He laughed aloud to himself at his own stupidity; of course people suspected he would run. Why else were so many ‘guides’ sent to ‘protect’ them?
Well that plan just backfired. He was in the air, he was free and he was heading home.
The remaining guards and engineers on the ground watched in ignorant admiration as the old bird banked and flew a ponderous loop over their small base. They remained fixed in their gaze at the empty sky as the aircraft levelled out and dipped its nose to raise the tail end and surge over their heads. It took them over a minute to start to really worry. When the noise of the three turboshaft engines had faded into eerie silence, the first serious doubts gnawed at them.
One by one they realised that the helicopter which had taken them a few days to nurse back into flight-worthiness was gone, and that they had been made complete fools of.
The last of the soldiers to stay watching the sky sighed to himself, not relishing the punishment he would likely receive when he got back to the Captain.
He let his gaze drop from the sky and sighed again to himself.
“Oh shit” he said to nobody in particular.
~
“You’re deserters!” Steve joked with Mitch and Phil.
“Technically not” reasoned Mitch as he braved the buffeting side winds to close the sliding door in the fuselage “I’m defecting if you think about it. So is Phil, aren’t you mate?”
Steve couldn’t see behind him, but his headset relayed Phil’s pained croak of response. He didn’t think Phil much gave a shit right now; he would probably start throwing up soon.
Mitch stood behind Steve’s shoulder in the doorway to the cockpit and leaned against the wall as he still held the metal rail above his head.
“Like a Russian spy or something” he explained. Steve smiled, glad for the company and the welcome turn of events.
He flew low and hard, hugging the contours of the ground and going no higher than five hundred feet from the undulating earth below. He avoided the larger hill ranges, skirting to the east or west to save having to gain altitude. His hands and feet were as one with the controls; his very soul hardwired into the machine. Not once did the smile leave his face as he accelerated close to a hundred and eighty miles an hour.
They discussed the smoking ruins of a burnt out population centre in the distance with Mitch remarking that it was likely improved and far safer than it had been a couple of years ago. Steve picked up the snaking tarmac as it widened to four lanes and followed it south, knowing that within half an hour it would merge with another tarmac artery of their now deceased country. He could follow that new road right to the doorstep of the prison and be landing minutes later. He daydreamed about the looks on their faces and hoped that Emma had got back safely by now. He brought his thoughts back to the present, thinking in wonder about how they were still in the air as he had switched off completely for a number of seconds; he had done that in a car so many times and didn’t crash but somehow doing it in ten tonnes of screaming jet engines and spinning metal made any lapse in concentration even more dangerous.
He pushed on, ignoring the ache creeping into his legs and arms and shoulders. He was out of practice physically, but that didn’t detract from his deeply ingrained ability or skill in piloting the bird over the overgrown wasteland below.
CAN’T PARK THAT THERE
Dan began to give a flurry of orders for maps to be found and the site identified. He fired question after question at Emma, ignoring her vulnerability in his own selfishness and upsetting her. Of course she didn’t know what weapons were what; she couldn’t tell a sub-machine gun from a duck gun so his interrogation caused her stress. She broke, crying and apologising for coming back alone.
Dan finally realised he was being a complete dick. He stood, placing one bandaged hand awkwardly on her shoulder.
“I’m sorry” he said “I’m glad you’re back safe and if I were Steve I would have done anything to get you out too” she softened at that. In truth he was very worried about Steve; even more worried about the thought of taking on a group of soldiers to get him back with their depleted force. He went outside to smoke, followed by Marie who lit the cigarette for him. He was saved the remonstration from Marie about how harshly he had treated Emma when Neil appeared with Chris and Ewan.
“It’s time” he said, face cast in a stony expression of sorrow. They had dug the hole and planted a large stone ready for Joe’s burial.
“Ok” said Dan quietly, pausing to draw of the cigarette again “Get everyone out”
He and Marie left the trio and walked slowly towards the spot in the woods where Penny’s well-tended grave stood amongst the flowers. The hole was deep and neat; the excavated earth piled tidily by the side partially in the shadow of the large piece of natural sandstone standing proudly as a headstone. Joe was already inside, wrapped tightly in a sheet.
They waited in silence as the other slowly and silently gathered around them. Dan worried that he wouldn’t be able to give any kind of speech; he felt too empty, too forlorn and too angry. He felt right now that their life was pointless, and they would have been better off being one of the lucky ones who weren’t immune.
He’d certainly experienced more pain since it happened than he would have if the virus had killed him. Soon almost their whole contingent was present. Dan recognised nearly all of them, but could name probably half if pushed. Neil cleared his throat and looked at him expectantly, prompting the unofficial ceremony to begin.
He just couldn’t bring himself to force out the words he didn’t believe right now. He knew it was a mixture of the grief, the pain, the exhaustion and probably the strong tablets Kate had given him. Marie sensed this somehow, and stepped forward to stand on the raised slope behind the graves.
“Joe died to protect us” she sang out in her clear voice, instilling instant silence and feeling the burning attention of two hundred eyes.
“He did his job. He did it well” she paused to look down at the wrapped body below her “Those who killed him knew with their final breath what it means to cross us. To kill us. To attack us” her eyes scanned the crowd, reading them as she did and encouraging the collective heartbeat to quicken to her words.
“But this isn’t what makes us special; what makes us more” she invested the last word with heavy emphasis, showing the crowd a clenched fist to underline her point.
“We are a society. We are a family. Today we mourn the loss of one of our soldiers; our brother. Our friend. But we are here and we are free to mourn because of his sacrifice”
All eyes were fixed on her; she seized the opportunity.
“As you may know we are missing another soldier. Another brother. Another friend. As we pray for the soul of Joe to find rest, so too do we hope for the safe return of Steve”
She stooped to collect a small handful of earth from the mound and held her arm out straight, slowly trickling the dark soil between her fingers to fall on Joe’s body. She gently took Dan’s arm and led him away, saving him the need to add any words or try and use his swollen hands to throw dirt on his friend. The others followed suit, mimicking her actions one by one as they formed a solemn queue to pay their respects and disperse to their own thoughts.
Dan kept his gaze on the ground and his expression plain as she led him back to the house, intending to insist he rested. They stood near the house and smoked in silence again.
Ash’s ears pricked up. He turned his head to face the woods, swinging it back and forth between the house and the farm, searching. They watched the dog in companionable silence, neither switching on to what the animal’s behaviour meant. It was only the low rumbling growl of the patented early warning system that sparked Dan’s re-entrance to the present.
He instinctively reached for a weapon, realising he wasn’t – for the first time in as long as he could remember – carrying one.
He threw down his half-smoked cigarette and bawled for Leah and Rich and Lexi. In his grief he almost call
ed for Joe too, them remembered and felt another surge of anger.
Why won’t people just leave us alone? He thought. His feelings of uselessness made him colour up in frustration that his burnt hands couldn’t work a weapon; that he would have to leave the defence of their home to others.
People were running past them in panic, just as the noise began to break through the trees. The high pitched whine of the engines, and the unmistakable ‘wop wop wop’ of rotor blades. Dan could barely believe what he was hearing. They had no time to react; to form a defence.
With a huge, invasive noise the dull green helicopter burst over the tops of the trees and banked in a lazy circle before it levelled out and lowered itself to the open field to his right. They all stood in stunned silence, watching as it settled heavily onto its wheels. The engines were cut. Three men emerged from the side door, dropping to the ground and running low towards the house to avoid the wash from the decelerating blades above them.
Steve straightened as he approached them, a broad smile showing on his face from the exhilaration of escape and the excitement of flying again. Dan stood mute, mouth open and speechless. Ash’s tail wagged uncontrollably, making his whole back end move until he could contain himself no more and he ran to the familiar pilot. He strode straight up to Dan and embraced him.
So many questions fought for space in Dan’s head, none of them making the connection to leave his mouth with any coherence.
“Did Emma make it back?” he asked, full of concern. Dan could only nod in response, still unable to add up everything he had just seen and felt and work out the solution.
The two new men were introduced; Mitch Andrews was a soldier and Phil was a very unwell looking mechanic. It all washed over Dan; he was suddenly so very tired. Marie made his excuses and led him inside to put him to bed.
Neil stepped forward and shook Steve’s hand. He turned to Phil and welcomed him with a handshake and a broad smile.
“I hope you know how that thing works” he said in his public-schooled spitfire pilot accent “Because I’m not changing the bloody oil on it!”
FACTORY RESET
Dan slept all afternoon and late into the next morning. His hands were itching badly. Kate examined the wounds and applied a salve to it, telling him to keep the raw skin well moisturized and mobile. They felt better, but he was careful not to break the blisters that were still intact. He wandered downstairs, full of hunger and in desperate need of caffeine.
The mood was definitely higher than yesterday, with the newcomers and Steve being pressed for information about anything and everything. Dan gave the main gaggle a wide berth and headed for Ops where Leah had the duty, kept company by his dog.
“Morning Boss” she said, pouring coffee into his cup after checking to see how much of a top-up he needed. He sat down, working his sore hands open and closed slowly as Ash nuzzled into him for attention. He stroked the dog’s head and looked at Leah.
“Lex is over the gardens, Rich went up the farm and is checking the grounds out. I gave Steve the day off. The new guy wants a spot too” she reported.
Dan assumed the new guy was the soldier and not the mechanic. It would be good to have another trained man on the books, and the fact that they were now one Ranger down went without saying.
Kate had insisted that Dan take a couple of weeks off. There was a time when he would have argued against that; even ignored it completely. He didn’t argue, but he would still be involved. He felt relieved with Steve back, elated that he had brought more people to them and amazed to see him return in a working helicopter. The possibilities were endless for as long as it stayed serviceable.
Steve found him shortly afterwards. He went over the whole story, giving the answers to the questions Dan had previously fired at Emma. Together they made a full threat assessment of Richards’ group and ruled out any interaction; they were simply far too powerful to mix it with, as any loss was unacceptable.
Steve gave his run down of Mitch, describing him as a confident soldier with a great deal of sense. He laughed as he described how Mitch knew all along what he planned and chose to come with him but didn’t risk himself by saying so until it was happening. Steve supported him being on the team.
Dan agreed to speak with him, as he always intended to. He put Steve in interim charge of Ops, insisting that off-site parties went in pairs until further notice. Normal routines were established again and the world turned as it had before.
Mitch came to find him the next morning, engaging in an almost comical replication of Rich’s interview.
“Morning Sir” he said as he marched in, stamped to attention and cracked off a crisp salute. Dan smiled and sat down.
“I’m amazed Steve didn’t tell you that we don’t do Sir’s and salutes here” he said with amusement.
“He did” Mitch said with a smile “That’s why I did it!” he sat down, pleased with his ice breaker.
“What’s your service history?” Dan asked.
“Sixteen years. Infantry Sergeant, despite a demotion once for clocking an eighteen-year-old officer off duty. Parachute trained. I’ve seen active service in Northern Ireland three times, the Gulf, the Balkans, Afghanistan. Not to mention the contacts I’ve had since all this.” He gave his list of achievements casually, making out that six active tours were nothing. It was something. He went to war six times and he could still smile.
His credentials hardly needed testing since Steve had seen his work first hand. Still, Dan was encouraged by the man’s humour and didn’t want to sign him up without prying further.
“Why desert then?” he needled.
“Didn’t desert; I defected!” he said with a wide smile as he produced a sheaf of papers “Full Int report on Richards’ group. All the gen right here” he declared using Army slang as it was his first language. He placed the intelligence package on the table and kept his flat hand on top of it.
“So, as soon as I give you this I’m officially a defector. Vote of no confidence in my leadership, shall we say” Dan returned his smile, but Mitch surprised him by getting serious.
“I’m nobody’s enforcer; it started out alright when we were rescuing people and defending ourselves but after that I began to have doubts. I had to make people stay whether they wanted to or not and that didn’t sit right with me. When I got the gig keeping an eye on Steve I didn’t know what to make of the orders to bring him back at all costs. I got to know him and he told me a lot about you and what you’ve built here. I want to be a part of something like this instead of being the right hand of a dictator” he had intentionally raised his standing in Richards’ group of loyal supporters, if for nothing else other than to brag about his worth. He needn’t have bothered as Dan had learned everything he needed to know about the man from Steve; he was trained, he was capable and he had helped both of them escape. He was in.
Mitch looked him in the eye as he pretended to think it over. Dan leaned forward to him, returning the stare with similar intensity.
“Do you like sweets, Mitch?” he asked, breaking the spell and confusing the soldier.
“Yeah…” he replied cautiously.
Dan leaned back and shouted Rich’s name prompting the Marine to emerge from his den of worship to the god of muzzle velocity opposite.
“Boss?” he asked as he entered.
Dan’s smile widened.
“Bootneck; Squaddie. Squaddie; Bootneck” he introduced them, demonstrating his own knowledge of inter-military terminology.
“Show our new recruit around our sweetie shop will you?”
Mitch stood, shook Dan’s hand making him tense his face to cover the reactive wince caused by the still painful burns, and went to talk guns with Rich.
Over the next week Dan finally took the time to move amongst the group, reacquainting himself with some and hearing about their lives. He visited the medical team daily. His burns weren’t bad, but for once he allowed himself to take a back seat and heal slowly. Ana and Cara were both show
ing heavily now. With everything that had happened to threaten their group he had almost forgotten that two new souls were soon to be added to their population count. He took the time to sit with them and talk when he could; feeling their nervousness and excitement at their coming arrivals.
Emma and Marie were waiting for him one morning. She wanted to tell them what she found at the lab; another thing that had slipped his mind.
She opened her laptop and sat opposite them, formal and quiet.
“I found the lab and we got it running again” she said, thankfully skipping all the preamble with the facts that they already knew.
“I spent three days checking the blood samples from infected and immune alike; there were no differences” she looked at them both for signs they understood, but explained the obvious anyway.
“We all have it. I don’t have the expertise or the tools to test further and find out why we are immune, nor do I know how it will affect us in other ways” she paused “but I do now know what it was”
She opened the files on her laptop, explaining about the science base deep in the arctic ice. The videos were played for them as they sat in silence, ending with the lab video and the subsequent reports. She closed the laptop slowly and looked at them, folding her hands gently on the table.
“So you’re saying that some pollen from a prehistoric flower caused this?” Marie asked.
“Yes. The pollen infected the scientists and must have mutated; I’m theorising from here you understand. That mutation became an airborne virus with very fast gestation and the highest lethality ever seen in the history of the human race. It’s everywhere, and it would have covered the planet in days. There’s no going back.”
Dan shifted in his seat, working his hands to relieve the tight skin.
“Keep theorising” he said gently “what does this mean for us?”
She sighed heavily, looking down at the table and rubbing her eyes before she looked at them and answered.
Society: After It Happened Book 3 Page 18