“Just waiting on you.”
“Hoof it, Kirby!” Staff Sergeant Januscheitis said.
“Aye, aye, Staff Sergeant!”
“I think we could probably hold this position indefinitely,” Faith said. “But we’re burning up ammo.”
“Only so much on the boat, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “And I’m about to have to change barrels. So I wouldn’t say indefinitely.”
* * *
“Heave!” Januscheitis said, pushing on the angled platform. The heavy wood construct finally slid over the side of the ship and fell into the water with a crash. Bodies of infecteds and the few who were hail fell into the shark teaming water.
The clearance team ignored the screams.
“Thank you for your assistance, Mister Dougherty,” Faith said. “We need to get the rest of your team onboard, now, to see if we can get the crane working.”
“Gonna suck if this was all for nothing,” Kirby said.
“Did we ask your opinion, Marine?” Januscheitis said.
“No, Staff Sergeant,” Kirby said. “No excuse, Staff Sergeant.”
“Just go escort Mister Dougherty… ”
* * *
It had taken a trip belowdecks, which turned out to be another place infected had found to hole up, to get the crane into operation. But it was running.
“I’d thought we’d have to start the mains,” Faith said as the first container went over the side. The supply ship had tied up to the bigger freighter for the evolution.
“You don’t use mains for anything but propulsion power,” Dougherty said. “Pretty much everything else runs on secondary systems. The good news was the primary gen and hydraulics weren’t damaged. If they had been… I probably could have fixed ’em but it would have been a pain in the ass.”
“How much of a pain in the ass is it going to be to get these onto the pier?” Januscheitis asked.
“One of ’em, not so much,” Dougherty said. “The one that’s going water side will be easy. But the one that’s going interior? We’re going to have to get right up to the dock. And I mean, in contact. We can only swing it out so far.”
“So… We’ll go aboard the supply ship to make sure you don’t get boarded,” Faith said. “And this time we’ll bring company. Division, ground team leader, over… ”
CHAPTER 12
“Arrogance diminishes wisdom”
“God I love this system!” Anarchy said. He was stroking the trigger of the Browning in bursts because there just weren’t enough infected to engage full-bore. “The only thing that would make it better was if it was duals or quads!”
The two “gunships” had moved to the end of the pier, right by a bright red harbor tug, and were engaging infecteds “infiltrating” from the direction of the city. The sound of the guns didn’t really carry all that far, but infected from all over were converging on the usual flocks of gulls.
“It’s sweet,” Rusty said. As one of the more “senior” people in the squadron who had transferred over to the Navy, he had been chosen as one of the “primary gunners.” More junior people were humping the ammo. Which worked for him. “What’s a dual?”
“Uh, oh,” Anarchy said. A huge group of infected had just come into view. Previously they’d been trickling in in small groups or singles. This was a couple of hundred and it looked like more behind them. “Rock concert time! Rusty, get the leakers!” he started engaging at long range. The BMG could kill out to nearly a mile. This was less than a thousand yards. But the single gun wasn’t stopping the tidal wave.
“Division, you see this? Tell them to get a move on!”
* * *
“Roger, I see it,” Lieutenant Chen said. He’d taken a position well outboard from where the containers were being put into place just so his boat would be the primary on engagement. “Boat Two, stop the leakers. Rusty, engage long. Repeat, engage long. Garcia, Garcia,” he radioed. “What’s the status on closure, over?”
* * *
“Oh, my,” Faith said, looking through binoculars at the oncoming horde. The away team had landed on the pier as the better way to keep the infected from boarding the supply ship. The Alan Garcia was tied up, stern first, to the pier and was just maneuvering the first container into place. “That’s a bunch, all right.”
“And there’s a problem,” Januscheitis said.
“Which is?” Faith asked, looking over her shoulder. “Oh.”
The crane on the Alan Garcia was designed for dropping cargo containers on piers at small ports or onto lighters in small harbors where there weren’t better systems. It was not designed to move them far from the ship. Just get them “on dock.” It had had to be modified just to get them to drop “inline” with the ship for the “mechanical clearance” devices. Getting it to drop them “further out” was out of the question. It would need an entirely different crane.
And the “outboard” container didn’t quite make it to the seawall. Thus there was going to be a gap. There was a pedestrian walkway with lights along it on the seawall side. They’d already checked and the container was going to crush the lights when it landed on them. But it didn’t, in fact, make it. There was a solid four foot gap. Two sailors were straining at lines to get it to swing out, but it just wasn’t happening.
“Ground team, division, you seeing what we’re seeing?” Captain Walker radioed. “And by that I mean the gap not the oncoming football hooligans.”
“We see it,” Faith replied. “There’s a gap. Drop it and put the next one in place. We’ll figure out the gap later.”
“Doors,” Januscheitis said.
“Squirrel,” Faith replied. “Why are we playing word association games?”
“We open the doors on the container and tie them back, ma’am,” Januscheitis said. “The one that’s on the south side will push into the wall so the more they push it the tighter it will get.”
“That is a brilliant suggestion, Staff Sergeant,” Faith said. “Infected are holding from the fire. Let’s make it so. We’re going to need to smash away some of the lights.”
“Kirby. Hammer!”
“Yes, Staff Sergeant,” Kirby said.
“Wait… ” Januscheitis said. “Squirrel, ma’am…?”
* * *
“What the hell is this?” Faith asked when they’d opened the container. The container was filled with pallets of wooden boxes that were narrow, wide and about man sized. A short man, anyway.
“Dunno, ma’am,” Januscheitis said, firing twice. “But we’re going to need to be on the other side of the door when those infected get here.”
The fire from the combined gunboats was slowing the tide of infected but a few leakers were getting through. And eventually that would be “a lot” of leakers.
Faith pulled one of the shipping manifests off a pallet and looked at it, tipping her head.
“Yves Saint Laurent… Oh, my GOD! It’s DRESSES! We can’t use this! They’re going to get RUINED!”
“Ma’am… ” Januscheitis said.
“I just need to find a size eight!” Faith screamed, pulling out a knife. “Okay, ten… twelve is the highest I’ll go… ”
“Oh, jeeze,” Januscheitis said. “Derk! Get the 240 and a bunch of ammo! Pag, Kirby… Find the LT a dress… ”
* * *
“. . Roger, Division, we’re… uh… reconfiguring our plan, here. There’s some high value material in this container so we’re jamming the forward door to keep the infected out rather than tying back the rear… ”
“No. God no, that color would look horrible on me… ”
“Be about… Could be a while, Division… ”
“Seriously? That would barely fit my sister… ”
“. . got the door jammed open, reinforcing it, still working the exercise, Division… ”
“No, Lance Corporal, I am not going to wear that dress in public… I’m not sure I’d wear it in private… ”