02 Flotilla of the Dead (22 page)

            “Are you sure you need to leave so soon?” asked Special Agent in Charge Corrigan.  “We have so much to do here.  We won’t even be able secure and prepare the CSU safe haven you suggested for at least another week.”

            “That’s exactly why I have to go now,” explained Scott.  “There are people out there that need to be saved immediately.  Not a week from now.  In fact, if I leave tomorrow, I can probably be back in a week.  I know that hundreds of thousands of people could die in Los Angeles County while I’m gone, but I also know that I can’t do anything to save them if I stayed.  So, yes, I do need to leave tomorrow and help the people that I have promised to rescue first.  Then we’ll come back to help save as many more as possible here.”

            “I understand your position,” said Chief Harris.  “But there will be a lot of coordination required in setting up safe zones along the rail lines.”

            “I’ll be available for consultation by satellite phone, internet, or radio if all else fails.  And I won’t be more than an hour away by air if there’s a crisis back here.  In the mean time there might be some other things we can do to help you prepare for the distribution of supplies from Terminal Island.  Some of those things will become clearer during the tour I have planned for you this afternoon.  But all this talk about giving people food is making me hungry.  Shall we adjourn for brunch?”  His guests looked a bit startled by the abrupt change of topic, but they all rose to follow Scott out of the room, exchanging uncertain glances among themselves.

            “I’ve invited some other guests to join us, as well as most of my passengers and crew,” explained Scott as he led them into the Main Dining Room.  It was currently set up to seat about 200 people, but was designed to seat over 500.  Close to a hundred and fifty people were present and a hush fell upon the crowd as Scott and the delegation from Los Angeles entered the room.  Everyone turned to stare, but most were smiling and nodding in a welcoming way. 

The center of the dining room was dominated by a thirty foot long buffet and salad bar.  Beyond that was a large reserved VIP table where over a dozen people were already seated.  Scott led his guests towards that table, past the buffet, and their eyes widened as they saw the type and quantity of food waiting for them.  Heated serving dishes were piled high with steaming sausages, bacon, scrambled eggs, French toast, and hash brown potatoes.  Other serving bowls rested in beds of ice containing slices of fresh fruit, piles of sliced lox, and jumbo shrimp next to a bowl of cocktail sauce.  The salad bar was also fully stocked and two chefs at the end of the buffet were manning stations offering fresh omelets and carved roast beef.  

“This is something of a special occasion,” Scott explained.  “We’re celebrating the establishment of the Navy Mole and Queen Mary strongholds, as well as the founding of our Terminal Island Safe Haven.  We have representatives here from all of the major entities of the Flotilla.   Let me introduce you to them.”  Scott proceeded to lead the LA delegation from one end of the table to the other.  First he introduced Captain Fisher at one end of the table.  Captain McCloud sat next to him.  Next in line was Mr. Kroeker of the Queen Mary, followed by George Hammer, the new Harbor Master.  Captain Crenshaw and Captain Kim were also at the main table, as were Mick Williams and Mark Argus.  Billy sat next to Michelle at what would be the right hand of Scott’s seat when he took his spot at the head of the table.  But the guests on the other side of the table were the ones who really raised the eyebrows of the LA Delegation.

“Let me introduce the newest members of the Flotilla,” said Scott. “These are representatives of the Sea Launch Team from the two specialized ships docked on the Mole that can launch communications satellites into orbit.  Until we are in a position to reconstitute a space program, they have agreed to dedicate the capabilities of their unique vessels, as well as their scientists and their facilities here on the Mole, to the Flotilla’s mission of survival.”

“That’s quite a coup for your Flotilla,” commented the mayor.  Turning to Captain Knight he asked, “What makes you want to join the Commodore’s Flotilla?  Are you sure you wouldn’t rather work directly with the City of Los Angeles?”

“The Commodore and his Flotilla removed the zombies that had besieged us and made it possible for us to get badly needed supplies. If not for the Flotilla we would have had to put to sea in search of a zombie free island or anchorage.  The City of LA hasn’t helped us at all.  Besides, we are what the Commodore calls Boat People too.  The Flotilla is where we belong and can do the most good,” answered Captain Knight.  “We can do a lot more to help other Boat People than we ever could to help the people ashore.”  The mayor didn’t seem to like that answer, but he nodded and took an empty seat at the table. 

Then Scott invited everyone to help themselves to the buffet saying, “Everything except the eggs is fresh or previously frozen.  I’m afraid the scrambled eggs and omelets are from frozen and pasteurized pre-scrambled eggs that we store in bulk, since we don’t have chickens aboard.  But it’s the best brand our chef could find and I think you’ll like them.”   The people at the VIP table were given priority on one side of the buffet and all of them served themselves within a few minutes.  The rest of the people in the room continued to line up and happily fill their plates with the bountiful and appetizing buffet.  Servers from the kitchen kept replacing empty serving dishes with full ones and two servers appeared at the VIP table to pour mimosas.

Scott waited until the orange juice and Champaign drinks were all poured before he tapped his glass with his knife and rose to present a toast in a loud and commanding voice.  “Founders of the Terminal Island Safe Haven, distinguished guests, passengers and crew of the
Sovereign Spirit;
let’s drink to our accomplishments, to our survival, and to the Flotilla!” 

“To the Flotilla!” was the shouted reply from over a hundred voices.

As the cheers died down and the people in the room raised their glasses in salute, Scott added a more somber toast, “While we celebrate our good fortune and the blessings that we have been granted, let’s not forget to mourn all those who have been lost, all who have been infected, and all who still strive to survive, living in fear and mortal danger, both at sea and even more so ashore.  Let us count our blessings for everyone here today and offer not only our prayers, but also our dedication and conviction, to save as many others as possible and to strive towards the goal of survival and recovery for all.”  The cheers that followed that toast were deeper and full of purpose. 

After that the mood was somewhat subdued, but still festive overall.  Most of these people had never confronted a zombie face to face, or even had to shoot one from a distance.  Most of them hadn’t seen any of their friends and loved ones turn into mindless cannibals.  The delegates from Los Angeles were a different story, having spent the time since Z-Day in constant combat or besieged by zombies.  They seemed to take Scott’s speech even more seriously and somberly than his friends and family.  That was exactly how Scott had planned it.  The general optimism and good spirits of the people aboard the ship had a significant impact on the visitors.  They saw people who still had hope, food, and security.  It was a powerful, if unstated, message that seemed to take root.

“You and your people seem very optimistic,” commented Special Agent Corrigan.  “And this is the best meal I’ve had since Z-Day.  I must say that this visit is giving me some of the first hope that I’ve felt since the outbreak.  Your plans and objectives are visionary, Commodore.  But, as you alluded to in your toast, we’ve been facing a very different version of the Zombie Apocalypse in LA than you and your people have on this ship.  You’re still civilized, damn it!  But we’ve spent the past ten days in Hell.”

“You’re observation is quite astute, Agent Corrigan,” replied Scott.  “I think we’ll find that there will be some significant differences between how the survivors ashore and the boat people of the Flotilla will react and adapt to the Zombie Apocalypse.”

“What do you mean?” asked the mayor of Los Angeles. 

“I mean that even you, at the top of the food chain in LA, can’t provide this type of brunch buffet for yourselves, let alone your constituents.  Your people are starving or dropping like flies to zombie attacks.  Meanwhile the people on this ship and virtually every boat in our Flotilla are safe, secure and provided for.  So our boat people will have a much different collective experience with the Zombie Apocalypse than your people will.”

“And you think that’s important?” the mayor asked.

“Not immediately,” replied Scott thoughtfully.  “But in the long run it could be significant.  I guess it depends on how many people you can save and how much of a civilization you can maintain.  If you don’t get some safe zones established soon, your people are headed for anarchy or extinction.  But, assuming you pull a significant number of people through this, they’ll have a different worldview than my people in the Flotilla will.  That doesn’t mean that we can’t work together for our common goals of survival, but we need to recognize that we’re going to have different perspectives and priorities.  It’s just something to keep in mind as we go forward.”

“Well said,” agreed Chief Harris.  “And thanks for the excellent meal.  But you’re right, it’s almost a shock to see your people doing so well while the rest of the city, if not the whole world, is falling apart so completely.  I must say that I’m more than little jealous of your good fortune.”

“That’s only natural,” said Scott sympathetically.  “And it’s why I brought this topic up in the first place.  I want you all to know that we’ll do as much as possible to help you and the people of Los Angeles, as well as other communities.  But whatever we can do will probably not be enough to give your people the same level of safety or standard of living as the Flotilla will have.  And I’m not willing to lower the standards for my people just to prevent yours from becoming jealous.”

“I see your point now,” said the mayor.  “And I’m beginning to agree with most of your suggestions on establishing safe zones and fighting off zombies to do it.  You’re doing quite a job of leading by example here, Commodore Allen.”  

   “Thank you, Mayor Del Fuego,” Scott replied sincerely, then glanced at this Rolex watch.  “Now, if everyone is full, I suggest we proceed with the tour.  Please follow me back to the Pool Deck.”  Scott rose from his seat and everyone who had eaten at the VIP table followed him aft, through the Sports Bar, across the dance floor, and out to the open rear deck where the swimming pool and outside bar area was located.  Scott had arranged for the bar to be tended when they arrived and said, “If anyone wants a beer, cocktail, or other refreshment, the bar is open.  Otherwise, let’s step back to the fantail where I can point out some of what we have accomplished here and what we have to work with.”

Scott walked back and stood below his Seawind airplane that was secured to a crane and cradle above the stern.   All of the visitors, including those from Sea Launch and the merchant ship captains were staring up at the plane when Scott turned to address them.  Noticing their interest, he said, “That’s my Seawind amphibious plane.  It seats four to five people, depending on their size, and can fly up to fifteen hundred miles at over two hundred miles per hour.  I haven’t flow it since Z-Day, but it gives us the ability to fly scouting missions or visit destinations within a radius of more than 500 miles without refueling and can operate from water or airfields.”

            “The capabilities of your ship are truly impressive,” commented Agent Corrigan.

            “Thank you,” replied Scott smugly.  He didn’t want to come off as arrogant, but considering the situation it was probably unavoidable.  “What I really wanted to show you are the other ships of the Flotilla.  Next to us is the
Cape Inscription
under command of Captain Crenshaw.”  As Scott was speaking an 18 wheel tractor trailer loaded with a 40 foot container drove up the Mole and turned to drive over the vehicle ramp into the
Cape Inscription.
  “As you can see, we are in the process of loading her with trucks carrying food for resupply of the Navy, Marines and civilian refugees on Coronado Island.  She will sail tomorrow morning with enough supplies to feed a hundred thousand people for a month or more.”  Everyone nodded in agreement with the plan.  They all knew that long-term survival and recovery would depend in large part on keeping what was left of the military intact and functioning.  “I intend to keep the
Cape Inscription
busy on supply runs to San Diego, as well as other safe havens when we establish them, if the Navy allows it to remain based here.”

            Then Scott pointed beyond the ro-ro ship to the Sea Launch ships. “The other ships here are the
Odyssey Launch Platform
and the
Sea Launch Commander. 
The
Odyssey
is a semi-submergible platform that we intend to use as the mother ship for a safe haven of boat people at sea, probably off the inland coast of Catalina or the Santa Barbara Channel Islands.  The
Sea Launch Commander
will remain here at the Mole for the time being, as the communications command center for the Terminal Island Safe Haven.  You can see the buildings at the end of the Mole.  Those are the land based facilities for the Sea Launch Team.  They will also be useful in organizing the safe haven.” 

            Turning towards the west, Scott pointed towards the big white ship at the fuel pier.  “Down there is the Coast Guard Cutter
Stratton.
  She’s the newest and one of the largest and best armed Coast Guard cutters in service.  That gun turret on her bow is a 57mm automatic cannon.  When she’s in port she will provide defense from pirates or other threats from the sea, or the air.  As you can see, her position along the Mole offers her a commanding field of fire on the entrance to the ports of both Long Beach and Los Angeles.”