“That is so…wrong,” Fontana said.
“You’re used to trying to sneak up on people,” Faith said as there was a scuffling sound. “There…” The zombie was emaciated and clearly on its last legs. She put a round through the infected’s chest as it stumbled towards the lights.
“Where the hell did it come from?” Fontana said, waving the light around again.
“Da thinks they spend a lot of time sleeping really deep to conserve energy.”
“So…make enough noise to wake the dead?” Fontana said, chuckling.
“Something like that. ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES, ZOMBIES… COME TO SUPPER!”
* * *
“I wonder what most of this stuff does?” Fontana said, looking around the engineering compartment. “I mean, obviously, there’s the engines…”
“Yeah,” Faith said. “Never futz with the engineering compartment. If there’s a zombie in it, let it out and take it out in the corridor. You get one bad round in engineering and you don’t know what’s going to go wrong.”
“I think we need a manual,” Fontana said.
“I think we need to find a SEAL or something who knows how to do this…”
* * *
“Pistol,” Faith said, shaking her head as the zombie came up the companionway.
“Ooo-kay,” Fontana said, changing weapons. He put a round into the zombie’s chest, then went for a double-tap and missed the headshot.
“Damnit,” Faith said, ducking back as the round caromed off the deck and, fortunately, into the darkness below. “That’s why I said pistol. One round. Targeted! One zombie, one round, no bouncers!”
“Roger,” Fontana said. “Sorry.”
“I shouldn’t have snapped,” Faith said. “I sunk a boat that way, though…”
“How many times have you done this?” Fontana asked.
“I dunno,” Faith said, drawing her H &K and tagging the next zombie coming up the companionway. “I’d have to check a log. Boats this size only…three. Small yachts? Twenty or so?”
“Jesus. And there I was floating around in a raft.”
* * *
“So, now, we use Da’s superty-duperty new gimmick,” Faith said, looking at the beetles askance. They were clambering around the interior of the bag that made her more ill than bloated zombie bodies.
“Think it will work?” Fontana said, dubiously.
“He said give it a few days and leave the interior hatches open,” Faith said, dropping the beetles into the interior and shutting the exterior hatch. “We’ll see…”
* * *
“Holy cow,” Steve said as they approached the target boat.
“Oooo,” Sophia said. “Can I have that one?”
It wasn’t so much that the boat was large; the Victoria was larger. It was that it was just enormous and beautiful. Sleak as hell. It looked fast and it was darn big.
“It’s probably trashed,” Steve said. “And it’d be a bitch to maintain.”
“I’ll do it,” Sophia said.
“You sound like you’re asking for a puppy,” Steve said. “Besides, I want it. The problem will be finding anybody who knows who to run the engine room. And it will be up to the captain’s board. Assuming it’s not trashed.”
“No zombies on deck,” Sophia said, circling the drifting yacht. “Did they even board?”
“His Sea Fit,” Steve said. Captain George Sherill, sole survivor on the 35' Bertram, was less than enthusiastic about ever seeing another zombie in his life. Possibly because the entire “charter” he’d had had zombied on him. “I’ll go get rigged up.”
“I’m going to turn over to Paula,” Sophia said, picking up the intercom mike. “You’re going to need somebody who knows how to run the dinghy.”
* * *
“Dinghies and lifeboats are all gone,” Steve said, boarding the yacht on its flush transom deck. It was just about the easiest boarding he’d done in some time.
“Did they abandon ship?” Sophia asked.
“You tell me,” Steve said.
“Want me to back you up?” Sophia asked.
“Up to you,” Steve said. “You’re not in armor and if there are bouncers that’s an issue.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Sophia said, tossing him the mooring line. “This I want to see.”
* * *
“Oh, Da, I want,” Sophia said, sighing at the helm.
The 92' Hatteras Elite dubbed Livin’ Large was only about thirty feet longer than the Toy but that made a huge difference. And the interior was that much nicer. Not to mention being in much better shape. In fact, except for signs of rapid exit from the boat, there appeared to be no damage at all.
“Log,” Sophia said, pulling out a standard logbook and flipping to the last page with writing, then flipping back. “Chief engineer and a mate went zombie. According to the log they’re locked in the crew compartment. Ran out of fuel. No power. The rest of the people abandoned ship off an island in the Bahamas and went ashore.” She flipped through a couple more pages, then shrugged. “I think this is valid salvage. And really nice salvage. I can’t believe they abandoned ship.”
“Which island?” Steve asked.
“Great Sale Cay?” Sophia said.
“Occupied,” Steve said. “Well, if we ever run into them, and if they survived, I’ll have to thank them. Now to check for zombies…”
* * *
“I don’t hear anything,” Steve said, banging on the hatch again. Chairs had been barricaded against it but they had been easy to clear. The rest of the ship, absent the crew compartment, was clear. And again except for the debris of rapid exit, remarkably clean.
“You’re the expert, Da,” Sophia said nervously. She had a head-lamp and a flashlight but she was still keeping an eye behind them. “You and Faith enjoy this?”
“Faith does,” Steve said. “Enjoy would be too much of a stretch for me.” He levered the hatch open and flashed a light inside.
“Anybody home?” Sophia asked.
“Not alive,” Steve said, stepping into the compartment. One of the bodies had been partially eaten. The other was cut and bloated but didn’t appear to have died from violence.
“Probably the one killed the other, then died of dehydration,” Steve said checking the toilet. It was empty of water. “Which makes this perfectly legal salvage. Not to mention easy to clean.”
“That’s going to be nasty,” Sophia said, looking in the room. “Oh, gross!”
“Yeah, that’s not the worst I’ve seen by a stretch,” Steve said, taking out a baggy. “We’ll just seal the room up fairly tight. Vent it to the rear. And let these do their work.” He dribbled the beetles on the corpses. “Say hello to my leetle friends…”
* * *
“Steve, these are way beyond me,” Stacey said, looking at the engines.
“We’ve got fuel in the tanks,” Steve said. “Some. And a jumper battery. Can you get them running?”
“I don’t know?” Stacey said. “I mean, that’s the point. These are huge professional engines! I’m not sure where to start!”
“I think that’s the start button,” Sophia said, pointing.
“I can see that, Sophia,” her mother said, tartly. “Just let me look over the manuals…”
* * *
Steve looked up at a rumble from below. A moment later the lights in the saloon came on.
“I knew I married that girl for a reason…”
* * *
“Think you can get that alongside without wrecking it?” Mike called over the radio.
“Trying,” Steve said to himself. He wasn’t going to pick up the radio when he was trying to con the Large up to the Victoria. The Large really was. And it had a lot more sail area than the Toy. He picked up the radio. “Just have the bloody balloons down.”
“There is no such thing as too slow…” he muttered.
* * *
“That wasn’t the worst coming-alongside I’ve ever seen,” Mike said, looking around the interior. “Say, you know how you told me I could have a boat…?”
“We’ll have to call a captain’s conference,” Steve said. “This is, among other things, going to take some serious crew…”