by Tony Baker
Bill took the weapon, giving it a quick onceover, then thanked Wanda. Looking toward Harry he said, “I’ll go with Cecil and get the PCF up to the boat launch.”
“If you have any issues let us know,” Harry replied. Bill nodded and joined Cecil.
Looking to Harry, Derrick, and Frank, Wanda said, “You all be careful.” She turned to catch up with Cecil, who had taken Nevaeh’s hand and was chatting quietly with her as they walked. Wanda had only gone a few steps when she suddenly turned and ran back to Harry. Throwing her arms around his neck, she said, “Thank you for everything, Harry. Thank you for our lives!”
Harry was touched by her gesture. Holding his rifle in one hand, he used the other arm to return the hug and said, “See you on the other side.” Wanda disengaged herself from the hug and jogged to catch up with the others.
31
Harry watched the four disappearing into the heavy fog, then turned to the other men. “Frank, please accompany David and Walter to the truck and get started unloading. Derrick and I will be right behind you.”
“On it,” Frank said as he jumped into the modified golf cart Walter was driving. The two vehicles then headed toward the Bearcat with a quiet whir of their electric motors and quickly disappeared from view in the heavy fog.
Derrick stood by Harry, still scanning the area around them. Harry removed the radio mic from the tab on his jumpsuit and radioed the fireboat. “Phil, do you copy?
“Right here Harry,” Phil responded immediately.
“There’s going to be several boats coming out of the dock shortly. Cecil Fremont will be in touch with you directly on the radio. He’s a retired Army officer who has organized these folks and he seems to know what he’s doing.” Harry paused a moment as he thought he caught movement in his peripheral vision, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He quickly brought his rifle up in the direction of the movement, allowing the radio mic to drop on its cord.
“See something?” Derrick asked, also bringing his weapon to a firing position in the same direction.
“Not sure. Thought I saw … something,” Harry replied as he continued to scan the area. Nothing moved and everything remained quiet. After several seconds he lowered his rifle and brought the mic back up.
“Harry? Are you there?” Harry heard Phil’s voice coming through the mic speaker.
“Sorry Phil,” Harry replied into the mic, still looking intently at the area now in front of him. “We’re going to unload some equipment from the truck. I want to load it on the Phoenix, then head out to Alcatraz.”
“Not sure how close to land we can get, but do you want us to move into the harbor?” Phil asked.
“Negative,” Harry replied. “There’s a boat over here that we think will work for the transfer. If not, we’ll figure something out, but for the time being remain where you are.”
“Copy that, Harry. We’ll stand by here,” Phil said.
“10-4. Look forward to meeting you in person, Phil. Talk to you shortly.” Harry replaced the radio mic on his jumpsuit tab as he turned to Derrick. “You ready?”
“Let’s go. I’ve never been big on boat rides, but I have to tell ya I am looking forward to this one,” Derrick said, nervously scanning the area.
Harry gave him a pat on the shoulder and both men started walking toward the Bearcat.
They made quick time getting back to the truck. The outline of the Bearcat and faint images of Frank and the other two men moving around the rear began to appear through the thick fog. Harry was just about to radio Frank of their approach when he heard something behind him. He turned his head toward the sound as a figure came running at him.
Harry had no time to bring the rifle up as the infected man closed the distance between them. He allowed the thing to get within arm’s length, then side-stepped, extending his left leg and tripping the moaning creature. The thing went face down onto the pavement. Harry brought the rifle up and delivered a blow to the back of the infected man’s head. There was a sickening pop and the thing fell limp.
Derrick’s attention had been drawn to the struggle but he could not get a clear shot. As Harry delivered the blow to the infected man’s head, more figures emerged from the fog line.
“DOWN, HARRY!” Derrick shouted.
Harry dropped to the pavement without hesitation and rolled to his right, quickly seeing the approaching threat. There were ten to fifteen figures, all emitting that now all-too-familiar moaning which had become the trademark of the infected. Derrick had already begun firing as Harry rolled. He brought his rifle up, adding to the crescendo of gunfire.
Frank was just exiting the truck with a box of food rations when he heard Derrick’s shout, then the shooting began. He dropped the box he was carrying, pulled his handgun, and ran toward the sound. As he closed the distance he could see Derrick firing away and two figures lying on the ground about five feet in front of him. Frank had no idea what was going on but quickly added his share of lead being flung into the group of people closing in on their position.
The battle was over in minutes, with only two of the infected getting close. The amount of firepower the three men had expended quickly decimated the horde, leaving them in a bloody heap. Harry slowly rose from the ground, absently rubbing his elbow which he had banged on the hard pavement.
“Where the hell did they come from?” Derrick asked, breathing heavily as adrenalin still flooded his system. “They didn’t make a sound until that guy came at you!” He motioned briefly to the figure closest to Harry.
Harry was also confused at this new behavior. “I don’t know, Derry,” he said while still scanning the fog line, waiting for something else to pop out at them. “I thought I’d seen something back there but nothing came at us. What also concerns me is the speed of that thing as it came at me,” Harry motioned to the figure on the ground.
“This thing must have been around when we were with Cecil. Why didn’t they hit us then? Were they stalking us?” Frank asked, still holding his Glock in a standard Weaver shooting position, the gun in his outstretched hand moving where he looked while scanning the fog line.
At that moment, the realization that something had changed in the behavior of the infected hit Harry hard. Had these things somehow gained the ability to coordinate their attacks, or was this just a coincidence? What alarmed him the most was the speed of the runner they had just encountered.
“I don’t know, Frank,” Harry said. “Something is different about this one but we don’t have time right now to piece it together. Let’s get that truck emptied and get off this jetty.”
“Harry, this is Cecil, do you copy?” Cecil’s voice came through the small mic speaker.
Without removing the mic from the tab on his jumpsuit, Harry reached up and pressed the transmit button. “Go ahead, Cecil.”
“Bill has the Swift Boat at the launch. You guys will be able to unload the equipment right into it. Also, I have everyone ready on this end and we’re heading out in just a couple minutes. I heard the gunfire. Everyone alright?”
“Copy that, Cecil,” Harry replied. “We ran into a bit of unexpected company here but everyone is fine. Please tell Bill we are headed to him right now. Get everyone moving and we’ll see you all shortly.”
“Moving out now, Harry. Talk soon,” Cecil said.
Harry and the other men heard the sound of boat engines starting in the distance. The infected obviously heard the sound as well and redoubled their efforts at the fence with renewed vigor.
The size of the horde had increased tenfold since the men in the Bearcat had come through. The ones closest to the fence were being pressed against it with such force that flesh and fluids from exposed parts of their bodies were oozing through the links. The fence itself began to produce a metal groaning sound as it began to bend forward under a weight it was never designed to handle.
Harry glanced into the rear of the truck and saw a few cases of water and food rations still sitting on the floor. Making
a quick decision, he said to the other men, “Leave what’s left and let’s move, guys. That fence is coming down any second.”
David and Walter moved to their carts and instantly took off. Frank gave Harry a thumbs up as he jumped onto the back of the cart driven by David. Harry watched the two small vehicles as they disappeared into the heavy fog, then quickly turned toward the fence as he heard the distinctive sound of popping metal. A section of the chain link fence was now bowed inward at the top where several of the wires holding it onto a cross bar had broken.
“Harry …” Derrick began.
“We need to go NOW!” Harry said, interrupting his friend.
Both men took off at a run toward the boat launch area at the end of the San Francisco Harbor Mole. They held their rifles across their chests, ready to engage anything that got in their way. Although both men fully expected the infected to rush them at any moment, they made it to the boat launch unmolested.
David, Walter, Frank, and Bill were hurriedly loading the Swift Boat with the equipment and supplies when Derrick and Harry arrived. Derrick was breathing heavily but otherwise didn’t appear to be fazed much by the mad dash he had just made. Harry, on the other hand, thought he was going to have a heart attack. Although in fairly decent shape for a fifty-year-old man who worked out fairly regularly, he had never been an endurance runner. While Derrick stood beside him watching the area from whence they’d just come, Harry bent over, placing his hands on his knees, and took deep gasping breaths.
“You okay, buddy?” Derrick asked, smiling, knowing Harry would not see the gesture. “I guess you should have ridden on one of the carts and left us younger guys to jog.”
Harry did not look up as he was still trying to catch his breath while wondering when someone was going to pull the knife out of his side. He was able to say through deep breaths, “I … am … too old for … this shit!”
Derrick patted him on the back in reply and chuckled. Harry was just beginning to get his breath under control and was finally able to straighten up. He was going to say a few more choice words to Derrick when there was an explosion of sound coming from the direction of the truck. It was quite apparent that the fence had finally broken and the infected were coming. Seemingly hundreds of them would reach the boat launch within minutes.
Harry glanced back to the three men unloading and realized there were still several cases of supplies on one of the maintenance carts. “That’s it!” Harry said with urgency. “Those things are on the way. We need to leave right now! Get on the boat and let’s go!”
32
The leading edge of the infected broke the outermost fringes of the fog and became visible. Derrick immediately opened fire with his AR, dropping bodies with each burst he sent into the crowd. Harry brought his own weapon to shoulder, adding to the carnage as the horde continued to advance. Harry was relieved that so far no runners had appeared out of the mass yet. Unfortunately that relief was short-lived, as six of the fast-moving infected suddenly broke through the ranks of their slower brethren.
“Runners!” Harry exclaimed, instantly taking two of the things down with the AR-15.
Derrick took another one down with his next volley. Frank, who appeared to Harry’ right, shot two more of them as Harry finished the last. All six had fallen heavily and skidded a bit when they hit the pavement.
The bodies of the infected the men had already shot lay as a small barrier in front of the advancing horde. This served to slow it a bit as others behind this barrier began to trip and fall, causing a slight domino effect. But further to the rear the infected began to simply walk up and over the bodies in front of them.
The small diesel engine of the Swift Boat came to life with a rumble as Bill started it.
“In the boat, now!” Harry exclaimed, the three continuing to fire into the horde as they slowly stepped backward. “It looks like they’re tripping up but others are coming over the top!”
The three men continued backing up as they fired. Their shots were true, bringing more of the things down. But with the number of infected surging toward them their efforts did very little to stem the tide. As they finally reached the bow of the Swift Boat, the horde was within fifty feet of their position.
“You guys get on the boat. I’ll cover you,” Harry said to Derrick and Frank in a tone that held little room for argument. The two men broke off their fire and climbed on board. Just as Harry was about to join them, at least a dozen runners suddenly appeared at the top of the pile of bodies. They leaped over those bodies, quickly closing the short distance between them and the men at the boat.
“HARRY, COME ON!” Derrick shouted, beginning to get out of the boat to join his friend.
“STAY IN THE DAMN BOAT AND GET OUT OF HERE!” Harry returned the shout as he continued to fire at the runners that were now only twenty feet in front of him and closing that gap rapidly. “NOW!”
Harry was once again brought to the realization that his time was up. That calm which had taken hold of him the last time he’d thought he was going to die as they were rescuing Wanda and her granddaughter. He slowed his breathing and took better aim, determined to take out as many of the infected as he could before they got to him. But he had lost count of the rounds he had been firing and the next pull of the trigger did not bring about the desired result of a round leaving the barrel.
“Well, that’s not good,” Harry said to himself as he quickly reversed the rifle, grasping the extremely hot end of the barrel in a two-handed grip. He was still wearing tactical gloves which helped somewhat, but he could still feel the heat creep through those gloves toward the palms of his hands. He did not have time to concern himself with that little discomfort however. Unable to insert a fresh mag into the rifle, and without his Glock, he prepared to bludgeon the first infected to reach his position. “COME ON YOU SONS OF BITCHES!”
The runners were now ten feet from Harry, and as he brought the rifle up into what resembled a baseball player’s stance preparing to hit a home run, he heard the earsplitting blast from an air horn to his right. Seconds later he was knocked off his feet and onto the ground by a tremendous surge of water. His head impacted with the pavement hard enough to cause him to momentarily lose consciousness.
* * *
The thick fog limited Phil’s view of the strip of land that made up the mole of the harbor. But he had been keeping a watchful eye on the area after he had spoken to Harry on the radio. Without the engine of the Phoenix running it was fairly quiet, the only sound the lapping of the Bay waters as it hit the breakwater of the mole and the sides of the fireboat. Phil had heard the racket of the fence being taken down, and even without binoculars he was able to see the infected clearly enough once they emerged from the fog line. As soon as he saw the mass of infected surge forward he had immediately told Jimi to get the Phoenix as close to shore as possible.
It took Jimi only a few moments to start the powerful engine and engage the propeller of the Phoenix. Phil was nearly thrown from his feet as Jimi sharply turned the boat toward the breakwater of the harbor at full throttle. As the fireboat got closer to the mole, Phil watched as the three men began firing into the leading edge of the horde bearing down on them, although with little effect. He watched as two of the men broke off firing and jumped into the smaller boat at the edge of the boat launch. The third man continued using his rifle in a vain attempt to hold back the advancing mass but it was obvious his efforts were not slowing the onslaught.
As the fireboat closed to fifty yards from the entrance to the docks, Phil saw a large pack of the infected suddenly break from the horde and begin running toward the men’s location. Although there was a pile of bodies that had accumulated from the men taking the things out, the runners seemed to have little difficulty in getting over it. Phil watched in horror as the man suddenly grasped the end of his rifle, placing the stock on his shoulder as if he were preparing to swing for the fences. The runners were now very close, and if Phil didn’t do something soon that man was g
oing to die.
“JIMI, GET THE PUMPS GOING RIGHT NOW!” Phil shouted as he grasped the forward water cannon he now stood behind, aiming the nozzle toward the space between the infected and the man. Within seconds, Jimi yelled back that the pumps were on and the cannon was ready. Jimi let lose a blast of the Phoenix’s air horn to let the men ashore know that the fireboat crew was trying to help. Phil activated the water cannon, sending a heavy concentrated jet of water between the man and the runners. He could not see what was happening through the water, but he hoped it was enough to at least distract the infected long enough for the man to get onto the boat behind him.
* * *
Derrick and Frank also heard the air horn, followed by the heavy flow of water coming from the fireboat. Harry disappeared under the onslaught. Derrick did not hesitate as he leaped from the boat and ran to Harry’s last position, with Frank right behind.
Harry came to his senses as he felt himself being dragged to his feet. Thinking the worst, he swung his arms wildly to fend off the infected he was certain surrounded him. The response shocked him, however.
“Damn it Harry that hurt! I’m trying to help you here!” Derrick said, although his voice was somewhat muffled by the roar of the water. “You need to get your ass moving, old man!”
Harry finally shook off what remained of the fuzziness in his head and realized what was going on. It was obvious that somehow the fireboat had rendered assistance, and at fairly close range given the force of water being pumped. Derrick was now half-dragging and half-supporting Harry, leading him to the Swift Boat and helping him aboard. Frank was right behind, keeping a close watch with his rifle at the ready and pointing toward the direction of the horde. Bill helped get Frank back in the boat, then raced to the pilot house. Starting the Swift Boat, Bill reversed it away from the launch, then out into the open Bay at full throttle.
Harry laid on his back, trying to catch his breath as the Swift Boat sped out of the harbor. “What the hell happened?” he asked Derrick
