Zombie Dawn Exodus

by

Michael G. Thomas & Nick S. Thomas

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

Swordworks Books

Zombie Dawn Exodus

Copyright © 2010 by Michael G. Thomas &
Nick S. Thomas

All rights reserved. Without limiting the
rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication
may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic,
mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the
prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above
publisher of this book.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,
places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author
acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various
products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used
without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not
authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark
owners.

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* * * * *

cHAPTER ONE

cHAPTER two

cHAPTER three

cHAPTER four

cHAPTER five

cHAPTER six

cHAPTER seven

cHAPTER eight

cHAPTER nine

cHAPTER ten

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

* * * * *

CHAPTER
ONE

RESEARCH VESSEL
MOREAU, NORTHERN PACIFIC OCEAN

The RV Moreau was a Thomas G. Thompson-class research
vessel that had originally been built for use by the US Navy. In
the last six years she had been bought by the company for use as an
off-shore research vessel as part of its wider activities. At
nearly a hundred metres she was a substantial vessel and currently
carried a crew, research staff and security detachment of sixty
four people. She was equipped with two rigid-hull inflatable
rescue/work boats onboard, as well as a single submersible and a
retrofitted helipad. Built into the hull were ROV and submersible
hangars, a fully equipped machine shop and a custom built medical
lab and clinic.

Deep inside the vessel a team of scientists were
busy studying the details of a new subject on their computer
terminals. The computer monitors showed a detailed schematic of an
ocean liner. The first screen showed a side on view that displayed
the ship’s profile, whilst the screens either side showed figures
on estimated size, displacement and course information. Another
monitor gave a heavily magnified live feed of the vessel in the
currently calm waters of the North Pacific Ocean.

Daniels, one of the technicians, ran through various
databases to check the configuration against all known vessels.

“Yeah, here she is,” he said as he popped up the
ship’s details on another screen.

Clarkson, another technician sat in his rotating
chair as he read the specification out to the annoyance of some of
the other staff in the room.

“She’s a Cunard Line ocean liner, the RMS Mauretania
2. She’s nearly four hundred metres long and has a combined crew
and passenger capacity of just under five thousand people.
According to the last information available she was on a world
cruise thirteen months ago. Two months after Z-Day there is
information from the coast guard that she was spotted off Hawaii,
nothing since,” said Clarkson.

Dr Garcia entered the room and moved straight up to
the main screen.

“The Mauretania? Interesting,” she said quietly to
herself.

She hit a few keys, bringing up detailed schematics
of parts of the ship before turning to the two technicians.

“I wonder what’s she doing out here. Is there any
information on her from the rest of the flotilla?” she asked.

Clarkson shrugged and then turned back to his
display. Daniels however had already connected to the flotilla.

“Nothing from them either. I have them checking the
satellite data they downloaded last week. Maybe they’ll find
something there,” he answered.

“Have you picked up any communication or signal from
her yet?” she continued, speaking directly to Daniels who seemed
the more competent of the two.

Daniels double checked his system before turning
round, “No, nothing. No sign of communication, power or movement.
She’s dead in the water.”

“Hold on, look at this!” said Clarkson.

“What do you have?” replied an intrigued Dr
Garcia.

“Well, if we zoom in here it looks like there are
burn marks and damage in these places. They look like the
observation decks near the dining areas.”

On the screen to his right the schematics popped up
showing the crew and passenger areas of the massive liner. Clarkson
certainly seemed to be correct as the external damage appeared to
be related to the most used and populated parts of the ship.

“Also, look here,” he said as he pressed the mouse
button.

The three dimensional model rotated around to show
the upper decks of the ship. There should have been banks of boats
lined up but instead at least half of the boats were missing. Of
the boats that remained some of them were hanging at odd angles, as
though people were halfway through using them when they were
stopped. There were also at least three boats hanging from the
cranes that would have lowered them into the water in an
emergency.

Dr Garcia examined the screens in details,
concentrating on the boats in particular.

“So, something made them abandon ship. I think we
can all guess what that might have been,” she said in a humourless
tone.

“The next questions are when did this happen and
where are the people that escaped?” she asked rhetorically.

A low buzz echoed across the room as the ship’s
public address system activated.

“Dr Garcia, please report to the briefing room,”
came the message.

With a shake of her head the doctor hit a few keys,
sending a job to the printers nearby. She stood up and collected
the paperwork as she headed for the door. Just a few feet before
leaving the room she turned back and called over to the
technicians.

“We need more information on her. Send me a message
when the drone is over the ship. I need data and the direct video
feed for the meeting ASAP. Got it?” she asked in a firm tone.

“Yes, Ma’am,” came the reply.

Dr Garcia left the room and headed along the short
corridor that led to the command part of the ship. Since being
taken on by the company it had been expanded and improved to offer
greater space for personnel and computer equipment at the expense
of the cranes and normal heavy equipment. A man in combat fatigues
and carrying an automatic carbine followed her at a short
distance.

Dr Garcia approached the door to the briefing room,
the heavy metal door was flanked by two men in suits, each was
visibly armed with Heckler & Koch MP7 submachine guns. As she
reached the men the one to the right whispered into his intercom
and then pushed the door open. He nodded at her as she entered the
room and shut it behind her with an audible clunk. In front of her
was a large oval table that seated a dozen people from a variety of
backgrounds. At the head of the table was the director and now
leader of what was left of the research company, Mr Morton. He
smiled as he watched her entrance.

“Ah, welcome, Dr Garcia,” he turned to the rest of
the room, “as you know, Dr Garcia is head of our research and
development operations within the flotilla and one of the founding
members of the Hawaii Sanctuary due to her...”

Dr Garcia gave him an odd look as he continued.

“...rather specialist knowledge,” he added in a
cautious tone.

She took her place at the table and glanced around
at the others who were there. Of the dozen people she noted they
were the usual heads of departments, but there were a few new
faces. Opposite her was Captain Mathius, the vessel’s chief of
security. He always wore combat fatigues and was never seen without
at least a pistol on his side. Sitting next to him were two people
she didn’t recognise.

“I have important information on the new vessel
we’ve been tracking,” she started but was immediately interrupted
by Mr Morton.

“Please, we’ll get on to that important concern
shortly. First of all I have a few company announcements to
make.”

Mr Morton stood up and walked to the banks of
displays at the end of the room.

“As most of you know, we have been tracking several
vessels over the last few weeks. Dr Garcia has some important news
on our latest find. We’ll get to that in just a moment. Before I
start I would like to welcome our two newest members, Dr Willis and
Ms Price, both experts in genetics, who arrived yesterday,” he
said.

The two stood up, looking to the group and then to
Mr Morton.

“Thank you, Mr Morton. On behalf of the Biotech ST
Corporation, we appreciate your swift actions in the last week to
extract our personnel from our laboratory,” spoke Dr Willis.

They sat down, with Ms Price being surprisingly
silent, Mr Morton continued.

“As you know, since the outbreak we have travelled
along the Canadian and US coasts picking up specialists and experts
wherever we can to add to the growing flotilla. Last week Captain
Mathius led a unit to the BSTC research station off the coast of
Northern California,” he said as he pressed a number of buttons on
a remote control.

A map of North America popped up showing the
landmass details in a series of colours from white to purple. Mr
Morton moved closer to the screen, pointing at the coast.

“Most of you are aware of our current status in this
disaster. For those of you that have only recently joined us this
briefing will update you on what we know so far, and also on our
strategy for the future.”

The screen at the end of the room filled with a set
of charts showing populations, casualty and infection figures. Mr
Morton continued.

“We now have enough information to start forming a
realistic picture of what happened and what is happening in this
pandemic. Casualty reports show that in the first six weeks the
outbreak took all the inhabited areas of the West Coast,” he
pointed at a band of purple, “only small groups survived in the
more rural areas or held out in isolated areas.”

The display zoomed in to the coastal region where
most of the area showed in purple with a few red and lighter
colours sprinkled about.

“With the collapse of the national infrastructure,
and the overrunning of all urban centres, we have been assessing
data from those countries still able to communicate with us. The
current estimate for this region is that there are about fifty
thousand survivors left on the entire Western seaboard,” he said
sternly.

There was an audible gasp in the room. Mr Morton
paused for a moment whilst the news sank in.

“It gets worse though. Data from the rest of North
America and throughout Europe and Asia shows us that the spread of
the infection has been exponential. There are no known cities left
inhabited on the planet and the average survival rate is roughly a
tenth of one percent.”

“So only one in a thousand has survived after just a
year?” asked one of the men in a dark suit.

“Correct,” answered Mr Morton.

He pressed a few more buttons and the display zoomed
in to the United Kingdom.

“Of our three facilities in the UK, only one remains
and that is based in the North Sea on Alpha Twelve platform. The
first two were overrun in the first week with no survivors.”

The map zoomed out to show the whole of the
country.

“From the last known satellite passes, and the
contact that remains with parts of the country, we can ascertain
that the survival rate is roughly half of that of the United
States. We are putting this down to the reduced access to firearms
and the high population density of the country. We are in contact
with a small number of communities in these regions along the Welsh
and Scottish borders.”