The door handle began to turn, but it would not open with the lock that I had set in place. Moments later, a speaker boomed in the room.
“Kyle. John. It’s Jarvis. I see you in there. We need to get in.”
We recognized his voice, and I let out a deep breath, unclenching the mallet. Nodding toward Kyle, he lifted the latch. Jarvis entered with six other people, including the woman and the Asian.
“Gentlemen, thanks for letting us in. We’re having some trouble pulling this place back together at the moment. We need to use the bunker’s intercom to coordinate the attack. Mind if I trade places with you, John?” Jarvis had a calm to his voice, and kept the conversation almost pleasant.
“We were just leaving. I need to get to my wife and child,” I answered. Jarvis squeezed by me, stepped in front of the computer monitors, and turned to face us.
“We’ll have this under control shortly. I don’t have time to persuade you to stay, but know there will always be a place for you here.”
The woman eyed Kyle from head to toe.
“You should come back. We could use a man like you,” she said. Kyle opened the door, and shot her a confident smile. Then we both slipped past the Asian, who quietly held his death-stained sword.
We navigated the iridescent hallways quickly, getting to the bunker entrance. The gigantic shelter door was slightly open. Peering beyond the opening, we saw that the guards had left their posts, no doubt to save their own asses or to help fleeing Elites.
The cool night air filled my lungs as we crept along a dark pathway to the fenced area that the commoners had been working on. We stopped to catch our breath and relish our hard-earned freedom. I felt a momentary calm, as everything was quiet. There were trees swaying in the wind, and there was a sliver of moon peering at us through the clouds, allowing us to see each step. I felt alive, truly free. I would be able to get away from this hell hole, and get to my wife and child. It was a liberating feeling.
It didn’t last long.
Anarchy filled the field above the bunker. Zs were chasing down troopers, who were being overrun by both the dead and the commoners. There were people controlling the floodlights in the towers overlooking the chaos, the beams bouncing around. Surveying the area, Kyle pointed over toward a bunch of parked vehicles.
“The Hummer!”
Even amidst the other cars and trucks, its yellow exterior called out to us like a beacon of hope as we made our way through the free for all, dodging troopers and the Dead.
As we approached the Hummer, I saw Kyle’s head drop in defeat. Like the rest of the parked vehicles, the Hummer had been stripped down. The wheels were missing, and the some of the body parts were gone.
Pulling open what was left of the Hummer’s door, I grabbed my hammer, still sitting safely on the front seat where I had left it. While our guns and ammo had been taken, some food and water were resting on the floorboard next to fake Michael’s briefcase. I felt a pang in my chest at the sight of the metal case. Filling a backpack with the supplies and grabbing the case, I sighed heavily and turned back to see if Kyle had salvaged anything.
Following his gaze, I watched as a helicopter lifted into the night sky. Its lights flooded the ground below, uncovering an armada of helicopters and small aircraft.
“That’s how we get to your wife; tonight!” Kyle yelled. He motioned toward an exterior gate, darting around the Hummer. I followed, the thrill at the prospect of getting to my wife so soon, gave me a much needed shot of adrenaline. We ran past a trooper who was being devoured by three of the Zs. Bellies filling, they didn’t pay us any attention as we skirted past them.
Entering the field, I almost stepped into a deep sand trap. I realized that we were on a golf course. The grass was seriously overgrown. I could see the taillights from a golf cart ahead of us, racing towards the make shift landing field.
Gunshots rang out ahead of us. We dropped into the grass. The golf cart turned sideways and flipped over. There was an odd noise behind me. I spun around to see a small swarm in tow.
Crouched down, my motion stilled, I could feel my body giving out on me. I closed my eyes tight for a moment and then tried to focus on the whirlybirds. The exhaustion was taking over, despite my best efforts. Kyle could see it.
“You wanna see your kid?” he barked, hauling me to my feet. I rubbed my face briskly. Stepping up the pace, I pulled my shit together for the sprint. The backpack was banging against my shoulders and spine with each step, helping me to keep rhythm. We’d need supplies, but I regretted grabbing the metal case. It was too late to stop now.
We approached the airfield just as another helicopter was preparing for takeoff. The rear door was open, and through the darkness, we could see him. I heard Kyle grunt wordlessly in fury, just as my own lip curled.
Chauffer was sitting down, pulling a radio headset over his head as the chopper’s runners left the ground. He saw us running up on the airfield, being chased by the creatures. I swear I could see him smiling as he raised his right hand to wave at us.
Kyle pointed toward the bottom of the chopper. There was a creature pulling itself up on the landing gear. In an instant, it clutched onto Chauffer’s leg, and pulled him from the craft. He fell at least thirty feet, and landed in a sand trap, a cloud of white sand shooting into the air. The helicopter didn’t bother to pause, and headed off into the starlight.
I started toward one of the helicopters on the ground. Kyle grabbed my arm, shaking his head in rapid little jerks.
“Not that one,” he blurted, turning to point toward another. “That’s a twin engine. They fly farther than single engines.”
He threw the machine gun to me as he dove into the cockpit, then shouted,
“Remember what I showed you!”
I took a deep breath, paused to feel the night sky, and lifted the weapon to steady it on the oncoming creatures. My arms were shaking so hard from exertion that I wasn’t sure I could even keep the gun still. Waiting until I could see them clearly, I fired the weapon. The first one dropped, with a round to the chest, and then stumbled to its feet. My shoulder, once numb from the impalement, was now a fiery agony. I had to take several breaths just to get my bearings. I took another shot; its head snapped back as it fell to the ground for good.
Above me, the helicopter blades began to turn slowly. Three more shots, three more zombies polished off. But it wasn’t enough. Moving faster than I could shoot, they were upon me. Throwing the gun to the ground, I pulled my hammer out and crouched down, preparing myself for the onslaught. I had to buy us just a little more time.
Smashing the first with a swing across its jaw, it slid to the grass only to leap back up and spin around towards me. I gave it my all but it didn’t seem to be enough. I was wearing down faster than the zombies were. My arms and legs felt as if they were made of lead. They were sluggish, not listening to my brain.
I was on my back fighting the monster off, when Kyle jumped from the chopper. He tumbled along the greenway and then came up on his feet, pulling a flag from one of the golf holes. He charged at the zombie trying to take my life and drove it through the creature’s mouth. As it fell, it dragged Kyle down as well. I could hardly get back on my feet, but there were four more approaching. I picked the gun back up, feeling its weight. On adrenaline only, I discharged the weapon. All four zombies dropped, for good.
Kyle jogged over to me. The helicopter blades were swinging at full speed, spitting up tiny bits of debris, stinging my face. He motioned towards the sand trap that Chauffer fell into. With our shoulders heaving in unison, we edged over to peek in. Covered in wet sand, he looked up at us; he was still alive but unable to move. The creature had landed several feet from him though, and was crawling toward his mangled body.
“Help…me…,” came the weak, barely audible plea.
We probably could have killed the creature. We might have pulled Chauffer on board the helicopter. We certainly could have helped him.
Kyle and I made eye contact,
and then looked back at Avalon. The shadows of the dead danced in the light from the fence as they moved towards us. Glaring at that bastard for a mere moment, we both turned and sprinted back to the spinning blades of the chopper.
In this world, some people simply don’t deserve to be helped.
The Zs made it to the airfield as we were lifting off the ground. We observed the creatures scatter around and then hone in on the sand trap. At least ten of them dove right in there, spitting up a cloud of sand and gore that we could visibly see in the oversized spotlight on the helicopter.
Safely lifting into the sky, I took a moment to look down at Avalon. I could still see the commoners holding off the dead. Small sparkles of light flashed from their guns. We flew over a group of zombies, who all stopped dead in their tracks to look up at the spotlight from the helicopter. I was briefly reminded of the creatures we had seen in the field, watching the space junk fall from orbit like children fascinated by fireworks.
Higher and higher we flew. Until we were completely engulfed in the night.
Chapter 28
We’d all eventually have to pay for our sins.
A flying limousine, was the best way to describe the twin-engine helicopter we had borrowed. Kyle flipped a switch, and a small doorway opened from the cockpit to the cabin of the vehicle, exposing six leather seats, two televisions, a stocked bar and a small ice dispenser.
I pulled a headset over my ears as Kyle explained that this model was for private charter customers. Bigwig executives would use them to fly back and forth between meetings.
Judging by the small armada back at the golf course, they were also the preferred method of travel to escape the end of the world...in style. What took Kyle and me days of horrific fights and battles to accomplish, they did in hours by simply flying over the horror down below.
Looking at all the buttons, knobs, and dials in the instrument panel, I recognized one to be a gas gauge. It was completely full; I asked through the microphone on my headset about how far that would get us.
He told me that typically these twin engines would go between 400 and 500 miles on a full tank. The navigation system in the panel told us that we were less than 400 miles from the Blue Ridge Mountains, and more importantly, the cabin address that Jenn gave me via voice mail.
He continued explaining that we’d be there in around two and a half hours, assuming nothing catastrophic went wrong. Thinking through the events of the past days, I clinched my teeth realizing that catastrophe seemed to be the norm.
However, maybe it was our turn to take a short cut.
Looking out the window, letting my mind fall to ease, I felt a sigh of relief shoot through my body. Not long now, before I’d make it back to her.
Just 400 miles to go.
Crawling into the rear cabin, I grabbed a small emergency kit and two cups of ice. My shoulder was still bleeding. I patched it up the best I could and handed a make shift bandage to Kyle to apply to his chest as well.
Reaching into the bag that I had grabbed from the Hummer, I pulled two bottles of water out and poured them into the cups of ice. Kyle reached up with his glass.
“To your wife and kid. We’re almost there.”
I met his glass with mine, and said, “Cheers!”
We both chugged our glasses in one gulp. I had not had an ice-cold beverage in days, and the cool liquid really hit the spot. It’s amazing what we took for granted before our lives fell apart.
The metal briefcase in the backpack caught my eye, so I reached down and pulled it onto my lap.
“Finally going to find out what he kept in that thing, huh? What do you think? Tons of cash, gold?” Kyle asked.
With a shrug, I tried the latches on either side of the case. Both were unlocked, and it flipped right open.
Grinning at Kyle, I said, “I guess we’re going to find out.”
I slowly opened the top of the case to discover it was almost empty, except for three small items. The first was a picture, still in the frame, of fake Michael with his wife and son. I set it back down in the case with the realization that they were all now dead. It hit me like a shot to the gut.
The second item was his wallet. Devoid of cash, it contained his real ID. I pulled the driver’s license from the leather pocket and lifted it up toward a light in the cockpit. I read the name out loud.
“Leonard E. Daniels.” Kyle and I both paused.
“Funny,” he murmured with an odd expression. “I wouldn’t have guessed Leonard. Would you?”
“No, I guess not,” I replied.
Setting the wallet down, I picked up the final item. It was rolling around in the back of the case. Lifting it up to the light, it dawned on me what it was. A three inch, blood covered pen. The very pen that Leonard had used to kill Michael Hoskins.
I sat there, crouched in my seat, playing back the events leading up to Avalon. So many people had died horribly, some innocent, some not…some more than deserving. Leonard was really nothing more than a by-product of a society built on greed. His lies and deceit felt more like the desperation of a man, who had lost everything of meaning in the blink of an eye. Once he had nothing to lose, he had simply decided that it was his turn to be at the top.
With the price he paid, I found it hard to blame him for his actions. My anger falling to the side, I rubbed my eyes and looked down at the metal case, knowing we would all eventually have to pay for our sins.
I had flown at night many times. It was usually by plane, but the view was always the same from the sky. When the world was still alive, all you could see was light. Headlights flowing down rivers of brightly lit streets. Buildings filled with lights that were left on while the night janitors toiled in their quiet work.
Now, light was shadowed by the dark cloak of the dead.
Crossing into Georgia air space, Kyle alerted me that we were getting close. Dawn was approaching in a couple of hours, and the navigation estimated that we’d be at the cabin in roughly thirty-three minutes. He looked over at me, the events of the past days showing. The glow of the instrument panel revealed his red rimmed eyes from lack of sleep. Still, there was a determination on his face. Kyle was going to get us to my wife.
“I’m not sure what we’ll be getting into once we hit the cabin.” He spoke softly, his voice slightly hoarse.
“I know,” I replied, rubbing my sweaty palms on my pants.
“Is there a lighter in the emergency kit?” he asked as if to take my mind off of it.
I reached behind my seat where I had discarded the kit and lifted it in to my lap. Flipping over the plastic cover, I rummaged through the gauze and bandages until I found a small orange cylinder. Pulling it from the kit, I replied,
“No, but looks like we’ve got a set of waterproof matches.”
“Good, that will do. Now, how many bottles of liquor do we have back in that mini-bar?” he asked. Glancing back, I saw various types of dark and light liquors held in place by small hooks.
“Looks to be six.”
Seeing where he was heading with this, I unbuckled my seat harness and pulled myself back into the cabin saying, “I’ll get started.”
Taking a white custom embroidered blanket, I tore six strips from it, and started to tuck them into the heads of the bottles. With that, we had ourselves six Molotov cocktail bombs.
Returning to my seat, I asked if he had any other ideas. He shook his head, squinting at the gun.
“How many rounds do we have left?”
“None. I used the last of the bullets back at the airstrip. I’ve got my hammer though,” I replied. Kyle thought for a moment.
“Hopefully, we won’t need to use any of it.”
Looking back out at the darkness, I pressed my head against the window and whispered,
“Hopefully.”
Chapter 29
Any plan we’d come up with would be shit, but then again, so were the circumstances.
It was easy to find the address that Jenn had given us. Flyin
g just beyond an open pasture field, we came across the cabin. The moonlight revealed a quaint two-story structure with a deck that overlooked a steep hill and a view of the mountains that most people would have killed for.
As we flew over the tree line, the house stood high with what appeared to be tall swaying bushes surrounding the base of the structure. Hovering closer and closer to the ground, I watched as the forest spun into a wild dance from the whirlwind of the helicopter. My eyes fixed on the bushes. They were not flapping around. They were slowly shifting back and forth. Closer still, and as the spotlight illuminated the cabin, I squinted, rubbing my eyes, adjusting to the image. This couldn’t be possible. It was worse than I’d ever imagined.
There were no bushes. The entire place was surrounded. There were at least fifty creatures piling on top of each other on every wall, clawing at the wooden logs holding the place together.
A chill drilled deep into my bones. The downstairs windows were broken in. We could see mangled shadows shifting around inside.
We hovered above the home, watching the zombies under the spotlight as they stopped to look up at the chopper, as it slowly hovered around the dwelling. One hundred red eyes staring back at us. My heart sank into my stomach.
Just as I started to feel all hope slip away, Kyle asked in a slightly disillusioned tone,
“What are they after?”
“Huh?” I was only partially listening, the question entering the furthest corner of my mind as I stared out the window, feeling rage beginning to swell. Was I was too late, not being there for them when they needed me the most? Had I had failed them?
“Seriously,” Kyle said louder, snapping me out of my daze. “What are they after? The Zs...why would they be surrounding this house in such force?”
900 Miles: A Zombie Novel Page 19
