The Zombie Theories (Book 3): Conversion Theory Read online

  Everly looked past us at the empty deck of the half-sunken Kanawha. “Nobody else?”

  I looked back at the ship as well. “I don’t think so, but I thought Smithers bought it in there too.”

  I felt a tap on my shoulder as I was shrugging out of my suit. It was my giant smarty-pants friend. He passed me a glass with ice, a clear liquid, and fuk’n pink umbrella. His closed-mouth smile said it all: he was happy to see me.

  “Roger that, sir,” I heard Everly say into the radio, “package is secure. Yes, sir. We lost five. Yes, sir… five.” I heard expletives come through the receiver. That was unlike Schumitz.

  Ship had also given a glass to Smithers, and I could see four more glasses, all with umbrellas, on the back table. The fuckers had been drinking without us? I took a slug of whatever it was in the glass. It was water and it was delicious.

  “Thanks, Big Guy.” He signed that I was welcome, but more importantly, I understood it. He put both hands on both shoulders of mine, leaned down about thirteen feet, and looked into my eyes. Never again, he mouthed. I shrugged out of his grip. “Underwater zombies, sunken ships, and important briefcases, and you have to go and make it weird.” I finished my water and put the glass with the others.

  We pulled a couple hundred feet off of the Kanawha, and discussed the possibility of surviving Orcas. I knew of four for certain that were dead. Frank, Orca Three, whoever belonged to the glove that was under the stairway, and whoever was stumbling with dead buddies inside a dry suit in the companionway. That left one unaccounted for. Probably Orca Four, who had begun screaming and then was cut off. Likely dead, but I hadn’t seen it. Smithers told us he’d actually been sucked through the hole in the side of the ship when the stairs collapsed, but had swum back in immediately after. He hadn’t seen anyone other than the crushed Orca under the stairs, and a bunch of dead crew.

  Everly decided to put on a suit and go looking for the last man, but I talked him out of it. Both suits were damaged, and my rebreather was screwed for sure. It would be dark soon as well. We waited two hours, then left. I felt bad, but we were extremely lucky to get off the Kanawha alive. Everly sat in sullen silence the entire ride back to Atlantis, no doubt thinking about his lost men.

  Ha Ha! Here’s the Funny Thing

  It’s two days since the events of the Kanawha, and I’m sitting at dinner with my family; Ship, Donna, Kat, Tim, Alvarez, and the kids. Grilled mahi-mahi with potatoes and asparagus. How the hell did Atlantis have asparagus? It was steamed and delicious too, and we all know asparagus is the food that keeps on giving. You’re reminded of eating it every time you take a piss for the next two days because your pee reeks.

  I’m relating the story of how we got what we went to that sunken boat for, when suddenly Remo is standing sort of behind and next to me.

  “Need a word.”

  Everybody stops talking and looks at him. Tim and Chloe slide down a little on the cafeteria bench we’re on, and Remo plants his ass next to mine. He looks around for a second, reaches into his vest, and pulls out a skinny book. It takes me a second, but using my superior intellect, I am able to figure out that the book, which is some type of ledger, looks suspiciously like the one that was in the briefcase that I pilfered from the Kanawha.

  The jarhead puts the book on the table but doesn’t open it. He looks at me and takes a deep breath. “I had my misgivings on what that briefcase was when you brought it on board.” He points to a piece of asparagus on my plate, raises his eyebrows, and I tell him to go ahead. He hoarks it down and continues, “Damn, that’s good. Those dead guys in the suits that attacked you in the captain’s quarters were secret service. They were guarding the briefcase in the safe. Usually, that particular bag is handcuffed to a very important person, or his designee. It is never out of his sight when he travels with it. During an attack on the Kanawha by a very well-trained paramilitary group, the dignitary was quickly evacuated, but he had to leave the briefcase behind. A mine was deployed, and the ship sunk, killing everyone on board that wasn’t already dead from sustained firefights between the crew and the assholes who attacked them.”

  “I figured those black-clad dickweeds were straight-up bad guys.” Richy sniggered at my use of profanity, and I smiled until I saw Donna’s look of reproach. I didn’t look at Ship because I could feel his stinkeye burning through the back of my head.

  “They were not friendlies,” Remo continued, “but a hostile group after two things: The dignitary, and that satchel. Can you guess who the important guy was?”

  I was coming up empty, and I was eating. “How about you just tell us, buddy?” Ship passed me his notebook with two words: The President.

  “President?” I asked. “President of what?” Ship rolled his eyes, but Remo just stared at me waiting for me to get it. There were several gasps from around the table, including both kids. I looked around and Chloe said, “The President!”

  I blinked. “Like, of the United States?”

  Now Chloe rolled her eyes, “Yes!”

  “But he’s dead!” I pleaded, hoping to dissuade everyone from thinking I was a dolt. “Everybody knows he’s dead.”

  Remo looked very serious. “There’s a new President of the United States then.”

  “I don’t recall an election!” I objected, perhaps a bit loudly. The other few folks that were at different tables all looked at us. Like I gave a shit at that moment.

  “They don’t need an election,” Tim offered. “In times of crisis, those in power can appoint a President if the hierarchy is dead or missing. It’s called the Designated Survivor rule.”

  “You mean they picked some waitress or a garbage man to be our Commander-In-Chief?”

  Tim smiled. “Unlikely. It was someone in the Presidential succession.” He saw blank looks and clarified. “A cabinet member or somebody in Congress. Someone who didn’t get eaten or killed some other way.” Tim’s smile evaporated. “But that means that the briefcase is…” He let that hang and I wanted to kill him for it. Was I the only one who couldn’t figure this out?

  Remo nodded very slowly. “Yes. It’s the football.”

  Tim and Ship both leaned forward, Alvarez leaned back and put his hands on his head in shock. WTF was happening?

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I demanded.

  Ship began to write furiously, but Tim beat him to the punch. “That satchel that all those men and you almost died for? It contains information, including tactical sites and launch codes for a nuclear retaliatory strike. The President’s nuclear football.” I looked at him with my eyes very wide. “Dumbass,” he added.

  I felt sick. My delicious mahi-mahi threatened to spew forth onto the table. I swallowed. I had used that briefcase to bash a zombie. I had thumped an undead with the end of the world. What would have happened if I had set off a hundred nuclear missiles and ended everything that wasn’t already ended?

  Tim assured me that couldn’t happen. I would have to input codes, and the folks manning the silos and the subs were the ones who nuked a couple billion zombies and living people. Now Schumitz had those codes. What was his plan?

  Remo read my mind. “He’s going to barter the codes.”

  I couldn’t believe it. Schumitz was going to sell nuclear launch codes capable of vaporizing the planet. What could he possibly get for those codes? Anything I guess. “For what? What is the captain getting for the briefcase?”

  “Us,” Remo said, and opened the book. He flipped to the last two pages and began reading:

  POTUS is safe. Just received radio confirmation of proof of life from Cooper. He and the rest of the team were able to get POTUS on board the escape craft and they have exfiltrated to the rendezvous point. Carter, Manzetti, Mayberry, and I came back for the football, but were cut off by elements of the force who have attacked us. Most of the Kanawha crew is dead, murdered by the same operatives who are firing at us from down the hall. Manzetti is going to detonate the limpets in two minutes if we can’t repel the boarder
s.

  Too many. Mayberry is down, and that’s given me an idea. He told me to let him turn so he could attack anyone who came to get the football. Carter and I are going to shoot each other in the heart to do the same. Hopefully, the ship will sink before the hostiles can get in here. Manzetti just caught one in the throat.

  I set off the limpets. The whole ship is listing. Our depth should put this room underwater, and the hostiles should assume the football went with POTUS. Manzetti is getting up. He’s dead. Carter says there’s water coming down the companionway. I will store this notebook in the safe with the football. Carter is fighting Manzetti, and the hostiles are coming. Special Agent Durnin out. God Bless America.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed through suddenly dry lips, “they killed themselves to protect that damn briefcase?”

  Remo looked surprised. “Wouldn’t you? Who knows who those hostiles were? What if they decide to target Barro or Atlantis with a nuke?”

  “Why would they do that?” Chloe asked, frightened.

  Remo looked at her. “Because they can, honey. Crazy doesn’t need a reason.” He looked back at me. “This football, if traded to the proper folks, could guarantee safety for us. Especially you.” He pointed at me.

  Ship passed his note to me and I read it aloud: While I agree with Remo to a certain extent, there are no guarantees. They could take the package then wipe us out to get you as well. In my mind, you are more valuable to them than nuclear launch codes, but I am not the President. The codes could destroy the world, but when you think about it, the world is mostly gone already. If they get their hands on you, they could manufacture an anti-viral vaccine. They could distribute that vaccine as they see fit, which is a much more effective bartering tool and weapon than a nuclear arsenal. However, manufacturing a vaccine for a virus is next to impossible. They would have to run tests for years, possibly decades to perfect it, all the while they would need you on hand, running tests and drawing fluids. This all assumes that whatever has happened is because of a virus. It could come from a bacterium or a fungus or countless other sources.

  Alvarez shook his head. “But we don’t know if they know he’s here.”

  Ship pointed to his notebook. I handed it to him and he wrote quickly while Remo slid my plate in front of him and started shoving my fish in his face.

  Exactly. We don’t know. Prudence dictates that we assume they know. Someone knew, when they tried to blackmail the Ocean Diamond. Those men were government.

  Remo looked thoughtful. “He’s right about that. Those hitters that came for you on the Diamond were well trained. And shit, we…” Dusty the Border Collie, who was strictly forbidden to be in the galley, was of course at the feet of the kids, gnawing on some type of bone. He stood up, very alert. He looked in a few directions, then started barking like crazy.

  “Shut up you mangy, leg-humpin’ mongrel,” Donna pleaded. “You’re not supposed to be in here!” That damn dog would not cease with the barking no matter what was said, and we were drawing attention. Ship stood up, immediately yanking his sidearm from his shoulder holster. He looked into the air like he was thinking.

  Remo and Alvarez both stood as well, drawing their own weapons.

  Tim looked right at me. “What’s happening?”

  “Why is everybody always asking me that? I don’t know. I never know! Why are you guys all up in arms n’ shit?”

  Remo had his rifle with him, but nobody else did. He pulled the charging handle back just a bit so he could check his load, even though there was no way in hell he hadn’t checked it seventy-five times today already. “Dogs get fussy when there’s something wrong.”

  Ship snapped his fingers and that damn dog shut up instantly. Fucker could talk to animals now. Ship pointed up, and we all heard it. A helicopter.

  There was no chance any aircraft would be able to come within miles of Atlantis without the Stockdale turning it into smoking bits of ruined metal, so I had to wonder WTF was going on.

  We were all outside in a moment, watching a Blackhawk helicopter land on the pad. It was surrounded by a plethora of armed men from Atlantis, and covered by the very M60 machine gun we had liberated from it before. Yes, Dear Reader, I knew it was a Blackhawk because Remo had told me the last time I had seen it. It was the same bird that had come to spirit me away off of the Ocean Diamond.

  The engines shut down and the rotor began to slow. Austin was there, and he moved to the side door, keeping his head low. The door slid open, three unarmed men stepping out onto the landing pad. I had seen two of them before, and had bitten one. The third guy was in a suit, and he looked important. He shook Austin’s hand, and the four of them came down the ramp from the helipad together. Austin looked around until he saw me, then motioned for me to follow them with that c’mere hand gesture he was always using.

  We all had our weapons out now. He made the gesture again as I looked to Remo, who shrugged. “Let’s go.”

  “Where?”

  “To see what they want.”

  “Fine,” I acquiesced. “Everybody comes. All of us.”

  Remo smiled and we moved off after the group of them. It took a couple of minutes to convince Ship that we were going with or without him, and he was pissed. The notebook flew back and forth a few times, and let me tell you, Ship had found his swear button. I ended the conversation telling him that these were unarmed people who already knew I was here.

  Captain Schumitz was waiting in Austin’s office with two of his officers. He was speaking with the suited dude. There was barely room enough for all of us to stand in there. The satchel containing the football was on the map table.

  Schumitz tried to introduce us, “This is SECNAV.”

  “What the fuck is a secknav?” Richy smiled and Chloe outright giggled.

  Schumitz and Austin glared at me like I was the embarrassing kid. “Secretary of the Navy. SECNAV?”

  “Oh.”

  The guy in the suit came around the desk with a big smile and stuck his hand out to shake mine. I stared at it for a second before I put my Sig in his face. His smile evaporated, and he looked nervous for a moment before he quietly spoke, “We’re unarmed.”

  “Then you’re an idiot. Did you miss the apocalypse? Being unarmed is the stupidest thing you can be nowadays.” I pointed to the kids. “They carry weapons at all times. We demand it.”

  “I felt it prudent considering the circumstances.”

  “Oh, you mean kidnapping me, taking me from my home and my family, incarcerating me in a medical prison for months while they probed me and stuck me with needles…”

  He lowered his hand, “About that, I’m sorry—”

  “I wasn’t finished,” I snapped. “Then I get back and you send a team to get me on the Majestik. A team that killed some of my friends. We kill most of your assholes and chase the rest off. Then you kidnap the family of one of our sister ships, trying to blackmail them into giving me up. Am I missing anything?”

  “No. That’s about right. I’m sorry for what happened before, but we’re desperate.” He looked genuinely sorry. “Maybe we could speak in a more private setting?”

  I lowered my weapon. “No. Anything you say to me I’m just going to tell all of them,” I spread my hand wide, “the moment we’re done here. What about the hundreds of people that were killed because of your stupidity?”

  He looked confused, so I rolled my eyes. Is this what Ship felt like all the time? Because it was great. “You filled both the Majestik and Baldy Mountain with hundreds of infected. That’s the work of shitheads.”

  Schumitz began to speak, “I don’t think this is the best way to—”

  I held my hand up, forestalling his comments. I never took my eyes off of SECNAV’s though.

  Mr. Secretary of the Navy said something then that I really didn’t expect. I truly thought this was going to be a shit-show, but he disarmed me with two words: “You’re right.”

  I sighed and shook my head. “What do you want?”

&nbs
p; “That, for starters,” he told me, pointing at the football, “and you, if you’ll come with us.” Ship flipped the safety off of his weapon with an audible click. You could have heard a pin drop after this douche asked me to come with him, so the safety was crazy loud.

  I looked at Schumitz. “Don’t give it to them. No matter what they say, they’ll never stop coming. Use it as leverage to keep them away.”

  Schumitz began to speak, but suit-dick cut him off with a wave. “I’ve put up with your shit long enough,” he confessed, his demeanor completely changed. “You want to stay? Fine, we’ll leave you alone, but if I leave here without that package, or worse, if I don’t leave at all, this place will be a pile of ash by nightfall.”

  I looked past him, shaking my head once again in disbelief. “How long before they order you to house a hundred infected on Atlantis for study, Captain? They’ll probably just sink the Stockdale anyway, just like the Kanawha.”

  SECNAV looked taken aback. “We didn’t sink the Kanawha. We asked for help in getting the football. We have intel on who we think sunk her, but that’s classified.”

  I believed him. Both about the Kanawha, and killing all of us if we didn’t give him the satchel. I did not believe him about letting me stay here, although I would play it up like I did.

  I had never heard Austin’s menacing voice before, and it was kind of scary. “We’re giving them the satchel. Nobody is going to stop you,” he told SECNAV.

  Suit-dick spun on his heel, picked up the briefcase, and turned back to face me. “Are you sure you won’t come with us?”