The pistol shook in Jerri’s hands as she breathed short frantic breaths. She pried her other arm free from Andrew’s weakening grip and pointed the pistol at him.
“Get out!” Jerri said as tears blurred her vision. Andrew stumbled backwards of the cockpit, nearly falling over. He grasped his stomach with both hands and blood trickled out from between his fingers. He coughed up a spurt of bloody bile as he stared at her with sunken eyes, pleading, defeated, betrayed. He collapsed on the floor and curled into a fetal position and lay motionless.
Jerri slammed the cockpit door shut and jammed the pistol against the back of Wayne’s head, wiping her tears away with her forearm. Wayne winced at the feeling of the hot muzzle. The plane buzzed just a few feet off over the runway, going too fast. Aluminum sheets and loose pieces of debris blew off of the roofs of the hangars as the craft blazed by.
Jerri saw that they were almost on the ground and panicked. “Take us back up in the air! Take us back up now!” she screamed.
“And go where?!” Wayne shouted, sobbing. “There’s nowhere left to go!” Jerri pressed the gun harder against the man’s head. “Take us up! UP!” she ordered hysterically.
Before Wayne could respond, the front landing gear touched ground and immediately snapped off, spraying hydraulic fluid and shredding the tire. A shower of sparks filled the air as the nose of the craft scrapped along the runway.
Jerri was hurled forward and struck the instrument panel, dropping her gun on the floor.
Wayne whiplashed and struck his head against the yoke, creating a large gaping gash in his forehead. The rear wheels touched ground and the craft violently jerked to the right and skidded towards one of the derelict empty aircraft hangars. Both of the rear landing gears snapped off and the plane slid across the runway like a 95,000 pound sled leaving a multitude of sparks in its wake.
The left wing broke off and disintegrated into hundreds of smaller pieces as it struck the asphalt.
The plane crashed against the side of the empty hangar and came to an abrupt stop.
43
Jerri, dazed and confused, slowly opened her eyes as her senses reoriented. She found herself lying underneath the sparking control panel. The side of her head was bleeding and fiery pain radiated up her right leg. She looked down at her leg and saw that it was badly bruised and was starting to swell.
It was dark outside but the moonlight coming through the broken windshield provided enough light for her to see the dismal sights inside. The entire plane was leaning askew. Glass shards covered the floor and a runny pool of blood had formed underneath Jonathan’s corpse. The air had the stench of burning circuitry mixed with gunpowder.
Wayne was slouched over in his seat, still strapped in. He was unconscious, but still breathing.
Jerri heard the chatter of people outside and an engine approaching in the distance. She crawled towards the cockpit door on all fours. Her hand brushed across the pistol that Jonathan had dropped. She picked it up and tucked it underneath her belt.
She forced herself to stand and pulled on the door handle. The metallic cockpit door screeched as it swung open and slammed against the wall. The sparse windows were shattered and large sections of ceiling paneling had fallen loose. Water and oil dribbled out of the fractured ceiling and made the metallic floor slick. Most of the empty army duffel bags that were piled underneath the gunmetal benches had scattered across the floor.
She didn’t see any sign of– Suddenly Andrew lunged out at her from in front of one of the restrooms next to the cockpit, snarling like a rabid beast. His eyes were murky and his skin was ashen. Black bile seeped out from his open mouth and dribbled down the front of his uniform.
Jerri caught a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision just in time to step out of his way. Andrew, caught in his momentum, fell face-down against the bench, knocking out three of his front teeth. Undeterred he quickly turned back around and swiped his arm out underneath Jerri’s legs.
Jerri fell backwards and landed hard on her back. The gun went sliding away from her in the fall. She panicked and tried to go after it– Andrew climbed on top of her before she had the chance and pinned her down. He stared down at her, mouth open, drooling blood onto her chest.
Jerri looked up at him with horror as she futilely tried to get out from underneath his mass. She punched and kicked at him but to no avail. Andrew let out a guttural moan and leaned down to bite– Jerri reached up with both hands and grabbed Andrew’s cheeks, holding his head away just inches from hers. Andrew opened and closed his mouth, desperately trying to gnash into her. His eyes held an insatiable hunger behind their listless appearance.
Jerri looked into his eyes and saw the hunger, the resolute desire, but she saw something else too… For a brief second she saw a glint of intelligence, the real him. She finally saw the self-serving, self-absorbed, malevolent person he really was in life. It was as if undeath made manifest all his ugly urges and hidden thoughts.
She heard the hydraulics activate as the ramp lowered in the back of the plane. It made a resounding boom as it crashed against the pavement.
She had to do it fast.
Her eyes flickered over towards the bench just inches away from them. Keeping hold of Andrew’s cheeks, Jerri bashed his head against the corner of the bench again… again… and again until Andrew’s reanimated corpse no longer moved and the fire inside his soulless eyes was extinguished.
Jerri rolled his corpse off of herself and crawled away, breathing frantically, covered in his blood. She stared at the revolting sight of her work with a strange feeling of detachment.
Boots struck against the floor as a small group of people ascended up the ramp into the plane. Jerri bit her bottom lip and quickly picked up the gun she dropped. She crawled underneath one of the metallic benches furthest away from Andrew’s body. Hiding underneath the bench, she covered herself with some of the empty army duffel bags as best she could and held the pistol against her chest.
The rear bulkhead door creaked open and four flashlight beams shone into the plane’s darkened interior.
Jerri squeezed her eyes shut and lay motionless, hidden. The beams of light converged on Andrew’s corpse and on his gashed skull. The flashlight beams flickered weakly as the batteries struggled to maintain their duty.
Four men wearing tattered FEMA uniforms emerged from the shadows and crept deeper into the plane, cautious, scanning the area with their flickering flashlights. Their bodies looked skeletal and frail, their hair was oily, sores and insect bites covered their skin, their jawlines covered in stubble or beards.
Despite their uniforms, only one of the men was armed. He was armed with a pistol and stood in front of the others. He was tall and had dirty blonde hair. Open sores covered his face.
“This is pathetic,” the man in front said as he shook his head. “We practically begged for some supplies and backup and all we get is more of those goddamn bombs and a homicidal skeletal crew!”
He pointed at Andrew’s corpse and threw a hand in the air, exasperated.
The other men groaned and shook their heads.
“Do you think they really did it lieutenant?” one of the others asked.
“Do what, Dunlap?” the man in front, Lt. Willow, asked. “Commit suicide?”
Dunlap nodded nervously. “Look at the body you idiot,” Lt. Willow said as he narrowed his eyes and kept his flashlight pointed at Andrew. “It wouldn’t be the first time and it sure won’t be the last.”
“Fucking cowards! The satellite camps always ignored our requests for help yet begged when they needed it! I’m tired of it!” another man angrily spat.
The others murmured in agreement.
Lt. Willow held up his hand and silenced his crew. He sighed and shut off his flashlight, surveying the plane in the dark. “Gather whatever valuables and ammo you can find,” Lt. Willow said. “Make it quick before they show up. Someone get in there and check on the pilots. Judging by their spectacular landing I’m assuming they
made the same choice as their crewmate.”
“Maybe they saw the scenery below and couldn’t take it,” Dunlap said. “Maybe,” Lt. Willow said with a shrug.
“What if they’re alive?” someone asked.
“Take them with us,” Lt. Willow said sharply as he scratched one of the large boils on his neck. “I’d like to ask them some questions.” A fifth man ran up the ramp and into the plane, breathing wildly. His uniform was disheveled and his face was pale. Like the others, he was covered in sores.
The four men turned towards him.
“What is it now?” Lt. Willow quickly asked.
“Sir! T-they’re coming this way!” the man announced, struggling to catch his breath. “A whole group!”
“Fuck!” Lt. Willow said in a fiery tone. “I knew it caught their attention but I didn’t think they’d move in so fast!”
Lt. Willow gave an aggravated sigh and pointed towards the back of the plane. “Forget it! It’s not worth it. Let’s just pull back and wait until they’ve scavenged what they’re looking for,” he said. “We’ll move in after they’re done and gone. It’s not worth risking another one of our vehicles.”
The scraggily group of men left the plane without another word. A few seconds later Jerri heard the jeep’s tires squeal as it took off in a hurry.
Sensing that the coast was clear, Jerri stuck her head out from underneath the bench and carefully scanned the area with her pistol… As soon as she emerged, she heard more footsteps quickly ascended up the rear ramp.
Jerri quickly retreated back in her hiding space and covered herself back up with the duffel bags. Six men and two haggard women ran into the plane from the cargo hold, bodies riddled with tremors. They were wearing muddy civilian clothes and their skin was covered with purple lesions and boils. Their faces looked skeletal and their eyes were lifeless as starvation devoured them from the inside out. Most of them were armed with large meat hooks fastened out of iron rods and bent strips of steel but a few had archaic pistols; most of them could hardly hold the weapons in their trembling hands.
A man with a long red beard looked around the plane as he gripped his hook tightly. It was sharpened to a fine point. He grunted as he looked down at Andrew’s corpse.
“Go check the front,” the bearded man grumbled. Four men brushed past him into the cockpit. Moments later they came out dragging Jonathan’s corpse and Wayne.
The two men holding Jonathan dropped him on the floor. “One is dead and the other one is getting close to it,” one of the men said with no emotion. He spat on the floor as soon as he finished speaking. “Nothing else of value is up there and the coms are smashed to shit.”
The other two men, thin as rails, held Wayne by his arms and pulled him towards the bearded man.
Wayne had started to regain consciousness and struggled weakly to break free of his captors.
One of the men kicked Wayne in the back. Wayne fell face down and broke his nose against the floor. Blood poured out of his nose and pooled around his face as he lay withering in pain.
The bearded man crouched down and picked Wayne up by his hair.
Wayne let out an excoriating cry and quickly got on his knees. “What do you want?!” Wayne shouted with blood pouring out of his nose. “I–” The bearded man slapped Wayne hard across the face. Wayne immediately silenced.
“I want to know what you are hauling besides those fucking foggers!” the bearded man shouted.
Wayne’s eyes danced around the room, staring at the faces staring at him.
The bearded man slapped him again.
Wayne’s head snapped to the side and his reddened cheek started to swell. “Look at me, not at them!” the bearded man shouted. “What else are you hauling? Where is the food? Where is the medicine and the ammo?!”
Wayne looked up at the bearded man and narrowed his eyes. “You… are worse off than we were,” Wayne answered coldly. “I should have known. I should have fucking known.” The bearded man grumbled in frustration and then drove the meat hook up through Wayne’s chin. The tip of the hook erupted out of his left cheek and was slathered with blood.
The bearded man grunted and motioned for the others to follow him.
Wayne let out a garbled cry as he started to choke on his own blood. He clawed at the hook desperately.
The bearded man pulled Wayne across the floor and out the back of the plane while Wayne kicked and flailed on the hook.
The others drove rusty hooks through Jonathan and Andrew and lugged them both out the back of the plane. After several minutes of silence, Jerri cautiously emerged from under the bench a second time, clutching the pistol tightly. She forced herself to stand despite the pain.
Whatever was happening in Camp 7, she had no intention on staying.
44
Jerri limped into the rear cargo hold of the plane. She used one hand to support herself on the wall and held the gun with the other. As she entered the room she quickly scanned the area with her pistol, finger wrapped around the trigger.
Bloody streaks snaked their way down the center of the cargo area, down the ramp, and out onto the pavement. The Lazarus devices were still strapped tightly against both sides of the hold by their nylon straps.
Jerri lowered her gun and cautiously approached the ramp. She hunkered down and peeked out the rear of the plane. Outside the nighttime air was chilly and the tarmac seemed to stretch out for miles. Two men armed with shotguns stood guard at the back of the plane a few yards away from the ramp. They were facing away from Jerri and wore dirty jeans, patched fleece jackets, and scuffed boots.
Jerri contemplated opening fire but for only a fleeting moment. She knew that starting a firefight wouldn’t be the best course of action if she could avoid it. She started to descend down the steel ramp as quietly as she could but each step made a noticeable clank as her heals struck the surface.
One of the men turned towards her, half-asleep. His eyes immediately widened at her presence. He swung the barrel of the shotgun towards her–
Jerri quickly opened fire and struck the man once in leg and once in the abdomen, despite aiming for his chest.
The man groaned in pain and pulled the trigger.
The shotgun blast flew high and pelted the roof of the cargo hold.
Before the second man could react, Jerri unloaded three rounds into his back.
The man jolted with each shot and collapsed on the ground, dropping his shotgun beside him.
Jerri, panting, quickly pointed the pistol back towards the man who had opened fire on her. The man was struggling to stand as blood ran down his leg and pooled at his feet. He was trying to load another shell into the chamber with badly shaking hands.
She pulled the trigger.
‘CLICK’
The pistol was depleted.
She pulled the trigger three more times in a futile panic – ‘CLICK’
‘CLICK’ ‘CLICK’
Fortunately she didn’t need to shoot him again; her first two shots were sufficient. The man coughed up a spurt of blood as his knees buckled. He dropped the shell he was trying to shove into the chamber and collapsed on the pavement.
Jerri saw a multitude of shadows running towards her in the distance and heard shouting. She picked up one of the shotguns and quickly chambered a fresh round. With air burning in her lungs, she ran the opposite way across the tarmac and ignored her injured leg as it ached and throbbed with each stride.
The group behind her grew closer. Jerri took a hard right and ran into an alley in-between two empty aircraft hangars. The alley was overgrown with grass and vines. The steel paneling on the sides of the hangars were covered with rust and were coming loose in many places.
As she ran through the alley, vines and saplings slapped against her skin. Each lash against her swollen leg felt excoriating but the adrenaline from the pursuit gave her the power to overcome the pain. She darted around a toppled air-conditioning unit and came to the end of the alley.
She foun
d her escape cut short by a chain-link fence that surrounded the expanse of the runway. “ Fuck!” Jerri shouted, terrified. She slammed the butt of the shotgun against the ramshackle fence. The fence swayed violently with her blow and drew her attention down to the ground.
The chain-link was not secured along the bottom of the fence. The ties that once fastened the chain-link to the rail had rusted off. Jerri heard the crowd as they started to sloppily enter the alleyway, flattening underbrush and snapping saplings in their wake. She dropped the shotgun and quickly got on the ground. She pulled up on the chain-link with both hands and rolled underneath it onto the opposite side. She reached back under the fence and retrieved the shotgun she left behind.
Looking up, she saw an ominous sign attached to the fence:
Her stomach knotted at what could have been a costly mistake before things went to hell. She stood, placing most of her weight on her uninjured leg, and frantically searched for any sort of shelter.
A long narrow street ran next to the airfield. The pavement was cracked, the streetlamps were shattered, and mounds of old trash in red biohazard bags were piled on the curb. Countless five-story tall tenements lined the side of the road and solar power arrays crowned their rooftops. Most of the buildings were dark and abandoned, some were caved-in, but there were a few that showed signs of inhabitants and had their front entrance lights on.
The building across the street from Jerri was one of the few that had its main entry and most of its windows lit. It wasn’t her first choice for a hideaway, but the other two buildings next to it were dark and had their front doors boarded-up and sloppily spray-painted with ‘QUARANTINE’ in large orange letters.
She heard her pursuers closing in on her.
Without wasting another second, Jerri ran across the street towards the tenement.
A jeep turned from an adjacent street and was approaching quickly from the distance. Jerri bounded through the grossly overgrown courtyard, past a row of moldy wooden park benches, up the cracked cement staircase, and to the front door. The building’s doors were massive and looked like they came off of an old cathedral. A sign above the door read: HOPE BUILDING – DORMITORY 28.
Desolation Page 24
