Free Crossbones by John L. Campbell Page B

back at the doors. As soon as they said the word
zombie
, something hard came into Tommy’s eyes and he set down the kit, snatching an M4 assault rifle from where it leaned against his desk. He snapped the charging handle, dropped to one knee between the children and the entrance, and aimed the muzzle at the double doors. He hoped a survivor didn’t come pushing in. If so, he was so tense they would die before he could stop his trigger finger.
    â€œShh, slow down,” Rosa said, looking them over as well. She didn’t see blood or bites, thank God, but both would need a full exam just to be sure. Her mind didn’t allow her to consider what would come next if indeed they had been bitten.
    Denny was crying too hard to be understood, but Wind was trying to get herself under control and managed to speak between deep gasps and tears. “We were . . . playing in the bow . . . I know we . . . shouldn’t be there. . . .” More sobs, and Rosa rubbed her back.
    â€œYou’re not in trouble, honey. Just breathe and tell me.”
    Wind sucked in a pair of shaky breaths, rubbing her palms at her eyes, and told Rosa what had happened.
    â€œTommy,” Rosa said softly as the girl spoke, but the orderly was already up and moving. “Did it get him?” she asked the girl.
    â€œI didn’t see. But we heard him scream, like he was a long way off.”
    That wasn’t good, but it didn’t mean the boy was dead or bitten. “Can you show us where?” the doc asked. Denny shook his head emphatically, so Rosa gave him a hug. “I want you to go straight down to the mess hall, find Miss Sophia or Big Jerry, tell them what happened. Can you do that?” He nodded. Rosa was confident that the spaces between here and the mess hall several decks below were safe enough for the boy to travel alone. For now, anyway.
    Wind wrapped her arms tightly about herself as if to still her own shaking. “I’ll show you,” she said in a small voice.
    â€œNothing will hurt you, honey, I promise.” Rosa looked in the girl’s eyes, and Wind gave her a little smile. Tommy reappeared with a bright orange backpack for Rosa and another like it already on his back. He handed her a pistol belt with her Glock and spare magazine pouches. As she strapped on the weapon, she found herself wishing for boots and fatigues instead of sneakers and scrubs. There was no time. Rosa shrugged out of the white doctor’s coat and grabbed a pair of Maglites from the desk.
    â€œLet’s go,” she said, leading them out of the sick bay.
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    D enny didn’t make it to the mess hall.
    Alone and frightened, he heard a metallic bang from somewhere up ahead in the empty passageway he was traveling. Stifling a sob, he looked around quickly, then darted into an unoccupied crew berthing compartment. Far in the back, he crawled beneath a bunk, curled into a ball, and started to cry softly.

SEVEN
    August 13—Seattle
    USCGC
Joshua James
was a Legend Class Maritime Security Cutter, the very latest design and the fifth of its class, with four others already in service and more in various stages of the building, design, and funding process. The Legend Class was intended to replace the much older Hamilton Class cutters, and the upgrade was laughably overdue. The United States Coast Guard was operating some of the oldest naval vessels in the world; of the world’s forty largest navies and coast guards, the USCG had the thirty-eighth oldest fleet.
    The term
cutter
referred to any Coast Guard vessel sixty-five feet or more in length, with an assigned crew and accommodations for their extended support. The National Security Cutter was not only the biggest boat the USCG had ever put in the water—418 feet long—it was capable of a flank speed of twenty-eight knots, had a range of twelve thousand nautical miles, and could