Duncan’s southern inflection made the words sound all the more ominous, “That thought has already crossed my mind lad and I’ve taken the time to acquaint myself with the countermeasures on this bird.” A shit eating grin spread across the aviators face. Cade pretended not to notice.
“How old is this baby brother of yours?”
Duncan let out a cackle, “His nickname is Oops. He’s your age; I think you two will hit it off famously.”
“Duncan I’m very grateful that you lived up to your word. You fly. I’ll navigate.”
“That reminds me. Do you still want to hear the good news?”
“Hell yes, seeing as how I’ve yet to hear even a shred of good news since day one of this monster march.”
“Brace yourself. The last news that Beeson heard out of Colorado Springs was that quite a few civilians-including women and children had escaped from Fort Bragg and relocated there.”
Before Duncan was halfway through telling Cade the news he could see the former Delta Operators face soften, his usual steely determined look replaced by what appeared to be a new found hope. Cade let out a whoop and pumped his fist, “Yee-Haw!”
It was the most emotion Duncan had seen from the stoic fella since they met, days ago, back in Oregon.
“I suspected you had a little cowboy in you,” Duncan said, as he switched the intercom to include the other passengers in case they wanted to communicate anything.
“Someone win the lottery up there?” Daymon asked.
“You could say that.” Cade pumped his fist and gave Duncan a spirited hi-five. Cade felt it in his stomach first, the helicopter was slowly descending. Duncan was bringing them down, closer to the thick canopy of trees.
Changing the subject, “Who’s the fella with the spider on his head?” Duncan was obviously talking about Daymon and his full mane of tightly woven dreadlocks and apparently didn’t care that the man was listening in on the comms.
“Says his name is Daymon, he’s proven himself capable against the walkers...the guys deadly with his crossbow; the best I’ve ever seen.”
Duncan welcomed the young man aboard, “Good to make your acquaintance son. My names Duncan Winters, glad to meet ya.”
“Likewise dude.” Daymon nodded and smiled, although inwardly he still seethed at the disrespectful comment. “You need to know; where you’re headed... that place is crawling with those things. I’ve seen them with my own eyes. My mom lived there...there aint nothing living there now. I couldn’t get closer than Provo. The fuckers were rushing my Suburban so I turned around and was headed home, to Jackson Hole-before I met mister Glock in my face.”
“You did the right thing son.” Duncan said. “But don’t worry we’re going northeast of the city...way up in the hills.”
Daymon hated people who told him not to worry. I’ve been worrying since that bitch of a Mom threw her baby boy in the dumpster, he thought, don’t worry my ass. “I know, I know, but it still doesn’t feel good. It’s like there will be no closure for me. I already miss her.” Daymon’s voice trailed off. He was certainly not finished mourning the loss of the lady he considered his Mom; the one who adopted him thirty two years ago. Suddenly he exploded, “The right thing to do is nuke the fuckers responsible for this nightmare that I can’t seem to wake up from.”
“Someday, someone will put the pieces of the puzzle together and pinpoint where it all started. I’m sure the CDC is working hard to find an antidote,” Cade said. He shivered thinking about the ramifications if he were wrong.
“I’ve been thinking that this thing... It’s got to be manmade. Mother Nature can be cold and cruel but she aint evil. You know what I’m saying.” Daymon’s eyes were welling up with tears which he made sure to conceal from the others.
Duncan kept scanning the Black Hawks gauges while he carried on his conversation. “I concur, but anger won’t serve you well now. Keep a level head and stay frosty.”
Wiping the tears with his sleeve, he uttered a simple, “Thanks.”
“Believe you me Daymon... there will be a judgment day,” Cade intoned without removing his eyes from the gray ribbon of highway clogged with cars and death. Without realizing it, even after subtly admonishing the younger man, somehow a trace of anger had crept into his voice.
Off to the port side of the ship, thunderclouds were beginning to form in advance of the usual afternoon sky show. The Black Hawk dipped and then immediately regained the lost altitude. Cade normally liked rollercoasters but the constant turbulence near the mountain range was doing a number on his empty stomach.
“So this crossbow master is the only tagalong you picked up this go around?” Duncan instantly wished he could take the words back. He knew the hurt that his friend harbored after their harrowing journey from Oregon to Utah. Five fine people died too soon and he feared the man sitting to his right still shouldered the blame.
After a barely perceptible sigh, “There was another guy-a small town lawyer-he didn’t make it out of the farmhouse.” After a moment of thought, Cade added coldly, “He would’ve been nothing but a dragging anchor anyway.”
In the back of the Black Hawk, Daymon pursed his lips, fighting to suppress a knowing grin.
***
Eden, Utah.
As Duncan skimmed the tree tops, he knew his brother’s property was nearby. It had been a number of years since he had even set eyes on the property-and that had been from the ground.
Vincent broke in, “I think I see something on the left side. Looks like a bunch of airplanes in a clearing.”
Duncan slewed the Black Hawk to the left for a better view.
An unimproved dirt runway bisected the expansive green meadow; the open ground was entirely surrounded by thick forest. Civilian airplanes were parked on both sides of the airstrip; several different models of Cessna, a couple of Piper Cubs, a Beechcraft Bonanza and a Bell Jet Ranger helicopter were scattered about the grounds. The closer they got, the more confident Duncan was that his brother Logan was somehow responsible for the rural airstrip.
“Starboard side, one body,” Cade said, informing Duncan of the contact.
A man emerged from the trees shouldering a long black rifle. Sunlight glinted off of the high powered scope attached over the barrel, a big muzzle break capped off the business end.
“I was only kidding earlier about the shoulder fired missile, but that guys got a cannon pointed at us,” Cade stated dryly.
“I’m no expert and furthermore my eyesight isn’t what it used to be; but that looks like one of those Barrett fifty-cals. I’ve seen what a fifty caliber round can do to a fuselage...that thing might as well be a missile.” Duncan put the Black Hawk into a hover.
“Slowly rotate the bird and show them she’s unarmed.”
“Good idea Cade,” Duncan said, a huge grin spread across his face.
“There’s no chance we’re going to get shot out of the sky...is there? Vincent asked nervously.
“Not another Hoss...” Daymon hissed, prompting Duncan to once again block the passengers from talking on the comms.
The man aiming the sniper rifle abruptly tilted it downward and waved the chopper in.
Duncan picked a spot away from the dirt airstrip, well clear of the other aircraft. The Black Hawk flared and settled into the spongy grass.
Cade noted the soft landing but detected an abnormal shudder when Duncan powered down the rotors. Duncan noticed the anomaly as well and looked over to see Cade nodding his helmet.
Cade made sure the M4 was nearby and ready while he watched the seemingly unarmed man approach.
Duncan flicked the comms back on and looked behind him at the two passengers. “I’m getting out for just a second, can you guys stay put?”
“I’ve got nowhere else to be.” Daymon muttered.
“Me neither,” Vincent said shrugging.
Duncan left the rotors spinning, disembarked the medevac Black Hawk and strode towards the man.
Cade exited the helo, M4 at
the ready and scanned the woods and static aircraft for any threats. He turned to check on Duncan in time to see him warmly embrace the other man; they hugged for some time. Cade’s attention was drawn to the nose of the helicopter; Duncan had drawn wicked sharks teeth around the chin. I’ll be damned, that wily bastard. He had also scrawled the word “Oops!” underneath the white teeth.
A clue that only his brother could decipher, Cade thought, brilliant.
Duncan waved Cade over. He yelled to be heard over the turbine noise from the helicopter, “Cade, this is my younger brother Logan.”
Logan was about even in height with Duncan; Cade had a couple of inches on both of them. When Logan smiled, his eyes scrunched up. The goatee and handlebar mustache made him look like he belonged behind the bar in an old west saloon.
Cade extended his hand in greeting. “Good to meet you. This old man has had nothing but good things to say about you.”
The same southern inflection that Duncan spoke with was evident when the younger man opened his mouth, “I wish I could reciprocate but he always gave me hell...” feeling a little sheepish, Logan added, “not really, he taught me everything I know.”
“And everyone tells me that I don’t know shit...now I feel sorry for you bro.” Duncan’s infectious laugh filled the air.
Logan’s voice lowered, he seemed more serious. “How did you get the Black Hawk?” he asked Duncan as he worried his black goatee.
“That’s a long story, I’ll tell it in its entirety when I return. I’m gonna take Cade and the two fellas we picked up, to Colorado Springs.”
“Yeah, yeah...I heard from a Ham radio operator in Denver that the government is relocating there,” Logan added.
“Where did you get the .50 cal?”
Logan belly laughed, “It’s a Barrett M82A1. I got it at the big gun show in South Jordan last summer. Pretty good deterrent...huh?”
“Not out in the open like that. Pretty good way to get yourself killed little brother, especially if you were to point that rifle at the wrong military chopper.”
“I saw “Oops” on the nose. I knew it was you. I usually reserve this thing for the stray Cessna that sees the strip. Let’s go to the compound...you guys can stay as long as you want.”
“No. I gave my word. We’ve got to go ASAP.”
“Before you boogie, do you need anything big brother?”
Duncan swiveled his head indicating no, “Cade, how are you set on ammo?”
“I could use a couple of mags full of 5.56 and some loose 9 mm for the Glock.”
Logan motioned to the trees. A figure in a ghillie suit peeled from the background and advanced towards them. “Jamie, can you spare a few AR mags full of .223 or 5.56?”
The boonie hat came off and with it the foliage obscuring the sniper’s face. There was an attractive brunette woman under the ghillie suit.
“I can give you all three of mine. There’s plenty more where they came from in the facility.”
Cade took the magazines and thanked the woman warrior. It was then he noticed the other figures, at least a dozen, scattered in the shadows along the forests edge.
Duncan cleared his throat and reached out for his kin. He gave his brother his satellite phone and another bear hug. In his best Schwarzenegger accent he said, “I’ll be baack.”
Cade gave Logan a nod of his head, turned and walked back to the helo.
Duncan stayed behind for a few minutes and held a private conversation with his baby brother and then forced himself to walk back to the Black Hawk. Before he had covered half the distance, he looked back at Logan and mouthed the words, I love you brother.
Parting was always difficult for Duncan. He made a vow to his brother that he would come back as soon as possible.
As soon as they left the ground Cade punched in the coordinates that would direct them to Colorado Springs.
***
“Looks like downtown Baghdad the morning after “Shock and Awe,” Cade said as he surveyed the Salt Lake metro area from the co-pilot seat in the Black Hawk. The only movement below was the walking dead, smoke and pieces of newspaper and trash carried on the wind. Fires still smoldered from the widespread looting that had taken place between the initial outbreak and the formal declaration of martial law.
Cade watched the footage of looting and zombie attacks alike live on satellite television the first day and night after the outbreak. He wondered how the people partaking came to the conclusion that a new fifty-inch flat screen and a case of vodka were going to help them in times like these.
“Look at that mess. You all see, I wasn’t talkin out of the side of my neck,” Daymon looked to Vincent for validation.
“Sure is a shit show down there,” Vincent said without making eye contact.
“Anyway can we go and check on my Mom?” Daymon asked, his voice conveying his desperation.
Duncan’s southern drawl entered the conversation. “Daymon, I fully intend on coming back this way in a day or two. While I’d like to help you find your Mom and Pop right now, I can’t, and there isn’t sufficient fuel to loiter anywhere. I’m sorry, son.”
“Just drop me off then.”
“That would be suicide. You told us you couldn’t get close in that big green Suburban of yours,” Cade said. “On foot...you wouldn’t last a second.”
Daymon knew it would be futile to argue, it was three to one. Lost in his own thoughts, he turned towards the window and watched a dying United States flash by.
***
“Ding. Your seatbelt light is now extinguished; feel free to move around the cabin.”
Daymon rolled his eyes, he was still getting over the fact that he was out of options and being shanghaied to Colorado Springs, he really didn’t appreciate the stand up comedian show.
“We are now leaving the city limits of Boulder, Colorado. Our airspeed is a comfortable one-hundred knots and thanks to a slight tailwind we should be arriving at our destination before O’dark thirty.” Duncan’s strange brand of humor earned snickers from Vincent and Cade both.
With a not so gentle tug, Daymon disconnected his helmet from the onboard communications system and closed his eyes.
***
Denver had been more of the same: death, destruction and multitudes of walking dead. Everyone aboard the Black Hawk had long since grown accustomed to the sights, smells and sounds now dominating the landscape.
Duncan had done some calculations or made a semi-educated guess-he wasn’t certain which. He deduced that they would be on fumes or forced to find a landing spot on the outskirts of Colorado Springs. Duncan hoped he was wrong, and they would have enough to get them all the way to Schriever AFB, but he had a gut felling they would be doing some walking before the day was done. He switched the comms and let Cade in on the bad news.
***
They were twenty miles south of Denver when Duncan noticed a slight shimmy transmitted through his stick. When he was piloting a UH-1 Huey, he knew what every little shake, tremor or abnormal sound meant. The Uh-60 on the other hand was like a new girlfriend-unfortunately he didn’t know how to read her. The one thing that Duncan was certain of, whatever his new girlfriend was trying to tell him, it was anything but good. The vibrations continued and started to become more pronounced.
Cade sensed that something was wrong, Duncan was scrutinizing the instruments more closely and his body language seemed different.
“What’s up Duncan,” Cade probed.
Before he could answer, a shrill alarm sounded, reverberating throughout the ship.
The moment the instrument panel lit up like a Christmas tree Cade knew that they were in for trouble.
“Everyone brace for impact!” The collective felt like it was stuck in quicksand, the rest of the controls were also responding sluggishly. Duncan cursed his decision to follow the I-25 freeway. Although he knew the black strip of asphalt led south, directly into downtown Colorado Springs, he failed to take into account the fact that the roadway was scatte
red with motionless vehicles and the undead associated with them.
Veering sideways with gut churning g-forces the helicopter started to spin.
In the back jump seat, Vincent tightened his seatbelt and silently waited for the impact, fully expecting to die.
For Daymon, opening his eyes to the harsh sunlight was less painful than leaving the young lady he had been frolicking with in his dream. “Aint that just my luck.” he exclaimed. “About to get lucky and then I wake up feeling very unlucky.”
“Were going down...” Vincent looked out his window wide eyed, “and those things are everywhere.”
“Take this...it’s loaded.” Daymon gave the Glock to Vincent and produced an extra magazine. “There are a few rounds in this too.”
“What are you going to use?”
Daymon patted the neon green handle of his machete and braced for the crash landing.
Duncan wrestled with the controls, he managed to regain a somewhat straight heading, but it was a herculean effort. She’s got the altitude, he thought, the airspeed should be enough if I point the nose down a little. The Black Hawk quickly fell through three-hundred feet AGL while keeping sixty knots of forward momentum. A successful autorotation required altitude and airspeed; but most importantly a clear LZ.
The freeway was a straight stretch dotted with vehicles and walking corpses. The airspace was devoid of trees and power lines but a toll station still loomed ahead. The metal framework rose at least forty feet into the air and spanned all eight lanes of the freeway.
Duncan and Cade waited for the impending collision in silence. The rotor was not receiving power from either engine; fortunately it was still spinning and providing lift. While no expert on the UH-60 Duncan had a hunch the transmission was shot. It was a fleeting thought of no importance-nothing was going to stop their free fall.
Bracing for impact, both men peered between their feet through the plexi-glass chin bubble. Someone was looking out for them; they watched the metal framework flash below the helicopter without making contact.
Soldier On: Surviving the Zombie Apocalypse Page 18