After the equipment and weapons had been collected and set out for the fuel raid, the particulars of the risky mission were explained to the civilian population on the ship. If something went wrong, and the strike team did not return, Isabella would take charge and lead the survivors to their new home.

The waiting was the worst part for Kevin. As he stood by the railing, watching the sun slowly set behind the ruined buildings of a desolate city to the west, he tried to remain calm. Attacking scavengers was dangerous under the best of conditions, but intentionally going after those who were known for being alert and well defended seemed like a suicidal operation. His stomach rolled uncomfortably, and it made him wonder if the dinner he'd eaten from the preserved rations they'd found in the galley would stay down.

Looking toward the stern of the ship, Kevin noticed Razor and Red going through a hand to hand fighting routine. Although they were only training, they fought against each other with intensity as if their lives depended on the outcome. He wondered if they were using up all their energy and might not be ready for the fight ahead, but Kevin understood the scavengers knew more about fighting their own kind than he did. If they weren't troubled by their level of training, Kevin saw no reason he should be.

Redirecting his gaze toward the prow, Kevin looked to George. The priest sat in a cross legged position with his curved sword resting on the deck in front of him. George's eyes were closed and his breathing was slow and deep. It reminded Kevin of a samurai meditating before battle.

Returning to watching the sunset, Kevin wondered if he was the only one suffering anxiety issues. The hatch behind him suddenly opened, making him jump.

"Didn't mean to startle you," Isabella apologized.

"I'm always jumpy before going on a insane mission into a nest of murdering psychopaths," Kevin replied.

"You're not the only one facing uncertainty," she informed him quietly while joining him at the railing. "If you don't come back, the responsibility of keeping these people alive and working together falls on me. Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't want your job."

Isabella turned to leave but paused long enough to pat his shoulder. "Come back safe."

"I will do my best," Kevin promised.

***

Night covered the bay in deep darkness. The cloudy skies obscured any light that might have been provided by the moon or stars, adding to the gloom. The waters were as black as the sky, and Kevin felt as if he was an astronaut about to leap into the void of space.

Checking his equipment, Kevin nodded to George. The priest stared hard in his direction as Kevin's dark skin made him one with the night and a natural on stealth missions.

"You ready?" George asked.

"No," Kevin admitted, "but let's get it over with."

The ship had been sailed in as close as they dared without risking being seen by the scavengers. Red and Razor departed first, slipping into the water and vanishing under its glassy surface. Since they needed more time to get into their firing position, the two scavengers were allowed a head start before Kevin and George would leave.

Looking over his shoulder, Kevin tried to see the bridge where Isabella was watching, but all lights on the ship had been turned out to avoid attracting the notice of the scavengers, so he couldn't see anything in the dark.

When the allotted time expired, Kevin and George put on their masks and eased into the warm waters. The liquid closed in over their heads, muffling all sounds.

The underwater world was just as dark as the air filled space above, but the divers had an advantage. Reaching up on one side of their masks, Kevin and George switched on the light amplification feature. The interior of the plastic covering their eyes turned green and illuminated everything as if a flare had been ignited. Visibility range was only five feet, but it was more than enough for their purposes. Swimming slowly forward, they tried not to disturb the water in any way that could be detected on the surface.

Kevin's watch wasn't waterproof, so he'd been forced to leave it behind during the mission. As a result, he lacked any way of tracking the passage of time during the long swim.

Despite not wanting to, he occasionally glanced down; he couldn't help it. What looked like seaweed covered the sandy floor of the bay, but upon closer examination, Kevin saw it was actually the hands of the undead reaching up in an attempt to snare the two divers as they swam past.

Because of the lengthy amount of time spent in the salt water, combined with the hunger of native fish and other animal life, the zombies were in terrible shape. Their skin had turned white, devoid of any pigments, and portions had come loose from their skeletons, waving in the water currents like the wind caught tail of a kite. Their lifeless eyes stared unblinking at the divers while their mouths hung open in silent screams.

Trying to ignore the clawing and grasping of the skeletal hands beneath him, Kevin concentrated his attention forward as the mines came into view. Perfectly round spheres, the corrosion covered mines had spikes pointing out in all directions. Any disturbance of the spikes would detonate the mine with enough force to kill anyone nearby and severely harm those further away. Tethered by chains to the sea floor, the mines floated with the current but couldn't drift too far from their anchored point.

Swimming carefully between the floating orbs, Kevin and George tried not to run into the mines. The wake generated by their passing caused the mines to shift and alter their drifting pattern. Another problem was the trailing chain keeping the mine attached to the floor of the bay. If Kevin or George bumped the chain with their flippers, they might either set of the mine or send it drifting in an unexpected direction they wouldn't be able to dodge.

After several tense minutes, George and Kevin slipped through the mines and entered the waters underneath the oil rig. The pylons holding up the platform came into view as dark shadows slowly taking on a more solid appearance as the distance between the divers and the columns diminished.

Coral had taken hold on the concrete pillars under the platform, creating an artificial reef. Abundant numbers of fish swam in thick schools. If not for the grasping of the decayed hands below him, Kevin might have enjoyed the swim among the fish.

Trying to keep their scuba gear from becoming snagged by the coral, Kevin and George found a place to surface and slowly floated upwards. They emerged slowly from the water, keeping everything below their necks submerged to avoid drawing the attention of any scavengers who might be in the area. When no immediate threats presented themselves, Kevin and George glided over to a low hanging ladder.

Kevin wasn't sure if it really happened, or if it was only his perceptions, but the water coursing off him and George seemed excessively loud. Kevin expected enemy guards to coming running over to kill them at any moment.

They left their flippers and oxygen tanks beside a stack of metal pipes, the tarp covering the pipes concealed their gear as well. Although he'd wanted to keep the diving mask with its low light amplification, Kevin had been forced to leave it behind as well. The lightbulbs decorating the rig could too easily cast a shine or glare off the plastic mask and give away his position.

Moving slowly to avoid undue noise, George and Kevin headed for the fuel barrels on the upper level.

***

Slipping through the hole in the side of a wrecked ship, Razor and Red entered the flooded lower decks. The ship was listing heavily to port, so the water filled passages were turned sideways.

Razor led the way. Since he'd been part of the strike team responsible for sinking the scavenger vessel, he knew his way around from memory. When he entered a room only half filled with water, they took off their scuba gear and left the encumbering air tanks and equipment on a table. The table, formerly part of what had been a conference room, was bolted to the floor and stuck partially out of the water, allowing them to drape their equipment over it.

Opening the waterproof case she carried, Red brought out her sniper rifle. Quickly inspecting it to make sure everything was as it should be, Red looked to Razor for guidance.

Razor climbed on the table and used it to reach a hatch above their heads. Opening it, he looked around, gun in hand in case the scavengers had an observation post established in the old derelict. When it appeared safe, he motioned for Red to follow.

The two scavengers moved as quickly as they dared, stopping every few seconds and listening intently for any indication of their presence having been discovered. Their escape depended on their being alone. If other scavengers were aboard the ship, neither Razor nor Red were likely to survive tonight's raid.

The entire vessel was eerie. Silence held dominance most of the time, but movement of the exterior water pushed on the hull, making the metal groan on occasion. Loose items would also sway with the shifting of the ship, causing noises and giving the impression of the vessel being haunted.

The night air was cool and still, but the water on their skin made the temperature feel several degrees colder when they emerged outside the ship. The anchor chain was stretched horizontally across the main deck, and Red traversed along its rusty links with the skill of a tightrope walker. Setting up her rifle with the best view of the distant oil platform, she waited for one of her opponents to walk through her targeting sight.

Razor readied his own weapon. His lacked the long range firepower used by Red, but he wasn't planning on attacking the rig but defending Red. When she started her attack, the two person diversionary force would find themselves under siege by the Coral Blade clan, and Razor needed to keep her alive while she thinned out the clan's numbers.

A patrolling guard on the platform ducked under the electrical wire strung across the rig and spaced every two feet by lightbulbs. By being so close to a light source, Red had no trouble seeing the man, and she dropped her crosshairs over him before pulling the trigger.

Because of Red's proficiency with her chosen weapon, combined with the distance to her target, she was able to eject the spent shell casing and load a fresh bullet into the rifle before the man she shot even hit the water.

The splash the body made alerted the scavengers nearby, and the Coral Blade clan instantly sounded the alarm. An old style crank driven siren began filling the night air with its mournful wail and called all of the tribe to battle.