02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  Within seconds the deep and deafening ship horns of the Queen Mary and the Sea Launch Commander we sounding an alarm that could be heard from anywhere in the safe haven. The newly formed militia scrambled to gather their unfamiliar weapons and muster at their rally points. All the gates and barriers on bridges and choke points within the safe haven were closed and secured. The remaining Marines were deploying their armored fighting vehicles, but they had been stationed next to the Queen Mary, on the other side of Terminal Island from the new threat. It would take them at least ten minutes to get to the San Pedro side of the safe haven.

  Meanwhile, the sentries on the bridge to San Pedro were asking if they should open fire on the approaching vehicles. They reported that the bulldozer was crushing hundreds of zombies and pushing abandoned cars out of the way as it crossed the bridge and that the trucks following it were full of men shooting any zombie still moving. There were at least twenty vehicles in the convoy and thousands of zombies following them. George Hammer listened to all of the reports and tried to decide what to do as Stan Dawson conned the Expiscator away from the Mole and out of the Navy Basin at full speed.

  *****

  Craig Burns watched through binoculars as the unidentified convoy crossed the bridge from San Pedro. It reminded him of a scene from the Road Warrior. The leading bulldozer’s cab was encased in chain link fence and aluminum siding to protect the operator within. The next vehicle in line was a cable TV or telephone repair truck with a man-lift bucket that was extended in front of the truck, carrying a rifleman who was engaging any zombie that tried to climb onto the rear end of the bulldozer. Two more men rode inside of a cage atop the back of the truck, repelling boarders with shotgun blasts. They seemed to be very efficient. None of the zombies that they passed were able to mount the leading vehicles. A white Suburban, at least Craig thought it was white under all that blood and gore, was moving up and down the convoy, running zombies down.

  The rest of the convoy crossing the bridge was diverse, utilitarian and seemingly impregnable to zombies. Craig identified at least a dozen RVs and two buses. He also noticed that all of the windows of the vehicles were covered with chain link fencing to prevent zombies from breaking in. It was a well organized and efficient convoy that would have made Craig happy to see, if it weren’t about to burst through the choke point of the safe haven that he was supposed to keep secure. Gripped by uncertainty and fear, Craig nonetheless started the engine of the pickup truck he was driving on this patrol and steered towards the onramp to the bridge. If the guards on the barricade couldn’t stop the approaching convoy, he might at least be able to give them a ride to safety.

  Pulling up to the wall of empty shipping containers on the island side of the bridge, Craig was encouraged to see half a dozen armed guards on top of the stacked containers. They held their fire as the convoy approached, but they were clearly ready to defend the barricade if necessary. Craig parked the truck, slung his AR-15 rifle over his shoulder, and climbed up a ladder to join them.

  The last of the vehicles in the approaching convoy had just rolled out onto the bridge and a fearsome horde of zombies were hot on their heels as Craig raised his binoculars again. There was a lot of activity at the far end of the convoy as the trailing trucks there spread out to fill all four lanes of the bridge. There seemed to be tens of thousands of zombies hot on their heels. It appeared hopeless to Craig, but he noticed that two of the vehicles at the end of the convoy were fire trucks. They began shooting powerful jets of water at the approaching zombies and Craig was shocked to see the zombies actually retreat. It was amazing. Craig could understand what they were doing, but he was clueless when it came why that would hold so many zombies back from storming the bridge.

  By then the leading vehicles of the convoy were pulling up to the barricade of shipping containers. Armed men and women throughout the convoy were shooting at the remaining zombies clustered outside of the barricade. The guards atop the barricade, Craig included, added their own gunfire to those from the convoy and in less than a minute it appeared that all of the zombies between the fire trucks and the barricade were out of action, disabled if not truly dead.

  A man climbed up through the sunroof of the Suburban following the bulldozer, lifted a microphone to his mouth and used a PA system to announce, “We’ve come to join you, if you’ll let us, but we’ll bust our way through if we have to.” He made the statement calmly, without any hint of animosity in his voice. “We’ve come a long way to find you people and we need sanctuary from these undead bastards. Will you let us in?”

  Craig wasn’t sure who was in charge at this barricade, but he had been relaying the news to George Hammer, so he stood and hailed the man on the truck. “Welcome to Terminal Island! The Harbor Master is on his way here. So are most of our Militia and a bunch of Marines in real armored fighting vehicles, so I wouldn’t recommend starting a fight with us!”

  The man laughed before he answered, “There’s no need for us to fight you, young man. Not if you open that barricade and let us in before our water cannons run out of juice. When they do, we won’t be able to stop the dammed zombies. At that point this bulldozer will open your gates for us. Then we’d all have more than our share of fighting, even if it’s just trying to keep the Z’s off your island with a busted barricade.”

  Craig had to agree with his logic, but he couldn’t just open the gates to hundreds of heavily armed people driving improvised armored vehicles. “I can see your point of view,” yelled Craig. “But you’ll have to wait for someone with more authority to get here before we can open the gates.”

  “I hope they hurry!” the man called back. “When the water cannons stop working we’re coming through. Do you understand?” Craig shrugged as he pulled out his handheld radio to inform Mr. Hammer of the latest developments.

  *****

  The Expiscator was surging up the main ship channel towards the Vincent Thomas Bridge at 20 knots when George received Craig’s radio call. He wasn’t quite sure how to react. Christ, I’m not cut out for this shit! George thought to himself. Aloud he broadcast, “How many people are in the convoy?”

  “I don’t know, Mr. Hammer,” Craig replied. “He didn’t say. But there must be over a hundred of them. It sounded like they had at least a hundred guns firing when they took down all the zombies on our end of the bridge. I’ve counted seven heavy trucks, including two fire trucks. There are two passenger buses and about a dozen RVs in the convoy; Plus the bulldozer of course. These people are well organized, well armed, and very efficient. You should have seen the way they deployed to supply water to the fire trucks! They did it in less than a minute! The craziest part is that the zombies seem to be afraid of the water cannon.”

  Yes, they would be, wouldn’t they? George thought as he recalled how zombies had reacted to water in Cabo San Lucas. Why didn’t we think of that? he wondered.

  Craig continued, “Then they wiped out all of the zombies between the fire trucks and our barricade in another minute or two. They say they won’t have any choice but to bust down our gate when the fire trucks run out of water. I don’t want to fight these guys, sir, and they say they want to join us. But it’s your call, over?”

  George glanced down at the radio then up at the bridge up ahead. He could just make out the fire trucks spraying water at the far end of the bridge and could see part of the convoy lined up in front of the barricade. What would Scott do? George wondered. Then, realizing the buck stopped with him, he used the radio to say, “Open the gate, Craig. Bring them in and close it up fast. Ask them to park close to our side of the barricade until I get there. Get the basket ready to pick me up from the dock under the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir!” Craig responded excitedly. George hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake. These new people sounded like some kind of Road Warriors. In any case, he needed to let Commodore Allen and the rest of the Flotilla know what was happening. He switched frequencies and made a quick report to Captain Fisher aboard the Sovereign
Spirit. He was told to wait for a moment. When Captain Fisher responded he sounded concerned.

  “Alright, George, we think you did the right thing,” he said with what sounded like less conviction than the words alone would imply. “If what you say about these people using fire hoses to hold off the zombies is true, this could be a major development. The Commodore was flying back here from a scouting mission up north, but he’s diverting to your location now. He suggests that you invite this convoy to set up camp at the old Navy and Marine Corps Reserve Center. He’ll want to meet with their leaders when he gets there. In the mean time I am preparing the helicopter to bring back more Marines, in case you need them, and we are weighing anchor to head your way at flank speed.”

  “Thank you, Captain,” George replied. “I’ll try to keep a lid on things until the Commodore arrives.” He signed off as the Expiscator pulled up to the docks at the Seaside Container Terminal below the Vincent Thomas Bridge. He could hear the sounds of heavy vehicles moving above on the bridge. When he looked up also saw the cage being lowered by a winch towards where he stood on the dock. He would have to ride up in that crazy contraption, if he wanted to be involved in what happened on the bridge. Thinking about it, George realized he didn’t really want to go up there, but he knew he had to. Craig couldn’t be expected to handle this alone.

  *****

  Craig gave the order for the gate to be opened and called down to inform the man in Suburban. His timing couldn’t have been better because as soon as delivered his message he heard one of the fire trucks give a blast from its air horn and saw it start driving towards the barricade as it ran out of water. The larger fire truck also began a slow retreat, although it continued to issue brief blasts of water to hold the zombies at bay.

  It took close to a minute to open the big gate in the wall of containers, but as soon as opened the convoy started to roll through. The RVs and buses entered the safe haven first and Craig cold see the faces of women and children peering out at him. The bulldozer and the Suburban waited on the bridge until the fire trucks were almost there, then followed the rest of the convoy to safety. The zombies were closing in behind the big fire truck as it passed through the gate, but it raised the boom on which the big water cannon was mounted and unleashed a final torrent into the horde, throwing them back, as the men manning the gate swung it back into place and secured it.

  There were brief sounds of celebration as everyone realized they were safe, but they all quieted down as the newcomers returned the neutral stares of the gate guards. Craig tried to break the ice by saying, “Welcome to Terminal Island.” But the name didn’t really impart any comfort. Realizing this, he called out, “You’ll all be safe here.” He was still getting suspicious looks when he turned to make sure that Mr. Hammer was coming up in the winch lift.

  George arrived atop the bridge via the improvised winch operated elevator, actually a cage on a cable. It was the fastest way to get from the barricade on the bridge to the docks below and George had designed it himself. That didn’t mean he enjoyed riding in the damned thing. He was suffering from a slight case of virago as the winch operator swung the cage over the railing and reached out to open the door, but George gathered himself together and stepped onto the bridge with the best appearance of command and control that he could muster.

  “Well, who do we have here?” George said loudly. “Our first contact with survivors from across the bridge! I congratulate you all on making your way here safely. Welcome to our Safe Haven. Who’s in charge of this impressive convoy?” The newcomers exchanged glances that all ended up falling on Carl.

  “I suppose I am, sir,” Carl said as he stepped forward to meet George. “I’m Carl Stiller.”

  “George Hammer, the new Harbor Master here,” George replied. “The Commodore has instructed me to direct your convoy to the Navy and Marine Reserve Center where you can relax and make camp inside a secure perimeter.”

  “Does that mean we will be guarded and confined there?” Carl asked politely.

  “No more so than all of us are guarded and confined inside these barricades,” George replied with a grin. “The Reserve Center is empty right now, but it has power and a secure fence to keep stray zombies away. You’ll need to set up your own guards, if you want them. You can leave the compound too, if you like, but I’d ask that you wait for Commodore Allen to arrive first. He’s anxious to meet all of you.”

  “Sounds good,” Carl agreed with a smile. “Is there a water supply there? Or access to the ocean? If there’s any chance of zombie attacks, we’ll want to refill our supply of water for the fire trucks.”

  “Yes, we can arrange for that,” George agreed. “And I’m sure that’s something that the Commodore will want to discuss with you too. Am I correct in assuming that you’ve been using the zombies’ fear of water as a defense?”

  “Yes, sir,” confirmed Carl. “It works like a charm.”

  “That’s fantastic,” George exclaimed. “I can’t believe nobody else figured that out yet. Well, no need to explain it twice and the Commodore will want to hear all about it, so let’s get you people settled in and you can relax for a few minutes until his plane arrives.”

  Carl nodded agreeably and issued instructions for everyone in the convoy to mount up and follow him to their new compound. George offered to ride with Carl and show him the way. Seeing Karen in the passenger seat, he went to get into the back seat. Just then, however, the Marines arrived in a LAV-25, with the bigger Amtrac right behind it. They were loaded for bear and kept their weapons trained on the convoy as George went to speak with the Marines for a moment. After a few moments the LAV-25 turned around to lead the convoy to the Reserve Center and the bigger Amtrac pulled over to let the convoy pass. It would continue to the barricade which was holding back a horde of zombies.

  When George returned to the SUV Carl noticed that the Marine escort, who had arrived ready for a fight, looked much more relaxed and no longer pointed their weapons at the convoy. That, he decided, was a very good sign. They followed the Marines’ armored vehicle down the open highway, looking with interest and slight apprehension at the large industrial island that would, if all went well, become their new home.

  Chapter 9: Operation Pied Piper

  “The prophetic type will steadfastly refuse to see the world as a museum; it will insist that here is a stage set for a drama that perpetually begins.” H. G. Wells, What is Coming?

  *****

  Scott was surprised and excited by news of the convoy’s arrival. He had been flying the Seawind down the coast of Malibu, about to turn out over the ocean towards Catalina when word arrived over the satellite phone. He immediately switched course for Terminal Island instead. It was less than a ten minute flight at 200 mph. Scott shared the news with Michelle as he cut across the Santa Monica Bay towards LAX at low altitude, then climbed to soar over the Palos Verde Peninsula.

  “Where do you think they came from?” asked Michelle after thinking for a few minutes about Captain Fisher’s report. “I thought you said nobody would be able to get to the port by land?”

  “I’m just as surprised as you are, honey,” Scott replied. “But Jordy mentioned something about them using water from fire trucks as a defense against zombies. Whoever came up with that is brilliant. It’s so damned simple. I should have thought of it as soon as I realized the zombies have hydrophobia.”

  “Well, you can’t think of everything, Scott,” said Michelle. “In fact, you’ve been getting a little too arrogant for comfort lately, and I don’t just mean since the zombies showed up. Ever since you won that damned lottery you have been acting like God’s gift to the world, instead of the other way around.”

  “What are you talking about, honey?” asked Scott indignantly.

  “You know what I mean, damn it!” said Michelle. “I love you, honey, but you have to admit that you’ve let this whole commodore and flotilla thing go to your head. You’re a good man, Scott. You always were. But then you won all that mo
ney, bought all this stuff, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, the world went poof and you found yourself in charge of the leftovers. Well, get over it. Your name is Scott, not Jesus.”

  Scott gave her an embarrassed grin and tried to take her advice to heart as the ports of Los Angeles and Long Beach came into view. He swooped down, still at full speed, and flew above the Vincent Thomas Bridge. He was shocked to see a virtual sea of zombies covering every inch of every lane of the bridge and realized that all of them must have chased the convoy here.

  “Oh my God!” exclaimed Michelle as she saw them too. “Where did they all come from?”

  “From everyplace that convoy drove past, I suppose,” replied Scott with a hint of concern. “There must be more than ten thousand of them on the bridge, all pressed up against our barricades. The guards are probably shitting themselves.” The Seawind zoomed over the bridge and flew past the Reserve Center where Scott and Michelle had a bird’s eye view of the convoy as the vehicles were still moving into a semi-circle formation in front of the main building. Scott approved of their planning, since they had no way to be sure if they were safe from either zombies or the Flotilla yet. Nevertheless, he was more than a little worried about the number of zombies that they had brought to the gate of the new safe haven. He banked sharply back to cross the bridge again and confirmed the almost unbelievable number of undead filling it. He even noticed one of the zombies get knocked over the side of the bridge by the press of the mob, but felt no pity as it pinwheeled down to the deep channel below.

  “I need to get down there,” said Scott as he slowed the aircraft and prepared for landing. He had planned to land next to the Sea Launch Commander, but then he noticed that his fishing yacht was tied up to the pier below the bridge. “I’m going to drop you off on the Expiscator while I see to the defenses and meet the newcomers.” Michelle just nodded and continued to gape at all of the zombies on the bridge.