To Sail a Darkling Sea

crews. I’ve got a concept to clear the mainland. It’s going to take one hell of a lot more people than we’re going to find in Gitmo or crossing the Atlantic, but it’s a plan. And it’s going to need managers. And, yeah, that plan includes clearing New York. And DC and all the big cities. Not because anybody can really live in them, but they’re going to be in the way. All the logistics run through them. And they’re emotional targets. Hell, I even plan to clear LA some day. You can at least go back to your mansion and get your stuff.”

“So what’s this plan?” Zumwald said, interested. “Because you’re talking about the fucking United States. It takes four and a half hours to fly across in a 747. Bit less than four in a G. It’s pretty fucking big.”

“I don’t talk about plans until I’m sure they’re possible,” Steve said. “But I’ll give you one for New York. You saw the mechanical clearers, right?”

“This is Tenerife, buddy,” Zumwald said, laughing. “You’re going to need a shit-load of those to clear New York.”

“Hell, by the time we get to New York, we’re going to have to have thousands,” Steve said. “And a factory, probably in the Miami commercial port, churning them out. Not to mention dozens of barge derricks to put them into place. Guess who I plan on putting in charge of the factory?”

“Not me I hope,” Zumwald said. “Although Miami’s not a bad place. How the hell you going to really clear it, though? The zombies are only going to walk so far to get to the traps.”

“Like I said,” Steve said. “I don’t talk about the whole idea until I’m sure it’s going to work. And, not you: Isham. He knows manufacturing. He had a manufacturing company. One of the reasons I recruited him in Bermuda. Because I knew what I wanted to do back then. But I can clear New York. Make it zombie free? No. But close enough. I can let you walk in Washington Square Park. I can give you back Brooklyn. But it will take you working for it, too.”

“You’ll do it anyway,” Zumwald said, shrugging. “You said so.”

“It’ll be easier with people who know how to organize,” Steve said, steepling his fingers. “You’re a test. How do I motivate people to help me achieve these goals who used to have everything? And who had everything because they’re good at organization. You’re about as selfish a person as I’m going to find. Most really selfish people died from this Plague because humans can’t survive without other humans to help them. If I can find your levers, then it’s potentially possible to, yeah, clear New York and DC and the hole and, hell, the West Coast. So, do you want to be the King of Flatbush?”

“Not Flatbush,” Zumwald said, snorting. “Please. Riverside if anything.”

“Okay, Riverside.”

“You’re just going to give me Riverside?” Zumwald said, snorting again. “Like you’ve got that power?”

“By then, yes,” Steve said. “There will have to be a way to redistribute resources. All of it, no. Most of it, yes. Can I absolutely promise that? No. If I have the authority when that time comes, you get all the property in Riverside not held by survivors or people with provenance.”

“Seriously?” Zumwald said.

“Seriously,” Steve said. “I don’t want to live there. And there aren’t going to be many people surviving in those mansions. There may have to be some lag period to vestment. Some of the owners may have fled elsewhere and survived. But when the vestment period lapses, it’s all yours.”

“You’re just going to give people land?” Zumwald said.

“Somebody is going to have to,” Steve said. “When Ohio was originally settled, the plots that were granted were about ten square miles per homesteader. One of the reasons it was so easy to colonize, by the way, was that it was well maintained by Native American tribes who had been wiped out by, guess what, plague. There will be scavengers before we’re done clearing Miami. Distributing salvage will be one of the tough parts of this job at that point. As will enforcing it.”

“That’s assuming you can clear it,” Zumwald said. “And you’re still be cadgy about that.”

“Yes, I am,” Steve said. “It’s going to be a massive endeavor. And most areas the best that we’ll be able to achieve is something like La Puntilla. There aren’t many infected. You can move around if you’re armed and know how to use a weapon.”

“That makes the property a little less attractive,” Zumwald said.

“Oh, think, Ernest,” Steve snapped. “You’re smart. Apply your brain. You want it cleared out? You hire a salvage company that has some specific rights. They have the guns. They clear it out for some of the salvage. It’s not hard.”

“And if they turn on me?” Zumwald said, sourly.

“That is actually what government is for, Ernest,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Enforcement of contract law. That is, at base, pretty much its entire purpose. Everything else just gets ladled on by idiots.”

“That’s not communism,” Zumwald said.

“I said I’m running a communism now,” Steve said. “Free market will kick in pretty quick once we’re not stuck on these boats. Hell, it already has. There’s trading going on. People think it’s black market. I think it’s great. I just need to figure out, again, what is and is not workable. Not ‘legal’ or illegal. Just workable. So contracts can be enforced by the government and not black marketeers. I’m a free market guy. Just doesn’t work when we’re all still on the ragged edge. Then it’s tyranny and, yeah, communism. Or something like it. We’ll get to free market. But we’re not going to see LA, or New York, as you remember it, any time soon. Not in our lifetime. Not in our great grandchildren’s.”

“Yeah,” Zumwald said.

“So, returning to the original issue,” Steve said. “I need someone to do the pre-planning for our next float. And future missions. If you take the job, you’ll start working with Isham today. You’ll need to get a basis for what’s required. Then build a plans and ops team and figure out the float. For which you won’t have much time.”

“Great,” Zumwald said, frowning.

“And the quarters and the rest,” Steve said. “The main thing, though, is the power and the prestige. The multitudes bowing and scraping. And, eventually, Riverside.”

“If you can swing it,” Zumwald said.

“There will be politics involved,” Steve said, shrugging. “You’re generally good at that. If you have a reason to support my position, that’s a benefit. And, as with Isham, if you fuck me you had better run far and fast.”

“You really did miss your calling, Smith,” Zumwald said, laughing.

* * *

“Oh, thank God,” Sophia said as the Senorita cleared the harbor and hit the first rollers.

A slight squall had come through the night before and the water was a bit lively. But nothing that the Senorita couldn’t handle and it seemed as eager to hit the waves as its captain. Not so much the crew.

“I think I’ve sort of lost my sea legs,” Paula said. “I am mildly queasy.”

“Not me,” Sophia said. “I am sooo ready to go see some new harbors that don’t stink of rotting bodies and rotting liners.”

“Can I come up?” Olga asked.

The girl had been a late addition. Turned out she had significant civilian shooting experience.

“Sure,” Sophia said. “As long as you promise not to hijack the boat.”

“Very humorous,” Olga said, sitting down on one of the benches of the flying bridge. “You forget, I was the bait, not the hook.”

“You’re forgiven,” Sophia said. “And I was joking. I wouldn’t have let you on my boat if I thought you were going to take it over.”

“How the hell did you end up on the Money?” Paula said. “You said you were an American. Where did the Russian accent go?”

“I can get it back if you want,” Olga said, with a Slavic accent. “But I grew up in Chicago. And I’m not Russian, I’m Ukrainian. Yes, there’s a difference and yes I care. I moved to the US when I was six with my family. My father sort of had to leave. The FSB had recruited him and he told them to fuck off. They did not take it well.”

“FSB?” Paula said.

“Russian spy agency,” Sophia said. “Was he normally a spy?”