by Karen Carr
“There’s the store,” Harper said, pointing to the hardware store.
“Got to park,” I said before Zeke could ask me any more questions. I pulled up in front of the hardware store and parked the cart. I ignored Zeke as we walked over to the where several people had gathered outside.
I recognized Minnesota in his wheelchair and also Harper’s younger counterpart, Mikey along with the Reverend. I ran up to the Reverend and hugged him, while Harper ran over to Mikey and disappeared into the store.
“You’ve had quite an effect on the town in one night,” the Reverend said. “Downtown has stayed clear of the walking devils since your return. People are already feeling safer.”
I regarded the men working outside. A couple guys were sawing wood and a couple more were stacking bags of cement in a pickup. “Not too safe, I hope. They need to be on guard when I’m not here.”
“We have spotters.” The Reverend pointed to the roof of the building where a man stood with a rifle and across the street to another roof and another man.
“What are you making?” Zeke asked, ignoring me and walking over to the men.
“Fence posts,” an older man with a gray beard said. “We got a lot of chicken wire to put up. You going to help?”
Zeke motioned to me. “As soon as I’m done with her. Guard duty.” Zeke folded his arms and watched me with an expressionless face.
The older man laughed and tipped his hand to me in a wave. “Good morning Hella. I hope you don’t mind if we keep on working while you do your job?”
“No, not at all,” I said.
The Reverend opened a folding chair and offered me a seat. “The church will be your next stop. I’ll walk down there with you.”
“I don’t want to sit, Reverend. Can I help with the work?” I approached two wooden horses with a long piece of wood across them and a saw resting on top of it. The men looked at each other like there was no way they were going to let me help. “I am perfectly capable of wielding a saw.” I picked up the saw and held it in the air. It was heavier than expected, so I put it back down again hoping the others didn’t notice my strain.
The old man came up to me. “It’s not that, mam. We know you are capable.” He looked to the Reverend for help.
“Hella, I believe these people don’t want you to get hurt,” the Reverend said. “Any chance you nick yourself with the blade is too big of a chance for them.”
“What do you mean, because my blood is poisonous?” I asked. The men looked at each other in confusion. Of course they didn’t know. “Well, it could be,” I quickly added and then I shrugged my shoulders.
“They don’t want you hurt,” Zeke said. “Risking infection without a doctor or hospital is not worth it. You are too valuable to them.”
“Oh, I get it,” I said, slumping into the folding chair. “I’m sorry.”
I sat on the chair watching the men work, watching Zeke use the saw, admiring his rippling muscles as he moved his tool back and forth. I sighed and dusted my forehead with my hand. I felt like a dog in heat the way I thought about Huck, and then Zeke, and then whomever was in front of me. I thought I wanted Huck, he was supposed to be my true love, but he had been making out with Ana. Zeke was there for the taking, and would protect me with his last breath, but I didn’t know if that was enough for me.
After a few more minutes in the warm spring sun, the Reverend came to my side.
“Come on, it’s been about time enough. Let us go to the church.” The Reverend offered me his hand and I took it. “Harper’s going to stay with Mikey, so it’s just the three of us.” The Reverend waved Zeke over.
The men mumbled their goodbyes as I got into the golf cart and started it. Zeke exchanged salutations and handshakes with the men and told them he would be back later. The Reverend took the spot next to me and Zeke hopped in the back before we proceeded down West Street to the church.
Chapter 8
I remembered the red brick church, with its dual steeples, from when we first arrived in Pittsboro. We had not known the town was inhabited until we spotted Miles running into it. Miles was a sweet boy who had risked his life for us and then died in the process. I felt overwhelmed with grief over losing him as I pulled up in front of the church.
“You alright, Hella?” Zeke asked me.
“I was just thinking of Miles,” I said.
The Reverend offered me his hand. “I know how that is. I think of my wife when I am here.”
“Shelly Mac,” I said her name. She had been turned into a zero. We saw her zombified form when we were looking for the others in Pittsboro.
“We buried her in the cemetery, there.” The Reverend pointed to the church cemetery and a fresh grave.
Zeke walked through the wrought iron gates and over to the mound in the cemetery and bowed his head.
The Reverend whispered a short prayer and then gestured toward the door. “Come on inside for the few minutes you are here. I have a long-lasting project for you to do.”
I smiled, grateful for a task, and followed the Reverend into the church. Zeke came in after us and we both followed the Reverend through the long row of pews. The church had been dusted and the windows cleaned. A sweet smell of lemon floated to my nostrils and organ music filled the air.
As we came closer to the altar, I saw an old woman playing the organ. She stopped when we approached and turned to us. By the lines on her face, and her snow white hair, I put her age somewhere above seventy, maybe even eighty.
“Hella, how nice to finally meet you,” the old woman said. I was getting uncomfortable with everyone knowing who I was and me not knowing who they were.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said.
She picked up a cane next to the organ and made her way down to us. “Well, I’ll take you to the classrooms,” she said.
“Classrooms?” My excitement picked up.
“Yes, Hella.” The Reverend smiled at my excitement. “This is where we’ve been holding classes for the kids. There aren’t that many children, and the community college has too much going on right now, with people living in it and all, so we thought this setting would be best.”
“You’re right about that,” I said. The warmth and the love from the church walls gave me strength.
“Come on upstairs and I’ll show you.” The Reverend referenced a door.
“I’m going to stay down here,” Zeke said.
The older woman took us through a hallway and up some stairs to another hallway leading to several small rooms. She guided us inside one. It was freshly painted and decorated with bright colors. Paintings of letters decorated the top of one wall, with phrases of achievements under it. Another wall was all about math, with numbers floating down in a beautiful kaleidoscope of artwork.
“This is our math and English classroom,” the older woman said.
“What do you want me to do here?” I asked.
“Nothing,” the woman said. “This gives you an idea of done.”
She took me across the hall to another room, with the Reverend following behind. This room hadn’t even been painted. All the desks looked old and dirty, and were in disarray and the chalk board looked like it wasn’t even usable.
The Reverend walked up to the chalk board and wrote a word on it. Social Studies. “We thought this would be the social studies room. For you.”
“For me?” I was still confused.
“Your degree was in Sociology, right?” the Reverend asked.
“Yes, but I didn’t graduate, remember?” I held my hands up and shrugged.
“You know more about it than we do, than anyone here,” the Reverend said. “This is your classroom, to do and decorate as you like. We need you here to instill in our children the love of learning, the love of life, and the love of humanity. It is here that they will learn to be human.”
“I don’t know if I’ll have the time,” I said. “I’ll be busy killing the undead, flying around, and going from red dot to red dot. How on earth would I have time to
teach?”
“You think about it,” the old woman said. “You think about it and let us know what you figure out.”
Zeke entered the room. “Hella, we got to go.”
The Reverend escorted us down the stairs and out of the Church. He stayed behind in the church as Zeke and I got in the golf cart to drive to the next red dot.
The next several destinations were more of the same, sitting and waiting and having people cater to me while they asked me probing questions. Some questions I was able to answer, like how I contracted the virus, and others were harder like who else could potentially be safe. I wanted to tell them about my smell test, but didn’t want to get their hopes up. What if I was wrong about the smell? What if they were wrong about smelling it? I thought it was a bad idea to give people extra confidence. If they thought they were immune to the zero’s bite, they might become overly brave and get themselves bit while testing my theory.
Talking to everyone, I learned some new things about the town as well. I found out that there wasn’t a doctor in the community, only a few nurses and Sivan, the vet across the river. I remembered the woman from Sanford saying her husband was a doctor, and wondered if that were true. Most people here were farmers and carpenters and plumbers and auto mechanics and then there were the artists, painters and sculptors and pottery makers.
Soon Zeke and I were done with our mission and I drove to our final destination. It was time to meet the Professor for my flying lesson. I drove into to the field where the helicopter rested on the ground. The Professor and two other men, one of which was Broder, were standing next to the small white and purple copter.
The wheels of the golf cart bounced along the grass, making me sick to my stomach. I assured myself the stomach pains were from the bumpy ground and not from anticipating getting in a machine that resembled a bug and wasn’t much bigger than one. The main part of the helicopter looked like a giant bug’s eye, with its curved bubble glass and metal frame, and the tail looked like a dragonfly’s.
Three black blades were connected to the top of the helicopter with a fragile pole. The tail was connected with a long purple and white striped tube that resembled a pipe cleaner. The tail was constructed of two purple triangles and the long and skinny feet were purple as well. The whole contraption looked like a helicopter from a child’s erector set.
“Good morning, Hella,” the Professor said as he walked toward the cart.
I bounded over to Broder and gave him a big hug. Zeke jumped out and went with Broder to join the other man, at once talking to them about something while they walked around the helicopter.
“It’s almost noon,” I said, pointing to the sun in the sky.
“Good thing I packed us a lunch,” the Professor said.
The Professor took me over to the ultralight, telling me about it and the two men as we walked. He explained was a three seater ultralight, a Hughes 300—an antique from the 1970s or 80s, he wasn’t sure which. The two men with Zeke were also pilots, or at least they knew how to fly. One man flew a crop plane and the other one was a mechanic and had several smaller ultralights, one seaters, he had made from kits.
“It doesn’t look very safe,” I said. The military helicopter we flew before, the Hind, was massive and strong. The Hughes was delicate and fragile.
The Professor caressed the tail of the ultralight. “This girl can go fifty to eighty miles an hour and last almost three hundred miles on a tank of gas. It can hover in one place for hours, although the controls are very sensitive and will take some skills. You have a twenty foot blade span, so don’t go too low between the trees or you will clip one. When you are landing, make sure you are parallel to the ground, not in any way perpendicular—that could cause a problem.”
My stomach did a flip-flop. “Why do I have to learn? Why can’t you just go with me every time?”
Zeke ducked under the tail of the ultralight to join us. “Hella, you have to learn. What if something happens to the Professor?”
“Why don’t you learn?” I shot back. “You’re my body guard. You could be my chauffer too.”
“Don’t call me that,” Zeke snarled. “I am not your chauffer. You drive your damn golf cart, you’re going to learn how to drive your damn helicopter.”
“Fine,” I said. “Professor, let’s go.”
The Professor touched my shoulder. “How about we take a leisure ride today, so you can get used to flying. We’ll start lessons tomorrow. You gentlemen, back away from the ride unless you want your head chopped off.”
The Professor stepped in front of Zeke and ushered me into the bug eyed section of the copter.
“Where are the doors?” I asked. My eyes caught Zeke’s, who was standing at some distance. I tried not to show panic in my face, even if my voice quavered like a badly tuned violin. “It has no doors. Did someone forget to put them on?”
“We don’t need doors,” the Professor said. “In you go.”
I stepped into the bubble. There were two spots in front, both with stick controllers and pedals on the floor, and also an extra small seat in the middle, more toward the back. I tried to squish into the middle seat, but the Professor stopped me.
“You’re in front,” he said. “Next to me.”
I gave him another look. “By the controls? What if I touch something?”
“It doesn’t matter,” the Professor said. “I won’t engage your side. I want you to get used to this seat. When you are flying solo, your picture won’t change. You need to get used to this view so that you won’t be surprised when you sit up front. It can be a little awe-inspiring when we are up there, might as well get all of your ooohs and aaahs out the first trip.”
I scrambled over the instrument panel in the middle, thinking it looked like a black tomb stone, and sat in the right side bucket. I was surprised that there was so much room. It was very easy to move my shoulders and legs and I didn’t feel at all claustrophobic sitting in front of the big bubble window. In fact, I felt like I was sitting outside on the grass, which both frightened and excited me. My view was unobstructed except for the metal frame holding the glass.
The Professor climbed in, much more gracefully than me. He strapped himself in and then helped me with my safety gear. He gave me a brief tour of the instrument panel, pointing to multiple switches and dials, including fuel boosts, alternator, anti-collision light, transponders, circuit breakers, flight instruments, radio, engine instruments, rotors, clutches, and more.
When he was done describing every last detail of every last switch and dial, he turned to me with a triumphant grin. “You ready?”
“I don’t remember a thing you said,” I said. “Except maybe the part about the anti-collision light. Is that really necessary? Do I have to learn about that? I’m not going to be sharing the air with anyone. If Mace comes after me, I won’t want him to know where I am.”
“Ok, Hella. I can take some things out of your instruction. We’ll start with the simple stuff.” The Professor handed me a set head phones and we checked to see if we could hear each other.
“Will I be able to hear you in the air?” I asked.
“It’s not like the Hind, the engine is quiet, and more like a lawn mower. With the headphones, you should be able to hear me fine. Without them, we’d just have to shout. Ready?”
“Yup.” I braced myself by holding the poles on either side of my seat.
“Relax,” the Professor said. “I’m going to take you through the startup procedure, but I don’t expect you to remember it yet. It’s important to learn it, and we will rehearse it often. Most important to remember is to follow the order, and always remember to check your gauges.”
The Professor went into a long list of tasks, most of which I didn’t remember. I tried to recall the first three tasks, fuel valves on, battery on, fuel boost on, mixture full rich wait three seconds. Lots of testing and checking to make sure we were clear, and then more testing and checking before we took off.
When we started m
oving, I gasped. In a few short seconds we were off the ground. The Professor hovered perhaps only ten feet off the ground and then showed me how to do a pirouette left and a pirouette right. Watching the Professor, I realized how precise and responsive the little ultralight was. The slightest movement from his hands and his feet maneuvered the copter in any given direction. I began to feel the power of the small craft and it no longer felt fragile to me. It felt like an extension of my body.
The Professor took us up higher and flew over the field, making the long grass bow down in front of us. It was amazing to have an unobstructed view from the air, except for the rhythmic shadows of the blades pacing our movements.
I felt like I was actually sitting in the eye of a dragonfly. I always hated roller coasters because of the constant dipping and swerving, but this ride was smooth and the engine soothing. If I wasn’t so excited and intent on watching everything around us, I would definitely want to take a nap.
We flew slowly over the college, and then made circles around it. I saw all the people, they were industriously building. They were chopping down pines and loading them on a long truck. Another group was putting fencing on a truck. I watched as they looked up, hearing our sound, and then waved when they saw us. Everyone seemed to know who we were and what we were up to because most took of their hats and cheered.
Hella the Conqueror coming to slay the dragons.
“Can we get out of town?” I asked after one-too-many circles.
“Sure.” The Professor hovered higher. “Tired of all the attention?”
“Yea,” I said.
“Where to?” the Professor asked.
I looked at the myriads of gauges and couldn’t pick out the one for the gas. “How much fuel do we have?”
“We have a 12 gallon tank. We can go about three hundred miles at a normal speed, at this speed probably about half that.”
“You think they will be safe for a few hours?” I asked.
“I suppose so,” the Professor said. “You got rid of a lot of them on your walk and the others know to stay aware because we are gone. I think Hipslow expected us to travel.”
