One Crazy Pilot (Apocalypse Paused Book 7)

by Michael Todd

She was speechless. Her mouth hung open in equal parts horror and amusement. He had signed her up to go back in there because he thought she had balls? She didn’t know whether to be flattered or furious.

  Manny pushed himself up off the side of her bed.

  “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’ll go back in there with you, Jack Mann. I almost died.” She tried to count on her fingers and quickly gave up. “More times than I can count! The animals were bad enough, but a plant almost did me in—a plant!”

  He took the verbal punishment without comment and nodded sagely. Obviously, he’d gotten in a lot of trouble a lot as a kid. His face looked perfectly calculated to defuse an angry teacher.

  “You’re still alive because some dumbass went into that hellhole and brought back a sample. You said you wanted to get off your ass and find a proper job. Helping people, right? Besides, there ain’t nothing better on this whole round earth than the look on a soldier’s face when a civilian saves him.”

  Ava folded her arms and said nothing.

  “You think about it. I forged your signature on the paperwork but it’s not my best. You can still probably wriggle out of it if you miss your desk back in shiny New York City.”

  “I worked in D.C.”

  Manny shrugged and left, singing the wrong lyrics to an out-of-tune song.

  She leaned back and drew a deep breath. The man really was crazy if he thought she would go back in there. They’d barely made it out alive. And it had been what—a few hours?—and he already wanted to go back in. She shuddered at even the thought. That horrible bat-wolf-demon-monster, having to watch every single step she took, being trapped on top of that rock while the cold of the desert descended on her… The sound of other people, trapped, calling into the night and hoping against hope that someone—anyone—heard their calls.

  Many of them were probably still out there, in need of extraction and medical attention. The rescue effort really would need every available pilot to save those people. Some of them probably weren’t even soldiers. They’d need someone who could stitch them up or recognize the lacerations from a cat-shark’s teeth. They’d need someone who could identify the barb of the poison quill plant. If Ava went—if, she told herself—she would be sure to bring some of the antidote with her in the helicopter

  Ava sighed.

  As much as she hated to admit it, she was qualified for the job.

  “Ugh, Manny, what have you gotten me into?” she said aloud into the restful silence of the wounded in the triage tent.

  “I knew you’d say yes!” he said and stuck his head back in.

  The bastard had waited outside the door.

  “We leave at 0700—first light. I’ll get the marshmallows!”

  Ava shook her head. This was ridiculous, but somebody had to be willing to get their hands dirty and it might as well be her. Besides, what was the worst that could happen? Surely they’d already seen everything the Zoo could possibly throw at them.

  She made a mental note to remind herself to ask Manny for more details, and then another note to make sure she ignored half of what he said.

  Epilogue

  Rocks tumbled down from above and made the slope even harder for Gunnar to climb. One bounced and struck him in the forehead hard enough to draw blood. He smiled.

  “At this rate, I’m not gonna even get a service with an open casket.”

  “Like anyone wants to see your face,” his companion replied and glanced back at him over her shoulder. She didn’t smile. Peppy never smiled, but he did. He still couldn’t believe he’d found her. Of course, he never would have given up on finding her, but still, the Zoo had taken so many lives from so many people. It would have taken hers, too. Fortunately, she was too damn prickly.

  “Keep your eyes on the path to the top. You can’t die now, not after I rescued you. Someone’s gotta attend the funeral,” Gunnar said. They now climbed the same slope where he had found Manny, which struck him as a funny coincidence. He supposed that rock really wanted someone to die on it.

  “If you think I’ll talk to your brothers about how you died heroically you got another think coming,” Peppy said. She reached the top and pulled herself onto the huge, flat boulder at the top of the pile. She turned, squatted, and extended a hand.

  “You don’t think saving you counts as heroic?” he asked as he took her hand and scrambled up over the ledge. Now that they were safely on the rocky outcropping, they turned to face the slope they’d climbed and lay down on their bellies to make themselves as flat as they possibly could.

  “Pfft. I don’t consider myself saved until I play a game of croquet with Arnold Palmer.”

  Gunnar shot her a glance. “Arnold Palmer and croquet? Really? Isn’t croquet for old ladies with bad hips?”

  Peppy shrugged. “Obviously, you’ve never played. What do you do to relax? Clean your gun?”

  “Hmm…relax? I’m not sure I know that word. It must be for people who have friends outside the Zoo.”

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  “Jesus, Peppy, I was kidding. I know you would’ve got out yourself if you could’ve.”

  “Look!” she hissed and flattened herself even further.

  At the bottom of the hill they’d climbed, down among all the loose rocks, a locust emerged from the jungle. Big as a rottweiler, the insect’s chitinous exoskeleton took on the color of the morning sun—bright yellow, like a fucking kid’s cartoon. It prodded at the rocks in front of it with its mouth-parts, testing, tasting, and doing something creepy. Gunnar hated the fucking things.

  “Fuck,” he said and scooted back far enough that he couldn’t see the creature anymore. For bugs, the locusts had surprisingly sharp eyesight.

  “I thought you said we lost them,” Peppy whispered.

  “I thought we had,” he whispered back.

  “Do you think it’s alone?” she asked.

  He raised his eyebrows, as much of a shrug as he dared. “Do you think I should check?”

  “I don’t think we should spend the next two fucking weeks up here waiting to see if it wants to visit. Use the scope. It shouldn’t recognize that.”

  Gunnar shuddered. He knew as well as she did that the locusts were smart enough to recognize people. But then again, maybe it wasn’t that strange. All animals knew what their food looked like.

  He scooted forward and moved as slowly as possible, careful with the few loose stones he pushed past. His destination was a tuft of long-bladed grass. If he stuck the barrel of his rifle through that, it would simply look like part of the plant. Gunnar looked through his scope.

  The locust stood there and prodded at one pile of rocks, then another, then back to the first.

  “What’s it doing?” Peppy whispered.

  “I don’t know. It’s caught in a fucking loop or something,” he said and moved his eye away from the scope so he could turn and whisper to her. “Fucking bugs.”

  “What? Are you hoping I’ll do a tap-dance routine? Keep your eyes on the fucking enemy.”

  “Right,” he said and put his eye back to the scope. In doing so, he knocked a single pebble off the edge of the rock.

  It made virtually no sound as it fell. Gunnar had to strain to even hear it. He kept his scope trained on the locust. The bug didn’t hear it either, thank God. Another pebble joined the first, followed by another. In moments, he could hear the telltale rumble of a tiny avalanche. Dust drifted up from it and slightly obscured his view of the locust.

  But rocks fell all the time, right? There was no way the locust could know what that meant.

  He blinked and the creature was gone.

  “Shit!” he hissed and scooted himself backward. “It’s gone.”

  “What is? The locust?”

  “What the fuck else do you think I’m talking about? Yes, the locust.”

  “Well, that’s good. We wanted it to go back into the jungle.”

  Gunnar continued his backward motion until he was far enough from the ledge that he
could stand. “I don’t think it went back into the jungle.”

  No sooner had he spoken than the bug landed at the edge of the stone they stood on. It worked its mouth-parts, the mandibles strong enough to crush bone yet delicate enough to strip a man’s skin from his flesh. Lovely creatures, these.

  It took a step toward them and waved its antennae menacingly.

  Gunnar aimed his rifle at its head, directly at the bizarre fifth eye it had in the middle of its face.

  “Wait,” Peppy said. She stood slowly and took a step toward Gunnar. The locust watched her with its expressionless, unblinking eyes. “If you shoot that thing—what does Manny call it? A dinner bell?”

  The insect took a tentative step toward them. It didn’t seem to understand what they were. Most likely, it was used to humans who ran and screamed and didn’t know what to make of these two moving slowly enough to do tai-chi.

  “That’s my line!” her companion said out of the corner of his mouth and flinched as he felt Peppy touch his leg. “I thought this was a professional relationship.”

  “I’m gonna get your knife, you moron. I lost mine. Long story, the moral is that these fucking things are definitely stab-able.”

  Peppy felt down his leg, her eyes trained on the locust until she found the knife. She fiddled with the clasp.

  “You gotta…there’s like a little loop… Be careful,” Gunnar whispered.

  “For fuck’s sake, Gunnar,” she said and fumbled with the knife that wouldn’t come loose. She finally yanked it free, fell on her ass, and immediately scrambled to her feet. But the locust, apparently, knew that motion.

  It didn’t come toward them, though. Instead, it moved one of its back legs against the other and proceeded to make the loudest noise he had ever heard.

  It was like a grasshopper in the springtime, a grasshopper of doom with metal legs amplified through far too many distortion pedals.

  It was so loud that he wanted to put his hands to his ears before they shattered and he’d never be able to hear Peppy’s jokes again.

  Instead, he squeezed the trigger on his rifle and shot the bug in the face. With three shots, all delivered within ten centimeters of each other, the locust was dead. The Zoo was quiet once more—but only for about a second.

  Another locust called from somewhere in the distance, then another, this one behind them, followed by another and another and another. They called from a dozen different directions.

  “I think you just killed us, Gunnar.”

  “Me? You’re the one who doesn’t know how to work a strap with a button.”

  “Why was there a button, Gunnar? What the fuck is this, the Renaissance Fair?”

  “Holy shit, you’re a Renny?”

  Peppy colored and gritted her teeth. “I was.”

  Locusts exploded from the canopy of the Zoo. A dozen at first, then a dozen more, then a hundred.

  “How good are you with a knife?” Gunnar asked and his gaze darted from one bug to the other as they flew toward them. They were on a plate, elevated above the jungle and perfectly visible for every bug in a mile radius.

  “Not as good as you are with a gun. Get shooting, chop, chop!”

  He checked his magazine and shook his head. “I don’t have enough bullets.”

  “Then shoot them two at a time. Now, how the fuck do I work the radio?”

  “Here.” He shoved his rifle into Peppy’s hands and dropped to his knees to use the radio.

  “Bring it on, you bug-faced bitches!” she shouted and fired bursts at the locusts. Bodies fell from the sky, but still more came. In a moment, the locusts had landed on the side of the rock and clicked their mandibles before they attacked the duo.

  Peppy held them back admirably and stacked corpses up like an exterminator. Gunnar, never one to miss an opportunity for target practice, drew his second pistol and shot the creatures that slipped through her perimeter. All the while, he fiddled with the radio, which he knew was their only chance. He also knew that he’d called for help for days and no one had come to rescue him yet. You’d have to be seriously dumb to try to fly through a swarm of locusts.

  The radio crackled to life.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Please limit yourself to one carry-on item.”

  Gunnar laughed. This was too good. Their ride would get here in time to see them get eaten.

  The low thwack, thwack, thwack of a helicopter joined the cacophony of sound, the calls of the locusts, the pops of gunfire, and the crunch of bullets splitting exoskeletons.

  “Who the hell is that nutjob?” Peppy yelled with a grin. Gunnar didn’t think he’d ever seen her grin before. It looked weird, like a silverback gorilla playing cards.

  The helicopter approached, dropped low—too low—before someone hung out the side of it with something in their arms. Something big.

  A burst of flame blasted out and set a dozen locusts on fire. That sent the others chirping about, confused as to what was going on. Whoever had fired the flamethrower pulled it back and unfurled a ladder as the helicopter hovered over Gunnar and Peppy.

  “That’s our ride.”

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t think they were here for the locusts. Who’s driving?”

  Gunnar grinned and grabbed hold of the rope ladder as Peppy took the other side and the helicopter lifted them into the air. “Bat out of hell.”

  Birth of Heavy Metal

  Have you started the Birth of Heavy Metal series in the Zoo? Book one is HE WAS NOT PREPARED and it’s available now, at Amazon and through Kindle Unlimited.

  Available at Amazon

  Author Notes - Michael Anderle

  March 5, 2019

  THANK YOU for not only reading this story but these Author Notes as well.

  (I think I’ve been good with always opening with “thank you.” If not, I need to edit the other Author Notes!)

  RANDOM (sometimes) THOUGHTS?

  (AKA I’ve spent too much time on chat boards in the last couple of hours.)

  People need a reason, or they will (unfortunately) either connect with a person who gives them a reason to live in a lot of cases, or die. Otherwise, people will suffer issues.

  Perhaps become a vessel to spew out their negative thoughts and emotions to those around them.

  Right now, we see that happening more and more in our world, and I have to wonder. (As a writer, this really is a situation where my brain pulls up these damned questions all the time. Connecting spurious bits of data and wondering…)

  If we have an Illuminati group truly working to rule the world, have they got their collective shit together?

  Seriously.

  Right now, there are so many obvious tell-tale signs that humanity is challenged by too many people with not enough work to do on their hands, who are causing schisms in society that will (perhaps) reduce the efficiency of humanity so much their precious families will be affected as well.

  You know, if there is an Illuminati at all.

  OR if there is (and they are not worried), does that mean they already have the absolute best bolt-holes in existence?

  Using the most advanced methods for energy generation and food growing to allay their fears if society degenerates into a maelstrom of malevolent zombies?

  I think I’ve spent too much time this afternoon listening to a bunch of trolls out-trolling each other, and I’ve lost that keen eye that people are inherently good, and while we have a few very loud idiots, we have hope.

  I think I want to go to a “how to survive the coming zombie-pocalypse” weekend or retreat.

  Or, you know, I could just stay off reading the !@#%!#% Internet.

  AROUND THE WORLD IN 80 DAYS

  One of the interesting (at least to me) aspects of my life is the ability to work from anywhere and at any time. In the future, I hope to re-read my own Author Notes and remember my life as a diary entry.

  This will be a short update since I have to get packed for a trip to the London Book Fair t
omorrow.

  I’m writing in our tornado-infested condo, and I’m still waiting for the office to be fixed after water damage happened in December.

  Like, two and half months ago December.

  I look for just six square feet of clean and clutter-free area and want to lay down and sigh in relief.

  Soon, I’ll have a clean(ish) home again soon.

  Or I’m going to go out and be a damned Troll on message boards to get my mad out on some sort of bitch-fest website. I’m tempted to see if IOS has a product where people get a chance to tag a rant about something and then go to fucking town.

  Something that will get deleted if no one has given it a thumbs-up after ten minutes or some shit.

  Never to be seen (or saved) again.

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  Go ahead. I bet you can’t read just one.

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  HOW TO MARKET FOR BOOKS YOU LOVE

  Review them so others have your thoughts, and tell friends and the dogs of your enemies (because who wants to talk to enemies?)… Enough said ;-)

  Ad Aeternitatem,

  Michael Anderle

  Connect with Michael Todd

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  Other Zoo Books

  BIRTH OF HEAVY METAL

  He Was Not Prepared (1)

  She Is His Witness (2)

  Backstabbing Little Assets (3)

  Blood Of My Enemies (4)

  APOCALYPSE PAUSED

  Fight for Life and Death (1)