by Mark Rivett
His strength pooling red on the floor beneath him, Carl was fighting against the monsters to buy time for Pam, Miguel, and the civilians. “Go! Please Go! Leave me! Please go now!” He screamed madly.
Miguel heard himself shout an order to the civilians behind him, “Go!”
“Go!” He backed away from Carl’s struggle, gripped Pam by the shoulder, and yanked her toward the stairs.
“Leave me! Run!” Carl’s orders rang through the stairwell over the moans and snarls of the raging undead.
Miguel looked down at his friend as he began to ascend the stairs. Beyond the pain and fury in Carl’s eyes, there was something else – a resolve, a refusal to lose another person under his command. He was prepared to die here, to keep the undead from pursuing his friends, but he could not keep up the struggle forever.
“Carl!” Pam sobbed as she turned away from her commander.
“Carl!” Miguel fought back tears as he pulled himself up the stairs on his back. His eyes locked on his friend. Carl was fighting like a wild beast. He was buried under a writhing swarm of undead in a growing puddle of his own blood.
“Go! Get to the Humvees! Get out of here! Go!” Carl gasped.
Chapter 36
“Help him!” Pam ordered.
A couple of civilians supported Miguel by the shoulders, and they helped him to ascend the stairs. Carl’s shouting from below had ceased. It was replaced by screams and gunfire from the open portal leading to the flight deck above.
“And you stay next to me!” Pam grabbed Henry by the arm and led the group up the stairs.
Bright white ship lights cast long black shadows on the enormous deck. Sporadic muzzle flashes cut through the darkness – the accompanying noise echoed for miles. Cries of the injured and dying joined the chorus of moans that carried over the cool ocean air.
Near the front of the ship, two blood-covered marines stood atop a jet fighter. They protected a family of four that was huddled in terror on the plane’s wing. Two dozen walking corpses reached for them hungrily, as they sat just out of reach. Occasionally, one would manage to climb atop the plane, only to be knocked off the aircraft by the marines. They tumbled to the ground with a thud before regaining their feet and resuming their attack.
Henry thought of the story of Sisyphus, damned forever to roll a boulder up a hill. Just like the boulder, the zombies were repeatedly cast down from the summit. While the undead could play this game for eternity, however, the marines could not. They, and the family they protected, would eventually be overwhelmed.
At the rear of the flight deck, a collection of over a dozen civilians sat huddled inside a semicircular barricade. Munitions carts, clothes, guns, and chairs, formed a makeshift and waist-high perimeter around the group. Its rear faced the empty blackness of the ocean beyond the aft edge of the ship. It was assailed by a raving mob of howling monsters. A handful of soldiers and civilians fought with blades and clubs to defend those behind them. Bodies that fell became part of the barricade.
Countless bodies littered the deck. Some moaned mindlessly. Others cried in anguish at the pain of their mortal wounds, but most lay still. A naval officer sat lazily against a nearby wall. He cast a lethargic gaze on the group as they emerged from the ship. If not for the pool of blood beneath him and the gruesome wound on his leg, he would have appeared drunk. Several bodies sat piled around him, and he pointed his pistol clumsily at Pam…unsure if she were friend or foe. He looked at her for a few seconds, smiled an awkward smile, and lowered his weapon. He rested his head against the wall. He was guarding the door – attempting to prevent any more ghouls from reaching the flight deck. His effort had cost him, but he continued doing his duty even though his life was coming to an end.
“Get to the Hummers!” Miguel shouted, gesturing to the vehicles that were strapped to the port side of the ship.
The ragtag group dashed across the deck toward the Humvees. Pam flung open a passenger side door and began flinging the cargo on the deck.
“Everyone! Start unloading.” Miguel noticed a handful of ghouls breaking off from the fighter jet and beginning to wander curiously toward them.
“Is the Navy really going to break quarantine?” Henry was dumbfounded. He helped Miguel to the driver’s side of the vehicle. “For me?”
“Hurry! Get inside!” Pam threw Renee and Roger into the back seat. When there looked to be enough space, the civilians piled into the Humvee with Kelly and Henry. Miguel slid into the driver’s seat, and Pam slammed the passenger front door. Snarling undead faces instantly pressed up against the windows. With a sigh of relief, Pam slid out her laptop and put on her headset. “Control, this is Convoy 19. We have the VIP’s in car four. Get us the hell out of here!”
“Copy that, Convoy 19. Air transport inbound,” a voice came back.
Kelly watched as a large group of ghouls poured onto the landing deck from the flight tower. The wounded soldier who had been guarding the exit fired his pistol three more times…before turning the gun on himself. Kelly averted her eyes to watch the marines fighting atop the fighter jet.
“Oh my God” Henry gave voice to Kelly’s thoughts as they watched one of the soldiers lose his footing, slip, and tumble into the ravenous hordes below. The monsters descended upon him like a pack of wild dogs. The lone marine who remained, drew his pistol, took careful aim at his comrade below, and fired.
“We can’t leave these people!” Kelly exclaimed.
The sound of approaching helicopter rose in the distance. Two bright searchlights hovered in the blackness beyond the living nightmare of the U.S.S. Boxer.
Miguel nodded. “They’re going to pick up this car and carry us to the Reagan. Everyone else is on their own.”
“Start up the car,” Kelly instructed.
Miguel looked back at her, confused.
“Start up the fucking car!” Kelly repeated. “Draw the ghouls away from the other four Hummers. Go get the people on that jet and behind that barricade and whoever else you can. We’ll empty the rest of the cars and load everyone up.”
“They won’t take us,” Pam replied. “They only want Dr. Damico. The rest of us are just tag-alongs.”
“They’ll take us.” Henry shot back, his gaze meeting his wife’s confidently. “I’m not going anywhere until these vehicles are full.”
Miguel looked at Pam, and Pam looked at Miguel.
“Fuck it.” Miguel started up the vehicle and turned on the headlights. “This is for Carl.”
“For Carl,” Pam nodded.
“What’s going on down there? Why is that vehicle running?” Captain Sheridan’s voice came through the communications network. He was, no doubt, looking on from the Chinook helicopter above and assessing the situation.
Pam responded to Captain Sheridan. “Change of plans, sir…stand by.”
“Let me do one quick pass to pull the WDs away from the Hummers. I’ll drop you off on the return trip.” Miguel buckled himself in.
The Humvee lurched forward, slammed into a walking corpse, and crushed it beneath its bulk. The vehicle’s tires squealed as it sped around in a tight loop…taking out ghouls as it went. He repeated the maneuver again, taking out even more undead. After a third rotation, the immediate area was clear. Miguel pulled the vehicle back up to where the remaining Humvees were parked. The doors flung open and Kelly jumped out. Henry moved to follow when Pam grabbed him by the arm.
“No! You stay with Miguel.” Pam then stepped out of the vehicle.
Henry hesitated. Everything in him wanted to stay with his wife, to help her unload the remaining vehicles and usher other survivors to safety…but he forced himself to stop and heed Pam’s order. Without him, no one was getting off this ship. If anything happened to him, everyone—including his wife—would be doomed.
“I’ll be okay…” Kelly looked lovingly into her husband’s eyes. “Stay here, Henry.”
Henry nodded fearfully.
“Here!” Pam flung off her headset and handed her l
aptop to Henry. “Keep Command in the loop.”
Miguel floored the gas before Henry could even close the Humvee door. He slammed into another wandering zombie before aligning the vehicle with the mob that surrounded the fighter jet. Henry kept his gaze locked on Kelly as she turned toward the task of emptying the other Humvees with Pam.
“What the fuck are you up to?” Captain Sheridan’s voice boomed over the communications network. “Pull over! NOW!”
“Um… this is Dr. Henry Damico…” Henry answered. “We’re going to try to save some people.”
Miguel pulled his vehicle up to the wing of the fighter jet and rolled the window down a crack. “Come on! We’re getting out of here!”
“We can’t take anyone except you and the VIPs! We can’t risk infection spreading to the Reagan.” Captain Sheridan shouted impotently. “Put Officer Harvey on!”
“Officer Harvey’s dead,” Henry answered. Henry cast a furtive glance at Miguel as the last of the survivors jumped atop the Humvee.
Captain Sheridan did not respond, and silence fell over the network.
“Captain… You’ve got doctors aboard the Reagan, right?” Henry mustered his most authoritative tone.
Captain Sheridan, still shocked by the news of Carl’s demise, took a few moments before he answered. “Yes…”
Miguel returned to Kelly and Pam with his civilian cargo, dropped them off, and peeled away toward the aft barricade. He swerved into wandering corpses as he drove, and their bodies thudded off the front of the vehicle. The undead packs were dense, but nowhere near as dense as the writhing walls of flesh-eating corpses that roamed San Diego. This vehicle had survived much worse.
“Have the DDC doctors ready to screen the Humvee occupants as they land on the Reagan flight deck. I’ll help… but I am not going anywhere until every last Humvee is loaded up with as many survivors as possible and taken off this ship.” Henry hoped his hypocrisy would be forgiven in the court of martial law. He had ordered that infected ships be quarantined – mandated that countless soldiers and civilians be sentenced to death, because it was too risky to help them. Now, because he was important, because the military needed him to continue doing his job, he had the power to break that mandate at will.
‘Is this how it starts?’ he wondered, thinking back to the letter written by the former Secretary of Health and Human Services. That letter had so plainly illustrated the incompetence and corruption of leadership.
“No, sir. There are protocols in place to protect the fleet. No exceptions!” Sheridan answered back. “Now pull over!”
“You made exceptions for me!” Henry replied.
The communications system was silent, and for a moment, Henry was struck by the terrifying possibility that he had overplayed his hand. He worried that he, his wife, and everyone aboard the Boxer would be abandoned after all. A few seconds passed, and the helicopters slowly hovered into place above the lead Humvee that was loaded with civilians. The Chinook was outfitted with a mounted machine gun, and it began to cover the area. A long hook descended to the deck from the aircraft and lifted the vehicle into the air.
“Thanks, Captain.” Henry nodded gratefully.
Miguel and Henry made one trip after another across the deck of the U.S.S. Boxer. They gathered civilians and soldiers from the barricade, and they returned them to the Humvees. When additional survivors emerged from the nightmarish innards of the Boxer, they retrieved them. When a fresh pack of raging ghouls burst from the flight tower, they ran it down. One by one, the Humvees were filled with marines, sailors, men, women, and children. They had fought their way through hell for one final chance at survival. Against all odds, they had made it.
By the time Miguel’s Humvee was all that remained, the sky shone faintly red with dawn. The deck was piled high with corpses and stained red with gore. A soul-crushing stillness had come over the vessel. The dead and the living had destroyed each other, leaving only an empty floating ghost ship.
Kelly and Pam, filthy and exhausted, slipped quietly into the protection of the armored vehicle as they watched their helicopter ride approach. Henry slid his arm around his wife, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
“Think Cap’s still gonna want to give us a medal after this?” Pam asked Miguel.
“It’s just a medal,” Miguel answered. “We saved a lot of lives…”
“I wish Carl could have been here,” Pam muttered.
“So do I.” Miguel stared blankly at the flight tower exit. Carl’s animated corpse had not emerged – he had looked for it. There had been a part of him that imagined Carl emerging victoriously from the Boxer wounded, but alive. He knew that was impossible and that all he could have hoped for was the opportunity to put Carl to rest.
That opportunity never came.
The vehicle groaned as it rose into the air under the power of the helicopter. The Boxer—and the hell that had engulfed her—began to shrink away.
Pam, Miguel, Kelly, and Henry sat in silence…staring out over the morning ocean. The fleet was still. It floated peacefully on the gentle tide in the orange light of dawn.
Chapter 37
The U.S.S. Ronald Reagan was filled to capacity with military personnel and civilian refugees. While sailors went about the business of crewing an aircraft carrier, soldiers collected in groups for mission briefings. Civilians meandered through gray corridors and in makeshift refugee camps. The atmosphere was eerily reminiscent of the U.S.S. Boxer.
To Miguel and Pam, their new home felt cold and empty.
After finding their quarters, they had wasted no time in locating one another. They then took to exploring the Reagan with vigilance. They had made the mistake of letting their guard down once, and they would not make that mistake a second time. Being familiar with the interior of this floating city would be essential in a crisis. The Reagan was the heart of the fleet, and it seemed unassailable…but so had the Boxer.
Few words passed between Pam and Miguel while they explored the bowels of the ship. They had little to say, and nothing they could do could fill the absence left by Carl. They could only attempt to appease the nagging sense at the back of their minds that danger lurked just out of sight…and distract themselves from the sorrow that weighed upon their shoulders.
When they were confronted by a door labeled “Chapel,” they had felt compelled to enter. Pam turned the handle to the hatch, opened the door, and she and Miguel stepped inside.
“What the…” Miguel took in the image of a small wood-paneled space covered with black graffiti. It appeared that every inch of the room – walls, floor, ceiling, and even pews – was defaced with black marker. Ornamental insets designed to resemble stained glass windows were scrawled with ink.
“Who would do such a thing?” Pam was not particularly spiritual, but the disrespect to a place of worship felt wrong. She could understand people’s anger, but it took intense dedication and a great deal of time to deface the chapel so thoroughly.
“It will take days to clean this.” Miguel had not practiced Catholicism in quite some time, but he too was disturbed by the state of the chapel.
“It’s not what you think.” A familiar voice interrupted Pam and Miguel.
The two soldiers turned to Captain Sheridan who stood in the chapel doorway.
“Yes, sir.” Pam and Miguel snapped to salute their commander.
Sheridan saluted back, and then he resumed a relaxed posture. “Look at the writing.”
Miguel crouched to get a closer look at some of the writing on the floor.
Pam walked over to a nearby wall and began mouthing what she read. “Audrey Laurent – wife, sister, mother. Private David Read. Karen Monaghan – saved my ass a hundred times. Officer Simon Futato – beloved father… names?”
“Just names,” Miguel confirmed.
Captain Sheridan stepped into the chapel and closed the door behind him. “Just names, and some words to remember.”
“The dead.” Pam came to the conclusion. �
�These are the names of the dead.”
Sheridan nodded. “Soldiers, civilians… I’ve come to understand that people have been coming here since the beginning of the apocalypse and memorializing their loved ones. The candles have run out. The flowers are all gone. Now, people just find a spot and write a name down.”
Miguel was filled with a newfound reverence for the chapel around him. “There must be thousands…”
“Tens of thousands,” Sheridan interrupted. “When the chapel runs out of space, the names will overflow into the hallway outside. When I found this place, I considered what it would take to record every name in here and have a plaque made. I realized quickly that the notion was absurd.”
“It would take years.” Pam ran her fingers over the names as she read them.
“Cap…” Miguel snapped out of his daze first. “It was my suggestion that we break quarantine and rescue civilians from the Boxer. Specialist Grace was just following my orders.”
“No, sir!” Pam whirled around to face Miguel and Captain Sheridan. “I assume full responsibility for my insubordination. I felt that we were acting in the accordance with the wishes of Officer Harvey and accept all consequences of my actions.”
Captain Sheridan sighed. “I’m not here to punish you or lecture you on insubordination, soldiers.”
Pam and Miguel exchanged a glance before Miguel spoke. “What’s next, sir?”
“I’m not sure.” Sheridan reached inside his breast pocket and retrieved a pen and a wrinkled piece of paper. “It will take a few days to reassign everyone from the mainland to new duties. Enjoy the time off while you have it.”
Pam and Miguel did not know how to respond. Being left with no responsibilities, all they could do was endure their grief. Being reassigned immediately was almost preferable.
Captain Sheridan unfolded the paper he had taken from his pocket and examined it with a sorrowful look. He laid the paper down on a pew and began writing.