by Aline Riva
David ran through the passenger area, checked the toilets then went through to the back of the plane and found the place to be empty. Then he ran back to the doorway to the cockpit, opened it and breathed a relieved sigh to see the cabin was also empty and by the way the controls were set, it looked good to go...
“Hurry up!” he called, glancing backwards as Tara entered the plane, then as she joined him, he handed her the flare gun.
“Look after the girls,” he said, “Close the door and seal it as soon as we're all on board.”
She nodded and hurried back to the open doorway, then David began to switch on controls, feeling a massive surge of relief as he knew at once this plane was indeed ready for take off...
As the plane began to come to life with lights on in the passenger area, outside the skies looked to be darkening rapidly as Lauren made it up the steps, climbed into the plane and breathed a relieved sigh.
“Thank god!” she exclaimed, now we can go home!”
Then they heard a cry and both women looked in horror to see Holly being dragged down the stairway, as the corpse dragged her, others sat up sharply one by one across the landing area, sitting up abruptly in their own bloodstains, throats torn out, as the reanimated dead looked to the plane.
“Holly!” Tara yelled, reaching out, down and grasping at her outstretched hand as she looked up in terror as the corpse tried to drag her down as she clung to the rail with her other hand.
“Help me!” she screamed, and Tara toppled forward as the creature tugged on Holly, Lauren grabbed hold of Tara's jacket and the side of the open doorway as Tara tried not to get dragged down with her as Holly clung to her hand.
The creature tugged again, Holly screamed as she was dragged down another step, then it sunk its teeth into her leg and as teeth bit through fabric, as she cried out again, her hand jerked away from Tara's grip and she fell, tumbling with the creature still with jaws clamped to her now bloody leg as crimson soaked through her padded clothing. She was still alive as she hit the snow, then as the others swarmed like vultures, covering her as she screamed again, hand reaching up to the plane, Tara's eyes blurred with tears as she witnessed the horror from above and then raised the flare gun and took aim.
“You can't save her now!” exclaimed Lauren.
Tara's aim was steady as a tear ran from her eye.
“Yes I can,” she whispered, firing the flare that punched through Holly's screaming mouth and set her skull ablaze, “At least she won't become one of those things...”
She dropped the flare gun and gave a sob.
Down on the ground below, the dead were feeding.
Lauren closed the door and sealed it.
“Let's go!” she yelled, “Just go, David!”
The take off was hell. As he took the plane down the runway and the wheels cut through reanimated corpses, he focussed on the take off, trying to forget he was pulverising former human beings in the process... Then the plane was up and in the skies and heading away from the Arctic.
As it rose into the darkening skies, as Lauren looked out of her window, she saw the haunting and unforgettable sight of Justin standing high on a hillside of ice, his arms raised as an army of the dead approached him. He looked up at the plane, then down as he stretched his arms wider, welcoming his people. Then the plane was up through the clouds, leaving the nightmare of the world below far behind, leaving the Arctic to nature and the unnatural creatures that now lived on its surface...
They flew through the night. When morning came and the sunrise cut through clear and bright as it shone its rays across a bed of cloud below, David blinked tired eyes and estimated three more hours and they would reach Chile. The course was set and he briefly switched to auto pilot just to get up and check on the others, for some reason he had been afraid to do that before – could zombies fly planes? Were their living dead pilots somewhere up here with them, in planes of their own waiting to take them out? It seemed unlikely but after all that had happened he guessed anything was possible and nothing was impossible, the improbable and unthinkable had already happened, and it was worldwide.
And so many people were dead...
He thought about relatives, he thought about his ex wife. He thought about friends and wondered about them too then he thought of those who hadn't made it and wondered about their loved ones, too. Even those he didn't know, faceless strangers came to mind, all of them human, not one of them like those things, just people, innocent people. So many were gone now, they had to be...
He paused to wipe tears from his eyes and then opened the cabin door and went out to the passenger area, where Lauren was sleeping deeply and Tara had just woken up. She sat up in her seat, blinked tired eyes and met his gaze.
“I don't want to think about how empty this plane is,” she said sadly, “Or why we made it and they didn't.”
“And it could be just as bad when we get back,” he replied, “We can't stay in the air forever and you can't wonder why we're still here. Chance, luck, whatever. Maybe we were quicker, maybe we were just lucky.”
“And what if it's just as bad when we land?” she said as her voice trembled.
His answer was already clear, he had formed his decision while taking off from the Arctic long before the question had been asked.
“We arm ourselves,” he replied, “And we fight and we survive because we owe it to ourselves and to everyone who didn't make it. We have to keep going.”
She nodded slowly, understanding the sense of his words – they had come so far, seen so much horror, to give up now would make the lives lost pointless.
“Whatever happens when we land,” she vowed, “I'm with you.”
“So am I.”
They looked back to see Lauren had just woken up, she looked pale ans exhausted, but fighting spirit still shone in her eyes.
“I''m sticking with you two,” she said firmly, “Everyone else is dead...I don't know what's happened back home but I'm with you guys until I can get there, at least until I know if my friends are okay. I lost my parents years ago, I only have my friends. If they're gone, I still have you two.”
Tara met her gaze kindly and nodded.
“You certainly do have us,” she promised, “We'll stick together.”
Then as Lauren recalled the sight she had seen through the window of the plane as they took off, her eyes widened in alarm.
“Last night, as we left – I saw Justin! He was on a hillside, reaching out and all these...things, creatures...they were making their way towards him. Not like they wanted to kill him, more like they wanted to be with him...it was horrible.”
“And they can stay with him,” David replied, “Sounds like he's some kind of living dead magnet, what the fuck that is about I don't know - but we don't need to know. We just need to head home. And on that note, landing will commence in two hours fifteen minutes.” Then he headed back to the controls to take the plane off autopilot, to continue to fly the plane on manual, as all the while his mind turned over the possibility that the airport could be crawling with reanimated dead...
Just over two hours later, the plane was flying over Chile. As the airport loomed into sight far below, he already knew before he looked to the ground and saw them milling about like ants – the dead were in control of the earth. Ground control was out, ever since his calls had met nothing but static the dreaded conclusion had been creeping up on him slowly but now, there was no denying the truth, and no chance of landing at the airport...
“What are we going to do?”
He looked around to see Tara in the doorway to the cabin.
“Land somewhere else, obviously,” he replied, “I'm aiming for a stretch of land near the water... docks are close by... I don't know if those things like water or not. Don't suppose it matters if they're dead, maybe they walk underwater...maybe they're everywhere – or perhaps there's nothing for them at the docks and they've gone inland to look for food sources.”
“I hope you' re right,” Tara
said in a hushed voice.
He turned away from the controls, briefly gave her hand a squeeze and looked into her eyes.
“I never expected the world to go to hell but I'm still here for you and I promise you, no matter what comes along next, I'll still be here...I guess I'm trying to say it was more than a fling for me...you meant a lot you still do I'm glad were still alive, do I need to say more? I can if you want me to, Tara.”
She leant closer, kissing his cheek in reply.
“No need,” she replied warmly, “I know. Me too, I'm glad we're together even if the world has just fallen apart.”
“And now I have a plane to land,” he reminded her as he let go of her hand, “Please go back to your seat, I need to take this bird down.”
Then as she left the cabin he looked to land that stretched out below the clouds, finely outlined in detail as he dropped altitude, as the docks loomed in the distance, he saw a large warehouse area, beyond that was a long, wide road that ran between two fields, it was the road that led from the docks and he smiled as he took in the sight of it.
“Okay,” he said as hope crept into his voice, “It's not exactly a landing strip but it will do very nicely indeed...” Then he started to bring down the plane in a gradual descent, heading once more for the ground, where below the wide open space looked thankfully deserted, but no dead roamed – at least, not in plain sight...
Chapter 9: We're Going Home
As the wheels touched down on the tarmac surface, it was a smooth landing. The plane slowed, came to a stop at a distance from the open gates that led to the road where not far away stood the docks, where boats and ships of all shapes and sizes were moored as they bobbed in calm waters and the sunlight shone down on gentle waves that sparkled. It looked at first sight like the world had not changed one bit, until he continued to sit there, looking out at the scene, then David realised what was amiss, the place was deserted, and a wire fence had been erected, the gates were closed and sign placed over it:
Puerto Cerrado por orden del Gobierno
As the official language of Chile was Spanish and in the past David had enjoyed many holidays in Spain, the sign was easy to interpret: Port closed by order of the government... And the place was deserted – he guessed this had to be a good thing, no lurking corpses ready to pounce...no doubt the ports had been evacuated and closed down before the crisis had taken its rapid path of dominance over the world as it used to be. With that thought came the sinking feeling that it was most likely no better in the UK, either... But as long as hope existed, there was a reason to carry on. David turned off the engines, got out of his seat and went into the cabin, looking to the survivors, then to the empty seats around them as he spared a thought for those who had been lost. For a brief moment their faces flashed to mind, but nothing could truly distract him from the look in the eyes of those who had lived – Tara and Lauren looked utterly lost, shocked to the core.
“We need to get to the docks,” he said, “The fences are locked and I guess were at one time guarded but it seems safe enough now – looks like the place was evacuated...”
Then the three of them made their way to the door of the plane, David opened it then hit the button to release the emergency chute, and he went first, waiting at the bottom for the others as he looked about, standing on the empty road, seeing no one but ever mindful of hidden lurking danger.
“This is easy,” said Lauren when they reached the locked gates.
The fencing was high and made of mesh, but the gates were heavy and much lower, locked and bore the order of closure and at one time would have been guarded, but was now abandoned. Recalling how simple she had found the chute, as she remembered on leaving the plane how Tara had slipped down clumsily, she laughed.
“I'll go first,” she said, and scrambled up to the top of the gate and jumped clear to the other side.
“Stay right there,” David said, his gaze darting left and right beyond the fence, then he climbed too and made the jump.
“Tara?”
She hesitated for a moment, then reached up, found her footing, clambered over the top and he stepped forward, reaching for her as she dropped down, he caught her as she landed and she grabbed at the gate to steady herself as she turned and smiled in gratitude.
“Thanks,” she said, “I never was much into climbing trees as a kid!”
Then they turned to the docks, where now boats of all shapes and sizes were moored, all deserted, all sea worthy.
“We need to go for something easy to sail,” he said, a cargo ship would be ideal but we need a smaller vessel, not a gigantic one that needs a huge crew...”
They started to walk down the dockside, past huge ships that made the smaller ones look tiny by comparison, as he wondered which vessel would last longest and take them back to the UK.
“I'm no sailor,” he admitted, “If we had been able to access the airport I could have had my pick of the planes. But here, I'm a bit lost...”
Lauren and Tara exchanged a glance.
“So are we,” Tara said, I guess we'll just have to make a lucky guess.”
Then a shot rang out and there was a groan, a horrible sound that took them all back to the Arctic for a split second as they turned to see a corpse staggering, a bullet hole between they eyes, as the rotting body fell still, then flat on its grey and mouldering face, falling heavy just up head, where there was a tear in the fencing.
The three of them exchanged a glance, then they looked about the fencing, then to the ships and boats they had passed, seeing no one.
“Over here!”
They turned again, looking up and past the large ship to where a smaller vessel was moored. A man was on deck, a rifle at his side. He raised a glass of champagne and smiled.
“That was a bullseye!” he announced, sounding slightly merry.
The three of them broke into a run, clearing the side of the ship and heading towards the sturdy, medium sized vessel that looked to be part cargo and part cruiser, it was white and the upper deck was glazed with vast windows where drapes were hung, below that, the captains deck was visible, it was a small ship, an expensive and comfortable vessel, but the back was clearly used for cargo as signs directed down to the hold, and that part of the ship made the stern seem long and broad.
“We need your help!” David called out as he reached the ship.
The man on board set down his champagne, rested the rifle against the rail and beckoned.
“As you're all alive and not out for my blood you may as well come aboard,” he said warmly, “Welcome, friends – my name is Fenn. Maximilian Harold Arthur Fenn the second, to be precise. This is my ship the Jenny Wren and she's a luxury cargo ship... I specialise in personal shipping of very rare vintage cars. And it's nice to meet you all!”
After they had made the climb on board – David going first then helping Lauren and Tara to make the small jump without looking down at the sea between ship and land, they were safely on the other side, and quickly welcomed up to the private deck, where their host stood smiling, wearing a faded suit and a shirt that was open at the neck, showing a silver chain on which he wore a Saint Christopher. He also wore an earring and his hands were tattooed with love and hate. He was tall and slim and his dark hair was streaked with grey. He looked to be in his fifties but well groomed and rather handsome, Lauren observed – he certainly had something, for an older man, and she wasn't the kind to be sizing up his assets, the ship was impressive, but she had gone purely on instinct – his blue eyes had sparkled with youth and vitality that defied his years, and she had instantly liked him.
“So what brought you to Chile?” he asked, looking to David and the two women who stood beside him.
“A trip to the Arctic...photography,” David replied, “And then -”
“The world went to hell? Yes, I know. By the way, call me Maxie,” he replied, “All my friends do...” he paused, shaking his head, “Did,” he added, “Probably dead now...I was here on business when th
ey closed the port. My cargo is rather valuable. Four vintage Rolls Royce and a case full of rather expensive antique diamond jewellery... I could hardly leave that and jump ship, living dead invasion or not!”
David looked at him with interest, noting that he didn't look like a man of means - his tattoos said more prison art than tattoo studio and going by the bottles littered about the deck it seemed he had raided a cache of fine vintage champagne as soon as he had got his hands on a rifle to fend off the creatures.
“Is this your boat?” he asked.
Maxie chuckled.
“It is now. And I'm heading home – back to the UK. I think I can get away with theft, at least this time – the police are gone. It's lawless everywhere. I heard all the radio reports, the TV stations were down within two days and the radio followed. I'm a thief and done enough time for it over the years, more than enough. Ironic I now live in a world where we are all thieves, taking what we can, and of course, what we must...We may have to stop off on the way to refuel the engines run very well but port stops will be inevitable. I reckon three or four between here and Old Blighty and give it a month we should be home again – what ever home is like now.”
David glanced to the others, they said nothing, but it was clear they were all in agreement: Yes, they were going home...
The ship set sail that afternoon.
David and the others found small cabin rooms that were comfortable and the comfort and high standard of their new surroundings almost wiped out the reality of what waited them on returning to home shores. As they sailed away from Chile and out to the open sea, blue skies and calm waters beckoned as the sun shone down, here was a blank space of water and sky, giving no clue as to the horror that might lie in wait when they next reached land.
After days of a view of nothing but the Arctic the world seemed to be full of splashes of colour once again with the skies in their ever changing hues from sun rise to sun set and its reflection on the water. The snow was behind them now, far away, once pure and now stained with blood, snow and crimson intermingled as the dead walked through the slush, making traces of boot prints in hues of deep red to lightest pink, as bodies that ought to lie dead and still roamed the frozen wasteland. That was the Arctic now, full of the living dead. But the sea was empty, now and then they came across boats bobbing by or carried by the tides, empty vessels that had broken free of moorings, the sea was full of ghost ships now, their owners dead and no one to steer them back to port.