SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES (14 page)

Harry glanced at Frank, who was thumbing through the BCRC owner’s manual and who was now beet red. “That certainly answers a couple of questions, now doesn’t it.”

“I knew this rook was smart!” Derrick added, patting Frank on the head, attempting to cover his own embarrassment at the lofty accolade the chief had just paid him.

“What are your plans then, Harry?” Chief Ekers asked

With that question posed, Harry spend several minutes outlining what he had observed since April 1st from his building, including the information he had been able to gather from GNN. He laid out his initial plan to secure the marina and head into the Bay. “But that was all just ‘shooting from the hip’ ideas,” Harry concluded, releasing the transmit button.

There were several moments of silence, to the point that Harry said into the mic, “Greg, did you copy?”

“I copied Harry, stand by one,” Ekers replied.

After several moments with Harry beginning to wonder if they had lost radio contact, the chief was back on the radio. “Harry, continue with your plan. We are currently barricaded at the Hall and secure for now.”

Harry knew that the Hall of Justice at 850 Bryant was a safe location and could easily be secured, although it was on the other side of the city from Central Station. Regardless, he was not going to just leave his friend and whoever else was there stranded.

“Wait a minute Greg, we can help you! Those
things
are everywhere,” Harry said with growing concern plainly evident in his voice.

“I know they’re everywhere, Harry,” Ekers calmly replied. “There are hundreds of those things congregated right outside our windows. I’m looking at a mass of bodies so thick I can’t see the street or sidewalk surfaces in either direction. There is nothing you can do for us for the time being. Now listen carefully; we’ve been in direct contact with the Coast Guard and I’d like you to meet face-to-face with them if at all possible to act as the Department’s liaison. The USCG Cutter Tern, and her Captain William Overton, has operational command right now of the military assets in the Bay. There is also a contingent of National Guard on Treasure Island, also under Overton’s command, that set up a refugee center for those who were able to make it there. Unfortunately as the survivors were streaming onto the island from both the Oakland and San Francisco sides, they had more of those zombie things chasing them than the Guard had bullets. The decision was made to blow both Bay Bridge entrances to Treasure Island, effectively sealing it off. Can’t say as I disagree with that decision entirely, but that cut any chances of survivors reaching TI from the bridge. Overton did mention, however, that almost a thousand people got onto the island before they sealed it off,” Chief Ekers finally concluded, weariness evident in his voice.

Frank stared out of the windshield as Derrick leaned against the center console, both in silent consideration of what they had heard. Harry was also trying to digest everything Ekers had said. At least he now knew what the explosions had been that he’d heard that night on the apartment building roof. But what his thoughts centered on were the hundreds of people that had been cut off from Treasure Island. He had seen too many times what happened to those pursued by the infected, and it was apparent what had probably happened to those survivors.

“There’s something else you need to know, and this is going to directly affect your immediate plans.” Ekers picked up when he received no reply from Harry. “Captain Overton told us that there are at least a couple dozen boats in the Marina Harbor with survivors aboard each one. That’s great news, of course, but unfortunately there also seems to be a couple hundred infected along the marina docks. The fencing that had been erected is keeping those things from getting at the boats and people, but you only have one way to get in. You worked security at a couple of the initial events at the Golden Gate Yacht Club, so you know what I am talking about.”

As with many areas in San Francisco, the term ‘marina’ was a fairly generic reference, but Harry knew the area to which Ekers was referring: the oldest recreational marina operating in San Francisco and perhaps the greater Bay Area. Vessels had been berthed in the harbor’s original basin, now known as the West Harbor, since before the 1906 earthquake. The original marina was expanded in the mid-1960’s and was now approximately thirty-five acres in size. The entire facility had almost seven hundred berths, ten end ties for guest berthing vessels up to a hundred feet in length, free pump out stations and a commercial fuel dock. The West Harbor marina area included the St. Francis and the Golden Gate Yacht Clubs, the Harbormaster’s Building, and the park area known as Marina Green. The large harbor was in the shape of a near perfect ‘U’ but squared off at the bottom. The squared-off west side of the harbor was closest to Yacht Road, which was accessed off Marina Boulevard, and led to the north side of the ‘U’. This was the bayside of the harbor which also served as the breakwater wall for the boat slips and where the yacht clubs were located.

Harry also knew that the heavy fencing had been installed as a security measure around the docks for the America’s Cup that had been scheduled to be raced in the Bay later that year – a race that would probably never be run again, at least in his lifetime. At ten feet high, the security fence spanned from the west end of the Marina Green, running the full length of the harbor’s south side. There was also a similar section along the western section of the ‘U’ that ran across Yacht Road to the edge of the causeway and the
Bay water. In the middle of this section a large double gate had been installed to allow controlled access to the moored boats and the two club houses.

“Oh shit, there goes the neighborhood,” Derrick said uneasily.

Frank added with slight panic in his voice, “What’re we going to do now?”

“Easy guys, let’s take this a step at a time,” Harry replied, trying to ease tensions. Taking a deep breath then releasing it, he responded to Ekers, “This is a lot to take in Greg, any more good news for us?” he asked mordantly.

“Yeah, maybe,” Ekers began, ignoring Harry’s tone. “Overton said he had received several distress calls from some of the boats tied up at the docks, so he sent a Defender Class boat to render assistance. However, the Coasties were unable to do much other than fire their mounted deck gun into the crowd of those zombie things around the fence. Because of the size of their boat they were unable to get it into the harbor proper.

“Overton said they took dozens of the damn things out, but with every one that was put down two more took their place. He did mention that with the amount of fire the Defender had poured into the area they had destroyed most of the fencing and many of the unoccupied boats nearest the shore side. The infected didn’t enter the water where the fencing had been, so guess there’s a buffer zone of sorts between the horde and the remaining boats on that side.”

“I can see that,” Derrick commented from behind Harry. “The patrol boat would have a .50 caliber mounted on it and those rounds would have devastated anything they hit. Probably took out two or three of those things with each round and would have simply disintegrated the chain-link fence material.”

Harry nodded in agreement as Ekers resumed. “Overton wasn’t able to render direct aid to the people left on the boats. They did not seem to be organized, and after rounds being shot literally over their heads they became quite wary of that Coast Guard boat. He said they would not answer their hails. The crew on the Defender did launch a small life raft with some survival rations, but he doesn’t know if it was picked up by anyone.

“One other thing to mention here is that the Tern has also been in contact with their counterparts in Southern California. Not sure what the pecking order is between the military in SoCal and up here, but Overton has ordered all his available assets to secure the Oakland Ports. Seems to think there might be valuable supplies there. Here’s the thing though, I got the distinct impression Overton was feeling us out. Maybe as to whether we could offer any assistance from the land side. I told him we were pinned where we are and wouldn’t be able to do much for the time being. Hell, at the time I couldn’t offer him a cup of coffee.” Ekers stopped transmitting for a moment. Harry remained quiet because he knew there was more coming.

After another minute, Ekers said, “What I am trying to make very clear is that you will be on your own out there, Harry. The Coast Guard has already pulled back to the Oakland Ports. The last transmission we heard was their units had landed ashore. Apparently the port area is crawling with the infected, and from what we gathered from their transmissions it was dicey as to whether they could do anything to secure it. What is left of the National Guard on TI is in effect stranded there with both bridge accesses destroyed. You need to think very carefully before leaving Central, Harry. If you decide to remain, nobody will judge that decision ….” Ekers trailed off and stopped transmitting.

Harry was just beginning to reply when Ekers’ voice came through the speakers once again. “But I know you, Harry, and I know you could sooner remain out of this than I could if I had the chance and thought I could make it out. You asked for my orders, so here they are. I want you and your team to attempt to make contact with any survivors, offering whatever assistance possible. Attempt to make contact with Captain Overton and let him know what you have in mind. I don’t think he will stand in your way, but don’t expect any help from him. Be very careful in that contact though. They are edgy as hell right now. I recommend you make radio contact before approaching them. Do you copy that?”

“We copy and that’s reasonable. I will not put us in undue danger, but you’re right that I can’t just sit here and do nothing,” Harry said into the mic. “Anything else, Chief?”

“So, yeah, that, umm, does bring me to something else I need to take care of here,” Ekers said cryptically.

“That would be?” Harry responded after almost two full minutes of dead air over the radio.

“As you already know, the nation is under martial law,” Ekers began again. “However, it is pretty clear by what we’ve seen and heard that everybody is really on their own. Therefore, I am issuing an emergency departmental directive that reinstates you, Harold Lancaster, as a full- time sworn police officer for the City and County of San Francisco, effective immediately. Do you copy that, Harry?”

22

Harry stared at the radio mic as if it were a radioactive alien artifact that had just fallen from the sky and into his hands. He was, however, finally able to torpidly say through that radioactive artifact, “Copy …”

Ekers then said with evident relish, “There’s one more thing, but before I lay that on you I am ordering both Officers Washington and Lewis, I know you guys can hear me, to take all action necessary in preventing Lancaster from shooting the radio with what I have to say next. That includes handcuffing him if necessary, gentlemen. Now then, Harry, in addition to being reinstated to full-time status, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Lieutenant and ordered to oversee all field operations such as they are right now.”

Harry lost it with that announcement. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND GREG? I’M TOO OLD FOR THIS SHIT AND YOU KNOW IT! THIS ISN’T THE DAMN ARMY! YOU CAN’T JUST DRAFT ME FOR CHRISSAKE!” he bellowed into the mic. What followed was a ‘hot and heavy, spit flying, all in your face ass chewing’ directed at Chief Greg Ekers, albeit delivered over the radio. It would have made Harry’s old FTO, Shane O’Connor, immensely proud.

“Harry, let go of the mic,” Derrick said, reaching over Harry’s shoulder and trying to pry his friend’s hands from the small piece of plastic that was in imminent danger of imploding from the death grip that had been placed upon it.

“You better get that away from him before he breaks it or blows out the circuits,” Frank urged, but made no attempt to assist Derrick.

“I’m working on it here, Rook. Harry, damn it, LET GO OF THE MIC!” Derrick yelled.

Harry kept his harangue flowing until Derrick decided to take drastic action. Leaning forward and bringing his face close to Harry’s, he licked him; licked him from jaw to hairline.

Instantaneously snapping out of his one-sided scream fest, Harry turned to Derrick with a shocked expression. “What the hell, Derry! Did you just lick me! DID YOU JUST LICK MY DAMN FACE?” At that Harry let the mic drop to the floor, opened the passenger side door and jumped out, vigorously rubbing the side of his face with the sleeve of his jump. Derrick moved into the passenger seat and hurriedly closed the door, engaging the lock.

Harry was now directing his full ire on Derrick, attempting to establish a logical reason for this last course of action. “Listen you big ox, open that damn door ‘cause I am going to kick your ass all over this garage! You LICKED ME!” Harry was shouting but it was muffled because of the armor and bullet-resistant glass.

“Wasn’t he going to kiss you not too long ago?” Frank asked, looking past Derrick to Harry who was still articulating his immense displeasure.

“Yeah, he said it again when he saw all the stuff we loaded in the Bearcat, too. Even said he’d use tongue. But older folks who miss their afternoon naps can get a bit cranky,” Derrick answered.

“Well, guess we don’t have to wait for your ‘bar or better’ now,” Frank said, continuing to watch Harry’s antics.

“Nope, we’re good now,” Derrick replied.

Harry walked over to the Bearcat and yelled again, “Get out of the damn truck!” With that he pounded on the up-armored door twice, very hard, using the side of a closed fist. His next action was to immediately step back, look at his hand like it was yet another alien artifact, then cradle it as if said artifact was a very delicate item.