by Mark Tufo
“Do you know who this is?” Bannerman asks Lynn with his eyes wide in bewilderment.
“I may, sir,” Lynn responds amidst the crackle of gunfire outside.
“Talk to him then!” Bannerman says.
Lynn takes the mic, “Otter 39, this is Arifjan,” she says with her voice cracking slightly.
I hear the response over the radio with sense of incredulity. I look over at Robert, Nic, Bri, and Michelle. They continue to look at me with a measure of disbelief, and that we are talking to someone, that there is, in fact, someone at our destination, and that it may actually be Lynn.
“Oh my God! Lynn?” I say over the radio.
“Jack?” Lynn responds.
Descending close to the airport, I see the runway lighting offset from the light emitting from the camp itself in a seemingly small town aspect; streetlights set in small rectangular patterns with smaller lights in amongst these lights.
“Yeah, Lynn. What’s your situation?” I ask, worried about the sound of gunfire heard in the radio responses.
“Stand by,” Lynn responds.
She walks over to the door and peers outside over the walkway railing. Creatures are climbing with unrelenting determination on the side of the stairway leading upward. Bodies line the landing just below her position as the soldiers she placed there are firing down on those who have managed to reach the landing. Hordes of creatures line the perimeter waiting for room on the stairs; the things completely encompass the stairway structure. She looks to the soldiers firing on the walkway to see their wide eyes as they fire downward on the ever-encroaching mass. Their eyes depict an emotion that their life here is only a matter of time but determining to exact what measure they can.
Walking back inside, she calmly heads to the radio and picks up the mic. “Jack, it doesn’t look good. We’re in the tower. They’re scaling the outside, and their overrunning the top is only a matter of time.”
“Roger that. Hold on as best as you can. I’ll be there in five.”
I set up an overhead assault pattern minimizing my time in the air and descend rapidly to the airfield. The runway lights are a thousand feet below as I bank the aircraft into a steep, left hand descending pattern. Rolling out on final, I glance over to the tower on my left at the far side of the ramp. Light flows from the tower out onto the ramp and is filled with flashes of gunfire from all vantages on the tower top.
Give me just a few more minutes, I think, rolling out of the turn and descending toward the green lights at the runway threshold with the white runway lights stretching away ahead of me.
The strobe-like flashes flicker off to the side of my vision as my landing lights pick up the threshold markings and they flash underneath. The first five hundred foot markings stream by my window as I draw the power back and start my flare; the nose rising in response to my control inputs. The drone of the engines diminishes yet we remain airborne as the aircraft continues its instinct to remain aloft. Gravity overcomes the wants of the aircraft with a chirp, and the aircraft settles as it transitions from a creature of the sky to one of the earth.
With the flashes of weapons still being fired in the distance to the left, I pull the prop levers back into reverse thrust. The aircraft responds with a reluctant, nose down attitude. Coming to the first taxiway onto the ramp, I jump on the radio and say, “Lynn, standby. On my way. Pull your people in when I say and ready them to exit ten at a time.”
“Roger that,” Lynn says and relays the info to Drescoll on the roof above her.
Pulling off the runway at high speed onto the taxiway at about midfield with the landing and taxi lights on, I see a multitude of creatures on the ramp and around the tower; many of them scaling the stair superstructure and close to the top. Bodies fall from the stairs only to be replaced by others. I continue across the ramp slowing down slightly with a plan already coming to mind.
“Lynn, I’m going to clear your path for moments at a time, be ready for my signal,” I say into the radio.
“Jack, we’ll be ready,” Lynn replies.
I drive the 130 directly at the tower with the kids looking on in disbelief as to what I am planning. The heads of the creatures turn in my direction, pausing in their assault of the tower to stare at the new intrusion into their environment. Whipping across the ramp, I pull close to the tower and turn a 180 in place, coming to a stop.
“Robert, I’m going to the back to ready the ramp. I’ll plug into the intercom in back. When I signal, hold the brakes and rev up to full power. Hold onto those brakes tightly. Nic, you’re with me.”
Unplugging and unstrapping, I head to the rear along the aisle. Reaching the back, I plug into the intercom to hear Robert’s heavy breathing. “Robert, how do you read?” I ask.
“I hear you,” he says, his voice thick with tension.
“Lowering the ramp,” I announce.
The ramp descends revealing the tarmac outside by slow increments. As it reaches the ground, I see the horde of creatures encompassing the tower and the strobe flashes from the top as the soldiers attempt to fend them off.
“Okay, Robert, tell the tower to pull in and prepare their first ten,” I say. As the soldiers rush into the tower, I tell Robert, “Power up now.”
I hear the engines begin their throaty roar as they are brought up to max. The thrust powers the wind to hurricane force levels to the rear. At first, it just propels the creatures on the outside and railings forward and then it lifts them from their feet. As the power increases, they are thrust away from and over the fence beyond. Many of them become pinned against the far chain link fence as the wind from the propellers pushes them to and then almost through it. The stair structure is swept clean of the creatures.
“Tell them to go now!” I shout into the intercom to Robert.
I see several soldiers in fatigues emerge from the tower and tell Robert to bring the throttle back to half. The soldiers fight their way down the stairs against the wind and drop the final ten feet to the ground. The wind whips their fatigues as they come to rest against the containers supporting the tower.
“Power back now, Robert,” I say.
The vibration of the aircraft decreases as Roberts draws the power back. I see the soldiers recover and begin running toward the aircraft. As far as the extension cord of the intercom allows, I walk down the ramp to cover the soldiers’ extraction, covering the sides as they head over the now downed fence, across the small distance of the ramp, and up into the aircraft. As they pass by, I grab four and have them cover the sides of the aircraft; two to each side of the ramp and advise them not to step out from behind the aircraft.
I then tell Robert, “Power up again and tell them to ready the next ten.”
The wind and vibrations increase as the engines accelerate their thrust and wind velocity to the rear. The wind catches the creatures just recovering from the last hurricane force and throws them against the fence again. Those not caught in the fence are blown into the desert beyond.
I call on the intercom over the sound of the engines, “Tell them to send the next ten and power back to half.”
As the next ten soldiers make their way down the stairs, I see the ones placed on the edges of the ramp open up. A quick glance and, in the glare of the landing lights, I see several creatures on the pavement at the wingtips. Bringing my own M-4 up, I sight and fire single bursts, but without effect, toward the creatures attempting to close. The rounds of the other soldiers are also not having any telling effect.
Sidling to the soldiers by the ramps, I yell into their ears, “The engine thrust is causing your rounds to be blown to the rear. Compensate, but don’t hit the engines.”
They all look at me and then center on their sights once again. “Robert, ask them how many more,” I call.
“They said six more,” he responds after what feels like several moments later.
“Okay, tell them to get ready,” I say.
After telling Robert to power back, the ten drop to the ground, s
cramble over the fence, cross the intervening space, and race up the ramp past me into the aircraft. I look over to see Nic on the opposite side of the ramp motioning with her hands urging the soldiers up the ramp and into the aircraft.
“Okay, bud, once more. Throttle up,” I say.
I feel and hear the engines as they increase their thrust. The creatures are still pinned against the fence on the far side of the tower and the ones circling the wings are being blown backward as they venture behind the giant props. Their bodies skip and bounce across the ramp like rag dolls. Some drop to the ramp as a few rounds find their marks through the hurricane winds; their bodies skipping along with the rest of them.
Once the ramp is clear of bodies, I jump on the intercom and direct Robert to tell the remaining soldiers in the tower to exit. I see them exit the doors above and race down the metal fire stairs. As they near the ground, I tell Robert to cut back on the throttles to allow them to make it to the aircraft. As the engines wind rapidly down, the creatures on the fence fall to the ground and scramble to their feet in a disoriented state.
The remaining soldiers drop the final ten feet, one after the other, and run across the ramp toward the safety of the aircraft.
Another streak of luck, I think, watching them race across the ramp.
Rounds reach out from the soldiers’ weapons stationed on the edges of the ramp impacting into the disoriented creatures as the last of the soldiers run to safety. As the last of them pounds up the ramp, I call out above the din for the soldiers guarding to scramble up and raise the ramp as they reach the interior.
“Keep it steady, bud, I’ll be right up,” I tell Robert before unhooking from the intercom.
Coiling the cord extension up as the ramp closes completely, I look around at the soldiers in the rear of the aircraft and lining the aisle along the left side. Most of them are leaning forward with their hands on their knees panting from the narrow escape and run across the ramp. I stop by the supplies lashed to the cargo deck to reach in and extract an item from the boxes, sliding it into the leg pocket of my flight suit. I spot Lynn standing near the now closed ramp.
“Sergeant Connell, a word with you in private,” I say, catching her eye.
A voice sounds from directly behind me, “Captain. Check with me first before calling out one of my soldiers!”
I turn my head to see a soldier standing with a subdued rank of major velcroed to the front of his fatigues. “And who are you?” I say in return.
“Major Bannerman, and you will address me with respect, Captain. So it is ‘sir’ or ‘major’ to you,” Bannerman answers.
“Well, Bannerman, I just flew half way across the world to pick your ass up out of a fire and apparently in the nick of time from what I saw,” I say, turning completely around to face him.
“I’m the ranking officer here, so that places me in charge of this outfit, Captain,” he says, placing his hands on his rather round hips and glaring at me with a challenge.
The soldiers who can hear our conversation are all finding very interesting things on the ground in front of them to look at, but their ears are glued to the words being exchanged. Nic looks at me with an amused smile knowing how this conversation is going to end and what’s coming next but curious as to how it is going to be received.
“Not on this aircraft it doesn’t. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have more pressing business to take care of,” I say, turning back to Lynn.
I notice Nic’s smile and there are small smiles played across the faces of some of the soldiers who continue to find their interest directed at anything but this development. I hear Bannerman start to say something, but he falls silent as I turn and walk over to Lynn.
Standing before her, I reach out and we hug each other tightly. “I’m so glad you are okay. I love you,” we both say in each other’s ears.
Releasing our hug after a long moment, I reach into my leg pocket and hand her a bottle of beer. “I promised to have one of these for you when I picked you up,” I say as she takes the beer with a smile. “Enjoy it. I have to go up and see if I can remember how to do that pilot stuff. Have everyone strap in as best as they can, babe. It’s so wonderful to see you,” I add, taking a step backward. “I’m so happy that you’re safe.”
“It’s so, so good to see you, Jack,” Lynn answers in return.
I head into the cockpit and strap in. I see many creatures running around in front of the aircraft lit by the landing lights
“Are we going run through them like at Brunswick?” Robert asks once I plug into the intercom.
“No. I’m too exhausted. Let’s just get airborne, fuel up here in the morning, and plan our flight back,” I say wearily, not looking forward to flying for a couple more hours after the fourteen-plus-hour flight here.
I bump the throttles forward and the aircraft responds by rolling across the ramp. The creatures in front of us part as we make our way to the runway. The 130 transitions once again to a creature of the sky as our wheels lift off the asphalt leaving those earthbound to the earth. I level off at three thousand feet, set up an orbital path three miles from the camp on the NAV system, and engage the autopilot. The camp lights come into view through our windshield with each turn back toward the encampment. It looks like a small, peaceful city at night. My thought is to be close to the airport in case our fuel supply runs low and to hopefully draw some of the creatures out our direction and trap them with the dawn coming just a couple hours away.
We bore holes in the sky until the horizon lightens announcing the next scheduled appearance of the sun. With its tip poking above the horizon, I turn back toward the runway and land. We taxi to the base of the tower looking at the ruined fence and the bodies scattered around. I shut down and head back to the cargo compartment to lower the ramp. Lynn walks up as the ramp lowers, letting the pale light of the coming day inside.
“We’ll gather what food, water, medical supplies, weapons, and ammo we can,” she says.
“Sounds good. We’ll refuel and then, I’ll need a few hours of rest. I have to plan our return legs, and we should be ready around noon,” I say as we give each other a big hug and kiss. “I’m sure glad we talked about this rendezvous before. Weird that we actually had to use it, huh?”
“No kidding,” she replies.
Robert and I refuel the aircraft from several fuel trucks parked along the ramp as Nic and Bri wheel the ground power unit from out of the cargo compartment. Lynn and the soldiers fill up a lot of the available cargo space with crates and boxes of weapons and supplies. After a rest, there is time to give Robert, Nicole, Michelle, and Brianna an indoctrination to the M-16, letting them fire a few rounds across the ramp until they are mildly comfortable with it. As Lynn gives them a session with the weapons, I plan our return trip. There is one difference in our return path and that being to a runway located just outside of Atlanta.
“Why are we going there?” Robert asks, having finished with his lesson with Lynn. He is looking over my shoulder at the maps spread on the small table in the cargo compartment. Lynn, after shouldering her M-16, is also looking over my other shoulder. “Why not just reverse our legs out of here?”
“The CDC lies there and, if there is any info on what we are dealing with, it will be there,” I say, looking first at Robert and then Lynn.
They both nod. After a rest, I input the return legs and various approaches into the flight navigation computer and seal up the aircraft for our return journey. We lift off into the heat of the early afternoon, the engines droning as we climb into the light blue sky. The sound of our aircraft diminishes and then fades from those ears left within the confines of the encampment.
About the Author
John O'Brien is a former Air Force fighter instructor pilot who transitioned to Special Operations for the latter part of his career gathering his campaign ribbon for Desert Storm. Immediately following his military service, John became a firefighter/EMT with a local department. Along with becoming a firefighter, he fe
ll into the Information Technology industry in corporate management. Currently, John is writing full-time on the series, A New World.
As a former marathon runner, John lives in the beautiful Pacific Northwest and can now be found kayaking out in the waters of Puget Sound, mountain biking in the Capital Forest, hiking in the Olympic Peninsula, or pedaling his road bike along the many scenic roads.
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Also by John O’Brien
A New World Series
A NEW WORLD: CHAOS
A NEW WORLD: RETURN
A NEW WORLD: SANCTUARY
A NEW WORLD: TAKEN
A NEW WORLD: AWAKENING
A NEW WORLD: DISSENSION
A NEW WORLD: TAKEDOWN
A NEW WORLD: CONSPIRACY
A NEW WORLD: RECKONING
A NEW WORLD: STORM
Companion Books
A NEW WORLD: UNTOLD STORIES
A Shrouded World
A SHROUDED WORLD: WHISTLERS
Trudge: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse By Shawn Chesser
Prologue
Day 1 - Portland, Oregon
It was a beautiful sunny Saturday morning in Portland, Oregon. Contrary to popular belief, it didn’t rain here all of the time. It looked like a long hot summer was in store. Mount Hood towered in the east, white with snow year round. As they neared the airport, Cade pointed out to his daughter Raven the remnants of Mount Saint Helens visible to the north.
