Thank you to everyone who has given a little time during this very busy season to follow my story.
Happy New Years!
"You're sure you don't want to reconsider this?" Becker asked. He was standing with his feet slightly apart to brace himself against the boat's gentle rocking as he studied the shore line with binoculars.
Steve shook his head, "Mary Ann is by baby sister. I have to find out if she's okay."
"I get it," Becker sighed, "I just wish she didn't live in Las Angeles. Why couldn't she have opened a nice B&B in some town with a population of 200?"
Steve smiled as he bent down to recheck his gear, "That would be too easy. I like the challenge."
Noise from below deck made Steve turn around. He scowled at the sight of Scott and Evans, both in full combat gear.
"I already told you that I'm going ashore alone," he growled at them, "That's an order."
"You can't order us to stay behind, we're deserters, remember?" Evans countered.
"We've followed you this far, we're not leaving you now," Scott added.
Steve sighed. The last two weeks had been exhausting. His friends had done good by him, giving Steve and his team two humvees loaded with supplies and ammunition. Steve had tried not think about the fact that the military now seemed to have more supplies than manpower, allowing for this much material to go missing.
From Colorado, they had driven west across Utah and then Nevada, cutting north of Vegas but south of Carson City to avoid populated areas as much as possible. It had worked for the most part. They had only a few encounters with the undead, all easily handled. They also encountered one well armed group of bandits. The SEAL's had handled them as well.
California had been a different matter. The population was much larger and the outbreaks much more widespread. There were large swarms of zombies that had to be avoided. Uninfected people were as likely to shoot as they were talk. The landscape was punctuated by a general lawlessness and scramble to survive that reminded Steve of a violent third world country.
They had quickly decided that driving south, which would take them past Las Angeles County, would be nearly impossible, especially since most of the roads were cluttered with abandoned cars. Instead, they had continued west, hitting the coast at Monterey.
It was in Monterey that they had the best piece of luck Steve could hope for. They had been at a large civilian marina surveying empty moorings punctuated by several burned out hulls, hoping to find a boat that they could sail down to San Diego. Steve had been looking out longingly (although he would never admit it) over the water towards Hawaii. He had spotted a vessel floating aimlessly, maybe a mile out.
Steve had swam out with Becker and Garrett. They had found a pristine 335 SB Cruiser. There had been a single zombie wandering the deck. It had been child's play for the SEALs to lure it over the side and watch it sink out of sight. Inside the spacious cabin, they found 4 more zombies imprisoned by their inability to operate the door's latch. That had been a bit trickier but quickly taken care of.
After that it was a simple matter of finding other boats to raid for fuel and supplies (they had gone through the food and water they had left Colorado with) as they sailed south. Sadly, there were plenty to choose from, some having a few zombies on board, some the remains of a suicide, and others mysteriously empty.
It had been their first night on the cabin cruiser that Steve decided it let the rest of his team in on the next part of his plan.
"Tomorrow, we'll be off the coast of Las Angeles. The airport is here," Steve gestured to the map spread on the cabin's small table, "I'm going to use our inflatable craft to go ashore."
"Why?" Evans was confused, "Do you think that you'll have a better chance of finding a plane at LAX instead of in Coronado?"
Steve studied them thoughtfully for a moment. This was a personal matter and he wasn't eager to discuss it. On the other hand, these men had followed him this far and they deserved an explanation, especially if this was as far as he was going with them.
"I have a younger sister, Mary Ann. We'd never been close. She's been living in L.A. for years. About a year and a half ago, she got busted for prostitution," Steve hesitated, "I didn't handle it well. It wasn't a first offense (I didn't know about the first few) so she got jail time. We haven't spoken since. I'm not even sure if she's out of jail."
"No judgment here," Scott reassured him, "Families are complicated."
"Is LAX one of the airports the CDC used as a quarantine center?" Becker asked.
Steve nodded, "It was part of the Quarantine Station system anyway, so once civilian flights were grounded, they took over the whole airport."
"You think we'll find your sister there?" Garrett sounded doubtful.
"No, but I'm hoping I can find some information there. I'm not sure if the CDC center is still there, but they were collecting information on all infections in southern California," Steve's tone made it clear that the next part was not up for discussion, "None of you are going with me. It's too dangerous. You'll wait here for 48 hours – you have plenty of supplies for that – and then you'll continue to Coronado, with or without me."
None of the other 4 men had looked happy, but none had argued.
Looking at Scott and Evans standing on deck in full gear, Steve realized how wrong he had been to assume they had accepted his orders.
Ignoring Steve's glare, the two younger men began to maneuver the inflatable craft, still collapsed, over the side of the boat.
He tried one more time, "You realize that we may not make it out of there. No one is coming to back us up." They both ignored him and continued preparations for the mission.
Giving up, Steve turned his attention to Becker, "You and Garrett keep this boat secure. Give us 48 hours. If we're not back then you continue on to Coronado."
"Yes, sir."
Steve gave him a hard look, "I mean that."
"I know you do," Becker met Steve's eyes squarely.
Behind him, Steve heard the snap of the inflation release, followed by the hiss of air. It was time to go.
The trip from the water to the edge of the airport property was easy and uneventful. They sighted several zombies in the distance, but were able to pass by without attracting their attention.
"I don't like leaving them at our backs," Evans remarked in a hushed tone, "We're coming back this way."
"We can't risk making too much noise and bringing more of them," Steve reminded him.
They found the electrified fence around the runways powered off and cut in several places. There were several large holes that appeared to be spots where vehicles had been driven through it. Steve noted to himself that the fence was pushed out in every instance. They were the only people interested in going in.
On the other side of the fence, it was a mash up of planes and other vehicles, both civilian and military, nearly all of them wrecked. There were several dozen zombies wandering directionless through the wreckage. Steve knew that he needed to assume that there were even more that they couldn't see.
He gestured for the other two SEALs to join him in a quick huddle, "If they swarm us, we'll never make it. We need to be quiet and stick to cover. Do not fire a gun unless it's absolutely necessary."
The three men each gripped their steal spikes tighter. True to their name, the spikes were 24" pieces of steel that were wider at the base and narrowed to a point. They were attached to a handle that fit much like a brass knuckle. Steve had first seen them used the undead in India. The Navy had issued each SEAL several as soon as they returned stateside. There was nothing better for hand-to-hand combat with a zombie.
The journey across the runways was slow and tense, but surprisingly without incident. Steve led them towards the international terminal, where he knew the CDC offices had been located.
The building was surrounded by abandoned army equipment, mostly humvees and trucks, but also two tanks. There was no sign of any solders but the ground was covered by dozens of corpses and spent shell casings. They had obviously been laying in sun awhile and the smell was almost unbearable.
"Notice there are no bodies inside the perimeter," Scott noted.
"The undead came at them. They fired a hell of a lot of bullets," Steve mused, "Then maybe they retreated inside? Why did they abandon so much equipment?" He eyed the cases of guns, ammunition, and even cases of grenades scattered liberally throughout the trucks.
Evans shook his head, "Not our problem. I can't take this smell. If we're going inside, let's do it. Maybe we can grab something useful on our way out."
Getting into the building was easy. The doors turned out to be both unlocked and unguarded. Inside, they found rows of international gates all filled with makeshift hospital beds. Most of them were empty, although the sheets were soiled with crusted gore. A few of the beds were still occupied by trashing zombies, held prisoner by their restraints. The SEAL's gave them wide berth.
"Where did all the people go?" Scott asked.
"If they were overrun, why aren't there any zombies walking around?" Evans peered into the shadows, "I feel like they're waiting for us somewhere."
"Let's hope it's not through there," Steve gestured to a door that was sealed with a lock that required both a finger print and retinal scan to open, "Because that's where we're going."
The lock was too difficult for them to open. The wall next to the lock was another matter.
"Retrofitted," Evans observed as Steve cut a neat little hole in the wall and popped the door. The electricity that had powered the alarm had been turned off. The door swung inward silently.
There were no windows in the interior halls so the men had to rely on flashlights to cut through the darkness. There was an empty silence and nothing shambled out of the darkness to try and eat them.
Steve took a deep breath, "Navy SEALs! Are there any survivors here?"
His shout echoed through the halls. He tensed, ready to slam the door if Evan's hoard responded. Several minutes passed and still no monsters appeared.
Steve was about to signal for his men to move forward when he heard the sound of a door opening somewhere in the darkness beyond their flashlights.
"Is there someone here? Answer me or we'll shoot!" Steve caught a shadow moving at the edge of the light and trained his gun on it.
"Commander McGarrett, I am both extremely surprised and pleased to see you here." Steve gasped when Max Bergman stepped into the light. "You should all come inside before we attract any of the unfortunate creatures."
"Max, how did you get here? How long have you been here? Are Catherine, Danny, Chin, Kono, and Lori okay? What about everyone else?" Steve fired questions at the smaller man as they entered a large lab.
Max held up his hand to request patience, "I understand you concerns, but let us be comfortable first." He flipped several switches and the lights came on. On the counter, a coffee pot began to blink. "There is a generator providing electricity," Max explained when he saw his visitors startled looks.
Steve took a deep breath and reminded himself that he needed to be patient with the doctor. He made the appropriate introductions.
Once Max had poured coffee for everyone, he turned to Steve, "First, I must congratulate you on the birth of your son. I am not sure if this happy news has reached you yet."
There were a few minutes of celebration as Evans and Scott slapped his back and congratulated him. Steve felt like he could take a deep breath for the first time in weeks.
Once calm had been restored, Max continued, "Sixteen days ago, a John Doe washed up on the North Shore. While performing the autopsy, I discovered a virus with certain characteristics which suggested to me that this particular virus was engineered and not created by nature." He gestured towards a piece of paper tacked to the wall. It was a photo of a microbe blown up with a microscope.
Steve assumed he was looking at the Red Rage virus. The fact that it was artificially created had certain ramifications but Steve didn't see what they could do with the info. It also didn't answer any of his questions.
"Max, how did you get here?" Steve tried to keep the impatience out of his voice, knowing that Max could be easily offended.
"I was in the lab by myself, working late. I was going through different databases trying to find information on the virus, when half dozen men in dark suits arrived. They brought me and all of my work here. I was supposed to help the CDC with their research."
"Where's everyone else?" Evans asked.
"Unfortunately, many of the infected that were being contained in the domestic terminal broke loose. The soldiers who were stationed here took heavy casualties. The remaining soldiers took shelter in this building. They tried to contact their superiors but were unsuccessful. We were also unable to contact the CDC or any local authorities. When the power went out, there was panic. The soldiers insisted on leaving and the others did not want to be left behind, so they went with them. I had nowhere else in Las Angles that I wanted to go and I did not consider their plan to be sound, so I stayed here," Max paused to drink some coffee.
Steve understood how all of that could happen, but one thing didn't add up, "If all of those zombies attacked and then they killed the soldiers, that would create even more zombies. Where are they? How were we even able to reach this building?"
Max gestured towards a door at the far end of the room, "It will be easier if I show you."
Before he opened the door, Max insisted on turning off the lights again. The room beyond turned out to have floor to ceiling windows that looked out onto the front of the airport, the parking lots, and the highway. The early afternoon sunlight was slowly baking hundreds of bodies strewn about the landscape, many with horrific head wounds that obliterated their features. Walking among them were hundreds of the undead.
"My God, Max. What happened here?" Steve whispered, as if afraid the undead would somehow hear him.
Evans and Scott both took involuntary steps backwards. It was obvious now why Max had been so careful about turning out the light before opening the door. None of them wanted to do anything to draw the attention of the hellish assembly on the other side of the glass.
Max led them back into the lab before answering Steve's question, "The survivors of the initial attack tried to flee towards the highway. There was a lengthy battle that drew all of the infected to that side of the building. I do not know if any of the living escaped. None tried to return here."
"We have to get out of here," Steve realized, "Only a few have drifted back around the building so far, but we wait long enough, we'll be surrounded."
There was silence as everyone considered the situation.
After a moment, Steve began to issue orders, "Evans, Scott, help Max pack up all the research, samples, etc. that he feels are useful and you feel we can easily transport. Maybe we'll never be able to use any of it, but I don't think that we're ever coming back here." Steve began to move away towards a lone computer workstation, "I'm going to take a look at the CDC database."
Max quickly showed Evans and Scott several hard drives they could use for downloading computer files. None of them knew if there would be computers that could read the data in the near future but it was the only way to attempt to preserve the data.
Once they were busy, Max approached Steve and stood staring at him uncertainly.
Steve glanced over at him, "There's something else isn't there? It's not the baby. Is it Cat? Or Danny? How bad was the outbreak when you left?"
"At the time I left Hawaii, everyone else was well," Max reassured him. "You are looking for information on your sister, Mary Ann, correct?"
On the surface, Max's comment seemed innocent enough, but Steve knew him well enough to tell that he was being evasive. He didn't know what to make of the abrupt change of subject but decided to allow it, for now.
"That's right. She was living in Las Angeles last time I talked to her," Steve decided not to mention that it had been such a long time since they had spoken, "Do you know where she is?"
"Unfortunately, no. I was aware that she lived in this area so I checked for her name in all of the databases. There is nothing," Max seemed genuinely sorry, as if he had failed Steve in some way.
"It's okay, Max," Steve sighed, "It was a long shot anyway."
Steve stared at the computer screen. He could still try to track down an address for Mary, go and see if he could find her. That had originally been his plan. Knowing about the baby changed everything. He had a son, a tiny perfect infant, who needed him. Guilt clawed at him, responsibilities warred with each other. It seemed like there was no right answer, just several wrong ones that he had to choose from.
Gradually, Steve became aware of Max shifting nervously beside him. "What else?" he asked, resigned.
"When I arrived here, there were several cells set up to hold specimens for our research," Max was staring at a spot on the tabletop with such intensity that Steve almost expected to see smoke appear.
When Max didn't continue, Steve was forced to guess at the source of his obvious distress, "Are the cells secure? Did you have any success with these specimens? Are we in danger?"
"No, nothing like that at all," Max assured him, "It's just that when we leave the cells' occupants will be trapped here, maybe forever."
Steve was getting impatient, "I know that. There are zombies strapped to beds out there that are trapped. There are zombies sitting in some of the trucks out on the runway that are trapped. We cannot take the time to put ourselves in danger to 'help' them."
Max's shoulder slumped. He seemed to shrink in upon himself, "Steven, please come with me. There is something I must show you."
Steve's first inclination was to refuse. They didn't have time for Max's odd flights of fancy. Then he took the time to notice the Asian's man flushed cheeks, fast breathing, and the nervous little gestures he was making with his hands. For Max, that added up to distraught.
"We've only got a few minutes," Steve stood up, "Lead the way."
Max led him through several doors, all with locks that required fingerprint scans to open. Steve carefully propped each door open, unable to shake the image of the power cutting off and stranding them behind a locked door. The last door opened to reveal a room with a dozen cells, six on each side.
Steve guessed that they had formerly been used by airport security. Currently, each held a single zombie. Once, they had been men, women, and even children. Now, they were all monsters who began to moan and press frantically against the thick plexiglass at the site of the two living humans. Steve's hand instinctively dropped to the grip of his gun.
"Jesus, Max! Why did you bring me down here?" Steve's eyes were flicking from cell to cell, watching for any sign of weakness in the plexiglass.
Max gravely led him to the fourth cell on the right side, "They brought her on the same flight from Hawaii. She had already been infected. There was nothing that I could do for her."
It took a moment for Steve to make sense of Max's words as his eyes finally focused on the creature before him. She had been a petite woman. Her long blond hair was now lank and stringy. Her once flawless skin was now a saggy molted gray. Her eyes had the white milkiness common to all of the undead but Steve knew that they had once been a stormy green. He stared in horror at the thing that had once been his friend and teammate Lori Weston.
"You said they were okay, Max," Steve whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the site in front of him, "You said that they were all okay."
"I must apologize for misleading you," Max's eyes were also locked on his former friend, "When I last saw Lori in Hawaii she was fine. Just before our plane took off they brought her on board. She was extremely disoriented, probably from a concussion. She quickly developed a high fever and became incoherent. I do not think that she knew what was happening to her."
Steve turned away from the monster clawing at the plexiglass to reach him and grabbed Max by the shoulders, shaking him, suddenly furious, "Why did you show me this! I can't save her! There's nothing I can do for her!"
Max hung limply in his grasp, "Lori was my best friend. I've never had many friends. She always understood me. I cannot leave her like this, but I am not brave enough to help her. I have failed." A few tears ran unchecked down Max's cheeks.
Steve's anger drained out of him. He released the smaller man, who stumbled before regaining his balance. Steve knew that Max was right: They couldn't leave Lori like this.
"Max, go back out into the hall and wait for me," Steve's voice was devoid of all emotion. He drew the smaller caliber back-up piece from his boot. At this range, it would be more than enough.
Max left him standing next to the button that would release the cell's door. A moment later, he heard a single gunshot, not nearly as loud as Max thought it should be.
Steve stepped into the hallway, pulling the door firmly shut behind him, sealing the other 11 zombies inside, "Let's get Evans and Scott. It's time to leave." His eyes were as dead as his voice.
H50****H50**** H50****H50**** H50****H50**** H50****H50****
Several hours later, Becker started the cabin cruiser's engine and aimed the craft towards Coronado.
Steve stood by himself at the rear of the boat. Max was below deck and the other SEALs were giving him space, his posture making it clear that he wanted to be alone.
Watching the Las Angeles skyline dwindle in the distance, Steve said a silent goodbye to the baby sister he had never been able to save, and an apology to the parents he had let down.
As the sun set and the city vanished completely, Steve went to relieve Becker at the helm. It was time to keep a promise and deliver his men home to Coronado. Then he'd find a plane, or maybe a larger ship, and keep an even more important promise.
Author's Note: This was by far the hardest chapter to write because it's set entirely on the mainland and had so little Five-0 interaction. I am very happy that it is behind me.