03 Deluge of the Dead (9 page)

“Cut it out, Clint,” said Scott sharply. “I don’t have time to sooth your conscience now, so I’ll make this short and sweet. It’s no more your fault for surviving than mine for amputating your arm, or little Jake’s fault for opening that gate, or George Hammer’s for picking up Carla in Cabo. Shit happens. That’s all. But I must say that you could have picked a different woman to fool around with. I’d heard that Carla was trouble, but she turned out to be a real pain in the ass.” Scott winched as he concluded while getting off the table and pulling up what remained of his pants.  Clint was able to crack a slight smile between sobs.

“See what you can do for Craig, Doc,” Scott said sadly and continued in a commanding tone, “Clint, you stay here and let the professor examine you. Even if you are a carrier of the virus, your apparent immunity might still turn out to be a key to survival for the whole human race. Don’t do anything stupid that could fuck that up. Okay? I’m going back up to the bridge to take care of some unfinished business.”

***** 

Carl led the massed procession of Zombies up Crenshaw Boulevard, past numerous apartment buildings where he used the PA system to warn any survivors of the coming danger and eventual rescue plan. The helicopter returned overhead as the Suburban was leading the horde into the spur of the moment trap that Carl had devised. The tree and fence lined road running between the refinery and the fuel storage tank farm was a perfect gauntlet through which to herd the zombies to their doom. Thousands of them were visible in the rear view mirrors as Carl slowed yet further and explained his idea to Karen and Gus.

“We’ll bust through the next gate on the right and lead these bastards into that maze of big fuel storage tanks. That’s where Gus will come in handy,” said Carl as he nodded to the lanky refinery worker. “I’ll speed up and get some distance from the mob, but then I want you to get out and find a way to drain some of the fuel in those tanks onto the ground. Think you can handle that?”

“Hell yes,” Gus answered. “I can flood the whole damned compound if you want me too.”

“Good. We’ll try to drain as many tanks and pipelines as we can. The goal is to pour the gas where the zombies have to pass through it to follow us. Then we torch the place. Got it?”

“You’re a genius, boss,” said Gus. “But how do we light it off without killing ourselves?”

“You let me worry about that,” Carl said as he swerved into the next entrance to the fuel tank farm and smashed through the gate. Those steel zombie killing crash blades welded onto the front of the Suburban proved equally capable of opening locked gates. The armored SUV accelerated into the compound, heading towards the nearest of the large fuel tanks. “How do you want to do this, Gus?”

“There should be purge valves on the pipes coming out of the tanks,” Gus replied. “But they’ll probably have locks on them. Can I borrow your axe?”

“Sure,” Carl agreed and passed him his trusty fireman’s axe as they slid to a stop next to the first tank. Glancing in the mirror, Carl could see the fastest zombies coming through the gate. “Make it quick, Gus. We’ll go back to slow them down and lead them away while you handle this.” Gus looked hesitant, but nodded and jumped out with a shotgun in one hand and the axe in the other. He ran straight to a large valve assembly on the main pipe coming out of the tank and went to work.

Carl turned the Suburban around and aimed it at the closest zombies. He glanced at Karen and explained, “I’ll run a few of them down and then we’ll try to lead the rest away from the tank Gus is working on. Get ready to start screaming again.” The young woman nodded and reached for the microphone as Carl slammed into the first of the undead.

 The first part of the plan went off without a hitch as the zombies followed the SUV and Karen’s screams away from Gus.  After driving around another storage tank Carl turned back towards Gus, hoping he’d had time to complete his task.  Sure enough, Gus stood and waved to them. Hundreds of gallons of fuel were gushing out of the valve by the time Gus got back in the SUV. “Now what?” Gus asked.

“Now we do the same thing to a fuel tank on the south side of the compound, then one on the east side, and one on the north side.  By then there should be thousands of zombies chasing us through this tank farm and rivers of fuel surrounding them. That’s when we get the hell out of here!” Carl explained as he drove to the next storage tank and repeated the same tactics. It was while they were approaching the third tank that Gus spotted something that gave him an idea.

“Hey, Carl?” he said. “Look at the fuel truck parked next to that tank.”

“Yeah,” Carl replied. “I see it. What of it?”

“I wonder if it’s full?” Gus pondered. “If it is, we might be able to dump the gas out on Crenshaw and trap these bastards in the fuel farm.”

Carl considered the suggestion and said, “It’s not a bad idea, if it’s full, if the keys are in it, and if any of us knew how to drive a big rig.”

“If it’s all the same to you, mate, I’ll drive that tanker,” said Karen Slade with a fake Aussie accent. Both men gave her blank looks. “Didn’t you guys see the Road Warrior?” Karen giggled. “My brother is, or was, a truck driver,” she continued in a more subdued tone. “He taught me to drive an eighteen wheeler a few years ago when I rode with him on a cross-country haul. If the keys are there, I can drive it.”

They pulled up next the truck and Gus jumped out to look at the gauges on the underside of the tank while Karen ran around to the driver’s door to check for the keys. Gus gave two thumbs up and opened two valves. Gasoline began to gush out onto the ground.  Carl nodded approval. Even if they couldn’t move the truck, the spilled fuel would add to the bonfire in the tank farm. Gus turned his attention to cracking open the valve on the big storage tank.

Karen was gone for close to a minute and Carl began to get nervous. The fastest zombies were closing in on them. Just as Carl lost patience and drove around the truck to pick her up the engine of the big rig turned over with a rumble. Karen was waving at him from the driver’s seat with a grin on her face. Gus got back in the Suburban, taking the front passenger seat now that it was vacant. Carl shifted into gear and led the way to the final storage tank. Karen followed in the tanker truck, leaving a stream of flammable fuel in their wake.      

“How much fuel is in that truck?” Carl asked. “And how long will it take to drain out?”

“The tanks showed full,” Gus replied. “I only opened the valves half way on two of the three tanks. Each tank carries several thousand gallons. I figure it will keep flowing for at least ten or fifteen minutes. After that there will still be another full tank. I thought you’d want to save some for a nice big bang wherever we park it.”

“Excellent. Look, Gus, I’ll have to leave you a little longer at this storage tank. Karen and I will drive back through the horde to draw them away from you and spread that fuel out while we look for the best place to leave the truck. You okay with that?” 

“No problem, Boss,” said Gus bravely. “I can take care of myself.” He grabbed the axe and shotgun again as he exited the vehicle.

Carl waved Karen over and jumped out to explain his plan. She agreed immediately. They turned and drove back towards a storage tank they had just passed. Then they drove around it and turned towards the next one, looping around it too. Carl hoped to create a ring around most of the zombies using the gas pouring out of the tanker truck.  Then they drove straight back towards the approaching horde of undead. Carl led the way, slicing through zombies with deadly intent. He was pleased to see Karen taking down just as many or more zombies as he did. The big rig was a natural zombie killer. He was also happy to see that most of the horde reversed course to follow the vehicles, giving Gus more time to complete his task.

Soon they were back at the gate to Crenshaw Boulevard. The access road was packed with zombies. It felt like an off-road monster truck rally race as the Suburban ran them down and the tires tore them up.  Thank God for four wheel drive! The big rig barely hesitated as it followed the SUV through the crowd. Then they were out on the street and Carl made a wide turn into the far lane, heading back the way they had come with Karen following closely.

The horde thinned out within a couple hundred yards of the gate, but there were still hundreds of stragglers coming up the street. These zombies were slower than the ones they had encountered in the refinery. Many of them had been elderly or obese in their former lives. Others were almost crippled, perhaps by the events that lead to their transformation into zombies, or possibly from being hit earlier by the Suburban. In any event, none of them moved faster than walking speed.  That was something that Carl had been counting on.

At the next street, where the refinery fence ended, he made a wide u-turn and signaled Karen to stop the tanker sideways, blocking most of the intersection. The nearest zombie was only about 20 feet away when Karen opened the door and jumped down from the cab of the truck. She could have run and jumped in the SUV before the slow moving creature caught her, but she had other ideas. Carl marveled at Karen’s grace and poise as she deftly drew the sword over her shoulder and lunged forward to decapitate the zombie with a single swing of the blade. The head and body fell in opposite directions amid a spray of blood. Seeing a crowd of other zombies closing in, Karen reluctantly turned to get into the passenger seat next to Carl, pausing briefly to wipe her sword on the headless corpse at her feet.

“That was quite an impressive use of your blade, Miss Slade,” said Carl as he shifted the Suburban back into gear. “Good job driving the truck too. Now we just need to pick up Gus before he becomes a zombie snack and ask the gunners in the helicopter to light this place up.” He drove back into the horde, almost getting used to the sickening sights, sounds and jolts involved in plowing through a mob of undead bodies. The radio came to life with a call from the helicopter before he reached the gate.

“Carl? This Mick in the chopper. Your man at the storage tank ran into trouble. Some of the zombies didn’t follow you. About a hundred of them closed in on your friend and more are on the way.”

Carl caught his breath and exchanged a worried look with Karen. There was no way Gus could fight off that many zombies. He didn’t even have that many shotgun shells with him and the axe would be useless in that kind of mob. “Oh crap! We’re on our way,” Carl transmitted.

“Don’t bother coming back,” said Mick, causing both Carl and Karen to gasp and think the worst until Mick continued. “He’s climbing up a ladder to the top of the fuel storage tank now. I don’t think the zombies will be able to follow him, but you won’t be able to get to him now. When he gets to the top we’ll extract him with the helicopter.” 

Carl and Karen were both relived to hear that Gus was alive and had another way out. Neither of them had been looking forward to facing the horde again. “Thank you, Mick,” Carl said over the radio. “When you pick him up Gus can show you which pipelines he opened too. It would be nice if you guys can fire some tracer rounds into all the spilled fuel down there. It should make a real zombie barbeque.”

“Roger,” said Mick. “I figured that was your plan. I hate to blow up so much gas, but if it takes out most of these zombies, it’ll be worth it.”

“Thanks,” said Carl. “There’s also a tanker truck blocking Crenshaw and we left a trail of gas down there from the gate that’s begging for a match. If that goes up like I think it will, we should trap almost all of these bastards in an inferno.”

“We see it,” Mick replied. “You should keep driving up Crenshaw and make the next right. It’ll take you around the refinery and under the 405 and 110 interchange. The rest of your convoy got off on the east side of the Harbor Freeway and cleared a path on surface roads to a public bus depot. They’ve secured it and are waiting for you there. We’re dropping down to pick up your friend now. Then we’ll light this place up and meet you at the depot.”

“That sounds great,” relied Carl. Then he turned to Karen and said, “I’ve got a few Molotov cocktails in my bag back there.  They’re in corked wine bottles with road flares taped to the sides. Can you reach back and grab them?”

“What are you? Some kind of pyromaniac?” she asked, smiling as she climbed into the back seat to retrieve the homemade bombs.

“I just don’t want any of these things following us once we pass the gate,” Carl replied. So far all the zombies were either milling around the tank farm, attracted by Gus and the helicopter, or crowding back through the gate onto Crenshaw where they turned in the direction Carl and Karen had taken the truck. The tanker truck would keep them from going back towards the hospital once it was detonated. However, Carl didn’t want them following the Suburban towards the bus depot either. The fuel tank explosions should prevent that, but Carl planned to use the Molotov Cocktails to hold them back until then. 

Karen returned to the front seat with the bottles in hand and Carl accelerated through the thickening horde. As soon as they passed the refinery gate the SUV broke through the horde and into the clear. Not a single zombie stood in their path. Carl drove thirty yards further and slammed on the brakes. 

Throwing open the door and taking both bottles, Carl leapt out, set one bottle on the roof of the Suburban and ignited the flare tied to the other. As the zombies in front of the gate turned to follow, he hauled back and threw the bottle. It sailed a good twenty-five yards and hit the pavement with a satisfying crash that whooshed into an explosive fireball, engulfing a dozen of the nearest zombies.  Carl pivoted and repeated the process with the second Molotov, aiming this one to cover the rest of the street and creating a wall of flame.  Several zombies emerged on his side of the fire, burning like animated torches, but the majority of the undead shied away from the inferno.  Carl nodded with a grim look and hopped back into the SUV.

As they pulled away from the scene Karen was staring out the rear window. “Oh, wow,” she said. “You really lit a fuse with that one.” Some of the burning zombies had stumbled back towards the gate where they stepped into the trail of dumped fuel left by the tanker truck, igniting a thick river of flames that swept through the massed undead. The trail of fire spread quickly in both directions, toward the abandoned tanker truck and back into the tank farm. “I hope they get Gus off that tank before the fire arrives,” Karen said seriously. “We dumped a lot of gas near there.”