“Pardon, sir,” Sands said. “Not Staff Sergeant Fontana?”
“Lieutenant Fontana will be managing the preparations for the assault, Gunny,” Steve said. “And along with Lieutenant Volpe he will be managing the clearance operation as a forward officer. Miss Smith along with Lance Corporal Hocieniec will be training the Marines on the Wolf Way of clearance. It’s like the Marine way but… different.
“This is a Marine thing. A temporary, out-of-the-blue, Navy Captain is not going to tell a Marine Gunny who should and should not be a Marine. What the Captain is going to do is allow the Gunny a week to think about his response.”
“I understand your position, Captain,” Sands said. “But, with respect, I’m not sure that I agree. Among other things… Pretty much everyone has heard about Miss Smith and we all think she’s pretty damned great, sir. But… I’m not sure, sir, with respect, that they’re going to listen and pay attention to a thirteen-year-old girl, no matter how badass she may be. Cause she’s a thirteen-year-old girl, sir. I will, with your permission, sit in on the training, sir, to ensure that they understand that… ”
“Gunny,” Steve said, raising his hand. “Permit me to give you some semblance of peace in this matter. I appreciate you sitting in on the training. What I had not mentioned was that before the training session, there will be a brief familiarization class given by the Lance Corporal. I would recommend that you sit in on that as well.”
“Yes, sir?” Sands said, frowning.
“When we, Faith actually, hard-boarded the Voyage, the Dallas was standing off,” Fontana said. “And they recorded the boarding on their onboard video system. Then, apparently, someone made a video mash of it, including some of the discussion of whether she should begin boarding without nearby reinforcements… ”
“By the time we got there it was all done,” Steve said, smiling thinly. “And Faith was like ‘No worries, Da! Bit of a scrum…’ ”
“Scrum?” Sands said. “Definition, sir?”
“Ever played rugby, Gunny?” Fontana said. “It’s that bit where the two sides fight over the ball.”
“Faith always enjoyed playing Aussie Rules when we were Down Under,” Steve said, sighing. “Except Rule One. I don’t expect the video to change your mind. Give it a week. She will, however, be acting as a civilian technical expert in infected clearance during that week. By the end of the week, we should be done with clearing the Iwo and begin salvage work. We’ll discuss it again at that time. If you’re set that she is not, currently, Marine material… then I will leave that on you and, no, no hard feelings. There are any number of other areas I can use her expertise.”
“As I said, sir,” Sands said. “I’d just like her to get some more maturity.”
“I think you’re thinking age, Gunny,” Steve said. “Maturity is something slightly different.”
* * *
The gunnery sergeant didn’t crack a smile at the radio intercept of Faith’s concept of a backup plan, an intercept that had caused Commander Bradburn, skipper of the Dallas, to literally fall out of his command chair laughing. Sands managed to watch the video stone-faced as she boarded the Voyage and began her “fifteen minutes of mayhem,” set in the video to the tune of Chumbawamba’s Tubthumping. He managed to keep a straight face the third time she popped back up like a jack-in-the-box after being dogpiled by zombies. He held it in during her overheard running commentary as the rest of the Marines, even the NCOs, started rolling on the deck.
It was when she got the Halligan tool stuck in a zombie’s head and overbalanced that he snorted. When she unstuck her bent machete and it caught a male zombie in the groin he started laughing out loud. When the, admittedly not petite, girl stuck a boot knife in a zombie’s eye then threw him over the side, tears started running down his face and he completely lost his composure as a senior NCO of the United States Marine Corps.
* * *
“Sometimes you get dogpiled,” Faith said, latching the bunker gear on the Marine sergeant. “MOPP’s not designed to prevent penetration. This is. And you can just get washed down in it no worries. And you are going to need a wash-down after we’re done… ”
* * *
“Seriously, a K-bar? You think one dinky little knife is enough in a scrum…?”
* * *
“Christ,” Faith said, taking the Halligan tool away from the Lance Corporal. “Here’s how you use a Halligan tool. Ram the son-of-a-bitch. Put some welly in it, Marine…!”
* * *
“Zombies don’t like impolite people,” Faith said, stepping over a fresh kill. “In general, you should knock first. The real point is that they seem to hibernate for periods of time. If you go sneakin’ around, Sergeant-I’m-a-recon-scout, as you just discovered, you get surrounded by zombies who used to be sleeping and are now preparing to eat you… ”
* * *
“PFC, I swear to God if these zombies did go for brains they would totally ignore you!”
* * *
“So, this is five five six that works?” Faith said, looking at the round. Unlike the other rounds they’d been using that had green tips, this one looked like solid copper.
“It’s superior,” Januscheitis said. He was trying not to sound nervous. Faith had been running them around their own ship for six hours like privates on Paris Island and what was worse, she kept being right. “I don’t think there’s anybody who really loves five five six.”
* * *
“Nope,” Faith said, putting five rounds of 5.56mm into an oncoming zombie. “Unless you get a perfect shot, it’s still sucks.” She fired one round into its head and it dropped. “I don’t suppose there’s a few thousand rounds of twelve-gauge anywhere on this tub?”
“We don’t use a lot of twelve-gauge so… Not that I’m aware.”
“Seven six two by thirty-nine?”
“Haji round. No.”
“Forty-five?”
“Forty-five we’ve got,” Januscheitis said. “Somewhere. Ordnance was not my billet.”
“Find me ‘somewhere,’ Staff Sergeant.”
* * *
“Found it!”
* * *
“Ooo, ooo,” Faith said, stroking the box of ammo. “Come to momma.” She bent over and hugged the pallet of.45ACP. “Mmmm… There is beauty left in this fallen world… ”
“Oh, wait,” she said, straightening up. “This is full metal jacket, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Januscheitis said. “Hollow point is outlawed by the Geneva Convention.”
“Damn,” Faith said then went back to stroking the boxes. “Oh, well, FMJ forty-five is better than twenty-two magnum. Sooooft… ” she stroked the box a moment longer then reached over her back and pulled out her Halligan. “What are you waiting for?”
* * *
“See?” Faith said, as the zombie dropped. “One round. Forty-five cause they don’t make a forty-six. You can keep your Barbie guns.”
“No range, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “And you’ve only got seven rounds in a magazine.”
“We’re fighting at close quarters, Staff Sergeant Januscheitis,” Faith said. “And will be for the foreseeable future. We don’t need range. Well, unless we have to clear another freaking cruise liner and I’ll leave that to you big, tough Marines. Those damned hot twenty-twos just over-penetrate then start bouncing around. And they don’t kill zombies. As to how many rounds you’ve got in a mag… ” she said, reloading then dropping a zombie one handed that had reared out of the darkness.