“Ma’am,” Barnard said.
“Gaaawd damnit, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said, shaking her head. “I did not ask for your opinion! I do not want your opinion. And I swear to God if you inject one more time like some untrained fucking recruit I am going to request you be boarded, do you understand me, Staff Sergeant?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Barnard said tightly.
“Marines, if you fire on ‘movement’ on that road, you are going to be shooting me,” Faith continued. “And since you will not kill me, because apparently nothing can kill me, the penalty will be severe when I come walking back down that road.”
“Is she nuts?” PFC Haroldson asked.
“At ease, Marine,” Weisskopf snarled.
“The purpose of this is to demonstrate that infected are not the problem you’re all thinking they are,” Faith radioed. “I will proceed up the road with Funk to the edge of the light. There we will probably be able to attract some zombies and have some fun. Check fire. Check fire. Let us handle them.”
CHAPTER 17
“You ready to go, Funk?” Faith asked, stepping up onto the pier.
“Yes, ma’am,” Funk said tightly.
“Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “Just this once, please do your job and ensure that my Marines do not frag me.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Barnard said.
“Funk, unload your weapon,” Faith said.
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” Funk said. He jacked the round out of his weapon.
“You have to drop your magazine first, Marine,” Faith said. “Drop your magazine.”
“Confirmed infected in west sector,” Sergeant Hocieniec radioed.
“Roger, Hooch,” Faith said. “Scrum it, over.”
“Scrum it, aye,” Hocieniec replied.
“Second Squad, check fire,” Hocieniec said. “Check fire, check fire. Smitty, scrum that motherfucker.”
“Scrum that motherfucker, aye,” Sergeant Chris Smith said, standing up and drawing a tactical knife. “If any of you fuckers shoot me in the back I will shoot you in the head.”
The infected had closed to the edge of the light and was now dodging through the shadows, apparently unsure what was going on at the beach. Without a pack of its fellow zombies, some shred of self-preservation had kicked in.
Smith walked up to the edge of the beach and took a crouch.
“Come on, zombie,” Smith said, waving to it. “Come to papa.”
The zombie, driven by hunger, charged and Smith caught it with a hip roll, throwing it over his hip and onto the sand of the beach. He followed it down with his full weight and drove the Gerber into its eye.
“The problem with that technique is getting your knife out,” Smith said, putting his foot on the zombie’s head and wrenching at the bloody knife.
“Hey, Smitty, you got more incoming,” Hooch said, grinning.
Faith had, meanwhile, strolled up the road with PFC Funk.
“Zombies cannot even begin to harm you until they are at arm’s length, PFC,” Faith said. She had her radio “open” deliberately this time. “Which was why you wait until they’re close, generally, to fire. You hit them that way and you can be sure that they are zombies and not survivors or fellow Marines.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the Marine said nervously.
“And in this gear, they can’t get to you at all,” Faith said. “Last but not least, they are not the walking dead. Are they Corporal Douglas?”
“No, ma’am,” Derk yelled.
“So they can be killed in various ways that don’t require shooting them in the head,” Faith said. “Unless you’re using a fucking Barbie gun. In which case…well…check fire, check fire, check fire,” she shouted just to be sure.
She’d heard the zombie closing in the darkness. She let it charge and slam into her from behind. She flipped it across her shoulder and onto the ground, then let it have her left arm to bite.
“Notice that he’s not gaining an inch,” Faith said, drawing her kukri. “Human teeth cannot penetrate this bunker gear. And…” she reached across his arms and chopped downward. There was a spray of arterial blood. “They are not hard to kill.
“All Marine personnel will now unload their weapons,” Faith said, flicking the kukri to clear it of blood and pushing herself to her feet. “Squad and team leaders will assure that they are unloaded. Not just on safe. And that goes for all Squad and team leaders. Then the Marines who are from Gitmo will move up to the tree line and engage infected in hand-to-hand while the Iwo Marines conduct the class. We will continue this evolution until I call it. Staff Sergeant that includes you.”
“Permission to…” Staff Sergeant Barnard said and paused. She’d finally realized that the infected on top of her wasn’t going to kill her. But he was massive and incredibly strong. “Okay, what the hell do I do now, ma’am?”
“The mistake was letting him get on top of you, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “And you’re only carrying one knife and you let him pin you in such a way as your Ka-Bar is inaccessible. I would suggest using your forty-five. Just put it into his stomach and pull the trigger. Bet you’re glad you’re wearing a gas mask, huh? That guy’s got a heck of a schlong…”
“Discontinue exercise,” Faith said. “Any remaining wrestlers, Iwo Marines take out the infected. Then everybody keep your guns unloaded and huddle up at the base of the pier…”
“The purpose of this exercise was to show you that it really doesn’t matter how many infected pile up on you,” Faith said. She had the Iwo Marines out on security while she talked to the “Gitmo” Marines. “The most dangerous thing out here in the dark is us. Yea, though we pretty much literally are going to be walking through the valley of the shadow of death, fear no evil. Because we are the most dangerous motherfuckers in this valley.
“If you’re nervous about getting hit by these infected, you’re going to make the mistake that Curran made and we will have more wounded. So don’t be nervous. We are God-damned Marines and we are covered in fucking gear and the only thing that can hurt us is us. That and heat stroke so drink! Pay attention to where you’re pointing those weapons, keep them unloaded unless we really need to fire. I am making an on-the-fly change to the current manning table. We’ll do it like choosing teams at dodge ball. Gitmo Marines line up behind the Iwo Marines. Except you, Staff Sergeant. You stay with me. And we’ll need… Edwards. Can you drive a truck, Edwards?”
“That’s my MOS, ma’am,” PFC Robert Lee Edwards said.
“Perfect,” Faith said. “But before you do that. I’m aware that rank is, like, everything in the Marine Corps. But for the rest of this exercise, Gitmo Marines follow the orders of the Iwo Marines, even if the person is lower rank. Iwo Marines should try to use proper military courtesy. But…Corporal Rock, you’re with Hocieniec. He’s in charge, got it? You obey his orders even though you outrank him. Sergeant Hoag, you’re with Dutch. Sergeant Weisskopf…Randolph. Now let’s sort the rest of it out…”