Voyage of the Dead - Book One Sovereign Spirit Saga

Voyage of the Dead: The Sovereign Spirit Saga
(First Edition, January 2012)

This is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead (except for historical and public figures), is purely coincidental. Although many of the places and things depicted do exist, numerous liberties have been taken and intentional embellishments made.  This book does not purport to provide accurate descriptions of any actual locations, things, or entities.  To the best of the author’s knowledge there are no such things as zombies and no plans by anyone to create them.  This is an original work of fiction and all intellectual property rights are reserved by David P. Forsyth.  Cover Art by William O. Rosenthal.

*****

Reviews of the “Introductory First Look” Edition

“The Walking Dead meets Battlestar Gallactica! This novel has all the ingredients for an epic series of books and would be great for television too. It's like a Star Trek of the Zombie Apocalypse, except you never know which crewman on the away team will die.”  Tom McWilliams

“The tone reminds me of the remake of [Battlestar] Galactica.… [Its] greatest asset is the idea of the ship as lifeboat for these characters in a zombie situation—it’s just a solid idea.”  J. Walsh

“…I'd also compare with the new BATTLESTAR GALACTICA in terms of its relation to SF ideas.  I prefer comparing it to ALIENS. While I prefer the Ridley Scott original, this one is a combat-filled struggle for survival, with characters more in keeping with Tom Clancy action than navel-gazing the-world-sucks horror.”  John S.

 “A zombie lover’s wet dream!   [It’s] very tense, visceral, and a joy to read.” Joseph Rosenthal.

“What a fun ride.  You set the novel in places that you know and insert knowledge… that gives it a nice authenticity….  It is really a zombie joy ride, full of mess and macho and mayhem….  My first thought is that it would make a good screenplay…it is very visual….”   Dennis R.

 “At the beginning, I was drawing comparison to Stephen King's "Cell", but by the end of the introductory section, I was drawing comparison to S.M. Sterling "Dies The Fire" series.  While the "Dies The Fire" series is not about zombies, it's about a apocalyptic event. It's how people draw together in dangerous situations. It's using your intelligence, assets and resources to survive, to live, to plan, and eventually, how to re-build a civilization.”  M. Fabian

Note:  If you read the “Introductory First Look” edition, you can skip to Chapter 6.

Prologue

Los Angeles International Airport:  12:05 AM, April 1, 2012

            Carl and Pricilla Stiller were running late for their red eye flight to Puerto Rico.  The plane was scheduled to depart in less than thirty minutes and they were still standing in line for security screening.  ‘
Fucking terrorists,’
Carl thought as his wife blamed him for watching the end of his favorite TV show before driving to the airport.  His apologies were empty and automatic as he willed the line to move faster.  If they missed this flight, they would also miss their Caribbean cruise that departed from San Juan in less than fourteen hours.  Carl was about to try bribing a TSA agent to cut the line when he noticed a commotion beyond the security check-point. 

            One of the TSA officers had collapsed and other officers were rushing to assist him.  Then another officer stumbled and fell to the floor.  Confusion spread as another and then another officer went down.  They all seemed to be going into spasms.  People in the front of the line began to panic.  Carl was no genius, but his first thought was that this was a terrorist attack with some kind of poison gas.  He grabbed his wife’s hand and pulled her back towards the ticket counters. 

            “What are you doing, Carl?” yelled Pricilla.  “We have to get on that plane!”

            “Be quiet for a second and look at what’s happening!” said Carl harshly.  “Something’s wrong!  It might be terrorism.  We have to get out of here, now!”  Somehow he just knew they had to get out of the terminal.  But as he pushed through the crowd, pulling his wife with him, he realized that the trouble had spread to the ticketing area of the departure terminal too.  Screams were coming from the ticketing counters.  Some people were running towards the doors.  Others were running in from outside.  Whatever was happening, it wasn’t localized at the security check-point.  “Come on, Prissy!” Carl yelled as he dragged her to a stairway that led down to the baggage claim area.

            The situation on the ground floor wasn’t any better.   If anything, it was worse.  There was blood on the floor and more people were screaming.   Carl ignored groups of people struggling in the baggage claim area and pulled Pricilla towards the exit doors.  She was still yelling about missing their flight, but her protests faltered as she recognized the panic that was spreading through the airport.   Carl was focused on the exit doors when his wife’s hand was jerked from his grasp.  He spun around and was shocked to see an airline employee tackling Pricilla and pouncing atop her.  Pricilla was screaming.

            Carl was an athletic man who had played soccer and been a football field goal kicker in college.  His instincts kicked in at the same moment that he kicked his wife’s attacker in the side of the head.  The man went flying to reveal Pricilla lying dazed on her back with blood streaming from a wound on her neck.  Carl reached down and scooped her up in his arms as he turned and ran for the exit.   He reverted to his football training and charged through the confused people crowding around the doors.  Several of them were thrown to the ground by his passage.  Then he and Pricilla were outside by the taxi stands. 

            Sadly, the situation outside didn’t seem any better.  Screams filled the night.  Cars were speeding, honking and crashing along the length of the terminal.  People were running, screaming, crying, fighting and apparently dying.  Carl didn’t pause to evaluate any of that.  The only thing keeping him from going into shock was the adrenalin that fueled his terrified body.  This was not the type of flight that he had planned for tonight, but it was becoming obvious that his vacation had turned into a nightmare.  Carl had no idea what was happening, but he knew that he had to get out of here and get Pricilla to a hospital. 

            People were mobbing the taxi stand, so Carl ran past the line until he spotted a cab that was just pulling into the pick-up lane.  Holding Pricilla in front of him, he ran in front of the taxi cab and prayed it would stop.  It did.  Carl stepped up to the driver’s window and said, “I need to get her to the nearest hospital and I’ll pay you a hundred bucks to get us there fast!”  The driver saw the blood dripping from Pricilla’s neck and the panic in her eyes.  He nodded and waved them into the back seat.   Carl moved fast and was glad he had approached from the driver’s side when he saw other panicked passengers rushing towards his cab from the curb as he placed Pricilla in the back seat.  He barely got into the cab before the driver hit the gas and swerved away from the encroaching mob. 

            Traffic should have been light at this time of night, even at the airport, but this was not a normal night.   There seemed to be several traffic accidents blocking some of the lanes in front of the terminal.  The flashing lights of a police car illuminated people struggling and fighting in the street.  Several bright flashes near the police car might have been gun shots.  Suddenly a shuttle bus cut across lanes, over a median, and through a crowd of people to smash into the plate glass windows of the baggage claim area.  Carl thought he had seen people fighting inside the bus as it sped past.

“Allah the merciful!” exclaimed the Pakistani cab driver as he swerved through a hole in the traffic created by the errant shuttle bus and aimed for the cross street between parking structures that led to an access road between the terminals.  This road was empty and took them directly to the Pacific Coast Highway.  “There is urgent care two blocks up Sepulveda.  Hospitals are much farther,” said the cabby as more of a question than a statement. 

Carl was holding Pricilla across his lap and applying pressure to her wound.  There was a lot of blood, but not as much as there would be if her carotid artery or jugular vein were cut.  She probably just needed stitches, bandages, and antiseptics, as well as treatment for shock.  If he didn’t know better he would swear that it was a bite wound.  “The urgent care should be fine,” said Carl.  “Please hurry.”  He looked back down at Pricilla who was taking short and rapid breaths while her wide eyes stared up at him.

“What’s happening?” she gasped.  “I feel strange.”

“It’s okay, darling,” Carl comforted her.  “We’re taking you to a doctor right now.  You’re going to be fine.”

“I don’t feel fine,” she moaned.  “My head hurts.”

“You have a cut on your neck, Prissy, but your head is fine,” Carl explained.

“No it’s not,” she said.  “It feels like something’s crawling around inside it.”  Then her eyes rolled back and she lost consciousness just as the cab pulled into the parking lot of the urgent care center.  There was already an ambulance backed up to the front of the doors of the urgent care, so the cab pulled up beside it.

“Please wait here while I get someone to help me move her inside,” Carl said to the cabby as he passed him a bloody hundred dollar bill and slipped out the door.  “We need some help out here!” he yelled as he moved past the ambulance.  What he saw brought him up short. 

The glass doors to the urgent care center were smeared and splattered with blood, but not enough to hide the horrors occurring within.  People were scattered on the floor and other figures were bent over them, ripping and tearing at the bodies with their teeth!  There would be no help for his wife here.   Then the horn of the taxi began to blare.  Carl spun around in time to see the taxi surge forward and crash into the ambulance.   The horn continued to honk as Carl ran back to the car. 

He simply couldn’t believe what he saw.  His wife, his gentle and kind Pricilla, was climbing over into the front seat as she attacked the cab driver.  Carl froze as he watched Pricilla sink her teeth into the cabby’s neck and rip out a piece of flesh.  She must have found a major blood vessel because a fountain of blood splashed the interior of the windshield, mercifully blocking Carl’s view of whatever else transpired inside the taxi.  He stood frozen in shock, how long he couldn’t say, as the cab rocked back and forth from the movement within.