“Which means there may still be survivors.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“Looks like another battle zone over there.” Ensign Richard Kerwin, the crew chief, leaned between the two seats and pointed to their eleven o’clock position.
The pilot flew forward and hovered over the edge of the tree line. A neon red cross, much of the glass shattered, sat above the main entrance. As with the previous location, tire tracks disturbed the snow and bodies lay in the blood-drenched snow. Something had exploded. The hulk of a burned vehicle sat at the edge of the parking lot. The other vehicles, as well as the front façade of the building, had been ripped apart by shrapnel. Again, none of the vehicles that had made the tracks were present. Several deaders sauntered through the area, glancing up at the Super Stallion and reaching for it.
Alwell removed from the console the microphone to the exterior loudspeaker. “This is Captain Alwell from the U.S.S. Iwo Jima. If there is anyone alive inside the hospital, please let us know and we’ll rescue you.”
They waited thirty seconds and, when no one responded, the pilot repeated his message. Each of the three men watched the windows and doors, hoping for some indication of life. Nothing.
“We have to assume they’re dead or escaped,” said Canderossi.
“But to where?” asked Kerwin.
“There are tracks running north and south. Let’s see where they lead.”
Alwell turned the Super Stallion south and followed the main road. He detoured to the school where the corpses indicated another battle had occurred and issued the same call for survivors, again with no results. Flying back to the main road, he continued until they arrived at the marina. Again, the same battle scene, the same call to survivors, and the same negative response.
This time Alwell headed north. The tracks took them to the airfield.
“There’s Robson’s Seahawk.” Canderossi pointed to the wreck.
Alwell hovered over the wreck and keyed the exterior loudspeaker. “Robson, are you there? This is Captain Alwell.”
No response.
Alwell lowered the Super Stallion fifty feet from the crash site and used the downdraft from the rotors to remove the gathered snow over the windscreen of the crashed Seahawk, enabling the crew to view the interior.
“Do you see anything?” asked Alwell.
“Frank’s inside the cockpit still strapped to his seat,” answered Kerwin. “From the way his neck is dangling, it looks like he snapped it on impact.”
“Any sign of Robson?”
“None.”
“Shit.”
“I saw some more tracks heading west,” said Canderossi.
“Let’s check it out.”
Alwell followed them to the ferry terminal, finding the same indications of battle but no survivors.
“What now?” asked the co-pilot.
“We’ll head back to the Iwo Jima. Whatever happened down there, no one survived.”
“They put up one hell of a fight, though.” Kerwin made the sign of the cross.
“We’ll do another flyover of the island on our way back, just in case.”
Alwell turned to starboard and headed back to the airfield.
Kerwin took a last look out the port window, then did a double take. “Hold on, sir. I spotted something.”
“Survivors?”
“I’m not sure. Look to the north.”
Alwell brought the Super Stallion around. Approximately fifteen miles north of them, a thick, black pillar of smoke billowed into the sky.
“Do you think it’s a signal?” asked Kerwin.
“Something could have caught fire,” suggested Canderossi.
“In either case, we’re going to check it out.”
* * *
Alissa, Hoskins, and Woody stood inside the abandoned air traffic control tower. The lieutenant concentrated to the south while Woody made certain no deaders wandered too close to the terminal building. As anticipated, the flames and noise generated by the tire blaze attracted the living dead, though not nearly as many as expected. Most had come from the center of town, crossing the airfield. A few had staggered to within a few hundred feet of the others in the terminal, oblivious to their presence. Alissa watched them mindlessly saunter toward the fire, ending their trek by entering the flames. Their bodies ignited, consumed by the inferno without them even realizing it. For the first time since the outbreak began, she felt pity for the living dead.
She looked away from the nightmare. “What time is it?”
Woody checked his watch. “Almost nine.”
“Shouldn’t the helicopter have reached the island by now?” she asked.
“If it was dispatched.” Hoskins rubbed his tired eyes. “Remember, this is a long shot. They may not even expend the resources to search for us.”
“I know.” The few options left to them if this failed raced through her mind, their number limited and none of them having much chance of success.
“Give it time. If the Iwo Jima sent out a rescue mission, it’ll spend a lot of time checking the—”
Woody shushed the lieutenant and moved over to the southern side of the tower. “Do you hear that?”
Hoskins shifted his head to the side and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
Alissa shook her head. “Neither do…. Wait a minute. I do now. It sounds like—”
“A helicopter.” Hoskins scanned the area around the terminal building and, once certain no deaders were nearby, removed the radio from his pocket and keyed the talk button. “Boyce, are you there?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get everyone outside. We have an inbound chopper. Make sure it sees us.”
“Roger that.”
Hoskins slid the radio into his pocket and headed for the stairs, waving for Alissa and Woody to follow.
* * *
As Alwell flew closer to Belfast, it became apparent that a tire fire on the outskirts of town generated the black smoke.
“There’s no way an accident caused that,” stated Canderossi.
“Keep your eyes open for survivors.”
Alwell slowly maneuvered the Super Stallion toward town, keeping the conflagration to port, as he and the others searched for signs of life. It took only a minute for Kerwin to tap the pilot on the shoulder and point straight ahead.
“Sir, by the airport terminal.”
A group of people exited the building onto the tarmac, jumping and waving their arms, hoping to be seen. Alwell flashed the exterior lights to let the survivors know they had been spotted and maneuvered the helicopter in their direction.
* * *
“Do they see us?” asked Susie, her voice tinged with excitement.
“I think so, honey.” Patricia hugged the girl, tears of joy running down her cheeks.
Alissa and the others arrived as the Super Stallion hovered overhead. Hoskins ordered everybody back against the wall of the terminal. The helicopter landed one hundred feet from the building, kicking up a whirlwind of snow that lashed at those on the ground. No one cared. It meant they were saved.
The starboard door slid open and the crew chief jumped out, kept his head lowered, and ran over to the group.
“Who’s in charge.”
“That’d be me. Lieutenant Hoskins. Maine National Guard.” He held out his hand.
Kerwin shook it. “How many in your group, sir?”
“Twenty-three.”
Shithead barked.
Hoskins smiled and corrected himself. “Twenty-four. Three need medical attention.”
“We’ll contact Iwo Jima and have a medical team waiting for you. I suggest you get on board ASAP before we attract deaders.”
“Way ahead of you on that. My people are bringing out the wounded.”
Ames and Costas deployed to the front and rear of the Super Stallion while Murphy kept guard at the terminal. Kerwin ushered the others onto the helicopter and got them settled.
“Kiera,” said Alissa. “Ta
ke Shithead and get on board. I’ll wait for Chris and Nathan.”
Kiera nodded and joined the others. She looked over her shoulder. “Come on, boy.”
Shithead followed, romping through the snow, his tail wagging.
A moment later, the rest of the group emerged from the building. Boyce carried Saunders over his shoulder. Woody and Ben helped Nathan. Chris limped. Alissa followed, sitting between Nathan and Chris.
With everyone on board, Hoskins recalled the rest of his men, being the last to board. Kerwin slid the door shut and made sure everyone was seated, strapped in, and wearing their communications headsets before informing Alwell.
The helicopter lifted off. At an altitude of one thousand feet, Alwell turned south and headed for home.
“Ladies and gentlemen, sit tight. We’ll be back on board the Iwo Jima in about thirty minutes.”
Robson leaned forward and waved to get Alissa’s attention. “God damn, you pulled it off.”
“What do you mean?”
“Not only did you retrieve the blood samples to make the vaccine, but you saved everyone aboard this helicopter. You’re a hero.”
“Thanks.” Alissa forced a smile. She didn’t feel like a hero. All she could think of on the flight back were the dead she left behind in Boston and on Warren Island.
* * *
Half an hour later, the Super Stallion settled down on the deck of the Iwo Jima. Most of the civilians applauded. Kerwin helped them remove their headsets and unbuckle themselves, then slid open the starboard door. The ship’s medic jumped in.
“Where are the wounded?”
“Right here,” said Boyce, pointing to the three men.
“Has anyone been bit?”
“Just this one man, but he’s not infected.”
“You mean that’s Patient Zero?”
Nathan glanced over at Alissa.
“Get used to it,” she said. “It’s better than being a deader.”
Nathan grunted a grudging approval.
Chris gently punched him in the shoulder. “You’re famous.”
“More like infamous.”
The ship’s medic and Kerwin assisted the three wounded men off the Super Stallion and onto stretchers where the medical team brought them below.
One by one, the others filed out. As Susie passed, she ran over and hugged Alissa. “Thank you for saving us.”
“You’re welcome, hon.”
The girl broke the embrace, waved at Alissa, and exited the helicopter with Patricia.
Alissa and Kiera were the last non-crew members on board. Alissa wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Ensign Paul Simon waited for them on deck. “It’s good to see you again.”
“It’s good to be back.”
“Come with me, please. We have some hot food and strong coffee waiting for you.”
“Before we do that, can we borrow your radio?”
Chapter Fifteen
Miriam had spent the last three days getting the cabin cleaned up, working ten or more hours a day. By the third day, everything had been returned to normal except for the bullet holes in the wall, the broken furniture, the shattered glass and unhinged doors, and the nightmarish memories.
Three feet of snow covered the compound because of yesterday’s blizzard, which gave Miriam something else to do as she shoveled off the back deck, the front porch, and a path to the Ram. Little Stevie and Connie joined her and made snowmen, although it disturbed her that the children built deader snowmen attacking human snowmen. Maybe the children were adapting to this brave new world better than the adults. Steve joined her, helping clear off the Ram and shoveling around the tires. Neither of them would attempt to clear the driveway. At least the accumulated snow buried the piles of deader corpses and the remains of the funeral pyre.
Even Archer had attempted to join them but, once on the front porch staring at the mountain of white in front of him, turned around and went back to lay down in front of the fireplace.
After shoveling, Miriam took a hot shower and made lunch. The family voted for tuna fish. Little Stevie and Connie played checkers at the dining room table. Steve sat next to them and read, the radio on the table, waiting for the call from Alissa that seemed less likely to come.
As Miriam opened the cans, Archer raced into the kitchen, jumped on the counter, and inched his way toward the bowl. Rather than mooch food, he stared at Miriam and meowed pathetically.
“I know. I miss them, too.”
Archer meowed again.
“Yes, we’re all worried about them.” She leaned closer to Archer and he rubbed his head against hers.
“You keep hoping they return, and I’ll keep praying, and maybe together we—”
A voice from the radio interrupted her.
“This is Home Plate. I’m trying to reach Alissa’s friends in New Hampshire. Do you read me? Over.”
Miriam raced out of the kitchen so fast she scared Archer, who ran for cover.
Steve had picked up the microphone. “This is Steve. I read you loud and clear. Over.”
“I have someone here who wants to talk to you. Over.”
A moment passed before Alissa’s voice came through the speakers. “Steve, is that you?”
“Yes. Is everyone all right?”
“They are.”
Miriam grabbed the microphone. “Where’s Kiera?”
“Right here, mom. I love you.”
“I love you, too.” Miriam broke down. Steve reached out and rubbed her back. “Are you okay? Were you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I got to fire a machine gun.”
“Somehow that doesn’t make me feel better.” Miriam laughed through her tears. “Why did it take so long for you to call us? We’ve been worried sick.”
Alissa answered. “We’ve been… busy.”
Little Stevie grabbed the microphone. “Hi, Kiera.”
“Hi, Stevie. I have the toy Spiderman you gave me. It was the perfect good luck charm. I’ll give it back when I see you.”
“I gave it to you, so you keep it.”
Miriam took back the microphone and hugged Little Stevie against her. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t know yet.” Alissa sounded exhausted. “We just made it to the Iwo Jima and plans haven’t been decided yet. It should be soon.”
“How did you wind up on a Navy vessel?”
“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in later.”
“How’s Nathan?”
“He’s conscious and feeling better, but still rundown from his infection. Chris was wounded in the leg. Rebecca and Kiera are fine, and so is Shithead.”
Archer jumped up onto the table and meowed loudly.
“Archer, it’s mommy. I’ll be home soon.”
The cat stepped over to the radio and rubbed his head against the speaker.
“Miriam, are you still there?”
“I’m here.”
“We need to get settled in and rest. It’s been a long three days. I’ll contact you tomorrow and let you know what the plans are.”
“Sounds good. And Kiera?”
“Yeah?”
“Be careful, please.”
“Yes, mom.” Even over the radio, she expressed the typical teenage frustration with a concerned parent.
“Talk to you soon,” said Alissa. “Over and out.”
Miriam placed the microphone on the table and sobbed. Little Stevie and Connie hugged her tightly. “Everything is okay, Aunt Miriam.”
Miriam hugged them back. Kiera and the others were alive and safe, and that was all that mattered.
* * *
Alissa placed down the microphone and turned to the ship’s radio operator. “Thank you for letting me contact my friends.”
“No problem, ma’am. The captain said you can use it any time you want.”
She turned to Sparks. “And thank you for helping us.”
“It’s the least I can do. None of us would be alive if not fo
r you. Come on, I’ll show you where the mess hall is.”
“I’m starving,” said Kiera.
“So am I,” added Rebecca.
“I’ll pass. I want to sleep.”
“Suit yourself, ma’am.” Sparks led them into the corridor.
Outside the radio room, Rebecca paused and took Alissa’s hands. “I know you don’t enjoy all the attention, but don’t sell yourself short. A lot of people are alive today and, once the vaccine is developed, a lot of people will survive this outbreak who might not have otherwise, because of you.”
She kissed Rebecca on the cheek. “Thank you.”
Alissa led Shithead back to their quarters. As much as she hated to admit it, the others were right. Sure, she had made some dangerous decisions, some of them bad, but things were no longer the way they had been six months ago. However, she had adapted to this post-apocalypse world and had wound up doing well despite everything. She had good friends who believed in her and followed her, and together they had made a considerable difference. The others were right. She needed to cast aside her self-doubt and realize she would not be able to save everyone, that sudden and violent death had become the new norm. She had seen the group through quite a lot so far and would continue to do so until this nightmare ended.
Once back in their quarters, Alissa crawled into her bunk. Shithead joined her, pushing until she lay against the bulkhead, and then settled down, snuggling against her. Alissa wrapped an arm around the dog. His tail wagged, banging against her leg. She did not mind. It reminded her that she was alive and should enjoy the little pleasures in life while she could.
Alissa and Shithead dozed off. Alissa slept for the next sixteen hours, a deep and restful slumber in which she dreamt of life before the outbreak and wondered what the future had in store.
It was the first good sleep she had gotten in over three days.
PREVIEW OF NURSE ALISSA VS. THE ZOMBIES VII: ON THE ROAD
Alissa woke up slowly. She lay there, her eyes closed, as she transitioned out of sleep. She remembered dozing off in a safe location. After a few minutes, the constant hum and the steady, low vibrations reminded her she was aboard the Amphibious Assault Ship U.S.S. Iwo Jima off the coast of New England.
Alissa recalled falling asleep with a large, furry, bed-hogging bunk mate. Shithead no longer pushed her against the cold bulkhead. She reached out and felt around the mattress, but he had moved. Finally opening her eyes, she checked the floor. At some point, Shithead had abandoned her and now lay a few bunks down with Kiera, snuggling close to the teenager and snoring.
Nurse Alissa vs. The Zombies | Book 6 | Rescue Page 12
