Kil let that sink in. "Saien, I can't thank you enough, man. I know Rex and Rico are good people, but they haven't driven tanks off bridges with me or fought off hordes of those things or slept on top of coal cars. You get my meaning?"

"Yes. I get you. When do we make the plans?" Saien asked.

"We meet in the SCIF in ninety minutes. I'll go over what I already know so both of us are on the same page."

Kil proceeded to remind Saien about John's encoded messages and to inform him about the overhead support they would likely be receiving during the operation.

"So you see, we're actually going to have a shot at this. We're not completely alone and afraid," Kil said.

"Well, maybe not alone."

"That's fair. Your country has kept much from you. What other secrets sit behind underground vault doors?"

"G.o.d only knows."

After outlining the location of the facility up river, Kil sketched it in his journal.

Along the way to mission planning, Kil stopped off in radio for a moment to check in with the watch.

"Any luck?" he asked the tech.

"No, sir, still dark. Nothing but the usual old pre-recorded HF chatter out of Keflavik, the BBC loop, and the airport recordings from Beijing. The spectrum is quiet. Sonar had a hit earlier today though."

"Sonar? They hear another boat?" Kil inquired.

"They say they heard something, but won't put their b.a.l.l.s on the block to claim it was a boat. You'll have to talk to them for the real story, sir. I wasn't there."

"No worries, just keep trying to hail the carrier. I'll be going ash.o.r.e tomorrow, and will likely be gone a few hours if not longer."

"You're going in? Sir, you don't even want to know what they are-"

"Yeah, I don't. Stow it," Kil said. "Just keep your mind on the comms and that's it. I'll see you when I get back."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Kil and Saien continued their route to the SCIF, squeezing through the claustrophobic pa.s.sageways. Kil said jokingly to Saien, "Well, I guess that's that. RUMINT started. Soon it will be all over the boat that we're going ash.o.r.e. We better hide our belongings while we're gone. I doubt many will expect us to be back. Might be some light fingers aboard while we're away."

"What is RUMINT?" Saien asked.

"Just military jargon for rumors, you know, gossip. That sort of thing."

"Ah, like the rumors I hear about the carrier. How it is sank by a Cuban missile."

"Yeah, sure. For one, Cuba is likely overrun all the way to the GITMO fence line with undead, and two, even if the regime still had any Soviet missiles with the range and accuracy to hit the ship, they would be long past shelf life and useless. Good example though, Saien. That's a laugh. Maybe the Castros can launch a few captured exploding cigars," Kil said, thinking that Saien probably didn't get it.

Three hard knocks on the door announced their presence at the SCIF. After a moment of scrutiny through the gla.s.s, the door was unlocked and they stepped inside. The security display was not in place to prevent uncleared persons from entering the cla.s.sified nerve center of the boat as much as it was to prevent infected persons from entry. All secure areas required a visual check for signs of infection before entry was permitted.

Monday cleared his throat, gesturing Kil and Saien to the table. "Over here."

At the table were Captain La.r.s.en, the boat's chaplain, Rex, Rico, Commie, and Commander Monday. A large map was laid out on the table.

Monday began the briefing immediately. "We are roughly sixteen hours to go time with a hard start of ten hundred GMT tomorrow. Aurora will be on station for six hours to cover ingress and egress and we'll have the portable UAVs up as well, but the captain will not allow them to follow you to the facility. He'll explain in a bit. Of course, time will be tight, you'll need to be swift inside."

"Besides recovery of Zero, is there anything else we need to know or look out for?" Rex asked.

Monday hesitated for a moment before turning to La.r.s.en. "Sir, we got authorization to break the seal on the mission files?"

"Yes, we were authorized the instant we entered Chinese waters. Go ahead," La.r.s.en responded.

Monday spun the alpha dial on the safe; after an audible click, he stepped aside for La.r.s.en to spin the bravo. No one person had full access to the container that held certain launch codes and other critical files.

La.r.s.en cranked the handle and pulled the drawer open, revealing light to things that rarely saw it.

"Okay, let's take seats."

With room for only six at the war table, Commie stood behind La.r.s.en. The captain broke the seal on the doc.u.ment pouch and pulled a stack of doc.u.ments from where they had sat since some time before Virginia left Panamanian waters.

"Okay, most of you think you know generally where the facility lies. In saying that, I'll pa.s.s this satellite shot around the room. Virginia is currently here." La.r.s.en pointed to the mouth of a river on the westernmost portion of the Bohai. "The facility actually lies in the Tianjin region just southeast of the Beijing region. I apologize for the deception but if the boat was taken siege, I couldn't risk a breach. No one onboard, besides those in this room, knows the true and exact location of the facility. This is why the UAVs can't accompany you to the doors. We have no choice but to remain surfaced during the operation so that we can remain in contact with you as well as maintain data link with the Scan Eagle birds. The birds will be protecting the submarine, watching for threats while you ingress. Questions so far?" La.r.s.en asked, scanning around the table.

Kil raised his hand. "What about the nearby-airfield-and-stealing-a-Chinese-helicopter part of the plan?"

"That was a necessary deception to deceive those not privy to the fact that you would be a.s.saulting a facility elsewhere than Beijing. The Tianjin region is less populated and as you can see, the facility is only five miles inland from the river," La.r.s.en answered.

Rico elbowed Rex, not wanting to ask the question himself.

"Okay, I'll ask. Sir, how are we getting upriver? It seems pretty snaky and easy to get lost in the dark. Lots of shanty river docks and other things around in that satellite image. The RHIB will be noisy and draw attention from both sides. Could cause trouble. We don't have GPS anymore, and it'll be tough to pick the right beach."

"Yes, which is why we are taking Virginia upriver. We'll be so close to the riverbank you can hand paddle the RHIB in if you want, or even swim, but I wouldn't advise it. Topside watch reports bodies in the water. A lot of 'em, and some still moving. Our inertials navigate solely by internal laser gyros, and are not dependent on outside GPS signals. We'll be within a centimeter of optimal landfall. We will also have our top sonar operator sitting at his station to a.s.sist in navigating Virginia through the shallows."

"What are we going after, really?" said Kil.

La.r.s.en flipped a few pages into the mission doc.u.ments, stopping on a photograph taken off angle and seemingly in secret. "This is Zero, or what the Chinese codenamed as CHANG. Pa.s.s this around."

The photo depicted something encased up to its neck in a block of glacial ice. It wore a suit made of some type of alloy. Its face could not be seen through the helmet visor. The only indication that it still moved was the odd contorted positions of its hands, partially protruding from the block of ice.

"The helmet, it's still on. They didn't remove it?" asked Kil.

La.r.s.en responded quickly, "No, they didn't, or at least they didn't until the Chinese president ordered them to do so. We think that order was issued early December of last year according to the NSA intercepts we were able to recover. The timing is of course impeccable. We can't prove it, but the COG believes that the anomaly started when CHANG's suit integrity was compromised by the Chinese. I think you all know the rest of the story, in 3D."

"So we make it to the facility, get inside, and find this thing. Then what?" Rex said.

"You disable it and bring it back to the boat. We freeze it in the modified torpedo tube we've prepared, and transport it back to COG scientists," replied La.r.s.en.

"With all due respect, but no f.u.c.king way," said Kil. "You want me to bring that thing back to this boat, still kicking, and then make it my roommate all the way back home? I'm not so sure I know what that thing you call CHANG really is, but I can tell you this: I had to a.s.sault an overrun coast guard cutter during my tenure as Hotel 23 military commander. Just three radiated undead managed to take that cutter down. At least on the cutter, the survivors could have escaped overboard. If we have an outbreak on-board this boat, there's nowhere to hide. What makes you think this is a good idea?"

"These are orders from the highest authority. Directly from the top and we will follow them," La.r.s.en a.s.serted calmly but firmly.

"I've been hearing a lot of talk about the COG. Who and where are they, really?" Kil said.

"The Continuity of Government program, as it exists today, was established long before you or me. They reside at a facility colloquially known as Pentagon Two and have been calling the strategic shots since the president was killed and the nukes were dropped. Collectively they hold all the power and authority of the executive branch, meaning they have legal authority over the military and subsequently over you, Commander."

"Say for a moment I humor you and we find this CHANG, or whatever it is. How the h.e.l.l are we going to disable it? Hundred-mile-an-hour tape? Foul language? The only thing that has ever worked against them is a bullet through the brain. They can't be tamed; they can't be reasoned with. They are walking viruses that only want to infect and keep infecting," Kil ranted, knowing he was losing steam with La.r.s.en.

"We took delivery of a few items from the COG before you all arrived from the carrier. Monday, go get the gun."

After a few moments, Commander Monday returned with a large apparatus that looked more like a flamethrower.

"This is a Swarm Control Foam Gun, or SCFG. The gun has two nozzles that shoot two different chemicals that actuate when they hit the air and mix. Within seconds the compound hardens to concrete characteristics. You shoot CHANG with this and he'll be immobilized. We'll chisel the foam down to fit him in the modified torpedo tube. Something bad happens and we just shoot his a.s.s into the ocean like a giant extraterrestrial t.u.r.d. No fuss, and we let the sharks take care of him," Monday said, setting the instructions down on the table.

Kil instantly noticed the format of the type font and the way it was presented on waterproof paper. "Where did they get this gun?" he asked suspiciously.

"We didn't inquire. Why?" La.r.s.en asked.

"No reason-just curious, sir."

"Oh, now you want to sir me after raising h.e.l.l and being insubordinate?"

"How would you act in my situation, sir?"

"That is why I let it slide and haven't had you locked in the reefer or torpedo tube or court-martialed."

Kil could tell that La.r.s.en wasn't really serious, but still let on as if the words had the desired effect.

"CHANG isn't the only objective," La.r.s.en added. "You're also going after these." He pointed to a photo of clear, cube-shaped objects. "These are what we might call hard disks. Commie knows more. Go ahead."

"Yes, sir. These are storage devices-they store sub-nano laser-etched data in three dimensions inside the cubes. They can hold many times more information in one cube than exists in our entire human history. There may be more than one of them. The Chinese likely never knew what they were and didn't have the luxury of decades to research and develop a primitive reading device."

"I ain't complaining about it because they look pretty light to hump back, at least lighter and less dangerous than that CHANG thing, but what's the point in bringing them back?" Rex asked.

"There may be information about the anomaly on the cube," Commie responded. "We probably won't be able to read all of it but hopefully we might be able to read enough quadrants to get a head start on a vaccine or something similar."

Kil repositioned the op area chart in front of him, making it the focus prop of his next point. He traced his words on the chart as he spoke. "Let's recap this, shall we? We are going to take this submarine ten miles up that shallow river; the four of us will paddle the RHIB to the sh.o.r.e here, and then hump five miles inland. Then we're going to somehow gain access to the facility, find the creature, blast it with that bulls.h.i.t foam gun, and get back to the boat carrying a twenty-thousand-year-old alien on our backs without getting eaten by a few billion undead Chinese. Did I miss anything?"

"The data cubes," Commie timidly reminded, a safe distance from Kil.

La.r.s.en waited a few seconds until the snickers subsided and the tension dropped before retorting. "Well, when you put it that way, it doesn't sound very promising, but you're leaving out a few key details. One, we are a considerable distance from Beijing, in an area that was less populated before the outbreak and did not sustain nuclear attack. Two, we will have Aurora providing overhead support, pa.s.sing the chessboard layout to you. Three, you are only ten miles round trip on foot. That is if you don't commandeer transport along the way, which would be advisable. Four, you will be well provisioned with C4 and detonators to get around the facility's security measures. h.e.l.l, the doors may be unlocked for all we know."

"Thanks for the clarity, Captain. Rex, I think the four of us need to study the mission doc.u.ments and establish who does what and when. Then we'll need to get our gear ready and rack out for a few hours before we hit the beach tomorrow. It's still your team; me and Saien are only advisors," Kil said.

"Yeah, I hear you. All that sounds about right, but I was hoping you'd go senior officer on me and try to take charge of the team so I could embarra.s.s you with my superior knowledge and experience," Rex said.

"You can't always get what you want, Rex. It's your show." Kil wasn't joking.

The four men discussed tactics, burning the evening oil on details like who would drive the RHIB, who would debark first, etc. They discussed the pace and initial compa.s.s heading they would take to the facility. They went over tactical radio frequencies in terms of primary, secondary, and tertiary in the event they lost comms. Rico drew the shortest straw on carrying the bulky foam gun, but seemed happy at the opportunity of being the one that would get to use it on CHANG. La.r.s.en, Commie, and Monday excused themselves about an hour into the team's planning phase, giving Kil the window he needed.

"Okay, we may not have long until they get back. I have a friend back on the carrier that sent a few coded messages to me before we lost comms. He couldn't send much but did say that COG scientists ran experiments on the other ones we were briefed about. He said that they were strong and resistant to small arms. I know I'll be carrying that LaRue 7.62, which should punch through just about anything we come across, but we might need some c.o.c.ktails. Any progress, Saien?"

"Already on it. I made some friends...o...b..ard. We will have them with us when we depart," Saien a.s.sured.

"Questions?" Kil gestured to Rex and Rico. "Okay, cool. Rico, bring that toy foam gun to the armory so you can read up on it while we get our real guns ready. I guess the next step is to load mags and soak our guns in lube. I'm runnin' mine wet-don't need a malfunction tomorrow."

"Amen," Rex agreed.

The four headed to the armory to choose swords before entering the dragon's maw.

54.

Twenty Miles South of Key West Failure, Admiral Goettleman said to himself. The five recent attempts to secure the critical communications areas of the ship had resulted in heavy casualties. The undead were tearing the crew apart. Outbreaks were spreading like wildfire and were only narrowly quelled by bullets to the brain. Many creatures were simply being shoved over the side, dropping over seventy feet into the Gulf of Mexico.

A very drastic last-ditch effort was now underway to retake the ship.

"Make your speed thirty knots hold heading to Naval Air Station Key West!" Admiral Goettleman commanded the officer of the deck. From the bridge, he could see Key West rising off the ship's bow. Activating the 5MC system, he cleared his throat. "On the flight deck, this is the admiral speaking. Strike teams, man your access hatches and light lockers, be advised we are increasing speed to thirty-five knots, and are currently seventeen miles from impact, closing on Naval Air Station Key West. All hands above and those below brace for impact on my mark, that is all."

Ninety thousand tons of steel bore down on Key West in speeds in excess of thirty knots. The strike teams would brace for impact until the ship ran aground, using their precious seconds to reach radio, eliminating the undead along their route, who would hopefully be floored and disoriented.

John and Ramirez were on the portside forward strike team.

"We're not far. I can smell pina coladas," Ramirez told John.

"Very funny, that's not what I smell," said John. "Just be ready. Thirty may not seem fast, but going from thirty to zero will catapult your a.s.s off this ship. I'm bracing against that wall. Holding a handrail won't be enough."

"That's why I have you around, old man; to be the brains. Looks like I'll never get the chance to go to college like you did. Purdue is probably closed, huh?"

"Yeah, wisea.s.s, Purdue is probably closed for the next hundred years. For what it's worth I can tell you this, nothing I ever learned in college would prepare me for riding an aircraft carrier onto a beach, and a.s.saulting pa.s.sageways full of things that want to eat me. I think your years of OJT in the marines might be a more marketable skill in the bold new economy."

"You think Kil is having this much fun right now?"

"G.o.d, I hope not."

The two sat, backs against a wall, facing aft, away from the bow of the ship. The ocean thrashed against the steel hull as USS George Washington traveled at her max speed. John could hear the undead pounding on the hatch down the steps from where he now sat.

They wanted out, and they wanted him.

The flight deck's 5MC announcement system crackled.