Zombie Airman

by David Guenther

  Pulling the M4 out from the back seat, she tried to remember the last time she’d fired one. There was only one lock on the door; taking careful aim, she fired five shots on ‘semi.’ The door swung open as she tried pulling the handle. It took only a second for her eyes to adjust to the dark. She could sense she wasn’t alone but didn’t give it any thought or worry. After only a few minutes, she found a board with keys on it, and then another minute to find the key with ‘one ton’ written on the key ring. She smelled a mix of excrement, dried urine and body odor before she heard them. Two males approached, she couldn’t help but notice the torn out crotches from both their pants as they moved to block her from leaving, both looked about twenty and might have been handsome at one time. The two were only a threat to her now, she clicked the fire selector from safe to semi, and both of the creatures looked at the M4 and began to snarl. “You’re a pair of the smarter ones, I see!” Bringing up the M4, she was forced to fire before she could aim properly. The first creature shrieked and ran forward, spittle flying from its mouth, Gloria fought the urge to run as she pulled the trigger three times, two red spots of blood blossomed on the front of the creature, one in the stomach and one center chest. It stopped its charge and looked at its wounds, confused, before dropping to the ground. The second stopped in confusion and pain from the sounds of the shots. Gloria used the extra few seconds to bring the carbine all the way up to her face and aimed on the fly. Two shots in rapid succession each hit the creature in the face as he fell backwards, his body shaking for a few seconds, then stopping. Both creatures lost control of their bodies as Gloria jumped over them to avoid having to see any more of them or smelling their new stench. The door banged open as she ran out, she reached to pull down her sunglasses as she saw Oliver sitting in the back of the convertible like he was on a parade, except he held his rifle at port arms while anxiously watching the door.

  “Everything is okay, Oliver, let’s move the car to the back of the truck and load it up.” The few things from the car took no space at all as she gave one last look into the cavernous cargo area. Feeling guilty, she whistled for the dogs. They came running from different spots and raced up the ramp into the back of the truck. Regretfully, she pulled down the door, locking them in. “Sorry, Oliver, the front of the truck is too small for all of us.” She gave a sad, last, long look at her car before she headed for the truck cab.

  “Gloria, aren’t you going to hook up a trailer and tow the car with us?” She looked at his face, then across the lot where there were indeed trailers available. She grabbed Oliver by the shoulders and placed a long, wet, noisy, kiss on his forehead.

  “You are a genius!” After half an hour of maneuvering the car and then the trailer, the trailer was finally hooked up to the truck. Less excited, but content, Gloria looked at her; watch it was already 1430. “We have enough time to go to the commissary and then pickup a RV. Does that sound good to you Oliver? Oliver where are you?” The boy came running from behind the truck, zipping up his pants.

  “Okay, I’m ready to go, too.” He climbed into the truck and rested the rifle between his knees as he reached into the cooler for another bottle of water.

  The front of the commissary looked normal except for the lack of cars. “Oliver, I’m going to park in the middle of the parking lot so it’s harder for anything or anybody to sneak up on you. Go ahead and chamber a round, but keep the safety on until you need to shoot.”

  The sliding door was open along with the next sliding door. Standing next to the door, she could sense there were a lot of ‘the others’ waiting inside. Crap, I should find somewhere else to go. This won’t end well. Nevertheless, I’m here now. Shoving the cart through the doorway, she took a moment to push her sunglasses to her forehead. A crowbar on the floor got her attention; she stopped to pick it up and imagined someone breaking into the commissary, then becoming a zombie snack. Laying the tool in the top of the cart made her feel even safer. Twenty feet into the store, she could see the remains of the produce section, or lack thereof. Then her sense of smell came under attack, the smells from the bad meat and spoiling dairy products mixed with excrement and unwashed bodies about the same time. The aisles were cluttered with items knocked off the shelves but were still easily passable. First up, let’s go with pasta and things that will expire first, then I can come back for canned goods and things with longer shelf lives.

  The end of the row was her first challenge as a pair of zombies was copulating in her way. She decided it would be better to turn around and go down the next aisle rather than to interrupt them. Canned meats and spaghetti sauces awaited her as she finished filling the cart in only her second row and retraced her steps to the front door without any troubles. She left the cart just outside the door and went back in with a new cart. She headed for drinks and juices and saw cases of MREs before she got there. This is the apocalypse, I guess I have to suffer. Two trips later, all the cases of MREs and loose MRE packages were gone. The sounds of more activity in the aisles somewhere ahead started to give her goose bumps. Okay, get the water, juice and some soda and I’m outta here. The aisle filled with water was jam-packed with zombies biting into the plastic gallon jugs of water, taking a drink then passing on the jugs. Okay, I’m done, I’ll just break into the soda machines for any drinks. Backing away slowly, she bumped into a female holding an open jug of water. Like the other zombies, her clothes were now mostly gone She too had the crotch ripped out of her pants. She looked up at Gloria and held out the jug to her, miming for her to take a drink. Gloria took the water and almost puked when she saw the backwash and slime already in the water and the neck of the jug. She faked a sip and passed it back, and then decided to abandon the half-empty cart, pick up the crowbar and just call it a day. The zombie took back the water and ignored her as she climbed on to the bottom shelf and squatted there. Gloria could feel her resolve slipping as she headed for the door, thankful she hadn’t had any other encounters. She got closer to the door and a huge male tried to stop her from getting any closer to the sunlight. It mimed covering up its eyes and making a painful sound. Gloria couldn’t figure out what to do since she didn’t want to kill the big bruiser trying to help her. She made a noise she hoped sounded complacent then pointed desperately to the side, the male looked towards what she was pointing at and she shoved by him and was back in the light before he could react.

  Once outside, she looked over to the truck and saw Oliver was facing a truck tire, rifle on his back. The carts had not been disturbed. She rolled them over to the truck and decided to just lift them into the back and not worry about unloading them. As the door opened, Tom and Jerry were through and running, trying to get rid of their pent-up energy. The carts loaded easily and she was once again impressed with her newfound strength.

  The truck was getting closer to the base fence and she stopped to look in all directions before unchaining it. Oliver was softly mewing as he slept hard next to her. She decided to let him sleep as she maneuvered up to the gate. She jumped out and then opened the gate and drove through before locking it back up. One more stop, then it’s off to the hills for the night and a good night’s sleep. The clock on the truck dash showed 4:58. She unconsciously gave the truck more gas and sped up.

  Desert RV Rentals and Service had the front door knocked in as well as all the windows broken. The ground outside was littered with bodies.

  “Oliver, stay in the truck and have your gun ready.” Gloria jumped down to the ground, almost stepping on a man with a huge hole where his chest should have been. A few more bodies blocked the door from closing. The store’s floor was liberally coated with puddles of drying blood and fired shotgun shells. An office door had huge holes where they’d been blasted by a shotgun. Inside the office, a woman with no face and only a partial skull still held her shotgun in her cold dead hands; half a dozen more corpses kept her company. A shelf behind her held binders with pictures of RVs on their spins. Gloria grabbed the one that looked like it must be the biggest. If I’m g
oing to live with an eight-year-old boy and two small horses, I’m going to need the space. The binder contained all the instructions for the RV, including the keys with an alarm fob.

  The longest RV in the lot was the correct one for the keys. The space on either side was empty and she pulled up alongside. Oliver had already fallen back asleep with a bottle of water between his legs. “I’ll let you sleep, baby, we’re almost done.” She whispered to the sleeping child. Opening the back of the truck, the dogs, once again, jumped down and ran. “Don’t worry boys, that s the last time in the back of the truck for you. She next walked over and opened the side door of the RV, the insides smelled like pine-scented cleanser. It was a quick job to transfer the assorted supplies to the RV. It took a little longer using the backup camera to hook up the trailer to the RV. Once everything was stowed to her satisfaction, she did a quick walk around the facility and found a locked cage with twenty or thirty propane cylinders. Quick use of the crowbar and the bottom of the RV was loaded with the new containers. She glanced at her watch and saw it was 1801. I’d better stop screwing around unless I want to invite the Zs in for dinner. Tom and Jerry came immediately when she called them, she found Oliver sacked out on the bed in the back of the RV.

  Gloria held her breath as she turned the monster RV towards the gate. The trailer behind her scraping the rental truck added to her stress as she headed for the gate. Managing to turn onto the road without hitting anything helped her relax until she realized she was heading in the wrong direction. Easy fix, just turn west on Olive and you have a straight shot for the White Tanks. The flat wide road was easy to drive and Gloria began to feel better, until she noticed the sun starting to set and the thought of driving on narrow roads in the hills forced her to speed once again. The park’s gate was down and there was no sign of activity. She continued straight on the winding road, glad to see no cars around. She found the turn she wanted and was soon at the Waterfall Canyon Trail parking lot.

  Setting the RV’s parking brake, she opened the side door and let the dogs out to run. She followed them and felt the wind starting to pick up. She felt a nice chill as she strolled over to lavatory, surprised there were working lights. She looked up, realizing she was already in the shadow of the mountain and wondered how soon until the creatures would be out. She gave a little shiver and returned to the RV. The dogs followed and looked expectantly at her until she found their food and poured them each a bowl. She cut off all power, promising herself she’d read the literature in the morning. She covered up Oliver and collapsed next to him, her last glance at her watch showing 2035.

  Converse County Airport, Wyoming. April 3, 2029

  MG Peters lay still for a moment as he tried to remember everything from the last few days. His family, his country, even his Air Force, was gone. Then he had declared himself the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. Anyone that got that email probably has organized a detail with butterfly nets. Just try to get local units to come together and maybe we will have a place to try to maintain a small bastion of civilization as the rest of the world goes dark. Now get your ass out of the sack and see how much worse today is.

  It was surprising how well he’d slept on the floor in a sleeping bag. Physically, he was renewed. He slid on his flightsuit and boots. He opened the door from his room in operations and had to do a double take. There were over a thousand people trying to sleep. When he’d gone to sleep there’d been three hundred or so in the terminal. A SrA stood by his door in full battle rattle. Was this my guard or someone assigned to guard me? “Tell me son, what’s new in the neighborhood?” The airman came to attention to give his answer.

  “Sir, various units and stragglers have reported in during the night. Every branch except the Navy, I think. The flightline and fields are full of helicopters, small planes and a good variety of ground transports, a mix of civilian and military. Do you have any orders for me, Sir?”

  “I’ll be fine, son. Go back to your supervisor or whatever your regular duties are. I need to take a leak and find a pot of coffee.”

  “Sir, there is a pot brewing in the operations building. Word is that there should be a kitchen setup today, plenty of MREs in the mean time.”

  “Thank you, son, you’re dismissed.” Peters headed for the head before anyone else found out he was awake. He glanced at his watch and couldn’t believe it was already 0800. He looked at himself in the mirror, deciding he’d have to find his shave kit or borrow one; from now on he would be the standard for others to emulate.

  Exiting the terminal, he saw for himself the airman had not exaggerated. There had to be thirty assorted helicopters, a dozen small planes including small military courier planes. The variety of ground vehicles left him speechless. He was happy to see almost all were armored, even the cargo trucks. The army had even set up tents in the adjacent fields for the overflow of bodies.

  The building was packed assholes and elbows, and then the shouted command of “Attention” was given on top of that. Peters stood just inside the doorway as all activity had stopped.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is the last time the building will be called to attention unless someone higher or more senior in rank than myself assumes command. Carry on.”

  The operations room was filled just like every other room. Major Arnot seemed to have been pinned into the corner by half a dozen officers more senior than him. “Good morning Arny, gentlemen. I predict we will have a very interesting morning. Is it all Air Force and Army or do we have other services as well?”

  “Good morning, General Peters, I’m Jim Davis, National Guard, Armor. So far it’s just a two branch show. Do you have any plans yet, sir?” Peters looked at the Brigadier General (BG) and was afraid he might have to resort to politics.

  “Good morning, General Davis. This morning I’m going to sort out all our guests who arrived without sending an RSVP. Then we need to cobble together an interim command. Our first order of business will be Operation Phoenix. The devastation brought upon our country leaves it as the only option for us. Are you familiar with the plans or its premise, General?”

  “The original concept, I believe, was based on the theory that every major city in America is a radioactive hole in the ground and, like the Phoenix, we will rise from the ashes and rebuild.”

  “Like the original plan, the main fall back positions to rebuild from are Wyoming and Texas. We have an abundance of natural resources and active power generation. We must make sure we keep generating power and seeing about exporting it to the northern states before winter. I have a feeling there’s going to be quite a few houses burning coal this winter. Even more important, we need to get fuel and supplies out for food production. We can only begin that after we’ve cleared out our area of every last Z, and resettle the towns and cities here. If you will all please excuse me, Major Arnot and I need to have a private meeting. We will have an informal meeting at 1200. Bring your own MRE.” Peters walked out of the room with Arnot close behind.

  “Maj Arnot, you’ve had a hell of a busy night. Was it your idea to put a guard on my door so I could get a good night’s sleep?” Arnot shifted uncomfortably, then answered.

  “Sir, with everything and everybody coming in, it’s a security nightmare, let alone the logistics of what we have going on. I thought if you were awakened every time we had an arrival, you’d be dead on your feet. Do you want me to bring you up to date?” Peters looked at the man before him and wondered when he last slept. Peters made a ‘go ahead’ motion with his hands as he took a sip of coffee.

  “We’re in contact with sixty groups, mostly National Guard units from sparsely populated areas. The east and west coast has been a write-off for the most part. One of the saving factors for the bases here in Wyoming is that so many people assigned here prefer to live away from the towns and cities. Our new arrivals last night came from about fifty different locations; we now have 320 more mixed Air Force and 1126 mixed Army and Guard, including civilians and dependents. They brought in thirty he
licopters and twenty-four small aircraft. I haven’t looked at the ground transports yet.

  I’m still in the process of getting personnel information on all the new people for assignments and taskings.”

  “You’ve done a damn good job, Arnie. I want you to devote your time to assembling my new command staff. Here’s what I’m looking at for the makeup. General Davis will be my chief of staff. We’ll need someone for Manpower. I want you to be responsible for all C3, Communications, Command, and Control Intel, security, and info operations. Basically, my job without the pay or manpower. Next, I’ll need someone responsible for Operations, that’ll include Ground, Air, and Space, same thing for the Logistics position, responsible for Ground, Air, and Space. The last position will be the most fun to fill. Civilian Affairs, now that can get very ugly. The rest of the usual positions on the staff can wait a year or two. If you find someone more qualified for your position, let me know and I’ll promote you so there’s no problems. The sooner we can get all this done the sooner we can take the war to the Zs. You have any questions for me?”

  “Sir, your plan makes sense, with one exception. If someone better qualified than me comes along, I will not accept a promotion since it’d reek of favoritism. Our new command here needs to grow together. That would just make everyone suspicious and wonder what other favoritism is going on that would undermine morale.”

  “Let’s just see what happens. I want names and numbers before our meeting at 1200. Good luck with your task.”

  Captain Abrams sat in the dark room watching the transformation of Corporal Albert Connors, from Guardsman to Z. The young guardsman passed out almost as soon as he’d entered his cage. In a previous life the cage held expensive aircraft parts, now they sat behind the building, exposed to the elements. Abrams detected that the man was no longer sleeping. Instead he lay there, watching him, studying him, while pretending to sleep. He got up, walked over to the cage and looked at him.