02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  Scott flew a mile east of the bridge and circled back to set down in the Turning Basin. He leveled off at ten feet above the water doing 80 mph and pulled the throttle back until the hull of the Seawind kissed the water and slowed rapidly as it settled down. Scott immediately increased power to keep the hull planing at 40 mph as he steered it under the bridge to where the Expiscator was docked. He had a moment of concern as another zombie fell, or was pushed, or even jumped, from the bridge and hit the water less than fifty feet from the passing seaplane. Then he was under the bridge and slowing quickly to pull the Seawind up to the stern of his yacht. Stan Dawson was waiting to receive him on the swim step.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Allen, I mean Commodore,” Stan called out as Scott opened the cockpit canopy and tossed him a nylon mooring line. “I’m glad you got here so soon, sir. Mr. Hammer has taken the newcomers over to the Reserve Center. The gates on barricade are secure, but I guess you saw how many goddamned zombies followed those people onto the bridge!”

  “Yes, Stan,” agreed Scott as he climbed onto the yacht’s swim step and turned to help Michelle exit the cockpit. “I want to get up there. Mrs. Allen will remain here with you. Be ready to cast off and head for mid-channel if those zombies get past the barricade.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the young skipper. “I’ll call up to the bridge guards for them to lower the basket for you. That’s how Mr. Hammer got up there.”

  Scott had his doubts about the winch contraption that George had rigged as a homemade elevator. Even though it never bothered him in an aircraft, Scott had a mild fear of heights. Nevertheless, he set his apprehension aside and nodded affirmation when Stan looked at him expectantly. Kissing Michelle briefly as she squeezed his hand, Scott turned to look up at the bridge. As his ears cleared from the buzz of the aircraft’s engine he could hear the inhuman moans and wails coming from the horde of zombies above him. It was the last place he wanted to go, but he needed to see this for himself. He climbed off the boat, onto the dock, and walked swiftly towards the spot where the basket would descend to pick him up.

  Scott pulled out his cell phone as the basket was being lowered. The Sovereign Spirit was much too far away to provide actual cell service, but the ‘push to talk’ feature on the phones used by the crew and select passengers had a walkie-talkie capability of up to five miles. Scott keyed in George’s name and pushed to talk.

  “George? This is Scott. I’m under the bridge and about to ride your bucket up. Where are you?” He released the button and waited a few seconds for a response.

  “Scott? Uhmm, Commodore?” George Hammer’s voice sounded stressed. “I’m at the Reserve Center with the people from the convoy. I was about to come back to the bridge with the Marines. Is everything okay?”

  “Is everything okay?!” Scott tried to keep his voice calm. “You tell me, George. I’m standing under a bridge that’s so jammed full of zombies that they’re pushing each other off into the damned channel. Get back here with those Marines and anything else we might need to defend the barricade. Do you copy?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied George. “I’m bringing the leader of this convoy with me too. He has some interesting ways of dealing with zombies.”

  “I heard about his fire truck and water cannon,” Scott responded quickly. “Can he bring it back here too? We might need it.” There was a brief pause while Scott assumed George was conversing with the newcomers.

  “Yes, Commodore,” George answered. “We’ll bring the fire truck, but it’s out of water.”

  “Just bring it,” Scott said as the bucket reached the ground and he stepped into the man-cage with mild trepidation. “There’s a whole ocean of water over here.” The winch was already winding him up towards the bridge. Scott looked up at the bridge. It was better on his nerves than looking down, even though he could see hundreds of zombies lining the rail along the length of the span beyond the barricade.

  As the makeshift elevator arrived at bridge level, Scott was greeted by Tom Hillsdale and Craig Burns, whom he remembered as the UCSB students George had rescued in Cabo. “What’s the situation here?” Scott asked as they held the cage steady for him to step out onto the bridge.

  “The barricade is holding steady, but it’s getting a bit scary, sir,” replied Craig. Tom nodded in emphatic agreement. “There’s just so damned many of them!”

  Scott scowled and walked towards the barricade. He was happy to see over a dozen armed men standing on top of the containers, including at least four Marines. The big Amtrac was also parked behind the gate with a gunner standing up in the gun turret. It wasn’t a lot of firepower, compared to the level of the threat, but their presence was comforting. Scott knew that their only real defense was the strength of the barricade itself.

  Scott climbed twenty feet up a ladder to the top of the stacked containers. He wasn’t looking forward to what awaited him, but felt the need to face it. The sound of zombies pounding on the outside of the barrier, combined with their massed moans, was almost deafening. The smell of so many undead bodies assaulted his nose and turned his stomach. And sight of the horde, once he stood atop the barricade, was more than breathtaking. It was a solid mass of bodies, shoulder to shoulder, ass to crotch, spanning the entire length and width of the bridge, with more arriving and bunching up on the opposite shoreline. “Dear mother of God,” Scott whispered.

  *****

  Carl wasn’t surprised that zombies had followed the convoy to the bridge, but he really hadn’t expected there to be quite so many of them. It had actually stunned him when he realized the extent of the parade of horror that he led to the gate of the safe haven. Talk about the pied piper! At least the barricade seemed to be strong enough to hold them off, but he was a little apprehensive about the welcome he and the others in the convoy from the refinery would receive from the Commodore when he saw how many zombies they had brought to his doorstep.

  He was about to find out. Carl had seen and heard the sleek little amphibious plane when it zoomed over the bridge and Reserve Center as he was organizing the convoy into a defensive perimeter. He had also been with Mr. Hammer when Scott called from below the bridge. Now George Hammer sat next to him in the Suburban with Karen in the back seat as they followed the LAV-25 back to the bridge. The Panther trailed behind them while the other fire truck remained with the rest of the convoy at the Reserve Center. Carl’s apprehension peaked as they pulled up to the barricade and he spotted a man who must be the Commodore standing on top of the containers, staring at the zombies beyond. The man turned and gave a stiff nod as George and Carl got out of the SUV, then waved them up the ladder to join him.

  When they reach the top of the barricade the man said, “Hi George, who’s our new friend here?” His voice was pleasant enough, but there was steel in his eyes.

  “I’m Carl Stiller, sir,” replied Carl before George could speak. “I brought the convoy from El Segundo and it looks like I brought all of these zombies here too. However, I can assure you that was not part of the plan. I had no idea that so many of them would follow us here.” Carl had to raise his voice slightly to be heard over the moans of the zombies and his words trailed off as he gazed out over at least ten thousand zombies that filled the bridge he has so recently crossed. “Holy crap…” he finished lamely.

  “Yes indeed,” Scott said and even forced a smile. “Well, I didn’t really think you intended to bring them all with you. We’ll need to find a way to get rid of them, but I guess the important thing is that you made it here safely and the barricade seems to be working as intended. I’m more interested in where you came from and how you were able to get here. You say you started in El Segundo?”

  “Yes, sir, Commodore,” Carl replied, dragging his eyes off of the horde to meet Scott’s questioning gaze. “We came from the Chevron refinery there. It’s still secure, or it should be, but we decided that your safe haven would be a better place to be for the long haul.”

  “How did you defend the refinery? And what makes you t
hink it’s still secure?” Scott asked with a neutral expression.

  “It had a strong fence to begin with,” answered Carl. “But the primary defense from zombies now is the irrigation system. We pump seawater through the sprinklers and aim them out through the fence and gates. We left the sprinklers on with enough fuel to keep the pumps running for several more days. So I’m pretty sure the perimeter is still secure.”

  “Sprinklers!” barked Scott with a genuine smile. “Who was the genius that came up with that idea?” Carl smiled back with a self-conscious shrug. “Amazing! And you used the water cannon on the fire trucks to defend your convoy on the way here?” Scott asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Carl replied. “Along with the Caterpillar and some modifications that we made to the rest of our vehicles.” He gestured back towards the blood-soaked, zombie-proof Suburban where Karen was waiting.

  “I can see that you turned that SUV into quite a zombie killer,” Scott commented. “So what do you suggest we do to clear the zombies off this bridge? Will your water cannon do it?”

  “As I explained to Mr. Hammer, the Panther ran out of water,” answered Carl. “I guess we can pump ocean water up from below the bridge, but that will only hold them back as long as we keep shooting it at them. It doesn’t really chase them away. In fact, it can even attract more of them. That’s one reason we left the refinery. The water kept them away from the fence, but every day there seemed to be more and more of them gathered just beyond range of the sprinklers.”

  “I see,” said Scott thoughtfully. “So, do you have any other ideas?”

  “Actually,” said Carl as he glanced down towards Karen in the Suburban. “Yes sir, I do.”

  *****

  Operation Pied Piper took only an hour to prepare. Carl and Scott worked closely to arrange the logistics and tactical plan. It was modified and expanded when Mick Williams arrived in the Super Huey. The basic concept was simple enough. The water cannon on the Panther would drive the zombies back from the gate on the barricade. Then the gate would be opened and the Marines’ Amtrac would drive out onto the bridge. From there on they would rely on Carl’s Pied Piper plan to lead the horde away from the bridge. The tricky details came into play when they tried to decide how to keep the zombies from returning.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Scott in the moments before Carl and Karen would be sealed inside of the Amtrac with two Marine volunteers.

  “Yes sir,” replied Carl as he touched Karen’s shoulder to steer her into the armored vehicle. She smiled at Scott and reached up to pat the hilt of the sword on her shoulder. Carl explained by saying, “I call her Karen Blade. She’s deadly with that sword and she’s the best zombie lure alive. If they don’t follow her screams, nothing can save us.”

  “This is your party, or funeral, Mr. Stiller,” responded Scott. “I just want to be sure that everyone involved is doing this of their own free will. Ms. Slade? Are you sure you want to do this?” Carl let go of Karen and turned to join Scott in his focus on her reaction.

  “Fuck no,” she said seriously, then smiled. “What kind of lunatic would want to drive through ten thousand zombies? Do I look like an idiot? But I’m willing to do it, if Carl thinks it will work. He’s been right so far. So let’s do this.” She smiled again and ducked through the door into the Amtrac.

  The Panther raised its extendable boom over the barricade and began blasting seawater down on the massed zombies. Their reaction was immediate and dramatic. The ones closest to the barricade were drenched with water and tried desperately to move back. However, the press of zombies was so tight, with those farther back still pressing forward, that it was almost impossible for the zombies up front to escape the terrifying spray of water. Dozens of zombies were thrown over the side of the bridge by the conflicting tide of bodies. Then the real carnage began as the wet zombies attacked those blocking their path of escape.

  Scott watched in stunned silence from atop the containers as the vanguard of the horde began to self-destruct. Zombies tore at other zombies blocking their retreat, using their teeth and hands to rip a path away from the water. As soon as the area in front of the gate was clear, Scott signaled for it to be opened. As Carl had assured him, none of the zombies even tried to pass through the shower of water to reach the open gate. They were totally focused on fighting their way back in the opposite direction.

  The big Amtrac with a bulldozer blade mounted on its front end rumbled through the gate and increased the carnage a hundred fold. It smashed through the horde, cutting and crushing bodies without pause and clearing a lane paved with pulverized body parts. It only cleared one of the four lanes, but the zombies it missed turned to follow in its wake. They slipped and stumbled through the bloody remains, but seemed happy to follow the Amtrac away from the barricade.

  As soon as the big armored personnel carrier passed out of range of the water canon the PA speakers on the vehicle came to life with blood curdling screams of terror. Karen Slade was in fine form as she belted out her zombie calls. Even zombies that were not threatened by the water canon turned to attack or chase the Amtrac. The treads and armored under carriage of the AAV-7 appeared to be painted red with buckets of blood as it continued to plow through the crowd. It must have crushed close to a thousand zombies in its half mile journey across the bridge, yet every zombie it missed was determined to chase it down.

  Virtually every zombie still capable of walking had completely lost interest in the barricade and turned to follow the Amtrac. Carl’s plan was working perfectly and Scott was smiling as he ordered the gate on the barricade closed and told the operator of the water cannon to turn it off. Craig Burns handed Scott his binoculars to follow the progress of Operation Pied Piper and Carl and Karen led the horde off of the bridge and turned west along the shoreline of San Pedro.

  Carl and Scott had planned the route carefully, using the GPS in Carl’s Suburban, to avoid leading the zombies into areas where there might still be significant numbers of survivors. They decided that the best course would be to lead the zombies along the waterfront, past the empty cruise ship terminals, restaurants, and fish marets in the Port of LA, and down towards the entrance to the harbor’s Main Channel. As soon as Scott was sure they were proceeding per plan, and virtually all of the surviving zombies were following them, he went over to the basket and was lowered back to the dock where the Expiscator and Seawind were tied up. On the way down he noticed that water mixed with many gallons of contaminated blood was still raining down from the bridge into the channel. Luckily, the barricade was far enough out on the bridge so that none of the blood was dripping on his yacht and airplane.

  George was waiting for him on the yacht and Stan had already moved the Seawind to a mooring where its wings wouldn’t hit anything if the wind shifted. Scott had decided to leave the airplane where it was for the moment. He was looking forward to being back aboard the Expiscator. Even though it was his yacht, he hadn’t been on her since last year when the Sovereign Spirit departed on her around the world cruise.

  George cast off the lines as soon as Scott jumped aboard and Stan conned the big yacht out into the channel as Scott climber up to the flying bridge. Soon they were cruising towards the mouth of the channel at full speed. They quickly caught up to the Amtrac as it led the army of zombies down South Harbor Boulevard. The sound of Karen’s amplified screams carried across the water and could be heard above the rumble of the yacht’s engines, adding an even more surreal aspect to the horrific parade of zombies chasing the Amtrac.

  The horde of zombies stretched for more than a mile when the Amtrac turned onto Sampson Avenue to keep the procession as close to the channel as possible. The armored vehicle led the undead parade along the shoreline at a steady 15 miles per hour. Scott was pleased to see that other zombies were joining the mob as the procession passed. They came rushing out of buildings and side streets, attracted by Karen’s screams. The more the merrier, Scott thought. A Marine sniper sitting in the open turret hatch made
head shots on any fast movers that got too close to the vehicle. Scott was amazed that the plan was working so well, but he credited it all to Carl’s experience and creative planning.

  As the procession passed the commercial fishing docks Scott was also pleased to notice the two Fire Boats from Station 111 and Station 20 coming into the mouth of the channel from the other side of Terminal Island. Scott had sent crews by helicopter to man the Fire Boats as soon as the plan was finalized. He was also happy to see Mick fly by in the Super Huey, heading for Fire Station 110. The port’s Fire Boats would play a crucial role in the end game of Operation Pied Piper.

  Scott sent a brief radio message to Carl, informing him that everything seemed to be proceeding per plan. Carl acknowledged the message as the Amtrac turned onto West 22nd Street and the zombies swarmed after it. Some of those further back in the procession ignored the layout of the streets and cut across 22nd Street Park to join up with the fast movers at the head of the horde. The Amtrac stayed ahead them all as it turned left onto Miner Street.

  The Expiscator increased speed as Scott lost sight of the Amtrac. He knew where it was going and wanted to get there first. As the yacht sped past the tank farms on one side of the Main Channel and the Coast Guard base on the other, Scott was also pleased to spot the Sovereign Spirit approaching the entrance to the outer breakwater. She didn’t have any direct role in Operation Pied Piper, but Scott was happy to have her on scene to provide support, if necessary. He was a lot more confident with her assets here as back-up. He radioed Captain Fisher and filled him in on the progress of Carl’s plan, then asked him to stand-by to provide assistance, if necessary.

  By then the Expiscator had rounded the point where the Port Pilots dock was located. There were no more port pilots, of course, but the channel was clear and obvious out near the breakwater. The Fire Boats from Terminal Island had already passed the point and turned into the next inlet where they took position off of Berth 52 at the Breakbulk Terminal. Scott saw the Super Huey lift off from the other side of the little peninsula and hoped that was an indication that the Fire Boat at Station 110 was manned and ready too. He confirmed that with a quick radio call to Mick Williams and slowed the Expiscator down to watch the show.