Chicago Fell First: A Zombie Novel

by Smith, Aaron

  Not long after sunrise, Danielle had returned with Harrison and Bosc and as much blood as they had been able to safely harvest from the volunteers. Brandon had been happy to see her. She was reunited with Kacey and Doug and reported that the contingent of cancer survivors had left Bellamy, and Henry Brunt had reopened for a day of business as usual at the Mirage. The survivors had all bravely offered to return should more donations be necessary.

  The small band of friends had a breakfast of Irena’s pancakes and waited for the last of their number to arrive. As eleven came, they all wondered—where was Terence Trumbull?

  It was Brandon, with the sharp ears of childhood, who first heard the sound.

  “What’s that noise?”

  “What noise?” Kacey asked, but she heard it too before he could answer.

  The chop-chop-chop, fast and growing louder by the second, caught their attention and they exited Harrison’s cabin to look. Residents of the village had come out too, Fess and Irena and others.

  “Up there!” Fess called out, pointing skyward. A helicopter came into view, coming closer, closer.

  “Clear the area!” Harrison commanded.

  Everyone stepped back. The things that hung on racks outside the houses shook in the wind made by the spinning blades. Pots and pans clattered and animal skins fell to the ground and blew around like leaves. Constable Fess held onto his tattered old hat. It even blew the glowing tip from Raymond Bosc’s cigarette.

  The copter touched down, the blades slowed to a halt, and Terence Trumbull climbed out with a big grin on his face. His suit had been replaced by clothing more appropriate for rugged action: jeans, sneakers and a T-shirt.

  “Terence!” Danielle called out, somewhere between astonishment and laughter. “You stole a helicopter?”

  “Not exactly,” Trumbull said. “I talked somebody into looking the other way while I borrowed it. You’re not the only one who can make a pretty good speech about helping out the human race.”

  “Fair enough,” Danielle nodded. “What are we going to do with it, and what’s all that stuff you got from the store in Heavenport for? Doug said you were kind of vague about it.”

  “Can we go inside and sit down?” Trumbull asked. “I’ve been up all night and I’m hungry.”

  Brandon ran off to play with the village kids again after snapping a salute at Trumbull. The rest of them retreated into Harrison’s cabin once more. Irina brought food for Trumbull and then left the council alone. Trumbull explained as he ate.

  “Chicago is no Heavenport. Chicago is big, too big for a crop-duster. If we have any chance of spreading that mist far and wide enough to even make a dent in the Empty One population of Chicago, we need to get high and we need to use the air, the wind, the sky as our weapon.”

  “Hence the helicopter,” Harrison said.

  “Right,” Trumbull continued. “With the stuff we took from the store in Heavenport, I can rig the copter to carry a tank containing the blood mix. Then I’m going to turn that container into a bomb and install a release mechanism into the carrying gear. We can fly up over Chicago, as far in as we can get before the military makes us turn around, and we can drop that thing from as high up as we can, rigged to blow as it falls, and hopefully it’ll scatter that blood to the wind and carry it enough that it gets into the air in the right amount to go right up the noses of those bastards that are in there making a mess of the city!”

  “What if the army tries to shoot you down?” Danielle asked.

  “That’s what bailing out is for,” Trumbull said. “I’ve got two parachutes stashed in the copter. Two because I need a copilot, somebody who won’t have to fly the thing, but will have to be there to drop the bomb when the moment is right, since it might be hard to maneuver and release the catch at the same time. I don’t exactly have a lot of experience flying those birds.”

  “I’ll do it!” Doug said.

  “Damn it, Doug,” Kacey cut in, “why do you always have to run headfirst into all the crazy shit?”

  “Because,” he shot back, loud at first but lowering his voice gently as he saw the worry on Kacey’s face, “if we have to bail out and end up on the streets, I can fight the zombies if I have to. You’ve seen what I can do.”

  “Are you sure, Doug?” Trumbull asked.

  “Positive.”

  “Thanks. Danielle, you seem to have wound up as our leader. What do you think about it?”

  “I think,” Danielle said, “it sounds crazy and dangerous and the odds might be against it working … but it’s the best we have, so let’s do it.”

  They all spent the afternoon at work, attaching pieces to the helicopter, making a rack to hold and release the cargo of blood and water, putting into place the wires that would detonate it and the controls that would manipulate those wires. When the project was done, it was decided to move at night. A car would be needed, waiting on the outskirts of Chicago, just outside the realm of military presence, to pick up Trumbull and Doug when they flew out of the city and abandoned the helicopter. Neither of them wanted to be arrested, or killed for that matter. Danielle and Kacey would drive to a predetermined spot in Danielle’s car. Danielle would phone Trumbull when they arrived and he and Doug would take to the sky in the helicopter and go ahead with their mission. Kacey insisted on going with Danielle, swore she felt better, and wanted to be there for Doug when the mission reached its conclusion. Harrison, Bosc and Brandon would stay at the village; there was no reason for them all to go and take such risks.

  The call came at nine. Danielle and Kacey were in position by the place where Trumbull had rented his car. Trumbull and Doug allowed themselves to be injected with some of Danielle’s blood as insurance against infection should they come in contact with Empty Ones. They boarded the helicopter after handshakes from Bosc, hugs from Harrison, and waves from Brandon, Fess and Irena. The bird flew into the night sky. The ride was smooth for one guided by a rookie pilot. The equipment was with them: parachutes already strapped to their bodies, a gun for Trumbull and the machete for Doug, infrared glasses for them both in case they had to make their way around the lightless streets of post-dusk Chicago.

  Since the trouble had begun just days ago, Chicago had gone from being a bustling city to a population of walking dead things, with few people remaining. The Empty Ones reigned now. Since the military and police had withdrawn, the situation had grown even worse. Empty Ones wandered everywhere while human survivors had gone into hiding, shaking and trembling in the few safe places left. Buildings were torn apart by Empty Ones seeking human flesh and blood upon which to feed. The prey was growing weaker from lack of food or water or sleep, making them easier to catch and consume. Those not eaten thoroughly enough to cause permanent death soon rose again as soulless, ravenous monsters intent on satisfying their hunger and spreading the Ether-virus to new hosts.

  With the shrinking of the human population, the desperation of the Empty Ones increased and their ferocity grew as they competed for what little food was left.

  The helicopter soared through Illinois, following I-94 down toward the big city. The men spoke little on the way. Trumbull made a remark about hoping the Windy City would live up to its nickname that night and help them spread the seeds of both destruction and salvation. Doug watched the ground rush by below, exhilarated by the experience. He had never flown in a helicopter before and it had his adrenaline going now, pumping and surging and keeping him on full alert. He could feel the shadow-self within him, hoping it could come out and play its game of death before the night was over.

  Danielle and Kacey sat in the car on the streets outside Chicago. The cell phone sat on the dashboard where they both could see it as they waited. They tried small talk but it fizzled fast. The radio wasn’t receiving much either. Danielle sat quiet and hopeful. She looked over and saw that Kacey’s hands were shaking.

  “You okay, Kace?”

  “Yeah … no … I’m worried about Doug.”

  “You love him, don’t y
ou?”

  “Shit, I don’t know. It’s only been a few days but he’s … different than anybody I’ve been with before.”

  “Yeah, he is different.”

  “What’s that mean, Danielle? You think he’s that weird?”

  “Kacey … don’t take it the wrong way. I really have nothing against him, but I have to wonder. I mean … Terence has been a soldier for years, so killing Empty Ones like he’s been doing since this started is as normal for him as killing can be for anybody, I guess. But Doug’s no soldier. He fixes video games for a living … yet he kills those things as easily as Terence does, maybe more easily, and in a dirtier, closer way. And he seems to enjoy it too. To be honest Kacey, he sort of scares me.”

  “Yeah, me too, but that’s part of what makes him so interesting. And he was pretty good in bed too; a little odd, but good!”

  “Well my opinion doesn’t really matter then, does it, Kace? If you two are happy together, that’s great.”

  “Danielle, what will I do if he doesn’t come back from this?”

  The city came into view for Trumbull and Doug. Both were struck by how dark the mass of land looked. What had been among the world’s major cities was now a giant shadow upon the earth, the power out everywhere. Like a medieval kingdom, Chicago was at the mercy of the sun and the stars. They knew it was there only by the ring of lights that surrounded it: the lights of the suburbs, the military encampments around the perimeter and the Coast Guard vessels that were more prevalent on Lake Michigan than ever before.

  “Wow,” Doug said, stunned and having not seen Chicago since before the plague had hit, “it’s like something sucked the life out of the whole city, it’s as empty as the eyes of a zombie.”

  “Doug, don’t start spouting poetry,” Trumbull interrupted, sternly and sharply. “It’s time for honesty. I only brought you along so Danielle and the others would think I might be coming back. If I hadn’t done that, they’d have vetoed my plan and we’d get nowhere with this. This thing needs to be blown up high, really high over the city if it’s got a prayer of working and dispersing the blood enough to hit most of the city if the wind cooperates. This is no game!

  “When we cross that perimeter, and trust me because I know how the army operates, we’re going to set off all kinds of alarms and they’re going to launch fighters to stop us. They’re just doing their jobs and I don’t hold anything against anybody. I’m going to bring us in fast and low and I’m going to slow down just long enough to drop you off on a rooftop or somewhere. Don’t argue! Just shut up and listen; we don’t have time for debate!

  “Take my gun and take my phone. Danielle’s number is saved in my contacts. I’ll drop you off and then you’re on your own. I have faith in your ability to survive and hang on and find your way out. Once you’re out there, I intend to take this copter up high, as high as she goes, as high as I can get her before my former comrades come along and blow me out of the sky. That’s the way it has to be, the only way we can kill those Empty motherfuckers and save whatever real people are left in Chicago. Dropping the canister won’t do it. I was just putting on a show. This is how it has to be. I’ve known for days that I’d die in Chicago. At least I’ll be doing some good. Is that understood?”

  Doug nodded. Part of him had known from the start that things would go this way. He had hoped he was wrong. All at once, he admired Trumbull and mourned for the loss of him. He felt an incredible rage that they had been forced into such a situation, but he did not argue. He thought of the Empty Ones and knew the sacrifice would be a worthy one. He took the gun and the phone and stuffed them securely into his belt as the copter crossed the line of lights that surrounded the dying city.

  Doug’s stomach lurched as the copter dove down over Chicago. They crossed the outer areas of the city at high speed and Trumbull began to slow the vessel. Doug could see shadowy rooftops and a few quick punctuations of light that were, he guessed, torches or flashlights used by survivors who still held out hope in the lost city.

  They went lower, speed decreasing to a hovering crawl. A grouping of apartment buildings waited under the copter. The rooftops below were flat, with enough room for Doug to land on and roll if he had to without toppling over the side and falling to the street below.

  “Now, Doug, go!” Trumbull cried out.

  Doug said nothing. He shoved the door open and rolled out, grunting as he hit the rooftop with his shoulder and hip, hard enough to knock the wind out of him without breaking anything. He scrambled to his feet in time to watch the copter rise in a steady upward climb.

  “Goodbye, friend,” Doug said as he watched the bird of prey grow smaller until it was only lights that shone like eyes in the night sky. No one heard him speak those two words.

  Knowing he could do no more for Trumbull, Doug turned his attention to his own surroundings. He was atop a building of ten stories or so, he estimated. He could hear the sounds of movement on the street below once the noise from the helicopter was sufficiently distant. He donned his night-vision goggles to have a look.

  Terence Trumbull kept climbing, higher and higher as the ground shrunk away below him and the darkness of night surrounded the vehicle in which he knew he would breathe his last.

  As he rose above corrupted Chicago, his life ran through his mind like old movies, but not everything he had witnessed or been part of in his time. He saw no scenes from his childhood or his adolescence or his time as a chaplain among soldiers. He saw only the violent times, the years of sweat and blood and action, the periods when he truly felt that his work, dirty and cruel as it was, mattered. He saw Africa and saw Chicago. And in both he saw the Empty Ones, twisted and hungry and raging as if taunting him with their animalistic ways.

  Trumbull smiled as he realized he was no longer alone in the sky over the city. His prediction had been right and two fellow warriors now joined him, each flying in at great speed, each in a deadly metal bird of his own.

  The earth was far below now and Trumbull found it hard to breathe as company came closer, engines roaring like the trumpets of Armageddon. The helicopter would go no higher and Trumbull’s lungs would take no more pressure. He let go of the cyclic stick and released the collective lever and anti-torque pedals. He closed his eyes and saw the faces of his friends. He thought of the bravery of Danielle, the intensity of Doug, the innocent curiosity of Brandon. And then he saw the Empty Ones again, the ones that had torn each other to pieces in Africa and the ones that prowled the streets of Chicago far below. Had Terence Trumbull been able to breathe, and thus to speak, at that instant, he would have said “See you in Hell,” to every Empty One that had ever tainted the face of the world from the beginning of time to its end.

  As it turned out, he spoke no such words, but simply thought them as the two fighter pilots who had no idea that their target was trying to save the world blew him out of the sky.

  Doug saw Empty Ones down below. They milled about on the street with their stumbling steps and hungry moans that worked up into growls as the volume rose. Doug’s fists clenched at his sides as he thought of the pain those things had inflicted and the disease they had spread, the fear and despair they had caused. He wanted his shadow-self now, wanted to surrender control to his violent, perhaps more pure side. He wanted to destroy those Empty Ones.

  The sound echoed far overhead and Doug looked up into the night to see the burst of fire and death and he knew that Trumbull had gone the way of heroes who gave all for the mission. He hoped the sacrifice would be enough. He held his shadow-self in check and lowered his head for a moment’s mourning. He took the cell phone from his belt and called Danielle.

  When the phone on the dashboard rang, both women reached for it at once. Danielle got there first.

  “Danielle, this is Doug,” the voice said. He sounded out of breath.

  “What’s happened?” Danielle asked. “Are you guys okay? We thought we saw something, just a flash maybe. How did it go?”

  “I’m okay. I’m in th
e city, on a roof. But … Terence…”

  “No! Oh fuck!” Danielle said before Doug could finish the news. She knew.

  “But he did what he meant to do, I think. The explosion,” Doug told her, “had to send the blood and the water and ash and fire to the wind. If it has any chance of working, he gave it all he could. I’m sorry, but he said it had to be this way.”

  “I know,” Danielle said, her voice cracking. “I think I knew before, but I wouldn’t let myself understand. Can you get to us?”

  “Not tonight,” Doug told her. “It’s dark and I’m deep inside the city, too far away. Go back to Harrison’s village. It might take me a few days to get out of here even if the explosion does its job. I don’t know what might happen now, how the army might react if it did work. You can’t sit there and wait for me. Just go. I’ll get there somehow. And tell Kacey that … that I’ll see her soon.”

  “I will,” Danielle said. “Be careful, Doug.”

  “Let me talk to him!” Kacey shouted, loud enough to make Danielle cringe, but it was too late. Doug had hung up.

  Doug stuffed the phone in his pocket and looked back down at the street. The Empty Ones still searched for food, sniffing at the air and grunting as they walked. Doug was sure the plan would work, given a little time for the air to spread the killing blood. It had to work; he refused to believe fate would be so cruel as to allow Trumbull’s death to be for nothing. But Doug was weary now and had grown tired of keeping his guard up. He sighed in resignation and opened the door for his shadow-self to come to the surface.

  He smiled then, rejuvenated and ready. The machete came out. He kicked the rooftop door open, and went sprinting down the many steps to street level. He hoped the blood in the air, if successful, would leave the Empty Ones alive long enough for him to have some fun with them.