Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga (43 page)

*****

Captain Fisher stood with Commodore Allen on the port bridge wing of the
Sovereign Spirit
as the ship moved slowly past the Port of Los Angeles and into the Long Beach Harbor.  This was going to be their first major shore operation to secure provisions for the flotilla.  Long Beach was an obvious choice due to the shipping docks that were perfect for deploying and recovering their ground vehicles, not to mention the amount of supplies that should be sitting right there in the harbor and surrounding warehouses, waiting to be scooped up.  The downside, but a necessary one, was that Long Beach was totally overrun with zombies.  As far as they could tell, there were no organized survivors around to complain about the Flotilla taking anything they needed.

“Look at all the
boat people
over there,” said Scott, pointing to several hundred sailboats, motorboats and yachts tied together alongside the manmade islands for oil wells and transfer stations in the outer harbor.  “They must have all left the marina and joined up at the oil islands.”

“Yes, sir,” responded Captain Fisher.  “I suppose they’ll be safe there until they run out of food and water.”

“There sure are a lot of them,” pondered Scott.  “We might have to offer them membership in the Flotilla.  Let’s wait until we see how much provisions we can collect here.” 

“Yes, Commodore,” answered Captain Fisher in a respectful tone that Scott wasn’t sure he could get used to.   “I agree that we need to find more provisions before we consider taking responsibility of any more mouths to feed.”

“Okay, Jordie,” Scott agreed with a smile.  “But what are those flags going up over the old
Queen Mary
?”  Scott pointed towards the famous ship that he had visited many years ago. 

“What? Huh…” Captain Fisher hesitated. “Those are signal flags.  The one on top signals distress.  The rest are spelling out something… Let’s see.  If I remember correctly, it says,‘300 souls aboard, no plague, please render assistance.’  It’s just your typical distress signal.”

“But not your typical place is it?” Scott mused.  “Look at that ship.  If it’s free of infection and isolated, it could become a safe haven for thousands of people.  What was the capacity of the
Queen Mary
when she was in service?”

“About two thousand passengers, plus at least a thousand crew, as I recall,” Fisher replied.  “But I seem to remember that she carried ten or twenty thousand troops at a time across the Atlantic during World War Two.  Of course she’s never going anywhere again and most of those passenger cabins have been removed to make room for museums, restaurants, and conference rooms.  Then they upgraded a few hundred of the First Class cabins to become a nice hotel.   They removed her engines and built that breakwater around her too, so this is her final resting place.” 

“Not a bad spot for it,” Scott mused.  “She’s only a stone’s throw from the cruise ship terminal with that nice big concrete pier where we could roll vehicles and supplies on and off of the
Sovereign Spirit
.  And that big cruise ship terminal, the dome where they used to keep the old
Spruce Goose
, well, it would make a great community center and marketplace for the rest of the Flotilla.  Wouldn’t it?”

“Good points,” agreed Captain Fisher.  “And look at all of the warehouses and container ships on the other side of the island there.  That’s the Terminal Island ship terminal.  There has to be a lot of stuff we could use there, including shipments of food and cargo handling equipment.”

Scott nodded and asked, “Are those bridges over there the only routes on and off of the island?”

“Yes, I believe so, except for a strip of highways and train tracks alongside the river channel,” Fisher said, light dawning in his eyes.  “You think we can secure all of Terminal Island as a safe haven?”

“Possibly,” Scott confirmed.  “If we had enough people and a permanent base of operations to keep it secure.”   

“Something like the Queen Mary?” Captain Fisher suggested.

“Exactly,” Scott confirmed.  “Look at it, surrounded by a moat of water that zombies won’t cross, with steel walls more than 50 feet high – it’s a readymade fortress in a perfect location for us to conduct provisioning operations.  And it’s already set up with hundreds of hotel rooms and dining facilities.”

“You want to take it over from those people?” Fisher asked suspiciously.

“Hell no!” Scott replied sharply.  “I’ve got enough to handle with this ship and the growing Flotilla.  But I’m thinking that if we help the people already aboard – three hundred you said – they should be willing to work with us.  And maybe some of the people in the flotilla will want to join them too.  We can even provide some weapons so they can defend themselves.  Then we’ll have allies and a secure base for our provisioning expeditions here.”

“That’s an excellent idea, Commodore,” said Captain Fisher with an approving smile.  “Shall I prepare the ship for docking and shore action?”

“Yes, Captain, I believe you should,” confirmed Scott.  “Please send for Sergeant Major O’Hara too.  It looks like it’s time to use those Amtracs of his.  We’ll want to clear the pier and parking lot of zombies before we go knocking on the door of the
Queen Mary.
”

*****

Conrad Kroeker fought not to lose hope as the strange ship began to turn its bow away from him. 
Are they leaving?  They could be our last hope!
  Making a split second decision, he spun around and entered the old bridge of the
Queen Mary.
  Pulling out his master keys, he unlocked a cabinet on the wall and reached in to pull a handle there.  High on the signal mast the ship’s single remaining air-driven Tyfon whistle blasted out a low bass “A” note at 55 Hz, trumpeting with a deep resonating sound that could be heard from ten miles away.  Conrad pulled three short blasts, followed by three long blasts, then three more short blasts.  That was SOS, the universal signal for distress.  Nobody for miles in any direction, living or dead, could fail to know where it came from.  It was bound to attract more zombies, just as it had the first and only other time he had blown the powerful horn last week.  But Conrad had to do everything he could to get help for the people trapped with him in the floating hotel. 

Returning to the deck he realized that his action might have been premature and unnecessary.  The unfamiliar ship’s turn had put it perpendicular to the cruise ship pier.  Now the strange ship was backing towards the dock and Conrad could see that it had a large door that was folding down into a ramp from its stern.   Then the ship let off a blast of its own horn, obviously in response to the signal from the
Queen Mary.
  The strange ship’s signal was one long blast followed by two short toots of its smaller and slightly higher pitched horn.  DA-DIT-DIT!  That was Morse code for the letter D, which signified “Docking” for a ship coming into port.    

Conrad was both elated and terrified as he ran back towards the stern of the
Queen Mary
and across to look at the zombies in the parking lot.  Sure enough, they were swarming around the ship and more were approaching from every direction.  The powerful horns had driven them into frenzied activity and attracted more of them towards the ships.  Most of the zombies were fixated on the
Queen Mary
, as they had been for the past week, but
dozens of others were turning towards the cruise ship pier where the newcomers had just announced their presence.  To zombies a ship’s horn must sound like the dinner bell.

‘What have I done?’
a horrified Conrad asked himself.  He was certain that the new ship would either leave as soon as they saw the zombies coming, or the zombies would run right across the ramp and devour everyone aboard as soon as it reached the dock.  ‘
This will be a disaster!’
  Conrad thought.  He couldn’t have been more wrong. 

  As the
Sovereign Spirit’s
stern ramp lowered to rest on the concrete pier in front of the empty cruise ship terminal, a dozen uniformed men walked out to greet about fifty zombies running towards them.  The men leaped onto the pier and took positions on either side of the ramp, kneeling into well trained firing postures.  Their rapid semi-automatic weapons fire shredded the foremost ranks of the zombies and quickly dispatched the rest of those headed their way.  Then, as Conrad’s eyes widened, a big armored personnel carrier drove out of the ship with more armed men riding atop it.  Unbelievably, another of the giant war machines followed the first one.   The second personnel carrier paused just long enough to lower its own rear ramp and let the men on the dock scramble inside.  Then it raised its ramp and followed the first armored vehicle that was already moving towards the
Queen Mary
at thirty miles an hour.    Once they were clear the ship raised its vehicle ramp high enough to prevent any stray zombies from jumping aboard.   

The lead Amtrac had a bulldozer blade on its front end, poised at knee level, as it bore down on the swarming zombies in the parking lot.  It slashed through them like a hot knife through butter.  Scores of zombies were cut down, many turned to slime under the grinding treads, as the massive machine tore through the mob.  Then it turned on blood slick tracks and repeated the process.  The second Amtrac barreled into the crowd of zombies slightly inland of where the first one had passed, producing equally satisfying results.  Then each vehicle turned again and made pass after pass through the horde of undead.  Conrad thought it was similar to watching choreographed lawn mowers in action. 

Within a minute or two the parking lot was covered in pools of blood and mangled flesh, with only a few stray zombies still standing.  At that point the Amtracs stopped and each of them disgorged a dozen Marines from their rear ramps.  They proceeded to calmly shoot every remaining zombie with disciplined fire of single shots to the head.  By then Conrad was ecstatic, jumping up and down and yelling encouragement.  He had been joined by at least two hundred other people who had come up on the
Queen Mary’s
deck to investigate the commotion.  Everyone cheered as the last of the zombies in the parking lot fell to a single rifle shot from a hundred yards away.  They were saved!

At that point Conrad noticed that the ramp on the ship had been lowered again and another vehicle was driving out of it.  This looked like a normal SUV, a Suburban or Escalade, and it sped quickly to the remaining pedestrian ramp leading into the
Queen Mary
.  Meanwhile the Marines took up defensive positions around their armored vehicles and watched for more zombies. 

The SUV carried four men who got out and waved up to the onlookers above.  Conrad waved back with a wide smile.  One of the men below, dressed somewhat like a man on a safari with a mean looking weapon slung from his shoulder, yelled up at him, “Ahoy,
Queen Mary!
  I’m Commodore Scott Allen, requesting permission to come aboard!”

“Yes!  Yes, sir!” Conrad yelled back.  “Of course!  Just give me a few minutes to get the door open.”  He spun away from the rail and ran back into the ship, as the rest of the people lining the rails of the Promenade Deck resumed their cheers.   A few minutes ago Conrad had feared that this day would turn out to be the beginning of the end for everyone on the
Queen Mary
, but now he was faced with a whole new beginning.  Whatever the future held in store, this was a moment of intense triumph and relief. 

This story is continued in
Flotilla of the Dead: Book Two of the Sovereign Spirit Saga
.

Buy it now at
http://www.amazon.com/Flotilla-Dead-Sovereign-Spirit-ebook/dp/B007QOJJIC/

Visit
www.soverignspirit.net
or email
[email protected]

Follow me on Twitter at @davidpforsyth

If you really liked this book, become a fan or read my blog at
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/5620466.David_P_Forsyth