your mind on the job.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hooch said.
“Here goes nothing,” Faith said, jumping up and grabbing the ladder.
“No worries, mate,” Faith muttered to herself. “I hate heights.”
“Easy. As long as I don’t look down.”
“Six a dollar.
“Target rich environment.”
“You have got to be shitting me,” Faith said, keying her radio and whispering. She was nearly to the top of the ladder.
“Okay,” Faith said looking up at where the grapnel was connected to the bulwark. She could hear them. “Okay. What’s my back-up plan? Oh…fuck it.” She keyed her iPod and rolled over the bulwark.
* * *
“Oh, shit, no,” Sophia said as Faith clambered the rest of the way up the boarding ladder and rolled over the side of the ship. She could see more zombies moving towards the piles of dead. “No, no, no.”
Faith straightened up and started firing her Saiga to aft. Which was great except for the zombie that appeared from behind cover to her rear and tackled her.
“HOOCH GET UP THERE!” Sophia screamed over the loudhailer. The Marine started to climb the ladder, painfully slowly.
Faith suddenly reared up into sight again, a pistol in her hand and firing into the deck. She stomped once or twice, then turned with her back to the landing ladder and fired one handed to aft, where the zombies were closing and pulled another pistol out and fired forward, turning her head from side to side like she was watching a Wimbledon match. She was missing a lot, but zombies in view were dropping. Unfortunately, not enough and she got dog-piled.
Then she was up again, with a pistol in one hand and a kukri in the other. She slashed down with the kukhri, kicked again, shot a couple more and then went down. Again.
And back up. This time with the Saiga. Got two more. Went down.
Back up, holding a zombie over her head. It had a tactical knife in its eye. The zombie went into the drink. And she went down again.
And up again, Halligan tool in a two handed grip, pounding down. Tackled.
“Okay, this fucking sucks,” Faith panted over the radio. There was a background of constant snarls. “Trying to reload your fucking pistol with a zombie biting your fucking ass fucking sucks… Quit chewing my
There was an “open circuit” button on the radios for hands free operation. Sophia realized that had happened to Faith’s radio in the scuffle and her sister didn’t realize that she was broadcasting.
“Careful, careful, Faith, don’t shoot yourself in the ass. That would be embarrassing…” There was a shot. “Dinkum… I’m wearing fucking bunker gear, you dumbfuck.” Two shots. “You cannot
Faith came up with a zombie on her back and shrugged it off, spinning in place with the kukhri and cutting its throat as she fired her.45 into the back of one grabbing her waist.
“I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THESE MOTHERFUCKING ZOMBIES ON THIS MOTHERFUCKING…” she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Hocieniec cleared the railing and finally saw what was going on. He clearly was frozen trying to figure out what to do, pull zombies off Faith or engage the ones still closing. Faith swung the Halligan tool, jamming the claw-hammer into a zombie’s skull, then overbalanced and went down again.
“GET THE OTHERS,” Sophia boomed. “FAITH’S DOING FINE.”
* * *
Bradburn waved a finger at the periscope repeater.
“COB.”
“Sir?”
“Remind me never to piss that young lady off.”
“Yes, sir.”
CHAPTER 29
“Dibs on direct commission.”
Lieutenant Colonel Justin Pierre had been missing meetings due to a recurrence of, of all things, malaria. He’d picked it up in Afghanistan. Doctors at Walter Reed thought they’d gotten out every trace with a new drug regime but it turned out they were, well, wrong. Which hadn’t been spotted before he was put on this assignment or he’d never have had it. In fact, malaria was now one of those things that was ground for medical retirement. Or, possibly, a letter of reprimand since you were supposed to take prophylaxis medication.
Colonel Pierre had not been lax in his use of prophylaxis medication. He had ended up way in the back of nowhere and cut off for about thirty days until he could E &E to friendly lines. Unlike the SEALs who had ended up in a similar situation, his team had never made the news. Probably because he had managed to extract all of them without any deaths. Wounded, yes, but they had an 18 Delta with them. Regular medics and corpsmen were trained to stabilize a patient until they could be evacuated. Special Forces medics were trained to heal people. They admitted they were not doctors, nor anywhere close, but Sergeant Ford had gone above and beyond.
However, they were planning for a seven day mission. Not thirty.
But he was back in the saddle and determined to get that girl as a commissioned officer in the United States Army.
“I’ll throw in submitting a Memo for Record to the CJCS that they waive normal restrictions against women attending advanced combat schools, set up a quicky Q course and automatically pass her.”
“She’s thirteen, Colonel,” Brice said, drily.
“I think the youngest officer the U.S. Army ever commissioned was fifteen,” Pierre said. “ I can gin up a recommendation to the Joint Chiefs that given current global conditions we can waiver some people.”
“That’s a lot of waivers, Colonel,” Freeman said. “Besides, I think all things considered, she’s more the SEAL type.”
“Got any available SEAL instructors?” Pierre said. “I’m a qualified Q course instructor.”
“Actually I was thinking Marines,” Mr. Galloway said. “Colonel Ellington. I now have a better appreciation for your paladin in hell metaphor.”
Galloway looked over at Ellington and saw that the colonel’s face was covered in tears.
“Colonel?” Galloway said, carefully.
“She reminds me of my wife, sir,” the colonel said. “She was a lieutenant in the MPs when we met.”
“I am…” Galloway said. There was an unspoken rule against speaking about family. At least in these sort of circumstances. “Sorry. I hope to have the opportunity to meet her someday.”
“That would be difficult, sir,” Ellington said. “She was killed in Iraq. Long before this…debacle. Suicide
