I checked again for a hidden key but had no luck. I was able to pry open the sliding rear windows and Grace slipped through and opened the door. The battery charger we have is the type that you plug into the vehicles cigarette lighter, so while it generated a charge I yanked out the lower console and separated the ignition wires. When I connected the two red ignition wires and touched the brown power wire to them, I expected to hear the ignition turn. Instead I got a dull click.
The battery was too far gone. I unplugged the charger and we stepped back out into the rain. Just as we started up the street in search of another candidate, we heard an engine behind us. I turned and brought up my carbine. The black Humvee had returned and was idling in the middle of the street. Alison and Albert stepped up on either side of me, their weapons up as well. Chloe stood next to me, growling. The engine shut off and the driver’s door opened.
A man in his late forties stepped out. He was at least 6'3" well over 240 pounds, blond hair tied back in a ponytail, and armed with a large revolver in a cross-draw rig on his belt. He grinned at us and put up his hands disarmingly.
“Need a ride somewhere?” he asked.
His booming voice echoed off the surrounding buildings. A mournful wail responded from somewhere down the block. I looked around nervously, which made him grin even wider.
He casually looked around and said, “Pesky damn bastards, ain’t they? Better hop in before they come try to eat our asses off.”
He opened the back door on the driver’s side and motioned to us. I could hear footsteps rushing toward us. I scooped up Chloe and we piled into his vehicle without any preamble. I went to the passenger back seat and threw Chloe in ahead of me. Albert got in the front passenger seat and Alison and Grace climbed in to the back with me.
Our benefactor got in, checked his rearview, and turned the ignition over just as a dozen Infected raced around the corner.
We pulled away, outdistancing them easily. I eased my .44 special from its holster and stuck it under my thigh. Nobody spoke for a minute while our driver maneuvered through the maze of streets, headed west up Bay street. We turned on Powell Street and headed south.
Finally, our host turned his head back to me and said, “By the way, I’m Karl.”
I introduced us. Albert thanked Karl profusely. He looked in the rearview mirror and asked Grace how old she was. Grace looked at me for assurance. I changed the subject and asked him where we were headed.
Karl said that early evening was when “them dead f---ers” were most active and offered to let us stay at his place until morning. Alison looked at me, concerned.
While I was contemplating our options, Karl looked back in the mirror at me and said, “If it makes you feel better, you’re welcome to keep that poodle shooter ya’ got tucked under your leg out and ready.”
He grinned at me and kept driving. I smiled in spite of myself and then thanked him for his offer.
Karl’s place is a high-rent, smaller, four-story post-modern apartment complex. We pulled up to the walled-in courtyard and Karl jumped out and closed the swinging wrought iron gates behind us. We all followed him into the formal lobby and up the wide stairs to the fourth floor landing. There was a single door that opened into a large apartment. The whole building has only four apartments, one on each floor. At one time this place was definitely for the upper class.
The apartment itself is decorated in gaudy 1970s décor. It has six bedrooms and four baths. The most impressive thing is that he has power. There are banks of solar panels as well as a water tank on the roof. Karl chose this place well.
While Alison took Grace into one of the bathrooms to dry off, Albert and I sat in the living room with Karl. Albert kept staring at Karl. Finally Karl asked Albert if there was a problem.
Albert hesitated and said, “Sorry, you just look familiar.”
Karl’s demeanor suddenly changed. He looked at Albert coldly. I realized Albert was right. The guy did look familiar. Albert’s eyes suddenly lit up.
“Wait a minute. You’re Karl the Cajun Jackson!” he exclaimed.
I remembered him as well. He was a big Mixed Martial Arts competitor from several years ago. Albert and I had actually watched a few of his UFC bouts together.
Karl nodded and smiled. “That was a long time ago, Amigo.” he said.
Alison and Grace came out. Grace was wrapped in an oversized checkered flannel shirt and had a towel wrapped around her head.
Karl saw Grace and stared at her wistfully. Alison stepped in front of Grace protectively and apologized for not asking first before taking one of Karl’s shirts. Karl continued to gaze past Alison. Alison pulled Grace behind her and Karl snapped out of his reverie.
“Sorry, she just reminds me of someone.” he said.
Karl showed everyone to their rooms and then went to the kitchen and heated up a pot of stew. Grace asked to sleep with Alison so I was able to get a room to myself. I wondered if Karl had lost a family. I didn’t want to ask. The rest of the evening was spent exchanging our stories of what we had been through.
Albert asked Karl if he had been in San Francisco ever since the fall. Karl tensed and said, “Where else would I have been?”
I told him we heard gunfire before he found us and asked if it was him. Karl grinned at me and admitted that it was, citing that he had a disagreement with a few of the locals that needed to be taken care of. We talked about how to build sound suppressors for our weapons. He was pretty impressed with the ones on my carbines and asked if I could make him one for his FN FAL assault rifle.
Karl is a funny guy. He seems easy-going one minute, and on the verge of some darkness the next. I will give him this, though. He has managed to survive in style. He has invited us to stay as long as we want. I am hoping that maybe Albert and Alison will want to stay with him. It would be good to know that they have someone like Karl to protect them.
DAY 54
The rains have not let up.
Early this morning, I got up and went downstairs to the courtyard. I noticed an above-ground sprinkler system using PVC pipe. I removed a section and then found a wider diameter PVC under the drain of the fountain in the lobby.
I removed some screen from one of the windows and two hose clamps from the abandoned Bentley sitting in one of the parking spots. I found Karl’s FN assault rifle and after an hour, had a working silencer fitted to it.
When Karl got up this morning and saw his modified weapon in the living room, I thought he was going to pee himself. He actually got a little misty eyed and thanked me repeatedly. We test fired it in the apartment downstairs.
It fires a .308 cartridge (larger caliber) and makes about as much noise as Albert’s M-1 carbine. Regardless, it’s certainly quieter than it was yesterday.
I told Karl that we still have supplies on our boat and want to get them before they sink in the harbor. He agreed to take us down to the docks to retrieve them. I am hoping to find a vehicle for myself while we are out.
Albert came out to the living room at around 10 a.m.. He looks like hell. He is sniffling and blowing his nose every five seconds. I think we are all wondering if he may be infected. Alison suggested that she and Grace stay with Albert to keep an eye on him. Karl and I will get as much as we can in one load and go back for the rest if we are able to. More later.
San Francisco has definitely become the Wild West.
So much has happened since my last entry this morning, I don’t even know where to start. Karl and I left for the docks around 11 a.m. The streets were fairly devoid of undead, although twice infected people ran at our vehicle. Both times Karl swerved in order to run them down.
As we crossed the Embarcadero to the entrance of Pier 39, I noticed that someone had moved our vessel to the slips right next to the shore. A station wagon was backed up on the lawn in front of the docks with its tailgate open. Two men were offloading all of our supplies and walking them up the dock to the car. I was furious.
Karl took in the situation and pulled up next to the station wagon. He yanked his newly silenced FN out from behind his seat and grinned at me.
“I know these boys, let me handle this.” he said.
We walked to the edge of the sidewalk overlooking the slips and stopped. The pouring rain had masked our movement and they didn’t even realize we were there until Karl spoke up.
“Well, hell, if it ain’t the Bible thumpers. I thought stealing was against your religion.”
They turned to find two guns on them. One of them had his hands full and the other had a gas can in one hand and a bolt-action rifle in the other. The one with the gun looked like he might try to use it.
Karl grinned at him. “My friend here, the one you’re stealing from right now, well, he made me this here silencer and I’m just dying to try it out.” he drawled.
The man with the gun swallowed and started to slowly set his weapon on the narrow boardwalk.
Karl shook his head and motioned for him to toss the gun. The man hesitated, then dropped it into the ocean. It hit with a plop and sunk to the bottom of the harbor. The guy with his hands full had frozen in place and had not moved. Karl looked at him and the guy carefully set his load down on the dock. He unslung his weapon and tossed it into the water without being told.
The first guy (his name was Robert) set down the gas can and glared at Karl defiantly. “We got a truce between us Karl. You don’t come near us and we don’t hunt you down. You do anything and my folks will come after you.” he said.
Karl gave Robert a toothy smile. I realized that he had the situation well in hand and turned 180 degrees and kneeled down, covering our flank with my weapon. I didn’t want any undead, or Robert’s friends sneaking up behind us. I didn’t see what happened next, but I heard the conversation plain enough.
Robert couldn’t just shut his mouth and kept at Karl.
“We didn’t know this was your friend’s stuff. Don’t you start nothing over this. We stay in our own neighborhood and leave all of you sicko freaks alone. You remember that and let us go.” he whined.
“You mean all of the queers, niggers, and all us other folks who aren’t religious nut bags like you?” Karl replied.
There was a long silence. Then Robert started to speak. “I mean all of you short eyed…” he began.
Karl cut him off. “Freeze! Don’t you go for that gun. Don’t you…”
Suddenly, I heard Karl’s suppressed weapon discharge several times. I heard a splash as someone landed in the water. He fired two more times and I heard someone crumple to the dock. I wanted to turn and look, but was concerned that someone may have heard the racket. I could smell the gunpowder drifting in the air. Karl patted me on the shoulder to let me know he was still in the game. Satisfied that nobody was coming, I stood up and turned around. Robert was nowhere in sight. His friend lay face down on the dock, not moving. I looked at Karl.
He shook his head and said, “It was us or them. Robert tried to sneak a pistol out and I had to shoot him, swear to God. His buddy drew down too.”
I looked in the back of the station wagon. It was full of our gear. They would have taken it all. I looked back at my supplies on the dock and asked Karl to help me haul them to his Humvee.
As we walked down the dock to the boat, we had to step over the man Karl had shot. Karl put his boot up under the guy and rolled him into the ocean. I didn’t see a pistol on him, or in his hand. When I commented on that, Karl suggested that it probably fell into the drink. I nodded and we went to work.
We were only able to get a little over half of our gear off the boat. We unloaded everything out of the station wagon and transferred it to Karl’s vehicle.
While I was arranging the gear in the Humvee, Karl got in the station wagon and drove it across the sidewalk and into the ocean, jumping out before it took out a portion of the dock and sank to the bottom of the bay. He walked up to me and told me that the owners of the car were a bunch of religious zealots that would hunt us down if they ever found out that we killed two of their members.
The rain let up as we drove down Stockton Street and passed Jackson Street. We were in the heart of Chinatown. We saw numerous Infected. Karl turned onto a side street and up a blind alley. As we drove there was a smell of decomposition in the air, but also the smell of burnt rubber, wood, and…something else. There was soot up the walls and blackened heaps everywhere. Our tires crunched over the piles.
We stopped in front of a parking structure at the end of the alley. There was a steel mesh gate pulled down over the entrance. Karl got out and rolled the gate up just high enough for the Hummer to fit underneath.
We pulled forward and Karl rolled the gate back down, sealing us in. We drove up to the roof and parked. There was a truck with a large steel tank in its bed parked near the edge of the roof. We walked to the truck and looked over the side of the structure. Below was the alley we came through. With the mesh gate down in front of the parking entrance, the area below was a dead end.
Karl grabbed a nozzle and hose attached to the tank in the truck, opened a valve, and began pouring the liquid from the tank over the edge and down into the alley below. The smell of gasoline permeated the air. Karl smiled at me but didn’t say anything. After a minute of pouring, he shut off the valve and replaced the nozzle back on the truck.
He went into the cab of the truck and came back with an air horn canister. He grabbed a nail out of his pocket and positioned it over the air horn’s activating button. He winked at me.
“Ready to have some fun?” he asked. I raised my eyebrow.
Karl depressed the air horn and jammed the nail in the button. The horn emitted a monotone wail. Karl dropped it over the edge and we watched it fall three stories and bounce off the concrete. The horn continued its constant honk. What sounded like hundreds of undead responded from all directions.
As we watched, at first dozens, then close to a hundred creatures poured down the alley to the source of the noise. They packed themselves like sardines in the alley, climbing over each other to get to the horn. Slowly, the sound diminished, finally shutting off as the canister ran out of pressure.