03 Deluge of the Dead (16 page)

“Sure thing,” said Mick as he overflew the bulldozers, armored cars, buses and fire trucks sent from the city. It didn’t take long to find the missing horde. They were huddled together in a writhing mass of bodies under the 405 freeway interchange, filling every lane with those on the outside fighting to get further under the sheltering overpass. “Holy crap!” exclaimed Mick. “Look at ‘em all. There’s almost as many as down on the docks.”

“Yep, but the only thing keeping them here is the rain,” Carl observed. “Let’s get back to the depot and get this show on the road.”  A minute later they were touching down next to Carl’s Suburban. Carl noticed a couple dozen bodies outside the gate to the depot, but the crowd of zombies that had been forming there earlier had dispersed.  He was also pleased to see Gus and Karen jogging towards the chopper. 

Carl leapt out and motioned for them to join him in the Suburban to get out of the rain and muffle the noise of the helicopter. Once they were all inside he said, “I’ve got good news and bad news.”

“Good news first,” said Karen.

“Okay,” he said. “The good news is that the rain is clearing the roads of zombies, just as we expected. I saw thousands of them huddled below overpasses and the rest are seeking any shelter they can find. Some of them are crawling under cars though, so we need to spread the word for everyone to be extra careful around abandoned vehicles. The rest of the good news is that the plans appear to be right on schedule. The Flotilla has already sent out hundreds of boats to collect survivors along the coast and a convoy from downtown will be here any minute.”

“That’s great,” said Karen. “There was also a bulldozer that arrived from West LA while you were gone. An FBI guy was driving it. He says he cleared a path down the 405 from the Sepulveda Pass. He headed back to the FBI building with half a dozen buses following him as soon as it started raining. It sounds like everything’s going fine, so what’s the bad news?”

Carl took a deep breath and said, “Aside from the fact that all the zombies we trapped on the dock yesterday might get away during the storm, Commodore Allen has been infected by a zombie bite.”

  *****

The situation was almost out of control on the dock in San Pedro: almost but not quite. The rain had driven the horde into a true frenzy. They clawed, crawled, groveled and ran in circles, like chickens with their heads cut off. A few of them had even started charging through the sprinklers, just as Carl had predicted, but O’Hara had set up his machine gunner just in time.

Using short and controlled bursts, Private Wilson cut down any zombie that entered the water barrier. It wasn’t possible to take them all out with head shots, but it wasn’t necessary either. Wilson literally cut many of them down, blowing off legs with a stream of 7.62mm bullets, and once they fell down inside the spray of the sprinklers, they simply twisted and flailed in the puddles without purpose. Sergeant Major O’Hara added to the carnage with well aimed semi-automatic head shots from his M-4 carbine.

George was making good progress on building a wall of cargo containers. Close to half of the 200 yard wide choke point was already completed. Trucks arrived in an almost constant stream, waiting briefly for the one in front to dump it’s container in place, then returning to the port to pick up another one. They built the wall from both ends, converging towards the center where the Marines had set up their firing positions. George himself had returned to the
Expiscator
where he was sheltered from the rain, but could see and direct the construction of the barrier while resuming command of operations across the rest of the safe haven by radio.

Just when hundreds more of the Zs became agitated enough to charge through the sprinklers, something that O’Hara and Wilson would not have been able to stop alone, one of the black LAV-25s showed up. O’Hara directed it straight to the firing line and jumped inside to take control of its guns. Moments later all hell broke loose as the 25mm canon opened up. Fearing just this type of encounter, O’Hara had already ordered all of the high explosive cannon rounds set to explode at minimum range which was just over 200 yards. The solid depleted uranium sabot rounds kept going through anything in their path, but the interspersed explosive rounds detonated two football fields downrange – sooner if they hit anything solid. Their effect on the horde was instantaneous and devastating. The torrent of canon fire was joined by the coaxial machine gun and by another M-240 machine gun fired by a Marine standing in the open hatch of the turret. It was an absolute slaughter. A few minutes into the one-sided firefight the remaining AAV-7 arrived on scene and opened up with its 40mm automatic grenade launcher. Very soon the mound of bodies beyond the sprinklers was obstructing their aim and becoming yet another barrier for the zombies to cross.  It was impossible to make an accurate body count, but O’Hara was certain that his men and machines had wiped out thousands of the enemy.

A little less than an hour after the rain began to fall the barricade of containers was completed. O’Hara pulled the armored vehicles back as the final two containers were set in place. It was perfect timing because both the AAV and LAV were almost out of ammunition. The sergeant major deployed a squad of six Marines atop the cargo containers to defend against any breach. After O’Hara dispatched the armored vehicles back to the rescue convoys they were assigned to lead he went to join George Hammer aboard the
Expiscator
.  

“That was fantastic,” said George as O’Hara joined him on the bridge of the yacht. “Good timing too. I just got a call from Captain Fisher. He says the
Cape Inscription
is coming into port and he asked if we could come back to the Mole for her arrival. He was a bit cryptic on the radio, but I think he has some concerns.”

“What kind of concerns?” asked O’Hara.

“I’m not sure,” said George. “But he did mention that the
Cape Inscription
is being escorted by a couple of Navy warships.”

“In that case we better get over there,” said O’Hara. His expression was unreadable, but his gut gave a twist that even zombies didn’t trigger. O’Hara had spent over twenty years in the Marines, many of them aboard US Navy ships. He had always respected both branches of service, but the first week of the zombie apocalypse had shaken some of his faith in the military establishment.  The source of his doubts came from Admiral Winchester and his biblical approach to the apocalypse. If he had sent warships to this safe haven, there was cause for concern.

*****

Scott returned to the bridge when Captain Fisher informed him that the
Cape Inscription
was about to enter the harbor. It seemed important for the Commodore to be on hand to welcome the Navy to the new safe haven, even if it was one of the last things he would ever do. He watched the big transport ship maneuver to back into her berth next to the
Sovereign Spirit
, but was really more interested in the warships that escorted her. Captain Fisher identified the smaller of the two vessels as an aging Oliver Hazard Perry class frigate.  Calling her “smaller” was only a matter of comparison though, as she was larger than the
Stratton
and almost as long as the
Sovereign Spirit.
The frigate followed the transport into port but did not approach the docks on the Mole.  The larger ship, a guided missile cruiser, took up station outside the mouth of the port. Through the binoculars Scott could see that her name was
Port Royal
and she was easily over 500 feet long.

“What do you think they’re up to?” Scott asked Captain Fisher.

“They’re obviously acting as escorts. Maybe they came to help with the evacuation too. We’ve been broadcasting our plans since last night, so they must be aware of them,” Fisher replied.

“I hope you’re right, Jordy,” said Scott. “But they might be performing a bit of gunboat diplomacy too. Remember that Admiral I told you about? I wouldn’t be surprised if he wants to stake a claim here.” Captain Fisher grunted in surprise as he considered that possibility.

The rest of the Flotilla had no such worries. Everyone seemed overjoyed to see the US Navy arrive. The cruise ships all sounded their horns in welcome and passengers lined the decks, even in the rain, to wave in welcome. Those aboard smaller boats and yachts joined in as well, although much of the Flotilla was deployed for the rescue missions that were just beginning.

The
Stratton
had already left for Marina Del Ray and the
Odyssey
had remained at Catalina Island, so only the
Sea Launch Commander
and the
Sovereign Spirit
remained at the Mole to greet the Navy and the returning
Cape Inscription.
Scott was relieved, however, when the
Expiscator
came around the point and he spotted Sergeant Major O’Hara on her upper deck. The old Marine might be the perfect ambassador to their unexpected visitors.

As he contemplated his options Scott noticed that the
Cape Inscription
was lowering her vehicle ramp onto the dock next to the
Sovereign Spirit.
This was a bit surprising, since the ship was not yet secured to the dock, but the real surprise came when vehicles began to roll down the ramp. They weren’t just any vehicles either. A Marine combat unit was deploying in front of his eyes.

Half a dozen LAV-25s were first to emerge from the transport’s cargo space. They were followed immediately by four M-1 Abrams main battle tanks and eight AAV-7 Amtracs. Then a stream of Hummers and at least a dozen supply trucks appeared behind the armored vehicles. Scott was no military expert, but it looked like a full battalion of Marines had just invaded his safe haven. His first impression seemed to be confirmed when they deployed to basically surround his ship.

“Well, Jordy,” Scott said to the dumbstruck captain. “It looks like my command might be terminated even sooner than we expected.”

*****

 Carl led a convoy of buses and emergency services vehicles on a twisting path through the residential streets of Torrance. The Cat cleared the road of obstacles while Carl and Karen took turns using the PA system to call out to survivors. The rain was falling steadily and the streets were clear of zombies, but the number of survivors they encountered was discouraging. Few had been able to survive for two weeks in this zombie infested zone. Fewer still had the strength, courage, or ability to come out of hiding, even when the rescue convoy drove past their front doors. Some few did, however, and they slowly began to fill the buses. Carl viewed each life saved as a victory and pressed on, ignoring thoughts of all those who didn’t make it out to safety.

As they drove past a large apartment building Karen nudged his arm and pointed up at the fourth floor.  People were waving out the windows and yelling for help. Carl nodded and rolled down his window as he brought the Suburban to a halt. “Are you able to come downstairs or get outside any other way?” he asked through the loudspeaker.

“No!” a man yelled back. “Those monsters are in the hallways. We’re trapped up here. Please save my family!”

 “Hang on!” Carl responded. “Help is coming.” They had expected things like this and a Fire Department hook and ladder truck was part of the convoy for just such an occasion. Carl pulled over, directing the buses to follow the earth mover, and waved the fire truck over. It only took a few minutes to deploy the ladder and bring the family to safety.  But once on the ground and before boarding a bus they had more bad news to share.

“There’s another family trapped across the hallway from our apartment,” said the father of the family just rescued. “A woman and three kids live there. We have been yelling back and forth since the zombies got into the building last week. But her apartment looks out on the courtyard. You won’t be able to get to it with this truck.”

“Shit,” muttered Carl in frustration. “Any idea how many zombies are in the hall?”

“More than a few,” the man answered. “I’ve been looking at them through the peephole in our door. I can never see more than a handful at a time, mostly bunched up and banging on our door or hers, but they aren’t always the same ones. There could be dozens of them. I just don’t know.”

“Are there any other survivors in the building?” Carl asked.

“I don’t think so, not now,” the man stammered. “There were some on the third floor until last week. They ran out of food and water, said they were going out to find help. That’s when the zombies got into the building.”

“Alright, I’ll see what we can do,” Carl said and turned to Karen and Gus. “Are you guys up for this?” They both nodded affirmatively. Without any discussion they mounted the fire truck and climbed the ladder to the fourth floor window. Two firemen who had overheard the conversation volunteered to go with them. They carried axes similar to Carl’s and were also armed with pistols. Gus brought the shotgun Carl had given him. Karen had her sword on her back and a holstered pistol on her hip. Carl had his pistol and his axe. He cursed himself for willingly going head to head to head with the undead, and risking his friends lives in the process, but he knew that they had to at least try to save the woman and children trapped up there.

When they entered the recently vacated apartment through the window Carl turned to Karen and said, “You can wait in here to keep the escape route clear. We shouldn’t be out there for more than a minute.”

“Screw you, Stiller,” she replied as she drew her sword. “This blade is perfect for close quarters combat and that’s what you’ll be doing in that hallway. Besides, you can’t fire bullets across the hall without some of them going through into the other apartment and possibly hitting the kids in there.”

She did have a point, one that Carl had not even considered. He shook his head in defeat. “Okay then,” Carl said. “You heard the lady. We can shoot up and down the hall, but not across it. Clear?”

“Yep,” replied Gus. “But maybe we should just open this door and let them come in here where we can blast them all.”