Turning, Max observed the reaction of the soldiers with the colonel. To a person, they had their weapons aimed at Max, their expression tense and fingers caressing the triggers. Two of them were in mid-run and tackled Max, slamming him to the ground. Wrenching his hands behind his back, they proceeded to slap zip-ties on his wrists and ankles.
The Colonel walked over politely stated, “You do know that I have the right to shoot anyone that doesn’t comply with my orders, son.”
“Uuuhhhh…sir I uuuhhhh,” Max stammered his reply.
The colonel ordered his men to cut the ties on his ankles and to stand him up. The colonel approached to within inches of Max’s nose.
“If I were you, I would get back in that fancy SUV and depart the area before I decide to use my discretion and kill your dumb ass!”
After hanging up with Max, Lisa looked out of the large-paned windows in the front of the building. Knowing her dad, and knowing how he thought, she immediately scanned the room for a way out. She could see her dad showing up in an ambulance, a SWAT van, or something equally as outrageous in an attempt to free her with some kind of story. While her confidence in him was high, it was also realistic. She remembered the stories her uncle Ryan always told about him and his antics. No matter what the story was, they all had the same ending. The success rate of his schemes was notoriously low.
“You can’t steal a base if you‘re afraid to try!” her dad would say.
The meaning of that saying was, as he would go on to explain, that Ty Cobb held the record for stolen bases for many years not because he was fast, but because he was willing to try.
“Do you know who Brady Anderson is? No? Exactly. Brady Anderson has the highest percentage of stolen bases ever, but nobody knows who he is because he only stole a base when he was ninety-nine percent sure he would make it,” he would continue.
With that in mind, she casually walked to the baggage conveyor and sat down next to the luggage chute. Keeping her attention focused outside, she wasn’t surprised when, several minutes later, a black Land Rover squealed to a stop in front of the building and out jumped her dad. She watched as he started yelling at the guy in charge and making a scene. She couldn’t hear what was being said but it was apparent he was trying one of his schemes. Everyone in the quarantine area watched the display out front, including the young Guardsmen that were supposed to be watching the detainees. With everyone’s attention on her dad, she eased onto the carousel and positioned herself right below the conveyor belt, and waited.
BANG! A shot went off. She jumped to her feet to get a better view, fearing that her dad had gone too far and had been shot. She was relieved to see him still standing and apparently unharmed. Taking two steps back, she disappeared down the conveyor belt and out of view. She huddled at the bottom of the conveyor, listening for the yells that would indicate her escape attempt was known.
Ryan 3:00 am Cathlamet Ferry Puget Sound Washington
The Wi-Fi dropped. “Fricken Great! Now I’m in the dark, both literally and figuratively”
I turned off my phone to save the battery life still remaining, which hovered around thirty percent. There was no use having it on without a signal or connection. I hadn’t heard anything outside of the closet for about an hour. Did I mention that I have a problem with claustrophobia?
I had to get out of this damn storeroom and get to the car. I carried a few survival items in my laptop backpack and my knife was still stowed in there as well. I was surprised when I opened the pack earlier and saw it in there. I had completely forgotten it was there when I packed and headed to the airport.
So much for TSA and their thoroughness with finding weapons.
The survival knife was a small folding job with an LED flashlight, a whistle, and a fire starter all built into it. Thinking that I should probably find some kind of weapon before I tried the door, I found the light switch and flipped it…nothing. I guess the power was gone. That would answer why the Wi-Fi dropped. I fumbled around the closet, feeling for something, anything, to use as a weapon. With a shake of my head and feeling a little stupid, I pulled out the phone back and turned it back on. Using it as a flashlight, I examined the interior of my hideout. I had been sitting on the edge of the janitors sink this entire time. Across from me there was a metal cabinet. I opened it, thankful that it didn’t squeak on its hinges. Inside was a bunch of toilet paper on the top shelf.
At least I won’t die with a stinky ass! I stifled a laugh that threatened to spill out.
On the second shelf there were a few things that might come in handy. Duct tape, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers. The rest of the shelves were full of cleaning supplies. Staring at the items, I wished that I had my bug-out bag.
Here I am. All this prep for an eventuality like this, and it’s thousands of miles away, I thought, shaking my head at the irony.
I had a book in it that had the instructions for making a bomb out of everyday household cleaners. I had no clue how to make one without some guidance.
My dad’s voice echoed in my head, “If wishes were fishes, no one would go hungry!”
“Yeah, thanks dad.”
I took a closer look at the cleaning supplies. On the bottom shelf was a bottle of bleach. I grabbed it and it felt about half full. What can I say? I’m a half full not half empty kind of person. While I didn’t see an immediate use for it, it can be used to purify water. I had been drinking from the sink in little sips throughout the night, but now the faucets would only give a dribble – another sign that the ferry’s power plant was offline. My search of the closet turned up only one other item of use, a mop. While I was not about to swab the decks with it, the handle was made of thick wood with a rubber coating for a grip. I needed to break it, but hesitated to make that much noise. Weighing the pros and cons, I decided to risk it. I put it on the floor and propped the mop end up on the bottom shelf of the cabinet. I wanted it to break toward the end; I took a deep breath and put my weight on it.
CRACK! I held my breath, listening for any sign that I had disturbed the freaks. Nothing, that’s good.
Turning off my phone, I returned it in my pocket. I was now armed with a four-foot spear in my hands, a hammer wedged in my belt, and a couple of screwdrivers in my back pocket. I couldn’t figure a way to carry the bleach so I placed it back on the shelf. The duct tape went into my North Face windbreaker. I was missing my 9mm and my dad’s voice threatened to invade my head again. I found the door handle and suddenly had the urge to relieve myself. Fortunately, I found the mop bucket.
That will lessen the chances that I will pee myself when one of those freaks jumps out at me from the dark… Okay, here goes nothing.
As quietly as possible, I opened the door a crack. A stench assaulted my nose.
Oh Jeez, the smell is a mixture of crap and carrion!
The door opened outward so I couldn’t immediately see very much of the interior. The main lighting was gone but the emergency battery-operated lights bathed the area in a pool of lukewarm half-light. In reality, it was better than it had been when I went into the closet. It wasn’t bright but I could still see fairly well. My heart was pounding as I nervously glanced around, expecting to be attacked at any moment. Nothing happened. I opened the door a few more inches and listened intently for any sign of the freaks.
The fact that I didn’t hear anything was just about as bad as hearing something, anything…I stood for what seemed like an hour, although I’m sure it was probably more like ten minutes. In all of the zombie books I had read, this was the part where the zombies would grab the door, wrench if from the person’s grip, and proceed to make him into an unhappy meal. My pulse climbed to about one eighty. Beads of sweat ran down my brow and I had to remind myself to breathe.
Zombies? When had I started to think of them as Zombies?
I eased out of the door and stood still.
These things are not like any Zombies I’ve ever seen or read about. Focus dammit or you’ll most certainly not
get a chance to reclassify the thing that eats you!
I was startled to see the remains of the woman that I originally tried to rescue. She was definitely no longer overweight. Lying in a wide pool of drying blood, there were only shreds of flesh clinging to her arms, face and ribcage. Thankfully the rest of her was hidden by a row of seats. I felt bile rising in my throat and it was all I could do not to heave the remains of my dinner all over the place. After another hour — ten actual minutes — I decided that standing wasn’t going to accomplish much. Forcing my legs to move, I sidled down the wall one slow step at a time. Every brush of my clothing, every crack of my joints, sounded like a rock concert. The stairwell was about five feet away. In order to get to the car, I would have to go around the end of the wall and then head back down the steps toward the front of the ferry.
Although my car was on the main level, it was toward the stern. The only reason I chose this stairway to come up last night was because I had spotted a military Humvee on the same deck toward the bow and wanted to check it out. When I had walked up to the Humvee, I saw a couple of guys in fatigues slumped over sleeping in the front seats. I decided I would be better off not bothering them.
I laughingly thought at the time, They probably have my picture broadcast online as the one guy that got away at SeaTac.
The five feet to the stairs seemed like a mile. My panting breath and sweat trickling down my sides made it feel like I sprinted that distance by the time I made it to the stairwell entrance. I slowly worked my way down to the main deck, listening for any sounds. There was nothing but the creaking of the ferry riding on the swells. Descending, I felt the rolling of the vessel.
I have to come up with a better name for these things. Zombies won’t do. Hmmm…Oh for Pete’s sake man, FOCUS!”
I could feel the terror building. It was a fear that went down to my very bones. Stairwells are creepy enough, but with what I had observed, and with the total hush now prevalent, the one I was descending took on a sinister aspect. The swinging doors at the bottom of the stairs were like a mental brick wall. I couldn’t force myself to go through them.
I could hear everyone in the theater shouting at me, “No! Don’t go out there!”
Standing in the darkened stairwell, the faint green light from the exit sign above me barely illuminating the door, I steeled myself and cracked the right side door open an inch. The lighting on the other side was no better, no worse. Moonlight shone through the sides, bathing everything in silver and deep shadow. Other than the moon beams, a few emergency lights cast pools of light in places. Staring through the crack, I pictured a freak behind every car.
C'mon Ryan! Are you a man or a mouse?
Taking a deep breath, I crept through the door and scanned the area. I thought of the two National Guard guys in the Humvee. I slowly worked my way to the aisle of cars. WHUMP!
My heart jumped clean out of my chest and I damn near screamed. If it wasn’t for the sharp intake of breath that I held, I would have. I whipped the mop handle around, hitting the car next to me. Inside, one of the freaks was smashing into the window trying to get at me. Its shriek was muffled inside the Cadillac sedan. Even though I relieved myself earlier, I still felt a small trickle of warmth run down my leg.
So much for preventative measures, I thought, staring at the pale face, its hands hammering at the glass.
I turned and ran toward the Humvee, hoping that the guys there could help me. Two steps past the Caddy another freak emerged from between the cars ahead. I didn’t think. I didn’t slow down. I kept running and held my makeshift spear out in front of me. The freak launched through the air, letting out a loud and unworldly shriek. My shoulders jarred with the impact of my spear hitting it at the base of its neck. The shriek ended with a gurgle. A shower of hot blood splashed across my face and drenched my jacket. I let go of the spear and did my best fullback impression. Tucking my shoulder down to my knee, I knocked the airborne freak ass over tea kettle and continued running toward the bow.
Ahead on the right was a bulkhead door. It had a wheel in the middle to lock it down for a watertight seal. I slid to a stop in front of the door and grabbed the wheel. Quickly spinning it, I soon realized that it had already been unlocked and that I had just engaged the mechanism. I glanced up just in time to see another freak bearing down on me from the other direction. As it ran through a pool of light, I saw that it was wearing fatigues.
Oh great, I bet this one knows judo.
Frantically, I reached for the hammer in my belt. I just cleared it when I was jarred from the impact. Falling backward, I twisted. We rolled and I ended up on top. Breaking my hand free from the freak’s clawing, I swung down as hard as I could. It sounded and felt like I had just burst a watermelon like Gallagher. The struggling figure went limp.
Breathing heavily, I rose quickly and stepped back to the hatch. I released the mechanism and stepped through, slamming it shut behind me and spinning the wheel.
A sudden, panicked thought coursed through my mind, Did I just lock myself into a room full of these things?
I spun around and raised the hammer. Nothing. I slumped to the floor on a big coil of rope. I was in the forward line locker where they kept the lines used for tying up the ferry when it was docked.
Max & Lisa 7:15 pm SeaTac Airport
Well, storming the front entrance didn’t work and there’s no way in from on top. That leaves the basement.
Max drove around the loop like he was leaving the airport. Just as he entered the on-ramp for the interstate he pulled over and drove down the embankment to a copse of trees. He hadn’t done any stealthy ground work since he left Fort Lewis in 1976 as an army grunt. Back then it was just him and a bunch of other teenagers getting high and stumbling around the woods. He moved down the manmade ravine to a massive culvert. The conduit was so large that he didn’t have to bend over to traverse the fifty-foot passage. It took him a little over an hour to get to the fence surrounding the airport. Figuring that he had about two hours of daylight left, well, maybe an hour and a half, he might just be able to climb the fence in that length of time.
*****
Emerging within a jungle of twisting conveyor belts, Lisa made her way to a catwalk that followed the maze of the baggage delivery system.
Jeez, no wonder they lose so many of the bags that come through here.
She had to duck-walk in most places to get past the intertwined system. Twenty feet below her, she could see a couple of workers. They were wearing ear muffs so she wasn’t concerned they would hear her, but she was afraid they would look up and see her. Her only plan at this point was to get away from the airport without being caught, and call her dad. She was sure he would be figuring another way to get her out and she was afraid he might get thrown into the quarantine just to find her.
Checking her phone for the fourth time since she had slipped out of the baggage claim area, she still didn’t have a signal. She stared at the screen hoping for the magic bars to appear as she ducked an overhead convey. Concentrating on her phone, she didn’t see the control cable lying in her path. Unable to gain her balance, she fell head first off the catwalk. Knowing she wouldn’t get away from a twenty-foot fall without injury, or at a minimum, alerting the workers, Lisa was surprised by the sudden arrest of her tumble. Momentarily confused, she looked about and realized that she had only fallen eight feet. Her belly-flop of a landing was softened by an overstuffed duffel bag.
Thank God for duffel bags and those that stuff them, she thought as she sucked in air trying to catch her breath.
Checking to see if her fall alerted anyone, she gained her feet after confirming her trip had gone unnoticed. Ahead, she spotted a set of stairs leading off the carnival ride she found herself on. Belly crawling down the conveyor belt, she made it to the stairs.
I just have to make it to the doors over there and I will be out!
“HEY! YOU! What in the hell are you doing down here, hot stuff?” a voice called, echoing in the cavern
ous area.
One of the guys she had observed earlier was standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at her.
“You’ve been a very naughty girl” he stated, leering at her breasts.
She spun to head farther up the stairs and paused. Realizing that he knew this place, where the stairs led, and where the catwalks went, he would most certainly catch her. Knowing she really didn’t have any other choice, she turned back to him and smiled.
“Well good looking, are you going to give me a spanking?”
His eyes lit up like he had just won the lottery! “Oh hell yes!”
As his foot touched the bottom stair, a shriek erupted, sounding like a demon that had just received his wings in hell. The noise coursed through the vast underground complex. With the scream, the man’s smile slipped and he was blindsided. A co-worker, still wearing his hard hat, barreled into him.
Lisa watched in shock. To her, it looked as if the attacker’s jaw literally unhinged as he bit into his co-worker’s neck. The sound of flesh ripping as heard through screams of pain as a huge chunk of flesh was torn. Blood spurted everywhere with some splashing on Lisa’s face. The feel of warm liquid spraying on her cheeks and forehead shook her from her paralysis. Without another thought, she turned and raced down the stairs, taking two a time. She ran like the devil himself was at her heels, which she actually thought he might be.
Barely slowing, she plowed through the doors and found herself at the bottom of an outdoor set of concrete steps ascending toward the back of the terminal building. Pausing only for the briefest of seconds, she ran up the stairs almost faster than she had descended. At the top, she found herself on a landscaped berm that led down over an embankment. She pushed her way through the hedges and ran sideways down the hill. Arriving at the bottom, she looked to her left.
A New World: Untold Stories Page 23