Day by Day Armageddon

by J. L. Bourne

  I walked over to the hose, pulled it off the rung and checked the pressure on the fuel pump. Looks like it was never shut off. No matter, it wouldn’t drain the battery unless it was constantly pumping. There was enough fuel in this truck to fly cross-country two or three times. Too bad I couldn’t take it all. I walked over and unlatched the fuel cap on the wing with a wood block that was inside the door. I didn’t want to take any chances with spark. I normally wouldn’t leave the engine running to refuel, but hey, I wasn’t taking any chances of this bird not wanting to start. I filled the tanks up until some of it started splashing out on the wing. I returned the hose to its cradle on the fuel truck and started to walk back. I couldn’t hear anything over the engines. As I walked back to the plane, John was frantically trying to signal me. He jumped out and started running toward me. I turned around and instinctively raised my weapon. Good timing.

  I squeezed off a round and decapitated the creature from pretty much point blank Glad I had John with me, because this seven-foot puss sack was the right height to bend down and just take a hunk out of my neck before I knew what hit me. The thing was just a convulsing maggot pie on the ground now. John shot me a worried glance and got back in the bird with Annabelle. She didn’t like flying, and puked twice since we took off.

  Got back into the air and continued for Corpus. Checking the chart, Corpus was 144 miles from San Antonio. We needed 150 miles safe distance. It was 0315 when we were back airborne. That meant 6 hrs and 45 minutes until they dropped their payload. An hour after taking off from Beeville, we were over Corpus airspace. Our destination would be the Naval Air Station east of the city. It would give us our minimum safe distance. Naval Air Station Corpus Christi is a training base. The aircraft there would be of no tactical importance, just single engine reliable training turboprops.

  The lights were still on at the Naval base. They must be using an on site generator. Most bases have alternate sources of power in the event of enemy attack on the power grid. As I flew over the base, destruction was apparent. The base perimeter was destroyed and there were hundreds of them on the base. Same routine checked the airfield. The tower beacon was still operational and flashing its white/blue signal.

  The lights inside the tower were on and I could see no movement inside the airfield perimeter as I made my pass (there was a separate fence for the airfield and admin/tower buildings). I could see 50 or 60 single engine prop aircraft on the taxiways parked. T-34c Turbo mentors, and T-6 Texans made up the bulk of them. That was more like it. I was familiar with the T-34c, and I knew they all had parachutes (unlike the Cessna). John and I decided to land near the tower and use it as shelter for the night. We landed the plane and quickly shut the engine down near the tower as to avoid attracting too many of them. The door to the tower was unlocked but it was shut. Just as I suspected, the tower was abandoned. No sign of life or death inside. John and I took our food/water and weapon and ammo inside for the night, locking the door behind us. It was a heavy steel door and I knew it would hold.

  Ground Zero

  1050 hrs

  John and I finally got to sleep around 0540 this morning. The tower was clean and quiet and safe, and that felt good. I set the alarm on my watch for 0930, to give me thirty minutes of prep time for the show. We turned on the radio; the same message was being looped from the other day. Around 1005 I knew it happened. The blast wave must have been traveling at immense speed. The wind picked up and I could see the trees blowing toward the east, not swaying. My eyes were trained northwest toward the direction of San Antonio. I saw it. It was small from this distance, but it was there.

  We witnessed a bright orange mushroom cloud on the horizon. Damn, they must have really dropped the big one for me to see and feel the wind from over 150 miles. It was a clear, calm day. I knew the wind would not be radioactive from this distance, but the force that pushed the wind was. I just hope that the gas cloud didn’t drift this way.

  I noticed something else that was odd. Houston was northeast of me. John was checking that direction. There was no blast. Granted it was 217 miles away. Just odd. I wondered if they were running late.

  The tower has electricity, water pressure and radios. I think I am going to stay here and ponder what just happened.

  February 2nd

  1435

  I woke up this morning and grabbed the binoculars to survey the area. The first thing I checked was the windsock. It was blowing west. That was good news. I wouldn’t be glowing in the dark today. The airfield was secure. All Naval air stations have eight-foot high chain link fences to keep unauthorized personnel off of the flight line. There were numerous dead around the perimeter in the distance. They were paying no attention to the fence; they were just there.

  Annabelle was whining. John was monitoring the radios, so I decided to take her out (it was the “I have to pee” whine). Walked her down the stairs and took her out to a patch of grass on the side of the tower opposite the runways. She did her business and sniffed the air. She is a small dog, but she has a good sniffer. The hair on the back of her neck was standing up again. I took her back upstairs and shut the door to the tower behind me. The tower had a 360-degree view, so I walked around the center over to the grassy side to see maybe if I could catch a glimpse of what was pissing her off.

  There was nothing. It is probably the wind carrying a bad smell to her. She was happy again, and I poured her some water and gave her some dog food. John was wearing headphones, listening. In the control towers everyone used headsets because it would be chaos if every radio played out loud. John was clearly listening to something besides static. I walked over to his panel, checked his frequency and went to another terminal to listen.

  There were two pilots talking to each other. One of them asked the other if they had both made the best decision. They must have been near our tower, or we wouldn’t pick them up. They probably thought they had all the privacy in the world right now. As far as they knew, no one was alive to listen to them in this area. I wondered what they meant. Were these the same pilots that dropped the nukes? My question was soon answered. As their conversation went on, I discovered that these pilots refused to drop their ordnance. They didn’t see it as a good decision, so instead of following their orders, apparently they chose exile.

  I really can’t blame them. They were human, just like me. I am not sure I could have dropped it either. I wonder which cities were spared. My guess was that one of them was Houston, or maybe even Austin, although the San Antonio blast might have taken care of them.

  John and I couldn’t carry all of our food and water on the plane with us. Water wasn’t a problem right now, but I would say in a couple weeks food would be. Last night the fire to the northwest was bright. Every thing that could burn was probably burning. I bet my house was nothing but dust now.

  2143 hrs

  After rummaging through the tower, John and I came across a large aluminum case with a master lock attached. We were able to pry it open with a set of bolt cutters from the maintenance closet one flight down. The case was a foam padded equipment case used to store night vision goggles. There were four sets inside, monocular type, using civilian AA batteries. I should have known. Tower controllers use them at night to warn pilots of obstructions on the runway. Most military airfield towers have them. Now John and I had them. They were shit for depth perception, but hey, I felt better with them.

  I tried them out. John and I turned off all interior lights. I adjusted the focus and starlight power. The airfield was bathed in a green glow. These were going to be really useful. I could even see field mice scurrying on the runway, near the planes. Tomorrow, I’m going to go out and check the planes for myself.

  February 3rd

  1523 hrs

  I went out this morning to check on a few of the aircraft and pick out the best one in case John and I had to leave. These turboprops were much more reliable than the Cessna, and I at least had some hours in them. I knew they were all in working order, but I carefully screened the on
e I thought look the most maintained. It was aircraft number 07. John and I are going into the hangars today to find some equipment.

  While I was out this morning, I carefully walked the perimeter fence staying clear of areas where they were lurking on the opposite side. It was a big airfield. On the ground, using my binoculars, I could see movement inside one of the administration buildings on the third floor. Alive? Not sure. I quietly moved back to the tower and alerted John of my find. I was starting to think that the only way to defeat these monsters was to just wait them out. It was like a long prison sentence.

  I hadn’t thought about my parents for a long time. My hopes weren’t too high as to their fate. I thought about taking one of the birds and landing it in a field near my home just so I could get some closure. I could never ask John to come along. It was just a passing thought.

  February 4th

  1447 hrs

  We fueled one of the T-34s up. Checked the engine, showed John how to work the APU (auxiliary power unit). The T-34c can perform a battery start; it’s just best to start it from the external gas powered auxiliary unit. After this, John and I locked Annabelle in the tower and got ready to check out the hangar for any equipment that we may need.

  John and I were getting adept at this. He would open the door and I would clear the room. It was a ghost town inside the hangar. John and I edged our way to a room marked, “flight equipment maintenance.” The door was halfway open and the lights were on inside. I rushed into the room, weapon ready. I almost shot a dummy that was standing there modeling its flight gear. To small for me, but looked like it would fit John.

  After clearing the room, and shutting the door, (just in case) I told John to strip the dummy and try on the flight suit and helmet. I grabbed a helmet off the “maintenance completed” rack and walked over to the test radio to test the boom microphone. It worked fine. We grabbed a couple survival vests, equipped with the bare essentials, as well as one of the wooden model T-34s that might prove useful if I had to explain how something worked to John. There were also sets of keys marked “fuel truck key” hanging on a rack.

  After getting back to the tower, I started showing John the basics of flight. I used some flight manuals and the wooden model to give him some idea on avionics and how aircraft control surfaces work. I asked John if he would like to go up and check things out, sort of a recon mission. He agreed and we suited up.

  1932 hrs

  John and I took off around 1545. We flew northwest at over 200 knots to survey the blast damage. It only took us 40 minutes to get to the outskirts, and that was close enough. The city was rubble. We were at high altitude (over 10,000 ft) to avoid any residual radiation. Decided it best to head back. As soon as we were out of danger we dropped down to an altitude of 2,000 feet. It was a clear day and the sun was at our back. We followed the interstate.

  John asked me to roll us over so he could get a good look at the ground. I rolled over about 30-degrees. John and I gazed down to the interstate. These things were making a mass exodus out of the city. I wondered how effective the nukes were on those not in the immediate vicinity. I doubt radiation has any effect on the creatures. Only the heat from the blast could have destroyed them. Minimum safe distance for a living human being would be 150 miles, but not for them. I bet they could survive within twenty miles.

  John snapped a digital of the “ghoul’s retreat” from the city. We touched down, just as the sun was starting to set, and taxied back to our parking spot near the tower. It truly was a dead place. We saw no sign of life, only thousands and thousands of them walking the landscape. The lights of Corpus Christi would eventually lead them to the city.

  February 5th

  2201 hrs

  They are increasing in number at the west side of the fence. That side is approximately 1/4 of a mile from the tower. Using night vision goggles, I can see them shambling in the distance. The green grainy image is very surreal and disturbing. John and I turned the lights off when we noticed them earlier today. I have a feeling they are the first wave, pushed out of the major cities. Damn, a Geiger counter would have been a good Christmas gift last year. No more frivolous trips in the aircraft. Don’t want them getting worked up. I’m going on a scouting mission tonight to the admin building where I saw movement the other day. I have the advantage of night vision, so I think I will be fine. Plus, I need batteries.

  February 6th

  0430 hrs

  I went alone last night to the admin building. John stayed back in the tower. As soon as I left the top floor of the tower, I shut the door and switched to NVGs. The familiar green, grainy image faded in. It made me feel invisible. The building was a good three hundred yards from the tower. I took my rifle for a main weapon, and the Glock for backup. Only took 58 rounds of .223 for the carbine (29 rounds in each magazine). I wasn’t heading out to fight a war, just to scavenge. I also took some heavy-duty black zip ties and some rope that I found in the tower. For some reason, I don’t think the “me” of a month ago would have left the tower tonight. In the back of my mind, I keep thinking what is left to live for?

  Carefully approaching the front door to the administration building, I began to methodically check the windows for movement. Because of the NVGs limitations, I couldn’t see inside the windows until I was close enough to almost hit the building with a thrown rock. I couldn’t tell what was moving up on the third floor. I thought for a second that it could be the shadow of an oscillating fan, backlit by a hall light of some sort. That is what I wanted it to be. I was at the front door. It was unlocked. Carefully stepping in, I listened for any possible sound. Reminded me of all the hearing tests I had to take in the military. It was quiet, like a soundproof room inside. After stepping through the second set of doors, I walked into the center of the room and noticed a large staircase that I assume led up to the second and third floors. I took another step and heard a loud crunch beneath my feet. I stepped on a piece of broken glass an especially loud piece. It was then that I started hearing it.

  Sounded like a group of four or five on the floors above me. Low moaning and slow moving feet could be heard moving over the debris above. I knew what it was. They had heard me, and they wanted to come downstairs and dine on my flesh. I quickly spun around and headed back toward the door. Behind me, I heard the sound of one (or more) of them falling down the stairs. Sounded like a garbage bag full of wet leaves.

  I sprinted as fast as I could for the door. After making it through the first set of double doors, I quickly pulled out a couple large black zip ties and secured the door. I ran through the next door (outside door) and did the same. They were hard plastic, and I knew they would only slow them down. I put four of them on this door. Just as I was stepping away, they broke through the interior door and started banging on the door I had just secured. I started running back to the tower. I heard the loud, frustrated thuds as I made my escape.

  Then the loud crash of a shattered glass. I looked over my shoulder and saw one of them falling out of a third floor window. All the noise must have excited it. I made it to the tower, and ran up the stairs to the top door where John and I were staying. I knocked and yelled through to John to dim the lights and put on his NVGs. After seeing that the crack below the door went dark, I stepped inside to see if the fallen ghoul had chased me.

  No sign of it. The door was locked below. I would hear if it tried to gain entrance. We are safe for now.

  1534 hrs

  John was listening to the radios (he has become depressed over the death of his wife the past few days), and scanning channels when he called me over to check something out. He told me that there was something crawling under one of the planes, but he couldn’t see it anymore. I grabbed the binoculars and scanned the area that John was pointing at. It was the corpse that had fallen out of the window last night. It was pulling itself with its arms. Its legs were being dragged motionlessly behind it. I didn’t like the idea of going out there and killing it and it wasn’t bothering anything right now.

  F
ebruary 7th

  1826 hrs

  Movement John and I noticed it a few hours ago. From my angle, I couldn’t tell if the admin building door had stayed secure with the zip ties. More of them were gathering on the west end of the fence. Went out to check the plane and make sure it was ready for flight if we needed it to be. I couldn’t park the plane too close to the tower after our scouting trip to the city, because of the soft wet grass from a recent rain.

  I had to park the plane a good two hundred yards from the tower so it was a trek to go and check on it. I snuck to the plane without incident. I didn’t see the crawling ghoul anywhere around. This fenced area was huge and it could be anywhere. The fuel truck was about fifty yards further than the plane. I started walking toward it, and then I saw them. The angle I was standing before blocked my view of them. I counted ten inside the perimeter fence walking around the blind side of the admin building. They didn’t see me, but they would see the truck if I tried to pull it to the aircraft to refuel it. My stomach ached at the thought of refueling the aircraft in the dark, but it had to be done.