02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  “Wait a second,” said an incredulous Special Agent Corrigan. “Are you trying to tell us that the amputation worked? That this man, uh Clint, is still alive?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” confirmed Scott. “I got a tourniquet on his arm within a minute after he was bitten. The amputation took me another five minutes or so. He’s still under observation in the sickbay aboard my ship, but aside from normal inflammation and swelling due to the amputation, he seems to be perfectly healthy.”

  “That’s truly amazing,” commented Chief Harris. “I don’t know of any case like it. Everyone who has received even a minor bite has invariably been infected and turned rabid within a few hours.”

  “Yes,” agreed Scott. “The CDC said the same thing when we notified them. But how many people had their limb cut off as soon as they got a little bite? Our resident scientist is taking blood samples every few hours. So far there is no sign of the virus in his blood.” Scott paused before concluding by saying, “I thought you should all know about this, in fact everyone should be told, in case they run into a situation where an immediate amputation can save another life. You might consider making a public service announcement and distributing reciprocal saws to your paramedics and other emergency personnel. Of course it only works on relatively minor wounds to the extremities, but it could give some people a fighting chance at surviving a zombie bite.” There were murmurs of agreement and Chief Harris nodded thoughtfully.

  By this time they had crossed the bridge and the Marines had closed the gate behind them. They continued half a mile to the exit that would take them down towards Queensway Highway and the Queen Mary. Scott resumed his tour guide speech. “We are now entering the secured area of the Port of Long Beach. You can see ahead that we have fully blocked the Ocean Boulevard Bridge over the mouth of the LA River. Once again we employed double stacks of empty cargo containers. That is a critical barricade because there are tens of thousands of zombies swarming around the City of Long Beach on the other side of that bridge. And if you look to your left, before we take this exit, you’ll catch a glimpse of the 500 foot barrier of containers we placed across the 710 Freeway and train tracks between the LA River and the edge of the harbor. These barriers, along with another on the Queensway Bay Bridge, are the primary zombie defenses for the Long Beach Safe Haven. They totally isolate this Safe Haven from the infested city. The barrier on the Gerald Desmond Bridge will remain in case of emergencies, but after Terminal Island is declared zombie-free we’ll probably leave that gate open.”

  As they drove down the empty Queensway Highway Scott gestured towards Queensway Bay where more than a hundred boats and yachts were anchored close to the rocky shore. “Here you can see a small portion of our growing Flotilla. The people you see sitting and running around in the little park and parking lot are not zombies. They’ve come ashore from those boats to stretch their legs on dry land, many for the first time since Z-Day. Now that this area is officially zombie free they’ve been told it’s safe to land here during the day. They still need to return to their boats at night though. And you might notice the DHS Hummer in the parking lot with riflemen. We think we’ve eliminated all of the zombies inside of our perimeter, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

  “Absolutely,” agreed Chief Harris as the rest nodded. “It’s just wonderful to see normal people walking around in the open. You’ve accomplished a lot in a few days, Commodore.”

  “Thanks,” said Scott. “We still have a long way to go. But this concludes the land portion of our tour.” Scott signaled the driver to turn into the parking lot. The Hydra Terra drove straight to the public boat launch and down the ramp into the water. A few of the passengers seemed surprised, but the amphibious tour vehicle surged smoothly into the bay under the power of twin propellers in its rear end.

  “We’ll be completing this tour in the water so we don’t have to backtrack,” Scott explained. “There are also a few things on this side of the bay that are best appreciated from a boat. For example, the building coming up on the shore here is an eleven story extended stay inn designed for business travelers. It has several hundred suites and studios with full kitchens. Once the electricity is restored we’ll start moving in some of our boat people, especially critical workers for the port facilities and their families. About a quarter of the units are still occupied by guests who have survived here since Z-Day and they will be allowed to stay, following our Possession is Nine Tenths of the Law doctrine. But there is also a helicopter pad on the roof and I’m willing to set aside some suites on the upper floors for visiting VIPs, such as all of you.” This announcement brought more looks of surprise from his guests.

  “Now we are passing under the Queensway Bay Bridge, which is also secured against zombie crossings from Long Beach. And coming up you can see an upscale resort called the Hotel Inca that has its own small marina.” Scott pointed to the multi-tiered complex as he spoke. “The marina and grounds of the hotel are full of our boats and people now. We plan to rotate people through here for two or three day stays so they don’t go stir crazy on their boats. Of course money is no good anymore, but people who come to stay in the hotel can pay with barter goods or perform work in trade. We’ll figure out something. The important thing is seeing that everyone on the boats out there will have at least occasional access to things ashore, especially showers and laundry facilities.”

  “You are certainly planning ahead,” commented the mayor. “But do you really think it is fair to keep these hotels for your own people?”

  “Who else would use them?” Scott asked. “I’ve already said that I’m willing to give you and some of your people access to them too. But the use we’re planning for these hotels is important to the health and welfare of the Flotilla. That remains my first priority. Besides, it all goes back to my point about possession being nine tenths of the law now.”

  “That point may still be debatable,” Commander Austin said stiffly.

  “Not if Los Angeles wants electricity, food, supplies, friendship and hospitality from us,” replied Scott firmly. “We’ll need to reach formal agreements on all of those things, including the possession rule, but now you know the basic conditions of my offer to assist in your survival and recovery efforts.”

  “Yes, yes,” responded the mayor quickly, throwing an annoyed look at Commander Austin. “Your offers are quite generous, Commodore, and your conditions seem reasonable. I’m sure we can work out the details.”

  “That’s good to hear, your Honor,” said Scott affably. “Now we’re getting close to the end of our little tour, but we have a few more surprises for you. We’re passing a waterfront restaurant that was famous for seafood and probably will be again. We plan to reopen it to serve meals to members of the Flotilla on a rotating basis. It seats up to five hundred, including the patios. Next to the restaurant are the docks for Catalina Express high speed ferries. As you can see, they are empty. We expect to find those boats out at Catalina where they fled on Z-Day. Eventually we hope to restore regular service between here and there for people and supplies.” His guests were nodding again and probably thinking how much easier it was to move people and things around by boat than on land overrun by zombies.

  Scott continued, “I’m sure everyone here is familiar with our next point of interest, the Queen Mary. She started her life as an ocean liner, then a troop ship, then a liner again, until she was retired and became a floating hotel, museum and tourist attraction here. Now she has a new and probably her most important role as the Survival Flotilla Stronghold for the Port of Long Beach. Mr. Kroeker here, the general manger and captain of the ship, will be able to tell you more about her later, but I’d just like to mention that she is fully zombie proof and will be the evacuation point for people in this area of the safe haven if we ever have a major zombie incursion.”

  “How many people can it hold?” asked the mayor.

  “She only has hotel rooms for a few hundred people,” replied Scott. “But as a
temporary sanctuary she could hold thousands. She’s already become the social centerpiece of the Flotilla, since our first priority was to restore electricity to the Queen Mary and use her as a safe place for Boat People to visit until we secured this end of the port. And as we come around her you’ll see a container ship tucked in between the Queen and the cruise ship pier. That’s the Reliable Burden and she’s loaded with refrigerated and frozen food. Currently she’s also supplying electricity and drinking water to the Queen Mary. I’m thinking of renaming her The Fridge.” That got some true laughs, as well as some groans.

  “Next is another landmark that may become even more famous. That big white dome is where the Spruce Goose used to be displayed until it was moved and the dome was turned into a cruise ship terminal. Now we plan to use it as a swap meet and gathering place for the Flotilla. We expect thousands of people to come here to trade and barter. There will be a fish market, hopefully a farmers’ market someday, and a place to barter for salvaged goods and hand crafts too. It might not be much at first, but at least it’ll be a step towards restoring civilization.”

  “The more I see of your safe haven, the more impressed I am with your plans,” said Special Agent Corrigan. “I keep saying that, don’t I?” He smiled and shook his head. “It’s just so incredible to think that you’ve been able to set all of this up so quickly, and make plans for so much more, while the rest of the city is literally dying all around us. You have no idea how bad it is out there on the streets.”

  “Yes I do,” Scott countered. “I’ve faced zombies in Mexico, San Diego and Malibu, as well as right here, and I’ve flown over them along most of the coast in between. I’ve seen a lot of carnage. That’s why I’m so motivated to create safe havens here and elsewhere; to salvage what we can and save as many lives as possible. And that means working fast. That’s what I wanted you to understand when I set up this little tour.

  “I know how bad it must be in the city,” Scott continued. “And how easy it would be to lose hope and just try to find a safe little place to hide and survive in fear. Or to go crazy and focus all your remaining energy on killing zombies until your luck runs out. But I wanted you to see that there is another alternative; a path towards possible recovery. It won’t be quick, or easy, but I think it’s worth it.”

  “So do I,” confirmed Corrigan. The mayor and chief joined the rest of the passengers in expressing their own agreement. Only Commander Austin still looked skeptical. Scott wondered if he was just too focused on killing zombies to face the challenges of recovery. Scott had one more card to play at the conclusion of the tour.

  “Now, before we move around to the cargo terminals and back to the Mole, I’d like you all to look to your left,” Scott pointed in the opposite direction from everything he had been describing since the tour vehicle became a boat. “In the Outer Bay you can see hundreds and hundreds of boats and yachts full of Boat People of the Flotilla. Many of the boats are from around here. Some are from farther south; as far Cabo San Lucas. There will be many more boats arriving soon, as word of this safe haven spreads. Those people are my responsibility as long as they are part of the Survival Flotilla.”

  Then Scott pointed further left, towards the skyline of Long Beach and the marina in front of it. “Now look towards the city of Long Beach. That’s Shoreline Marina in front of it. It berthed close to two thousand boats and yachts on Z-Day. Several hundred of them are full of survivors in the outer harbor, over by the oil islands. Hundreds more may have set sail for Catalina or elsewhere after the outbreak. But there are still over a thousand pleasure craft tied up to the docks. A few might have people aboard, if zombies haven’t gained access to their dock. But most of them are just sitting there, empty and waiting to provide someone with a safe floating home.” Scott paused to give them time to consider what he was implying.

  “Are you saying that you want to steal those boats?” asked Commander Austin accusingly.

  “No, commander,” replied Scott. “Not that I would agree with calling it stealing if we do take some of them for our own use, especially fishing boats or harbor cruise ships that can be of use to everyone here. But I’m suggesting that many of them could be moved into a secure ship basin on Terminal Island and used as housing for the refugees that you will probably want to send here by train.”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea,” Special Agent Corrigan agreed. “A thousand boats could house, what? A few thousand people?”

  “Probably five thousand, or more,” Scott guessed. “But those are not the only abandoned yachts near here. In the marinas between Newport Beach and Marina Del Ray there must be more than ten thousand abandoned boats and yachts. Marina Del Ray alone has over 6,000 boat slips. If we can secure those marinas, they could become new safe havens with thousands of empty boats waiting to house refugees.

  “Some of those marinas are in strategic locations. For example, the Redondo Beach Harbor is directly across the street from a power plant that could produce twice as many megawatts as the one on Terminal Island. We can help you secure that marina and power plant as a safe haven for the people of Los Angeles with no strings attached.” Scott paused for a moment to let that sink in. Everyone seemed speechless, but wheels were clearly turning in their heads.

  “However, there are other marinas that probably can’t be secured as safe havens,” Scott continued, “I plan to start bringing the empty boats here because, as you have seen, there are very few places for people to live in the Port of Long Beach, or on Terminal Island, aside from the Federal Prison. That’s why there were so few zombies here in the first place. But this is where the survival resources are and we need to bring people here to exploit and benefit from them. Commuting to work is a thing of the past, so we’ll need to provide them with places to live. I think all of those abandoned boats and yachts are the best option.”

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” said Police Chief Harris. “I’ve been wondering where you would house survivors if we sent some of them here. But I see that you have really thought this all out. And I’m beginning to see the wisdom of your possession rule too.” He shook his head before continuing, “I won’t go so far as to call it the law though. What would you do if the lawful owner of a vessel showed up alive and you had a few families living on his multi-million dollar yacht?”

  “I’ve given that some thought too,” replied Scott as the Aqua Terra continued past the cruise ship terminal. “I’ll give you my opinion, which is certainly not law either, but probably should be; at least for the Flotilla. If someone showed up to claim a salvaged yacht, I’d ask to see their ID and compare it to documents on the boat. If they didn’t have an ID, I’d ask them to give me as many details about the boat and what was on it as they could. If they convinced me, by whatever means, that the boat was theirs, I would give it back to them. If there were Boat People who got displaced because of it, I would put them on the top of the list to choose another boat or home ashore. But that’s just me. What would you do, Chief?”

  “Probably about the same thing,” Chief Harris said approvingly. “And I do agree that it would be wrong to ignore abandoned assets. I will be reviewing our current policies regarding looters and thieves. People trying to survive in a city full of zombies do deserve more than a little benefit of doubt, not to mention hope and the ability to help themselves. I think you may have just given hope to all of them, even if they don’t know it yet.”

  “Thank you Chief,” replied Scott with barely suppressed pride. “I look forward to proving that true, but first I need to complete my tour guide routine. To your right, just past the big dome, is a fire station. And just past that are some landing pads and a refueling station for helicopters. Keep that in mind for future visits. Of course they will probably be occupied by our own helicopters. And we will be actively collecting abandoned helicopters. But yours are welcome to land in the parking lot if the official landing pads are full.” Scott’s openness seemed to finally disarm Commander Austin. His suspicious nature c
ouldn’t make sense of a man who would tell him all so many things that he would have kept secret. The look he gave Scott now was more bewildered than belligerent.

  “Why?” Commander Austin asked lamely. “Why would you tell us all of this? I’ll admit that most of it sounds great, other parts sound fantastic. But why would you give away all of your plans to us, knowing that we might not end up being your friends.”

  “Faith in human nature,” replied Scott honestly, although he didn’t go on to explain what parts of human nature he was relying upon. “I have nothing to hide and little to fear from you. As long as we all act in our own self interests, we will get along just fine. The zombies are our real enemies. If we keep that basic point foremost in our minds, then the rest is just details.” There was general agreement on that point and the rest of the ride back to the Mole was uneventful as they all digested the possibilities that Scott had exposed them to.

  *****

  After the delegation from Los Angeles had boarded their helicopters and the VIPs from the other ships had departed, Scott asked Captain Fisher, Chief Engineer Paul Lunt, and Sergeant Major O’Hara to meet him on the dock. When they arrived he pointed up to the life boat davits on the Sovereign Spirit.

  “I’m thinking about replacing the last two real lifeboats on the davits with LAV-25s,” Scott explained without preamble. “I did the math and they should be light enough for the davit winches to raise and lower. The Amtracs are much too heavy, but the LAVs should be okay.”

  “Why would you want to do that?” asked Paul Lunt in a disturbed tone of voice. “We might need those lifeboats someday, sir.”