World War Z_ An Oral History of the Zombie War ( PDFDrive )

Sometimes I’m asked if we regretted our decision to stay aboard. I can’t speak for my mates. On
their deathbeds they both said they’d do it all over again. How can I disagree? I don’t regret the
physical therapy that followed, getting to know my bones again and remembering why the good
Lord gave us legs in the first place. I don’t regret being exposed to so much cosmic radiation, all
those unprotected EVAs, all that time with inadequate shielding in the ISS. I don’t regret this. [He
motions to the hospital room and machinery attached to his body.] We made our choice,
and, I’d like to think, we made a difference in the end. Not bad for the son of an Andamooka opal
miner.
[Terry Knox died three days after this interview.]
ANCUD, ISLA GRANDE DE CHILOE, CHILE
[While the official capital has returned to Santiago, this onetime refugee base
now remains the economic and cultural center of the country. Ernesto Olguin
calls the beach house on the island’s Peninsula de Lacuy home, although his
duties as a merchant ship’s master keep him at sea for most of the year.]
The history books call it “The Honolulu Conference,” but really it should have been called the
“Saratoga Conference” because that’s all any of us had a chance to see. We spent fourteen days in
those cramped compartments and dank stuffy passageways. USS Saratoga: from aircraft carrier,
to decommissioned hulk, to evacuee transport barge, to floating United Nations HQ.
It also shouldn’t have been called a conference. If anything, it was more like an ambush. We were
supposed to be exchanging warfighting tactics and technology. Everyone was anxious to see the
British method of fortified motorways, which was almost as exciting as that live demonstration of
Mkunga Lalem. 1 We were also supposed to be attempting to reintroduce some measure of
international trade. That was my task, specifically, to integrate the remnants of our navy into the
new international convoy structure. I wasn’t really sure what to expect from my time aboard
Super Sara. I don’t think anyone could have expected what actually happened.
On the first day of the conference, we’d assembled for the introductions. I was hot and tired and
wishing to God we could just get on without all the tiresome speeches. And then the American
ambassador rose, and the whole world came to a screeching halt.
It was time to go on the attack, he said, to all get out from behind our established defenses and
begin retaking infested territory. At first I thought he simply meant isolated operations: securing
more inhabitable islands or, perhaps, even reopening the Suez/Panama canal zones. My
supposition didn’t last very long. He made it very clear that this was not going to be a series of
minor tactical incursions. The United States intended to go permanently on the offensive, marching
forward every day, until, as he put it, “every trace was sponged, and purged, and, if need be,
blasted from the surface of the Earth.” Maybe he thought ripping off Churchill would give it some