by Perrin Briar
He turned to Chris.
“Have you ever flown one of these before?”
“Oh yes, all the time.”
“No need for sarcasm. It’s actually rather simple.”
Bryan led Chris to the front seat. There were a series of levers and pedals.
“All you do is press the red button there, and it’ll start,” he said. “Pull on this lever and you will start moving forward. Once you’re going fast enough you’ll begin to fly. Then, when you’re up in the air, increase or decrease speed as you require. Only once you’re up in the air should you use this other lever. Push forward to turn left, pull back to turn right. That’s it.”
“Why don’t you and your wife take it?”
Bryan looked sad then, his face drooping.
“It’s too late for us,” he said. “You go. Save your little one. The landing will be the trickiest part. Just find a nice long flat piece of land, come in straight, and gradually reduce speed.”
Together they pushed the light aircraft out of the barn and into the open field. Behind them the zombies banged on the fence with open palms. The fence swayed.
“Trust me,” Bryan said, “it’s not difficult once you get the hang of it. Who knows, you might be able to fly the whole way, land on the emergency landing roof at the hospital and get in easy.”
“It’s never that easy,” Chris said. “But thank you.”
There was a crash somewhere beyond the rim of trees.
“They’ve broken through the fence,” Bryan said. “We don’t have much time.”
“This thing is a death trap,” George said.
“Staying here is a bigger death trap, believe me.”
Still with obvious reservations, George climbed into the backseat. His knees pressed against the seat in front. Chris picked Maisie up and put her in his lap. Groans drew deep, long and drawn-out from the woods.
“But what about you?” Chris said to Bryan.
“I’m an old man. I’ve lived my life. You must go. Now! You take care of that little girl. She’s the most precious thing you’ll ever have.”
Chris climbed into the front seat and pressed the red button. The grass swirled, the engine thrumming like a hummingbird. The thin frame shook. Chris looked over at Bryan and smiled his thanks. Bryan wrapped his arms around himself.
The aircraft shook and shuddered. Chris applied the speed and it pushed forward. The ground rushed beneath them, becoming a green blur. Chris’s stomach felt like it was several feet behind himself. The aircraft began to lift, the wheels rising off the ground, and then touched down again.
Chris felt a tap on his shoulder and then followed George’s outstretched finger. Up ahead, the pale dead skin of a dozen zombies emerged out from between the trees. All eyes focused on the small aircraft.
Chris felt the temptation to slow down, turn around and escape, but instead he pushed the throttle up full. The aircraft juddered under the strain and lifted up from the ground again, but the wheels returned to the ground. The zombies were getting larger, closer, their eyes wide, their torn faces coming into view.
Chris increased the throttle further, as far as it would go. Chris could make out the missing chipped teeth in the zombies’ mouths. The aircraft’s wheels left the ground again, but this time Chris sensed something different as he was pushed back into his seat. The front of the aircraft lifted up, pointing at the sky. The closest zombies reached for the aircraft. There was a clang as a protruding metal pipe struck a zombie’s head, and they were off into the sky.
Z-MINUS: 2 HOURS 8 MINUTES
Bryan pumped his fist into the air with joy, watching the aircraft climb higher, the flashing light on the bottom growing tiny as it ascended. But his smile faded when he saw the zombies approaching, their hard white eyes locked onto him. He turned and ran back into the house.
He was out of breath by the time he got to the top of the stairs. He went down the hall to the main bedroom and shut the door behind himself. He forced a chair under the door handle.
“They’ve gone,” he said. “But I’ve got bad news. I gave them the light aircraft.”
He held up his hands as if pre-empting an argument.
“I know, I know,” he said. “We planned on using it, but the truth is we never would have used it, would we? Now we don’t have to pretend we could go somewhere.”
Her hair was plastered to her forehead. The belt buckle shone against the pale skin of her wrist, the leather straining as she pulled against it. Her jaws chattered together and she groaned lightly under her breath. Bryan sat on the side of the bed. There was a loud crash downstairs.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t a better husband to you, Emma,” Bryan said. “I’ve been with many other women over the years, but my heart always belonged to you. I suppose at least now I can finally set you free.”
Slow ponderous footsteps thudded up the stairs, zombie moans growing louder. The door was knocked forward and the chair brayed across the floor. Bryan took up his gun and pressed the cold steel against his skin. He aimed it at Emma.
“Go to Abigail now,” he said. “I’ll join you shortly.”
Bryan pulled the trigger, and his wife’s body went limp. He stared at her limbs hanging over the edges of the bed, overcome with shock. He felt the grief begin to rise in his chest, the water to his eyes. He took the gun in both hands, felt the cold circles under his chin, and pulled the trigger.
Z-MINUS: 2 HOURS 5 MINUTES
The wind whipped at their faces and the engine bayed. Chris’s stomach felt like it was travelling a hundred yards behind him. There were few clouds in the sky, letting the dying sunlight strike their bare skin, keeping them warm. At the times when the wind died down there was the disconcerting aroma of oil. A breeze picked up beneath them and pushed them up into the air. The ground lay before them, a patchwork quilt of greens, browns and yellows. Thousands of dark dots, like ants, strolled with awkward movements.
“It’s so peaceful up here,” Chris said.
George grunted.
“Shame we can’t stay up here forever,” he said.
George grunted again. Chris looked back to see George hugging Maisie tight like she were a lifejacket, his eyes clenched shut tight, head thrown back against the view below.
“I take it you’re not a big fan of heights?” Chris said. “Neither am I usually, but for some reason this doesn’t bother me too much.”
“That’s because you’ve been living with your head up in the clouds for years,” George said.
“Ho ho. You’re hilarious.”
Sunlight glinted golden off the River Thames that wound like a snake through the city of London. Chris’s heart swelled and for the first time he allowed himself to hope.
“We’re going to make it,” he said in a small voice. “We’re almost there.”
There was a rattling sound from inside the engine. The aircraft descended slightly before returning back to its original height.
“What’s that?” George said.
“It’s nothing,” Chris said, tapping the various dials. “Probably just air in the pipes or something.”
Then the engine chugged like an old tractor, and the aircraft’s frame juddered under the strain. Chris looked over his shoulder to see black smoke pouring out the back. Chris reduced speed and brought the aircraft down.
The grey lumps on the ground began to take shape, forming swathes of destroyed buildings. The streets were packed with cars parked haphazardly, and sprinkled about the destruction, dark shapes turned in slow circles to look at the approaching disturbance. The aircraft began to turn, entering a slow spin. Chris pulled on the lever, but nothing happened.
“Daddy!” Maisie screamed.
“Hold on!” Chris said.
He spotted a smudge of green out the corner of his eye. The engine roared in their ears. Chris pulled the accelerator back, slowing the aircraft down. Maisie screamed. The wind howled like a monster on the loose as the ground rushed up to meet them.
Z-MINUS: 1 HOUR 58 MINUTES
Chris started awake, the sudden movement sending a solid jolt of pain through his brain. He scrunched up his face, keeping his eyes shut tight. As the pain subsided he opened his eyes. He was staring at the ground, flecks of white aircraft hull scattered about like snow. The ground seemed to be close, but when Chris extended his arm he found his fingertips did not even graze the blades of grass.
His head felt heavy, and throbbed with the beating of his heart. He was at an angle where his head was closest to the ground, his back firmly in the driving seat. The controls, with its levers and buttons, were gone.
Chris felt a tingling sensation in his thigh. A rod from the aircraft’s frame protruded like a reed in a pond. He was vaguely aware he felt little pain in the area, and he knew he must be in shock. Seizing the opportunity, despite feeling sick to his stomach, he gripped the rod, slippery with the coating of his blood, and yanked it out of his body. He felt the squelching of his leg muscle as he pulled it free, spitting out a spurt of blood. He grunted in pain and saw black spots in his vision that he thought were a sign he would pass out soon. He hissed between his teeth. After a moment his vision returned and the pain in his leg gradually grew more pronounced, a cold sweat breaking out.
“Chris?” George’s voice said. “Are you all right?”
His voice came from somewhere to Chris’s right.
“Yes, I’m fine. How’s Maisie?”
George emerged into the light beside Maisie. He had a purple knot on his big bulbous head.
“She’s fine,” George said. “A few bumps and bruises, but nothing major.”
“How about you?”
“You know me. Tough as old boots.”
“We need to get going, before something finds us. Why is it that every time I get into a vehicle I end up crashing in it?”
“Maybe you're just lucky,” George said. “But do me a favour and next time don't invite me along for the ride.”
Something snapped in the woods to Chris’s left. The foliage shook, and a deep resonating groan pierced Chris to the bone.
“I’m afraid we’re too late,” George said.
Chris fumbled at the safety harness that held him in place. He hit the release button but nothing happened. He pressed it again and again, but it still didn’t budge.
“Get out of here, George,” Chris said. “Take her somewhere safe!”
The foliage shook and a pale form flittered from between the boughs. George pulled at Chris’s harness.
“Get out of here,” Chris said. “Take her!”
“I can’t leave you here!”
“You can, and you will.”
Tears spilled down Maisie’s face.
“Maisie, look at me,” Chris said. “Take George’s hand. Go with him. He’s going to take you to the cure.”
The foliage rustled again, and the torn bloody features of a dozen zombies lurched out. One got snagged on a protrusion of branch, tugging on his saggy skin. George picked up a shard of metal, its edge jagged and sharp. He used it like a saw to hack through the harness straps. He cut through one, the fibre tough and resilient. George started, dropping the shard of metal. Blood seeped from a nasty-looking gash on his index finger. It didn’t seem to be painful.
“I said go!” Chris said.
George looked back at the approaching zombies, already over halfway to them, lumbering in their unnatural gait.
“I’m sorry,” George said.
He took off with Maisie, his giant hand engulfing hers. Chris pulled at his harness, rocking left and right, pressing his weight against it, but the straps did not give. A piercing scream echoed across the flat landscape from the direction Maisie and George had gone.
The zombies were almost on him. He could smell their cloying fetid stench. They reached out for him, their groaning all-encompassing. Chris shut his eyes and gritted his teeth, letting out a terrified groan of his own that shook his whole body.
Blam blam blam!
The zombies lay crumpled on the ground. The retort snapped Chris out of his fear as a squad of soldiers in crouched positions emerged from behind a hedge, guns swivelling and aiming at anything that came at them. The leader approached Chris.
“Enjoying a nice stroll in the park, were we?” he said.
Z-MINUS: 1 HOUR 45 MINUTES
“We saw you flying overhead,” the captain said, tucking a thick thread of black hair behind his ear. “We were hoping to salvage your aircraft and use it for recon missions, but seeing as you crashed it, there’s not much chance of that now, is there?”
The soldier was young, early twenties, but carried himself with a confident assurance that came only with years of patient gun drills and practice. A large sign with childlike images proudly proclaimed they were now leaving Victoria park.
“Just where in God’s name did you get your hands on a light aircraft?” the captain said. “Every airfield we’ve come to, most of the planes have either been set on fire or destroyed.”
“We met an old man who had it lying around,” Chris said, shrugging his shoulders. “He wasn’t using it.”
“He wasn’t using it! You make it sound like you were just borrowing his copy of Elton John’s Greatest Hits! And you say he built it himself? Man, we could do with skilled men like that. Can you remember where he lives?”
“No. And it wouldn’t help if I did.”
The soldiers’ eyes lowered.
“Oh. I see,” he said. “That’s a shame. We need more men like your friend. We’re pretty thin on the ground when it comes to engineers.”
They came to an empty street that fed into a crossroads. There were black skid marks and bent signposts. There was something off about it that for a moment Chris couldn’t put his finger on.
“Where are all the cars?” he said. “Everywhere we’ve been the roads have been packed with cars. But here, none.”
The soldier smiled.
“There’s a very good reason for that,” he said. “If you stick around you might discover what.”
A pair of jeeps flew down the road with armed soldiers standing on the back. Chris squeezed Maisie’s hand and felt her cold clammy skin. Her legs were stiff and awkward. Chris walked quickly, pulling her arm so she looked like she was struggling to keep up, disguising her strange gait.
They came to a small hut with a long extended wooded arm that was currently up. The guard waved for a jeep to pass, and it drove through. The arm lowered back down. The guard, a fat middle-aged man with small piggy black eyes met them.
“Hey Leo,” he said.
“Hey, Harry,” the captain said.
“More stragglers, I see. Brings your total up to about, what? Twenty?”
“Twenty-one. I think the extra rations are in the bag this month.”
“You’re a lucky shit, you know that?”
“We’ve got undead coming in hot across the park.”
“Damn undead are creeping up our asses! I wondered why the soldiers were rushing out there.”
Harry the guard looked at Chris and the others.
“Sorry looking bunch, aren’t they?” he said.
“Maybe, but they were the ones in control of the light aeroplane we saw earlier.”
“Aircraft,” Maisie corrected.
“You don’t say,” Harry said.
“Any word yet from Station Five?” Captain Leo said.
“Not yet.”
“You think they might have been overrun?”
“Maybe. We sent scouts to go check on them.”
“When will they get back?”
“Should have been back already.”
Leo nodded, his mood solemn.
“Well, give them a quick pass and I’ll get them set up,” he said.
Harry reached for something behind the small hut and brought out a medium-sized dog. It was black with light brown eyebrows and a circle over its lips like it was poking its tongue out. The dog sniffed at Chris’s boots.
“What’s goin
g on?” Chris said.
“No one who’s been infected enters the camp,” Leo said. “Dogs can smell if you’ve been infected. You look clean.”
The dog moved onto Maisie, but before it got close Chris stepped in front of it.
“I need to see your commander,” Chris said.
“No one sees the commander without an appointment,” Leo said.
“He’s going to want to know what I know.”
“We’ve already discovered you don’t know shit about engineering. There’s nothing much else we’re in need of right now. So, how about we-”
“There’s going to be a zombie invasion. Ten thousand of them are heading straight for us.”
Harry and Leo exchanged a look.
“Ten thousand, you say?” Leo said.
“Maybe more.”
“How do you know this?”
“You saw me up in the light aeroplane.”
“Aircraft,” Maisie said.
“I saw miles and miles of highly concentrated pockets of zombies,” Chris said. “One very close to this area. You said you wanted a recon mission. I’ve got all the info.”
“Where are they?”
“Take me to your commander and I’ll tell you.”
Leo pursed his lips.
“No,” he said. “You might be lying.”
“We were flying here because we heard there was a cure. If there was a cure, you can be sure the armed forces will be keeping it well-guarded, which I can see it is. But if you don’t have protocols in place to bring any and all valuable information about a zombie invasion to your commander, perhaps I was mistaken.”
Chris took Maisie’s hand.
“Come on, Maisie, George,” he said. “We’ll have to find somewhere else to live out the apocalypse, because this place sure isn’t going to last long.”
They turned and began to head away. George sidled up to Chris.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he said. “That was meant to be our way into the research facility!”
“If that dog had been allowed to sniff Maisie they would never have let her in, and who knows what they do to infected here? And then any suggestions I made after that they wouldn’t have believed because suddenly I’m just a desperate father who would do anything to save his daughter. They would never have let us see their commander.”