The scenario wasn’t promising: a jet on the low end of its fuel capacity forced to land on an unmanned runway that might not be long enough, at night, with no lights, and with no guarantee that it was clear for a landing.
“Are there any other alternatives, Tom?” The president sat up straight in his chair.
“Well, sir, the pilot said we’d have no other choice but to try to put it down on a highway, and …”
The first lady jumped to her feet. Landings scared her the most when it came to flying. The thought of landing on a highway in Canada with all those damn pine trees along the sides of the road was sheer terror. The president stood and took her hand before she had a chance to speak.
“Tom,” the president said with an air of calm that didn’t fit the tension of the moment, “exactly where is this airport?”
“Prince George, sir. The town is called Prince George.”
Forty-Seven
“Sir, Mr. Etheridge!” Holmes hollered above the noise of the aircraft’s engines. “The pilot informed me we’ll touch down around daylight, sir.”
Holmes had been sent forward by his mentor for an estimation of their arrival time in Canada. It had been less than an hour since they had picked up the additional group at Harrisburg, and Etheridge had already run out of patience with the discomfort of a transport plane.
Etheridge nodded acknowledgment. The strain showed on his face. He’d aged ten years along with everybody else on this flight.
“Take two of these, sir. It’ll help you sleep.” Holmes struggled to keep his feet as he handed Etheridge a bottle of Restoril. Transport planes were not known for their smooth ride.
“Well, maybe I will get some sleep, eh, Holmes?” Etheridge reached for the flask of Scotch in his jacket and popped the cap.
After dropping three capsules into his mouth, he took a good-sized swig of Scotland’s most famous beverage. “Ahh… that hit the spot, Holmes?”
“Thank you, sir.” Holmes took the flask.
I could do with a bloody bucket of this stuff, he thought.
“Let’s see how we do.” Etheridge wrapped his expensive dark suit jacket around himself. “Wake me when we get to … to … What was the name of that place again?”
“Prince George, sir.”
Etheridge nodded and pulled his coat tighter. Holmes then took a seat on the opposite side of him. There was enough room up at this end of the plane. He finished off the flask of whiskey and closed his eyes to get some sleep as well, or at least attempt it.
Both men slept for the rest of the journey, not a peaceful sleep by any means. Both dreamed of the events of the last few days and their involvement. Neither man would have thought in their wildest dreams that Prince George would not only be their destination, it would be their fate. And Milton Etheridge would be more than thankful for the soldiers.
Forty-Eight
After introductions were made, a few hot coffees were served, along with a glass or two of Canadian Club whiskey for the men, and a light snack. The conversation moved rapidly to the current state they were in. The stairs outside the cellar door led to an underground bunker Elliot’s aunt had built some years back as she had prepared herself for the inevitable nuclear devastation. She hadn’t thought it would be used for an undead apocalypse.
Kath Goodwin knew about much of what had occurred in Idaho from James. Still, she was interested in their exploits on the way. She knew of the foamers from James, the internet (no longer available—no electricity), and personal experience. The stories of attacks by armed gangs didn’t surprise her, either. She, along with James, had dealt with the situation on more than one occasion. Elliot’s description of the mutant children did, however, send a chill up her back.
The Tall Man and Mulhaven wanted to know more about the state of affairs in the area—how bad was it, and what, if any, resources might be available. Kath understood. They could catch up on history later. She was elated to have company, real live human beings, again.
James was also pleased by the company, but for Kath, the excitement went one better. In her late forties now, she was considered quite attractive and never had trouble catching the eye of a man half her age. She had never married, had never found anyone worth it, but she didn’t live like a convent nun either. She liked her men tall and fit. Once inside her basement bunker with all the lights on, she got her first good look at the man introduced as Charles “just call me Chuck” Black. For a moment she forgot about the crisis, the spreading pandemic, and the pain.
Oh my, have all my dreams come true a hundredfold? She asked herself as she stared at the Tall Man, who, she was pleased to note, held an interested eye on her. Her only objections were the scruffy beard that hid the chiseled face and the odor from the clothes he and the others from Twin Falls wore. Nothing that hot water, soap and a sharp razor couldn’t fix.
“How strong are these doors?” the Tall Man asked.
Strong, resonant voice, too. Oh, I like, I like! “Err, they’re strong … Mr. Black. I had this built strictly to my specifications to withstand all but a direct strike, and I don’t cut corners.”
“Chuck, just call me Chuck,” he said with a smile.
And such a devilish smile, too, and a glint, I’m sure there was a glint in his eye. Kath blinked hard and gritted her teeth. I’ve got to shake these thoughts! Hell, the world’s facing a catastrophe of Biblical proportions and all I can think of is a good screw from this hulk!
The Tall Man’s thoughts were elsewhere as well. He found Kath appealing, even without makeup and in thick woolen mountain man clothing. He found her attractive and strong-willed. He liked that in a woman. He hated what he called “clingers,” women who couldn’t do much for themselves. There would be time in the future, he hoped, for thoughts of being alone, but right now his mind was on survival.
“And power?”
“We have a gasoline generator, a windmill, and solar panels.” James answered the Tall Man this time. “The generator won’t last, but the windmill and the solar panels will.”
“And what about food storage?” Mulhaven joined in.
“We have about six months or more. I always added to it every couple of weeks, but since the outbreak it hasn’t been possible,” Kath said.
The Tall Man rubbed a hand through the unkempt mop on his head, which gave Kath more wicked ideas.
“I’ll assume you mean food for two?” Elliot asked.
“Yes, well … we didn’t expect company.”
“We didn’t expect any of this, Aunt Kath, none of it.”
“Oh, Elliot, I know, I know.” Kath went to her nephew and hugged him. She was joined by Margaret Grigsby, who put her arms around the two of them. People, human feelings, family … they remembered all of it and wept. Those emotions, along with humans themselves, appeared to be headed for extinction.
“What’s it like in the city of Prince George?” Cindy asked.
“Oh, Cindy.” Kath wiped tears from her cheek. “Devastation, pure devastation. Think of the images of Hurricane Katrina without the floods, and you have an idea.”
Kath detailed the events and how they had unfolded, similar to their own experiences in Twin Falls. “The locals were sick for months, maybe a year or more, but those useless doctors … Well, they said it was a stomach flu going around and left it at that. Doctors … hmm, what do they know?”
“Only what they’ve been told, Aunt Kath,” a misty-eyed Elliot said to her.
“Let’s all go upstairs. The windows are blacked out. We’ll be okay. You can clean up. There’s plenty of hot water, and you gentlemen can have a shave.” She pointed to the other set of stairs. “If you want to, of course.”
The large clapboard house had been built in the early 1950s and had been remodeled many times over the years. Kath not only had built a bomb shelter in the basement, she’d put in new electronics that gave her central control of all locks on doors and windows, plus many other security devices. Unfortunately, she had never gotten a
round to replacing the front gate after she’d taken the old one off. There hadn’t appeared to be any immediate need. There never does, until you realize it’s too late.
Two showers had been installed in the house, and as the survivors from Twin Falls (Elliot had started calling them the TWSG, Twin Falls Survivor Group, which everyone thought summed them up well) took turns washing up and shaving, Kath grabbed the opportunity to gather the old clothes and toss them into her front-load washing machine.
“Elliot, you said there were extra clothes in that motor home of yours?”
“Yes, Aunt Kath. We …”
“Why don’t you grab your girl, Cindy, and get some? Y’all want to change into something clean soon.”
“How do you know she’s my girl?”
“Elliot, I’m a woman. Trust me, I know.” Kath smiled back and pinched his chin. “You need a shave, too, young man!”
Elliot laughed then got Cindy and told Mulhaven of his plans to gather some clothes from the motor home.
“Well, with all your aunt has told us about the foamer activity around here, it might not be …”
“I’ll dim the lights. If you just use a flashlight, it will be all right,” Kath commented.
Mulhaven looked around the inside of the living area where everyone gathered—everyone except the Tall Man and David. They had won the draw for the first of the showers. This concerned Mulhaven. They hadn’t faced a situation without the guidance and leadership of the Tall Man, and though he was but a few feet away in the shower, Mulhaven doubted Chuck would want to rush outside and fight foamers stark naked.
“Maybe we should wait until Chuck gets out of the shower.”
“Wait for what? Watch him stand there without a stitch on? I’ve taken his clothes to be washed.” If she had to tell the truth, she would indeed have liked to see that, preferably with just the two of them.
Later girl, later.
“You and James can stand watch, I’ll stay at the door. Won’t take but five minutes.”
“Okay, okay,” Mulhaven snapped. He was used to making decisions or being a part of the process. He grabbed an AR-15 while David took a 12-gauge pump—the only two long guns they’d brought into the house with them.
Fifteen—not five—minutes later, Elliot and Cindy returned with the last load of extra clothes and weapons. Elliot had his .44 Magnum Ruger strapped to his hip again, and he instantly appreciated the increase in confidence. Cindy had her 10mm Delta with her. Allan helped them through the door with their load.
“Okay, we’re clear!” Mulhaven said as he squeezed back inside, rifle muzzle up.
“Great. It’ll feel good for you guys to get into clean clothes again after a shower,” Kath said and switched the lights back on.
“What’s all the commotion, and where are my clothes?” the Tall Man asked when he walked into the room. Clean shaven and with a towel draped around his waist, his six-foot-six-plus frame was a sight for the ladies to behold—especially Kath. One of her favorite pastimes was reading, and she even admitted to enjoying romance books. She always laughed at the phrase “weak at the knees” and had wondered if it was just imagination on the part of the author. Well, now she understood it, and it wasn’t imagination.
“Hi there, handsome!” Cindy beamed at the big guy.
Kath was surprised that she felt a touch of jealousy over Cindy’s remark. She could tell the girl looked up to this colossus. Perhaps it was admiration. After all, she was Elliot’s, wasn’t she? Kath reprimanded herself—she was acting like a teenager again. But it did feel good.
“Yeah, like a new man. Here ya go, Chuck, some clean clothes for you.” Elliot handed over a bag with shirts, pants, and jackets. Underwear and socks were inside another bag within.
“You went outside to get these?”
“It’s all right, Chuck, James and I kept watch.” Mulhaven let everyone know he didn’t need approval to do things.
“I’m sure you did, it’s just …”
“Hey, Cindy, isn’t it your turn for a shower?” Elliot headed off any possible dissention. He’d learned this art from the Tall Man over the last few days.
“Yes, it is, me and Margaret.”
David and the Tall Man gathered their clothes and changed in a bedroom to one side of the hallway that led into the living area. They looked so fresh and vibrant after their cleanup and shave, the others couldn’t wait to shower, especially the men, who all wanted to shave the growth off their faces. Even Allan had some peach fuzz to remove. While two showered, the rest sat and talked with a coffee or tea in hand, as though neighbors or family had dropped in for a visit. Like it used to be, before.
Before Phillip Baer and his greed to control the vegetable industry and then the fast food industry.
Before the Chamber saw his plans of greed as a means to implement their own grandiose goals.
Before the Chamber had their biochemists manipulate the potato growth hormone that was to be Phillip Baer’s passport to achieving his dreams.
Before they created a pestilence that would engulf everything in its path … before they realized they extent of their madness.
Before it was too late.
* * *
Elliot heard it first. He was attuned, it appeared, to any unnatural sounds. Not long after the last of the showers were over, they all relaxed for the first time in days, courtesy of the comfort of Kath’s house. They talked softly among themselves. They spoke in hushed tones, like soldiers of World War I who remained quiet in the trenches, though the enemy might be a thousand yards away. Or ten yards. You never knew, so it paid to be cautious. Because of the demeanor they’d adopted, Elliot was able to pick up on the approaching sound.
“Listen! Do you hear it?” Elliot stood up and held out the palm of his hand.
The conversation stopped, along with the relaxed feeling. Not again, please not again, they collectively thought.
“No, what can you hear, Elliot?” The Tall Man stood and his hand reached for his Desert Eagle.
“A plane … a fucking jet plane!”
Forty-Nine
A Secret Service agent rushed down the aisle of the plane, stopping just short of Tom Transky. “Sir, the pilot said we’re coming up on Prince George now.”
“Thank you,” Tom said to the agent, then turned to the president. “Let me go check with the pilot, sir.”
While Tom went to the cockpit, the president looked up the aisle to where the first lady sat. He felt anxious about the landing, there was no doubt of that.
Tom returned a moment later. He didn’t attempt to conceal his concern. “We’re going to circle the airport, burn off some fuel.”
“Do we have much?” the president asked.
“Not a lot, sir, but … err …” Tom hesitated. He found it hard to remain in control.
“But what, Tom?”
“Sir, there appear to be fires in the city of Prince George itself, but there are no lights on the runway. The pilot will get the best reference he can then do his best. There’s no guarantee we’ll make it, sir.”
The president felt tiny dots of perspiration form on his forehead, and his chest pounded. As he struggled to draw a breath, he thought of his wife, his children. Like Tom, he was scared, but they’d run out of choices.
He didn’t think a normal landing would be possible.
Why should I expect normality to break out?
He looked at his wife, and she at him. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She was aware as anyone they were still a long way from safety.
“You’ll excuse me a moment, won’t you, Tom?”
Tom looked at the president and followed his gaze up the aisle. “Yes, sir, of course.”
* * *
“There is no other choice, honey,” the president said to his wife.
“But, isn’t there another …”
“Shh, there is no other way.” He placed an index finger to her lips.
The president wanted a few minutes alone with his wife and
children. He explained to them without drama, but also without any attempt to hide the danger of the predicament they were in.
“It’s our only chance, but at least we still have a chance.”
“Yes, oh yes.” The first lady grabbed her husband and cried on his shoulder.
The children rallied around their parents and joined in the hug—fest.
The president gave a dismissive wave to Tom. He would stay here, with his family, for the landing. They would survive or they wouldn’t, but they’d do it together.
Fifty
The plane was closer now, everyone was aware of it.
“There hasn’t been a plane by here for days,” Kath informed them. “With that noise overhead, I’m sure it will attract the natives.”
“Natives? What kind of natives do you …”
“Easy, Allan. I think she means our foamer friends.” Mulhaven strolled over and patted the young man on the shoulder.
“I need to take a look. Come on, Elliot. You too, Kath.” With no time for discussion, the Tall Man rushed to the door.
They went outside through the cellar door, the sound of the plane clear. It sounded near.
“There!” Elliot pointed, though the plane could not be seen in the dark.
The Tall Man looked, but it took him a moment before he saw the lights of the plane.
“He’s got his landing lights on!”
“Is the runway big enough for a jet?” Elliot asked. No one knew the size of the plane, but it sounded big.
“Do you know, Kath?” the Tall Man asked.
“Well, it depends on the size of the plane. If it’s anything like a 747, then no way.”
“Is the airport open?”
“My God, no. It was shut down days ago.”
“Then there are no lights on the runway.”
“It looks like it’s going around in a circle, Chuck,” Elliot called.
“He’s circling to find the airport or burn off fuel. Damn, he’s gonna try it!”
“It could be blocked. CAF units were there the day they closed it, with vehicles all on the runway to prevent anyone from taking off.”
The Beginning of the End (Book 2): Toward the Brink II Page 12
