by B. T. Wright
“Let’s go!” Bald shouted across the tarmac.
“It’s okay, Colt. Take the boys and go. Go now!” She didn’t wait. She turned and sprinted for her SUV.
Colt grabbed his sons and did the same. Once they climbed the ladder, Colonel Jenkins got the plane in motion and drove north, directly at the oncoming infected. Colt buckled his boys in, then yelled from his seat. “What the hell are you doing? They’re coming from the north!”
“We need to get this plane turned around, get to the end of the runway, and gather speed before we can get her airborne.”
He buckled in his seat and took a deep breath. He hated not being able to see the infected. His looked out the side window. Maybe he could get an idea from there. But all he saw was a blur as Hunt sped by in her SUV.
What the? Where’s she going? Colt asked himself out of disbelief, but deep down he knew. “I can’t believe you let her do that!” Colt yelled at Colonel Jenkins.
“Like I said, not my idea,” Colonel Jenkins said over his shoulder. “I even offered to have Bald stay instead, but she said no.”
Colt found the back of Bald’s head. “True story,” Bald said.
“Now, if you don’t mind, I’m gonna try to concentrate and get us all out of here alive,” Colonel Jenkins said.
She said no? Colt wondered again. Why?
“‘Atta girl,” Bald said under his breath, but loud enough for everyone to hear.
“What? What happened?” Colt perked up.
“She just pulled a classic Air Force maneuver. She was trained well, even for a fourth-class cadet. I would’ve done the same thing,” Bald said.
“So, she’s luring them away?” Colt said.
“She’s doing what she can. They’re still coming for us,” Bald said.
Then it was Colonel Jenkins with an update. “Hold on, boys, we’re about to make the turn, and there’s infected closing in us. This might get a tad bumpy, and I don’t mean from turbulence.”
The plane veered left. And just as it did, Colt bent down to look out the right side of the aircraft where he could see the onslaught of infected barreling down on their position. Instantly, he gripped his armrests and dug his fingers in. After saying a silent prayer, he found his sons eyes. Fear was plastered on their faces.
Once Colonel Jenkins had made the complete turn, the plane paused. Just as Colt was about to speak, the plane lurched, and he could feel Colonel Jenkins force the plane forward.
Again, Colt clutched both armrests on each side of the seat, stretched back flat, and closed his eyes. He wished he could reach for his sons to hold them tight, but truth was they were safer strapped into their belts, especially if they encountered any turbulence while still on the ground.
“We’ve got more company. Coming up from the south,” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt held his breath. He couldn’t handle not being able to see. It was almost worse than the attack itself.
The aircraft continued to gain speed as they travelled down the runway. “This is gonna be close,” Colonel Jenkins’ voice was strained.
The front tire lifted from the ground, and instantly, Colt felt relief rise from his tightened gut. But just as it did, the first hit came. The plane shook to the side, but not off the runway.
“Damnit,” Colonel Jenkins said. “Almost there. Just a little more and we’ve got this.”
Again, another hit, and the plane shook again, but the infected were too late to cause major damage or deter their path. The aircraft was airborne.
“And . . . we’re clear. Wahoo!” Colonel Jenkins shouted into the cabin and turned around. “We did it, boys, we’re off the ground.”
Elated, Colt turned for his sons. Fear still lingered on their faces but seemed to loosen its hold. Then he glanced out the window one more time. He couldn’t believe what he saw below. In the field surrounding the airport was a sea of infected, more than he’d ever seen in one spot—bordering on 10,000 now.
But amongst the throng, there was no sign of Hunt’s SUV anywhere.
26
Once Colonel Jenkins leveled the plane out, Colt finally loosened his grip on the armrests, but only a little—not entirely, not until he heard Colonel Jenkins speak again, “Are you ready for this trip across country, co-pilot Bald?” He slapped him across the chest, still thrilled they’d lifted from the ground and were safe in midair.
At the sound of his voice, Colt felt the need to ask. If they saw any sign of Hunt. He leaned forward in his seat. “Did you see Hunt from up there? Did she make it out alive?”
Bald turned around. “I saw her drive off into the field, northwest of the airstrip.”
“But that would put her . . .” Colt stalled and fell back hard against his seat.
“I’m sorry, Colt, I tried to get her to come. Like I said, she wanted to stay. She knew the risks,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“No. I know.” Colt found his son’s eyes as they heard the conversation. “There’s nothing we could’ve done. I mean, she was so young, so much life in front of her.”
Bald kept his eye on Colt, then shared truth, but not empathy. “What life do you think she would’ve had, I mean, if she came with us?”
“I just mean . . . there’s gotta be a cure. My brother said scientists were working on something as we speak. Trying to fix this.”
“I sure hope your brother is right. For all our sakes,” Bald said.
Colt found the window again. He looked to the ground below and thought, Me too.
As Colt watched the land pass, he thought more about his brother. Where he was. What he was doing. Last he spoke with Jake, he’d been headed upriver. Near their family home in Kentucky. I sure as hell hope you’re safe. You better not be playing the hero or getting yourself killed trying to be all you can be. I need you to be alive. Aside from the boys and half of Anna . . . Colt paused to see his sons. He smiled, then thought—you’re all I’ve got left.
“So, look.” Colonel Jenkins brought Colt away from his thoughts. “We don’t have enough fuel to get us all the way to Virginia. We’ll need to make a stop somewhere. And I’ll have to double check with Mount Weather when we get in range of their frequency, but I assume Dulles Airport is the closest airstrip for us to land on.”
“Where do you plan on landing to refuel, Kansas City somewhere?” Bald asked.
Colonel Jenkins nodded toward the floor. “See if there are some old maps down there. There should be a stack of them. Our boys are always prepared.”
“How do you know how to fly this thing?” Dylan said. The first question he’d asked since boarding the plane. “Are you just some expert in flying everything?”
Colonel Jenkins chuckled to himself. “Hardly an expert, kid. Tell you the truth, the Air Force taught me how to fly helicopters, but I taught myself how to fly planes.”
“Really? That’s awesome,” Wesley added. The excitement grew in his voice as he spoke. “Can you fly fighters too?”
“Sorry, kid, no fighters. Just single engine props like this one.”
“Oh.” Wesley slumped in his seat defeated.
“Got one.” Bald held up a map.
“Okay, by the looks of it . . .” Colonel Jenkins checked his instruments. “I’d say, we’ve got about 400 miles before we need to land.”
“Where does that put us?” Colt added from the back.
Bald did the calculation on the map. Then looked to Colonel Jenkins before he spoke. “Somewhere in the middle of Kansas.”
Colt pushed out breath and rested his head back.
“What?” Dylan noticed the discontent on his father’s face.
“Nothing.” Colt didn’t want to say. He put on a show—a fake smile for his sons.
“Bullshit, nothing. Tell us. You owe us that. Brutal truth, remember?” Dylan said.
“I don’t think there’s going to be a refueling station in the middle of Kansas, kiddo,” Colt said.
Colonel Jenkins wouldn’t allow that thought to be the last word spok
en. “You’d be surprised, but regardless, we’ll push her. Spread her wings. Hell, I’ll glide in on fumes if need be. We’ve gotta make it. We’ve gotta.”
“What about Marshall Airfield?” Bald said. “It’s in Fort Riley, I think. Guarantee they’ll have the fuel we need. And it’s about 100 miles outside of Kansas City. Could be in range?”
“Great idea, Bald. Give me the heading, and I’ll set a course.”
Colt felt the shift beneath his butt. Turbulence. The shudder sent him upright in his seat, and he glanced out the window. Unaware they were close to touching down, Colt leaned forward in his chair, but didn’t speak. Instead it was Wesley who asked, “Are we there? Did we make it?”
“It would appear so, good buddy,” Colonel Jenkins said. “I’m just aligning the plane with the runway, and we’ll be on the ground in no time.”
“Did you alert the tower?” Colt was hopeful someone was there to help. “Do they have the fuel we need?”
“Unfortunately, there was no response, but we’ve found a refueling station from the air. It’s just there. Off the starboard wing. Our hope is there is fuel leftover. Since this apocalypse happened pretty quickly, I imagine there will be enough to get us to Dulles.”
Colt stared to the ground below, then felt his sons joining him to look down. “You see it, there?”
“Do you think there will be more of those things on the ground waiting for us?” Wesley said, suddenly going straight in his chair.
“Oh, buddy.” Colt grabbed him and pulled him tight. Then he pushed Wesley out of the hug and looked to both kids. “Look. No matter what happens, I’m proud to be your father. And I’m proud to call you my sons. I love you for the little men you’ve become. When we land, I need you to listen to the colonel, okay?”
“Why? Where are you going?” Wesley said.
“Nowhere.” Colt grabbed his son’s arms to calm him. “I’ll be just outside. I’ll have to back up Bald when he’s refueling. I’ll be close. You can even watch me from inside the seats here, if you want.”
“Alright, Mr. Maddox. Time to strap in,” Colonel Jenkins said. “We’ll be on the ground in a few minutes.”
“You heard him.” Colt directed them to their seats and watched each buckle in.
He gave one last reassuring smile before the plane touched down—much smoother than the take-off.
“Keep your eyes peeled,” Bald turned over his shoulder and said. “If you see infected, any sign, even if you see the trees swaying the breeze, you tell me, got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Colt said.
Colonel Jenkins steered the plane to the middle of the airstrip before breaking off and heading for the fueling station.
“Once, I stop, you and Bald jump out. I’ve given Bald strict direction, and the refueling process shouldn’t take long, but I need you to be his backup. Do you understand, Mr. Maddox?”
“Yes, sir. No problem,” Colt said.
“Good,” Colonel Jenkins paused, then said, “There it is,” as the plane rolled to a stop.
Bald tapped Colt on the knee as he passed by. Colt stood idly by as Bald unlatched the door and walked down the ladder. Surprised by the thick, humid air, Colt sucked in and looked around, making sure there was no sign of danger.
Instead of infected, there were a plethora of armored vehicles, choppers, and airplanes. Many more options to choose from. Colt found himself wondering why there were so many modes of transport left behind. Didn’t they get out in time? Didn’t they have the same warning?
But his thoughts were stifled when Bald called out. “Maddox. Get your ass over here, I need you.”
Carrying his rifle with him, Colt sprinted to Bald’s position.
“When I get this hooked up to the plane, I need you to flip this switch.” Bald pointed to the refueling station. “You got me.”
“Got it.”
As Bald walked the hose away from the station, Colt asked, “How long does this take?”
“No idea.”
“Great!” Colt muttered under his breath.
Once the hose was hooked up, Bald said, “Okay, hit it.”
Colt lifted the lever, then spun around in a circle, never taking his eyes off the open area. After about ten minutes of fueling, Colt heard the sound of rushing fuel start to slow. Oh, thank God.
Colonel Jenkins stood in the open doorway of the aircraft and said, “That’s good enough. I don’t want to sit here any longer. Let’s go!”
Colt turned the lever off and waited for Bald, but just as Bald approached, he paused momentarily.
“What? What is it?” Colt could see the surprise in his eyes.
Bald didn’t need to answer. Colt spun around and saw at least a dozen infected running his way.
“Flip the switch!” Bald yelled, but it didn’t register with Colt. “Flip the switch!”
Without thinking, Colt did as he was told, then lifted his rifle to his shoulder. He was about to fire, but Bald caught him from behind. “There’s no time. C’mon, we’ve gotta move.”
Colt ran with Bald directly past the hose that Bald left on the concrete. The flow was open, and fuel was pouring everywhere. “Go! Go! Go!” Bald waved Colonel Jenkins off as he and Colt sprinted not toward the plane, but away from it. They needed to gather speed and catch the plane as it travelled down the runway.
Bald flipped open a lighter and sparked it to life. Colt saw what he was doing but didn’t believe it. Bald stopped, turned around, and chucked the lighter back toward the refueling station, then spun again to catch the passing plane.
Colt did his best to keep pace, but Bald was younger and faster. Colt didn’t break stride, not even when he felt the blast of fire erupt from behind. The noise shook him where he stood, but still didn’t throw off his pace, not until they reached the open door of the aircraft.
Colt climbed aboard first, then Bald followed and they each collapsed in the seats and could do nothing but laugh at the sheer impossibility of it all.
Just as the laughter subside, the plane lifted from the ground, full of fuel and bound for Virginia.
27
“Dad, I have to go to the bathroom,” Wesley peered up at his father from the seat next to him.
Colt searched the cabin for anything Wesley could use to relieve himself. He found an empty water bottle stuffed between the seat and the wall. “Here, bud, use this.” He handed it across the aisle.
“Not that kind of bathroom, Daddy.”
Colt went rigid. With no bathroom aboard, there was no way for him to find relief.
He leaned in the aisle, looked toward the cockpit, and said, “How much farther do we have? Wesley needs to use the bathroom. Tell you truth, I could use one too,” Colt said.
“I need to stretch my legs. I’m starting to get claustrophobic in here,” Dylan muttered.
“In fact, all of us need to get out,” Colt added.
Colonel Jenkins moved over his shoulder and said, “I was just about to alert the tower at Dulles. We’re about fifty miles out, so stay tuned.”
Colt awaited more as he saw the shadow of the sun setting behind the plane. It was hard to believe they’d been sitting in the same position for almost six hours.
“Dulles tower, this is Colonel Jack Jenkins of the United States Air Force. We are seeking permission to land on one of your runways. Do you copy? Over.”
Colt unlatched his seatbelt and hobbled forward, getting as close as he could to the cockpit without impeding the colonel’s space. He lifted an extra pair of headphones so he could hear the other end of the conversation from the Dulles tower.
Fifteen seconds passed, and Colonel Jenkins spoke again with the same message. But again, radio silent.
“What about Mount Weather? Should we try their frequency, sir?” Bald said.
“Absolutely, but I hoped to contact Dulles first. I was hoping we’d have access to a runway and that things weren’t bottlenecked. We’re getting dangerously low on fuel. We don’t have the ability to fly arou
nd and search for another runway. We need a destination, and soon.”
Bald switched the frequency, then nodded to Colonel Jenkins.
“Mount Weather, this is Colonel Jack Jenkins of the United States Air Force. We’re nearing your airspace and need a place to land. Do you copy? Over.”
“Say again unidentified aircraft. Your last was garbled. Please, say again,” a male voice came over the speaker.
“This is Colonel Jack Jenkins of the United States Air Force. We are flying in from Cheyenne Mountain Complex by order of the president. Please! We are low on fuel and need instruction on where to land our aircraft. Over.”
When the voice came back over the frequency, there was an eruption of applause in the background. “Damn glad to hear your voice, Colonel. We are alerting the president of your arrival as we speak. Last we heard, you went down somewhere in Colorado Springs. We thought we lost you. We thought we lost the vice president.”
Colonel Jenkins stayed quiet, unwilling to break the sad news over the radio at that time.
“You didn’t lose me,” he said. “We’re still here. There are five of us, but I don’t have time to get into details of our survival, we need an airstrip ASAP. Can we land at Mount Weather?” His question was rhetorical but sounded hopeful.
“Negative, sir. The closest airstrip is about twenty-five miles from here. A place called Leesburg Executive Airport. Do you know it?”
“Negative,” Colonel Jenkins said.
The man gave him the coordinates, then Colonel Jenkins spoke only to Bald. “Did you get them? Did you write them down? 39.0783 north, 77. 5544 west.”
Bald scribbled on the map.
“How far out are you?” the man asked.
“A little less than fifty miles,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Roger that, we’ll prepare a team and send them out to you. They should be at the airstrip upon your arrival. See you soon, Colonel, and God speed.”
“Thank you. Tell the president we’ll see him soon,” Colonel Jenkins said.
