George was very happy to see a Coast Guard cutter leading the boats out of the harbor. The Stratton’s Long Range Interceptor had been with his flotilla since the bigger ships left them behind before dawn, but it was really just a speedboat sized craft. Having a real cutter to escort the flotilla would add more than a little comfort to their situation. The USCGC Sea Otter was about the same size as the Expiscator, perhaps a little shorter, but it was clearly a patrol boat with machine guns mounted on either side near her bow. That would remove a lot of the responsibility from George for keeping order among the flotilla, not to mention protecting them from any outside threats.
The Cigarette Top Gun sped away from the Sovereign Spirit and rapidly approached the Expiscator. George recognized his wife as the boat slowed next to the big yacht and he hurried down to the rear deck to help her aboard. It had been five days since he left her to save their daughter in Cabo and a lot had happened since then. He knew he couldn’t tell her everything that had happened, at least not yet, and he hesitated to show too much emotion in front of Carla, but he felt true joy as he helped her aboard and gave her a brief hug.
“I’ll be going back with you,” said Carla to the driver of the speedboat as she pushed her way past George. “I need to be on a bigger boat. This one makes me sick.”
George nodded to the driver of the Cigarette and motioned for him to assist Carla aboard the speedboat. He breathed a sigh of relief as she left the Expiscator without making an embarrassing scene in front of his wife. Another young man helped her transfer before climbing onto the yacht and nodding towards George. That would be the new skipper. George nodded back before turning to escort his wife into the yacht’s salon. She was overjoyed to be reunited with her family and favorably impressed when George showed her around the luxurious yacht. He left her in the master suite and returned topside to get to know the young officer that Scott had sent to be the new skipper of the Expiscator.
Stan Dawson was in his late twenties. He had been a deck officer and small boat handler aboard the Sovereign Spirit and was excited to have been selected as skipper of the Expiscator. Scott and Captain Fisher had explained that George would retain his unofficial position as leader of the flotilla, but Stan would be in command of the yacht due to his experience as a sailor. He greeted Mr. Hammer with respectful friendliness, as he’d also heard that Hammer could be a hard-ass if you rubbed him the wrong way.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hammer. I’m Stan Dawson and I’m looking forward to helping you lead this flotilla to a safe anchorage.”
“The pleasure is mine, son,” George replied. “I almost went crazy trying to figure out how to run this big boat. It’ll be a relief to have someone aboard who knows what they’re doing and what all those gizmos on the bridge are. So make yourself at home. I’ll get my stuff out of the captain’s cabin and move downstairs with my family. The boat is all yours now.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Stan, “but my orders say that you are still the leader of all these boat people. So I’ll be following your instructions on most things.”
“If you say so, son,” replied George with a smile. “For the moment, my instructions are for you to run the show for awhile. I need some rest and time to catch up with my wife.”
“Yes, sir.” Stan smiled in return and climbed up the stairs to the bridge, deciding to take the opportunity to familiarize himself with the navigation and communications systems, as well as the engine instruments. Then he noticed that the Coast Guard cutter had launched a rigid inflatable boat that was heading towards the yacht. So Stan returned to the rear fishing cockpit and waited to greet them.
“Ahoy, Expiscator!” called a Coast Guard ensign in the RIB. “Permission to come aboard, sir?”
“Permission granted!” Stan yelled back. “And welcome aboard. We can certainly use your company on this trip.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied the ensign, hopping onto the swim step and climbing over the aft transom. “This is a beautiful yacht. Are you her captain?”
“I’m Stan Dawson, the new skipper. The last one got infected down in Cabo. Mr. Hammer and some of his friends and family got her out of the harbor down there and followed our ship north. The owner of this yacht is Commodore Allen, who also owns the big ship over there. He’s in overall command of the flotilla and he just assigned me to skipper the Expiscator, and help play shepherd for the refugees’ boats, at least until we locate a safe haven to anchor the flotilla. And you, sir?”
“Ensign Norman Howard, and you can call me Norm,” replied the young man. “I’m Third Officer on the Coast Guard Cutter Sea Otter, at your service. We’ve been assigned to escort you north and provide any assistance necessary. Any problems we should know about?”
“Aside from a world full of zombies?” Stan asked with a grin. “No, I’d say everything is just peachy.” They both laughed and shook hands.
*****
The helicopter rescue missions had produced mixed results. A total of six wives, one girlfriend, and nine children of the Marines had been saved, including Mrs. Morris, who was in the Stratton’s sick bay suffering from diabetic shock after she ran out of refrigerated insulin during the zombie siege of her apartment. The helicopters had also brought back seven survivors from the roof of the casino that had no connection to the Marines. Their disposition was yet to be decided, but Scott was torn between offering them positions on his crew or putting them ashore at the first safe location they found. A final decision would require some interviews though, to see where and if they would fit in. The sad news, of course, was the loss of Mrs. Snow and their failure to find four of the other Marines’ wives and girlfriends. Several children were also missing, but the overall attitude of the Marines was jubilant.
“I don’t know how to thank you, Commodore,” said Sergeant Major O’Hara after he had introduced Scott to his wife and daughter.
“You already have,” said Scott smoothly. “Now let’s see about getting everyone settled in. Your wife can share your stateroom, off course, and I’ll assign an inside cabin across the hall to your daughter.”
“Outstanding!” O’Hara exclaimed with a big smile.
“I’ll try to do the same for the other married Marines,” Scott continued.
O’Hara nodded in approval. “It’s good to see that the end of the world hasn’t brought an end to common decency, sir.”
Scott smiled and led the newcomers into the Grand Salon on the Main Deck. The new arrivals, including the Marines who hadn’t yet had time to explore the ship, were all suitably impressed with their surroundings.
There was a dance floor and stage up front, and the big projection screen was currently showing a live view of the bow and ocean ahead of the ship from a camera above the bridge. The salon seating was composed of booths around the inner perimeter, with tables along the windows on the slightly raised walkways on each side, and groups of small tables in the center of the room with comfortable chairs. Pendent lights were suspended from the ceiling and plush carpet covered the floor, except for the wooden stage and dance floor. A fully stocked cocktail bar lined one corner at the rear of the big room and a service counter with a sign that said “Sushi” flanked it on the other side. About a dozen of the ship’s passengers were spread out around the room, half of them engaged in a card game at one of the larger tables. The atmosphere was the very antithesis of an apocalypse.
“Welcome home, Marines!” announced Scott in a loud voice. “This has been my home for more than a year and now it will be yours too. There will be plenty of work for all of us, and much of it will probably be dangerous, but I want you to know that you and your families will also have plenty of good times too. We show movies here every night and, yes, we take requests. We also have a band that plays regularly and some of us like to dance to their music. We used to have a bingo night. Maybe we will again, if I can figure out better prizes than money.” That got a few chuckles.
“Farther astern on this deck you will find the main dinin
g room where your meals will be served. Room service is now restricted to birthdays, anniversaries, and people on the sick list. Behind the dining room is a sports and disco lounge. You Marines will probably give it a whole new atmosphere. And behind that is the pool deck with a swimming pool, sundeck, and an outdoor bar.” Scott paused to let that all sink in, then went on. “As you might have noticed, there are a lot of cocktail bars aboard. And we do have alcohol to stock them, at least for now, but I am instituting a liquor ration. Each adult will get two drink vouchers per day, more on off-duty days or special occasions. You can use them every day, or save them up to go wild once in a while, or even give or trade them to others who want them more than you do. But I won’t have a ship full of lushes who want to drink themselves blind because the world is suddenly full of zombies. By the way, please don’t order a ‘zombie’ at any of the bars. We’ve decided to change the name of that drink to ‘Suicide Bomber’ aboard this ship.” That remark produced some genuine laughter among the Marines and their families.
“You’ll also find a library, an internet and espresso cafe, a game room, a cigar and billiard room, a piano bar, a card room, a spa and hair salon, and a full gym on the Upper Deck. Down below there’s a small casino, a video arcade, and a two lane bowling alley – but the bowling alley is being converted into a firing range for target practice. Eventually, you might also have access to jet skis, wind surfers, kayaks, sail boats, fishing boats, and scuba gear, among other aquatic recreation. But that will all have to wait until we find a safe haven for us and the flotilla that will be relying on us. For now, I just want you to know that although your lives will be much different than before, you don’t have to be miserable or hopeless. As I have already explained to the other passengers and crew, we are all very lucky to be aboard the Sovereign Spirit right now.”
“OUTSTANDING!” yelled Sergeant Major O’Hara, and his Marines all joined in with applause and cheers. Scott felt that this was the beginning of a beautiful relationship.
*****
Interlude in Hell
Chevron Refinery, El Segundo, CA – 2:15 PM, April 6
The power plants along the beach seemed to be shut down. No smoke or steam rose from their smoke stacks. The modified Suburban was the only vehicle moving on the oceanfront street of Vista Del Mar, but there were plenty of zombies around. Some had been milling around on the beach, others walking down the road, but all of them turned and ran towards the Suburban as it exited the refinery. It would have been terrifying, if Carl hadn’t already proven the zombie-proof nature of the vehicle. As it was, he simply accelerated down the center of the road and cut down any of the infected that came into contact with the sharpened steel blades that he had installed.
“Hey!” yelled Gus. “Look at that boat out there. Man, that sucker is really moving!” Carl glanced out to sea and saw a large speedboat, probably a Cigarette or Scarab, skipping across the swells at high speed. Well, at least someone else was still alive and moving with a purpose. Being in a boat was probably one of the safest places to be now. Carl realized that he was taking a chance coming out in a lone vehicle. It could be disastrous if he crashed or flipped the Suburban, which was a real possibility, considering how many bodies he was running over. He was curious about the RV park though, as well as conditions along the beach. Now that he saw how many infected had found their way down to the coastline, he was also glad that he had stayed in the refinery for the past few days.
Gus was whooping and seemed to be having a fine time as they sliced through zombies for the second time that day. Carl was not as enthused, but he wanted to go another half mile to look at the RV park and satisfy his curiosity. He noticed that the clumps of infected got denser as they approached the campground. It wasn’t really much of a park. More like a parking lot with hook-ups for RVs next to the beach. Across the street was the Hyperion sewage treatment plant. Definitely not Carl’s idea of a romantic getaway, but there were several dozen RVs of various sizes parked there.
Hundreds of zombies swarmed in clusters that focused on about ten of the motor homes. Carl had seen this sort of behavior around the occupied apartments near the water tower; they thought there were normal people inside of those RVs. Carl realized that there was a good possibility that they were right. Even five days after being overrun, it was quite possible that uninfected people were still surviving inside those RVs. They had water, generators, provisions, and they were relatively secure from forced entry, since the infected didn’t use tools or weapons. Carl wanted to help those people, but how?
At the sound of the Suburban approaching, the zombies surrounding the motor homes became aware of its presence. Almost all of them turned away from the RVs and began running towards the SUV. Carl realized that he might be able to help those people inside the motor homes after all. He turned to Gus.
“How would you like to be a hero?”
“Me?” asked Gus with trepidation. “Not if it means getting killed, or getting out of this truck.”
“Don’t worry,” said Carl, “we should be safe enough, but I want to try and rescue the people trapped in those RVs.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“See how they are all turning away from the RVs and coming towards us?” Carl pointed to the tide of infected flesh pouring across the parking lot.
“Yeah, man, I can see that. Looks like it’s time to get out of here, huh?” Gus suggested hopefully.
“Maybe,” Carl said, giving Gus a penetrating look that brooked no argument. “Or maybe we can save the people trapped in those RVs by leading all of the zombies away from them.”
“Yeah,” agreed Gus reluctantly. “I guess it’s worth a try.”
Carl nodded and reached for the radio microphone on the dash, flipping the selector to the public address speakers. Then he turned towards the RVs and slowed the Suburban to a crawl before speaking into the microphone.
“Attention survivors in the RV park! If you can hear me, get ready to evacuate the park. We will lure the zombies away from you. After the parking lot is clear we will come back and lead you to safety. If your vehicle is in running condition, be ready to start it and follow us. If you do not have a working vehicle, be prepared to seek a ride with someone else. If you do have to get out of your RV to hitch a ride, be sure to wave something to let other people know that you are not infected. Be ready to go in ten minutes.”
By the time Carl finished his announcement the horde of zombies was closing in fast. The sound of the PA had been enough to draw every zombie within half a mile towards the Suburban as fast as they could run, stumble, or crawl. Carl waited until the first of them to arrive were actually pounding against the chain-link protecting the windows before he hit the gas and tore through the crowd. At least half a dozen zombies clung onto the wire and climbed around on the exterior of the SUV, but they had no way to get inside the zombie-proof vehicle. Carl drove relatively slowly, but purposefully, drawing the horde north along Vista Del Mar, while swerving back and forth to smash as many in his path as possible.
Chapter 12: Extraction
“It is a time when one's spirit is subdued and sad, one knows not why; when the past seems a storm-swept desolation, life a vanity and a burden, and the future but a way to death.” — Mark Twain
The Sovereign Spirit charged north through four foot swells that parted reluctantly to the irresistible force of the large ship’s bow. Foam spread out from the wide V of her wake. The ship herself hummed with the vibration of her three engines running at flank speed. She was traveling at almost 22 knots - about 25 miles per hour - up the coast of Southern California. Dana Point was already well behind, Newport Beach was coming abeam, and their destination of Malibu was only three hours away, but so was sunset. On the other hand, Malibu was less than thirty minutes away by helicopter.
Scott and his son Billy were having a little argument about priorities and authority. Billy wanted to go on the mission to rescue his friends at Brad Thomas’ house and he wanted to
make their rescue the top priority. Scott explained that rescuing the scientist from the lab in Malibu Canyon was their first priority and, in any event, he did not want Billy to leave the ship. Scott knew he would win the first half of the argument, but Billy was being quite insistent about going to rescue his friends.
“Come on, Dad,” Billy persisted. “They’re my friends and they’re expecting me to come get them. I’m not a kid anymore. Hell, I’m older than a lot of those Marines. Besides, I know the area better than anyone else and I can point out Brad’s house to the pilot. I’d be useful on this mission!”
Scott had to admit that Billy made some good points. He didn’t want to be overly protective of his son, and he knew that he couldn’t keep him from leaving the ship forever, but he also knew that Michelle would go through the roof if he let Billy go along on this mission. It was a very tough call, so he decided to pass the buck to the real boss.
“Okay, Billy, I’ll bring you with me,” said Scott seriously and saw the triumph dawn in his son’s eyes. “But only if you get your mother to agree.” Triumph instantly turned to despair.
“Dad!” Billy moaned. “That’s not fair. How am I supposed to get Mom to agree?”
“That’s up to you, Billy,” Scott replied with a grin. “You’ve got about an hour to figure it out though. That’s when we lift off.”
*****
Scott spent the next hour preparing for the rescue mission. Captain McCloud agreed to send one of the Dolphins along with Scott’s helicopter and Sergeant Major O’Hara assigned Corporal Morris and Private Snow to ride shotgun in the Coast Guard chopper. O’Hara and Private Wilson would join Scott in the Super Huey, along with Mick and Mark. Scott would be flying in the co-pilot seat again, and Sam would wait aboard ship with the Seawind as back-up. Half an hour before lift-off Captain Fisher slowed the ship to a halt and lowered the Cigarette. Clint and two crewmen would be taking the boat up the coast at high speed. They should arrive off Malibu while the rescue operation was underway. The Sovereign Spirit returned to full speed as soon as the speedboat was launched.
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