“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Barnard said, her face tight.
“Force Ops, Marine Team,” Faith said after a few deep breaths.
“Force Ops.”
“Request a couple of Navy ground teams to anchor the beach,” Faith said. “We’ve got from the equipment building to the bar.”
“Roger, stand by.”
“Standing by.”
“Hi, Sis,” Sophia said, walking down the pier.
“Good morning, Ensign!” Faith boomed.
“Oh, do not start with the whole command voice thing,” Sophia said.
“I do not know what you are referring to, Ensign,” Faith barked.
“It’s ‘that to which you refer’ technically,” Sophia said. “How’s it going? Saw your Marines try to kill each other.”
“Frankly, it’s going too well,” Faith said. “’Cause I’m wondering when it’s going to fuck up and it’s giving the Gitmo Marines the idea that this is all easy.”
“How long you going to have that guy do push-ups?” Sophia asked curiously.
“Since he tried to kill me, probably a while,” Faith said. “And I’m not having him do— FUNK, WHY ISN’T YOUR BACK STRAIGHT? WHAT ARE YOU, NAVY?”
“You know he’s carrying like a hundred pounds of gear,” Sophia said.
“That’s the point,” Faith said. “The more he sweats the less I might bleed. RECOVER! JUMPING JACKS! BEGIN! ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR…YOU COUNT! STOP WHEN I GET TIRED!”
“Hey, I got a call…” Sophia said. “Roger, Force Ops, can do. Roger. Will coordinate with Marine commander. You want us to cover you?”
“One team on each end of the beach,” Faith said, gesturing both ways. “That way if the gunners get twitchy trigger fingers, they kill Navy not Marines.”
“Oh, thank you very much,” Sophia said. “But a point. Force Ops, Navy Landing Party…”
“CEASE EXERCISE!” Faith yelled. “MARINE, YOU HAVE FAILED ON TWO COUNTS, BAD FIRE DISCIPLINE AND POOR AIM! YOU ARE A DOUBLE DISGRACE TO OUR BELOVED CORPS! ON YOUR BACK, MARINE! FLUTTER KICKS! BEGIN! ONE, TWO…”
“Hold up,” Faith said, looking through the printed out sheets. The five-tons had been unloaded and the Marines were now in the process of sweeping the island. For a change she was sitting in the front seat instead of on the gun. For one reason, their “map” was printouts of the overheads. They were at a round-about, which had a post in the middle with some weird triangle thing, and she was trying to figure out the way to the hospital. She looked over at the airport, then down at the map and put two of the sheets together side by side. “I’m pretty sure it’s that way,” she said, pointing right. “But hang on. Staff Sergeant, I’m pretty sure we take the right fork thingy. You concur?”
“Concur,” the staff sergeant replied after a moment. She was riding in the trail five-ton.
There was a burst of fire from the gunner overhead and Faith looked up in time to see a dog come apart.
“Seriously, Quade?” Faith yelled. “It was the size of a collie! Save your rounds for infecteds!”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Lance Corporal Quade said.
She looked over at Sergeant Smith, who was driving, and rolled her eyes upwards. He just shrugged.
“Take the right fork thingy, Sergeant,” Faith said, going back to shuffling papers. “We’ll find it eventually…”
“Son of a bitch,” Faith muttered as they approached a beach on the south side of the island. “Staff Sergeant, turn around. How in the hell can we keep getting lost on an island this small?”
“Found the fire station, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said.
“And a fire truck,” Faith said. “Which isn’t specified on this map. But I think we’re in this area…”
“Stop at this gas station,” Faith said.
“We’ve still got nearly a full tank, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said.
“I’m getting a fucking map, Smitty…”
“Shit, she is crazy,” Barnard muttered, shaking her head as the lieutenant bailed out of the five-ton and headed into the interior of the gas station. They hadn’t encountered many infected but they were random. They seemed to appear out of nowhere. “Lieutenant, we should deploy a security team.”
“You gotta be joking me,” Faith replied. “Negative. I’m just looking for a—”
“Lieutenant?” Barnard said. The call had cut off mid sentence.
“Skipper is looking for a better map,” Sergeant Smith radioed.
The lieutenant appeared out of the block building a moment later holding a map over her head and headed to Barnard’s truck. She had another stuffed in her cargo pocket.
As she did an infected burst out of the bushes and charged her from her right. The direction her rifle was not pointing.
“Too close,” Barnard shouted to the machine gunner, scrabbling at her rifle. There was no way to get fire on the infected before it got to the lieutenant. And the Marines were not wearing “close contact” gear. If it got a bite in on the girl…
The lieutenant looked over her shoulder, drew her pistol, fired one round one-handed into the infected’s chest then another into its head. She decocked her pistol, dropped it back in its holster and went back to reading the map. The entire event had been one continuous motion. She didn’t even seem to notice.
“Oh…” Faith said, climbing up on the running board of the five-ton. “Oorah. I think I’ve figured out where we are….”
“Staff Sergeant,” Faith barked, standing at parade rest.
“Ma’am,” Barnard said.
They were standing outside the Princess Alexandria Hospital as the Marine teams swept the building. The hospital was a two-story construction, not much larger than a McMansion, with large windows and airy arch construction.
Like most of the island it had been swept by fire. Faith was pretty sure they weren’t going to find much in the way of supplies.
“We need to get some training in on the float,” Faith said. “I’m seeing a lot of sweeping going on on this clearance. And then there’s the fire discipline issue coupled with the accuracy issue. We can only really train on shooting on land. Not sure how to handle that. Maybe take a day on a desert island; lots of those around here. The lack of basic marksmanship worked in our favor in this instance but it’s not generally a good thing. The sweeping issue and general CQB we can do in the Grace Tan. Oorah?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Barnard said.
“Left wing is clear of all infected,” Hocieniec radioed.
“Roger,” Faith said.
“Right wing is cleared,” Sergeant Weisskopf called a moment later.
“Roger,” Faith said, changing frequencies. “Force Ops, Marine Team.”
“Go, Marine Team.”
“Hospital is clear,” Faith said. “No way to secure it. Cannot guarantee security for Navy sweep personnel. Be advised, been on fire. Probably a bust.”
“Roger,” Force Ops replied. “Stand by.”
“Don’t we always,” Faith said. “Call in the dogs, Staff Sergeant. Odds we go on to the medical school.”
“Marine Team, Force Commander. What’s the security situation on the ground?”
“Complicated,” Faith replied. “There is a higher infected presence than I would have guessed. Most of them didn’t make it to the beach. Constant minor leakers. Stand by. Quade, is there something wrong with your eyes?”