by S. Ganley
Standing in the frame of the door, Garrett stared at the security doors as Miranda told him about what lay just beyond them, "Those doors are sturdy enough. But I don't see them holding back that many bodies for long." He mused as he saw something pass in front of the light through a bullet hole. "We don't have any choice though. If we don't get Kyle up here for surgery, he's done."
Garrett and Miranda rode the elevator back down to the first floor and Miranda stayed at the elevator while Garrett went ahead to gather everyone else and bring them along. With zombies still pressing against the outer doors of the therapy wing, it was decided to keep everyone together instead of splitting up while Doug was performing the surgery. Kyle and Emily were situated on wheeled gurneys and pushed down the hall towards the service elevators. Both gurneys almost completely filled the elevator and only Miranda and Doug were able to ride along with them to the second floor.
While waiting for the elevator to, Garrett detected a sound from outside in the waning storm. Straining his ears he concentrated on the noise while motioning for everyone else to be quiet.
"Planes." Cameron stuttered, "Jet planes!"
"There back." Garrett exclaimed, "It must be another recon flight, like the one we saw back in the park."
Garrett and Cameron moved to the end of a short recessed hallway where there were a bank of vending machines and a small sitting area with windows on three sides. Scanning the skies all around them it was Shellie who called out from behind them the first sighting of the aircraft.
"It's just flying in circles." Shellie mused as she tracked the plane with her finger. "Maybe they are looking for us."
Garrett followed her eyes until he caught sight of a plane as it moved out from a thick rain cloud. He could hear both jets but there was something different with the sounds this time. When they had overflown the park the noise from the planes had been steady in pitch, growing in intensity as they neared and then fading all at once as they grew further away. In that instance it had been almost impossible to tell by sound alone that there had been more than one plane. He could now easily make out two distinct jet engine sounds. While he didn't know a great deal about planes, it didn't take an aeronautical genius to recognize that one of them did not sound right. There was a distinct straining sound coming from a plane that he was still unable to see inside the lowest level of clouds. He thought that one of the planes might be suffering engine problems while the one circling in and out of the clouds was keeping station nearby while his wingman nursed their plane along. The planes were on the far edge of town and moving towards them but making slow progress.
"Look, that ones in trouble." Cameron called out as he spotted the second plane when it dropped suddenly from the clouds trailing a stream of dark smoke behind it.
The plane was flying straight but with a slight nose down orientation. It was cruising at such a slow speed for a jet fighter that it must have been risking a stall. Even from a distance Garrett thought something else looked odd about that aircraft. He had seen F-18's before and was familiar with the shape and sleek lines that made them look deadly even when not in motion. There was an oddity about the shape of this particular fighter that he couldn't place for several seconds.
"The canopy has been blown." He exclaimed as soon as the realization hit him, "that pilot must have ejected."
The second plane came into view above and behind its stricken wingman. This plane was flying in a slow deliberate circle, spiraling downward from inside the lowest level of cloud cover. Garrett concentrated on the space in between where the jet was circling; he thought he understood what that pilot was looking for. His hunch was proven correct when a blossoming parachute canopy dipped from the clouds and into view. They could all see the tiny black shape dangling several feet underneath the parachute as it slowly drifted on the wind all the while dropping steadily towards the ground. The circling jet completed one last circuit and then pulled back up into the clouds. The sound of its engines increasing thrust told them that it was quickly leaving the area.
"He must have been waiting to make sure the other pilots chute deployed. Probably heading for home to organize a search and rescue effort." Garrett mused.
They watched the parachute as it drifted closer to the edge of a commercial part of town. In a few moments it disappeared from sight just behind a row of office buildings not more than a mile away from them.
Shellie was the first to speak, "We have to do something. That pilot might still be alive. If they send a rescue party for him we might all be saved."
That was exactly the thought that Garrett had been considering. That downed pilot might very well be their ticket out of there. The survival kits those pilots carried included distress beacons and radios for contacting rescue missions. There was another reason why he considered it important to reach that pilot as soon as possible. The odds were good that the pilot had just dropped down into a very hostile situation. While they may have gone through training on escape and evasion at some point, Garrett doubted if that pilot was prepared for the environment he was about to be facing. They needed to get to him as quickly as possible if he was to have any kind of chance at survival.
"Cameron, you and Kimberly ride the elevator back up to the second floor. Let the others know that I am taking Shellie to find that pilot and bring him back here." Garrett said as he looked to Shellie. Without even a blink of reservation the woman nodded her head in approval. He would have preferred to go it alone, being able to move faster and putting no one else in danger. But, there was a possibility that pilot was injured and carrying him back to the hospital by himself was not an attractive option. Shellie had already demonstrated her usefulness with firearms and Garrett trusted her to watch his back out there in the open.
Knowing that they would not be able to exit the hospital back through the rehab wing where they had entered, Garrett led the way towards the burnt remains of the emergency room. Pushing open the last set of security doors, they came into the charred hallway leading to the ER where they found a section of wall collapsed, giving them a handy exit along the side of the hospital. Rushing from the building in short dashes from cover to cover, Garrett led them to the sidewalk along the main street that ran parallel to the building. They dropped down between two cars and took a couple moments to get their bearings and ensure they had made a clean escape from the hospital without picking up any followers.
#
Ltjg. Olivia "Huntress" Frostburg couldn't remember another time in her life when she had been so terrified. Their patrol through the storm was a first for her and it was something she knew she had to face and conquer before she was truly accepted as a naval aviator by her peers. Despite the advances all branches of the armed forces had made in integrating the sexes into their ranks, flying was still an exclusive boys club where she constantly felt like an unwanted outsider. At 28 years old she was entering her sixth year of military service and during that time she had found that it was still a woman's looks that opened more doors than their actual abilities. When she pinned on her flight wings she swore to herself that she would overcome that obstacle and make it a point to prove her worth through actions and deeds instead of on her back like other female's she knew. She had quickly put her foot down in all matters of sexual harassment or suggestions from her fellow pilots, making it clear from day one that she was all business. Crusher had taken her under his wing and had helped shield her from some of the immature antics of the others in their squadron. She admired Crusher, he was a strong leader who had been on the fast track to squadron commander when the world fell apart. He expected the best from everyone he flew with and did not play any favorites. Male or female, if you were on his wing, the standards were the same and that was just how she liked it. It was Crusher who she was most worried about disappointing now. When they had hit the edge of the storm and she had felt the buffeting of her plane reaching a point where she was worried she might lose control. She had contemplated contacting him and requesting a postponement of
this flight. She had dismissed the notion after reviewing the ramifications of such a request. While it would easily fall under a common sense call for safety reasons. Calling off a mission for any reason was something that no one ever forgot. In this case she would be seen as not having what it took when the going got tough and her chances of ever being assigned another high risk mission would be reduced to zero. She would probably find herself pushed down the ranks to flying resupply and transport missions, nothing more than a glorified taxi driver. That would mean the end of her career; her promotions would come but only at the absolute fringes of when they were due. Over a twenty year career she would never see combat operations and would eventually retire with a record that was about as dull and unimpressive as one could get. She rationalized that it was just a single mission and she knew that the only danger would be that coming from the storm. There would be no ground fire or hostile aircraft she needed to worry about. She had no concerns about putting ordnance on a specific target or providing cover for a bombing mission. This was going to simply be a test of her most basic flying skills and she wasn't going to let it end up being the one black spot to a promising career.
She first started noticing a problem several minutes before her controls told her that her plane was in trouble. The amount of thrust available started bleeding off and it took more force against the control stick to keep the plane in level flight. Her first thought was that she was heading into a much stronger headwind and that it would pass once they moved beyond the air pocket. As her control of the plane continued to falter she realized that some type of mechanical malfunction had to be behind it. By the time the warning lights started flashing on her control panel she already knew that there was little chance she was going to be making it back to the carrier. Even though she had practiced and trained for situations where she may have to eject over hostile territory, this was something completely different that no level of training would have ever prepared her for. She was flying over her home country, just outside of the nation’s capital and the thought of setting foot on the ground there was more terrifying than if she had been shot down behind enemy lines in a combat zone. Her instruments showed that the air was free of contaminants give her at least one less thing to worry about outside of the safety of her cockpit. It was the demons that waited for her on the ground that terrified her. In most war zones the enemy may follow some level of decorum in dealing with a downed pilot. The enemy she would now be facing operated on pure animal instinct and the rules of warfare did not apply to them.
Running through the inventory of her survival gear in her head she realized just how vulnerable she would be once she touched down. She was armed with a pistol and sixty rounds of 9mm ammunition. Many hours on the range had honed her skills with a handgun to the point that she was confident in her ability to put accurate fire on a target a respectable distance away. The enemy she would be facing here presented a more difficult challenge. They would not seek cover when she started shooting, if anything the sound of her pistol would stir them up even more. They could only be stopped with a head shot and they would attack in mass. Along with her pistol she had an emergency beacon and handheld RF radio for contacting search and rescue missions. Her priority would be getting free of her chute and immediately seeking a place to hunker down and wait for rescue. Since she would be landing in an urban setting she would need to find an unassuming building that offered her multiple escape routes. There was a good chance that she would be able to locate a source of water and food so that shouldn't end up being a major issue at first. In any other situation she knew that a search and rescue flight would be dispatched as soon as the carrier was aware of a plane in trouble. That would not be the case this time. Before any rescue was cleared to come after her the powers that be would have to be assured that the threat of infection for any crew on the ground was taken out of the picture. Everyone who volunteered to join this expedition knew that there was no margin for error when it came to this virus. If there was even the smallest chance of the infection reaching the rest of the crew or spreading back to Cuba, the life of one pilot was not worth the gamble.
The ejection had gone completely by the numbers. She thought she knew what to expect after going through many simulations involving ejections. The rush of the wind and the stinging rain from the storm added an additional element that had taken her by surprise. For the first minute that she was in the air outside of the plane she had no clue which way was up and which was down. The darkness inside the heart of the storm was so complete that it was totally disorienting. Gravity finally took over allowing her to discern her alignment. Dropping below the storm cloud she was finally able to make out details on the ground. She was grateful to notice that the storm had started letting up. Her chute allowed her to make course corrections along the way and being able to see what was underneath her would help her decide if she needed to make any last minute emergency corrections. Several seconds after her chute deployed she detected the sound of a jet engine spooling up to full power. She was unable to see the fighter but she knew that Crusher had hung around until he was sure that her ejection had been successful. Seeing her chute open was the last thing he had been waiting for before punching it for home and rallying their leadership to dispatch the SAR chopper for her as soon as possible.
Focusing on the ground below her, she picked out a likely landing spot that seemed free of obstacles and more importantly of any signs of nearby life. A fenced in parking lot behind a multistory office building was one of the few clear areas in range. Three cars were parked up close to the building but the rest of the lot was wide open. She made several minor corrections as she approached the top of the office building and moved herself clear of the structure itself. The roof would have probably been the safer place to land but she had no idea what the conditions were like inside the building and she could end up cornered very quickly.
Hitting the ground, she allowed her body to fall sideways and dissipate the force of the impact. She gave herself credit for not breaking any bones and being able to walk away from the ejection and landing without any noticeable injuries. As soon as she released her chute and shrugged the pack over her shoulders she slipped her pistol from is holster and chambered the first round. While in the air the thinning of the storm had been a benefit to her, now she was finding it a liability with the increased visibility making her feel all that more exposed. Keeping her profile as low to the ground as possible she rushed across the length of the parking lot until she was between two of the company cars left in place outside of the loading dock at the back of the building. From the logos on the sides of the car she determined that this was some kind of computer networking support business. Considering the type of business she now felt that the office building might end up making a reasonable refuge after all. The parking lot where she had come down was completely enclosed with a fence and there was more than enough room for a rescue helicopter to set down.
Studying the streets around her she couldn't spot any obvious threats nearby and turned her attention back to the building. She was standing just below a raised loading dock with a large cargo entrance next to a regular sized personnel doorway. Both were closed and showed no signs of having been tampered with. Moving cautiously she climbed the stairs to the concrete dock and then moved across the open space to the personnel door. Reaching out and testing the handle she was surprised to find the door unlocked. She pulled on the door just enough to open it a crack and let her see inside. Satisfied that the hallway beyond the door was empty, she pulled the door open just enough for her to step inside and then pulled the door closed behind her and locked it.
Taking a minute to adjust to the dim lighting she studied her surroundings. The hallway extended the length of the building with doors on each side. She was pretty sure the majority of doors on her left entered the warehouse section of this floor that was serviced by the loading dock. She could not see any advantage in entering such a wide open area with many places danger could be hi
ding. That left her with six doors on the other side of the hallway. The first door was locked, a sign above it identified it as a utility and mechanical room. The next door was labeled as the employee break room and was unlocked. Easing the door open she surveyed the room from the hallway for several seconds before stepping inside. Inside the room she saw several booth style tables arranged in the middle of the room with various vending machines positioned along the wall. The corner of the room directly across from the door had a bar with six chairs situated around it, a cappuccino machine, coffee maker and several other beverage conveniences were neatly arranged on the top of the bar along with cups, napkins and containers of sugar and accessories. Six windows arranged high on the far wall of the room allowed for a little better lighting than in the hallway but still left large parts of the room bathed in shadows. Sweeping her pistol from side to side she carefully moved from one shadow to the next until she was satisfied that the room was empty.
Plopping down in a booth she activated her emergency beacon and set it on the table next to her RF radio and pistol she then settled in to wait for a rescue that she hoped was not long in coming.