There had been a stash of iPods on the Alpha. Apparently Mickerberg handed them out as party favors. Problem being, nobody had the “permissions” to load anything on them.
Lawton’s company hadn’t been involved in hacking but Lawton himself had attained his degree in computer engineering at the age of nineteen. He was a past master of all things hardware and software. For him, creating a bot to fix the permissions issue was child’s play.
Thus what he had given to Sophia was not just a newer and better iPod but a six terabyte hard drive filled with about a gazillion songs. She was still ooing and awing over some of the stuff that was on the hard drive.
On the way down she’d set up a playlist. The fishing boats didn’t have the same system but she could retrans it to their radios and they pumped it through their loud-hailers.
The zombies had been ignoring the boats until the music started. At the first blast of reverb guitar their heads popped up and they started moving towards the end of the jetty.
“Becoming the Bull,” Faith said, nodding. “Nice choice. Appropriate.”
“I thought so,” Sophia said as the Wet Debt fired a burst at the group of zombies. “Hell with taking the bull by the horns. We’re gonna be the bull.”
“And now they have something to eat,” Januscheitis said, nodding. Seagulls descended on the dead infecteds and that must have been a signal for other zombies. More appeared from the town, heading for the pile of new carrion.
“I knew I forgot something,” Sophia said, snapping her fingers.
“What?” Faith asked.
“Flock of Seagulls.”
“Oh, please, ma’am,” Derek said. “Anything but that.”
“Who?” Faith said.
“Okay, now we wait,” Chen radioed. “Like, say, crab fishing. Let the bait do the work for you. Good choice by the way, Seawolf. Crank it up.”
“Hope you like the rest of the playlist, sir,” Sophia replied. “Okay, let’s party.”
“By the way,” Chen radioed. “Do you have Flock of Seagulls?”
“Oh, God,” Derek said. “No, no, no… ”
“Not on this playlist, sir,” Sophia said. “I’ll have to check my hard drive… ”
* * *
“What’s wrong with this song, Derek?” Faith asked, writhing to the music.
The sun had slowly set over the harbor and the boats had all their lights on full blaze along with the booming music. They’d even been firing off flares from time to time as the party got into full swing.
Lieutenant Chen was an Annapolis grad and raised in the tradition, going back to the first Secretary of the Navy, of ships being dry. He also was trained in the tradition of “never give a rule you know won’t be obeyed.” They’d compromised on “light drinking” for the “zombie bait party.”
“You okay, Derek?” Faith asked.
There were plenty of military rules, as well, about having a party involving officers and enlisteds. Chen, again, was smart enough to know that in this mix, that was impossible to manage. There were no “wardrooms” or “officer’s clubs.” Just tiny boats with people packed cheek to jowl. So the party on the boats was decidedly mixed. And Faith had been enjoying a chance to metaphorically and literally let her hair down. Until Derek stopped dancing.
“I just remembered why I didn’t like this song, ma’am,” Derek said, looking off into the darkness. There was a light sea breeze, a tropical night in a picturesque harbor. A perfect evening. “My parents used to play it all the time whenever we’d go on a long drive and sing it together. It was one of their songs.”
“Oh, Christ, Der,” Faith said, stopping dancing. “You want me to get Sophia to… ”
“No, ma’am,” Derek said, starting to dance. “I just decided it’s one of my favorites… ”
* * *
“Okay, try this, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, setting down a shot glass with a clear liquid in it.
“What is this?” Faith said. She sniffed it and her nose wrinkled. “Seriously? A Marine has to drink?”
“Not has to, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Just interested. And it’s chilled vodka. Try it.”
Faith tossed back the drink as the assembled group watched with sneaky smiles.
“Okay, that’s not bad,” Faith said, shrugging.
“No reaction at all?” Paula said, looking shocked. “No coughing? No choking?”
“Was there supposed to be one?” Faith asked. She picked up the bottle, poured another shot and tossed it back. “There, happy?”
“Try this one… ” Sophia said, carefully, sliding across a shot of dark liquor.
“Ick,” Faith said. “That’s not so good. What was it?”
“Twenty-five-year-old Strathsclyde,” Sophia said.
“Which is?” Faith asked.
“Scotch, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “Good scotch.”
“Tastes like piss,” Faith said. “Not that I’ve ever drunk piss. Okay, what else you got?”
* * *
Thirty minutes later there were a dozen bottles on the table and Faith had had at least one shot from each.
“Okay, rum’s pretty good,” she said, smacking her lips. “Not as good as Razzleberry tea but not bad.”
“She’s not even slightly drunk?” Derek slurred. He was, for sure.
“Isn’t it supposed to be doing something by now?” Faith asked, taking another shot of 151.
* * *
“I mean, I’d just finished seventh grade,” Faith said. “I’ve been to, like, two school dances! I’m never going to get to go to prom… ” She took another drink and frowned. “That sucks. That’s one of the reasons I hate fucking zombies. I’m never going to get to go to prom.”
“Marine corps ball, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. He’d stopped drinking when the LT started to get shit-faced. Which had taken enough straight booze to drown a Force Recon platoon. “Way better than prom.”
“Really?” Faith said.
“Really,” Derek said. “Marine Corps ball is like prom for Marines.”
“Christ, it’s coming up, isn’t it?” Januscheitis said. “Time’s sort of gotten to be one of those things you forget.”
“We gonna have one?” Derek said.
“Bet you,” Januscheitis said. “Gunny will insist. Probably use the Alpha or the Money.”
“That’d be cool,” Derek said, grinning. “Use the Alpha. Marine Corps ball on a megayacht captured from zombies? I can dig that. Besides it’s more trashed out. You know how ball gets… ”
“Semper fucking Fi,” Faith said. “I get to go to prom.”
“We’ll make sure of it, ma’am,” Januscheitis said.
“Great!” Faith slurred. “So why do I gotta puke?”
* * *
“Oh, I’m glad I’m not on the gun boats,” Faith said, holding her head. “This is the other reason I don’t drink. Can we turn the music down, yet?”
“More water, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, holding out the tube of her hydration unit.
Dawn was breaking and there was a huge concentration of zombies at the end of the jetty. The Debt had occasionally fired overnight to make sure they had food to keep them sticking around. Now in the early morning light, they could be seen as a mass of naked infecteds, alternately feeding and concentrating on the light and sound from the boats.
“And now the last song,” Sophia said as the music temporarily stopped.
“In the quiet misty morning… ” Faith sang. “Another good choice, sis.”
“When the summer’s past it’s gleaming, when the corn is past it’s prime… ” Derek sang in a not bad tenor.
“Set me free to find my calling, and I’ll return to you somehow… ” Januscheitis sang. He really didn’t have the voice for the song but nobody minded.