The Darkest Part of the Night

by David Spell

  “Ok, well, I need to get back to work, but I’m here if you need something,” she said with another smile.

  “Thanks for checking on me. Maybe I’ll need something later.”

  As Isabella walked away, Alejandro put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes. That’s probably one of the prettiest girls I’ve ever seen, he thought. She wanted to talk to me and I couldn’t think of anything interesting or funny to say. She probably thinks I have mental issues or that I didn’t want to talk to her.

  After the flight got airborne and leveled off at the cruising altitude, one of the other flight attendants came down the aisle. She wasn’t as pretty as Isabella but was smiling in Estrada’s direction. She stopped suddenly about ten seats up.

  “Sir, are you ok?”

  She had seen George Carter slumped over in his seat. There was no one seated next to him. He was seat belted in but the angle that he was slouched over at just didn’t look right. The attendant put her hand on his shoulder and shook him. Nothing.

  She reached over to check the pulse on his neck. There wasn’t one. His body was still warm, actually, he felt hot to the touch, but there was no heartbeat. The attendant rushed towards the front of the cabin to get some help and to grab the portable defibrillator. A call came over the PA asking if there was a doctor or nurse on the flight. No one moved.

  Alejandro didn’t know what he was supposed to do. If he was the fill-in air marshal, he was supposed to stay incognito. He stayed in his seat and watched Isabella, the other female flight attendant, and a male flight attendant rush back to work on the unconscious or dead man.

  They undid his seat belt and pulled him onto the floor in the aisle. The problem was, he was a really big man and the aisles were very narrow. They were having trouble working on him as the male attendant was prepping the defibrillator. Isabella looked back at Estrada. It was obvious that she needed something. He got out of his seat and walked over to them.

  “Sir, would you please go to the back of the cabin and get that backboard? It’s laying against the rear bulkhead. We’re going to need to move him to the rear of the plane where we’ll have more room to work.”

  Alejandro rushed to the back to get what they needed. He found it on the other side of the cabin, at the end of the other aisle. As he was picking it up, he heard a scream. He dropped the board and hurried back to the other side of the plane.

  All four members of the cabin crew were in the aisle trying to help the big man. An older woman, who appeared to be the crew supervisor, had joined the other three attendants who were crouched over the man. The male attendant was holding the defibrillator. Several passengers were out of their seats, crowding around, trying to see what was going on. The older woman was trying to get them to sit back down.

  Before they could shock him with the defibrillator, though, the bio-terror chemical that had been added to George’s medicine had reached his brain. Isabella heard a growl coming from the man’s throat.

  “I think he made a noise,” she said.

  The other female attendant leaned over George’s face with her ear to see if should could hear anything. George’s eyes popped opened and he lunged upward, trying to bite the girl’s throat. Startled by the sudden movement, she screamed and fell backwards against a seat. George turned towards her and bit down on her right forearm. She screamed again and was able to rip her arm out of his mouth. Thankfully for her, she was cold natured. She had on a long sleeve blouse, a sweater, and her navy blazer.

  Isabella pushed herself backwards into an occupied seat. A businessman grabbed her and pulled her into his lap, away from the crazy acting man on the floor. Carl, the male flight attendant, put his hand on Carter’s chest and said, “Sir, calm down. You’re going to be ok now.”

  George was trying to get in a position where he could get up. He was wedged pretty tightly on the floor of the aisle. When the attendant put his hand on his chest, Carter thrust his head forward and caught the young man’s hand in his mouth. Carl gasped in pain as George’s teeth clamped down on his right hand. He tried to pull free and could feel the teeth ripping into his flesh and bones. Blood began to pour out of his torn hand.

  “Let go of me!” Carl yelled.

  The big man seemed to bite down even harder. George reached out and grabbed Carl behind the neck and started pulling him down towards his mouth. Carl was still holding the portable defibrillator in his left hand. He raised it high and slammed it down onto George’s head. The plastic shattered and opened several cuts on the big man’s face. The force of the blow loosened Carter’s grip on Carl and he was able to pull his hand free and scramble backwards.

  The Flight Crew Supervisor, Janette, saw the blood and the damage to Carl’s hand and said, “Go to the front of the plane and grab the first-aid kit and work on that.”

  She looked at George, still struggling to get up, and said, “Sir, you need to stay down there. You’ve assaulted two members of this aircrew and you’ll be arrested when we land.”

  Carter continued to growl. His mouth was opening and snapping closed. He managed to wiggle around enough to where he had some room to get to his feet. The passengers seated nearby pressed inward, towards the window seats.

  Alejandro ran up to where George was trying to stand. “Federal Police Officer, everybody needs to stay back,” he said, holding up his ID. “This man appears to have been infected with the zombie virus. I need everybody to stay in their seats. If you get bitten, you’ll get infected to.”

  He drew his Glock but kept it pointed at the floor. What happens if I shoot him in a plane at thirty five thousand feet? he thought. I know I can make the shot but what if I happen to miss or the bullet goes through him and hits the wall or ceiling?

  Estrada issued a verbal challenge to the man. “Sir, you’re under arrest. Stop and get down on the floor, now!”

  George turned at started for Estrada. Alejandro saw that his eyes were glazed over. He raised the pistol and was about to take the headshot but he saw several people crowding into the aisle directly behind the infected man. The shot would be too dangerous. Alejandro backed up and yelled, “Everybody get out of the aisle!”

  No one moved except the infected man pursuing the police officer in front of him. Several people had their smart phones out and were recording the incident. Thankfully, the zombie was focused on Estrada. There were plenty of innocent people that he could have easily grabbed. Estrada continued to back towards the rear of the plane. He bumped into someone. Now, people were standing in the aisle behind him, as well.

  He couldn’t shoot but he had to do something quickly. The big, growling man was shuffling slowly forward but he would be on top of Estrada in a matter of seconds. He quickly holstered his pistol and pulled his Benchmade folding knife out of his pocket. He flicked the knife open and took a step towards the zombie.

  Carter reached out with his right hand to grab the officer. Estrada grabbed his reaching arm with his left hand and pulled the infected man towards him. He had the knife an icepick grip and fired a backhanded strike with the blade towards the zombie’s face. He was aiming for his right eye. Because he was so much bigger than Estrada, though, the strike was a little off and caught him below the eye. For a human, the strike would have ended the fight and possibly even have been fatal.

  For a zombie, though, the knife strike only slowed him down momentarily. The blade had not managed to penetrate into the brain. George reached across with his left hand to grab the officer again. Alejandro stepped backwards, pulling his knife free. The people who had been in the aisle behind him had scattered. The zombie continued forward towards his prey, blood dripping from the hole in his face.

  Estrada fired a powerful front kick into his knee. There was the sound of cracking as the bones fractured and George stumbled, falling forward into the aisle. Alejandro backed up again so the man wouldn’t fall on top of him. He was even with the rear restrooms now, almost to the bulkhead. Time to end this, he thought. As the zombie struggled to get
back to his feet, Estrada stepped in and brought the knife down onto the top of his head. The tanto blade pierced his skull and entered his brain. Carter collapsed facedown on the floor. This time, there was no more movement.

  After cleaning his knife with alcohol provided by the crew, Estrada took off his blazer and scrubbed the blood splatter off his hands and face. Isabella draped a blanket over the dead man until they could put him in a body bag. She came to the back of the plane as Alejandro was drying his face and hands. She walked over and stood next to him.

  “Are you ok?” she asked.

  “I’m good,” he said. “What about you? That’s not something you see everyday, huh?”

  She shook her head and leaned against the bulkhead, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around herself. “I’ve seen the news reports but I thought those were isolated incidents. He tried to kill us and you. I thought he was going to get you.”

  He flashed a smile. “Not me. I’m a zombie killer.”

  Estrada wasn’t sure what to say next so he decided to be honest. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier. When you came by my seat, I, well, I’ve always been pretty shy around girls. I freeze up and don’t know what to say. But, I thought maybe, sometime, you might have dinner with me?” Did he really just ask her out? He felt hot again.

  “That would be nice,” she smiled. “I’d like that. I’ll give you my number before we leave. Now, let me get back to work.”

  Alejandro went to check on the rest of the crew. The girl who had gotten bit, Lisa, was holding her arm. She was sitting in one of the front jump seats and appeared to be in shock. He had her take off her jacket and sweater and roll up her sleeve. The man’s teeth had not pierced her flesh. It was red and turning purple but she would be ok. She would have a nasty bruise and a sore arm for a few days. He had the same thing on his leg the previous week.

  Carl, however, was another story. His hand had been mangled. Janette, the supervisor, was working on the wound. Alejandro noticed approvingly that she had put rubber gloves on. Carl looked up at Estrada. There was fear in his eyes.

  “Am I going to die?”

  “Nobody else is dying,” Estrada said. At least not yet, he thought.

  He spoke to Janette. “What’s the pilot going to do? Are we going to continue to Atlanta?”

  “I’m not sure. He was talking about diverting to Charlotte.”

  “Can you ask him if he can continue to Atlanta? The CDC has been working non-stop on creating a treatment for this. I can get them to send the latest formula to the airport to treat him,” he said, motioning at Carl.

  Janette nodded and got up and walked over to the phone that would allow her to call the pilot.

  “How you feeling?” he asked Carl.

  “It hurts bad. He really messed my hand up. If I live, I’ll probably need surgery. Man, I’m hot. I think I have a fever. Do you think I’ll turn into one of those things?”

  That was a distinct possibility, Alejandro knew. “The CDC scientists told us that a person’s immune system has a lot to do with what happens after they’ve been exposed to this. It affects different people in different ways. There’s no way to tell what’s going to happen with you. Could we buckle you into your seat, just to be safe?”

  Carl nodded and sat back in his jump seat and allowed Janette to strap him in. He looked pale and sweat was pouring off of him. She had cleaned the wound, put an antibiotic ointment on it, and bandaged it tightly in gauze.

  “I’m going to have some medicine waiting for you at the airport,” said Estrada. “The anti-virus vaccine is experimental. I can’t make you any promises if it will help or not. At this point, though, you probably don’t have anything to lose by taking it.”

  Alejandro pulled out his smart phone and called his team leader, Eddie Marshall. One of the benefits of having a specially modified, government issued phone was that it would work almost anywhere. He gave him a quick rundown of the incident and asked him to have a dose of the vaccine delivered to the airport. Eddie told him he would contact the FBI and have them respond to handle the investigation.

  Janette looked at Estrada. “The pilot said he’ll continue to Atlanta. Can you help us bag that man in the aisle?”

  “We need to leave him like he is until we land. He’s part of the crime scene and they’ll want to take pictures of him where he’s lying. Sorry.”

  She nodded and walked towards the other end of the plane. Alejandro started to follow her but Carl put his good hand on Estrada and said, “Hang on. You might want to hear this.”

  He turned and knelt in front of the injured man. Carl lowered his voice and said, “Isabella, that cute flight attendant? She told us that she thought you were really good looking and was hoping to get to know you, if you know what I mean.”

  Alejandro smiled. “Cool, thanks, man. I’ve already asked her out.”

  “Smooth,” said Carl, “Very smooth.”

  CDC Headquarters, Atlanta, Wednesday, 1245 hours

  Team Leaders Chuck McCain and Eddie Marshall unpacked the boxes that their new equipment had come in. There were new uniform polo shirts, kevlar pants, and jackets to replace those that had been damaged the week before. There were also heavy tactical body armor and chest rigs that they could carry their extra rifle magazines in.

  The terrorist attacks from the previous week had shown the teams that they needed to invest in some new gear. Their soft body armor was only designed to stop pistol rounds. Andy Fleming had gotten hit by a fragmented AK-47 round that punched a hole through his body armor and then punched a hole in him. He was very fortunate that it was only a bullet fragment.

  Each officer now had a heavy tactical vest that would be able to stop rifle rounds. These heavy vests would also add another layer of protection against zombie bites. The chest rigs would allow each officer to carry their rifle magazines and other equipment in a much more accessible position. A black kevlar helmet would protect their heads.

  They were also being issued a small trauma kit. Andy wasn’t the only officer to have been wounded. Scotty Smith had gotten shot in the shoulder and had received several cuts on his face from flying glass when their windshield had gotten shot out. The wound to the shoulder left a deep gouge where the bullet had grazed him. The trauma kit contained a tourniquet, a trauma bandage, a packet of blood clotting solution, and other first-aid items.

  The teams had also been working, using only their specially modified cell phones for communication. They were encrypted and secure but communication had not been as easy as they had hoped it would be. Now, they were being issued individual radios that would allow them to talk to each other and their base more quickly.

  McCain had received a call the day before from Gunny Powell letting him know that he could come pick up the threaded barrels and the suppressors for the teams’ Glock pistols. Powell was a Marine armorer turned Class 3 firearms dealer who had added suppressors to their Colt M4 rifles. Now, the officers would have suppressed capability for their pistols as well.

  Chuck had been a police officer outside of Atlanta for twenty years. A large part of his career had been as a SWAT officer. After taking an early retirement package, he had signed up for two one-year contracts as a law enforcement advisor to the United States Army.

  Because of his SWAT background, he was assigned to a Special Forces A team. He worked with the same team for both of his contracts. In Afghanistan, he saw the benefits of having suppressed weapons. Many of the soldiers he worked with had suppressors on their rifles to reduce the noise and the muzzle flash of their shots.

  As a Team Leader for the CDC Response Teams, McCain had seen first-hand that the zombies were drawn to noise. They had gotten all of their rifles fitted with suppressors. Now, they would have them for their pistols, as well. These would be carried on their duty belts and screwed onto their 9mm Glocks when needed.

  The teams were also in need of some new vehicles. Out of their four Chevrolet Suburbans, three of them sustained damage in the terrorist att
acks the previous week. One of Team One’s SUVs had been declared totaled. It had been shot up by AK-47 fire and then wrecked on the interstate when Scotty Smith rammed a vanload of terrorists to keep them from reaching their destination.

  A second Suburban had also been shot up at the terrorist attack at the Arbor Place Mall in Douglasville. Team Two members Eddie and Jimmy hadn’t been hit, but their vehicle took almost thirty rounds of 7.62x39 bullets in the engine and passenger compartment. That vehicle would also be replaced.

  Luis García had pursued a van load of Islamic terrorists into the Six Flags Over Georgia amusement park. Two of the six terrorists opened up on Luis and a Cobb County police officer with their AKs. García killed both of the terrorists but his vehicle took several non-critical hits on the passenger side. That Suburban was being repaired.

  Rebecca had ordered two new vehicles to be delivered today. She had found black Ford Police Interceptors at a local car dealership that catered to police departments. These were also equipped with blue lights in the grill and windshield and sirens.

  Chuck and Eddie had just gotten back from lunch when Rebecca found them. “How’s the new equipment? Does the order look right?”

  “It sure does,” said McCain. “Now, we’re just waiting on them to deliver the two new vehicles.”

  “I’m really glad we got this heavy body armor and the helmets,” said Marshall. “Fleming and Smith were very lucky last week.”

  Johnson nodded. “Yes, they were,” she said. “Considering what we had to deal with, we were all very lucky.”

  Eddie felt his phone vibrate. “Alejandro’s calling. I’ll be right back.” He stepped over to his office.

  Chuck looked at Rebecca. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was close to five ten and worked out regularly. Even in her black CDC Enforcement polo shirt and gray cargo pants, she looked great.