Preservation - 03

by Phillip Tomasso

The front windshield was smashed out. Debris littered the cockpit. Her head was not split. The wound had to be somewhere else on her body and I couldn’t see it. It didn’t matter. She was dead.

  “She’s gone,” I said. “Let’s get you out of that seat.”

  Palmeri nodded, lips pursed. She looked down. “Don’t think that’s going to be easy.”

  What looked like a metal shaft protruded out of her thigh. “Ah shit.”

  I’d said that out loud. Hadn’t meant to.

  “Exactly,” she said. She offered something to me. A pocket flashlight. I took it and saw her tears and her lip quivered. She seemed to be fighting the urge to cry. I wasn’t sure why. If there was ever a time to ball, this was it. This was definitely it.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Dave stood with his back to the wall between the cockpit and the area where Allison and Charlene were. “Erway’s dead,” I said. “And Palmeri, she’s pinned with a shaft through her thigh. Thick shaft. Only way to get her out is to lift her directly off the shaft, straight up. Cockpit’s cramped as fuck. Don’t think that’s going to work. And, if we do, good chance something inside is severed and then she’ll bleed out fast, know what I’m saying?”

  Dave looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe under the plane we’ll get a better view. If we can free the shaft, then she just keeps it in her leg until we find a safe way to remove it?”

  “Yeah, I don’t know. That makes sense,” I said.

  “It makes sense to at least try it if we can’t think of anything else,” he said.

  “I’ll check under the plane. You keep an eye on her. She might go into shock. I looked for blankets earlier. There’s that tarp, maybe some other things we can use to keep her warm,” I said.

  Dave nodded.

  I clapped a hand onto his shoulder and opened my mouth.

  He stopped me. “We’re good, man. I’m good.”

  He wasn’t good. I was glad to hear that we were, at least. “Okay, buddy. Okay.”

  “Hey, Chase?”

  I stopped.

  “Remember one thing while you’re out there,” he said.

  “What’s that?”

  “We just crashed a plane. We’re going to attract a lot of attention. Zombies, and whatever. You know?”

  Chapter Eleven

  Butler County, Pennsylvania, 2019 hours

  I touched the hilt of my sword and knife and felt the weight, light as it was, of the machete in its sheath across my back.

  “Where are you going?” Charlene stood beside me. Seemed to come out of nowhere. I was by the door to get off the plane. Could just have easily walked out of the gaping hole on the side.

  “I need to check something,” I said.

  “What are we checking?”

  “Not we. I need you to stay here,” I said.

  “I’m going with you,” she said.

  “I’d let you, but I need you to keep an eye on Allison. Otherwise, you could.”

  “She’s fine.”

  Allison was still flat on her back. “She has a concussion. She might start throwing up or she could go into shock, too.”

  “Too?”

  “Palmeri. She’s injured pretty bad. Dave’s keeping an eye on her.” Dave walked past us.

  Charlene grunted.

  “He’s looking for blankets, or anything that will keep Palmeri and Allison warm. We don’t want either of them going into shock.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on her, but if she starts throwing up--”

  “Honey, we need to be together on this, on things. I hate vomit as much as you do.” Changing diapers never bothered me, but I was a sympathy puker. Someone loses their lunch, mine isn’t far behind. Charlene was the same way. Smell alone could start me yakking. “People need our help, and we’re lucky to be well enough to give it. Do you understand that? We might not always be as healthy as we are right now. If that were you or me lying there, wouldn’t you want someone looking out for us? I’m not just shooting smoke. I’m not feeding you a line. We need to look out for each other. We need to,” I said.

  “I got it, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on her. And, I’m sorry.”

  I pulled her head to my chest. Kissed the top of it. “No need. We all need reminding every once in a while. I know I do, too.”

  She pulled away. “You didn’t say anything about Johanna. She all right?”

  I had to think a second. Johanna Erway. “She didn’t make it, honey.”

  Charlene looked at me. At that moment, I knew she got it. She understood what we’d just talked about; looking out for one another. If we didn’t do this one simple thing, we’d never survive.

  If we didn’t do this simple thing, and did survive, what would be the point?

  “I’ll be right back,” I said.

  “Be careful.” Charlene gave me a kiss on the cheek and went to help Dave free the tarp behind the crates. I watched for just a brief moment longer and then pushed open the door. The flashlight would be necessary once under the front of the plane. I didn’t want to turn it on too soon. The light would shine like a beacon in the darkness.

  Dave was right. A plane crash was going to attract attention.

  I stepped off the plane and looked around, squinting to see anything. It appeared to be a long stretch of road. It wasn’t an interstate. That much, I could tell. I felt disorientated, didn’t know which direction I faced. Best I could do was left and right. Be nice if lights worked. Looked as if we were mostly surrounded by trees, but not exactly. Something was to my left. A building--a small row of them. Resembled more of a structural shadow in what little light did come from the sky.

  I stayed close to the plane, one hand on it, as I made the short walk to the front. My eyes never stopped scanning the area. If we were alone, thank God. If not, I hoped I’d catch movement with enough time to react, and worse case, warn the others. I removed the long sword from the scabbard affixed to my belt.

  The darkness was unnerving. Seemed to continually swallow up space around me. Each step I took, the step before was swallowed into nothing. Each step I was about to take appeared to be into a black void. Brought back childhood memories, fears, actually. The trick at bedtime was to turn off the light and cross the distance between the switch and the bed without touching the floor. The floor was not the problem, it was the apprehension behind whatever monster lurked underneath the box spring, because at six, seven, hell at ten, there was always something lying in wait.

  It was that feeling that I felt now, overwhelmingly so. I needed to find a way to free Palmeri and then make it back inside the plane in a single leap, or risk being snatched by whatever monster lurked in the darkness that surrounded me.

  Decidedly, I thrust the long sword back into the scabbard and lit the flashlight Palmeri gave me and tried to cup and aim the light using most of the palm of my hand. The little beam brought a false consolation that I tried to embrace completely.

  The light played over the plane. There were holes all over the front of it. I couldn’t see into the cockpit from where I stood, because it was a little too high off the ground. From where I stood, I could see under it. More than that, I could also see up into it. There I unleashed all the LED power of the flashlight, and the inside of the plane glowed from it.

  With no tools, even if I could figure out how to free Palmeri from under here, I wasn’t sure I would be able. The bent and ripped apart metal was sharp, and I couldn’t fit up inside. I could reach in, but in doing so, could no longer see what I was doing. “Dave?”

  “We see the light,” he said.

  That didn’t help any. “I’m going to try to move things around. If I find the bottom half of what’s in your leg, Palmeri, it’s probably going to hurt pretty good, you know? Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready,” she said.

  I grabbed onto whatever I could and tugged. There was no give. The plane might be wrecked, but twisted metal seemed just as hard to wiggle as untwisted metal. “Anything?” />
  There was a moment of silence, and then, “No.”

  I released whatever I’d gripped and tried a different handhold. “Now?”

  “No, nothing. This isn’t going to work,” she said.

  I heard Dave. “It’ll work. It’ll work. If anyone can help, it’s McKinney.”

  Wish he hadn’t said that. Didn’t need that kind of pressure. I turned off the flashlight, dropped it into my pocket and reached into the hole in the bottom of the plane with both arms raised. I was able to fit my head and shoulders up into the opening as well. Felt like I was climbing up into the Rabbit Hole, until sharp metal sliced through my body. It cut from under my left arm to the edge of my ribcage. “Son of a fucking bitch!”

  “Chase?”

  “I’m good, Dave. I’m alright.” Warm blood oozed from the wound. I felt it roll down my side. There was plenty to grab onto, so I did. One by one, I attempted pushing and pulling whatever I could, mostly to no avail. “Anything, anything at all?”

  “No, Chase, nothing,” Dave said.

  I didn’t give up. I kept at it, reaching deeper, higher, and all around me. There was a lot of things under here that could be attached to the shaft that pierced Palmeri.

  “Chase?”

  “I’m trying,” I said, but claustrophobia was sneaking up on me. My breathing became quick and shallow, and despite the chill in the November mountain air, I was sweating. It hadn’t been that long ago that I signed up to be a volunteer fireman. Being divorced, I was plagued with too much free time on my hands. The days and nights that I didn’t have my kids could be time better spent. I knew this much. Volunteering seemed like a good way to find something constructive to do with my excess of time. I joined an agency, passed the physical and agility tests, and was sworn in to the department.

  The way I saw it, I worked on one side of the radio and sent rescuers to various emergencies. It would be interesting seeing what first responding was like. During my SCBA July training, I had to don complete turnout gear; the pants with suspenders, the boots, the jacket, the hooded face mask, jacket, gloves and helmet, and then shrug on an air tank with 30 minutes of air inside that I’d breathe using a mask. I was handed an axe and told to follow my instructor. The purpose was to use up all the air in the tank. It had to be ninety degrees outside, fifty times hotter with the turnout gear on. We walked all around the outside perimeter of the firehouse, into the firehouse and down into the basement, then up to the roof, and then back outside. I was breathing, but I felt like I could not breathe at all. I felt panicked, like I was about to hyperventilate. I wanted to tear the mask off and undress. It was all I could think about. The mask rattled against my cheeks, warning me I was low on air. The rattle and flashing LED increased as the tank’s air supply continued to decrease. If I had been inside a burning building, this warning told me it was time to get out. After seventeen minutes, I ran out of air and I was gasping. The mask fogged and sucked tighter and tighter to my face.

  Done, I took the mask off, and shook off the gloves. I removed every piece of gear as if acid was eating through it and would soon devour my flesh. My clothing under the turnout gear was drenched in sweat. I wanted to throw up, but I took slim satisfaction knowing I’d done it. I’d completed the training drill.

  I quit the department. There was no way I’d be of use to anyone in an emergency situation if my claustrophobia struck. The worst, and most embarrassing thing about it all had been going back to work after quitting. While the idea of volunteering and being productive had earned me nothing but support from my peers at 9-1-1, I was certain I’d look weak and lazy when I returned. No one ever said the latter. On some though, I saw it in their eyes.

  “Chase, we got movement ahead from the trees,” Dave said.

  Shit. That brought me out of my daydream. “What do you see?”

  “Too dark, but we saw something. Not far. Get back in here.”

  The attempt to free Palmeri from under the plane was futile. Nothing under here was loose. I’d wiggled and jiggled anything and everything I could get my hands onto, and nothing. If something was out there, I was a sitting duck. The top half of my body was wedged inside this damned heap of now-twisted metal.

  “Chase?”

  “I’m coming,” I said. I wanted to slide back out carefully. I had no idea how bad the cut on my side was. It still bled, that much I knew. I could feel the stickiness of it. I tried to kneel as I raised my arms up and lowered myself out of the hole.

  “Chase--there is something out there. In the bushes by the road, maybe. I’m coming out there.”

  “No! No. I’m almost out. Watch the door.”

  I freed myself from the frame and knelt with one hand on the pavement and sucked in a deep breath. It felt good to be out. Confined spaces sucked. I stood and stayed close to the frame and moved cautiously toward the door, my eyes trying to look everywhere at once. I wished I could use the powerful flashlight. I think the last thing I’d want to see is a herd of zombies right in front of me. To not know would be best, or better, anyway.

  Dave was at the opened door, held out a hand and hoisted me into the plane. “You’re hurt,” he said.

  “Dad?”

  I put a hand up. I probably needed stitches, but this was not the time to worry anyone. “I’m okay, guys. I cut my side. It’s just a cut.”

  “We can’t defend the plane, not with that,” Dave motioned toward the gaping hole where a wing was once affixed.

  “Get ready to move. Make sure we bring anything that looks useful,” I said to Allison and Charlene. “Dave, come with me.”

  We went to the cockpit.

  “There are things out there. I don’t think they’re people. The movement is all sluggish,” Palmeri said. “They either can’t hear us, or the plane is confusing them. It reminds me of monkeys. Staying close to the trees, checking it out.”

  “They’re zombies,” Dave said.

  “She’s right. I’ve noticed things like this, too. When I killed my ex-wife, she’d been in a bedroom looking at a picture of the kids. If she wasn’t remembering, then she was remorseful. It was creepy to see.”

  “She was a--one of those things?” Palmeri said.

  I nodded. “And when we were at the internment camp, I saw one of them step on the corpse of another trying to get closer to the top of the fence. It looked down at the corpse, looked up at the top of the fence, and then used that body like a stepstool. I shit you not. I’d also used a belt to lock the gate. Buckled it, but those bastards unbuckled that belt and got out. They figured out what the problem was and they solved it.”

  “You never said anything earlier,” Dave said.

  “We haven’t exactly had time.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Palmeri said. “You should have told us.”

  “What difference does it make? Even now, the things are out there in the woods and are being cautious. They’re not coming right out and attacking. What are you going to do differently? Nothing.” I didn’t want to yell. “Now, we have to get you the fuck out of that seat.”

  Palmeri’s face paled. I don’t think it had anything at all to do with my raising my voice. “Chase, if you lift me there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to bleed-out.”

  “If you stay here, there’s a better chance that our smart zombies out there will bite you. Not much choice in the matter,” I said.

  The cockpit was unbelievably small. The shaft protruded a good seven inches out of Palmeri’s thigh. We would need to lift her straight up and off the shaft. I was not sure how we could do that. There was little to no room to work with.

  “I have to pull Erway out,” I said. I reached over and unfastened her seatbelt. I had to stay hunched over, my head banging into the instrument panel on the top ceiling part of the pit. I pushed Erway forward so I could better grasp her arm and shoulder, and then I heaved, lifted, and pulled all at once. Her thighs smacked against the thrusters in the center between the pilot and co-pilot seats as I kept stepping back. Dave
grabbed her waist and then legs, helping me move and gently set the paramedic down.

  “We’re going to have to do this quickly, because our monkeys are getting more adventurous,” Palmeri said.

  I looked at Dave. “Get ready to run.”

  “What about . . .?” He pointed toward the cockpit.

  “I’m going to get her out and then we’re running.”

  “I’ll help.”

  “We can’t both fit up there.”

  “I’m helping,” he said.

  Chapter Eleven

  I had one foot on the floor, a knee in the co-pilot seat and was bent forward to keep from banging my head on the toggles and switches on the above instrument panel. I did my best not to think about Erway dying in this spot. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t that I felt her ghost, but I had chills. “You’re going to have to help as much as possible,” I said.

  Palmeri’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat. She nodded. “I’ll try.”

  “It’s going to hurt, probably a lot.” I smiled, as if I were joking. She didn’t. I placed one hand over her thigh, the other under the thigh by where her knee bent. Dave stood, holding Palmeri’s outstretched arm and under her shoulder. “On three,” I said.

  The count was silent. The three of us head nodded at each other. One. Two. Three…

  Palmeri let out a scream and I cringed. She must have known better because she bit her lip. Sweat poured profusely from her brow. The shaft and wound made a horrible sucking sound as her thigh rode up the length of metal.

  The angle I was at was more than awkward. We needed to lift her at least another three inches to clear the shaft. It wasn’t happening easily.

  “Chase,” Dave said.

  I knew what he was going to say. He dropped to his knees. Now crying silent sobs, Palmeri placed her arm on his back and pushed, as he set his arms under her ass and lifted. I heaved, trying to keep the leg as straight as possible. Blood bubbled up from the wound. I thought I could smell it; coppery and metallic. The sight of it was a bad sign. Palmeri looked at me, eyes wide.