Children Of Fiends by C. Chase Harwood

Author:C. Chase Harwood
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Tags: Amazing and unique zombie series.
Publisher: Fate & Fortune Press
Published: 2014-05-20T04:00:00+00:00

It was still on the dark side of 04:00. Dean lay awake in the Captain’s bunk alone. He and the others had spent the entire previous day fruitlessly scouring every possibility for fuel. Having once again ended the day empty handed, it was beginning to look hopeless and general morale was falling rapidly. Like a broken record skipping over the same words, he tossed and turned, considering various lame pep talks while staring at the pitch-black ceiling. While he had been gone, Eliza had moved her meager gear out of the room. As he vaguely pondered the electric pops and squiggles that his eyes used to fill in the emptiness above him, a second broken record of thoughts reminded him over and over of his empty bed. How quickly he had gotten used to her warm body next to his – how annoying were these feelings of regret? He was mildly startled by a knock. Fully clothed, but for his boots, he stood and went to the door with his heart full of hope that she had changed her mind. He opened it to Sergeant Green looking very awake. “Grab your helmet. Hernandez needs you topside pronto.”

“What’s up?” asked Dean as he threw on his boots and coat. As he grabbed his helmet, he noted that Green hadn’t formally addressed him.

“Engine. Not ours.”

Dean felt adrenaline shoot into his muscles and he double-timed it behind Green. As they emerged onto the deck, he expected to hear an engine, but was greeted instead by silence. He stepped over to Hernandez, helmet on, staring hard to south. “What’s up Chief?”

“Dial up the mics on your helmet and focus in the direction I’m pointing.” He did so and could distinctly hear the echo of a muffled power plant bouncing among the countless boats that were either at anchor, dashed on the shore or sunken in the harbor. Where it was coming from exactly was impossible to tell. Hernandez asked, “Hear it?”

“Yes.”

“Noticed it maybe ten minutes ago. Seems to be getting closer. Damn quiet.”

Dean found his memories swirling back to another life, an amphibious landing at Mehran Naval Airbase, the battle to secure nukes - grave injuries, friends lost. Then safely back on the USS John Paul Jones, the gentle thrumming of those engines – lots of time in the fog of painkillers contemplating a new life after what would likely be an honorable discharge. “Sir?” asked Hernandez again.

Dean turned to Green. “Wake Mister Sanders. All hands battle stations.”

Hernandez lifted her mask, and looked at him with a questioning eye.

He said, “Could be good news or bad. That is the sound of a U.S. Navy destroyer. It runs very quietly.”

With the whole team armed, in place and listening, it wasn’t until the sky lightened enough to announce the break of dawn that anything changed. Perhaps a mile away a battleship gray destroyer came into partial view. Its downward sloped tumblehome bow broke past an anchored tanker ship just enough to expose a single 155mm gun on the foredeck.

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