World of Corpses (Book 1): World of Corpses

by Cook, Scott W.

  “That really you, Octavio?” Tony asked over the radio.

  “Of course it’s… that you, Tony?” There was a great deal of good humor and relief in the man’s voice, “God damn! You guys hurry up and rendezvous with us. We’ve got a lot to talk about. I still don’t get what the hell you’re doing out there, Sammy!”

  I chuckled, “Just out for a sail, Octavio. What else would one do these days?”

  A laugh, “I have no idea… okay, we’ll intercept you in thirty minutes. Do you have a boat?”

  “Affirmative,” I replied, “We’ll put off when we get close.”

  The destroyer acknowledged and we continued on our merry way. Since we were going to be meeting another vessel, both boats struck their sails and switched to power. Tony guided the cutter up close to me.

  “Sam, do you trust this situation?” He asked.

  I shrugged, “I don’t know what to think, Tony. You know as well as I do that the government and the military dissolved months ago.”

  “There could be holdouts,” Andrea offered, “It would make sense, especially from the Navy. With big ships, they could’ve been completely isolated.”

  “Yeah,” Tony agreed, “Especially the nukes. Carriers and subs could’ve avoided ports altogether. Still…”

  “We know Muñoz,” I offered, “He’s a decent guy. Besides, we don’t have much choice. There’s no running away now even if we wanted to.”

  Tony frowned and half shrugged. He was looking better. The two days of relaxation had allowed him to rest and heal, but he certainly wasn’t up to any kind of action yet.

  The good thing about meeting what was apparently an operational naval vessel was that they had a fully equipped sickbay and could double check my field surgery.

  After about fifteen minutes, though, there was certainly no longer any doubt that we were indeed approaching an Arleigh Burke class destroyer. She was hull up on the horizon and approaching us at about eight knots. Conserving fuel, no doubt. With our combined speed, we were within shouting distance in a matter of minutes.

  I dropped our dink and climbed in. Andrea made to come too but I shook my head, “Not yet. I’ll go alone. I’ll scope the scene and get back to you. You and Tony just heave to and wait for me to contact you.”

  “And what if you don’t?” She asked with a worried expression on her face.

  “Then when night falls,” I said, “you head for Rebecca shoal. It’s not a great anchorage but too shallow for that destroyer to get into. That’s all I’ve got. I think it’ll be okay, though.”

  She kissed me long and hard and I dropped into the dink, fired up the outboard and puttered over to the destroyer.

  They’d hung a work stage over the side which was more than big enough for me to drive the inflatable onto. I aimed for the semi-submerged platform, cut the engine and tilted it before I slid onto the platform. Once near the center, the crane hauled me up and swung me aboard onto the helicopter landing pads.

  Octavio Muñoz was a wiry guy of medium height and about thirty five years old. He had close-cropped black hair, a thin Cubano mustache that framed a big friendly grin. The grin and his Navy peanut butters eased my worry a bit. The other crew on deck were wearing uniforms or work gear and all of it was official Navy rig.

  That included the side boys, complete with white gloves. A boatswain’s mate piped me aboard as everyone on deck snapped to attention. I honestly felt a shiver and warmth in my heart. Sometimes I really missed this…

  “Welcome aboard, Captain,” Muñoz said with an outstretched hand, “Nice utilities.”

  I clasped it and shook it vigorously, “Holy Christ, Tavio. It’s good to see you and to see that the navy is still operating, at least somewhat. Is that the case here?”

  Muñoz nodded, “Definitely. Obviously, we’re not the service we once were. Little more than a unit, really. But Admiral Banks… you know him?”

  I nodded. Rear admiral Jethro Banks was one of the more vocal of the two-stars. He was one of those fighting flag officers who came up through the fleet having served in combat units and commanded ships his whole career. He’d fought in the Gulf War, Iraq, the Persian Gulf and a few other operations and knew his way around ships as well as ground and air combat.

  “Well, Banks is using NAS Key West as his command post,” Muñoz said as he led me across the deck to a hatch, “It’s a long story, but when the shit hit the fan, he was commanding a squadron for ComSurCarib. When reports started coming in about the zombies, we raced to the Keys to try and secure it. We were… partly successful. Everything from the seven mile bridge south is in human control. No Zulus anywhere.”

  “That’s awesome, Tavio,” I said, slapping him on the back, “But the upper keys?”

  The man sighed, “Lost. I mean, we could probably clear it. It’d be fairly simple. You’d go island by island… but what would be the point, really? So for now, we’re holed up in Key West and things are actually in pretty good shape.”

  “What’ve you got?” I asked as we moved through a corridor.

  “The Teddy Roosevelt<” Muñoz said, “She’s tied up to Mallory dock and we’re using her reactors to power the city. She can generate enough juice to power all the Keys up to the seven mile bridge, although we’ve made some changes to limit power usage and tried to move everybody as close together as possible. Everybody that’s left, of course.”

  I nodded solemnly.

  “Obviously we’ve got this ship,” Muñoz continued as we climbed upward toward the bridge, “A missile frigate, the Stockdale which patrols the straights and two oilers which are also moored at Mallory Plenty of fuel for a while, even with the Coast Guard’s eighty-six, which we use to guard Hawk’s channel into Key West. Not that we expect much of a problem… but you never know.”

  “Jesus, Tavio,” I said as we entered the bustling bridge, “I’ve been sitting on my ass in Saint Pete and you guys have been creating a protected haven. Damn fine work.”

  “Something has to be done, Sam,” Muñoz said, casually checking a chart plotter, “For a lot of reasons. What’s left of humanity needs places to go and be safe. Our country, such as it is, is incredibly vulnerable and needs protection. Who knows who’s out there with the resources or desire to come and try and take what we’ve got left. So there’s got to be some kind of order or the chaos will completely take over. We know for a fact that there are other pockets of active civilization and military… Russia, china and south Africa for example…”

  I nodded. Much of what he said made perfect sense and yet… yet something in that reasoning bothered me. There was no mention of vaccinations, finding a cure or scientific study of any kind. What I heard was either Muñoz’s own beliefs or his paraphrasing of his superiors’ beliefs about maintaining power. About continuing along the same lines as before. The same thinking that destroyed the world in the first place.

  I could be wrong, of course. And no matter what, the idea of some safe and functioning civilization remnants was certainly appealing.

  “You guys need anything?” Muñoz asked, “Food, water, medicine?”

  “We’re in pretty good shape for the short term,” I replied, “We were able to hit MacDill a few days back.”

  Muñoz’s eyes went wide and a look of admiration appeared in them, “no shit? I heard MacDill was overrun and wiped out a while back.”

  “Oh, it was,” I said with a sigh, “But there was still some supplies left. Mostly secondary logistics. Food, medicine, spare parts, that kind of thing. We ran into a horde of zombies and had to high tail it out of there.”

  Muñoz shook his head, “Jesus, Sam. Well, only you, I guess.”

  I shrugged, “Do you have a doc aboard?”

  He nodded, “Yeah, full medical staff. Why?”

  “Tony was shot two days ago,” I said, “I did a little field surgery. Pulled the bullet out and have him on antibiotics. But I’d appreciate a real doctor checking him over.”

  “Of course!” Muñoz said with
a smile, “All your people, if you like. How did it happen?”

  I paused for a moment, “It seems others have the same idea as Admiral Banks. Some biker named Drake has gathered some men together and claims he’s now the governor of West Tampa Bay, if you can believe that shit. We ran into some folks several days back and one of their number was a member of this gang, although nobody knew it. He turned on them and ever since he and his men have been coming after us. We had a bit of a Mexican standoff at the skyway two days ago. Before that, they came after my boats and in the firefight, Tony took one in the shoulder.”

  Muñoz frowned and shook his head, “For Christ’s sake… well, as I said, whatever we’ve got is at your disposal. Where were you headed anyway, into Key West?”

  I nodded, “Yeah. Thought maybe there might be survivors there.”

  Muñoz clapped me on the shoulder, “You were right, buddy.”

  “I don’t know, Sharky,” Tony was saying. We had all gathered in Sexual heeling’s saloon and were discussing my visit to the John Paul Jones.

  “No matter what,” I said, holding up a hand, “We should let the doctor take a look at you.”

  “Fine,” Tony said, “But this… situation… in Key West is troubling.”

  “It sounds great to me,” Brenda said, “A safe place free of zombies. Power, water and people…”

  “Man,” Carl said, “Maybe Sloppy Joe’s is open.”

  That got a chuckle. I noticed that Tara and Andy were being quiet, simply listening.

  “Still,” Andrea said, “that bit about maintaining order…”

  “Makes sense to me,” Brenda said with outstretched hands, “I mean… a little order in this fucked up world isn’t a bad thing, is it?”

  Tony harrumphed, “It’s just… where was this order when it could’ve done some good? Where was Banks’ squadron when the shit started hitting the fan? Why now, after the country has basically fallen, is this guy asserting a martial presence like this? And why haven’t we heard dick about it in six months?”

  Carl frowned, “Aren’t we jumping to a lot of conclusions? I mean why not go through with our original plan. We go to Key West, check it out and then decide what to do next? No matter what, that seems like the smart move.”

  Andrea sighed, “Unless it’s a trap.”

  “Oh, come on!” Brenda said, throwing up her hands, “Where is this paranoia coming from?”

  Tara scoffed, “You’re kidding, right?”

  Brenda half smiled, “Okay… but still…”

  “I think,” Andy said, raising his hand, “if anybody’s interested, that is—“

  “Of course we are, kid,” Andrea said, reaching out and squeezing his knee, “What do you think?”

  Andy collected his thoughts and said, “At this point, I think the discussion is academic. If it’s a trap, we’re already in it and cooperation gives us the best chance to recon and to escape. If it isn’t, there’s no harm in checking things out as planned.”

  “That’s true,” I agreed and smiled at Andy.

  “Another thing,” Andy said, “I always find it funny in movies and TV shows where the person or people know they’re in trouble. Rather than playing along, they confront their enemy – be it a murderer or gang or military leader – and create this confrontation they can’t win. Invariably, they’re shot, imprisoned or enslaved or whatever. In my view, you follow that old saying about keeping your enemies close. Never let on that you know the situation is bullshit until the last possible moment. To me, that’s a tactical advantage.”

  “That’s a damned good point, too,” Tony said with a grin, “You’re pretty smart.”

  “For a kid?” Andy asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “No, for an O3,” Tony said with a chuckle.

  “Who said that anyway?” Tara asked. I noticed her hand was entwined with his and whenever she looked at Andy, her eyes sparkled. Something had happened there, I thought.

  “Not sure,” Andy said with a shrug.

  “Michael Corleone,” Tony said, “In the Godfather part 2.”

  “Really?” Tara asked, “I always thought it was an ancient Chinese saying or something.”

  “I heard Tzun Su,” Andrea offered.

  “It’s not an unusual theme,” I added, “Abraham Lincoln said that the best way to defeat an enemy was to turn him into a friend. Point is, Andy’s right. I’m suspicious, but maybe I’m being unreasonably paranoid.”

  “It’s kept us alive so far,” Andrea offered.

  “So I say we go into town,” I said, “Scope the scene and see what’s what. Muñoz says that Admiral Banks would like to meet with me. That might really give us some info.”

  “Good,” Brenda said, “I haven’t been to Key West in like three years.”

  “What about that data that you found at the base?” Andy asked, “That hard drive and those DVD’s?”

  “Yeah,” I said thoughtfully, “I’d like to review that stuff. We’re still a couple of hours outside of town, so maybe I’ll do that enroute. One thing, though, everybody.”

  All eyes were focused on me and I leaned in, “At no time do you divulge any specifics about our armaments. Yeah, we’re armed and we’ve got a few rifles and pistols, but that’s it. Some of the goodies we got from MacDill stay our secret. Agreed?”

  Everyone nodded.

  It was decided that since we would be in Key West in a couple of hours or less, that Tony would go aboard the Roosevelt with me and let the carrier’s doctor check him out while I met with the Admiral. In the meantime, we parted ways with the destroyer and I started browsing through the material we’d picked up at the MacDill admin building.

  There was a lot to go through. The medical reports and video recordings concerning the medical studies done on the zombies would be very interesting reading, but there really wasn’t time.

  Interestingly, the external hard drive I found in General pageant’s office had some files on it, most notably a video recording as well. But it wasn’t the general. Instead, it was a marine Colonel named Patterson. His report was relatively short but quite enlightening.

  Colonel James Patterson’s video report

  Colonel Patterson was a lean black man in his mid-forties. He sat behind the desk in General Pageant’s office. The same office where I’d found the hard drive containing the digital video file. The quality wasn’t very good, probably recorded from a laptop.

  It was a little eerie to see him sitting there, so obviously alive. I’d been in that very office a few days back and the memory of the desolation and the stink of death made me feel as if I were watching a recording of a ghost.

  In a way, perhaps I was.

  “Colonel Patterson reporting,” the man said in a rich baritone voice, “November twentieth, 2019. Christ… does that even matter anymore?

  This last he said with a sardonic laugh.

  My God, I thought, had that base been operating up until little more than two weeks ago?

  “I’m afraid this is going to be my final report,” The Colonel continued after sipping from a white coffee mug, “A horde of zombies… hell, is that even a big enough term for what this is? Literally thousands of these damned things… maybe ten thousand or more. They’re everywhere. We’re nearly totally surrounded. And of course, way under manned. I’ve got enough marines and army infantry to establish a perimeter inside the fence line… but barely. This base wasn’t designed as a fortress. The only thing separating them from us is chain link and concertina wire. And the waterfront. Although that’s no help, or wasn’t until we sank that freighter.”

  That piqued my interest in a variety of ways.

  “Let me explain that first,” Patterson said, “One day, a couple of months ago, we thought we had things worked out. I’d been sending raiding parties out into the city to scavenge and clear the area of dead heads. We were doing all right, too. I’d instituted strict blackout conditions at night and policies to mitigate as much noise as possible. We actually had the
arrogance to believe we were in good shape.”

  He paused, sighed and sipped from his mug again, “That was until late August when… when ghouls started walking up onto the shore at the marina and onto the golf course by the hundreds…”

  The man shivered. So did I just thinking about it.

  “They got more than a dozen civvies before we could contain the situation,” Patterson continued, “Nobody expected that. I guess we were all still wrapping our heads around the whole zombie idea. The idea that these things were truly dead. That they didn’t need air to breathe. And they don’t, now confirmed by Doctor William’s report. That’s must see TV if you haven’t yet.”

  He smiled thinly and shook his head. I wondered who this was meant for.

  “You could tell they’d been under water for a while, too,” The colonel went on, “Some were fresh but some were greenish and even bloated with bits of sea grass in their hair… if they had hair… God help us all.”

  I’d known that they could do that, but this account really hammered the point home. I got more than a little creeped out thinking about how many monsters were lurking below my keel at that very moment.

  Were armies of the undead slowly shambling along the ocean floors, steadily making their way into harbors and bays, ready to appear seemingly from nowhere and devour the living who made the mistake of wandering by the shore?

  It was something out of the darkest recesses of any horror writer’s imagination.

  “Anyway,” Patterson said after a rather lengthy and reflective pause, “We blocked up our part of Hillsboro bay with that freighter and it seemed to work. But since then I’ve made sure to have a squad patrolling the waterfront.”

  A sip, “Now, back to the current situation. They’re coming. I only hope we can hold them off long enough for reinforcements to arrive. It’s too late to evacuate any of the civilians or any of my people. Admiral Banks has offered us a place in Key West… but I don’t know. Something’s not quite right about that whole thing. For one, he was supposed to show up with support but it hasn’t arrived yet. And there have been raids, or attempted raids. That was no problem, though.”