SURVIVORS OF THE DEAD: FROM THE ASHES

by Tony Baker

  “I have the shot,” Derrick intoned coldly.

  “You are cleared to take the shot,” Harry said in the same deadly calm voice he had used to speak to the thug just moments before. Before he was able to inhale after giving that order, there was a crack from Derrick’s rifle. Harry watched through the binocs as the thug’s head whipped back and the body slumped to the deck floor.

  “Harry, we have company,” Frank said nervously as he brought the big truck to a full stop. Lowering the binocs, Harry saw that there were now at least two dozen infected quickly making their way toward the Bearcat, with several others from the horde also turning their attention toward the source of their brethren’s interest.

  “Derrick, button up. Frank, take us away from the area and hang a left on Broderick. Go up a few blocks and we’ll circle around and try to lose these things,” Harry said while staring through the windshield, watching the infected advance toward them.

  “Got it Harry,” Frank replied while putting the truck in gear once again; he started toward Broderick which was just one street down from their current location. He quickly closed the distance and made the left hand turn as Harry had directed, accelerating just as the radio came to life, startling both men sitting in the front seats.

  “Fireboat to SFPD, do you copy?” a rather shaky voice said over the radio.

  Picking up the mic, Harry said, “Fireboat we copy, this is Harry Lancaster. Are you alright?”

  “Yeah, we’re good, considering. Never experienced anything like that before though. What a rush! My name is Philip Sanchez. Phil. I’m a paramedic assigned out of Station 2. Wow, I can’t believe you took that guy out. He was standing right beside me! Damn, there’s blood all over the place! Anyway, a couple of the other guys and I were able to make it to the Phoenix just as one of the crew was taking it out. One of the guys didn’t make it though. Too many of those things running around. What’s up with all these people? Haven’t heard much news because I’ve been moving around the City. These things are everywhere! Almost didn’t make it a few times. Are you leaving? Hey, you really need to help us …”

  Frank had been quietly listening to Phil ramble on, but finally glanced to Harry with a puzzled look on his face and asked, “Is that guy alright?”

  Harry nodded slightly, acknowledging Frank; he knew Phil’s rambling was a direct result of what he had just gone through. On top of what he must have already experienced over the past couple of weeks in the City. Post-traumatic stress. Harry had seen this many times over the years in victims of crime. People are not usually prepared for traumatic events that life can sometimes throw up in the middle of a perfectly good day, let alone the current state of affairs.

  “Harry,” Derrick began, looking out of the rear door armored windows, “we need to pick up the pace. They’re gaining on us.”

  “Frank, get us moving. Go up to Beach Street and jog around,” Harry said.

  Frank accelerated down the relatively clear street, only having to swerve around a few vehicles. He reached Beach within a couple of minutes, slowing as he approached to make the left-hand turn. This time he was forced almost to a standstill as he navigated around a MUNI bus that blocked part of the intersection.

  “Let’s go down two more blocks and start heading back toward the marina,” Harry said to Frank as he depressed the mic button to speak. “Phil, I need for you to maintain radio silence for a few minutes while we lose the tail we have attracted, and then I’ll let you know what we need to do. Do you copy that, Fireboat?”

  “Copy that,” Phil said, sounding like he had regained his composure a bit.

  Derrick had moved from the back window up to the front passenger compartment while listening to the exchange, and now said, “So what is it exactly we are going to do, Harry?”

  “No clue yet,” Harry replied, looking intently through the windshield and frantically trying to come up with something. He knew they had to get back to the marina and try to organize those people. He also knew that they could not just keep driving around the City trying to avoid the infected. Their luck would run out eventually. Harry watched as Frank made the left onto Beach and remained quiet until they’d gone several blocks east.

  “Stop here, Frank. Turn the engine off and let’s sit it out for a few minutes and see what happens,” Harry said. He desperately hoped that without the noise from the big engine those things in pursuit would either lose interest or would be unable to find them. At least long enough for him to come up with a plan.

  “Gotcha,” Frank said as he stopped the truck and then turned the key to kill the engine. The silence was almost deafening, and all three men jumped when Phil’s voice came through the radio speaker.

  “Sorry to break radio silence here,” Phil intoned, “but you guys better come up with something soon. It looks like there are more of those things arriving, and the fog is beginning to roll in through the Gate.” Phil was referring to the entrance to the Bay from the Pacific Ocean around the Golden Gate Bridge.

  “THAT’S IT!” Harry shouted, startling both Frank and Derrick again.

  “WHAT!” Derrick shouted his response as Frank simply stared with his mouth slightly agape.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Harry said, then keyed the radio mic. “Okay Phil, we copy. I think I have an idea but you need to get somebody who can operate that boat at the controls.”

  “No problem. Jimi is one of the boat’s crew and as soon as he helps me finish getting Gus patched up I’m pretty sure he can take care of that,” Phil said.

  “Who the hell is Gus?” Harry quickly asked.

  “He’s the firefighter who got shot. It was a through and through wound to the upper shoulder. Looks like no major damage but he’s going to be hurting for a while, that’s for sure. I’ve got some stuff in the med kit that should take care of that for now, though.”

  “Yes!” Frank said while doing a fist pump.

  Harry’s relief was beyond description. He’d been sure the guy had been killed when the thug shot him. Glancing first to Frank and then back to Derrick, both with huge smiles on their faces at the news, Harry replied, “That’s fantastic news, Phil! Take care of Gus, then ask Jimi to get ready to move the boat as close to the bayside of the marina entrance as possible. Can you ask him how hard it is to use those two forward monitors?”

  “Sure thing, hold on just a sec,” Phil replied.

  “What are you thinking, Harry?” Derrick asked while waiting for Phil respond.

  “I’m thinking we can use the fog and some high pressure water to disperse the crowd from around that main gate a bit,” Harry said excitedly. “If the same thing happens that I saw getting to the station, the fog should disorient them, and with the added water from the monitors we should have a nearly straight shot to that gate. We’re going to get wet but I think we can make it.”

  “Harry, I don’t know about this plan of yours, buddy,” Derrick said a bit apprehensively.

  “Hey Harry, Jimi said that both of those forward monitors can be operated very easily. All we have to do is switch on the hull intake pumps and we’re good to go. Once he gets the boat into position he and I can operate them well enough,” Phil said through the radio, interrupting Derrick. “What do you have in mind?”

  “That’s great, Phil. I need you to let me know the minute you guys are ready to move. I don’t want you to rush attending to Gus, but time is of the essence here so do your best to get it done quickly,” Harry replied through the mic.

  “We’ll be ready in about ten minutes. I’ll let you know when we’re moving,” Phil said.

  “10-4,” Harry said.

  Harry glanced toward Frank. “Head us back toward to the marina. Hopefully the boat crew will be moving by the time we get there.”

  Without replying, Frank started the truck and made the first left turn he came to. This section of San Francisco, referred to as the Marina District, contained a maze of smaller streets that to those not use to navigating could be very confusing. Short w
inding streets sometimes abruptly changing names, although appearing to be the same street. Luckily Frank knew the area well and was having no difficulty finding the quickest route. Just as he turned onto Retiro Way, the men in the truck saw a woman and a child run into the street about ten houses up from their location.

  Although she could not be heard through the thick metal and bullet resistant glass of the truck, it was obvious she was screaming. Equally obvious was the fact she was not infected. She was pushing a young girl in front of her and was looking over her shoulder. The three men in the truck also saw what she was looking at. Eight or ten of the infected were closing in on her with only about twenty-five yards separating them.

  “Oh shit,” Frank said, stepping on the brakes of the truck hard enough to throw Harry and Derrick forward, both men grabbing onto anything they could to keep from impacting with the dash.

  “They’re not going to make it,” Derrick said after quickly recovering from the violent forward motion. He stared out of the front windshield in the direction of the running duo.

  Harry had recovered only slightly faster than Derrick and, while opening the passenger side door of the truck, he quickly said, “Get the truck rolling and follow me, but nobody else is to get out!” Before Frank or Derrick could protest, Harry grabbed his AR-15, jumped down from the truck, slamming the door shut, and ran to meet the woman.

  As he approached her and without breaking stride, Harry shouted, “GET TO THE TRUCK!” With that he ran past her and the kid. The girl, rather. She looked directly at Harry. The terror in her eyes was beyond question, but he did not have time to stop and console. Running further past them a few yards, he saw that six more infected had joined the small horde which was rapidly closing the gap. He could hear the truck behind him but did not look back to see its exact location. Bringing the AR-15 up to his shoulder, he sighted in and began firing.

  Harry’s complete focus was forward and through the sights of the weapon. Firing short bursts at first one of the infected and then another, he dropped each of his targets. Although he began to realize that the group did not appear to be getting smaller, and they were now only ten feet or so from reaching him! “I am seriously getting too old for this shit,” he once again reminded himself when he realized the rifle was empty. Allowing the AR to drop on the sling attached to his tactical vest, he quickly drew the Glock and resumed firing. With one shot, a head exploded and the target went down. Shooting again, he hit one of the infected in the shoulder, spinning it around. The group was close now and Harry began to think he was done. “You may finish me,” Harry said with determination while hitting another of the things and dropping it in the process, “but I am going to take a couple more of you out before you do!”

  At that moment the air horn from the Bearcat sounded directly behind Harry, startling him enough to nearly cause him to jump squarely into the putrid outstretched arms of the infected rapidly closing in on him. Instead he leaped to the left, feeling the Bearcat pass with what felt like mere inches to spare with a rush of air as it did so. While struggling to regain his feet, he glanced toward the group of infected in time to watch the truck collide directly with the cluster that had not been as quick to move, apparently not caring that the nearly eight-ton vehicle was bearing down on them. Bodies flew in all directions, with one sailing completely over the top of the truck and landing with a solid wet thwack on the pavement. The head exploded upon impact, spattering the area around the body with gore.

  Harry finally got his feet back under him and rose from his sprawled position. One of the infected lay only a foot or two in front of him. With both legs obviously shattered, it was nonetheless still struggling to crawl. Harry walked up to it and calmly fired a single round from the Glock into its head. That immediately and permanently ended any further movement from the thing.

  The truck had backed up from the carnage and Harry watched as both front doors opened and Frank and Derrick jumped out. Frank quickly collected the woman and the kid and ushered them to the rear of the truck. He opened one side of the double doors and helped them both get in. After closing and securing the doors, he ran around the left side and stepped back up and into the driver’s side, slamming the door.

  Derrick was on the right side of the truck firing single unhurried shots, so Harry assumed anything that had been mobile enough to run or walk was now down. Rounding the front of the truck, Harry’s assumptions proved correct. Derrick was standing near the open passenger side door firing at the bodies that were on the ground but still moving.

  “That’s good, Derry,” Harry said. “Let’s get out of here.” With that, Derrick holstered the handgun he had been using and climbed into the passenger side door with Harry right behind him. Harry waited a moment as Derrick climbed over the center console and into the back of the truck, then sat heavily back into the passenger side seat. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath and slowly released it to calm himself. “I am just too fucking old for this shit,” he mumbled to himself for what seemed like the hundredth time since the outbreak.

  “Are you okay?” Frank asked as he started the truck and began driving.

  Glancing toward Frank and then returning his focus to the street ahead, Harry said, “Other than needing to change my underwear I’m good. But damn, I thought you were going to take me out with the truck before those things did.”

  Frank laughed. “Naw, you had at least good six inches between you and the truck.”

  Harry chuckled at that and said, “Glad I didn’t sneeze is all I’m going to say. That was good driving, kiddo.”

  “Thanks,” Frank replied. “What about the two in the back?”

  Harry had momentarily forgotten about the woman and child. Looking over his left shoulder into the rear compartment, Harry saw that Derrick was quietly talking to the two new passengers. Derrick was listening intently to the woman as she spoke, but Harry couldn’t make out what was being said. She seemed to be completely composed now, at least in demeanor. She was an attractive woman, appearing to be in her late 40’s, and bore a striking resemblance to the girl so it was possible that the child was her daughter. Her short brown hair was disheveled, clothes road-worn, and there was a smudge of dirt on her face. Otherwise she seemed unaffected by the recent events she had just experienced. The child, similarly dressed and looking exhausted, also seemed calmer although she was clinging to the woman’s arm. Harry was now able to determine that the girl was much younger than he had initially thought. As Harry was looking back at the trio, the girl glanced up and over toward him. She smiled briefly, then quickly lowered her head.

  Harry knew this was going to happen. He had tried to push it out of his mind but he’d known that sooner or later they were going to have direct contact with other survivors in the City. He had been amazed to see so many on the boats at the marina, but rescuing these two brought home the understanding that there were others still alive, and not infected, out there. It was a realization that their task was daunting, to say the least. Harry couldn’t fathom how he and his two companions could hope to do more than stand by and watch as people continued to die. Or worse.

  26

  The woman finished whatever she had been saying to Derrick and leaned back, resting her head on the wall of the truck, and closed her eyes. The girl laid her head in the woman’s lap but appeared to stare off without focus. Harry was thinking how exhausted they both must be when Derrick came forward. He sat down in the jump seat just behind the front compartment and leaned forward so he could talk to Harry.

  “So what’s their story, Derry?” Harry asked, still looking toward the two in the rear.

  Derrick rubbed his hand over the short-cut hair on his head a few times, then looked up at Harry. “Man, you’re going to be amazed at what those two went through over the last week. I just can’t get my head around it.”

  “What did she have to say?” Harry questioned, but stopped as he glanced up and saw the woman gently lay the now sleeping girl’s head on th
e cushion of the seat she had just moved from. She made her way from the rear compartment of the truck toward the two men.

  “I’ll tell him, Officer Washington,” she said with a warm but tired smile as she patted Derrick's shoulder.

  Derrick and Harry returned her smile as Derrick rose from the jump seat to allow the woman to sit down. He moved to the back, taking a seat on the wall bench just across from the sleeping girl.

  “A couple more blocks and we’ll be at the west entrance to Yacht Road, Harry,” Frank stated.

  “Okay, that gives us about five minutes to chat here,” Harry replied while looking directly at the woman.

  “Oh, I shouldn’t think it would take longer than that to tell you what has happened, Officer Lancaster,” the woman replied.

  Realizing that Derrick would have told her both his and Frank’s names, her addressing him by name was still a bit surprising. Especially with the familiarity in which she’d used it.

  “Please call me Harry, ma’am. I think formalities are a bit overrated in the current situation,” Harry responded with a chuckle.

  “My name is Wanda, Wanda Pettigrew. That is my granddaughter, Nevaeh. As in heaven spelled backward,” Wanda said with a warm smile, extending her hand. Harry shook it briefly, feeling the firm grasp.

  “You two must have been through a lot, Wanda. Don’t feel as if you need to talk about it right now,” Harry said.

  The smile slipped from her face as Wanda began speaking without further hesitation; Harry said nothing further, just listened intently.

  Wanda and her granddaughter actually lived in New York State, in the capital city of Albany, approximately two-and-a-half hours north of New York City. They had been visiting Northern California to help a close friend with funeral arrangements for her mother who had passed away recently. Wanda had also been assisting in the sad yet necessary steps of going through personal effects and selling the house which her friend had grown up in.