by Vic Sandel
“Oh yes, and one more thing. Do you really think you are the only people left in the world that can read Morse Code? That was a pretty tough signal to miss.”
“Why don't we land and talk more freely?” Tina suggested.
“Sounds alright, our station is just a couple of minutes ahead. Follow us in and we can talk over a couple of cups of hot coffee. Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot for a moment. Do you people drink coffee?”
Jessie had to laugh. These guys were trying so hard. “Yes sir, coffee will be just fine.”
“Great, just follow us in and pull your plane right up to the gate.”
There was a momentary rotor wash as the MH65 came from behind and hopped right over them. The chopper flew about five miles and dropped into a gated area onto it's pad. There was a small runway within a larger gated area, and Jessie landed his plane there and taxied to the forward gate as requested.
Tina and Jessie watched as four men climbed out of the helicopter. They were all dressed in clean uniforms, cleanly shaven, and ready for inspection, if anything like that was still happening. Feeling much more comfortable, they left the safety of the Cherokee and stepped out to meet their new friends.
Everyone filed into the administration building which was empty, waiting for their arrival. Everything was spotless and orderly. Within a couple of minutes, the welcome smell of brewing coffee was filling the room.
Without hesitation, the senior officer introduced the group. “ I'm Lieutenant Brian Sanders, O.I.C., and Chief Pilot. This other handsome gentleman is my co-pilot, Ensign Rodney Richards. The rather large muscled guy making the coffee is Master Chief Petty Officer, Hal Simpson, and the younger, suave-looking guy over there doing nothing is Petty Officer First Class Glen Sanders. His official title is Rescue Swimmer, but I just call him Bro, as he happens to be my younger brother. Now, that is the full complement of the MH65 Dolphin, and of this post.”
“Jessie Porter, volunteer CAG-1, formerly U.S. Military Special forces. I worked on Seal teams as well as with the Rangers, whenever I was needed. I love my country and will do all I can to help it survive, no matter what it takes. In this case a couple of months ago, I decided that the most effective way I could serve was as a member of CAG-1.”
“So you became a vampire?”
“Not such a bad life. The abilities that came with the change were well worth the sacrifice. All the vampires I have met to date have more humanity, if you wish to call it that, than a good percentage of humans I have run into.”
“The lady with me is my partner, Tina Pearson. She was CAG-1 way ahead of me and I trust her with my life, which by the way, she saved just yesterday for maybe the twentieth time. She is perhaps the most loyal and trustworthy individual I have ever met.”
Nodding her thanks,Tina decided to ask something that was bugging her. “Glen, right? What does a rescue swimmer do these days?”
“Well, I don't get my flippers wet much any more. We were able to salvage some weaponry from a small interception boat that was previously used to chase down drug runners. We installed machine guns at the sliding doors and have rocket launchers mounted on our struts. So these days, I guess I'm a Chief Gunner's Mate. I've gone from life saver to Zombie slayer!”
“Tell me, Brian, are there any other available resources nearby?”
“There is only one more functional helicopter in District 9. It has been operating in a similar manner to the one you sent home with the F-14. The only thing is that Captain Harris does these relocation’s to save lives. He has never taken anything from anyone. I think I can make him see he can save more lives by joining us at Wright Patterson. He also has a Jayhawk, like the other, but commands the full compliment aboard. I've already had a preliminary talk with him and I was supposed to get back to him after I spoke with you. So, whatcha got and what's your plan? Convince me, and I'll convince him!”
Over the next hour, Jessie and Tina told Brian and his crew everything. From the freezing test scheduled for today, to the newly developed vaccine against bites. They talked of the additional CAG groups that should arrive soon and the amounts of creepers approaching from all directions. Finally, Jessie told them about the new microwave weapons Dr. Marco and Dr. Baldwin were trying to perfect. He convinced Brian that staying where he was, in the path of the oncoming, was not an option. Lastly, he emphasized the importance of slowing the advance while these things were worked out and readied, and how important it would be to have every chopper and pilot available, armed, and functional.
Brian was quiet a couple of moments. He shook his head a second as if that could clear up everything, then strode to the radio. “Harris, this is Sanders, do you copy?”
“Been waiting on this frequency for your call Brian. What do you think?”
“I think we'd better get our men and gear over to Wright Patterson. These guys may be thee-best chance we have to end this thing, once and for all. How long will it take you to get here so we can fly over together?”
“I need to pull some useful stuff out of my base, so lets say ninety minutes.”
“I'll do the same. Wheels up in two then.”
“Well, you've got your third chopper, and he too has a hell of a crew. Relax, have some more coffee. He'll be here on time, guaranteed. You might want to top off your little guzzler for the flight home.”
“See, Brian added, this time you didn't even need your F-14! While we have some time, why don't we see what our armory has to offer?”
Needless-to-say, He and his people already knew what their arms room held. If they wanted to make an impression on Tina and Jessie, they did just that. Unlike the last post they had spent time on, this one was chock full of armaments. Their original supply was good, but the weapons collection they salvaged from captured drug runners over the years was beyond outstanding. Ultra-modern hand held Stinger missiles leaned against the walls, side-by-side with World War II, vintage Browning automatic rifles. Cases of missiles, grenades, and cartridges sat alongside and under tables piled high with pistols and rifles of every sort. One pile alone held about three dozen AK-47s. The icing on the cake were a couple of old flame-throwers that certainly could have some use in fighting zombies.
Jessie selected a BAR for himself along, with a case of filled clips.
Tina, not to be outdone selected a folding launcher and a case of the Stingers. She grabbed a hand truck and rolled her loot out to the Cherokee, along with the ammo for Jessie's selection.
“Do you really expect to get all this stuff aboard your helicopter?” Jessie asked.
“You'll be surprised what she can hold. Doesn't matter, we'll get all the best stuff . Plus Harris, who's craft is a bit larger will have at least as much as we will be bringing to the party.”
Tina had just come back into the building. “If I may guys, do any of you have families we'll need to accommodate at the base? I'll be glad to call and have them get rooms ready.”
“Thank you, but that will not be necessary. Our families are aboard a large, private, and heavily armed yacht, anchored in very deep water. Unlike others you have heard about, it is not, and never was, a Coast Guard Cutter.”
“Knowing you, and your people, I'm sure of that.”
For the next forty-five minutes, they worked to load the armaments aboard the helicopter and see that everything was securely strapped down.
At exactly the ninety minute mark, Harris' voice came over the radio. “Hey, you guys, he joked. “Anyone coming up to play, or do I need to come down and get you?”
“We'll be right up, but it might take my friend here in the Piper a few minutes to taxi his fixed wing into the air.”
“Roger that. We'll just hover a bit and wait for y'all.”
As they climbed into the air and set a course back to Wright Patterson, both Tina and Jessie were pretty full of themselves. The old image outsiders have of vampires is one of dour, serious, uncaring, and unfeeling monsters. These days, the monster part was pretty well gone, and those who worked with and knew
them, usually found them pretty humorous. Few realized just how fulfilled they could be after a job well done.
In the last few hours, they had secured three helicopters, six pilots, two aircraft engineers, and a couple of other useful people. Add to that approximately one thousand pounds of arms and ammo, and you have a good day's work.
Jessie had not radioed in, so the landing of two additional craft and crews would really catch Colonel Dickerson and the others by surprise. He would contact them about fifteen minutes before they touchdown to be sure not to interfere with any other air traffic. Looking at his watch, he realized that it was about time for the Chinook and escorts to begin their test.
Chapter 28
Liftoff
Robyn and her staff had just finished the inoculations and hopped off the Huey when the rotors began to spin up for takeoff.
Bob's chopper was already warmed up and just leaving the ground. The Huey would be right behind, and one of the two giant rotors on the Chinook was just beginning to turn.
The Colonel had already given orders for his mechanics to turn the Sikorsky that arrived earlier into a well-armed fighting machine. Meanwhile, he had the three individuals who had been escorted in via the F-14 in his office. If Jessie and Tina hadn't already put the “fear of God” into them, he would. He had already decided that, at least for a while, whenever any of the three flew, they would have a very capable, heavily-armed chaperone with them. Needless-to-say, a vampire would be preferred if possible. He had heard about the incident with Tina, earlier.
He looked out his window in time to see the wheels of the giant Chinook leave the ground. He knew the mission was in good hands, as Eller was flying scout and Dr. Marco was aboard with the “icemaker”. Oddly enough, Mr. Banks was continuing his one-eighty, and volunteered to go along to help if repairs were needed.
Chapter 29
Pete
Major Peter Marcus, Retired, strode into the command center a short time after the departure of the “ice team”, for lack of a better description. As a retired military officer who flew cargo missions in his beloved C-113 when needed, he pretty well had access throughout the base, when he wasn't flying.
Only the General, who was seldom seen, Colonel Dickerson, and perhaps Major Abbington, really knew anything about him. Everyone on the base knew him as “Old Pete or Pete the Pilot”. They knew of course that he flew the vintage “Flying Boxcar” when a cargo airlift was needed but that was it.
Only a couple people knew that he was at the controls of the F-14, when it took off that morning, and returned a few hours later.
A few weeks earlier, while meandering through aircraft storage areas, he had found the F-14 hidden away among all the later model 16's and 18's. Tempted by the sight of it, he opened the canopy and sat himself in the cockpit. Now at age sixty four, he felt the years melt away as he remembered the rush he had felt when he took a similar craft into the sky in the late 1960's and early 70's. Sure he had flown the F-16 and ridden in the F-18, but this was his first love. He had over two-hundred hours of combat flying in this plane, and many times had felt the exhilaration of taking her to mach-1. He never boasted of it, nor during his few times in uniform since retirement had he donned his many decorations. Suffice it to say, he had a host of them, not the least of which included the Distinguished Flying Cross, a Silver Star, and a Gold Star.
A check over of the plane revealed it had been kept in top flying shape. A check of the log book, he found in the cockpit showed that it was at an air show in Stuart, Florida, just over a year earlier.
Without permission, he found a tug that started right up, hooked it to the F-14's nose wheel and pulled her out into the light of day. A short time later she was at the generating station and connected to a heavy cable that would charge her batteries and activate all her systems.
He debated talking to Major Abbington, but he knew that the man spent most of his life figuring out ways to say no. Major Marcus chose to go above his head and reported directly to his old friend from Langley, Lt. Colonel Dickerson.
Dickerson not only gave him permission to fly the craft, but assigned him a couple of qualified jet mechanics to get it ready, and fully arm the old bird.
Pete had only taken a couple of slow laps around the facility when Dickerson called him and asked how he'd like to take a flight over to Lake Erie to escort a helicopter to its new home.
Now, one day later, he had come into headquarters to ask another favor, based upon a strong feeling he was getting.
“Excuse me sir”, he addressed Dickerson.
“Yeah, Pete what's up?”
“With your permission, sir, I'd like to catch up with that chopper group and kind of overlook things. I don't know why, but I have a feeling I just might be needed.”
“I don't understand why you have those feelings, but I learned a long time ago to trust an old soldier's gut instincts.”
“Thank you sir. Just so you know, I had the guys put some more unusual armaments aboard.”
“You know what Pete? I don't think I want to know. I'm sure you had good reasons. Good luck!”
With that, he dashed out to the flight line where the F-14 stood ready to fight for her country again.
Chapter 30
We're Home
“Wright Patterson Base, this is Cherokee One. Do you copy?”
“Go ahead Cherokee. This is Major Abbington.”
“Hello Major, this is Porter. Is anyone else listening?”
“Actually, we're all here. Colonel Dickerson and Dr. Baldwin are also here.”
“Good. I trust you got the first package we sent you this morning.”
“If you mean the one sent by special F-14 delivery, we sure did. Thank you.” The Colonel responded.
“Well, guys, roll out the red carpet, because we're about twelve minutes out with a real surprise. No, make that a couple of surprise packages.”
“We'll meet you at the field. We all love your type of surprises.”
No one felt any surprise when the little Piper glided down from the blue and touched down softly on the runway. If anything, there might have been just a touch of disappointment at the solo landing. Two minutes later, as the two beautiful USCG helicopters set down gracefully on either side of the Cherokee, anything short of joy was nowhere to be found. Even the usually unpleasant Abbington had a grin from ear-to-ear.
As the engines wound down, the crews stepped out. They were well-groomed, professional-looking members of the U.S. Military.
Jessie eyed them proudly. “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to a couple of the world's best helicopter crews ever!”
Chapter31
Attack!
What a strange looking squadron I'm leading today, Bob thought as he led the group of helicopters toward the walking plague that was devouring the earth itself. Who would have ever thought a vampire would be piloting a helicopter emblazoned with “Channel 33 Traffic”, and enhanced with heavy armaments, while leading an attack on dead people? What a strange world it had become. In well over one-hundred years of walking the earth, he could never have imagined such a thing.
Allowing for the progress he estimated the target would have made in the couple of days since he plotted their position, he figured they were about twenty minutes away from contact. He was wrong! Looking ahead, he spotted a group of about a hundred, still moving in the same direction. They were moving faster, which meant that Wright Patterson had even less time than they had anticipated.
It was quickly decided that this smaller group would present a good opportunity for a testing of their equipment and strategy, before tackling a significantly larger congregation.
Bob peeled off to let the Chinook start its run. This would be an easy test, as the area was clear of both trees and buildings. The giant copter came in slow and low. It was upwind of the target group, so all over-spray would still find its mark. At only twenty-five feet above the ground, and less than one-hundred feet from the front of the group, the large nozzl
es began emitting their frigid barrage.
The result was instantaneous. As the mixture covered each of the creepers, they immediately became white statues. Within thirty seconds or so, none of the hundred were showing any movement.
The Chinook rose up and out of the way of the Huey, with its load of excited men and one vampire. Within seconds of touchdown, the entire team was on the ground, swinging their large hammers. They were like kids, destroying a field of snowmen they had built for that purpose. The iced zombies broke and shattered just as had been expected. The whole thing had taken just a few minutes, and the destruction had been total.
Best of all, not one person had been bitten.
They were all feeling pretty good, as the Huey rose to join the other two crafts and search for a larger and more meaningful group.
Only five minutes later, they found another gathering. Somewhere around three-hundred it seemed, were fairly close together, with several additional scattered among the trees in a lightly wooded area.
After, dropping a smoke flare to establish the wind direction, the Chinook hovered down low over the trees and immediately began spraying into the wooded area, and continuing over the gathered zombies.
Just as before, the large helicopter pulled out of the area to allow the ground team room to finish the job.
Having just tasted success, the group was even more psyched up than they had been at the first landing. They charged into their work with little to no regard for safety protocols. All they saw were the harmless, frozen zombies all around them. What they failed to notice was the unfrozen group climbing and crawling over the fallen. They moved over the frozen and the shattered. If any stuck to a frozen body, another came and climbed over them. More and more continued mounting the pile.
From the air, what was happening could easily be seen, but the Chinook could not freeze the newcomers without killing their own people.
