The pilot coughed and blood danced with saliva from his mouth.
His head turned and, eyes wide open, he was gone.
Gabriel looked down to the man’s shirt and saw his name badge near a gold pendant that was in the shape of wings.
“Savage,” Gabriel said to himself, mumbling the dead pilot’s name.
He took the pendant off the pilot’s white shirt and held it in his palm, wondering what kind of life this man had lived and who he had left behind.
Gabriel slipped the wings into his pocket and walked back through the door into the main concourse of the plane.
***
When he looked down at Dylan, Gabriel saw the boy’s small left hand begin to twitch. He rushed to Dylan’s side and put his hand on his forehead, running fingers through his bangs and checking him for a fever. For a moment, he felt like he was back home with his daughter, Sarah. His paternal instincts had kicked in with the young, abandoned boy, and Gabriel was treating him as if he was his own. But he was still left to wonder about the condition of his own wife and daughter.
“You alright, kid?” Gabriel asked.
Dylan’s eyes began to open, fluttering. He took his hand and put his palm to the boy’s forehead, the veins inside thrumming through his skull.
“Am I alive?” Dylan asked.
Gabriel laughed and smiled at the boy. “I think so.”
He turned back quickly as he heard the growl come from the cockpit. Again, instinct kicked in, and Gabriel pulled the newly acquired gun from the waistband of his slacks. The weapon was still cold to the touch as he gripped the handle.
Gabriel stood, signaling to Dylan to stay put, and walked back to the cockpit.
He jumped back as he arrived at the doorway. Savage, the fearless pilot who had landed the plane and saved both he and the boy, was brave no more. He was dead, yet so alive. His eyes were bloodshot and his skin had gone pale. No words spewed from his mouth, only spitting growls. Still strapped securely into the seat, his arms were outstretched in a hopeless attempt to break free and devour the lives he’d saved.
Gabriel watched him from out of sight. No life remained in the man; he was a monster. Gabriel looked out the window and saw the endless trees just beyond where the plane had landed. In his mind, he was pretty sure that Captain Savage was dead—left only as a mindless creature aching to be released from the chair and wreak havoc. But another part of Gabriel Alexander wondered if the pilot could see the beauty in the trees in front of him. If he could treat them like a sort of gateway into an afterlife.
Gabriel pointed the gun at the back of Savage’s head, cocked back, took a deep breath, and pulled the trigger, leaving the promising scenery of nature covered by a sea of red on the window.
CHAPTER EIGHT
JESSICA
“How is he doing?” Jessica asked, looking in the mirror and watching the tensed face of Walt Kessler.
Melissa had taken one of the extra shirts out of the duffle bag and created a makeshift tourniquet for his arm. The once white shirt was now forever stained crimson.
“I’m fine,” Walt said before Melissa could answer, speaking in a way that tried to reassure the two women, but, to his wife, he’d come off more stubborn than sincere.
“Fine? Look at your arm, Walt.”
The fact that Walt even had an arm was a miracle. Jessica had gotten the bachelorette off of him just in time, before the sick girl had more critically injured him. A patch of flesh across his forearm, about the size of a post-it note, had been completely ripped off, exposing the tissue below but not quite down to the bone. When he twitched and his bicep flexed, you could see the muscle move through the wound.
“Really. I’m fine. You’ve stopped most of the bleeding, just keep pressure on it.”
Melissa pulled the shirt around his arm tighter and he grimaced. It was almost more than she could bear to see her husband like this. She hadn’t seen Walt hurt this way since he had come back from the first war in Iraq. Melissa rubbed his shirt in the spot where the scar from the shrapnel of a grenade sat on his stomach. Now, he would have a scar from a different kind of battle.
“Okay,” Melissa said. “We are going to get you some real help as soon as we can.”
But there was another problem.
The hotel was a mountain resort surrounded by nothing. There wasn’t a gas station for ten miles down a winding road, much less a hospital.
And more than that, Jessica saw dark clouds in the distance. They were headed toward a storm. Rain would be no issue, but they were at a high enough elevation where sleet or even snow would be a possibility. The daylight was dying fast and, though the road had been safe and clear so far, they had no idea what could lie ahead of them.
Jessica eased the van down the curved mountain road, doing her best not to let her nerves veer them off the path and through the railing as the cold rain began to fall.
It took just over half an hour, but they reached a gas station. Jessica turned the wheel to her right and drove through the parking lot, stopping in front of the door.
“I’m going to go inside and see if I can get us help,” she told Melissa.
Jessica opened the door and stepped out of the van. Dust kicked up beneath her feet as her soles slid across the dirt. She hurried around the hood of the vehicle and ran to the front door of the gas station as the rain began to fall harder.
***
The door swung open, sending the metal bells on the inside of the door clanking together in a fury of rings. It startled Jessica, the sense of abandonment instantly hitting her.
From the outside, the gas station had looked old and empty. There were only four gas pumps and the signs looked like they would have only powered halfway on if there was power going to them. Jessica almost hadn’t stopped at all, but the old pickup parked next to the store gave her hope that someone may be inside. And inside the store, the shelves were still stacked with product, and the floors, while not shining, were mostly clean.
“Hello,” Jessica called out to the dead air. “Is anybody in here? We need help. There’s a man outside badly injured.”
Jessica waited for a few moments for somebody to call back, but it never came.
She walked down one of the aisles and found a small array of medical supplies. The gauze, tape, anti-bacterial, and mobile first-aid kits wouldn’t do much, if anything, to heal Walt’s wound with its severity, but it was better than what they had: a t-shirt.
Near the counter, various tourist swag hung on a display rack, and Jessica saw tote bags with a cheesy picture of mountains screened on them, and text that said “Welcome to the Smoky’s”. She grabbed four of the bags and began to fill them with as much stuff as she could. In addition to the medical supplies, she grabbed beef jerky, sports drinks, and bananas and apples from a basket near the front register even though they were starting to brown, and topped it off with various types of chips.
Before she walked away from the front counter, she reached next to the register and picked up the headset to the telephone. She let out a sigh and put the headset back down on the receiver as the line was dead.
She took the bags outside, placing them in the small storage area behind the back seat. Jessica then went back inside and, one at a time, took three cases of water bottles to the van, her hair becoming more cold and wet with every trip.
Melissa looked at her in confusion.
Jessica shrugged. “Place is empty. Don’t think they’ll miss this stuff.”
She finished loading everything, then jumped into the back, sitting next to the cases of water. Melissa sat in front of her, behind the driver’s seat, next to Walt’s head as he slept. His breathing was steady, but he would gasp now and then, without waking himself.
Melissa pressed the buttons on her cell phone, disappointment mixed with panic across her cracked face.
“Are you getting a signal?” Jessica asked.
Melissa nodded. “Barely. Just not an answer.”
“Who are yo
u calling?”
“I tried calling 911 and I keep getting a busy signal. Just now I tried to call my son. He lives in Nashville. We were planning on going to visit him once we spent a few days here in the mountains.” Melissa put her hand to her head and began to sob. Not only was her husband hurting in the back seat of their mini-van, but her son wouldn’t pick up his phone, leaving her with no confirmation if he was alive or dead.
“Do you mind if I try calling my parents?” Jessica asked. Her cell phone was sitting behind the front desk at the hotel, and she had no plans to go back and get it anytime soon.
Melissa wiped her nose with her forearm and reached over to Jessica, handing her the phone.
Jessica dialed her parents phone number, the only one besides her best friend’s, Meghan, that she knew by heart. It rang once, making her smile, before the three frantic ascending beeps led to the operator telling Jessica that the phone was disconnected. She looked down at the small screen and saw that the signal had disappeared.
Jessica grabbed the bag of medical supplies across from her, as well as a bottle of water for each of them. She reached over the seat to hand Melissa her phone.
“No luck?” Melissa asked.
Jessica shook her head and passed the bag and two water bottles over the seat to Melissa.
“Thank you.”
“The only medical stuff I could find inside is in that bag,” Jessica began. “I’ve got a little bit of food in the back, if you want to call it that. I also grabbed some sports drinks. Might be a good idea, if he will take it, to have him drink some to try to replenish some energy.” Jessica squinted her eyes as she looked out to the open road.
“My parents live outside Knoxville which is on the way to Nashville. I say we head that way. You guys can drop me off there and then go look for your son.”
Melissa gave Jessica a gentle nod and then looked back down at Walt, stroking his hair as he rested. He was old, but in this moment looked older. The color in his face had begun to flush.
“Hey,” she said. Melissa looked up at her. “We are going to find him some help, okay?”
Again, Melissa nodded. She looked at the blood-coated shirt covering his arm. His eyes vibrated under the lids and his lips worked to match the rhythm. She knew that Jessica was trying to comfort her, but was unsure if it mattered.
Jessica looked out at the road and let out a sigh.
“But it’s not going to be tonight.”
Melissa’s face went cold and she looked back and forth between Walt and Jessica.
“What do you mean it’s not going to be tonight? He needs help now,” Melissa said.
Jessica listened to the rain patter louder on the roof of the van, stared out at the road, and then looked back to Melissa.
“The closest hospital is another hour drive from here down this mountain. Before long, it’ll be dark. It’s pouring, and the roads up here ice over easily. On top of all that, we have no idea how bad things are out there, Melissa.”
Melissa was angry. Deep down she knew that Jessica was right. Knew that they should wait it out. But her husband was possibly dying in her arms.
“This place seems safe. The power still works inside, so we’ll have heat. We can lay Walt down somewhere flat and we will have plenty of water and food here. The van is already loaded and I’ll put gas in it so that we can leave first thing in the morning without delay.”
Melissa let out her breath. She stared into the back seat of the van, thinking.
“You’re right,” she mumbled.
“I know it’s hard,” Jessica said. “But there’s…”
Melissa cut her off.
“I know. You’re right.”
Jessica cocked her head and looked around.
“We should get him inside,” Melissa said.
***
Inside the gas station, they found a large storage room in the back to lay Walt down. Jessica grabbed some fake Indian-style blankets off of a rack and put them out on the ground, giving Walt something soft to lie on. They set him down first, then easily moved him back until his head rested on the blanket. He began to stir when his head hit the ground, but stayed asleep. Melissa grabbed one of the other blankets to cover him.
“I’ll grab more blankets,” Jessica said. “You guys can be in here. I’ll stay in the main part of the store and I can keep watch while you both get some rest.” She had taken the gun and put in the back of her dress pants so that she would have something to keep watch with.
“Hey,” Melissa said.
Jessica turned.
“Thank you.”
Jessica smiled. “For what?”
“Helping us.”
Jessica looked down at Walt and then back up at Melissa. “He’s the one who pulled me in that room. He saved me.”
Melissa smiled and a few tears made their way down her cheek.
“Hey. Do you mind if I try that cell phone again?” Jessica asked.
Melissa shook her head, reached into her pocket, and handed the phone to Jessica.
“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I have any luck.”
She turned around and left the room, heading out the storefront.
Behind the cash register was a stool with a worn leather top. She sat down and, again, dialed her parents phone number.
And again, nothing.
For the first time since the hotel, Jessica allowed herself to cry. For hours, she had held herself together, trying to stay calm for the sweet stranger who was watching her husband lie in pain. But in her new moment of solitude, Jessica decided to let it go. And like Jesus, she wept.
When the sun set, she found herself yawning. It had been one of the longest and strangest days of her young life, and though it was still early in the evening, Jessica decided to call it a night.
At the front of the store, there was a rack with various t-shirts on it. She grabbed one that said North Carolina State Athletics across the chest, unbuttoned her blouse, and let it hit the floor. She pulled the t-shirt over her head, and then reached under the back of it to unhook the clasps on her wet bra, pulling it out from under the shirt.
She found a spot on the tiled floor in front of the front counter, where patrons would normally lineup to pay for their potato chips and gasoline. Two blankets were leftover and she laid one out flat, and used the other to cover herself.
Jessica lay there, alone, and all she could think about was her parents. Were they trying to reach out to her? Were they trying to get to her? And most of all, were they even alive?
Soon, she was dreaming about them.
CHAPTER NINE
GABRIEL
The sun had begun to fall, bringing a cooler breeze through the open field. It gave an ominous look to the cloudless sky, which rose above the downtown skyline, miles past the pasture where the plane had landed.
Dylan brought an additional blanket over to the body, leaned down, and lay it over the legs. He looked up to Gabriel with glassy eyes.
“Should we say something?” The boy asked.
Gabriel was looking at the wallet of Captain Leonard Savage. According to his license, he was fifty-three years old and from Baltimore. More than likely, Gabriel assumed that the flight to Washington was sending him home to his family—whom he also had a picture of in his wallet; a wife and two children in their late teens or early twenties.
He knelt down and tucked the wallet under the blanket, giving it two pats as he brought his hand back to the open air.
Gabriel kept his eyes down to the body and spoke to the boy.
“Yeah,” Gabriel said. “I’ll say something. Bow your head.”
Dylan abided, bowing his head to the ground and closing his eyes.
Gabriel wiped his mouth and cleared his throat.
“We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Captain Leonard Savage,” Gabriel began. It felt awkward. Not only had he never given a eulogy, but he didn’t know the man. Such honors were supposed to be for a friend or a loved one close to the
deceased. To Gabriel, it just didn’t seem right.
“He was a husband, a father, and apparently, one hell of a pilot.” He cleared his throat again, peeking down at Dylan to see him still with his eyes closed and head lowered. “We thank him for landing this plane and saving us.”
Dylan looked up. For the first time, he saw despair in the face of the stranger who had protected him during the crash.
Gabriel turned and walked away from the body. He stopped after fifteen yards and reached into his pocket for his phone.
“Shit,” he mumbled to himself. It wasn’t there.
“I’m hungry,” Dylan shouted.
Gabriel turned around, putting on his best fake smile for the scared child.
“Me too,” he said. “Let’s blow this joint, shall we?”
***
There wasn’t much to be salvaged from the wreckage. Gabriel wasn’t even able to find his bag. He joked with himself that it was probably on a different airplane, knowing the reliability of the airlines, not to mention his unfortunate luck. However, they were able to find a gallon size bag filled with miniature packs of peanuts. The protein in the nuts would be enough to tide them over until they could find more sufficient food, as well as hopefully keep Dylan happy for a little while. Gabriel knew that if he was hungry, the boy had to be as well, and would have less patience for controlling the pangs.
Gabriel stood outside the plane, waiting for Dylan to make his way back outside so they could try to find food and appropriate shelter before the sun went down, taking the light and little bit of warmth with it. He looked up to see Dylan emerge from the plane with his backpack over his shoulder.
“Lucky,” Gabriel said, looking at the backpack.
“Didn’t your parents always tell you to carry on your bags? Mine did. My dad said the best way to ruin my first flight was for me to lose my bag,” Dylan replied, not an ounce of sarcasm in his voice.
Shaking his head, Gabriel turned and looked off into the downtown skyline. The sun was setting fast behind the buildings and he wanted to find refuge somewhere as quickly as possible. In the distance, he saw the black smoke coming off of the Jacobsons’ farmhouse. The heat polluted the air, giving the skyline in that direction a foggy and dull appearance. In the foreground, a group of about ten people stood at the edge of the farm, stumbling back and forth behind a fence. From a couple of hundred yards away, Gabriel could tell they were no longer living, breathing, people from their poor posture and slight limp. These beasts were no threat to him and the boy, too far gone to know how to get past the fence.
Empty Bodies: A Post-Apocalyptic Tale of Dystopian Survival (Book 1) Page 6
