SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES (13 page)

BOOK: SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES
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“You okay, kid
?” Harry asked while placing his hand on Frank’s shoulder.

Not looking up but taking in deep breaths
, Frank said, “Yeah I’m good. Just got the lights and siren going and was headed back in when I looked up and saw a shitload of those things coming around the other side of alley. They saw me, too. I was able to get the outer door closed and locked before they hit it. Boy did they hit it! Locked the inner door and booked it back here.” Frank was then able to stand and it looked as if his breathing was returning to normal. The next thing he said caused Harry great concern, but he kept that hidden from his expression. “You know both of those doors open inward and I’m not sure how long they’re going to hold. I know they are normally pretty sturdy but the electronic locks are not engaging for some reason. The only thing securing them is a deadbolt.”

Harry nodded his understand
ing and said, “Doesn’t matter, we’ll be gone before they get through the first one.” As if on cue, however, both men heard what sounded like a muted explosion coming from the direction from where Frank had just come: the double security doors at the side of the building.

“Let’s go
!” Harry said while looking in the direction of those doors. “Let’s go
now
.” With that they immediately ran for the stairway leading down to the garage.

 

20

 

Once they descended the stairs to the lower garage, Harry turned to Frank while pointing to the white Ford pickup truck and said, “See if you can gain entry into that truck and let’s get it ass-ended against this door,” indicating the door to the stairway they had just come through. Frank nodded once and ran to the truck; within moments Harry heard glass break. Glancing over, he saw Frank open the driver side door, shattered glass on the concrete floor around his boots, then lean down below the steering column.
Daddy must have taught him how to hotwire a car I guess.

As he was walking toward the
ramp where the Bearcat was parked, Harry heard the pickup truck start from behind him. The engine revved just a bit, and after a moment there was a slight screeching of tires as Frank put it in reverse, then a minor metal-on-metal bump confirming he had backed the rear end of the truck against the inward-opening stairway door, thus securing it. Within another couple of seconds the truck was shut down, and before Harry was within fifteen feet of the Bearcat, Frank trotted up beside him.

“I’m not even going to ask
,” Harry said with a grin while glancing sideways toward Frank. Looking straight ahead, Frank shrugged his shoulders. Harry clapped him on the back and they both continued to approach the big monster truck waiting at the ramp entrance.

As they approached the Bearcat
, Harry saw Derrick sitting on the rear ramp, with the back doors open, thumbing 5.56 rounds into magazines. Harry walked over to Derrick, while Frank continued around to the driver side door, and asked, “How many mags good to go?”

Derrick glanced up without breaking his loading
rhythm and said, “I think maybe two hundred and fifty 30-round mags for the ARs, and one hundred 13- round mags for our Glocks. The Rook carries a Glock 17 9mm so he’s got seventeen in the handle and I saw four mag cases on his belt. I didn’t load all these mags, of course. They must have been done at some point while there were still other officers left in the station.” Harry simply nodded in reply but was suddenly troubled, knowing that from what he had seen so far, and the sheer number of those things running around, they could burn through seventy-five hundred rounds of 5.56 and thirteen hundred rounds of .45 caliber very quickly. Frank’s sixty-eight rounds would be gone before they could go a city block.

“Damn Derry, how come you guys couldn’t
have a couple SAWs lying around?” Harry asked rhetorically. He was referring to a Squad Automatic Weapon machine gun that fired a heavy belt-fed 7.62mm round at almost eight hundred rounds per minute. “With a couple of those we could have just taken a leisurely stroll down to the marina.”

“Seriously dude?
You do remember our SWAT operates in San Francisco and not Afghanistan, right?” Derrick said with a chuckle.

“Yeah I know, I’m just saying,” Harry muttered. Taking a deep breath he said, “Let’s button up and get ready.” Climbing into the rear of the Bearcat, Harry made his way to the front, stepping over the center console and sitting down in the passenger side seat. This was the first time that he’d been in the front section, and he was amazed at all the buttons, switches, and monitors on the dash, ceiling, and center console. Glancing over at Frank who was sitting behind the wheel, Harry swore he was doing what looked like some sort of preflight checklist.

“Now I suppose you are going to tell me your
dad had one of these things, too?” Harry asked Frank.

“Naw, I glanced over the owner’s manual
,” Frank replied, not looking away from some sort of display screen in front of him. He briefly gestured toward what appeared to be a four-inch-thick full-sized binder sitting on top of a closed mobile laptop attached to the center console.

“Seriously, y
ou know how to operate this thing by
glancing
at a copy of what looks to be a book out of an encyclopedia set?” Harry said while picking up the heavy, thick volume that Frank claimed was an
owner’s manual
.

“It’s a
ll just basic operational stuff, but man, is it cool! State of the art GPS, satellite uplinks probably for faster NCRC and Interpol connections. This radio system is more advanced than anything I’ve ever seen,” Frank said excitedly, looking and acting more like the eighteen-year-old kid Harry had thought he was when they’d first met in the armory. That only being about three hours prior. Harry felt the weight of responsibility hit him full force once again. He had to do this right. He had to help this kid, his close friend in the back, and anyone else he could to survive. There were no other options for Harry to consider; no other course to take.

Taking a deep breath to clear his thoughts an
d get his head back in the game, Harry said jokingly to Frank, “Okay then Number One, activate the cloaking device and arm forward phasers. Prepare to engage.”

Frank quickly looked over to Harry with a huge grin on his face and said, “Actually
, I was just thinking how awesome it would be if this thing was a Transformer! Not just any ordinary Transformer, but a Prime! It would transform into
Bear Prime
with twenty-four-inch talons on one hand and a mini gun on the other! With rockets that would fire from his shoulder!
Bear Prime
could seriously kick some zombie ass!”

Harry knew exactly what Frank was referring to.
He had really enjoyed the three Transformer movies and knew that a Prime was a leader, the most powerful and advanced Transformer from Cybertron. Harry actually laughed and said to Frank, “That
would
be totally awesome!”

Derrick had been leaning between the rear compartment and front during Frank and Harry’s exchange and finally said, “Okay kiddies,
not to interrupt your interplanetary strategy session or anything, but if you’re ready to rejoin adulthood we’re buttoned up back here and ready to roll.”

Fr
ank and Harry exchanged glances like two kids caught doing something they shouldn’t. Harry fired back to Derrick in a whiney voice, while pointing at Frank, “Yeah, but HE brought all that stuff up! I was just trying to do my homework, Dad!” Both Harry and Frank burst out laughing at the dumbstruck expression on Derrick’s face.

“Geez, c
hildren; one just out of diapers and one getting ready to wear them.” That was the best Derrick could get out before he joined the other two men in laughter.

Turning serious
, Harry said, “Let’s give it ten to fifteen minutes for the siren to draw as many as possible. They know somebody’s in the building now, and it sounded like they broke through at least one set of doors downstairs. Hopefully a bunch of them will pile in looking for us, clearing more from the street out front.”

Frank had als
o reverted back into the professionally trained police officer that he was and said, “I know they saw me, and from what you relayed from GNN and the other reports they should continue to look for a while before losing interest. That truck should keep the door secured if they get this far down.”

Derrick nodded in agreement and
asked, “Maybe we should try that super keen radio while we wait?”

“Do you think we could get anything down here?
I know we used to have to be on street level before our cars could transmit,” Harry asked Frank.

Looking
up from the manual he had opened as soon as Derrick had suggested the radio, Frank said, “This vehicle has a microwave transmitter array built into the roof which is necessary to utilize the type of satellite connections it can use. Most of our radio systems we use standardly operate on an 800-megahertz bandwidth which has a much weaker power range compared to microwave transmission. That’s why those radios lose signal when blocked by heavy or thick obstructions. The radio equipment in the Bearcat is almost military grade so I don’t think the building would be a problem. I don’t understand it all completely, not yet at least, but I’m confident it has transmitting and receiving capabilities far more powerful than our main central dispatch, let alone the station equipment or our cars.”

“Okay, so I think he jus
t said it’s a pretty good radio. So unless I need a lead cup to protect the jewels from those microwaves, I say we fire that sucker up. Let’s see if we can talk to Finland or maybe the International Space Station,” Derrick said with a chuckle.

Harry
was too engrossed with what Frank had said for Derrick’s comment to register and said, “Hope it’s been programmed with at least the local channels but let’s find out.” Frank flipped three different switches on the dash and instantly, in what seemed like quadraphonic surround sound, they heard radio traffic!

There were u
nits calling in from various locations reporting their situations, and a calm female voice responding back to each call. The radio traffic sounded almost normal but everyone in the BCRC knew it was anything but. The thing that hit Harry hard was the actual lack of traffic. There should have been more units transmitting than he was hearing.

Harry pulled the hand mic from the dash clip
and said, “Three Edward Six, Central Station.” The response was immediate from the calm female voice.

“All units, 10-3, all unit
s 10-3 unless emergency traffic.” The calm female voice had just directed all units on air to stop transmitting. “Three Edward Six, please advise current status. One Adam is standing by.”

“You’re in deep shit now
, Harry. The chief wants to talk to you!” Derrick retorted with a snicker.

 

21

 

One Adam was the Chief of Police’s radio call sign. Harry was almost too excited to reply, but finally said, “Edward Six, with two other officers and secure at Central Station. We will be mobile in about fifteen in the Bearcat.”

“Edward Six, Adam One, 10-6 to channel …” Harry heard the voice of Chief Greg Ekers, someone he had known during his entire twenty-five-year career, directing him to change radio channels. Glancing over to Frank, Harry nodded once and Frank immediately started programming in the new channel on the Bearcat’s radio system.

Greg Ekers was a thirty-year career cop who had worked his way up the ladder in the department and was highly respected by the rank and file. He was a no-nonsense police officer and a very effective commander and administrator. Ekers spent as much time in the field with the officers as he did sitting behind a desk. He was able to work and interact very well with the many diverse groups of people who lived and worked in San Francisco. The most surprising attribute Ekers had mastered was the ability to work well with city government which, in and of itself, amazed most people who knew him.

When Frank acknowledged that the new channel was programmed, Harry said into the mic, “Greg, can you hear me?”

“I hear you Harry, and you don’t know how happy I am you’re alright! Please bring me up to date,” Chief Ekers said in a calm, professional tone.

Harry took a couple of seconds to gather his thoughts, then responded, “Well Chief, looks like we have a bit of a situation in the City. Seems as if some folks want to eat other folks and they are being damn persistent about it. I’m with Officers Derrick Washington and Frank Lewis. We’ve been able to secure the armory at Central and transferred what was left into the Bear. We have created a distraction and are now waiting for Vallejo to clear, then we’re headed out. What are your orders, Greg? How can we help?” Harry was praying to be relieved of this responsibility and was eager to have the command staff give him direction. Any direction.

The chief, chuckling through the radio speaker, said, “Yeah, citizens don’t seem to be showing much respect for each other right now, that’s for sure.” Harry heard him take a deep breath, then continue, “I know Washington, he’s a damn fine officer and I would stand with him any time. Did you know that Officer Lewis there is a near genius, Harry? His IQ is higher than us two old beat cops combined.”

BOOK: SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES
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