To Sail a Darkling Sea

“PFC, I swear to God if these zombies did go for brains they would totally ignore you!”

* * *

“So, this is five five six that works?” Faith said, looking at the round. Unlike the other rounds they’d been using that had green tips, this one looked like solid copper.

“It’s superior,” Januscheitis said. He was trying not to sound nervous. Faith had been running them around their own ship for six hours like privates on Paris Island and what was worse, she kept being right. “I don’t think there’s anybody who really loves five five six.”

* * *

“Nope,” Faith said, putting five rounds of 5.56mm into an oncoming zombie. “Unless you get a perfect shot, it’s still sucks.” She fired one round into its head and it dropped. “I don’t suppose there’s a few thousand rounds of twelve-gauge anywhere on this tub?”

“We don’t use a lot of twelve-gauge so… Not that I’m aware.”

“Seven six two by thirty-nine?”

“Haji round. No.”

“Forty-five?”

“Forty-five we’ve got,” Januscheitis said. “Somewhere. Ordnance was not my billet.”

“Find me ‘somewhere,’ Staff Sergeant.”

* * *

“Found it!”

* * *

“Ooo, ooo,” Faith said, stroking the box of ammo. “Come to momma.” She bent over and hugged the pallet of.45ACP. “Mmmm… There is beauty left in this fallen world… ”

“Oh, wait,” she said, straightening up. “This is full metal jacket, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Januscheitis said. “Hollow point is outlawed by the Geneva Convention.”

“Damn,” Faith said then went back to stroking the boxes. “Oh, well, FMJ forty-five is better than twenty-two magnum. Sooooft… ” she stroked the box a moment longer then reached over her back and pulled out her Halligan. “What are you waiting for?”

* * *

“See?” Faith said, as the zombie dropped. “One round. Forty-five cause they don’t make a forty-six. You can keep your Barbie guns.”

“No range, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “And you’ve only got seven rounds in a magazine.”

“We’re fighting at close quarters, Staff Sergeant Januscheitis,” Faith said. “And will be for the foreseeable future. We don’t need range. Well, unless we have to clear another freaking cruise liner and I’ll leave that to you big, tough Marines. Those damned hot twenty-twos just over-penetrate then start bouncing around. And they don’t kill zombies. As to how many rounds you’ve got in a mag… ” she said, reloading then dropping a zombie one handed that had reared out of the darkness.

“How many rounds of five five six, on average, to stop a zombie… PFC Kirby?” she said, reloading her expended magazine from spare rounds in a pouch.

“About five, Miss Faith, ma’am,” the private snapped, standing at attention.

“Staff Sergeant, divide thirty by five.”

“Six,” Januscheitis said then frowned. “Damn.”

“As to only having seven rounds,” Faith said, holding up her pistol. “You only have seven rounds because you use the ancient and renowned, sort of like, say, the Titanic, Colt 1911 whereas I use the modern H amp;K USP with twelve rounds which has been proven capable of killing a hammerhead shark in sixty feet of water. That works out to sixty rounds of five five six in relative killing power in an actual zombie fight. With lighter total weight in ammo, not having to reload and it doesn’t just zip through and go bouncin’ arounnnd like you’ve dropped a frag grenade. Old and busted. New hotness.”

“Yes, Miss Faith.”

* * *

“Oh come onnnn Jannnn, let me throw the grenade. If I can’t throw it, let Trixie. Trixie wants to throw the grenade…!”

* * *

“There is, in fact, a primary storage of twelve-gauge on board, Staff Sergeant,” Gunny Sands said, his voice muffled by the gas mask.

The Gunny was notably unhappy not being able to accompany the clearance parties. It just wasn’t right for a Gunny to be lolling around in the rack when his Marines were fighting zombies. He’d made a foray a day and spent the rest of the time eating, conducting physical therapy and, far too often in his opinion, resting. But the fatigue would just hit him like a hammer whenever he exerted himself.

Today, however, he’d moved forward to the clearance command post set up in the CIC of the Iwo. The bodies had been cleared out but it was still MOPP conditions in the compartment.

“I was unaware of that, Gunnery Sergeant,” Januscheitis said.

“Security and control teams use twelve-gauge,” the Gunny said, pointing to a schematic of the ship. “There should be twenty thousand rounds in Compartment 6 tack 190 tack 1 tack Mike. It should be, if memory serves, port side, aft in the compartment. The rest of the compartment is mainly devoted to M829 DS for the M1s.”

“Check that out on the next sweep forward,” Fontana said. “Which will be after we clear the Central Four and Five levels… ”

* * *

“You told me there wasn’t any twelve-gauge, Jan,” Faith said, pouting. “There’d better be twelve- gauge.”

“So I’m not the Gunny,” Januscheitis said, throwing his hands up in the air. “He’s a Gunny, okay? They, like, know everything!”

“Well, there’d just better be twelve-gauge… ”

* * *

“Oh,” Faith said, panting slightly. “Oh… Oh… ”

“It’s not much,” Januscheitis said.

“Not much?” Faith said, grabbing one of the cases of 12-gauge double-ought. “Not much? It’s… It’s… I’ll be in my bunk… ”

Januscheitis just stood there with his mouth open as she left the compartment.

“Do you think she meant… ” Derek said then paused. “I hope she didn’t mean… ”

The hatch undogged and Faith stuck her head in the compartment.

“Reloading my Saiga mags you PERVERTS!”

CHAPTER 5

I could not tread these perilous paths in safety, if I did not keep a saving sense of humor.

Admiral Horatio Nelson

“Soph, got something funky,” Patrick said.