The Dying of the Light: Interval

by Kristopher, Jason

  “I am familiar with standard terminology, Captain,” she said, and Anderson detected just a hint of sarcasm in her tone. “We will help.”

  “Good. Gaines, get to it. I want these people off this plane and to minimum safe distance in ten minutes.”

  Gaines took off, yelling for Denson. The Russian turned back to Anderson. “I am Tatiana Zavrazhny. This is Sven Fagerhölm. What did you mean, minimum safe distance?”

  Anderson leaned closer, keeping his voice low. “Do you smell that, Ms. Zavrazhny?”

  She took a moment to sniff the air, as did Sven, and her eyes widened. “Avgas!”

  Anderson nodded. “Exactly. We just crashed a plane with thousands of gallons of fuel, and it could throw a spark at any moment. So I suggest you get moving.” The two newest AEGIS field medics took off like a shot, shoving quickly through the crowd.

  Anderson shook himself and took a deep breath, taking the first step down the ladder. Before the world’s largest flying bomb turns us all into salsa, he thought.

  He regretted his phrasing a moment later when he arrived on the lower deck and had a look around.

  Glancing wistfully back up the ladder, he noticed how much shorter it had been than before, and saw the bottom third of it had snapped off. But it still ends at the cargo bay deck! So how… It took him a moment to realize what had happened: the impact of their landing had caused the superstructure of the plane to buckle, compressing the cargo bay upward. No wonder the main cargo doors wouldn’t work. Of course, it also explains the mess at the other end, too.

  “Look out below!” came a shout from above.

  Anderson instinctively moved back as a gear bag landed at his feet, followed by several men, armed and ready for the walkers that were no doubt creeping up on them outside.

  Sergeant Denson looked around the bay, and, to his credit, barely batted an eye. “Ready to move out, sir.”

  “Proceed, Sergeant,” said Anderson.

  The men moved swiftly to the port side cargo door, clearing the miscellaneous boxes and crates out of their way, though they stopped to take one crate of what looked to be ammunition. Gaines followed more slowly, his sniper rifle securely strapped to his back.

  Anderson said, “Gunny, set up a basecamp two hundred yards east, and give me a secure route from there to the plane. The scientists are coming your way in five.”

  Gaines nodded and followed Denson and his men, carrying the thirty-pound rifle like it was nothing.

  Anderson looked up the ladder and yelled, “Archer! You ready?”

  “Yes, sir!”

  “Good. Start sending them down. Tell them to keep their eyes closed.” Nobody needs to see this that doesn’t have to. He sighed. This oughta be fun.

  As the first survivor came down, her eyes shut, Anderson took her hand. “Listen carefully. I’m going to point you towards the door you’re going to leave through. When I tell you to open your eyes, do not look to either side. Look straight ahead, and move out of the plane as fast as you can. You will have people behind you holding onto your shoulders. You must lead them out. Do you understand?” The frightened girl nodded, tears leaking from her eyes. “Can you be strong for them? Don’t look. Just walk straight forward.”

  He led her a few steps forward, and saw her nostrils flare as she smelled the chaos from the crushed bay. She kept her eyes shut, though. He maneuvered the next person into line instructing them to keep their eyes closed until told otherwise, and the next, then told the girl to open her eyes and walk straight forward. She did, and she didn’t glance once to either side, that he could see. She climbed out of the plane, helped by one of Denson’s men, and was directed into the jungle to the east, the rest of the line of survivors following behind her, each person opening their eyes at the door guard’s instruction.

  Anderson marveled that it was working, and they managed to get all the mobile passengers down and off the plane.

  Zavrazhny yelled down from above. “Captain, we are ready to go?”

  “Yeah. Let’s make it quick,” he said, noting the stronger fuel smell. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

  Anderson surveyed the basecamp that Gaines had created, such as it was, with an eye for their current condition and what was sure to be a very, very long evening. “Looks good, Gunny. What’s the status on the supplies?”

  “We’ve got most of them out, sir, except for the ones at the front.”

  Anderson didn’t need to hear the unspoken question. “No, Gunny, that’s it. No one’s going sifting through that for a few bullets.” There was a loud report from the direction of the plane, and they both waited for the inevitable radio signal.

  “Walker down.”

  There hadn’t been as many walkers to take care of as he’d feared, but Anderson wasn’t betting they were all gone. Fortunately, the well-stowed gear had included a few night-vision sets, and as the sun sank lower, Anderson whispered a prayer of thanks to whatever god happened to be listening.

  Sergeant Denson walked up, Colonel Archer at his side. “Looks like that’s the last of them in the area, Captain,” said Denson. “At least for now.”

  “Good.” Anderson pointed off into the distance. “That, gentlemen, is the direction of the airport. It is approximately two miles away, and we need to get all these people there. How many do we have, anyway?”

  “We have 281, sir.”

  Anderson was stunned, and closed his eyes. “That can’t be right.”

  “I counted twice, sir.”

  “We had over four hundred people on the plane.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Taking a deep breath, he pushed thoughts of the dead to the side, for now. He could deal with it later. If there was a later. “Here’s what I need. Gaines, take half of the men and scout me a route to the airport. Take whatever you need and get going, but leave us at least one of the NVDs. I want you back here ASAP with a straight shot.”

  “Yes, sir.” Gaines tapped a few of the men on the shoulder, and they peeled away to gather up their gear. The others were maintaining the perimeter against walkers. It was only a few minutes before the small group headed off into the trees to the east, and were lost to sight.

  Anderson turned back to Denson. “Sergeant, I want you to maintain this perimeter. No one is to leave, for any reason.” He looked up at the darkening sky, testing the wind. Southerly, coming from the beach. That’s fine. “Give us about twenty yards extra to the north for some improvised latrines. Colonel Archer, take whatever men you can find that can dig and get those going.”

  The soldiers moved off to their assigned duties, and Anderson took the first moment he’d had since the crash to sit down on one of the salvaged crates. He tried not to look at the drying red stain on the side of the wooden box. It felt like he’d only just sat down when there was a piercing scream from the dusk on the other side of their small camp.

  Anderson whipped the radio out of his pocket. “Report!” The screaming continued, and he began to run toward it. “Report, dammit!”

  “Eller here, sir. It’s… we found… it’s pretty gnarly, sir.”

  “Shut her up, dammit! She’ll draw more walkers. I’m on my way.”

  The screams quieted a moment later, but Anderson was able to find them. The same young woman who had led the survivors off the plane was leading another woman away, holding her tight as she cried. Anderson approached the soldier, who silently pointed upwards.

  Glancing up, he saw the remains of one of the other scientists tangled in the limbs of the tree above. It could only have been one of the unlucky ones sucked out of the dying jet as it crashed through the jungle. “Get him down, Eller. And any others you see. Get the Russian and her boyfriend to haul them over to the jet.”

  “Sir?”

  “I’m not going to leave them up there to rot, Eller.”

  “No, sir. I guess not. Yes, sir.” Eller picked up his radio and Anderson heard his own instructions repeated as he moved off back towards the camp.

  I
t’s going to be a long night.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By mid-afternoon the next day, the scientists were all languishing in the muggy tropical heat, while Anderson and his men looked on, as cool as could be.

  “Aren’t you hot?” asked Zavrazhny, and Anderson just smiled.

  “Ma’am, I’m from Texas. Even in November, it regularly hits eighty degrees and seventy percent humidity. Sure, it’s a bit more humid than I might like, but if you think this is hot, you should feel Houston in July.”

  She shook her head. “Nyet. I think I will avoid Texas.”

  Anderson just laughed. “You wouldn’t be the first, ma’am.” His mood sobered as his radio activated.

  “Denson to Anderson. Activity south, southeast. At least three vehicles, sir.”

  Shit. Vehicles? Who the hell is still alive out here and do we really want to meet them? “Roger that,” Anderson replied, picking up his rifle. “You two,” he said, pointing at Baronowski and Hansen. “Stay with the survivors, get them together. Hansen, you’re in command. Lederman, Eller, you’re with me.” A moment later, the other two men were moving alongside him through the brush and trees.

  Denson whistled softly from his perch in the trees above as the men approached, and pointed off toward the south, whispering. “At least three vehicles, sir. Maybe more. Hard to see through the trees. Sounds like they’re coming up the road next to our runway here.” That morning, they’d discovered that a road ran parallel to their improvised landing site. They’d run right over it the night before without noticing, though since it was covered with a thin layer of grass and weeds, that was hardly surprising.

  “Here, these should help,” Anderson replied, tossing a pair of binocs up to the soldier, who immediately started scanning the jungle and the cleared path of destruction their plane had made on landing.

  Suddenly, Denson laughed. “Yes!” He glanced down at Anderson, who was more than a bit perplexed. “It’s Gaines and the scout team, sir. Looks like they managed to snag us a few trucks.”

  “Enough to get us all out of here?”

  The sergeant shook his head. “Not all at once, sir. But I count five vehicles—one for each man. And it looks like Gaines driving the big delivery truck. That can hold more’n a few, for sure.”

  Anderson nodded. “All right, let’s get these people ready to move to the airport. We’ll do this in shifts—”

  “Shit,” said Denson. “We’ve got company, sir. It looks like they’ve got some walkers trailing them. Just came out of the jungle.”

  Anderson sighed. “Of course. Nothing’s ever easy, is it?” He thumbed the button on his radio. “Hansen, we’ve got incoming. Scout team is returning, but they’ve got walkers after them. If they’re not already, get the survivors together. We’re going to stop them here.” He looked up at Denson, then down at the other two. “Here’s the plan. When the trucks get close, we’re going to stop them here, then all of us are getting up-top of the big one, the delivery truck, and we’ll take out the walkers from high ground. Got it?” The others nodded, and Anderson took off running for the road, marching out onto the flat space in full view of the trucks that were rolling and jolting over thick roots that had grown over the road.

  Gaines pulled up next to Anderson as he stepped to one side. “Afternoon, Captain.”

  “Gunny, ya got some stragglers.”

  Gaines opened the door, leaning out to look behind the truck. The zombies were closing in now. “So it seems. How do you want to handle this?”

  “Well, I figured we’d grab our gear, climb up top of your truck here, and take ‘em out from there. Keep them away from the civvies.”

  “Sounds like a plan, sir,” Gaines said. He grabbed his rifle from the seat next to him and swung up to the roof of the cab, clambering up to the top of the vehicle quickly.

  Anderson just shook his head and motioned for the other men with him to climb up first.

  Be damned if I’m going to have them waiting on the old man, he thought.

  Gaines was waving to rest of the team, in their separate trucks, and triggered his radio. “All right boys, we’re shootin’ fish in a barrel. Close it up and get on up here.”

  The other trucks moved in, touching bumper to bumper, and the soldiers inside hauled their gear and themselves out and onto the roofs and cabs. Moving from one vehicle to the next, the last man in the line had just made it up to the roof when the first walkers reached the last car.

  “Anderson to Hansen, we are engaged. Report hostile contacts. If any of those folks can shoot, now’s the time to hand ‘em a weapon.”

  “Roger that, sir. Already done.”

  He looked down at the walkers, then held his own rifle to the ready position. “Fellas, let’s take ‘em down.”

  The zombies were wheat before the thresher as the professionals fired round after round into them, but more kept coming. Gaines and his men had drawn the rest of the walkers that hadn’t been summoned by the plane crashing, and there were a lot of them.

  Hansen’s voice came over the radio. “Captain, we are engaged back at the camp. Estimate ten—” The transmission broke off and there was the sound of a rifle shot, causing Anderson to wince as the shot sounded loud in his earpiece. “Make that eleven hostiles. Shit!” The radio cut off again, but this time, it didn’t come back. Anderson looked down at the mass of walkers below.

  They had surrounded the truck, rocking it from side to side as they slammed into it, trying to climb up to the fresh meat so tantalizingly close. There’s no way we can get down, at least not and live to tell about it. He looked up, and saw Sergeant Denson looking back at him. The other man had clearly heard the radio call, and they both knew that without reinforcements, the 281 people back at the camp— minus the soldiers—would be walker-bait.

  Denson nodded to the older man as he grabbed a fresh mag and snapped it into his rifle, then strapped the gun across his back and drew his sidearm. “I’ll take care of it, sir.”

  Anderson had to chuckle at the sight of the huge pistol. “Only you would carry a Desert Eagle as your sidearm, Sergeant.”

  Checking the slide and making sure he had one up the pipe, Denson grinned. “Never leave home without it.”

  Anderson looked at the soldier one final time. “We can’t come get you.”

  “I know that, sir. We’ll push ‘em back. Just keep the rest of ‘em here, and cover me.”

  “Sergeant Gaines!” Gaines turned at the call, and Anderson nodded towards Denson. “Give this man some cover.”

  Gaines took only a moment to assess the situation, and brought his sniper rifle around to bear, taking up a prone position on the top of the truck, bracing himself against the rocking motion created by the walkers. “Ready when you are, Sergeant.”

  Denson glanced over at his men, who’d stopped firing. “What the hell are you doing? Keep ‘em coming at ya!”

  One of the men laughed and began firing once more, and the rest followed suit.

  He nodded at Anderson, who returned it grimly. “Let’s do this,” said Denson, then backed up to the edge of the truck’s roof opposite the direction of the basecamp. He bounced once, twice, on his heels, then took off at a sprint. “Geronimo!”

  He landed hard, just past the final walker, rolling with the force of the impact. The nearby zombies reached for him, moaning, but he got up and began running toward the survivor’s camp, firing nearly point-blank at the walkers who came within reach.

  Anderson winced at the crack of the sniper rifle in Gaines’s hands as the head of a walker behind and to the right of Denson exploded.

  Denson waved his pistol in the air as a ‘thank you,’ but kept running until he was lost in the jungle.

  Gaines fired twice more, both shots decapitating shambling walkers that were following the running sergeant. The rest turned back toward the active noise of the squad on the truck.

  It was only a minute or two before Anderson’s radio crackled. “Onsite. Hansen’s down—” The
re was the crack of a rifle, then a pistol shot. “At least one civ casualty.” Crack. “Neutralized.” There were screams, and more rifle shots.

  Suddenly, Anderson had no more walkers to shoot. The tangled mess at the base of the truck lay still and unmoving, and he glanced over at Gaines for confirmation. “Targets eliminated, sir,” Gaines said.

  “Sergeant Denson, come in,” Anderson radioed.

  There was a pause, and then a strained voice answered. “Denson here, sir.”

  “What’s your situation?” Anderson pointed to Gaines, and then the vehicles, and lastly to the camp.

  Gaines nodded, and the men dropped off the roof. Gaines began shouting orders, and the rest of the men formed up on Anderson as he moved off toward the basecamp.

  Anderson reported to Denson, “We’re on our way.”

  “The situation is… fluid, sir. Be careful as you approach.”

  “Fluid? What?”

  “I am no longer in command of the situation, sir.”

  “Shit,” said Anderson as he released his radio toggle. “Double time, guys.”

  They moved fast through the forest, and soon came upon the basecamp. As they came out of the foliage, there was a gunshot, and Anderson ducked as a round went over his head. He glanced over to see a slim woman, probably Chinese, holding a pistol nearly as big as she was. But that’s Denson’s..

  Sergeant Denson was on his knees, next to another man in Army ACUs, who lay still and unmoving on the ground. The other soldiers were nowhere to be seen. The remaining survivors were huddled together, the men protectively surrounding the women.

  Eller spoke up, next to him. “I don’t see any walkers—”

  Anderson held up a hand for silence as he carefully slung his rifle onto his back. Holding his hands out in front of him, he moved toward the scared scientist. “Miss…” She scrubbed a fist across her eyes, brushing away the tears. Her face was red, and she was covered in blood from the waist down. Hopefully, it’s not hers, or a walker’s, he thought.