SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES

by Tony Baker

  Frank Lewis had grown up in Florida, in a family of cops, and for as long as he could remember, becoming a police officer was all he’d wanted to do. His grandfather, father, and an uncle all served with distinction. At twenty-two years old, just after graduating from San Francisco State, he had entered the academy to carry on the tradition. Being very youthful in appearance, and standing only 5’8”, he had put up with a lot of good-natured ribbing from instructors and some of the other cadets. He had heard on more than one occasion the comical references to the SFPD starting a Jump Street Squad, with Frank being their very own version of Johnny Depp.

  But he had done extremely well in his academy class, had garnered the respect of all through hard work and determination, and was looking forward to beginning his career. His friends had kidded him about April Fool’s Day maybe not the best day to start that career, but he had laughingly shrugged that off at the time. He had found himself thinking about that suggestion many times over the past few days, and wondered if any of those friends were still alive.

  “We were dispatched to Market and Van Ness to back up several other units. When we arrived there were five or six units on scene with the officers trying to push back maybe twenty or thirty people that seemed like they had gone crazy. By the time we got out of the car those people had taken down all those cops and were tearing into them with their hands and teeth! Both Baker and I shot into the crowd, putting a bunch of them down, but all that really seemed to accomplish was to draw their attention to us!” Frank pleadingly looked from Harry, to Derrick, and back again, with tears forming. “They didn’t fucking care that we were dropping people all around them! Baker finally yelled at me to get back into the car, but before he could make it to his side a mass of those people just swarmed him!”

  Harry had known Jim Baker; he had been an FTO for several years. Baker knew what he was doing, was a good cop, and Frank could not have had a better example for his first few weeks. Harry was saddened at yet another person perishing at the hands, or claws, of the infected. But what Frank said next reminded him yet again that there were worse things now than death.

  “I dove in my side and crawled over the center computer swivel to get behind the wheel. It took me a couple seconds to get my set of keys off the ring and into the ignition, but by that time those things were at the left side of the car pounding on the windows. The right side was blocked with all them on top of Baker. I got the car started and tried to back up, but there were too many of them around the car by that time.” Frank again paused to collect himself.

  “I began to shove the transmission into drive and reverse repeatedly, knocking down whatever was at the front and back of the car. Seemed like this went on for hours. I know it was probably only a few minutes, but I was just about free. That’s when the right side window finally exploded inward and I saw Baker trying to crawl through!” Frank’s voice rose at the memory of the event that was most assuredly seared into his mind forever.

  “Baker’s face was almost completely gone!” Frank continued with a haunted look on his face. “No nose, his lips ripped off, and one eye hanging out of the socket. He had his mangled arm and head in the car. I raised my weapon and blew his head off! After that I threw the car in drive and pushed the accelerator pedal as far as it would go. The car finally broke through those fucks and I tore out of there.” That clarified what had happened to the car Harry had seen parked at the side of the building.

  “I didn’t know what else to do,” Frank said pleadingly to both Harry and Derrick. “I know I should have done more for Baker, but my God, I didn’t know what more to do …” Frank finally broke into wracking sobs but quickly recovered. “I just didn’t know what else to do.”

  Harry clearly heard not only what Frank said, but how he said it, as if he had now given up entirely. Harry and Derrick exchanged quick glances, then Harry said to Frank, “Listen to me kid, I knew Jim Baker fairly well and he was a good cop. But there were two good cops in that car in a situation none of us could ever hope to understand, that none of us were trained to handle. You did the best thing possible given the circumstances, and thanks to keeping your head, one of those two good cops made it! You made it and that’s all that matters right now. We will all have time to grieve our losses at some point, but now is not that time.

  “The three of us have survived so we know others must have. I served this city and its citizens for twenty-five years, and I for one will not allow this fucked-up shit to destroy what might be left out there! We are going to keep our emotions in check, take all the crap we’ve seen and had to do, and we are going to use that as our motivation. We are going to use the loss of friends and family, of brothers and sisters in the department, the people we never met, and we are not going to give up. We are going to remain professional and do our jobs; do whatever it takes to survive this! Do you hear me Frank?” Frank continued to stare at the floor until Harry said again a bit more forcefully, “Do you read me, Officer Lewis!”

  That seemed to snap Frank out of it. He looked up at Harry, and with a bit more steel in his voice, said, “Yes sir, Mr. Lancaster, I read you, whatever it takes to survive. But I don’t think you could understand what it’s like. Having to kill your partner?”

  Harry slowly nodded, keeping his eyes locked onto Frank’s, and said, “Kid, I know exactly what it’s like to deal with these things, and let me be real clear, that thing that looked like Jim Baker was not your partner when you shot it. Jim Baker was dead the moment those things swarmed him, and nothing you did or did not do would have changed that.

  “I’ve seen and dealt with the same shit over the past several days, young man, on a scale you couldn’t begin to understand, and I know there is no escape once they swarm a living person. You didn’t kill your partner, Frank; you killed a mindless, crazed zombie, a thing that would have ripped you apart without hesitation! I have killed dozens of these things and I know it isn’t easy to live with …” Harry was suddenly flung back to the first day of the infection, and his first experience with the infected.

  Pushing the memories of what had happened in the apartment building and his little trip to the station back into the recesses of his mind, Harry, who had continued to look into Frank’s eyes while briefly reliving the horror of his first day, said, “Yes Frank, we will do whatever it takes to survive,” while placing a reassuring hand on the young rookie’s shoulder.

  Frank nodded slightly and repeated, “Whatever it takes, and you can count on me, sir.”

  15

  “You didn’t mention how we hooked up, Rook,” Derrick said with a slight smile, obviously trying to break the tension.

  “Oh, that?” Frank replied. “Well, I was headed up Van Ness thinking I should get back to the station. I had just crossed Geary when I saw Officer Washington running down the sidewalk ahead of about twenty zombies. It was pretty awesome, too. He had that big Remington 700P rifle strapped around his shoulder and was really booking it. I pulled up about a half block in front of him thinking he would get in the passenger side door, but instead he jumped on the roof and just yelled ‘Go, go, go!’ Guess he hung onto the light bar. I thought I lost him a couple times before we got here, too.”

  Harry had to laugh at the image of Derrick Washington running ahead of a bunch of zombies, with a rather large sniper rifle strapped on a shoulder, and then jumping onto a police car’s roof and hanging on for dear life from a light bar. He was probably cussing every inch of the way, too.

  “Damn, Derry,” Harry said through a stifled laugh, “why didn’t you just get in the car?”

  “Yeah, well, so I wasn’t thinking so clear at the time. With zombies trying to eat my ass and all, you know!” Derrick responded with a comical expression on his face, which included crossing his eyes for effect. Harry, and even Frank, had to cover their mouths to hide the growing smiles at that. “Okay, okay, back to current events here, guys,” Derrick said. “So what’s our next move?”

  Harry related the interview he had see
n on GNN and what Scott Allen had said. He also told them about how the zombies were affected by the fog and about the Sovereign Spirit’s website and what he had read on their blog.

  “So I’m thinking that we follow the Commodore’s example. We get supplies and we get to the marina. Once we secure a couple of boats, I’m thinking we head out to Alcatraz. But we still need a way to do all this, and that’s the reason I came here in the first place. Our handguns are not going to cut it out there and I was hoping the station still had long guns and ammo. But we are going to need more than those three AR15s back in the corner. The shotguns are good, too, but we need to be able to put some serious firepower down range,” Harry said, looking around the nearly empty room that had once stocked a sizable amount of various weapons. “We’re also going to need to figure out a safe way to get around.”

  Derrick smiled, saying, “I think we can help you out with that. Have a look in the ammo closet.” He tossed Harry a set of keys.

  The ammo closet was not a closet at all, but rather a room attached to the main armory and accessible through a steel reinforced door. Harry took the keys, unlocked the door and flipped on the light switch. Stepping into the room, he said with a great deal of satisfaction, “Okay, now we’re talking here.” He saw box after box of ammunition for rifles, shotguns, and pistols. There were at least a dozen AC4 riot shields, several AM2 full body riot shields, and cases of tear gas grenades, flash bangs and full body riot gear. It was everything Harry had hoped to find and more.

  Derrick and Frank had followed Harry into the room, and Derrick began an inventory assessment. “Harry, you know that Central is the main SWAT Division location with ammo being dispersed throughout the City from here. We had just received a new shipment of ammunition on March 29th. When the Rook and I got in, we made a quick count. We’ve got at least eighty thousand rounds of NATO 5.56; thirty-five thousand rounds of .45 and 9mm; forty thousand rounds of ‘00’ and twenty thousand less-than-lethal polys for the shotguns; five hundred tear gas grenades and about eight hundred flash bangs. There’s at least a thousand PMAG 30-round magazines for the ARs, too.”

  Harry just stared at Derrick for a moment with a look of pure amazement. “Dude, this is fantastic! Now all we need is more weapons and a way to transport it all. I have an idea but I don’t think we’ll find what I have in mind here.”

  “Well, now that you mention it, there is more,” Derrick replied, smiling. “The Rook and I found twelve of the ARs in the armory and have already taken them down to the garage. We were on our way back up to start taking boxes of the ammo down when we ran into you.”

  “Okay,” Harry said, “that’s great. Do you know where they parked one of the Bearcats? If we could get our hands on one of those, we’d be golden.”

  Derrick cocked his head to the side slightly, smiled and said, “Well, if a brand new right-out-of-the-box BCRC will work for ya, there’s one parked in the garage right now. Probably still has that ‘new car’ smell.”

  Harry was astonished. “When did the department get a Riot Bear? More interesting question, why did the department get a Riot Bear?”

  The BearCat Riot Control Vehicle is designed mostly for international police forces operating in hostile urban environments. The BCRC is equipped with a heavy-duty hydraulic forward-facing V-shaped ram, capable of moving cars, barriers, and other debris. That also included making its way through crowds of people. With a ten-person seating capacity, two in the front and eight in the back, along with equipment storage for each of those people, this vehicle would be perfect for moving around a city full of zombies. Especially with all the ballistic glass and body protection these vehicles came with. God only knew why the police department bureaucrats felt as though a vehicle like that was needed in San Francisco. Maybe they thought it would come in handy during the monthly bicyclists Critical Mass or the annual Pride Parade.

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry continued. “I don’t understand why they would spend close to a half million dollars on something like that, but they have unknowingly helped us a great deal. Now if we can find the keys …” Harry did not finish as Derrick raised his left hand and jingled a small set of keys.

  “Okay Harry, have any more questions?” Derrick laughed. Harry could only smile in response.

  “You’re the man, Derry,” Harry said absently as he suddenly walked toward the door leading out of the armory. Something had occurred to him that he should have thought of the moment he entered the station.

  “If you guys can start loading up the Bear, I’ll help you in a few minutes,” Harry said to both men, continuing to quickly make his way into the hallway and turning left toward the station’s dispatch room. “I just realized that since the generators are still operating we might be able to use the radios! I need to check it out.”

  Derrick had followed Harry to the door at his sudden departure from the room and shouted to Harry’s retreating back, “Great idea, but what do you think we should take?”

  Turning his head slightly so Derrick could hear him, as he continued down the hall at a fast pace Harry said loudly, “We take it all! Everything not nailed down. Take all the ammo, the equipment, shields, flash bangs, and anything else we can find and will fit in that vehicle.”

  “Okay,” Derrick replied a bit dubiously. He did not fully understand why Harry would want that much ammo and equipment, but shrugged a shoulder in acceptance. “Guess he knows what he’s doing,” he said, turning to Frank. “Grab that dolly and let’s get moving, Rook.”

  16

  Harry entered the dispatch center that housed the state-of-the-art communications equipment for the station. Suspended from the ceiling were two large LCD screens that he knew normally would have contained vital information on car locations and their status, pending calls at a glance in order of priority, and other pertinent information – if Dispatch had been operational. Now the screens were just a bright solid blue, but that at least told Harry there was, in fact, power to the center. Walking over to a desk, which looked more like something NASA used in their Mission Control, he gazed down, taking in the vast controls. Thank God I’ve operated this stuff before, he thought.

  Harry had pulled many shifts in dispatch as a Reserve assignment, and had received basic training on the operation of the communications equipment. Although San Francisco had a multi-million-dollar 911 Emergency Communications Center, each district station could dispatch and track routine calls – although there really was no such thing as a routine call for a cop, and Harry knew full well a “routine” call could become a full alert SWAT call out within minutes. But the general idea of the station dispatch was to free up the understaffed 911 Center to handle imminent life-threatening calls for police or medical aid.

  All the equipment seemed to be powered up and operational. Harry picked up the earpiece with the thin boom mic from the desk and attached it to his left ear. He then sat down in front of the communications monitor and typed in his access code on the keyboard. The system could not be used until the operator was signed on, thus allowing it to track all dispatches coming in and going out by that operator. Harry’s ID was immediately accepted, giving him full access to the system.

  Reaching up and to the right of the monitor, he then activated several switches to engage his earpiece and to select the appropriate frequency he wished to transmit over. Harry activated the button labeled “Citywide Broadcast”, allowing him to be heard by anyone within any of the police, fire, or emergency city services departments who still had access to a radio.

  Depressing the in line button on the cord attached to the earpiece which would activate the boom mic, he said, “Three Edward Six at Central Station, any unit please respond.” Having stated his department unit call sign along with his current location, he waited for a few moments. Only silence met his first call. “Three Edward Six to any unit, can anyone hear me?” Leaning back in the chair, frustrated, he glanced up to the button labeled “DEM”. The Department of Emergency Management was onl
y fully staffed during catastrophic emergencies such as earthquakes or other severe citywide emergencies. “Guess they will have to add zombies to the list,” he said sarcastically, knowing they had activated the DEM on April 1st when the infected first started to ravage the City.

  Sitting back up in the chair, Harry reached up, activating the DEM switch, and repeated his call. “Three Edward Six at Central Station, does anyone copy?” After a few moments of silence, he was rewarded with a response!

  “Hello? Can you hear me? Oh God, can you hear me?” came a female voice through Harry’s earpiece.

  “Yes I can hear you!” Harry said excitedly. “This is Harold Lancaster. Who is this?”

  “Sarah Shoemaker,” the voice responded. “I’m one of the mayor’s aides, and we’re at the DEM. We’ve been stuck here for several days and can’t seem to reach anyone. We really need help. Just a minute, Officer …”

  A new voice came over the radio. “Officer, this is Mayor Jarvis. You need to get us out of here right now! I have to get back to City Hall!” Harry was preparing to respond when Derrick and Frank came into the room, so he flipped another switch to activate an external speaker so they could follow the conversation.

  “We’re loaded up and good to go, Harry. We also found a few other things that will help,” Derrick said. Looking up, Harry nodded his reply, realizing he had been sitting at the console longer than he had thought.

  Focusing back on the radio, Harry said, “Mr. Mayor, I’m glad that you’re alright. You need to remain at the DEM for now. I’m with two other officers and we are preparing to relocate to the marina to secure a couple of boats. Once that’s done we will try to reach your location, but for now you need to remain calm and keep everyone else the same way.”