02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  “Tomorrow you will face a trial by your peers,” Scott continued. “By that I mean that we will find twelve people from the town and the boats out in the harbor that know which of you are guilty of denying them their rations and who want to see justice done. As I said, I won’t be the judge passing sentence on those found guilty. We’ll try to find a civilian judge or elected official for that job. If not, your judge will be a Coast Guard officer. And don’t forget that looting, rape and murder are all punishable by death under martial law.” The faces of the prisoners went from tanned to whiter than a ghost, or zombie, in seconds.

  *****

  While Scott and the Marines were busy rounding up the gang of armed thugs, Captain McCloud and his crew were paying visits to the five cruise ships anchored off Avalon. Everyone aboard those ships was happy to see the big Coast Guard cutter. Captain McCloud had been in contact with the cruise ships’ captains by radio already, but it was different for the people aboard to actually see the Stratton up close. The white warship exuded an atmosphere of hope and security even in the midst of unfathomable horror engulfing the world.

  Captain McCloud launched his Interceptor patrol boat and spent the next three hours making personal visits to each of the ships to meet their captains and address their passengers and crew over the public address systems on each ship. His approach was simple and straight forward. He told everyone that most of the mainland had been overrun by zombies and that normal civilization had been totally disrupted. He told them how lucky they were to be aboard a cruise ship during the outbreak and how smart their ships’ captains had been to seek refuge at Catalina. He told them that the Coast Guard was here to assist them. And he explained that the Survival Flotilla, under command of Commodore Scott Allen, had secured a Safe Haven composed of Terminal Island and the Port of Long Beach that included stockpiles of food and fuel. Then he invited the ships and everyone aboard them to join the Survival Flotilla and seek sanctuary in the Safe Haven. On the first four ships it worked like a charm.

  As expected, most of the ships had sailed with light loads of passengers due to the bad economy prior to Z-Day. The total count of passengers and crew among the five cruise ships was just over 7,000 people, out of a possible 15,000. That was partly because the Carnival Splendor and the Disney Wonder we almost empty, as expected, aside from their crews. There were several hundred passengers aboard each of them who had refused to leave when the ship returned to port on the morning of Z-Day, but the majority of returning passengers had left the ships that fateful morning and walked into a nightmare.

  Captain McCloud tried to imagine what it would have been like for them to return from a pleasure cruise to find man eating zombies swarming the streets. Most of them had probably been locals who made it to their cars in the parking lots and tried to get home to friends and family, only to get sucked into the deadly traffic jams on LA’s freeways. For those trying to make it to LAX the nightmare would have been even worse. The smart ones, including those who were simply terrified, had refused to leave the ships. They were probably the only ones still alive.

  He also heard horror stories from the captains of three cruise ships that had passengers or crew turn into zombies on Z-Day. The worst outbreak had occurred on the last ship that Captain McCloud visited, the Oosterdam, where twelve passengers transformed into zombies in the early hours of Z-Day. Luckily, almost all of the other passengers were safely asleep in their locked staterooms and the companionways of the ship were covered by video cameras. An alert officer on the bridge saw the infected passengers acting suspiciously and sent two security guards to investigate. The zombies attacked and killed the security men, but this was also viewed by video, so the bridge officer triggered an alarm that closed the automatic water tight doors and fire doors throughout the ship and set them to only open manually with a special key that officers carried. His actions isolated the zombies in three sections of corridor. Unfortunately, it also trapped more than a hundred passengers in those areas with them. Captain McCloud was shocked, but not really surprised, to learn that all of those people were still locked up in those areas and many of them had been attacked and transformed into zombies themselves when they opened their doors to leave their cabins. As a result, there were now about sixty zombies and fifty or more starving passengers who were trapped in those secured areas. Luckily they still had running water in their bathrooms and hadn’t died of thirst.

  The outbreak had made the Oosterdam’s captain decide to abort the cruise to Hawaii and turn back for California. But by the time they approached San Diego the news had made it very clear that there was no safe port in this storm. After conferring with other ships, he decided to set course for Catalina. They had been anchored here for a week, but nobody – including the first Coast Guard patrol boat that had met them here – was willing to face corridors full of zombies to rescue those trapped in the cabins on either side. This revelation brought ice water into Captain McCloud’s veins.

  “Are you serious, Captain Anderson?” McCloud asked incredulously. “You told the Coast Guard about your emergency and they refused to help?”

  “Told them?” scoffed the bald, over weight and gray bearded Captain Anderson. “I showed them live video of the monsters pounding on the doors down there! Your Coast Guardsmen turned white as sheep, or should I say as yellow as my piss, then made a very quick and undignified exit from my ship! So don’t expect me and my crew, not to mention the other passengers, to embrace your arrival as much as the other ships have.”

  “The behavior of those guardsmen sounds unconscionable and I will get to the bottom of it when I meet their commanding officer,” replied Captain McCloud. “But in the meantime I’m going to kill those zombies and rescue your trapped passengers, if that’s alright with you, captain?”

  “Have at ‘em sonny,” said the salty but respectable old sailor with a grin. “I had my own men try it with fire axes at first, but those damned beasties don’t die easy!”

  “My men have some practice at this kind of work now, using more than axes. I’ll send for an armed boarding party of ten men immediately. We won’t be able to fit even that many into firing position in those passageways, but it’s better to have more than enough when dealing with zombies,” Captain McCloud explained.

  “Okay,” Captain Anderson said with a pleasant ring to his voice. “Maybe you are the hope we’ve all been praying for. God bless and Godspeed.”

  *****

  Sergeant Major O’Hara organized a rotating guard detail of Marines to watch the prisoners on the pier and decided to lead a patrol to liberate the remaining supplies in the grocery stores and capture or kill as many of the outlaws who were hording them as possible while Scott and Mark interviewed the women who had been their unwilling accomplices. Once they were reasonably certain that they had the right people in custody, Scott returned to his intended purpose in Avalon.

  Without a Harbor Master or the Harbor Patrol to facilitate things Scott would have to find others to help him arrange dock space for the SS Lane Victory, or find a barge to transfer supplies ashore from the old cargo ship. A crowd of locals had formed at the foot of the pier when they learned that help had arrived to free their town from the oppression of outlaws. Scott went to meet them and explained his intentions. They were more than happy to help and several of them left for the ferry pier to see about clearing some dock space for the supply ship.

  As soon as those plans were made, Scott asked about organizing a meeting of locals and boat people later that night in the famous Avalon Casino so that he and other leaders of the Survival Flotilla could introduce themselves, report on conditions back on the mainland, and describe their plans for survival and recovery. Scott explained that he also wanted to help leaders of the local community regain control of the town now that the outlaws were in custody and mentioned that he would organize a trial the next day. Once again the locals offered their full cooperation and set about spreading word of the meeting that night. Scott was just about to head b
ack to his ship to freshen up when he heard gunfire coming from a block or two inland.

  *****

  O’Hara and three of his Marines moved cautiously, but swiftly up the unusually crowded streets of Avalon. Hundreds, if not thousands, of Boat People had come ashore in search of provisions or shelter, or maybe just news and companionship. They filled the streets as they wandered, seemingly aimlessly, in search of this or that. But they parted like the Red Sea as the armed and uniformed Marines approached.

  “United States Marines coming through, make way!” O’Hara yelled out every few seconds. “Clear the road for the Marine Corps!” Whether it was his words and commanding voice, or the weapons they carried made no difference. The result was the same. And as the crowd moved aside, O’Hara and his men began to see motionless bodies lying here and there in the street. The blood around them was evidence enough that they had fallen victim to violence, but it was not clear if they had been regular people or zombies when they were taken down. O’Hara looked around, picked out a middle aged man watching them pass and addressed him in his best Sergeant Major voice. “You, sir! What happened here?”

  The man looked left and right, hoping the grizzled Marine was addressing someone else, then looked back at O’Hara and said, “It’s the end of the world, sir. Some people don’t seem to be handling it too well. That man there,” he pointed at the closest body, “was out of his mind and attacking anyone who came near him. I don’t think he was a zombie because he was yelling obscenities, but he was acting crazy. One of the men he attacked had a gun.” He turned and pointed at another body in the street, as if what he had already said was more than enough explanation for the first body. “That woman over there was a victim of rape and murder. At least she claimed to have been raped by the man who was chasing here with a knife and he did use it to slit her throat.”

  “And where did that man go?” asked O’Hara, trying to make sense of what he was hearing.

  “Probably back to the supermarket with the rest of those hoarding and whoring bastards,” replied the elderly man evenly. “They have control of all the food and they only share it with women who will let them have their way. Or they simply take what they want if the women say no. I know it’s wrong, sir. But they’re armed and they shoot anyone who tries to stop them.”

  “Not anymore,” said O’Hara calmly. “The Marines have landed now. So where is this supermarket?”

  The man pointed up the street and to the left. “It’s one block up and one block over. You can’t miss it. But don’t try to just walk up to it. They have armed men at every door. You’ll see a lot more bodies lying in their line of fire. I haven’t tried to approach it for several days now. Those who have, except for women, are dead. I figure I’ll just sit on this bench until I keel over. What more can I hope for now?”

  “Thank you for the information, sir. And you’ll be just fine now,” replied O’Hara in a dangerously calm voice. “Get up and walk down to the pier. Look for any Marine and tell him that Sergeant Major O’Hara sent you for aid and comfort. Tell him I said to put you on the next boat back to the ship that you can use my bar tab. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, sir,” replied the man. “My name is Hank Cook and, if you’re serious, I’m in your debt and about to regain some faith in humanity too.” The old man struggled to rise from his seat on the bench and turned to walk stiffly down the road towards the pier.

  O’Hara turned to his men and said, “You heard the man. The bad guys are in the supermarket around the corner. Snow, you’re with me. Corporal Slone, take Private Maddox and circle around the block. Watch the rooftops and ask locals for directions if necessary. Be ready to hit the loading dock on my signal. Use grenades if necessary. I’ll approach the front and give them one chance to surrender. Then we’ll blast them out of there, if we have to. Any questions?”

  “Shouldn’t we radio for reinforcements?” Slone asked.

  “Bite your tongue, lad,” responded O’Hara with a grin. “We’re the Marines! But I think some close air support should do nicely.” He pulled out his handheld radio and asked Mick Williams to bring a fire team of Marines with sniper rifles and grenade launchers to cover their assault on the supermarket from the Super Huey.

  *****

  Scott and Mark were running up the street towards the sound of the firefight when Mick Williams swept past above them in the chopper. Scott noticed a Marine in the open side door with a SAM-R, squad advanced marksman rifle, which was basically an M-16A4 with an advanced optical scope and heavy barrel that provided extended range and accuracy. O’Hara must have requested Mick to bring snipers.

  “Here comes the cavalry,” called Mark over the thumping of the helicopter rotor.

  Scott nodded, but signaled for Mark to slow down as they reached the next corner. The gun shots were closer now and more concentrated. Peeking around the building Scott could see Sergeant Major O’Hara crouching behind a low wall across the street from the supermarket. Gunfire came from several of the shattered windows of the market and chewed up the opposite side of the wall that protected O’Hara. Another Marine released short bursts of suppressive fire from the doorway of a one story brick building, hoping to give O’Hara some breathing room.

  The helicopter descended towards the street at first, but rose over the roof of the supermarket when the people inside started to fire at it. That, more than anything, drove Scott to action. His helicopter was priceless and he was damned if he was going sit there and watch people shoot at it. Ducking back behind the corner he quickly emptied the buckshot grenade that he favored for blasting zombies from his M-203 and replaced it with a 40mm high explosive grenade. Then he leaned around the corner again, aimed the grenade launcher at an angle to lob the projectile towards the storefront glass, and slowly squeezed the trigger.

  The grenade sailed through the windows into the supermarket and exploded with a red-orange flash and a powerful thud in what appeared to have been a direct hit on one of the checkout stands. One of the gunmen inside was thrown out of the window by the blast and lay moaning on the sidewalk. The rest of the gunfire ceased immediately. Scott reloaded with another high explosive round quickly and watched Mark insert a fragmentation grenade in his M-203. Then they both stepped around the corner and fired another volley at the store as they ran down the block. The twin explosions blew most of the remaining windows out and were followed by screams of pain within the building.

  As the smoke cleared, O’Hara raised his head from behind the wall and took aim on the windows. “Throw out your weapons and come out the doors with your hands up!” he yelled. “Or we will blast you out of there.”

  “We have women hostages in here.” yelled a man from inside the store. “You’ll kill them if you fire any more cannons in here! Just go away!”

  Scott frowned as he knelt behind the wall next to O’Hara. Then he smiled and removed the spent casing of the high explosive grenade he had just fired. He pulled a teargas grenade from the loops on his web gear and loaded it instead. O’Hara nodded and shouted, “We’re United States Marines and we don’t negotiate with terrorists! Kill your hostages if you want to die! But if you don’t come out now, we won’t be taking any prisoners either. This is your last warning.”

  Scott fired the teargas into the supermarket and the interior began to fill with white clouds. Men yelled and women screamed. Scott reloaded and fired another gas grenade through a different broken window. Mark, who was following Scott’s lead, fired a third CS round through another window. Within seconds the whole building was full of teargas.

  There was a short but furious exchange of gunfire from behind the building and O’Hara explained that his men were covering the rear exits. Then, after a brief pause, people began to come out the front doors. They all appeared to be unarmed and all of them were choking and pawing at their eyes, until one large man ran out yelling and waving a shotgun. O’Hara didn’t hesitate to fire a burst of full metal jackets into his chest.

  After that it was ove
r. A form of law and order had returned to Avalon. Thirty-five people from the supermarket were taken prisoner, including sixteen women – at least until their status could be determined. Ten minutes later, as Scott and the Marines were preparing to march them all back to the Pleasure Pier, the door of the old Town Hall opened and several elderly men came out onto the street. They approached cautiously.

  “Who is in charge here?” asked the bravest of them.

  Scott and O’Hara exchanged a glance and O’Hara said, “Commodore Scott Allen is Commander of the Survival Flotilla.” He gestured at Scott with a nod. “I’m Sergeant Major O’Hara of the US Marines, serving under his command.”

  “Thank God,” exclaimed the old man to his companion. “Did you hear that, Henry? The Marines have landed! We’re saved.” Turning to Scott he said, “Welcome to Avalon, sir. I’m Maxwell Green, former mayor of the city and chairman of the Chamber of Commerce. We’ve been through hell here since all of these armed thugs took over the town!”

  “I’m sure it’s been rough dealing with all of these refugees,” Scott said. “But you’re a hell of a lot better off than millions of people on the mainland. At least these were just thugs trying to steal food and rape women, not flesh eating zombies.”

  “So it’s really that bad over there?” asked Mr. Green. “I sort of hoped the bad news had been blown out of proportion.”

  “No, I’m afraid the news is worse than just bad,” Scott confirmed. “It’s horrific. This island might be the only uninfected place along the California coast; which is why we plan to help you create a safe haven and preserve a piece of civilization here. We’ve announced a meeting at the Avalon Casino tonight and I hope that you and the rest of the local leaders will be there.” Then men were pleased to agree and Scott headed back to the harbor.