Corrie fired again. “Damn. It’s the cold,” she said. “It’s just too cold.”
“You want me to try?” Pete asked.
“No. No, it’s…” Again, she let the rifle finish the sentence. And this time she found her mark. The zombie-soldier fell. “No different from dingoes,” she said. “No different at all.” She shifted aim to the next soldier, a bearded man in hunting camouflage with a rifle still slung on his shoulder. She fired. The other two, singed civilians in charred denim and scorched winter coats, fell one after the other. “No different at all,” she repeated quietly.
“There’s more,” Pete said. “Two more, coming from the road. But… Jerome’s signalling us. He wants us aboard.”
“Last chance to change your mind,” Corrie said.
“I think we’ll be safer aboard than staying here,” Pete said.
Corrie lowered her rifle, picked up her pack, and they jogged together, over to the slowly taxiing plane.
The plane’s interior was no warmer than the frozen runway. Nor was it any quieter, and it was far less comfortable; the water-bomber wasn’t designed for passengers. Andrea waved them into the pair of side-facing jump seats at the back of the cramped cockpit while Jerome secured the door. The plane was already moving as the police officer made his way to the co-pilot’s seat. Jerome had barely sat down before Andrea launched the plane into the sky. Pete, not having had time to buckle himself in, was too busy holding on for dear life to worry whether the plane would complete its ascent. But sooner than he’d expected, it began to level off.
He found the buckles and secured himself, slumping against the restraints as, opposite, Corrie gave a rueful shake of her head. Her mouth opened, but he couldn’t hear her. He shook his head, and so did she, smiling briefly. Pete closed his eyes. Once again, their plans had changed.
They’d left Australia by accident, having been aboard the plane when the mortars fell nearby. It had been Liu Higson’s decision to take off. And it had been her choice to risk the long journey north to Vancouver. On arriving, and meeting the police officer, they’d pitched the idea of travelling to Indiana as a justification for why they were aboard the jet as much as an intended destination. And now, here they were, on their way. But which was most important: searching for Olivia, or completing the Australian soldiers’ mission to discover what was happening in America? For now, he was able to do both. At some point soon, he’d have to pick one, and he knew which it would have to be. But he didn’t have to choose yet.
Jerome tapped his shoulder. Pete opened his eyes. The police officer handed him a wired mic-and-headphone set.
“You can hear me?” Andrea said.
“Yep,” Pete said.
“I can,” Corrie said.
“Cool,” Andrea said. “Welcome to Air-Drea flight zero-zero-zero-two. Our next stop is Pine Dock. We’ve got a flight time of five hours or so, depending on winds. If you have any questions or requests during our flight, please speak to the steward. If you have any regrets, please keep them to yourself. We won’t serve food, but we don’t have a bathroom, either. There’s no inflight movie, but if you ask him nicely, Jerome will do impressions.”
“No he won’t,” Jerome said.
“What about the zombies?” Corrie asked. “Shouldn’t we call someone? Let them know?”
“Already done,” Andrea said. “We couldn’t get a reply while on the ground, but did when we were in the air.”
“I think it was the Alaskans,” Jerome said.
“Except some of them were civilians,” Corrie said. “Wait, this wasn’t the first time, was it? There are zombies all over Vancouver Island, aren’t there?”
“I’m afraid so,” Jerome said.
“But that’s not our problem now,” Andrea said.
“Andrea,” Pete began, “you said this was flight zero-zero-zero-two. Does that make this the second flight the plane’s ever made?”
“Ah, no,” Andrea said. “It’s my second time flying her. Counting today.”
“Oh.”
“The first was when those ferries caught fire,” Andrea said. “But I’ve been co-pilot a ton of times.”
“Which isn’t the same thing at all,” Jerome said.
“Tonight, we’re setting down in Pine Dock, on Lake Winnipeg,” Andrea said. “If we can’t land on the runway, if there’s still enough daylight, we’ll head for Thunder Bay. If not, we’ll have to land on the lake. Either way, we’ll land tonight, refuel, and head on to Lake Michigan tomorrow. But we can discuss tomorrow’s landing after we have figured out today’s. So, tell me again, you’re really going after the girl you left behind? That’s crazy-romantic. No boyfriend of mine would come halfway around the world looking for me.”
“Only because you scare them away after the first date,” Jerome said.
“Well, I know yours wouldn’t come halfway around the couch,” Andrea said, “particularly when the hockey is on. So, Pete, tell us about this old-fashioned quest you’re on. Was it love at first sight? How crowded was the room when you first saw her, eh?”
“Um… well, it wasn’t a room. I guess it was the carpet store. Where I worked. And it wasn’t crowded. Our store never was…”
Chapter 12 - Who Cares About Anthrax?
Pine Dock, Manitoba
“There it is,” Andrea said, though with a disconcerting degree of uncertainty. “I think.”
“We’re above Pine Dock?” Corrie asked.
“We should be,” Andrea said. “So everyone keep your eyes open. It has to be down there, somewhere.”
“We could ask someone to put their lights on,” Pete said. The flight had taken longer than expected. Though there was still a glimmer of sun on the horizon, below on the ground, the shadows were slipping into full darkness.
“Is there anything on the radio?” Corrie asked.
“Nothing official,” Jerome said after a brief check. “And nothing helpful.”
“If we can’t find Pine Dock, we’ll continue on to Thunder Bay,” Andrea said. “We’ll land on the lake, taxi up to a jetty, and then walk back to B.C.”
“We couldn’t take off again?” Corrie asked.
“Oh, sure,” Andrea said. “But if we leave Shqa out on the water all night, she’ll freeze. But I don’t think we’ll have to. I see lights ahead!”
“I think it’s a runway,” Jerome said.
“Of course it is,” Andrea said. “A little more faith, eh?”
“But is it Pine Dock?” Corrie asked.
“Let’s go see,” Andrea said. “Hold on. I’ll fly low, check length and condition, and then bring her down.”
“Twelve lights, six either side, roughly marking a runway,” Jerome said. “Looks like we’re the first plane to arrive.”
The plane jolted, banking sharply as Andrea brought the aircraft up and around.
“Any zombies?” Pete asked.
“Didn’t see any,” Jerome said.
“Cool,” Andrea said. “Because we’re landing.”
The plane tilted forward. Pete tried to lose himself in the highlight reel of his past life flashing before his eyes, but he’d seen the show too often during the last few days. He skipped to the end, a countdown of his dumbest mistakes that ended at number two, leaving poll position free for his current undertaking. Trekking across the world after a girl he… he… he still didn’t want to use the word. Not yet. Not here. Not until he saw her again because it was all too likely she was—
Before he finished the thought, the plane jolted, the tyres bounced on the runway. The wheels found proper purchase, and Andrea brought the plane to a screaming halt.
“That was—” Pete began, but was cut short by Jerome.
“We’ve got company!” Jerome called through the headset.
“Zombies?” Corrie asked.
“Soldiers,” Jerome said. “Definitely alive, because they’re carrying guns.”
“That makes a change,” Corrie said. “Let’s go say hello.”
&n
bsp; Grateful to stand up, and even more grateful to be out in the bracingly cold air, Pete took a huge lungful before turning his attention to the group running towards them. There were six in total. Judging by their tightly held rifles and slush-stained uniforms, the four bringing up the rear were definitely soldiers. The two people out in front weren’t in uniform, but it wasn’t simply their casual attire that made him think they were civilians. Nor were they running away from the soldiers. If anything, the military personnel were doing their best to keep up.
They were all probably hoping the plane would take them to safety. In fact… Pete scanned the runway, then the surrounding grounds of the small airfield. The runway had been cleared of ice and snow, and of course, someone had set up the landing lights. They had been expecting a plane, though surely not this one.
The two civilians reached them first. The woman was in her mid-thirties, her black hair streaked with silver in such a neat fashion it must be dyed. The man, despite a hairline in full retreat, was probably a few years younger. Both wore grey and red snow-gear, though his was considerably more stained than hers. And he looked considerably more out of breath, despite his hands being empty, while she carried a heavy metal suitcase and a backpack from which a green neon rope hung, swinging back and forth as she ran.
“Who are you?” the woman demanded, before she’d properly caught her breath. “It doesn’t matter. Do you need to refuel?”
“We do, thanks,” Andrea said cheerily.
The soldiers staggered to a halt behind her. One stepped forward, a corporal by the chevrons. “Corporal McLean. Who are you?”
“Jerome MacDonald, RCMP. This is Andrea MacDonald, our fire-service pilot. These two are here on a mission from Canberra to find out what’s happened to North America.”
“Canberra? In Australia?” the corporal asked.
“Catch flies in your own time,” the woman snapped. “Get the plane refuelled, and reverse to the other end of the runway. We’re going south.”
“This is Dr Avalon,” the corporal said. “She wants to get to Ottawa.”
“We lost communication with Ottawa,” Jerome said. “Rumour is that the government’s left, and the city was burning. Vancouver is too, but we’re putting that blaze out.”
“We’d heard about Ottawa,” the corporal said. “We tried to tell her. But Vancouver as well?”
“There’s rioting, looting, people running scared,” Jerome said. “We’re evacuating the city and organising the survivors. There’s life there, but everything I’ve heard is that you should stay far, far away from Ottawa.”
“I do not want to go to Ottawa!” Avalon said. She pointed at the metal case. “I keep telling you that. I need to get that to either Winnipeg or Atlanta, and I need to get to Pennsylvania. It must, absolutely not, under any circumstances, get anywhere near any population centres.”
“Really?” Andrea asked, sounding as much excited as curious. “Why? What’s in the case?”
“What’s in Pennsylvania?” Corrie asked.
“What’s in Atlanta?” Pete asked. “And isn’t it a major population centre?”
Dr Avalon gave an enormous, and well practiced, shoulder-slumping sigh of exasperation. “Winnipeg is home to the National Microbiology Laboratory. Atlanta hosts the headquarters of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Both are level-four bio-containment facilities. It doesn’t matter to which the samples are taken, but Atlanta is closer to Pennsylvania where Dr Ayers lives. You’ve heard of her, yes? No? Seriously? And this is why the world is in such a mess. Dr Ayers is the leading expert on rare pathogens. By now, she’s almost certainly in Atlanta, but if she’s in Pennsylvania, I need to collect her and get her to a lab where she can develop an anti-viral for our new crisis. But I still need to conclude the last crisis, which means getting this case to a level-four facility.”
“Oh, you’ve got to tell us now,” Andrea said, her excitement nearly bubbling over. “What’s in the case?”
“A variant of anthrax which was frozen in the Arctic tundra for the last twenty thousand years,” Dr Avalon said.
“Oh,” Andrea said, deflating. “The way you were building it up, I was expecting something a little less end-of-the-worldey. But I can’t fly anywhere tonight. Are those hangars empty?”
“She’s a strange fish, that doctor,” Andrea said to the corporal as they wrapped giant insulating blankets around the engines. The hangar wasn’t heated, but it was sheltered from the rising wind. The growing gusts didn’t seem to bother Dr Avalon who paced the runway, robotically dialling the same unresponsive numbers on her sat-phone while her assistant, Dr Leo Smilovitz, wearily waited just inside the hangar doors. “A very strange fish. All gills and guts and not enough fins.”
“Driven,” the corporal said. “And she’s been driving me mad for a month.”
“You’ve been with her that long?” Corrie asked.
“Since she broadcast her initial findings worldwide,” the corporal said. “Did you miss that?”
“Oh, she’s that Dr Avalon,” Jerome said.
“You know her?” Andrea said. “You didn’t say.”
“We were briefed about her broadcast,” Jerome said. “And told to listen out for anyone discussing this discovery of anthrax.”
“Why didn’t you say?” Andrea said. “All the times I asked you if anything interesting happened at work, and you only droned on and on about fender benders and snow rage. You were holding out on me, Jer-Jer! So, Corporal, tell me the story. How come you were playing bodyguard, eh?”
“It wasn’t a game,” Corporal MacLean said. “We were assigned to protect her, the research site, and the samples. After she’d told the world about what she found, hostile actors were expected to attempt seizing a sample. After everything that’s happened since, I think we were sent to guard the wrong research site.”
“You think that’s what caused the zombies?” Andrea said.
The corporal shrugged. “Apparently, it’s common to find ancient viruses in the melting permafrost. Anthrax isn’t uncommon, and there’ve been a few deaths related to the release of defrosting pathogens in recent years. Or so Dr Avalon says. What she found up in Nunavut is far worse than anything discovered so far. Dr Smilovitz says it’s a far more virulent variant than we’re familiar with. Three scientists, collecting core samples, were airlifted to a hospital. Died the next day. That’s when she made her broadcast.”
“What happened to the research site?” Jerome asked.
“It was sterilised as we left,” the corporal said. “But who cares about anthrax, when there’s zombies on the loose?”
“And you think that’s where the zombies came from?” Andrea asked.
“Me, yes.” The corporal seemed wrong-footed by the ever-exuberant pilot. “But Leo doesn’t think so. That’s Dr Smilovitz. Not if the first outbreak was in New York.”
“Who’s this other doctor she wanted to see? The one in Pennsylvania?” Corrie asked.
“Ayers? I don’t know much about her except she sounds crazier than Avalon. She taught Avalon, before doing something that got her put under house arrest.”
“And you’ve been waiting here for a plane since the outbreak?” Corrie asked.
“We were redirected here before communications were compromised,” the corporal said. “Four helicopters, twenty of us, plus pilots and gunners. We had a weapons-free, shoot-to-kill order right here, in Canada. And instructions not to go anywhere more populated.”
“I only count two helicopters,” Andrea said. “Tell me the others are in a secret underground hangar; it’s all that’s missing. Oh, don’t look at me like that, Jerome. Look at Dr Avalon and tell me she isn’t the perfect super-villain?”
“Yeah, that’s what we were thinking, until last week,” the corporal said. “But no, the other choppers, and the rest of our personnel, went to Thunder Bay. General Yoon put out a broadcast, summoning all troops, of whatever flag, to join her strike force. That’s where the others went. And
it was the direction we were looking for help to come. We weren’t expecting it from out west. And not from as far away as Australia. You’ve really come from Canberra?”
“There should be some Australian soldiers with us,” Corrie said. “But the plane was being shot at, so we took off without them. Me and Pete, we’re trying to complete their mission.” She tapped the phone she’d taped to the body-armour she’d borrowed in Nanaimo. “We’re recording everything. Hopefully that’ll help the people in the Pacific plan what to do next.”
“I guess it can’t hurt,” the corporal said. “If you want, I’ve got some proper bodycams. High-def with a seven-day battery. We had to record everything while on close-protection duties in case of an accident.”
“That’d be great, thanks,” Corrie said. “What’s it like here? How secure is it?”
“You mean Pine Dock? Very secure,” the corporal said. “There’s about seven hundred civilians in town. Enough food for a month, and enough to spare for another two hundred refugees. If the weather keeps improving, we’ll survive. There’s good fishing in that lake. But the ammo won’t last forever. Nor will the diesel for the generator, the stored food, the medicine. If you want this runway kept open, we’ll need to be resupplied.”
“Could you take me into the town, to speak to whoever is in charge?” Jerome asked.
“If I could have one of those bodycams, I’d like to come with you,” Corrie said. “Pete?”
He looked at the electric lights, then the office. It was the sort of place he might find a coffee pot. “I’m happy to finish off here.”
“Cool,” Andrea said, dropping the thick insulated blanket. “Give her a bath, too. Corporal, show us the night-life.”
Pete sighed. But the hangar was out of the wind, and if there was washing water for the plane, maybe there’d be some to spare for him.
Surviving The Evacuation | Life Goes On (Book 2): No More News Page 10
