Blomkvist lit another cigarette and inhaled deeply.
“A little while later I could hear some screaming from the back of the plane. It was a woman’s voice. She was yelling hello, hello and calling for Ted. She started steady enough but as no one answered she took on a hysterical tone. Not being able to see I don’t know exactly how it went, but I guess she opened the lavatory door, or came out from wherever she was hiding. She screamed and screamed and then went back to wherever she was hiding. I could still hear her screaming but it was muffled. After a while it stopped and I actually fell asleep.”
Blomkvist took another drag and snubbed out the smoke.
“I woke up when the pilot came back on the intercom. He said we were landing and if anyone was alive we should stay where we were and not try to get out when we landed. He said the authorities would be on the ground waiting for us. He said they wanted to clear the plane and eliminate the threats before rescuing any surviving passengers. This morning I spoke to a man that was at the airport when my plane landed. His name is Karl and he was an EMT at the airport. He told me what happened while I was hiding in my luggage compartment.”
Blomkvist got up and stepped off camera. He was gone for two minutes and then sat back down.
“Karl said the plane was escorted into a giant hanger and the hanger was sealed. He said there were more soldiers and policemen than he had ever seen. The airport had been shut down hours ago in preparation. He had been assigned to the back-up medical response team. The first team was made up of all military types. He told me the military’s orders had been leaked and if the rumors were true they were going to form a ring around the plane, open the doors and let those things pour out of the plane and into the firing line. Karl never saw the inside of the hanger, but heard that walls of concrete barriers four meters tall were put into place around the plane before the hull was breached. All the soldiers were in an elevated position shooting down into the enclosure. There was another rumor that they lined the plane and the hanger itself with a shit ton of C4 explosives in case the situation went to hell. When I asked Karl why they didn’t just blow the entire thing to kingdom come and be done with it he said the World Health Organization wanted live specimens for study. Live specimens. Jesus Christ.”
Blomkvist took a pull from his bottle.
“So they opened the doors and the creatures piled out of the plane, falling several meters to the floor of the hanger below. The shooters all had some sort of gas masks on, as well as blue gloves and goggles. They also had plenty of hardware to get the job done. They destroyed everything that came out of the plane. Some of the creatures were slow to come out and others remained in the aircraft. Some were still buckled into their seats and unable to figure out the simple mechanism. After a while, the shooting slowed to a trickle and then stopped. I stayed in my spot not moving. I heard a sound that sounded like a remote controlled car and then a bit later voices. The soldiers came in the emergency exit over the wing. I don’t know how many of them came in at first. I could pick out three distinct voices at least. The first soldier yelled saying for anyone alive to stay where they are and to not move. When it was all clear he wanted anyone to yell their location, but not to move. He said that he would come to us. There was more shooting as they cleared the plane. It was deafening inside my enclosure. Although my ears were ringing I could hear what the soldiers were saying when they were near the front of the plane. One of them said 7C, 11A and 18A were the ones he wanted secured for transport. The rest of the creatures were shot systematically. The woman in the back lavatory had started screaming for help. One of the solders told her to sit tight and be quiet so they could do their job and get her out safe. After a bit more shooting one of them called out clear from the front galley. A soldier in the back echoed the call. The soldier up front keyed his microphone and said the plane was clear of hostiles. A voice on the other end came back with a copy and instructions to initiate secondary protocol. The soldier in the back told the woman in the lavatory to open the door and that it was safe. She did and started crying and saying thank God. Three shots filled the cabin and the woman said no more. Up front, the soldier banged on the bathroom door and said all clear. I didn’t hear Elaine say anything, but the door was locked, so they knew someone was in there. The soldier kicked the door in and Elaine screamed. The soldier told her to get out here and by the sound of it pulled her out by the hair. She kept saying please over and over again until he shot her.
The video feed quit and then came back on. Blomkvist sat back down. Although Jessie could not see the video he felt like the man was aging has he told the story.
“You know that was the time I was most frightened…waiting for my turn. I’ll never fly on an aircraft again. I stayed as still and silent as I could. The soldiers gathered near the cockpit and spoke softly. I couldn’t hear what they were saying. One of them raised his voice to be heard. Marshall Cutter the cabin is all clear. We have secured the aircraft. It is safe to exit the cockpit. I could hear the cockpit door release its locking mechanism and the door swing open with a thud. Cutter was the one who opened it. I recognized his voice as he started to tell the soldiers how happy he was to see them. He didn’t get to finish his sentence before they opened up on him and the two pilots. When the assassinations were over, one of the soldiers said they were all clear on the plane and that three specimens needed to be prepped for transport.”
“Holy shit.” Jessie whispered
“I stayed in my spot afraid to move. I had pissed myself hours ago, but with all that had happened the smell of my piss just mingled with the other piss, shit and blood that covered the cabin. Even now I have no idea why they didn’t clear the overhead bins. They must have thought they were too small for a person, or just overlooked the possibility completely. No matter, as I was stuck. I couldn’t open the compartment or they would just kill me. I just had to lay there and hope for some opportunity. I listened as they duct taped the creatures mouths and hands and legs and then duct taped them to backboards for transport. The soldiers talked about New York and their orders as they did it. One of the soldiers seemed to be excited about what he called the Zombie Apocalypse, saying he always knew this would happen, but he never expected to be on the front line of the thing. The asshole. I don’t know how much time passed. I drifted a bit. When I woke there were voices talking about separating the bodies into two batches in the hanger: the bitten and the unbitten. I could hear dragging sounds and then dull thuds as the bodies hit the hanger floor.”
Blomkvist chuckled a bit.
“I swear all could think of was that American rock song.”
And then Blomkvist sang a bit of it.
“One, something wrong with me, two something wrong with me, let the bodies hit the floor.”
He said floor with the exaggerated growl of the song’s singer and chuckled again.
“Some time later a piercing alarm went off. It sounded like an air raid siren like in the old World War II movies. One of the soldiers asked what in hell that was. Over his microphone a man was barking orders. He said there was a code blue in terminal A. All hot personnel to terminal A. One of the soldiers asked if that meant them. The one that must have been in command said a code blue meant a breech and they were hot personnel. He instructed a soldier named Nash to stand guard until the unit returned. He said no one in or out. Nash said his yes sir and the rest of them left. Adrenaline filled my veins, but I had to wait. A one on one situation was the best odds I was going to get, but this was a trained soldier with a fucking machine gun. I can take care of myself… I boxed at Oxford and know how to shoot a gun, but who was I kidding?”
Blomkvist took one last long pull from his bottle before he finished his story.
“Karl later told me the stupid sons of bitches botched the containment. They did a good enough job taking out all the creatures that came out of the plane on their own, but the soldiers that cleared the plane itself fucked it all up. They shot the active hostiles, but neglected to put an
insurance shot into the ones that appeared already dead. One of the first they had tossed off the plane had come to in the makeshift infirmary in terminal A and bitten the man transporting him. That guy panicked and ran. He apparently turned into one of those things and bit someone else…the rest, as they say, is history. They hadn’t planned for that scenario very well and it went to hell pretty fast. With the exception of my guy Nash, the hanger and the plane were abandoned.”
Blomkvist paused for a few before going on.
“Nash. I don’t really know what to say about him. I feel bad for what I did, and I hope he forgives me if he is still alive. The guy had to shit, what else can I say? I heard him remove the smashed in door and I heard what sounded like him putting down his gun. I heard the little noise his zipper made and I certainly heard the sound he made after he sat down.”
Blomkvist laughed and felt bad for laughing.
“It must have been all you can eat taco night the night before. Anyway, I used my pen to unlatch the compartment and climbed out as quietly as possible. Nash was making enough noise to cover mine. That I can tell you.”
Jessie laughed. Even as the world ended there was no denying that farts are always funny.
“I picked up a lap top off the floor in the second row and waited just outside the bathroom door. I didn’t know what these guys had on. I assumed a helmet and some kind of bio protection. When he came out I saw he had some sort of re-breather along with his goggles and helmet. His neck was exposed so that is what I aimed for. The edge of the computer caught him just under the chin and he dropped clutching at his throat. He reached for his side arm but I kicked away his hand. He started to cough, but I could see he was recovering. I hit him again with the computer, in the throat a second time. I reached down and unclipped his helmet’s chin strap and tossed it away.”
Blomkvist was becoming agitated as he got to this part. Jessie could hear it in his voice.
“I raised the laptop one more time and brought it down hard across Nash’s right temple. He was out. I took his clothes and his guns and put it all on. I put him in the cockpit along with some water bottles and shut the door. Before I left the plane, I looked back into the cabin and couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It looked like the set from some horror picture. There were still bodies everywhere. They didn’t finishing cleaning it out before the alarm sounded. I stood there just overwhelmed with what I was looking at. Then way in the back one of the bodies moved and that got me going. I ran out of the plane and out of the bunker. Terminal A was across the tarmac, and from the gun fire and screaming I could tell the situation was already fucked. I ran towards the first vehicle I saw, a big Ford Explorer, a government job all decked out. The door was open and the keys were in the ignition. I got in and drove it right down the runway and through the fence at the west side of the field. I kept driving until I got here. I live three hours away from the city, but I’m single, and I wanted to be where the information and action is. I am after all a journalist.”
Blomkvist smiled at this.
Jessie was in awe of this man. He asked himself if he would have been composed enough to not lose it in an airplane. He didn’t fancy himself the survivor type.
“Things in the city went to hell quickly. I met Karl in the hotel bar a few hours later. We talked for a long time before he left for Bottenhavet to find his brother. I wish him luck and safe travels.
Three hundred sixteen passengers went onto the plane, one came off… zombies took the rest. September the twenty third, 2011. Anyway, I’ve told my story. I’ve decided to follow Karl to Bottenhavet. It’s an island, it may be safe. I guess I’ll find out if I get there.”
The feed quit and Anderson Cooper’s voice came back on sounding as sorrowful as ever.
“Reports like this, though very few first hand, or this horrific, are coming in from all over the world. There are confirmed outbreaks in Vancouver, Belfast, Berlin and Perth. It’s unclear if these outbreaks stem from the New York City incident, or if independent sources of infection were released around the world. With the story we just head from Stockholm, nothing is impossible.”
Chapter 7 – The Hi-rail
Jessie woke an hour before his alarm. After the crash he had forgotten to eat. He took a Snickers bar from his bag and ate it with half a bottle of water. He checked his iPhone. He had no missed calls. He tried Mauri. It went to voicemail after one ring. He closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind. He knew freaking out would not help any of them. His plan was still the plan. If he got to the mall and didn’t find them he would deal with that then. For now he had hundreds of miles to cover, and he would get them covered today.
He clicked the map icon and tapped the “find current location” button. The phone took forever, but it eventually zoomed in on his location. Route 80 was up ahead, and his destination was five miles beyond. He manipulated the map with his thumb and index finger, picked his play and clicked off the phone. The battery was at forty percent.
Jessie came out of the sleeper and into the cockpit cautiously. He didn’t want to make any sudden movements and alert anyone or anything that he was there. He peered over the dash and out both side windows and saw nothing. He adjusted his focus to midrange and checked the fence. There were several creatures loitering. He made a slow sweep and counted nineteen. He knew his best bet was the tractor he was sitting in. Its size and weight could bulldoze almost anything out of his way, and it would surely liquefy the zombies. He searched the cab and the sleeper and found nothing. He leaned over the passenger seat and studied the large Maberry Lumber Yard building. After thirty seconds he slung his backpack onto his back and made his way out of the tractor and towards the building. He approached the side entrance and started thinking about the alarm at Jessie’s parent’s house. He didn’t want to make the same mistake twice. He cupped his hands around his eyes and rested them on the double glass doors. He was looking at what looked like a service desk area with the main floor beyond. There were no lights. He looked around outside, and there were no parking lot lights on. He went back to the double doors and looked harder. No red dots in the darkness that would indicate power strips, no slow green flashes of a sleeping computer monitor and no forward lights blinking on the telephones. Nothing conclusive, but as chances go, he would take this one. If there was an alarm and it was on its own power source, he was fucked. But what he needed was hopefully in there, and it was critical.
Jessie picked up the small metal trashcan sitting outside the door, stepped back and flung it. The can spider webbed the glass and fell to the ground.
“Fucking security glass.” Jessie muttered.
He kicked at the bottom corner of the left hand door until he had enough room to squeeze through. No alarm. Once in the store he reached back into the lumber yard and pulled in his backpack.
He stood up and turned around to find himself staring down the long barrel of a Winchester shotgun.
“That window is gonna cost you five hundred bucks, boy.” A husky middle aged man with a salt and pepper beard said.
“I’m good for it.” Jessie said in a surprisingly calm voice.
“You bit?” the man asked.
“No sir.” Jessie answered quickly. “You can check.”
“I suppose I don’t have to. I saw you wreck last night and hole up in my rig. I suppose you would be a fucking George by now if you were.”
“A George?” Jessie asked.
“That’s what the guy on the radio is calling them.” The man said.
Jessie thought about it for a second and the light dawned.
“George Romero. He directs zombie movies.” Jessie said.
“Not no more he don’t.” The man muttered lowering his shotgun.
The man walked behind the customer service desk and into a small room he came out of a second later with keys.
“I reckon you came in here looking for these?” the man said as he tossed the keys to Jessie.
“Yes sir.” Jessie said.
; “It’s Joe, not sir.”
“Thank you Joe.”
“Where you headed?”
“Outside Boston. My family is there.” Jessie said.
“Damn. Wrong direction. I was just working up the courage to get moving myself, but not in that direction.”
Jessie didn’t ask any questions, he had started to look around for anything useful.
“Yep, I’m going to Hanover, Pennsylvania. I have an ex-wife down there that I’ve been meaning to put some bullets in. I don’t think nobody is gonna give a shit now.” Joe said.
“No, I don’t think so.” Jessie said abandoning his scavenger hunt.
Every nerve in Jessie’s body was telling him to take off, just bail, just get the fuck out of there.
“Thanks again Joe. Good luck in Hanover.” Jessie said, and headed for the door.
Good luck in Hanover? Jessie thought. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought.
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