The sight of the sun over the Pacific felt like a greeting of ‘Welcome home’ to each of the crewmembers of the Globemaster III, tail number 09-9211. “Still nothing on any channels, I recommend we do a low-level flyby to ascertain the condition of the runways. It’ll be dark soon and I’d like a chance to make it to somewhere safe,” Major Donner suggested.
“We’ll do a low altitude flyover. If everything looks acceptable, we’ll come in on Runway 21 and do a long taxi to base ops. From there, if nobody is present, we’ll depart the aircraft and commence our post-mission 72-hour leave. Then meet up at the squadron to determine a course of action. If need be, we’ll return to Wyoming at that time.” Col Austin replied.
“It looks like there were some fires along hangar row. Main parking ramp has a few aircraft that appear to have fire damage. I don’t see any activity anywhere, Sir.”
“Okay, we’ll use 21 and we’ll do a high speed taxi to base ops. Shut down and make best speed to our individual destinations. I’ll be glad to see my wife and kids.” Col Austin decided. Major Donner read the dash 1 for the landing with Col Austin acknowledging each step as he completed them. Both of them were performing the landing approach like as they had hundreds of times before. It was almost a shock when they found themselves on the ground and almost to the terminal when a follow-me truck appeared, signaling for them to follow to the main parking ramp. A maintenance truck and a crew bus sat near a parking spot, with a crew chief signaling them with his arm gestures to approach the parking spot. As the plane pulled into the parking spot, the crew chief held both wands crossed over his head, signaling them to stop and shut down engines. A pair of maintainers wheeled over a fire bottle, as the crew bus pulled up near the aircraft.
“Looks like the Travis AFB is still open for business. You just have to have faith.” Austin said as he unstrapped and climbed out of his seat.
The crew hatch opened and a captain shouted, “Everyone on the crew bus now, this is an emergency. General Mitchell will explain everything.” He turned around and ran for the crew bus, not waiting to hear any reply from the crew.
“I guess we need to beat feet so the general can explain what’s going on. Let’s move it, people. Austin led his crew in a jog to the crew bus. They bus began to move to a nearby hangar before they could sit. The main doors were closed, a pair of defenders stood guard by the entrance. The bus driver almost hit the hangar, he pulled up so close. The captain was already off the bus, waiting for them to follow.
“The general is waiting right inside, Sir. We have to use the hangar for security reasons.” The defenders came to attention, then opened the door. “I’ll be right in; I have to do one more thing before I can see the general.” The Captain seemed anxious to get on to is next detail.
“Let’s not keep General Mitchell waiting. I want to know what he has to say.” Austin stepped into the hangar first as the rest of the crew followed. It was dark inside and Austin turned to ask the guard a question when the door slammed shut in his face. The entire hangar echoed from the door slamming, followed by the shrieking of over a hundred infected. Austin heard a laugh from one of the guards as the infected swarmed over him and his crew.
Chapter 14
Peterson AFB, Colorado. April 2, 2029
With the power out, it should have been pitch black by the ammunition bunkers. There were no lights and it was slightly overcast, Caleb could see as well as it was the middle of the day. With the exception of feeling as if he was hung over from the drugged water, he was fine. He went to the other airman who’d been on the detail and didn't even have to get close to smell he was dead. Panicked, Caleb looked around and confirmed he was alone. He felt the M17 in the middle of his back and felt a little more secure. The padlocks were where he had left them; whether out of duty or spite. He rolled the doors shut and relocked them. He was amused to see the stolen ammunition barely made a dent in what remained. He took all three keys and forced them into his empty water bottle before resealing the bottle and burying it in the grass next to Bunker Three. Good luck finding those keys, assholes. Time for me to find a home for the night, I don’t want the zombies to decide I’m on the menu after all. Maybe I can make it to the armory; I still have the keys or, better yet, the commissary. There shouldn’t be too many lines since it’s not payday.
Movement was everywhere; there were many groups from six to ten, all the way up to the hundreds. No zombies appeared to walk alone anywhere. Caleb walked up behind a group of four; he held his auto at his side in case he was wrong. They all stopped when he got close. Caleb began to worry when he saw it was a male with three females following. Oh great, this guy probably thinks I want his women. The zombie was short and fat, about forty, nearly bald, what little hair he had for a comb over was hanging on the side of his head. He wore a Denver Broncos jersey and a heavily soiled pair of briefs. Caleb looked him in the face and noticed there was no rot or injuries, lots of dried blood and bad breath, but that was it. He’d thought about all the zombie movies he’d seen and felt cheated. The little male was grunting at Caleb after he made eye contact with him. Caleb ignored him and looked at the other three zombies; two looked like they might have been in college; both were twenty-something, both were dressed up to go out dancing or partying, each more or less wearing a little black dress. The third woman, was in OCP’s, she looked like she was in her thirties, but had chief master sergeant stripes on her chest. Damn, going from super achiever to zombie, whatever you are, now that’s a shame. The male shoved him and he returned the favor by slamming him in the face without giving it any thought. In mid-swing, he remembered the automatic but it was too late to pull his punch. The zombie dropped to the ground out cold, a half a dozen teeth on the pavement next to him. Well, sorry partner, you shouldn’t have been a dick. Curiosity satisfied, Caleb headed back towards the commissary, the hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms standing up. He looked behind him and the three females were now following him, more males and females joined in. By the time he got to the commissary, he counted forty followers. He continued to ignore them as he walked through the doorway, noticing the sliding glass door that he thought was security grade glass was shattered.
The inside of the building almost made him gag, there was a stench coming from the meat, already rotting and frozen foods had melted leaving puddles everywhere. He walked over to the produce and noticed it had been gone through. Vegetarian zombies? Those following interpreted him stopping in the produce aisle as an order to graze. He watched in amazement as the apples seemed to be the favorite item, until he noticed most of the other fruits were already gone. Zombies like sweet things? He reached for the last bunch of bananas at the same time another male did. He slapped the other male’s hand away, then handed him half the bananas. He looked at Caleb, confused for a moment, then squatted down happily and began to eat the fruit. Stop playing caveman with these things and ditch them before it gets ugly. An empty potato bag was just what he needed. He slowly walked up and down the aisles, putting a few things in the bag. At the cash registers, he slid his arm across a shelf of candy bars, dumping them in his bag. The sodas in the cooler next to the candy was calling out to him, he grabbed a soda, surprised it was still cool. His pack of followers did not notice him slip out of the commissary. I wonder what a zombie girlfriend would have been like, especially without nagging or heart-to-heart conversations?
The stroll to the armory was actually nice. There was a nice breeze blowing, no one was trying to kill him, no one was telling him what to do or ordering him around. Nearby and in the distance, he could hear the infected calling out to each other; it reminded him of lonely coyotes howling in the distance at night when he was back home in the country.
BAM! The gunshot was not far off but he wasn’t sure in what direction even with his improved hearing. Two more rapid gunshots made it easy, the shots came somewhere on the flightline. He debated whether to go or not when zombies he had not even noticed, popped up from every direction and took off runn
ing as fast as they could towards the gunshots. Caleb found himself running as fast as he could towards the flightline, surrounded by zombies, even pushing them out of his way as he ran as if his life depended on it. His heart raced yet he didn’t even begin to feel fatigue or the normal pains he felt when he pushed himself, instead he felt exhilaration! He felt so more than just alive, he was part of the hunt. He shrieked along with the other runners; beginning to feel as if he was one of them.
Three more gunshots, one at a time more measured, added more adrenaline as he pushed himself even harder, ruthlessly knocking aside those in his way. He came to a stop when he saw the horde in a huge circle around a cherry picker lift. A woman cowered in the bucket fifty feet above the horde. The press of bodies against the machine stopped her from driving. The picker was rocking, if the zombies could communicate or reason; they could easily flip the picker over. For the moment, the occasional zombie started to climb up the picker’s arm. The woman would quickly fire before more grasped the idea to climb up after her.
Caleb watched, half of him wanted to be the one to show the others he was the true alpha in the group, the other half of him felt sick at what the obvious outcome was going to be. He tried to leave; but instead found himself forced even closer to the cherry picker. Anger reared up, he swung at everything and everybody near him as he fought against the current of bodies. He found the resistance was getting lighter; he was on the fringe of the horde and could move freely. His hands were bloody; he tasted blood from snapping at the infected. His food bag was gone, ripped away in the skirmish to get away; he felt a loss for the equally missing pistol. He smelled of blood and it made him feel…powerful.
The woman was screaming now, the horde was even more excited as they pressed in towards her. The end was close at hand. Caleb ran for the vehicles parked alongside the flightline. An aircraft cargo loader, reminded him of an aircraft carrier with its huge flat area that held cargo and its small glass enclosed driver’s area, was perfect. Caleb climbed the short ladder to the vehicle’s cab. He climbed in, relieved to see the key in the ignition. On the seat next to him, a pair of parking chocks. This should work out, the thing’s already pointing in the right direction. The motor turned over on the first try, a plume of black diesel smoke rising in the air from the exhaust. The entire vehicle was shaking like it wanted to be driven. He put the gear in first, then dropped the wood parking chock on the gas pedal. The vibration was getting worse, Caleb worried the engine might explode as he held down the brake pedal. Jamming the other parking chock on top of the steering wheel, it caused the horn to blast. Perfect! Time to go. Caleb jumped way from the loader as it lurched forward at a steady 5 mph, engine howling, and horn blaring. The horde lost interest in the cherry picker, instead chasing and quickly catching the loader. As many swarmed aboard, others fell under the many wheels as it chugged along with its screaming cargo of zombies. If it doesn’t get caught in the ditches that should take them all the way to the civilian side of the airport.
The cherry picker lift was once again moving at a steady rate of 10 mph away from the flightline and towards the buildings. Caleb climbed up into the cab of a cargo truck and fired it up, quickly giving chase.
He caught up with the cherry picker on Peterson Boulevard; the bucket was lowered to get under the many trees alongside the road. He resisted the urge to honk his horn to get her attention as he neared her from behind. Is that woman really that blind? She can’t see me? He flashed the high beams until she noticed and stopped. He quickly pulled up alongside.
“Quick, get in! I have a secure place they can’t get to us. The woman looked at him warily for only a moment, then shrugged her shoulders before lowering the bucket the rest of the way to the ground and climbing into the truck cab. She smelled of fear and sweat, her t-shirt was soaked through with sweat, her blue jeans torn and dirty.
“Just to be up front, I don’t usually get into trucks with strangers.” She tried to sound nonchalant but failed miserably.
“No problem, I got bored running around with the zombies and decided it was time to spice things up a little. They certainly did like the cargo loader. That should keep them entertained for hours.” He smiled at the disappointment they must have felt when there were no snacks with the vehicle. It only took a few minutes to reach the armory. Bodies from inside had been laid out in front of the building; many seemed to have been used as snacks. Caleb jumped to the ground and sniffed the air. Others were close; he could feel it.
“Let’s get inside, I have a feeling that others will be here soon.” BAM! Caleb turned and looked at the woman as if she was a total idiot. His ears were still ringing and he wanted nothing more than to backhand her.
“I saved your life. Look over there by the parking lot entrance; he was going to attack you.” Caleb looked over the fifty feet to the zombie flopping around on the ground like a fish out of water.
“I almost had the door open, now you just rang the feeding bell for every damn zombie on base. I hope the building is still secure, or we’re screwed.” He chose the right key on his first try, the smell of death not as bad as he expected. He ushered the woman in just as he heard the shrieking from the wounded zombie’s call answered by hundreds of other voices. He made sure the door was secure as he led her to the armory itself. It took him a moment to realize the lights were off and he could see with no problem at all. The floor smelled of fresh disinfectant and cleansers, even the bathroom door was fixed. This might be a nice place to call home after all. The woman held onto his shoulder as he guided her. The tiny red light on the door’s card reader was like a strobe light to his eyes. He slid the card and was relieved when the same code still worked. The deadbolt slammed open as loud as a gunshot to his sensitive ears.
“Welcome home, safest place on base, short of the vault at the credit union. I didn’t have the key or combo to get us in there, though.” The room looked like everything of value was gone. Cleaning rags littered the floor, giving him an idea. He picked up a couple and pulled the lighter out of his pocket. The flame appeared like a roaring inferno to his eyes as he lit a couple of rags on fire.
“Oh, Thank God. I’ll never be mean to or ignore a blind person again.” Caleb speared a cleaning rod into the burning rags and used it as a mini torch for the woman to follow him to the back of the armory. All his food and snacks were gone. Instead the office was littered with useless papers that had been dumped from desk drawers and file cabinets. Caleb dropped his burning rags into the trashcan and dumped a load of papers on top of it. He sat down at the desk and finally looked at the woman. ‘Muscular’ was the first word that came to mind, she definitely worked out, but looked too manly for his tastes. Short cropped hair, yet a pretty, feminine face. She sat on the couch and began to sob softly. Caleb felt awkward as he moved to the couch and put his arms around her to try and comfort her. Her sobs changed to little gasps as she pressed her head into his chest and shook slightly as she cried softly. Her sobs ended, replaced with slow steady breathing. Caleb removed his arm from around her and began to rise when she seemed to come out of a trance. She looked at the burning can of rags and papers, then up into his face. She pulled him to her and gave him a soft kiss on the lips, then pulled him to her more forcefully, sticking her tongue down his throat. She came up for a breath for only a moment.
“Please, I really need this.” She rolled herself around and was straddling him as she went back to her assault on his mouth, lips and tongue, while grinding herself on top of him. She felt him grow under her and gave him a quick mischievous smile as she jumped off his lap, pulling off her jeans and underwear together before grabbing at his belt. He lifted his hips to accommodate her as she pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees. Watching the muscular woman take charge, Caleb’s inner voice wanted to scream out “Be gentle with me” as she climbed back onto his lap.
Caleb woke with the woman still intertwined with him. His pants and boots had been kicked off sometime during the night. He freed himself and
walked to one of the open lockers to pee. Looking at his watch it was 0530. Hmm I wonder if I should just go back to sleep or have some more fun? He didn’t hear the woman walk up to him until she grabbed him between the legs firmly and pulled him towards her as she dropped to the floor. She rolled him over roughly, then climbed on top of him and started to rub at him until he responded, her head in his shoulders as she tried to be in total contact with him the entire time. She felt him grow and again took charge as he laid back and enjoyed the attention. She sat upright, straddling him and looked down into his eyes as she moved more forcefully. You are one wild woman, you have such intense eyes, you...EYES! Caleb was pinned as the infected above him worked until she was finished. She cuddled up against him, then went back to sleep. Caleb was surprised with himself that he was able to lay there and calmly think about how things had happened. If zombies are spreading the pandemic through bites and scratches, then having sex or wet kisses must spread it too. I must be a carrier, she fought so hard to avoid the infection, then I give it to her. Worst STD I ever gave anyone. He lay still for a few more minutes more before falling into a sound sleep.
Chapter 15
Glendale, Arizona, April 2, 2029
Juan Hernandez felt like the world was fixing its mistakes. His ex-wife and the bastard she had from cheating on him were now among the creatures. He’d survived the first night of the zombie apocalypse in his second floor apartment, watching and listening to the soldiers on the base across from his apartment being eaten It had sounded like a war zone, lots of gunfire, stray tracer bullets with their red tails shooting off into the sky. Today everything was quiet on the base. When he didn’t get any phone calls from the contractors, who usually hired him for his day jobs, he figured it was time to visit the base. He stuck his little .25 auto in his back pocket and walked down to the road, quickly crossed over Glendale Road and jumped the base fence where he knew the base housing was. The lack of traffic on the road gave him courage to be more aggressive. There was no one on the street or driving by in the base housing, so he walked up to the first house after making sure there was none of those pesky cameras. No one answered the door so he went around to the back door. He kicked in the cheaply made door and then walked into the kitchen and listened for a moment. He grabbed a large ornate chef’s knife, appreciating how fancy it was. Gathering up his courage, he headed for the bedrooms, that would be where the good stuff was, along with anyone still in the house. It took him a moment to notice the smell in the living room and that the room already looked like it was a crime scene. Everywhere there was splashed blood on the walls and furniture, everything looked like it had been broken or trashed. The bedroom door was hanging by a hinge inside; an automatic lay on the floor. He carefully picked it up, not wanting to leave fingerprints. It was clean with no sign of being fired recently. He pulled open a nightstand drawer; first thing he found was a box of cartridges and two magazines. He tore the pillowcase off the pillow and dropped his new treasures into it, along with a fancy watch and multitool. He wanted to jump for joy when an envelope in the drawer had ten one hundred dollar bills. The rest of the drawers revealed nothing of value. He ransacked the rest of the house, then went to the next house. He did not bother to knock, he just kicked in the back door, noticing the house was the exact same floor plan as the last, and looked like another crime scene. The first bedroom had a box of shotgun shells, but nothing of value. He mentally kicked himself for not checking the bathroom in the last house for prescription drugs. He opened the door just as a kid jumped out at him, knocking him backwards before falling. The girl’s face would have been angelic, if not covered in blood. She fought him with the power of demons. Is this girl a demon? He held the girl’s neck with his left hand and reached for his automatic in his back pocket. The shrieks would bring every cop on base in seconds. Finally, he freed the little automatic and put it under the girl’s chin before pulling the trigger. The little bullet sounded like a pop, even indoors. There was no giant spread of blood behind the head as the bullet ricocheted inside the girl’s skull. An eerie quiet filled the house. He decided the apocalypse might not be the best time to become a professional thief. He looked out the windows, planning to make a run for it when the truck in the driveway across the street stopped him cold. The classic Chevy pickup looked like it was a ’57 Apache. Hell, even in the apocalypse someone would buy that to strip it down for parts.
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