The Common Cold (Book 1): A Zombie Chronicle

by David K. Roberts

  “Don’t worry, Maureen. That’s going to be my next task,” he said, putting her at ease, knowing she was checking on her loved ones. She nodded at him. Things were very serious, then, she surmised correctly.

  “I need you to divert all the aircraft that have enough fuel. I am shutting the airport down, effective immediately. Let me know just how many have to land here, as soon as you can.” He walked back to his office to try and make contact with his various crews once again.

  As promised, the military turned up, bang on half an hour after Terry’s call. The huge M35 troop carrying trucks roared to a halt outside each terminal. Soldiers poured out of the vehicles and took up defensive positions, rifles pointing towards the docked aircraft and terminal doors. More than thirty trucks had arrived, disgorging forty five troops each, over one thousand soldiers. More than enough, the general believed. What he hadn’t counted on was the sheer number of commuter passengers waiting for their flights.

  The soldiers, unknowingly heavily outnumbered, made their way into the terminals, checking any place that might hide a person. Rounding the people up into cornered, large groups was becoming a mistake; the attacks within the crowds and on the soldiers became more frenzied, any uninfected left trying to flee the scene were cut down by rifle fire. No-one was to leave the area, the problem had to be contained, at all costs.

  The soldiers wore hazmat suits, making them look like unfriendly and off-worldish, soulless agents of death, their rifles spitting indiscriminate punishment. Terror shook those still able to feel as a human. Those that couldn’t detected the smell of fresh food.

  With shouted orders to deliver only headshots, the soldiers advanced on the terminals. The crackling sound of gunfire rose to the tower, stopping all conversation. Only those still redirecting aircraft were talking now, all the others stood listening to the battle, if it could be called that, raging below. Many were in tears, afraid for themselves, and the countless people dying around the airport, as they could only stand and listen to the slaughter.

  In the terminals, bloody mayhem reigned. Soldiers were slipping on the blood-covered marble flooring. As they fell, they became vulnerable; the zombie commuters pounced, some with lightning quick reflexes, catching their prey unawares. The hazmat suits were not impregnable to the bites and sheer brute strength some had developed. Even without guns, the commuters were evenly matched, due to their numbers, the speed of some, and lack of fear in them all. The tide was turning against the military; some had already turned to flee. Officers standing behind the advance were striking, with long batons, anyone who looked like retreating; they were aware of the importance of winning this battle, and others like it, almost certainly going on half way across the country by now. The problem appeared to be following the sun, spreading from the east to the west, although in truth, it was probably just following the waking population.

  Then the unimaginable happened. Two soldiers, appalled at the slaughter they were perpetrating, turned to flee. They were met by an officer carrying a baton. One of the soldiers fired from the hip, killing the officer instantly. Another officer shot the mutinous trooper, and was immediately fired upon by several of the dead soldier’s comrades. The battle had turned in on itself, and soldier began fighting soldier in their desperation to get away from the overwhelming bloodshed, and the ever-growing rank of the enemy. Dealing death was not an end to the problem.

  In the command vehicle, the action’s commanding officer, Colonel Faulkner, made a call back to HQ.

  “Sir, we are failing, and the problem is spreading. There are just too many of them,” he announced to General Howard, his voice quavering. He was ashamed at what was going on; the fighting between soldiers, some running away. “We have to pull back, with immediate effect.”

  The general sighed, and thanked him for the notice.

  Turning to his counterpart in the air force, General Walker, he spoke, heaviness in his heart. “You know what we have to do now.”

  “Don’t you want to give your men time to get clear of it?”

  “If I do that, how do I know the infection won’t follow them out? We have to obliterate any large gatherings of these infected people. You can see as well as I can, now, that even well-armed soldiers on the ground can’t handle them in such numbers. And that emergency guy at the airport said they were eating people.” The army general’s face showed revulsion at the thought. “I wasn’t told that in our briefings.”

  Walker just nodded, and said, “God help us all,” as he delivered approval for the historical order, previously prepared with presidential approval. His staffer made the call directly to the squadron of F-18s orbiting thirty miles south of the airport.

  Receiving the command to attack, a member of the squadron peeled away from the orbit, and flew on a direct heading towards the airport, which was already visible in the distance, thanks to the bright white, tent-like canopies covering the main terminal. Trying not to think of what he was about to do, he overflew the airport and dropped the small, white, gravity bomb and climbed away as quickly as possible, returning to the orbiting squadron. They all wore shielded visors. When the bomb struck, it landed directly on the Jeppesen Terminal.

  In the tower, Maureen called Terry over to her screen. She had seen the circling fighters on her readout earlier, but filed them away as irrelevant to her job. Now she saw that one of their number had separated away from the rest. It frightened her.

  “What’s the matter, Maureen?” Terry asked, peering at her screen. “What’s that?” He, too, had noticed the blip.

  “It was circling with the rest of that group over there. All I know is that they are military aircraft, fighters, probably, judging by their speed and height.”

  Terry noticed it was on a direct path to the airport, and realised what was about to happen. He looked with sympathy and sadness into Maureen’s eyes. Realisation hit her at the last moment.

  With a blinding, white flash, the small bomb wiped the airport central structures from the face of the earth. It took the infected and soldiers alike; the tower was pulverised as the intense shock and winds hit, almost no-one in its path having time to realise what had happened. Certainly no-one was left to report back. The low yield nuclear device left a trademark mushroom cloud as its signature and memorial to the thousands of people that had just perished. It was the first nuclear device ever to have detonated on American soil outside the Nevada test grounds.

  Chapter 22

  Destination Denver

  “Captain Lewis, can you hear me?” BB shouted over the airwaves. Nothing came back. He had switched off his radio.

  They sat in silence, trying to come to terms with what had just taken place. BB looked out into the distance, trying to avoid any conversation. He thought about Bunny and her husband, both of whom were well liked and respected; they were a true military power couple, in his opinion. What Lewis had just done to save the airliner was plain and simply heroic. He was just sorry they weren’t in a position to thank him for that piece of selflessness. He wished him Godspeed, and began to focus on tasks within the cockpit.

  Daniel was miles outside his comfort zone, as far as he was concerned this was a Bruce Willis film, hoping he was Bruce, who always survived in spite of the chaos and special effects. At least he had a name; it was the nameless ones that usually bought the farm. Straining his eyes, he found it almost impossible not to stare into the ever-darkening sky ahead, afraid of being ambushed once more. In the distance, land, in the form of a darker, black mass, came into view. There was the odd pinprick of light, but nothing like the density of light there ought to have been.

  “If you look straight ahead, you will see the faint outline of Goose Bay. It’s a traditional reporting point for trans-Atlantic flights, ever since Amelia Earhart’s time,” the captain said, speaking for the first time since their tragic encounter with the USAF. He sounded deadpan, despondent. “We ought to be able to pick up DME signals at least. We ain’t getting a damn thing. BB, get a system update
now, just in case we have a problem with GPS.”

  “Roger, Captain.” BB sounded formal, detached.

  “What’s wrong, Captain?” Daniel asked, worried that hostile actions might be the least of their problems right now.

  He didn’t answer for a moment. “Before we had GPS to navigate by, we used to use a thing called INS. It got data from places like Goose Bay VOR/DME transmitters, this information helped maintain accuracy of the gyroscopic workings of the system. These days we don’t need these transmissions because GPS has taken over, and we get our information from satellites, but it is nice to be able to confirm our location using points like these. Most of us older guys like the safety net. I’ve just asked BB to update our systems with the latest GPS tracking information, just in case we lose our main navigation information.”

  “Are we likely to lose GPS?” Daniel asked, trying to keep a tenuous grip on the technical stuff the captain was saying.

  “Who knows? Normally, we could more or less see where we are at night. The cities around here are very recognisable; for example, as you get further south, their lights show almost the whole of the Great Lakes in outline. It’s like looking at a map from the air. Awesome to see. Tell me what you can see out there right now.”

  Daniel peered ahead of the plane but could see almost nothing. The country was in complete darkness. “Jesus,” he whispered.

  “Exactly. If it was daylight, it would be less of an issue. We could more or less map read our way around. We should be okay for a few hours after each system update, but it makes me uncomfortable.”

  “So, where will we go, then?” Daniel asked. “From what I can see, and the comments Captain Lewis made, it looks pretty much broken down there.”

  “Can you raise anything, BB?” Morgan ask his co-pilot.

  “Not a thing, even on the Guard Channel.”

  If there were problems ahead, danger of one sort or another, logically they would have heard distress calls on this frequency. But it was dead. Peering into the distance, small orange flowers of explosions appeared, at random points in the dark countryside. Without more information, it was impossible to tell what was responsible for this phenomenon. BB reckoned it was aircraft coming down, unable to fly any longer. Or, it could have been petrol stations blowing up; it was pure pessimistic guesswork on his part. Daniel thanked his lucky stars for the vast fuel capacity of the plane they were on. It might be a piece of ‘bloated Euro crap’ as Lewis had put it, but it was their best bet at this time.

  “Decision made,” Morgan announced, “we’re heading for the mid-west, Denver. Hopefully we’ll be able to land without problem.”

  “Do you want to inform the passengers? I can go back and let them know if you like.” Daniel offered.

  “That might not be a bad idea, Danny. A more personal touch would be reassuring. I would normally do it, but with only a two man crew, I can’t risk leaving the cockpit. Just don’t tell them about the navigation stuff. Keep it to yourself, please.”

  “No problem, Captain. I don’t think I understood too much of it anyway.” Daniel paused, his curiosity getting the better of him. “BB, hope you don’t mind me asking, but why was Lewis’ wife’s call sign ‘Bunny’?”

  BB smiled at the memory of her. “Her name was Jessica.”

  “Sorry?” Daniel was confused.

  “Jessica Rabbit. Remember her? We shortened it to Bunny. She was as beautiful as the cartoon character, same long legs.” His voice had softened as he spoke of the woman. Maybe they’d been something more than associates at one time.

  In his mind, Daniel pictured the cartoon co-star of the film ‘Who Framed Roger Rabbit’. He wished he’d met Bunny.

  Returning to Janet’s side once more, he found that the dog had commandeered his seat, looking comfortable with its head on Janet’s lap. Daniel informed the group of the captain’s intentions. Rob smiled broadly; if they landed there, he might be with Sandra in a matter of hours. Daniel pulled Rob to one side surreptitiously, and gave him something. Rob looked down and saw it was a strange looking phone.

  “It’s a sat phone. Don’t let anyone see you’ve got it, but go to a spare seat, hold it near the window, and you might just get enough of a signal to call Sandra.”

  “Hate to say it, old bud, but I’ve been using the on board phones next to each seat here in First Class. Thanks anyway, man. I appreciate the thought.”

  “Oh, I forgot about those,” he said, blushing. “That’s good, well done. Hold onto it, we may have a use for it later. So, how is she? You got through alright, then?” Daniel asked eagerly. He’d met Sandra a few times, and she had been a kind person, easy to get on with.

  “She’s fine. A few problems, but she’s inside, the house is barricaded, and she has weapons to defend herself. Apparently a whole army group was wiped out in our street. Also, some dick shot up the front of the house, but other than that she’s good.”

  “What? There’s been a battle against these things?”

  “Something like that,” he replied, frowning with concern. “The sooner we get there, the better. She managed to get food supplies earlier today, and she still has power at the house. It’s damn cold there, so if we’re going to land at Denver, everyone had better collect their warmest coats.”

  “Good thinking. Janet, the kids and I haven’t got much to wear at the moment. Perhaps that should be our first priority.”

  “You sound like a concerned dad,” Rob observed, smiling. “I think you like it.”

  “Nah. If I wanted kids,” Daniel replied, embarrassed, “this would be the wrong time to have them. At least they aren’t babies.”

  Janet walked over to them. “So, what are you two talking about?”

  “We’re landing at Denver, the captain thinks it’s our best bet. So, we’d better get some warm clothes, for us and the kids.” Daniel replied. “Can you look for some, while I go and tell the purser of the plans? Where is she, by the way?”

  Janet grabbed Daniel’s hand, swinging him around to face her properly. She hugged him. “Stop rushing around a minute. I was frightened when those planes roared past. I thought we were going to die.” Daniel held her tightly, realising that with so much less information than he had, that everyone in the cabin must have been terrified. He was annoyed with himself; he should have been with her through that ordeal; it wouldn’t happen a second time.

  “It scared us on the flight deck, too. We didn’t even see them coming.” He still had the images of the aerial fight flashing before him. Maybe she had been better off without knowing what had happened.

  “We couldn’t see anything really, what were the explosions?”

  “One of the fighters blew up,” Daniel said, omitting further detail.

  “Poor man.”

  “Yes, poor man indeed. Listen, we’re just over the Labrador coast right now; we can land pretty much anywhere, I think. There doesn’t seem to be much official organisation below us. Not anymore.” He looked Janet in the face. “I don’t know what we’re flying into, darling. This thing seems to have hit the US as badly as the UK. Perhaps because it’s a bigger country, we might have more breathing space to get organised, and go somewhere safe.”

  “We will stick with Rob and Sandra when we get there, won’t we?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t we?”

  “Well, what are the captain’s intentions when we land? Perhaps he will he try and lead us somewhere?”

  “I think his only desire is to get home to his family. They’re in Boulder, just outside Denver.”

  She thought about what Rob and the others must be going through without their families by their sides. The uncertainty must be killing them; she felt lucky having the only person she cared about with her through this ordeal. At least Rob had some answers, he knew Sandra was still alive. That was something. For the first time in her life, she was glad she was an orphan.

  She squeezed Daniel’s hand, and gently pushed him away once more. “I’ll get you some warm clothes. Yo
u do what you have to. I think Becky is down the back, taking a turn at watching over the infected passengers.”

  “Don’t walk around alone. Take Rob with you, please.” He looked into her eyes, making sure she would do as he asked.

  “Sure, I will.” She pecked him on the lips and he left, walking down to the back of the aircraft.

  Chapter 23

  Any Landing You Can Walk Away From is a Good Landing

  Three hours had passed; the plane had made good time with a friendly tailwind, driving them much faster than anticipated over the ground. They were now about twenty minutes from Denver, but had still not been able to raise the Tower or Approach controllers. They were effectively on their own in the skies. Daniel had returned to the cockpit; he liked the environment, and appreciated the additional knowledge he gained about their situation.

  “BB, are you getting the same readings as me?” The captain was peering closely at the hydraulics page on his console. “Pressure is dropping.”

  “Yeah, I’m seeing it too. Support systems are okay, electrics and pumps are working.”

  “We must be losing hydraulic fluid. What does it say in the manuals?”

  BB swivelled in his chair and pulled out a thick binder, labelled hydraulics on its spine. Flicking through the folder, periodically referring to the screen to confirm numbers, he was looking more tight-lipped as he read. Clearly the news wasn’t good.

  “I think we do have a leak somewhere,” he said, finally sure of what he had discovered.

  “Really? Any thoughts as to where from?”

  “Well, I guess we could have been hit by some debris during the dogfight earlier. There is also a junction in the hold that might be responsible. That’s our best bet, I reckon. The pressures I’m seeing indicate that area as being the point of pressure loss.”

  “Shit. Daniel, Joe the diplomat is down there, isn’t he?” Morgan asked, an accusatory tone in his voice.