Read Online Season of Rot by Eric S. Brown, John Grover - Free Book Online Page A

so badly?
There’s no place left to go. The dead are everywhere. In here, we
know we’re not going to be cut open and chewed on.”
    “What’s the point of being alive if you can’t
live?” David shot back.
    “Hank and Buck, those two rednecks over
there, would argue with you that we are living. They get fed, have
their friendship, and once every couple of days they get to have
the orgy of their wet dreams with the ladies inside.”
    “But would you argue with me?”
    “No,” Scott answered. “No, I would not.”
    David grinned. “Then what are we going to do
about that?”
    Scott offered his hand, and the two men
shook. “I’m Scott. Scott Burgess.”
    “And you can call me David.”
    “I know.” Scott laughed. “Well, David, it
looks as if we have a lot to talk about.”
    5
    Steven placed the half-full bottle of whiskey
atop his desk. All he wanted in the world was the feel of its fiery
embrace as the alcohol slid down his throat, but he couldn’t bring
himself to open the bottle. Too many people depended on him. He
hadn’t asked for this job, but the Queen was his ship. She
was all he ever loved in his life, and when the time came he’d go
down with her. He knew every inch of her like the back of his hand,
and yet she’d changed so much over the last few months he barely
recognized her.
    Once upon a time, she’d been a gleaming
beauty of magnificent white hulls, a floating paradise where dreams
of love and adventure thrived. Now her hull was spotted with
makeshift plates of armor and the scars of battle. Gun emplacements
lined the length of the main deck on all sides. Where once she’d
held hundreds of vacationers, she now contained barely one hundred
refugees, tired, frightened and desperate.
    Someone knocked, and through the open door of
the captain’s quarters Steven noticed O’Neil standing in the
hallway. In one fluid motion, he swept the bottle off the top of
his desk and into the drawer where it belonged.
    O’Neil shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry to
disturb you, sir, but I have the inventory of our supplies that you
asked for.”
    “Of course.” He motioned for O’Neil to take a
seat across the desk from him. “And how do things look?”
    O’Neil slumped into the offered chair. “Not
as bad as we thought. The last dock we raided gave us enough fuel
for another two weeks or more.”
    “And it only cost us the lives of six men,”
Steven added bitterly.
    O’Neil continued with the report. “Our
ammunition stockpiles for small arms are holding up remarkably
well, and Luke assures me that the new torpedo tubes he set up on
the forward hull will work if we need them. Our only real pressing
concern is food. Even with a rationing system in place and the
reduced number of passengers and crew onboard, we’ll be out again
in less than a week. The priority of the last raid was fuel for the Queen , so we didn’t have time to stock up like we
needed.”
    “They came crawling out of the woodwork,”
Steven chuckled.
    “I’m sorry, sir?”
    “The dead, Mr. O’Neil. Regardless of where we
put into port, they’re always there, waiting. We never have enough
time.”
    “Yes, sir. I don’t like the thought of
touching land again anytime soon.”
    Silence lingered in the room for a moment
before O’Neil finally said, “Well, sir, what are we going to
do?”
    “Pray,” Steven answered. “Pray our little
hearts out... And while we’re at it, bring me a map of the area
we’re in now. Going back ashore is really our only option, isn’t
it? Since the damn fish are just as dead as the rest of the world.
Besides, even if they weren’t, you know we couldn’t catch enough to
feed everyone aboard this ship. It’s just not possible with our
limited equipment and resources.”
    O’Neil left in search of a map, leaving
Steven alone once again in the darkness of the room.
    6
    No stars lit the sky. Thick, dark clouds let
loose what seemed a never-ending shower of rain. Brandon slept
peacefully