Free 02 Flotilla of the Dead by David Forsyth Page B

the door was hanging open on half of a remaining hinge.  Most of the shore party moved into the armory while the rest set up a security perimeter to guard against zombies.
                Less than five minutes later the first loaded push carts were headed back towards the Stratton , laden with M-16A2 rifles and cases of 5.56mm ammunition.  The next carts carried M-2 and M-240 machine guns.  Additional carts followed carrying 50 caliber and 7.62mm ammunition.   Next was a cart carrying several dozen Remington 870 police riot shotguns and cases of 12 gauge buckshot and non-lethal rounds.   The latter were obviously for riot control use, which meant they would be next to useless against zombies, but there might be riots among survivors that needed controlling someday too. 
    Singular zombies continued to appear and had to be shot before they got close enough to attack the shore party, but the operation continued without major interruption.  More guns and ammunition were carted back to the Stratton.   Then, close to twenty minutes into the mission, a larger group of zombies appeared, apparently attracted by the gunfire.  At first there were a dozen of them who were easily eliminated, but then came dozens more, and soon it seemed as if hundreds were pouring into the Coast Guard Station from buildings across the street.  Many of them were close to naked and almost all of them sported ghastly wounds.  Some of them wore ripped remnants of some sort of uniforms.
                “Sound recall,” ordered Captain McCloud.  “Get our people out of there now!”  His orders were relayed over the radio and loud hailer.  Members of the shore party close to the ship were able to complete the transfer of weapons and ammunition aboard, but at least a dozen Coast Guardsmen had to abandon their push carts and sprit for safety, many ducking to avoid fire from riflemen on the ship aiming at the pursuing zombies. 
    Two members of the shore party waited too long and zombies swarmed over them moments after they let go of their push cart.  The marksmen on the ship couldn’t fire, for fear of hitting their mates, until it became clear that there was no hope for them.  Then at least twenty rifles and a 50 caliber machine gun opened up on the dog-pile of zombies devouring the hapless pair.  The torrent of fire was aimed as much at mercy killing of their friends as it was retribution on the zombies.  Captain McCloud swore under his breath and spared a moment to mourn the loss of the Coast Guard man and woman who had served under his command.
                “Where are all these damned zombies coming from, sir?” asked Lt. Commander Lester Gordon, the Stratton’s first officer.  “The place seemed almost empty when we got here and there aren’t any houses or apartments on Terminal Island, are there?”                 
                “I think we just found out what happened to the prisoners in the Federal Detention Center across the street,” replied Captain McCloud.  “It looks like they not only got infected, but found a way to get out too.  Someone must have opened the cells and gates before they evacuated.  Whoever did it probably thought they were showing mercy for the prisoners, but it probably caused a lot more of them to be infected than if they were locked away safe in their cells.”
                “Should we cast off?” asked Lt. Commander Gordon.
                “No,” replied Captain McCloud coldly.  “Just pull up the boarding ladders as soon as all of the shore party is aboard.  Then start passing out more guns and ammunition.  We’ll hold in place and keep shooting until we run out of targets.  It’s better to eliminate them now than leave them to attack the next people who show up here.”  It was clear that the captain was disgusted by the necessity for such brutal extermination tactics, but was convinced that it needed