02 Flotilla of the Dead (10 page)

            “Thank you, Captain Crenshaw,” McCloud responded.  “I don’t have any orders for you yet, but I might soon.  I’d like to return tomorrow with some other officers from the Flotilla to discuss our options.  Am I correct in assuming that you can load this ship with various types of vehicles, including big-rigs hauling containerized cargo?” 

            “Yes sir,” confirmed Captain Crenshaw.  “Hundreds of ‘em and armored vehicles too.  Just give the word, sir, ‘cause I’m itching to help kick some zombie ass, or save people from those inhuman bastards.”

            “Well said,” agreed McCloud.  “I have a feeling that we can give you a worthy mission soon.  Now, what can you tell me about the Sea Launch ships berthed next to you?”

            “Those nerds?  They’re genuine rocket scientists.” Captain Crenshaw replied sarcastically.  “They got all the technology and toys, but they’re a strange bunch.  Half of them are American and Canadian.  The other half are Russian and Ukrainian.  We talk to them every day and offer mutual assistance, but they don’t always act very friendly.  Looks like they’re afraid someone will want to take over their cushy quarters on the command ship, or mess with their rockets.  But, near as I can tell, they have at least a hundred people over there, between the command ship and the launch platform, with lots of high tech gizmos.  Why do you ask?”

            “I’d like to have some of their representatives at a meeting that I’d like you to help set up for tomorrow,” said Captain McCloud.  “We’ll come in one helicopter with a lightly armed delegation – sorry to say that we can’t go anywhere unarmed anymore.  Anyway, please ask them to join us for a little strategy meeting.  Say 1300 hours tomorrow?” 

            “Yes, sir,” responded Captain Crenshaw.  “I’ll ask them, but I can’t guarantee that they’ll accept the offer.  Like I said, they’re getting a bit paranoid over there, sir.”

            “In that case,” said McCloud with a tight grin.  “If they balk, you might want to remind them of the big canon on my cutter and the right of the Coast Guard to board and inspect any ship in American waters and ports.  A friendly meeting on neutral ground might sound better to them.  Be sure to make it clear that we mean them no harm, but our current mission is to organize safe havens for “boat people” along the coast.  Terminal Island is a prime candidate for a stronghold, and one of the first areas we secure will be this Navy Mole.”

            “That sounds like a good plan, sir,” said Captain Crenshaw eagerly.  “It should at least get their attention.  I’ll send over a messenger by boat right away and inform you of their response by radio, unless they want to call you themselves.”

            “Excellent,” agreed McCloud.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to return to my ship.  We lost two crewmembers in a major engagement with the infected over at the Coast Guard Station today.  I’m afraid that my duties will require us to postpone any celebration about finding you here, at least until we return tomorrow.”

            “Of course, Captain McCloud,” said Crenshaw.  “I’m sorry for your loss, but glad that you found us.  We’ll look forward to your return, sir.  In fact, we might just see about setting up that celebration for your formal visit tomorrow.  In the meantime, it’s been a pleasure meeting you, sir.”

            Captain McCloud stepped forward to shake hands with Captain Crenshaw and his companions.  “Until tomorrow then,” he said, then returned to the Dolphin. 

*****

Interlude in Hell

El Segundo, CA, 3:30 PM, April 10, 2012

            The sprinkler defense of the refinery was working better than expected.  Although zombies still thronged just beyond reach of the water, it kept them away from the fence line and even the gates to the refinery.  Still, Carl saw the need to prevent the onset of a siege mentality among the survivors.  They needed more supplies and they needed to prove that they were not trapped inside the perimeter fence, so Carl had organized another shopping trip.   Now that they were armed with guns from the sporting goods store, and had proven that their modified vehicles were zombie-proof, they were ready to go to the local supermarket. 

            Departing the refinery gates had been easier than anyone had hoped.  Though Carl positioned a dozen men with guns and the Panther with its water canon to stop zombies from coming in through the open gates, they proved unnecessary.  Even with the gates wide open the sprinklers Carl had positioned in front of them kept the zombies from rushing in.  Once that was clear, it was a simple matter for the zombie-proof convoy to drive out and plow through the zombies clustered beyond the spray of water.  The big Caterpillar front loader led the way with its bucket scoop leveled five feet above the ground, smashing zombie heads and driving them to the ground to be crushed under its giant wheels.  Carl followed in its wake, swerving the modified Suburban back and forth to cut down more zombies with the blades he had welded onto the SUV.  Then came the zombie-proof big rig which smashed and crushed more of the infected in its path.  The armored shuttle bus came next, carrying half a dozen armed men who would go into the supermarket to collect food.  Finally the big Panther fire engine rolled out of the gate with its water canon poised to prevent any zombies from getting into the refinery.  After they were all out on the street the gate slid closed to the obvious consternation of the remaining zombies beyond.  It was an encouraging start to the expedition.

            The convoy moved east along El Segundo Boulevard and turned south down Sepulveda Boulevard along the perimeter of the refinery, drawing hundreds of zombies away from the fence and into the road where many of them were cut down by the vehicles.  They drove at a steady pace of 20 miles per hour, fast enough to flatten the zombies they hit, but slow enough to retain control when they drove over the bodies.  It was a bloody business, but Carl and the rest of the drivers went about it with grim determination.  The more zombies they could cut down on the road, the fewer would be gathered outside the fence. 

            Their destination was actually right across the street from the south-east gate of the giant refinery, but they had driven the long way around in an attempt to draw many of the zombies away from the fence line.  They passed the Plaza El Segundo, their intended destination, and continued south on Sepulveda with hundreds of zombies in toe.  Then the big Cat turned left, per plan, onto the dirt access road next to the train tracks leading away from the refinery.  The earth mover went through a locked gate as if it wasn’t there and the rest of the convoy followed, throwing up a dust cloud in their wake.  The zombies followed as well, but they were obscured by the dust as the convoy accelerated to over 30 mph.  A quarter mile down the tracks the convoy turned left again at a rail siding that circled around the back of the shopping center.  A horde of zombies followed them up the tracks, but had literally been left in the dust. 

There was a chain link fence and locked gate separating the train siding from the shopping center.  Carl sped to the gate and parked in front of it as the other vehicles pulled up behind him.  Gus leapt out of the passenger door with Carl’s bolt cutters and made short work of the lock, swinging the gate open to allow Carl and the rest of the convoy to pass.  As soon as the fire engine passed through the gate Gus swung it closed again and attached a new lock.  When the dust along the train tracks settled, the horde of pursuing zombies appeared.  There were hundreds of them running towards the gate.  Gus turned and ran back to the fire truck, which had stopped and was training its water canon on the approaching horde.  The fireman waited until the first zombies were smashing into the gate, then he unleashed a torrent of water against them, throwing the zombies back in fear and agony.  He shut down the canon to conserve water and proceeded to release short blasts of water to keep them back.

Carl led the rest of the convoy down the service road behind the shopping center, stopping next to the rear entrance of the supermarket.   The area appeared to be free of zombies, so he stepped out of the Suburban with his shotgun in hand and directed the eighteen wheel big rig to back its trailer up to the loading dock.   The shuttle bus opened its door and half a dozen armed men emerged, making their way swiftly to the back door of the supermarket.  It took less than a minute for them force entry with crowbars.  The interior of the stock room was dark and seemingly deserted, but they didn’t take any chances.  The six armed men swept the room in teams of two while Carl tried to open the roll-up doors.  With the power out it was necessary to disengage the motor and use the chain to roll it up, but first he had to bust the locking mechanism.  Once that was accomplished, he rolled up the door and shed more light on the enormous room.  Carl let out a low whistle at the sight of all the crates and boxes of food stocked in it.

“Let’s start packing it up,” he instructed.  “Look for cases of canned food and bottled drinks first, those will last.  Check the crates of unrefrigerated produce over there.  It’s only been about a week, so most of those fruits and some vegetables should still be good.  I see a couple of pallet jacks over there.  Use them to start moving full pallets into the trailer.  Don’t be too selective.  Grab anything that looks edible.”

“Good plan, Carl,” said Chuck who had joined them on the loading dock.  “You heard the man, let’s move.”  The refinery workers scrambled to follow their instructions and began sorting and loading the stacks of supplies.

“Frank, bring a few men with shotguns and follow me,” said Carl, knowing that he could now exercise some authority over these men, after all of his plans had worked out so well for everyone. 

“Comin’ Boss,” replied Frank, a heavyset black man with a kind but serious demeanor.  “Luke, Joey, and Boomer, you’re with us.”  The four oilmen followed Carl to the closed doors leading into the public area of the supermarket.  “You want to sweep the rest of the store?” Frank asked.

“Maybe,” Carl answered.  “We should at least see if it’s secure from entry out front, and if there are any zombies inside.”

“Makes sense,” Frank agreed.  “Get ready boys, no telling what’s on the other side of these doors.”  He turned to unlock the double doors.  There was no key required from the stockroom side.  He turned the lock and swung the door outward, into the supermarket.  The doors swung less than a foot before something blocked their path. 

“Hold it,” said Carl as he moved forward and bent down to inspect the obstacle.  “It’s a body,” he announced.  They could all smell the stink of decay now and Carl’s announcement confirmed that it wasn’t just spoiled fish and hamburger meat.  “I see a lot of blood on the floor too,” Carl continued. “Maybe we shouldn’t…” SLAM! The doors were thrown back into the closed position, hitting Carl in the face and causing all of the men to jump back in surprise.  Luckily the doors to the stockroom were made to swing into the store, so that full carts could push through them.  Whoever, no whatever, was on the other side had only succeeded in closing the doors against the jam. 

“Shit,” growled Carl as he reached up to make sure his nose wasn’t broken.  He felt a trickle of blood on his lip as he mumbled, “Lock the damned doors!” 

Frank was quick to comply with that directive.  He held the doors closed and twisted the dead bolt to lock them securely as fists pounded against the other side and said, “The rest of the store must be infested.”  To which Carl nodded, even though Frank had simply stated the obvious.

“Good thing you came up with the plan to come in the back door, Carl” commented Luke, a thin blond man in his thirties.  “This is like taking candy from babies.”

“Let’s just hope it stays that way,” said Carl as he got to his feet.  “You can stay here and guard this door, Luke.  You too, Joey.  The rest of us will try to get upstairs and check that out.”

“Sure thing, boss,” said Frank. 

            Just then they heard new and strange sounds coming from the other side of the door.   The pounding on the doors stopped, but the noise behind them increased.  Carl froze and listened to the sounds of combat beyond the door.  He heard the impacts of at least one weapon on flesh, a sound he had only recently come to know, and a few high pitched exclamations that sounded human.

            “Unlock the door,” said Carl firmly and Frank swiveled back from the door with a dubious look on his face.  “I think someone is alive in there,” Carl explained.  “Open those doors!  Now!”

Chapter 3: Fame and Misfortune

“The world is not dangerous because of those who do harm but because of those who look at it without doing anything”
– Albert Einstein

            Scott felt totally spent as he climbed down the stairs from the vehicle deck to the First Crew Deck where the sickbay and marine biology lab were located.  The
Sovereign Spirit
didn’t have a real hospital, but Michelle had insisted that they carry a ship’s doctor and have a fully equipped emergency room when she agreed to bring their family and friends on a round the world cruise.  It had been an expensive addition to the ship, but Scott was quite glad now that he had agreed to her ultimatum.  The marine biology lab had been added at the pleading request of his niece who wanted to be a marine biologist – and also because Scott harbored personal desires to study the ocean and everything in it.  That lab was now assigned to Professor Bernhard and his assistant for their zombie research activities. 

            Scott ignored the “Z Lab” – as some were now calling it – and went straight to the ER.  Knocking once, he opened the door and walked in to find out how Clint was doing.  Scott was hoping for the best, but fearing the worst.  Dr. Grace Greenburg was sitting at her desk in the ER’s anteroom, working on the computer.  She looked up and gave Scott an unreadable smile, displaying sadness and hope at the same time.

            “Welcome home, Scott,” she said.  “I’m glad you made it back alive and in one piece, which is more than we can say for your friend Clint.”