That was beautiful timing.
So was the timing of the Zodiacs inbound full of Marines. They hit the pier seconds after the fire started. There were still a few infected who hadn’t managed to figure out the party was over on Corinaso and Radio Point. The first Marine ashore jumped from the Zodiac onto the wharf and promptly blew that zombie rapist motherfucker Al Hoodat into mush with what looked a hell of a lot like a Saiga shotgun. Then he used the Saiga to wave for the rest of the Marines scrambling up onto the dock to pass him by. Some of them saluted as they passed and the officer would just tip his helmet with the smoking barrel of the Saiga.
“Okay, that dude’s got style,” she said, pointing.
“Chick,” Sergeant Weisskopf said, looking through the binoculars. “Pardon me, that would be lady. Second Lieutenant. And, Jesus, she had to be just out of OBC when the Plague hit.”
“Weisskopf,” Staff Sergeant Barnard said. “Your watch is extended. Everyone else, downstairs and prepare for evac!”
“Roger, Staff Sergeant,” Sheila said. “You heard the staff sergeant. Move it, people!”
“Sir,” Faith barked. “Second Lieutenant Faith Marie Smith, U-S-M-C.”
Faith had been practicing under Gunny Sands’ tutelage and gave the lieutenant colonel a parade-ground salute worthy of the Marine Guards.
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lieutenant,” Hamilton said, returning the salute just as formally. “What’s the game plan?”
“We’ll evac your people on foot to the boats, sir,” Faith replied. “Any who have movement difficulties we’ve got stretchers. The squadron Marine team will remain to hold the base, sir, and begin clearance operations. Your personnel will have three days off on the Boadicea to get their headspace and timing back, sir.”
“You do intend to hold the base?” Hamilton asked.
“We’re holding Gitmo for the indefinite future, sir,” Faith said. “It’s the first land base we’ve done that. The primary purpose is to assure the security of materials, sir.”
“Would the captain permit leaving some of my people in place temporarily?” Hamilton asked.
“The captain anticipated that question, sir,” Faith said, grinning suddenly. “The answer is by all means, sir. He would like to meet with you, sir, so that you can be relieved of any anxiety regarding controlling legal authority, sir. There is an NCCC and a chain of command, sir.”
“So something survived,” Hamilton said, nodding. “Good. Good to hear. No land bases, not so good. Some remnant, good.”
“If you would care to accompany the sergeant to the boats, sir,” Faith said, gesturing, “we can begin the evacuation whenever you’re ready, sir. Stand by…” she said, holding her ear. “Just wax ’em, Janu. We don’t collect till we have the facility up and running. Roger. Sir?”
“We’re moving out, then,” Hamilton said. “Staff Sergeant, one team to remain here, the rest move to the boats.”
“Aye, aye, sir,” Barnard said. “Hoag, your watch. You just drew the short straw. Go relieve Weisskopf.”
“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant,” Hoag said, trying not to curse.
CHAPTER 7
“…IS THE WRATH OF GOD UPON THE WORLD FOR ITS SINS! THOSE WHO HAVE BEEN TAKEN ARE THE SINNERS OF THE WORLD AND THE RIGHTEOUS HAVE BEEN SPARED…”
“Well, this is convenient,” the lieutenant said, her hands on her hips, looking at the Humvee. “Anybody know if this thing still runs?”
Hoag had, at the orders of the “Lieutenant,” sent Capedon up to tell Weisskopf he was relieved and to head to the boats. But she had to “stay on site” until relieved. And the lieutenant had “hey-you’d” her to “show them around.”
She wasn’t sure about the lieutenant. Not ’cause she was a female, obviously, but because Sheila was wondering just how old she was. She didn’t look old enough to have gone to college.
“We used it for charging the radios until the fuel ran out, ma’am,” Hoag said.
“No fuel, less convenient,” the lieutenant said. “Staff Sergeant Januscheitis!”
“Ma’am,” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said.
“Wheels.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the staff sergeant said.
Hamilton accepted the hand of the Navy crewman on the Zodiac, who looked as if he was a teenager, and boarded the boat gingerly. He was the last on of the personnel who were evacuating the base. And he still wasn’t sure it was the right choice.
“Sergeant,” Hamilton said to the Marine who had led them to the craft. “I have a few quick questions.”
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant said.
“Were you a Marine prior to the Plague?” Hamilton asked.
“Yes, sir,” the sergeant replied. “I was on the Iwo when we got hit, sir. I was a thirty-three eighty-one, sir. Corporal, sir.”
“Where’s the Iwo?” Hamilton asked. “Other operations?”
“Not enough trained people to man her, sir,” the sergeant said. “It’s floating in the Sargasso Sea with the hatches welded shut, sir. Our total manning is only three thousand and change, sir. That includes sick, lame, lazy, old and children, sir. Mostly civvies.”
“So…this is an actual Navy operation, Sergeant? Or not?”
“It’s…it’s Wolf Squadron, sir,” the sergeant said. “The captain’s a real captain, sir. Gunny and the captain both agree he’s just like any Navy captain, sir. But he was a high school teacher before the Plague, sir. It’s civilians who’ve never been in the military who are trying to figure it out and civilians who didn’t want to be military who are bosses. Hell, sir, Shewolf, Lieutenant Smith, sir? She’s thirteen and there is not one damned person who works with her, or is under her command, sir, who minds. Not after you see her in action, sir. The lieutenant is one badass zombie killer, sir.
“Sir, I’m a cook. But Captain Wolf’s approach is that every Marine is a rifleman, sir. Navy and civilians can do chow. Marines are for killing zombies, sir. Period. The last few months I’ve blown more rounds than most guys did in Fallujah, sir. Clearing ships which is a bitch, sir. Clearing a God-damned supermax liner, sir, is a stone-cold, black-as-pitch ungodly bitch, sir. And, sir, I’m losing count of how many we’ve cleared.
“It’s just…I don’t know how to explain it, sir. It’s Wolf Squadron, sir. I mean, sir, just trying to explain Staff Sergeant Decker is hard enough, sir.”
“And who is Staff Sergeant Decker, Sergeant…?”
“Coming up!”
The person emerging from the roof hatch was a staff sergeant with the nametag “Decker.” He climbed up, then marched, as if he was on parade, to the edge of the roof and looked around. Then he did an about face and marched back to the hatch.
“Begin evolution!” he boomed into the hole. He had bent at the waist to shout and then straightened to the position of attention and did an about face. After that, he marched back to the edge of the roof, did another about face and assumed the position of parade rest.