Convoy 19: A Zombie Novel (18 page)

Chapter 30

“I’m sorry I couldn’t look at this earlier.” Kelly said, as she examined Miguel’s leg.

Miguel had lain on his back for the majority of the afternoon, waiting patiently for her attention. As the lone doctor in the entire facility, the only assistance Kelly had was a nervous Marine security guard and a teenage Army combat medic. The Marine sentry was distracted by the growing mass of undead along the outer fence. The combat medic, Private Heimbach, hadn’t even completed his training. He was better suited as a courier – running around San Onofre looking for something Kelly needed – gauze, antibiotics, and crutches.

“No…er…problem.” Miguel grit his teeth through the pain as Kelly unwrapped the bandages from his improvised splint. “Is everyone checked out?”

“Almost.” Kelly nodded, and a saddening thought entered her mind. She hadn’t seen Nicole or her son during the screening. She couldn’t remember seeing them escape from the DDC, but she certainly would remember seeing them killed. She sighed; how many people had simply disappeared? How many friends, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters were simply swallowed up by the undead legions…only to rise as just another faceless monster?

“How we doing, soldier? You patched up and ready to sip martinis on some cruise ship?” Carl said loudly as he approached with Pam.

Miguel turned to see his friends. “Just my luck…” He gestured toward his broken leg. “I finally get a vacation and this happens!”

“We need to be screened.” Carl held up his hand. It was devoid of the black ink mark that would indicate Kelly had examined them for bites and infection.

Kelly nodded. “Give me one second.” Kelly felt around Miguel’s lower leg, and he grimaced in pain. “This is going to hurt a little…”

“Okay…” Miguel took a deep breath.

Kelly squeezed hard on Miguel’s leg until she felt the bones realign. He bit down hard on his shirtsleeve and gripped the edges of his cot until his knuckles turned white.

“Private Heimbach,” Kelly addressed the young combat medic, “wrap this up and put a cast around it.” Making a cast was not demanding and the green combat medic would have minimal chance of messing up. “Okay, step behind the curtain please.” She instructed Pam to go first.

Pam stepped into the private screening area and began taking her clothes off. “So what happens if I don’t clear?” She said nervously.

“I’ve cleared everyone except for three people so far…” Kelly hesitated, considering those she had not cleared. “We have a place for them to wait, and in a couple of days, they’ll be transported to the fleet.”

“So, if I don’t clear, I get to wait around with three people who may be infected?” Pam murmured.

“You’re clear.” Kelly said casually after a few moments of examining Pam. “You can get dressed now… If you hadn’t cleared, you would be waiting with
four
people.” Kelly spoke with reluctance, but decided it was better to be transparent. “I was unable to clear one of your team. He probably isn’t bitten, but we can’t take the chance. There’s also an engineer from San Onofre, and a little girl from the DDC. Her dad is staying with her… until she turns.” Breaking the news to the young girl’s father was among the most difficult things Kelly had ever done. The man’s eyes had welled with tears as she explained to him what to expect and how to take precautions after the girl turned. “There’s a camp set up on the roof of this building.”

Pam dressed herself while she dwelled on the soldier from her team that had not been cleared. She stepped out from behind the curtain and looked at Carl. He had heard Kelly and his grief was masked beneath a veneer of optimism. The idea that he might lose yet another man under his command, was a heavy burden that he hid too well.

Kelly used a black permanent marker on Pam’s hand to signify that Pam had passed the screening. She now had access to the fleet. “You’re up.” She motioned for Carl to step behind the curtain.

Carl undressed, and Kelly inspected him for injury. Kelly was satisfied he had not been bitten after a brief inspection. “You can get dressed.”

“Control room! This is a code orange! Code orange!” Lieutenant Commander Holt shouted into a walkie-talkie. He ran from Building One, past the screening facility, and toward the entrance of Building Two with an entourage of soldiers.

Without a word, the Marine security guard that had been assigned to the screening facility burst into a sprint to join his commanding officer.

“What’s a code orange?” Kelly asked Private Heimbach.

“The outer fence has been breached.” He stood up nervously. “We should get to Building Two.”

Miguel struggled to his feet with the help of two improvised crutches – a coat rack sawed to the proper length and two canes duct-taped together. “Just so you all know, I’m tripping one of you if they come after us.” His still-wet cast dripped a milky white puddle on the ground.

A female voice came over the PA system. “All personnel, please make your way to Building Two immediately and follow the directions to the roof. The outer fence has failed. I repeat, all personnel, please…”

Gasps and screams could be heard around the power plant as people reacted to the news. Everyone in the vicinity began to rush toward Building Two.

“Why is there no gunfire?” Carl asked as Kelly quickly inked his hand.

“We have standing orders to save the last of our ammunition to defend the rooftops.” Private Heimbach answered. They began to follow the movement towards Building Two.

Carl punched the button for his communications network. “Convoy Nineteen personnel, please make your way to Building Two immediately.”

“Will do, sir. On our way…” a voice came back. “We have some older folks we need to move and its taking some time. Much of the convoy team had been helping with supplies from Building One.”

The silhouettes of the undead outside the fence seemed endless. Behind leering forms pressed up against the chain links, the horde disappeared into the blackness of the night. Here and there, the unmistakable clang of a fencepost snapping and clattering to the ground echoed through the darkness. San Onofre’s lights cast a dim orange halo of illumination, but in the shadows beyond, there lurked monsters.

Inside Building Two was a well-lit hallway. Large arrows were spray-painted on the floors and walls, and they directed refugees to the roof. Two marines knelt just inside the main entryway. They scanned the perimeter with their rifles as people rushed past.

“Can we do anything to help?” Carl asked the sentries.

“Just get to the roof, sir. Everything is under control.” One of the marine’s stated dryly. He flipped his night vision goggles from his helmet to his eyes and back again. He repeated the gesture twice, took aim with his rifle, and pressed a button on his shoulder radio. “WDs inside the fence approaching west side entrance.”

“Copy that,” a voice came back, “WDs approaching east side entrance as well. Hold your position.” Suddenly, gunshots rang out from the other side of the building.

“Who wants to give me a piggy back ride?” Miguel tried to cut the tension...

“Let’s go.” Carl nodded and spoke into his command network again. “Convoy Nineteen personnel, get to the roof of Building Two ASAP. WDs have breached the outer fence and this place will be crawling with them.”

“We’re coming, sir,” a voice replied.

“Time is of the essence…” Carl swam through his thoughts to pair a name with a voice, but failed, “…soldier.”

Private Heimbach and Carl came to Miguel’s aid, and they followed the arrows to the roof. By the time they got to the stairwell, it was vacant – the sound of fleeing footsteps echoed down to them from above.

“Go go go!” someone shouted from the hallway. A second later, the stairwell door was flung open, and a handful of marines rushed in. “C4” someone ordered. Another soldier began fixing small grey balls to the bottom of the ground floor staircase.

“This is gonna hurt,” Carl warned Miguel.

“Yep, go!” Miguel took a deep breath.

Carl and Private Heimbach began frantically rushing up the stairs carrying Miguel. Kelly followed hastily. Pam carried Miguel’s crutches at the rear.

They thrust open the door to the roof to be greeted by a grim looking Lieutenant Commander Holt. A dozen marines sat on the edge of the roof, firing at the ground below. A large crowd of civilians fought with each other over seats in a helicopter that was sitting on the rooftop landing pad.

An armed soldier stood between the panicked mob and the helicopter. “Please remain calm. Everyone will get their turn! We’re safe up here. Just board the transports in an orderly manner, and we’ll have everyone out of here in no time.”  The lights of a second helicopter were already approaching from a distance, but many in the crowd continued pushing and shoving for a spot.

Carl, Miguel, Pam, and Kelly, rushed over to the edge of the roof to look out into the darkness. The vanguard of the undead hordes had begun to surround the building. Sporadic gunfire would ring out, but the effort was futile. An endless wall of ghouls swarmed around the building.

“Shit, look!” Miguel gasped under his breath.

A dozen people burst from Building One and ran frantically toward Building Two. Undead began converging on them from all directions, and soldiers from the roof of Building Two did their best to cover them as they moved.

Carl fell to his knees. “Shit…”

Four convoy crewmembers lead the charge from Building One. Two had young children on their backs as they ran firing their weapons.  They were spending the last of their ammunition to buy precious seconds.

“Everyone down!” Holt shouted as he crouched. All the marines did as ordered. Screams and panic erupted from the civilians who followed suit.

“No!” Carl realized what was happening. “Go back!” he shouted at the group on the ground. “Go back!” he fumbled for the button to his communications network. “Go back!”

A large explosion rocked the building and a plume of smoke and dust erupted from the stairwell. The shockwave shattered windows, and civilians screamed in terror.

“Shit!” Pam yelled. “Go back!” She added her voice to Carl’s.

More voices took up their plea. “Go back! Go back!” They shouted, realizing the stairwell had been destroyed and there was no way to reach the roof.

With sinking hope, Carl stared at his men, just over three quarters of the way across the parking lot, slow, stop, and turn back toward Building One. They drew their rifles and spent the last of their ammunition firing wildly into the swarm of oncoming ghouls. Carl watched the legion of undead converge on the small band of survivors from every direction.

“No… god DAMN it… NO!” Carl drew his pistol and emptied his clip into the sea of death.

The scream of the first victim rang through the power plant. An old woman had barely made it half way to Building Two before turning back around. A ghoul tackled her, and four more were on top of her before she could plead for help. A second person tripped and disappeared beneath a pile of undead. A convoy soldier’s rifle ran dry, and he was trying to club one zombie away when another slammed into him from behind and knocked him to the ground.

Kelly could not watch the tragic scene that played out, so she turned her gaze towards Carl. His eyes, locked on the scene, read of absolute disbelief. His shoulders were slumped in defeat.

“No…” he gasped.

Gunfire from the roof ceased as the screams from the ground fell silent. The only sounds now, were the rolling din of undead and the hum of distant helicopter blades.

“We’re safe for the time being. The stairwell is collapsed. Save your ammo,” Holt shouted to his men. He walked over to Carl, and put a hand on the convoy leader’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.

Kelly felt for the cellular phone she kept in her pocket. She flipped it open, looked at the blank screen, and hurled it into the night in anger. She wanted so badly to talk to her husband. Her soul was bruised, and seeing Carl’s face was too much to bear. She sunk to the ground trembling. She had seen a lot of horror in the past year – but the sight of the strong soldier’s tears was something that would be burned into her memory.

Hours passed and helicopters took to the air with load after load of civilians and soldiers. No one spoke. The notion on everyone’s mind was unspeakable, and on the verge of salvation, yet, more people had lost their lives. Eventually, all that remained was the convoy team, a handful of marines, and Kelly.

“We’re up.” Pam offered Kelly her hand.

Kelly stood up and began walking toward the helicopter. She took her seat and buckled in. The aircraft rose into the air, and Kelly looked out over the eastern horizon. A surreal sense of sorrow overcame her. The lights of civilization had always made for a bright and beautiful California night, but now there was only darkness. With the demise of the San Onofre nuclear power plant, all of Southern California was now cloaked in blackness.

As the helicopter made its way over the ocean, the lights of the U.S.S. Boxer came into view. A crowd of hopeful civilians rung the landing pad, and Kelly Damico unclamped her seat belt once the aircraft had landed. She stepped onto the ship and looked around, the weight of her thoughts dulling the commotion around her.