by Vic Sandel
He had hoped to find at least a few living people waving from a rooftop at the sound of his plane and perhaps call in a helicopter rescue but absolutely no one appeared.
Disappointed, Major Marcus turned for the airport.
As he approached the field, He and Baldwin activated the full array to make sure the area was totally cleared before landing and taxiing up to the fuel depot.
The landing and refueling of the C-113 was uneventful. With full tanks, she again took to the sky, flying southeast towards Cambridge. There would be nothing moving anywhere near there after Major Peter Marcus passed through!
Chapter 56
The Tide Of Battle
With no more zombies flowing from the tunnel, and others unlikely to be entering the fray anytime soon, the tide had definitely turned.
All of the operable vehicles were now manned and active. The field of battle had become a slush of defrosting pieces of the formerly active “undead”.
There was a steady flow of the fire vehicles lining up at either the flat bead or the helicopter to be refilled with the sub-freezing slush mixture. No sooner did the mixture harden on the active corpses than the sound vibrations shattered them. Add to that, the Humvees and small tan. Several are fitted with the larger killing sonic broadcasters, that had been tuned with sharper accuracy to a narrow field. The fight fight here was finally winding down.
Unfortunately, it was not without loss. Of the dozen men that had been on watch in the “moat” before help could arrive, five had been pulled from the vehicles in which they had hidden and eaten alive. Another three were bitten, but thanks to Robyn's vaccine, had not died or turned. There were also eight or ten more bites among the CAG members, that had surged into the battle when the Chinook was finally able to land. Of them, about half were human.
Then, of course, was the loss of Major Donald Abbington. The remote, abrupt, and often genuinely nasty officer had turned out to be no less than a deeply caring hero!
This might just go down in history, (and there would be a history), as the day the human and vampire races found the formula to save the world.
From the direction of the tunnel, a Huey arrived and landed in a now open area near the Chinook. A radio call en route had the combatants gathering all the wounded for evacuation.
Flying alone, Colonel Dickerson opened his side door and with the help of a couple CAG members on the ground, they began loading the wounded aboard. It would be a short flight back to the base, where Robyn, and the rest of her team, including Maura, stood waiting with massive doses of good bacteria and gurneys. A comfortable ward had been set up to receive and treat the bitten. While not expected, leather straps stood ready in case any of the victims began to turn.
As the Colonel took off, he issued a command that struck everybody as extremely odd, but would be obeyed.
“Mr. Rogers, alert everyone that I want you to leave about a half-a-dozen of these creatures functional. Follow them and don't let them get into any trouble but we need to see exactly where they are going and why.”
Shrugging his shoulders, Aaron saw that the order was passed through the ranks and broadcast over all receivers. With everyone's adrenalin flowing, it would be difficult to stop the killing, but he knew his men and it would be obeyed. The only potential problem he saw was the “cowboy” atop the machine. He set off to deliver the order personally.
While the battle in the “moat” was pretty much decided, there were still several thousand of the creatures to be dealt with. Everyone still needed to be on their guard and not take anything for granted. With the ground as slippery as it was, fighting on foot was not the preferred course of action. Nobody needed to be “bitten” by a piece they slipped upon in a fall!
Aaron saw to it that all personnel conducted the fight from either vehicles, or a safe platform of some sort.
Shortly, there would still be the problem of tracking down zombies that had made it across the cleared zone into the surrounding territory. Of course, there was a good possibility that they would all wind up on the roads to the base.
Bob Eller had already gone back to Wright Patterson to refuel and re-arm his F-16. In the interest of sanitation, he would be flying back to burn the area once all their people had gone. Bulldozers would then bury whatever was left after the cleansing fire. They would take no chances on there being any disease carrying organisms left unchecked.
Chapter 57
Portsmouth
Jessie had flown over the entire southern Ohio area and probably overlapped into northern Kentucky. Needing fuel, he dropped into Portsmouth after a couple of passes over the area, to use the airport's fuel supply.
Ron Macklin pulled the portable pump from the cargo door as Jessie pried up the cap covering the underground fuel storage tank. This had become pretty much the standard operating procedure for keeping their aircraft up and running.
It took both men to hold the hose and position it into the fuel tanks but the two of them still had automatic weapons slung over their shoulders. It would not be their first choice however, to fire them while they were pumping high octane aviation fuel.
Even up on the wing, with the sound of the running pump, both they heard the sound of a nearby hangar door opening. Their raised senses had them immediately turning in that direction.
They were so keyed up from all they had been through that Jessie came close to pulling the flowing hose from the tank. He realized that he needed to keep focused on what he was doing and leave the lookout work to Ron.
Even with his superior vision, the hangar was a good bit away. He strained to make out what looked like a woman standing in the open doorway of the hangar, half hidden by the door itself. Whoever she was, she had been thoroughly terrified and was taking no chances. Ron decided that a friendly gesture was in order. If she was human, it might be reassuring. If she was a zombie, it wouldn't matter, because she would have already advanced towards her next meal.
She cautiously took a few steps closer. A child appeared at the door and ran to her. Together they began a slow walk towards the plane.
When Jessie signaled, Ron hopped down from the wing and shut the pump. As Jessie pulled the nozzle from the tank and locked the cover, he turned toward the source of the earlier noise and saw the woman and child coming toward them. He climbed down off the wing, coiling the fuel hose. Reaching the ground, he unslung his weapon.
“Relax, Jess, they're human and scared to death as it is!”
He immediately put down his rifle and went back to coiling the hose. Trying to be as natural and non-threatening as possible, he opened the hatch and stowed the pump and hose away, leaving the diplomacy to Ron for the moment.
The woman and child stopped about fifteen feet away.
Ron put out his brightest smile. “Hi, my name is Ronnie and my partner here is Jessie. Who might you be?”
She came a few steps closer. “Thank God! Are you really human?”
Ron and Jess had to smile at the question. “Well, sort of. If we were zombies, I doubt that we would be talking to you and flying a plane. Isn't that right?”
“Yes, I guess so. We've just been so scared. We all have been hiding in an old plane in that hangar for six days. Do you have any water?”
“I think we can find a couple of bottles on the plane for you. Can you tell us what happened?”
“Yes, but can my friends come out, so we all fly away from here, before they come back?”
“How many are you?”
“Fourteen, there are fourteen of us left.” She was shaking.
“First of all, rest easy, there's nobody coming back right now that's going to hurt you.”
“How could you know that?”
“Because we killed them all. Now, tell all your friends it's safe to come out and we'll get out of here. What's your name, and the name of this young lady?” Ron pointed to the child of about seven clinging to her leg.
“I'm sorry, that was rude of me, I'm Marilyn and that's my niece Becky.”<
br />
Twelve other dirty, hungry, and scared people walked and limped out of the hangar, and made their way to the plane. All they wanted to know was, “how soon can we leave?”
The strange thing was, no one asked where they would be going. They didn’t seem to care, as long as it was no longer there.
Jessie approached Marilyn and Becky. “Now suppose you tell me what happened?”
“We were all passengers on a 737. A neighbor was a pilot and knew how to fly it. He was going to get us all away from here and all these creatures.” Marilyn explained.
“Where did he think you were all going to go?”
“He said there are some islands not far from here, somewhere in the Caribbean, I think, that are barely populated and have an airstrip big enough to land the plane. If we did find zombies, there would be very few and the men could easily handle them.”
“So what happened?”
“If you go around this group of hangars you'll see what happened. As we were taxiing to the runway, thousands of them blocked the plane. The pilot tried to get through but a few were sucked up in the engines and they caught fire and stopped. They were banging and pushing on the plane...., and the fire began to spread. We opened the doors and put out the emergency chutes. We ran and ran. They were all around us, biting and grabbing. Then the plane exploded, and for a second, we were clear. Fourteen of us made it to that hangar and locked ourselves in. The lucky ones died in the explosion, the rest...” She began to cry softly.
“How many were you?”
“One-hundred-fifty-three boarded. My sister, Becky's mother...I don't know. I hope she was on the plane!”
“I'm so sorry,” Jessie was really touched. “Go grab a seat and we'll take off. I'd find a snack bar for you all but I think you'd all be more comfortable in the air right now.”
As Ron secured the door and took his seat at the sound console, Jessie taxied to the runway and wasted no time getting the passengers safely into the air.
They had intented to circle and look at the remains of the 737, but both decided their sightseeing wasn't worth any additional trauma.
Chapter 58
Walking Home
As Bob Eller looked down from the cockpit of his F-16, he watched the strangest procession he had ever seen. He was returning home after dropping his load of incendiaries on the scene of the battle. Flames shot a good fifty feet into the sky and the smoke could be seen for at least thirty miles. He was glad to be in the closed cockpit as he was reasonably sure the odor outside was not pleasant.
Looking down along the twenty-five mile stretch that led back to Wright Patterson, he saw, the line of fire vehicles doing about forty-five and high-tailing it for home. Right behind them came three of the six Humvees and the eighteen-wheeler, pulling the flat bead with the liquid nitrogen making equipment.
Following a long gap, dust kicked up as about a dozen zombies moved along as the “undead” do, slowly, but relentlessly. Flanking them, and close behind them rode were the remaining three Humvees. About a half-mile back the mini tank patrolled in a zig-zag pattern, watching for any other stragglers.
Flying low and to the right, Brian Sanders flew the Apache and on the left side Lou Harris patrolled in the Dolphin, as they searched for any others that may have been missed in the wooded area.
After the battle had finally concluded, Bradley led a group through the woods to search for any zombies that might have made it across the “moat” during the battle. Glen Sanders volunteered to go along with a promise to “bring em back alive” if you could consider rounding up “undead” doing that. Anyway so far, they had rounded up six, which had been delivered to the parade to make the dozen they now were escorting.
Even Brad, was griping about the lack of speed. “I really don't understand. What harm would it do to put these buggers on the flat bed and drop them back on the road a mile from the base? This is shear torture.”
“I agree,” said Glen, “but evidently the Colonel thinks we might miss something. I'm sure he has a reason.”
Aaron Rogers was leading a group of six into the tunnel to make sure there were no creepers still active and sanitize the area with flamethrowers and Thermite grenades. Additionally, he was under instructions to search for anything that might resemble a piece of electronic equipment.
About halfway through the darkened passage, they saw something flashing under a pile of bodies. Using their rifles to move the corpses, lest someone get bit, they saw a flashing red light. Picking the blackened box up, Aaron noticed where an antennae had broken off. This must be what the Colonel was looking for. He Tucked it into his back pack and continued with the mission.
Continuing through the tunnel, they found only a couple of not totally terminated zombies, a situation that they immediately corrected. Along the way they had started using the flamethrowers which bathed the passage in a flickering light. As they cleared the opening The Thermite grenades were tossed in from both sides, virtually evaporating anything organic within.
He called for a helicopter pickup for his team. The job was done and he wanted to get what he had found, to the Colonel immediately.
Within fifteen minutes, a Huey arrived to pick them up, flown once again by the boss himself.
“So, what did you find?”
Aaron reached into his pack and pulled out the suspected transmitter. He handed it to Colonel Dickerson.
“Just what I thought. Someone has been luring these creatures to where they wanted them to go. They've found the signal that triggers the “hive” mentality. Once they sense this signal, they are drawn to it like ants to honey. I'm betting there's a master unit back at the base, and those walking zombies we rounded up are going to show us where it is.”
After a while everyone, even the Colonel had totally run out of patience. At this pace, it would take over two days for the zombies to reach the base. So far, they hadn't stopped anywhere. Finally, Dickerson agreed to a roundup. The flat bead returned and they were all roped up and led aboard. At a spot about half-a-mile from the base, they were set on the ground and turned loose.
For a few moments it looked like the plan was an absolute failure as they all stood absolutely still. When they finally moved, it was random. They all moved in different directions. They turned and turned again, often bumping into one another. It was similar to a pack of bloodhounds that had lost the scent, only dogs were smart enough not to bang into each other.
Finally, one began to move toward the base with some purpose. It was immediately followed by another, then a couple more. In a few more seconds all twelve were again moving toward Wright Patterson.
The odd procession reformed and they were on the way again.
Brad looked over at Glen. “See, that's what I said we should do in the first place.”
“Well, I guess you should have said it loud enough for someone to hear other than me!”
Chapter 59
Sick Bay
As Colonel Dickerson's Huey approached the base, he had issued orders for Robyn's team to be ready to receive casualties, and ready they were.
Since they had begun caring for the bitten, they had not lost a patient yet, and were not going to lose anyone now!
As each of the wounded came off the chopper, he was given a massive dose of healing flora and taken down to the ward that had been prepared for them.
Dr. Largent, a former emergency room physician, had helped before and was waiting to inspect and treat the wounds themselves. In some cases, the patients had lost an unacceptable amount of blood. Fortunately they had a good amount of fresh and clean stock on hand.
There was one particular case, however, that troubled Largent more than the others. It was one of the men who was on the scene when the “undead” had first begun arriving unexpectedly from the tunnel. Like the others, he had taken shelter in the available vehicles. Along with several men who had been killed, he was dragged from his hiding place as a mass of zombies set upon the vehicle and turned it over. He had trie
d to crawl under another nearby truck when he was grabbed by his legs. He fought to hold onto the underside of the sheltering vehicle as they began to gnaw on his legs. Fortunately, the first team to arrive began shooting and terminated the zombies that were holding him.
Below his knees, he had been eaten to the bone and his thighs had massive chunks of tissue missing. He looks very much like a victim of a shark attack. I've treated those before. I need to save as much of the thighs as I can and maybe there's a shot of saving a knee. Or is it better to keep the stumps level? Damn, I don't know, I was not an Orthopedist, just a second year Resident! He elected to save what he could.
While a couple of Robyn's team members with nursing skills administered morphine and tried to clean the wounds, Largent went off to the infirmary to see what supplies and equipment he could find for such a severe operation.
On the other side of the base, miles away, there had been a hospital, but nobody had been in there for a long time. There was no time to waste if he was going to save this man's life. He would make due with what he could find!
A virtually empty room was found and strong lights brought in. They had electric power as almost the entire underground complex was served by emergency generators. Within minutes they had created a workable operating room.
Sedating, cleaning, and stitching was the order of the day for the remaining patients. Blood and tissue samples were taken every couple of hours, to make sure that each patient maintained a high level of good bacteria. Anyone who's numbers began to tip the wrong way, was immediately given another shot and was unfortunately introduced to the leather straps until the bacterial counts became more favorable. Fortunately, they had developed a new technique that provided instant results without waiting for cultures to grow.
