03 Deluge of the Dead (22 page)

As they were leaving the gate Carl was surprised to see another convoy approaching. He pulled over to wait for them at the gate. The new convoy was led by a strange looking armored car. Behind it were three buses. A large bulldozer trailed behind, moving more slowly. Carl stepped out into the rain and flagged down the armored car.  It pulled over and a bulletproof window slid open.

“Hello,” Carl said. “Welcome to the El Segundo safe haven. Where are you coming from and how many survivors?”

A woman answered him. “We’re from the FBI and we picked up about seventy people between here and Westwood. We also opened a route down El Segundo Boulevard from the 405. We thought we should drop these folks off here and go back out for more.”

“We just did the same thing. My name’s Carl Stiller and we’re going to make a sweep through El Segundo.” He gestured to the north.

“Special Agent Helen Slidell,” the woman replied and reached out to shake his hand. “I guess we’ll go south and check those neighborhoods. Where should we drop these people off?” Carl gave them directions to the motor pool and got back into the Suburban.  

“Who was that?” asked Karen.

“FBI agents,” Carl said. “They brought more survivors.” He looked up as the busses drove into the refinery and could see the faces of survivors, some of them children, looking back through the windows. “Let’s go save some more.”

***** 

Mick wanted to get back to the ship while there was still time to speak with Scott again, but his flight plan had been extended.  Captain Fisher asked him to make a pass over downtown LA, then northwest over the San Fernando Valley and back over the coastal mountains for a coastal fly-by.  He wanted the flight to be made before dark, but after the rain started falling, so they could see the effect of the storm on the zombies.  It was also important to get an idea of how many survivors would be coming out in the rain and looking for rescue.

At first Mick noted how empty the streets were as the Super Huey flew through the rain towards the city. Then he started to spot movement. It began with a line of vehicles, including fire trucks and buses, moving west on the Harbor Freeway. Mick circled them for a minute and was happy to see a group of five survivors run out onto an overpass and wave to the approaching convoy. It came to a halt as the people ran down the onramp to board one of the buses.

As he flew further into the city the rain continued and grew in intensity, but Mick started to see more small groups of people running down the middle of the streets. He knew they were people, not zombies, from the way they waved up to the helicopter, instead of reaching, and how they helped each other when one stumbled. Zombies didn’t do that.

A few private vehicles were on the streets now too. Mick watched as one man opened the door of a garage attached to his house and drove out in an H2 Hummer. He swerved in and out of stalled cars and accident scenes, sometimes crossing sidewalks onto front lawns, as he drove towards the freeway. Mick circled again, following his progress. When the Hummer came upon three survivors on foot it slowed and stopped. After what looked like a brief conversation the other survivors climbed into the back seats and the Hummer continued on. Seeing that act of kindness was one of the most hopeful things Mick had seen that day. It was great to know that there were still some good people out there with enough compassion to help others in need, even in the midst of the apocalypse.

The helicopter passed over the center of the city, but Mick didn’t see many people on the streets below. However, he did spot a family on a rooftop. All of them waved franticly at the helicopter. They were standing in the rain, but it looked like a crowd of zombies were staring at them from the open door of a stairwell. No doubt they would come out onto the roof to devour the survivors as soon as the rain stopped. That sight twisted Mick’s heart strings. He had a mission to fly, but those people needed help. Seeing this family with several small children on the roof of an apartment building tipped the scales.

“Heads up,” Mick said over the intercom. “We’re going to pick up some survivors from a rooftop.” He glanced over his shoulder and saw Mark and Jack give him thumbs up from the passenger compartment. The Marine door gunner also nodded agreement.

Sam, the copilot, said, “We don’t have a lot of fuel to spare.”

“I know,” Mick replied. “But this shouldn’t take long.” Sam nodded silently as Mick circled the building and activated the helicopter’s loud speaker. “Clear the north side of the roof. We are coming down to pick you up. Keep your heads down as you approach the helicopter.” He flared the chopper into a hover at the north side of the roof while Mark and Jack waved the survivors forward and helped lift them aboard. Mick fought the gusting wind and rain, but managed to keep the helicopter stationary until all six survivors were aboard.

The closest heliport that he knew to be safe was at the Emergency Operations Center. It was only a few blocks away. Mick made a quick frequency change to the police band and informed them that he was inbound with survivors. Without waiting for a response, Mick swooped in to land on the roof of the EOC and motioned the survivors to exit the aircraft. They tried to express their thanks as Mick made eye contact with the man he assumed to be the children’s father. Conversation was impossible over the sound of the helicopter, but no words were necessary. Mick offered a sloppy salute and the entire family waved as the Super Huey rose into the air again.

They flew out over the Hollywood Hills, passing above Universal City and the San Fernando Valley. Mick was pleased to spot the flashing navigation lights of at least a dozen other helicopters sweeping back and forth over the valley. “Look at that,” he pointed them out to Sam. “Some of those choppers look like Blackhawks. I wonder if they’re National Guard?”

“I hope so,” Sam said. “I heard they were securing Bob Hope Airport.”

Mick nodded and continued to fly northwest over the 101 Freeway. It was getting hard to see much in the rain soaked dusk, but he was sure he saw small groups and individuals moving along the streets, making their way to safety during the storm. The headlights of scattered vehicles on the side streets were proof of other survivors. These were encouraging signs, except that Mick didn’t see evidence of more than a few thousand survivors in a valley that had been home to more than a million people just a few short weeks ago.   

At the west end of the valley the helicopter turned southwest and flew through Malibu canyon, weaving through the pass to stay beneath the low cloud cover. They flew past the research lab where they had picked up Professor Bernhard and his assistant. Then they turned to fly back down the coast. This was the main point of their current mission, to estimate how many survivors would be waiting along the shoreline for the Flotilla to rescue them.

“Movement on the pier,” Sam said.

“I see them,” Mick confirmed. He spotted a crowd of several dozen people on the Malibu pier waving their arms at the helicopter. Mick circled them once and used the loud speaker to reassure them that rescue boats were on their way.

Mark spoke up from his position in the passenger compartment. “I see more people coming out of those beach houses and condos.”

“Copy that,” Mick said. This was actually a very good sign. He saw quite a few people coming down onto the beach. Many carried surfboards and other flotation devices. Mick took the helicopter lower as Mark and the Marine door gunner waved out the open side door. The survivors waved back. Mick was encouraged, but he also spotted a potential disaster. Below almost every beach house he spotted the huddled forms of the infected, hiding under the elevated homes to stay out of the rain. Glancing back at the pier from low altitude Mick caught his breath. Perhaps a hundred or more zombies were crowded under the pier too.

To make matters worse the rain abruptly stopped splattering against the windshield. Mick and Sam exchanged startled glances as the clouds parted, allowing the setting sun to bathe the wet sand in a blood red tint. The zombies reacted almost immediately, emerging from their shelters with mindless and ravenous intent. They might have been deterred by puddles on pavement or dirt, but sand just soaked up the rain and provided firmer footing for the zombies. Two survivors, a man and woman who had come onto the beach to wave at the chopper, never saw what hit them as zombies erupted from below the house behind them.  Other survivors realized their peril and tried to decide how to flee the new threat, but most of them were cut off from retreat.

“Those people need cover fire now!” Mick yelled over the intercom. Moments later the machine gun opened up, spraying bullets into zombies that emerged onto the beach. Mark and his son, Jake, added their firepower with well aimed head shots. It was not enough to stop the gathering horde, so Mick activated the loudspeaker and yelled, “Get into the water! Run into the ocean! They won’t follow you!”

Several people were too slow or confused to follow his instructions. They were overrun and disappeared beneath the undead. The rest of the survivors charged into the ocean. Soon dozens of people were standing waist deep in the surf.  The zombies faced them at the tide line, afraid to follow, but fixated on the prey just beyond their reach. The men in the helicopter continued to fire into the zombies, especially those boiling out from under the pier, but the immediate danger seemed to have passed. The survivors on the pier stood speechless and immobile, but the infected on the beach would take a while to get up onto the pier.

Mick circled the area again, noting his dwindling fuel supply. Glancing down the coast he was relieved to see several boats from the Flotilla moving swiftly in his direction. A moment later the first rain drops from the next squall line began to patter on the cockpit glass. The zombies on the beach became agitated, convulsing and moving back from the ocean, as the clouds closed overhead and the heavy rain returned. As the undead fled the beach, returning to lurk under the pier and beach homes, they left half a dozen bright red splotches of blood on the sand and dozens of truly dead zombies that fell to gunfire from the chopper.

 Activating the PA speakers again, Mick spoke to the survivors standing in the surf. “Stay in the water. Help is on the way. Swim out to the boats when they arrive, or make your way to the pier.” Then, having consumed most of his fuel reserve, Mick Williams flew down the coast and sent radio messages to the Flotilla informing them of the survivors waiting for rescue in Malibu.

They didn’t have much time to investigate the rest of the coastline due to the fading light and falling fuel gauge, but Mick was happy to see groups of survivors gathered along the shoreline. Many of them seemed to have already figured out that they needed to go into the surf whenever the rain stopped. All of them waved at the helicopter. Mick repeated his message to stay near or in the water and that help was on the way. Sam sent constant radio updates reporting the position of the survivors they spotted.

There was a large concentration of survivors gathered on the Santa Monica Pier. They filled the midway amusement park and lined the railing of the famous landmark. Even more zombies were gathered under the pier, but the rain kept them contained and Mick spotted armed men at the gates to the pier. There were also several vessels from the Flotilla on scene, starting to transfer refugees onto the boats that tossed and banged against the pier’s pilings in the storm swells. Hundreds of people were waiting their turn and Mick suspected many more would arrive during the overnight storm. He shied away from thinking about what those people had to go through to reach this narrow avenue of escape. The Super Huey flew by without pause.

There was even more activity in Marina Del Rey. Dozens of boats moved inside the yacht harbor. The
USCGC Stratton
seemed to be the center of attention and Mick spotted one of her helicopters patrolling the perimeter of the marina. There was a lot of movement in the harbor. Some boats were towing yachts from shoreline berths towards secure floating docks farther from shore. Others were transporting refugees from the shoreline to the floating docks. Armed men guarded work crews that were destroying pedestrian ramps connecting those docks with the shore. It looked like the plan to create a floating safe haven here was well underway.

They witnessed similar activity in the smaller Redondo Beach Marina and at other fishing piers along the coast. It was obvious that thousands of survivors had made their way to the beach and the Flotilla was already hard at work rescuing them. Mick also noted the island of electric light and activity at the El Segundo Chevron refinery. There were less signs of life inland. It was a relief to cross the Palos Verde Peninsula and swoop down towards Terminal Island. The Super Huey was sucking fumes when it landed on the
Sovereign Spirit.

*****

The rain was pouring down as Stan Dawson shut off the
Expiscator’s
engines and flipped the switch that dropped anchor about a hundred yards offshore of the
Queen Mary.
The yacht was well inside the breakwater and sheltered from the swells. It was also sheltered from view of the newly arrived Navy ships, which was why Scott had instructed Stan to go there.  The yacht had blended in with dozens of other boats departing the port on rescue missions up and down the coast during the storm, then turned towards the city of Long Beach and dropped anchor. They would remain there until Scott or Captain Fisher gave the all clear for them to return to the
Sovereign Spirit.
It seemed like a good plan to keep Billy and Michelle safe.

George Hammer continued to direct operations in the port via radio. He shared the bridge with Stan as they followed radio transmissions that gave them a picture of how the rescue operations were progressing.

“Desmond Howard Bridge reporting arrival of another convoy: six city buses with several hundred survivors. We’re sending them to the Marine Reserve base for screening and relocation.”

“Henry Ford Bridge is lowered and secure. Expecting a commuter train full of refugees soon. Area is clear of zombies.”