02 Flotilla of the Dead

by David Forsyth

  “Game over, Carl,” he called out. “Just like I told you when I met you, but we put together a hell of a team, didn’t we? Now get the rest of these people to the safe haven. I’ll hold off these fuckers long enough for you to get out of here!”

  “No, Chuck,” argued Carl. “Come with us!”

  “Get the fuck out of here, you idiot!” Chuck yelled as he picked up his shotgun from where it fell when he was attacked. “I’m a walking dead man and you know it. Don’t worry, you won’t see me again. I’ll save some buckshot for myself as soon as you are all out of here. Now GO damn it!”

  Carl wanted to argue, but knew Chuck was right. He was infected and might turn any minute. The best thing he could do was exactly what Chuck asked. He shot two more zombies and turned to get back into the Suburban. As he closed the door he looked at Chuck and yelled, “God Bless You!” Chuck just smiled and gave him the finger. Then he ran up to the mechanic driving the wrecker and told him to pull the RV out of there. Carl led the way as the wrecker lifted the front end of RV Nine and the rest of the convoy followed down the street. The last time Carl saw Chuck he was waving at the RVs that drove by him and lifting his shotgun to blast another zombie.

  Carl didn’t remember much of the rest of last few miles to the harbor. He knew they drove all the way down Frampton Avenue, a street that would haunt his nightmares, where zombies poured out of apartment buildings and were crushed or thrown back by the speeding convoy. He didn’t remember much of it with his conscious mind, but the visions would return in his sleep where they were burned into his being. Eventually they made it through a massive pile up at a major five way intersection and onto North Gaffey Street, which took them towards the Seaside Freeway and the Vincent Thomas Bridge to Terminal Island. It was slow going, though, with the Caterpillar in a constant battle to clear wrecked and abandoned vehicles from their path. By the time the bridge was in sight Carl was getting reports from the back of the convoy that Engine Two was having to use its water cannon to keep the fast moving zombies off their tail and the rest of the horde was closing in behind them.

  Chapter 8: The Surprise Party

  “I am the spirit of the morning sea, I am the awakening and the glad surprise.” R.W. Gilder

  On the morning of April 13th, 2012, Scott awoke before Michelle, as usual, but instead of going to check on the latest news, as was his habit, he started the day by taking wrapped gifts out of his walk-in closet and quietly arranging them on the bed. When he had amassed a sizable pile of presents, Scott leaned down to kiss Michelle on the cheek and whispered, “Happy birthday, baby.”

  “Mmmmm?” Michelle smiled as she opened her eyes. “I thought you would forget.”

  “Why? Just because it’s the end of the world is no reason not to celebrate your birthday, is it?” Scott asked sarcastically.

  “You sure know how to cheer me up,” Michelle replied with forced good humor. “But I guess that trip to Las Vegas that we were planning is out of the question now.”

  “Sorry,” said Scott. “I don’t think Vegas would be a very healthy place to go right now.” Michelle put a cute pout on her face to express her disappointment. “But I do have a little romantic getaway planned for us today,” Scott confided slyly.

  “Really?” Michelle said curiously. “And where would that be?”

  “It’s a surprise, honey, but I think you’ll like it,” said Scott. “Now why don’t you open some of these presents while I order some Eggs Benedict for your breakfast in bed? I didn’t tell you, but we were given a dozen fresh eggs and a chicken coup yesterday from one of the locals.”

  “That sounds fantastic!” Michelle exclaimed. The ship had run out of fresh eggs weeks ago. Scott gave her a deep kiss and turned to make arrangements for their breakfast and the birthday outing he had planned for the rest of the day. Michelle opened a few gifts, including a new diamond necklace, but it soon became clear that her heart wasn’t in it. Gifts from the world of yesterday had less meaning after that world had ended. At least the eggs were cooked to perfection, with a soft yolk that spread slowly over the ham and English muffin and an extra portion of Hollandaise sauce.

  Two hours later Scott led Michelle down to the vehicle deck. Her curiosity turned to apprehension when she saw the Seawind amphibious airplane tied up to the rear ramp. “What is that contraption doing down here, Scott Allen?” she said sternly. “I hope you don’t expect me to fly in that thing with you!”

  “Relax, baby,” said Scott soothingly. “It’s perfectly safe and I’m an excellent pilot.”

  “I told you when you bought that thing that I’m scared to fly in it,” said Michelle stubbornly. “What makes you think that I’ve changed my mind about that now?”

  “Look, honey, isn’t the end of the world enough to be scared of?” said Scott reasonably. “Besides, with zombies roaming around everywhere, this plane is a lot safer than any form of ground transportation. And I for one am tired of helicopter and boat rides. We’ll be taking off and landing on the water where we’ll be safe from zombies. So don’t worry. Everything will be fine and I bet you’re going to love this.” He could see that she wasn’t happy, but she would reluctantly agree to his plan. Scott checked to make sure that the picnic basket, cooler and duffle bag he had requested were secured in the back seat, along with his M-203 and ammo belts, then held Michelle’s hand as he helped her climb down into the cockpit of the airplane floating below the ship’s stern ramp.

  Scott ran through a quick, but thorough, pre-flight checklist before lowering the cockpit canopy and starting the single engine mounted in the tail assembly. After a brief run-up with feathered prop he adjusted the propeller pitch to provide reverse thrust and backed away from the Sovereign Spirit. Boat People on nearby yachts watched with interest and envy as the sleek little airplane turned and moved effortlessly towards an open stretch in the outer harbor.

  The sea was calm and sparkled with reflections of the sun in a clear blue sky as Scott turned the plane into the slight breeze and added power. The acceleration was rapid as the little aircraft planed along the water for a mere 1,100 feet before reaching flight speed. As the airspeed indicator reached 70 knots Scott pulled back on the yoke slightly and the Seawind climbed eagerly into the air. Scott stayed low and built airspeed as he retracted the flaps and made slight adjustments to the trim tabs. Within seconds they were flying at 200 MPH and Scott initiated a rapid climb that quickly took them up to 1,500 feet. Michelle looked a little startled, but she also seemed excited as she reached over to grasp his hand that rested on the throttle.

  “Isn’t this fun, baby?” asked Scott as he leveled off the plane at an altitude even with the island’s mountain tops.

  “Maybe it’s fun for you,” Michelle replied through the headset intercom. “For me it’s terrifying, but it’s exhilarating too. So where are we going?”

  “That’s still a surprise,” replied Scott. “But I can point out a few points of interest along the way. First we’re about to fly over Catalina’s airport in the sky and you’ll see it’s overflowing with a couple hundred airplanes that escaped here on Z-Day.” Scott pointed out the window and Michelle gave a surprised exclamation when they flew over the crowded airfield. Scott wagged his plane’s wings in greeting to those below and banked out over the ocean again as he aimed the nose north-east towards Malibu.

  A few minutes later Scott said, “We’ll be flying over our house in Malibu soon, honey.”

  “I know,” she replied with a note of apprehension. “Is that where we’re going?”

  “Not today,” Scott answered. “It’s not safe to go there alone, but that could be our next stop when the Sovereign Spirit leaves Catalina. I’ve got a plan to set up a safe haven along the coast of Malibu. Then we’ll be able to reclaim our house and make that part of the coast secure and zombie free. Today we’ll just fly over it.”

  “Okay,” said Michelle as Scott began a shallow descent towards the familiar coast of Malibu. When they arrived over their beach
front compound Scott circled several times and they both looked down at the apparently deserted estate in silence. There was no sign of damage or looting that they could see from the air and no sign of any zombies on the property. However, the Pacific Coast Highway was jammed with abandoned cars and corpses scattered among them. They also spotted a dozen or more zombies surrounding an RV in the middle of the traffic jam on PCH. The group was easy to identify as zombies because they turned and reached towards the plane as it flew by.

  “Do you think there are normal people trapped in that motor home?” Michelle asked in a hesitant and clearly horrified voice.

  “Yes, that’s about the only thing that would attract so many zombies.” replied Scott. “If those people can survive another day or two we might be able to rescue them. But there’s nothing that we can do for them right now.” Michelle nodded in mute understanding as Scott made one more pass along the Malibu coast before climbing out over the ocean again.

  The Seawind climbed smoothly to an altitude of 5,500 feet as Scott flew north-west, taking them several miles off-shore of Point Mugu Naval Air Station. “The Navy is probably still in control of Point Mugu and Port Hueneme,” said Scott. “But we’ll stay well of clear of them today. I’d rather have the Coast Guard make our introductions there when elements of the Flotilla arrive.” Michelle didn’t say anything, but she was watching the coast as they flew north. A few minutes later they were passing Ventura and Scott angled out further into the Santa Barbara channel towards a string of off-shore oil drilling platforms. He turned the plane into a banking descent as he circled them.

  “Are we going to those oil rigs?” asked Michelle nervously.

  “Not today,” replied Scott with a grin. “I’m just looking for signs of life. There,” he pointed down. “See the helicopters on the landing pads of those platforms? And all of those boats anchored near the rigs? That’s another group of boat people that we should make contact with soon. But not today, honey. I just wanted to take a quick look. Those oil rigs might become strongholds for a safe haven that could include all those beach houses between Ventura and Rincon.” Scott gestured towards the coast where houses were nestled along a narrow strip of flat land between the ocean and coastal mountains. Those communities could be secured in the same way that he planned for Malibu. But his destination on this flight was farther north, so he set those thoughts aside and climbed the plane back up to 5,500 feet over the Santa Barbara Channel.

  Five minutes later the Seawind crossed over the shore above downtown Santa Barbara and Michelle turned to Scott with questions in her eyes. “Is this where you’re taking you’re taking me?”

  “Not exactly,” replied Scott mysteriously. He continued to climb as he looked out the window at his home town. It was difficult to tell from this altitude, but Scott was sure it was overrun with zombies, although there were probably lots of survivors too. For the moment Scott was happy to be too high to see any grizzly details below. It was far preferable to look at the familiar and breathtaking landscape from a distance where it still looked to him like the most beautiful place in the world. If he wiped all thoughts of zombies from his mind it looked almost exactly as it had when he had flown the same route as a student pilot thirty years ago.

  When the plane climbed up and over the mountains behind the city of Santa Barbara he noticed that the road up San Marcos Pass was jammed with abandoned vehicles. A multi-car accident had blocked traffic halfway up the twisting road. Since the accident probably happened on Z-Day, it would have closed one of the only escape routes for survivors from Santa Barbara. As the Seawind crested the Coastal Range the Santa Ynez Valley spread out in front of them. “We’re almost there, honey. Can you guess where we’re going now?” Scott asked.

  “The Indian casino and wine tasting?” asked Michelle skeptically.

  “Close,” said Scott with a smile as he began a gradual descent into the valley. “But I think it will be safer if stay on the water.” He pointed at a large lake that ran for several miles down the valley.

  “Lake Cachuma?” asked Michelle with a note of pleasure and anticipation in her voice.

  “You got it, honey,” confirmed Scott. “It’s where we had our first real date. I wanted to take you someplace meaningful, but also somewhere safe. We should be able to land on the lake and beach the plane on an island or inaccessible cove where no zombie can get to us. Then we can celebrate your birthday in peace.”

  “That does sound romantic,” said Michelle coyly.

  Scott smiled as he continued to descend into the valley towards the lake. Like any good pilot of a single engine aircraft, Scott had made sure that he always had enough speed and altitude to glide to a safe landing in the event of engine failure. In a world full of zombies the safest place to land his amphibious plane was a large body of water. Until crossing the mountains he had made sure to keep enough altitude to glide back to the ocean. Now he made sure that he had enough height to glide to the lake, if necessary. Not that he expected an engine failure, but if recent events had taught him anything, it was to expect the unexpected.

  The Seawind flew over the clear blue water of the lake at an altitude of 1,000 feet, speeding down its five mile length at 180 mph. Scott was surprised to see that the camp grounds on the western peninsula that jutted into the lake seemed to be full of campers. He pulled into a sharp turn over the dam at the far end of the lake and flew back over the camp sites. Sure enough, the sites were full of tents, trailers and RVs. There was also activity around the marina and boat launch ramps. And there were people down there waving at the plane. Not reaching like zombies, but actually waving.

  “Look at that, honey!” Scott said. “There are survivors down there.”

  “That’s a good thing,” said Michelle. “Isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” replied Scott hesitantly. “It’s a great thing for them and probably for everyone in the long run. Of course it might put a damper on your surprise birthday picnic, but maybe not,” Scott temporized. “I think I’ll go ahead with our plan and land by Arrowhead Island at the other end of the lake. If any of those survivors wants to meet us today, they’ll have to come there by boat. I don’t think it would be wise for us to just pull up to the marina or campgrounds without knowing more about who all those people are.”

  Scott circled the Seawind over the campgrounds several more times while he hit speed dial on the satellite phone to inform the Sovereign Spirit of their destination and the fact that they had spotted survivors in the campground. During the final pass he identified at least a dozen police and fire vehicles parked near the entrance to the campgrounds and forming what looked like a security perimeter along the highway. Then he straightened onto an approach to set down on the south-eastern end of the lake and reduced power has he extended the flaps. The Seawind touched down smoothly and decelerated rapidly.

  Scott had judged his approach well and the aircraft settled down about five hundred feet from the uninhabited shore of Arrowhead Island. He added a little power to bring the Seawind back up to step taxi speed and cruised around the small island looking for a good place to beach or tie up to the shore. The water level in the lake was quite high from the spring rains and Scott spotted a grass covered sloping beach where he could run the plane up on the shore at the southern tip of the island. From there they would be able to see any boats coming from the Marina.

  Scott disengaged the lock and raised the cockpit canopy with the flip of a switch. Then he released his seat belt and climbed over the nose with a rope in hand. “Wait while I secure the bow line,” he said to Michelle. “Then I’ll help you get off and set up our picnic.” Michelle just smiled and watched as Scott jumped across the mud to the high grass beyond and tied the rope to a small tree. He pulled the plane up onto the sore and returned to help Michelle ashore before going back again for the picnic basket and his weapons. Five minutes later they were happily ensconced on a picnic blanket with an array of appetizers and a bottle of Merlot wine in front of them. The sun was br
ight, but the day was not overly hot. A cool breeze swept across the lake, fanning the green grass and reeds around them.

  “You weren’t kidding about a romantic getaway,” said Michelle as she raised her wine glass for a toast. “This reminds me of the picnics we used to have at Tapia Park in Malibu Canyon.” Scott smiled as their glasses clinked together and then he tasted the wine. Moments later they were sharing a passionate kiss. But the moment of bliss was spoiled when Scott heard a speedboat approaching.

  “Hold that thought, honey,” he said as he broke the embrace and turned to pick up his M-203. “We have visitors.” Scott stood up and saw three boats moving rapidly across the lake towards Arrowhead Island. He pulled a pair of binoculars from his gear bag and focused on the approaching boats. They were full of men and he could see that some wore uniforms and most of them held rifles. There were any number of reasons why they would be armed – many of them innocent enough – but Scott did not feel like taking any chances. He quickly replaced the buckshot grenade in the launcher with a parachute flare and fired it over the lake in front of the speed boats.