02 Flotilla of the Dead (14 page)

“Well,” said Karen slowly, “You got a lot of stuff here.  How many people do you need to feed anyway?”

“Close to a hundred now that we rescued a bunch of families from the RV park on the beach,” Carl replied.

“Families?” Karen looked up at him with interest.  “You’ve got women and children in the refinery?”

“We sure do,” Carl confirmed.  Karen looked at him with penetrating eyes, saying nothing.  “We can save more, if we can get enough supplies to feed them,” Carl continued.

“Then let’s get back to it,” said Karen Blade with a return of her unique smile.  They turned and went back onto the loading dock where several men were gathered around Frank, inspecting the bite on his leg.  Carl caught Boomer’s eye and was disappointed to see the big man shake his head and look away. 

“Don’t stand around looking at my leg, you apes,” said Frank in a loud voice.  “Let’s finish what we came here to do.  If this is going to be my last mission, then it had better be a successful one!  Get back to loading up the truck, damn it.  I want to throw a party when we get back to the refinery.  I hope someone grabbed the booze.”

“We got plenty of booze, boss,” responded Boomer.  “There’s at least a case of that Gentleman Jack that you like.”

“Excellent,” said Frank.  “Why don’t you fetch me a bottle of it?  I’m just going to relax in the shuttle bus, if you all don’t need me right now.”

“Go ahead, Frank,” said Carl.  “We’ve got this handled.”  Carl looked up and down the alley to make sure that it was clear of zombies before Frank climbed down to the shuttle bus.  He noticed Gus jogging towards them from the end of the building and waving excitedly. “What’s up, Gus,” called Carl.

“Almost out of water for the fire truck,” Gus panted as he reached the loading dock.  “They sent me to tell you to be ready to roll in a minute or two.”

“How many zombies are at the gate back there?” Carl asked.

“All of them!” Gus blurted.  “There must be a thousand of them back there now.  I think all the ones along our fence followed us back there.”

“Great!” Carl exclaimed.  This was better than he had hoped for.  It meant that there wouldn’t be many zombies at the gate when they got back and, if they were lucky, a lot of the zombies that had followed them down the tracks wouldn’t find their way back to the refinery either.

“It won’t be great if they break through that gate,” Gus said.  “It’s not built near as strong as the ones at the refinery.  They’re already charging it every time we shut off the water cannon.”

“Okay then,” Carl raised his voice.  “Pack it up, guys.  It’s time to load whatever is in your hands and lock up this loading dock.  Make sure you all have your weapons and get ready to board the vehicles.  We’re getting out of here in one minute!”  Carl turned back to Gus and gestured towards the woman standing beside him, “Gus, let me introduce you to Karen Blade, uh, I men Slade.  She can use sword better than you can use a gun.  Karen?  This is Gus, he’s a good man to have around in a pinch.”  They eyed each other and Carl could see that Gus was somewhat stunned by her beauty.  “Gus, clear yourself some space in the back seat.  She’s riding shotgun on the way back.”   Carl knew that Gus was in awe of Karen when he complied without complaint.

As soon as the loading dock door was secured again and everyone was getting back in their vehicles Carl drove back to the fire truck and waved for them to disengage and follow down the alley.  Gus had not been exaggerating about the horde of zombies that had massed on the other side of the gate.  As soon as the big fire truck started to move they all swarmed towards the gate and fence, causing it to noticeably bend and buckle. 

“Damn it,” said Carl.  “That’s not going to hold.  Gus, open that duffle bag and had me one of the bottles with a road flare taped to it.”

“Here you go, Carl,” said Gus as he produced the requested item within seconds.  “What are you going to do?”

“Well,” Carl said as he rolled down his window and drove towards the gate, “we know they hate water.  Let’s see how they feel about fire.”  He broke off the end of the flare and struck it against the igniter, sparking it into an orange blaze.  Then he turned parallel to the gate and threw the bottle as hard as he could towards the zombies.  The glass bottle shattered and flames erupted through the chain link, igniting the first few rows of zombies.   They moaned and shrieked and thrashed, but didn’t show the type of fear that water caused.  Most of them were too wet from the water cannon to actually catch fire, but they were burned, and eventually they did shy away from the flames.  

“Give me another one,” Carl demanded and Gus was already waiting to place it in his hand.  Carl lit and threw a little way from the first one with equally effective results.  “I don’t know if it will stop them, but at least it’s slowing them down,” Carl said.  He rolled up his window as he turned back down the alley to join the rest of the convoy.   Karen watched it all without saying a word.

The Suburban took the lead as they left the shopping center and drove straight across the street to the south-east entrance to the refinery.  The sprinklers along the perimeter were all working and there were no zombies in sight.  They all must have followed the convoy down the train tracks.  Carl wondered if that was a trick that would work more than once.  They had only had time to explore one of the stores this time and hadn’t come close to cleaning it out of valuable supplies.  Of course they might be losing one of their team to infection tonight, so it wasn’t a total success, but at least they were learning how to outsmart and outmaneuver the undead. 

Carl waited until all of the other vehicles were inside the gate before he followed them and used the remote control on the sun visor to close the gates again.  He would send a team back to watch that gate and see how many of the zombies returned and how long it took them to get there.  For now they all drove back to the motor pool and operations building where they began to unload the loot.

“This is quite a set up,” said Karen as she looked around at the zombie-proof convoy and the motor homes in various stages of conversion into mobile bunkers.  “Are you planning to take this show on the road?”

“Not exactly,” Carl replied.  “We plan to make more provisioning trips for supplies, and we are always looking for more survivors to take in, but I think we will try to turn this refinery into a permanent base, if we can.  It has all the fuel we will ever need and, as long as the sprinkler defense system keeps the zombies away, it seems to be secure.  But we can’t count on that.  So we are making as many vehicles zombie-proof as possible, just in case we ever have to evacuate.”

“That makes sense,” Karen nodded.  She looked like she wanted to say more, but just then a man came out of the nearest RV and waved Carl over excitedly.

“Hey, Carl,” he called out.  “You gotta see what’s on the news!”

“What is it, Max?” Carl asked the man.  He was one the father of one of the families that had followed Carl back from the RV park. 

“The GNN news chopper just flew over Long Beach and spotted a bunch of ships and boats around the Queen Mary.  Then some commodore flew up in a helicopter and explained that they are securing part of the port as a safe haven!”

“Really?” asked Carl with pleasant surprise.  “That sounds promising.”

“Maybe,” said Max hesitantly.  “But he also said that the only way to get to them would be by boat or helicopter.  He says all the roads and highways are overrun and impassable.”  Carl just nodded and smiled as he paused to look at the zombie-proof convoy around him.

The evening did not go well at the refinery.  Carl was called over to the burn treatment room in the refinery’s fire station shortly before midnight.  Frank had taken a turn for the worse.  By the time Carl arrived, the once strong oil worker looked like a withered junky.  His skin was pale and sallow.  His eyes were bloodshot and yellow.  He was barely conscious as Carl approached his raised treatment gurney.  Frank was strapped to it and seemed to be thrashing feebly. 

“Frank, buddy?” said Carl in a chocked voice.  “How’s it going?”

“Aghhhlll fuck…” Frank groaned. “Shoot me… Ahgm a gonner. Somesings in my shed.  Sit tickles… Shit hurts… Fuck me…”  Frank went into convulsions.  His head slammed against the bed as his legs and feet flailed. 

The next few moments seemed like a vision from Hell as Frank lost himself in the grips of the virus that consumed his mind.  Carl stood next to him, speechless, as this man who had become a friend turned into something totally unrecognizable.   It was a rapid transition, without warning.  Suddenly the man became a monster and thrashed against his restraints with the force of a titan.  His eyes opened again and Carl saw no life there; only hunger, craving, and a desire that bordered on sexual lust for feeding. 

Carl reluctantly reached for the ice axe hanging from his belt and hefted it above his head, pausing for a moment to search the crazed eyes for any remnant of a man named Frank, before driving the pick end of the axe into the brain of the zombie.

Chapter 4: Introductions and Interviews

“It is not the strongest of the species that survives, nor the most intelligent that survives. It is the one that is the most adaptable to change.” –
Charles Darwin

Scott woke up with a smile on his face, until he remembered that Clint’s life was hanging on a thread.  He turned to give Michelle a brief kiss and told he loved her, then jumped up to grab some clean clothes and headed down to the sickbay.  There was an armed crewman standing outside the door when he arrived. 

“Good morning sir,” said engineering mate Craig Felling.  

“Any news on the patient?” asked Scott abruptly. 

“Only that I was told to wait out here with a gun in case he turns into a zombie when he wakes up, sir.”

“Thanks for accepting the assignment, but if it comes to that I want be the one who takes care of the problem.  I cut off his arm and I’ll blow off his head if need be.  He’s my friend.  You understand?”

“Yes sir,” said Felling, obviously uncomfortable with the situation.

“Don’t worry, Craig,” said Scott as he realized the position he was putting the man in.  “It’s not your fault.  Thanks for standing guard.  The most important thing is to defend Dr. Greenburg and the rest of us on this ship.  Carry on.”  Scott shook hands with the man and walked into the sickbay.  Dr. Greenburg was sitting at the same desk and looked like she might not have moved since last night.

“Hi Scott,” said the doctor.  “I knew you would be here early.  I haven’t tried to wake him up yet.  After what you said yesterday I thought that you’d want to be here, for better or worse.  And by the way, you were great on TV yesterday.  I missed it live, but they’ve been replaying it all night and now they’re doing promotions for your interview on the evening news tonight.”  She pointed up at the flat screen on the wall next to the door and Scott turned to see himself smiling and waving from the pilot’s seat of his helicopter.

“Oh shit,” said Scott.  “I’ll never live this down, will I?”

“Live it down?” she asked sarcastically.  “You really were great.  And I’m sure you’ll be even more impressive tonight.  We’re all very proud to be here with you too.  But let’s set that all aside for a moment and go check on Clint.  His vitals were still strong a few hours ago and the sedatives should be wearing off.  From what I could find out on the internet, even a minor bite should have caused the transformation by now.  If he is still even close to normal, you’ll have something else to brag about on TV.  I’ve also had a hard time keeping the Mad Doctor from the Z-Lab away from my patient.  I’ve kept him satisfied with blood samples every few hours, but he does want to examine Clint if he becomes a zombie.”

“Screw that,” said Scott.  “I just want my friend to live.  So let’s cut the crap and face the music.  I brought my pistol, just in case, but I’m hoping and praying that I won’t need it.”  Grace nodded and led Scott through the door into sickbay.  It was a large room separated by partitions into treatment areas, similar to the layout of many small emergency rooms.  Various pieces of medical equipment were mounted or secured to the walls so they wouldn’t move in rough seas.  At the far end was an isolation and operating room.  Grace went straight to that door and looked through the wire glass window before reaching to open it. 

Clint was strapped to the bed and appeared to be sleeping peacefully.  Grace moved to the far side of the bed as Scott approach hesitantly.  Scott noted the bandaged stump of Clint’s left arm and felt a slight shiver as he recalled the experience of cutting it off.  That had been the most difficult thing Scott had ever done, in terms of overcoming instinctive revulsion, but it would be worth it if Clint survived. 

“Clint?” Scott said softly.  “Can you hear me, buddy?”  There was no response.  “Clint?” Scott repeated a little louder as he reached out hesitantly to touch him on the shoulder.  It was only a light touch, but Clint’s eyes flew open and he struggled to sit up, thrashing as he felt the restraints holding him down.  Scott jumped back alarmed and his hand moved instinctively towards his holstered gun.  Clint grunted and moaned as he tossed his head around wildly with a blank look in his eyes.  “God damn it!” cursed Scott as he drew his gun and aimed it at what had been his friend’s head.  Clint’s face turned to look at him as Scott released the safety and began to squeeze the trigger.

“Wh… Where am I?” croaked Clint.  “Shit, it wasn’t enough for you to cut off my arm?  Now you want to shoot me too?  That’s just fucked up, dude.”

“Clint!” exclaimed Scott in relief as he lowered the gun and moved towards the bed again.  “I’m so sorry.  You scared the shit out of me.  I thought you’d turned into a zombie.  I almost blew your head off!”