“Shit, will ya look at that!” Zoë shouted in amazement. Looking down they could see at least a thousand zombie people converging on the fuel dump. Most were about half a mile away but some had crept in closer without being seen. “Fuck me,” she whispered under her breath. “Sneaky bastards,” she said more loudly so Cliff could hear; he nodded in acknowledgement as he just stared out of the window, clearly preoccupied with what awaited him when he got to his house. As the helicopter rose the crew could almost sense the feeling of disappointment wafting up from the ground as the realisation hit the throng that their prey had moved out of reach.
“They must have heard or smelled us from a hell of a long way away. Damn,” Cliff said with feeling. “When we get back remind me to put on some aftershave.”
*
“You’re handling her well,” Simms said to BB, pleased that the airline pilot really had a feel and fine handling capability needed for helicopters. Some sort of natural flyer, he thought, pleased at having some back up for the future.
“Thanks, it feels easy and very stable. I have to say I’ve never flown one with so much power.” The speed with which they climbed from the fuel depot almost frightened BB; it certainly took him by surprise. Even at Denver’s height above sea level, its performance was awesome; he’d never flown anything that could move as quickly and it was positively exhilarating.
As they crossed over the more built up areas of the city they could see the streets were full of wandering crowds of the dead, stumbling randomly around as if they had nothing better to do. Many looked injured, accounting for their infection, but many appeared simply to have turned. They must have succumbed to the original infection. No vehicles moved and there were plenty of smouldering rows of fire-darkened timber; what was left of neat little houses and apartment blocks. Even with a deep personal knowledge of the area that Cliff had, the destruction was disorienting and without the compass and moving map, finding the area called Aurora would have been a significant challenge. Cliff offered hints as to visual landmarks along the way, not that many of them remained particularly identifiable now, fire and other massive destruction having sullied the clearly defined streets.
Now the once well organised, functional and broad street matrices were blocked by crashed cars, and overturned trucks, that spilled their loads across the flat tarmac. At these points there were signs of significant looting as the number of bodies was greater, implying the people had focused on their hoard rather than the danger that lurked all around them, succumbing to the fast cheetah attacks they so did not expect or anticipate. Perhaps desperation drove them in this fashion, becoming tunnel-visioned, their brains shutting down to avoid thinking about their bigger plight and impending doom. The corpses littering the streets appeared to have been eviscerated, limbs removed and skulls cracked open for their contents; bloody rivers ran everywhere, some of it splashed leaving bloody footprints that told a story of fear and desperation until they finally succumbed and resisted no longer.
It was like the devil’s charnel house, the demons were the revived Infected, walking from corpse to corpse looking for dregs of meat that could still be consumed. Their lazy wandering almost implied that eating wasn’t of great importance, perhaps only secondary actually to finding the meal.
“At least we know where the people are,” Zoë commented. “Let’s hope we never have to land among them,” a sentiment that was silently echoed by all aboard as they peered down at the stomach-clenching sight.
Every time they passed by a shopping centre of any size they saw even larger crowds milling around like there was a sale going on that no-one had told the helicopter crew about.
“What the fuck are they doing?” BB muttered. “Are they working from some sort of residual memory?”
“Damn good question,” Mike replied, staring out of the cockpit in awe. “It’s like everyone’s chosen to indulge in some serious retail therapy all at the same time.”
As they passed over Cherry Creek Shopping Center, they saw messages painted on the roof of one of the larger parts of the complex, announcing that some living were in there and needed rescuing.
“Should we go have a look-see?” BB asked.
“We’ll drop in on our way back,” Mike stated. “Cliff’s family have priority as far as I’m concerned.”
“Not a problem with me,” BB replied. He liked this Simms fella, he had the right attitude about most things, it seemed.
“Zoë or Cliff, will you fire a green flare towards the shopping mall, let them know they’ve been seen?”
“Sure thing Captain,” Cliff replied. Moments later a green flare sailed towards the building complex, leaving a white trail of smoke in its wake. They were too far away to see if anyone responded.
A few minutes later they were arriving overhead Aurora.
“So, Cliff, where do we go?” BB called back over the intercom.
“Hover over the shopping mall and I’ll direct you from there.” There was an edge to Cliff’s voice now, anticipating the worst yet hoping that his family had survived somehow. It was a mess below and row after row of houses had burnt down, and many were still ablaze. Out on the streets smaller numbers of dispossessed people milled aimlessly around; the crew assumed they were all infected, it would be safer to make that assumption. BB maintained their thousand feet height, making sure they didn’t behave like the Pied Piper, drawing zombies in their wake as they had done at the fuel dump.
“Our house is on the outskirts, on the other side of Potomac Street, in Cambray Park. My wife complained we weren’t close enough to the shops but I reckon that might just be a benefit right now.” Cliff’s voice sounded more hopeful as he peered through the rising smoke trying to see his house.
“Right, we’re over the shopping mall. Which way, buddy?” BB asked.
“Head east on the main drag until it intersects with Potomac Street, it’s the big one in the distance. Then hang a right and it’s about a hundred yards down on the left.”
BB descended so that he could read the street signs. After a moment he saw the sign for Potomac and turned right. A petrol station and a block of flats were on his left. In a moment Cliff continued his instructions.
“Keep going, there, that large entrance. See the green awning? Just past there.”
BB brought the helicopter into a hover over the entrance.
“I can land on the road and you can go in if you like, or I can hover and you winch down into your back yard if that’d be better. Your call, Cliff.” BB wasn’t at all sure he wanted to land; there was something he was sensing, something ominous. All of a sudden he knew what was different. There was not a soul on the streets, not a one - that couldn’t bode well. There were also too many houses and too many places to hide; so much risk all of a sudden. “I don’t like this. I’m rescinding the landing option, Cliff. We’ll winch you down. Something ain’t right.”
“Roger,” Cliff replied. His voice gave nothing of his thoughts away.
“Come on Cliff, let’s get you strapped in,” Zoë ordered. Together they set him up on the harness and clipped the passenger loop to his straps.
“Cliff can direct you and you can guide me in, Zoë.” BB ordered.
“Roger.” Zoë’s voice was clipped as she concentrated on getting the winch ready. “Move a little forward, the yard just short of the swimming pool.” Cliff was pointing to their property.
“I see it,” BB replied, edging the huge helo forward, its downdraft tugging fiercely at the trees underneath. Pieces of garden furniture went flying, their travel abruptly arrested by the fencing. After a moment they were hovering exactly on point and now he heard the buzz of the winch as it lowered the sergeant down. Mike was keeping his eyes out for the infected. From his vantage point it looked like a high risk option lowering his man into this confined area. Zoë had a rifle up and ready while managing the winch. She wished she had a second pair of hands right at this moment. A tap on her shoulder startled her and she turned to see Mike at her
side; he must have read her mind. Having left the flying to BB, he took her rifle, allowing her to focus on her own job of managing the winch and the load. He scanned the area looking for threats. A couple of people were moving in the neighbouring yards, clearly infected, their movement awkward as they edged towards Cliff’s landing point.
Mike fired a couple of shots into the ground to get their attention, just in case they weren’t infected, but they took no notice. The next couple of shots drilled down into their heads and they collapsed, no longer a threat. Mike smiled at his shooting; sheer fluke, he thought, I’d have never been able to do that on the range.
Cliff touched down gently at the bottom of the yard and immediately unclipped himself from the line. Drawing his gun he crouched and moved cautiously towards the rear of the house. Suddenly he stopped, statue-like, his gun slowly lowering.
“Is he okay, Zoë?” BB asked, not liking what he was seeing.
“Wait one,” was her only reply. Clearly she was waiting to see what the problem was.
Next moment Cliff stood up straight in shock, his gun remaining pointing down. A woman with dishevelled hair and face covered in blood and bearing her teeth came rushing out of the house and ran towards the man, her hands clenching and unclenching in desire. It was clear even to those in the helicopter that she was infected. Cliff remained rooted to the spot in shock. A shot was heard, the sound whipped away by the hurricane winds of the blades, and her head exploded in a splash of red after which she fell forwards onto the thin, dry grass in front of the sergeant. Cliff looked up at the chopper with a look of murderous intent on his face. After a moment it changed, as if all emotion had drained from his body. Whether or not he realised his life had just been saved, it was hard to tell; his features had become an indecipherable mask. He ran into the house, his panic obvious in his awkward movements.
BB hovered and counted the seconds that passed by as Cliff remained out of sight. Forty seconds so far. Looking further afield he could see they were drawing a crowd of Infected; the rotor beat seemed to be a great draw to the undead and in a moment they would have to leave, Cliff or no Cliff, as his residence would soon be overrun.
Fifty five seconds; now a minute. “What do you want to do, Mike?” BB asked. “He’s your man.”
“Give him another thirty seconds.”
“Roger. Thirty seconds it is.” BB continued to count down; they would be safe up here, but in less than a minute this place would be overrun. Five, four… Finally the sergeant ran out into the garden and BB breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the man held a bloody child in the crook of his arm, all the while firing behind him whilst simultaneously trying to get the passenger loop from his harness over the kid’s head. Multitasking while running to the end of the yard, he was struggling with his fear to do the simplest task properly and by the look on Cliff’s face it was obvious he was being chased by something or someone and was now seriously at risk of not making the safety of the winch line which was hanging there invitingly a few enticing yards in front of him. A couple of people, blood covered and clearly enraged, came running from the house and bore down on him and the child. Two more shots from the helicopter and Mike took them out cleanly, each with a perfect head shot. If there was ever an Olympic sport of zombie shooting, he would have earned a couple of golds by now. More people took their place and slowly the yard filled with zombies, most slow but seemingly goaded on by one or two of the faster ones.
The winch whined as it slowly lifted them off the ground, their suspended bodies within feet of their pursuers. “Go!” Zoë shouted to BB and next moment the chopper pulled its massive weight into the sky, dragging Cliff and the child away from danger like a fly fishing lure. As they climbed thousands of the undead could be seen filling the streets around the house. BB’s instincts had been spot on; going in from the road would have proved fatal, maybe even compromising the helicopter and its crew. Lesson learned. The beat of the helicopter’s blades had definitely drawn the Infected, the ring of dead centring on where they had been hovering a moment before, something they would have to take into account in the future; it might even prove a benefit under the right circumstances.
Cliff finally arrived alongside the helicopter and Zoë helped him swing into the cabin. In a rush of emotion she grabbed him and held them both in an embrace, feeling Cliff’s sobs as he cried with release of tension and world weary sadness at the loss of all but one of his family. After a moment he pulled away and released himself from the harness. As he put the child down, Zoë could now see it was a blood-smeared little girl of no more than four or five years of age. She looked at Cliff questioningly but he avoided her eyes and just sat staring straight ahead, one arm around the most precious person on his personal planet.
*
On the return trip to the fuel depot, they hovered over the writing on the roof of the Cherry Creek Shopping Center, peering downwards to see if there really was someone waiting for rescue. Not a soul stirred, the roof was bereft of bodies, living or dead. Clearly this place was either deserted or they had succumbed to the sheer numbers of infected in these sorts of areas.
“It might be worth paying a visit periodically just to see if there is anyone there,” Mike suggested.
“You might be right,” BB observed. “I tell you something, after what we just saw at Aurora, I’m not landing to rescue anyone. Their numbers are just too massive. It wouldn’t matter if you had a chain gun; you couldn’t get them all before they got you.”
“Yeah, I’m not in a rush to get in among those bastards either.”
“Let’s get back to the dump.” BB said as he gained height again and headed west. A few minutes later they arrived and he saw with relief that the other helicopter had remained untouched, the dust on the canopy undisturbed. Performing a recon circuit they could see that the crowd of undead had dissipated again, a few idly wandering, nothing left to draw them towards the landing area.
“Right, let’s do this quickly,” Mike said. “Land and run to your chopper, I’ll take over this one. Zoë, you go with him and offer cover. If you can’t get it started, BB, give us a sign and run back. If you can, give me the thumbs up and I’ll hover, waiting for you further west of here. Don’t want to attract any unwanted attention to this place. I can refuel another time, I’m sure it’ll still be here for a while. GPS still works so if we get separated you’ll still be able to find your way back.”
“If you’re sure,” BB queried the decision. “I can help you top off your tanks first.”
“Yes, I’m sure. We’ve still got plenty. Get going, both of you. Don’t want to attract those things again.”
Needing no more encouragement, BB and Zoë ran for the other chopper and opened the doors carefully, making sure they were still alone.
BB jumped into the cockpit and sat in the right hand seat. His vision out to the right was significantly reduced with the massive fuel pods but he didn’t mind, they would make getting his wife back much more possible. As he began the engine start sequence he reminded himself of the guidance Mike had given him about what the extra fuel load would do to the handling properties. The engine began to spool up and he gave the thumbs up signal to the other ’copter which immediately lifted off in a cloud of dust and moved off to the west to wait for him.
Everything looked good so far; the engines sounded correct, gauges as expected and the fuel indicated full on internal and external cells. Pulling up on the collective, he was startled by a tremendous thump as a man leapt onto the front of the canopy, pulling himself up using the wiper mounts, and supporting himself on the FLIR cone. His face was badly injured, flaps of skin flicking in the strong wind. The lack of flesh on its cheeks gave the creature a strangely amused look, its permanent bony and toothy smile almost drawing a reciprocal response from BB in return as he stared in shock at the apparition.
“What the fuck?” BB shouted bringing Zoë forward.
“How in the name of goddam hell did that get there? Do you want me to go out a
nd deal with it?”
“Absolutely not! No need to risk yourself, girl, I’ll get rid of it as we head back to the cabins. It can’t hang on forever.”
Climbing towards the other helicopter Mike spoke to him over the radio. “Looks like you’ve got an unexpected passenger. What do you want to do about it?”
“With luck he’ll fall off by the time we get to the cabin.”
“What if he doesn’t?”
“With the outside air temperature and wind chill from the downdraft the bastard should be pretty much frozen solid by the time we get there so we could just scrape him off like a bug,” BB replied having already given it some thought.
“Yeah, well. Just in case he doesn’t, let me land first and we’ll get ready to kill it when you touch down.”
“Sure thing, Mike. Thanks.”
“Roger.”
They flew on together in silence, BB flying high and just behind Mike’s helicopter. BB tried hard not to look at the man’s face as it stared in at them. Zoë was transfixed by fascination; she’d not been this close to one of the creatures before without having to kill it and was examining it closely.
“Look at that poor bastard,” she commented. “To think he was once a soldier, with a life; maybe he had kids and a missus, maybe they’re just like him now. It’s hard to picture that when you see him in that state, the only thing human about him now is his uniform.” The man’s face was beginning to freeze; what were once loose flaps of skin had ceased their rapid flailing in the downdraft as they froze, becoming rigid. The movement of its eyes began to slow down until they ceased altogether, staring at nothing in particular.
“I was right,” BB exclaimed. “He is freezing. It would be interesting to see if he would revive when defrosted. It would tell us if we’re safe in the mountains until spring. Think about it, if the whole of Denver freezes and gets snowed in, then perhaps the zombies will freeze completely and the problem will be over. If he doesn’t revive.”
The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever Page 6