Zombie Theorem (Book 4): Aces Mortis

by James Wallace

  Nunzio agreed to take the three pilots with him to the airfield but dictated that they be armed and able to take care of themselves since he needed his entire force for his primary objective. The three pilots agreed and asked for a quick rundown on the use of the SCAR battle rifle that the Seals scared up for them. Hashkeh saw to the chore and overloaded the pilots with precious ammo and beat into their heads to keep their eyes moving constantly and to be ready for when they fired up those jet engines, they will be ringing the dinner bell to a bunch of maniacal, cannibal, zombies. He gave them quick instruction to shoot in the chest first, freezing the zombie in place for a heartbeat, allowing them then to take the follow up head shot if they had time. If not, he suggested they move quickly and back each other up. He would try and come back for them if they needed him, but made no promise.

  The Chinooks came in and landed in formation on the nearly empty deck of the carrier, their blades continuing to turn as they dropped their rear ramps. Nunzio instructed the Seals to mount up. He watched as the leaderless Seal Team Six fell under their Master Chief and boarded their own helicopter. He was more amazed when Hashkeh frog marched the three jet pilots he was training into their helicopter. Nunzio stayed on the deck until his last man was aboard and then and only then, stepped off the deck and onto his helicopter. The Chinooks took off staggered and in a roar of noise set off in a southerly direction. The Ospreys and Apaches roared closely behind, buzzing the bridge.

  Langham had rushed out to the walkway outside and watched the Chinooks land and her Seals board them. She had a moment she wished she could’ve gone with them. As the Chinooks lifted off the deck, she caught a small figure standing on one of the aircraft elevators to the starboard side of the deck. She knew it was Pauline, seeing her man and his team off. She made a mental note to check on her and her project personally. When the Ospreys and Apaches buzzed by, Langham waved up at them and to her amazement the pilots waved back, and gave the thumbs up. Her ship felt empty all of a sudden. Another noise caught her attention as the other aircraft elevator whined to life and hoisted one of her F-35s onto the deck. It looked different to her, it was not in the Navy configuration, it had no tail hook or the distinct tail. It further surprised her when doors opened underneath and above the airframe and its engine swiveled downward. In a show of intense noise and expert flying, the plane lifted off the deck like a helicopter. It jumped into the air and climbed higher and higher, when reaching a predestined altitude, the plane changed configuration again and rocketed away. It was the first time she had seen one of the precious Marine F-35Bs in action. She never thought it would work when all the military branches joined forces to have one aircraft created for all of them. But she just saw it happen.

  Langham made her way back into the bridge and over to Copeland’s workstation. “Can you have someone find Mr. Jarvis and escort him to my ready room?”

  Copeland looked up from her work and nodded. “Aye, aye Ma’am,” she looked up at Langham and her long hair flowed around her shoulders.

  Langham noticed this and figured she was in a for dime might as well be in for a dollar. “While you’re at it, alert the crew, I am relaxing certain grooming standards, as long as your hair does not affect your job or others, let it fly.”

  Copeland frowned, she had a pixie haircut, finding it easier to have short hair and just not worry about regulations. At least now she can grow it, she thought to herself. “Done and done ma’am. Any other orders?”

  “That is all for now, Copeland.”

  Chun moved quickly just over the wave tops, staying low to hopefully avoid detection from Ridder or any of their cohorts. Kevorkian sat next to him in the co-pilot seat, eyes peeled to the horizon looking for any sign of their sub, his men hung out the open side doors doing the same thing. They had been flying for just under an hour, checking heading to the last reported coordinates that Captain Anaba had transmitted to find her sub. Chun was hoping that the sub would appear soon, he wanted to swing by the Reagan, grab Thor and a quick refill of fuel and head to Coronado. He wanted to be there for his men, even though he felt very assured that Master Chief Barth could handle the mission and his men on his own. But he felt personally responsible for his men’s safety, and would never forgive himself for not doing all he could for them. Another tedious twenty minutes crawled by as he stared at wave after wave roll underneath the belly of the Dragonhawk. Then Kevorkian pointed out the front windscreen of the cockpit and yelled out. “Sub conning tower ahoy!”

  Chun squinted in the direction the finger pointed and spotted the mottled brown tower. He headed slowly in its direction and slew the copter in a circuit around it. Checking it out and making sure he had the right sub. His fear melted as he spotted the demure woman waving at him. He waggled the chopper back at her in response. His hands were very busy keeping it in the air and stable.

  “Hope you guys don’t mind getting wet,” he shouted across cabin to Kevorkian.

  “Come on, Lt. You know we don’t feel right unless we are cold and sopping wet,” he threw a thumbs up in Chun’s direction and moved to the rear, getting his men ready to jump into the drink.

  Chun felt the Dragonhawk lighten and bounce into the air slightly as Kevorkian and his men jumped out. He pulled away and brought the Dragonhawk around so he could see the men in the water and their progress to the sub. He hovered at a distance as the sub crew helped bring the dripping wet Seals onboard. Kevorkian waved high to Chun, and Chun responded by doing a slow fly by. Once he saw the men disappearing into open hatches, he turned back east and towards the Reagan’s last position. He advanced the throttles, in a hurry to get back.

  Butch marched up and down the middle of the Chinook, looking over his men and the three pilots. He had decided he and his men would wait for the rest of the formation to do a fly over the airfield and base, hopefully taking in their wake some of the troublesome zombies. Then they would come in and drop the pilots off to do their jobs. An Apache would stay with his helicopter, giving them air cover as they dropped off their charges.

  Nunzio instructed his pilots to fly low and slow over the base from the airfield out to the bridge, before moving on to a warehouse by the sub pens on Highway 75. The Chinooks would then discord their men, and wait on station to drop their slings to carry the vehicles out of there. If all went according to plan, which Nunzio had never seen happen before, they would be out of there within an hour. Hopefully the Ospreys and Apaches could keep their flanks clear long enough to pull this mission off. He had full confidence his men could do their job quick, concise, and adapting, with stealth or violence, depending on what the situation called for.

  The Chinook went feet “dry” which meant they were over land instead of water. Nunzio ordered the rear ramp to be lowered and two of his men hung out, keeping him informed of any hordes and if they were following like snakes to his pied piper whopping of the Chinook’s rotors. He got on the radio and instructed the other two Chinooks to race ahead and drop men down so they could get to work on reconnoitering the warehouse and drop zone. He had to work hard at coordinating all the moving pieces by himself. Right now, he really wished he had Chun around to help carry the load of command, but deep down he knew he could handle it. He just had to ‘suck it up’.

  They flew very low over the airfield and found a small horde of what looked to be burned zombies. It was then he remembered the plan they enacted when they left this place, and the fires Kevorkian had ignited. He moved to the rear and ducked low to see the horde turn and follow slowly in the helicopter’s wake. “Okay, so far this plan is working,” he muttered to himself.

  They continued around the hangar and crossed by their old home, the commissary. It looked strange to him, like an old house that the kids in the neighborhood swore was haunted. The loud whopping sound of the two rotors was deafening inside the Chinook with the rear ramp lowered, and the sound was loud enough to draw the dead from all around. The pilots worked hard trying to keep the large helicopter in the air, slowly movi
ng. The crew chief of the bird stayed busy watching for overhead wires and obstacles. The last thing they needed now was for them to foul up the rotors and crash into the ground. They would become Spam in a can smorgasbord for the zombies following if that happened. Nunzio radioed the Chinook calling for the remnants of Team Six to move in and drop off the pilots while they had as many zombies as they could draw away busy.

  “Alright flyboys, I just got the go for insertion call. Grab your balls and be ready to be baptized by fire,” he met the pilot’s eyes and saw trepidation and fear. Butch made a quick command decision. Turning to the pilots, he spoke into his headset. “We are not doing a touch and go, put this thing down as close as you can to the hardened shelters. We are going to go out and give these men a chance at their objective,” the Chinook pilots looked to each other and nodded their heads affirmative.

  Butch removed his headset and moved to the rear. His men sat uncharacteristically quiet. He checked his weapon for the third time to make sure it was charged and ready to spit lead death. He clapped his hands, getting his men’s attention. When all eyes were on him, he filled them in on his improvised plan. “These flyboys will get ripped to pieces if we don’t support them. Their mission is too important. We are going to range out with them and give them some cover until they can get their little birds moving. Hashkeh, stay by their side no matter what. Rest of you, setup a diamond around their craft, the Chinook will stay on the ground with us, rotors turning,” he turned to the flight chief of the bird and waved him over. “Get that 240 set up on the ramp and cover the bird, if we can’t hold don’t wait for us, save your bird and take off. We will find our way.”

  The crew chief shook his head. “Not leaving you guys behind, Master Chief.”

  Butch slapped the man’s helmet lightly. “Shit boy, we Seals are never happy unless being tested by thousands of dead-ass zombie skinnies. Hell, they’d probably end up choking to death on our rough hides, we don’t go down easily unless chased by the hard stuff,” The crew chief nodded emphatically laughing over Butch’s declaration. “Out-fucking-standing!” Butch roared.

  The Chinook came in fast from the ocean side of the field and flared quickly to a heart pounding stop. The pilots dropped to the ground as the ramp was halfway down. Butch was the first outside, with his newly acquired SAW MK-46 5.56 by 45mm machine gun that looked small as he held it high and with both hands. He ranged out twenty-five yards from the ramp. Hootie and Lupo poured from the rear and circled around the three F-18 hornets, covering them from opposing directions. Dio and Hashkeh led the three flyboys out and moved with them to their jets. The pilots quickly got to work, doing a walk around their aircraft. Hashkeh sighed and shook his head.

  “You guys do not have time for all the checklists. Get your asses moving, we are not going to hold out long if you are going to follow doctrine,” Hashkeh yelled out to them.

  One of the pilots broke from the trio and ran towards a small hardened shelter. Hashkeh whistled to Dio, and pointed at the pilot running away. Dio shook his head in amazement, at the stupidity of the move, and chased after him. He caught him quickly and almost knocked him to the ground. “What the fuck are you doing, numb nuts?” he shouted into the pilot’s face.

  The man’s helmet had painted on it the name ‘Dumbo’. His eyes were large and he looked bewildered and cowered at the dangerous Seals face. “Www-we need the start-up cart, or we will never get these birds off the ground,” he stuttered out. His shaky finger pointed to two dollies loaded with equipment.

  Dio closed his eyes for a quick moment, trying to calm himself, so he wouldn’t beat this man’s ass. “Okay, but next time tell us. I’ll help, stay on my ass!” Dio sprinted away towards the carts. He was amazed to see the pilot keeping pace with him. Not many men could do that. Dio liked to run marathons for fun when he was off duty, but he was carrying close to a hundred pounds worth of equipment and extra magazines for his HK-416 rifle in his hands. They arrived at the carts and Dio motioned for Dumbo to take one of the carts and get moving. Dio took a moment and turned in a tight circle, rifle up snug to his cheek as he took in his area, looking for movement of any kind. Behind him, he felt the wind being generated by the turning rotors of the Chinook on the ground pushing him in the back. He felt assured they were alone and was about to grab the cart and move when he caught movement from his left. A zombie, so burned that he could not make out what sex it had been, came stumbling from behind a pallet of boxes. Its skin burned to a crisp and split in places so the muscles below could be seen moving. It had no eyes, he figured they had been boiled away by the intense fire it had been baked in. No hair was left on its head, the lips pulled back in a tight grimace, its teeth already chomping the air. Dio sat there for a moment, trying to decide to engage it or let it be. It moved so slowly from its crispy skin he figured he could crawl faster than the thing could move. He shook his head and dropped his gun, turning to grab the dolly when a hand landed on his shoulder. He reached up, grabbing the wrist attached to the hand and twisted, breaking its grip from his shoulder, and twisted dropping to his knees. He worked quickly, pulling the Sig Sauer P-226 silenced 9mm handgun from his chest rig and put a shot right between the dead woman’s eyes. He wasted no more time examining the body as it fell. He turned, grabbed the cart and ran, pushing it in front of him, gun still in his hand.

  He made it to the trio of pilots and handed it off. He got Hashkeh’s attention and hand signaled enemy seen, and that he had dealt with it. Hashkeh nodded his head affirmative and motioned for Dio to cover that direction. Dio nodded his understanding moving into position, switching his sidearm for his rifle. He dropped to his knee and brought the rifle up, sweeping his assigned direction through his Leupold Mark 8 1-8 CQBSS. He liked this scope, he could use it medium range or up close. He had used it many of times for long distance shots also, but he had a special rifle he used for that, or did, he had left it back at the compound weeks ago.

  Butch felt uneasy over the silence in his area. He was facing to the west of the airfield, and out to one of the bigger hangars. Nothing moved in his direction and he didn’t feel good about it. He risked a quick glance around him and out towards his brothers. He caught the hand motions Dio delivered to Hashkeh and knew it was just a matter of time. If those fighters didn’t get off the ground, he was going to call the mission off and board the Chinook. His radio came to life. “Master Chief, we have a small horde coming out from behind a bunch of pallets to our south. Over,” Hootie called out.

  “Say how many. Over.”

  “I stopped counting at twenty.”

  “You can only count to twenty,” cut in Lupo. “Oh shit, I got a horde coming out from the hangar to the north. I count forty, I repeat forty. They don’t look disabled and are moving at a pretty good clip. What are your orders, Master Chief? Over.”

  “Wait one, break. Hashkeh, how long until those fighters are off the ground? Over.”

  Butch had to wait a minute until he got his response. “They are saying they are not sure if they have enough fuel to get to the Reagan.”

  “You tell them that they can die here by the teeth of the dead gas bags heading our way, or in the ocean. Really it is up to them, we will give them another ten minutes, and then we are getting the fuck out of here with or without them,” Butch yelled loud enough that Hashkeh didn’t need the radio to hear him.

  The pilots standing around heard the message and decided to take their chances in the air. Two of the pilots got into their planes and started their engines. The last pilot showed Hashkeh how to unplug the starting carts and then moved the last one to his bird and hooked it up. He climbed inside and started flipping switches, warming up his internal computer and navigation equipment. When he was sure he was good, he gave a thumbs up to Hashkeh and fired up his engine. The other two planes were already moving, and taxiing to the runway. They finally got a good look at the big crashed plane on the runway.

  The lead pilot radioed. “Hangman, wait until I get rolling, then
fall in behind me, we don’t have room to take off abreast. We should get enough speed to take off before we get to that wreck, but keep your eyes open.”

  “Roger that, Caleb.”

  Caleb advanced his throttles and held his brakes down, waiting to build up power. He looked down at his gauges and felt assured he could make it into the air before the wreck and popped his brakes. The jet leapt forward like a Bucking Bronc being freed from its gate. Caleb kept one eye on his airspeed and the other on the runway and wreck getting closer and closer. Caleb had nerves of steel when he was in his fighter. He knew when he was in the air that not many pilots, alive yesteryear or even now could knock him out of the sky. At the last second, he pulled back on his stick and advanced the throttles to their stops. The sleek jet raised its nose, pointing up to the sky and rocketed up screaming into the air. Once he felt the plane become airborne, he looked to the mirror offset to his side and witnessed as Hangman joined off his wing. They flew out over the ocean and swung a wide circle back, waiting for Dumbo to get off the ground.

  Dumbo motioned for Hashkeh to disconnect the cart and move back. He then taxied quickly, just as Hootie opened up with his rifle on the horde as it got closer. As soon as Hootie engaged, Lupo was forced to engage, thundering shots echoed across the airfield and over the whine of the jet engine. Dumbo moved quickly out of their way and rolled out to the end of the runway. He held his brakes and advanced his throttles. He was in a hurry to get off the ground and into the air so the Seals could evacuate into their Chinook and get moving. He was in such a hurry he was not paying attention to his aircraft. He popped his brakes and the F-18 Hornet took off screaming down the runway. He was paying more attention to the Seals and what they were doing than the wreck that he was hurtling towards at a high rate of speed. He turned his head and saw the C-17 filling his windscreen. He panicked and pulled his stick back, he pushed his throttles to full power and then to his afterburners. When they kicked in, a flame shot out of the engines and thrust him back in his seat. He was having a problem with controlling the plane. Just as he reached the wreck, his plane was gaining altitude but not enough, it clipped the wreckage, throwing his plane nose high and with his engines at full afterburner, it flipped the multi-million-dollar, state-of-the-art fighter backwards and slammed it into the runway. It exploded in a flash so bright that it lit up the sky, the shockwave was so pronounced and strong that it knocked the two hordes moving towards the Seals down. Butch and his men knew what was coming and dropped to their knees and dropped their heads. The shockwave blew over them and rocked the Chinook.