03 Deluge of the Dead (5 page)

On one hand, Scag knew that the only chance of long term survival and any hope restoring some form of civilization rested with groups such the one forming in the port. On the other hand, he wished they hadn’t chosen to set up their base so close to his hideout. Nobody knew his gang was there and the Aquarium had very few windows, so it was easy to keep the light of their lamps and the emergency generator concealed from prying eyes, but it was only a matter of time before those people sent out armed scouts to explore the Long Beach shorline. Eventually they were bound to stumble on the Surf Nazis in the Aquarium. Scag doubted they would like what they found. These thoughts only served to confirm his decision to move his gang soon.  The only question was where he would lead them and how they would get there. 

Scag was envious of all the people who had escaped the nightmare on land by fleeing to sea in their yachts. He could see hundreds, perhaps thousands, of boats moored in the bay. He suspected they were full of fat cat assholes and their spoiled brat kids, living the good life afloat while the rest of the world went to shit. It really pissed him off. Why should they escape the apocalypse? Gazing out at the growing Flotilla with a mixture of lust and disgust, the kernel of a plan was planted in his mind.

Chapter Two:

To: Sovereign Spirit.net

Sovereign Spirit, are you still there? There's five of us here, including a 9 year old, hunkered down in a hotel room about three blocks from the beach. We only have enough scavenged supplies left for about another 3 days. Any suggestions on how we can get from our hideout to you? One of us has a broken leg, another has a few broken ribs, but we are determined. You wouldn't happen to have a working chopper on that ship, would you? Please, please help us. You are our only hope, Sovereign Spirit! -- K. Benson

To: K. Benson

From: Billy (@sovereignspirit.net)

I’m sorry that our helicopter is committed to other operations. However, there is an evacuation scheduled to start later today and lasting through the rain storm. It should be safe for you to walk to the beach during the rain because the zombies afraid of water. When you get to the beach, stay close to the water until you see one of our rescue boats. Good luck!

Carl was up before dawn.  He didn’t want to get out of the bed in the stateroom that Scott had provided, it being the first real bed he had slept in since Z-Day, but he had a long and challenging day ahead.  He granted himself five minutes to take a much needed and very enjoyable shower, then dressed and headed down to the vehicle deck where the Marines were expecting him. 

“Good morning, sir,” said Sergeant-Major O’Hara as Carl approached the big Amtrac that he had ridden in yesterday during Operation Pied Piper.  “We’re good to go whenever you are.”

“Thank you, sir,” replied Carl.  “I’m ready.”

“Then climb aboard, son,” replied O’Hara with a smile.  “And sir?  Please don’t call
me
sir.  I still work for a living.  Besides, this is your plan and it sounds like you’ll be calling most of the shots today.”

“Yes, uh… Then what should I call you?” asked Carl hesitantly. 

“I’m Sergeant-Major O’Hara, but you can call me O’Hara, or Sarge, or anything but late, as in the late Sergeant-Major.  That is not part of this plan, sir.  I’m bringing a squad of Recon Marines to ride shotgun for your bulldozer and my men are itching to kick more zombie ass.  You sure showed them how to do it yesterday: outstanding planning and execution, by the way.  We’ll be proud to fight with you, sir.”

  Carl was a little taken aback by the praise, but he realized that what he had done to clear the bridge and then trap thousands of zombies on the docks had been exceptional.  The Marines and their armored vehicle had made it possible, but it had been Carl’s plan and he had believed in it enough to ride along and call the shots.  He was trying to think of how to respond to O’Hara when he spotted Karen Slade leaning out of the Amtrac to wave at him.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he called out. 

“What do you think?” she replied.  “I’m coming with you.”  Her tone was matter of fact and firm.

“You don’t have to do this,” Carl said. “Why don’t you stay here on the ship and take it easy?”

“Screw you, Stiller,” she said flippantly.  “I can take care of myself and I’ve got more experience surviving in the middle of those monsters than you do.  Don’t forget that I was on my own out there with nothing but a sword for more than a week.  Besides, even if I don’t get a chance to get my blade wet, you still might need my voice as a zombie lure.”

“Good point,” Carl agreed grudgingly.  “But we have a recording of your screams now that seems to work just as well as the real thing.”

“Nothing is ever as good as the real thing,” Karen said with a grin. “Besides, we make a good team, don’t we?” 

Carl wasn’t sure if there was more to her comment than the obvious.  Karen was a very attractive and intriguing woman, but Carl had lost his wife to a zombie attack on the first day of the apocalypse.  That was only two weeks ago.  Any attraction he felt towards Karen now only resulted in deeper feelings of guilt.  He couldn’t let either emotion cloud his judgment.  However, the fact was that Karen had proven herself to be a clear headed and capable partner in crisis situations, so Carl nodded reluctantly.

“Yeah, Blade,” Carl smiled sadly.  “We do make a good team.  You can come along, if you want to, but you don’t have to.  Clear?”

“Crystal,” replied Karen with a confident smirk as she adjusted the Samurai sword strapped to her back and pistol on her belt to sit down on the bench seat in the Amtrac. “Let’s get this show on the road.”’

Sergeant-Major O’Hara turned his head to hide a grin as he slapped Carl on the back and stage whispered, “Get used to it, sir.  The hardest lesson for a new commander to learn is recognizing when you can’t win and it’s time to cut your losses.”

Carl smiled back, but he realized that the seasoned Marine was making a point that went far beyond giving in to Karen’s desire to accompany them.  He fervently hoped that he wouldn’t be faced with that kind of choice for real on their current mission to clear an escape route on the freeway.  That thought brought back painful memories of leaving Chuck on a street full of zombies after he had been bitten while rescuing a family trapped in a disabled RV.  Had that only been yesterday?  He shook his head sadly as he removed his backpack from his shoulders, checked the safety on the shotgun holstered there, and set it down between Karen and his own spot on the bench.

*****

 Carla woke up for last time.  The sun hadn’t risen yet, but she could feel bile and vomit rising in her throat.  She reached over to grasp the man who had been lying next to her when she fell asleep, but realized that she was alone in the bed.  “Damn him,” she muttered while struggling up and heading for the head, as they called a toilet on this ship.  She almost made it there before her stomach betrayed her and vomit spewed onto the floor.  She was gasping and gagging as she fell to her knees in the puddle of her own puke and leaned over the toilet.  Her guts continued to convulse as they emptied the rest of their contents.

“Oh shit,” Carla groaned as she realized her bowels were about to void themselves too.  Luckily she was naked and barely managed to pull herself around and sit on the toilet in time.  She groaned and tried to figure out what was wrong as sharp cramps gripped her bowels.  Could it have been something she ate?  Was there a flu bug going around the ship?  It felt like her guts were being twisted around the shaft of one of the ship’s propellers.  Groaning, she reached for the waste basket as bile climbed her throat again. 

The vomiting and diarrhea continued unabated until Carla’s body had expelled everything in her digestive track.  Then the dry heaves and cramps took over, barely giving her time to breath between convulsive episodes. It seemed to go on for hours. “Dear God,” she moaned. “Just let me die already.” Of course she would not be let off that easy.

*****

Scott was also up before dawn. He knew he wouldn’t get much sleep the following night, if any, but there was much work to be done if they hoped to accomplish any sort of meaningful rescue operation during the impending storm.  By the time the rain started he hoped to have hundreds of boats deployed along the coast to pick up anyone who could make it to the ocean. That would require a lot of coordination and planning.  He started by placing a call to George Hammer, the new Harbor Master, who was living with his family aboard Scott’s Hatteras yacht, the
Expiscator.

“George?” asked Carl when his call went through. “Scott here. I need you to help me spread some news and instructions throughout the Flotilla. It’s going to be a busy day.”  He went on to describe his plan and George promised to set the wheels in motion.  Scott’s next stop was the bridge of the
Sovereign Spirit
where he found Captain Jordan Fisher.

“Jordy,” said Scott. “Operation Dunkirk is going to be the most ambitious plan we’ve tried yet.  I have no idea how many survivors will show up on the piers and beaches along the coast, but I want every resource of the Flotilla, ready for action.”

“We’ll be ready, sir,” replied the captain. “I’ve already informed my officers of the plan and we’ll be ready to launch all of the tenders by noon.  Where would you like to station the
Sovereign Spirit
during the operation?”

“I’m not sure yet, Jordy,” said Scott. “We’ll play that by ear, depending on where and how many survivors show up for pick-up.  But we should keep the Cigarette boat in reserve for any fast response that’s required.  For now I’d like you to start plotting a grid along the coast where survivors are most likely to show up.  We’ll assign positions to the ships and boats of the Flotilla based on those assumptions and make adjustments as necessary.  In the meantime I’m going to call Captain McCloud on the
Stratton.
  We’re going to need a lot of coordination with the Coast Guard. Any other developments I should know about?”

“Well,” said Captain Fisher, “Your plans for this operation are the only thing the remaining radio and TV channels are talking about this morning.  Your friend at GNN is about to have a nervous breakdown.”

“Fox Rusher?” asked Scott with a grin.

“Who else?” Captain Fisher said sarcastically. “I thought his eyes would pop out when he started reading the announcement about using sprinklers to deter zombie attacks, but he really lost it when he reported that the mayor had endorsed your plan to relocate survivors during the imminent rain storm.  He had to stop and ask for confirmation from his producers twice.  I don’t think he believes any of it, but at least he is reporting it.  I don’t know how many survivors will hear the news, or if they will believe it and act on it, but GNN and the Emergency Broadcast System are doing their best to get the word out.” 

“That’s all we can ask,” Scott said and nodded thoughtfully.  “Let’s add our own voice to the mix.  Ask Marty to put together a transmission to send out from here and ask the Sea Launch Commander to relay it on other frequencies too.  We should be able to broadcast on Marine and Weather band channels, as well as AM and FM frequencies.  I’ll get my son, Billy, to post a notice on sovereign spirit dot net and other internet sites too. Let’s do everything we can to spread word of our plans in the remaining hours before the storm arrives.” 

*****

Carl and Sergeant Major O’Hara discussed their strategy for clearing the freeway on the short trip to the Marine Reserve Center where the convoy from the refinery was encamped.  O’Hara encouraged Carl and Karen to ride in the Amtrac with the Marines, but Carl insisted on driving his zombie-proof Suburban, arguing that it would give him better maneuverability and perspective.  Karen insisted on going with him again.  Carl reluctantly agreed, but handed O’Hara the micro-recorder with Karen’s screams for use by the Marines. “Since your APC is secure and well armed, it might be best for you to attract most of the attention,” said Carl.

“Outstanding plan,” agreed O’Hara with a smile as he pocketed the recorded zombie lure.  “And you will have the real thing riding with you, in case you need to lead them away again.” O’Hara gestured towards Karen. “Just be damned careful not to get bottled up in the traffic jams.  Let us and the heavy equipment clear the road and stay close enough to the fire trucks for them to wash off the Z’s.”

Carl nodded as he watched the rest of the hand-picked vehicles gathering in the parking lot of the Reserve Center under the eerie light of dawn. The big earthmover from the refinery was joined by a slightly smaller model that had been used to clean up the bodies of zombies in front of the Queen Mary.  It had received a quick facelift of chain link around the driver’s cab to make it zombie-proof. These big machines would do the heavy lifting when it came to clearing the traffic jams. The zombie-proof wrecker with its powerful winch might prove useful and they were also bringing the shuttle bus in case they stumbled upon more survivors.

The Panther fire truck was manned and full of water.  It was accompanied by three other conventional fire engines, including the one Carl had liberated and two others from fire stations in the port.  The water truck from the refinery was also present. These fire-fighting apparatus should provide at least partial defense against zombies until the storm arrived.

Carl was about to get into the Suburban when his friend Gus jogged over and asked to ride along in the back seat, seeing that Karen had already claimed the front passenger seat.  Carl tried to dissuade him, but Gus persisted.  “What is it with you two?” Carl asked in exasperation. “You’d have to be crazy to
want
to go out there and face another horde of zombies. I have to do this because it’s my idea, but you can both stay in the safe haven.  Why the hell do you want to go with me?”

“Where you lead, I follow, Boss,” said Gus. “Don’t forget that you made me a hero when we saved all those people at the RV Park.  I got a reputation to live up to now. Besides, I’m starting to think that sticking close to you is the safest place to be.”  Carl snorted and shook his head in defeat while Karen let out a giggle. Five minutes later they were leading the expeditionary force back towards the Vincent Thomas Bridge.