“To the back,” Paul yells.
I turn to enter the backroom, but when I reach out with my hand to push the door open, I fall back instead. I hit the floor, skidding toward the front of the plane. Paul grabs my hand and drags me close to the chairs. I grab. I pull myself to the back of one of the chairs, breathing heavily. The plane is going down. I look down to front of the plane, the infected are attacking the uninfected, blood splashing everywhere, people screaming, it’s terrifying.
My upper lips are twitching so hard it’s making me uncomfortable, and I want to cry, but I don’t. I’m sixteen now, I’m adult, and crying is what kids do when they are scared.
A man in brown jacket and thick moustache slowly rises from behind one of the seats close to the main door. He watches the horror below for a while, then he moves out from behind the seat and climbs down. He gets to the door and presses himself between the small corners of the door. I watch, wondering what he has in mind. He reaches for the door lever and turns it. Against the intense pressure holding the door shut, he pulls the door open as if it's nothing and he jumps. My eyes wide open, my mind trying to comprehend what I just saw. I don't know which is more terrifying; watching people get torn apart or seeing an aged man defy a law of physics and then jumped out the plane without a parachute.
I look up at Paul, he nods. “That’s our way out,” he says, as if jumping out of a moving plane is child’s play.
“No way,” I retort. I can think of at least three ways jumping out through that door could go wrong. We could bump into the wing, or get pulled into the engine, or collide with the tail, three possibilities that will certainly lead to our death.
“It’s the only way Steven, you have to trust me.” He shouts over the sound of the wind.
The overhead bins are opening and bags and suitcases are flying out the door.
“I can’t do it,” I say, shaking my head.
He climbs down and sits next to me. “Son, we are not going to die today. Think of what would happen to Mary if we’re dead, and it’s going to happen if we don’t jump out that door while we still can.”
“Mom,” I mutter and sob. He’s right, we can’t afford to die, not today, it will destroy mom and I don’t want that. I’m not ready to die, and not just for mom, but for myself––for goodness sake I’m only sixteen!
I try to move out to the aisle, but I can’t figure how to do it.
“We have a better chance out there Steven, we have to try. Just let go, let the wind take you.” He puts his hand on my neck and kisses my forehead. “You can do it.”
Hearing him say those words, I grow some balls and decide to quit being a child and go already. I crawl out to the aisle. Paul holds my hand and when I’m lying with my back on the floor, he nods and smiles, reassuring me we are going to be fine. I nod back, meaning I’m ready. He let go of my hand and I begin to fall, sliding toward the mouth of the plane. As I get closer to the door, the pressure gets stronger, the air gets colder and it becomes impossible to breath. When I’m about six feet from the door, the plane mouth moves up slowly till it balances with the tail, and then it moves up higher than the tail. My falling speed drops and lifeless bodies and blood soaked black-eyed people begin to slide toward me, but I’m already close enough to the door. The wind pulls me out with so much force I narrowly miss bumping into the wing.
For a few seconds that feels like a long time, I’m spinning so fast I think I’m going to vomit my intestines. I extend my hands and legs and slowly put them straight with my body. I don’t know why I’m doing it, but it’s slowing me down. I don’t see the plane anymore, I don’t even hear its sound. It’s really cold up here, and my eyes are hurting badly, but I can’t worry about that now. I’m falling thirty thousand feet out of the sky, and I have to figure a way to survive.
It doesn’t take long before I realize how stupid I was. The only way I could survive was if I had jumped out of the plane together with my dad who has the parachute. He was stupid enough to convince me to throw myself to my death, and I was even more stupid to agree to it. I hate him so much right now.
I’m free falling, and I know I have less than a minute till I hit the ground. I spread my hands and legs, close my watery, hurting eyes and try to enjoy the ride. I push the thought that I'm falling to my inevitable death out of my head and picture myself with wings. It feels insanely exciting to feel like I’m flying.
Something touches the tip of my finger, I open my eyes. A lifeless body is below me, falling faster than I am. Another body falls past me. I try to turn my head to see behind me, a body bumps into me and falls past me. I spin around for a few seconds before I get my bearings. As easy as turning the head to see the back should be, it is proving impossible for me right now. I realize it’s easier to turn the whole body, so I turn and see people scattered across my view, some coming down faster than the other.
I see a body coming toward me, but I don't know how to move myself out of its way. The body hits me and clings on to my wrist. It’s a girl with black eyes and bloody face. I open my mouth to scream, but instead get it filled with air. She is squeezing my hand so hard and trying to get her teeth and her free hand on my skin. I pull, but she won’t let go. Another body bumps into her and she lost her grip on my hand and spins away.
Even though it’s happening right before my eyes, I still find it hard to believe that the black-eyeds are still bent on tearing the uninfected apart, even while they fall to their death. I wonder for a moment how a virus could turn humans to such mindless beasts, how they are feeling inside––hunger? Or just raw desire to destroy? My eyes are filled with tears and it hurts so much. I rub the tears off so I can see clearly. I look around for my dad, but I don’t see him. I don’t see most of the faces, but I would know Paul even without his face. I hear a faint scream, it sounds far away, and then it’s gone. I hear it again, and then I begin to hear all the screams, the voices getting slapped at me by the wind. If I can hear the voices now, it only means one thing; I am so close to the ground now.
I turn my body till I'm facing the ground, white clouds disappear and the city’s layout slowly comes into view. It looks beautiful from up here, but I don’t care. I have maybe ten seconds or less before I hit the ground. The building and other things on the ground are rapidly getting bigger, I become more frightened and before I can decide whether I want to cry or not, tears begin to spill out of my eyes, getting blown away as soon as it leaves the eyes. I close my eyes and create a picture of my mom in my head, and wait for the big impact.
How tragic it will be to die on no other day but my birthday. If Paul survives, how will he explain to my mom he foolishly threw me out of the plane and I foolishly let him? How will Kim deal with the fact that I will no longer be in her life? Sam, Peter, I should never have wanted to go Nevada for some stupid five hundred feet hole in the ground, should have stayed home with my mom. This is all my fault.
I hear two gunshots, I open my eyes, but instead of worrying about the gunshots, I see how close I am to the ground and my heart jumps––the fading black of the asphalt, with broken white stripes in the middle. I can't believe I’m going to die in the middle of a freaking road, and it’s not even a road accident.
Something hits me from behind, and then a pair of hand goes around me under my arms. I squirm and scream so loud my voice cracks.
“It’s okay Steven, it’s me.” A voice says coolly into my ear and I recognize it, it’s my dad.
My body jerks upward in his arms, as if being pulled toward the sky, and then we come down slowly. I sniff and try to relax my heartbeat. I look around, trying to be certain this isn’t me hallucinating at the point of dying, it isn’t. A smile creeps up on my face.
“Dad.” I finally say. Just when I think it's over, when I think he doesn't have a plan, he comes and he saves me.
When we’re about six feet from the ground, he let go of me. I hit the ground on my feet and stumble and fall hard on my palms, and then I roll on my back. He touches the
ground as hard as I did. He hurries out from under the parachute’s canopy as if something might get him if he stays there a second longer. I throw my hands around him and try not to cry. He pulls back, holding my arms tightly and scanning me from head to toes.
“Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine.” I say.
“We survived the fall,” he says, slightly smiling. “But I’m afraid it’s not over. You’re a man now Steven and you have to be strong and prepared for what might happen to us down here.”
I nod and wipe tears off my eyes. We look around. There are really messed up dead bodies all around, and they are not from the fall. We are in the middle of a road. Whatever it was that happened on the plane, it’s not just on the plane, it's down here too. Whatever here used to be, it’s something else now; a city redesigned with blood and bullet holes.
“What’s going on dad? Where are we?”
“I’m not sure exactly where, but we’re in Ohio.” He looks tensed and scared in a brave way. “I think there’s been an outbreak.”
“A virus outbreak?”
He removes his phone from his pocket and dials a number. He looks at me, “Your mom,” he says. “She’s not answering.”
He dials on the phone again. “Faye, Faye, it’s me Paul. What the hell is going on?”
I move close to him so I can hear the conversation.
“Paul,” a female voice says over the phone, but it’s not my mom’s voice. “I have been trying to reach you, but we're not allowed to make calls.”
“What is going on Faye? Things have gone insane out here. Are we under attack?”
“Under attack, I think yes.”
“Attack from where? Korea? Russia?”
“Paul,” she pauses. I can hear the depth of her sigh from where I’m standing. “What I’m about to tell you is classified, but I figured it out on my own as I’m guessing most agents have too. There are three carriers in three parts of the planet, and as of right now they are moving strictly essential humans to the carriers for evacuation. The ships will depart in ten hours, and I managed to secure space for you and your family.”
“Carriers? Departing to where?”
“To Mars Paul, to Mars.”
He frowns. “Mars?”
“Yes. This threat is classified ‘big omega’, and the only way to survive is to get out.”
“If this outbreak is as bad as you say, ten hours is enough for the entire population to be infected.”
“Some people have shown strong resistance to the virus, and their blood is being used is to create serums for only the essential population, which will make them immune long enough for us to get us off the planet. I would have told you earlier, but only agents with active assignments and their families are allowed to be evacuated, and everyone is being constantly monitored to avoid people bringing their non-essential friends and relatives onboard.”
“This is crazy,” he says. “Where are you now?”
“Sunflower, it’s the carrier.” She says. The two of them remain silent for a few seconds.
“I’ll keep in touch,” Paul finally says.
“Paul, wait. Please, you have to make it.”
He exhales. “I’ll try Faye.”
He hangs up and our eyes meet.
“We’re about four to five hours from D.C, we need to get off the street.”
“No,” I say. “What we need to do is get back home to mom.”
He looks around warily. “Yes, but we can only do that if we’re alive, and standing in the middle of a bloody street won’t do us any good.”
He is right. Something about him is making my stomach rumble. He no longer appears the docile physics teacher and dad I know. He should be freaked out of his mind right now just because he's standing in the middle of a bloody bullet-holed street, but he suddenly knows how to use a parachute, and he clearly isn’t freaked out at all, only worried. Plus he just spoke with a very close friend I have never heard of. I’m going to ask him a whole lot of questions, but first, we have to get to safety.
He moves down the street and I follow. We stick close to the building walls which I think is a bad idea, but he thinks it reduces our chances of getting discovered. So far, we haven’t seen or heard anyone or anything, not anyone that’s still living. No sound, everything is just absolutely––
A high-pitched sound thunders through the sky, and a ground shaking explosion follows. I stumble and fall in shock. A large airplane is going down on a skyscraper, burning, with thick cloud of smoke billowing above it. I look around the visible sky, making sure no other airplane is coming down on us.
“Where is everybody?” I whisper.
“Dead, alive and infected, or alive and running for their lives.” Paul says.
I hear a faint sound that resembles the sound of a crying baby. We follow the sound to the alley and find a car with its engine running. The cry is coming from inside the car. Paul and I look at each other and move carefully toward the car. We get to the car and find a baby wrapped in a blue piece of cloth in the back seat. Paul pulls the cloth away from the baby’s face, and jerks back. It’s a girl and she’s infected. Thick black veins all around her face, and her eyes blank black. She stops crying when she sees us, and her toothless gums begin to close and open, and her hands and legs moving about. Just like the grownup black-eyeds, she is trying to get a mouthful of us. I hear a sound and look back. A black-eyed man is inching toward us. I have never seen any of the infected moves so slowly.
“Dad,”
Two black-eyeds zap past the slow black-eyed and in seconds, they are almost on us. Paul shoves the black-eyed baby out of the car and pulls me in. He moves to the driver seat, shoves the gear stick and hits the gas pedal, the engine rolls loud, but the car is not moving. The three black-eyeds are now around the car, pummeling their bodies at the window, trying to get to us. The black-eyeds double and then more and in seconds, there is about ten of them around the car. The windows are cracking, and it won’t be long before they get in.
“We have to get out,” says Paul.
“There’s too many of them.”
“There’s only going to be more. If we don’t go now, we won’t have a chance.”
“Do we have a chance now?”
He looks deeply at me as if he’s about to reveal a secret, then he nods. “You push the door with everything you got and don’t stop until you get to that truck.” He points his finger to a pickup truck about a hundred meters from here, I nod.
He opens his door and I open mine. I knock two black-eyeds down with the door, creating space to escape through, and then I run, and they follow me. Two half-naked black-eyeds appear ahead, coming toward me. I continue to run toward the two black-eyeds. When I get close enough, the closest black-eyed dives at me, I do the exact move Paul did on the plane, I step slightly out of the black-eyed's way and rock my fist to his jaw. He drops, but doesn’t pass out like I want him to, but he’s not finding it easy to get back up. The second black-eyed lunges at me, I kick him on the chest and he falls on his back, I fall too and quickly get back up. He throws himself at me and I duck, but I’m not fast enough. His body collides with mine and he falls over me, my back on the floor. He brings his mouth down at my face, his teeth closing and opening. My left hand finds something on the ground, I take it whatever it is and shove it into his mouth; it is a coke can. He bites down on the can and immediately forgets about me, looking at the can as if he’s discovering something new. I push him off me and get up, he’s still busy biting on the can. The other black-eyed I knocked down earlier is back up. He rockets himself at me from behind, knocking me down. I get up before he can cover me, running my feet at his face. I run, he follows. I gain a few meters lead, then I stop and turn around. He dives at me and once again I step slightly out of his way and with all of my strength, rock my fist to his jaw. He goes down, still and breathless. I think he’s out, but I don’t wait to confirm it. As I run, intense pain shoots up my arm, but I don’t let it both
er me.
I glance over my shoulder and see my dad surrounded by black-eyeds, and then I hear gunshot upon gunshot.
Black-eyeds right behind me, I get to the truck and run straight inside, slamming the door behind me. The black-eyeds begin to pummel themselves at the truck, bleeding all over the window glass. I hear gunshots, and each time it sounds, a black-eyed goes down. One by one they fall to the ground till I don’t see them anymore. The door opens and Paul springs in, slamming the door.
“Does it work?”
“What?” I say, quivering.
“The truck,” he scowls, looking a little disappointed, not by the truck, but me.
“I didn’t check.” I say, looking out the window.
He moves his hand to the ignition and it finds the key. He turns it and the engine starts. He shifts the gear stick, presses the gas pedal and the truck moves.
Finally, we are in a working vehicle and we're driving out of this city. We run black-eyeds over every time one pops up in front of the truck. Some of them are running after the truck. I watch them in the side mirror as they relentlessly try to catch up, even though they are all exhausted. One by one, they stumble and fall when their legs could no longer bear the stress.
“I figured you’ve figured the way home,” I say, still looking into the side mirror.
“Yes.”
I take the phone and dial our home line, but no one answered. I dial my mom’s personal line, she still doesn’t pick up. Something is definitely wrong over there.
“Whatever this is, it’s everywhere isn’t it?” I say.
“Yes it is.”
“So that guy on the plane wasn’t a terrorist,”
Apocalyptic Shorts Page 4