Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga

by Forsyth, David

  “Just a minute, Jerry,” General Barstow interjected for the first time. “Let’s hear the young man out first. I think he may actually have a point.”

  “What?” Admiral Winchester sputtered. “You can’t be serious!” Captain Andrews paused in the act of ordering the Shore Patrol to remove the prisoners.

  “Yes, I think I am,” the General continued. “We might be getting a little myopic here, Jerry, focusing too much on the crisis in San Diego and ignoring the big picture. Oh, I agree with the need to consolidate our defensive positions and protect as many refugees here as we can, before launching a coordinated counter attack on the Zs. But it sounds like this Sovereign Spirit is headed north to assist other communities that we won’t be able to help for a long time yet; longer than most of the survivors will live without some kind of assistance. So I’d like to hear what Commodore Allen plans to do, if that won’t compromise too much of your mission, son?” The question was directed at Scott.

  “Thank you, General,” Scott said in a relieved tone. “Yes, under the circumstances, I suppose I can tell you about part of our mission and some of our future plans. We have been tasked by DHS, FEMA and the CDC to rescue a scientist who is waiting for us north of Los Angeles and let him use the marine biology lab and telecommunications gear aboard the Sovereign Spirit. We’ve been told by the CDC that his work might be crucial in fighting the spread of the infection, or even finding a cure. That part of our mission could save millions of lives, which is one reason why I am so determined not to give up my ship.

  “But our secondary mission, that I am equally committed to, is providing assistance to as many survivors as possible. We are in contact with dozens of friends, family and associates who are holding out, waiting for us to come get them, just like this family we just rescued in San Diego was. And our assistance won’t be limited to our own friends. We have already formed a flotilla of survivors who have their own boats and have decided to follow us. I expect to find a lot more civilian vessels full of survivors offshore, or in harbors and marinas, north of here. We will offer the Sovereign Spirit to serve as a mother ship for any who choose to join us.

  “Furthermore,” Scott continued. “Although the Sovereign Spirit is not a war ship, we do have some impressive amphibious capabilities that should allow us to conduct rescue and recovery operations ashore, including acquiring provisions and fuel for our flotilla. We won’t become pirates, or looters, but we will need to acquire supplies for the people who join us. And of course we will also try to help any survivors we find ashore.”

  “Those are some highly admirable and ambitious plans you have, Commodore Allen,” commented the General with a smile. “And, yes, I think the title of commodore is quite appropriate for the leader of a civilian flotilla of survivors, don’t you agree Admiral Winchester?”

  The Admiral had been frowning doubtfully, but forced himself to nod slowly, “Yes Butch, I think you might have point after all. It never pays to jump to conclusions or forget that other people might have a better plan now and then.” He turned back to Scott and continued, “So, assuming we accept your letter of safe passage and allow you to proceed, what else would you ask from us?”

  “We would not ask for any direct assistance from you, sir,” replied Scott. “Unless you have any surplus weapons, ammunition, or amphibious vehicles to spare? But I can see that you have your hands full combating the crisis here. I would ask, however, that you endorse Captain McCloud’s decision to assist us and suggest that any Coast Guard assets further up the coast do the same.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” replied the Admiral. “But of course I can’t spare any weapons or vehicles. That’s out of the question.”

  “Of course, sir” Scott agreed. “But I had to ask.”

  “That’s the spirit!” said General Barstow with a grin. “I just might be able to help you in that regard. Your ship will be passing Camp Pendleton soon, won’t it?”

  “Yes, sir. Any minute now actually,” Scott answered as he glanced at his watch.

  “I have a combat team holding the harbor there in Oceanside,” the General explained. “And you’re right about finding more civilians on boats up the coast. There must be a couple of hundred people staying on their sailboats and cabin cruisers in the Oceanside Harbor now. My men have demolished the ramps leading to the docks and the damned zombies don’t swim, so the people on those boats are safe for now. But I don’t have the resources to provide them with food, water, or long term security. I may even have to pull the rest of my men out of there soon and bring them down here to take part in our planned counter-offensive next week. So maybe we can make a deal.”

  “Damn it, Butch,” interrupted the admiral. “Don’t violate operational security!”

  “Relax, Jerry,” responded General Barstow. “These people aren’t going to tell the fucking zombies about or plans! And it wouldn’t make a spit of difference if they did. I thought we settled that already. So what do you say, commodore? Want to make a deal?”

  “Yes sir?” Scott made it sound like a question.

  “Here’s the deal,” said General Barstow as he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If you invite those boats to join your flotilla, I’ll see about getting you some of our surplus weapons and an amphibious assault vehicle or two. I wouldn’t normally hand that stuff out to civilians, but these are not normal times and I wouldn’t want to send those people off defenseless either. What do you say?”

  “That would be fantastic!” Scott agreed immediately. “It’s a deal. What do you think you could spare?”

  “Hold on a second, Butch!” Admiral Winchester interrupted. “You can’t just give away guns and amphibious vehicles! We might need all of them here.”

  “Relax, Jerry,” responded the general calmly. “I’ve got a lot more firepower and hardware than I have bodies to wield them at the moment. And we aren’t the ones volunteering to go charging to the rescue of the desperate civilians up north, or even down here at the moment. So I’ll decide what my Marines can spare and for whom.”

  Admiral Winchester did not look like he agreed, but he had better sense than to pick a fight with the commander of the Marines who were defending his base, especially when the Marine in question had a lot more real combat experience than he did. “If you say so, Butch,” The admiral relented reluctantly. “Just don’t give away the farm, damn it.”

  “Okay, Jerry,” the general replied and then turned back towards Scott to continue. “I’m thinking we could spare about a hundred of our older M-16A1 and A2 rifles and at least a thousand rounds of ammunition for each of them. All of that should be in stock near the harbor and I can have my men deliver it to the docks. As for vehicles, I know we have some working LVTP-7s that haven’t been fully upgraded to AAV-7 standards yet. I could give you two of them, loaded with the guns and ammo I mentioned, if you like, plus their own weapons and ammo of course.”

  “I think I’d like that a lot,” said Scott with a grin. “That sounds like a great deal.”

  “I bet it does!” said the general with a bark of laughter. “A couple of Amtracs just might save your ass someday. At least it’s something the zombies won’t be able to crack open.”

  “If you say so, Butch,” confirmed the admiral with an air of resigned disappointment.

  “So, Commodore,” continued the general. “Is there anything else we can do for you, before we send you all on your merry way?”

  “No, sir!” replied Scott with the tone he remembered from his time in US Army boot camp almost 30 years ago. Then he paused and continued more humbly. “Well, actually sir, uh Admiral,” he said politely towards Winchester. “Do you by chance happen to be listing the names of the refugees here on Coronado? I mean, would it be possible for me to give you a list of friends and family from San Diego that we are looking for? If you let us send a boat back to pick them up, it would be fewer mouths for you to feed.”

  “I’ll take that under advisement, Mr. Allen,” repl
ied the Admiral crisply. Then, seeing the look General Barstow gave him, he added, “But, by all means, give me your list. We don’t have a good accounting of survivors yet, but I’ll make sure that the names you provide are flagged for special attention when we do.” Scott hoped that his special attention would be a good thing.

  “Fare enough, sir,” replied Scott. “If we are done here, I’ll need to communicate with the Sovereign Spirit and the Stratton to make sure they don’t steam past Oceanside and Pendleton before we can get back and make arrangements to pick up General Barstow’s ‘boat people’ and the hardware he has so generously offered to provide.”

  “One more thing, son,” said General Barstow slowly. “I’d also like to loan you a platoon of Recon Marines to man those vehicles and provide training to your people.” That comment caused Scott to pause and lose his smile.

  “That is very kind, sir, but is it really necessary?” Scott asked.

  “Perhaps not,” replied the General with a smile that couldn’t hide the sharpness of his keen mind. “But I would advise you to accept the offer. It’s only a few dozen men, but they will be able to provide a lot of assistance, especially on your initial shore excursions. Some of them have years of combat experience in the War on Terror, and they’ve all had a week of experience killing zombies now. They can teach you a lot, especially about using the weapons and Amtracs. Plus, I’d consider it a little insurance that your flotilla really doesn’t become some sort of pirate fleet too.”

  “Yes, sir,” replied Scott. “But, with all due respect, how do I know they won’t try to commandeer the ship after we take them aboard?”

  “Jesus Christ, son,” laughed the General. “I’m the guy who just convinced the admiral here not to commandeer your ship, or force you to destroy it! And I’m giving you plenty of firepower to defend your selves. Relax and don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. You have my word as an officer and a gentleman that as long as you follow the plan you laid out here today, you have nothing to fear from me or my Marines. I’ll even place them under your command and order them to protect you. I’ll be sending one of my favorite old dogs of war to lead them, Sergeant Major O’Hara. No snot nosed lieutenant. You’ll be their commanding officer. And I can assure you that O’Hara will teach you to be a good one. Fare enough, Commodore?”

  “Yes, sir. Thank you, General Barstow,” confirmed Scott with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

  *****

  “That was amazing!” said Clint as they all climbed back into the Dolphin helicopter. “I thought we were screwed there for a while. But you really turned them around, Scott.”

  “Charlie Mike,” confirmed Mark with a grin. “Looks like you have some clout in this madhouse, Scott, I mean commodore. I think that general likes you too.”

  “Cool it, guys,” Scott cautioned. “Let’s save the BS until we get back to our own ship.”

  “Good point,” agreed Mark glancing around the flight deck at all the armed men staring back at their helicopters. “With all this firepower, the Navy and Marines should be able to wipe out all of the zombies around here soon, don’t you think?”

  “I’m not sure,” replied Scott. “It depends on how many zombies there are. There were a million people in and around San Diego last week. Over a million more along the Mexican side of the border too. How many are zombies now? Half of them? More? I think things will get worse before they get better, but I hope that the military will be able to at least secure Coronado and provide some other safe havens for the survivors. I just hope they have the resources to take care of all the refugees.”

  “We could have the same problem if we pick up as many followers as you suggested in there. How will we take care of thousands of boat people?” Mark pointed out.

  “We’ll tackle that problem when we face it,” decided Scott. “But I’ve got a few ideas that I’ll tell you about later.”

  “Thanks again for rescuing us, Scott,” said Blain. “We were trapped like rats in that penthouse. The power and telephones went out on the first day and I spent most the time staring out the windows at the madness, you know? It almost drove me crazy, watching people get eaten alive, then watching them get back up and go after other people.”

  “How did you get that email to me?” asked Scott.

  “That was weird,” Blain Ford said. “Every few hours I would turn on my cell phone to see if I was getting any service. I never did, until about two in the morning on the third day. Suddenly I had full signal, but I couldn’t make any calls. I did download my email though and saw the message you had sent about coming north from Cabo in your ship. So I replied to tell you where we were. I’m glad you replied back right away because the service went down again within an hour. I don’t know how the service came on at all, maybe the military tried to get it going again, and I’m not sure if it ever came back on later because my phone’s battery died that day while I waited for it to work again. It’s just good luck or an act of God that I got through to you at all.”

  “You can say that again,” Scott agreed. “And it looks like your luck is holding. No refugee camp for you! In half an hour youloadll be in the lap of luxury aboard the Sovereign Spirit. I’ll make sure they take you straight to a nice stateroom where you can take a hot shower and I’ll see about getting you all some clean clothes too.”

  “Oh my God,” exclaimed Mindy Ford. “You’re an angel. I was so sure we going to die in that penthouse, and then I was sure we were going to be stuck in a refugee camp on Coronado. Now we’re not just going to be safe, but clean too? Fantastic! I remember your ship from before you left on your trip around the world. You’re right, it will be the lap of luxury! Thank you so much for saving us and our son, Jody.”

  “That’s what friends are for, right?” Scott answered self-consciously.

  “Yeah,” confirmed Blain. “But you all risked your lives and freedom to rescue us. We won’t forget it.”

  “Don’t worry,” Scott replied slyly. “I’ll find a way for you to even the score someday.” He already had a few ideas about how valuable Blain and Mindy could be aboard the ship.

  Scott turned to look out the right side window as the Dolphin whirred up the coastline. The beach and landscape were still beautiful, but strangely alien. No cars moved on the roads below. Some of the buildings and homes had burned down, a few still smoldered. Further inland a wildfire was spreading unchecked. Along the beach near Del Mar he spotted an Amtrak Surfliner train that had plowed into a bus at the crossing for a beach parking lot. The bus was smashed and the train derailed. Fire trucks, ambulances and police cars surrounded the scene with most of their doors open and lots of bodies littering the ground, many in uniform. The only sign of movement came from a few stray zombies who all turned, reached, and gaped at the passing helicopter, apparently welcoming them to this new world of the dead.

  *****

  Interlude in Hell

  Big 5 Complex on El Segundo Boulevard; 11:55 AM, April 6, 2012

  The sporting goods store was a goldmine for survival items. It was located across the parking lot from the Big 5 Corporation’s headquarters building so it was a flagship outlet with a large stock of every item. Moreover, the Big 5 distribution warehouse was on the other side of the parking lot and Carl was sure that it contained even greater riches. Since it was all just a few blocks from the refinery, and they planned to make more supply runs, they hadn’t bothered to open the warehouse this time. There was more than they could carry back on display in the retail store anyway. It had already taken them more than two hours of hard labor to fill half of the big rig’s trailer with loot.

  Yes, Carl knew they were acting like looters, but what choice did they have? Civilization had fallen apart. Nobody was here to accept his credit card. He thought about leaving a blank check, but his checkbook had been in his carry-on bag that he abandoned at LAX when Pricilla had been attacked. No, this was the only way for the men from the refinery to get the supplies they needed. If this was looting, then Car
l was proud to be a looter. At least they had earned their take by dispatching hundreds of zombies in the parking lot.

  “Look at all of this stuff,” Gus said as he gestured towards the men loading items into the big rig. They were currently stacking boxes full of ammunition next to stacked cartons of dehydrated camping food, which sat next to piles of sleeping bags and clothes. “We hit the jackpot here, pal.”

  “It’s a good start,” Carl replied. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the continuous sound of the water cannon. The Panther was using water from the hydrant outside the store to hold off a growing crowd of zombies that had arrived since the first mob had been dispatched. Carl watched for a moment as the stream of water swept back and forth in a 240 degree arc that maintained a 40 to 50 yard radius clear zone in front of the store’s entrance. The zombies were obviously enraged and confused. As the stream of water swept past them the zombies would surge forward, only to be driven back as the water cannon swung their way again. It was almost like a dance. The important thing was that it was working, holding the zombies back, and giving Carl and the men from the refinery time to load up survival gear.