by Thonas Rand
They were heading right for it…
“They’re heading right for us!” Joe said.
“Maybe it’s a rescue?” Maggie hoped.
“Hell yeah! They can fly us out of this shit hole!” Derek exclaimed.
“I doubt it,” Bear said, but nobody heard him, except Ardent and Lauren.
“Can we all fit in that thing?” Milla asked.
“Don’t know. It depends on what kind of helicopter it is,” Tom said.
“I can’t tell,” Alan said. “It’s too far away.”
Lauren stood there emotionless as she watched the aircraft.
“It’s a Black Hawk,” Bear said. “And it’s not coming to rescue us.”
“What do you mean?” Joe said. “How do you know that?”
“It’s in trouble.” Bear explained. “It’s only running on one engine.”
“How can you tell?” Anthony asked.
“I know that sound, it’s either low on fuel or has a damaged engine,” Bear said. “Either way, they can’t pick all of us up; it would be too much weight.”
“It’s probably not gonna land here, anyway,” Ceraulo said.
The helicopter’s steady engine noise suddenly sputtered for a moment, moaned, and then regained its power.
“It is,” Ardent said.
“This is it!” Hayward shouted.
The instrument panel reported multiple alarms as Hayward struggled to control the helicopter during its engine power fluctuations.
“We’re almost there, are we gonna make it?” John asked.
“I don’t know, but strap yourself in!”
John buckled himself into his chair and tightened the straps.
They were two miles out and closing fast.
One…
The last engine sputtered more frequently, it struggled to stay alive and Hayward tried to control the thirsty bird the best he could.
Quarter of a mile…
They made it to the first building in the cluster, they swung around it at a high speed and that’s when they saw what waited for them just a few hundred feet ahead in front of the hospital—the helicopter was heading straight for a street crammed with thousands of walking corpses.
“Oh fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Hayward cried out.
“Jesus! Get us outta here, Hayward!”
“I’m trying!” Hayward shouted as he pulled on his controls to turn the beast.
The engine groaned more violently, it sputtered in a series of quick high revs and then stalled out.
It was done.
“Oh Jesus!” Hayward muttered. “We’re going down, John, we’re gonna crash right in the middle of that shit!”
“No, no, no, no!” John shouted and thought quick. “Fire everything we have at them!”
Hayward activated the weapon controls and used the missile targeting system to lock a firing pattern onto the street in front of the hospital, he placed his fingers on the weapon triggers of the flight stick, which was shimmying violently, and he pulled the trigger—
One missile fired away and streaked toward the street ahead of them…
They watched the helicopter’s missile speed in their direction.
“Oh shit!” Derek said.
“Take cover!” Ardent yelled.
They scattered and hid behind whatever was closest—Tom’s trailer, some abandoned cars, anything—as the missile streaked in toward the street in front of the hospital wall, it impacted at the beginning of the street and exploded with a concussion blast wave that instantly blew apart dozens of the dead and the following fireball consumed many more.
A second missile took off from the helicopter…
And then a third…
Followed by a fourth…
Each missile struck across the length of the street in front of the hospital, and they destroyed a couple thousand undead because they were so tightly packed. The powerful fire clouds licked over the hospital’s wall and the ground shook hard…
In the courtyard, not too far from the group, they were still unaware of the sinkhole from the sewer tunnel blast. It was larger now, and more of the ground sank from the impacts of the missiles…
In addition, every undead creature for miles heard the missile explosions—they all looked and saw the black smoke rise in the sky, and all of them headed in that direction…
The air was thick with smoke and fire. The powerless helicopter sliced through the fiery clouds as it descended like a falling arrow, black smoke curled in big spiraling waves in the wake of the helicopter’s blades and its forward facing machine gun was blaring as it fired at everything in its path…
“Yeah, you dead sonsabitches, get some!” Hayward shouted over the machine gun fire.
The group watched as it flew past them and went down into the street—John glanced over and got a quick glimpse of the people in the courtyard. Anthony ran into the hospital and up the stairs to the roof…
The helicopter flew over the devastation from the missiles, body parts were everywhere, many undead flapped around like fish out of water because they had no limbs.
“Here we go! Brace for impact, John!”
The aircraft hit the street extremely hard in a sound of crunched metal and slicing rotor blades. It bounced into the air and hit the pavement again, rolled over, and its blades shattered against the street and broke apart in shards. What was left of the aircraft crashed into the building catty-corner across the street from the hospital, the cockpit rammed into the concrete wall next to the building’s lobby. It settled upright but at an angle. The dust began to clear and John snapped out of his disorientation and tried to get his seat belts off, but they were stuck, so he grabbed a knife and cut himself loose. He climbed out fast and grabbed his gear.
“Come on, Heyward, we gotta get outta here!”
“I think I’m gonna hang around for a bit,” Hayward said with a weak voice.
“What?” John said and turned to Hayward and saw why—
A concrete pillar from the building had pierced the helicopter’s window and slammed into Hayward’s midsection upon impact, pinning him to his seat. John knew that it was bad, because Hayward could barely breathe and was spitting up blood.
Half a block away—the dead that were still able bodied were gathering themselves from the missile attack, they began to look around for anything to kill.
They hadn’t seen the helicopter crash site.
Yet…
John desperately tried to lift the pillar, but it was hundreds of pounds of solid concrete. Hayward looked over John and saw the dead gathering into a horde again, he knew that they would see them.
Very soon…
“It’s no use, John, get out of here,” Hayward muttered with bloodstained lips.
“I’m…not leaving…you,” John told him as he fought with the pillar.
Hayward looked again and saw the horde of at least 2,000—his eyes widened in fear when a few of them saw them and began to come their way—a moment later, most of the horde was coming for them—the fast movers were at the head of the forming spear…
“John, they’re coming! Get out of here! Go!”
John looked—
The undead were four hundred feet away…
John got to the side door mini-gun—the gun’s main body had some damage from the crash—he loaded it anyway and turned it on.
Three hundred feet…
The barrel began to spin…
Two hundred and fifty feet…
He pressed the trigger, but nothing happened.
“Shit!” he shouted.
He opened the weapon and cycled out the round that didn’t fire.
One hundred and fifty feet…
He checked the firing mechanism haphazardly, made some adjustments, and hit part of it with the palm of his hand in a fever to make it work.
“Come on! Come on!” he yelled at it.
He glanced at the death getting closer—
One hundred…
He closed
the weapon, loaded it, and turned it on.
The barrel spun, and he pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened.
“Fuck!”
“John, go, goddamnit, go!”
Seventy-five…
He opened it again, beat on a certain part of the machine gun with such ferocity that he definitely fractured the bones in his hand. “Come on, you piece of shit!” he screamed at it.
Fifty…
John looked closely and saw that he got the metal piece in its proper place, and then he looked up and saw the growing wall of the undead—
Thirty…
He slapped the weapon shut and activated it—
The barrel began to spin but wouldn’t fire until it was at the needed RPMs to function.
“Work!” he shouted in fear.
Twenty…
The barrel was at full speed, and John was repeatedly pulling on the trigger, but it wouldn’t fire.
Ten…
John hit the trigger mechanism with his fist in desperation and pulled it again.
Five…
Dead.
BZZZ…!
The weapon fired in blinding thunder just as the dead reached him, bodies exploded into red chunks and mist in front of John as he swung the weapon left and right, cutting down anything in its path. The machine gun muzzle flashes created a strobe lighting effect that paused the stenches in time before they were blasted apart.
Hayward reached down for his backpack at his feet, but it was out of his grasp by two inches so he had to stretch to get it, which caused him terrible pain. He got it, opened it, and pulled out a handgun and something else…
John had mowed down half of the horde, but many of the ones that were cut in two by the machine gun kept coming as legless creepy crawlers, and he was on top of it as he swung the mini-gun left and right, up and down, blasting them all to Hell, until—
The mini-gun ran out of ammunition.
The barrel kept spinning, but that’s all.
“Oh shit!” John cursed at it.
John grabbed his M-4 and intended to fight with that—
“John!” Hayward shouted. “Go! You can’t do anything for me!”
John turned to Hayward and saw that he had a pistol and a plastic explosive charge sitting on the concrete pillar.
Hayward had a detonator in his hand.
A dead crawler climbed into the helicopter behind John, and Hayward shot it.
“Go, man, I’ll be alright,” Hayward said with a bloody smile. “They’re not gonna get me, I’ll be alright.”
John didn’t want to leave him, that was clear in his eyes, but he looked out in the street and saw more of them…
They were coming from all over—the massive noise had attracted them.
He still didn’t want to leave Hayward. They were good friends.
“Go,” Hayward pleaded.
John didn’t move.
“Go, goddamnit!” Hayward shouted in blood-laced spit.
Reluctantly, John left.
“I’ll be alright,” Hayward said to himself as he clutched the detonator.
John got to the middle of the street and fired at a dozen that came at him; his weapon went empty and he had to reload, but a fast mover was almost on top of him. He wasn’t going to be able to reload before it got to him, so he used the rifle as blunt instrument and rammed the corpse’s face with the weapon’s butt stock. He shouted in anger as he bashed it and killed it, but another one was right on John, he had no time to react, until—
The corpse’s head suddenly exploded from a silent rifle shot.
John looked for the source and saw the sniper on the roof of the hospital—
It was Anthony.
Anthony repeatedly pointed to the roof of the building next to the hospital, which was a storage center.
John ran into that building…
Dozens of the dead were on his tail…
But many of them went for the chopper wreckage.
“Hey! Where you dead bastards going?” Hayward shouted. “I’m right here! Come and get me!”
Some of the ones that were going after John stopped, and came toward the helicopter. Hayward fired his pistol at the dead and then his gun went empty, so he readied himself—
He armed the detonator…
The dead surrounded the helicopter…
He defiantly held out the detonator to them…
Their decaying arms reached in through the busted cockpit windows to get him…
Hayward placed his finger on the button…
They were in the back of the helicopter, inches from him…
He smiled at them with absolutely no fear in his eyes…
A dead female was closest, and it stretched its jaws with a growl to bite Hayward’s face…
“Yeah, fuck you, too!” He pressed the button.
The wreckage exploded and ended Hayward’s pain, destroying dozens of the dead.
The rest were going after John…
Hundreds of them…
John bolted through the storage office and out into a corridor. He ran down to the end and found the stairwell. He went up, just as dozens of the stenches rammed into the corridor after him.
He just past the fourth floor and heard the dead gaining on him two floors below.
“Goddamn stairs!” John said in frustration.
When he got to the fifth floor landing, he glanced down in between the stairs and saw them one floor beneath him. He took out a grenade and pulled its pin. He let the safety release fly and placed the grenade on the floor. He continued running up…
Four seconds later, the dead reached the fifth floor, and the grenade exploded, taking out several of them and slowing the rest.
John made it to the roof and ran to the edge where the hospital was and looked down—there was no alley in between the buildings, but it was still about a twenty-foot gap to the hospital’s north wing, and the worst part—the roof of the north wing was two stories lower than the roof John was on. Since he was preoccupied, John didn’t hear the first fast mover coming at him from behind—its head suddenly exploded from a silenced shot, it fell near John and tumbled over the edge and went eight stories down—he saw that Anthony saved him again from the hospital’s main roof.
John had no choice—he strapped his weapon over his back and stepped back a distance from the edge—
He took a couple deep breaths…
The dead burst out of the roof door just behind him…
John broke into a sprint for the edge…
A dozen undead ran after him…
Then three dozen as more came…
He hit the edge like a gymnast and launched himself off the roof…
Many undead followed him and fell…
John flew through the air in a descending arc with his arms and legs flailing…
To Anthony, it didn’t look like he was going to make it…
John slammed into the edge of the hospital’s roof with his chest and barely clung on…
Anthony slung his rifle over his back and ran to help him; he slid down the ladder to get the north wing’s roof and ran as quickly as he could…
There was nothing for John to hold on to; he was losing his grip…
His gloved hands were rasping against the top of the edge…
Sliding back inch by inch to the drop off…
His feet were kicking against the wall, but there was no footing…
John’s chin scraped against the corner as he tried to lift himself, but his widened eyes said that he was about to fall—Anthony grabbed his hand and saved him. He pulled John up and he melted over the edge in exhaustion.
After he caught some of his breath—“Thanks.”
“No problem,” Anthony said.
“I owe you one,” John extended his hand. “John Mandall.”
“Anthony Rebollo.”
“You’re a damn good shot, Anthony.”
“Thanks.”
“You militar
y?” John asked.
“No, Olympic shooting team when I was a kid.”
“That’s a nice weapon, may I?” John asked to examine it.
“Sure,” Anthony said and handed his rifle over.
“You have a lot of ammo for this thing?”
“Six thousand, four hundred and thirty-two rounds,” Anthony said with a smile.
“Good,” John said and he immediately took aim at the stenches that were looking at them from the roof across the way—
He fired and killed four of them in three seconds, four to the floor down below.
“Excellent weapon,” he said and handed it back.
“I should take you to meet the rest of us.”
“Okay,” John said and got to his feet.
THE NEWCOMER
Outside the hospital windows, the smoke from the missile strike and the helicopter crash drifted up past the hospital wall. Everyone was in the reception area, stunned from what just happened, and then Anthony appeared with John.
“You must be the guy from that helicopter?” Tom said.
“One of them, yeah,” John said somberly.
“How’d you get in here?” Alan asked.
“He jumped from the roof of the building next door,” Anthony said proudly.
The look on Joe’s face wasn’t of happiness. “Did you have to fire those missiles? They almost hit our wall!”
John was unapologetic. “Yeah, we did, and they didn’t hit your wall.”
“You shouldn’t have fired them at all, now more of those things will come! And what kind of landing was that, anyway?” Joe scoffed. “You’re a damn shitty pilot.”
John got right up in Joe’s face. “We didn’t land, you idiot, we ran out of fuel, and my best friend, the pilot, just died out there! So shut the fuck up, or I’ll kill you where you stand.”
Joe stood quiet because he saw in his eyes that John meant it.
Bear stepped in to calm things down. “Hey, I’m Bear, that was a nice volley you did on those things.”
John didn’t move or take his eyes from Joe—he was ready to crack on him. “John Mandall,” he said and then turned away from Joe. “Piece of shit,” John said under his breath.
