Seattle - 2037

Holding the little night vision monocular to his eye, Matt could just make out the Space Needle, stabbing out into the midnight sky above. The city, like almost all were these days, was dark, with no signs of life visible this far out to sea.

The drone of diesel engines rumbled up through the rusty deck of the old container ship Nijmagen. She was Panama flagged, not that Panama really existed as a cohesive country now, and running dark. They were here to trade, but they didn't want their heavily armed customers to know where they were. To Matt, with decades of experience soldiering his way through this fractured world, this felt like a reasonable precaution.

Despite all those years fighting other peoples battles, jaded by double crosses, suffering and death, Matt's mood was electric. There she is. Home. Finally.

He'd worked his passage to these shores and had a rough idea what he was walking into. Seattle was dominated by two opposing factions, the Washington Liberation Front or WLF, their customers, a ragtag militia who had cast aside the shackles of FEDRA and dominated most of the city and the Seraphites, a cult he'd learned little about so far, other than their penchant for mutilation and brutality. They had been waging war on and off for years, but apparently there was some sort of truce in place at the moment. The WLF obviously thought it wasn't going to last, whence the cargo they'd shortly deliver. They'd already agreed that he was going back to their base of operations, the SoundView stadium, where he could start his search. Hell, June and the boys might even be there. She was a survivor after all, like him.

Matt watched as the crew carefully lowered the big old landing craft, laden with their deadly product, into the sea using a couple of the old cranes that would have previously been used to offload containers. It was impressive work, with only the pale moonlight to guide them. He picked up his pack and took one last look over the horizon to Seattle before he made his way below. See you soon.

Turns out describing the WLF as a ragtag militia wasn't exactly accurate. The exchange happened quickly with the WLF soldiers quickly loading the crates of ammunition, explosives and weapons into their waiting trucks, unloading the pallets of foodstuffs and other necessities they had promised in exchange.

Matt quietly sized them up. They were well equipped, geared up with plate carriers, assault rigs, and automatic weapons. The two in charge were young, early twenties at the oldest, but he knew not to fall into the trap of underestimating them. He'd caught the first one's name, big, loud, hairy, hispanic. Manny. To the untrained eye, he was harmless, joking with the Nijmagen crew who had manned the landing craft, making himself the centre of attention. Matt knew the type, he'd as easily gut someone as share a drink with them.

The other was very different, she was quiet, powerfully built and steely eyed, hair tied into a braid resting on her shoulder. Coiled like a spring, she radiated danger. He'd have to keep his eye on that one.

He turned as the last part of their delivery rumbled off the landing craft and saw Manny grinning as the big MRAP stopped in front of him.

"That is sexy my man"

"Think you can handle her?" Matt asked smiling.

"I can drive stick!" Manny replied, feigning indignation.

"It's an automatic…"

"Puta madre! Take it back!"

"No refunds" Matt shrugged.

Manny laughed, climbing into the now vacated drivers seat and making himself comfortable. The WLF trucks were forming up into a convoy, ready to move as dawn broke. Matt bid farewell to the Nijmagen crew and hauled himself and his pack into the MRAP beside Manny.

"Abs, you coming with us?" Manny shouted to his dangerous looking friend

She climbed into MRAP behind them, buckled up and held out a hand to Matt as Manny revved the engine and moved off at the front of the trucks.

"Abby"

"Matt, good to meet you"

"Thanks for the gear"

"Nothing to thank me for really, I just do security, besides I'm cargo now myself"

She just nodded.

Matt looked out the window as they drove through the city. Things had certainly changed. They sped through avenues of gutted buildings, overgrown with creeping vines and moss. This didn't look much like his city any more.

"What brings you to Seattle?" asked Abby curiously, obviously reading the wistful look on his grizzled old face.

"Family. Grew up here"

"Really? How longs it been?"

"Twenty four years almost, I was on deployment when the shit hit the fan"

Abby whistled quietly

"You military then?" Manny asked pointedly.

"Was. Rangers. Don't hold it against me"

"Try not to"

"City got pretty fucked when the outbreak started. FEDRA bombed the shit out of it. Think you'll find them? Your family?" Abby took back the conversation.

"That's why I'm here" Matt said, pulling out the faded polaroid and handing it to Abby.

She gave it a quick glance and handed it back to him.

"Can't say they seem familiar. Someone back at base may recognize them. Guess it's pretty old?"

"Older than you probably… The twins will be in their mid twenties now"

"Could be dead" She said matter-of-factly, but not unkindly.

He nodded in agreement.

"Could be, but June, my sister, she's a hardass. We grew up living rough on these streets. I joined up when she got pregnant, to put a roof over her head. If anyone could survive the apocalypse it'd be her"

They drove on in silence for a time. Matt staring out at the greenery and ruins. The wound on his arm stung and felt slick again. He'd need to change the dressing and find some antibiotics. Looking at his current companions he decided it was probably wise to keep the peculiarities of his condition on the down low.

"What have you been doing all this time" Manny interrupted his daydreaming

"Travelling. Working. Surviving. Merc work mainly. Soldier for hire. Clearing infected from ships, fighting pirates, that sort of thing"

"What's it like out there?"

"Out in the blue? Same as it is everywhere I guess, hard. But you have a natural wall of sorts, from the infected at least. There's a lot of life out there, communities, traders…"

"And pirates eh?"

"Yarrr" Matt smiled

"I couldn't do it, can't stand seafood"

"That's no barrier, trust me, there are whole floating farms out there, I remember one job, near New Zealand, there was an aircraft carrier doubling as the biggest fucking chicken coup you've ever seen"

"You're shitting me"

So he told them the story, the sanitised, vainglorious version at least.

Auckland Islands - 2020

It wasn't really an aircraft carrier for starters. The Canberra was technically speaking a 'landing helicopter dock', military speak for an amphibious assault ship. It looked like an aircraft carrier though, albeit on the smaller side, with its flat upper deck for launching and retrieving helicopters. No helicopters would be landing on its deck at the moment, it was covered in shipping containers, shacks and sheds.

She was also full of chickens, a floating factory farm. Anchored here in the Subantarctic islands with an assortment of other vessels; cruise ships, container ships, trawlers and just about everything in between. All clustered around the atomic heart of this seasteading community, the Changzheng 11, a Chinese nuclear powered submarine. With their bunkers largely dry, the bigger ships relied on the sub to keep the lights and heat on.

This particular community was a fragile ecosystem, with ships trading their resources for mutual benefit and ultimately their survival. Any challenge to the status quo here, deep in the cold, could have fatal consequences. That's why they were here. The chicken farmers provided the bulk of the protein for the burgeoning population here and they knew it. They wanted more. Negotiations had stalled and reluctant to resort to violence themselves, the seasteaders had called for the Anatoly Zheleznyakov and its band of mercenaries.

Shortly after casting off from Syria, Major Aleksandr Chernenko, Yuri as Matt used to call him, had talked himself into command of the old minesweeper. A charismatic man and a shrewd tactician, he convinced the crew and the ragtag assemblage of passengers that life on dry land was over, but there was opportunity to be had at sea. So out to sea they had gone. Into the Atlantic. Into the blue.

They cut the outboard and coasted in towards the Canberra before paddling the last few yards. There were six of them in the small rigid inflatable. Aleks, the VDV Major, now in his sixties but still sharp as a tack, a powerful presence and firmly in charge.

Then there was Tamati, or Tam as he preferred, a New Zealander, Māori. One of the stragglers from Syria, formerly of Queen Alexandra's Mounted Rifles and a career soldier, with warfare in his blood. He was tall, powerfully built, sporting a thick black beard and tā moko facial tattoos. If you needed to intimidate someone, Tam was your man. He was also disarmingly charming, a bit like Manny really.

Behind Tam was Konstantin, another one of the 45th VDV Spetsnaz boys. He was their medic on this excursion. The paratrooper who was scared of heights. But the things that scare you most bring the best rewards he had told Matt, whatever the fuck that meant. With piercing blue eyes, he was softly spoken, sensitive and had a love for birds. He was pretty excited to be here in the Subantarctic islands. He would not shut up about the Yellow Eyed Penguins. Hopefully the seasteaders hadn't eaten them all already.

Beside him was Yael. Petite, but wiry, with long dark hair tied in a practical bun. She'd joined the crew after Syria, from a refugee ship escaping Israel. An extremely skilled and capable fighter, she had made her career in the IDF's all women Caracal battalion. In combat, she was easily the equal of any man on the ship and wouldn't hesitate to remind any of them of that fact during sparring sessions.

Rounding off their squad was Azim, who had just turned seventeen, the youngest of the group. When he was just eleven, Matt had tripped over him in the street running from a horde of runners and Konstantin had hurled him into the safety of their BTR as they fled to the sea. Aleks had quickly taken a liking to the kid and had been raising him like a son the last seven years. This was his first job and he was eager to prove himself.

The Major jokingly referred to his crew as the UN. There were at least a dozen countries represented. Luckily for Matt, English had become the default language on board. He was shit at languages.

They'd gone over the plan back on the Anatoly. Not wanting to provoke a heavy engagement, the Major has decided that a small tactical team would launch a surgical strike on the Canberra in the dead of night, capture its 'captain' and restore order. The feeling was, this would minimise unnecessary bloodshed. The inhabitants of the Canberra were mainly civilians, refugees, with a few of the ship's original military crew. It was also pragmatic. Despite cutting the power from Changzheng 11, they couldn't be sure the Canberra was without power. If it did have power, and ammunition for its CIWS systems, things would get nasty quickly.

As it was, it really did look like the power was out. Aside from a few fires and battery lights, the ship was dark. The crew weren't expecting an attack, as far as they were concerned, negotiations were ongoing. As she approached, they readied up, flipping down night vision goggles and checking their weapons.

They were equipped uniformly with the mercenary band's weapon of choice, the Russian AS VAL assault rifle. If someone had designed a gun specifically for the Cordyceps plague, it'd look a lot like the VAL or Вал (shaft) as the Russians nicknamed it. It looked a bit like a pipe with a magazine, folding stock and trigger assembly sticking out of it. Although lacking range, it was designed to be as quiet as possible, firing big fat subsonic rounds that, while almost silent, also packed a punch and were able to penetrate body armour. There was no better way to quietly dispatch a clicker. They'd raided an arsenal in Sevastopol for these specialised weapons and the machine tools to manufacture the ammunition for them.

Climbing up a small ladder inset into the ships hull, they climbed into the alcove holding the ships tender on the port side. The welldeck would have been easier, but far too obvious. There was no guard posted here and they silently made entry into the cold, dark, mazelike interior. They were immediately hit by the smell, ammonia with a side of rotten flesh. There was no noise, not the whir of air conditioning, nor voices indicating any of the hundred or so inhabitants were anywhere nearby.

Moving fast they navigated the labyrinth as best they could considering their lack of any kind of map or blueprint of the old warship. Helpfully they soon found coloured lines up the wall, like in a hospital, directing them to various parts of the ship. They were looking for the flight deck and with it entry to the conning tower and the captain's apartment.

Matt paused as he passed a bulkhead door, low, warm light streaming through the small circular window inset within it. Risking a peak he looked through into one of the ships vast internal hangar spaces. Stacked from wall-to-wall and piled dozen high, were cage upon cage, upon cage. Interspaced throughout were diesel generators rumbling along, powering the heat lamps that were casting the soft light that had caught his eye.

There was no one in sight. So silently gesturing to the others to hold, he gently unlatched the door and pushed it ajar. The stench hit, even worse now and alongside it the cacophony of thousands upon thousands of chickens clucking and shrieking.

"PETA would have a field day with this place" he said under his breath "Still craving KFC boss?" He asked Aleks.

"Don't even joke about that my son, we have all lost too much" the old Major replied, feigning sadness. "Keep moving"

Following the red line, they soon found the access stairs for the flight desk and proceeded skyward, climbing out into the crisp subantarctic air. They encountered their first guard, warming his hands over a charcoal barbecue. He was middle aged and silver stubbled, wearing the Australian Army's distinctive Auscam fatigues.

"Weapons free" Aleks whispered "But try to be gentle" he added after some consideration.

In single file, evenly spaced, guns up and quiet as possible they moved on the oblivious guard.

"Bro" Tam hissed at the guy, who turned to find six assault rifles pointing at him. Aleks raised a finger to his mouth in the universal gesture of quiet.

"Shhh"

He lowered his weapon slowly and raised his hands. Tam and Konstantin surged on to him, gagging and restraining him as they dragged him into the dark while the rest of them covered. With the guard stowed safely they darted over the flight deck, through gaps in the clutter that covered it and soon found themselves beside a door into the conning tower. Torchlight shone through the small window and they could hear muffled voices inside.

"Matthew. Take Azim and Yael. You're green, stack up on the door round the corner. Go is alpha" ordered the Major as he formed up with Tam and Konstantin.

Matt nodded, moving around the corner to stack up on the second door, which appeared to lead into the same corridor.

"Green, waiting for alpha" Matt whispered into the boom mic of his tactical headset.

A few seconds passed.

"Alpha, alpha, alpha" Aleks came loud and clear through the radio.

Their movement was a blur as both halves of the team breached the corridor simultaneously. Neither of the two seasteaders having a chat in the corridor were armed and neither had the opportunity to put up any kind of struggle or raise the alarm before they were restrained and silenced. Clean. Precise. Minimal violence. This was the job.

They moved quickly up the stairs and rounded the corner to where they knew the captains quarters were and once again stacked up outside the door. Once again, light shone through the window, but there was no noise. They knew the apartment where the Canberras leader and his family lived was made up of three rooms. They'd be breaching a lounge and office area. Behind it were two bedrooms.

"Breach and clear" the Major ordered and they did.

"Clear" Tam announced, the first through the door. They fanned out as one of the bedroom doors swung open and a man in blue overalls crashed through with a shotgun.

Before anyone else could react, the distinct ring of Yael's VAL spoke, the quiet puff of the silenced muzzle drowned out by the rifle's bolt slamming backwards and forwards as she dropped him with a short burst.

"Fuck me" she shouted in frustration and Konstantin rushed forward, already unclipping the pack from his rig, ready to get to work.

Matt could see it was pointless.

The second door creaked open slightly and they swung their weapons round to face it. The small frame of a kid, all of about thirteen, stood in the door frame, his back illuminated by flickering candle light.

"Dad?"

Matt's eyes drifted to the pistol in the kid's hand.

"Easy my friend, put the gun on the floor" Azim said gently.

"Dad!" The kid turned to face Azim and raised the gun.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl for Matt, the seconds turning into minutes. The kids pistol was rising slowly, to line up with Azim's face, still pleading with the kid to drop it.

Matt squeezed the trigger.

Matt was standing on the edge of the flight deck when Aleksandr found him, looking out over the island and the ships arrayed before it. Behind him, more mercs from the Anatoly milled about. They'd come aboard to secure the rest of the ship as its inhabitants surrendered.

"Why do they do it? Stay down here in the cold"

"I do not know. Maybe they like the cold. No infected down here"

"Nothing much of anything else either"

For minutes, the silence was deafening as the two men stood side by side.

"Do you think that pool is heated?" Matt asked gesturing at the bulk of the big cruise ship Dawn Princess.

"Is this going to be a problem Matthew"

"I don't know. Am I a problem for you, Yuri?" Matt asked, turning to face the gizzled Spetsnaz officer.

"I command men not monsters. I do not think you are a monster" he said kindly

"You sure about that?"

"Matthew. I waged wars for my country for nearly half a century. I have known monsters far more disgusting than any bloater"

"Will I ever be able to forget that kids face?"

"I hope you never do, my son. When you forget is when you become the monster"

Seattle - 2037

Dawn had well and truly broken by the time they entered the stadium. For Matt, it was surreal, driving through the dead city to this sea of humanity. The stadium's field was broken up with enclosures for livestock and crops. WLF soldiers were running laps around its circumference in groups, chatting and laughing as they exercised. The stands were filled with an assortment of makeshift structures, bearing only a passing resemblance to a shantytown. There was order here.

They pulled up and dismounted the big MRAP as a group of WLF soldiers ran over, awed by the big six wheeled armoured truck.

"You hungry amigo?" Manny asked

"Yeah… But I need to grab some basic medical supplies… You guys trade shit?"

"Might be able to help you out, you got any books in there?" Manny asked gesturing at the large, cumbersome pack Matt was swinging onto his shoulders.

"Got a couple… and a Kindle with a few thousand, batteries still good as well"

"Any sci-fi"

"I mean I said a few thousand…"

"Come with, know just the girl who can help, there'll be a finders fee though. Got any PS3 games in there?" Manny grinned "Abs, meet you at the mess?"

"See you around old timer" Abby held out her hand

"Stay cool" Matt replied, shaking her hand and bidding her farewell.