“Why thank you Doctor Obvious. I could never have figured that one out on my own.”
The sarcasm was amusing the passengers and helping ease the high tension on the plane. Some passengers crawled out from their hiding spaces while others refused to move.
“And judging by your sense of humor in the face of what you just went through, I’d say you’re in shock, too. Look, sir,” Doctor Dick Francis said, asserting his authority.
“My name is Karl,” he whimpered.
“Look… Karl,” he said. “Truth be told, I don’t know what to do.”
“That figures.”
“It has nothing to do with my medical knowledge,” Dick said.
“I didn’t question your medical knowledge,” Karl calmly replied.
“I don’t know how to help. I’ve only seen these monsters on TV, and you’re losing a shit ton of blood. I don’t have any equipment on me at all.”
“You don’t want to get bitten,” the air marshal added.
The doctor sighed. “It’s not just that. I literally don’t know what to do.”
“I can tell you don’t want to get infected, too.”
Dick nodded. “You’re right. I don’t want to get infected.”
Dick reached over to adjust the cardigan bandage on Karl’s neck. “I need a lot of bandages,” Dick firmly replied. “I just don’t have any.”
Lena looked helplessly at the air marshal and tried to think of something they could use as a bandage. The Special Forces had always given her an emergency first aid kit and clothing that could always be reused as bandaging if needed. She had already sacrificed her cardigan and had nothing left to offer.
“First aid kit,” she mumbled.
Barry caught on and rushed into the aisle only to be faced with the corpse of the dead zombie.
“Ah!” he yelped at the sight. He looked past the corpse and frantically searched for a first aid kit. “First aid kit! We need one!” he called down the aisle.
Emily leaped to her feet and dashed to the back of the aircraft. She came back moments later clutching a decent sized white case with a large red cross on the front.
“Here,” she said, passing the first aid kit down the line of passengers that had assembled.
Barry reached over and grabbed the kit from a random passenger. He sped down the rest of the rows to where Lena, Dick, and the air marshal were. Dick searched the first aid kit, pulling many different supplies out. He put on gloves and applied ointment to the minor wounds, and the air marshal let out a grunt of pain as he pressed. Then he applied a dressing on a more serious wound.
“It isn’t easy applying a dressing to a man who won’t let me touch him,” Dick grunted.
“Deal with it,” was all Lena could say.
“Real nice attitude there.”
“How are you doing, Karl?” Lena asked the air marshal.
“Not good,” he moaned. “Here. You’re in charge now. You’re part of the UKSF, so I trust you. Get these people to safety.”
He reached up and unclipped his air marshal’s badge from his uniform. Then he pressed the smudged shiny badge into Lena’s hand. She looked down at it and nodded. He pulled his radio from his belt and handed that over as well. She closed her hand around it and took a long breath in.
“Yes, sir. Will do,” she told the air marshal.
“I hope you won’t need these,” he said, handing her the magazines.
“Thank you,” Lena said, relieved she didn’t have to ask if he had any more ammo.
Dick had tried his hardest to help the marshal, but nothing could really help the infected man. Lena took a step back and looked around the airplane to see frightened people everywhere. The corpse of the dead zombie just laid there, and she knew it would quickly decompose. The passengers exchanged looks, and Lena knew the task before her.
“So much for a day off,” she muttered under her breath.
Barry smiled at Lena. “Deputy Barry Harrison, reporting for duty, ma’am,” he said. Lena couldn’t help but smile back.
“What do you say, Deputy? Let’s do this thing.”
Barry and Lena were ready. Ready for it to be all over.
Chapter Thirteen
Lena stood as she looked around the tired passengers. She assessed the situation before making orders. The powerful smell of blood and other foul odors wafted around the plane’s cabin, and the odd taste of recycled air and aging red wine flavored her mouth. The cool plating of the gun in her grip and the air marshal’s badge that sat in her other hand even left its metallic scent behind.
There was an eerie quietness that settled uneasily around the mismatched patchwork of people scattered around the cabin. The half empty drink cart was shoved in the back of the aircraft, and Sunshine still fought on Row 59.
Lena tried to process her thoughts. The hangover from that morning still hadn’t fully gone away and certainly wasn’t helping her organize the messy situation. She had to get in contact with her officers on the ground. Her father, Terry, was a high-ranking officer in the Special Forces, and he would know what to do. He was the calmest and most logical man Lena had ever known in her life. She had to get a hold of him somehow.
“Okay, listen up,” Lena called over the confused passengers.
Barry stood tall beside her. He was good at calming the passengers, and they seemed to listen to him more.
“Sit down, and get buckled in safely,” she said, holding the firearm in her hand.
The passengers did as she told them and found new seats to buckle up in. Parents helped their children without a fuss, and strangers moved over to allow other frightened passengers to sit beside them. Even Dr. Dick Francis and Professor Jack Enright quietly found a seat and followed Lena’s orders closely. The gun in her hand was light, but it had a profound impact on the passengers listening to her. She felt relieved to have a weapon after all the hand-to-hand combat she’d had.
She looked down at Hawaiian Shirt’s body, and the smell was already despicable.
Lena picked up a pair of disposable rubber gloves from the drink cart and slipped them on. Time to move Hawaiian Shirt.
She dragged the body down the aisle, and Barry grabbed gloves and helped her. They dragged Hawaiian Shirt to the empty bathroom between economy class and premiere class. They had to shove the large body into the small space and flick the door shut so he wouldn’t fall out. After a small amount of pushing, they got the door closed securely.
Well, at least that’s taken care of, she thought to herself.
“Thanks, Barry.”
He nodded and smiled. “I am your deputy after all,” he joked.
Some guests were green and sickly looking. The combination of blood, a dead body, and the obvious zombies made the general passengers queasy. Emily and the other members of the flight crew distributed extra sick bags to the passengers just in case they were needed.
Lena chewed her bottom lip as she thought about what to do next. “We need to talk to the pilot,” she drawled.
The flight crew had finished handing out extra sick bags and were trying to help console the scared guests. Sherri played a hand clapping game with a young girl while another male flight attendant talked quietly with Dude and the boys with matching jerseys.
“Wait, why don’t we ask…?” Barry began, but he stopped when he couldn’t remember a name.
“… Emily,” Lena finished his sentence for him. She pocketed the marshal’s badge and radio before making her way down the aisle to Emily who’d thrown first-class blankets over the blood-stained carpet. “Emily,” Lena said.
“Yes. What can I do for you?” Emily answered. She still had her professionalism despite all that had happened.
“We need to talk to the pilot,” Lena said urgently.
Emily nodded. “Of course.”
Lena followed Emily down through the aisles toward the in-flight communication phone at the front of premiere class. Barry joined them, but he easily got distracted with the oversized, c
omfortable looking chairs and free drinks sitting untouched.
“Hello, Captain Pertus?” Emily said into the receiver. She paused. “Yes, Captain. We have a 7-Echo-Juliet-Delta-Whiskey-9-9-0.”
The flight attendant was using the phonetic alphabet which Lena had used a lot in her career. It confused Barry who was far less experienced in emergency situations.
“Whiskey?” He perked up.
“It’s the phonetic alphabet. Used in emergencies,” Lena clarified with a slight smile.
“I can read any kind of computer coding you give me, but when it comes to any other alphabets, just forget it,” he said, lounging lazily in one of the few premiere class armchairs.
Emily nodded a few times. “Yes, Captain. There is a live zombie on the plane, one dead zombie, and the air marshal was bitten,” she reported then paused again. “Sir, there is a Special Forces operative with me who can fill you in better than I can.”
She nodded and passed the phone to Lena. “It’s for you.”
“Hello, Captain Pertus. This is Lena Turner talking.”
“Mrs. Turner,” Captain Pertus replied.
“Oh, it’s just Lena.”
“Lena, Emily tells me the situation out there is grave.”
“It isn’t good, sir, but it’s more under control.”
“Fill me in further.”
Lena quickly told him what had happened on the plane.
“Interesting. Well, you do seem to have things under control, Lena,” Captain Pertus said.
“Yes, I have. I would like to call down to my men on the ground and fill them in. They need to get a better idea of what’s going on.”
“Go ahead and use this phone. Dial five before the number to get down to the ground. I’m going to come back and assess the situation and assure passengers that things are all right.”
“Thank you,” she repeated.
There was an awkward silence before the captain hung up and the line went dead. Lena stood for a moment, listening to the beeping noise on the line. She hung the receiver back on its hook and turned to her friends.
“Now what?” Barry asked. He had slouched further down in his chair.
“I call my father,” Lena simply said and turned back to the phone.
She picked up the phone and dialed the number she knew by heart. She cursed as nothing happened. She placed the receiver back onto its hook and cursed again. “Why the fuck aren’t you bloody working?” She cried.
“Is there a certain number to dial to get a line out?” Barry asked innocently. He had spread himself out, and his leg hung over the arm of the oversized chair. “At the hotel in New York, I had to dial 1219 just to dial out before I put in the number.”
Of course! She remembered. The five.
She pulled the phone off its hook and dialed five before putting in her father’s number in again. The phone rang, and she licked her lips, praying that her father would pick up.
“Sergeant Terry Turner speaking.”
“Dad! It’s Lena.”
“Lena? My God! Where are you?” he asked.
“We’re on our way back from New York, but there’s a problem up here.”
“Just like down here, I assume.”
“What’s going on, Dad?”
He was silent for a moment before taking a deep breath and filling his daughter in. “The airports are in danger, Lena. The incoming flights are bringing in numerous infected people. They’re on lockdown—all of them. Heathrow, Gatwick, Manchester, Glasgow, you name it!” He paused. “By now, most of the country is on lockdown.”
“What does that mean for us?” she asked, nervous about the news.
“I am not really sure. The virus is spreading quickly, despite all the emergency procedures we have in place. It’s still spreading like wildfire.”
Lena gulped. “What will happen when we land?”
“The United States isn’t infected yet, so I’d advise you to return there. It’ll be safer there than here.” He avoided her question.
Lena hated the idea of not being home. She was eager to get back to the UK and help out as much as she possibly could, but she knew the wise thing would be to return to America.
“Lena, listen to me,” her father said into the phone. “You have a good head on your shoulders, and I know you’ll take care of those people. Keep them alive and safe.”
She knew her dad was right. “Thanks, Dad. Same for you,” Lena said and then hung up.
Lena held her hand on the phone for a moment before Captain Pertus wandered down the aisle into Economy Class. He gasped at the unusual sight in front of him. He looked wide-eyed at the tired passengers and Sunshine thrashing in his chair.
“Just don’t look in that bathroom,” Barry muttered, pointing at the bathroom they had shoved the dead Hawaiian Shirt Zombie into.
“Is everyone okay?” he asked the passengers.
A few passengers nodded their heads or grunted a quiet reply. They didn’t want to be too loud, or they could arouse the mostly settled zombie. He was rocking back and forth again, but he didn’t seem to try to hurt anyone.
The four of them gathered in a huddle.
“We will be in the UK shortly,” Captain Pertus said.
Lena thought what her father had told her, that the U.S.A. hadn’t been infected.
She needed to know more, and Captain Pertus may know something which her father didn’t know. While it was unlikely, it was worth a chance. “How is the situation on the ground?” she asked.
“Not great. The infection has spread,” Captain Pertus said.
She briefly exchanged looks with Barry and Emily. They’d been listening to her conversation. They looked grim, but each had a small shred of hope. After all that had happened so far, it was a miracle they were still alive.
Emily pulled her phone out of her skirt pocket. “Excuse me. I want to text Harry, my son.” She ducked out of premiere class.
She pulled up the messages app and typed a short text to Harry. She didn’t even know if he would get it or not, but she typed it anyway.
<
Emily felt so wrong typing about zombies, but looking across the rows and into the dilated pupils of Sunshine, she knew that everything was wrong. Her hands danced over the send button before she finally clicked it.
Chapter Fourteen
Harry turned the final corner onto Oak Street. Oliver’s house was close to the opposite end of the road from where he was. He powered his tired legs toward number 46. He had cycled this route countless times before and knew it by heart. The old crumbling house stood proudly amongst the tidy houses. The bungalow was built before the Second World War, and Oliver’s family had lived there since it was first built.
Harry pushed the bike to a shaky stop, and Isabella slipped gracefully off the back. Her pajamas hung loosely off her body, but it didn’t stop her from showing off her well-practiced gymnastic skills.
He let the bike fall on the grass beside Oliver’s dark blue speedster. Oliver had begged his parents for a new bike last Christmas to replace his ancient green one. Now he had a top of the line, beautifully crafted speed bike. He gloated about it for months afterward. Harry couldn’t see George’s older bike anywhere and figured he was still on his way to Oliver’s house.
Harry went to open the front door. It was always open, but not today. It was locked. He pounded his fist on the door. Oh, no! He quickly looked around, worried that he’d alerted the zombies to his presence. Thankfully, nothing came.
Oliver’s face appeared at the window, quickly followed by his worried parents, Janice and Ronan. The lock clicked, and the aged wooden front door creaked loudly when Oliver’s mom opened it. Everything in Oliver’s life was always out of date and extremely old—except for his bike.
“Quick… quick inside,” Oliver’s mom hurried to say.
Harry and Isabella quickly ran inside to the livin
g room. Oliver’s parents were older than Harry’s. They were closer to his grandparents’ age, but they were genuine people.
His mom always wore a cooking apron and made the sweetest cupcakes which she always decorated with intricate and thought out designs. She had short, wavy grey hair that fit her face well, and she wore her specs on a beaded chain like a librarian. She almost always had a large smile on her face. Oliver called it her “banana smile” because it looked like she could eat a banana sideways with her smile.
Ronan was a rougher man. He had a long, scraggly salt and pepper beard and thick grey hair on the top of his head. He sported a button-up shirt that showed off his strong biceps, and he always had a knife strapped to his belt that he liked to joke about.
The two parents were polar opposites, but they fit together perfectly. They always seemed to be the sweetest people who could also give a brutally honest answer. Harry liked Oliver’s parents and enjoyed spending most of his time at Oliver’s place, especially when Janice cooked.
Oliver had been explaining to his parents in dramatic detail his encounter with the zombies when Harry and Isabella arrived. He waved his arms around, showing them how he had beaten back the oncoming mob. His parents seemed enthralled with his tales, but there was doubt in their expressions. When Oliver had finished his story, he sat down, exhausted.
Oliver looked over at Harry and Isabella. “What happened to you guys?” He was surprised to see Isabella there but was eager to hear what had happened with them.
“We were chased by zombies!” Harry stated.
“On your paper route?” Oliver asked.
“Yes. I was just pedaling up Jean’s Hill, and I saw a rare Pokémon just off my route. There was this zombie there, I thought was part of the game, so I went over to collect it.”
“You left your paper route for a Pokémon!” Oliver gasped with enthusiasm.
Harry smiled. “Of course! I am no wimp, unlike some people,” he joked, emphasizing his words.
Oliver lightly patted his heart. “Ouch, bro, just ouch.”
“Yeah, anyway, I went to it, and I heard this grunting. I thought it was my phone, but when I looked up, I was literally face to face with the undead.”
Pandemic Z (Book 1): Pandemic Z Page 11
