02 Flotilla of the Dead (8 page)

“In that case, you just passed the test, sir,” said O’Hara “It’s much safer to have the helicopter here to scout the route for the unarmored vehicles and provide air support, or medivac, just in case you need it – like you did just now.”

“Lesson learned,” agreed Scott.  “Now I need to talk to Mark and his son about what happened here.”

“It wouldn’t have happened if they hadn’t gone ahead on their own,” O’Hara said.  “On the other hand, they did do a good job of taking out the zombies after making the mistake of opening the gate.  There’re at least fifty bodies here.  Someone was bound to get bitten one of these days, sir.  I would still trust both of them to cover me in a firefight.”

“I know all that,” Scott replied as he turn towards Mark and Jake who were standing next to the H2 with as close to guilty looks on their faces as they were capable of.  Scott approached them and said, “Well, that was a cluster fuck.”

“I didn’t know they were there,” said Jake defensively.  “I wouldn’t have opened the gate if I knew, honest!”

“I know that, Jake,” replied Scott.  “I’m not angry with you, and neither was Clint.  He told me it was an honest mistake and I agree with him.  But those are the kind of mistakes that we can’t afford to make.  This one cost Clint his arm and maybe his life.  I should be more upset with you, Mark, for zooming ahead of us.  This wouldn’t have happened if you had kept your position in the convoy.  That can’t be changed now and this is something that both of you will just have to live with.”

“Come on, Scott,” Mark protested weakly.  “Clint was the one who suggested scouting ahead in the Hummer.”

“I believe that too,” Scott said.  “That was part of his gung ho airborne attitude and he paid the price for that reckless idea.  My concern now is that nobody else ever has to pay for similar mistakes like that again.  So it’s your choice, Mark.  You two can ‘Charlie Mike’ with me, or return to base.  But, if you follow me, you will follow me.   I need your word that you’ll follow the rules of engagement too, especially the one that reads ‘better safe than sorry.’  Okay?”

“Yeah,” said Mark reluctantly.  “We’ll Charlie Mike with you and play ‘follow the leader’ too.  You know we’re really sorry about what happened to Clint.”

“Okay then, let’s mount up.  I think I hear the chopper coming back,” said Scott as he walked back to the armored car.  Billy and his friends gave him a strange look when he climbed into the driver’s seat. 

“Did you really just cut Clint’s arm off?” Billy asked with his voice full of disbelief.

“Yes, I did,” confirmed Scott.  “He got a zombie bite on his lower forearm, so I cut it off at the elbow.  We won’t know for a while if I got it off soon enough.  If the infection spread higher than that, he’ll still turn into a zombie and I’ll have to shoot him in the head.”  Scott’s voice was emotionless as he laid out the facts for them.  Meanwhile he had started the engine and was driving slowly across the bridge with Mark and the rest of the convoy trailing behind. 

“I would have shot him in the head,” said Billy suddenly.

Scott looked at his son and said, “If I didn’t think there was a chance to save him, that’s what I would have done too, Billy.  Or I probably would have given him a bullet for his gun, so he could shoot himself.  That’s what he wanted, by the way.  If the bite had been on his torso or near his head there wouldn’t have been any question about it, but I think that cutting off his arm did give him a slight chance,” Scott explained.  By then they had left the bridge and were driving across Terminal Island.  The Unified Reserve Center was only about a mile down the road.  The young men in the armored car remained silent.

Scott watched as four Marines, including Sergeant Major O’Hara climbed through a hatch to sit on top of the Amtrac.  They aimed their rifles and started firing single shots in several directions.  Scott looked where they were shooting and saw a scattering of zombies running towards the convoy with reaching arms and gaping mouths.  One by one they took hits that either terminated or incapacitated them.  None of them got within fifty yards of the convoy.  Scott wished that those Marines had been the ones who opened the gate on the bridge.  They would have been ready to deal with the hornets’ nest on the other side.

*****

            Captain McCloud directed
USCGC Stratton
up alongside the cutter pier at Coast Guard Station Los Angeles.  He saw a few zombies come running towards the ship, but he had men stationed at the rails to dispatch them with rifle fire.  A shore party of twenty armed men and four women were waiting for his order to disembark and make their way to the armory.   They would grab push carts from the dock along the way to carry weapons and ammunition back to the ship. 

            “Attention on deck!  This is the Captain.  Deploy the shore party,” ordered Captain McCloud over the ship’s loudspeaker.  “Marksmen to remain on deck and engage infected targets on sight.  Shore party’s objective is to recover weapons and ammunition from the station armory.  Special orders include self preservation.  To be specific, avoiding infection is a higher priority than recovering weapons.  Carry on!”

            The shore party leaped onto the pier from two boarding ladders and formed into two teams that moved swiftly up the dock towards the Fast Boat Basin.  They encountered a few zombies in ones and twos that were easily dispatched with rifle and shotgun fire.  The Coast Guardsmen moved purposefully towards the PACAREA Armory where the machine guns, rifles, side arms and ammunition stockpile for Pacific Area Coast Guard forces were kept.   No one aboard the
Stratton
had keys to the armory, but they did have a demolition team tasked with the job of getting the door open.

            The shore party moved past the grand old building that held the Coast Guard Ward Room and approached the armory within a minute.  Four more zombies tried to attack them and were stopped with bullets to the head.  The demolition team went to work immediately, placing shaped charges of C4 on the hinges and lock of the vault-like door to the armory.  A minute later everyone cleared back and the charges were detonated with satisfying effect.  When the smoke cleared they saw that the door was hanging open on half of a remaining hinge.  Most of the shore party moved into the armory while the rest set up a security perimeter to guard against zombies.

            Less than five minutes later the first loaded push carts were headed back towards the
Stratton
, laden with M-16A2 rifles and cases of 5.56mm ammunition.  The next carts carried M-2 and M-240 machine guns.  Additional carts followed carrying 50 caliber and 7.62mm ammunition.   Next was a cart carrying several dozen Remington 870 police riot shotguns and cases of 12 gauge buckshot and non-lethal rounds.   The latter were obviously for riot control use, which meant they would be next to useless against zombies, but there might be riots among survivors that needed controlling someday too. 

Singular zombies continued to appear and had to be shot before they got close enough to attack the shore party, but the operation continued without major interruption.  More guns and ammunition were carted back to the
Stratton.
  Then, close to twenty minutes into the mission, a larger group of zombies appeared, apparently attracted by the gunfire.  At first there were a dozen of them who were easily eliminated, but then came dozens more, and soon it seemed as if hundreds were pouring into the Coast Guard Station from buildings across the street.  Many of them were close to naked and almost all of them sported ghastly wounds.  Some of them wore ripped remnants of some sort of uniforms.

            “Sound recall,” ordered Captain McCloud.  “Get our people out of there now!”  His orders were relayed over the radio and loud hailer.  Members of the shore party close to the ship were able to complete the transfer of weapons and ammunition aboard, but at least a dozen Coast Guardsmen had to abandon their push carts and sprit for safety, many ducking to avoid fire from riflemen on the ship aiming at the pursuing zombies. 

Two members of the shore party waited too long and zombies swarmed over them moments after they let go of their push cart.  The marksmen on the ship couldn’t fire, for fear of hitting their mates, until it became clear that there was no hope for them.  Then at least twenty rifles and a 50 caliber machine gun opened up on the dog-pile of zombies devouring the hapless pair.  The torrent of fire was aimed as much at mercy killing of their friends as it was retribution on the zombies.  Captain McCloud swore under his breath and spared a moment to mourn the loss of the Coast Guard man and woman who had served under his command.

            “Where are all these damned zombies coming from, sir?” asked Lt. Commander Lester Gordon, the
Stratton’s
first officer.  “The place seemed almost empty when we got here and there aren’t any houses or apartments on Terminal Island, are there?”                 

            “I think we just found out what happened to the prisoners in the Federal Detention Center across the street,” replied Captain McCloud.  “It looks like they not only got infected, but found a way to get out too.  Someone must have opened the cells and gates before they evacuated.  Whoever did it probably thought they were showing mercy for the prisoners, but it probably caused a lot more of them to be infected than if they were locked away safe in their cells.”

            “Should we cast off?” asked Lt. Commander Gordon.

            “No,” replied Captain McCloud coldly.  “Just pull up the boarding ladders as soon as all of the shore party is aboard.  Then start passing out more guns and ammunition.  We’ll hold in place and keep shooting until we run out of targets.  It’s better to eliminate them now than leave them to attack the next people who show up here.”  It was clear that the captain was disgusted by the necessity for such brutal extermination tactics, but was convinced that it needed to be done.  There might even be a touch of vengeance in his decision, but that was fine with his crew.

            “Aye aye, Captain,” responded his first officer with equal measures of resignation and determination.  Every crewmember that had seen what happened to their two friends was grim faced and steely eyed as they came on deck to get weapons and cut down more zombies.

The carnage lasted for close to half an hour during which almost the entire crew of the
Stratton
lined the rail along the cutter pier and fired into the mass of rabid zombies.   The undead pressed forward, oblivious to the withering fire that cut into them.  Captain McCloud attempted to count the zombies swarming below, but could only make a rough estimate of between five and six hundred, especially after the bodies started to pile up two and three high in front of the ship. 

When the last of the zombies had been stilled with bullets to their heads, Captain McCloud ordered the ship moved slightly forward, past the largest piles of bodies, and sent a dozen volunteers out to collect the carts full of weapons and ammunition that had been abandoned farther up the quay.  Four crewmen were given the grisly task of retrieving the bodies of their two fallen crewmates. 

While they were doing that, McCloud ordered that an inventory be taken on the quantity of ammunition that had been expended against the zombies.  He was slightly startled when he received the report that over fifteen thousand rounds had been fired.   By his own calculations that meant that it had taken more than twenty-five bullets to kill each zombie, but then he realized that this was not too surprising when only head shots were effective and some of the Guardsmen had been using fully automatic machine guns that simply chopped their targets into hamburger.  As soon as the last of the salvaged arms and crew were back aboard, Captain McCloud ordered the
Stratton
back towards the
Queen Mary
and
Sovereign Spirit
on the other side of Terminal Island. 

*****

The Navy and Marine Reserve Center appeared deserted as the convoy pulled up to the locked gates.  Two Marines dismounted from the lead Amtrac and used bolt cutters to get the gate open.  One of them pointed out a body with numerous bullet wounds, including one to the head, laying next to the gate and spotted a minor blood trail leading into the compound.  Then he opened the gate and stepped aside.    The two Marines waved the convoy through the gate and remained behind to secure it and guard their exit route.  Scott followed the Amtrac over to the main building and the rest of the convoy followed.  As they pulled up Sergeant Major O’Hara opened the rear ramp on the Amtrac and deployed his men.  O’Hara himself turned to the convoy and directed the vehicles to form into a defensive half circle which would allow them clear fields of fire towards the building, or any zombies approaching across the empty parking lot. 

Once again Scott instructed Billy and his friends to stay inside the armored car until the area was scouted and secured.  Then he got out and joined the Marines as they moved up to the front door of the Center.  It was a glass door and they could see some movement inside.  As Scott and O’Hara stepped up for a closer look a zombie in Marine uniform threw itself against the window.  The tempered glass held and the zombie bounced back with a confused expression.  O’Hara signaled his men to hold their fire while he looked to see if there were more zombies inside.  When it became clear that the zombie inside was alone, O’Hara raise his M-4 and put a bullet through the glass that continued through the zombie’s right eye and laid it out on the floor.  Then he motioned his Marines to break open the door. 

“It’s too quiet here,” said O’Hara.  “There should be more vehicles out there in the parking lot.  Not just military ones either.  Marines drive hotrods, they don’t take the bus to work.  This base looks closed and deserted.”  Scott nodded agreement and started to worry.

When they got inside, O’Hara stepped over to inspect the body of the zombie Marine.  It had a bite mark on its cheek.  Poor guy had probably been bitten out by the gate, then locked himself in the Center before turning into a zombie.  He should have blown his own brains out, but this might have happened before anyone knew what was going on.