“Can anyone see a living soul down there?” the Captain asked over the intercom.
“Negative,” came two answers; no-one expected a reply from the now partially-sighted co-pilot.
“I’ll try over there,” the Captain replied moving the aircraft towards another lone building. “There, can you see that?”
“I see it,” Zoë replied.
A solitary figure appeared to be wandering towards them, legs awkwardly carrying him over the hard, frost-bitten ground, his face hidden by the fur-trimmed hood on his parka.
As the area was clear of buildings and other obstacles the helicopter touched down and Zoë and the Sergeant leapt out to offer assistance, Zoë grabbing the flare gun as she did so; having lost her own sidearm earlier it was better than nothing. As they covered the ground towards the man their pace slowed as they noticed his movement was awkward, the occasional spasm racking his body. After what they’d seen so far, they weren’t about to take any chances.
All too soon it became clear that they were walking into danger as the man began to run towards them and threw himself bodily onto the sergeant, his arms flailing with a lack of control.
“Cliff!” Zoë shouted in shocked surprise. Due to the raised parka hood, neither had been able to see the expression of pathological hatred seared into the man’s face until the last moment. Running to her crew-mate’s assistance she could see that whatever was wrong with the man, his strength hadn’t diminished at all; he had the big sergeant pinned down and was inexorably lowering his mouth to take a bite out of Cliff’s face.
“Oi, you!” she shouted at the creature, hoping to distract it. As it turned its head slowly towards the sound of her voice, she forced the muzzle of the flare gun into its open mouth and pulled the trigger. Smoke billowed and a red light illuminated the cheeks to a deep red before hissing as it erupted out of the back of its head. Cliff grimaced as he pushed the dead man aside and scrambled to his feet.
“Thanks, girl,” he said, panting and watching in horrified fascination as the creature’s head began to catch fire from the intense heat of the burning magnesium. Because of the blade wash from the helicopter, the smoke blew towards him and he moved away sideways in disgust. “Jeez, that stinks,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“Was that creature the person that made the emergency call?” Zoë wondered aloud.
“Maybe, I don’t see anyone else around. He must have changed immediately after, that’s all I can say.”
Suddenly noticing that the sound from the helicopter’s engines was fading, they turned around to see the four huge blades slowing until they finally came to a standstill; the twin engine exhausts began to click as they cooled in the icy wind. Zoë and Cliff ran back, anxious to find out what was wrong. Leaping back in, Zoë made her way forward.
“What the hell’s the problem now?” she asked, nervous at the thought of being trapped all the way up here in the mountains with no transport out. She hated the cold. “Did you see that? That mad bastard just tried to take a chunk out of Cliff. Thank God I had the flare gun with me.”
“Yeah, I saw what you did. Well done and very colourful. Anyway, more importantly for now, the engines appear to have died. We just lost all our electrical power,” Captain Simms replied. He had already started to work his way along the bank of trip switches on the panel, hoping to find one to reset. If only it could be that simple, he thought to himself.
“And that means what exactly? Don’t tell me we’re stuck up here in this bitter cold. Captain,” she added quickly.
“No radio, no engine, nada. It means that unless we can fix it we’re in for a long wait before we can get any assistance. Got any decent roadside cover?” he asked, an amused look on his face.
“Ha, ha,” she replied, quietly relieved that he didn’t seem to be worried. Peering across at Bill Mitchum, she noticed that his cheeks were wet from the tears streaming from his damaged eyes. “How you holding up, Bill?
“Smarts like a bastard, but I seem to be getting some of my sight back already.”
“Come on cry-baby, why don’t you come back here and I’ll see what I can do to relieve the pain.”
“Unfeeling bitch,” he replied, trying on a faint smile. “Did I actually say that or just think it? My bad. I meant sure, thanks. I’d love you to help me.” Peering closely he looked roughly in her direction; she was pleased to see he hadn’t lost his sense of humour at least. He stumbled as he climbed over the central console but made it back to the cabin without falling over.
“Sit here and let me have a look,” she said, leading him to the stretcher furthest away from the injured woman who had started to pant and growl like an irritated dog, clearly frustrated at being tied down. Her face was smeared with flecks of bloody drool but worst of all was the state of her eyes, the corneas a blood-engorged deep red surrounding white centres. Zoë had never seen anything like it; God knows what they were to do with her because no-one on board the helicopter had any of the skills to give her the necessary medical attention.
Someone somewhere owes us a proper goddam explanation for this crap; this isn’t civil unrest, this is something much worse - and infectious, based on this woman’s reaction to being bitten. Engrossed in the task of irrigating Bill’s eyes, she was startled by the sound of a woman’s voice calling out to them.
Chapter 2 - Joyful Reunion And New Friends
Captain Tom Morgan and First Officer Brad Bukowski, both late of their behemoth A380 that was now lying in pieces along the length of runway 35R at Denver International Airport, were travelling with their new-found companion, Chuck Walker, an elderly neighbour of Tom’s. The truck they were in was a purloined military troop carrier; its size and engine power made it perfect for the run up into the mountains and to Tom’s holiday cabin up at the edge of the Stapp Lakes. Chuck’s foresight and preparedness meant that the back of the truck was full of provisions that would be essential for them to survive the coming days and possibly weeks until they could venture back down to the town, hopefully to find a semblance of normality had returned. Normality was most likely a pipe dream, all three doubted such a state of affairs was even possible any longer; what they had seen so far pretty much precluded a positive turn of events. For now though they didn’t want to look too closely at reality.
Chuck had no family members to worry about as he was the last of his line; this wasn’t the case for both Tom and Brad as they had loved ones they were desperate to get back to. With luck Tom’s need would soon be sated when they reached his cabin; he was hoping against hope that his wife and sons had managed to get to the relative safety of their holiday retreat in the mountains. Unfortunately Brad’s wife was in San Francisco, his home proper. At least that’s where he lived before all this madness started.
“I can’t believe we’re nearly there,” Tom said, his excitement growing at seeing his wife and boys again. Just to see the familiar reservoir and the curve of the road as it led towards his cabin made his heart beat faster.
“This is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, buddy,” Brad observed. “Why’d you have a hut up here anyway? You don’t fish, do ya?”
“You’ll find it’s not quite a hut we’re going to. It’s away from everything. Sometimes it just feels good knowing there’s almost no-one around. It’s just so damn quiet, perfect for me. And yes, I do fish, but only when I want something to eat, none of that sport crap.”
“And I thought I knew you,” Brad said, wondering what other surprises Tom had in store.
“Haven’t you ever been camping, Brad?” Chuck asked.
“If I did it would be somewhere warmer than here, I can tell you. And the tent would have at least three stars over the door.”
Chuck chortled at the reply. “You’re in for a helluva time, then.”
They lapsed into silence as they peered into the rapidly deepening darkness. With the headlights off they were using the starlight to see by. All three men were on high alert, expecting possible hostility from any di
rection; they had already learnt the hard way that it was unlikely they would find anyone they could trust, infected or not. Looking across the expanse of the water they could see the small makeshift homes and boat house that filled up in the summer months with boating, mountain climbing and hiking enthusiasts. Right now there appeared to be no-one present, no tell-tale lights glistening in the deepening dusk welcoming them and certainly no movement. Not that that was necessarily indicative of anything; unless a person had just arrived from the Moon they would know not to be foolish enough to advertise their presence, and certainly not at night. Brad looked up at the sky, peering at the thousands of stars. “At least it hasn’t snowed,” he thought out loud, receiving nodding agreement from the other two. The sky was brilliantly clear and it was going to be a damn cold night. Brad shivered at the thought; nights like these were why he lived in SF.
“There it is,” Tom announced as they entered the clearing where his holiday cabin lay. “What the…” his sentence remained unfinished as they were confronted by a parked up Blackhawk, with closed doors and blade tips secured to the fuselage. Clearly it had been there a while; there was frost on the canopy. Looking across he saw lights on in his cabin. His heart jumped, partly hoping his wife and kids were there and partly in nervous anticipation of who he would find in his home. He pulled up well short of the cabin, deciding it was the better part of valour to be wary. He knew their arrival had been noted as he saw a face appear briefly at the main window before disappearing quickly again.
Chuck was the first to speak. “They’re probably military, judging by the ’copter. We should be okay.”
“That’s not like you to be so trusting, Chuck.” Brad commented.
“Didn’t say I trusted them, sonny, but maybe they’ll be of use to us. Many hands make for light work and all that. What do you want to do?”
Tom thought for a moment before replying. “I think we ought to approach from different directions. There is a rear exit so we’ll have to watch out for a possible surprise attack. I’m too frickin’ tired to stake it out or anything like that, I think I’ll just go up to the front door and you and Brad can cover me from either side. You up for that?” he asked both of his companions.
“Works for me,” Brad replied.
“We should just hang back a little so we aren’t in each other’s cross-fire,” Chuck suggested to Brad.
“Okay, let’s do this.” Tom approached the door while Brad and Chuck spread out, remaining behind the shrubs and trees that edged the clearing. They were now able to cover the front door as well as anyone coming around from the back.
With his heart in his mouth, Tom knocked on the wooden door and waited, preferring not to walk straight in. Muffled voices could be heard inside and then the sound of footsteps as someone came to the door. With a click it opened a crack and he let out a sigh of relief at the sight of his wife.
“Laurie!” he exclaimed as she rushed out and into his arms. No words were necessary as they hugged each other tightly. His two sons shot out and clung to their father.
“Dad, Dad!” Jake the youngest kept saying over and over again.
“Boys. God, I thought I’d never see you all again!” Tom hugged them tightly, feeling giddy with the relief; his knees felt weak as if he was going to collapse. Eventually they relinquished their tight grip on each other and Tom was able to look at each one in turn, somehow not yet believing his eyes and amazing good fortune at having located them so easily. At any point during the last forty eight hours his luck could have turned on a dime and he might have died, never again to see his family and kiss his wife, who, he reminded himself, was far and away the best kisser he’d ever known.
During the joyful reunion Brad and Chuck had approached warily, guns at the ready, still uncertain as to the condition or friendliness of any others that may be inside.
Strangers stepped slowly out into the open, weapons in hand but lowered in a non-threatening fashion. The first down the step was Captain Simms.
“Good evening. I think introductions are in order,” he suggested. “My name is Mike Simms, Captain. These are my crew members, Bill, Zoë and Cliff. And that’s our helicopter,” he finished rather unnecessarily, pointing at the downed machine. “Hope you don’t mind us holing up in your cabin. Given the extenuating circumstances, and all that.”
“Not at all, Mike. I’m pleased to meet you all.” Tom’s joy at finding his family in one piece was bursting out of his normally sober countenance and he couldn’t help but be effusive in his own introduction. “I’m the happiest man on earth right now and I go by the name of Tom, Tom Morgan. And I have the honour of being this woman’s husband, and father to these great lads.”
“And I’m First Officer Brad Bukowski, his second in command,” he said, pointing at Tom, all the while smirking at Tom’s change in demeanour, think he was one lucky SOB to find his family amid all this chaos. “This here’s Chuck Walker, a neighbour and travelling companion of ours. Good to meet you all.”
Laurie ran over to Chuck and hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you made it, Chuck. And fancy you joining up with Tom. How did that happen?”
“I’ll tell you when we get inside. It’s freezing out here and we should get out of sight just in case there are any crazies about.”
Finished with the introductions, they all filed back into the cabin where a warming fire was burning in the pot-bellied stove, on top of which a pot of coffee brewed.
“God, that smells good,” Brad said. “Any chance of a cup?”
“Of course,” Laurie replied, “where are my manners? Honey, do you want one?”
“Does a bear…” Tom began, faltering as he remembered his kids were present, and quickly changed his response. “I’d love one, thanks babe.”
As he looked around the living room he could see that given the circumstances everyone had made themselves as comfortable as possible.
He was more than grateful that it had been the military that had found his family. His fears for their safety had proved unfounded and he suspected the same turn-on-a-dime luck had decreed that they all survive together at least a while longer.
“So you’re a pilot, Tom,” Captain Simms stated. “Your wife says you fly the A380. Amazing beast of a plane.”
“Yes, I do,” Tom admitted. “And it is pretty amazing to fly. I’m a captain and fly for Americas United. At least I did. I’m afraid I left my bus in pieces at Denver International Airport. But you know what they say, any landing you can walk away from…”
“Is a good landing,” Simms finished the sentence, smiling. “Didn’t they nuke the airport? How could you land?”
“Yes, the nuke appears to be a fact. We landed in the dark and quite frankly if it had been a daytime landing we might not have chosen the runway we did; there was debris all over it but it was hidden in the dark, hence our less than perfect landing. We had hydraulic problems and had no undercarriage.”
“Holy shit! Sorry, Ma’am,” Simms corrected himself. “I’d ’a loved to see that. Damn. That same bomb did for our engines, too, it seems.” Simms remarked.
“Luckily we were on the ground out there when they finally failed,” Bill Mitchum replied, staring straight ahead through bandaged eyes.
“I’m guessing flash burns?” Brad asked the hapless pilot.
“Yeah, I was looking over towards the airport when the firecracker went off.”
“God, I hope you’ll be okay. You guys were lucky you didn’t get blown out of the sky.”
“We nearly did,” Zoë added.
“Man, I still don’t get why they’d pull a stunt like that.”
“Probably made sense to the Brass at the time,” Simms replied. “Perhaps everything was going to hell and they just tried to put an end to it, who knows. Bastards.”
Conversation petered out at this point, everyone too shocked by the recent events to continue polite conversation.
“So,” Simms continued eventually, “I’m thinking if we could borrow yo
ur truck tomorrow we could head down to town to see what’s what, perhaps even to report in. We’ve had no radio contact since we landed yesterday afternoon. What d’ya think, Tom? You’ve been down there more recently than me,” Simms was clearly eager to return to duty and get his co-pilot some proper medical attention.
“Sure you can borrow it, Mike, but I think it’s a pointless danger to put your crew through. When we flew in last night,” he began, then paused. “God, was it really only a few hours ago?” he asked rhetorically. “Damn. We flew in from the UK and the whole of the USA was in the dark.”
“Except for some pretty, orange explosions,” Brad interjected helpfully.
“Apart from those, thanks Brad. There was nothing, no radio comms, not even anything on the Guard frequency. Sweet FA. We had a brush with the USAF a couple of hundred miles out but after that, nothing. I don’t think you have anything or anyone to report into; I think it’s all gone.”
“When we got down,” Brad continued, picking up on the story, “we saw evidence of significant battles where the army seemed to have come off worse. When we left the UK everything looked completely screwed there; we took off without permission and no-one challenged us, not once, which was real weird, especially since 9/11. There was no radio chatter anywhere in the world, not HF, UHF or VHF, nada. Last news report I heard this ‘thing’, whatever it is, was everywhere.”
“Folks, I think we need to post watch tonight,” Chuck chimed in for the first time. “If these things, the infected people, come here, they will attack us.”
“Funny you should say that. We got an emergency call that brought us up here,” Simms said, “but all we found was one wacko who attacked Hinkley here. We were forced to kill the man. Other than that we haven’t seen a soul apart from your family.”
The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever Page 2