02 Flotilla of the Dead (38 page)

            George had just settled down to relax in front of the big screen TV in the salon of the
Expiscator
when he was rudely interrupted by one of his new assistants.  Tom Hillsdale, a UCSB student that George had rescued in Cabo, burst in from the aft deck and called out, “We’re under attacked from San Pedro!”

             “I thought those bridges were secure from zombies,” said George.

            “It’s not zombies!” Tom blurted.  “These people have guns and trucks!  They’re plowing through the zombies like match sticks and they’re about to break down the barricades we placed on the bridge.”

            “Son of a bitch!” George exclaimed.  “Who the hell are they?”

             “Nobody knows yet,” Tom said breathlessly.  “My friend, Craig Burns, is on patrol near the bridge.  He just called on the radio.  He said they don’t look like police or soldiers.  They’re driving big utility trucks and buses and RVs.  Craig says there’s some kind of bulldozer clearing the way for them.”

            “They have a bulldozer?” George asked in a shocked tone.  “Shit, they’ll be able to bash right through the barricade of containers and a shit load of zombies will follow them over the bridge!”  George was already moving towards the radio as he said, “We have to sound a general alarm and move the reaction force to cover this end of that bridge.   Get out on deck and prepare to cast off!  We’ve got to see what’s happening over there.”

            Within seconds the deep and deafening ship horns of the
Queen Mary
and the
Sea Launch Commander
we sounding an alarm that could be heard from anywhere in the safe haven.  The newly formed militia scrambled to gather their unfamiliar weapons and muster at their rally points.  All the gates and barriers on bridges and choke points within the safe haven were closed and secured.  The remaining Marines were deploying their armored fighting vehicles, but they had been stationed next to the
Queen Mary
, on the other side of Terminal Island from the new threat.  It would take them at least ten minutes to get to the San Pedro side of the safe haven.

Meanwhile, the sentries on the bridge to San Pedro were asking if they should open fire on the approaching vehicles.  They reported that the bulldozer was crushing hundreds of zombies and pushing abandoned cars out of the way as it crossed the bridge and that the trucks following it were full of men shooting any zombie still moving.  There were at least twenty vehicles in the convoy and thousands of zombies following them.  George Hammer listened to all of the reports and tried to decide what to do as Stan Dawson conned the
Expiscator
away from the Mole and out of the Navy Basin at full speed.
 

*****

            Craig Burns watched through binoculars as the unidentified convoy crossed the bridge from San Pedro.  It reminded him of a scene from the Road Warrior.  The leading bulldozer’s cab was encased in chain link fence and aluminum siding to protect the operator within.  The next vehicle in line was a cable TV or telephone repair truck with a man-lift bucket that was extended in front of the truck, carrying a rifleman who was engaging any zombie that tried to climb onto the rear end of the bulldozer.  Two more men rode inside of a cage atop the back of the truck, repelling boarders with shotgun blasts.  They seemed to be very efficient.  None of the zombies that they passed were able to mount the leading vehicles.  A white Suburban, at least Craig thought it was white under all that blood and gore, was moving up and down the convoy, running zombies down.

            The rest of the convoy crossing the bridge was diverse, utilitarian and seemingly impregnable to zombies.  Craig identified at least a dozen RVs and two buses.  He also noticed that all of the windows of the vehicles were covered with chain link fencing to prevent zombies from breaking in.  It was a well organized and efficient convoy that would have made Craig happy to see, if it weren’t about to burst through the choke point of the safe haven that he was supposed to keep secure.  Gripped by uncertainty and fear, Craig nonetheless started the engine of the pickup truck he was driving on this patrol and steered towards the onramp to the bridge.   If the guards on the barricade couldn’t stop the approaching convoy, he might at least be able to give them a ride to safety.

            Pulling up to the wall of empty shipping containers on the island side of the bridge, Craig was encouraged to see half a dozen armed guards on top of the stacked containers.   They held their fire as the convoy approached, but they were clearly ready to defend the barricade if necessary.  Craig parked the truck, slung his AR-15 rifle over his shoulder, and climbed up a ladder to join them.

            The last of the vehicles in the approaching convoy had just rolled out onto the bridge and a fearsome horde of zombies were hot on their heels as Craig raised his binoculars again.   There was a lot of activity at the far end of the convoy as the trailing trucks there spread out to fill all four lanes of the bridge.   There seemed to be tens of thousands of zombies hot on their heels.   It appeared hopeless to Craig, but he noticed that two of the vehicles at the end of the convoy were fire trucks.  They began shooting powerful jets of water at the approaching zombies and Craig was shocked to see the zombies actually retreat.   It was amazing.  Craig could understand what they were doing, but he was clueless when it came why that would hold so many zombies back from storming the bridge.

            By then the leading vehicles of the convoy were pulling up to the barricade of shipping containers.  Armed men and women throughout the convoy were shooting at the remaining zombies clustered outside of the barricade.  The guards atop the barricade, Craig included, added their own gunfire to those from the convoy and in less than a minute it appeared that all of the zombies between the fire trucks and the barricade were out of action, disabled if not truly dead. 

            A man climbed up through the sunroof of the Suburban following the bulldozer, lifted a microphone to his mouth and used a PA system to announce, “We’ve come to join you, if you’ll let us, but we’ll bust our way through if we have to.”  He made the statement calmly, without any hint of animosity in his voice.  “We’ve come a long way to find you people and we need sanctuary from these undead bastards.  Will you let us in?” 

            Craig wasn’t sure who was in charge at this barricade, but he had been relaying the news to George Hammer,
so he stood and hailed the man on the truck.  “Welcome to Terminal Island!  The Harbor Master is on his way here.  So are most of our Militia and a bunch of Marines in real armored fighting vehicles, so I wouldn’t recommend starting a fight with us!”

            The man laughed before he answered, “There’s no need for us to fight you, young man.  Not if you open that barricade and let us in before our water cannons run out of juice.  When they do, we won’t be able to stop the dammed zombies.   At that point this bulldozer
will
open your gates for us.  Then we’d all have more than our share of fighting, even if it’s just trying to keep the Z’s off your island with a busted barricade.” 

            Craig had to agree with his logic, but he couldn’t just open the gates to hundreds of heavily armed people driving improvised armored vehicles.  “I can see your point of view,” yelled Craig.  “But you’ll have to wait for someone with more authority to get here before we can open the gates.”

            “I hope they hurry!” the man called back.  “When the water cannons stop working we’re coming through.  Do you understand?”  Craig shrugged as he pulled out his handheld radio to inform Mr. Hammer of the latest developments.

*****

            The
Expiscator
was surging up the main ship channel towards the Vincent Thomas Bridge at 20 knots when George received Craig’s radio call.   He wasn’t quite sure how to react. 
Christ, I’m not cut out for this shit!
George thought to himself.  Aloud he broadcast, “How many people are in the convoy?”

            “I don’t know, Mr. Hammer,” Craig replied.  “He didn’t say.  But there must be over a hundred of them.  It sounded like they had at least a hundred guns firing when they took down all the zombies on our end of the bridge.  I’ve counted seven heavy trucks, including two fire trucks.  There are two passenger buses and about a dozen RVs in the convoy; Plus the bulldozer of course.  These people are well organized, well armed, and very efficient.  You should have seen the way they deployed to supply water to the fire trucks!  They did it in less than a minute!  The craziest part is that the zombies seem to be afraid of the water cannon.”

           
Yes, they would be, wouldn’t they?
George thought as he recalled how zombies had reacted to water in Cabo San Lucas. 
Why didn’t we think of that?
he wondered.

            Craig continued, “Then they wiped out all of the zombies between the fire trucks and our barricade in another minute or two.  They say they won’t have any choice but to bust down our gate when the fire trucks run out of water.  I don’t want to fight these guys, sir, and they say they want to join us.  But it’s your call, over?” 

            George glanced down at the radio then up at the bridge up ahead.  He could just make out the fire trucks spraying water at the far end of the bridge and could see part of the convoy lined up in front of the barricade. 
What would Scott do?
George wondered.  Then, realizing the buck stopped with him, he used the radio to say, “Open the gate, Craig.  Bring them in and close it up fast.  Ask them to park close to our side of the barricade until I get there.  Get the basket ready to pick me up from the dock under the bridge.”

            “Yes, sir!” Craig responded excitedly.  George hoped he wasn’t making a big mistake.  These new people sounded like some kind of Road Warriors.  In any case, he needed to let Commodore Allen and the rest of the Flotilla know what was happening.  He switched frequencies and made a quick report to Captain Fisher aboard the
Sovereign Spirit.
  He was told to wait for a moment.  When Captain Fisher responded he sounded concerned.

            “Alright, George, we think you did the right thing,” he said with what sounded like less conviction than the words alone would imply.  “If what you say about these people using fire hoses to hold off the zombies is true, this could be a major development.  The Commodore was flying back here from a scouting mission up north, but he’s diverting to your location now.  He suggests that you invite this convoy to set up camp at the old Navy and Marine Corps Reserve Center.  He’ll want to meet with their leaders when he gets there.  In the mean time I am preparing the helicopter to bring back more Marines, in case you need them, and we are weighing anchor to head your way at flank speed.”

            “Thank you, Captain,” George replied.  “I’ll try to keep a lid on things until the Commodore arrives.”  He signed off as the
Expiscator
pulled up to the docks at the Seaside Container Terminal below the Vincent Thomas Bridge.  He could hear the sounds of heavy vehicles moving above on the bridge.  When he looked up also saw the cage being lowered by a winch towards where he stood on the dock.  He would have to ride up in that crazy contraption, if he wanted to be involved in what happened on the bridge.  Thinking about it, George realized he didn’t really want to go up there, but he knew he had to.  Craig couldn’t be expected to handle this alone.

*****

            Craig gave the order for the gate to be opened and called down to inform the man in Suburban.  His timing couldn’t have been better because as soon as delivered his message he heard one of the fire trucks give a blast from its air horn and saw it start driving towards the barricade as it ran out of water.  The larger fire truck also began a slow retreat, although it continued to issue brief blasts of water to hold the zombies at bay. 

            It took close to a minute to open the big gate in the wall of containers, but as soon as opened the convoy started to roll through.  The RVs and buses entered the safe haven first and Craig cold see the faces of women and children peering out at him.  The bulldozer and the Suburban waited on the bridge until the fire trucks were almost there, then followed the rest of the convoy to safety.  The zombies were closing in behind the big fire truck as it passed through the gate, but it raised the boom on which the big water cannon was mounted and unleashed a final torrent into the horde, throwing them back, as the men manning the gate swung it back into place and secured it. 

            There were brief sounds of celebration as everyone realized they were safe, but they all quieted down as the newcomers returned the neutral stares of the gate guards.  Craig tried to break the ice by saying, “Welcome to Terminal Island.”  But the name didn’t really impart any comfort.  Realizing this, he called out, “You’ll all be safe here.”   He was still getting suspicious looks when he turned to make sure that Mr. Hammer was coming up in the winch lift. 

            George arrived atop the bridge via the improvised winch operated elevator, actually a cage on a cable.  It was the fastest way to get from the barricade on the bridge to the docks below and George had designed it himself.  That didn’t mean he enjoyed riding in the damned thing.  He was suffering from a slight case of virago as the winch operator swung the cage over the railing and reached out to open the door, but George gathered himself together and stepped onto the bridge with the best appearance of command and control that he could muster.

            “Well, who do we have here?” George said loudly.  “Our first contact with survivors from across the bridge!  I congratulate you all on making your way here safely.  Welcome to our Safe Haven.  Who’s in charge of this impressive convoy?”  The newcomers exchanged glances that all ended up falling on Carl.

            “I suppose I am, sir,” Carl said as he stepped forward to meet George.  “I’m Carl Stiller.”

            “George Hammer, the new Harbor Master here,” George replied.  “The Commodore has instructed me to direct your convoy to the Navy and Marine Reserve Center where you can relax and make camp inside a secure perimeter.”