02 Flotilla of the Dead (31 page)

            “Not anymore,” said O’Hara calmly.  “The Marines have landed now.  So where is this supermarket?”

            The man pointed up the street and to the left.  “It’s one block up and one block over.  You can’t miss it.  But don’t try to just walk up to it.  They have armed men at every door.  You’ll see a lot more bodies lying in their line of fire.  I haven’t tried to approach it for several days now.  Those who have, except for women, are dead.  I figure I’ll just sit on this bench until I keel over.  What more can I hope for now?”

            “Thank you for the information, sir.  And you’ll be just fine now,” replied O’Hara in a dangerously calm voice.  “Get up and walk down to the pier.  Look for any Marine and tell him that Sergeant Major O’Hara sent you for aid and comfort.  Tell him I said to put you on the next boat back to the ship that you can use my bar tab.  Can you do that?”

            “Yes, sir,” replied the man.  “My name is Hank Cook and, if you’re serious, I’m in your debt and about to regain some faith in humanity too.”  The old man struggled to rise from his seat on the bench and turned to walk stiffly down the road towards the pier.

            O’Hara turned to his men and said, “You heard the man.  The bad guys are in the supermarket around the corner.   Snow, you’re with me.  Corporal Slone, take Private Maddox and circle around the block.  Watch the rooftops and ask locals for directions if necessary.  Be ready to hit the loading dock on my signal.  Use grenades if necessary.   I’ll approach the front and give them one chance to surrender.  Then we’ll blast them out of there, if we have to.  Any questions?”

            “Shouldn’t we radio for reinforcements?” Slone asked.

            “Bite your tongue, lad,” responded O’Hara with a grin.  “We’re the Marines!  But I think some close air support should do nicely.”  He pulled out his handheld radio and asked Mick Williams to bring a fire team of Marines with sniper rifles and grenade launchers to cover their assault on the supermarket from the Super Huey. 

*****

            Scott and Mark were running up the street towards the sound of the firefight when Mick Williams swept past above them in the chopper.  Scott noticed a Marine in the open side door with a SAM-R, squad advanced marksman rifle, which was basically an M-16A4 with an advanced optical scope and heavy barrel that provided extended range and accuracy.  O’Hara must have requested Mick to bring snipers. 

            “Here comes the cavalry,” called Mark over the thumping of the helicopter rotor. 

Scott nodded, but signaled for Mark to slow down as they reached the next corner.  The gun shots were closer now and more concentrated.  Peeking around the building Scott could see Sergeant Major O’Hara crouching behind a low wall across the street from the supermarket.  Gunfire came from several of the shattered windows of the market and chewed up the opposite side of the wall that protected O’Hara.   Another Marine released short bursts of suppressive fire from the doorway of a one story brick building, hoping to give O’Hara some breathing room. 

The helicopter descended towards the street at first, but rose over the roof of the supermarket when the people inside started to fire at it.  That, more than anything, drove Scott to action.  His helicopter was priceless and he was damned if he was going sit there and watch people shoot at it.  Ducking back behind the corner he quickly emptied the buckshot grenade that he favored for blasting zombies from his M-203 and replaced it with a 40mm high explosive grenade.  Then he leaned around the corner again, aimed the grenade launcher at an angle to lob the projectile towards the storefront glass, and slowly squeezed the trigger. 

The grenade sailed through the windows into the supermarket and exploded with a red-orange flash and a powerful thud in what appeared to have been a direct hit on one of the checkout stands.  One of the gunmen inside was thrown out of the window by the blast and lay moaning on the sidewalk.  The rest of the gunfire ceased immediately.  Scott reloaded with another high explosive round quickly and watched Mark insert a fragmentation grenade in his M-203.  Then they both stepped around the corner and fired another volley at the store as they ran down the block.  The twin explosions blew most of the remaining windows out and were followed by screams of pain within the building.

As the smoke cleared, O’Hara raised his head from behind the wall and took aim on the windows.  “Throw out your weapons and come out the doors with your hands up!” he yelled.  “Or we
will
blast you out of there.” 

“We have women hostages in here.” yelled a man from inside the store.  “You’ll kill them if you fire any more cannons in here!  Just go away!” 

Scott frowned as he knelt behind the wall next to O’Hara.  Then he smiled and removed the spent casing of the high explosive grenade he had just fired.  He pulled a teargas grenade from the loops on his web gear and loaded it instead.  O’Hara nodded and shouted, “We’re United States Marines and we
don’t negotiate with terrorists! 
Kill your hostages if you want to die!  But if you don’t come out now, we won’t be taking any prisoners either.  This is your last warning.” 

Scott fired the teargas into the supermarket and the interior began to fill with white clouds.  Men yelled and women screamed.  Scott reloaded and fired another gas grenade through a different broken window.   Mark, who was following Scott’s lead, fired a third CS round through another window.  Within seconds the whole building was full of teargas.

There was a short but furious exchange of gunfire from behind the building and O’Hara explained that his men were covering the rear exits.  Then, after a brief pause, people began to come out the front doors.  They all appeared to be unarmed and all of them were choking and pawing at their eyes, until one large man ran out yelling and waving a shotgun.   O’Hara didn’t hesitate to fire a burst of full metal jackets into his chest. 

After that it was over.  A form of law and order had returned to Avalon.  Thirty-five people from the supermarket were taken prisoner, including sixteen women – at least until their status could be determined.  Ten minutes later, as Scott and the Marines were preparing to march them all back to the Pleasure Pier, the door of the old Town Hall opened and several elderly men came out onto the street.  They approached cautiously.

“Who is in charge here?” asked the bravest of them. 

Scott and O’Hara exchanged a glance and O’Hara said, “Commodore Scott Allen is Commander of the Survival Flotilla.”  He gestured at Scott with a nod.  “I’m Sergeant Major O’Hara of the US Marines, serving under his command.”

 “Thank God,” exclaimed the old man to his companion.  “Did you hear that, Henry?  The Marines have landed!  We’re saved.”  Turning to Scott he said, “Welcome to Avalon, sir.  I’m Maxwell Green, former mayor of the city and chairman of the Chamber of Commerce.  We’ve been through hell here since all of these armed thugs took over the town!”

“I’m sure it’s been rough dealing with all of these refugees,” Scott said.  “But you’re a hell of a lot better off than millions of people on the mainland.  At least these were just thugs trying to steal food and rape women, not flesh eating zombies.” 

“So it’s really that bad over there?” asked Mr. Green.  “I sort of hoped the bad news had been blown out of proportion.”

            “No, I’m afraid the news is worse than just bad,” Scott confirmed.  “It’s horrific.  This island might be the only uninfected place along the California coast; which is why we plan to help you create a safe haven and preserve a piece of civilization here.   We’ve announced a meeting at the Avalon Casino tonight and I hope that you and the rest of the local leaders will be there.”  Then men were pleased to agree and Scott headed back to the harbor.

*****

            Scott was returning to the
Sovereign Spirit
in the Cigarette boat when he spotted Captain McCloud leaving one of the cruise ships in the Interceptor, so he changed course to meet up with him.  Both boats slowed as they met outside the harbor and Scott raised his voice to say, “We should meet to discuss the situation in town!”

            “And we need to talk about what happened on the cruise ships too!” McCloud yelled back.  “My ship or yours?” he asked with a grim smile.

            “Mine’s closer!” replied Scott and both boats sped to the
Sovereign Spirit.
  As soon as they boarded through the lowered rear ramp Scott told him about the armed thugs who had been terrorizing the town and hoarding all the supplies.  He explained that the local police and harbor master had been killed several days ago and anarchy had reigned ever since.  “What I can’t understand is why the Coast Guard didn’t intervene here,” Scott concluded.

            “I have the same concerns about what happened on the cruise ships too,” Captain McCloud agreed.  Then he told Scott how upset he was that the local Coast Guard had ignored the zombies and trapped passengers on the Oosterdam.  “It doesn’t make any sense, Scott.  The local commander has all of his cutters and helicopters over at the Wrigley Institute, with at least a hundred Guardsmen.  They’re just a few miles up the coast.  But he’s not using them to help any of the people down here.  You should have seen those poor passengers when we rescued them.  Most of them hadn’t eaten anything in almost two weeks.  Thank God they had bathrooms with running water.   And they had phones in their rooms, so they could talk to the crew and other passengers.  But they had been terrified that nobody would ever come to save them.”

            “So how did you get them out?”  Scott asked.

            “The hard way,” McCloud said grimly.  “We went in with M-16s and shotguns.  There were dozens of zombies in those passageways.  Ten of my men made quick work of them.  But the local Coast Guard could have done the same thing a week ago, damn it.  It would have prevented a lot of fear and suffering, and probably more than a few deaths.  Some of those trapped people couldn’t take it anymore and tried to get past the zombies.  None of them made it.”

            “The Coast Guard probably could have saved lives in Avalon too,” Scott pointed out.  “Even a small show of force might have kept those armed thugs from running wild.  They probably could have saved the lives of the local police and harbor patrol too, not to mention the rapes and murders after they were killed.  So why didn’t they intervene?”

            “That’s exactly what I plan to find out, Scott,” answered Captain McCloud seriously.  “Would you and a few of your Marines care to join me for a quick trip to Wrigley Institute?”

            Scott raised an eyebrow as he said, “You think you’ll need the Marines to visit your own Coast Guard base?”

            “Honestly, Scott, I don’t know what to think,” Captain McCloud replied.  “I used to know the commander of the Los Angeles Area quite well, but it sounds like there’s a new commander now.  I outrank him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’ll listen to me or follow my orders.  Your credentials from DHS outrank us all and those Marines add another element of authority.  So I’d feel more comfortable if we deal with this together.”

            “Say no more,” Scott smiled.  He had felt the same way each time he asked Captain McCloud to lend the credibility of the Coast Guard to Scott’s command of the newly formed Survival Flotilla.  “Shall we take your choppers, or mine?”

            “Actually,” McCloud replied, “I was thinking of taking the
Stratton
down there at full speed.  There’s nothing like a warship approaching at thirty knots when it comes to gunboat diplomacy.”

            “I like the way you think, Captain,” said Scott with a chuckle.  “In that case I might as well bring my Marines along in the Cigarette boat.  They’ll be more visible that way and we can do eighty knots if we have to.”

*****

            A few minutes later the
USCG Stratton
was pulling away from Avalon as she lowered her rear ramp to recover Captain McCloud in the Interceptor. The
Stratton
was one of the first cutters designed to launch and recover her patrol boats while underway, using a stern recovery system that allowed a fast patrol boat to zoom right in or out of its cradle at cruising speed.   Scott was conning the Cigarette with Mark and five Marines, led by Sergeant Washington, strapped into the other seats in the open cockpit.  They easily kept pace with the big Coast Guard cutter as it accelerated to over 28 knots and charged north towards Two Harbors.   The ten mile trip was swift and without incident, until they rounded the last headland and saw the collection of other Coast Guard vessels anchored off the coast of the Wriggly Institute. 

            Scott recognized the buoy tender that they overflew earlier, along with two smaller Protector Class cutters.  Each was less than a hundred feet long.  They were all dwarfed by the
Stratton.
  But they indicated that the Coast Guard did indeed have a force on Catalina that could have been used to keep law and order during the crisis.   Instead they seemed to have set up a purely defensive outpost at the isolated Wriggly Institute.  Scott also noticed that while the rest of the Two Harbors anchorage was packed with the yachts of refugee Boat People, the area around the Coast Guard ships and the Institute was curiously free of any private vessels.  Were they being kept away by the Coast Guard cutters that should have been helping them?

            Captain McCloud reduced the
Stratton’s
speed as they approached the anchored Coast Guard vessels and let loose several deafening blasts from the ship’s powerful horn.   Scott was monitoring the Coast Guard radio frequency and heard McCloud announce his arrival and request an urgent meeting with the commanding officer of the local Coast Guard assets on Catalina.  There was no reply for several minutes, during which the
Stratton
made a slow turn until her bow and main gun turret pointed towards the Wriggly Institute and the smaller cutters anchored in front of it.   This was not necessarily a hostile move, but Scott remembered the feelings that he had felt when the big cutter did the same thing to the
Sovereign Spirit
off the coast of Mexico.  There was definitely something to be said for the authority reflected by the barrel of a 57mm automatic canon pointed in your direction.   However, the radio response, when it came, was not exactly what Scott and Captain McCloud had expected.