Dead Storm: The Global Zombie Apocalypse

by Nicholas Ryan

Minister Yi looked appalled. “But surely we must use every vessel available to us, Tong – large or small.”

  “In theory, Minister Yi, that is correct. But the smaller vessels will not fare well in the open seas, especially in adverse weather conditions,” he shook his head regretfully, but firmly. “As I mentioned, the many thousands of smaller vessels will be useful for local evacuations, but it is the large seagoing ships that are the key to the plan.”

  Yi sat back in his chair and one of his hands disappeared below the desk for a moment to fetch a glass ashtray. He lit a cigarette and considered the younger minister through narrowed, contemplative eyes.

  “How long have you had this idea of yours, Tong?”

  Tong looked surprised by the question. He shrugged his shoulders. “I have been researching for some months, Minister,” he said.

  “Why?”

  Tong didn’t have a good answer to that. He shook his head as though it was a mystery to him also. “I really do not know,” he admitted with a helpless gesture of his hands. “Perhaps I had seen too many of those American disaster movies, and began to wonder about how we Chinese would react to disaster. Such things have always been a fascination.”

  The older man said nothing. Tong sat acutely uncomfortable in the silence.

  What had it been, he wondered, that had set him down this path? Instinct? Intuition?

  Minister Yi let his younger companion fidget awkwardly for another full minute of curious scrutiny, and then waved his cigarette in the air. “Go on, Tong.”

  Tong went on with relief.

  “Globally there are a little over fifty thousand large merchant ships, of which around five thousand are container ships, seven thousand are crude tankers and around seventeen thousand are bulk carriers. These types of vessels will form the backbone of our plan. General cargo ships make up a further ten thousand of the fleet. They are also critically important because they can take containers and bulk cargo.”

  Tong paused to be sure the older Minister was following. Yi wrote nothing down. He merely nodded his understanding. Tong went on quickly. “There are around five thousand chemical tankers and this total is made up of a variety of refined product and human consumable carriers. Gas tankers, and car and cattle carriers make up most of the rest.”

  “But all of these ships you speak of – they are not all Chinese.”

  “No, Minister,” Tong agreed. “China has around five thousand large merchant ships. That is one tenth of the global fleet. Half are Chinese flagged and half are foreign flagged. We can assume a similar Chinese-owned distribution of the other types of vessels I mentioned in the global fleet.”

  Tong stopped talking long enough to find one of the folders on the desk and flip it open. It was filled with pages and pages of computer-printed number in columns. They looked like financial reports. He flicked through the papers and then looked up.

  “If we assume an average of 2,500 people accommodated onto each container ship, we can save 1.25million people. And if we assume an average of 1,000 people per bulker, we can save a further 2.7 million. By also making use of the less practical vessels such as gas tankers, we can save maybe another million.” Tong’s eyes were bright with a kind of nationalistic pride.

  Minister Yi sat back in his chair, rocking gently.

  Tong added in a softer voice, “The numbers I speak of are based on reasonable accommodation conditions. We have the potential to save twice as many, Minister, with some discomfort.”

  “How?” Yi’s voice cracked like a whip. “How exactly do you plan on housing and feeding all these people?”

  “Containers, Minister.”

  “Containers?”

  Tong nodded. “Containerized accommodation units can easily be stacked on the decks, Minister. Every vessel we are able to supply with a large number of these units could house many, many people. Workers accommodation in the Gulf Arab states regularly feature fifteen bunks inside every twenty-foot shipping container. The containers can be stacked and then locked together with cross beams. Walkways and ladders could be installed to create multi-level accommodation units. This simple solution means that container ships wouldn't need any modifications. All we would need is the containers and bedding.”

  Minister Yi had his eyes so narrowed that he seemed almost to be asleep. A tendril of smoke drifted before his face so that for a moment his expression was hidden. Tong paused.

  “Minister?” he asked tentatively. “Should I go on?”

  “Yes, of course,” Yi’s eyes blazed. “Everything you say gives me a great deal to think about, and some cause for hope, Tong Ge.”

  Heartened with a sense of confidence, Tong went on more boldly. “Included on each ship will be refrigerated containers. In the west they are called ‘reefers’. They connect to the ship’s electrical system and can be used to keep perishable food supplies. We could also include such things as a medical container that would serve as a small hospital, and a kitchen container where those refugees could cook and prepare their meals. These issues are currently being investigated.”

  “Ingenious.” Yi nodded his head. “You have indeed thought of almost everything, my young friend. Except for water.”

  Tong nodded. “Minister water is not a consideration. Most container ships and commercial ships have water makers on board. In some cases additional containerized water makers may be needed. We can source these. They can plug into the ships' power and require little effort to create ample fresh water.”

  “But the other ships you mentioned, Tong. Those that are not so suitable for containers. What will you do about these?”

  “Containers do not just sit on the deck, Minister. They can also fill the hold of a vessel. There would be plenty of space for refrigerator containers and dry food storage containers.”

  The room fell silent. Minister Yi stubbed out his cigarette and reached mechanically for another. The office had grown dark, the only light coming from the television set in the corner of the room.

  “To supplement food supplies, Minister, I propose we install greenhouses on as many of the ships as possible in those areas that are unsuitable for container accommodation, such as the stern. With some simple design flexibility we could begin to grow our own basic crops in small quantities. We are a nation of farmers – this should not prove too difficult.”

  Yi sniffed expressively. “And where will you take this great flotilla of yours, Tong? Where does ‘Red Ark’ sail to?”

  Tong Ge paused. The question hung in the air.

  “This is a matter I have thought a great deal about, Minister,” Tong conceded at last. “And I fear it is a question too great for me alone to decide. My initial plan was flee to the South China Sea where we could offload some of our refugees onto the Nansha Islands.”

  “The Spratlys?” Minister Yi subconsciously used the western name for the disputed chain of small islands and atolls.

  “Yes, Minister,” Tong nodded. “China has many oil field support vessels. These ships service the large number of offshore oil platforms in our coastal waters. These Platform Supply Vessels are used to transport diesel and fresh water to oil platforms and can carry very large volumes. They also carry their own pumps to be able to discharge fluids. PSV's also have a cargo deck for containers and so could function as mobile hospitals and we could use them in many ways – including the offloading of refugees onto the islands.”

  “You would abandon the people on those cursed rocks?”

  “No, Minister,” Tong shook his head. “The refugees could be supported by one of the nuclear submarines from our Navy which could be utilized to provide power to the community. Such things have been done many times before. The Americans have previously used submarines and even aircraft carriers to supplement the power needs of their coastal towns that had been devastated by hurricanes.”

  Yi looked surprised. “This is true, Tong?”

  “Yes, Minister,” Tong nodded his head earnestly. “The nuclear submarines in our Navy could a
lso be used to produce vast amounts of fresh water which could be ferried to the other ships in the fleet, or to any island population of refugees through the PSV’s.”

  Tong frowned, and then reached quickly for another folder on the desk. Minister Yi waited patiently. When Tong found the information he needed, he went on.

  “But the fuel consumption for a three-hundred meter vessel with its engines running at operational speed is astronomical – three hundred tons for every day. The Platform Supply Vessels can also serve us by carrying much needed reserves of fuel, should the flotilla require it. But this alone is the factor that has given me greatest concern, Minister,” Tong admitted. “If we sail the flotilla into the South China Sea, or if we make some use of the Nansha Islands, we are essentially on the high sea, and will be burning fuel constantly without purpose other than to survive. We could make great use of the military bases we have begun building in the disputed waters – the man-made islands could sustain thousands of our people. I do not know how the Americans would respond to this.”

  Yi waved his hand contemptuously. “Forget the Americans, Tong. No government would dispute our need to ensure the safe location of our people in such a crisis.”

  Tong nodded. That was probably true. In a normal world such action would be seen as a hostile act… but the world they now lived in was far from normal. The Korean Peninsula over-run by millions of undead infected, and soon China’s defenses would be tested to the limit. Had the contagion spread to other parts of the world yet? Japan?

  Tong didn’t know.

  “Anchoring our flotilla at sea is also problematic,” Tong explained. “Only the very largest ships have the ability to anchor in deep water.”

  “You have an alternative?” Yi’s tone carried a hint of irritation. The fatigue of a long worrisome day was catching up with him. He made his face into an expression of quick apology.

  Tong’s face remained impassive. “I believe the islands immediately to the south of Hong Kong are the best alternative, Minister,” the younger Politburo member kept his voice measured and respectful. “The waters around those islands are relatively shallow and afford some protection against the worst weather elements. The Hong Kong anchorage currently used by international shipping fleets is between Hong Kong Island and Lantau Island where the ships await use of the docks. This would be an ideal location, especially for the smaller ships that will make up the ‘Red Ark’ flotilla.”

  Minister Yi rose slowly from his chair. He moved with the stiffness of old age and the burden of the responsibility he carried. His back was hunched, his body withered and frail.

  “You have thought this plan through thoroughly,” the Minister admitted. “And I can see that it has merit… if it can be implemented,” there was a warning in the old man’s words. Tong Ge felt himself stiffen. Minister Yi seemed not to notice. “But where and how do you make the necessary modifications to our shipping fleet, Tong? How do you co-ordinate such a vast construction and logistical task?”

  Tong reached for a map. “This too, I have already considered, Minister,” he said respectfully. He spread the map out. “We will make Dalian the base of all operations.” He pointed to a peninsula in the north of the country. “Dalian is a hub for our shipbuilding operations and it has the necessary infrastructure to handle the planned work. It is also an island peninsula so we can defend the city and the ship-building facilities with troops. The neck of the land bridge at its narrowest point is right here,” he described a space on the map. “Between Heshang Island and the Zhongchang Residential District. An army of men and equipment carefully placed and skillfully led will only have a very short battlefront to defend.”

  Minister Yi knew the city of Dalian well. He had been born and raised in the Liaoning Province. He shook his head regretfully. “You may be too late, Tong,” the Minister said. “You heard the reports at the Politburo meeting. Once the infected reach Dandong, some of the infected are certain to spread south to Dalian if our Army is unsuccessful.”

  “Then we must take the peninsula back,” Tong said, and a defiant flush of color came into his cheeks. “We must send in an army and secure the city and its outskirts.”

  Minister Yi stared at the younger man through rheumy eyes with a look that might have been pity, or perhaps a challenge.

  “Can your plan not be carried out at another major ship-building port?”

  Tong shook his head. “Not with the necessary efficiency,” Tong explained. His lips were pressed into a thin bloodless line. “Dalian is the only suitable port that has the infrastructure. Our other ship-building ports are spread across the breadth of the country’s coastline and none of them could be adequately defended…”

  The dilemma hung in the air like a dark cloud, casting a pall over the younger man’s enthusiasm. For long minutes Minister Yi paced the floor, his head bowed in contemplation, puffing on his cigarette. Finally, he stopped and narrowed his eyes. Tong sensed everything would hinge on the next few minutes.

  “How long could this flotilla survive, Tong?” the Minister asked. “Tell me truly.”

  “I believe we could remain at sea for many months, Minister,” Tong said.

  “But surely the food will run out…”

  Tong shook his head and then permitted himself a small smile. He had two Aces up his sleeve. He played the first one. “Minister, we have over one hundred and twenty thousand ocean going fishing boats – a massive fleet of ships that can carry twenty or so additional refugees each, but also provide the entire flotilla with as much fish as we can take from the sea. The source of food can be sustained. I promise this.”

  “It might be your life if you are wrong, Tong… not that it will be much of a life for us, I imagine; cramped in the stinking hull of a ship.” The old man’s eyes turned distant and almost wistful. “It is not the way I imagined my own life to end.”

  Tong straightened. He was sure now that Operation ‘Red Ark’ would become a reality. But to be certain, he laid his final Ace on the table.

  “Minister Yi,” he put incredulity into his voice. “You and the Politburo members – the elite of our country’s ruling class will not be aboard any of the ships I have mentioned.”

  Yi’s head turned, and for an instant there was a dangerous look in his eye. “You think the people will turn on us, Tong?” he snapped harshly.

  Tong stood up. “No, Minister,” the younger man’s voice became an appeal. “I mean simply that China also owns several luxury cruise liners, each of them capable of carrying thousands. “You and the rest of China’s leadership shall be accommodated in quarters befitting your stature.”

  Minister Yi’s abrupt silence and slow spreading smile was all the confirmation Tong needed.

  ‘THE TANK’ PENTAGON

  WASHINGTON

  Some called it the ‘gold room’ after the color of the carpets and drapes. Most called it the ‘tank’ – an unremarkable Pentagon conference room that looked little different from similar meeting rooms right across corporate America. Apart from the broad table that dominated the space, the rest of the furnishings were low key.

  Flanking the Secretary of Defense was seated the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs and the individual Chiefs of the Army, Air Force, Navy and US Marine Corps. There were other military representatives in the room as well – aides to the Chiefs who were assembled in straight-backed chairs in the background. They all sat facing the wall opposite where a flat-screen monitor projected the Commander of USINDOPACOM into the room via a secure link from his headquarters at Camp H.M. Smith in Hawaii.

  Admiral George Bly was a native of Augusta, Georgia who had come up through the ranks as a surface warfare officer stationed aboard destroyers, cruisers and aircraft carriers. He was a broad-shouldered man in his late fifties with swept back hair and an animated face.

  He sat with his back straight, his hands clasped on the desk in front of him. There was a half-second of delay on the link that meant his mouth moved an instant before the men in the Pent
agon’s ‘tank’ heard his voice.

  The first hour of the meeting had been taken up by briefings that detailed the spread of the NK Plague through Asia and the American president’s measures in response. Only during the last few minutes had the discussion finally turned to the true purpose of the meeting.

  “We can deploy a blockade along the west coast of America fairly quickly, sir,” Bly said optimistically in reply to a question from Defense Secretary Poe. “But until the entire Third Fleet is at sea, there are bound to be gaps in the line. I have three destroyers already on their way to Pearl – the Haley, Raven and Carmichael. They can be tasked immediately, and I have Carrier Strike Group Eleven with Nimitz and her escorts already in the Pacific on exercises. John C. Stennis and CSG Three could be ready to go in seven days. It’s not everything we need, but it’s enough to do the job. If we’re prudent with our Hawkeyes, we should have plenty of notice of approaching threats.”

  The E-2D Hawkeye was an all-weather early warning aircraft capable of being launched from the flight deck of America’s carriers. It would be the ‘eyes’ of the blockade line, capable of detecting approaching threats to America’s security from far beyond the horizon.

  In the ‘tank’, Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Knight nodded. “And what would be your recommendation for setting the picket, Admiral? The thinking here in Washington is that we should enforce a line north and south commensurate with Hawaii’s latitude. How do you feel about that?”

  Bly hesitated for a moment. He wondered if the General’s reference to ‘Washington thinking’ was a subtle hint to warn him the idea was the brainchild of politicians. Speaking out against the suggestion might be a quiet career killer… but Bly did it anyhow.

  “General Knight, I think that would be a poor choice, sir,” he said, “especially given the paucity of resources we will initially be able to apply to the problem. I think a southwest to northeast line anchored in the Philippine Sea would better serve us – from the western Mariana Islands all the way to the west coast of the continental United States. It would give us thousands of miles of ocean to react in if – by some chance – a freighter or smaller vessel somehow manages to slip through our net. Guam would also give us a southern anchor point and a base for re-supply that we could stage out of. It would also provide us with an on-land air base we could fly additional surveillance flights from.”