03 Deluge of the Dead (14 page)

“We better head over there,” George said. “The last thing we need is a horde of zombies running back towards the bridge when the refugees arrive.” Stan nodded and went up to the flying bridge to con the yacht around Terminal Island to San Pedro while George started thinking of ways to keep thousands of zombies contained on the docks during the storm.

*****

Ralph Corrigan was still slightly shaken when he returned to his secure office in the Federal Building. The trip back in the armored car had been just as nightmarish and nerve wracking as when they were following the bulldozer.  After her short nap Special Agent Slidell had sprung into action and issued orders to enact the rest of her plan. Ralph was proud of Helen and the way her HRT agents responded to the situation.

The Bearcat had been idling in park, which was safer than turning it off while covered in zombies on the off chance it wouldn’t start again. Helen reminded the driver to engage the four wheel drive and instructed him to pull out and drive a short way down the open freeway at high speed. The powerful armored car muscled out of the horde and accelerated to about 50 miles per hour before Helen warned everyone to hang on and told the driver to slam on the brakes. Four zombies who had been clinging onto the hood and roof flew off the Bearcat.

“Okay everyone, lock and load, weapons safe. Keep this can buttoned up. We’ll only engage if we get bogged down,” Helen ordered. Then she spoke to the driver. “Run ‘em down. Then turn back and plow through the rest of those fucks. Return to base. Try to keep your speed about twenty-five, but it might get rough the way they’re bunched up in front of us. Just keep it going straight and level. Try not to hit any of the derelict vehicles. You’ve got a twelve foot wide lane all the way home – the same way we came here. Just keep us moving and we’ll carpet this freeway with Zs. Let’s roll.” It was good advice, but easier said than done.

Unlike Carl’s modified Suburban, the FBI Bearcat lacked any sharp blades to slice through zombies. It relied instead on a fully armored body and battering ram crash guards designed to bust through walls and buildings.  It also had foam-filled run-flat tires, a powerful engine and a lot of armored weight going for it. In contrast, the zombie horde was merely composed of flesh and bone, but there was a lot of it. 

Ralph strapped into his seat and prayed that the driver was good. The fact that Corrigan made it back to his office was proof positive of that, but it hadn’t been easy. The armored car smashed into a virtual wall of zombies and plowed forward through them. The horde was compressed into the traffic lane cleared by the bulldozer. But it wasn’t just a wall of undead that they could smash through. It was a tightly packed throng stretching back for more than a mile. A lesser vehicle would have been bogged down by bodies within moments, but the Bearcat seemed unstoppable. Not as effective as the bulldozer would have been in crushing the zombies perhaps, but powerful enough to muscle through the mob.

It helped that there were breaks in the traffic jams created by occasional accident scenes where the Bearcat was able build up speed for short stretches before hitting thicker concentrations of the undead. The ride was rough as the big armored car drove over a self-created carpet of bodies, but at least they kept moving. Ralph couldn’t begin to count how many zombies they ran down. There were constant sounds of soft impact, coupled with the occasional side swiping of a stalled car, during the seemingly endless and bumpy rollercoaster ride as the vehicle bounced over the undead.

Ralph Corrigan thought the hellish ride would never end, or at least not end well. He also began to feel the effects of motion sickness from the unpredictable rocking and rolling of the Bearcat as it clawed its way through the horde. To combat the nausea he unbuckled his seat belt and rose to look out the rear bulletproof window. A carpet of dead was a damned good description of what he saw. Most of the bodies still moved, one way or another, but they weren’t walking, let alone running. Those that still moved were flopping and crawling. It was a slaughter. The sight did nothing to settle Ralph’s stomach, but he felt a sense of satisfaction at the carnage being dealt to their undead foes.

   Thankfully, the full horde of zombies only stretched for about a mile back down the freeway. After plowing through the heart of the herd the frequency of impacts lessened. From then on they only encountered the old, lame and fat zombies that hadn’t kept up with the crowd. The occasional splats as they impacted the Bearcat were almost pleasant. Ralph kept looking out the rear window. He had mixed feelings when he saw that all of the remaining zombies who could still run, walk, or crawl had turned to chase them back towards the Federal Building. 

Safely back in his office, Ralph looked out the window at a staggering line of zombies that continued to file off of the freeway and onto Wilshire Boulevard. Most of them milled around, uncertain where the Bearcat had gone when it sped away from the horde and entered the secure parking garage of the Federal Building. Ralph was still staring down at them when Helen Slidell knocked on his office door.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” she asked.

“Yes, Helen, come in and have a seat,” Corrigan replied. “I wanted to thank you for your quick thinking and decisive action out there.”

“That’s part of my job, sir,” she said. “I saw that our original plan had some flaws and decided to reverse the damage when the opportunity arose. But I must admit that it was a little hairy, sir. I wasn’t certain that we would be able to drive through that many Zs.”

“Thank God we did. I was a bit worried too,” Corrigan admitted. “I just want you to know that I appreciate your skills and judgment. If things were different, I would be writing up a letter of commendation and a recommendation for you to receive a medal, but those are things of the past. So all I can say is thank you and...” 

He wanted to say more, but they were interrupted by Ralph’s secretary on the intercom saying, “Sir? There is an urgent conference call from Commodore Allen on line one. The EOC is also on the line.”

“Thanks, Marge,” Ralph motioned Helen to remain in her seat as activated the speaker phone.

*****

“Thanks for making time for this conference call,” Scott said when he activated the speaker phone in Captain Fisher’s office behind the bridge on the
Sovereign Spirit
. “I wanted to give you all an update on our progress and confirm our plans before the storm hits. I also have some other news to share, but let’s start with status reports. Mr. Mayor? What sort of progress are your crews making on clearing roads and highways?”

“It’s been slow and dirty work, from what I’m told,” replied Mayor Del Fuego.  “But they are making progress. County crews are clearing a path on the westbound side of Interstate 10 towards downtown. A team from the city is working to link up with your people on the 110. Both teams are surrounded by mobs of zombies, but the fire department is holding them off with hoses and water drops from helicopters. Everyone is looking forward to the rain.”  The mayor seemed upbeat and hopeful. It was a nice change from the depressed and clueless attitude he had displayed a week ago. Scott almost smiled as he realized that their positions were now reversed, with the mayor’s mood hopeful and Scott’s hopeless. 

“Good,” Scott said stiffly. “Our team has secured two bus depots near the 405 – 110 interchange. Once your road crew links up there should be a path clear from downtown LA to the port. I also have a report that a bulldozer driven by an FBI agent just linked up at the bus depot and has cleared a path down the 405 from West LA.”

“That’s right, Commodore,” interjected Ralph Corrigan. “I’m glad he made it there. We were with him for most of the way. We turned back to draw off a horde of undead that were interfering with the operation. There is now a clear path all the way from the GNN studios.  Well, sort of a clear path,” Corrigan amended. “At least a mile of the route is carpeted with dead and maimed bodies that could impede normal vehicles. It might be a good idea for the bulldozer to drive back here and clear the road again as soon as it starts raining. We could also use it to clear more roads on the west side of the city.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Scott agreed. “We can send a few buses to follow it back as well.  Will your people be able to assist in the evacuation of survivors?”

“Absolutely,” Corrigan confirmed. “Our helicopter is standing by and our Hostage Rescue Team is prepared to escort rescue vehicles in our armored car. The only survivors we know of for sure around here are in the GNN building, but there must be more in the houses and condos nearby. We cleared out a lot of the horde on Wilshire today, so we should be able to move freely during the rain. If you send the bulldozer back, we can use it to clear roads into the residential areas and look for more survivors.”

“Consider it done,” Scott replied and nodded at Captain Fisher to pass along the word. “Alright then, it sounds like you’re all ready to launch rescue operations as soon as the rain arrives. I’ve already deployed much of the Flotilla along the coast. We have convoys and a freight train staged to cross the bridges. Coast Guard cutters and helicopters are deployed along the coast too. In less than hour we should see the first rain showers and by this evening we expect heavy rain. It looks like all of our plans are falling into place. I just have one more update to provide,” Scott paused for a moment and everyone on the conference call instinctively knew that the other shoe was about to drop.

“I’m very sorry to have to tell you that I am resigning from my position as Commodore of the Flotilla and leader of this safe haven,” Scott said. The statement was met with stunned silence. “You see, I’ve been infected with the Super Rabies virus and won’t be with you much longer.” Scott went on to briefly describe the Captains Council that would replace him and announced that Captain Fisher would lead the council until it met to vote for its own chairman.

Scott refused to take any questions, claiming his time was too short and he still had too much to do. He concluded the call by saying, “I just want to tell all of you how proud I am of what we have been able to do in such a short time. I’m confident that the rescue operations tonight and tomorrow will save many lives and that all of you will work together to help them survive and rebuild. God bless and guide you all.” With those final words Scott hung up the phone.   

*****

Special Agent in Charge Ralph Corrigan couldn’t believe his ears. The Commodore who had brought hope into the midst of the apocalypse was infected? Would become a zombie within hours? Would leave them to fend for themselves? It shouldn’t come as such a shock, not after watching most of the world’s population succumb to the same fate, but this seemed different somehow, worse. Scott Allen had brought hope, even a hint of sanity, to the city and, through GNN, to the world.  Ralph looked across his desk and saw that Helen Slidell was also shaken by the phone call. It took a lot to faze her and she had never even met the Commodore, only seen him on television over the past week. If this news shocked her, Ralph couldn’t imagine how it would affect the average survivor. Although Scott had hung up, the conference call was still active.

“Mr. Mayor?” said Corrigan. “We need to keep this information under wraps until after the rescue operations are complete.”

“Yes,” agreed Mayor Del Fuego. “I think you’re right. This news could be quite demoralizing. Many survivors have been looking to the Commodore as their savior. I’ll call Fox Rusher at GNN ask him to keep a lid on it until tomorrow.”

“That might not be enough, Mr. Mayor,” Corrigan replied. “I don’t think he will sit on this just because you ask him to. It’s too big a story and you can bet he would try to get a final interview with Commodore Allen or hold a round table discussion of talking heads. No, I’m going to send two of my agents over to GNN by helicopter to impose a news blackout on this until after the storm.”

“If you think it’s necessary…” the Mayor trailed off.

“Yes, sir, I’m afraid I do,” confirmed Corrigan. “And as soon as I drop them off I’ll be flying down to meet with the Commodore myself. I know he doesn’t want to be disturbed in his final hours, but there are too many loose ends. If I can’t meet with the Commodore, I’ll work them out with Captain Fisher. I should be able to coordinate with you and my own teams from the ship.”

“Good,” agreed the Mayor. “I would go with you, but I should to stay in EOC.”

“Agreed,” said Corrigan. “I’ll call again from the ship.” He hung up and looked at Agent Slidell. “Pick two men to drop off at GNN. I’d like you to take over command of the rescue operations until I get back.”

“Yes, sir,” Helen replied. “I’ll send two men to the helicopter and have the rest of the HRT ready to man the Bearcat during the evacuation. We’ll send survivors to the port and open another route to the refinery at El Segundo.”

“Fine,” Ralph said. “Go prep your team. I’ll take off in about fifteen minutes.”

*****

Carl and O’Hara were talking to the man in charge of the pumps and sprinklers that kept the horde of zombies trapped on the dock in San Pedro. His name was Andy and he was a fireman who had been rescued from the station near the Queen Mary. Andy was saddened by the news about Scott, but far more disturbed by Carl’s theory on how the zombies would react during the rain.

“You mean to tell me all those things will come charging through the sprinklers to get out of the rain? We were just getting used to the idea that the water would hold them here until we came up with a permanent solution.” He glanced around at his men who were setting up a line of chain link fence to form a secondary line of containment. “I don’t think the fence will be ready in time either.”

“No,” Carl agreed. “And I don’t think a normal fence could stop this many of them. I know it sounds crazy,” Carl said. “But I’m afraid the rain will neutralize the effects of the sprinklers. The ones that can find shelter on the docks will probably stay there, but the rest are likely to stampede towards town and the sprinklers won’t be any different than the rain at that point.”