by Mark Rivett
Pam dressed herself while she dwelled on the soldier from her team that had not been cleared. She stepped out from behind the curtain and looked at Carl. He had heard Kelly and his grief was masked beneath a veneer of optimism. The idea that he might lose yet another man under his command, was a heavy burden that he hid too well.
Kelly used a black permanent marker on Pam’s hand to signify that Pam had passed the screening. She now had access to the fleet. “You’re up.” She motioned for Carl to step behind the curtain.
Carl undressed, and Kelly inspected him for injury. Kelly was satisfied he had not been bitten after a brief inspection. “You can get dressed.”
“Control room! This is a code orange! Code orange!” Lieutenant Commander Holt shouted into a walkie-talkie. He ran from Building One, past the screening facility, and toward the entrance of Building Two with an entourage of soldiers.
Without a word, the Marine security guard that had been assigned to the screening facility burst into a sprint to join his commanding officer.
“What’s a code orange?” Kelly asked Private Heimbach.
“The outer fence has been breached.” He stood up nervously. “We should get to Building Two.”
Miguel struggled to his feet with the help of two improvised crutches – a coat rack sawed to the proper length and two canes duct-taped together. “Just so you all know, I’m tripping one of you if they come after us.” His still-wet cast dripped a milky white puddle on the ground.
A female voice came over the PA system. “All personnel, please make your way to Building Two immediately and follow the directions to the roof. The outer fence has failed. I repeat, all personnel, please…”
Gasps and screams could be heard around the power plant as people reacted to the news. Everyone in the vicinity began to rush toward Building Two.
“Why is there no gunfire?” Carl asked as Kelly quickly inked his hand.
“We have standing orders to save the last of our ammunition to defend the rooftops.” Private Heimbach answered. They began to follow the movement towards Building Two.
Carl punched the button for his communications network. “Convoy Nineteen personnel, please make your way to Building Two immediately.”
“Will do, sir. On our way…” a voice came back. “We have some older folks we need to move and its taking some time. Much of the convoy team had been helping with supplies from Building One.”
The silhouettes of the undead outside the fence seemed endless. Behind leering forms pressed up against the chain links, the horde disappeared into the blackness of the night. Here and there, the unmistakable clang of a fencepost snapping and clattering to the ground echoed through the darkness. San Onofre’s lights cast a dim orange halo of illumination, but in the shadows beyond, there lurked monsters.
Inside Building Two was a well-lit hallway. Large arrows were spray-painted on the floors and walls, and they directed refugees to the roof. Two marines knelt just inside the main entryway. They scanned the perimeter with their rifles as people rushed past.
“Can we do anything to help?” Carl asked the sentries.
“Just get to the roof, sir. Everything is under control.” One of the marine’s stated dryly. He flipped his night vision goggles from his helmet to his eyes and back again. He repeated the gesture twice, took aim with his rifle, and pressed a button on his shoulder radio. “WDs inside the fence approaching west side entrance.”
“Copy that,” a voice came back, “WDs approaching east side entrance as well. Hold your position.” Suddenly, gunshots rang out from the other side of the building.
“Who wants to give me a piggy back ride?” Miguel tried to cut the tension...
“Let’s go.” Carl nodded and spoke into his command network again. “Convoy Nineteen personnel, get to the roof of Building Two ASAP. WDs have breached the outer fence and this place will be crawling with them.”
“We’re coming, sir,” a voice replied.
“Time is of the essence…” Carl swam through his thoughts to pair a name with a voice, but failed, “…soldier.”
Private Heimbach and Carl came to Miguel’s aid, and they followed the arrows to the roof. By the time they got to the stairwell, it was vacant – the sound of fleeing footsteps echoed down to them from above.
“Go go go!” someone shouted from the hallway. A second later, the stairwell door was flung open, and a handful of marines rushed in. “C4” someone ordered. Another soldier began fixing small grey balls to the bottom of the ground floor staircase.
“This is gonna hurt,” Carl warned Miguel.
“Yep, go!” Miguel took a deep breath.
Carl and Private Heimbach began frantically rushing up the stairs carrying Miguel. Kelly followed hastily. Pam carried Miguel’s crutches at the rear.
They thrust open the door to the roof to be greeted by a grim looking Lieutenant Commander Holt. A dozen marines sat on the edge of the roof, firing at the ground below. A large crowd of civilians fought with each other over seats in a helicopter that was sitting on the rooftop landing pad.
An armed soldier stood between the panicked mob and the helicopter. “Please remain calm. Everyone will get their turn! We’re safe up here. Just board the transports in an orderly manner, and we’ll have everyone out of here in no time.” The lights of a second helicopter were already approaching from a distance, but many in the crowd continued pushing and shoving for a spot.
Carl, Miguel, Pam, and Kelly, rushed over to the edge of the roof to look out into the darkness. The vanguard of the undead hordes had begun to surround the building. Sporadic gunfire would ring out, but the effort was futile. An endless wall of ghouls swarmed around the building.
“Shit, look!” Miguel gasped under his breath.
A dozen people burst from Building One and ran frantically toward Building Two. Undead began converging on them from all directions, and soldiers from the roof of Building Two did their best to cover them as they moved.
Carl fell to his knees. “Shit…”
Four convoy crewmembers lead the charge from Building One. Two had young children on their backs as they ran firing their weapons. They were spending the last of their ammunition to buy precious seconds.
“Everyone down!” Holt shouted as he crouched. All the marines did as ordered. Screams and panic erupted from the civilians who followed suit.
“No!” Carl realized what was happening. “Go back!” he shouted at the group on the ground. “Go back!” he fumbled for the button to his communications network. “Go back!”
A large explosion rocked the building and a plume of smoke and dust erupted from the stairwell. The shockwave shattered windows, and civilians screamed in terror.
“Shit!” Pam yelled. “Go back!” She added her voice to Carl’s.
More voices took up their plea. “Go back! Go back!” They shouted, realizing the stairwell had been destroyed and there was no way to reach the roof.
With sinking hope, Carl stared at his men, just over three quarters of the way across the parking lot, slow, stop, and turn back toward Building One. They drew their rifles and spent the last of their ammunition firing wildly into the swarm of oncoming ghouls. Carl watched the legion of undead converge on the small band of survivors from every direction.
“No… god DAMN it… NO!” Carl drew his pistol and emptied his clip into the sea of death.
The scream of the first victim rang through the power plant. An old woman had barely made it half way to Building Two before turning back around. A ghoul tackled her, and four more were on top of her before she could plead for help. A second person tripped and disappeared beneath a pile of undead. A convoy soldier’s rifle ran dry, and he was trying to club one zombie away when another slammed into him from behind and knocked him to the ground.
Kelly could not watch the tragic scene that played out, so she turned her gaze towards Carl. His eyes, locked on the scene, read of absolute disbelief. His shoulders were slumped in defeat.
“No…” he gasped.
Gunfire from the roof ceased as the screams from the ground fell silent. The only sounds now, were the rolling din of undead and the hum of distant helicopter blades.
“We’re safe for the time being. The stairwell is collapsed. Save your ammo,” Holt shouted to his men. He walked over to Carl, and put a hand on the convoy leader’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly.
Kelly felt for the cellular phone she kept in her pocket. She flipped it open, looked at the blank screen, and hurled it into the night in anger. She wanted so badly to talk to her husband. Her soul was bruised, and seeing Carl’s face was too much to bear. She sunk to the ground trembling. She had seen a lot of horror in the past year – but the sight of the strong soldier’s tears was something that would be burned into her memory.
Hours passed and helicopters took to the air with load after load of civilians and soldiers. No one spoke. The notion on everyone’s mind was unspeakable, and on the verge of salvation, yet, more people had lost their lives. Eventually, all that remained was the convoy team, a handful of marines, and Kelly.
“We’re up.” Pam offered Kelly her hand.
Kelly stood up and began walking toward the helicopter. She took her seat and buckled in. The aircraft rose into the air, and Kelly looked out over the eastern horizon. A surreal sense of sorrow overcame her. The lights of civilization had always made for a bright and beautiful California night, but now there was only darkness. With the demise of the San Onofre nuclear power plant, all of Southern California was now cloaked in blackness.
As the helicopter made its way over the ocean, the lights of the U.S.S. Boxer came into view. A crowd of hopeful civilians rung the landing pad, and Kelly Damico unclamped her seat belt once the aircraft had landed. She stepped onto the ship and looked around, the weight of her thoughts dulling the commotion around her.
Suddenly, someone burst through the crowd and ran towards her. A moment of panic passed before she recognized the man she had not seen in almost a year; Henry Damico. Kelly met her husband’s embrace, and her eyes welled with tears as she kissed him passionately.
The two figures stood framed in the lights of the landing pad. The crowd slowly became fixated on the Damicos and their loving embrace. Silence first fell over the ship. Then the quiet sound of applause rose, until the entire deck was roaring with clapping and cheering. Everyone in the fleet had endured loss and said good-bye to someone they would never see again. Reunions were rare, but their meaning was not lost. As bad as things were, there was still hope.
Chapter 31
Five military Hummers secured with ratchet clamps sat on the port side of the U.S.S. Boxer. Their battered armor bore the scars of a year of service. A rear passenger door of one of the Humvees quietly swung open, and Nicole stepped onto the ship. The cool night felt amazing.
“Come on, honey,” Nicole whispered to her son.
Vince had been good. He’d endured a full day of roasting inside the vehicle and remaining quiet, as he had been instructed.
“Mommy, I don’t feel good.” Vince slid out of the vehicle and onto the deck of the ship.
“Come on, sweetie. I’ll get you something to drink.” Nicole picked her son up and wrapped his arms around her shoulders. His skin felt cold and clammy, and she could tell he was feeling lethargic. He needed food, water, and a good night’s sleep. If he was still not feeling well tomorrow, she’d look for a doctor to check him out.
She gently closed the Humvee door and looked around for a civilian group to blend into. A large crowd was moving across the flight deck from the helicopter landing pad, and she began to head in their direction. It would be a simple matter to act as if she belonged – any hiccups could be explained away.
“I’m here, aren’t I? Of course, I was screened! I washed the ink off as soon as I arrived, I didn’t think I needed it anymore.” She crafted her story in her mind as she walked. “My son’s hand? He cut it on some glass… He’s fine. They checked everyone at San Onofre. He was cleared just like everyone else. Do you think we’d be here if a doctor hadn’t cleared us?”
Suddenly her heart stopped in her chest, and a chill of terror ran up her spine. Nicole turned sharply, and began walking in the opposite direction. Dr. Kelly Damico, no more than ten feet away from her, walked hand in hand with a dark-haired man.
Nicole cursed herself for not being smart enough to anticipate the possibility that she might run into Kelly Damico. Kelly would recognize her, realize that she and Vince had not been screened, and would know they should not have access to the fleet.
“Excuse me! Miss? Miss?” A voice called after her.
Nicole’s mind raced. She wanted to take her son, hide, and hope Kelly would forget all about her, but she was caught. There was nothing she could do but pray she and Vince would not be sent back to the mainland. Panic washed over her as she turned around to face Kelly.
A young woman in a navy uniform stood before her, smiling. “Miss, can I help you to housing?”
Nicole stood speechless. The civilian crowd had begun to disappear into the flight tower, and Kelly was nowhere to be seen.
“Are you okay, Miss?” The navy woman asked.
“Housing?” Nicole mustered meekly.
“Follow me, Miss.” The cadet smiled, turned, and walked toward the flight tower.
Nicole trailed behind, Vince in hand, scanning the area for any sign of Kelly. Nicole was a civilian, and civilians went wherever this navy woman was taking her. She would have to keep alert for Dr. Kelly Damico.
They entered the flight tower and descended several sets of stairs. They continued through a hallway that led to a huge storage bay. Nicole could scarcely believe a ship could have a room so enormous. A long fence adorned with thousands of car air fresheners stretched the entire length of the ship. Behind the fence were countless office cubicles, their tops covered by tarps, their entrances covered with sheets. Several hundred men, women, and children milled about within. The scent of synthetic strawberries and mint failed to subdue the stench of body odor mixed with mildew.
A group of women were hanging laundry from a clothesline strung between cubes. Half a dozen children ran around through aisles playing tag. A man in a blue jumpsuit wheeled a large grey garbage bin toward the exit. Two elderly couples sat at a table playing dominoes, smiling and joking with one another. A group of teenage boys stood together, flirting with a group of teenage girls.
Nicole struggled to put the scene into words. “It’s… normal…” she mumbled.
“What’s that?” her navy escort asked.
Nicole shifted the weight of Vince in her arms. “Is this normal?” She paused to scan the enormous storage bay for any sign of Kelly Damico.
The woman smiled back. “This?” She gestured to a crudely painted sign that hung over the chain linked gate that read ‘Cube City.’ “The new normal maybe, but yeah… I guess so. Stand in line here and you’ll be processed.” She gestured towards a series of checkpoints along the gate. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“No…” Nicole continued to look around in disbelief. “Thank you.”
“No problem, Ma’am. Welcome to the U.S.S. Boxer.” The woman smiled again, bowed her head slightly, and disappeared back into the crowd.
Nicole took her place at the end of the line and brushed her son’s hair back. “How are you doing, sweetie?”
“I feel icky,” Vince replied weakly.
“You want me to keep holding you?” Nicole asked.
Vince nodded.
“You want some water? Something to eat?” Nicole kissed her son on the forehead.
“No,” Vince buried his face in her shoulder.
“Aww, sweetie, let’s get you to bed.” Nicole rocked her son gently. He had been sick a handful of times in his life, but she imagined dehydration and hunger coupled with the insanity of the previous couple of days, had taken their toll on him. He’d be fine after a little bed rest, a change of clothes and som
ething to eat. Watching the children laugh and play within Cube City made her smile. It had been nearly a year since she saw her son play like a normal little boy. The thought of giving her son a sense of normalcy nearly brought tears to her eyes. He could heal the scars of the past few months and meet some children his age. In a day or two, he’d be making friends and having fun. It would take some time to shake off the nightmares, but maybe they’d start to feel safe, eventually.
Her mind wondered at the possibilities. Life would never be the same as it had been, but she and Vince were among the very few lucky ones.
“Name?” a voice interrupted her musings.
A heavy-set woman with a clipboard looked up at Nicole with tired eyes. There was a mentholated gel on her upper lip, which served to mask the smell of the storage bay. . Nicole had been so lost in thought, that her arrival at the front of the line took her by surprise. “Nicole Shemp,” she answered.
“Do you have any training in any of the following areas? Agriculture, Auto Repair, Construction, Education…” The woman rattled off a long list of skills, of which Nicole had none. Before the zombie apocalypse, she had been an actuary at an investment bank. She could navigate financial risk as well as anyone she had ever known, and she had been compensated nicely for that ability. That skill was obsolete now. Mechanics and nurses, farmers and soldiers – these were the people the fleet needed. There wasn’t any finance, there wasn’t any commerce, and there weren’t any stocks, bonds, or mutual funds. For the first time in her life, she realized that she was unskilled. A decade of experience in finance had left her unprepared for this new world.
The woman reached into a box by her feet and pulled out a circular white button. It looked like something someone might wear to express a clever saying or their allegiance to a political party. She frowned as she filled out a name tag, snapped it into the pin, and handed it to Nicole. Nicole looked around at the other inhabitants of cube city. Some had green, red or blue pins. A few wore yellow or orange pins, but the vast majority of the pins were white.