by Olah, Jeff
With less than a mile before the airport, the bright orange Dodge Challenger flew into view and just as quickly the passenger started firing from the open window, striking the RV multiple times. One round tore through the rear cabin, implanting itself in the wall just above April’s head and shattering the rear window.
“Everybody get down on the floor,” Randy said as he moved to the main door, pulled the safety pin, released the handle and waited two full seconds before dropping it onto the road. It skipped a few times on the pavement and stopped near the shoulder as their pursuers approached. In a flash of light, immediately followed by the deafening shockwave, the explosion caught Randy off guard and he tumbled backward into the main cabin. The Challenger rocked sideway onto two wheels and then back to the ground, still growing closer by the second.
Rounding the last turn leading to the airfield, Mason cut the wheel and on the wet asphalt the RV slid to accommodate the force pulling it in the opposite direction. Keeping focus on the road and the only one in the RV not lying prone on the floor or in the rear bed, Mason shouted as Randy readied another device while still flat on his back. “Pardon the stupid question, but a helicopter? You know how to fly those?”
“I think so; I’ve done it a few times.”
“You think so? Great…”
The Challenger growled as it pulled to within twenty yards of the bumper, muzzle flashes coming in successive bursts from the passenger window. With the main door still open and the world whizzing by, Randy grabbed the table and pulled himself to stand. With his one hand he again pulled the pin from the explosive and looked down at his watch. Releasing the handle, he counted to three as the hand holding the grenade began to tremble.
With no time left, and the Challenger within spitting distance, he threw the explosive overhand. It bounced once within inches of the car and lodged in the underpinnings. Randy moved away from the door just as his device showed its effectiveness. The sound was muffled although the reaction wasn’t. The rapidly accelerating vehicle shot fire from under its belly as pieces of charred metal pelted the area. The RV began to pull away as the Challenger rolled to a stop on three flat tires.
Again checking the mirrors as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, Mason noticed flames beginning to overtake the Challenger as the attackers exited their vehicle.
77
The gate ahead was supposed to be effective at keeping anyone not properly credentialed from entering the back lot of the airfield, although today it only served as a minor snag in the long list of trials this group had faced since they came together. The flames still within sight but fading quickly, Mason pushed the RV to sixty miles per hour as they approached the rear entrance. “Everyone hold on to something,” Randy said kneeling next to the driver’s seat. “This may get bumpy.”
The chain-link barrier exploded as the RV rocketed into the barren yard, sending a single crack spidering from the right corner of the windshield up into Mason’s line of sight. Pulling in between the two large hangars where they anticipated the helicopter would have set down, Mason rolled to a stop and shifted into park. It was nowhere in sight. Looking the cab over, he grabbed the syringes from the cup holder and turned to Randy. “This is your plan?”
“Well…” Randy said.
“Well what? I’m not sure you thought this through. We have those psychopaths from the beach chasing us. We have no idea how to get out of here and we’ll be out of gas in minutes. We’re screwed.”
Randy stood, turned to the mini-fridge, pulled out a bottle of water and opened the main door. Stepping out onto the cracked concrete, he didn’t wait for Mason to follow, although he knew he would. Stepping over puddles as he walked, Randy made his way to the end of the hangar and stopped, leaning against the cold steel wall. By the time Mason caught up, Randy had pulled the top off the water, taken a long drink and then handed it to him. Mason finished off the bottle and began to toss it aside.
Randy stopped him and held his index finger over his own lips, then pointed to the fueling station less than two hundred yards away. The helicopter sat unmanned and lifeless, waiting to take flight. A knowing grin slowly moved across Mason’s face as he watched Randy running through the plan in his mind.
“OK… what is it?” Mason asked.
“Hear me out… We’ve been running since this whole mess started and it’s reasonable to say that our plans for finding somewhere safe to hide have backfired.”
“Yeah, that’s putting it mildly.”
“We need protection. We need others. We need to get out of the open and find someone we can trust,” Randy said.
“No kidding… easier said than done.”
With the helicopter just on the other side of the airfield and the occupants nowhere to be found, the two men headed back to the RV to discuss their plan with the others. Mason was still unclear on exactly what Randy had in mind for the group, although his brief rundown of their current situation was spot on.
Savannah spoke first. “What are we doing? I’m beat and need to sleep, although…”
Randy, realizing that time was not in their favor, interrupted. “Long story short is so far we have failed miserably in finding safety. Hell, we don’t even know if it still exists. The chances of us finding somewhere we’d be safe, much less somewhere we’d be welcome, are zero. At best it was always just a roll of the dice and possibly much, much worse… as we’ve already found out. We need to find people we know, people we trust… protection.”
“That’s not even remotely possible,” April said, as she continued to monitor Justin from the foot of the bed.
“Maybe… but maybe not,” Randy continued. “What if there was a place where we knew someone, someone important?”
“Come on; spit it out already… enough with the games,” Mason said as he peered through the main door, checking the gate they just plowed through.
“We’re going to Blackmore and I’m taking that chopper! We know at least one person there… Well, at least a few of us do.”
“Blackmore?” April said.
“Yes, and we need to go now. We’ll be there by the time the sun comes up and they’ll have the facilities to treat Justin.”
Turning to April, Mason was about to implode. “What the hell is Blackmore and how do you know about it?”
“That’s where my father worked…It’s a military research facility in the mountains. He’d be there all week long and then come home on the weekends, until just recently… My mother made him start spending more time at home with her; she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life alone in that big house.”
Mason turned to Randy. “And you?”
Letting out a long sigh, Randy answered. “Let’s just say I worked under him for a few years, but we’ll need to finish this little reunion later.” Pointing out the rear window, the cause for panic became clear. The two vicious attackers from the beach made the long walk from the burned out Challenger and had reached the gates. The group had less than twenty seconds before they were within striking distance.
“Ok, what’s the plan?” Mason said.
Randy took one final look at the airstrip ahead and shook his head, they needed more time. There wasn’t any. “Just get as close to the chopper as possible and please don’t hit the blades. When we stop, get Justin inside first and then everyone else. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Mason moved around Savannah and pointed to the passenger seat, eyeballing the woman from the house. She hadn’t said a word since they left the driveway and didn’t appear to comprehend what was happening. She also didn’t seem to hear what they were saying and simply continued to sit on the floor.
Slamming the RV into drive, Mason pushed the gas pedal to the floor and slowly pulled away from the hangars. Crossing the runway, he swerved to avoid a twin engine plane whose occupants had been overrun and still sat motionless in the cockpit. Blood ran down the door and onto the tarmac. Mason slowed as they approached the chopper, looked back for a split second for appr
oval on where to stop and noticed Randy’s attention elsewhere. Not able to see what Randy was looking at from his seat, Mason asked, “What’s up?”
“Well… things just changed a bit. Get this thing stopped and cut the engine.” Randy said.
“What… Why?”
“I think I found out who left the chopper.”
Mason slowed the RV and came to a stop just short of their new ride and did as Randy asked. Craning his neck backward out of the driver’s window, the picture became clear. Three individuals sat with their backs to the runway, in lawn chairs just inside hangar number twelve, oblivious to the fact that the RV had driven within several hundred yards of them. They appeared to be charging something with the portable generator to the right of the large bay door.
With the clattering of the gas powered generator acting as cover, Randy rushed everyone to the door and started for the chopper. Mason carried Justin by tossing him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, amazed at the difficulty he was having. April and Savannah each grabbed what supplies they could as Randy continued to monitor the men at the hangar while transporting the three duffle bags.
With April watching over her son, Mason went back for the woman from the beach that hadn’t moved an inch. He was more dragging her than she was moving herself and when they reached the chopper doors, she froze.
Looking down at Justin’s bare leg, she suddenly awoke from her trance. She turned to Mason, “Has he been bitten?”
“Yes, but he’s…”
Her face felt warm and her fingers went numb as she snatched her arm out of Mason’s grasp, turned and ran toward the hangars. “HELP… HELP, HE’S INFECTED… PLEASE HELP.”
78
Not yet fifty feet into her escape, a single shot rang out and the group all turned to look. The woman was lifted off her feet and thrown sideways to the pavement, her body skidding to a stop between the two groups. If they were going to get off this runway, it would have to be in the next thirty seconds, as their pursuers were closing the gap. Randy was going through his checklist as Mason boarded the helicopter, twisting his hand in the air.
“Let’s go,” Mason said.
Randy turned to see the woman’s contorted body sprawled across the runway and farther down the tarmac, one of the men from the Dodge Challenger with the gun used to murder her, still smoking in his hand. The second group, alerted by the shot had switched off the generator and started toward them as well.
Focus on what you can control, Randy told himself. Let Mason worry about defense, you have to trust the others to help. “Come on baby… Let’s go!” he said as the motor roared to life. The blades began to cut into the early morning air as bullets whizzed by. Mason sat back against the seat in the rear cabin, sliding on a headset. “We gotta go man! They’re coming.”
“Workin’ on it.” Randy said.
The men who’d been busy with the generator appeared to have taken exception to the attackers from the beach shooting at their helicopter, even if they were about to lose possession of it. Guns drawn, they approached from behind without being noticed and caught them off guard. Unable to hear the conversation, Mason could only assume what was discussed as the meeting concluded with the two from the beach being ordered to set their weapons on the ground and were marched forward, hands clasped behind their heads.
The group who brought the chopper here for refueling, dressed in black fatigues and armed to the teeth, must have been some sort of home grown militia. They never broke formation as they moved quickly between the hangar and their adversaries. AR-15 rifles hung at their sides and with less than a hundred yards separating the two, they abruptly stopped and shouldered their weapons.
Guns drawn, they positioned their hostages directly in front to be used as human shields and opened fire on the chopper, most of their ammunition wasted as it buried itself deep within the RV, still partially acting as cover for the group.
Not satisfied with the current situation, the larger of the two men from the beach turned and began to fight his captors, although he was quickly neutralized with a bullet to the head. The second man, his accomplice was trying at all costs to avoid a similar outcome. He got low to the ground, covered his head and waited for death.
As the chopper began to lift off, Mason ordered everyone to the ground and raised the only rifle left behind by the men now showering the area with metal projectiles. Once out in the open and above the safety of the RV acting as a shield, they rose quickly and moved away from the area. Holding her breath as the seconds ticked away, April was silent as she stayed as low as possible and held Savannah’s hand, trying to remain clam.
Sliding the heavy metal door, Mason left just enough room for the barrel and without hesitation began to return fire. Through the murky, bloodstained window, he could barely make out any of the men below firing at the helicopter. They were a blurry mess of rounded moving targets that looked less like people than video game characters, although that didn’t matter anyway, he wasn’t really expecting to hit any of them. Rocking back and forth as he squeezed off one round after another, he was happy just to see the men below scatter as the rounds ricocheted off the concrete runway all around them.
As they lifted higher into the sky, Randy dipped the nose and turned to the left, hoping to narrow the size of the target he was flying. Darting forward he noticed the smaller of the two men from the burnt vehicle making a break for the hangers. This man didn’t get halfway to safety before one of the others realized he was missing, sighted his weapon and put two rounds into his back.
Three lifeless bodies now littered the runway below as the group of militias returned their focus to the air. With only one way out of the area, Randy pushed the chopper forward and directly over the three men.
No longer able to get a fix on his targets from the left side of the cabin, Mason quickly switched sides and shoved the rifle through the opposite window as Randy continued to increase the air speed. Multiple bullets rebounded viciously against the body of the helicopter and with each passing second, the group prayed for a miracle. Checking the interior, Mason counted no less than eight areas where the helicopter had been compromised. As they pulled away he rehung the rifle, slid out of his seat and made his way back to April and Savannah.
Leaving the three men in black fatigues standing alone on the dark runway, Randy pushed the battered vessel into the early morning sky. Scanning the gauges, he anticipated touching down at Blackmore shortly before dawn. If everything worked in their favor, they’d be able to get help for Justin upon arrival. He just hoped they’d make it that far.
“You know the way?” Mason shouted from the rear as he adjusted the cord from the headset and climbed into the seat next to Randy.
“Yeah, more or less.”
“You really know how to instill confidence in a person don’t you?”
“We’ll get there. Is everyone ok? We took some shots.”
“Yeah, everyone is good except Justin. I can’t get a consistent pulse.”
“Is it there at all?” Randy asked.
“Very faint, how long till we get there?”
“I’m guessing an hour. Don’t know what to expect though.”
“What do you mean?” Mason asked.
“It is a military facility and we’re flying in blind. I’ll try to make contact when we get closer although they may be without power and…”
“And what?”
“See those gauges that are flat?”
Looking over the dizzying array of buttons, gauges and knobs, Mason couldn’t make heads or tails of anything. “Not really.”
“Anyway, we aren’t completely out of the woods just yet my man,” Randy said as he looked out across the land, trying to get an indication of their proximity to Blackmore.
Mason didn’t want to ask and it really didn’t matter anyway, although if there was something he could do, he had to at least make an attempt. The intensity in his friend’s eyes told him there probably wasn’t anything he or anyone els
e could do about the “flat gauges” and the sweat running down Randy’s face cemented this conclusion.
“Randy…” His friend turned, knowing what Mason was about to ask him. “What do the flat…”
“Mason, did you notice anything leaking into the cabin?”
“No…Why?”
“See this one right here?” Randy asked, tapping his index finger against the glass. “It tells me we’ve lost pressure in the fuel tank and the way we’re burning fuel, it may be accurate... I think we may have a leak.”
79
Their position in the sky was clear, stars fading into the morning light and with the window open the nip in the air was not only refreshing, it also kept him alert. Randy continued to fly at an altitude much higher than was needed to help conserve fuel, although it looked like they would scoot into Blackmore without any trouble. He had been there many times and once the mountain range came into view it was only a matter of finding the right highway. From there, he’d simply follow the path to its gates and pray they’d be permitted to land.
Sitting next to his friend in silence for what seemed to be an eternity, both men scanned the vast wasteland below. Mason knew his presence was no longer needed and turned to the rear cabin. April and Savannah sat on the floor flanking Justin and holding hands. Their eyes were shut as they rested their heads against the backstop, although their current situation combined with the roar of the engine left little chance they’d actually be able to sleep. He turned back to Randy, pointed toward the rear and gave a thumbs up. Randy returned the sign as Mason pulled off the headset and stepped out.
Making his way back to the others, he’d almost become numb to their predicament. With everything that had taken place in the last twelve hours, he needed to let the pain in, he wanted to. Savannah looked up as he approached and pulled April’s hand to her lips and kissed it. Mason helped her to her feet and the two switched spots. April moved to the side, making room for her husband to slide in between her and her son. He watched Savannah move up next to Randy and fiddle with the headset, adjusting it for size.
