“Running shoes,” Faith said, looking at the manifest. “Explains why it floated. This is useful. Maybe Rusty can find a pair in his size. Keep going?”
“Sounds good to me, ma’am,” Smitty said. He’d turned to cover the lieutenant while she explored. “There’s a small hotel up the beach.”
“Trying to get me into a bedroom, Sergeant?” Faith asked.
“Now why would a brother do that, ma’am?” the sergeant asked.
The one-story hotel had a small pool half filled with green-tinged, debris-filled water. The rooms were mostly open and had been ransacked. Ditto the tiny bar and kitchen.
“What is this?” Faith asked, looking behind the bar. There was a cluster of…junk. Some blankets, children’s toys, remains of what looked to be fish and maybe rats. Human bones. “Phew. Stinks.”
“Looks like some sort of nest, ma’am,” Smitty said.
“A survivor?” Faith asked. “No.”
“Probably a zombie, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said. “Too nasty even for a kid.”
“That’s new,” Faith said.
“We didn’t really clear many houses in the Canaries, ma’am,” Smitty said, shrugging. “Maybe that’s how they live when they’ve got the materials.”
“Point,” Faith said, walking out of the open bar. “I want to go check out the big resort before our hour’s up. How come you said an hour, anyway?”
“Because that’s about as much time as we should take, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said. “And if you’re going off exploring, you make sure people know where you’re going, ma’am.”
“Point, again, Sergeant,” Faith said.
“God,” Faith said, looking down the long wading pool at the Cuisinart Caribbean Resort. “Why didn’t I get to go places like this before the zombie apocalypse?”
The resort centered around a three-story building with a vaguely rococo style. A series of villas in the same style lined the beach. A large zero-edge pool led from the main building to the wading pool which continued nearly to the beach. On the west side of the pool were additional support buildings. The pool was flanked by a line of palm trees waving in the trade winds. At the beach, at the base of the wading pool, was a circular “beach bar” with a folding canvas cover. Prior to the apocalypse it had been a rather idyllic spot with a wonderful view of St. Martin in the distance.
The pool was again half filled with green-tinged water. The wading pool held barely a skim of water so foul she was pretty sure even the zombies wouldn’t drink it. The lawns were covered in blown debris, mostly limbs and leaves, and a tropical storm had thrown the chairs and patio tables around in a helter-skelter mess. The canvas cover, despite having been folded down, was torn by the winds.
There was a small skull, some fine blonde hair still attached to it by a scrap of skin.
The one thing going for it was that there didn’t appear to be any infected.
“I dunno,” Smitty said. “A little paint, a little police call…”
“Let’s see about the villas, first,” Faith said. “I’d like some idea if we’ve got infected behind us.”
The villas, however, were inaccessible. All of the windows and doors were covered with solid steel shutters that were locked on the inside. Even after circling one of them, they couldn’t find an entrance that wouldn’t require entry tools.
“Somebody was careful to prep this place,” Faith said, standing by the westernmost villa’s private pool with her hands resting on her hips.
“Yes, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said.
“Okay, main building it is,” Faith said.
The main building was also covered in steel shutters but at some point someone had already broken in. The shutter on the main ocean-side doors had been forced open.
“Oh, not without a flashlight,” Faith said, poking her head up to see through the opening. “No light. Well, not much.”
“How’s it look?” Sergeant Smith said.
“Zombies have been in there,” Faith said, sniffing. “But…not a bunch or not real recently. Sort of trashed out but not bad…Sergeant, I think…we might have found a land base.”
“I don’t think we can secure it, ma’am,” Smitty said.
“I’d want to have another night sweep,” Faith said, musingly. She turned and headed back down the pool towards the beach. “But I’m not sure it’s an issue anymore. I mean, by the end of the sweep, we were having almost no contact. The only leakers we had were two at the landing sight and a dog for God’s sake. I mean, face it, we need a secure land base, Smitty. Hell, think of this as a hospital for all the pregnant ladies.”
“That…is an interesting point, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith said.
“Be nice to fence it,” Faith said, kicking a palm frond. “But that would take one hell of a lot of work.” She stopped, bent over and pulled a brochure out from under the frond she’d just kicked.
Sergeant Smith quickly turned around to check six. Security and all that.
“Sweet,” Faith said, continuing to walk as she perused the brochure.
“Ma’am, I think we’re being followed,” Smitty said quietly.
“From the Force?” Faith asked, looking towards the beach and the boats.
“No, ma’am,” Smitty said. “I just saw movement by the main buildings. Too tall to be a dog, ma’am.”
“So you’re saying it’s not clear?” Faith asked, not turning around.
“It’s gone whatever it was,” Smitty said. “But I’ll back out if you don’t mind, ma’am.”
“SEAL spin,” Faith said, drawing a pistol. “Rotate.”
“Rotating,” Sergeant Smith said.
They did a rotational movement, covering each other, until they reached the beach.
“Let’s try to keep an eye on our back trail as we head back,” Faith said.
They walked down the beach for a bit, passing the villas and Faith casually turned and picked up a shoe that was part of the debris.
“Saw it,” Faith said. “Out of the corner of my eye. Darted into cover. Can still see it, though.”
“Infected?” Sergeant Smith asked.
“Human, anyway,” Faith said. She straightened up and tossed the shoe into the bushes. “Why can I never find a pair? Not to mention in my size. Yeah, I know, I’ve got big paws like a Labrador puppy. Let’s go swimming.”
“Ma’am?” Sergeant Smith said.
“Sling your weapon,” the lieutenant said, holstering her pistol. “If we’re playing in the water, maybe it will come down where we can get a better look.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Smitty said, slinging his weapon. “Uh, first one in the water is a rotten…”
Faith was already running.
“There it is again,” Faith said as she came up out of the water.
“I am just not catching what you’re seeing, ma’am,” Sergeant Smith admitted.
“Young female,” Faith said. She was apparently looking down the beach. “Black. I’m pretty sure it’s an infected. Just not very aggressive.”
“That would be a change,” Smitty said.
“Let’s head back to the official beach,” Faith said. “I need to check in with Hooch. Oh, and I need some more sunscreen…”
“You want to do another night sweep?” Colonel Hamilton said.
“I want to get some training in, first, sir,” Faith said, trying not to squirm. Sophia may have spent half the last six months developing her tan but Faith had spent most of it in uniform. A point she’d forgotten, along with regular application of sunscreen. She, fortunately, had fairly dark skin naturally despite being blond. She’d still picked up one heck of a sunburn. “Notably Close Quarters Battle training onboard the Tan, sir. Then some live fire, possibly on one of the nearby desert islands, sir. Then another sweep of the island, sir.”