by Bob Howard
The camera panned one more time down the length of the great ship and then came back to the left toward the area where the gangway stretched from the ship to the dock. There were armed guards at the top and the bottom of the gangway, and I could see a group of people dressed in hospital clothes checking everyone in line. They were checking for bite marks and taking vital signs. They were moving from one person to the next as quickly as possible, but the boarding dock looked like it had well over a thousand people squeezed onto it. The space between the ship and the terminal was like a large parking lot without spaces marked, but somehow they were maintaining order.
The terminal itself was probably full, too, and those waiting inside were probably being told there was room on the ship for everyone, so behave if you want to be allowed on board. On the other side of the terminal there was a smaller crowd waiting to get inside. They were likely to be more afraid than the lucky ones who were already inside because they could see what was happening in the city behind them.
People inside the terminal and on the boarding dock were relatively safe at the moment because they were between the ship and the front of the terminal. There were a lot of people packed into a small area, but someone had been smart enough to park a large number of cars at the end of the pier on the street side of the terminal.
Whoever had the idea was a genius. The cars were parked right up against each other so close that the drivers had to get out before the next one was put in place. After about ten rows of cars were in place, a couple of big container trucks were jockeyed into position across the pier. Any infected that could possibly climb over the cards would have to climb over the container trucks at the end. That was something they just couldn’t do.
As a final security measure, a narrow strip was left open on the left and the right side of the pier. The strip on each side was only wide enough for one person to barely be able to walk the length of the barricade, and that was another thing the infected couldn’t do. The dead would make it as far as the second car before they would get pushed from behind or trip and fall. The end result was always the same. They would drop over the side onto the slope below and tumble to the mud and oyster beds under the pier. Those who were able climb over the growing pile of bodies below would eventually reach the water and drop out of sight. Some would float, and some would sink. The current was causing a steady stream of heads to occasionally bob to the surface as the infected were carried away into the Cooper River.
The reporter who was still manning his post at the anchor desk in the TV station was trying to describe the scene, while he kept one eye on monitor that showed his own predicament. I guess I couldn’t blame him for feeling like he had to tell his viewers what was happening. It probably took him years to reach the anchor desk, and this was his chance. I didn’t know if this had been his position before, or if he had inherited the job because someone didn’t make it to work today.
From the safety of my shelter I watched along with him as he described the scenes on the different monitors. I was surprised when he actually paused from his commentary and announced that the broadcast was going to be commercial free, and that his station would stay with us throughout the crisis. Normal programming would not resume until the crisis was over.
I thought to myself, “I’ve got a news flash for you. The crisis is going to last for a long, long time, and your viewership is steadily decreasing. They won’t care if its commercial free or not.”
The reporter returned to his description of the situation at the cruise ship terminal and the genius behind using the cars to block the pier. He identified a local police officer named Kathy McGinley who was assigned to work at the terminal as the architect of the plan. She was a young rookie who wasn’t even on the force long enough to be assigned a car, but when people started streaming to the terminal to escape the increasing numbers of infected dead who were getting back up and attacking the living, she organized enough people to seal the terminal.
They were able to get the cars into place because there had been a tall chainlink fence and sliding gate around the terminal parking lot. Once they got the gate closed, the rookie had people park their cars up against the fence to strengthen it. Then she had them retreat to the pier where they put the container trucks and row after row of cars.
With everyone safely behind the container trucks they watched as the parking lot fence was breached at the weak sides, and the dead began pouring through. At first they reached the pier and tried to just push against the cars, but as their numbers increased, they spread toward the edges of the pier.
The plan wouldn’t have worked as well if the original builders of the pier had put guardrails along the length of the pier. Instead they just put a raised area of concrete that was about a foot wide and only a foot high, so any of the infected dead who tried to walk its length met with the same fate.
As added insurance, armed soldiers who had made their way to the area had joined in and stationed several shooters on each side. When it looked as if an infected dead was able to get further than the others, they would be shot, and if they didn’t fall over the side, they would become a trip hazard to those pushing from behind.
I wondered what had happened to the rookie cap and hoped she was safe on board the cruise ship. She deserved to be safe, because it looked like she had made a few thousand other people safe.
The crowd outside the terminal on the barricade side had dwindled to nothing, and it was just a matter of getting everyone on board the cruise ship. Soon the only people left on that side were the soldiers who were stationed along the sides of the pier, and they were beginning to pull back. The reporter commented that he had communications open with a reporter who had managed to board the ship and then reached the cameraman who was perched at one of the highest points on the starboard side of the ship.
The reporter stepped in front of the camera, and the anchorman gave her the go-ahead to begin talking.
“This is Maegan Kennedy for WCHS TV in Charleston, reporting to you live from the cruise ship Atlantic Spirit.” She looked a bit shaken but was getting the chance to do the broadcast of her life, so she was going to deliver it like a pro.
“What you are seeing below is an attempt to save as many people as possible by getting them onto this beautiful safe haven and getting out to sea as quickly as possible. We have been told that a Charleston City Police Officer was responsible for sealing the terminal. We have reports that she is safely on board and hope to find her for an interview. I’m sure our viewers would like to meet this extraordinary person. In the meantime, let me tell you what’s happening below.”
The cameraman dutifully aimed his camera back down to the area where the doctors and nurses were screening passengers to make sure no one got on board if they had been bitten.
“The medical staff of this ship has been checking everyone for bite marks, and they were told that anyone who had been bitten should be escorted to the tent at the end of the dock. We saw some people being taken to the tent, but fortunately the number of bitten has been small. We don’t know anything about their fate, but it is not likely they will be allowed to board.”
As Maegan Kennedy did her job, I watched as the last of the people waiting on the dock started up the gangway, followed by the medical staff. No one was coming out of the tent, and as soon as the medical staff started up the gangway the soldiers at the barricade quickly retreated to the terminal and then followed the crew onto the ship.
As soon as the last person was on board, the gangway began to rise, and the huge ship was pulled away from the dock by a trio of tugboats. By some miracle, people were keeping their act together long enough to escape. It wasn’t a shelter with an impenetrable door, but they were all alive……for now.
******
Across the harbor from the cruise ship there was a similar scene of desperation unfolding at the Patriots Point marina. Boat owners trying to save their families and friends were escaping from their slips as quickly as they could. Some were
successful while others found themselves either trapped by other boats or overflowing with unwanted passengers, both living and dead. Total strangers were pleading for space on boats. Some were offering money while others just boarded. More than a few used deadly force to take the boats from others.
Sometimes the living were infected and going to die, but they either didn’t know that, or they didn’t care. They still weren’t going to tell anyone. Literally hundreds of boats from large to small, power boats and sail boats, were trying to at least pull away from the floating docks separating the slips to keep more people from jumping onto their decks.
The cameraman on the cruise ship zoomed in on the USS Yorktown moored at Patriots Point as a tourist attraction and then to the right in the direction of the marina. A microphone must have been open nearby because it caught the shocked voice of the cameraman when he said, “Oh my God.”
Boats that were at least getting away from the mayhem at the marina were being capsized by the weight of the people who had forced themselves on the boat owners. As many as thirty to forty people were crammed onto the decks of single masted sail boats that were intended for four to six people, and engine powered boats sat so low in the water that the slightest wake caused them to list then sink, throwing their passengers into the river. Some immediately gained holds on other boats and tried to board, but the occupants more often then not beat at their hands to make them let go.
Cabin cruisers that had the largest slips had been able to pull away because they weren’t blocked by other boats, and they also seemed to have the smallest numbers of people on board. Gun shots could be heard all the way across the harbor as angry people fired at the escaping cabin cruisers and as their occupants returned fire from the relative safety of their decks. It was unreal to watch as people fell on both sides of the guns.
One of the smaller power boats that had been overwhelmed by people managed to make it to Castle Pinckney, a tiny island in the center of the harbor that had housed a small fort during the Civil War. The camera followed them as they chose to jump off onto the island rather than to sink in the Cooper River. As soon as they were ashore, they began helping other groups of people out of the water to keep them from being pulled under by the strong current.
Their heroic efforts didn’t last long as they at first were pulling people ashore and then running from them. Bodies that had fallen face first in the sand were getting back up and following their would be rescuers at a lurching, stumbling gate. Those who were too slow were pulled to the ground and then mercilessly bitten by their attackers.
Boats that had been drawn toward the shore of Castle Pinckney by the current were trying to steer back toward the open water, but infected dead that were in the water were also pulling at the safety rails or the arms and legs of the people who didn’t quite fit into the boats. Only a matter of yards from the relative safety of open water, boatloads of people were dying, and I watched as the population of Castle Pinckney become more dead than alive.
The water beyond the marina and Castle Pinckney became dotted with hundreds of white sails as they found their wind and tried to reach the mouth of the harbor. In their haste to reach open water, too many failed to pay attention to the channel markers and wound up stuck in the mud banks on the Mt. Pleasant side.
Those who were more careful and able to reach the part of the harbor where the Ashley River met with the Cooper River only had to avoid collisions with the other boats. Some were not lucky enough to avoid colliding with others because there were infected passengers who had begun biting people, including those who were doing the steering.
The scenario that was unfolding at the Patriots Point marina was also being played out at the Charleston City Marina located just around the bend on the Ashley River. As a result, the boats that did escape joined the melee where the two rivers joined each other just south of Castle Pinckney. The end result was that many of the boats that weren’t overcrowded and carrying the infected were lost anyway. There were just too many of them trying to reach safety at sea.
When the massive cruise ship was escorted from its berth by the tugboats, their preference would have been to have a clear path, and they did at first. The tugs guided the ship past the bloody scene on Castle Pinckney by staying in the western channel of the Cooper River, then it began a slow turn to the East that brought it directly into the path of the unlucky boats that had been too slow escaping from the city marina. The fastest boats were able to maneuver clear of the Atlantic Spirit, but many were pushed out of the way and then caught by the tremendous wake.
******
I watched different camera views for several hours. Some of the screens went blank and stayed that way. The cruise ship stayed on camera until it cleared the harbor and then escaped beyond the jetties. Maegan Kennedy interviewed the captain and several survivors, but she never located the rookie cop. The captain told anyone who was watching that their plan was to sail up the coast. Most of the US Navy ships that had been in port at the big eastern naval bases were at sea off the coast, and his information was that they were concentrating their forces near Washington DC.
If I was correct, they would eventually pass by my location, but I didn’t think there was a chance of seeing them. They would probably be happy to stay well offshore.
As the big ship had slipped past Fort Sumter, the fort where the Civil War began, the cameraman zoomed in to see if survivors had managed to secure the old fort as a safe haven. At first the reporter and other passengers went silent as they watched only the infected dead walking along the walls.
Some of the infected were drawn by the living who watched from the cruise ship. They blindly attempted to walk over low places in the ramparts as if they could fly or walk on water. People watching from the decks of the Atlantic Spirit started to cry and scream as bodies dropped over the edge and became entangled in the sharp shells of the oyster beds. They didn’t die as they landed but continued to try to reach the ship. Those that managed to get back to their feet staggered to the water and disappeared just like they did back at the dock.
I hoped if anyone tried to reach Fort Sumter, all of the infected dead will have already fallen over the walls. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to land there thinking it would be safe, only to discover it was certain death.
As the broadcast from the cruise ship went blank, it occurred to me that I hadn’t eaten in a long time. I made my way to the next level into the kitchen and checked the refrigerator first. I didn’t have the appetite for a real meal. I just wanted something I could carry back to the living room. I found a generous supply of cold cuts and a well stocked section that was full of one of the real essentials……beer. I made several sandwiches and returned to the TV.
When I was situated, I remembered that I still hadn’t found a way to see what was happening in the houseboat. Moving the mouse connected to the console in the center of the couch caused a menu to appear in the corner of the TV screen. I clicked on the menu and was rewarded with a list that included the news broadcast I had been watching, the Internet, entertainment, and the best find of all, Island Security.
I dragged the cursor to Island Security and clicked, and was happy to see another grid of screens, this time of the outside of the shelter. The views told me it was getting dark outside, so I must have watched the news broadcasts longer than I thought. No wonder I was so hungry.
I checked the views one at a time and found that I not only had a camera in the houseboat, they were everywhere. I could see the front door from one, which I thought made perfect sense. If the shelter was discovered, I would have some idea of what I was up against. If the infected dead managed to stumble up onto Mud Island, I would be able to see them at the door, the northern dock, and even on the empty beach at the southern tip. There was also a camera in the seaplane, and I figured that there had to be pretty good wifi on Mud Island for me to be able to see through cameras that weren’t connected by cables.
That reminded me of the other menu ite
ms on the TV, so I switched to the Internet. I wanted to see what other countries thought of our predicament. I found a Bluetooth keyboard in the console and turned it on. It was powered by a rechargeable battery, but it also had a solar panel across the top. I’d have to remember to sit it under a florescent light if I couldn’t take it outside to charge.
I started surfing through all of the news websites and consistently got the same stories. Each site described chaotic scenes, horrible deaths, and heroism, but they all mentioned foreign countries as if they were nothing more than a footnote. That told me one thing……there wasn’t much contact with foreign countries.
Mexico and Canada were in big trouble, especially Mexico. The infrastructure wasn’t capable of slowing the spread of the infection at all, and the drug cartels began shooting on all civilians. Coastal resorts became bloodbaths as the infection spread through the thousands of tourists.
Canadians were evacuating into their vast wilderness and cooler climates, but the infrastructure in Mexico didn’t give the average person many options. South American jungles were probably going to be safe havens to those who could reach them, but only because there are so many natural predators there. That was an ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire’ situation because the predators were just as likely to kill a living person as they would the infected dead.
Europe was blacking out from contact too fast to get a really clear picture of what was happening, but the stories were too similar to ignore. The United Kingdom may be a big island, but a small island is safer than a big one, because sixty-four million people were all stuck on it together. There were still plenty of isolated pockets that were too inhospitable for the infected dead to reach, but the reason this thing was spreading so fast was obvious. Plenty of living people were infected and carrying it right along with those who managed to escape.
There were warnings about that on every site I visited. Our own reporters had said the same thing. “If someone you love is bitten, do not bring them to a hospital, and do not bring them into a safe zone. They will not survive, so you must leave them behind. It will be hard for you to do, but for the sake of those who have not been infected, you must do as instructed.”
