by Mark Tufo
Harry just stared at Derrick for a moment with a look of pure amazement. “Dude, this is fantastic! Now all we need is more weapons and a way to transport it all. I have an idea but I don’t think we’ll find what I have in mind here.”
“Well, now that you mention it, there is more,” Derrick replied, smiling. “The Rook and I found twelve of the ARs in the armory and have already taken them down to the garage. We were on our way back up to start taking boxes of the ammo down when we ran into you.”
“Okay,” Harry said, “that’s great. Do you know where they parked one of the Bearcats? If we could get our hands on one of those, we’d be golden.”
Derrick cocked his head to the side slightly, smiled and said, “Well, if a brand new right-out-of-the-box BCRC will work for ya, there’s one parked in the garage right now. Probably still has that ‘new car’ smell.”
Harry was astonished. “When did the department get a Riot Bear? More interesting question, why did the department get a Riot Bear?”
The BearCat Riot Control Vehicle is designed mostly for international police forces operating in hostile urban environments. The BCRC is equipped with a heavy-duty hydraulic forward-facing V-shaped ram, capable of moving cars, barriers, and other debris. That also included making its way through crowds of people. With a ten-person seating capacity, two in the front and eight in the back, along with equipment storage for each of those people, this vehicle would be perfect for moving around a city full of zombies. Especially with all the ballistic glass and body protection these vehicles came with. God only knew why the police department bureaucrats felt as though a vehicle like that was needed in San Francisco. Maybe they thought it would come in handy during the monthly bicyclists Critical Mass or the annual Pride Parade.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Harry continued. “I don’t understand why they would spend close to a half million dollars on something like that, but they have unknowingly helped us a great deal. Now if we can find the keys …” Harry did not finish as Derrick raised his left hand and jingled a small set of keys.
“Okay Harry, have any more questions?” Derrick laughed. Harry could only smile in response.
“You’re the man, Derry,” Harry said absently as he suddenly walked toward the door leading out of the armory. Something had occurred to him that he should have thought of the moment he entered the station.
“If you guys can start loading up the Bear, I’ll help you in a few minutes,” Harry said to both men, continuing to quickly make his way into the hallway and turning left toward the station’s dispatch room. “I just realized that since the generators are still operating we might be able to use the radios! I need to check it out.”
Derrick had followed Harry to the door at his sudden departure from the room and shouted to Harry’s retreating back, “Great idea, but what do you think we should take?”
Turning his head slightly so Derrick could hear him, as he continued down the hall at a fast pace Harry said loudly, “We take it all! Everything not nailed down. Take all the ammo, the equipment, shields, flash bangs, and anything else we can find and will fit in that vehicle.”
“Okay,” Derrick replied a bit dubiously. He did not fully understand why Harry would want that much ammo and equipment, but shrugged a shoulder in acceptance. “Guess he knows what he’s doing,” he said, turning to Frank. “Grab that dolly and let’s get moving, Rook.”
16
Harry entered the dispatch center that housed the state-of-the-art communications equipment for the station. Suspended from the ceiling were two large LCD screens that he knew normally would have contained vital information on car locations and their status, pending calls at a glance in order of priority, and other pertinent information – if Dispatch had been operational. Now the screens were just a bright solid blue, but that at least told Harry there was, in fact, power to the center. Walking over to a desk, which looked more like something NASA used in their Mission Control, he gazed down, taking in the vast controls. Thank God I’ve operated this stuff before, he thought.
Harry had pulled many shifts in dispatch as a Reserve assignment, and had received basic training on the operation of the communications equipment. Although San Francisco had a multi-million-dollar 911 Emergency Communications Center, each district station could dispatch and track routine calls – although there really was no such thing as a routine call for a cop, and Harry knew full well a “routine” call could become a full alert SWAT call out within minutes. But the general idea of the station dispatch was to free up the understaffed 911 Center to handle imminent life-threatening calls for police or medical aid.
All the equipment seemed to be powered up and operational. Harry picked up the earpiece with the thin boom mic from the desk and attached it to his left ear. He then sat down in front of the communications monitor and typed in his access code on the keyboard. The system could not be used until the operator was signed on, thus allowing it to track all dispatches coming in and going out by that operator. Harry’s ID was accepted, giving him full access to the system.
Reaching up and to the right of the monitor, he then activated several switches to engage his earpiece and to select the appropriate frequency he wished to transmit over. Harry activated the button labeled “Citywide Broadcast”, allowing him to be heard by anyone within any of the police, fire, or emergency city services departments who still had access to a radio.
Depressing the in line button on the cord attached to the earpiece which would activate the boom mic, he said, “Three Edward Six at Central Station, any unit please respond.” Having stated his department unit call sign along with his current location, he waited for a few moments. Only silence met his first call. “Three Edward Six to any unit, can anyone hear me?” Leaning back in the chair, frustrated, he glanced up to the button labeled “DEM”. The Department of Emergency Management was only fully staffed during catastrophic emergencies such as earthquakes or other severe citywide emergencies. “Guess they will have to add zombies to the list,” he said sarcastically, knowing they had activated the DEM on April 1st when the infected first started to ravage the City.
Sitting back up in the chair, Harry reached up, activating the DEM switch, and repeated his call. “Three Edward Six at Central Station, does anyone copy?” After a few moments of silence, he was rewarded with a response!
“Hello? Can you hear me? Oh God, can you hear me?” came a female voice through Harry’s earpiece.
“Yes I can hear you!” Harry said excitedly. “This is Harold Lancaster. Who is this?”
“Sarah Shoemaker,” the voice responded. “I’m one of the mayor’s aides, and we’re at the DEM. We’ve been stuck here for several days and can’t seem to reach anyone. We really need help. Just a minute, Officer …”
A new voice came over the radio. “Officer, this is Mayor Jarvis. You need to get us out of here right now! I have to get back to City Hall!” Harry was preparing to respond when Derrick and Frank came into the room, so he flipped another switch to activate an external speaker so they could follow the conversation.
“We’re loaded up and good to go, Harry. We also found a few other things that will help,” Derrick said. Looking up, Harry nodded his reply, realizing he had been sitting at the console longer than he had thought.
Focusing back on the radio, Harry said, “Mr. Mayor, I’m glad that you’re alright. You need to remain at the DEM for now. I’m with two other officers and we are preparing to relocate to the marina to secure a couple of boats. Once that’s done we will try to reach your location, but for now you need to remain calm and keep everyone else the same way.”
Harry knew the DEM was one of several distribution centers for the city’s emergency supplies. As long as they kept the building secure, which they obviously had since he was talking to them, they would have food and water for weeks.
Once Harry released the transmit button, he was somewhat startled to hear the mayor screaming, all pretense at self-control gone. “What the fuck are
you talking about? We can’t stay here! Those things are pounding on every goddamn door to the building. Now you listen to me Officer, I gave you a direct order to pick us up and I mean right now! You are an employee of this fair city, and being the Mayor you work for me, so I expect to see you as soon as you can get your ass moving! There are also several board supervisors here so if you want to keep your fucking job I’d strongly urge you to follow those instructions! Oh, and if you’re unclear, please understand those are orders and not a request! Do I make myself clear?”
Mayor Edgar Jarvis was a career politician who had served in several elected positions in the city throughout his career, finally being appointed interim mayor after the position had been vacated due to the then-mayor winning a state government election and moving to Sacramento. Interim Mayor Jarvis had said he would only serve out the year remaining before the next election and that he would then step down. Many had listened to that hype and knew it for what it was.
This had been the position Jarvis coveted for years, and everyone knew he would not give it up easily. Sure enough, ignoring his initial statements pertaining to not running for the office in the regular election, Jarvis submitted his name, and, with the help of his many big business political allies, won by a very narrow margin. Unfortunately, Edgar Jarvis tended to bend whichever way the political wind happened to be blowing, so it was generally felt his agenda was anything but for the good of the City. The already out-of-control fiscal deficit the City had been in during his year as interim mayor continued to spiral out of control after his election.
Looking up at Derrick and Frank incredulously, Harry’s anger was clearly evident. After a couple of deep breaths, he activated the mic button and said condescendingly, “Now you listen to me, Mr. Mayor, there are only three of us here and we are on the other side of the City. Obviously we are having some serious issues with the citizenry of this fair city right now, so getting to your location would prove somewhat problematic, and for the record I most certainly do not work for you as I’m retired. Since I do not foresee pension benefits direct deposited into my bank account any time in the near future, that factoid definitely reinforces that particular point at least for me. I’m a Reserve, and in case that position eludes your understanding, you pompous ass, that means I volunteer my time, at my pleasure and the department’s, not yours! Now stay off the fucking radio and let me talk to one of your security detail!” Harry was referring to the police officers assigned as mayoral protection.
As soon as Harry released the transmit button he heard Jarvis still screaming. “Pompous ass? How dare you call me a pompous ass? And for your information, I placed my brave officers at the doors while they were being secured to prevent those poor unfortunates outside from gaining entrance into our facility. Unlike you they died doing their jobs! YOU’RE FIRED YOU ARROGANT SON OF A BITCH! Put one of those other officers on right now!” Jarvis’ voice had steadily risen until it was an almost unintelligible screech.
Angrily pulling the earpiece from his ear, Harry held it toward Derrick and Frank. “You heard what that piece of shit said? I’m fired!”
“Nope, not me, I don’t want to talk to that idiot,” Derrick said, backing up half a step from the console and shaking his hands in front of him.
The normally reserved and quiet Frank, looking at Harry, said with a confused expression on his face, “Does he know what the word volunteer actually means? Geez, that guy really is a dumbass!”
With that being said, the tension was instantly broken and both Harry and Derrick began to laugh. Not so much at what Frank had said, but how.
“What?” Frank responded to their laughter.
Derrick reached over and clapped Frank on the back and said, “You’re a rookie, kid, but no truer words have ever been spoken by one so young!” Frank cracked a small smile, but still did not seem to understand what was so funny. He genuinely thought Jarvis had lost his mind.
17
Sobering, Harry stood, leaning forward slightly and placing his hands on the top of the console desk. “Listen guys, Jarvis may be a twit but his bullshit just brought something home to me.
“You do realize I am in fact retired, right?” he said, looking first to Derrick then to Frank. “I really don’t hold any more authority than the average citizen now, and you both know that. Somebody will get this mess under control at some point, and I sure as hell don’t want either one of you to be in the shit because of me.” Looking to Derrick, Harry continued. “I really think you should take this, Derry. You’re the most senior officer on scene, so the responsibility really does fall to you. Besides, you of all people know I don’t play well with others when there’s too much bullshit involved. Right now I feel like I’m up to my ass in it.” Harry let out a deep sigh, then turned his back to the desk and leaned his butt onto the edge, crossing both arms across his chest. “I’m just getting too old for this shit.”
Derrick was silent for a moment, obviously in deep thought. He then turned toward Frank and said, “I’m not sure exactly what you may have heard about Harold Lancaster, but let me give you a little insight on the man,” speaking as if Harry were not in the room.
“This isn’t the time, Derry,” Harry began, but was immediately cut off.
Raising a hand toward Harry, but still looking directly at Frank, Derrick said, “Not finished here.
“As I started to say,” Derrick resumed, “not sure what you heard about Harold Lancaster, but you should know that he is among the most respected officers in the department. Not only by those who served with him but also by the folks we are all sworn to serve. Hell, I think even the bad guys he busted respected him! He has received so many departmental commendations that it would take a librarian to catalog them all. I don’t even want to try to count the times he has received a Medal of Valor. I know there were a half dozen Bronze, Silver, and at least four Gold medals pinned on him.
“One of those Gold medals was awarded for a little action he and a couple others carried out when there were hostages taken at the Ritz Carlton. One of those folks held hostage just happened to be the head of Her Majesty's Inspectorates of Constabulary. He was a seriously important British dignitary, who also happened to be attending an international law enforcement conference here in San Francisco. Harry would have you believe that he was just at the right place at the right time, just doing his job, and the other officers played a more vital role – as he said during the awards ceremony. What happened was they dressed as waiters, gained access through a side window in the basement, and worked their way up to the area where the hostages were held.
“But it was later revealed by the other officers who had gone in with him that day that Harry planned the whole action, spur of the moment, and actually took out four of the six bad guys himself before SWAT had even gotten the call out. Yes, it was a team action for sure, but Harold Lancaster led that team and because of their actions saved a room full of people.” Derrick took a breath and turned, looking directly at Harry, but continuing as if still talking to Frank.
“If he hadn’t turned down so many promotions over the years he would have been at least a captain, or hell, maybe even chief. But he thought if he promoted up he would lose what he loved the most in the department and would become what he liked the least. What he didn’t realize, Frank, is that by remaining a street cop he helped develop a whole new generation of caring, well-trained and professional police officers, men and women, by his example and leadership. Not to mention the countless citizens he touched on a daily basis that came to know and respect him deeply. He’s told me, and others, dozens of times over the years that he didn’t need strips of gold on his collar to do his job. His very clear gratification was just being a cop and doing the job that was his life’s love,” Derrick finished with another deep breath.
Then walking up to Harry, Derrick said, “Now you listen to me, Harry. I don’t give a rat’s ass what that ID you carry has stamped across it. Retired or not, you are the most senior officer on scen
e and you will take command of this little operation whether you like it or not. You served this city for two and a half decades, then came back to give more on your own dime. So, until a ‘bar’ or better shows up, you’re it. I, for one, would follow you through the streets of Hell, my friend, and if those streets happen to be full of zombies then so be it! Get over the ‘too old for this shit’ pity party you’re at and lay out what we’re doing here!” Derrick concluded, folding his massive arms across his chest, mimicking Harry’s current posture and giving him a defiant look.
“What the hell does that mean?” Frank asked. “A bar or better?”
Clearing a rather large lump in his throat, Harry said, “What my friend is trying to say, Frank, is that until someone with rank – a sergeant or lieutenant – is on scene, the senior officer remains in command of an incident.”
“Oh, never heard that term in the academy, but did hear it in a war movie once. But I believe the term was butter bar,” Frank said.
Derrick seemed a bit hurt that the wind under his speech had been taken away a bit. “Whatever, I know I heard somebody say that once on scene,” he said defensively.
Frank actually produced a full smile as he then turned to Harry. “I want you to know, Mr. Lancaster, that I couldn’t agree more with Officer Washington. I trust your experience and judgment explicitly and I also consider you senior officer on scene.”
Harry nodded solemnly then, taking a deep breath, he took charge. “Obviously with the weapons and ammo we have now, not to mention the Bearcat and a few other supplies, we could easily secure the marina. But I want you to know that once we get set up somewhere I’m coming back into the City to look for more survivors.”