Read Online Last Stand on Zombie Island by Christopher L. Eger - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Christopher L. Eger
Tags: Horror
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patrol and the other two on standby and stand down respectively at the dock. The Fish Hawk was on day five of her weeklong patrol. Most of her crew, Jarvis included, was single men from other parts of the country. Only the Chief had family in Mobile.
“Welcome aboard Station Dauphin Island, Fish Hawk ,” the radio called out as the cutter tied up to the dock. The station normally only operated a pair of well-used 45-foot response boats, for which its 60-foot slip usually sufficed. However, the Fish Hawk’s 87-foot length took up the entire dock and still hung out into the Bay.
As the Bosun directed the crew in tying up, and the Chief used the thrusters to hold the cutter against the dock, Jarvis was making his way down the ladder at the rear of the bridge to the deck below.
“Good to see you, Senior Chief,” Jarvis said to the already saluting blue uniformed petty officer standing on the dock waiting for him. The Senior Chief was the station commander of the small Coast Guard base whose main mission was near-shore search and rescue and law enforcement in the waters too shallow for the Fish Hawk to follow. Jarvis noted the Senior Chief wore a SIG P229 automatic on one side of his waist with two extra magazines in a pouch on the other.
Jarvis returned the salute and he walked with the Senior Chief briskly along the dock to the small brown concrete station house.
“What have you heard, sir?” the Senior Chief asked.
Jarvis brought him up to speed with the orders first from Sector Mobile then Sector New Orleans, as well as what he had been told by his own Chief and what the Cook had passed on.
The Senior Chief grunted, “It’s a real soup sandwich in Mobile. My wife lives here but she is from there. Her family made it down through all the traffic jams and riots down here just a few hours ago. If only half of what they are saying is true then it is bad. Real bad,” the Senior Chief said.
“What are your current orders, Senior Chief?” Jarvis asked.
“I got a call on the landline about an hour before you got here from the OPS desk at Mobile and they advised me to recall everyone and issue small arms as well as to keep the station closed to the public. They specifically stated to keep the boats in and await further orders. Then you showed up,” the Senior Chief said.
“Have you heard anything else about other units?” Jarvis asked, hopeful the Cobia or Stingray was underway to join him. The Stingray’s skipper had gone to the Academy a year ahead of him and they had been on the schools Boxing Club together. He had won a Bronze All-American Letter. Jarvis got one in Silver the next year.
“We copied some traffic from the Air Training Center to Keesler saying they were sending their 14 aircraft to New Orleans, to refuel before shagging ass to Ellington Field at Houston. So it looks like for the first time since World War I, we got no air in the Bay,” the Senior Chief answered.
“This keeps getting better,” Jarvis said.
“And last but not least we got this faxed to us from Sector New Orleans about five minutes ago,” the Senior Chief said, passing over a folded piece of paper.
The note on the letterhead of the Department of Homeland Security Director had only one paragraph.
US Code of Federal Regulations Title 32 Part 501, The United States Military is now assuming a Martial Law. The United States is under a Defense Emergency: A major hostile attack on United States is underway. The Department of Homeland Security and all of its organizations are now under the operational command of the Department of Defense. USNORTHCOM Peterson AFB, CO (Cheyenne Mountain) in charge. Federal Armed Forces will exercise police powers previously inoperative in the affected areas, restore and maintain order, insure the essential mechanics of distribution, transportation, and communication, and initiate necessary relief measures.
Jarvis finished reading and passed it back to the Senior Chief, “I’m going to need a
“Welcome aboard Station Dauphin Island, Fish Hawk ,” the radio called out as the cutter tied up to the dock. The station normally only operated a pair of well-used 45-foot response boats, for which its 60-foot slip usually sufficed. However, the Fish Hawk’s 87-foot length took up the entire dock and still hung out into the Bay.
As the Bosun directed the crew in tying up, and the Chief used the thrusters to hold the cutter against the dock, Jarvis was making his way down the ladder at the rear of the bridge to the deck below.
“Good to see you, Senior Chief,” Jarvis said to the already saluting blue uniformed petty officer standing on the dock waiting for him. The Senior Chief was the station commander of the small Coast Guard base whose main mission was near-shore search and rescue and law enforcement in the waters too shallow for the Fish Hawk to follow. Jarvis noted the Senior Chief wore a SIG P229 automatic on one side of his waist with two extra magazines in a pouch on the other.
Jarvis returned the salute and he walked with the Senior Chief briskly along the dock to the small brown concrete station house.
“What have you heard, sir?” the Senior Chief asked.
Jarvis brought him up to speed with the orders first from Sector Mobile then Sector New Orleans, as well as what he had been told by his own Chief and what the Cook had passed on.
The Senior Chief grunted, “It’s a real soup sandwich in Mobile. My wife lives here but she is from there. Her family made it down through all the traffic jams and riots down here just a few hours ago. If only half of what they are saying is true then it is bad. Real bad,” the Senior Chief said.
“What are your current orders, Senior Chief?” Jarvis asked.
“I got a call on the landline about an hour before you got here from the OPS desk at Mobile and they advised me to recall everyone and issue small arms as well as to keep the station closed to the public. They specifically stated to keep the boats in and await further orders. Then you showed up,” the Senior Chief said.
“Have you heard anything else about other units?” Jarvis asked, hopeful the Cobia or Stingray was underway to join him. The Stingray’s skipper had gone to the Academy a year ahead of him and they had been on the schools Boxing Club together. He had won a Bronze All-American Letter. Jarvis got one in Silver the next year.
“We copied some traffic from the Air Training Center to Keesler saying they were sending their 14 aircraft to New Orleans, to refuel before shagging ass to Ellington Field at Houston. So it looks like for the first time since World War I, we got no air in the Bay,” the Senior Chief answered.
“This keeps getting better,” Jarvis said.
“And last but not least we got this faxed to us from Sector New Orleans about five minutes ago,” the Senior Chief said, passing over a folded piece of paper.
The note on the letterhead of the Department of Homeland Security Director had only one paragraph.
US Code of Federal Regulations Title 32 Part 501, The United States Military is now assuming a Martial Law. The United States is under a Defense Emergency: A major hostile attack on United States is underway. The Department of Homeland Security and all of its organizations are now under the operational command of the Department of Defense. USNORTHCOM Peterson AFB, CO (Cheyenne Mountain) in charge. Federal Armed Forces will exercise police powers previously inoperative in the affected areas, restore and maintain order, insure the essential mechanics of distribution, transportation, and communication, and initiate necessary relief measures.
Jarvis finished reading and passed it back to the Senior Chief, “I’m going to need a
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