03 Deluge of the Dead (30 page)

“Target! Three O’clock! Hold it steady,” O’Hara yelled as he raised his M-4 and flipped the safety off. In one fluid movement he raised the gun, let out his breath half-way and held it as the sight picture fell onto the head of the closest zombie. Without pause he squeezed gently. The 5.56mm bullet went into the zombie’s left eye and must have rattled around a bit because it seemed to come out its right ear. That was more than enough to scramble its brains and it fell at the girl’s feet. She was clearly screaming, but O’Hara couldn’t hear her over the sound of the helicopter, nor did he have time to care. He was too busy sighting in on the rest of the zombies that were only steps behind the first.

Sergeant Major O’Hara had always prided himself on his marksmanship. He might be approaching mandatory retirement age and not as fast on his feet as he used to be, but if anything his age had made his aim even steadier than it had been in boot camp. He was calmer than when he first saw combat, or even his first zombie, too. Each of the remaining five zombies on the roof received double taps of full metal jackets to the brain. The range was less than a hundred yards, so it wasn’t miraculous aside from the shots being fired from a moving helicopter. O’Hara still felt like the Hand of God as the Zekes fell and the naked girl stood unharmed.

“Take us down to the roof. Now!” he ordered in a voice accustomed to unquestioned obedience.  Mick wasn’t about to argue after witnessing the lightning fast display of focused carnage below. The helicopter dropped into a hover and O’Hara jumped out onto the roof, raising his M-4 to drop two more zombies that emerged from an open door to the roof. With the roof momentarily clear he slung his weapon over his shoulder and grabbed the naked girl. O’Hara noticed numerous cuts and bruises on the girl, but she was still human and he prayed the injuries were not caused by zombies. Mark was waiting in the door of the chopper with Jake, but for once the boy seemed frozen in shock.  O’Hara literally tossed her into Mark’s arms and started to climb up. That is when Jake snapped out of his daze and raised his Thompson submachine gun to blast two more zombies that were rushing towards the Sergeant Major. Jake might not have made head shots, but the torrent of 45 caliber bullets flung both of the zombies down and gave O’Hara the time he needed to climb aboard.

“Thank you, young man,” O’Hara said matter-of-factly. “Why don’t you offer the young lady your jacket?” 

*****

Scott was pacing the outside bridge wing on the
Sovereign Spirit
, staring towards the
Queen Mary,
behind which his helicopter’s search pattern expanded. Captain Fisher was inside speaking in low tones with Carl and the FBI agents, but Scott ignored them. All of his thoughts were focused on the search. Then the first radio reports came from the Huey and Scott darted back inside to listen.

Spirit, this is Eagle. No sign of the yacht or wreckage at her last known location. However, we rescued a girl from the roof of the Aquarium of the Pacific.

Scott wanted to scream that he didn’t give a shit about some girl on a roof, or any of the other strangers in need of help out there, but knew that wouldn’t be appropriate. He bit his tongue and waited for Mick to continue.

She could have had a view of the Expiscator and might know where it went. The Sergeant Major is trying to question her now, but she is sort of shaken up. Looks like she she’s been through a lot. I’m making a pass over the marina now, in case the yacht took shelter there, but no sign of it yet. Stand by.

 
  Scott gabbed the radio handset and said, “Find out as much as you can, Mick.” Then he stared out the windows on the bridge, towards the search area, willing them to find his family. Another tense minute passed before the next transmission.

Spirit, this is Eagle with flash traffic. The girl says she saw the Expiscator. She reports that a large armed gang took over what sounds like a Catalina ferry and then boarded the yacht. They took the Expiscator with them. And you’re not going to like this, Scott… She thinks she saw them throw several bodies overboard.

It was just about the worst news Scott could imagine. He was speechless and passed the handset to Captain Fisher who said, “Get all the information you can and keep us posted. Spirit standing by.” The mood on the bridge was dismal. Nobody could bring themselves to look Scott in the eye or speak as they waited for the next message from the helicopter. Time stretched out to what seemed like an eternity to Scott. When the next message came it was not what he wanted to hear.

Spirit, Eagle has located a body washed up on the rocks of the Queen Mary breakwater. Mark is rappelling down with a recovery harness. We’re not sure yet, but it might be George Hammer and he appears to have gunshot wounds. Stand by for confirmation.

“Oh shit,” Scott groaned.

Spirit, this is O’Hara. I have additional intel from the girl. The gang that seized the vessels call themselves Surf Nazis. They raped the girl and killed all the other survivors that were taking shelter in the Aquarium of the Pacific. She says they killed most of the men in her group first and kept the women, children, and anyone that was useful alive much longer. She also heard them talking about becoming pirates; Over.

“Spirit copies,” Fisher replied. “We’re standing by for more information.” He turned to Scott and said, “At least she says these bastards don’t kill women and children right away.”

“Yeah,” Scott said in a voice that conveyed both fear and anger. “But what do they do with them? And Billy’s not a kid anymore.” That silenced all discussion on the bridge as they waited for the next transmission. After another seemingly endless wait they heard Mick’s voice again.

We have recovered George Hammer and are coming back to the ship. It’s hard to believe, considering his wounds, but he is still alive. We need to get him to sickbay immediately!

Scott saw the helicopter rise over the
Queen Mary
and lower its nose to speed towards the
Sovereign Spirit
. Without another thought he was running towards the landing pad and yelling back, “Get a stretcher team up there and tell Dr. Greenberg to prep for a gunshot victim.”
 

 “Yes, sir,” Captain Fisher said.

Scott paused and turned back to say, “Recall all of our crew and any boats deployed on rescue missions. Prepare to embark as soon as possible. Then get on the sat-phone and see if any other ships noticed a ferry and a yacht leaving the Queens Way Bay in the last few hours. Don’t use the radio to contact the whole Flotilla just yet. If these fucking ‘pirates’ have control of the
Expiscator
they’ll be monitoring our transmissions on Flotilla frequencies. The longer they think we don’t know about them the less likely they are to panic and hurt their captives. Thank God the helicopter was broadcasting on an aviation band. I doubt they would monitor that.”

“Good thinking,” Captain Fisher replied as he sprang into action. “We’ll be ready to cast off in fifteen minutes.”

“We’re going after them, Jordy. We have to save my family,” Scott said as he left to meet the returning helicopter.

*****

Scag was living it up. His new yacht came stocked with food, women and a full bar of top shelf booze. It also had the most luxurious living quarters he had ever seen in person.
Being a pirate is an awesome gig
, he decided while taking a larger than normal gulp of Johnny Walker Blue Label on the rocks. He was living the high life and it had only taken the end of the world for him to do it.

“Bring all those bitches and brats up here,” Scag ordered one of his gang members. “I don’t want any of them damaged yet either. So tell whoever is making them scream to knock it off. I haven’t even had a chance to take my pick of the litter yet, damn it."  

This yacht had really been a great score. There were more women than men on it when the Surf Nazis boarded her. Two Mexican guys and the older guy on the bridge had all been shot and thrown overboard, leaving the big kid that knew how to drive his Dad’s boat as the only surviving man to worry about. The rest of his new captives were composed of women and little children. He had already inspected the First Lady of the Flotilla and grabbed a few feels as he tied her to the bed upstairs, but he had promised the young man that he wouldn’t rape his mother – yet. That threat should be enough to keep the rich kid in line, but he would be kept under constant guard too.

Now it was time to inspect the rest of his catch. A chorus of shrill cries and pleas for mercy preceded the arrival of his potential harem. They filed up the stairs from the cabins below, led by three quite attractive college age girls that immediately caught Scag’s attention. He motioned them to line up in front of his seat in the salon. They were followed by a slightly older, but still sexy woman with two twin boys  that couldn’t have been more than five or six years old clinging to each of her hands. Next in line was a Latino woman of about thirty-five with a voluptuous figure. Last and clearly least was a plump woman who might have been attractive twenty or thirty years ago. She was still a woman though and Scag had killed off all the dead weight before leaving the aquarium. He knew that the old broad would be put to good use by his gang.

“Welcome ladies and kiddies,” Scag said graciously with a slight slur from the alcohol. “I know you all think of this boat as the
Ex-piss-something or other
, but I am renaming her
The
Exterminator.
Some of you will get to help repaint the name as soon as this storm passes.  Those of you who satisfy me will also remain here as part of my crew. Those who don’t will be transferred to the
Jet Cat
which is full of horny pirates. Is that clear?”  They all nodded fearfully. “You will call me Captain Scag, or Luther – if you are lucky enough to be sharing my bed. Now tell me your names and why I should keep you.”

He started by pointing to the end of the line and said, “You first, old lady. Why shouldn’t I just throw you overboard now?”

Martha Hammer was close to tears, but she gathered her strength and asked, “What have you done with my husband?”

Scag laughed and said, “Feisty old bitch, huh? Was your husband one of the Spicks? No? Then I suppose he was the asshole that killed one of my men on the bridge?” Her expression was confirmation enough. “We put a bunch of holes in him and fed him to the fish.” 

Her composure broke and she began to sob. Scag made a mental note that the younger woman with the twin sons also began to cry and shake her head in denial. He noticed a family resemblance between them and realized the old woman was her mother and the dead man from the bridge was probably her father. Tough shit; everybody was dying these days, but the relationship between these two women and the little twins would give him leverage. Scag knew all about leverage and loved to play games. He didn’t really want to keep either of them, but they would be useful in setting an example.

“Once again, old lady, would you like to join your husband in the ocean? Or become an old lady for my gang of pirates?”

“Damn you to Hell, you bastard,” Martha blurted.

“The whole world has been damned to Hell, bitch, or hadn’t you noticed?” Scag replied. “So what’ll it be? Do I throw overboard to drown? ‘Cause you ain’t worth wasting a bullet on. Or will you play nice with my boys? Maybe you can do a little light house work too?”

It might have been the first time Martha Hammer said, “Fuck you!” in her life, and would probably be her last.

“That wasn’t one of your options,” Scag grinned and signaled to his men. “Toss her over the side.”

“No!” screamed the twins’ mother. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want and so will she.”

Scag signaled his men to wait and said, “You should listen to your daughter, old lady. Shit, if I throw you in the drink there won’t be anyone to watch the little boys while their momma is getting her brains fucked out.” Martha’s mouth dropped open in horror and Scag took pleasure in watching her pride and defiance crumble before his eyes. She looked down and nodded in submission. Meanwhile the fear had transferred to the face of her daughter. Scag let her stew and moved on to the Latina. “What’s your name senorita? You speekie English?”

The woman looked heartbroken but strong-willed as she replied, “I am Maria and your men killed my husband Pablo Mendoza, a better man than any of you. If you take me to your bed, I will kill you in your sleep.”

“Thanks for your honesty, Maria,” Scag said scornfully. “I hope you enjoy your time on the
Jet Cat
, however short it may be. They don’t have any beds over there, just benches and reclining seats. I’ll make sure you are strapped to one where my boys can get in line to ride you. If you make If through the first day, you might have a different attitude, but by then I won’t have any interest in you.”

Maria crumbled and looked ready to plead or apologize, but Scag forestalled it by telling his men, “Gag her and take her to the back deck. Feel free to use her before we transfer her to the ferry.” Maria only had a time for a single scream before two grinning pirates grabbed her from behind and one clapped a hand over her mouth as they dragged her away.

“Your turn, pretty momma,” Scag said to the mother of the twins. “You’ve already promised to do whatever I want, so what’s your name? And what are your talents?”

“M…my n…name is Molly,” she stammered in fear. “Molly Marsh. My husband has been dead for two weeks. I don’t know if I have any talents, but I made him happy and I gave him these perfect little boys.”

“Those are better credentials,” Scag chuckled. “A fertile widow whose husband I didn’t kill? You’re topping the list so far, honey, but you come with baggage. What are the little brats’ names?”