“Well can you fly this model?” he asked with a concerned look on his face.
“If it spools up, I can fly the bitch. They all have the same controls, a throttle, cyclic, stick and rudder. No problem”, Duncan said sounding more confident than he really was.
Duncan left his pickup on the shoulder of the road and grabbed the shotgun and the backpack containing his few personal belongings. On the lookout for undead, he cautiously covered the distance to the helicopter. The road weary veteran heaved his pack into the crew compartment of the Black Hawk. With a heavy heart he looked at the man still strapped in the gurney, he had been dead for some time and was most likely the patient the medevac chopper had been summoned for in the first place. Duncan hauled his old frame up into the cramped confines of the Black Hawk. With Harry’s help they removed the gurney to free up room.
Duncan placed the corpse on the ground near the others. The fire in the distance loomed larger on the horizon, loud moans of the dead carried forth, riding the hot desert wind. Duncan returned to the grim task of removing the pilot’s body. After making sure that the he was indeed dead, Duncan unbuckled his safety harness and gently, out of respect for the man in uniform, carried him to the roadside and lowered him to the ground next to the other dead soldiers. Duncan unclasped the chin strap and removed the flight helmet from the fallen aviator. He stood back a step and gave the slain men a final crisp salute. The dead that remain dead really are the fortunate ones. When will the madness end? He thought to himself shedding a rare tear. It was a very poignant moment for Harry and Cade who looked on from a distance.
Duncan worked to figure out the helicopters intricate avionics, the Hueys that he used to fly in Viet Nam were like Model T’s compared to this UH-60.
Cade hastily assembled the sniper rifle and scanned the oncoming highway and surrounding woods. He searched for the source of the moans; they had been growing louder by the minute. A lone, partially clothed figure shuffled through the shimmering thermal distortion cast up from the hot blacktop. The female walker had a half limping, part shuffling gait, her bare breasts keeping cadence with her flopping head, she looked like a marshmallow left in the fire too long. Cade rested the cross hairs on the crispy critters brow; milky white eyes stared through what remained of the charred face. Slowly he pulled the trigger. The ghoul’s head split down the middle and like a cracked egg, her cooked brain slid out. At once another walker took her place.
Harry and Cade kept up their steady firing, thinning out the advancing undead.
Duncan swore as he scanned the multitude of switches which glowed muted reds and greens. Thankfully the helicopter did have electrical power and the main fuel gauge registered one quarter of a full load, Duncan guessed they would have a hundred mile range, maybe two.
Harry fired the SKS at the army of undead. The familiar sound was reassuring to Cade’s ears, even if it was Harry wielding the weapon. Switching from the sniper rifle to his M4 allowed Cade a greater rate of fire. The undead were now piling up in a semi-circle flanking the helicopter. After an agonizingly long wait the turbine finally whined to life. Looking over his shoulder Cade saw the rotor blades spooling up and a grinning Duncan triumphantly flashing him a thumbs up.
Cade sprinted to the vehicles to begin transferring the guns and supplies. The distinctive sonic cracks from bullets whipping by his head got his undivided attention, someone was shooting at them. Using his truck for cover, he looked through the windows in the direction he thought the fire had come from. There were several motorcycles and a bright yellow civilian Hummer2 closing on them from the west. The shooter was hanging out of the moving Hummers passenger window.
Cade slapped a fresh magazine in the carbine and aimed at the windshield of the Hummer, two controlled bursts from the M4 spider webbed the glass on the driver’s side. This caused the big SUV to swerve and careen over three of the motorcycles, pulping the riders on the pavement, before rolling in a bright yellow blur of exploding glass and scraping metal.
The rest of the motorcycles stopped in the middle of the road, the riders dismounted and crouched behind their Harleys. The silhouette of a man shouldering a very long rifle presented itself in front of the setting sun. A hand grabbed Cade’s shoulder and pulled him towards the noisy Black Hawk. Cade spun and followed, with only his M4 to show from his aborted trip to the vehicles. Harry turned about and hobbled to the big helicopter. Both men climbed aboard and strapped themselves into jump seats.in the open passenger compartment.
The smell of the Black Hawks exhaust and the odor of the dead assailed their nostrils. Bullets were beginning to impact the fuselage, metallic pings sounding as Duncan twisted the throttle and applied full power. The Black Hawk bolted into the darkening cobalt sky at ten feet a second. Harry wasn’t used to the sensation of lift off. Feeling green and awash in nausea, he fired the last of his ammo at the ghouls, the ground rushed away, unfortunately the dead didn’t. One of the undead had gotten both hands wrapped around one of the skids. Harry fired at the top of its head, causing the creature to lose purchase. He looked on with grim satisfaction as it freefell one hundred and twenty feet to earth, leaving a grimy crater in the desert soil.
Even though he knew that they were at max range for the carbine, Cade continued firing at the bikers until his magazine was empty and the bolt locked open.
*****
On the ground below, Richard Ganz, leader of the Nomad Jesters; was on bent knee steadying the Barrett sniper rifle across the handlebars of his Harley. His target was the man piloting the helicopter. He smoothly increased tension on the trigger, the bullet left the muzzle at 2800 feet a second and passed harmlessly between the fuselage and landing skid. Ganz chambered another round, steadied and took another shot. The result was the same; the helicopter was now too far away, even for the sniper rifle. Enraged, Ganz pulled his Desert Eagle Magnum from the leather holster on his hip and shot his newest prospect point blank in the head. The big bikers temper was legendary. He led the Jesters with an iron fist and was indiscriminate in who he killed before the breakdown of society. Now he had no one to answer to and his tantrums went unchecked.
The young prospect lay in the middle of the highway bleeding from the head and slowly turning pale. Ganz mounted his Harley; kick started it and headed away from the advancing ghouls. Left with little choice the remnants of his gang followed.
*****
Duncan threw the co-pilots helmet to Cade and pointed out the others hanging next to the medical litters. Cade plugged the flexible coiled wire in to the comms jack on the bulkhead above him. Harry followed suit and plugged in after donning a helmet. Duncan’s voice came through loud and clear in both men’s helmets, “We were between the proverbial rock and a hard place back there. Thank God for Igor Sikorsky.”
“Did any of their gunfire damage the helo?” Cade asked.
“Doesn’t feel like it. Why? Are we leaking something I can’t see?”
“No, just checking. I felt bullets impacting as we lifted off.”
“I’ll watch the gauges closely. D-boy, what do you know about these newfangled radios?” Duncan asked with a hint of exasperation showing in his voice.
Working the seatbelt buckles loose, Cade said “I’m going to unstrap and move into the copilot’s seat. Hold her level and steady.”
“I think it’s all coming back to me now. Kinda like riding a bicycle, you know.”
“What now guys?” Harry asked through the inflight communications.
Ignoring Harry, Duncan shouted “Hallelujah my fellow flying friends. I just realized what an ERFS is.”
“I’m sitting on pins and needles…enlighten us” Cade said.
“While I thought we had about two hundred miles of range, I was mistaken. When I flip this switch…” Duncan paused for effect.
“Just spit it out man” Harry said sounding a little pissed off.
Duncan spoke “Those stubby wings on the side of her usually hold guns and missiles, but this is a dust-off bird equi
pped with extra external fuel tanks.”
“Voilà” Duncan said as he flipped the switch labeled ERFS and added “We now have an extremely extended range.”
The last two days were taking a toll on Harry. Being retired, he was used to not having to answer to anybody. Solitude is what he now craved. Where Harry came from, a sixty five year old man was asked to share his wisdom. He hated being ignored and made to feel like he was six. Oh well if they don’t value my wisdom, then screw the know-it-alls. His feelings were hurt so he clammed up for the rest of the flight.
Cade found his way into the co-pilots seat and was manipulating the knobs and buttons on the military radio. He looked like he knew what he was doing as he tried to pick up anyone that might be listening in on any of the usual emergency bands.
For five minutes they listened in as the ex-Delta Operator attempted to contact any available US forces. He left the radio on the Military band reserved for aviation assets and then focused on programming waypoints into the navigation computer. Remembering how to use the nav gear came back a little slower than the comms gear.
“Where to boss?” the Viet Nam era aviator asked.
“Follow the way points I just plotted on your HUD (heads up display) and we’ll be flying over…” he was about to say Boise until Duncan banked the Black Hawk and he actually saw what was left of the city. Boise resembled the old pictures he had seen depicting Japan after the firebombing campaigns of World War II.
The sky was filled up to their altitude with black feathery ashes, fires raged everywhere. The helicopter moved along at an altitude of five hundred feet. The multitudes of undead surging west were clearly visible to the naked eye. The three men were speechless as they flew over what was left of the Idaho Air National Guard base. Three helicopters were burned to the tarmac, fixed in place by melted tires; the skeletal remains of the titanium airframes resembled the tangled wreckage of the zeppelin Hindenburg. Quonset huts burned, the vehicles parked nearby further fueling the inferno. Airmen and women lay where they had fallen, some having been consumed by the shambling packs of ghouls. The few vehicles moving below were fleeing the conflagration, in front of the walkers. The scope of the damage was unimaginable. The city now belonged to the dead.
*****
Cade changed the waypoints in the flight computer. The new course would take them along the Wasatch mountain front. The towering crags ran north/south, flanking Salt Lake City, Utah.
“The 19th Special Forces Group is located in Draper, Utah. I set the waypoints to take us there. I know a few of the operators garrisoned at the base. At the very least we may be able to top off and continue onward.”
“If the base is still standing when we get there, I think that’s the end of the road for me fellas” the usually quiet Harry said over the intercom.
“I’m sure we can get you set up with supplies and transportation, if you really don’t want to stick around” Cade said, without a trace of emotion.
Cade had a hard and fast rule to not form emotional attachments to anyone but family. Kids were the one exception and he had felt the pain from it these last twenty four hours, Leo, and more so the younger Ike had really grown on him. There would be time to grieve later…there always was.
Cade hadn’t heard from his family for over two days now. He searched his pockets for his phone and remembered that it and all of his gear, guns, ammo and food were abandoned with their vehicles outside of Boise. All he had was his M4 with one mag left, a Glock pistol, the clothes and combat gear he still wore as well as his helmet. It dawned on him that his favorite Trailblazer ball cap was also in the Sequoia more than fifty miles away. He closed his eyes and visualized his wife and daughters faces in his mind. As darkness enveloped Idaho, the desert air whipping in the open troop compartment grew measurably colder. Despite the temperature change a warm feeling washed over Cade. There was a special bond that held his small family together, through overseas deployments and other unforeseen hardships; he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they still lived.
Cade kept watch out of the co-pilot seat, he hadn’t seen this many stars since he was a member of Task Force 121. It was a handpicked group of operators hunting for Osama Bin Laden in the Hindu Kush Mountains of Afghanistan. The high altitude and inhospitable terrain that they operated in left him with very few pleasant memories; the stars were one of them. He glanced into the mirror affixed above the cockpit glass. A breathtaking display of purple and magenta painted the sky behind them and reflected off of the Black Hawks windows. The sun was going down slowly, kicking and screaming as if it didn’t want to leave the living alone in the dark with the dead.
Looking ground ward it suddenly dawned on him that there was an absence of light below and there were no moving vehicles. Mother Nature’s beautiful sky show belied the fact that the world was ending, not with a bang, but a whimper. Cade thought, T.S. Eliot surely knew something we didn’t.
Duncan’s Southern drawl sounded in his ear and brought him back to reality.
“Look off to the right at 2 o’clock. Do you see it?”
“Yeah, it looks like a small sun” was Cades reply.
Duncan banked the helo to the right and aimed the nose toward the brilliant lights.
Chapter 38
Day 3 Fort Bragg, North Carolina
Carl narrowly escaped death, first from the fall and then at the hands of the United States Special Forces troops. Until today he had no idea the fear that six machine gun muzzles could invoke in a man, especially if they all were pointed at him. The injuries to his face were superficial and his ankle had been reset and put in a walking cast, his next major hurdle was infection, the ghoul that clawed up his back had given him several different types of disease. He was mildly sedated and sleeping. Brook and Raven held a bedside vigil.
Outside the battle raged on. The steady small arms gunfire and the constant booming from the side mounted 105mm Howitzer on the circling C-130 Spectre gunship both comforted and scared Brook at the same time. She was crossing a line that usually took most soldiers a stint in boot camp, and at least a couple of firefights to even approach. Her senses were being fine-tuned and honed. Until now they were strictly tools of basic survival. Now she possessed a combination of aggression, assertiveness and self-preservation. Slowly the old Brook was being reforged and transformed. Gone was the survivor’s guilt. The time for surviving was now. Raven depended on her.
*****
Their weapons had all been confiscated and then the group was immediately escorted to the bases medical facilities. A man in full combat gear walked them towards the middle of Fort Bragg. On the way he told them that they needed a cursory exam to ensure that nobody was seriously injured going over the wire.
Carl’s wounds were completely scrubbed, disinfected and bandaged. A big burly male nurse cleaned and sutured the lacerations on Brook’s arms and abdomen. The exams were thorough, any idiot would know they were being screened for infection and checked for bites, even though it wasn’t divulged to them. Dimitri was not talking and Brook guessed the little boy was suffering from PTSD. One of the Doctors wheeled him to an infirmary elsewhere, to be attended to. They were all going to be quarantined for 24 hours. Raven seemed depressed and was badly in need of some rest. Brook was just plain exhausted, every nerve ending was shot. Brook took Raven’s hand and led her down the hall to their room.
*****
Carl finally awoke and was reading a magazine. It was the last Newsweek ever; the cover read “Mad?? Disease” it was the last post outbreak edition to be distributed and the words said it all. The Omega bug caught the entire United States flat footed and on the ropes. In the end, no one had enough time or information to stop it from spreading. Unable to keep his eyes open, Carl put the magazine down, closed his eyes and let sleep take over.
*****
The first thing on Brook’s agenda was to find Mike Desantos and ask him if he knew anything of Cades whereabouts. She also had an irresistible urge to get out into the fi
ght, this constant running and gunning had awakened something in her she didn’t know existed. She craned her neck struggling to hear the new sounds outside of the door. Brook abruptly grabbed her daughter by the arm, shouldered the door open, burst out of their room and propelled her down the hall to where Carl was.
The fusillade of automatic rifle fire sounded different, almost frantic. Dedicated, highly trained soldiers didn’t lose their cool and “spray and pray.”
They barged into the infirmary and Brook frantically yanked the IV tubes from her brother’s arm. The sounds of the battle were drawing nearer and the undead’s moaning was increasing in volume. Brook tried to wake Carl but he remained unresponsive. Shadows passed by the opaque green glass in the door and then stopped, wavering directly in front. Raven started whimpering; Brook pulled her close and clamped a hand over her mouth. Wild eyed and hyperventilating she squirmed from her mom’s grip and bolted for the hallway screaming. Brook suddenly became aware of the odor of rotting flesh overpowering the usual antiseptic hospital smell. The door burst inward followed by a torrent of decomposing corpses. They fell atop Raven, teeth gnashing, gnarled hands ripped the flesh from her face, exposing muscle, molars and jawbone. Blood pulsed onto the floor from hundreds of shredded capillaries. The room teemed with undead and they quickly turned their attention to the unarmed Brook. She braced herself and stood her ground in front of her unconscious and helpless brother.
*****
A shrill horn sounded. Brook awoke, her chest heaved and she fought to breathe. Beads of sweat cascaded from her face. Her thin hospital bed sheet was soaked throughout. Frantically she felt around in the dark and noisily exhaled when she felt the warmth of her daughter stir next to her. The nightmare was gone but the blaring Klaxon was real.
Someone banged repeatedly on the door. Brook shook the sleep from her head, jumped to her feet and answered it.
Trudge: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Page 18
