back, but it wasnât there; Iâd left it by the helm.
Shit, stupid me. Another screw-up like that could have me ripped to pieces. And the night is still young .
âCheckers, stay!â I hissed.
The machine began to retract its legs and drop to the metal dock. I walked backward to the helm, waiting for hellâs gate to open and for a hundred irradiated dead to come barreling my way. I lowered the brightness on my red dot to its lowest setting and peered through with the NOD.
Oh yes, they were coming.
Based on my sight picture, they were a hundred yards down the docks. I watched as they advanced, hearing the distant sound of dock metal shifting from the weight of a platoon of marching corpses. A loud splash broke the near silence, prompting me to put my carbine in full auto. A few seconds of controlled breathing helped me back off that bad idea and move the selector switch back to semi-.
The creatures were fifty yards out when I made the decision to send the GARMR.
After pressing the scout button on the Simon watch, the machine stood and looked over at me with its head cocked sideways like before. I pointed down the docks and before I could think, it was trotting in the direction of the advancing undead.
I watched it through the tablet video feed. Dauntless, it didnât even slow as it selected the best space between corpses to enter the mob. The screen was thick with undead; I couldnât see anything but tattered clothing and rotting flesh.
After three distinct splashes, the GARMR broke through to the other side of the mob and continued its scouting mission into the green beyond.
The macabre platoon turned and followed it, creaking metal on the dock as they all slogged after the GARMR.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
With the docks now clear, I tossed my heavy pack on deck, reminding myself to share some of the load with the machine the next time we met up. Anything over forty-five pounds was a huge pain in the balls to carry over a prolonged period, and my pack felt closer to sixty. The magnified light of the cosmos reflected off the narrow aluminum planks. I adjusted my intensifier and kept moving toward land, comforted for the moment that nothing could come at me from the side. When my boots pressed into the overgrown grass, though, it was game on, their rules. You either had to play by them or become them, the only positively charged particle among a galaxy of negatives.
The clouds shifted, casting more starlight all around. I could see that I was in an oceanfront residential community. Seeing only green, I just knew that the homes were painted in the familiar pastels of beach communities spanning the entire gulf shoreline.
Time and the elements had not been kind to this place. A hurricane must have hit here sometime before. Many of the shingles were ripped from the rooftops of the surrounding homes, or at least the ones that still had roofs. Nearby, a sailboat lay on its side, its fractured mast jutting through a once extravagant home. Bay cruisers lay about like toys covered in debris. One was jammed inside of a house, outboard engine first. Using her keel as a ramp, Iclimbed aboard the Reel Magic onto her side. I woke up the tablet, casting light all around, illuminating the dirty sailboat hull and what was left of a ripped mainsail that lay draped over the hull. The GARMR was moving, but I couldnât tell from where. I panned its stabilized camera around to get a sense of its surroundings.
âCheckers, stop,â I said into the Simonâs internal microphone.
The full-motion video stopped moving. I panned the camera behind the GARMR and waited. Sure enough, the ghostly shapes of the undead began to form in the distance as they came into range of the machineâs optics. I aimed the camera back around and sent the GARMR behind a nearby overturned boat.
âCheckers, stay,â I said, causing the GARMR to collapse into its compact standby state.
I stowed the
Shit, stupid me. Another screw-up like that could have me ripped to pieces. And the night is still young .
âCheckers, stay!â I hissed.
The machine began to retract its legs and drop to the metal dock. I walked backward to the helm, waiting for hellâs gate to open and for a hundred irradiated dead to come barreling my way. I lowered the brightness on my red dot to its lowest setting and peered through with the NOD.
Oh yes, they were coming.
Based on my sight picture, they were a hundred yards down the docks. I watched as they advanced, hearing the distant sound of dock metal shifting from the weight of a platoon of marching corpses. A loud splash broke the near silence, prompting me to put my carbine in full auto. A few seconds of controlled breathing helped me back off that bad idea and move the selector switch back to semi-.
The creatures were fifty yards out when I made the decision to send the GARMR.
After pressing the scout button on the Simon watch, the machine stood and looked over at me with its head cocked sideways like before. I pointed down the docks and before I could think, it was trotting in the direction of the advancing undead.
I watched it through the tablet video feed. Dauntless, it didnât even slow as it selected the best space between corpses to enter the mob. The screen was thick with undead; I couldnât see anything but tattered clothing and rotting flesh.
After three distinct splashes, the GARMR broke through to the other side of the mob and continued its scouting mission into the green beyond.
The macabre platoon turned and followed it, creaking metal on the dock as they all slogged after the GARMR.
â¢Â  â¢Â  â¢
With the docks now clear, I tossed my heavy pack on deck, reminding myself to share some of the load with the machine the next time we met up. Anything over forty-five pounds was a huge pain in the balls to carry over a prolonged period, and my pack felt closer to sixty. The magnified light of the cosmos reflected off the narrow aluminum planks. I adjusted my intensifier and kept moving toward land, comforted for the moment that nothing could come at me from the side. When my boots pressed into the overgrown grass, though, it was game on, their rules. You either had to play by them or become them, the only positively charged particle among a galaxy of negatives.
The clouds shifted, casting more starlight all around. I could see that I was in an oceanfront residential community. Seeing only green, I just knew that the homes were painted in the familiar pastels of beach communities spanning the entire gulf shoreline.
Time and the elements had not been kind to this place. A hurricane must have hit here sometime before. Many of the shingles were ripped from the rooftops of the surrounding homes, or at least the ones that still had roofs. Nearby, a sailboat lay on its side, its fractured mast jutting through a once extravagant home. Bay cruisers lay about like toys covered in debris. One was jammed inside of a house, outboard engine first. Using her keel as a ramp, Iclimbed aboard the Reel Magic onto her side. I woke up the tablet, casting light all around, illuminating the dirty sailboat hull and what was left of a ripped mainsail that lay draped over the hull. The GARMR was moving, but I couldnât tell from where. I panned its stabilized camera around to get a sense of its surroundings.
âCheckers, stop,â I said into the Simonâs internal microphone.
The full-motion video stopped moving. I panned the camera behind the GARMR and waited. Sure enough, the ghostly shapes of the undead began to form in the distance as they came into range of the machineâs optics. I aimed the camera back around and sent the GARMR behind a nearby overturned boat.
âCheckers, stay,â I said, causing the GARMR to collapse into its compact standby state.
I stowed the
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