Read Online Arisen, Book Six - The Horizon by Glynn James, Michael Stephen Fuchs - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Glynn James, Michael Stephen Fuchs
Tags: Horror, Military, Zombies, Techno-Thriller, dystopian fiction, Zombie Apocalypse, SEAL Team Six, SOF, high-tech weapons, Increment, serial fiction, fast zombies, spec-ops, naval adventure, SAS, Special Operations, supercarrier, Delta Force, Hereford
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wilderness – so many months in that lonely cabin. It had been precisely its isolation, carefully designed, that had allowed them to survive. But maybe she shouldn’t have been hiding out. Maybe she hadn’t been doing her part to save the world. Or maybe it had been all she could do – just staying alive had been her part.
But she’d never been much of a spectator.
Handon’s original idea had been to post her to the carrier’s NSF, the internal security force. It wasn’t too far from her own field of law enforcement (LE), and while possibly a stretch of her tactical skills, it would have been a good fit, and she knew she could grow to fill it. And evidently they needed people – after their onshore mission had gone wrong at NAS Oceana, and they’d had to conduct a frantic flight through shore bombardment to escape the descending storm of the dead.
But then Handon had a better idea, and a more important job for her.
Ali had been responsible so far for babysitting Dr. Park. But now she had to focus on healing up, as well as the team’s work-up for the Somalia mission. Back in the relative safety of the supercarrier, Park certainly needed less protecting than he had when they were fighting their way across Beaver Island, or parachuting into a giant set-piece naval zombie battle. But he was still the most important man in the world, and there were still rumors of lone Zulus wandering the lower decks – and Handon still needed someone he could trust, absolutely, to keep tabs on him.
He also figured he could count on Sarah to get the scientist whatever he needed to do his work, and basically keep the gears of his research churning. He had a strong impression of her as a capable, get-it-done type of organizer. She’d had to be, just to survive two years into the ZA in a tiny cabin, with two dependents, using only her own wits, skills, and good preparation. Also, while she was new to the carrier, she wasn’t new to being in a uniformed, disciplined service, nor to carrying arms – and using them. Handon knew he could depend on her, both to protect Park, and to get shit done for him.
So she’d been put on the NSF personnel manifest – but detailed as personal security to Dr. Park.
Turning onto the companionway with the hospital on it, she saw he was already there, waiting outside, laptop satchel over shoulder, hands in pockets – looking bright-eyed and ready to work.
That was a good sign.
* * *
When the last to arrive had taken a seat around the table in the briefing room, Commander Drake pushed his arms against its edge, biceps swelling a little beneath the short sleeves of his khaki service uniform, and he cleared his throat lightly.
That’s all it took to get their attention.
After his leadership in the Battle of the JFK – inspired, daring and, as he’d be the first to admit, desperate – after he had miraculously saved the ship and its crew from an assault of ten million undead… well, the officers and men had started to regard Drake as something like a minor deity.
Of course he’d been far from alone in pulling that off. Coulson and Handon had effectively run the fight on the flight deck by themselves. Master Chief Shields and his construction ratings had built the fortifications from behind which they fought. And virtually everyone on board had sweated, bled, and battled through their own terror, not to mention battling through the dead.
But it was a funny thing about command – while Drake couldn’t take all the credit for the victory, he sure as hell would have taken the blame if they’d lost.
Not that there would have been anyone left to blame him. No one who could still speak, at any rate.
And, in what was just one more weird mystery of the ZA, the Captain, the carrier strike group’s actual commanding officer, had disappeared again – completely. It had happened sometime after he led the final charge to clear the flight deck with his conscripted army, wielding firefighting foam,
But she’d never been much of a spectator.
Handon’s original idea had been to post her to the carrier’s NSF, the internal security force. It wasn’t too far from her own field of law enforcement (LE), and while possibly a stretch of her tactical skills, it would have been a good fit, and she knew she could grow to fill it. And evidently they needed people – after their onshore mission had gone wrong at NAS Oceana, and they’d had to conduct a frantic flight through shore bombardment to escape the descending storm of the dead.
But then Handon had a better idea, and a more important job for her.
Ali had been responsible so far for babysitting Dr. Park. But now she had to focus on healing up, as well as the team’s work-up for the Somalia mission. Back in the relative safety of the supercarrier, Park certainly needed less protecting than he had when they were fighting their way across Beaver Island, or parachuting into a giant set-piece naval zombie battle. But he was still the most important man in the world, and there were still rumors of lone Zulus wandering the lower decks – and Handon still needed someone he could trust, absolutely, to keep tabs on him.
He also figured he could count on Sarah to get the scientist whatever he needed to do his work, and basically keep the gears of his research churning. He had a strong impression of her as a capable, get-it-done type of organizer. She’d had to be, just to survive two years into the ZA in a tiny cabin, with two dependents, using only her own wits, skills, and good preparation. Also, while she was new to the carrier, she wasn’t new to being in a uniformed, disciplined service, nor to carrying arms – and using them. Handon knew he could depend on her, both to protect Park, and to get shit done for him.
So she’d been put on the NSF personnel manifest – but detailed as personal security to Dr. Park.
Turning onto the companionway with the hospital on it, she saw he was already there, waiting outside, laptop satchel over shoulder, hands in pockets – looking bright-eyed and ready to work.
That was a good sign.
* * *
When the last to arrive had taken a seat around the table in the briefing room, Commander Drake pushed his arms against its edge, biceps swelling a little beneath the short sleeves of his khaki service uniform, and he cleared his throat lightly.
That’s all it took to get their attention.
After his leadership in the Battle of the JFK – inspired, daring and, as he’d be the first to admit, desperate – after he had miraculously saved the ship and its crew from an assault of ten million undead… well, the officers and men had started to regard Drake as something like a minor deity.
Of course he’d been far from alone in pulling that off. Coulson and Handon had effectively run the fight on the flight deck by themselves. Master Chief Shields and his construction ratings had built the fortifications from behind which they fought. And virtually everyone on board had sweated, bled, and battled through their own terror, not to mention battling through the dead.
But it was a funny thing about command – while Drake couldn’t take all the credit for the victory, he sure as hell would have taken the blame if they’d lost.
Not that there would have been anyone left to blame him. No one who could still speak, at any rate.
And, in what was just one more weird mystery of the ZA, the Captain, the carrier strike group’s actual commanding officer, had disappeared again – completely. It had happened sometime after he led the final charge to clear the flight deck with his conscripted army, wielding firefighting foam,
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