03 Deluge of the Dead (20 page)

*****

The rain had washed almost all of the blood off of the white Suburban as Carl maneuvered it through the obstacle course that had been residential streets of Redondo Beach.  He was saddened by how few survivors had been rescued, but elated by every life that was saved. They came in ones and twos, sometimes entire families, walking out into the rain to flag down the convoy. The Panther fire truck blew its horn and ran its siren continuously, letting survivors know that rescue was at hand. Carl spotted plenty of zombies too, huddled under any shelter they could find, but none of them ventured out into the steady rain. His theory had been proven right. This storm was indeed a window of opportunity, a Godsend, to save those they could reach.

Carl was leading this convoy back to the Chevron refinery in El Segundo. It had only been yesterday that he led a convoy of survivors out of there, but a lot had changed in a day. For one thing, this drive was almost normal. It was raining, which was rare in Southern California, but the old song was wrong. It did rain here. Thank God.

Carl was following the reverse path he had taken on the way to the Safe Haven, simply because he knew there was a clear path of travel. It had been strange driving up the street where he had left Chuck. There were plenty of bodies lying about, but he didn’t slow to see if any of them were Chuck’s. Some things are better left alone. Driving through the car dealership and local airport where a horde of zombies had chased them yesterday was spooky. Not a zombie or living person in sight. The hospital next to the airport looked more abandoned then the rest of the buildings in the area, but Carl was certain that it held another horde of the undead. The horns and sirens of the convoy elicited no response from the living there.

 Driving up Sepulveda Boulevard was equally surreal. No survivors appeared, but there were clusters of the infected huddled under many awnings and overhangs. Some of them gestured aggressively towards the convoy, but did not venture out into the rain. As the convoy approached the turn that they taken the last time Karen sat up and looked ahead intently through the rain.

“There’s that other Target store up there,” Karen said “We couldn’t stop last time, but shouldn’t we check now. There might be people there.” Her voice held compassion that spoke louder than her words. He remembered their shared concern after rescuing people from one department store, only to drive by many stores like this one that might have sheltered other survivors.

“Yes,” Carl agreed. “I think that’s a good idea. It shouldn’t take too long.”  He passed through the intersection and turned into the shopping center parking lot. The buses and fire trucks followed.  Rain fell steadily, obscuring his view, and at first the area looked deserted. As they pulled towards the store, however, Carl discerned movement under the atrium and overhang in front of the entrance. Dozens of figures huddled and milled about outside the doors. They were all zombies, hiding from the rain. Carl let out a low whistle.

“Do think they’re just trying to stay dry? Or trying to get to people inside?” Karen asked.

“Something must have attracted them here before the rain started,” said Carl. “Looks like the doors are secured, or they’d all be inside. So I’d say there’s a good chance of survivors in there.”

“How do we find out, or get to them?” asked Gus from the back seat. “We can’t get through that crowd and I doubt we can get them to move out into the rain.”

“Let’s start by finding out if anyone is inside,” said Carl. He parked facing the entrance and lifted the microphone for the PA system. “Attention Target shoppers,” his voice boomed out. “If there are any survivors in the store, please signal through the windows.”  The interior of the store was dark, void of power, and it wasn’t possible to see movement inside, but a few seconds after Carl’s request a flashlight came on behind a window. The beam swept back and forth as someone waved it.

“We see you,” Carl replied. “Get ready to evacuate. We’ll try to find another exit that is clear of zombies. You’ll be safe from them once you get out in the rain.” Carl took his foot off the brake and drove to the corner of the building. There were several emergency exits. Most of them were under an overhang that sheltered more zombies, but one near the rear of the building was simply a recessed doorway with only three zombies tucked into it.

“That should work,” said Carl as he pulled up and put the Suburban in park. He opened the door, stepped out into the rain and walked around the front of the vehicle towards the three zombies sheltering in the doorway. They snarled and reached out, until their hands got wet and they pulled them back, only to reach out again and again. Carl didn’t hesitate to draw his Beretta 9mm and shoot each of them in the head at close range. He nudged them with his foot to make sure they were truly dead before using the butt of his pistol to pound on the metal door.

After a few moments the door opened outwards slightly until it bumped into one of the bodies and a voice called out, “Who are you? Is it safe to come out?”

“Yes. My name’s Carl and we’re here to evacuate you to a safe haven. Wait a moment while I move these bodies so you can open the door. Get everyone ready to move. I’ll have a bus pull up to this door. How many of you are in there?”

“I think there’s about twenty of us, but I haven’t really counted,” the man answered. “Is it really safe out there?”

“No problem, as long as it keeps raining,” said Carl. “What about supplies? Is there much in the way of food or survival gear left in the store?”

 “Lots of candy, snacks and sodas – that’s what we’ve been living on. A lot of camping gear, flashlights, batteries, blankets, pillows, it’s a whole department store, you know?”

“Okay,” said Carl. “Tell everyone to fill a shopping cart. Send each of them to a different section and just fill it with stuff that would be useful in a survival situation, like the stuff you just mentioned. Grab as much as you can. I’ll get some transportation over here for all of you and the stuff you collect. You’ve got five minutes. Go.”

“Yes sir!” replied the man and closed the door again. Carl went back to the SUV and radioed for a bus to come to the side entrance. He stipulated one with a wheel chair lift, so the shopping carts could be brought along without unloading them. If they were stopping to pick up survivors, they might as well get some things that would help them keep surviving.

Five minutes later they were loading up a city bus with people and carts full of supplies. Carl looked at each cart as it was loaded onto the bus. Most of the people had chosen well. There was a cart full of camping tents, another full of sleeping bags, one was piled high with down jackets, others were filled with candy, bags of chips, cases of soda, and the heaviest cart was full of all kinds of batteries. It was a good haul and these people would be bringing things that could help other survivors too. Carl stopped a teenager from loading the last cart though. It contained a boxed LCD TV/monitor, a BlueRay player, a laptop computer, an X-Box, and dozens of video games and DVDs. He even had a small portable generator.

“What’s all this?” Carl asked the young man sternly.

“Survival gear,” said the kid. “Just the essentials and I promise to share them. This stuff is important, man. It means a lot to some people.”    

Carl hesitated, but the kid did have a point. There would be a lot of work to do in the safe haven, but people could get bored and discouraged being cooped up like refugees. Having some forms of entertainment could boost morale considerably. “Okay, kid,” Carl said with a wink. “You’ll be the morale officer of this group, load it up.”

When they got back on the road Carl turned to retrace the path cleared to the refinery in El Segundo, but decided to make one more pit stop as he spotted an RV sales center. It wasn’t a large facility, just a corner lot, but he saw at least twenty RVs lining the parking lot in front of the office.  The used vehicles had price tags ranging from $20,000 to $80,000, but such formalities could be ignored now. As long as he could find the keys and they had enough gas to be driven a few miles, he was looking at the new homes of the survivors inside the buses.

“Gus,” said Carl. “Go tell the folks on the buses that we need drivers for these motor homes. Tell the firemen too. If you can’t find enough people who think they can handle it, tell some of the drivers in empty buses to leave them here and drive an RV.” There still four empty buses in the convoy, a sign of how few survivors they had been able to rescue so far.

“I’ll go find the keys,” Carl continued. “They must be in the office; at least I hope they are. These land yachts will be perfect for housing refugees at the refinery.”

“You got it, Carl,” said Gus as he hopped out into the rain.  

“I’m coming with you,” said Karen. Carl knew better than to argue with her. They drove into the lot and pulled up close to the office. “You know, I always wanted one of these RVs,” she said casually. “But never I never thought I’d be able afford to buy one, not to mention the gas to drive it anywhere!”

“That shouldn’t be a problem now,” said Carl as they got out of the SUV. “All you need are the keys to get one. Gas shouldn’t be a problem for a long time. But if you were planning on using it to travel, well, that might be problematic.” She only smiled in response.

The first sign of a potential problem was the unlocked door to the office. Carl had already drawn his handgun and Karen had her sword in hand before they tried it. The door swung inward smoothly and they both stepped back, expecting an attack that didn’t come. However, the office was a mess. Desks were overturned, papers everywhere, and what looked like a lot of dried blood splattered about.

“Hello?” Carl called out. “Anybody here?” There was no answer, so they moved cautiously into the ransacked office. A body, or what was left of a body, lay on the floor behind the debris. From what remained of the shredded clothing it had once been a man. He had been torn apart and most of the meat on his limbs and body was missing. Nevertheless, as they approached, the body shuddered and squirmed. The head had no eyes, no ears, no skin covering the exposed jaw and skull, yet it moved. Too many of its muscles were missing for it to do more than squirm, but that was just as repulsive and seemingly impossible as if it had stood up and attacked them.

“Gross,” said Karen as she stepped forward and drove the point of her sword down, through an empty eye socket, and twisted the blade deep into the brain. The body’s movement stopped immediately. “How could that thing still be alive?”

“I’m not sure it was,” Carl replied in a whisper.

“What do you mean?” Karen asked.

Carl just shook his head and said, “Let’s talk about it later.” He looked around the office again. A cabinet on the wall looked promising. Finding it locked, Carl took the ice axe from his belt and hacked twice. The wood cabinet cracked and swung open to reveal a rack from which hung numerous key rings. “This is it. Let’s go.”

A dozen volunteer drivers waited outside in the rain when they left the office. Carl passed out the keys and said, “The license plate numbers are on the tags. Find the one that matches your keys. Be careful when you approach and look under the vehicle to make sure there aren’t any zombies hiding there. Leave the door open and be ready to run back out until you check for zombies inside. Let us know right away if your RV doesn’t start, or the fuel is down to reserve levels. Otherwise, pull out in turn to join the convoy. Our destination is the Chevron refinery on Sepulveda Boulevard. Let’s roll.” 

*****

Terrance Hall and Floyd Smith were happy to be off the
Sovereign Spirit.
They might miss the luxuries offered by the big ship, but they had never really felt welcome aboard her. Both of them had been rescued from the Oceanside Casino when the ship’s helicopter had landed on the roof to save the girlfriend of a Marine. That had seemed like a miracle, especially when they saw how lucky they were to be on the ship. However, it seemed like they were always being given the grunt work, never really accepted into the fold.

At first they had been confined to the ship’s casino. Then they were questioned like suspects, before being released to share the ship with other passengers. However, they had been assigned a small cabin on the same level as the crew, below the vehicle deck and water line, instead of a stateroom on the upper deck – although they knew that some of those nicer rooms were empty. That was only one of the signs of discrimination that they spent their private time discussing. When the ship arrived in Long Beach they had been assigned to work crews, directed by George Hammer, and ordered to help move cargo containers to build barricades and distribute supplies. Sure, it was important work, but it started to feel like slave labor too.

Terrance was a big black man and Floyd was a bigger redneck. Both were high school dropouts, natural born bullies, and racists in their own way. But they were also friends and their common ground included a hatred of the rich and powerful people who always seemed to oppress them. Both of them had been part of the teams sent to bring boats back to the safe haven for use as refugee housing.  They were assigned to untie the boats from the docks and check them for zombies before they were towed back. They helped to gather dozens of pleasure craft and yachts, constantly discussing how they were the ones who deserved to own and live aboard the best of them.

It wasn’t until the rain began to fall in earnest that it was deemed safe to approach the big ferry tied up next to the shore in Rainbow Harbor. They jumped off of the tug boat onto the rain slick dock with no zombies in sight. Boarding the
Jet Cat Express
was almost too easy. The ramp was down and the door was open. Terrance and Floyd exchanged glances as they walked up to check the big boat for zombies. It was daunting to say the least. The fast ferry was built to carry over 300 passengers. Who knew how many of the undead might be hiding inside?

The entrance opened onto the main deck. The large passenger compartment appeared to be empty aside from dozens of rows of aircraft style seats. Floyd led the way with a shotgun at the ready. Terrance followed with a Colt .45 in hand, but he paused when he saw the cavernous space full of seats. He turned, raised the pistol and fired one round out the open door.