Convoy 19: A Zombie Novel
Page 20
Nicole set her son down and looked around thoughtfully. Building One, a good distance from the screening area, was bustling with activity. Men and women moved back and forth between Buildings One and Two. She guided Vince toward Building One, keeping a safe distance between herself and Kelly Damico. As she approached, she passed some convoy soldiers who were smoking casually in a circle.
“They’re just gonna leave him here?” One of the soldiers said angrily. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he drank deeply from a canteen.
“That’s bullshit! That could be any of us…” Another soldier grumbled.
Nicole froze in her tracks, her worst fears being confirmed. She wanted to speak, but felt awkward about intruding on the conversation. “What happened?” She eventually mustered.
The first soldier turned and looked at her, almost perturbed at the intrusion…but a third soldier answered. “One of our guys, Private Wensel isn’t cleared, but it isn’t THAT bad…” He looked around at his comrades and attempted to take on a tone of reassurance. “He’s hurt, his injury probably isn’t a bite, but they can’t take any chances with the fleet…so he’s going to remain here.”
“Yeah, that’s real safe!” One of the soldiers interrupted, gesturing to the swarm of ghouls raging wildly outside the fence a mere hundred feet away from where they stood. Their numbers seemed to grow with every passing moment. The marines guarding the perimeter were working as quickly as they could to thin their number or reinforce weak areas in the fence. “As soon as we leave here, this whole place will be crawling with WDs…”
“He’s going to remain here in a secure area on top of one of the office buildings. They’re setting up tents and a living area for anyone who isn’t cleared. They’ll transport them to the fleet in a few days via helicopter if they haven’t turned.”
“Nice… so some poor bastard gets a hang nail, and now he’s stuck on a roof with a dozen infected.” The sarcastic soldier interrupted.
“Fine! You can bunk with Private Wensel while we’re on ship! At least I’ll have a warning when he tries to chew your dick off!” The two soldiers began to argue.
Nicole and her son continued past the group as the soldiers began shouting back and forth. The argument was intensifying, and she had all the information she needed. Vince would not be allowed to join the fleet, and the two of them…after all this time stranded in the DDC…would be abandoned atop a building with potentially infected strangers. That would not do.
As Nicole approached Building Two, a heavy set older man in a sweat-stained button-down groaned, as he stepped into the nearly unbearable heat. He added a box to a stack sitting just outside the entryway, and shielded his eyes from the intense sun. He huffed and puffed for a few seconds, resting against a brick wall. He watched while a marine in the distance systematically punched his bayonet through the fence and into the skulls of leering ghouls.
“Need a hand?” Nicole asked as she approached the heavyset man.
The man continued watching the marine, but nodded, “These can go out to the landing pad.” He gestured to the stack of boxes. “Or the Humvees… whatever… the faster we make space, the more junk we can move out of here.”
“I’m on it.” Nicole said, noting the black ink on the man’s hand.
“Jesus, they’re angry today.” The man answered back.
“Who?” Nicole asked.
“The ghouls… it’s almost like they know we’re leaving… almost like they know this will be their last chance to come after us…” Soldiers and civilians continued to bustle in and out of Building One.
“It is,” Nicole forced a smile.
“Damn right,” he nodded. “Make sure and get your ticket out of here.” He held his ink-stained hand up, smiled, and then turned to look at Vince. “If you help your mom, little man, you can go on a boat ride. Does that sound cool?”
Vince nodded shyly, and the man smiled once more before disappearing back into the building.
Nicole looked through the supplies for a few brief moments before she found what she was looking for. She grabbed a stack of linens, tossed them on top of a couple crates, and began to carry the boxes across the parking lot toward Building Two.
“Whoa! That’s heavy! You need a hand with that?” A voice called.
Nicole craned her neck around the boxes and saw a soldier moving toward her. He too sported a large black ink mark on his hand, and seemed intent on taking the boxes she carried off her hands.
“No!” She shouted and turned the boxes away from the soldier. “I mean… I have these. There are some really heavy ones by the door, though. I can’t get those,” Nicole answered. She looked around at people’s hands and noted the number of ink stains were already at about one in five. Kelly Damico was using ink to mark the people she had cleared for transport to the fleet, and she was working very efficiently – too efficiently. Soon, more than half the people here would be cleared. Shortly after that, anyone without a mark would conspicuously stick out among those that did have a mark, and be urged to be screened immediately so everyone could leave as quickly as possible.
The soldier nodded and walked past her. She continued toward Building Two, her eyes focused on the group of Humvees that sat in a neat row, their trunks open and partially filled with cargo.
“Honey, I need you to climb into the back of that truck and give mommy a hand.” Nicole ordered her son in a hushed voice. The back of the vehicle was half-full with supplies already, and would be stacked to the roof before long.
“Okay!” Vince said excitedly as he ran to the back of the Humvee.
Nicole followed her son and set the boxes on the tailgate. She wiped the sweat from her brow and glanced around, waiting for an opportunity. A helicopter took off from the landing pad, and another was approaching. Soldiers and civilians, boxes in hand, gathered round to load the aircraft as soon as it landed. There wasn’t going to be a better opportunity than now, so Nicole made her move. “Go! Climb in! Go!”
Vince scrambled into the back of the truck, eager to help his mother. Nicole climbed into the vehicle and quickly pulled the boxes in behind her. She curled into a tight ball next to her son. In the next motion, she flung linen over herself and Vince and sat as motionless as possible.
“Vince, I need you to listen to mommy very, very carefully,” Nicole whispered. “This isn’t a game. You need to sit absolutely still. Do you understand me?”
“My hand hurts and I don’t feel good,” Vince replied.
“I’m sorry, honey. Mommy will take care of your hand later, okay? Just please stay absolutely quiet. Take a nap if you need too.” She tried to communicate the seriousness of the situation to her son.
Vince nodded.
Minutes felt like hours, and the brutal heat of the California sun began to turn the vehicle into an oven. Soldiers packed more supplies into the Humvee, shoving boxes into every spare inch until it was full. They closed the doors and trunk, and what little fresh air Nicole and Vince had from outside, was now denied them. The sun beat down on the roof relentlessly, and the heat became nearly unbearable, but mother and son remained absolutely still.
They sat for hours. Nicole’s legs cramped painfully and Vince, already drenched in sweat, wet himself – but they did not move. The sun eventually set, and mercifully, the interior of the vehicle began to cool.
Vince awoke from a nap and rubbed his hand tenderly. “My hand hurts, mommy,” he whispered. “It really hurts.”
Nicole slid her hand under the seat slowly, and felt around for the first aid kit. “You’re such a good little boy, you know that? You’re being so strong for mommy. Mommy is so proud of you.”
Vince smiled.
Nicole pulled antiseptic, gauze, and tape from the kit. “Let me see your hand.”
Chapter 29
Carl fished a cigarette out of his pocket, placed it between his lips, and took a deep drag. He had found a secluded area next to a dumpster by the loading dock. The red and orange light of the setting sun cast long black sh
adows. The ships waiting off shore were silhouettes atop the shimmering yellow ocean. It had been a very long day.
He had been operating on nicotine and caffeine since leaving the San Diego Naval base. Carl dug a chocolate bar out of his front jacket pocket, and he stared at the grey-brown bag for a few moments. Exhaustion had taken his appetite, however, so he thrust the candy back into his pocket.
Building Two was nearly empty. Everything, even the vending machine contents, had been hauled out to the Humvees or helicopters for transit to the fleet. Now, civilians were being loaded up with food rations, clothes, and other living essentials from Building One.
The sound of a car banging up against the interior of the fence got Carl’s attention. About a hundred feet away, a few young marines scrambled out of an old Ford Contour. The Marines started propping wooden beams against the fence to aid the car in acting as a buttress. While they worked, they would periodically stab ghouls through the fence with their bayonets. Civilian vehicles and wooden beams had been put in place every thirty or forty feet. The dead snarled on the other side, their numbers swelling into a host of inevitability. Despite the marines’ effort to reinforce it, Carl knew that the fence would eventually give way.
Carl imagined the fence collapsing, and a sea of death washing into San Onofre like a tsunami. Ghouls would swarm in, and the living would be helpless to hold back the tide of claws and teeth. His legs burned. His arms and shoulders hurt. His head and back ached. He had reached his limits, and there was a part of him deep down that just wanted to sit where he was and take whatever came.
He leaned against the wall and slid down to the ground. Driving and death had been his life for a year, and now his job was over. Until this moment, the idea that he might make it out of convoy duty alive hadn’t even occurred to him. He had seen so many men and women slaughtered: shot by civilians, ripped apart by ghouls, or killed in accidents. He had assumed that sooner or later, he would be among them. It filled Carl with a deep sense of regret that seven more men had died under his command today…and he hadn’t been among them.
Carl rubbed his eyes. Tears had snuck up on him, and he could not make them stop now that they had come. Guilt and anger overwhelmed Sergeant First Class Harvey, and his chest convulsed with sobs.
“Carl?” Pam’s voice startled him.
He wiped his face and turned away from her as he took a drag of his cigarette. “What’s up?”
Pam sat down on the ground next to Carl and placed a hand on his shoulder. It was an odd gesture. As close as they had become over the past year, there was rarely any physical contact, short of an occasional high five or fist bump. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just taking a smoke break. Building Two is empty and I just wanted a quick rest before I started helping with Building One.” Carl attempted to will away his tears, stood up, and offered his friend and comrade a hand. “You ready to get the hell out of here?” Carl asked, with a forced smile.
Pam took his hand and got to her feet. “No, I mean are you okay?” She looked into Carl’s eyes, concern on her face. “At the Tierrasanta DDC you… when we were leaving… things just seemed… off.”
Carl paused for a few seconds, and he fought against the anguish rising in him. There was no use hiding it. Carl doubled over, sat back against the wall, covered his face with his hands and began to weep.
Pam rubbed Carl’s back, trying to offer whatever comfort she could. Her commanding officer’s outpour of emotion was almost enough to bring her to tears. Sergeant First Class Carl Harvey was the kind of man whom she would happily follow into the gates of hell. He had cultivated an image of invincibility that was almost superhero-like. Seeing Carl’s hidden side – the side that endured silently in pain – was difficult.
“I can’t remember their names,” Carl gasped.
“I can’t either,” Pam confessed.
“I was their commander…they trusted me. I was supposed to keep them safe…” Carl sobbed.
“You did a good job, Carl. You did a better job than everyone else. There’s a reason you’re the last convoy commander; you got us here alive because you’re the best. Those missions saved thousands of lives. You did that.” Pam tried to console Carl. “You saved thousands of lives. You’re a hero.”
Carl shook his head. “I don’t even know how many men and women I lost. I’m no hero…not by a long shot.”
“There are a dozen kids from the Tierrasanta DDC who would disagree, and two dozen or more from the Spring Valley DDC,” she retorted. “You’ve saved families and brought doctors to the fleet, transported food…you sound like a hero to me.”
Carl wiped his face, took a final drag of his cigarette, and flicked the butt onto the pavement. He rolled Pam’s words over in his mind, and his breathing calmed. He wiped his face and resumed his normal cool demeanor. “The price was too high…”
“Look… it’s all over now. We did everything we could.” Pam pointed at a Chinook helicopter that hovered over the parked convoy vehicles. Soldiers were securing straps around one of the Humvees and hooking it to a winch. A few moments passed, and the soldiers hooked the winch to a line hanging from the helicopter. They stepped away from their work, and watched as the Hummer rose into the air and flew out over the ocean under the power of the aircraft. “No more missions. We did a good job and saved a lot of lives.”
Carl watched his vehicle disappear into the distance. “It’s going to be strange.” Carl composed himself. Only the redness around his eyes betrayed his emotional outburst.
“Yeah…” Pam conceded. “It will be strange, but it will be a good strange.”
“Let’s check on Miguel and finish helping with Building One.” Carl wiped his eyes one final time.
Pam nodded, and the two of them began walking around the loading dock toward the screening facility. Neither of them had been screened as of yet, and now seemed as good a time as any to take care of that. A crowd of civilians was already gathered around the landing pad, hoping for a place on the next helicopter. Soon, the military personnel guarding the power plant would follow, and San Onofre and all the rest of North America would belong to the living dead.
“San Onofre is now entering cold shutdown.” A woman’s voice came over the speaker system. “We will be relying on backup generators until the facility is vacated.”
As the nuclear power plant began to shut down, the cooling towers vented a column of steam into the atmosphere. The purple sky faded to black as the sun vanished beneath the horizon, and the oppressive heat that had dominated the day began to abate. Carl imagined the lights of San Diego skyscrapers going out, and the panic that it would bring. Thousands of trapped survivors would find themselves, for the first time, cast in total darkness.
“It’s going to be a dark night,” Pam frowned.
Chapter 30
“I’m sorry I couldn’t look at this earlier.” Kelly said, as she examined Miguel’s leg.
Miguel had lain on his back for the majority of the afternoon, waiting patiently for her attention. As the lone doctor in the entire facility, the only assistance Kelly had was a nervous Marine security guard and a teenage Army combat medic. The Marine sentry was distracted by the growing mass of undead along the outer fence. The combat medic, Private Heimbach, hadn’t even completed his training. He was better suited as a courier – running around San Onofre looking for something Kelly needed – gauze, antibiotics, and crutches.
“No…er…problem.” Miguel grit his teeth through the pain as Kelly unwrapped the bandages from his improvised splint. “Is everyone checked out?”
“Almost.” Kelly nodded, and a saddening thought entered her mind. She hadn’t seen Nicole or her son during the screening. She couldn’t remember seeing them escape from the DDC, but she certainly would remember seeing them killed. She sighed; how many people had simply disappeared? How many friends, mothers, fathers, sons, and daughters were simply swallowed up by the undead legions…only to rise as just another faceless monster?
Miguel turned to see his friends. “Just my luck…” He gestured toward his broken leg. “I finally get a vacation and this happens!”
“We need to be screened.” Carl held up his hand. It was devoid of the black ink mark that would indicate Kelly had examined them for bites and infection.
Kelly nodded. “Give me one second.” Kelly felt around Miguel’s lower leg, and he grimaced in pain. “This is going to hurt a little…”
“Okay…” Miguel took a deep breath.
Kelly squeezed hard on Miguel’s leg until she felt the bones realign. He bit down hard on his shirtsleeve and gripped the edges of his cot until his knuckles turned white.
“Private Heimbach,” Kelly addressed the young combat medic, “wrap this up and put a cast around it.” Making a cast was not demanding and the green combat medic would have minimal chance of messing up. “Okay, step behind the curtain please.” She instructed Pam to go first.
Pam stepped into the private screening area and began taking her clothes off. “So what happens if I don’t clear?” She said nervously.
“I’ve cleared everyone except for three people so far…” Kelly hesitated, considering those she had not cleared. “We have a place for them to wait, and in a couple of days, they’ll be transported to the fleet.”
“So, if I don’t clear, I get to wait around with three people who may be infected?” Pam murmured.
“You’re clear.” Kelly said casually after a few moments of examining Pam. “You can get dressed now… If you hadn’t cleared, you would be waiting with four people.” Kelly spoke with reluctance, but decided it was better to be transparent. “I was unable to clear one of your team. He probably isn’t bitten, but we can’t take the chance. There’s also an engineer from San Onofre, and a little girl from the DDC. Her dad is staying with her… until she turns.” Breaking the news to the young girl’s father was among the most difficult things Kelly had ever done. The man’s eyes had welled with tears as she explained to him what to expect and how to take precautions after the girl turned. “There’s a camp set up on the roof of this building.”