02 Flotilla of the Dead (26 page)

            “That’s a brilliant idea,” said Police Chief Harris.  “I’ve been wondering where you would house survivors if we sent some of them here.  But I see that you have really thought this all out.  And I’m beginning to see the wisdom of your possession rule too.”  He shook his head before continuing, “I won’t go so far as to call it the law though.  What would you do if the lawful owner of a vessel showed up alive and you had a few families living on his multi-million dollar yacht?”

            “I’ve given that some thought too,” replied Scott as the Aqua Terra continued past the cruise ship terminal.  “I’ll give you my opinion, which is certainly not law either, but probably should be; at least for the Flotilla.  If someone showed up to claim a salvaged yacht, I’d ask to see their ID and compare it to documents on the boat.  If they didn’t have an ID, I’d ask them to give me as many details about the boat and what was on it as they could.  If they convinced me, by whatever means, that the boat was theirs, I would give it back to them.  If there were Boat People who got displaced because of it, I would put them on the top of the list to choose another boat or home ashore.  But that’s just me.  What would you do, Chief?”

            “Probably about the same thing,” Chief Harris said approvingly. “And I do agree that it would be wrong to ignore abandoned assets.  I will be reviewing our current policies regarding looters and thieves.  People trying to survive in a city full of zombies do deserve more than a little benefit of doubt, not to mention hope and the ability to help themselves.  I think you may have just given hope to all of them, even if they don’t know it yet.”

            “Thank you Chief,” replied Scott with barely suppressed pride.  “I look forward to proving that true, but first I need to complete my tour guide routine.  To your right, just past the big dome, is a fire station.  And just past that are some landing pads and a refueling station for helicopters.  Keep that in mind for future visits.  Of course they will probably be occupied by our own helicopters.  And we
will
be actively collecting abandoned helicopters.  But yours are welcome to land in the parking lot if the
official
landing pads are full.”  Scott’s openness seemed to finally disarm Commander Austin.  His suspicious nature couldn’t make sense of a man who would tell him all so many things that he would have kept secret.  The look he gave Scott now was more bewildered than belligerent. 

            “Why?” Commander Austin asked lamely.  “Why would you tell us all of this?  I’ll admit that most of it sounds great, other parts sound fantastic.  But why would you give away all of your plans to us, knowing that we might not end up being your friends.”

            “Faith in human nature,” replied Scott honestly, although he didn’t go on to explain what parts of human nature he was relying upon.  “I have nothing to hide and little to fear from you.  As long as we all act in our own self interests, we will get along just fine.  The zombies are our real enemies.  If we keep that basic point foremost in our minds, then the rest is just details.”  There was general agreement on that point and the rest of the ride back to the Mole was uneventful as they all digested the possibilities that Scott had exposed them to.   

*****

            After the delegation from Los Angeles had boarded their helicopters and the VIPs from the other ships had departed, Scott asked Captain Fisher, Chief Engineer Paul Lunt, and Sergeant Major O’Hara to meet him on the dock.  When they arrived he pointed up to the life boat davits on the
Sovereign Spirit.

            “I’m thinking about replacing the last two real lifeboats on the davits with LAV-25s,” Scott explained without preamble.  “I did the math and they should be light enough for the davit winches to raise and lower.  The Amtracs are much too heavy, but the LAVs should be okay.”

            “Why would you want to do that?” asked Paul Lunt in a disturbed tone of voice.  “We might need those lifeboats someday, sir.”

            “Yes, Mr. Lunt, we
might
,” agreed Scott.  “But we
will
need those amphibious vehicles for the missions that we’re planning and I can’t launch and recover them from a vehicle ramp that is six feet above the water line.  Sure we could drive them, or even the Amtracs, off the end of the ramp and they would splash and float and be able to swim ashore.  But we couldn’t get them back onto the ship.  The crane on the stern won’t lift that much weight, but the boat davits will.”

            “What if we ever really need the life boats?” asked Captain Fisher seriously.

            “Well, we’d still have the two speed boats, the landing craft and the Aqua Terra, as well as all the automated life raft dispensers, not to mention the water craft, boats and even a submarine on the vehicle deck.  That’s enough capacity for at least seven hundred people, which is a lot more than we have aboard right now anyway,” Scott reasoned.  “But you might also want to consider what would make us need lifeboats at all.  We shouldn’t have to deal with any hurricanes or excessive seas around here.  I don’t expect you to run us into any rocks or collide with another ship.   Fire is always a hazard at sea, but this ship is full of suppression systems and sprinklers.  However, one danger we might face is pirates, be they foreign or domestic.  Right now almost any armed vessel could sink us or force us to abandon ship.  But consider our options if we had a LAV-25 hanging from each side of the ship with a 25 millimeter rapid fire cannon to fire armor piercing shells at hostile ships or aircraft.”

            “Holy shit!” exclaimed Captain Fisher.  “I didn’t think of that, Scott.  You’re right!  That would give us almost as much firepower as the
Stratton
for broadside and off-angle shots.  Hell, if we ever need to fire astern we could just lower the rear ramp and roll the other LAV out to open fire.  Only a true warship would be able to mess with us then.” 

A look of understanding flooded Mr. Lunt’s face as Captain Fisher connected the dots for him.  “That might actually be worth trading the lifeboats for,” he said.

Sergeant Major O’Hara had been listening with a growing smile on his face, as if visions of sugar plums danced in his head.  He finally shook his head and started laughing with a depth of humor that he hadn’t displayed since coming aboard the
Sovereign Spirit.
  The other men turned to give him questioning gazes. 

“You’re a natural tactician, Commodore,” said O’Hara after he controlled his outburst. Still grinning he said, “My men would be proud to serve the main batteries of your flag ship, sir.  And we’ll fire on any threat to this ship and the Flotilla, short of the US Navy.”

“Then let’s make sure the Navy isn’t one of our enemies.  We’ll take the
Sovereign Spirit
and the replenishment task force to Catalina tomorrow, and I’d like to see a LAV on each side of her when we do, but the
Cape Inscription
will sail with supplies for Coronado.  I’d like you to send at least one Marine aboard the
Cape Inscription
with orders to contact General Barstow upon arrival.  I want your man to make an independent report on the value of the Flotilla.  Feel free to brief your Marine however you like and attach your own report.  Can I expect it to be favorable?”   

            “Are you kidding, sir?” O’Hara had to visibly restrain more laughter.  “Favorable is far too mundane a description for what you’ve done with the Flotilla.  Hell, sir, in less than a week you’ve won the loyalty of some damned hardnosed Marines, including me, not to mention all of the boat people you’re helping.  My letter to General Barstow will recommend that he place at least another platoon of Marines, possibly combat engineers, under your command to defend the Flotilla and safe havens you want to create.  If all goes well, he should send them back up aboard the
Cape Inscription.
”

            “We can drink to that when it happens,” said Scott.  “Now, let’s start preparing our Catalina task force for departure tomorrow morning.  There are a lot of people waiting for us out there and I don’t intend to let them down.”

*****

Interlude in Hell

Chevron Refinery, 1:00 PM, April 11, 2012

            The mood in the refinery was tense.  Many of the people agreed with Carl’s suggestion of moving to the safe haven established by the Survival Flotilla, but others were reluctant to leave the security of the refinery.  Carl was reasonably confident that all of them would come around to his way of thinking eventually, especially if those who agreed with him proceeded with plans for the move.  All of the RVs were now zombie-proof and Carl had directed modifications to additional pieces of heavy equipment.  Several men were working on turning a large tow-truck into a zombie killing wrecker, while others were busy with alterations to a big water truck that had been used for dust control in the unpaved areas of the refinery.

            Carl was almost certain that the convoy could make it to the new safe haven, but he wanted a little more insurance and assets to stack the deck in their favor.  Towards those ends he had organized one more shopping trip into the zombie infested streets surrounding the refinery.  Once again, Carl led the expedition in the customized Suburban, with the same heavy vehicles following.  Gus was riding shotgun, and carrying one too, while Karen Blade had asked to ride along in the back seat.  Carl was reluctant at first, but realized that she was more than able to take care of herself and had proven to be resourceful on their last shopping trip.  He offered her his shotgun, but she declined and merely pointed to the Samurai sword strapped across her back.  Carl smiled back, but made a mental note to keep her covered if they got into real trouble.

The sprinklers at the gate onto El Segundo Boulevard worked flawlessly to hold the zombie horde back as the gates opened.  Carl gunned the big SUV through the mob, bashing and slashing his way into the middle of the street before turning east.  The rest of the vehicles followed smoothly, with the giant Cat pausing to swerve back and forth, flattening dozens of zombies beneath its mammoth tires and earthmoving bucket scoop. 

The little convoy retraced the path of their first expedition to Big 5, straight up El Segundo Boulevard and into the parking lot where they had slaughtered so many zombies just a few days earlier.  The bodies remained where they had fallen, or been crush, on the first shopping trip.  However, Carl avoided that part of the parking lot and the Big 5 retail store, heading around the building to the big warehouse that also bore the Big 5 logo.  This was the regional distribution center for the Big 5 Corporation and it should be a true treasure trove of survival gear.

Aside from the bodies in front of the store, the parking lot was strangely deserted.  There wasn’t a zombie in sight.  Carl suspected that all of them had been drawn to the fence line of the refinery, just over a mile away, by the incessant moaning of the undead gathered just beyond reach of the sprinklers.  Of course many of them were now running up El Segundo Boulevard in hot, or cold blooded, pursuit of the convoy.  Carl figured they had about four or five minutes until the fastest of them arrived and was glad they had that much time to set up a perimeter defense.

Carl parked near the loading dock and directed the big rig to back up to loading dock while the big fire truck pulled up to the FDC connection for the building’s fire suppression system.  The city water pressure had fallen close to zero in the last few days, but Carl had realized that the building fire sprinkler system would be isolated by a backflow preventer.  That meant that all of the pipes inside of the building should still be full of water.  It wouldn’t last long, but it added at least a thousand gallons supply for the water cannon. 

Gus was already working on opening the loading dock door when Carl got there.  After 30 seconds of using a crow bar they popped the door and entered the warehouse with a dozen more men at their heels.  Carl was thankful for the big skylights in the roof that provided dim light in the cavernous space.  He paused as his eyes adjusted to the gloom and used all of his senses to search for any movement.  The warehouse appeared to be empty and Carl could now discern seemingly endless stacks of crates and pallets on countless rows of shelves that approached ceiling height.  It was gold mine, if they could find what they were looking for in the limited time available.

“Okay,” said Carl loudly. “Stick to the plan.  Guns and ammo are the top priority.  Camping gear, especially sleeping bags, tents, and fishing gear are second.  Clothes and dehydrated food are third.  Now spread out and look for the good stuff. 

“Gus,” Carl continued. “See if you can get that forklift started.”  Carl pointed to a machine parked next to the roll-up door.  “Chuck, see about getting the roll-up open. I’ll see if I can find anything that lists where they keep stuff in here.”  Carl went to desk near the entrance and looked for anything that would help them find their way around the warehouse.  After a moment he spotted a floor-plan chart on the wall with a spiral notebook hanging from a string below it.  He opened the notebook and found alphabetical listings of merchandise matched up with letters and numbers in a column labeled “row/shelf”.  This was it.

Carl looked up “guns” but couldn’t find a listing.  Then, mentally slapping himself, he looked up “Winchester” and found at least a dozen itemized entries.  He was also pleased to note that they all seemed to be on the same row. 

“Look for row J guys,” he yelled. “There should be guns there.”

“I found it,” a voice called back. “But it’s closed off with a locked fence.”

“Blast it open, if you have to!” Carl yelled as he ran in that direction.  A shotgun blast punctuated his comment and a boot to the blasted gate opened it as he arrived.  Carl pushed through and scanned the shelves.  He saw cartons labeled Winchester and others that said Remington and Mossberg, among others.  “Bring a push cart over here and start cleaning all of it out,” he instructed.  “The cases on the lower shelves look like ammunition.  Bring as much of that as possible too.”  Then Carl turned and ran back to the entrance.