Convoy 19: A Zombie Novel

by Mark Rivett

  He took another long drag from his cigarette before tossing the butt into the undead ocean below and lighting another one.

  A million doubts ran through his head. What if he hadn’t been bitten? He hadn’t actually seen the zombie bite him, he reflected. What if he was just in some sort of shock? What if he was sleep deprived and making a dumb decision? What if the wound he thought was a bite was merely another gash from slamming into the broken window? What if there was a cure in the fleet? If he just waited long enough, maybe his immune system could fight off the infection.

  Stenson closed his eyes and pushed the doubts away. He forced himself to alter his perspective. He was lucky. A lot of people, soldiers and civilians, didn’t have magic bullets. Billions of people all around the world were doomed to walk the earth as monsters. He didn’t have to be, and for that, he was grateful. He had given all he had and succeeded in saving civilian lives – children’s lives. Few people were so lucky.

  “Sometimes things get so fucked up that all you have are bullets,” he growled.

  With little hesitation, he brought his arm up and placed the barrel of his gun against his temple.

  Chapter 27

  “Sound off,” Carl ordered through the communications network. When a mere seven voices, including Pam and Miguel’s, came back…Carl felt heartbroken. Every fiber in his body wanted to turn the entire convoy around to pull those he’d left behind – dead or alive – out from the hell the convoy had just escaped. He had lost so many men and women under his command that it felt unfair that even more had given their lives on this last mission. The commander in him knew the futility of turning back and risking even more lives. The world wasn’t fair, and jeopardizing those who had made it through wouldn’t change that.

  “You’re gonna want to take Highway 805 to 5. We’ll pass Miramar to the east, but the system says the Miramar STOG is concentrated south and east.” Pam had a map pulled up on her laptop and was working out the best route to San Onofre. San Diego itself was a deadly labyrinth of horrors, but traveling northward past Marine Corps Air Station Miramar, would require more care than usual. When DDCs began running out of space and had been forced to turn away latecomers months ago, military bases like Miramar were inundated by refugees from every corner of California. Thousands of campers, tents, trailers, and mobile homes cropped up overnight with the belief that mere proximity to the military would provide some measure of protection. That assumption could not have been further from reality, and as quickly as a ghoul claimed its first victim, infection spread through the camps like wildfire. A colossal swarm of man-eating carnage rose up to consume not only the refugee communities, but also the military bases they surrounded. All over the country, bases were either utterly abandoned or completely overrun. Miramar was the latter.

  Carl nodded and punched the link on his communications network. “In about ten minutes, we’re gonna be passing Miramar on our right. I need gunners to hold their fire until we’re clear.”

  “Hold on, let me… MMMMPH!” Miguel tried to pull himself to stand in his gun mount, but he fell back into his seat, gripping his leg in agony.

  “Let me take a look at that. Do you have a first aid kit?” A blonde-haired woman sitting in the back of the Humvee asked. A young boy clung to her in terror, but she hugged him in reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere, honey. I’m just gonna help the soldier who helped us.”

  Miguel hesitated, but pulled up his pant leg, reached under his seat, and retrieved the first aid kit. His calf was swollen, and it had an odd misshapen bulge to it. With the adrenaline gone from his system, the pain was beginning to take hold.

  “I’m Nicole.” The woman said, as she crawled into position to take a look at Miguel’s leg. “This is my son, Vince.” She gestured to the boy. “I’m no Dr. D, but I think I recognize a broken leg when I see one. What’s your name?”

  Miguel grimaced as Nicole examined his injury. “I’m Sergeant Miguel Ramos… thanks.” Miguel was not used to having anyone attend to him.

  “Mommy, what’s that?” Vince asked. A distant and barely intelligible voice began to echo over the sound of the vehicles.

  “Okay, gunners. Hold your fire,” Carl ordered.

  Highway 805 sat at the base of a rise that obscured Miramar. While the highway itself was littered with the broken down vehicle graveyard and wandering dead that was typical of all San Diego’s out-bound highways, the adjacent hillside was relatively clear. Atop the peak of the rise, stood a battered fence where dozens of mindless undead gathered on either side. Some were turning in impotent pursuit, while others were corralled by the chain links of the military base they had overrun. They watched the convoy pass with blank stares or lazily rolled their heads back and moaned. A thirty foot pole stood every couple of hundred yards along the fence. Mounted atop the poles were loudspeakers blasting out a recording on an endless loop. The convoy team and their passengers sat silently while the monotone male voice calmly spoke; “Keep out. Danger. This is an infected zone. Do not enter. Keep out. Danger. This is an infected zone. Do not enter. No Entran. Peligro. Este es una zona infectada. No Entran. Peligro. Este es una zona infectada.

  “What isn’t an infected zone anymore?” Miguel grumbled, as Nicole wrapped his leg in a splint with a length of tape.

  “That message has been running for months. It wasn’t until after Miramar was overrun that things got really bad. Whoever made that message probably thought he was doing San Diego a favor,” Pam replied. “How many desperate people got it into their heads that all they had to do is make it to Miramar and the U.S. military would take care of them? Hearing that message might have been heartbreaking, but it probably saved lives.”

  A few minutes passed and the repeating message began to fade into the distance. Highway 805 merged into highway 5 and the convoy continued to make its way through and around the human wreckage of the zombie apocalypse. A burnt-out gas station still displayed prices for regular unleaded fuel at $242.99 a gallon. Earthen graves crowned by plain white crosses dotted the hillside by the hundreds. The words ‘Do not open. Dead inside,’ were scrawled on the back of a tractor-trailer in large red letters. One empty and blood-stained truck sported a large sign on its tailgate that read, ‘Girls! Girls! Girls! $20.’ Right next to it sat another gore-covered truck with a sign mounted atop the cab that read, ‘Canned Vegetables: $70, Canned Soup: $50, Canned Pet Food: $30.’

  The living dead slowly wandered amongst it all, their mangled forms meandering between vehicles. Heads turned to acknowledge the military convoy that passed through their midst. Hollow moans passed through cracked and bloody lips as they stumbled forward in pursuit.

  “Specialist Grace?” A voice came over the network.

  “What is it?” Pam responded.

  “We have a Dr. Kelly Damico in our car that’s asking to talk to the commanding officer,” The voice came back.

  Pam looked over to Carl, who kept his eyes on the road but nodded back to her. “This is Sergeant First Class Carl Harvey. What can I do for you, ma’am?”

  Kelly’s voice came back over the network. “We need to be screened. We’ve all had contact with WDs and we need to make sure everyone’s checked out before we’re admitted into any secure areas.”

  Carl thought for a second before answering. The request was simple enough. Every soldier and civilian in the convoy had been in a life and death struggle with the walking dead. If any one of them were knowingly concealing a bite or unknowingly bitten, entire ships could be in danger. He glanced at Miguel and the blonde woman, Nicole, in his rear view mirror, and thought about Miguel’s leg. Was his leg broken or was he bitten? What would happen to him if he had been bitten? He considered the consequences for his wounded comrade.

  “Yes, ma’am. I will call ahead and make sure a screening facility is set up before anyone is transported to the fleet,” Carl answered. “Specialist Grace, call ahead to San Onofre and have them set up a screening area. We need everyone checked out.”


  Pam did as she was ordered, and the vehicles continued in silence. Minds began to wander. Was it possible to be bitten and not know it? Was that scratch actually a bite? Was the infection transmitted in ways other than bites? Was that bruise a sign of infection? After all this time, after all their sacrifice, would some of them be denied transport to the fleet?

  “So how you gonna prove that isn’t a bite, Miguel?” Pam awkwardly tried to break the tension, but she realized how bad the joke was as soon as she heard herself say it.

  “That’s not funny!” Carl replied with a scowl. “I’m sure people who aren’t infected get turned away all the time because of injuries that look like bites. Your leg is just broken, right Miguel? I mean, I heard it break. It sounded like a break.”

  “It’s a break,” Miguel grumbled.

  “It sounded like a break,” Carl mumbled. “I won’t let you get left behind.”

  Pam looked at Carl and back to Miguel. Awkward silence passed until Pam punched a button on her headset. “San Onofre, this is Convoy Nineteen approaching from about a mile south. Five vehicles, eight crew, and a dozen or so civilians.”

  “Copy Convoy Nineteen. We’ve been expecting you. The south gates will be open. We’re kinda short-handed, and we could use some strong backs.”

  “I can help!” Nicole answered immediately.

  Pam furrowed her brow in confusion. Civilians, as a general rule, were content to sit back and watch military personnel do the grunt work. “Sure thing, San Onofre. We have some people who can lend a hand.”

  Dome-like cooling towers loomed into view as the Humvees approached the power plant. A helicopter had just taken off, and it was heading toward a large gray military ship just offshore. A second helicopter was returning from the same direction. Along the perimeter of the power plant, was another tall razor-wire fence reinforced by sandbags and protected by watchtowers. The undead gathered in gangs. There was very little gunfire around the perimeter; however, the entrance was another story.

  The vehicles made their way toward the gates where two ten-man teams of marines stood in formation and fired their rifles at the ghouls wandering about the immediate area. Hundreds of bodies lay about the ground in crumbled heaps already, and the soldiers were adding more with every shot. Mortar teams within the compound were raining death into dense swarms. The roadside resembled a crater-marked moonscape inhabited by shattered corpses…pulling themselves along on mangled limbs.

  The marines broke formation, followed on foot, and closed the gates as soon as the convoy was inside. No sooner had they retreated than the screeching forms of hungry dead pressed themselves en masse against the fence.

  “Look…” Pam pointed out the window as the convoy pulled to a stop in front of a small office building. The rolling hills of the California coast stretched south, north, and east as far as the eye could see. Endless ranks of walking dead shambled about in loose packs. Slowly and implacably, they converged on one point – the San Onofre power plant—and the activity within.

  “Sergeant First Class Harvey?” a uniformed man with the insignia of a Lieutenant Commander approached the lead Humvee. His hair was disheveled, and the pits of his arms were stained with sweat.

  Carl stepped out from his driver’s seat and saluted. “Yes sir?”

  The man appeared anxious and nervously chewed his bottom lip. He kept his eyes fixated on the wailing ghouls massing on the fence as he spoke to Carl. “I’m Lieutenant Commander Holt. I need you and your drivers to pull your vehicles over to the Building Two loading dock, so we can load them up with supplies.” He pointed to an area bustling with activity. Twenty or so civilians and soldiers milled about, stacking boxes and bags of equipment. “Chinook helicopters will then deliver them to the U.S.S. Boxer. I need some of your men to help with Building One.” Holt gestured to a smaller building connected to the cooling towers that appeared to be set up as a living area with clothes lines, lawn chairs, and a fire pit outside the main entrance. “The screening center you requested is over there.” He gestured to a sad-looking area sectioned off by police tape and shower curtains. “Understood?”

  “Yes sir…” Carl responded, but the Lieutenant Commander had already turned on his heels and made his way back toward the power plant.

  “Why aren’t they clearing the fence?” Miguel asked, as he limped out from the back of the vehicle.

  “They’re out of ammo…” Pam realized. “Whatever ammo they have, they need to defend the plant if the fence fails.”

  “What do you mean ‘if the fence fails’?” A civilian man asked.

  “Alright!” Carl ignored the civilian’s question and exercised his tone of authority. “Dr. Kelly Damico?”

  Kelly stepped forward.

  “Get screening… Miguel, go with her and get patched up.” Carl nodded toward the makeshift screening area. “Pam and I are going to supervise things at Building Two. Everyone else head to Building One, and see what you can do to help.”

  Kelly Damico and the soldiers instantly broke off to do as they were ordered. The civilians meandered about, unsure of what to do with themselves.

  Carl sighed. “Everyone! Make yourself useful! The sooner we load up, the sooner we get the hell out of here! Go!”

  Chapter 28

  Nicole sat in the back of the Humvee. She hugged her son Vince while they both watched the soldiers and the other civilians outside. The leader – Sergeant Carl Harvey –barked out a few orders before climbing back into the driver’s seat of the Hummer.

  “What can we do to help?” Nicole asked Carl. She watched Kelly Damico make her way over to a designated medical area. Soldiers and civilians were already trickling toward the screening facility from all over the power plant. No one wanted to be forced to forfeit their ticket to the fleet because of a technicality.

  “We’re loading everything into helicopters and Humvees for transit to the fleet. If you want to help, get screened and head to building one… and keep an eye on your kid. Make sure he’s out of the way.” Carl pulled the vehicle up to the loading dock.

  Nicole nodded. She stepped out of the Hummer into the hot afternoon sun and looked around. A large helicopter was taking off from a nearby landing pad. Its ungainly shape seemed unfit for air travel, yet it rose into the air, heavy with food and supplies. Another smaller helicopter approached the landing pad from over the ocean, and a dozen or so sweaty soldiers already stood, arms filled with supplies, awaiting its arrival. The convoy crews broke from their vehicles immediately, and they wandered off to help in whatever capacity they could.

  “Mommy, look!” Vince said, pointing to the exterior fence.

  Zombies were dense around the perimeter, and a squad of marines scrambled about and shouted at one another.

  “Get that red SUV from the lot and park it up against section 33 to reinforce it!”

  “Yes sir!” One of the marines broke from the group at a sprint.

  “Grab some two-by-fours and buttress section 6.”

  “Yes sir!” Three more marines ran off.

  “Section 20 and 21 are really thick with WDs. Thin it with bayonets.”

  “Yes sir!” a half dozen marines fixed knives to the barrels of their rifles before jogging away.

  Beneath all the shouting, the helicopters, and the hiss of the reactor cooling towers, the ever-present moan of the undead rumbled and rolled like a gathering storm.

  “Those soldiers are keeping us safe, sweetie.” Nicole reassured her son. “They’re gonna make sure the monsters don’t get in here.”

  Vince didn’t respond.

  “This is a reminder…” a female voice came over a speaker system “before transit to the fleet, you must be screened by a medical professional at the south wall. Thank you.”

  “Should we go see Doctor D, Mommy?” Vince asked innocently.

  “Let me see your hand real quick, honey.” During the frenzied escape from the Tierrasanta DDC, she had lost track of Vince for one heart-stopping moment. When the dead had
broken past the soldiers, every parent had battled courageously to slow their advance. It had been a bloody fight that had cost lives, but had also bought precious seconds for the children to escape. She had found her son bawling helplessly amidst the confusion, scooped him up, and fought her way to the convoy. It wasn’t until they were safely inside the Humvee that she had seen the cut on Vince’s hand. The cut looked nasty, and she had quietly instructed her son to keep it concealed. Even though it was a harmless scratch, there was a good chance he would not be cleared for transport to the fleet by Dr. Damico. On the cusp of salvation, she was not about to tell her son that they would not be joining the fleet. “You weren’t bitten, right sweetie? It was just some broken glass?”

  Vince hesitated for a moment. He knew to stay away from the undead. Nicole had drummed into him over and over again that above all else, he could not get bit. If she had done one job on this earth in the past year, it had been to ensure that he could survive in this world with or without her. That meant staying safely away from ghouls. Vince frowned, tears welling in his eyes, “I got cut, mommy.”

  “It almost looks like a bite…” Nicole mumbled to herself. The jagged cut would need a bandage and antiseptic…maybe even stitches.

  Vince’s face twisted in grief, and tears streaked down his cheeks. “I’m not bit! I’m not bit!” He pleaded through shudders.

  Nicole scooped him up and hugged him tightly. “I know, honey. I know. Mommy was just thinking out loud.” She looked at her son and wiped the tears from his face. “Can you keep your hand tucked inside your sleeve for mommy?”

  Vince nodded.

  Nicole rocked her son gently and turned to look at the screening facility. She could see Dr. Damico within, ordering men ten at a time to line up behind a curtain and strip. “Okay, stay close to mommy and keep your hand hidden, okay?”

  Vince nodded again.