03 Deluge of the Dead (12 page)

“Turn on the lights and siren,” she ordered. The driver complied and it had an immediate effect on the zombies.  Those who had been following the bulldozer turned back towards the stationary Bearcat, while the rest became even more agitated, pounding on the armored car and moaning loud enough to be heard over the wailing siren.  Helen took a quick look out each of the bulletproof windows. Seemingly satisfied with what little she could see past the undead bodies pressed against them, she sat back on the bench seat, leaned back and pulled her tinted helmet visor down over her eyes.

“Are you really going to take a nap?” asked an incredulous Special-Agent-In-Charge Corrigan.

She lifted the visor slightly to reply, “Better to catch a few Zs in here than to dwell on how many are out there. Wake me in ten.”  Every other member of the HRT laughed at that remark. Ralph just shook his head and stared through the bulletproof glass at the ever growing horde that completely surrounded and literally engulfed the Bearcat, wondering how Helen could think of sleeping in the middle of a nightmare.

*****

Scag’s gang was excited about his plan to move into the port during the storm. So were the other survivors in the aquarium. Of course Scag hadn’t informed them about the part of the plan where they became zombie bait. That was only discussed with his most trusted gang members. The rest of the survivors were overjoyed at the prospect of joining the Flotilla and escaping the torment and abuse they had suffered at the hands of the Surf Nazis. Only a few seemed to think it was too good to be true and they only dared share those concerns in whispers. That didn’t bother Scag. Nothing they said or did would matter soon. He called his top lieutenants upstairs and detailed his secret plan.

“We’ll get all the useless and untrustworthy fucks together in the main lobby. Then Butch, Eddy and Chopper will close and lock the doors into the rest of the Aquarium,” Scag explained. “We’ll tell the idiots that we’re all leaving out the front doors, but we’re not. Those big glass doors open onto the covered atrium out front and that’s where a lot of zombies will gather to get out of the rain. Those people will all be trapped in the lobby, drawing all the zombies to the front doors, while the rest of us go out the back.”

“Sounds good,” said Eddy. “So we just leave them locked up in the lobby? What if they break into the rest of the building and follow us out the back?”

“You let me worry about that,” Scag said with an evil grin.  “Just make sure the whole gang is ready to go when it starts raining. Then herd to rest of the people into the lobby when I give the word.”

“What about the bitches we picked up on the road before we got here? Can we bring them with us?” asked Butch.

“No,” said Scag in a stern voice. “We can’t trust those whores. They only came with us to save their own skins. Besides, we killed some of their husbands and boyfriends too. They’d squeal us out the second we get into the safe haven. The only bitches we bring with us are the old ladies that were with us before all this shit started. But don’t worry, there’ll be plenty of pussy for all of us soon enough. You’ll see.”   

Scag refused to tell them any more about his overall plan yet. He knew they would do whatever he told them to do when the time came. It never would have occurred to him that someone else should know the full plan in case something happened to him. Scag didn’t give a shit about what happened to anyone else after he died anyway.

*****

Chapter 4

To: Sovereign Spirit

Oh shit, this sucks… Please, help me. I’ve turned into one big trembling ball of fear. I’ve never imagined a person could be so scared. I’ve been reading zombie books for years, craving for more, MORE, gore and juice. I loved action-packed stories with tough and clever heroes slashing and killing zoms by the dozen. Much good this did for me in the face of the real outbreak… I can’t even force myself to move to the edge of the roof to check whether the boats parked at the nearby Pier 23 of San Francisco Bay are still there. I know they could bring me to safety, but to survive you need guts and my guts are twisted like the Gordian knot. Where are you Ben, Shaun, Alice …. when I need you? I can’t hear you! CAN’T HEAR YOU! Just the screams of mutilated people, hungry moaning, and broken glass. You would never believe the sound that ten windows smashed simultaneously make. Fuck! I always thought reading books like Max Brook’s “The Zombie Survival Guide” was a complete waste of time. Why should I want to practically prepare to for something that would never ever happen in reality? And yet this is happening right here right now. I’m sitting next to the chimney writing this e-mail on my Netbook and I already feel like a fading postcard from the civilization bygone. They say that we know ourselves only to the extent we have been tested. Well, I’ve probably failed this one.
Mariusz Szymczak

Scott convened the meeting in the conference room on the Sky Deck. Those in attendance could tell as soon as they entered the room that something was wrong. Scott made no pretense of joviality or false hope. The time he had spent with Michelle and Billy had left him emotionally drained, almost numb to his fate. He sat silently with his head bowed at the head of the table, causing the others to wait expectantly until everyone had arrived. Then Scott stood up to address them.

“As you know, this is a crucial day for all of us and for any other survivors in the region. What most of you don’t know yet is that this will also be the last day that I can serve as leader of the Flotilla.” This statement was met with looks and sounds of shocked disagreement. “The decision is out of my hands,” Scott said bluntly. “You see, this morning I was bitten by a zombie and there is virtually no doubt that I am now infected.” Shock turned to horror on the faces of everyone in the room who wasn’t already aware of Scott’s condition.

“How is that possible?” asked an incredulous George Hammer. “You didn’t even leave the ship today, did you?”

“Never mind the how of it for now,” Scott continued. “I’ve called you all here to determine the transfer of command and disposition of my estate. You’ll all have plenty of time to discuss other things when I’m gone, including how to make sure something like this never happens again.”  The silence in the room was deep and profound. It stretched out as Scott gathered his thoughts and turned to gesture to a man seated in a chair against the wall behind him. “Benjamin here is an attorney and old friend. I’ve asked him to record this meeting and write up the pertinent parts into my last will and testament. And I’m going to ask all of you to witness and abide by it.” The silence was punctuated by unanimous and respectful nods.

“First, almost all of my estate and property will go to my wife Michelle and my son Billy Allen. That includes this ship and everything belonging to me aboard her, unless specified otherwise during this meeting. They will also inherit our family estate in Malibu and I’m hoping that some of you will help them establish a safe haven there when conditions permit.” He paused and was met by further nods. Scott made a point of making eye contact with some of his closest friends, including Mick and Mark, pleased to see their commitment but saddened by their obvious grief.

“As for the
Sovereign Spirit
,” Scott continued. “Captain Fisher will remain captain of this ship, seeking advice and consent from my wife and son, along with some advisers that I will name shortly, as to the ship’s missions and disposition.  In other words, if things get bad enough that they decide it’s time to give up here and head for a deserted island, Jordy, I’m counting on you to get them there and prevent any other group from taking over this ship. The same agreement we made when the navy wanted to confiscate her will remain in effect. Are we clear on that?”

“Yes, sir,” replied Fisher without hesitation. He’d had an hour to come to grips with the situation and had expected something like this. He hoped it would never come to that, but he had already decided that his allegiance would be to the ship and Scott’s family.

“And that brings us to the rest of the Flotilla and the Terminal Island Safe Haven,” Scott said. “I should probably transfer full command into the hands of Captain McCloud and the Coast Guard.”  He paused to gauge McCloud’s reaction and confirmed his suspicion that it wasn’t something the man was looking forward to. “On the other hand,” Scott continued. “Our authorization letter from DHS names both myself and Captain Fisher, for whatever that’s worth. Captain McCloud may also have other demands and missions placed on his ship, so you can’t count on him being here full-time. And you better believe that setting up and running this place will be more than a full-time job, especially if the population swells the way we hope it will after the rescue operations. I think we have a damned good plan to set up a viable safe haven here for the Flotilla and other refugees, but it’s going to take a lot of hard work for you to organize it properly.” Scott paused again to look around the room. The shock of his announcement seemed to be giving way to apprehension as they realized the magnitude of the challenges they faced and the fact that Scott would not be calling the shots much longer.

“I’m going to make a recommendation that I had already considered, but wasn’t in any hurry to suggest until now,” Scott said. “I think that command of the Flotilla and governance of the Safe Haven should be transferred to a Captains’ Council. If you let me set it up now, it will be composed of Captain Fisher, Captain McCloud, Captains Volstock and Knight of the Sea Launch ships, Captain Crenshaw of the
Cape Inscription,
if he returns, and Captain Kim of the
Traveling Trader,
as well as the captains of the five cruise ships that just arrived. You see, I never intended to make this a dictatorship and, in my opinion, ships’ captains are the best prepared to make command decisions in the type of crisis situations you are likely to face.”

Scott was pleased to see general agreement with his idea and decided to push it the rest of the way. “I’d also like to appoint four more men and a woman to the Captains’ Council,” Scott said.  “Mr. Hammer due to his position as Harbor Master and Mr. Kroeker, as nominal captain of the
Queen Mary
, deserve to be included. Sergeant Major O’Hara also deserves a council seat on behalf of the Marines and as a professional warrior.” There was another round of nods before Scott continued, “I’d also like Michelle, as owner of the
Sovereign Spirit,
to take the seat I had hoped to fill, at least until the rest of the council thinks Billy is up to the task.” Again there was little or no hesitation to agree among those present. “And finally,” Scott paused. “Although I only had a chance to know him briefly, I’ve been very impressed with our newest arrival, Mr. Carl Stiller.”

This took Carl completely by surprise. He had been silently mourning the fate of his new friend and acknowledged leader, the Commodore, and was not in the least prepared to be the focus of attention. Nor was he eager to be thrust into another position of responsibility. Carl started to protest, but Scott waved him to silence and spoke over any objection.

“You’re a damned good leader, Carl,” said Scott. “You’re smart, educated, inventive, and by all accounts courageous. You pulled a group of survivors together, devised the best defense so far against zombies, improvised a zombie proof convoy, and led your people here to join us through a city that is totally overrun. You earned the respect of your followers and within a day of arriving here you have earned our respect too. Moreover, most of the survivors that make it to this safe haven by land during the storm will owe their lives to you. It was your plan to open the roads and you’ve been out there risking your life all morning to do it. Those refugees will need a hero to follow and you, my friend, fit the bill perfectly. So as one of my last official acts as Commodore, I’m nominating you to represent safe haven refugees on the Captains’ Council.” 

Carl was speechless, especially when many of the others gathered around the table began clapping politely and expressing agreement. Most of them had never met Carl, but Scott had just given him a recommendation they couldn’t ignore. O’Hara was the one who started clapping first, which added to Carl’s esteem in the eyes of the rest. In fact, the brief applause sparked by the Sergeant Major also had the effect of raising the spirits of most of those present from the depths they had fallen too.

“You can’t say no to that, lad,” commented O’Hara. “It’s a last request.” This brought silence back to the room, but the gesture had its intended effect. Carl nodded silently as he met Scott’s eyes. O’Hara’s heart swelled with pride for Carl, even as it went out to Scott. If the hardened Marine wouldn’t have time to help Scott become a true leader of men, at least he had found a worthy replacement in Carl.

“Fine then,” said Scott. “Can I see a show of hands in favor of establishing a Captains’ Council as I have described it to govern the Flotilla and its safe havens for the duration of this crisis?” He paused and measured the reaction. “Please record that the vote was unanimously in favor of the resolution to create the Captains’ Council on this 14
^th
day of April, 2012, the fourteenth day of the apocalypse. May God guide their course. So say we all.”

Everyone repeated, “So say we all,” without any prompting.

“Thank you,” said Scott with visible relief. “Now I just want to resolve a couple more personal issues concerning my family and property before we all get back to work. As I said before, Michelle and Billy are my sole heirs. Unfortunately, they won’t be able to rely on things like banks, financial advisors, lawyers and courts to protect their interests in this post apocalyptic world. So I want to ask all of you to watch over them after I’m gone.” Everyone murmured assurances and Scott nodded his appreciation.

“Thank you,” he said again. “But I’m going to ask even more from some of you. Captain Fisher has already made a commitment to my family regarding ownership of the
Sovereign Spirit
. Now I’m going to name two additional guardians for my family and their property. Of course Michelle and Billy are both competent adults capable of managing their own assets, but I’m not talking about that type of legal guardian. I want to leave them some real
Guardians
– with a capitol G – trusted friends who will swear to protect and defend my family as much as I would.”