Scott, on the other hand, was assigned to the Queen’s group of raiders and defenders, which was now sorely diminished. He worked closely with O’Neil, whom he grew to hate more and more with each passing day. O’Neil took a more military approach to organization and training, whereas Scott taught the men “dirty” tricks they needed to know to stay alive, discipline be damned.
It wasn’t long until Scott met Luke, and the eccentric genius and the occasionally psychotic former hit man became fast friends. They’d attended some of the same schools in the old world and both had done work for the government on Black-Op projects, though Luke’s involvement was purely from a research and development standpoint. Scott wasn’t anywhere near Luke’s level, but he was sharp and he was a fast learner, fast enough to keep up with Luke when he droned on about his various theories.
As the sun sank beneath the waves, Scott and Luke relaxed in matching lawn chairs atop the highest point of the Queen above the command center. Scott sipped at the glass in his hand, admiring the potency of the drink Luke had whipped up this evening. It had the punch of whiskey without the burn.
“What was it like?” Luke inquired.
“What?”
“To kill people for money, man. How did you cope with it?”
“To be honest, I just never thought about it. A job’s a job, ya know? Besides, it’s not that much different than things are today. Everybody has had to kill somebody to stay alive and keep breathing, whether it was by a bullet through the brain or watching someone you care about throw away their life so that you could get away.”
Luke leaned forward and sat up on his chair. “So what do you think about Captain Steven’s new plan?”
“I don’t think it matters, Luke. We’re all living on borrowed time. Whether we die out here on the waves or settle down and wait for the dead to come to us, they will get us eventually. We lost the war the moment they started thinking like we do.” Scott sat up and looked over the railing to the water below. “You’re the resident genius. You tell me: have you ever figured out what brought the dead back to life?”
Luke shrugged. “Not really. It sure wasn’t radiation or a virus like something out of those old B movies, though their bites are infectious just like in those films. Nothing about the dead makes sense. They shouldn’t be able to move, let alone reason like they do. Sometimes a body will reanimate with partial memories of its life before death, and other times it’s like there’s a whole new entity in the host body. They’re all hungry for us though, memories or not. It doesn’t matter if they know your name and who you are—they’ll eat you anyway.”
“So where does that leave you, since science has failed and can’t explain it?”
Luke’s face flushed. “Science hasn’t failed, Scott. Just because I don’t have an answer today doesn’t mean there isn’t a plausible, quantifiable explanation to all this. It just means I haven’t found it yet. I don’t believe in spirits or Judgment Day. There is a sane reason for the plague, and I will find it. I’m sure.”
“And you’ll just keep searching for it, huh?”
Luke laughed. “Damn right I will. As long as I have to.”
22
Steven bolted onto the bridge of the ship. The whole area was a mass of activity. His crew darted about, double-checking the data they’d just gotten.
“It’s true then?” Steven demanded as O’Neil approached him.
“I’m afraid so, sir,” O’Neil said grimly. “There are five vessels closing in on our current location, as if trying to surround us.”
“Jesus.” Steven scanned through the stack of reports O’Neil handed him. “Look at the size of them.”
O’Neil nodded. “Some are military in nature for sure. This one has to be…” O’Neil pointed at a blip on a nearby radar screen. “We think it’s an aircraft carrier, and the two flanking it from the east and west are most likely destroyers. It looks like they’ve finally got us where they want us.”
“Nonsense, Mr. O’Neil,” Steven said. “We’ve been in tight spots before. We’ll get through this one too.” He weighed their options in his head before he continued. “Can we out-maneuver them and make a run for it?”
“We can try. I don’t think the largest one can match our speed, but if the two flanking the large ship are destroyers, they’ll be able to overtake us even at our top speed.”
“Change course and burn the engines at their maximum,” Steven ordered. “And in the meantime, sound the alarm. I want to be ready if we do have a fight on our hands.”
“Aye, sir,” O’Neil replied. He punched a button and sirens squealed throughout the Queen.
A state of panic broke out on the ship. The raiders, who were also the Queen’s defenders, Scott among them, rushed to their battle stations. People and families ran for their quarters, locking the heavy doors of their rooms against the growing terror outside.
The daycare was in chaos. Hannah and Jessica tried to calm the children and the parents who showed up demanding their kids. Hannah had left her .30-.06 in her quarters, but she concealed in her jacket a .38 revolver she’d looted from the ship’s armory, thanks to Scott. Weapons weren’t permitted in the daycare center, but right now Hannah was damn glad she’d been breaking the rules. She’d watched her own son die helplessly and had sworn to herself that these children would not share his fate.
In the sickbay, Dr. Gallenger prepared for the wounded to start arriving, in case the coming battle couldn’t be avoided. Luke, meanwhile, darted through the corridors of the Queen, attempting to reach the main decks with a short, black metal tube gripped tightly in his arms.
O’Neil and Captain Steven watched from the bridge as the destroyers crossed the horizon and came into view. The ocean itself seemed to shake as the destroyer from the east fired its main guns at the Queen.
23
The shot from the enemy ship hit the water off the Queen’s portside, sending waves crashing against the hull, though it didn’t strike close enough to cause actual damage. The Queen lacked any sort of long-range weapon except for her jury-rigged torpedo launchers, which at the moment were facing away from the enemy vessels.
Captain Steven knew he had to do something. The destroyers were too fast to outrun, and at present the Queen was a sitting target for their guns. Closing with the two enemy ships for direct combat was a near suicidal option, but it was also the only one left.
“Bring us about!” he shouted. “Get us between them. Maybe they aren’t stupid enough to take the chance of hitting each other with their main guns!” Steven turned to O’Neil. “As soon as you get a shot with one of the launchers, take it!”
Scott and the Queen’s defenders stood helplessly at their machinegun emplacements as the Queen veered to engage the enemy. The destroyers were still not within range, but from the looks of things they would be soon. Scott shoved a belt of ammo into the massive weapon in front of him and began to pick a target for when the time came.
“Fire one!” O’Neil ordered.
A torpedo, dropped into the water, flared to life and raced towards the lead destroyer even as O’Neil ordered the remaining torpedo launched in its wake. Moments later, the first missile struck the destroyer just below the waterline, sending waves of fire and ocean spray up onto the decks of the military vessel. The second torpedo got lucky; it collided with something inside the destroyer, which turned the entire ship into a blazing wreck of secondary explosions.