Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga (24 page)

“Downtown San Diego is a no-man’s-land.  There are uncontrolled fires burning in the Gas Lamp District.  The City College shelter was overrun last night, as was most of Balboa Park, although several thousand refugees have taken shelter in the San Diego Zoo.  Military and civilian first responders have evacuated the downtown area.  Thousands of residents in apartments, condos, hotels and office buildings are essentially trapped.  The streets are full of rampaging zombies.  Lindbergh Field airport is closed and unsecured.  Stay away from Downtown San Diego.

“All bridges to Harbor Island and Shelter Island were destroyed by the military before they withdrew.  Conditions are slightly better there than Downtown, with groups of survivors defending hotels and marinas from moderate levels of zombie attacks.  There has been little word of conditions in the Mission Bay area since yesterday, but it is believed that Fiesta Island and Sea World are still secure evacuation centers.  However, West Mission Bay and Sea World Drives are now jammed with abandoned vehicles and zombies are attacking anyone who approaches.  So there is no way for additional refugees to reach those safe zones, except by boat on Mission Bay.    

“Miramar Marine Corps Air Station has been abandoned.  All operational aircraft were flown to the North Island Naval Air Station on Coronado.  Inland suburbs are suffering various levels of zombie infestation.  It remains unsafe to travel through communities anywhere in San Diego County.  Wilderness areas are less dangerous, but not completely safe.  Be aware of the threat at all times and avoid contact with anyone who may be infected.

“If you leave your home it is recommended that you go armed.  If you stay at home it is recommended that you barricade your doors and windows.  Remember that the only sure way to disable the infected is to destroy their brains.  This is best accomplished by gun shots to the head, but can also be done with blunt force trauma, or sharp objects through the ears, eyes, or base of the neck.”

Scott had heard enough.  He turned off the TV and noticed that tears were flowing down Michelle’s cheeks.  He remembered that most of her cousins lived in the San Diego area and realized how hard this news would hit her.

            “I’m sorry, Michelle,” Scott whispered as he gave her a hug and felt her tremble in his embrace.  “Quite a few people are holding out.  The military have established secure lines, even if they had to give up most of the city.  A lot of survivors have made it over to Coronado.  It’s quite possible that your cousins and their families are in a safe zone now, or got out of the city.  And we will do whatever we can to find them.”

            “Oh, shut up, Scott!” she blurted.  “We won’t find them.  And it sounds like the military isn’t taking in any more refugees.  I think you are right to be worried about them taking this ship away from us too.  Why wouldn’t they?  We’re nothing to them when the whole world is falling apart around them.”  She continued to sob for another minute while Scott held her and hardened his resolve to protect her and everyone aboard his ship from the ravages of this zombie war.  He had to ensure that they were not forced to give up the ship and join the chaos in San Diego.

*****

            The
Sovereign Spirit
and her little flotilla of tagalongs were still about twenty miles offshore when they met up with Coast Guard cutter
Stratton
at the international border with Mexico.  It was a couple of hours before dawn, but the sky was lit by a false dawn from the flames that were consuming Tijuana on the eastern horizon.   An unknown source had sparked it.   Now it was consuming the bullfighting ring near the beach and all the buildings lined up against the border fence.  Luckily, the clear zone on the U.S. side would act as a fire break and the wind was mostly calm now.  The border fence, reinforced by a line of closely spaced concrete columns, would also prevent a horde of “illegal” zombies from stampeding into San Diego.  Not that they wouldn’t have been embraced by a welcoming committee of equally zombified locals, many of whom had shared the same ethnic background.

            Scott was up on the bridge with Captain Fisher again, after taking a two hour nap.  They were monitoring the preparations in the engine room via closed circuit TV as they watched the Coast Guard Cutter
Stratton
take station off their port bow.  It was an impressive ship, almost as big as the
Sovereign Spirit,
and brand new too, commissioned only last month with all the modern bells and whistles.  The new National Security Cutters were quasi war ships, armed with one 57mm Bofors automatic cannon to attack surface targets or aircraft, a 20mm Phalanx close-in-weapons-system for missile defense, several 50 caliber machine guns, and a full suite of electronic warfare gear and countermeasures.  An armed MH-65D Dolphin helicopter was perched on the aft deck and another might be concealed in the double hanger. 

The
USCGC Stratton
also carried two high speed patrol boats on an aft ramp deck, one of them a Short Range Prosecutor and the other one a Long Range Interceptor.  They could be launched towards suspected smugglers, pirates, or terrorists while the ship was underway and carried their own machine guns and grenade launchers.  Scott was certain that there were plenty of armed Coast Guardsmen to man them too.

           
“Sovereign Spirit, this is Captain McCloud on the Stratton,”
was the radio call they were expecting. 
“Please prepare to change course and follow us to San Diego.  What is the best speed you and your convoy can make?”

            Scott and Captain Fisher exchanged glances before the captain replied, “Normally we could all make fifteen knots, but one of our engines is down for repairs and we would prefer not to arrive before dawn.  We can make ten knots.  Is that acceptable, Captain McCloud?”

           
“Affirmative, Sovereign Spirit, make it ten knots and prepare to take a course of zero three zero true. Over.”

           
“Yes, sir,” replied Captain Fisher, “
Sovereign Spirit
and convoy will comply.”  They had not been able to communicate their plan to George and the rest of their ragtag flotilla.  Scott actually thought it best that they were kept out of the information loop anyway.  The people on those yachts could play their parts in his plan best if they simply reacted with natural indignity and thoughts of self preservation when – no, still
if
– the
authorities
chose to commandeer the
Sovereign Spirit
, or turn the other boats away.

            “So,” said the captain, “What should we do now?”

            “Well, we’re not going to sail right into San Diego Bay,” replied Scott. “I need to get more confirmation of their intentions.  And I won’t get that here.  Tell Mick to prep the chopper for a flight to San Diego.  We might stop on the cutter first, but I need to meet the new head honchos before this ship enters that harbor.  And we need to be able to provide a live video feed of those engines, in case I need to order you to execute phase one of Plan Phoenix.  You okay with that, captain?”

            “Yes, Commodore,” replied Fisher with a determined tone. “Just give the word.  I’ll talk to the boys about setting up a live feed to the helicopter.  I think we can relay it from there to your laptop, or I-pad, as long as you are within Wi-Fi range of the chopper.”

“We can also put a live feed online at the
sovereignspirit.net
website,” added Marty Larson, the communications technician.  “We still have internet access, so the Navy must have it too, right?  Even if major nodes and servers are falling off the net every hour, we have our own server here.  Satellite bandwidth is limited and declining, but it should play video over the net even if it takes some buffering.  So we can still provide a streaming video from the engine room cameras online, if you want us to.”

“Sounds good,” confirmed Scott. “But add a pass code to view it.” 

“Aye aye, commodore,” said Captain Fisher with a smile.  “Make it so, Marty.”

*****

            Scott told Mick, Mark and Clint to get ready for another flight in the helicopter after confirming that Sam had replaced the damaged hydraulic line.  Then he got on the radio to set the stage for the next act in his passion play. 

            “Captain McCloud,” Scott said into the radio, ignoring normal call sign procedures.  “This is Scott Allen again.  Do you read me?”  There was close to least a minute of dead air space after that transmission.

             “
Yes, Mr. Allen, this is Captain McCloud on the Stratton.  What can I do for you now?”
The tone of voice conveyed a note of impatience. 

            “Captain McCloud,” said Scott carefully.  “I’m afraid I can’t order my ship and the boats following us to sail right into San Diego Bay without knowing what awaits us there.  I have a serious responsibility to my passengers, my crew, and the people on the boats of this flotilla to ensure that I don’t take them into worse danger than they are already in.  Since I have the capability to launch aerial reconnaissance, I have decided to do so.  Over.”

           
“Now wait a minute, Mr. Allen.  That was not part of the deal. What are you up to?”

 
          “I’m sure you can understand, Captain.  We need to get better intelligence on the conditions in San Diego before I can even consider taking my ship into that harbor.  We have been monitoring the news and we understand that the Navy and Marines are concentrated on Point Loma and Coronado Island.  It sounds like the rest of the city has been overrun by zombies.  Over.”

           
“I am not at liberty to confirm or deny any of that, Mr. Allen,”
Captain McCloud replied in a tone ripe with tension.
“But I can confirm that my orders are to escort you and the boats following you into San Diego Bay, and this is exactly what I am going to do.  Over.”

            “Captain McCloud,” Scott responded smoothly. “You are starting to sound a little upset.  Please don’t take this the wrong way.  I’m perfectly happy to go to San Diego to meet with the commanders there and discuss our plans.  But that doesn’t mean that I will bring this ship with me.  Not until I know
your
intentions and those of your commanders.  From what I am hearing on the radio and television, the Navy is turning away refugees who try to make it out to their ships, even firing on uninfected survivors in some cases.   You can’t expect me to take my ship into that kind of chaos, can you?”

           
“Mr. Allen,”
the Coast Guard officer answered. “
You
will
bring your ship into San Diego Bay if I order you to do so.  And you will
not
launch your helicopter without permission, unless you want me to blow it out of the sky.  Is that clear?”

            “Clear as day, Captain,” said Scott.  “But I can’t agree to your terms without additional assurances.”  With the transmit button still pressed on the radio microphone he turned to the bridge crew and said, “Order all stop.”  Then, to the Coast Guard, “I think we need to meet in person to discuss this situation, Captain McCloud.    Do you want to come aboard my ship?  Or will you invite me aboard yours?”

           
“Damn it, Mr. Allen,”
McCloud said with brimming anger. 
“I’ll come aboard your vessel, all right, with an armed boarding party to take command if necessary!”

           
“That would be a serious mistake, Captain McCloud,” Scott replied calmly.  “Under no circumstances will I, or my captain, relinquish command of this ship.  We have already placed explosives to disable the engines, as well as scuttling charges to sink the ship if necessary.”

           
“You what?!”
McCloud shouted. 
“Don’t even think about doing that!”

           
“Then don’t even think about commandeering my ship.  That’s a no-win scenario,” replied Scott in a firm voice.  “My invitation stands for you to inspect this ship and discuss our intentions in person, or I can come over to see you.  But please do not attempt to seize control of this vessel.  That will not help anyone.  Do you copy?”  There was a brief pause before McCloud answered.

           
“Alright, Mr. Allen,”
Captain McCloud said. 
“I’ll come over with a minimal escort to inspect your ship.  We can address all of your concerns when I arrive.  Hold your position.”

            “Thank you, sir,” replied Scott, trying to keep the sound of relief out of his voice.  “We’ll be standing by for your arrival and we’ll lower the aft vehicle ramp for boarding.”  Scott replaced the microphone and turned towards Captain Fisher.  “Well, Captain?  What are your thoughts?”