Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga (38 page)

            “Billy,” Scott said over the intercom.  “We’ll be flying over your friends in a few seconds.  I want you to point out the house to me now, so I know where it is later.  And we can slow down for a few seconds for you to talk to them over the public address speaker and tell them to prepare for extraction.  Okay?” 

            “Yes, sir,” said Billy in a voice that Scott almost didn’t recognize.  It was harder than usual and carried a tone of determination that Scott had rarely heard from his son.

            “Stay cool, son,” Scott said.  “Just tell them to get ready and that we will be back as soon as possible to rescue them.  Okay?”

            “I got it,” Billy said in an even cooler tone.

            “Okay,” said Scott as they crested the hill.  “Which house is it?”

            “It’s the new house at the end of the road, on the top of the hill, where we used to go to watch fireworks,” Billy explained.  Scott frowned.  That would have been easy enough to describe without Billy being here.  But here they were.  And there it was.

            “Okay Billy,” said Scott.  “You’re plugged in now.  Whatever you say will go out on the PA speaker.”  Scott hoped that Billy would handle it well.

           
“Attention, Fucking A Team!”
Billy’s voice boomed out. 
“Prepare for extraction!  We are coming to get you.  This is Billy Allen.  Get ready to bug out of here.  We’ll be back soon.”

Not bad
, thought Scott.  “Good job, son,” he said.  “Now sit back and stay out of the way.  We’ll be landing at the lab in less than a minute. 
Don’t
get out of the chopper.” 

“Okay, dad,” Billy replied evenly.

Scott took the helicopter over the hill and accelerated quickly down and across Serra Retreat to the other side of Malibu Canyon.  The old Hughes Research Laboratory was perched above the campus of Pepperdine University, with a fantastic view of the ocean.  This was the birthplace of the modern laser.  Now it might hold the cure, or at least some answers, to the zombie apocalypse. 

*****

The sun was setting behind the hill above HRL.  Only a couple dozen cars were spread out across the tiered parking lots.  The lab had gone into lockdown early on the morning of Z Day, April 1
^st
.   Any zombies that had been locked outside, as well as normal people, had long since left the scene in search of food, of whatever type.  Any people inside the lab buildings, living or undead, were stuck there due to the security measures built into the facility, unless they broke out some windows. 

The tranquility of the empty lab compound was shattered by the thumping rotors and whine of two helicopters darting across the canyon.  They rose and slowed, flaring into a deafening hover over the parking lot, then settled slowly to land on the asphalt.  Dust, leaves and even a few tumble weeds billowed away from the rotor wash.  Nobody came to welcome or attack them.  A coyote ran away with its tail between its legs, seemingly surprised and annoyed that men had returned to rule this little piece of the world, if only for a short time. 

The four Marines jumped out with weapons at the ready, two from each helicopter.  They moved in practiced formation towards the main entrance.  Mark jumped out too, with his M-203 at the ready, and scanned their surroundings.  Scott looked back at Billy as he unbuckled his safety harness.  Billy returned the look expectantly.

“Stay here Billy and protect Mick and the helicopter.  We’ll need a secure path of retreat,” said Scott.

“You told mom that you would stay with me,” pointed out Billy.

“And you promised her that you would do what I told you to do,” Scott replied.  Then he turned to Mick and said, “I’ll kill you if you let anything happen to him.  And don’t let him leave the chopper.”

“Sure thing, boss,” said Mick Williams as he checked his .45 pistol and reached behind his seat for the case with his rifle.  “Can I shoot him in the leg if he tries to get out?”

“Both of you behave yourselves!” Scott admonished.  Then he hopped out and grabbed his own M-203, running to catch up with Mark and the Marines.  He asked Mark to remain outside the door and cover the chopper, then joined O’Hara and the other three Marines at the entrance to the lab.  It was locked, but the glass doors were not bullet proof.  Scott nodded permission and O’Hara used his CAR-15 to blast in the window with a short burst.  The five of them rushed into the building with weapons at the ready.  There was no sign of anyone, living or undead, in the lobby.

Scott unfolded a small floor plan that had been emailed by the CDC.  It showed their destination to be on this floor at the west end of the building.  Scott and the four Marines moved cautiously down the corridor.  All of the doors appeared locked.  They had key card electronic locks and all of them had blinking red lights.  The lab was still in lockdown mode and the emergency power source was keeping it that way.

When they reached the corridor that should take them to their objective they found a locked double door blocking their way.  O’Hara looked to Scott for guidance, perhaps focusing on the grenade launcher mounted under Scott’s assault rifle.  That was quite a can opener.  But Scott had another idea.  He looked up at the fire sprinklers and smoke detectors in the corridor, as well as the exit sign above the locked door.  “What do you think the lockdown program would do if the fire alarm went off?” asked Scott.

“I have no idea,” replied O’Hara.  “Do you?”

“Yeah,” Scott answered.  “By law, or the laws we had last week, it would have to release any electronic locks on any exit route, at least in the direction of egress.”  Five years as a construction superintendent was paying off.

“So what, sir?” asked Corporal Morris.

“So,” answered Scott.  “I quit smoking last year.  Do any of you have a lighter?”

“Here, sir,” offered Private Snow as he pulled a lighter from his pocket.  Scott took it and pulled a bench away from the wall of the corridor.  He stood on it and lifted the lighter to the device on the ceiling in front of the elevator.  That should be a heat detector.  Then he flicked the lighter and held it up to the fixture.  Ten seconds later the fire alarm went off.  Almost hidden by the sound of the alarm came a distinctive click as the lock on the door in front of them disengaged. 

“Good job!” yelled O’Hara, over the sound of the alarm.  He pushed the door open and jumped back as three zombies erupted from the corridor beyond.  Corporal Morris used his CAR-15 to take two of them out with precise head shots.  O’Hara took care of the third with a point blank shot through the eye, pushing the body aside with the smoking muzzle of this carbine. 

Scott joined them as they began to move down the hallway.  Then they were distracted by dinging sound behind them: the elevator enunciator.   Turning back, Scott was only slightly surprised to see the elevator doors open and half a dozen bloody zombies pour out of it.  The fire alarm would have recalled the elevator car to the ground floor.  The zombies had probably been trapped in there since Z-Day, although Scott wondered if they all been zombies when they got trapped together.  All it would have taken was one of them to be infected.  Putting such thoughts aside, Scott aimed his M-203 and fired without hesitation.  The 40mm shotgun round tore the ghouls to shreds.  A couple of well placed bullets from O’Hara finished off the two that were still moving.

Other doors were opening now that the fire alarm had deactivated the lockdown protocol.  A total of four more zombies emerged into the hallway and the Marine’s dispatched them with bullets to the head, as soon as they were sure that they were zombies.

“Damn,” said Scott.  “Maybe the fire alarm wasn’t such a good idea.  Who knows how many of those things we just let out into the building!  And we need to be sure that we don’t shoot the people we are here to rescue either.”

“The alarm will probably attract other zombies towards this building too,” yelled O’Hara. “We need to move fast.”  Scott nodded in agreement. 

The room they were looking for was at the end of the hall.  It opened slightly as they approached and a head peeked out into the hall.  “Don’t shoot me!” called a terrified voice.  

“Are you Willard Bernhard?” yelled Scott. 

“Yes,” the man replied. “I’m Doctor Bernhard.  Who are you?”

“I’m Scott Allen and these men are United States Marines.  We’ve been sent to rescue you by the CDC and Homeland Security.  We have helicopters waiting outside, but we need to hurry before more zombies show up.  Is anyone else with you?”

“Yes my assistant, Miss Hanson, is in here.  And I’ll need a minute to grab my computer and research files.  Please wait for us,” Dr. Bernhard said as he ducked back into the room.  O’Hara signaled his men to cover the hallway as he and Scott followed the scientist into his lab. 

Scott wasn’t quite sure what he expected Bernhard’s lab to look like, but it hadn’t been this.  Two walls were lined with bookshelves and file cabinets, another had a rack full of computer hardware, and the fourth held lockers with biohazard labels on the doors.  In the center of the room sat a large Plexiglas enclosure containing a glass tank with a body inside it.  Scott shivered slightly as he saw the body struggle against the straps that secured it there.  It was a zombie.

Dr. Bernhard and a petite young woman with red hair and slim figure were busy putting paper files and CD-ROM disks into two brief cases.  The woman looked up at them and smiled.  “Thank God,” she said.  “I thought we would starve to death in here.  We finished off the last of the professor’s stash of candy and granola bars yesterday.”  She turned to Bernhard and said, “Hurry up professor, I’m starving!”

“Coming, my dear,” replied Bernhard as he finished putting his laptop in its case. 

“What about that thing?” Scott asked as he pointed to the zombie in the Plexiglas tank.

“We got everything we need from him,” replied the professor dismissively. 

“Should we kill it?” asked O’Hara.

“No,” answered Bernhard.  “I might want to come back to check on him someday.  Just too see if how long it will remain animated without food, water, or external stimulation.” 

“Okay,” Scott said, trying to hide his disgust at the callus attitude of the scientist.  “Then let’s get out of here!”  As he reached over and took one of the brief cases there was more gunfire from the hallway.  They emerged to see the three Marines shooting at a group of zombies at the other end of the hall, with more coming around the corner.  They were moving fast.  O’Hara added his own well aimed shots and all of the zombies were soon down.  Meanwhile the professor had closed the door to his lab and turned to lead them out the emergency exit away from the approaching zombies.  Scott agreed that it would be best to get out of the building here, even if that meant they had to walk around it to get back to the choppers in the parking lot. 

Scott went out the door first, making sure no more zombies were waiting to jump them outside.  The rest followed quickly.  They turned north and ran down the walkway to the end of the building.  As they turned the corner they heard gunfire from the parking lot ahead of them.  Scott picked up his pace, fearing for Billy’s safety, and ran recklessly around the next corner.  It almost cost him is life.

A bullet ricocheted off the concrete wall inches from his head.  Scott dove off the path, into the bushes, in case another shot followed it.  But then he looked up and saw Mick Williams wave at him from the door of the helicopter.  He was holding his Winchester 300 magnum rifle in his other hand and smiling apologetically.  He must have thought Scott was a zombie for a second.  Scott was less angry than shocked at the moment, but he would have a talk with Mick later.  At the moment he was more concerned about Billy. 

Then he saw Billy step around the other side of the helicopter and fire the shotgun.  A zombie that had appeared from behind a parked truck staggered from the hole Billy had put in his gut, but kept running towards him.   Billy pumped the shotgun and fired again.  This time he hit it in the head and the zombie went down.  Scott picked himself up as the Marines brought Professor Bernhard and Miss Hanson around the corner of the building.  They all jogged towards the choppers.  Mark saw them and came back from the front door to the building, where he had been picking off any zombies that tried to come outside.

“You better take the professor and his assistant in the Coast Guard chopper,” Scott called to the Marines.  “I still need to pick up my son’s friends on the other side of the canyon.  Let’s get out of here before more zombies show up!”

“I’ll come with you,” said O’Hara.  “The rest of my men can provide cover fire from the Dolphin, if necessary.”  Scott nodded and they ran to board the Super Huey.