03 Deluge of the Dead (6 page)

*****

There was a lot of activity throughout the port on the morning of April 14.  The cruise ships which had remained just outside the breakwater overnight were now moving slowly towards their new berths in the Port of Long Beach.  The largest of the Carnival cruise ships was going to her regular berth at the terminal next to the Queen Mary.  The rest of the cruise ships headed for the former CosCo container terminal just across the narrow peninsula. Longshoremen used to refer to the CosCo docks as “The End of the World” because its berths were the closest to the open sea.  Scott hadn’t yet decided if that was a fitting name, or not, for the spot where they planned to create a floating city composed of at least four cruise ships and additional support vessels. Before the ships docked Scott instructed them to launch all of their lifeboats for use in the coming rescue missions.

Hundreds of other boats and yachts were on the move too.  Long lines of them formed next to fuel barges in preparation for the mass evacuation of survivors along the coast.  Dozens of boats, including several tug boats, were also dispatched to the marinas along the shore of Long Beach on a mission to retrieve abandoned boats and tow them back to secured areas of the port.  They would start with those tied to docks that appeared secure from zombies, but once the rain started they hoped to be able to collect many more vessels. Since they didn’t have keys to the abandoned boats they would all have to be towed, but that didn’t matter. The plan was simply to bring as many yachts as possible into the safe haven where they could be used to house the expected influx of refugees.

Scott was pleased with the progress by the time his stomach reminded him that he hadn’t had breakfast yet.  He left Captain Fisher on the bridge and went back towards his suite to eat with his family. On his way there he suddenly remembered that nobody had been able to locate Clint last night. So much else was happening that it had completely slipped his mind.  With a feeling of growing apprehension he decided to go down one deck and look for Clint himself.

*****

There had only been a handful of zombies waiting for them on the bridge to San Pedro. The rest had followed Carl into a dead end trap the previous afternoon.  The few zombies that had made it back onto the bridge were quickly dispatched with single shots to the head by Marines as they led the expeditionary force through the gate.  The big Cat and a smaller front end loader lowered their buckets to scoop up not only the bodies of these newly fallen zombies, but also the remains of hundreds of others that had been crushed by the Amtrac during Operation Pied Piper.  They took turns clearing the mangled bodies, alternating between scooping them up and dumping them over the side of the bridge.  Carl had suggested doing this, even though it consumed precious time, because he hoped that many survivors would be using the bridge to reach the safe haven during the storm and didn’t want them to have to wade through infected corpses. 

Once clear of the bridge they turned towards the approach to the east-bound side of the Harbor Freeway, where they came to an abrupt halt.  The view in front of them was unbelievable.  Every eastbound lane was packed with bumper to bumper abandoned vehicles, as were the shoulders.  It was total gridlock for as far as Carl could see.  Trying to clear a path through that mess could take weeks.  However, the westbound lanes were much clearer.  Carl could see only scattered wrecks on that side of the freeway, along with a few wandering figures that he assumed to be zombies.      

  “Okay,” Carl said over the radio. “Let’s bust through the K-Rails and clear a path up the westbound lanes.  That side will be easier for those headed towards the port to enter anyway.”  He received several confirmations and watched as the Cat turned to knock out twenty or thirty feet of the center divider to allow the rest of the vehicles to cross into the opposing traffic lanes.  Of course there was no opposing traffic, just empty lanes dotted with abandoned cars and trucks. 

They made good time for the first mile or so, pausing only briefly to clear an accident scene.  The Marines kept busy by dispatching the occasional zombie that appeared on the nearly deserted westbound lanes.  They spotted many more zombies on the eastbound lanes, hundreds of them roaming through the traffic jam, but the fence along the center divider kept them from interfering with the progress of the expeditionary force. So the Marines didn’t waste ammo on them.  O’Hara had made it clear that his men should conserve ammunition and only fire at Z’s who posed an immediate threat to the mission or the lives of other survivors.

Rounding the curve at the northwest end of the port they encountered the first real obstacle.  A big rig hauling a large shipping container was laying on its side, blocking most of the lanes.  The Cat moved forward to push the container aside.  This proved to be easier than it might have been because it was an empty container on it’s way back to the port after being unloaded somewhere inland.  However, once the that obstruction was cleared it revealed a seemingly endless traffic jam that had formed behind the accident site.  Carl cursed as he used the radio to call the
Sovereign Spirit
and ask them to send the helicopter to scout out the extent of the gridlock and the possibility of detouring around it.  As he waited for a response from the ship he got a call from the Sergeant Major.

“I have an idea, sir,” said O’Hara. “Let me see what this Amtrac can do to clear a path.”  Without waiting for Carl’s reply the big amphibious vehicle moved towards the shoulder of the road and angled its bulldozer blade to deflect obstacles into the center lanes. Carl was pleasantly surprised at the effectiveness of this approach.  The dozer blade on the nose of the 30 ton tracked vehicle pushed the line of abandoned vehicles aside with ease, sandwiching them towards the middle of the freeway and opening a lane along the shoulder with hardly a moment’s hesitation.  However, after 50 yards or so the pile of vehicles shifted and blocked its path with a pile of wreckage that even the AAV was hard pressed to move.  Not to be deterred, O’Hara directed the driver to reverse, turn off the road, through the bushes, and pivot back into the pile of crushed vehicles, smashing them all back away from the shoulder. 

“Not bad,” said Carl over the radio. “At this rate we might even average a few miles per hour.  Let’s hope it clears out further up the highway.” He was just about to sign off when he spotted movement in the traffic jam.  Dozens of zombies were converging on the Amtrac. “Head’s up everyone.  We’ve got company. Looks like we have attracted some attention,” Carl announced. 

The Marines opened up with machine gun and rifle fire on the Z’s who ran towards them, decimating the first wave of attackers.  O’Hara refrained from using the automatic grenade launcher for fear that the explosions would ignite fires in the tightly packed traffic jam.  The convoy proceeded slowly as more and more zombies arrived to confront them.  Within a minute O’Hara was forced to close the hatch on the turret of the AAV and fire the machine gun from inside.  His men used narrow firing ports in the hull to add to the carnage.

As the number of zombies increased, so did their interest in the rest of the vehicles following the Amtrac.  Carl confirmed that all of the doors and windows were secured as the first of the infected reached the Suburban.  Soon they were pounding on the armor protecting the windows and climbing up on the hood.  This was the first time had not been able to strike back at zombies while driving the Suburban.  He was trapped behind the AAV with the rest of the convoy in single file behind him.  There was no room to maneuver or build speed to cut the Z’s down.  The zombie proof nature of the vehicle was being put to the test. 

“This is getting a little spooky,” said Gus.  “I wish we had gun ports on this thing, like the Marines do.”

“Yeah, remind me to add those someday,” Carl replied with a grin directed at Karen who had suddenly turned quite pale.

“I’m feeling claustrophobic with all of them pressed up against the windows,” she said. 

Carl nodded and raised his radio. “Panther, this is Carl. Can you give us a quick car wash, please?”  His answer was a blast of water that engulfed the Suburban from behind, sending the zombies tumbling away in fear.  This process was repeated several times in the next ten minutes while the Marines continued to whittle away at the number of zombies with precision marksmanship. Carl was happy to see that their numbers were not being replenished to any great extent.  The 110 freeway passed through mostly industrial areas near the port, so there was no major source of additional zombies.  He suspected that the ones attacking them had come from some of the cars in the traffic jam, although most zombies would have wandered off the freeway over the past two weeks in search of new prey.   Where the freeway did pass through residential areas it was either elevated above the surface streets, or lined with tall walls intended to block the traffic noise, but now serving as excellent zombie barriers. 

As they approached Sepulveda Boulevard the traffic jam of abandoned cars and trucks began to thin out.  Carl suspected that people who ran into the westbound backup of traffic here on Z-Day had wisely exited the freeway, hoping to get through on surface streets. He harbored no illusions about their probable fate, but was glad they had the sense to clear off the freeway.  It made the current job much easier.  Once again they were moving at a steady fifteen to twenty miles per hour, swerving around isolated vehicles and accident scenes. 

Carl wondered again about the number of car crashes and vehicles left askew across lanes, or crunched up to the center divider. After driving in silence for a few minutes he shared his suspicions with Karen and Gus. “You see all of these abandoned vehicles and single car accidents?” They nodded and he continued, “I have a feeling that most of those drivers turned into zombies while behind the wheel.”

“That makes sense,” said Karen. Then she added, “Either that or they hit a zombie, or swerved to avoid one.”

“Well they sure fucked up the morning commute,” Gus chimed in.  They couldn’t help but chuckle at that because another traffic jam was just ahead and this one looked much worse than the last one.  It appeared that a truck had gone off of the Carson Street overpass and landed on top of, or right in front of a gasoline tanker truck, then been hit by other cars until the entire freeway was clogged.  Even worse, there had also been a major fire and explosion. Even portions of the overpass itself had crumbled and fallen onto the wreckage below.  It looked far too unstable to even consider clearing away the debris.

“Hold up a minute everyone,” Scott said on the radio. “I’m going up the onramp to see if we can bypass this mess.”  Carl gunned the engine and drove the big SUV up the ramp that would normally be used by vehicles going the other direction, but he had no fear of head-on collisions now.  It was totally clear of vehicles and so was the intersection at the edge of the overpass where he stopped to see what lay beyond.  The off-ramp which they could use to get back onto the freeway was clogged with abandoned vehicles, as was the freeway beyond, but nothing they couldn’t deal with in the same manner as they had been.  Then he took a moment to look around.   Glancing out the driver’s side window Carl sucked in his breath and said, “Oh crap.” 

Karen and Gus followed his gaze and had similar reactions. “Oh no, this is the Harbor UCLA Medical Center,” said Gus. He referred to a complex of buildings that started one block from the freeway. It was completely surrounded and engulfed by a horde of zombies. 

What attracted Carl’s attention most however, were at least a thousand of those zombies running towards the freeway like an incoming tidal wave. He raised the radio microphone and said, “Sergeant Major? There’s a mob coming down the road from the hospital at our 9 o’clock. Hold position on the freeway while I see if we can distract them.”  

*****    

Clint awoke to a firm knocking at his door. “Just a minute,” he called out as he fumbled to pull his bathrobe on one-handed.  “Hold your horses, I’m coming,” he grumbled as the knocking continued.  A quick peek through the peep-hole showed that Scott was standing outside looking impatient. “What’s up?” Clint asked as he opened the door to his friend.

“Where the hell were you last night?” Scott asked immediately.  “We were looking everywhere for you.”

“Not everywhere,” Clint replied with a smile, “Or else you would have found me. What’s the big deal?”

“Aside from the fact that this is going to be the busiest day of my life as we try to rescue thousands of survivors during a rain storm,” Scott said, “I’m afraid I have some disturbing news for you.”  Both of these statements were enough to wipe the smile off of Clint’s face in an instant.  He stood there expectantly.

“Clint,” Scott continued in a more subdued tone of voice. “I got a call from Professor Bernhard last night.  He found some abnormalities in your blood work and he wants you to report back to sickbay for additional tests.”

“Abnormalities? What kind of abnormalities?” Clint asked.

“He’s not quite sure, but he mentioned finding unknown antibodies; the things that fight off a virus or infection in your blood,” Scott explained.

“What does that mean?” Clint asked with more than a hint of fear in his voice.

“Maybe nothing, buddy,” Scott said. “But it could be important. If the antibodies fight off the Super Rabies virus, then you could be immune to zombie bites now and we might even be able to use your blood to find a cure.”  Clint let out a loud sigh and started to smile.

“On the other hand,” Scot continued grimly. “The professor says it’s also possible that you are still carrying the virus and might be able to spread it to others.”  Clint’s expression froze and his eyes widened.  “So grab anything you want to bring with you and let’s go down to sickbay. You might be in isolation there for a while, just until they can confirm that you aren’t contagious or anything like that. Okay?”   

“Okay,” replied Clint in a dazed voice.  He turned and grabbed his Kindle from the bedside table, glancing at the unread note that he had ignored the night before. Then he followed Scott into the hall, still dressed in his bathrobe.  They went to the elevator and Scott made sure it was empty before ushering him in and pressing the button for sickbay.