The Zombie Solution

by Vic Sandel

  Bob had to do something to get the attention of the team, and try to lessen the odds. He put his Bell into a steep dive and sent a burst from the fearsome Gatling through the group of newcomers, far enough away from his hammer-wielding people so as not to hurt anyone. The result was immediate. Looking up, the team finally saw their dilemma. They were virtually surrounded, but the zombies were slow. They swung their hammers at everything that came near, trying to clear a path back to the Huey. They were walking on a base of frozen bodies, although, some had not yet been neutralized. In addition, some of these began to defrost!

  Bob tried to keep the team from being engulfed as more of the dead appeared from all directions, having been attracted by the noise. He made another pass with the Gatling pouring out bullets by the thousands. He put down hundreds, but they kept coming. At least he had created a kind of firewall between the men and the new arrivals.

  Finally, the Huey pilot woke up to the fact that his passengers could use a little help. He lifted off the ground just a couple of feet and moved toward the battleground. Moving slowly over the pile, he began to pick up his men as they stepped onto the skids and into the open side door. A scream was heard seconds later, as the first man was bitten on the leg by a thawing zombie.

  He continued to pick up the men as quickly as possible, while trying to keep anyone from falling off the skids and landing prostate in the pile. Another yell was heard when an ankle was caught in a zombie mouth. The bitten men were grabbed and virtually tossed into the hoverin craft by Bradley, who also had sustained a bite, but was not overly concerned. When everyone was inside, Brad jumped in and signaled the pilot to take off.

  Within minutes, the area was completely overrun by walkers. Thousands were coming from everywhere.

  Suddenly, the beautiful sound of the F-14 was heard, along with a familiar voice. “If you guys are tired of throwing snowballs, I'll be glad to clean up the area!”

  “Be our guest, Pete. We just thought we'd save you a few.”

  “You mean a few thousand right? Alright you guys, back those slow horse and buggy crafts out of the way before you get burned.”

  With that, He hit the throttle and dove toward the thousands of undead. As he dove, Pete armed his weapons.

  He would make two passes. On the first one, he dropped two pods. To the men in the helicopters it was immediately obvious what the F-14 had been armed with, Napalm. The entire area was suddenly engulfed in flames, made even worse by the nitrogen, that was once frozen but now igniting from the intense heat. He performed a beautiful loop and came in from the other direction. There were still some targets that had not yet reached the main mass.

  “You think that was something boys, watch this.” Flying fast and low, Pete dropped something seldom seen. The Hades bomb left a trail of burning flames almost a mile long as everything in the area was vaporized.

  “Now, I have to admit, that was impressive!” Bob said into his radio.

  “Barbeque, anyone? Lets go home boys.”

  Nobody would think of him as “Old Pete” ever again! With a waggle of his wings, Major Peter Marcus hit the throttles and was gone.

  Aboard the Huey, things were not as cheerful. Usually, it was practice to terminate anyone who was bitten with a quick bullet in the head. Two men were in that position.

  Ignoring his own bite, Bradley wanted to use the first aid kit to treat the bite wounds like any other injury. The other men, insisted upon following established protocol and killing them before they turned.

  The men pleaded for their lives. “But what about the shots we got before we took off? They're supposed to keep us from turning. They promised.”

  “That's what they think. This is the first test. It only worked on a couple of mice. We can't take the chance.”

  Brad stood between the threatening men and the victims. “Look, lets give it a chance. If you were in their shoes, you'd want a chance to live. If these guys start to turn, I'll do them myself. We are going give the vaccine a chance to work!”

  The men sat down. They had seen Brad in a fight, and nobody was about to cross him. During the flight back he treated the wounds as best he could with the limited first aid kit at hand. He cleaned them with antiseptic, and wrapped them. He also dosed each of the men with half a squeeze syringe of morphine, and then cleaned his own bite.

  Chapter32

  What We Have Learned

  At 08:00 hours the next morning everyone met in a large room, deep in the complex. This was done for the convenience and comfort of the vampire combatants who had been going for almost seventy-two hours straight without any rest. Anyone who could be at the debriefing, was there. Word had traveled fast. Everyone had heard that the freezing tactic was an utter failure. There was also the concern that the zombies had been moving faster than expected and there were more of them than assumed. Unfortunately, that was only the group moving from the west.

  There were no niceties, no good mornings. The Colonel was all business. “First of all, I must tell you all that General Whoever he was, and I quote, has been called to administer some urgent duties in the East. In short, the useless coward bugged out on us. This in no way diminishes our administration, as he never did anything anyway, other than shake his head and eat our chow.”

  At this announcement, the audience voiced some unrestrained happiness.

  “There could be no doubt that yesterday had its share of both successes and failures. First of all, I'd like to point out a rousing success that to most of you was totally unexpected.”

  “Most of you know him as “Old Pete or simply Pete the Pilot”. He has been around this base and Langley for a number of years , and has flown the C-113 to represent the USAF at air shows all over the country. Since the outbreak, he has moved cargo for us, whenever and wherever needed. Recently, many of you have had the opportunity to discover another of his talents. He has been, and still is a highly-skilled and decorated Jet Combat Pilot.

  He pauses for emphasis. “It is my great pleasure to introduce to you, Major Peter Marcus, now UNRETIRED. On a personal note, I have known Pete many years and he has never failed to serve in any capacity his country ever asked of him. He has done this with unswerving loyalty and skill. So, that being said, I'd like you to consider coming out of retirement, though unpaid like all of us, and take over here as Air Operations Commander.”

  Pete stood and you could see that he was a bit uncomfortable accepting the accolades from everyone. Deep down, he would have liked to just go back to being “Old Pete”.

  “Another couple of people that deserve to be recognized for their successes are certainly Jessie Porter and Tina Pearson. From their success in terminating the zombies that could have crashed the C-113 flight from Langley a few days ago, to their success yesterday in bringing us resources and pilots from the USCG. And guys, I do understand that all of this was not exactly on a voluntary basis. One of these crews needed a bit of extra coaxing. These two have found success and seized the initiative to help in every way.”

  Jesse stands to acknowledge their praise,“Thank you, Colonel but I want everyone to understand that only in one case did we need to force the issue to gain control. Brian Sanders and Lou Harris, were ready, willing and able to join us with their outstanding crews. They also brought us quite a cache of weapons. These guys never forgot who they were and what they were fighting for.”

  “Thank you Mr. Porter, Ms. Pearson. Now we have something else to be grateful for. As many of you know, during yesterday's operation, a couple of guys receive bites. I'm pleased to announce that while these have always been fatal in the past, at this moment our comrades are still alive and well. They are recovering nicely from the bites and show no sign of turning thanks to Miss Winters and her dedicated staff. They found the missing element that should give our bodies what they need to resist death and re-animation. While not yet proven fool proof, we have made that major stride in the right direction. In the next couple of days you will all be receiving your first shots.”
He smiles.

  “We learned a lot yesterday. The freezing approach does work, but only for a short period of time. To an extent, we knew that going in. The idea of putting teams on the ground to terminate the frozen undead only works in small groups and in very limited situations. This manual mop up in a situation where more of the creatures can overrun our comrades is totally unsatisfactory and will not be attempted again.”

  There was a round of applause at that statement.

  “We need another way to terminate the frozen. Dr. Baldwin and Dr. Marco had suggested some sort of microwave weapon to destroy them once and for all. That's all well and good, but we have at best two weeks to have it ready. Now, at certain bases there has been work on sound weapons for many years. We must access that data and make something workable, that could shatter the frozen zombies, as well at the still mobile, without risk to human life. We must work on that. Mr. Porter, I'd like you and your new-found friends to begin work on that. Find out what we might be able to obtain, and where it is. Then go get it. Dr. Marco and Dr. Baldwin, find us that microwave weapon and make it work!”

  “ One thing we really need is time. It's no secret that I have been against firebombing and bombs in general. There's just too much chance of collateral damage. There are still millions of humans out there in hiding. They need to be rescued, not cooked. However Major Marcus proved yesterday, that used selectively, on openly clear targets, not towns, cities, or forests, firebombs might help buy us the time we need. We have dozens of fighter jets and armament. What we don't have are the pilots to fly them, other than Major Marcus!”

  “Do we have anyone else who is qualified on an F-16 or F-18 willing to help buy us time?”

  There was complete silence as each person searched their memory for someone they might have remembered, who was a flier.

  “I'll go,” A familiar voice broke the silence.

  “What was that? Who?”

  “I said I'll go.” Major Donald Abbington stepped forward.

  “I can fly either the F-16 or an F-18. I used to fly them off of carriers. I flew in the Gulf War and Iraq.”

  “You never told anyone. Why not?”

  “I was miserable and ashamed of the fact that I had been grounded!”

  Suddenly, people were becoming aware of why the Major was always such a downer of a person.

  “Sir, I was a pilot. A good one. From the time I was a kid, all I ever wanted to do was fly. I joined after college and went to Pensacola to become a naval aviator. I breezed through flight school and got my wish. I have well over a hundred carrier landings.”

  “So what happened?”

  “I was flying close to a buddy over Iran, sending a few rockets down to destroy some enemy armored vehicles when something hit his plane. It seemed to be a SAM, but it happened so fast I can't be sure. Anyway, it hit his fuel tanks and he exploded so violently, the plane just disintegrated. I got hit with the shock wave and it blew out my left engine. I went into a dive and I was desperately trying to restart. At about thirteen hundred feet the engine finally caught, and I limped back to the carrier. It wasn't for a couple of days that I realized that neither my vision or hearing was quite right. I went to the flight surgeon and he told me it was caused by the concussion of the blast and I would be okay in a couple of weeks at the most. He was right, or so it seemed. My flight status was re-instated and I was sent on my next mission. It was a night rocket attack over the desert to take out some camouflaged long guns that were firing on our columns. The mission went fine, until I was landing. It wasn't a particularly rough sea that night, but I was having trouble judging the vertical movement of the deck. I was coming in too high, and watching the flag man was even worse. I saw two of him. I was committed though and tried to bring it down at the last second. I slammed into the deck breaking my landing gear and skidding the plane sideways along the deck. I was fine, but in that skid my plane struck and killed a deck hand. It turned out my night depth perception was fried. So I never should have flown, and I killed a good man. I was officially grounded and became the miserable paper pusher you see here today!”

  “And you think your vision will let you fly now?”

  “I've got no problems during daylight hours, and sincerely doubt that the runway will be tossing about. Besides that, I think my problem cleared up a long time ago. I've just been afraid to try again. I don't want to hurt anyone else!”

  Pete offered a suggestion. “Pardon me Colonel, If you don't mind, I'll help him get a 16 ready later today and fly escort with him on a test flight. I can be ready on a radio alongside as he lands, to talk him down if he's in trouble.”

  “You would do that for me?” Abbington offered.

  “I would be honored to do that for you.”

  “As long as we are taking test flights, I believe I can fly a jet.” It was Bob Eller.

  “Mr. Eller, I thought you just flew helicopters.”

  “Well I haven't flown a jet in a lot of years and they've changed some, but I'd give her a go. Besides, now that you have a surplus of chopper pilots, I'm sure someone can fly my bird.”

  “How many years has it been since you've flown a jet Mr. Eller?”

  “I'm not exactly sure, sir, but it was over Korea. Oh yeah, it's coming back to me now, I flew an F-86H Sabre. That was some plane! I guess it was in the early 1950's.”

  “Mr. Eller, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but that was like sixty-three years ago!”

  “Colonel, I know that we are all close here and sometimes you forget who or what I am. Physically, sir, I'm exactly the same today as I was then.”

  “Do we have any jet trainers we can use to see if Mr. Eller can get back his wings?”

  “I think we can come up with something. As air operations officer, I'll take the instructors seat and we'll see what he's got!”

  “So, you all know your tasks. Good luck to everyone. Let's all meet back here this evening at 20:00 that's 8:00 p.m. for you civilians.”

  Chapter 33

  Impatient Patients

  Down in the lab, they had set up a makeshift infirmary to monitor the men who had been bitten. So far, other than what you would expect to see from people bitten by a human being, things were pretty normal. Of course, that's if you can consider being bitten by another person normal.

  Dr. Largent, a GP they found out in the wild and persuaded to stick around, had stitched the wounds and properly applied dressings. He had wanted to apply an antibiotic, but Robyn and her people convinced him it would destroy their protocol. In addition to the initial dose, they had been injecting added amounts of the beneficial flora mix. Aside from the physical discomfort of the bite and stitches, no one was feeling ill.

  Bradley, was almost healed and wanted to get back to duty, however, remembering that these guys would have been shot on the plane, kept him sitting and reading until they were at least on their feet.

  All the tests were reported negative for any of the “rotting dead” types of bacterium found on the creepers, so at the moment, they were in the clear. The good flora had done it's job and kept any unwanted germs from gaining a foothold.

  Robyn realized that keeping these guys bedded down much longer would be difficult, but she needed to be sure that healing had started before she could dismiss them.

  Jessie had stopped in briefly to say hello, but needless to say, he was already assigned another project by the Colonel.

  Chapter 34

  Up and Away?

  Bob Eller was nervous. It was a feeling he had not experienced in well over one-hundred years and he did not like it. He was a guy who could stand toe-to-toe with dozens of zombies by himself and never feel queasy, but It had indeed been sixty-three years since he had flown a combat jet. What was I thinking when I offered to do this?

  He was feeling greasy from all the sunblock he put on to

  face the morning sun, but that would soon dry. He knew what he really needed but, does not know how to ask. For months, he had lived on nothing but pig and c
ow blood and done just fine. Right now though, he needed a lift, and he could only get that from human blood. When the donated blood came in, he virtually never asked for any as he felt self-conscious about it.

  He found himself in front of the door to the infirmary, shrugged his shoulders and slowly entered. Great. The girl on duty, or helping out ,was Amy Banks. She was probably the last person he wanted to see right now. She had a crush on him since that first day in the helicopter, and despite her age, he felt something for her too.

  “Mr. Eller. How can I be of service?”

  He was about to embarrass himself when Robyn, who had been checking on her patients, happened by.

  “I've got it Amy. Bob just came in for his prescription. I've got it right here in the fridge.” She to the refrigerator in the adjoining room, pulled out two bags of O-positive and put them into a paper bag. “This should do it for you. Be sure to allow it to get to room temperature.”

  As Bob left, blessing his good luck, he wondered how Robyn could have known exactly what he needed. Then it hit him, Jessie, she has a vampire boyfriend.

  An hour later, as he approached the trainer sitting on the flight line, he was as steady as the proverbial rock.

  Needless-to-say, there wasn't an F86 Sabre available, but Pete was sure he could get him going in the F-16 trainer. It was at a time like this they both wished for an active flight simulator. The plane was currently unarmed, but for Major Abbington's flight, ordinance would be put aboard for a flight to the target range.

  They climbed aboard and Major Marcus went through a careful review of the pre-flight check-list with Eller. Following the list, he went over all of the gauges and controls, many of which were familiar. What was totally different were the targeting systems. In the old days, it was mostly see and feel. These days it seemed to be “line up and lock on”.

  Pete talked him through a start-up and slow taxi. “ I want you to realize that even though this plane is much heavier than what you flew, it has much more wing area and lift. It will clear the ground at slower speeds than you might remember. Now I'm going to take her up, circle and come back down. I just want you to watch and see where she lifts, and how to float her down. Don't fight me, just feel the controls lightly, because after we land, you are going to do it by yourself.”