Zombie Airman

by Guenther, David

  The truck was almost to the end of the dirt road where it turned off onto a street. That’s when he saw the door to the building to his left fly open, a lone man, wearing his full set of dress blues, ran past a pair of zombies trying to open the door. A decorative low concrete wall blocked the truck from veering off the road to help. The man would have to win the race to the truck. Caleb stopped, forgetting to turn the stereo down. He pointed to the back of his truck the same time he sighted in on the zombies chasing the man. His first shot went wide leaving a spider web design in the buildings glass front door. He didn’t see where his second shot connected, the leading zombie pitched face down on the sidewalk. “Ow, that’s gotta hurt, you see that bastard face plant the side walk.” Caleb laughed. The last zombie took two hits to the torso, refusing to go down, five feet from the truck a head shot almost made him do a back flip. The back of the truck reverberated as the man dropped down the tailgate and climbed aboard. Caleb saw the zombie horde was getting nearer as he looked back at his new passenger. “Shut the tailgate dammit!” The man finally closed it, as the horde was twenty feet away. Caleb looked forward and saw another horde of zombies filling all four lanes of Paine Street as they followed the road southeast.

  “That’s whacked; first we gotta get across this zombie parade, while leading our own zombie parade, then we still have to cross over Peterson Boulevard again.” Henrietta heard the indecision in his voice.

  “I thought you were going to show me a good time tonight. Now, go run down a bunch of zombies, head for the McDonalds and then turn into the ENT Building’s parking lot. You want me to drive? You can ride shotgun, maybe fire up a few of the bastards.” Henrietta offered.

  Caleb looked at her with shock in his eyes. “Girl, no one, I repeat NO one drives my truck, screw the zombie apocalypse.” Caleb drove over a traffic circle instead of around it then headed straight into the horde.

  SMSgt Lopez neared the plane and set her vehicle radio to public address. “Attention all zombies, please step away from the plane and please kindly drop dead. Those of you in the plane run towards the active runway. I will pick you up there.” Closing in on the plane, she turned on the truck’s emergency lights and siren. Driving in front of the plane’s nose, she saw two men giving her a thumbs up from the cockpit, before they disappeared from sight. She slowed the truck to entice the infected on her left away from the plane and saw the infected on her right with mere seconds to go as she sped up. She now had two groups following her. She turned right to go around the C-130J and saw dead bodies littered by the closed crew entry door. An infected ran at the truck unseen from under the plane’s wing. The truck shook from the impact as the rear passenger door’s window cracked, creating the appearance of a spider web inside the glass. Lopez floored the gas pedal and was surprised at its rapid acceleration. The infected grew small in the rear view mirror and appeared to lose interest in her. She gave a heavy sigh, before turning the wheel, aiming for the center of the now combined group. They were now heading towards her, making her involuntarily shudder. Behind the group, a total of a half dozen men and women ran west towards the active runway, away from any immediate danger. Whew, this’ll be easy. Just pick up those pilgrims and the Cavalry can head back to the fort. Crossing over the taxi way, she felt herself go airborne for a few seconds then landing in the soft grass between the taxiway and the runway. The soft ground made the truck fishtail and she almost lost it before she applied more gas straightening out. The survivors ahead of her ran towards her instead of continuing to the runway. Lopez shrugged her shoulders and stayed on the grass, not noticing the wheels creating ruts behind her.

  Lopez braked hard when one of the survivors ran in front of the truck instead of waiting. She turned hard right while slamming on the brake; the truck continued sliding forward as the front of the truck turned right. The truck stopped within inches of hitting the pale SrA. Lopez killed the emergency lights and sirens before opening her window. “Everybody get in now!” Five seconds later the front seat and the back seat were full. She put the truck into drive and felt the tires start to spin on the soft grass. The same pale faced airman she’d almost hit started to scream from the backseat. “They’re coming!” Lopez felt the urge to throw up when the first one slammed into the tailgate.

  Bodies flew in all directions, one even landed on top of the hood as Caleb cut through the horde. He turned on the windshield wipers to wipe the blood away and only smeared it worse before he twisted the wand for the windshield wash to spray. The red smear turned pink and then clear. He was amazed he had cleared the horde and looked over at Henrietta. “High-five, H2!” He slapped hands then started forward as the truck became encircled. He turned right to the ENT parking lot and sped up to the building then to the building’s south side. He slowed as he started to turn onto the grass and was sickened when he saw large groups of zombies walking down Peterson Boulevard on the other side of the building.

  “You did it, Caleb! Just cross this one last street and then we can drive across Patriot Park and lose those fuckers in base housing. You’re a genius!” Henrietta tried not to laugh when his face perked up.

  “Hang on, H2, here’s our last time.” He started forward through the grass and made it to the grass median between the north and south lanes without hitting anyone. He had to slow to see where he could go over the curb to enter the park as the trees were close together.

  “There by the building on the right, there’s a trail by the building. We can get through there.” Caleb aimed for the curb by the building, not noticing the three or four infected he’d run over in the process. The wide-open park of flat grass was too much of a temptation as he drove for the center and proceeded to tear it up as he did three or four donuts, while waiting for more of the zombies to get through the trees.

  The truck could rock forward and then backwards, but get no traction as SMSgt Lopez tried to rock the truck free. One zombie was crushed as the truck rocked back; the body now blocked the truck from going backwards. The noise inside the truck was unbearable. Zombies were shrieking as they continued pounding on the windows and doors trying to get into the truck. Inside everyone was screaming, looking for something to use as a weapon. Some tried to push the doors open only to fail, stopped by the press of bodies.

  The sound of an additional bam, bam, bam wasn’t noticed over the pounding of the zombies and the screams. The rear passenger door’s window finally shattered, everyone moving at once to get away from it. The stench of the zombies, a mix of bad meat and excrement, filled the truck cab the combination of the added smell and heightened emotions, making some puke. Lopez noticed the number of zombies was getting lower as none of them tried to get in through the broken window. “Everyone, shut the fuck up!” she screamed. The passengers amazingly, quieted down immediately in response to her shout. “Someone out there is helping us. Can anyone see out?” A red mist exploded against the front windshield at that exact same moment. “Okay, folks there’s our sign. Be ready to move when they tell us to get out. The volume of the shrieking intensified as they moved away from the truck after their attackers. Lopez used the windshield wipers with the windshield wiper fluid. The view came in crystal clear in time to see the infected dance as their rescuers opened up with a Browning Ma Deuce 50 cal machine gun. The entire burst from the gun was under three seconds, but Lopez kept seeing it in her head in slow motion, even as they all got out of the truck cab to run to the armored car.

  MSgt Conrad stood in front of the armored car and watched the survivors bail out of the truck before him. “Halt!” He put out his left hand as if he was stopping traffic. The machine gunner above him still had his weapon trained on the group. “Who’s been bitten or scratched, if not, then I want to see all wounds and injuries. Now hurry people, I have a plane to catch.”

  “No injuries or wounds, other than my wounded pride for ending up stuck in a ditch during my moment playing hero.” Lopez answered.

  “Get in front of the vehicle, ma’am. Okay, next.
”

  “I was scratched by one of them, but I used the first aid kit in the plane to clean it.” An airman said in a pleading voice.

  “Stand by the truck son; we’ll talk in a moment.” The young man headed for the armored car. “No son, stand by the pickup truck.” He looked up and saw the heavy machine gun pointed down at him.

  “Oh, okay, that’s no problem.” He replied, walking back to the truck.

  It took Conrad five more minutes, with one more person volunteering that she’d been bitten. The last person was a problem.

  The last person standing there, an Airman with blood soaking through her sleeve, refused to show her wound. “Dammit, you all picked me out because I’m a woman of color. I want someone from social actions here right now, so I can submit a complaint for the racist, misogynist treatment I’m getting from you crackers. Shit, I’m gonna tell them you tried to feel me up for good measure. Fuck your careers or let me by.”

  “Sweetie, social actions are busy feeding the zombies, hell, they are the zombies. Now get your skinny ass by the truck or I’ll shoot you where you stand.” Conrad raised his M4 at the young woman’s chest, “The days of playing PC Air Force is over. My advice for the three of you is find some place safe and hunker down, if you don’t turn, then you might have a chance. I’ll have my SF’s watching for the three of you. Good luck and God bless.” Conrad saw the driver was already helping the survivors into the armored car while the gunner was backing him up.

  “‘Sweetie, social actions are busy feeding the zombies, hell, they are the zombies’. Damn MSgt Conrad, I’m going to remember that till the day I die.” Jack laughed, while watching the three wounded running towards the base.

  “MSgt Conrad, I have vital information, I must tell leadership now. It can’t wait until we get back there. Hundreds of lives could be lost.” SMSgt Lopez demanded. Conrad listened to the fellow senior noncommissioned officer.

  “Hey asshole, are you done playing games?” Caleb looked back in surprise, he’d forgotten the guy he’d just rescued, the ‘guy’ was a light colonel with a chest full of fruit salad, and seriously pissed off about being bounced around in the cargo bed of a pickup.

  “Sorry sir, just following orders. I’m supposed to draw the zombies away from the flight line. If I can get them into the base housing area, it will slow them down, then I’ll head over to the passenger terminal. I have to keep them interested in me, hang on sir.”

  Caleb headed east through a few trees then back on a narrower road as he once again played his music and started blasting the truck horn in rhythm to the music. He turned right onto McChord St. Things are really coming together. I’m going to live. The worst is behind us. He stopped the truck and opened his door to stand up; it looked like thousands were coming out of the trees that bordered the park, then turning right towards him. His smile got bigger when he remembered where his supervisor lived. Oh boy this is going to be so much fun! He turned left onto Selfridge St, then waited again for the zombies to catch up. Once they had a good view of him he went a few yards further and turned left onto Tyndall Ave. The road was a little wider and straighter; the lead zombies began to pick some speed. Oops, didn’t see that coming. He sped up, going less than a couple hundred yards when he turned right into a shared driveway for six houses. At the end of the driveway, it turned into a sidewalk between the houses. Caleb was forced to go slow because of the number of trees and the narrow winding sidewalk. He reached a small playground. He was forced to drive through it, narrowly missing the slide before he was back on another sidewalk heading for Otis St. The trees became sparser so he was able to speed up. He turned right onto Otis St.

  “That, ladies and gentlemen, is the end of today’s show. For my final act I will drive like a bat out of hell and get us to the passenger terminal!” The truck picked up speed. “What the hell?” A loud thumping was coming from the trucks roof.

  “I think your passenger back in coach has a problem.” Henrietta replied, using her thumb to point behind them. Caleb did a quick zombie check before stopping and getting out of the truck. “Sir, what’s the problem?” Caleb failed in trying to keep the anger out of his voice.

  “You stupid little snot-nosed shit! Your fucking joyride killed us! Look over there.” The light colonel pointed to a C-130J lumbering slowly into the sky. “We’re stuck here now!” Caleb turned to get back into the truck, not trusting his ability to refrain from telling the Lt Col to go fuck himself. The pissed off Lt Col jumped down and tried to reach up and into the open driver’s window. “Come on, you little son of a bitch.” Thank you, colonel, that’s perfect, Good bye.

  “Sir, it would be a violation of the uniform code of military justice (UCMJ) for you to strike me, or I you. I think for the sake of good order and discipline, we should avoid each other.” Caleb stomped the gas pedal leaving rubber behind and a small noxious cloud as he took off. Bursting out in maniacal laughter, he did not see behind him as the colonel began to run after the truck, and away from his infected pursuers.

  “What now, Caleb?” Henrietta asked, not really sure, she wanted to hear the answer.

  “Shit, H2. I don’t know about you, but I have a plane to catch.” With the stereo off and no longer driving at breakneck speed, Henrietta felt the tension begin to slip away that, she hadn’t even been aware of as she drifted off to sleep. Caleb looked to the left at the beautiful manicured golf course, regretting he didn’t have time to go for a quick spin. Straight ahead, he could see the flight line buildings, in between the buildings he could see farther out to where a C-130J sat. I just need someone out there to wave a white flag to show I’m on my last lap! The road ended at the intersection where the hangars stood. Caleb slowly drove between the buildings until he was out on the parking ramp. With the exception of half a dozen C-130Js, the entire place was wide open; he then realized how claustrophobic he’d been getting with all the damn trees and bushes. He turned right to head straight to the passenger terminal. He could see the C-17C.

  The armored car led a procession of buses, trucks, and POVs. They zoomed by the red pickup heading in the same direction as if it was standing still. Caleb shrugged it off; he was less than a half mile from home plate, he just didn’t feel like a race.

  MSgt Conrad sat in the turret of the armored car watching the convoy approach. In the driver’s seat in the main compartment, Rick sat behind the wheel. The two of them had volunteered to stay behind and guard the general and the C-17C, until the convoy from Schriever AFB arrived or the hordes blocked the runway.

  The headlights coming from the south seemed to appear all at once. Even though they were expected, he’d feel safer if they’d radio to confirm who they are. “Peterson Security, this is Schriever Security coming up from your south. Did you know your east gate was open and unmanned?”

  “Thank you for that alert Schriever Security, how many personnel did you post to secure the entrance? Do you have any other information for me?”

  “Copy that, we have 196 lost sheep we rounded up, we also have vital cargo, if space is available.”

  Conrad was more relaxed when he saw the armored cars and buses were keeping good speed and interval. They had obviously maintained their discipline and a semblance of unit cohesion. To the left of them he saw a single vehicle approaching, it was not on an approved drive lane, and seemed to be swerving a little. Only one I know person that could yank my chain just by driving like that is Caleb! “Whitey, Worst Nightmare.”

  The radio surprised Caleb; there’d been no traffic for a while on the channel he’d been on. “Nightmare, I’m here.” He smiled when he saw the armored car with Conrad sitting on top wearing his red hat. “Is this the end of the day?”

  “Whitey, park your truck out of the way and then report to me, Nightmare out.” Caleb pulled up next to and armored car, wondering if there was time to get to see the inside of it. “Come on, H2, time to go bye-bye.” She opened her eyes dreamily and he began to see her as more than a passenger. He opened his door
, trying not to trip over the M4 attached to him then stretched. He went to the front of his truck curious if there was any damage. The entire heavy-duty grill guard was covered in blood; the rest of the truck’s front was turning a brownish black from the blood and body parts. He reached in and pulled out a child’s arm that was complete from fingers to shoulder. He didn’t remember hitting any kids, he looked at it without any remorse and tossed it under the armored car, he looked down on the kid’s blood on his hands uncaring, and went to the back of his truck to get one of his rags to wipe it off. “No! You gotta be fucking kidding me! He shouted, not caring who heard. There were three bullet holes in the side of his truck. “Mother-fucker mother-fucker mother-fucker!” He turned to Henrietta, eyes glazed in anger. “Who the hell shot up my truck back at the dorm?” He balled up his hands into tight fists, not feeling his fingernails digging deeply into his palms, drawing blood. “Aww, just fuck it!” He reached into the bed of his truck and grabbed his rag, wiping the infected blood into his scratches as he tried to wipe it away, he calmed down and could not bring himself to look at Henrietta as he tossed the bloody rag into the bed of his truck. It was probably that loser Rick.

  Conrad watched the kid park to the side of an abandoned armored car. I wonder if the kid’s was half as tired as me.

  “A1C White, Nice of you to finally show up. I see you are guilty of a missed movement. Under article 87 of the UCMJ you are looking at a maximum punishment of a bad conduct discharge, total forfeitures, and confinement for one year. Have you anything to say in your own defense? Conrad asked from atop the armored car

  “I missed you too. But I’m too tired for any crap right now. I ended up diverting not one, not two, but three hordes of zombies. Worse traffic than after any home game I can remember. Then I played pied piper with them until I got them into the officer’s section of base housing, then I left them there.” Caleb smiled when he realized that was in fact where he’d left the hordes.