by Howard, Bob
He came to a gap between the trams and saw he had just enough light to be able to tell there was nothing moving in his path, so he eased himself forward and began a halfhearted jog away from the terminal. For the first time in months he felt alive.
That feeling lasted about a minute. Out in the open with no real cover he saw his mistake. Thousands of people had died at the airport, and even though many of them had wandered away from the airport to other places, the infected dead had emerged from the neighborhoods around the airport in even greater numbers. They had been drawn to the flames, the frantic activity of that terrible day, and the screams of the dying. More and more infected had been in the area or were on their way.
Sim had seen them from the top of the terminal, but he had not seen them travel in hordes as if they were going somewhere special. He didn’t know that so many had come from the highways and the runways into the wind shelter of the airport buildings, and he knew that he should have checked one more time before sneaking away from his friends.
The infected horde had stopped moving, and where they stopped, the cold, the wind, and the snow had piled up against them in drifts. Some remained standing, but hundreds of them gave in to the elements and sat down. There they had been buried in a motionless state until they heard the collective excitement of the infected nearest to them. One by one they were stirred into motion and shook off the snow.
The lower limbs of the infected that had remained still for too long didn’t want to cooperate. Those infected crawled or stumbled even slower than usual, but there were so many. Sim turned in a circle, and in the darkness he could see movement close by on all sides.
He didn’t run because being free made him feel alive. This time he ran to stay alive, and he ran as hard as he could on the slippery ground. He knew he was passing hundreds of the infected that were reaching for him, and he no longer had a clear path in a straight line. He began weaving past the mounds of snow that dotted the ground.
He didn’t know if he was on asphalt or grass when his lungs started to hurt, but he also didn’t think there was anywhere he could go that was safe. He felt tired, and he felt his will fade.
The dark building loomed above him, and the tail of a large plane was extended out into the open above his head. Sim stumbled blindly between the huge wheels of the plane and climbed the front wheel strut without really thinking about it, but in the back of his mind there was a memory about what might be at the top of the wheel.
******
Sim thought he had been cold before, but he decided he didn’t know the meaning of the word before spending the night in the wheel well of Air Force One.
He remembered climbing up into the well, and he remembered that there was a whole gang of the infected following him. After that, he was so tired and cold that he just wanted to sleep. When he woke up he was a bit surprised to be alive because he thought falling asleep was what everyone did when they froze to death.
Sim moved his right leg, and the pain was almost enough to make him scream. The same thing happened when he grabbed at it and his left leg moved. He bit his tongue, gritted his teeth, and squeezed his eyes shut as hard as he could. When he opened his eyes, he was staring downward into the faces of several infected dead.
Even though he hadn’t screamed, his movement had been enough to draw their attention. They started groaning and reaching upward, and the crowd grew.
Sim inspected the inside of the wheel well and tried to remember why he had climbed up there in the first place. He studied the seam of shiny aluminum above him and remembered that the Boeing 747 had a hatch in the cockpit that would allow the crew to lower the nose landing gear manually with a hand lever of some kind. The problem was, it wasn’t likely to be unlocked. After all, this had been the President’s plane.
He laughed softly to himself when the thought crossed his mind that maybe all he had to do was knock. Then he slowly moved over inside the well until the hungry faces below couldn’t see him anymore.
At sunrise of the following day, the crew of Executive One decided they should at least try to trace Sim’s steps in case he was in trouble and still nearby. They had been surviving together in the terminal for a long time, and family didn’t just let family die.
They knew his most likely escape route would be the roof, and he wasn’t the only one who had found the ladder. As a matter of fact, Garrett knew of at least four more just like it. They carried weapons with them they had gotten from the security arms locker, but they were for defensive purposes only because there was nothing suitable for distances beyond a few yards. Besides, they didn’t plan to leave the safety of the roof unless they had to.
The snow had stopped falling, but it had snowed enough through the night to cover Sim’s tracks, so they decided to go straight for the ladders. It didn’t take long for them to get a good idea where Sim had gone even without footprints.
All six of them sat down on the roof when they reached the ladder facing across the airport toward the big hangar where Air Force One was parked. It was like another big crowd at an air show. Air Force One was in town, and everyone showed up to see it. For over one hundred yards in every direction, the infected were pushing their way in under the tail of the big 747.
“I guess I don’t have to ask if anyone else thinks Sim went in there,” said Garrett.
Addison cried quietly, and Mike put his arm around her shoulders. She just leaned her face into him and sobbed.
Anne said, “Do you think we could draw them all away from there with gunfire? I mean, what’s the worst that could happen? All they would do is come over here. They can’t get in.”
They had spent so long trying to remain undetected by the dead that the idea of drawing their attention was unthinkable. They were sure about the concourses being totally closed off, and even if they weren’t, they doubted the dead could navigate the airport to find them just because they were attracted to this single spot. Anne could see that she had them interested by the way they reacted, but they still weren’t convinced.
“We know something’s making the infected go into that hangar,” said Susan. “How do we know it’s because Sim went in there?”
“I hate to say it,” said Jon, “but Susan has a point. What if it’s not Sim?”
“What if it is?”
Addison’s voice sounded weak, and no one expected her to be the one to make a strong stand either way, but she had felt sorry for Sim when he told them he felt like the odd man out. She saw how alone he felt even though he had the rest of the crew.
“I think we have to know,” she added. “If we don’t find out for sure, we’ll always wonder if we left him to die.”
“How should we do this?” asked Jon. “Whatever has them interested in the hangar has got to be something they won’t forget easily.”
“Gradually,” said Garrett. “We’ll start by just firing a couple of shots downward at the nearest ones. There’s no sense in wasting bullets by shooting them into the air. The infected close to us will move this way, and the others will follow.”
“Allow me,” said Mike.
Mike got up from Addison’s side and walked over to the ladder. All he saw at the bottom were two infected dead mostly covered with snow, but he could see the skull was smashed on one of them.
“Sim probably took care of that pair already. I’ll have to take a longer shot at something farther from the terminal.”
Mike targeted the infected farther away, but Anne stopped him.
“Hang on for just a second, Mike. You don’t need to take a longer shot.”
Anne cupped her hands around her mouth and screamed as loud as she could.
It wasn’t the beginning of an exodus, but heads turned in their direction. Even the infected that hadn’t been able to do more than crawl toward Sim crawled toward the source of the scream.
The mass of infected continued to try to squeeze into the hangar, but hundreds began coming toward the terminal. Mike took careful aim and shot the first one
to arrive in the forehead as soon as it turned its face up at him.
As the infected fell to the ground, hundreds more stopped where they were and started searching. Some of them saw the living people waving their arms on top of the building, but the ones that didn’t see the crew yet still followed the horde.
Mike fired a second shot, and a tidal wave of the infected began moving faster. On the third shot some of the infected inside the hangar walked back out into the daylight. The fourth shot was all it took.
“What have we done?” asked Jon.
To the crew of Executive One, the horde was big enough to collapse the building as they began crowding around below. The infected in back were so frantic to reach the living people that they were crushing the first arrivals against the wall.
“Someone get a set of binoculars aimed at the hangar,” said Garrett. “If Sim comes out we need to really rile up our fans.”
******
Sim thought he imagined how quiet it had become below him. He didn’t hear the scream that got the change started, and he didn’t hear the first three gunshots. He thought he heard the fourth one.
He didn’t want to get them worked up again, so he very slowly leaned to one side until he could just barely see the area around the wheel. There were still infected dead going by, but they were walking away. Then he was sure he heard gunshots.
His legs were cramped and numb from the cold, but he felt his heart pound with excitement when he figured out that the infected were being drawn out of the hangar.
He knew he couldn’t move too soon, so he tried to stay patient. When he finally lowered his head down to check his surroundings, the last of the infected had walked into daylight by the tail. He rotated his head and let his eyes adjust to the dark in the back of the hangar, and there were no stragglers. It was time to start moving.
It hurt when his feet landed on the wheel, but it was only his circulation coming back. Sim quietly stepped to the floor of the hangar and ran toward the wall on the left side of the plane. The whole time he kept his eyes on the backs of the infected walking away from the hangar door.
When he got to the wall he immediately started along it to the corner closest to where the big plane’s tail was lit by the sunlight. By the time he made it to that corner, he was sure he would be in the clear outside, so he stuck his head around the corner. The biggest horde of infected he could imagine was literally ramming itself against the airport terminal. On the roof his friends were shooting down at them.
He knew he only had a few moments, and he couldn’t go toward the south, but Sim felt alive again. He didn’t know if they would see him, but he waved in the direction of his friends. He was rewarded by the sight of them frantically jumping up and down and waving back. Then they all aimed their guns at the crowd and poured it on. He went in the only direction he could, and he could see the skyscrapers of downtown Columbus in the distance.
From the top of the airport terminal, Anne screamed again when she saw Sim come out of the hangar, and the six friends began shooting and yelling. The horde went into such a frenzy that they felt the building shake under their feet and it seemed to ram against the wall.
A nearby jet airplane rocked back and forth, and it gradually rotated as bodies were unable to go around the nose gear. They wouldn’t have believed it if they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, but the plane was soon pointed directly at them and rolled toward the terminal.
“The brakes are on, and they’re still able to move it,” said Garrett. “Let’s get inside, everybody. This party should go on for a few hours, and Sim got away. Anyone see where he went?”
“I was able to see him until he reached that row of buildings over there,” Anne said.
She pointed in the direction of a row of administration buildings that belonged to companies that did business with the airlines.
“Well, I’d rather know he’s alive and trying to make it out there than to wonder if he even made it out of the airport,” said Mike.
“What now?” asked Addison.
“Business as usual, I think,” said Garrett. “We decided to stay this winter, and then we’ll talk about next winter before it gets too cold.”
There were general nods of agreement and the group made their way back to the relative warmth inside the terminal. Even though it was cold everywhere, without the wind and drifting snow, it wasn’t long before the trip through the ceilings made them sweat.
“When we get back, everyone needs to change clothes and get warm fast,” said Susan.
The shelter they had made in the back corner of the restaurant was a welcome sight. The security cage was down, and it would stop a small horde if the infected ever managed to find a way into the huge terminal, so it gave them some measure of safety, and they were able to sleep without posting a watch. In hindsight, they wondered if that had given Sim too much opportunity to leave. Then again, if he wanted to leave that badly, they weren’t sure they would have tried to stop him.
The crew had gathered together every cardboard box they could find and with a little ingenuity they had created layers of insulation over a lattice of storage shelves from the restaurant supply rooms. It was tall enough for them to stand upright, and roomy enough for them to spread out, but they didn’t make it so big that they lost body heat.
The restaurant was conveniently located next door to one of the largest gift shops. Every airport in the country had at least one shop that specialized in clothing advertising the local sports teams, so the first stop was for fresh, dry clothes. Thanks to the Ohio State University, they were all layered in red and white Buckeye sweatshirts and winter caps. Each of them had new bleacher blankets under their arms, and under normal circumstances, they would easily pass for a group of fans on their way to a tailgating party.
“I’ll start breakfast,” said Addison. “Believe it or not that expensive place that advertised authentic food from twelve different countries had a large supply of canned goods. There were also plenty of sacks of flour and sugar.”
Despite the loss of a crew member, the rest of the group had good appetites, and they decided to make pancakes. Seeing Sim get away actually made them feel a bit upbeat, and breakfast was more of a sendoff for him than a normal meal.
They sat in a circle passing the sticky maple syrup bottle around and dug in while the pancakes were still warm.
“Should we consider the possibility that Sim might try to come back?” asked Susan. “He might not have a choice. If he does, we should put some alternatives in place for him to use to reach the roof.”
“He has the other ladders,” said Mike.
Garrett said, “They’re locked, and if we unlock them, he won't know they are. I suppose we could put up a big sign, or something.”
“Yeah, and advertise our position to other survivors who might not be as friendly as we are,” said Jon.
They all went quiet as the thought just hung in the air. So far, there hadn’t been attempts by survivors to use the airport terminal as a safe haven.
They had suspected for a long time that there were people living in some of the other buildings, but after the first few weeks, the only signs of movement were the infected as they wandered aimlessly from one place to another. Many of the planes were occupied, but as the supplies ran out and people tried to escape their little prisons, the dead intercepted them. The population of the infected dead grew, and if anyone else tried to get into the airport, the crew was not aware of them.
“If Sim tries to come back,” Mike began, “I think it’s only logical that he would try to reach the ladder he left unlocked. Maybe we could paint a message on the side of the buildings that faces the way we saw him leave. We have plenty of paint.”
Addison was a little confused.
“Mike, how would we paint a message on the side of the building?”
“The same way they paint ships in the Navy. Lower someone on a swing and lower the paint bucket separately by another rope,” said Mike.
&
nbsp; The general consensus was that it could be done despite the fact that everyone thought the idea of hanging over the side of the building was insane.
“To answer Jon’s question about giving away our location,” said Garrett, “we could try to write something cryptic that only Sim would understand, or we could just go ahead and do it. Either way, if I was a survivor out there in the cold and I saw a welcome sign, I would be grateful.”
“So you’re saying it’s worth the chance,” said Susan. “For the record, I agree.”
After breakfast they put together everything they would need to get the job done. Paint, brush, ropes, and a harness were packed in supply bags. They decided the whole group would go in case they needed to take turns painting, but they wanted enough strength holding the ropes. They also wanted binoculars watching for problems they wouldn’t otherwise see.
For all of her early timid behavior, Addison surprised everyone by volunteering to do the painting.
Mike stepped up immediately to protest, but Addison stopped him with one hand in the air, palm aimed at his face.
“It makes the most sense, Mike. I’m the lightest one of all of us, and three men aren’t going to let go of a rope that has a pretty blonde hanging from the other end.”
No one needed to say more, so that was settled. They also decided the message should be to the point, and Addison tucked a piece of paper in a shirt pocket with the message written on it. She knew herself well enough to know that her nerves would be frayed by the time she got done, and the note would help her remember what to write.
Within the hour they were climbing for the roof for a second time. When they emerged into the open they found that snow clouds had covered the sky, and they were really going to be blanketed that night.
They got right to work and found places to anchor the ropes. If the three men did let go, Addison was still going to be supported well above the ground.
As soon as they gathered at the side of the building, a crowd formed below. All it took was one infected to see them, and the groaning started drawing more in their direction.
