Under a Graveyard Sky

liked it when a bouncer had come through the cabin.

“As I said,” Steve said, “we’ll have to find something better.”

“I’ll go get the fiberglass patches…” Stacey said.

“I still got more than you did,” Faith said. “You’re on dishes tonight.”

* * *

“We need to use the dinghy for this,” Steve said, grimacing. “I don’t want to put the boat alongside until we can get some of those big balloon things from the tug.”

“Going up there from the dinghy is going to be tough,” Faith said.

“Which is why we’re going to do it very carefully,” Steve said. “And wear lifevests.”

* * *

“Pirates make this look so easy,” Faith said, throwing the grapnel again. “Damnit!”

“Don’t hole the dinghy,” Steve said as she pulled the rope back in.

* * *

“Son of a b-blug-blug…” Faith spit out a mouthful of water and flailed at the surface. “This vest isn’t… Blug!”

Given the weight of her gear, the vest was barely keeping her at the surface.

“Grab the rope, Faith,” Steve yelled. He was up on the deck already and dangling a recovery line to her. Fortunately, the vessel wasn’t moving much in the light swells.

“Ow!” Faith said, as the hull hit her helmet and pushed her under. She managed to get a hand on the recovery line, though, and Steve pulled her back out from under the tug.

“Tell me there aren’t any sharks,” Faith said, flailing with one free hand for the boarding ladder.

Steve looked around and considered his answer carefully. The recently terminated infected had, after all, bled out. The scuppers were, in the old term, running with blood. And, yes, there were a few shadows. And fins…

“You might want to hurry…”

* * *

“We need a better way to get onto boats,” Faith said. She was sprawled out on the deck of the tug.

“You realize you’re lying in infected zombie blood, right?” Steve said.

“I sooo don’t care,” Faith said. “We’re going to wash-down when we reboard, anyway. Christ that sucked. I was getting ready to dump my gear. If we didn’t need it and if I could figure out a way to do it without taking off the vest I would have. But all I could think was if I took off the vest I was doing the deep dive with sixty pounds of gear to take off on the way down.”

“We’re going to have to figure out better protocols,” Steve said. “That’s for sure. But we’re still going to have to use the ladder.”

“I hate those,” Faith said. “I really do.”

* * *

“Zombies, zombies, zombies!” Faith yelled, pounding on the exterior hatch with a crowbar. “Come to Papa Wolf! Zombies, zombies… And we’ve got customers, Da.”

“Roger,” Steve said, taking a free-hand stance back from the hatch. “Make sure to cover yourself with the hatch.”

“Try not to nail me with bouncers,” Faith said, undogging the hatch. She pulled it all the way open and hid behind it.

Four zombies stumbled out into the light, blinking.

“HERE!” Steve called, taking the first one out. “Here, here, here!”

The zombies, half blinded by the light, stumbled towards the shouts and were dropped in a line.

“All clear?” Faith asked, sticking her head around the hatch.

“Step away and we’ll see,” Steve said.

She moved back to his position and considered the darkened interior.

“We’re really going to have problems with adjustment,” she pointed out.

“I read an article where the reason that pirates wore eye patches was to keep one eye available for moving into darkness,” Steve said. “Go into a hold and switch it to the other eye.”

“I guess maybe we should have flip-up sunglasses or something?” Faith said.

“Maybe,” Steve said. “Zombies! Hello… ZOMBIES! Anybody home?”

“Zombies, zombies, zombies!” Faith yelled, banging on the deck with her crowbar.

“Ah, that’s got one,” Steve said as another zombie stumbled out into the light.

“Wait,” Faith said, dropping the crowbar and drawing her pistol. “We’ve still got more.45 than twelve gauge.”

“Point,” Steve said as she fired. “I was afraid you were going to use the crowbar.”

“Been there,” Faith said. “Prefer shooting them.”

“Let’s dog it again and check the bridge,” Steve said. “Then we’ll clear down from that.”

“Okay,” Faith said, shrugging. “Any particular reason?”

“More light up there?”

* * *

There was a zombie on the bridge. A well fed one. Which was explained by the two corpses also on the bridge.

“So…” Faith said, tilting her head. “One was wearing clothes. The other looks like he wasn’t…”

“Zombies eat each other,” Steve said. “Interesting factoid.”

“Whoops,” Faith said as a zombie came up the companionway. She fired and it tumbled back down. But there was sounds of more stumbling in the darkness below. “Think we’ve got a nest here, Da.”

“If we have to, retreat through the door,” Steve said, stepping next to her. Another headed up the companionway and he terminated it. The following zombie stumbled over that one and then started crawling up the stairs.

Faith let her Saiga fall on its sling and drew her.45. One shot to the head terminated that one.

“I think I’ve got this,” Faith said.

“I don’t think they were all crew,” Steve said, letting her take the shots. He had the Saiga up and pointed if any got past her. “This is too many for crew.”

“And there are women,” Faith said as she took one down.

“There are women in merchant marine,” Steve said. “But…yeah. I think they took on refugees.”

“Or family,” Faith said, pausing. “Da?”

“Got it,” Steve said, dropping his Saiga to its sling and killing the child zombie with one round of.45.

“I hate shooting the kids,” Faith said. She didn’t have any trouble with the male following.

“Here’s a puzzle,” Steve said, thoughtfully. “Zombie up here is dead and eaten. I’d see them killing the weakest first. Why did the child survive?”

“You’re asking me?” Faith said. “That sounds like a Sophia question. I think it’s clear.”

“We certainly made enough noise,” Steve said. They’d given up on earplugs and his ears were ringing. “We’re going to go deaf with all this fire.”

“I’ll take deafness in old age over being eaten by zombies,” Faith said, shrugging. “Why are my ears ringing in rhythm?”

“Because that’s metal pinging on metal,” Steve said. “I think we got us a survivor.”

“Another salvage operation ruined!” Faith said.

* * *

“Ah, jesus,” the man said, turning away from the taclights and holding up his arm.

“Sorry,” Steve said, turning the light away. The locker the survivor been hiding in had no portholes and the lights must have been like a nuke going off.

The survivor was skinny as a rail with long, shaggy hair and a beard that must have started out long and gotten longer. He was also wearing only a pair of shorts. If he hadn’t responded verbally to their bangs, Steve would have thought he was a zombie.

“I’m not going to be able to see for a day,” the man said. “Sorry, let me start again. Thank you.”