02 Flotilla of the Dead (6 page)

“The
Queen Mary
will be an excellent stronghold here.  The fact that you kept it free of zombies without any weapons or help until the Commodore and his Flotilla arrived is proof of that.   And there are a lot of people who will need the provisions that we can salvage from this port.  So I’ve agreed to station the cutter
Sea Otter
here to defend the harbor.  I’ll also try to keep the
Stratton
within a day’s cruise distance, just in case you run into unforeseen trouble.  I want to make it clear that I agree with Commodore Allen that the resources contained in the Port of Long Beach and Port of Los Angeles are crucial to setting up safe havens for all of the boat people in this region, as well as many survivors ashore,” Captain McCloud said with earnest passion.  “As long as you are committed to that goal, I’ll do as much as I can to protect the
Queen Mary
from danger.”

“Thank you, Captain McCloud,” said Conrad.  “This is all a rather sudden change of circumstances for me.  Last week I was running a hotel and tourist attraction, then the zombies surrounded us, now the Flotilla and the Coast Guard have saved us; I feel like the whole world is spinning.  But at least it seems to be settling into something that makes some sense again.”

“Well said,” commented Captain Fisher.  “And I think that Commodore Allen has a similar message for you, Captain Kim.”  He nodded towards the Korean captain of the
Traveling Trader.

“Yes?” asked Captain Kim.  “What plans do you have for me and my ship?”

“Big ones, captain,” replied Scott with a friendly and confident tone.  “We want you to help us save lives and keep civilization alive along the California coast.  You and your crew will probably even get rich doing it.”

“Doing what?” asked Captain Kim with raised eyebrows.

“Exactly what your ship was intended to do, according to her name: being traveling traders.  We want to use your ship to move the supplies we bring from this port to the other safe havens that the Flotilla will establish along the California coastline and nearby islands.  Your first missions will be ones of mercy and goodwill, trading survival supplies for friendship.  Later you will be able to conduct trade and commerce between established safe havens.  In return, the Flotilla will provide you with protection.”

“That is a very interesting plan,” Captain Kim replied.  “But why should we agree to operate under your orders, commodore?”

 “We will offer you enough fuel for your local missions here, but not enough to set course for Korea,” Scott explained.  “We simply can’t afford to take the chance that you would try to sail away with all those vital supplies.  And if you tried to go south, the Navy in San Diego would seize your ship so fast your head would spin.  I’m not sure what you would find to the north yet, but it would probably be far worse than my offer, and I’d be chasing you too.  So I think you’ll agree that this deal is a good one.”

                 “Yes,” Captain Kim smiled in what appeared to be genuine amusement.  “I think we will get along just fine, Commodore.” 

*****

                        After dinner Captain McCloud and Sergeant Major O’Hara asked to meet privately with Scott and Captain Fisher.  Scott invited them all into his private office which connected to his master suite at the aft of the Sky Deck.  It was a spacious and well appointed room with a big desk and bigger conference table.  The men took seats around the table and Captain McCloud got right to the point. 

            “I sent one of my patrol boats around to the other side of Terminal Island to check out the Coast Guard Station there.  My men landed and went ashore, encountering only a few zombies on the dock, but the station seems to be abandoned.  The buoy tender
George Cobb
is gone from her berth, along with the local cutters and half of the smaller patrol boats, so I can only hope that most of the Coast Guard personnel escaped on them.  Anyway, the armory there is still secure.  My men didn’t break into it, but I think we should go over there to recover as many weapons as possible.”

            “Good idea,” said Scott.  “What do you think, Sergeant Major?”

            “I agree fully, but there’s more to it than just the Coast Guard armory,” replied O’Hara.  “There’s also a Navy and Marine Corps Reserve Center on Terminal Island.  We haven’t seen any signs of their presence yet, but there could be some troops holding out there.  Of course, being a reserve base, there wouldn’t have been more than a skeleton crew on guard duty at the time of the outbreak.  I doubt many others would have made it out to the island when the reserves were called up later that morning.  Therefore, all of their weapons and ammunition should still be there, along with their HUMVs and military trucks.  I also remember hearing something about a small unit of Light Armored Vehicles being transferred there a few years ago as an anti-terrorist task force.”

            “That would really be like hitting a jackpot,” said Captain Fisher.

            “It sure would,” agreed Scott. “We’d have enough weapons to arm a sizeable force on the
Queen Mary
, perhaps enough for militias at a few more safe havens too.  I think we need to organize a full scale provisioning expedition tomorrow.  We’ll take both Amtracs, my armored car, a couple of SUVs, and at least two big-rigs hauling empty cargo containers that we can fill up.  We should bring most of the Marines and I’ll ask for additional volunteers.  Will that do it?”

            “There’s something else to consider too,” interjected Captain Fisher.  “We did some scouting of our own with the Cigarette boat looking for fuel stockpiles.  As best we can tell, there should be several million gallons of refined fuel on and around Terminal Island.  That includes gasoline, diesel, bunker fuel, ethanol, even jet fuel, not to mention natural gas storage facilities.  We also found half a dozen fueling barges around the port.  Before we leave, we should look into securing the fuel storage facilities and filling the barges for our use, not to mention topping off the tanks on the
Sovereign Spirit
.”

            “Absolutely,” confirmed Scott.  “That fuel will be the lifeblood of the Flotilla and any semblance of civilization we can reestablish.  We should also send a team to look at the old power plant on Terminal Island.  That baby could really jump start the recovery process, if we can ever get it operational.  However, I think we have to make the weapons our first priority.”

            “Agreed,” said Captain McCloud.  “You take the Marines and vehicles to the Reserve Center and I’ll sail the
Stratton
over to the cutter pier at the Coast Guard Station.  We should be close enough to each other to provide mutual support if either shore party runs into trouble.  I’ll have the Dolphins standing by too.”

            “Good idea,” confirmed Scott. “I’ll send Mick Williams with a squad of Marines in my helicopter for scouting and air support.  Okay, then, is there anything else we should know about Terminal Island before we do this?”

            “Yes, Commodore,” said Captain McCloud.  “I believe so.  There are a few ships and another facility there that you should be aware of.”

            “Okay, Captain,” said Scott.  “I’m all ears.  What are they?”

            “When we took the patrol boat around the island we confirmed that at least two more ships have power and crews aboard.  One is a Ro-Ro transport that’s part of the Ready Reserve Force of the Military Sealift Command.  It’s named the
Cape Inscription.
  It’s designed to transport entire armored battalions overseas.  We confirmed that at least some of the crew is still aboard her.  They hailed my men as our patrol boat went by.  My men told them we would be back to assist them tomorrow.”

            “Wow,” said Scott with a low whistle. “That could be very important.  We’ll have to contact them and see if they are interested in working with us.  What else did you find, Captain?”

            “There’s another ship, actually two vessels, right next to the
Cape Inscription
that might interest you too.  They’re the
Sea Launch Commander
and its floating launch platform.”

            “Wait a minute,” said Scott.  “Isn’t that the private space company that launches satellites on rockets from a floating platform at sea?”

            “Yes sir,” replied McCloud.  “And it looks like there are people aboard them too, as well as a helicopter on the helipad of the command ship.”

            “I’m not sure how that fits into our plans,” Scott pondered.  “But it sure is interesting.  Where exactly are these ships?”

            “They’re all docked on the old Navy Mole which is a narrow manmade peninsula across from the former Navy Yard.  It’s on the ocean side of the island.  Not far from the Reserve Center.  I just thought you should know about them.”

            “Thank you, Captain,” Scott replied.  “We’ll need to think about how to approach them as soon as we check the armories.  And what was the other facility you thought was important?”

            “The Terminal Island Federal Prison,” replied Fisher with a tight grin.  “It’s right next to the Coast Guard Station.  As I recall it’s a medium security facility for about a thousand prisoners.  A lot of them are white collar criminals, but they also held Al Capone there when he got moved out of Alcatraz and Charles Manson was there for a while before he started his gang of killer hippies.  It might be full of zombies now, or the inmates may have gotten loose, but they could also still be uninfected and locked up in there.”

            “Jesus Christ!” exclaimed Scott.  “It sounds like Terminal Island could be full of surprises.  What will you do if you find out the prisoners are still there and not infected?  Release them?”

            “I really don’t know, Scott,” replied Captain McCloud.  “I’d have to at least make sure they had food and water.  Then, it might be a good idea to interview them.  Sort of like parole hearings, but we probably won’t have time for that.  What do you gentlemen think we should do with them?”

            “Screw them,” said O’Hara.  “They’re criminals.  We have enough good people to take care of as it is.”

            “That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?” commented Captain Fisher.  “It seems to me that we should draft them.  Turn them into a workforce to conduct salvage operations on Terminal Island.  They’ll obey orders if the option is being expelled from the safe haven.”

            “I like that idea, Jordie,” said Scott.  “But the decision will be Captain McCloud’s to make, after he finds out what condition they’re in.  Let us know if you need us to back you up with the Marines.  If that’s all, gentlemen, I think we better tell our crews to get ready for some action tomorrow.  Terminal Island is a lot bigger than the peninsula we’ve secured so far.  That means there could be a lot more zombies too.” 

*****

            When the sun rose over Long Beach on April 9, 2012, two squads of Marines were already saddling up in their big Amtracs.  A fire team from the third squad was forming up on the helipad and the fourth squad, plus three heavy weapons fire teams, was deployed to defend the perimeter established around the
Queen Mary
and the Cruise Ship Terminal.   A few minutes later the rest of the volunteers began to arrive.  Scott had gone through a hell of an argument again with Michelle to get her to agree that Billy should be allowed to come along.  In the end Scott had promised that Billy would ride ‘shotgun’ in the armored car, where he would remain and only fire through the firing slits, not get out, if they encountered any zombies.  Billy brought along his friends Mitch and Justin, as well as the gun loving brothers Shawn and Bruce Smith.  All of them had been given semi-automatic AR-15 rifles the night before and practiced with them in the bowling alley.  O’Hara had confirmed that they were all acceptable marksmen, at least at close range, due to frequent practice with air-soft and paint ball guns. 

            The volunteers also included Mark Argus and his fifteen year old son Jake, who was an excellent marksman from frequent practice with real guns.  Mark carried the same M-203 combination rife and grenade launcher he had used in San Diego.  Jake chose a Thompson submachine gun like the one he owned at home, but also wore a Beretta 9mm pistol at his side and had a machete strapped to his back.  The other young people looked at him a little strangely, but they hadn’t gone through airborne jump school in their sophomore year of high school, especially not in the jungles of Central America.  Jake had. 

Mark chose a black H2 Hummer from the vehicle deck and drove it out next to the Amtracs and armored car with Jake standing up through the sun roof, Tommy Gun with 50 round drum clip at the ready.  Clint Murdock walked up with his own M-203 and joined them in the H2.  A dozen other volunteers from the ship’s crew and an equal number from the
Queen Mary
were given pistols and assigned to either the shuttle bus, or the big-rig truck with an empty container that would carry back the arms they planned to liberate.  George Hammer drove another big-rig himself, but his was a flat-bed with a forklift strapped to a hydraulic lift on the rear end.  

            Scott decided to drive his own big armored car, with Billy in the passenger seat and his friends in the rear compartment.  The Amtrac with the bulldozer blade would lead the convoy, followed by the armored car and the rest of the vehicles, with the other Amtrac bringing up the rear.  Half an hour after sunrise Scott got on the radio to launch the expedition.  Moments later a dozen engines fired up.  The loudest was the helicopter that Mick Williams and Sam Waters would pilot overhead.  The combined rumble of all the vehicles carried with it the reassuring thrum of modern civilization.  As the convoy moved out, and the helicopter lifted off, Scott noticed people coming out onto the decks of both the
Sovereign Spirit
and the
Queen Mary
to wave and offer their hopes and prayers for a safe and successful mission.

            A squad of Marines assigned to defend the safe haven opened the gate to the passenger terminal and calmly shot the handful of zombies that had gathered there overnight.  The lead Amtrac drove past without pause and Scott pulled the armored car into formation behind it.  They had all agreed to obey a 25 mile per hour speed limit and keep ten yard intervals between vehicles, but Scott was not surprised to see Mark pass him doing 50 mph in the parking lot.  ‘
Oh well,’
thought Mark.
‘I guess we can use a scout on the ground too.’
  It was soon clear that Mark was pacing the advance of the helicopter above and he might indeed be valuable in scouting the path to the George Desmond Bridge.  Scott stuck to the plan, though, and followed the Marines in the Amtrac at a leisurely speed.