Day 2, 4 PM
From their view on top of an office building on Venice Beach, Anthony and his fellow officers could see the carnage. The famous beach was awash with burning buildings, overturned vehicles, and the walking dead. From time to time, Anthony would hear gunshots, but it had been over four hours since he had last heard one. Us survivors are getting outnumbered. Anthony peered into his binoculars and looked at the beach. The waves lapped at the shore. Beyond the shore lay the Pacific Ocean. The sun beat down on the brilliant blue water and cast an unusual, almost golden shine on the surface. Out past the shore laid Catalina Island. He could see the island out in the distance today. Normally, he wouldn't be able to do that. But today, on the most still and horrible, and yet beautiful of days, he could see his refuge.
Anthony looked in his binoculars to the harbor. His fellow SWAT officer Edgar Salas had a rich uncle who kept a sixty foot ferry there. The plan was to fight their way to the docks, raid the office where the keys to the boats were kept, get on the ferry boat and head out to Catalina Island. Anthony did not originally agree to Catalina as being the officer's new home as the island had over a thousand residents, which meant that it would also contain the very things that they were trying to get away from. From where he was, Anthony could see the docks. He didn't see anything out of the ordinary besides an occasional zombie or a seagull flying past his view.
"Anth."
Anthony put down his binoculars and looked over to Edgar.
"What is it?"
"It's almost 4' o clock. We should go now if we want to head out to Catalina before the tide comes in."
Anthony scratched at his waist and looked at the sea for a few seconds.
"You're sure we'll find the key?"
"Yes, I'm absolutely sure we'll find the keys. My uncle does not use that boat, dude." Edgar added with a laugh.
"Alright then. Tell the boys we're due out in an hour."
"Kay.", Edgar replied before turning around and heading down the stairwell into the office building. Anthony followed him before entering a bathroom. Anthony stepped over to the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His reflection revealed a visibly dirty and tired face. He had not shaved since the day before and already he had a stubble rivaling that of an alcoholic. His SWAT Battle Dress Uniform was shredded in some places and a thin coating of dust, blood, and sweat covered it. He let out a slight moan of disgust and removed his gear belt and took off the BDU and unsheathed a KA-BAR knife that he had holstered at his ankle. He retrieved a canteen full of water from his gear belt and slapped some water on his face and carefully dragged the KA-BAR over his face, feeling the excess hair coming off with the aid of the blade.
"Sir!"
The bathroom door burst open, slamming against the wall behind it. At the doorway was Private First Class Daniel Gomez, part of Anthony's SWAT Unit.
"Fuck!" Anthony felt the warmth of fresh blood run down his face as the blade slid down his cheek. Pain turned to rage as Anthony turned to face the offender. Without even thinking, Anthony began to shout at Daniel.
"Don't you shitheads ever think of knocking! Look what you made me do, asshole! Go get a fucking medic! What are you doing here in the first place!"
Daniel just stood there, watching his captain scream profanities at him with a large blade in his hand, blood dripping down his face and onto the white linoleum floor.
"Don't just stand there, prick! Look at my face! I have a fat fucking scar on it and you're just standing there like a moron watching me bitch you out! I have half a mind to cut your dumb ass too! Go get a medic, now!"
Daniel pulled out a radio and spoke into it, ordering a medic to come upstairs to assist Anthony.
Anthony walked into a bathroom stall and sat down holding his face, applying pressure to the wound. Alongside the pain, rage clouded his mind. Of all the days to cut myself, it had to be today.
The SWAT medic, Sergeant Nick Blackwell appeared at his stall clutching a first aid kit.
"Jesus, sir, how did that happen?"
There was a long cut on Anthony's cheek running from below his temple stopping at his chin. The immediate course of treatment would be to wash the wound and stitch it up.
"Cut myself shaving." Anthony grunted.
"I'm gonna have to ask you to lie down."
Anthony moaned and walked out of the stall and lay on the floor, closing his eyes and breathing deeply as he did.
Nick emptied the first aid kit and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. He unscrewed the cap and squirted some onto a cotton pad and applied it to the wound on Nick's face, swabbing it around as he took a roll of stitch wire and a pair of scissors out of his first aid kit.
"Patch it up quick, Sarge. We have to leave in an hour." Anthony ordered.
Nick went to work as he was told, pressing the detached parts of skin as far together as they would go and running the stitch wire under the skin. He did this again and again until the skin was pressed together again. When Nick stood up after his surgery was complete, he already knew what he looked like. As he slipped his BDU on again and slipped on his gear belt, he could feel the stitches rubbing against the still exposed flesh underneath his skin and it bugged him. Walking down the stairs was like torture to the seasoned SWAT officer. How could I be so stupid? Shaving with a fucking KA-BAR…You dumbass, Anthony. You ugly Frankenstein looking son of a bitch. You deserved to get cut.
In the parking garage, the SWAT officers numbering at more than nineteen stood inside the two SWAT trucks, all gassed up and ready to go. Four men sat on top of each truck with their M4s out. The plan was to fight their way to the marina, shooting at attacking undead from on top and inside the trucks, than disembark all but one of the trucks. They would need a vehicle that advanced for looting Catalina Island's stores. According to Edgar, they would be facing several hundred undead on the way to the docks, and more than a thousand in the resort city of Avalon. The road ahead would be treacherous and more than likely they'd lose a man or two, but in the end Anthony was sure it would be worth it.
After nearly a day in the office building, the two SWAT trucks rolled out of the building at high speed and headed east. Inside the passenger seat of the lead truck, Edgar read the map of the area to the driver, who in turn relayed any messages from them to the rest of the team in case they needed to make any changes. From all of the trucks, M4 fire came raining down on any undead who came too close or were blocking the way. Inside the second truck, Anthony stood by the radio waiting for any messages from Ed.
"Alright, we have a big pileup coming up…ETA 30 seconds. Prepare to reduce speed and follow through a gap."
Anthony held down the send button on the radio and acknowledged his second-in-command's advisement. Everyone else inside his truck took up firing positions from every available position inside it. Most gathered on the roof, figuring it wouldn't be too dangerous considering they would be traveling at a slow speed to account for the gap in the crashed cars that they would be traveling through. At the gap point, the undead surrounding the area noticed the SWAT trucks and ran at them, sensing food inside. The once-quiet intersection suddenly became a war-zone as more than twenty individual assault rifles and submachine guns went off. Blood soaked all over the street where bullets found their marks. Already smashed shop windows collapsed into dust as the projectiles that missed hit them. In less than twenty seconds, twenty individual officers sent more than 340 shots at the undead that attempted to swamp the trucks. This had never happened before.
Finally, the two trucks made it past the pileup and the officers jumped back inside the truck. Four on each truck stayed behind, this time it wasn't the ones who were there from the start. They were all working in shifts for roof duty. Once again, the convoy began to gain speed. In the other truck, Edgar now leaned out the passenger side window peering through his binoculars. He motioned for the driver to turn left at the next street. He spoke into the radio to notify Anthony, also. For fun, Edgar decided to join in shooting the undead who crowded the truck at the next turn, so he unholstered his USP and leaned outside the window once again and after the truck made the turn, shot the closest zombie in the head. Zombies crowded the street up ahead. This would take every bullet in Edgar's clip. Covered by the fire coming from both trucks, Edgar shot every zombie that came close. Just like target practice, Ed thought. He ejected his clip, sat back down and retrieved another clip from his belt, slipped it inside the housing and pulled back the slide without even looking at the gun. He took another look at the map and saw that they were less than five minutes from the harbor.
"Keep on going this way, man. You'll know when you'll see it." he told the driver.
Anthony climbed up onto the roof with the other men. When he saw how many there were, he immediately raised his rifle and began shooting. All around them were the cannibals. Ahead of them, at the sides. As far as the eye could see, you could only see zombies. Anthony tapped another officer on the shoulder and told him to go down and tell Edgar to increase speed and do whatever it takes to get to the harbor.
When Edgar got the order, he yelled a whoop of joy and pointed to the nearest crowd of zombies. "Take 'em out." The driver hit the accelerator and with a sickening crunch, took out the entire crowd. The truck went off balance twice, once when they hit the crowd and once when the fourth wheel crushed their bodies. Now, they had a fighting chance. There was a large gap where the bulk of the zombies had been earlier. Even better, they were just outside the harbor. Edgar spoke into the radio. "We're gonna evacuate this truck and proceed to the ferry."
Anthony's truck sped quickly to Edgar's location. He replied to Edgar's call. "10-4, we're gonna be coming up behind you in just a minute. Proceed out and hold your position till we arrive, over."
"10-4." Edgar looked to the driver and spoke. "Alright then. Hope you can handle an SMG." The driver grinned and brought out an MP5, cocking it as he did. Edgar than banged on the metal behind him and yelled for the other men to get out. He jumped out of the truck and ran up to the dock entrance, the rest of the SWAT team behind him. As a team, they moved as fast as they possibly could and shot at anything in their way. Behind them, Anthony's truck was used as a rear guard. The truck was traveling as fast as Edgar's team moved, and the entire way up the dock everyone in that truck was on the roof shooting at the cannibals behind them. Here, they had their first casualty. A young man by the name of Bryson Tengue. He wasn't running fast enough when an Asian girl in an orange tracksuit leapt on his back and tore a chunk out of his neck so big that his head went lopsided. He collapsed like a sack of bricks to the wooden planks beneath him, a crowd of zombies quickly gathering around him to feast on their first kill in a day.
"We have a man down!" Daniel Gomez shouted to Anthony.
"There's nothing you can do about it!" he shouted above the rattle of gunfire. "Just keep shooting!" Anthony replied as he slapped another clip into his M4.
Edgar's team finally reached the ferry. Edgar told all but three members of his team to stay behind and work on getting the moorings off and helping Anthony's team slow down the undead as the rest of his team ran to the harbormaster's office to get the key. Anthony's truck stopped at the ferry, all but four of the SWAT team members exiting the truck. They didn't stop shooting at the zombies, not even when they were exiting the truck. They were the best trained platoon in L.A. County, having beaten Camarillo and Bakersfield's SWAT teams in Room Clearing and Crowd Control four years in a row. Anthony ordered six members of his squad to retrieve all weapons, ammunition and other supplies from the truck and to start loading them into the ferry. He stayed behind with the other officers to slow down the oncoming dead onto their positions. Where the fuck are, you Ed!
It took five shots from Ed's USP to open the harbormaster's office door. He and the rest of his team of three dashed into the room, hastily clearing it. Ed, leading with his pistol kicked down the door to the key room and quickly took down two of them, one of them obviously the harbormaster, still dressed in his silly little white captain's hat. He then scoured the walls for the key to his uncle's boat, reading the numbers for each boat. Finally, he found the one he was looking for. Boat Registration 460: Invasion Tours. He snatched the key and hastily stuffed it in a pocket in his BDU. "Let's go!" he called out to his teammates. They ran ahead of him, clearing the path for him. The next minute was like a dream to Edgar.
It seemed like from everywhere around him, a zombie would pop up and take a swipe at him. All he did was just run ahead and try and gain distance from them, then he would shoot them in the head. They would fall so fast, and then another would come up and he would do the same thing, over and over. He could see the ferry from where he was and with every step he took, he got closer to it. Then, a cannibal popped out in front of him. This one was faster than he had encountered previously. He ran towards the ferry, but then it somehow caught up with him. He raised his pistol and pulled the trigger, but nothing happened. He pulled again. Nothing. The cannibal made the first move, raising it's hand and scratched him across the face with dirty, putrid-looking fingernails, then lunging at Edgar and going for his throat. Edgar grabbed the attacker by it's shoulders before it could get any closer and tossed it to the ground. Then he turned on his heel and sprinted to the ferry. He tossed the key over to Anthony, who jumped on the ferry with his teammates. Edgar himself lifted the final piece of rope off the mooring and prepared to jump onto the ferry, but then his attacker from before tackled him to the ground.
Edgar kept his eyes open, kept moving around, and trying to escape the grip of this one. He saw a face. This one used to be pretty. She had straw blonde hair that was stained red with blood. She was wearing a blue dress that had a long rip through the midsection. Her teeth were black with congealed blood. This is it! I'm gonna die. I'm gonna fuckin' die. Involuntarily, he beat against his attacker's eye with the butt of his pistol, hoping to disorient or stun it and escape, but already he heard the others running to his pinned position on the dock.
Then, the cannibal on top of him suddenly stopped trying to bite him and instead fell dead, her blonde hair brushing against his eyes. He rolled out from underneath her and looked up. He saw the ferry, stopped less than thirty feet away with Anthony at the back with a PSG-1 in his hands. Edgar didn't even think when he jumped from the dock and began swimming. The water was cold and his breath came in short, shallow gasps. He heard the crack of Anthony's rifle and the splash of the undead jumping in the water to pursue him. He didn't worry about it, though. The cannibals couldn't swim, all they would do is just sink to the bottom and get torn to bits by sharks and other marine life. Edgar finally came within fifteen feet of the vessel, which then cruised carefully over to him. He shivered and bobbed up and down with the waves that were caused by the ferry's approach. Finally, two SWAT members tossed a ladder over the starboard side and called out for him to get on. Edgar summoned what was left of his energy and breast-stroked his way to the ladder.
Ed felt elated as he climbed the final three rungs of the ladder and staggered his way onto a chair on deck, breathing deeply, thirsty, tired, mildly sunburned and wanting nothing but a cool glass of water and a cigarette.
Nearly everyone on board swamped Edgar to congratulate him on his daring escape from the docks.
"Damn dude, that was some James Bond status shit there."
"Nice shooting."
"I couldn't have done it better myself."
Anthony stepped over to the hero's welcome that the SWAT members were giving Ed and told them to all to leave him alone. He laid the PSG-1 to the side and sat down next to Ed, handing him his canteen and his last Marlboro.
"Thanks for saving me back there." said Ed as he drank greedily from the canteen, water running down his BDU as he did.
"No problem." Anthony replied as he lit Ed's cigarette for him.
"I thought you said we could've fit the truck on here." Anthony said blankly. The ferry was now proceeding to Catalina at more than 30 knots. Occasionally Anthony would be splashed by a burst of salt water from the effects of the boat hitting a breaking wave. The salt would splash into his still-open wound from earlier today, making him cringe with the pain.
"I didn't know Marina Del Ray was going to be an undead Woodstock.", Ed replied. He passed the Marlboro over to Anthony.
"At least we only had one casualty.", Anthony said between puffs at the cigarette.
"Not quite."
Anthony felt his heart skip a beat. Somehow, he knew what was coming.
"She scratched me, Anth." Ed looked at Anthony, pointing to the long cuts on his face from his attacker on the docks.
"Ed, no one's seen anyone get infected from a scratch. Don't think so down, man!", Anthony pleaded.
"I'd prefer not to take the chance."
Anthony handed the cigarette back to Ed, who took a long drag of it before he continued.
"Before the radio went down, I heard of people not only getting the virus from being bitten, but from being scratched, spit on..anything involving direct contact with them. From what I've seen, it's fatal. I'll die, I'll come back and I'll be a danger to everyone."
"But Ed, you can't just kill yourself because you heard you'll become a zombie if you get scratched. Information is sketchy these days anyway."
"It'll take less bullets this way."
"Okay, now you're acting like a preschooler. How about this?" Anthony's voice became very firm, as if he was talking to a child.
"We'll put you down in the galley. We'll lock you in the liquor room. I'll be there with you. If what you're saying is true, and you do turn, I'll kill you. If it isn't, and you don't turn, then you're coming with us."
"Fine then. But bring two of you. The one who got me was faster, stronger than the others."
"Okay then." Anthony patted his friend on the head, and then helped him up to go downstairs to the galley. He brought two of his best marksman with him. In three hours time, the passengers of Invasion Tours would know if they had found their paradise, or just another extension of their Hell on Earth.
(If you haven't noticed yet, i'm going to be jumping around in time a bit for this story. Next chapter will be set during Day 1, starring our heroes from the first chapter. Stay tuned.)