by Vic Sandel
“Pete, I understand your concern but the weapons we may find in Indiana might just turn this whole thing around. Your pilots haven't flown for a while, but they are hardly rookies, especially Abbington. You said they will be great, and certified them ready. If you really believed what you said, you'd have the faith in them to know they will do fine. We've been friends a long time and I respect your opinion, but this must have priority!”
In the end, Pete relented, wished his pilots well, and taxied the “Flying Boxcar” to the gate to be loaded.
Chapter38
Thinning the Heard 2
They had been in the air about ten minutes when Brian decided to find out a bit about the man who was serving as his co-pilot.
“So Robin, how long have you been flying choppers?”
“My name is not Robin!”
“Oh, sorry. I just noticed your flight helmet says Robin on it. I guess I assumed it was yours.”
“It is mine, but my name isn't Robin.”
“Now I'm confused.”
“My name is Dick Grayson, like in Batman. You, know Dick Grayson... “Boy Wonder.....Robin”. It happened during my first hours at the Guard's helicopter flight school, in Mobile, Alabama. Someone picked up on it when we all had to stand up and introduce ourselves. I guess it could have been worse. They could have put “Boy Wonder” on my helmet. Anyway, I've been stuck with it ever since.”
“Sorry about that. So, how long have you been flying?”
“About six years. Believe it or not, I used to be a pretty good pilot and totally dedicated to the corps, like you guys.”
“Not that it's any of my business, but aside from the world going to crap, why the radical change in attitude?”
“I'd rather not talk about it. Let's say I lost everyone and everything I ever cared about. I figured it was just a matter of time until I died. Why not just make myself comfortable while I waited for my turn.”
“I guess that's the difference between us. I still think we are going to come out of this one day soon. I want to do my best to help make that happen, and if we are going to win, we still need to save as many people as we can!”
Brian decided to be quiet for a bit and let that message sink in.
Lou Harris and his crew had been flying on a northeast course since taking off from Wright Patterson. Somewhere between there and the coordinates where the mass of zombies had been spotted last, he expected to find them. He hadn't however anticipated finding them for a while yet, based on the estimates of the speed at which they were traveling. The estimates it seemed, were way off. Just ahead, were thousands of them, walking and shuffling, but all moving upright over a hilly but open area. In the distance, Lou could make out the less mobile ones. Those that could move faster were not waiting. If anything, they were like a pack of hungry wolves on a scent, unwaveringly moving toward their meal.
Lou keyed his radio and called in the position and facts.
Within seconds, two F-16s were warming up as Bob Eller and Doug Abbington climbed into their flight suits. This was the call they were waiting for. With the possibility of three choppers finding concentrations, and short one jet, they had decided to watch their ordinance carefully, so if necessary they could hit all three without having to return to the base to re-arm. As they got closer to the target, they would have Harris mark the area with smoke flares to aid them in targeting. They wanted no wasted ammunition.
A short wile later, they could see the smoke marking the area in which the zombies were amassed. Doug would make the first run, followed immediately by Bob. Each would drop one napalm unit. The two F-16s streaked in, covering the “walking plague” in flame. Few if any, would still remain animated as they burned fiercely.
As the jets began their run, Harris moved a couple of miles further in their original direction. They didn't have to go far. Tens of thousands of the slower moving creatures were making their way over the hilly and more wooded terrain. They were pulling and pushing themselves along any way they could but the forward motion was constant.
Lou again keyed the mike and called the jets.
Bob and Doug perform a quick flyover to check out the situation. The area wasn't as clear as they would have liked but there was space for one napalm drop and perhaps a couple of rockets. It might be just enough to terminate a good number and slow the advance.
They had Harris pass over again slowly to make sure there were no living humans hiding in the area and he pronounced the area clear.
Bob went in first, firing two rockets into the more wooded area. The effect was immediate. Trees tumble down in flames and thousands of zombies were terminated. Right behind him came Doug dumping napalm on the open area. As they climbed above the carnage, it became obvious, that at least for a little while, they had slowed the advance from one direction. They had also worked well together so far. It was something to be pleased about.
So far, Ensign Richards and his adopted crew had not found anything unusual. There were plenty of the zombies here and there, quiet and empty homes, farms and small towns, and burnt out areas where more of these once stood. His route took him over a lot of empty terrain and water. He knew a lot of this area, as much of it had been his Coast guard patrol area. At the moment, he was still flying to the south of the Great Lakes. For the most part, the area north of the lakes was officially Canada, or at least it had been. To his knowledge, it had never been decided if national boundaries were still being recognized. Since the area to the west had been covered just yesterday, he began a slow turn to the east, hoping to cover the area between his position and Lieutenant Sanders.
He absent-mindedly threw a switch that turned on the GPS. Nobody he knew had ever turned them on as it was presumed no positioning electronics were working. To his great surprise, he found himself looking at a screen displaying a logo of his helicopter flying along the southern tip of the Great Lakes. The answer hit him like a ton of bricks. No ground based electronics were working due to power shortages and wanton destruction, but GPS was satellite based. The zombies had not yet invaded space.
“USCG-3 to Harris and Sanders.”
“Go ahead, what's up?” Pretty much the same answer from both.
“Hey guys, when was the last time you turned on your GPS?”
“ Months ago. Why?”
“Do yourselves a favor, fellas, turn the damn things on.”
“Holy shit!”
“You mean, we've been flying by maps all this time because we thought they weren't working and just never turned them on?”
“What fucking idiots we all are!” It was the voice of Bob Eller.
“Hey Rod, you hearing all this?”
“I'm hearing it all right, and I can't believe how stupid you all are. You mean you never even tried to turn on the GPS?”
“You mean you did?”
“Hell no, but it sure sounded good didn't it?”
Everybody laughed. It was the first time in years that Major Douglas Abbington had said anything funny. Back at the controls of his F-16 he was beginning to find his true self, again. It had been a long time.
As Brian looked ahead he began to catch a glimpse of a giant mass of the “undead”. The scene ahead was unbelievable. He found himself looking at something that resembled a scene from an old Western movie. A large building loomed ahead. It had most probably been a school. It was all brick with loads of boarded up windows on the first floor. Sporadic gunfire came from the upper windows and a few zombies could be seen on the ground, unmoving. Evidently, someone had decided to make a stand there, as poles with sharpened tops had been driven into the ground to form a stockade. Outside of that, sections of what had had been a galvanized mesh fence already lay on the ground in places due to the sheer weight that had leaned on it.
The light gunfire could never hope to hold back the thousands of the dead that were descending upon the inhabitants of the structure.
Brian spoke into his radio. “Harris, Richards, I need you both on my position, right
now!” With his working GPS, it took only a second to relay his coordinates.
“What about us?” Abbington asks.
“No good, Doug. They're locked up in a school, surrounded by thousands. I've got no idea how many are inside, but I'd bet there are children. You guys could check out the nearby area. Where there's a school, there's a town.”
Picking up a pair of binoculars, Glen Sanders tried to see into the upstairs windows. At that moment a couple of women threw open a downstairs door and ran outside holding a banner made from a painted sheet. It simply said “Women and children inside”.
At the same moment, a couple of zombies broke down several of the posts from the surrounding fence.
Viewing it all from above, Glen pushed open the side door of the helicopter. He threw open the case at his feet and pulled out the Springfield, at the same time calling to Brian, “Hold her as steady as you can Bro!”
He had not yet sighted-in the weapon, but trusted in the person who had used it last. As he eyed his target, he tried to estimate the effect the rotor wash would have on the bullet.
The first of the “un-dead” was almost upon the women, when suddenly its head exploded. That was followed within seconds by the second meeting a similar end.
The women were splattered with gore, but thankful as they ran back into the building and hopefully secured the door.
Brian decided not to wait for Harris and Richards, who were speeding towards him. “Great shooting little Brother! Let's see if we can reduce the odds a bit. Hang on everyone!”
With that the Sikorsky dipped down and began a run along the perimeter of the fence, opening up with the Gatling. It was like mowing a lawn. Everything in the path of the blistering fire of the Gatling fell down. A couple of passes relieved the immediate pressure on the fence, but more were coming, drawn by the noise.
Both Glen and Chief Simpson had opened the side doors and tore up the “walkers” below with the 50 Cal. Machine guns.
Suddenly Rodney Richards was alongside, blasting his weapons at anything shuffling towards the school.
The guns had silenced as Harris came up and joined the group.
“Harris, you have the most ammo. Stay up here and zap any approaching zombies. Richards, you have the lightest crew and the biggest chopper. You also have Tina, who I'd like with my brother and the chief when they enter the building.”
Within seconds, Brian and Rodney had landed. Tina joined Glen, who had grabbed the BAR he had retrieved earlier. Along with Chief Simpson the three entered the building.
Their boot steps echoed through the empty hall as they sought out the stairs to the second floor. Except for the two women who had come outside, all signs of life had come from up there. Still, they opened every door they passed and cleared each room before they moved on.
Reaching the staircase, they called upstairs to let everyone up there know they were coming. As they had seen some light gunfire from the windows on that floor, there was no sense in tempting anyone to take a shot at them. There was no answer, so Chief Simpson called out to them again.
“Hey up there. This is Chief Hal Simpson, U.S. Coast Guard. We're here to get you out of here. Please respond!”
Still, no response.
In desperation, Glen let go a burst from the BAR,
“Now. We know you heard that! Zombies don't shoot. Where are you and how many are there?”
“Maybe if I try, Tina interjected. They might feel more comfortable with a woman's voice. Ladies, my name is Tina, it's okay, we're here to get you out of here.”
By now they had reached the top of the stairs.
“Is it really safe”?
“We have children.”
Tina continued. “How many are you?”
“There are five adults, four women and one male, sort of. We also have fourteen children.”
For some reason, they could hear more than a trace of bitterness when mentioning the man.
“Tell me, what is your name?”
“Leslie, my name is Leslie.”
“Leslie, were you one of the ladies outside with the banner?”
“Y-Yes I was.”
“You were very brave, Leslie. Now I need you to be brave, again. I need everyone to come out now and meet us at the staircase. We will protect you. Remember the man who shot the zombies from the helicopter? Well he's here too. We are going to put you in our helicopters and take you somewhere safe!”
After a couple moments of hesitation, she responded, “Okay, Tina, we're coming out.”
Nineteen lives emerged from a classroom at the end of the hall and slowly moved towards the staircase. The children seemed to range from about seven to nine years in age.
Seeing the woman and two men with large weapons seemed to give the students and teachers a lift. Their pace quickened until the two groups connected. Hugs were exchanged, especially between Leslie and Tina.
Glen and the chief led the way, with Tina in the rear. It was easy going until they neared the first floor stairwell. As well as the first floor landing, the staircase made a turn and continued down into the basement. Something was getting closer. It could be heard coming up the stairs towards them.
The teachers and students began to turn back up the stairs when Tina shouted, “No! I want you to run out the front door and get on to the helicopters that are waiting outside!”
The chief led the way as the first zombie coming up from the lower level could be seen. Clearly, there were many more behind. Glen took it out with a short burst from his weapon, but now they were appearing three abreast, and climbing over one another. Several that Glen had put down were still moving. It was just impossible to be sure every burst would score only head shots.
Tina pulled out her machete. “Sometimes sonny, you need to do things the old fashioned way.”
She virtually waded into the squirming mass and heads were literally flying in every direction. The whole thing lasted maybe forty-five seconds. Everything else still moving was far enough from them that they could easily leave the building.
There were too many for the two choppers, so Brian, who's Dolphin was the smallest, took off to stand guard, while Lou Harris landed the second Jayhawk to pick up the rest. Glen, and a rather disheveled and bloody, but smiling Tina were the last to board. They jumped into Lou's craft as the skids were leaving the ground.
Later, Tina would learn of the male passenger's cowardice, and why the women had such little regard for him as a man and a person.
With the entire group in the air and loaded to the gills, Brian spoke into the mike, “Great job, everyone! Let's head for the barn.”
The group set a course for Wright Patterson.
Chapter 39
The Sound of Sound
Almost all the way to Indiana, Pete flew at altitudes ranging from 15,000 to 18,000 feet. He wanted to be above the clouds so he wouldn't have to see the ugliness below. There was just something pure and clean looking down on the puffy whiteness. It was almost similar to the feeling he used to get from seeing newly fallen snow, especially at night when there was a stillness you could almost hear. The air was crisp and clean and all was right with the world.
Reluctantly, he extended his flaps, dropped the landing gear and began to descend into the Columbia City, Indiana area.
There was a former major highway near the address of the company that had manufactured the sound devices. If it was not too cluttered with abandoned cars or overrun with zombies, the road would provide a perfect landing strip.
Once on the ground, transportation would not be a problem. These days, all you needed to have was fresh fuel and a hot jumper battery, as well as the ability to bypass the need for an ignition key. There were always vehicles for the taking, although most of them you wouldn't want. So many had seen their owners die inside in horrible ways, that permanently marked the vehicles. Still, clean ones could usually be found. Once they landed a team would be sent out to locate vehicles to bring them to the site.
The
remainder of the group would go to the factory with Jessie and Ron, while several heavily armed team members would stay with Major Marcus to guard the plane. In the worst scenario, if things got really hot and there was a danger of losing the craft, they would take off and land elsewhere.
Since they didn't know exactly what they would find, and knowing that this company had mounted its “sound denial units” on all types of vehicles, including ships and planes, they decided that they would try to find a couple of eighteen wheelers. At least one box and a flatbed would be perfect. Depending on the model, if any were still there, the units themselves would weigh between three-hundred and five-hundred pounds. Ordinarily, that would be heavy, but not for a squad of vampires.
Major Marcus located a clear length of highway and set the big plane down with his usual soft touch. Immediately, the big rear door was dropped and the members of CAG-23 hit the pavement, along with Jessie. Half-a-dozen guys went to find the vehicles, carrying cans of fuel and the equipment needed to get them started.
The group didn't have far to go. Before they had gone a quarter-of-a-mile they had discover six big box trucks. Two of the guys went to check out a clean looking eighteen-wheel-box, while another two spotted a pretty new looking vehicle.
One pair was soon able to open the first and found it clean and ready for new occupancy. The second, on the other hand had remains inside that rendered it unfit for use.
Moving only a couple of yards further, they opened the door of an older, but powerful looking Mack, complete with the dog hood ornament. Once started it was proven to be another vehicle that would do an exceptional job.
The search for a flatbed took a bit longer but within fifteen minutes they had found and started a giant Titan. It was complete, with an oversized bulldozer on the bed. If necessary, it could be used to gain access to the factory, or open gates. If not, it would be pulled off and left behind.
