Black Fever: A Post-Apocalyptic Survival Thriller (The Black Storm Trilogy Book 2)

by Mark Gillespie

  Cody twisted his head to the left.

  He saw three massive objects sitting in the distance. Cody recognized them as the three Alaska Airlines planes he’d seen sitting on the apron outside Gate A5, just before they’d taken off.

  Nick was right. They’d gotten away just in time. The Black Fever had probably sent thousands of crazed people to tear the airport to shreds, to lay waste to everything in sight. They must have worked fast. How long had it taken to cause such horrendous damage?

  Cody suddenly remembered that the Dodge Challenger was sitting outside the airport. His heart sunk.

  “Bastards,” he said. What hope was there that they’d left his car untouched?

  From further down the aisle, Cody heard the mob letting loose on Nick.

  “You told us she wouldn’t get on this plane Nick Norton,” a woman’s voice said. “What was that big speech you gave us before we took off? You said this plane was Black Widow-proof. Now what the hell do we do?”

  “You’re alive aren’t you?” Nick said. “Count your blessings.”

  “So much for your great escape plan Nick,” a nasally voiced man said. “Real good job.”

  One distressed passenger – a man of about thirty – pounded his fists off the side of the fuselage as hard as he could. He was like a man trapped inside a sinking ship with nowhere to go but down. Nobody knew what to say to him.

  “There’s something else out there,” a woman’s shrill voice cried out. She was peering out of a window on the opposite side of the plane from where Cody stood. “You see it?”

  Cody spun around, alerted by the surprised tone in her voice. He hurried back into the aisle and squeezed down a vacant row of seats on the other side of the plane. He pressed his face up close to the window.

  He was looking towards downtown San Antonio. To his surprise, it was no longer a city under siege. There was only a vast, sprawling darkness out there. No more fire. No smoke lingering above the city.

  “The fires are out,” Cody said. He screwed his face up. “How long were we up there Nick?”

  Nick took several steps down the aisle, moving away from the mob.

  “Honestly man,” he said. “I don’t know. Everything’s a bit foggy upstairs.”

  Cody turned back towards the window. Now he could see what the woman with the shrill voice had pointed out just seconds earlier. From somewhere in the distance, a small circle of blue light was flashing in the sky. It was a lonely beacon, switching on and off every two or three seconds. It was a solitary neon light, blinking in the wilderness.

  “What is that?” the woman said. “It’s coming from the city ain’t it?”

  “That’s a signal,” Cody said.

  Nick took up position at a nearby window. He looked outside. “You think?”

  “What else could it be?” Cody said.

  The blue light blinked on and off against a black starless canvas.

  “It’s the army,” a man’s voice said from a few rows down. “They’re looking for other survivors. What do you guys think?”

  “Yeah,” another man said. “We gotta get over there people. It’s our only chance of getting some help. Thank God, there’s somebody out there.”

  Cody straightened up and turned back towards the terminal building. The airport reminded him of a ruined castle out of a fairy tale – it was sad and grotesque. It was a dead place, with a subtle hint of evil surrounding it.

  He felt a finger tap him on his back. He turned around and saw Rachel standing behind him. Bootsy was hanging by her side.

  “Is it the army?” she asked. “Is it help?”

  “Yeah,” Cody said. “Well, maybe. It looks like there are some survivors out there.”

  Cody kneeled down and squeezed his daughter’s arm gently.

  “It’s going to be alright,” he said. “This just another setback.”

  Rachel was about to speak but the sound of loud footsteps marching up the aisle cut her off.

  Cody looked up and saw a tall woman in her thirties standing in front of Nick.

  “I want off this plane,” she said.

  There was a fierce look in the woman’s eyes, one that challenged Nick to say no. “That signal out there is our ticket to safety,” she said. “For all of us. Thanks anyway, but you had your chance Nick.”

  The woman turned around to address the other passengers.

  “Does anyone else think that the Black Storm is over?” she said. “I mean, look outside – there’s no more fire out there. The city isn’t burning. Somebody’s signaling us towards them, so maybe they really are looking for survivors. Maybe that’s the authorities finally getting their shit together.”

  The other passengers’ eyes lit up in hope. The woman spoke with conviction, like she truly believed what she was saying. Her conviction was contagious.

  “Yeah,” a bearded man said. He took a cautious step forward, pushing a mop of long greasy hair off his gaunt face. “It makes sense. Maybe that’s why we’re not dead. The Black Widow couldn’t finish us off because the Black Storm is over. Just in the nick of time as far as our asses are concerned.”

  “But it’s still dark outside,” another man said. “How can the storm be over if it’s still dark?”

  “Maybe it’s just night-time,” the woman said. “Remember that? I’m serious folks. I mean look at it – I don’t think the sky is anywhere near as dark as it was before. Right?”

  “Yeah she’s right,” the bearded man said. “Something’s different.”

  “I want to get off the plane,” the woman said, turning back to Nick.

  “Oh God please, let it be true,” someone said from the back of the plane. “Let it be over.”

  Nick held his hands up, calling for attention.

  “Take it easy folks,” he said, looking around at the flock of eager faces standing in the aisle. The passengers were shifting back and forth, twitching with excitement.

  “We’ve just been through a very strange experience,” Nick said. “Maybe we should take some time out and…”

  “Open the door Nick.”

  “Let us out!”

  “Open the door,” the fierce-looking woman said. She spoke with a fire in her belly, like she was giving a speech at a political rally. “You can’t keep us on this plane against our will. If that’s the authorities out there then we’ve got to get to them. Now! Some of these people have a family to protect.”

  “Open the door!”

  More and more voices chimed in. All calling for the doors to be opened.

  Nick took a backwards step and sighed.

  “Alright,” he said, his voice cutting through the noise. “Have it your way. I’ll go open the airstairs but you gotta wait a couple of minutes. Think you can handle that?”

  Cody watched as Nick walked through the crowd towards the back of the plane. His shoulders were slumped like a pair of worn out beach balls.

  While Nick opened the airstairs, the rest of the passengers, those who’d been sitting on the fence about leaving, gradually became giddy with excitement. Most people didn’t waste any time in getting their things ready. They were running down the aisle, opening their lockers, and grabbing their bags and other belongings.

  Cody and Rachel watched from an empty row of seats.

  Rachel looked up at Cody.

  “Is it true?” she said. “Is it over?”

  Cody shrugged. He was looking at one middle-aged man, who was pulling a small suitcase out of the overhead locker. The man was crying and laughing at the same time. His wife was standing in the aisle beside him, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder as he took their bags out. Her eyes were damp and glistening.

  They looked overjoyed. They’d made it.

  Chapter Two

  Nick walked back into the cabin. He pointed a thumb over his shoulder towards the rear exit.

  “Alright then,” he said to the throng of passengers who’d been impatiently awaiting his return. “The door’s open. The airstairs
are down. Now listen up people – if you have weapons in the hold, I’ll be opening it up in about five minutes. Think you can wait that long?”

  There was a general rumble of approval from the crowd.

  Nick stepped to the side – an indication that the passengers could leave if they wished to. The pilot furrowed his brow as the long procession began to shuffle down the aisle. They moved indelicately, bumping into one another like they were trying to get out of a haunted house. Anxious parents dragged their kids by the hand. Suitcases were either wheeled or scraped off the floor.

  “C’mon guys,” Nick said. “Take it easy, huh? Nice and slow. Don’t crush the little people. You’ve survived the Black Widow today – no point in killing each other trying to be first off an airplane. That’s it. Take it slow.”

  Cody and Rachel stood at a distance watching the passengers go.

  “Why are they in such a hurry?” Rachel said.

  “Guess you can’t blame them,” Cody said. “If that blue light is a signal for survivors, we have to go to it.”

  “Shouldn’t we be going then?” Rachel said.

  “First things first,” Cody said. “Before we go anywhere we’re getting out of these dirty clothes. Damn bloodstains, they’re everywhere. Let’s change first. Okay? It’s going to be a long walk into San Antonio. No need to stink up the highway.”

  Rachel looked at a splatter of bloodstains on her long-sleeved t-shirt and denim dungarees. It was Cody’s blood, which he’d accidentally wiped on her after the encounter with the fake cop in the airport.

  “Okay,” she said. “Good idea.”

  With his hands on her shoulders, Cody guided Rachel towards the aisle. They cut into the procession of departing passengers and moved towards the back of the plane. When they reached their seats, Cody opened up the overhead locker and pulled down their backpacks. He pulled out some fresh clothes for Rachel – a red sweater and a fresh pair of jeans. Adding some clean underwear to the pile, along with a bar of soap, he handed her the items and pointed to the bathroom, just a short distance from their seats.

  “Go on kid,” he said. “Be quick. Toss your dirty clothes into the trash when you’re done, okay?”

  Rachel took the pile of clothes and nodded. Turning around, she cut out into the aisle and walked over to the bathroom.

  Cody watched her go. Then he unzipped his backpack and took out some clothes for himself – a white shirt, a pair of light brown khaki pants and some underwear. With the clothes in hand, he went into the vacant bathroom and locked the door. Inside, he pulled off his clothes, expecting his gunshot wound to sting as he lifted his arms up. There was no pain. The white bandage was still there, strapped to the left side of his body. A small circle of faded red splatter, like a Rorschach inkblot, had formed in the center of the bandage.

  Cody poked at the wound again but felt nothing. It felt like he hadn’t taken any damage.

  Slowly, he peeled back the bandage.

  “I’ll be damned.”

  There was a hint of a crooked scar where the bullet had grazed him.

  Cody squinted his eyes as he looked at the wound. He stepped forward, bringing the scar closer to the mirror.

  “Doesn’t make any sense.”

  He continued to probe at the wound, which had healed over almost entirely. There was no time to try and make sense of it. Rachel was out there waiting for him and they’d have to get a move on if they were going to keep up with the crowd. And they did want to keep up with the crowd. Traveling to San Antonio on foot in small numbers was a bad idea.

  Cody put on the fresh clothes and stuffed the old bloodstained ones into the little trash basket. Working quickly, he washed his hands and face and ran some cold water over his dirty blond hair.

  Rachel was waiting for him back at the seat. Cody smiled. He was pleased to see that his daughter was no longer wearing clothes that had been spray-painted in blood. His blood. Her long blonde hair was loose and fell down her back. It looked like she’d soaked it under the tap like he’d done. Rachel’s cheeks and forehead were glowing as if she’d been scrubbing them with soap for hours. Cody could almost see his reflection in her face.

  “You feel better?” Cody asked.

  “Yeah,” Rachel said, grabbing a hold of her backpack. She wheezed as she tried to haul the heavy bag over her delicate shoulders. It took several attempts to lock it around her arm and when it was done, she squatted down and picked Bootsy up off the seat.

  “Can we go now?” she said.

  Cody nodded. He glanced over his shoulder towards the rear exit. Nick and a young, dark-skinned woman were standing at the top of the airstairs, watching the last of the passengers descend towards the apron.

  “Yeah,” Cody said, securing the bigger backpack’s strap over his shoulder. “We can go. You want me to carry your pack?”

  Rachel shook her head. “No. I can do it.”

  “It’s heavy Rachel.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Alright,” Cody said with a sigh. “Tell me when it’s too much.”

  They walked over to the rear exit. Cody lifted his chin in silent greeting to Nick and the young woman standing beside him.

  Nick nodded back and pointed to the passengers, all of who were gathered down on the apron. They were trudging forward, making slow progress towards the terminal. It didn’t look like anyone was in such a hurry anymore. The apron was a ghoulish sight – it looked like the passengers were trekking inside a deep meteor crater, craggy and cavernous. This was a dead place where nothing flew or crawled or walked. Nothing except two hundred people.

  “Ungrateful assholes,” Nick said. “Even the other pilots couldn’t get away fast enough. That’s the thanks I get for trying to save their lives.”

  “Lighten up,” Cody said. “They’re scared.”

  Nick raised his eyebrows and sighed. “Yeah,” he said. “Who isn’t?”

  The young woman standing at Nick’s side laughed. She patted him gently on the back.

  “It’s never boring when you’re around Nick,” she said. “You don’t get this sort of drama on any other airlines.”

  Nick pointed a finger back and forth between Cody and the young woman.

  “Cody MacLeod,” Nick said. “This is Crazy Diamond. She’s the niece of one of the other pilots. One of those swift-legged assholes down there making a quick getaway. Cody’s an old friend of mine from the acting days. And the pretty little girl standing beside him is the lovely Miss Rachel MacLeod.”

  The young woman smiled at Cody and Rachel. She was about twenty years old with a pretty face, adorned by striking high cheekbones and almond-shaped, almost oriental looking eyes. Her natural, elegant beauty was at odds with a casual, almost scruffy dress sense – dark jeans and a tight fitting denim jacket with a black Pink Floyd t-shirt poking out underneath.

  “I know you,” Crazy Diamond said to Cody. “You’re the stutter kid from The Forever Boys. When I was growing up we’d watch that movie all the time. I loved it – especially the little stutter kid. You were so cute.”

  Cody managed an awkward smile. “Yeah that’s me,” he said. “Real cute.”

  Nick let out a barrage of muffled laughter into the back of his hand.

  “What are you laughing at Norton?” Cody said.

  Nick held up a hand. “Take it easy man,” he said. “I just find it funny sometimes that nobody ever remembers you for anything other than that one part. You’re the stutter kid man. To millions of people.”

  Cody flashed his middle finger to Nick.

  “That’s one part more than you’re remembered for,” he said. “Token black kid.”

  “Whatever,” Nick said, still laughing. “Stutter kid.”

  Crazy Diamond kneeled down closer to Rachel.

  “Wow, I love your hair,” she said. “It’s so pretty.”

  Rachel smiled shyly. Cody noticed that she was trying to hide Bootsy behind her back.

  “It’s dirty,” Rachel said, putting a han
d to her hair.

  “Nah,” Crazy Diamond said. She smiled, showing off a set of perfectly straight teeth. “You’re good.”

  “Crazy Diamond,” Cody said. “That’s an unusual name.”

  “Yeah,” she said, standing back up again. “It’s a nickname I’ve had for about six years. My real name is Winona. I’m Oglala Lakota, just like our great warrior Crazy Horse. I’m also a big Pink Floyd fan. As a matter of fact, I play drums in an all-female Pink Floyd tribute band called Wish You Were Her.”

  Cody smiled. “Now who’s cute?”

  Rachel tugged on Cody’s arm.

  “What’s up kid?” he asked.

  “We could give her a lift to San Antonio,” Rachel said, pointing a finger at Crazy Diamond. “If the car’s still there.”

  “Well that’s very kind of you Rachel,” Crazy Diamond said. “But I’m not sure any cars around here are still intact. This place is toast, which means we’re going to be walking to San Antonio.”

  Cody nodded. He looked down at Rachel. “She’s right,” he said. “Don’t get your hopes up about the car.”

  Rachel scrunched up her brow. “The Dodge?”

  “Yeah,” Cody said. “The Dodge. Now c’mon, are you ready to start walking?”

  “Ready,” Rachel said.

  “You guys coming?” Cody said, looking at Nick and Crazy Diamond.

  There was a duffel bag lying at Nick’s feet. He bent down and picked it up.

  “Don’t feel right,” Nick said, looking back down the cabin. “Leaving her like this.”

  Cody reached over and tapped Nick on the arm. “How do you think it felt leaving the Dodge back there?”

  Nick nodded. “Yeah I hear you,” he said. “Stupid ain’t it? Grown men getting emotional over a heap of metal.”

  “Yeah it is stupid,” Crazy Diamond said, throwing a small backpack over her shoulder and turning towards the door. “So let’s go and you boys try to forget about your toys. Okay?”

  Cody looked down towards the apron. The passengers, still apprehensive, were making slow progress towards the terminal building. They might as well have been wading through mud.