and refilled her mostly empty water glass from the bottle.

“So that’s the trick,” Faith said. “Eat it with wine and everything tastes good?”

“Pretty much,” Tom said. “You don’t want to know some of the stuff I’ve choked down with alcohol.”

“Monkey,” Sophia said taking a sip. “Ooo. It is better with the wine.”

“Try sloth,” Steve said. “Which is, by the way, truly putrid stuff. Tried some on a bet one time. Helped that I was off my face at the time. Then I chundered. But I won the bet.”

“Ate a slug once,” Tom said, musingly. “No beer involved. We’d been in the back of beyond for a bit. Looked tasty. When you’re that hungry, they are.”

“Uggh,” Faith said. “Okay, no end of the world talk and no weird foods.”

“It wasn’t one of the slimy ground ones,” Tom said. “Tree slug. Colorful. Looked a bit like a red and blue mobile banana. Turned out they’re slightly poisonous. Was quite ill the rest of the op.”

“No eating red and blue tree slugs,” Sophia said, nodding. “Got it. Just in case it comes up.”

“Speaking of which, how are you doing for supplies?” Tom asked.

“We resupplied right after we got here,” Tom said. “Which means the boat is packed. But we should be good for a month or so. Depends on how long we spend in harbor.”

“Not much longer,” Tom said. “We’ll be moving the girls back to the boat after tonight. We’re shutting down the project Sophia has been working on. It’s…as complete as it needs to be.”

“Understood,” Stacey said. “And I’ll be glad to have them back. No offense.”

“It’s been an adventure, that’s for sure,” Tom said. “I’d say sorry again but…”

“What’s it you say about adventure, Da?” Faith asked.

“Adventure is something that happened to someone else preferably a long way away and a long time ago,” Steve said. “When it happens it’s horror, terror or tragedy.”

“Someday this will be an adventure,” Faith said.

* * *

“Okay, they’re right,” Faith said, burping as she picked at her tiramisu. “The food in New York is incredible. I should have gotten that fruit of the sea thing. I usually don’t like seafood but that was great.”

“And this is really just a neighborhood restaurant,” Tom said. “But one of the best in the city.”

“Do we have to go right back to the boat?” Sophia asked.

“It’s getting dark,” Steve said. “And there’s a curfew.”

“Which is hardly enforced,” Tom said. “Even with the National Guard they’re too busy rounding up infected.”

“And it’s getting dark,” Steve noted.

“Up to the parents,” Tom said, shrugging. “There are some clubs still open and I hear there’s a more or less continuous concert going on in Washington Park. More of a rave, really.”