by Rachel Aukes
Zach picked up the bags and handed them to Clutch. “I’ll try to get their attention, draw them away from the plane and runway.”
Zach looked my way and faked a grin. “Be careful with these two losers.”
I forced a smile as well, while tears blurred my vision. “See you when we get back,” I lied.
Unable to look at Zach without losing it, I slid off the Cessna and climbed into the pilot’s seat. I pulled out the airplane’s checklist, which I had spent hours studying last night, and laid it on my lap.
Clutch and Griz climbed in while I quickly went through each of the steps. I engaged the starter, and the Cessna’s engine roared to life. The noise spurred the animals into action. No longer stalking, they ran toward the plane, slowing as they approached.
Suddenly, the Humvee sped in front of us, scattering the dogs and wolves in all directions. I taxied forward, using the distance to warm up the engine enough for takeoff. Zach drove the Humvee like a mad man, zigzagging around the airport and throwing the animals off their game.
When we reached the runway, I did a fast run-up on the engine before throttling back. I looked at both Clutch and Griz. “You guys buckled in?”
Clutch held up his thumb, and Griz said, “Let’s rock and roll.”
I checked the prop and mixture one last time, pressed the throttle in, and the engine roared. The plane moved forward, slowly at first, then quickly picking up speed. Even without Zach, the plane was weighted down, and the wheels didn’t pop off until we were two-thirds of the way down the paved runway.
Careful to keep our climb shallow, I looked down to see the Humvee come to a stop, and animals gathered around it, as though waiting for treats. I shivered and fought to stay focused on flying. If I dwelled on the fact we’d lost a man before the mission even started, then I’d be tempted to return to the safety of New Eden.
But I’d made a promise. A promise worth keeping, even if it killed me.
HOPE
Chapter XXII
“Things sure look different from up here,” Griz said. “I could get used to traveling first-class.”
“I was beginning to think you were going to sleep the entire trip,” I said.
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he countered.
“You were snoring,” I said.
“You snore like a rhino with a head cold,” Clutch added.
“You guys make this shit up,” Griz said. “I’m too pretty to snore.”
Smiling, I looked out at the endless earth beneath us. At this altitude, we couldn’t see anything moving, which gave the world a serenity I hadn’t felt in a long time. Unplowed roads hid under a blanket of pure white, with no tire tracks or road salt to taint the snow. Trees and quiet houses were all that broke the rolling landscape.
Clutch looked up from the map. “Adjust ten degrees west.”
I did as he instructed and savored the feeling of flying. I knew my days of stick and rudders were limited. At some point, all fuel would break down enough that no plane would run.
Clutch pointed in the distance where the horizon loomed higher. “We’ll fly right over the Black Hills. Should be quite the view.”
Boy, was it ever. Tree-covered hills went on farther than we could see. It was nature’s splendor, untouched by the virus. I sighed. “I want to find a cabin and retire here.” I looked to Clutch. “How about it? Want to retire here?”
He smiled. “I’m all for that.”
The Black Hills soon gave way to North Dakota’s flatlands, whose simple landscape had its own flavor of surreal peace. Once we flew over the bombed ruins of Bismarck, we approached the point of our journey to refuel and stay overnight. I began our descent and watched the trees for signs of the wind’s direction and strength. “We’re lucky,” I said. “Hardly a breeze today.”
The airport came into view from nearly ten miles away. That was an advantage of flatter land. About twenty other buildings dotted the airport on a circular drive. I read through my checklist several times before handing it over to Clutch. “I’ll fly over to make sure the runway is clear,” I said. “Then we’ll come back around and land.”
Except for a snowdrift at one end of the runway, the rest of the pavement was relatively clear. “We got lucky,” I said. “I was afraid we’d have to deal with snow, but they must’ve gotten some strong winds here.”
Clutch read each step on the checklist to me as I flew the pattern and lined up on final. Adrenaline pumped through my veins and I clenched the yoke. “Guys, you better make sure you’re buckled in tight. I’ve never landed anything as big as this plane before.”
I was a few hundred feet off the ground when the stall alert sounded. “Shit,” I muttered, realizing I was trying to land the 210 like my Cub instead of like the much-heavier airplane it was. I added in power to pick up speed and lowered the rest of the flaps.
The runway came up way too fast, and I clenched my teeth as I brought the plane down. I made the mistake and let it drop, and the plane jumped right off the ground. After porpoising through another bounce, the plane settled on the ground. But, the snowdrift at the end of the runway was quickly approaching, and I slammed on the brakes. Clutch grabbed the dash to keep from crashing into the instruments. Gear banged around, and something slammed against the back of my seat.
The plane came to a stop less than ten feet from the snowdrift. After a moment of stillness, I breathed. “Wow, that wasn’t pretty.”
Griz laughed. “Pretty? More like it was the damn near scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“I guess I should’ve done a go-around.”
“We’re alive,” Clutch said. “And the plane will fly again. I hope.”
“I’m a bit rusty,” I said as I turned the plane around and taxied toward the buildings. “And, in my defense, this plane is three times the size of my Cub.”
“You did fine,” Clutch said. “You’re the best pilot I know.”
“I’m the only pilot you know.”
He shrugged and looked outside.
“How about I park by the airport office?” I asked.
“Which one is that?” Griz asked.
I pointed at the first building we’d reach. “I think that’s the one.”
“Looks as good as any,” Clutch said.
“It’s closest to the runway in case we need to make a fast exit,” Griz said.
I taxied toward the small building, which bore the sign, Welcome to Garrison Municipal Airport. Three planes were tied down on the ramp, with small patches of snow accumulated around their tires. I pulled up to the small building and looked at its windows and glass door. “How’s it look?” I asked. “We have a little over a quarter tank if we need to find another place.”
“And have to go through another one of those landings?” Griz said. “Nah, this is good.”
“You can fly next time,” I offered.
“That landing was great,” Griz said. “No complaints here.”
I parked the plane and cut the engine, and Clutch climbed out first, following by Griz. With weapons drawn, they approached the small building. I stayed in the plane in case we had to make a hasty retreat. They checked the door, the windows, and walked around the building.
The nearest town had less than two thousand people, which was why I selected this airport. It was big enough to have a runway I could use, but small enough that there shouldn’t be a great risk of zeds or wild animals. Bandits were another story. There never seemed to be any rhyme or reason as to where those assholes showed up.
A moment later, Clutch reappeared and gave the all-clear, and I climbed out. I reached into the backseat and grabbed my backpack, which was what had flown loose during landing. The cooler still sat, safe, on the floorboard. I opened the baggage and began unloading fuel containers while Clutch and Griz argued over how best to break into the locked office. Ignoring them, I found a ladder near the airport’s fuel tanks and began to refuel the Cessna.
I sighed when I saw the pay-at-pump machine and mis
sed the days of easy convenience. Now, however many hundreds of gallons were waiting in the airport’s fuel tank would wait in there forever. Six plastic containers later, the Cessna was refueled and ready to go. I checked the oil and frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“Jesus.” I dropped the dipstick. After I picked it up, I turned and scowled at Clutch. “Don’t sneak up on me like that. Trying to give me a heart attack?”
“I didn’t sneak up on you.”
“You didn’t mean to, but you did,” I said. “It’s that Ranger thing. Griz does it, too. You guys are just like sneaky little kittens right before they pounce.”
Clutch straightened. “I am not a kitten.”
“Kitten or not,” I said. “Can you find me some oil? We’re running a couple quarts low already.”
“Only if you promise to never call me ‘kitten’ again.”
I thought about it for an exaggerated moment. “Okay, I promise.”
Clutch smiled. “I’ll find you some oil. What kind do you need?”
I shrugged.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll find you something.”
“Luckily, tomorrow will be a shorter flight, so we shouldn’t burn quite as much oil. Plus, we’ll have plenty of fuel left.”
“Let’s hope we won’t need it.”
“I give up,” Griz said from several feet away. He threw down the screwdriver.
“You were trying to pick a lock with a screwdriver?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Aw, shucks. Why didn’t I think of that? I left my lock picking kit at home.”
He picked up the brick doorstop sitting by the door.
Clutch spoke. “Don’t break—”
Griz smashed the brick into the door. Glass shattered and shards fell.
“What are we going to use for a door now?” Clutch asked.
Griz shrugged. “You’re smart. Figure something out.” He reached through, unlocked the door, and peered inside. “Hello? Anybody home?”
After a long moment, Griz turned back to us. “Smells fresh enough.” He held the door open. “After you, my lady.”
“Why, thank you,” I said with a curtsy and stepped inside.
Griz must’ve been confident there were no dangers inside, or else he never would’ve let me go in first. Both Clutch and he were a lot alike. They always were the first ones to walk into danger.
Glass crunched under my books as I crossed the tiled floor and grabbed several sectional maps for areas I didn’t yet have. “This place is brand new,” I said. “Most small airport offices are falling apart.”
“There’s your oil,” Clutch said, pointing at a box by a display case.
“Well, that was easy,” I said. “I should’ve held back from making that promise.”
“Promise or no promise, it’s the right thing to do.”
I shrugged before testing the couch. “Ooh. Dibs on the couch.”
“Go ahead,” Griz said from the hallway. “I’m taking a recliner.”
I followed him into the pilot’s lounge where two leather recliners sat in addition to a workstation. After we checked the restrooms, we broke into the vending machines and stocked up on candy bars. I left the chips for someone else, as most chips tasted too stale anymore.
Ten minutes later, we’d each downed a soda and candy bars. No one had spoken for a while, and I had something to get off my chest. “Hey, Griz?”
“Yep?” he mumbled after tossing a handful of Reese’s Pieces into his mouth.
“What really happened to Hodge?”
His chewing paused for a moment before continuing. “He died.”
Clutch was carefully watching Griz.
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“But, you did have something to do with it,” Clutch said.
Griz shrugged. “There was someone who wanted him dead more than I did.”
I leaned back when the pieces fell into place. The last time I saw her, she’d seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It had been so obvious, yet I hadn’t even thought of her. “Vicki.”
Griz didn’t respond, which was as much an affirmation as agreement.
After a while, Griz spoke. “We all wanted to do it. The bastard deserved it. She shouldn’t be punished for delivering justice.”
“She won’t,” Clutch said. “Hodge killed himself. End of story.”
“End of story,” I echoed.
“He begged,” Griz said. “When we let her at him, he begged like the pansy he was.”
“Good,” Clutch said.
I inhaled deeply. I wanted to find pleasure in Hodge’s death, but I only found retribution. It was good enough, and I took another bite.
Once we were full of food, we lounged around the office. It was cold in there and would be uncomfortable tonight, even with the small camp stove Clutch had brought along. But, it was better than flying at night and arriving at Moose Jaw in the dark.
I sat at the desk and perused the drawers for anything useful. In the drawer with pens and rubber bands, I found a key chain with a single car key on it. “Hey guys?”
“What’s up?” Griz replied.
“Either of you see a Dodge parked around here somewhere?”
“Yep. A nice Dodge Challenger was parked in back.”
I tossed him the key chain. “That must be their loaner car.”
Griz smiled. “Nice.” And he headed out the door.
A moment later, I heard a car start. My eyes widened. “I’m surprised it started.”
Clutch, who had been lying on my couch, sat up and rubbed his stiff shoulder.
Griz hurried back in. “Anyone in the mood to check out the area?”
Clutch pushed himself up with a grunt. “Not a bad idea. Any locals would’ve heard us fly in. It would be good to know what kinds of risks we might have to deal with tonight.”
I pulled my gloves on. “Let me lock the plane.”
Once I locked the plane doors, we all stood in front of the airport office, staring at the broken glass door.
“I told you not to break it,” Clutch said.
Griz held up a finger. “Hold on.”
He disappeared back inside, the sound of pounding and banging ensued, and Griz returned with a wood door with a Ladies sign on it.
I sighed. “What am I going to use now for privacy?”
“You can use the guys’ bathroom.”
I scrunched my face. “You know how disgusting guys’ bathrooms are?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he propped the door behind the other and pulled out some paracord. Once he had it tied onto the metal bar in the door, he took a step back and put his hands on his hips. Pride gleaned in his smile. “Problem fixed.”
Clutch narrowed his eyes. “I could sneeze and knock that door down.”
“I’d like to see you do better,” Griz said.
“Well, it’s enough that if any animals or zeds tried to get through, we’d know,” I said. “But, it sure wouldn’t stop a person with an IQ above forty.”
Griz blew us off and headed toward the car. I climbed into the backseat, and enjoyed being chauffeured.
Griz played it safe, carefully plowing through snowdrifts. He stopped after we made a full circle of the airport.
“I could get used to this,” I said, enjoying the quiet. We saw only a few animal tracks and no zed tracks. No tire tracks besides ours. Out here, it felt as though we were the only ones left in the world.
“Let’s check out how many tracks there are at the edge of town,” Clutch said. “It’s close enough to the airport that it could be a problem.”
Griz agreed. “My thoughts, too.”
I enjoyed the view and heated air as Griz weaved down roads toward the town.
“Stop,” Clutch commanded.
Griz hit the brakes. “What do you see?”
Clutch pointed to the right. “See those soccer fields over there?”
I slid across the s
eat to look out. The fields were still a half mile away, but something wasn’t right about them. Instead of open fields, tall fences enclosed rows of white trailers lined up like they would be in a RV park. Griz drove toward the soccer fields, and I watched as we approached the fields. Zeds—at least a couple hundred—stood around. Reinforced fences surrounded the fields.
As we approached, no zeds moved, but I sensed their gazes upon us. “There are so many of them.”
“They’re frozen,” Clutch said.
Griz brought the car to a stop not far from the fields. “This must’ve been a FEMA camp set up during the outbreak. It did a good job at containing them. The fences are still standing.”
“Not quite,” I said, and pointed to a place in the fence where a tunnel had been dug under. Dirt sat upon snow. Inside the fence, streaks of brown zed sludge stains led to the tunnel. Two large dogs were yanking at a frozen zed in a morbid game of tug o’ war. The zed had no face—it had already been torn off by the dogs. When the zed fell, the dogs continued to pull. One fell back with its prize: an arm. The second dog soon followed with the other arm.
They carried their “food” back to the fence and crawled under. When they crossed the road, they paused to look at us. Deeming us no threat, they continued away from town, one of the dogs dragging the leash still connected to its collar.
“Wow,” was all I managed to say after the dogs disappeared.
“It’s like a deep freezer full of beef for them,” Clutch said.
Griz chuckled drily as he turned the car around and started back toward the airport. “Now, that’s the definition of irony.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Zeds hunted the dogs. Now, the dogs hunt zeds.”
Nothing about this felt ironic. It felt sad. Beloved pets had been abandoned and forced to do awful things to survive. They weren’t much different from us, I suppose. We’d done some pretty awful things in the name of survival, too.
I noticed Clutch was eying me, and I tried to give him my “I’m okay” look.
But, it was hard to fake it when I knew we were nowhere close to being out of the woods yet.
