02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  “You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” Chuck replied with a smile. “You think normal sprinklers will hold these monsters off the same way the water canon did?”

  “I think it’s worth experimenting with,” Carl answered with a grin. Chuck nodded and they turned towards the operations building to take at look at the irrigation plans for the perimeter of the plant. As it turned out, there were sprinklers all along the fence line, but they pointed in, towards the green belt, instead of out towards the zombies. However, a quick trip to the fence proved that the sprinklers could easily be adjusted to point out through the fence.

  “So,” Carl mused as they drove back to the motor pool. “The only problems we have to solve before we go forward with this plan are water supply and water pressure.” He glanced up at the water tower on the hill where he had sought refuge on the first day of the outbreak. “There can’t be much water left in that tower and the people here, and perhaps still holed up in homes near here, will need every drop of it.”

  “Where can we get more water?” asked Chuck.

  “The ocean,” said Carl with an offhand gesture over his shoulder. “We’ll need to set up pumps powered by generators inside the fence line and run hoses down to the beach. If we can place some intakes with filters out beyond the low tide mark, we would have an endless supply of seawater.”

  “You don’t need to run hoses to the beach,” said Chuck. “We have pipes and pumps to bring seawater here for cooling the refinery towers. Since the refinery is shut down, we can reroute that water into the irrigation system.”

  “That sounds perfect,” Carl agreed. “How long will it take to set that up?”

  “If we start now and use hoses instead of hard pipes to divert the water from the pumps, we can probably get it hooked up in a few hours,” Chuck said.

  “Let’s do it,” said Carl excitedly. “And see if you can find volunteers to go around the perimeter and redirect the sprinklers towards the fence line.”

  “Consider it done,” Chuck confirmed.

  Shortly before sunset they were ready to test the new sprinkler defense system. Carl went down to the West Gate where the concentration of zombies seemed greatest. The sprinklers along the fence line had all been redirected to point outward and in doing so the refinery workers had drawn even more zombies to the fence. Carl had also directed the placement of portable sprinklers to cover the gates themselves. When everything was ready Chuck radioed to confirm that he was turning on the pumps. A minute later the sprinklers began to sputter and spurt, then spray heavy streams of water all along and through the fence. Carl held his breath as the first zombies, those pressed up against the fence itself, were hit by the salt water.

  The reaction was instantaneous. There was a collective groan and howl as the zombies were repelled from the fence. It was not the force of the water that threw them back, it was the simple fact that they had an aversion to water. Zombies who were soaked with the water seemed to stagger and fall to the ground in convulsions. Those who were simply sprayed lightly retained their footing, but moved away from the fence in confusion and what looked like fear. It was working!

  “Right on!” Carl called into the radio. “The sprinklers are driving them back from the fence. Keep those pumps running. I think we’ve got a workable perimeter defense!” Carl continued to watch the zombies on the other side of the fence closely. Most of the sprinklers were the type that swept a twenty to thirty foot stream of water back and forth in a 180 degree arc. These sprinkler streams overlapped by a few feet, but the water didn’t go out from the fence as far at the midpoint between sprinklers. Carl noticed that the zombies started to cluster at those spots and try to press back towards the fence where the sprinkler coverage was thinnest. One or two of the infected even got to the fence, but were repelled by the next sweep of the spray, only to press forward again after it passed. Still, all in all, the sprinklers were working and Carl felt much better, knowing that there wouldn’t be hundreds of bodies pressed against the fence. It was clear, once again, that the victims of the Super Rabies virus did indeed suffer from hydrophobia: fear of water.

  *****

  Chapter 2: Terminal Island

  “They've got us surrounded again, the poor bastards.”

  General Creighton Abrams, US Commander in Vietnam

  The Marines and crew of the Sovereign Spirit made a lot of progress over the next two days. Empty cargo containers were stacked end to end, two layers high, to block every road and bridge leading to the Port of Long Beach. The largest barricade was built across the terminus of the 710 freeway next to the Long Beach Sportfishing dock. At that location a 20 foot wide gap had been left in both the east and westbound lanes of traffic. Big panel trucks were parked across the gaps to act as rolling gates that would allow vehicles to enter or leave the safe haven of the Port. A similar one lane gap between containers was left on the Gerald Desmond Bridge to Terminal Island with a swinging steel gate installed between the containers. A few zombies would probably find a way around these barricades somehow, but the flood of zombies from the mainland had been stemmed. Sweeps by the Marines across the port’s peninsula flushed out and eliminated several hundred more zombies. Volunteers from the ship’s crew were joined by others from the Queen Mary in the job of identifying valuable cargo containers in the port and getting them back to the cruise ship terminal.

  During the process of wiping out zombies and searching for valuable containers, a total of sixty-seven additional survivors were located and rescued in the Port of Long Beach. Some of them were hiding in warehouse offices, many dying of thirst by the time they were rescued. Eight firemen and two paramedics were rescued from Fire Station 6 next door to the Cruise Ship Terminal. Six truckers were found camped out in the sleeper sections of their truck cabs in the cargo terminals. Twenty-three survivors had been holed up on another container ship in the cargo ship basin. The ship was named the Traveling Trader with a home port of Pusan, South Korea. They had arrived the night before the zombie outbreak and remained in port because they were too low on fuel to consider setting to sea without knowing of another safe harbor close by. Unfortunately, the containers on her decks were full of manufactured consumer products intended for the USA that had not been unloaded before the outbreak. Some of them, like a forty foot container of solar powered patio lights and another one full of hand powered flashlights with built-in multi-band radio receivers, might come in very handy. But the containers full of TVs, microwaves, car accessories, computer parts, video games and cell phones were less likely to be useful to the short term needs of survival. George Hammer used a crane to remove and stack most of the unwanted containers on the dock. Then the surviving crewmembers helped move the ship to the empty section of dock space where the Reliable Burden had been moored. George switched cranes and began loading the rest of the export containers full of food from the dock to the deck of the Traveling Trader. Her crew were quick to plug in the reefer units and everyone hoped that any perishables inside were still salvageable. Luckily, the majority of the containers waiting on the dock were non-refrigerated, or less perishable than meat. Most of these were full of products like rice, soybeans, almonds, and two containers full of California wines. News of the latter lifted everyone’s spirits.

  Captain Fisher’s patrols, using the Cigarette and Sportfisherman speed boats, had quickly located several fuel barges and tugs used to refuel cargo and passenger ships in the port. There was also a network of fuel pumps in the ship basin, but they were useless without power. George recommended bringing a barge to fuel up the Traveling Trader, but Scott had some reservations.

  “Hold on a second, George,” Scott said. “If we fill up that ship with fuel, what’s to stop the crew from taking off for Korea with all the food we just loaded aboard it? I suppose that the Stratton or even the Sovereign Spirit could chase her down and force her back, but I’d like a little more commitment to our cause from their crew before we give them the means to abandon us. That fuel is pricele
ss too, unless we can get a refinery going again someday.”

  “So what do you suggest?” asked George.

  “I think we should give them just enough fuel to navigate around the coast of Southern California, in return for their commitment to transport supplies from here to other safe havens established by the Flotilla.”

  “It makes sense,” agreed Captain Fisher. “We need to keep the other container ship at the cruise ship terminal to provide power for the Queen Mary and the reefer units that we moved here. We could carry a couple of containers in the vehicle deck of the Sovereign Spirit, but it would be very difficult for us to resupply all the people on Catalina and the other spots you are looking at for safe havens. If we tried to do it all on our own, we wouldn’t have time to do anything else. So the Traveling Trader could be very useful in that role. And, as her name suggests, she could become a mobile marketplace for all the boatpeople.”

  “What are you thinking?” asked Scott.

  “Well, we should start by giving away food, survival gear and drinking water to help the boat people survive,” explained Captain Fisher. “But eventually we could transform it into a system of trade and barter. At the simplest level, the boat people might trade the extra fish they catch for rice, or flour, or fish hooks. Who knows where it would go from there?”

  “That’s very insightful,” Scott said approvingly. “And it shows a lot of foresight too. We need to think beyond simple survival in a world full of zombies and try to figure out ways to restore some form of civilization after the immediate threat is neutralized. I like your idea for the Traveling Trader. Let’s ask her captain over for dinner and give him a proposal.”

  “Yes sir,” replied Captain Fisher with a smile.

  *****

  The guest list for dinner on the Sky Deck that evening was a who’s who of the Flotilla. Scott and Michelle were the hosts, of course, with Captain Fisher at the other end of the table. Captain McCloud was there too, as was Sergeant Major O’Hara. George Hammer brought his wife and widowed daughter. Mark Argus brought his son, Jake, who sat next to Billy Allen. Professor Bernhard and Miss Hanson were also at the table, although their minds appeared elsewhere after spending the past three days almost exclusively in the lab below the vehicle deck.

  The guests of honor were Conrad Kroeker, General Manager of the Queen Mary, and Captain Young Sun Kim of the Korean ship Traveling Trader. He spoke excellent English and had brought his first officer, Park Lee Pak, along for the occasion. Dinner featured braised rack of lamb, as expected, but Michelle and the chef had obviously put a lot of effort into preparing it perfectly. The side dishes included a Korean kimchi that was clearly to Captain Kim’s liking. Conversation at the table was casual and optimistic. Conrad kept expressing his gratitude for getting rid of the zombies and providing water and power to the ‘Old Lady’, as he often referred to the Queen Mary. Captain Kim was equally pleased about the rescue of his crew. O’Hara had a few off-color stories about wiping out zombies around the port. Captain McCloud said he was pleased that his men had been able to help distribute food and water to the people of the Flotilla and those tied up to the oil islands in Long Beach Harbor. Then he turned towards Conrad.

  “The Queen Mary will be an excellent stronghold here. The fact that you kept it free of zombies without any weapons or help until the Commodore and his Flotilla arrived is proof of that. And there are a lot of people who will need the provisions that we can salvage from this port. So I’ve agreed to station the cutter Sea Otter here to defend the harbor. I’ll also try to keep the Stratton within a day’s cruise distance, just in case you run into unforeseen trouble. I want to make it clear that I agree with Commodore Allen that the resources contained in the Port of Long Beach and Port of Los Angeles are crucial to setting up safe havens for all of the boat people in this region, as well as many survivors ashore,” Captain McCloud said with earnest passion. “As long as you are committed to that goal, I’ll do as much as I can to protect the Queen Mary from danger.”

  “Thank you, Captain McCloud,” said Conrad. “This is all a rather sudden change of circumstances for me. Last week I was running a hotel and tourist attraction, then the zombies surrounded us, now the Flotilla and the Coast Guard have saved us; I feel like the whole world is spinning. But at least it seems to be settling into something that makes some sense again.”

  “Well said,” commented Captain Fisher. “And I think that Commodore Allen has a similar message for you, Captain Kim.” He nodded towards the Korean captain of the Traveling Trader.

  “Yes?” asked Captain Kim. “What plans do you have for me and my ship?”

  “Big ones, captain,” replied Scott with a friendly and confident tone. “We want you to help us save lives and keep civilization alive along the California coast. You and your crew will probably even get rich doing it.”

  “Doing what?” asked Captain Kim with raised eyebrows.

  “Exactly what your ship was intended to do, according to her name: being traveling traders. We want to use your ship to move the supplies we bring from this port to the other safe havens that the Flotilla will establish along the California coastline and nearby islands. Your first missions will be ones of mercy and goodwill, trading survival supplies for friendship. Later you will be able to conduct trade and commerce between established safe havens. In return, the Flotilla will provide you with protection.”

  “That is a very interesting plan,” Captain Kim replied. “But why should we agree to operate under your orders, commodore?”

  “We will offer you enough fuel for your local missions here, but not enough to set course for Korea,” Scott explained. “We simply can’t afford to take the chance that you would try to sail away with all those vital supplies. And if you tried to go south, the Navy in San Diego would seize your ship so fast your head would spin. I’m not sure what you would find to the north yet, but it would probably be far worse than my offer, and I’d be chasing you too. So I think you’ll agree that this deal is a good one.”

  “Yes,” Captain Kim smiled in what appeared to be genuine amusement. “I think we will get along just fine, Commodore.”

  *****

  After dinner Captain McCloud and Sergeant Major O’Hara asked to meet privately with Scott and Captain Fisher. Scott invited them all into his private office which connected to his master suite at the aft of the Sky Deck. It was a spacious and well appointed room with a big desk and bigger conference table. The men took seats around the table and Captain McCloud got right to the point.

  “I sent one of my patrol boats around to the other side of Terminal Island to check out the Coast Guard Station there. My men landed and went ashore, encountering only a few zombies on the dock, but the station seems to be abandoned. The buoy tender George Cobb is gone from her berth, along with the local cutters and half of the smaller patrol boats, so I can only hope that most of the Coast Guard personnel escaped on them. Anyway, the armory there is still secure. My men didn’t break into it, but I think we should go over there to recover as many weapons as possible.”

  “Good idea,” said Scott. “What do you think, Sergeant Major?”

  “I agree fully, but there’s more to it than just the Coast Guard armory,” replied O’Hara. “There’s also a Navy and Marine Corps Reserve Center on Terminal Island. We haven’t seen any signs of their presence yet, but there could be some troops holding out there. Of course, being a reserve base, there wouldn’t have been more than a skeleton crew on guard duty at the time of the outbreak. I doubt many others would have made it out to the island when the reserves were called up later that morning. Therefore, all of their weapons and ammunition should still be there, along with their HUMVs and military trucks. I also remember hearing something about a small unit of Light Armored Vehicles being transferred there a few years ago as an anti-terrorist task force.”

  “That would really be like hitting a jackpot,” said Captain Fisher.

  “It sure would,” agreed Scott. “We’d have enoug
h weapons to arm a sizeable force on the Queen Mary, perhaps enough for militias at a few more safe havens too. I think we need to organize a full scale provisioning expedition tomorrow. We’ll take both Amtracs, my armored car, a couple of SUVs, and at least two big-rigs hauling empty cargo containers that we can fill up. We should bring most of the Marines and I’ll ask for additional volunteers. Will that do it?”

  “There’s something else to consider too,” interjected Captain Fisher. “We did some scouting of our own with the Cigarette boat looking for fuel stockpiles. As best we can tell, there should be several million gallons of refined fuel on and around Terminal Island. That includes gasoline, diesel, bunker fuel, ethanol, even jet fuel, not to mention natural gas storage facilities. We also found half a dozen fueling barges around the port. Before we leave, we should look into securing the fuel storage facilities and filling the barges for our use, not to mention topping off the tanks on the Sovereign Spirit.”

  “Absolutely,” confirmed Scott. “That fuel will be the lifeblood of the Flotilla and any semblance of civilization we can reestablish. We should also send a team to look at the old power plant on Terminal Island. That baby could really jump start the recovery process, if we can ever get it operational. However, I think we have to make the weapons our first priority.”

  “Agreed,” said Captain McCloud. “You take the Marines and vehicles to the Reserve Center and I’ll sail the Stratton over to the cutter pier at the Coast Guard Station. We should be close enough to each other to provide mutual support if either shore party runs into trouble. I’ll have the Dolphins standing by too.”

  “Good idea,” confirmed Scott. “I’ll send Mick Williams with a squad of Marines in my helicopter for scouting and air support. Okay, then, is there anything else we should know about Terminal Island before we do this?”

  “Yes, Commodore,” said Captain McCloud. “I believe so. There are a few ships and another facility there that you should be aware of.”