by Greig Beck
She waited as another conversation took place in the background. A few minutes later Hew came back with his reply. She turned and gave the pilot a thumbs-up.
“Thanks Hew, hopefully see you soon.” She pushed the headphones back off her head.
“Tullahoma regional airport it is. You know it well?”
He smiled. “Oh yeah, like the back of my you-know-what. Excellent facilities, nice long smooth runway, rebuilt in 2009 – it’ll do just right.” He turned and stuck out his hand. “It’s Frank, by the way. Frank Janzen. Will you guys be okay once we’re down?”
Carla shook his outstretched hand and nodded. “Carla Nero, and yep, there’s a chopper going to meet us.”
“Good job, Carla, nice to meet you.” He continued looking at her, nothing but clear blue outside and the gentle whine of high-powered jet turbines, just audible in the soundproofed cockpit. His face became serious. “So, Max didn’t make it, huh? I don’t believe he stayed behind.” He looked hard at her. “Two questions – what happened, and do I need to inform the authorities and go back?”
Carla sat back and closed her eyes. She shook her head. “He’s dead … same as Jian and John Mordell. The authorities already know.” Carla kept her eyes closed, not wanting him to see the lie on her face. “We had nothing to do with it, other than being in a place that was more dangerous than we were ready for.” She opened her eyes and turned to him. “There’s no reason to go back – there’s nothing to go back for.”
She sank back into the co-pilot’s chair. “It’s over. I guess we both found what we were looking for.” She shrugged. “Could have been any of us … or all of us.”
The pilot grunted. “I always thought an ex-wife would kill him, long before any old jungle.”
She pulled a face. “Old is right.”
Frank continued to look at her for a few more moments. She could feel her eyelids drooping. The chair was large, and the sunlight coming in through the tinted windows and bathing her legs was like a warm blanket. She was dimly aware that Frank was speaking.
“Get some sleep. I’ll give you a nudge in a few hours, when we’re getting close,” he said softly.
“First, I need to tell …” she said, slipping into sleep.
“I’ll tell them. You rest.”
Carla let her eyes fully close. For the first time in ages, the world and its problems went away.
*****
The hand on her shoulder made her jump. Broken images of a creature with a hundred legs gripping her arm disappeared like smoke as the late afternoon sunlight broke through and dispelled the monsters.
Carla blinked with crusty eyes. “Where are we?”
“We’re a little over two hundred miles out from Tullahoma and I’m running on vapors. I’ve taken us inland. You can just see Memphis coming up on the right.” Frank motioned toward the window. “Strange – looks like there are some pretty big fires. The smoke’s dark – burning rubber tires maybe? Signal fires?”
Carla leaned forward, watching the multiple columns of dark smoke rise from the city’s outskirts for several seconds before exhaling slowly through her nose. She sat back. She knew that sort of emission; she’d seen it before in other countries dealing with major outbreaks – amongst both human populations and animals. It was the greasy dark smoke that came from rendered flesh.
“Crematorium smoke – or, more likely, just mass burnings. Looks like we’ve been overwhelmed by the numbers and speed.” She narrowed her eyes as she thought through the social implications. No one wanted to stand out in the open and grieve anymore; close proximity to other humans probably represented the greatest risk to life.
So quick, she thought. They always expected that if something like this occurred, it would be via a natural or bio-engineered microorganism, not some sort of primordial parasite.
“Thirty minutes out from landing and there’s no one answering from the tower. I sure hope we don’t have to circle. You’re welcome to stay up here with me – or do you want to join your friends?”
Carla was snapped from her reverie. She leaned across to grasp the pilot’s arm. “Thanks Frank, but I’ll give everyone a heads up about what we’re about to go into.”
“Okey-dokey. I’m going to try the tower again. See you on the tarmac.”
Carla rose and threaded her way back to her seat. Matt was snoring under a blanket. Megan watched her come down the aisle, Joop nodded to her, and Kurt just fiddled with something in his bag.
She took the seat in front of Matt and Megan and half turned. “We’re landing in thirty minutes; better wake Sleeping Beauty. We need to talk about what happens next.”
Megan simply elbowed Matt, waking him mid-snore. “What is it?”
She nodded toward the CDC woman. “Carla wants to talk.”
Carla half knelt on her seat, raising herself so they all could see and hear her.
“By now you all know we’re not touching down in LA. We’ll be landing in Tullahoma, about one hundred and ninety miles northwest of Atlanta … where I need to get to.”
She paused, looking at each of them – three pairs of eyes stared back; Kurt continued to rummage. “Let me lay it out for you. It’s, ah …” She gave up trying to sugar-coat it. “… it’s all gone to shit. The infestation is now countrywide, and there is significant danger. Martial law is being enforced, and I need to get my sample to Atlanta as a priority – that overrides everything else.”
“How will you get to Atlanta from Tullahoma?” Matt asked.
“There’s a chopper coming for me. You’re all welcome to come, and to be brutally honest, it’ll be a lot safer for you,” Carla responded.
Joop cleared his throat. “My family is in New York. I need to get back to them. That is my priority; I’m sorry.”
“Second that. I got a cabin on the outskirts – I’ll tag along with Joop.” Kurt winked at Joop, who nodded back, obviously pleased with the idea of company.
Matt turned to Megan. “Atlanta’s only a few hundred miles from Asheville. Maybe we can hop a ride, and then keep on going when it’s safe.”
Megan raised her eyebrows and nodded.
Carla looked at each of them. “Okay, we’ll see what it looks like when we’re on the ground. From what my people have been telling me, traveling unaccompanied is not a good idea right now. In fact, it might be deadly.”
“Take your seats and strap in, folks, I’m making my approach.” The pilot’s voice had the laid-back tone that pilots were renowned for – cool and calm, and unflappable.
“Ms. Nero, can you please join me?” Suddenly, there was an edge to his voice.
Carla tried to keep her face serene as she rose, conscious of everyone watching her. The knots in her stomach started to tie themselves ever tighter.
She closed the small door behind her. “What is it, Frank?”
The pilot’s face betrayed nothing, but the edge of concern in his voice gave him away. “I still can’t raise anyone in the tower. There should be a dozen people there.”
Carla strapped in and leaned forward, looking out at the approaching runway. “Power blackout, maybe?”
Frank shook his head. “Airports have their own backup generators. Tullahoma is no backwater; it’s a city with half a million people. Nothin’s moving down there. I tell you, something is very wrong.”
The plane continued its descent, and the pilot eased back a little. “There’s smoke over the runway … worse, there’s fire and debris on the tarmac itself.”
“Can we still land?” Carla saw several fires on the runway, some large, some small.
“Lady, we have to land.” He took off his sunglasses. “And yes, I think so; this bus doesn’t need a long strip.”
The plane came around slowly and lined up with the stripes down the runway’s center. It was clearer now what was burning – planes larger than their own had been reduced to skeletal bonfires. Luckily, most were pushed to the side. Frank came down softly, the wheels just kissing the runway before he imm
ediately used the craft’s port and starboard navigation flaps to gently ease the still fast-moving bird past or around the biggest obstacles.
After a few more minutes he eased back and used the remaining thrust to roll toward the terminal.
“Weird,” Carla said in a hushed tone.
The tower was dark – in fact, the entire airport was dead and dark. The silence and desolation was total – broken windows, abandoned suitcases, and the odd piece of paper lifting off to float across the outfield.
“Weird is right.” Frank unleashed his belt and leaned forward, looking around the intersecting runways. Large and small fires dotted the edges and spread into the surrounding fields. “Where’s your chopper? I thought they said they’d be here when we arrived.”
“Maybe we’re early.” Carla was confused by their non-appearance. If they only had to come from Atlanta, they should have been there with hours to spare.
“Maybe.” Frank continued to taxi in slowly, staring intently through the window and barely breathing.
Suddenly, the cockpit door burst open.
*****
“Jesus, man! You want to give a guy a heart attack?” Frank shook his head, continuing to stare intently through the windscreen.
“Sorry.” Matt got down beside them, looking out at the deserted airport. “Looks like a war zone. What happened here?”
As they rolled in closer to the terminal, they could see a banner hanging on the front of the wedding cake-shaped building. Two large words were written on it in dripping red paint: GO HOME!
“Wow, now that’s a welcome the founding fathers would have struggled to come up with.” Frank brought the plane to a halt, letting the turbines whine down to silence.
“Oh God, please no …” Carla brought her fist down on her knee as she spotted another craft burning.
“That’s … oh no, Carla.” Even to Matt the markings were familiar – on one of the still-distinguishable panels a large blue square containing the white CDC logo was buckling. Within the frame of the cockpit a blackened skeleton could be made out, its head thrown back, blackened jaws hanging open. A few feet away, another body lay sprawled on the tarmac, this one unburnt.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Frank’s calm exterior had finally been punctured. He unlatched his seatbelt and got to his feet. “There’s a man down there, maybe dead – I’m gonna take a look.” He paused, his lips tight, and opened a small locker at his feet, drawing forth a first-aid box. “Stay here.” He elbowed Matt out of the way and rushed along the galley toward the exit door.
“Frank, wait.” Carla leapt after him, followed by Matt.
Frank unlatched the door and engaged the gangway-lowering mechanism. In a few moments the stairs and railing had unfolded. He poked his head out and looked around.
Matt grabbed at his shirt. “Let’s wait until we have some idea of what we’re dealing with, okay?”
Frank looked back at Matt, his face stony with determination. “And if that was you or your girlfriend, or Carla lying on that tarmac, son? Would you want me to wait?”
He dislodged Matt’s hand and started down the steps. Carla went to follow him, but Matt grabbed her and held her back. Megan and Joop joined them at the door, while Kurt watched through his porthole window.
As the pilot walked cautiously across the tarmac, Carla, Matt, Megan, and Joop walked partway down the gangway, each taking up a position on a different step and hanging on to the person in front.
“Careful, Frank.” Carla’s call was hushed. He turned and nodded briefly, and then continued to walk hunched and crab-like, his head turning left and right.
The windows of the terminal remained dark and inhospitable. Some were smashed, the glass on the ground below testament to the impact from inside the building. There was the sound of something flapping from behind the row of hangars, and the pop and crackle of burning plastic from the fires. But beyond these noises, there was nothing. No car horns, moving vehicles, or shouts from busy workers, or even bird calls as the day came to a close.
Frank was close to the fallen man now and he eased to a stop, his head whipping quickly left and right – either nerves or intuition urging caution.
*****
Matt turned briefly to the terminal. The dark windows seemed to watch them, frowning with displeasure at the intrusion.
He jolted; there was something there, a quick movement. “What the …”
“What was it?” Carla was below him on the steps. She turned quickly, saw where he was looking and followed his gaze. After a second she turned back to him. “What was it, what did you see?”
Matt frowned, and stared hard at the broken windows. It was gone now, but he was sure there had been a quick hint of movement on the top floor. Just his imagination?
“Maybe nothing. I thought there was someone at the window.”
Joop was highest on the steps, at the plane door, and was craning his neck. “There’s nothing there now.”
Carla turned back to where the pilot was nearing the body. “We’ll need to check it out later.” She cupped her hands around her mouth and called again to Frank. “Be careful.”
Frank half turned and waved, and then quickly knelt beside the body. He reached down and placed a hand on the side of its neck, then immediately withdrew it as if burned, and turned back to the plane. He swiped his hand across his neck, and slowly got back to his feet.
The crack of a rifle made them all jump as it tore a hole in the silence and then bounced away. Collectively, they snapped around to stare at the terminal for a split second before whipping back to Frank. The man fell like a tree, a fountain of blood shooting from one side of his head.
“Frank!” Carla went to charge down the steps, but the rifle came again, and a thump beside their heads left a single, finger-sized hole in the steel of the plane’s outer skin.
“Back inside, back inside, we’re under fire!” Matt pulled Carla back, and Megan fell inside onto Joop, who tumbled backward. Matt hauled Carla inside the doorframe just as another shot rang out. This one was better aimed, and carved a divot in the flooring beside Joop’s head.
“Scheisse!” The evolutionary biologist rolled and scrambled away.
“Get down!” Matt dove to the floor on top of Megan, Carla landing beside him. More shots drummed metallically against the outside of the aircraft.
Kurt’s voice drifted up from the back of the plane. “I’m thinking the ‘go home’ message was something they expected us to pay attention to.” He walked calmly forward, reached around the doorframe, grabbed the heavy door and pulled it shut. The airtight oval closed with a soft hiss.
Carla sat up. “We have to try and help him.”
Kurt shook his head. “Nope, he’s dead, just like anyone else who steps outside will be.”
Carla put her hands over her eyes and rubbed hard. “No, no, no! What the hell is happening?”
“Chaos, I think,” Kurt said simply.
She looked at him with red eyes. “We’ve landed right in a hornet’s nest.” Carla crawled toward the cockpit. “I’m going to call the CDC. I’ve got to tell them about their pilots … and see if they can help us out of this mess.”
Kurt pressed a button beside the door and a soft whine told them the stairs were retracting back into the underside of the craft. “No use leaving out the welcoming mat.”
Matt sat up and rested his elbows on his knees. “Thanks. At least we’re safe for now.”
“Don’t thank me yet. Those reports were from a high-powered rifle – 99 caliber or better. Smaller caliber will be deflected, but those bigger bullets will pass right through the side of the plane, through you, and then keep going out the other side, fast enough to kill someone else. All shutting the door did was make it difficult for whoever is out there to pick us off with their sniper scope. But they can still hit us.”
He looked over his shoulder at the door. “Best we stay low and away from the windows.”
Matt leaned toward the cockpit
and repeated Kurt’s instructions to Carla.
“Got it,” she replied.
Joop climbed into one of the seats, but stayed hunched over. “So, now we wait, hmm? For what?”
Megan climbed up in the row behind him. “We wait for Carla to reach the CDC and get another chopper here, I guess. There’s food and water for a few days, so if we stay out of sight, we’ll be okay for a while.”
Another couple of gunshots pinged metallically on the front of the plane, the shooter having sighted Carla through the cabin window.
“I’m fine.” Carla crawled back to them, breathing hard. “No more choppers, but—”
“Great, well there goes plan A.” Megan slumped, and then sprang forward. “Can anyone fly this thing?”
Kurt shrugged. “I can fly, but just small recreational craft. But that’s not the problem … fly to where, exactly? Besides, there’s no fuel for a takeoff.”
Megan’s face turned red. “To where? Are you shitting me? To any fucking where but here. You know—”
Carla cut her off. “Cool it – there’s a military unit patrolling just outside Shelbyville. They’re about thirty-five miles up highway 16, and being diverted to us.” She smiled. “They’ll be here in an hour, give or take.”
More bullets struck the plane – front and back. “Shit.” Kurt spun and eased down to peer out one of the small windows. “Double shit; we ain’t got an hour.” He quickly headed down to the rear of the plane.
Matt snuck across to steal a look and immediately felt his heart sink. He eased away from the window. “Here comes the welcoming committee.”
Megan, Joop, and Carla leapt forward and peered from the side of one of the toughened porthole windows. Matt knew what they were seeing: a ragged band of people, some in face masks, some in torn hazmat suits, some simply with t-shirts tied around their noses, as if trying to protect themselves from nothing more than a bad smell. Most had guns, but some had shovels, bats, or large pieces of broken brick.
“This is a nightmare.” Carla sat down in one of the seats.
Matt leaned over her to look again. “When they said go home, they meant it … ideas, anyone?”
