Patient Z by Becky Black

worn me out,” Cal said.
    Mitch smiled. “I think I’ll be sore tomorrow. Haven’t used some of those muscles in a while.” He turned his back to dry off and pulled on pajama pants before sitting on his cot. “You don’t mind if I keep the light on for a while? I’m not ready to go to sleep yet.”
    “Fine.” Cal burrowed down and pulled the covers up over his face. Well, great. He had a fuck buddy. Whoop-de-fucking-do. So they were going to fuck and then just act like nothing had happened. He was going to get regular sex with a good-looking guy and didn’t even have to keep half an ear open for zombies sneaking up on them while they were on the job. He’d been thoroughly fucked tonight and twice brought to a most satisfying climax.
    So why did he feel like screaming in frustration?

Chapter Ten
    Cal thought he’d only just fallen asleep when the shrieking of the rig’s Klaxon woke him. He hadn’t heard it before, but there was no mistaking it. He scrambled from his cot as the light came on.
    “What is it?” He shielded his eyes. Mitch was already dressing. “Is it a fire?”
    “Don’t know. Get dressed.”
    Cal obeyed the snapped-out order and was putting on his boots when Mitch was running to open the door, pants and boots on, pulling a shirt over his head. When the door opened, the noise of shouts and a child’s shriek came in.
    “Report,” Mitch ordered, grabbing a young woman called Blanca.
    “We’re under attack. Bren’s already on deck. The non-coms are heading into the shelter.”
    “Attack?” Cal asked. “What? Who’s attacking?”
    Blanca was gone. Ella and Kathy came by, harrying women and children to move quickly.
    “Get to the armory,” Mitch ordered Cal. “Go, now.”
    Cal didn’t stay to argue. He ran for it, cleared the crowd, and raced for the armory along with the other soldiers. Like him they were hastily dressed, or still hastily dressing. They lined up at the armory, where two women were passing out rifles, pistols, and walkie-talkies. One thrust a Ruger and spare clips into Cal’s hands as he reached the doorway.
    “Can’t I get my—”
    “Move it!” The next soldier in line shoved him on and took a GLOCK and a walkie-talkie. Shit. No time to argue. He’d had some practice with the Ruger. Guess it was time to find out if he could hit anything with it. He ran, heading for the deck, wondering where Mitch was. Was someone bringing a gun for Mitch? Who the hell was attacking anyway?
    “What the fuck is going on?” he asked Tanya as she appeared beside him, running.
    “Don’t ask me.” She pulled a sweater on over her head and popped out, hair wild. “I was asleep five minutes ago.” She split off from him, heading to the ladder that led to the helipad, the highest bit of deck on the rig. She carried a longer-barreled gun. A sniper rifle. Cal emerged into the deck, expecting to find it dark, but he found floodlights, pouring light down from the deck, trained on the sea below them.
    Bren grabbed him as he emerged. “There.” She pointed at a position on deck, up against the rail. He leaned over when he reached it and looked down at the water. Boats! A bunch of small ones, smaller than his Cora . And men, some of them firing up at the rig, others attempting to climb the legs of the rig. How were they…? He flinched as something whirred by his head. It fell back, clanged against the rail, and stuck. A grappling hook.
    He risked another look. A rope ladder dangled from the hook, and below him, men were starting to climb onto it. The hook scraped against the bar as the weight on it increased.
    Cal ducked back as more gunfire came his way, but he realized the attackers were firing blind, dazzled by the brilliant lights that not only illuminated the sea below, but kept them from seeing the defenders above.
    Cal waited a few more seconds, wanting as many of the raiders on the ladder as possible, and then he leaned over and gave them a long burst of rifle fire, sending