The Last Town (Book 5): Fleeing the Dead
Page 21
“Yassah, boss,” Norton said, once again doing his serviceable Winchester impression from the old Jack Benny show.
“We should have a quick chat,” Corbett said. “You have some time?”
“Gee, I don’t know. I was hoping to be able to put in a quick nine holes of golf today, then maybe hit a spa for a massage. What’s up?”
“Your boat,” Corbett said. “It’s in good shape, right? Eighty-five foot Pacific Mariner?”
Norton pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and looked at Corbett with narrowed eyes. “It was when I left it, yeah. I always fill the tanks after every trip, and I hadn’t received any alerts that it was sinking before cell service went out. Odd questions to be asking, given that we’re out in the middle of the desert, and boat’s in Ventura County.”
“How long would it take you to get it out of the marina?”
“Usually, thirty to forty minutes. She’s been idle for a while, I’d need to do all sorts of checks. She’s end-tied because of her length, so depending on the tide, getting out into the channel isn’t that tough. But she’s not the kind of boat one guy can handle.”
“You don’t have to worry about manpower,” Corbett said. “How many people can she take on?”
“Legally? Eighteen.”
“Norton, I don’t expect the Coast Guard to be checking your load. How many?”
“Thirty. Forty. Won’t be comfortable, and I wouldn’t want to be hauling that many souls through heavy seas, but it’s an expedition yacht. It can take some nasty stuff.” Norton glanced back at his parents, who stood behind him, watching the two men talk. “So I guess we’re already at that point where contingency plans are about to be considered more seriously, huh?”
“We have multiple incursions. The town’s about to be split in two. We can’t hold the stenches back,” Corbett said. “So that’s the straight shit. I need you to fly five of my guys to Oxnard, take a vehicle we have prepositioned there, and get to your boat. Get it out into blue water, and wait. You have provisions aboard? You must have satellite communications and high-frequency radios, right?”
“You know I do,” Norton said. “But my plane only carries six folks, and that’s without full fuel. If I’m carrying five, what about my parents? And... and Danielle, and her dad?”
Corbett snorted. “Why, Norton. I didn’t know you cared.” When he saw the anger flash in Norton’s eyes, he raised his hands. “Easy there, pal. I was only kidding. Obviously, none of them are going with you, but they’ll be following soon enough. Trust me on that.”
Norton cocked his head. “Sorry, you’re asking me to trust you with the lives of my family?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, really. Maybe you can answer some questions, then. How many people do you expect to be able to get on your Gulfstream, Barry? And what happens if the airport is closed, or just overcome with zombies? What if the fucking Air Force shoots you out of the sky?”
“Listen, Norton. You don’t have to do this. I have other pilots who can fly your fucking plane,” Corbett snapped. He was a little pissed off with the producer’s sudden attitude.
“I’m sure you do, Barry. But how many of them know the security code to get into the boat?” Norton asked. “That’s a six million dollar boat, you think I didn’t add enough security in depth to prevent it from being stolen?”
Corbett sighed. “Okay. Listen. I’ll make sure your parents are on my jet. And Danielle and Martin, if you really want him along. I’ll give them the best shot I can. But in order for that to happen, I need you to take a team over to Oxnard and secure the boat. Get it out to sea, broadcast your position, and wait there.”
“What am I waiting for, exactly?”
Corbett smiled tightly. “For about thirty folks packed tight into my jet as it ditches right beside your Pacific Mariner.”
TO BE CONTINUED IN
THE LAST TOWN #6: SURVIVING THE DEAD