Unhappy Endings

by Chris Philbrook

  What was once Israel Dajovic took an uneasy step. Gore covered his face and shirt.

  “Show me your hands!” Elliot ordered him, aiming for the man’s chest, recognizing him as the one Anna had escorted to the bathroom.

  Another shuffle and the man made a lunge. Elliot fired dead center twice, intent on stopping the threat. The man fell on his face just inches away from Elliot's feet.

  The close quarters didn’t absorb the loud boom, and Elliot’s ears were still ringing as he slowly approached the body. He ignored the passengers as the scrambled for cover. By now everyone was awake, peering over the tops of their seats, watching the event unfold with fear and curiosity. Unable to look away like watching a horrible car accident.

  The man’s body twitched as he sat up, sending Elliot scrambling backwards. Elliot fired again. Three quick pops again didn’t even stop the man as he got to his feet, shrugging off the effects of clearly lethal gunshot wounds. Within seconds, the body of the dead flight attended shook and sat up in the same way. Her neck had been ripped open and fresh blood was oozing down her ripped shirt.

  “What the fuck?” Elliot said. Eleven bullets left in the fifteen round magazine.

  Those that were close enough started to panic. Panic in an airplane nearly seven miles from the ground was not a good thing. Any hopes of retaining order faded when someone made the mistake of screaming. It drew the attention of the two 'dead people' away from Elliot and he took that moment to quickly herd those in coach to first class. The task was nearly impossible. One man doing his best to direct nearly eighty bodies and rushing them like sheep to safety. Instead, it felt more like leading them to a slaughter.

  Add to the mix a severe case of mass confusion. Not everyone understood what was going on. He didn't either. Elliot pushed and prodded, urging them on as he watched the first two maul Russell flight attendant.

  “Come on, people! Move it! Move it” Elliot urged them, glancing over his shoulder and wished he hadn’t. The two undead were tearing at Russell’s flesh, ripping and gnawing in a gruesome feast. Russell’s screams and pleas echoed throughout the plane. Another problem would soon be at hand, Elliot surmised. If they died and kept on, he could too. The mass of bodies huddled together in first class with nowhere else to go. All his options running out, Elliot quickly picked up the wall phone that would ring into where the cockpit. After the second ring, someone picked up.

  “This is the Captain.”

  It didn’t even register that the Captain’s voice was oddly monotone. “This is Marshal Elliot Bane. Sir, we have a serious issue out here and shots have been fired. The crew has been compromised and the passengers are at risk. We need to make an immediate emergency landing. Notify the authorities th-” He never finished the sentence when the Captain disconnected the call. “Seriously?" Elliot said, leaving the phone to dangle against the wall.

  Too many bodies pressed together and too many questions all at once. All overwhelming his thought process as they were hurled at him. Most looked upset over being moved. Only a few appeared scared.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Is there a bomb?”

  “Are there terrorists on board?”

  “Marshal? What can we do to help?”

  “Listen up people!” Elliot raised his voice. “Listen! Everyone needs to stay put right here! We have a situation in the rear area… but the crew has it under control.”

  “We heard gunshots.”

  “And a scream.”

  He soothed them. “I’m going back there to find out. Until then, everyone stay right here! Understand? I don’t need everyone causing a mass panic.” Another scream came from the back, which made the people press closer. Elliot turned, pushing through. “Find some seats, people. Find some seats and stay put.”

  Then his mind clicked. Anna was still in the bathroom. Or at least he hoped and parted the blue curtain. Hope faded quickly when he saw them. Four zombie? The word died at the tip of his nightmarish idea. Hell, what else could they be? They sure as hell wasn’t sparkly vampires. They were now munching on what had been a well dressed man. Business suit and the whole nine yards. But now, their feast had turned the whole nine yards into a kibbles and bits -all you can eat- zombie buffet. And they were really going to town with gruesome effect.

  “Holy shit,” was all he could say as he walked closer, gun raised and pointed toward the feeding frenzy. This wasn't something you learned in the academy. Nothing in the text books or on the job prepared you for an incident like this.

  “What in God’s name is that?”

  Elliot turned and nearly collided with a curious passenger. Behind him were several other peering faces, hiding behind the curtain.

  “Marshal?” one of the asked.

  Three let their curiosity get the best of them and were pushing forward, straining to see.

  “Get back!” he ordered the passengers, causing them to scramble out of the way.

  Two of the undead looked up at the commotion, forgetting their human meal and starting to make their way towards them. Slow, uneasy baby steps as if they had forgotten how to walk.

  *****

  Anna held the door shut, praying, using every ounce of strength. Under normal circumstances, the urge to pray would have fallen to the side and been forgotten. Not that she didn’t believe.

  The initial shock had faded and the training had kicked in.

  “Open your eyes." She forced her muscles to respond.

  She cracked the door open and she saw blood. So much of it smeared across the walls and tracked along the floor. More than she had seen in her life. Anna repressed the urge to vomit and eased the door open, carefully looking to the left. She could make out the forms of her former co-workers as they kneeled over a body. Her brain tried to process what her eyes witnessed. Two more people were walking toward the front.

  Her heart sank when she saw Elliot.

  *****

  Eleven bullets. Elliot remembered the extra ammunition was in the compartment above his seat, almost to where the walking bodies had reached. He walked off a few paces, calculating his next shots. No room for mistakes. Center mass didn’t work the first time. Elliot took aim at the man he shot at the start.

  Breathe in. Breathe out. Hold it and squeeze.

  The first bullet struck the man’s throat, sending him flailing backward. Deep breath. Hold it again and acquire the next threat. The next shot struck the woman right in the head. Zombie goo and blood splattered the ceiling and walls as she fell, sliding down one of the seats. Elliot took a step, pausing and then taking a few more that closed the gap. He checked the woman, kicking her to make sure she was actually dead. He nearly pissed himself when the man rose no more than five feet away again. His panicked shot struck home, entering right between his dead eyes, blowing out a healthy chunk of dark blood and brain.

  The dead flight attendants had now taken notice of the noise and were getting to their feet. Elliot was ten feet from them and was taking aim when Anna’s blurred shape came into view.

  “Get back into the bathroom and lock the door!” He waved her back, trying to get her to move out of the way.

  Anna nodded and retreated to the safety of the enclosed room.

  Elliot had the first zombie in his sights, ignoring the streaks of flesh that hung from her body. He focused on her bloody lips. He hesitated for a heartbeat as her white eyes stared back. Eyes that had been so green and full of life were now full of hunger. This wasn’t the Becky he remembered from the galley. Simple and easy. Headshots is all it takes… The round missed as he fell, tossed to the side at the sudden and violent dissent of the aircraft. The plane jerked and shook, causing the living to scream from fear and panic. The movement had only been a one-time thing, but it was enough to cause several injuries. Broken bones mostly but one with a broken neck. It would only take a few moments for the more seriously injured person to succumb, adding fuel to the fire.

  Anna held onto the door handle when the plane bucked. The m
ovement threw her hard to the floor, causing her head to strike metal. The resulting connection tore a gash into her forehead causing her to emit a tirade of expertly placed cuss words. Shortly she was able to stand, holding onto the sink and rising to her feet. With a free hand against the wound, she grabbed rolls and rolls of toilet paper, trying to halt the blood. There was a lot and she soon felt light headed. Anna leaned against the door frame, listening. No sound was heard since the last gunshots. Which made her wonder if whatever had happened had come to an end. To make certain, she pressed her ear against the door. Straining to hear any signal that would indicate an all clear. Nothing but the sounds of the engines.

  Washing away most of the blood with cold water, she applied more toilet paper; pressing it hard against the gash and opening the door slowly, daring another peek to the left. She took a brave step out and a glimpse to the right nearly made her vomit. Pools of blood and body parts were left as evidence to what happened. It took all of her will to fight the gag reflex.

  Gathering her wits as best she could, Anna turned toward the cabin. One. Two. Three bodies were laid out. Anna stopped at the first; recognizing the clothing of the man she had helped earlier. She sidestepped his body and paused at the next. She could make out the back of her friend and co-workers who were kneeling over someone. As she got closer, the sickening sound of biting and chewing -like that of a rabid dog- made her freeze. All she could see was the other woman’s head going up and down, and then her eyes fell on the man’s legs and the edges of his black shirt. Anna recognized him immediately and her heart stopped.

  This can’t be real. This can’t be… the dead aren’t supposed to come back and start eating people. Come on, Anna.. wake up! Wake up! You’re going to wake up and be in the bed...

  A handgun was at her feet. She grabbed it. “Get the fuck away from him!” she hollered.

  Her dead friend turned, snarling with a mouthful of flesh. Dark blood oozed from the zombie’s mouth when it stood up. Anna raised the gun, but her fingers wouldn’t respond. The image wasn’t registering and her already frayed nerves had twisted her insides. Making her doubt what was really going on. The second flight attendant slowly got up, forgetting what it had been doing and now locked onto this new treat. Anna took a step back as the two approached, her heart sputtering and turning cold. This wasn’t a dream. This wasn’t something out of the movies either. That oh-so tiny voice in the back of her head finally woke up and started to scream.

  The reality of what was happening cut across her conscious. Anna stopped near the last row of seats, planting her stance with determination.

  “I’m sorry, Becky. Russell… God forgive me please.” The shots weren’t perfect, but at that distance it wouldn’t matter. Anna didn’t even hear the gun go off, amazed at how easy it was to pull the trigger until there were no more bullets. The immediate threat had ended when the gun clicked in her shaking hands. The last bullet had embedded into Becky's head, knocking the body over to the side as if it were merely resting. Russell’s body lay crumpled in a butchered mess.

  Anna dropped the gun and was at Elliot’s side in two steps, trying to find the most severe wound. It was impossible to tell with all the blood. She had been trained for emergencies and terrorists. Nothing had prepared her for this. The training manual didn’t cover dead people coming back to life. She did her best, trying to stop the flow of blood even though she knew he was dying. Tears streamed down her face as some of the passengers slowly approached; uncertain if it was safe or not. She cried and yelled, beating his chest in frustration. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Her body shook with sobs as she collapsed beside him, exhausted and frustrated from the overload of what was happening.

  It was too much. Anna kissed his cheek and closed her eyes, shutting off her mind to those that dared to move closer, unable to even muster the strength for another prayer. She knew it was a moot point now. No last minute miracles. Not even the grace of God would save them. She exhaled slowly and sat up, watching him take his last breath.

  “I’m sorry,” Anna said, touching his cheek. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but you had to leave and I couldn’t tell you, I had no way after... Elliot... I wanted give you the news that you’re a dad. You stupid, stupid, beautiful man.”

  A distant scream from the front jolted her, but she didn’t move. Even as more yelling came rolling down the aisles, Anna refused to leave.

  “His name is Sam,” she said, running her fingers through his hair. “And he looks just like you. Of course, Mom wasn’t happy when I told her… But you had to be the hero, didn’t you?”

  “Lady? Ma’am? You need to move! Please? Is there more ammunition? Another gun perhaps? We need help in first class. Please? Ma’am? Can you hear me?” The words fell short and Anna curled up against the man she loved. The world she knew was gone; flipped upside down and then flushed down the toilet. The gory and violent images played over and over in her head. Things like this didn’t happen. Wasn’t supposed to happen. But here she was.

  Focusing on her blood-covered hands, Anna didn’t feel him move. It was a quick and decisive attack; his teeth locking onto her arm. She screamed, sending those who were close climbing over chairs and each other to get away. Anna pulled back, tearing the hole that Elliot had started. He grabbed her leg, sinking teeth into the flesh and pulling out long strips of muscle with a hard yank. Pain shot through her body as if she had been struck by lightning. His grip was strong and he tore into her again, dragging out the muscle and exposing bone. Anna pulled free when his hand slipped. She tried to push away from his gaping mouth but the bleeding was too much and her body slipped into shock.

  Black shapes started to fill the corners of her eyesight and she tried to focus on his boots. Elliot was now on his feet, shuffling away toward the screams. All of it started to fade away like a bad nightmare after waking, but this wasn’t a dream. Another set of feet passed by her head, leading another toward the rest of the living that were scrambling to find an exit. Some fighting to get away. Others putting up a fight as best they could.

  Funny, she thought. No one can hear you scream at thirty thousand feet. Not that it mattered. Her world tilted to the side when the plane nosed toward the Earth, intentionally heading to the ground to crash.

  The impact killed all aboard, and left nothing but a broken metal shell full of the undead.

  It took thirty minutes for first responders to reach the crash site.

  They had no idea what they were walking into.

  Eddie Smith, Part Two:

  When Work Becomes Life

  Well hell. Three of ya can't sleep tonight eh? Strange that insomnia seems to be catching since I started telling you stories, son. Hm? You want to hear more about how we made it through up until now? Hm.

  Well I got first shift, and I know I won't sleep well out here without those two fences around us, so I might as well tuck you little shits in with a story or three. Make sure you get all stuffed into those sleeping bags. These aren't the happiest stories, and there's gonna be a chill in the air tonight. We aren't in Texas anymore.

  What story to tell? What was the last thing I told ya?

  Oh. The truck. Yeah that was dirty work. I still dream about those people. Some of them are angry with me still, but most are thankful I didn't set them free to hurt other folks. Might weird how we only dream of the dead now huh? I miss dreaming about lots of folk. I certainly miss dreaming about pretty ladies.

  Alrighty then. Late June of ought ten. The world has more problems then there are fleas on a farm dog. It's all bad everywhere. I laid mighty low after I got my pickup and ATV back to the trailer, but I knew I couldn't stay there forever. No one is ever quite prepared enough for when all hell breaks loose. Like I told ya before, no matter how much food and drink you set aside, it never lasts as long as you want it to.

  So I was sitting on that big fat truck of diesel in my backyard when I realized that I needed to get connected to stay alive. I knew I'd make it quite som
e time on my own, but I didn't just want to survive, I wanted to be ready to thrive, if you get my meaning. If the world was going to get flipped over, I wanted to upgrade my station in life, and I knew just how to do it.

  I went to Church.

  What? I'm an idiot? Child are you insinuating that our lord and savior Jesus Christ is a joke? Because I do beg to differ. Heading to that church that day was the best thing I have ever done in my life, and I've done… well… Okay maybe not the best comparison, but going to that church was a good idea.

  I'm not a big church goer. I pray, and I do my best to be a good person, and I go at least once a month, but with all the death and dying and walking dead folk, I knew I needed to get my fat body to inside a place of worship. Nearest my place is a church I don't normally go to. It's a Baptist Church, and I usually go to the Methodist church, but in an apocalypse I think it's more important that you have faith in something than faith in nothing. My old county road was empty, and when I geared myself up and drove down to the church that day, I made sure I had enough stuff to last me a few days in case I couldn't get home quick. That was the first day I left home with my SKS over my shoulder. I remember now feeling like it was all post-Katrina New Orleans with the neighborhood watch people wandering about protecting homes with their personal weapons. Later on in that the military and Blackwater people showed up to help, but that day, it was Eddie Smith with his SKS.

  Man I miss that gun. But that's another story for another cold sleepless night.

  I was heading to the Methodist, happy to be out on the road, even though I was ripe to fill my britches with a load of turd. I didn't see none of the dead people for some time and when I saw the parking lot of the Baptist church and all the cars and trucks in it, for some reason I said, 'might as well,' and pulled in.

  The church -you've seen it kids I'm sure- is a pretty old white building with a tall and proud steeple. I would say there's something special about that steeple, seeing as how long it's managed to dodge tornados, but I am not the suspicious type.