Zombie Dawn Exodus (6 page)

“What’s that?” asked Captain Black.

“It’s detected movement on one of the ship’s
cameras. I’ve modified the protocols here to detect image pattern
changes rather than heat changes,” answered Dr Garcia.

The Marine officer nodded, immediately understanding
the point of the changes.

“Yeah, that makes sense. Passive infrared is useless
against the dead as they’re as cold as the walls of the ship. Can
we see what is causing the movement?” he asked.

Dr Garcia gave him a glance, pleasantly surprised at
the knowledge of a mere Marine, before turning back to the
screen.

“Let’s see what I can do,” she said whilst making a
few tweaks.

The screen flashed and then revealed a dark, very
noisy image with what looked like a large moving silhouette.

“Fuck!” swore Captain Black as he grabbed for the
radio mic.

“Fernanda, you’ve got hostiles moving in about four
rooms down on the left,” he shouted.

“Affirmative,” she replied.

Another light flashed on a different display showing
similar movement in one of the function rooms off to the right of
the Marines’ position. Before they could pass on the information
the camera picked up the door being torn open and a dozen shapes
staggered out into the hallway.

“Sergeant!” shouted Captain Black.

The screens on the Marines’ equipment flickered as
they tried to adjust to the light changes as they opened fire. The
one CCTV camera in the corridor showed a mass of people and muzzle
flashes.

Captain Black moved for the door but Dr Garcia
grabbed at him.

“There’s nothing you can do for them by running off.
They know what they’re doing. I need you and your men’s help to get
more of the systems online so we can get them to the Grand Lobby in
time,” she said.

Captain Black looked back at the screen to see the
flashes had stopped and the Marines were still moving along the
corridor. With a crackle Sergeant Fernanda’s voice returned.

“That was fun. We were jumped by two groups of them,
no casualties to report. We are continuing on,” she said.

“Good work, Sergeant. We have a clear route coming
up shortly, keep your eyes peeled.”

There was a short delay before Fernanda replied.

“Understood, Captain.”

* * *

Kowalski and Armstrong moved to the end of the
corridor and into the open space leading to the stairwells and main
elevator system. The rest of the Marines took up positions to cover
the access to the stairwells. Sergeant Fernanda called back to the
bridge.

“We’re at the entrance to the stairwells, do you
have any intel on them?” she asked.

“We have movement from the level immediately above
the Grand Lobby, everything above that looks clear. Don’t take any
chances though,” answered the Captain.

“Affirmative,” replied Fernanda.

She gave a signal to Armstrong who slowly opened the
door and shone his torch inside. He turned back and waved them to
follow. He moved in and rushed down as quickly as he dared, the
rest of the unit close behind. In a matter of thirty seconds the
Marines were positioned above the Grand Lobby. The stairs had
already transformed into a beautiful spiral grand staircase and the
furnishing matched in details and quality. Kowalski leaned over
towards Armstrong.

“Holy shit, now this I like,” he whispered.

“Yeah,” replied the Marine, “rather be back on our
own boat though.”

“Amen to that,” whispered Jackson, who was waiting
patiently in the darkness with his Heckler and Koch MP5 lifted and
ready for action.

“We’re in position,” whispered Fernanda into her
mic.

“We have you on the screen. From here onwards the
security system is inactive. We have no idea what you will find. I
repeat. You are entering an unknown, potentially hostile area. Take
it easy and if you hit trouble, fall back towards the theatre,”
answered Captain Black.

“Also, be careful, you are directly above the
refrigeration plants and that’s where we think the problems are
concentrated,” added Dr Garcia.

“Understood, we’re going in,” said Sergeant Fernanda
as she gave the signal.

Kowalski and Armstrong entered the grand staircase
first, with the rest of the Marines spaced out in a long column
behind them. They inched their way down, using their lights on the
lowest settings to avoid drawing too much attention. As Armstrong
rounded the first bend he looked over the ledge and down into the
exquisite lobby below. Surprisingly some of the lights were still
working and provided light to the more enclosed areas. The
staircase led to a wide open gallery in a semi-circle shape. At the
centre of the semi-circle was a rounded glass platform that split
off into two spiralling staircases, both had thick red carpet.

“Nice,” whispered Kowalski.

The Marines continued towards the glass platform
that offered a complete view of the lobby area.

“Fernanda here. We’re in the lobby area, top of the
main staircases on the platform,” she said.

“Got you. Take the left staircase, follow it around
to the left and past the pianos. That’s where the source of the
sound is.”

“Affirmative,” answer Fernanda.

With a signal to fan out the Marines moved down the
staircase and spread out along the base, each of them scanning the
wide open lobby for signs of movement. Though some of the lights
lit the corners there were still sections that were too dark to
make out. A sound came from below, as though somebody had kicked a
box or crate over. The Sergeant clenched her fist and raised it up,
the rest of the Marines halted and dropped to the ground, expecting
trouble.

“Hey, Sarge,” whispered Private Hopkins, “take a
look at this.”

The Marine was pointing across the lobby to a
flickering light. Fernanda crept over to him whilst the rest of
them held steady. She looked carefully, her eyes adjusting to the
lighting in the room. She reached down to her pocket and pulled out
a small military issue camera and held it up to her eye. It was a
combined low light and thermal imaging camera. In the screen the
area of the flickering light was showing as extremely hot. She
panned the camera, examining the rest of the lobby until she
spotted movement. She panned back and spotted more of the hot
areas.

There was a flash from the end of the lobby and a
series of flames licked up towards the other side of the staircase.
Another dull rumble echoed through the ship.

“Fuck, sounds like something serious is going on
down there,” said Weston, the squad’s M249 machine gunner, as he
pointed at the floor.

The ground shuddered from what felt like several
blasts, possibly explosions. Sergeant Fernanda lost her foot and
stumbled, managing to catch one of the columns at the last moment.
She called on her radio.

“Captain, I’ve got people down here, a group of
about a dozen are hiding inside one of the small function rooms. It
also looks like we have a series of fires here. At least two in the
lobby and the entire floor is showing as warming on my camera,” she
said.

She looked around the lobby, noting the flames that
seemed to be growing fast. On her camera the heat seemed to be
spreading through more sections of the ship. Her headset
crackled.

“Good work. Be careful, Sergeant, if they’re hiding
it’s for a reason. According to our data the refrigeration section
is burning and burning hot. At this rate the vessel is going to
start taking on water in the lower section of the hull sometime in
the next three hours. You don’t want to be there for too long. This
is a death ship in more ways than one.”

“Understood, heading to them now,” she replied.

She moved off the staircase and around the columns
in the direction of the small function rooms that ran along the one
wall of the lobby. She signalled to the men to spread out into two
groups, one each side of the area. As they moved a series of loud
noises came from the function room.

Fernanda moved up to the door and placed her hand on
the centre, it was cool to the touch. She turned back to ensure the
rest of the Marines were with her before pushing it open and moving
inside. On the floor there were pieces of splintered wood and a
large wooden unit was pushed aside. Fernanda new instantly what had
happened there, the survivors had nailed the door shut and then
moved these items up against it to stop the creatures from getting
inside.

She stepped to the right and in a matter of seconds
the first six Marines were inside and pointing their weapons at the
sight ahead of them. The room was packed with dozens of the undead
and they were all hammering at a series of obstructions that were
obviously an attempt at some kind of fortification. In the corner
of the room the glint of an axe or something similar caught her
attention. She turned to her squad.

“Watch for friendlies, clear the room!” she
shouted.

Armstrong opened up first, quickly followed by a
series of rifles. The streaks from the weapons blasted across the
room, ripping into the undead throwing blood and guts on the walls.
As soon as the weapons started another door opened to the side
revealing another large horde of the creatures. The first three
were close to the squad’s machine gunner who cut them down with a
long burst from his M249. The box magazine provided him with a
hundred rounds of 5.56mm bullets and this firepower decimated the
ambush.

Private Hopkins rushed forwards to the survivors and
shouted over to them.

“Keep your heads down, we’re here to help you!” he
cried.

He pulled at the barricade, trying to reach them
before another group of zombies moved from behind the debris
against the wall. The first grabbed his leg whilst another pushed
into his stomach, forcing him to the floor. A third dropped down to
bite him only to be stopped by the muzzle of Fernanda’s M4 carbine.
A short burst sent the zombie’s skull and brain up against the
wall. Kowalski ran over and grabbed the second zombie off him and
smashed his weapon into its face. He followed his attack up with
another two rounds, one to the head and another to the torso. The
rest of the unit spread out firing into the horde and cutting them
down in just ten seconds of shooting.

Once the firing stopped Fernanda stepped up to the
barricade, looking for the survivors.

“I am Sergeant Fernanda of the United States Marine
Corps. You’re safe now,” she said.

From behind the barricade a young man stood up,
quickly followed by more people. The man wore a torn and battered
official uniform, presumably one of the crew. He climbed over the
debris and down to the Marines. More followed, helped by the
Marines.

“Can you help us with the wounded?” asked the
man.

Fernanda signalled to her men who moved over to
assist.

“How many of you are there?” she asked.

“Seven crew including me plus a dozen passengers,”
he replied.

“That’s it, from the entire ship?”

He stepped up to the Sergeant.

“Yes,” he replied, looking a little confused before
holding out his hand.

“I’m sorry. I’m Carter, Sam Carter. I’m Head of
Security here. We’re all that’s left, thank God you came!” he said
in a relieved tone.

As he moved forward a rumble came from deep in the
ship followed by a series of low thumps underfoot. One of the
paintings tipped and then fell from the wall, whilst chunks of
plaster cracked and dropped from the ceiling.

“How long has it been like this?” asked
Fernanda.

“For the last two days. We’ve been on the run since
they overran the ship. There were over a hundred of us on the deck
waiting for the boats when they hit us. A rescue unit was trying to
hold them back when they triggered some explosions near the engine
room,” he said.

He turned and helped one of the children over the
debris and into the open before continuing.

“We’ve been barricaded in here ever since and the
fires have been spreading. We kept holding the creatures back, but
we lost people every time. I don’t think we could have managed more
than a few days more.”

Fernanda’s radio crackled into life.

“Sergeant, we’ve got a big problem here. Get your
people off the ship and fast,” ordered Captain Black.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Two things. Problem number one is your firefight
has drawn attention. We’re picking up movement on seven decks
heading your way. They’re in their hundreds, maybe thousands.”

“Fuck! And the second?” she asked.

“The fires are spreading through the hull so fast we
calculate the entire length of the ship will be burning in less
than fifteen minutes. If you don’t get topside fast you could be
trapped.”

“Understood, we’re out of here,” she answered
quickly before turning to her unit.

“Marines, we need to go, come on!” she shouted as
she left the room, closely followed by the mixture of survivors and
soldiers.

* * *

Captain Black stared at the computer screen
intently, watching the return route of Fernanda’s unit. Half of the
cameras were now down due to the electrical damage caused by the
fires. Dr Garcia was typing away on one of the computers, whilst
issuing orders to her own staff on the ship.

“Doctor, do you have what you need?” he asked.

“We’ve managed to collect medical supplies, fuel and
some food from the lower storage areas and crew compartments. My
people are loading everything onto the LCAC, they will be finished
in about ten minutes,” she answered.

Some quiet gunshots came from within the ship.
Captain Black looked down at the screen, spotting movement the
floor below where the Marines had set up the defensive position.
The monitor flashed each time a weapon was discharged.

“Sir, we’ve got company here. Multiple targets,
shit, Sir!” came the voice on the radio.