by Tony Baker
The final items not an original part of the jump were sewn on the lower left sleeve. Those items being the five blue “years of service” half-chevrons outlined in white, each chevron denoting five years of service. “Where did the time go?” Harry asked himself. Sighing, he laid the jumpsuit out on the floor bench that ran the length of the lockers and started to remove his equipment.
Happening to glance down the end of the section of lockers he suddenly stumbled back a couple of steps, drawing the Glock and aiming at a zombie that had unexpectedly appeared at the end of the row!
What kept Harry from firing was that this zombie was also aiming a gun at him. It took him a few seconds to process, but he finally realized who his new friend was. After his heart stopped trying to pound its way out of his chest, he walked the short distance to the end of the locker row and gazed at the image in the full length mirror that was attached to the wall. “Shit, no wonder the kid was going to blow my head off,” Harry said with an astonished look on his face, which was also reflected back in the mirror.
His clothes were covered in dried blood and all manner of bits, pieces, and chunks of flesh and sinew and Lord only knew what else, with some of the stuff even in his hair. He looked exactly like one of those things outside, which did nothing to quell the rising bile in the back of his throat.
Grabbing the jump off the bench, Harry walked straight to the shower area, stripped out of his civilian clothes and turned on the water to the hottest temperature he could tolerate without peeling skin. Soaping up and rinsing off, he was horrified to see the water going down the drain was a pinkish color, replete with the aforementioned bits, pieces, and chucks swirling down the drain with that rancid water.
He soaped and rinsed five or six more times until the water remained a nice clear soapy mixture and his skin felt nearly raw. Then Harry just stood under the spray of water for a few minutes in an attempt at washing away some of the stress that had built up since he’d left the apartment building. That helped a little, but only by a varying degree. “Note to self,” Harry said aloud, “if I haven’t mentioned this before, I’m really, really getting too old for this shit.”
Finally turning the water off, Harry grabbed a couple of towels from the stack just outside the shower stalls. Drying off, he quickly dressed, transferring the items he had been carrying into the various pockets of the jump, slipped into his TAC boots, pulling the side zippers up to close them, then snapped the nylon duty belt around his waist. Finally he placed the Glock in the high rise break front holster. With a slight twist of the belt to adjust how the weight of the gun was riding at his waist, Harry was ready.
He glanced at the pile of bloody street clothes he had changed out of and quickly stepped over them on his way to the main door to exit. As he turned the corner of the final row of lockers, he saw Frank sitting on one of the floor benches. Frank immediately stood up when he saw Harry approach.
“Hey Frank, sorry it took a little longer than I thought. Needed to clean up a bit,” Harry said with a look of repugnance on his face. He saw that Frank had also changed, but into what appeared to be a brand new jump. It had the muted shoulder patches of SWAT, but bore no name or star patches and it had several package creases. Frank had simply placed his metal star and nameplate in the appropriate positions on the front of it. Harry also noticed he had swapped out his leather duty belt for a nylon one.
“No problem, Mr. Lancaster. I sort of figured you might want to do that,” Frank replied with that crooked smile.
“Listen kid, I really appreciate the fact you didn’t shoot first and ask questions later when we first met. I didn’t realize how bad I looked or what you must have thought when you saw me,” Harry said with all sincerity. “And please, call me Harry, okay?”
“Okay, Harry, but only if you stop calling me kid,” Frank said as he looked down toward the service chevrons on Harry’s jump sleeve. “Wow, I just realized you’ve been a cop longer than I’ve been alive. What a trip!”
Harry took a deep breath, shook his head slightly, and said exasperatedly while walking past Frank, “I really am getting too old for this shit. Let’s go, kid, we need to get this circus on the road.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Lancaster …” Frank began, but Harry, walking away, immediately cut him off with a hand raised and a finger pointing up. “I mean Harry, let’s go,” Frank finished.
They headed down the hallway toward the main lobby area of the station, which would lead them to the garage entrances, when Derrick called out.
“Hey guys, up here.”
Looking up, Harry saw Derrick on the small balcony that slightly overhung the lobby. It really served no other purpose than some sort of architectural design as it did not go anywhere. But it did offer a view of the front of the building and the street. Harry immediately changed direction, with Frank right behind him, and ascended the small sweeping staircase that led up to where Derrick stood.
“Well, you both look much better,” Derrick said as Harry approached and mumbled an acknowledgment. Leaning against the four-foot-high frosted glass wall, trimmed with heavy stainless steel on the balcony’s top edge, Harry noticed two AR15s with multi-point black nylon tactical slings already attached. These particular weapon slings were one of the best made; they wore comfortably due to the nylon shoulder pad and adjusted easily to anyone’s height. Derrick nodded toward the ARs and said, “Thought you might want one of those.”
“Hell yes!” Frank replied, picking up one of the weapons.
Harry picked up the other weapon and with practiced ease quickly brought his left arm through the sling, slipped it over his head, and adjusted the shoulder pad to a comfortable position on the right side of his neck, allowing the AR to dangle in from of his chest. He made a minor adjustment to the strap that connected the weapon to the upper part of the sling to allow for his size and height, and to enable him to easily bring the weapon up into a firing position.
Harry then used the AR’s sliding butt stock to extend it to its full position, again to allow for his size and arm reach, then briefly brought the weapon up to a firing position, pointing it over the balcony, to ensure a good fit. Satisfied with that, he used his right hand to release the 30-round magazine, allowing it to drop down and catching it with the same hand. He used his right thumb to push down on the top of the rounds in the mag a couple of times to ensure they were seated properly, then replaced the mag back into the weapon.
He then positioned his left hand under the area just forward of the clip and used his thumb to depress the bolt catch. With his right hand he pulled the charging handle back and released the bolt catch, which freed the charging handle in a back unlocked position. This would allow him to inspect the magazine feed. Glancing inside the feed area through the ejection port, which was located on the right hand side of the AR and just above the mag, he was satisfied the feed was good. Turning the weapon with his right hand on the grip, he used the heel of his left hand to slap the upper part of the bolt catch. This sent the firing bolt back into battery and ready to fire. Harry pushed the safety and once again allowed the AR to dangle on his chest. The whole procedure took less than sixty seconds.
The department did not normally use iron sights on their AR-15A3 tactical carbines. Instead, each was equipped with EOTech holographic optical sights attached to the upper mid rail of the weapon, which was much better suited for urban use. These electronic sights were extremely accurate once sighted in and utilized a red dot to line up targets. Harry reached down to the lower portion of the sight, pressing the power button and activating it. Bringing the weapon into firing position, he sighted the red dot on a computer terminal sitting upon a desk just below the balcony. He glanced over to Derrick who had been watching him go through the weapons ready procedure and raised an eyebrow.
“They’re sighted in, and the batteries are fully charged. If you can believe the sales hype, the charge should be good for up to eleven hundred hours, but of course we’ve never had to use them that long,�
� Derrick said, anticipating Harry’s upcoming questions.
“Great, was just going to ask. Are all the ARs you located ready to go?” Harry asked with a slight smile, knowing his friend knew him pretty well.
“Including the three we have there are five more I can guarantee. Frank and I secured the eight of these from the SWAT backups. The rest I can’t be sure of. There’s a mix with EOTechs but also several with the old style-iron sights which probably means they just haven’t been converted yet.”
Harry nodded in reply, then glanced over to Frank who was just finishing up his weapon check. He stared with amazement as Frank fairly flew through the procedure.
“Damn kid, looks like you’ve done that one or twice,” Harry said, a bit surprised thinking he had always been fairly fast.
Finishing up with his own left-handed slap to lock in the firing bolt and then letting his AR dangle on the sling, Frank looked up and said, “Many times actually. My Dad was a prepper before prepping was cool, I guess. I’ve been around and fired ARs, in several different variations, since I was eleven.” He glanced between Harry and Derrick, continuing, “He wasn’t a fanatic or anything, but after twenty years with the Florida State Highway Patrol, and then another ten years in our County Sheriff’s Department, he’d concluded that humanity was headed down a path of self-destruction. Guess he just wanted us to be prepared for that eventuality. Mom was never completely on board with the whole ‘end of the world thing’ but she loved my dad so she went along. Dad had my brother and me shooting several types of weapons by our teenage years and we were pretty good at using them, too. Not sure if Daddy thought the end of civilization would be from a zombie outbreak though.” Frank had lowered his voice, trailing off almost to a whisper, looking at the floor and obviously thinking about something aside from the current topic.
“Listen, Frank,” Derrick began, “I’m really sorry about your family. I wish there was some way we could get you in touch with them.”
Frank looked back up to Derrick and said, “Oh, it’s cool, Officer Washington. My parents were killed in an auto accident when I was seventeen, and my brother and I drifted apart; we really didn’t have any other relatives. My brother, unlike my dad, became a nutcase fanatic about prepping and spent a ton of money on it. His wife finally left him and the last I heard he’d tried to set up a bunker system in the swamps somewhere. He was even featured on that National Geographic prepper show I think.”
“I saw that episode! The guy who bought those semi-trailers and buried them in the middle of the Everglades, right! Too bad he was arrested for trespassing on federal property. I think he was charged with something like destruction of federal lands. I thought the idea was really good though!” Harry excitedly responded. Both Derrick and Frank gave him a sideways look. “What! NatGeo just happens to have some very intelligent and interesting programing, I’ll have you both know!” he said defensively. “You should hear my idea on a new reality show I have in mind for them on this zombie thing!”
“Okay Harry, take it easy there, we understand. It’s kind of like a Wheel of Fortune or Jeopardy thing again, right? I realize one has to have reached a certain age to appreciate such fine programing. See Frank, what’d I say earlier about senior citizens?” Derrick laughed, with Frank trying, rather unsuccessfully, to maintain a professional demeanor but quickly losing that battle.
“Yeah, whatever,” Harry mumbled defensively, more to himself. “No wonder the younger generation is going to shit. Can’t even appreciate good television programming.”
With that both Derrick and Frank lost it completely, erupting into laughter. Harry just watched them go on for a few moments, finally saying, “Okay, that’s enough from the peanut gallery. Shall we get on with this please?”
Wiping tears from his eyes, Derrick said, “Yeah, sure, but we have another little problem Harry. Take a look out front.”
Harry walked over to the portion of the balcony that had the best window view of the street and looked out. “Oh my God,” was his instant response, which was not due to the beautiful, nearly perfect San Francisco day he saw for a split second, with only a slight smoke haze hanging in the air to detract from the otherwise flawless weather. A day that should normally have been reserved for enticing people out to shop or visit their favorite cafes. No, what had prompted Harry’s response, what had immediately grabbed and held his attention, were the dozens of zombies, at least fifty of them he was certain, just milling around on the street in front of the station.
“Guess I must have attracted some attention getting here,” Harry said in complete amazement.
“The biggest problem though,” Derrick began, “is that the garage roll up door opens directly onto Vallejo, as you know. The Bearcat is parked on the lower level, so that means we have to drive up the ramp to get out. That thing is powerful, but not sure we could get enough momentum to push through that many bodies and make the turn we will need to make. Not to mention we are going to have a bunch of those things pour through that roll up door once it’s open.”
Harry nodded his head and stood looking out of the window in thought. After a few minutes he said, “I think I have an idea that might thin them out a bit. When I came in through the side doors I noticed the two radio cars parked out there. The one Frank drove in is trashed and too close to the front of the building. The other one, however, is parked almost next to the side doors. You and Frank go down and get the Bear ready to roll. I’m going to go back out and turn on the lights and siren of the unit, which should draw a bunch of those things to it and hopefully clear us a path in front.”
“I’ll do it,” Frank instantly said. Harry started to argue the point when Frank interrupted, “Look, no offense or anything, but I am younger than you and probably a bit faster.” Frank could see the indecision on Harry’s face. “Really, I got this, Harry.”
“He’s right, Harry,” Derrick said. “We’ll get the Bear up to the ramp, then radio him when we’re in position.”
Looking at Frank for several moments, Harry reluctantly agreed with a sigh. “Okay Frank, move to the first set of doors and the sally port. Not sure how much attention that big diesel will create when we start it, but I don’t want you to move until we’ve brought the Bearcat to the bottom of the ramp and shut it down. Once we’re in position, I’ll give you the go ahead. You carry your ass to that car, light it up, and then haul that same ass back in and to the inside garage stairway entrance. I’m coming back up once we get the Bear in position to hold the door open for you, and if I don’t hear the pitter patter of your little feet booking it down the hall I’m coming after you. You copy that, Officer Lewis?”
With a crooked smile, Frank just repeated, “I got this, Harry.”
“We need to go back to Dispatch and pull radios ...” Harry said, but stopped as Derrick picked up a nylon ready bag, reached in and handed him and Frank an HT 1000 Motorola hand radio with belt holsters, ear pieces, and corded speaker mics already attached.
Derrick then pulled out another radio for himself, attaching a third radio to his duty belt. He pulled the speaker mic up and around his left shoulder, attaching that to the radio mic tab sewn onto his jump, then said, “While you two were freshening up a bit I got all the hand helds and chargers out of Dispatch. Put all but these three in the Bear. There were nine fully charged and thought they might come in handy.”
Harry looked at Derrick and said, “I’m going to kiss you right on the mouth, Derry.”
Putting both large hands in front of him, palms out, Derrick replied, “You stay the fuck away from this pretty face you freak. I got standards here!”
All three men laughed at that.
“Okay, so before we get this party on the road, here’s the route to the marina I think we need to take. We’ll exit the garage and turn left on Vallejo and then take a left on Columbus. We’ll go left on Columbus to Bay, taking that all the way to Marina Boulevard and to the entrance of the harbor. We don’t stop for anything and we’ll take alter
nate routes if necessary, but I want that big beast moving hard. Once we get to the marina, we’re going to look for something to get us onto the Bay waters and then we head for Alcatraz. All copy?” Harry looked at the two of them. Both Derrick and Frank indicated that they understood.
Harry looked toward Frank and said, “I don’t suppose living in Florida and all you know anything about boats, do you kid?”
“As a matter of fact, we had a couple large …” Frank began, but Harry waved him silent.
“That’s what I thought,” Harry said, smiling. “You keep this up and you’re going to be waived through the field training part of your training, Rookie.” Sobering, Harry looked at each of the men and said, “This is going to get serious real fast so we go professional, we go hot, and we reach our goal – and that goal is to survive. This group of people in Southern California has made it, so we have a shot at doing the same. We know there are others in the City we might be able to help, but we will only be able to do that if we get ourselves set up first. Okay, everyone on Channel 3. Unless there’s questions or comments, let’s get this done.”
19
Neither Derrick nor Frank said anything, and after making certain they all had their radios set on Channel 3, Harry and Derrick headed toward the garage while Frank continued to the side entrance to put their escape plan in action.
Derrick led Harry down four flights of stairs before they reached the lower garage. Harry saw the two vehicles Derrick had mentioned parked in the lower garage area as they entered. One was a white Ford pickup, probably belonging to an officer, and the other was the BearCat Riot Control vehicle. The huge vehicle reminded Harry of an armored car on steroids. It was painted a matte black bearing vehicle logos of a blue seven-point star, outlined in gold, with the letters SFPD in the center also in gold. Those logos were on both the driver and passenger doors as well as on the left-hand side of the double rear cargo doors. What really caught Harry’s attention was the front ram assembly that he knew could be raised and lowered from the cab of the vehicle. “Wow, that’ll do for sure, I think,” Harry said aloud to no one in particular.
