03 Deluge of the Dead (35 page)

During the rushed preparations for this desperate mission Scott also recalled that one of his old friends had made contact by email from his own yacht off the coast of Santa Barbara in the first days of the apocalypse. Scott had advised him to remain anchored off the coast there and promised to look for him eventually. It looked like he was going to keep his promise. Scott planned to warn the boat people and others near the coast of the threat from the approaching pirates. As if those poor folks didn’t have enough to worry about from the zombies!

 Scott triggered the private intercom channel with Mick. “Almost home, buddy,” he commented. The two of them had grown up together in Santa Barbara and knew the coastline like the back of their hands. Even in the dark of night, with a raging storm and no sign of electric lights below, they were flying unerringly towards their destination without hesitation.

“Not quite like old times,” Mick replied.  “This shit sucks.”

“I hear you,” Scott agreed. “But these bastards are coming to our turf now. They’ll learn better to fuck with Santa Barbarians.” His tight grin was not visible behind the surgical mask and darkness in the cockpit, but Mick could hear the inflection in his voice.

The helicopter rose slightly to cut across the hill of the Montecito Cemetery and Scott turned to look out to sea. The view was obscured by the rain, but he spotted the lights of several boats about eight or nine miles offshore and closing. “We won’t have much time to set this up,” Scott said. “Slow down above any boats anchored off Cabrillo Boulevard. We have to warn them about what’s coming. By the way, did I tell you Rex and his wife were anchored there the last time I heard from them?”

“No way, seriously?” Mick said. “Well, hell yeah, we gotta warn them.”

Scott reached up switched on the PA system as the helicopter swooped into a hover above dozens of yachts and sailboats that tossed at anchor in the storm swells a few hundred yards from the beach. “
Attention on the boats below, wake up down there
!” Scott said over the loudspeakers. It was two hours before dawn with hardly a light to be seen on any of the anchored boats. Without this warning they would have been taken by total surprise when the Surf Nazis arrived. “Attention below, this is Scott Allen of the
Sovereign Spirit
, Commodore of the Survival Flotilla. You must weigh anchor and get into the harbor immediately. A hostile force of pirates will be arriving here shortly. There’s a Coast Guard cutter that will defend the harbor, but you are not safe out here.”

Scott watched as lights began to come on aboard the boats. Looking back out to sea Scott saw the lights of the pirate boats were obviously closer now. “You only a have a few minutes left. Start your engines, cut your anchor lines, and make best speed to the safety of the harbor. These pirates are coming to steal your boats and kidnap your women and children. Trust me. They just attacked the boats that were anchored out at the oil rigs. This is your only warning. Get your boats to the harbor immediately, or swim for shore.” 

Scott was pleased to see activity erupt on most of the anchored boats. He was about to turn off the PA when he spotted his friend Rex Oliver running onto the deck of his 46 foot Wellcraft in what looked like his pajamas. “Rex, is that you?” Scott said over the loudspeaker. The man below looked up and waved. “Cut your anchor line and meet us at the pier.”

Mick flew the helicopter over to Sterns Warf while Scott turned his attention to the Marines in the rear of the helicopter. “We’ll deploy on the pier and prepare to repel the pirates,” Scott said over the intercom. He received nods and thumbs up as the men checked their gear and weapons.  Scott checked his own vest and web gear, making sure the Desert Eagle was strapped into the shoulder holster, as Mick looked for a safe place to set down on the pier.

“You’re not thinking of going with them, are you?” Mick asked over the intercom.

“I think I better,” Scott replied. “You need to fly back to the
Sovereign Spirit
to pick up more Marines for the hostage rescue mission, but I’ve got an idea on how to draw them into a trap, after these Marines and the Coast Guard drive them away from the harbor.”

“What idea?” Mick asked he set the Super Huey into a low hover over the pier and the Marines began to hump out.

“No time to explain now,” Scott said. “You’ll know it when you see it.” Then he opened the cockpit door and hopped down onto Sterns Warf. Mick, finding himself alone in the helicopter, just shook his head in disbelief and added lift with the collective to fly off into the darkness. Scott had a way of springing surprises when you least expected it.

*****

Stan Dawson spotted a few intermittent lights and possible movement in the darkness ahead.  It was hard to discern past the rolling swells and sheets of rain, but it had to be coming from the shore in front of Santa Barbara. Stan he would be damned if he would draw the pirate’s attention to it. He had learned his lesson at the oil rig. He fervently hoped that the survivors in Santa Barbara had been warned and would be ready to repel and kill as many pirates as possible. These bastards deserved to die.

“How long until we get to Santa Barbara?” his sadistic minder asked.

“About fifteen minutes, I guess,” Stan replied as he reduced power imperceptibly. The longer he could postpone the inevitable attack the better.

“Hey, Scag,” the pirate spoke into the radio. “We’re getting close. You still want to come over here and lead the attack?”  This came as something of a surprise to Stan. He hadn’t seen their leader since he boarded the
Expiscator.
If he was coming over to the ferry, Stan might get a chance to kill the fucker.

“Yeah,” replied a sleepy and possibly drunk voice. “Just give me a minute to get dressed. I’ll tell the kid to stop the
Exterminator
when I’m ready and you can pull up next to us. Think you can handle that?”

“Yes, boss,” replied the pirate standing next to Stan. “We’ll be ready for you. This should be a blast.” The pirate set down the little radio and smiled. To Stan he looked like a kid on Christmas Eve, but with much darker expectations than the kids Stan knew. This was just more proof of the evil nature of the men who had captured him and more reason for Stan to wish them dead.  

*****

The famous Sterns Warf was a shambles and formed a fitting scene for a post-apocalyptic battle. The rain had washed most of the blood into the sea, but many of the bodies it came from were still sprawled on the pier. The rest were probably walking around somewhere nearby.  Scott set that thought aside and waved the Marines towards the end of the pier. They gathered in front of the Harbor Restaurant and Scott turned to address them. Before speaking he glanced out at the boats anchored beyond the pier. Many of them were now moving towards the harbor, but at least a dozen sat dark and silent. They were probably abandoned, possibly inoperable, but the pirates wouldn’t know that when they arrived. They would offer ample bait for the sharks that were coming their way.

“This will be an ambush, pure and simple,” Scott said. “Those assholes will sail into our field of fire and we will show them the error of their ways. However, there will be no indiscriminate shots. They are holding hostages, including my wife and son. I don’t want them to realize they’re facing an organized military unit right away either. So we’ll only take aimed single shots. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” replied the Marines in loud whispers. The FBI sniper just nodded.

“My son might be piloting the
Expiscator
,” Scott continued. “And we don’t know who is driving the ferry. What we do know is that there are a lot of armed pirates heading this way and it’s our job to stop them.” Scott paused and looked around.

“It’s still raining, so we should be safe from zombies, but that could change at any moment. Stay alert and stay smart. I have a plan for a rescue, but we need to stop them from gaining a beachhead first. Are you all onboard with this?” The answer was unanimously affirmative.

“I want a fire team near the end of the pier and another on the deck of the Harbor Restaurant,” Scott said. “You’ll need to prevent the pirates from getting onto the pier and help the Coast Guard keep them out of the harbor. They might go for some of the abandoned boats at anchor, but don’t worry about that unless they get them underway. Remember the rules of engagement. Please don’t shoot my wife or son. Let’s just stop these assholes and try to hold them until the
Sovereign Spirit
arrives.”

“Yes, sir!” the Marines called out before splitting up into two fire teams.

Scott beckoned to the FBI sniper and said, “You’re with me. I’m catching a ride to set a trap and I hope you can get in position take some critical shots when I give the word.” Scott checked his M-203 and slung it over his shoulder. He glanced at the sniper’s rifle and whistled. “Is that a Barrett?”

“Yes, sir,” the sniper replied.

“What’s your name, agent?” Scott tried to make small talk as they walked down the pier.

“Lance,” he replied.

“You don’t talk much, do you, Lance?” Scott asked.

“No,” Lance answered honestly.

“Not a problem, Lance. Just listen and nod,” Scott said. “Here’s the plan…”

*****

Billy was surprised when Scag returned to the bridge and told him to slow down and pull up next to the ferry. They were about three or four miles offshore at the time and Billy had noticed some movement of boats going into the Santa Barbara Harbor. He hoped that meant that a warning had been sent from the oil rig the pirates had attacked. Billy hoped that these demented gangsters would get their heads blown off by the survivors in his father’s home town. He wasn’t even worried about his own fate, but hoped that his mother would survive.

Scott’s son had no illusions about the possibility of his father arriving to save the day. There was no doubt in his mind that the Commodore was no longer among the living. The infection should have claimed him by now, but Scott never would have allowed himself to join the ranks of the undead. Billy was certain that his father had put a bullet in his own brain before then. He was on his own to survive and rescue his mother. That conviction terrified him, but it also hardened his resolve. They must escape soon, or they would be doomed to suffer the pain and suffering that Scag and his gang was bound to dish out.

“You watch this little punk closely, Terrance,” Scag said. “Don’t bring my
Exterminator
into the fight. I want you to keep this boat safe. This kid and his mother are probably worth some ransom, and I’m taking a shine to my new old ladies downstairs too, not to mention the comforts of this boat.” Scag smiled in what was probably supposed to be a friendly gesture, but it made Billy’s blood run cold. Nevertheless, he was anxious to get Scag off the
Expiscator
and did a masterful job of positioning it for Scag’s transfer to the larger ferry full of pirates. He was only slightly distracted when he heard Scag stop to say something to Michelle before heading down to the aft deck for the transfer.

*****

Michelle had been tied to the bed in the captain’s cabin of the
Expiscator
for many hours. All sorts of thoughts had gone through her head. Most of them related to her dying husband, Scott, but Billy was never far from her mind. She also felt many moments of despair as the yacht continued to travel at what certainly felt like full speed. She was certain that it was taking her away from Scott and the only friends she still had. The only brief moments of hope came when she heard Billy’s voice echo occasionally from the bridge. Her son was still alive.

She cringed when Scag opened the door and entered the cabin. His yellowing teeth reflected dimly from the single lit light when he smiled. “I hope these humble accommodations are up to your high standards,” Scag said in a stage whisper. “I’m afraid I don’t have time to take you to the ladies room. You’ll just have to piss in your panties. But don’t worry, that won’t turn me off. I’ll be happy if your crotch is already wet when I get back.” His laugh was chilling and Michelle fought to hide her disgust. She was thankful when his scary smile retreated behind the closing door.

*****

“Rex?” Scott yelled down at the small yacht that was pulling up to the pier. “Is that you?”

“Yes, Scott,” a disgruntled voice called back from the flying bridge. “God bless you for coming. I knew you would. But what the hell is going on? We’ve been hiding out here from zombies for weeks waiting for you, and now you wake me up in the middle of the night to say we have to deal with pirates too? This is just wrong!”

“I agree, Rex,” Scott yelled. “Pull alongside so I can jump down there and explain it to you. We don’t have much time.”

“Okay. Hold your horses,” replied Rex Oliver as he maneuvered his little yacht next to the pier. Scott watched as the boat rose and fell with the swells. He waited until the vessel rose to the top of a swell, with the flying bridge just a few feet below him, and jumped as the boat began to drop. It seemed like a good idea, to let the dropping boat cushion his fall, until he realized that the boat kept dropping and moving at the same time. He landed awkwardly and scrambled to avoid falling down to the fishing cockpit. At least no bones were broken and only his pride seemed excessively bruised.

Scott looked back up at the FBI sniper and waved. It was the first time he saw the big man smile. The sniper looked as if he were about to laugh out loud. Instead he nodded his head slightly. Scott hoped Lance understood the plan.  He was satisfied when Lance settled into a firing position on the pier and checked to make sure his semiautomatic sniper rifle was in good order, careful to keep the optical sight covered and protected from the rain.

“Welcome aboard mate!” Rex said as he added power to pull the boat away from the pier. “What’s the plan?”

*****

Scag quickly took charge of the bridge on the
Catalina Jet Cat
. He instructed Stan to increase speed and head directly toward the mouth of the harbor at close to 35 knots. The rest of the pirate boats were left behind in their wake. Most of the pirates were on the ferry and Scag planned to use its speed to take the unsuspecting targets by surprise. When they got to within a mile of the harbor Scag activated the intercom to give his band of pirates a pep talk.