World of Ashes II (17 page)

“We have other boats.” Harrisburg said, standing her ground.

“And then what? You Americans don’t get it. You cannot help everyone. Not everyone wants your help.”

“These people do.” Daniel said, eyeballing Kuzma to figure the best way of taking him down without killing him.

“Do not be stupid, Sawyer. If anyone who is not there to help hears our response, maybe they come here and are not so friendly?” His English got worse the more worked up he was, but his point was at least understood.

“So you’re saying this cruise liner might be a trap?”

“Maybe, maybe not. But is not about them. Is about who hears us talk to them. If we were inland I would say nothing. That
Sonya
finds you on accident says to me, someone who looks for you will not have to rely on luck. They make maps, you know.” Kuzma was getting cocky the more he won the argument.

“Chief Kuzma, please join me in the captain’s cabin.” Harrisburg said, putting the microphone back on its hook. Kuzma was about to receive the ass chewing of a lifetime, and he knew it. “Private Sawyer, monitor the call. Maintain radio silence, that
is
an order.”

“Aye, Captain.” Sawyer responded. He waited until she was out of earshot and mumbled to the other people on the deck, “Private? And here I thought I got to play Ensign Chekov.”

“Nope, zombies ate him.” One of the other defacto officers remarked. “Read it when Hollywood’s outbreak happened. Lots of actors and actresses turned into an all you can eat buffet at the Oscars.”

Daniel didn’t know what to say to that, other than thinking that after all of this was over someone was going to have to re-cast
Star Trek.
Again. “Know of any other celebrities that made it? I mean, before the net went dark?”

“Um… The Disney Compound turned into the world’s unhappiest place when a mob trying to get in accidentally trapped everyone inside the Epcot Center and set it on fire. That one kung-fu guy, the one who got fat…”

“Steven Seagal?”

“Sure, I don’t know. He got eaten filming an episode of his stupid sheriff’s show, you know, the one nobody watched? If Youtube worked I’d show you. But seriously, where the hell were you when Hollywood was eaten? Everyone saw it.”

“Washington, DC.”

“Really? How’d you get here?”

“Limony Snickets, bro. Just a series of very unfortunate events. I was on holiday in England with my father when the riots, or outbreak I guess, started in DC. We were supposed to refuel at Reagan International, but we ended up in a field on the outskirts. I picked up the Sitton’s granddaughter near there, brought her here when I ran her name through a FEMA database in West Virginia. It was a fuckin’ crazy time.”

“That is one hell of a story. So why’d she call you Private?”

“Because I’m a Private First Class in the Wyoming Army National Guard. Just got sidetracked trying to get home is all.”

“I’m from Willoughby, Texas. Scott Fife, former US Navy.”

“Well at least someone’s qualified to be here.”

“Meh.” Fife shrugged, “I only spent the minimum required time on a ship. I was stationed in Michigan, went to Boot Camp and got assigned all at the same place. Longest four years of my life.” He joked, but not really.

Daniel completely understood. A shitty duty station could turn a good fighting man into a useless malcontent in short order. “So how long do you think it’ll take for the government to get its shit together? You know, send a unified force to rescue people?”

“You heard the Captain. They’re trying new tactics at the Rocky’s. Maybe a year or so before a land force gets here.” Fife didn’t sound very convinced of what he was saying. He just didn’t want to sound too optimistic and jinx everything.

Another transmission from the stricken cruise liner broke through the silence of the bridge as the men ran out of things to talk about. Daniel took a pen out of his pocket and started scribbling shorthand. He could see the others watching, so he unplugged the headset and put it on the speakers for the rest of them.

“…
contained to the lower decks. Nobody else has been infected. Please send help, we’re running out of fresh water. The pumps are below and we can’t reach them. Repeat…
” The transmission cut out, overpowered by a local automated broadcast before again breaking through. “…
off the shore of Florida. I don’t know our coordinates, we’ve lost main power…
”

“Kuzma’s right. Even if we could find the ship we know she’s got to be big. That many people, let alone that many infected, we don’t have the resources to mount a rescue.” Daniel plugged the headset back in, silencing the plea for help so as to not torture the others.

The shouting contest between Captain Harrisburg and Chief Kuzma reached through the steel deck. The hatch outside swung open and the argument spilled into the open air. They were arguing both in Russian and English until finally Harrisburg had had enough, picked Kuzma’s scrawny ass up by the seat of his pants and threw him overboard. He flopped into the manatee laden waters to swim with the sea-cows.

Chapter 7

The weather was changing, turning cool and stormy in late August rather than October. The internet had been down for weeks, satellite television was nothing but reruns or FEMA warnings, no new news was being broadcast in their region. Radio transmissions from the mainland were thinning out too, nobody helpful was within reach. After another day of pleading for help they never heard from the cruise liner again, nor did they catch her name. Occasionally Captain Harrisburg would force Daniel to spend time on the mainland. Other people rotated into his position and he started to get his land legs back when he’d spent almost five days straight on the boat. Kaylee had really come out of her shell too, and gave no indication she that she had any delusions about her parents coming back for her. She hadn’t said it directly yet, but the probability was she’d seen her parents die and in some small way already come to grips with that.

“Checkmate.” Kaylee said smugly.

“Kaylee, dear, we’re playing Checkers, not Chess.” Joanne tried to argue.

“Fine. I’m
all
in.” Kaylee pushed all of the red checkers into the center of the board. Daniel put the book his was reading down because he was laughing so hard. He had volunteered for security for a fishing expedition outside the bay and was heading out in an hour or so. He put his tan uniform back on, but this time with an arm band Joanne had sewn for him that read DEPUTY in gold on black. He’d been deputized along with a hundred other men, so the patch wasn’t just for looks. Jose didn’t join in on being deputized, he’d met a girl and almost immediately joined her at the hip to become some sort of grotesque, domesticated suburban unibeing like
Bradjolina
or
Stimi*.
If Facebook still worked in their area their separate profiles would have become one. We’ve all seen it, it’s horrible. Daniel didn’t blame his buddy for being head over heels for Camilla, she was the perfect example of the almost unobtainable girl next door whose father scared you too much to get to know her. They had become…
Josmilla!
… (*See CW’s
Jericho
)

“Daniel.” Kaylee came running up behind her personal savior the morning he was set to leave on his three day mission. She hugged him and even with his heavy backpack on he picked her up for a better hug. “You can take this. It will keep you safe.” She handed him a small teddy bear wearing an old Army uniform. “Gramma gave it to Daddy when he went to Afgan’stan. I want you to have it now.”

Choking back tears and tucking the small bear into his pocket, Daniel hugged Kaylee and left her with Joanne and John. He had a few minutes to himself on the early morning walk, a fog had settled over Crystal River and the air was crisp enough to be refreshing. Walking with his backpack reminded Daniel of being in school again, hiking to the on-base school from the officers housing area… Then getting his ass kicked by the enlisted men’s kids, but that was only for a brief time when his mother was stationed at Cherry Point. After that they kicked his ass because they would inevitably find out through the rumor mill that his dad had left because he was a homo, that instead of the completely normal 20 year retirement he’d been discharged for whatever reason. It was all lies, but at some point Daniel had gone from victim to conquering nomad. By his senior year nobody but the unkempt, clannish progeny of lifer NCO’s would speak to him. He was, after beating a Major’s step-son half to death, at every base told not to bother joining the JROTC with the other legacy brats.

“You might want to look behind you.” Lea said, appearing out of the fog just in front of Daniel. Was he dreaming again? Still in bed maybe?

Not this time.

The rotten breath smell of a zombie with flesh oozing from his mouth was all the momentary warning Daniel got before its putrid teeth sank into the shoulder strap of his backpack, just inches from his neck. He’d been so preoccupied by the trip down childhood lane he’d completely neglected to be as paranoid as he should have been. The weight of the zombie dragged him to the street, landing on his holster so he couldn’t draw the gun. With all the fury he could muster Daniel punched the zombie in the temple with a mean right hook. Its grip loosened some and so he did it again and again, each time with more strength than he had previously known he possessed. With a sloppy smacking sound the zombie’s jaw and dentures broke loose, stunning it enough that it actually let go. Grabbing a bayonet he’d found on the ship he buried the blade through the zombie’s eye socket.

He looked around, but Lea’s ghost was gone. Daniel lay in the leaf covered road and breathed, sweat pouring down his shirt and sticking small pebbles to his face. Leaning his head to his left he eyed the dentures still clamped firmly to his pack’s strap. Flipping his uniform collar up for just that little extra bit of protection, Daniel got up and thanked his lucky stars, God, the Buddha, Sheeva, Odin, Zeus, the Lords of Kobol, but not the Muslim god. His followers did this, they boasted of it even. Fuck them.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Deputy Gifford asked. He was providing overwatch for the marina when Daniel made his way there looking like he’d just crawled in the mud.

“Found General Washington’s false teeth.” Daniel tossed the dentures to the cop, who dropped them like a hot potato as soon as he figured out what they were. Of course Daniel had washed them off on his way to the marina, but it was still gross to think about.

“You found an infected person inside the perimeter?” Gifford actually seemed surprised.

Daniel showed him the gnawed looking strap. “I stuck my blade in his head. You’ll find him about a quarter mile from John’s house. I looked around me, I didn’t see any more though. Hey, if I don’t get a chance, like if I don’t make it back, you should suggest we start a buddy system.” Daniel couldn’t help but try to be useful to the group. It was in his nature already, cemented by the crucible training, “I know we’re stretched thin, but a second man would have been a lot safer.”

“Yeah, sure.” Gifford gave Daniel his macabre war trophy back, waiting for the boy to walk away before he flipped his own collar up, checking behind him more often now for geriatric cannibals with dentures. Being gummed to death wouldn’t be a very manly end.

The boat Daniel was assigned to was reasonably impressive by his standards, but then again the largest ship he’d ever been on was
Sonya
. This was just a reasonably large private fishing boat with enough room for people to spend a weekend trophy fishing on the sea. The boat’s captain, which was a loose term for the most experienced sailor in the group, was a dorky looking man who was entirely too comfortable wearing short-shorts. He also fancied himself quite the sea fairer. Daniel thought he was an effeminate schmuck, but kept his opinions to himself for now.

With an amount of caution that kept them going quite slow,
Captain
Ricci piloted the boat out of King’s Bay before he announced a battle drill while posturing. Daniel and the others looked at him like he was a moron, trying not to laugh. Finally Captain Ricci had to explain that Daniel was to take position on the M249, currently stowed in a water tight ammo box, and the others were supposed to take up prone positions on the outer deck to shoot with small arms. Daniel knew all about being a good right arm to someone who’s position is above yours, so rather than fuck with Ricci as he so desperately wanted to he agreed to work out a battle drill plan. Part of that plan was to stop at a nearby boat launch and grab some of the sandbags FEMA had seen fit to stockpile (for no reason they could readily imagine) and armor the boat with that. The thin fiberglass boat would offer virtually no protection in a gunfight. Daniel put the sandbags around the edges of the boat and kept the other three crewmen below while he and their skipper took care of any hostiles in the next drill by basically sitting back to back to cover the boat’s bow and stern. No need to expose crewmen who would only make convenient targets for snipers, Daniel argued. Captain Ricci also wanted all the guns stored below deck, him with the only key to that lockbox. Nobody obeyed that suggestion, and Daniel glared him down. This was going to be a long fucking trip, and if Ricci kept his shit up they could easily return to King’s Bay with at least one fewer crewman than they had departed with.