“Let’s go,” he said, “Back into formation.”
Alpha formed up just as they had before, and Cale led them into the next hallway. Up ahead they could see the glass doors that separated L from M. Luggage had been stacked up to block their view, and as they moved closer, they discovered that the luggage had been stacked on the other side. Someone had gone through a great deal of effort to barricade the undead in the terminal, and Cale wondered if they could still be alive.
“There’s no way buddy,” Zach interjected.
Cale ignored him.
“I want to know what’s behind there,” he said to the group.
“But, Sergeant,” Ramsey voiced his opinion, “we just cleared the terminal. We’re good.”
Cale shook his head, “I don’t want to be surprised when zombies from the other side find their way in. Let’s just see what’s going on.”
Ramsey didn’t argue the point further and joined the rest of Alpha in finding a way to breach the makeshift barrier. One particular door opened inward, a concept the undead were incapable of fathoming. Ballard stepped up to the wall of luggage and began to knock over the suitcases.
“You hear that?” Zach asked Cale.
“Wait,” Cale whispered as he put his hand up to halt Ballard.
Everyone stopped and fell silent. Something was moving on the other side of the wall.
“What should I do?” Ballard whispered.
“Take it down,” answered Cale, “fast.”
Ballard blasted his six foot one frame through, and the rest of Alpha followed. Terrified screams greeted them on the other side, along with two men armed with police batons. A group of women sheltered children from them. Alpha team held their position.
“Well,” Zach said, “I’ll be damned.”
46.
Killing Time
Cale stood at the window of gate twenty-three, overlooking the tarmac. Most of the planes had been moved to free up lanes for other planes to take off. Behind him, the terminal was filled with laughter. He and a great many others had made their home here since it had been cleared out. Blair had reallocated some of the engineers to come and help, and for the last month or so they’d been tearing the place apart and putting it back together. The engineers had set up a massive battery of solar panels on the roof. The panels had been looted from all over: traffic lights, train crossings, construction signs, anywhere they could think of. They’d salvaged every panel within an eighty mile radius.
While the engineers worked on that, the rest of them had worked gathering the bodies of the undead. Cale could see the charred spot where they’d been piled and burned, using jet fuel as an accelerant. All that remained was ash. Many of the vehicles had been moved aside, and they’d patched the hole in the fence. They were using a loading garage as an entry control point.
Cale turned to face the interior of the terminal, which was now a bustling community. Everyone here wanted to go home, wherever that was for them. The survivors they’d happened across were part of their numbers now. Thomas was an American pilot for United Airlines. Carmen was an American representative for the CDC. The other seven were French nationals. They’d all been held up in a portion of M terminal since the airport had grounded all flights. Carmen had arrived on the last flight, as a liaison, and that was when everyone was confined to the terminal. As the outbreak spread, they’d been pushed back. When it had started, there had been seventeen survivors in their group, but their numbers had dwindled as time went on.
In the corner, Ballard and Goebel sat on their green army- issue cots, and passed the time by telling stories.
“And so I had to explain to my mom that a bong and pong were not the same thing,” Ballard chuckled.
Goebel burst into laughter.
“Sounds like I missed something good,” Cale said, joining in.
Goebel nodded. Ballard was cleaning his combat tomahawk as he continued to chuckle. Cale took a seat on the cot next to him, facing Goebel, who was cleaning his M4.
“He was just telling me about his stoner brother,” Goebel laughed.
“Ah,” said Cale. “Yeah, he told me about him,” he laughed.
Ballard worked to polish the blade of his weapon.
“Where the hell did you get that?” Cale asked.
“This?” Ballard asked as he held up his tomahawk. “This I bought while I was at mobilization in Fort McCoy, Wisconsin.”
“But, why?” Cale inquired further.
“Why not?” Ballard retorted. “It was a fun thing to have, and now I can use it,” he added.
Just then, Sergeant Kyle approached with a man in tow, who was fondly known as ‘Goose’.
“Maybe you can settle this argument,” Goose stated.
“Okay?” Cale said confused. “Shoot.”
“Goose, here,” Kyle began.
“No, no, no, fucker,” Goose interrupted him. “Tell him the entire story.”
Kyle rolled his eyes in annoyance, “Alright. We were outside smoking. And it’s hot out there. So I asked how hot it was.”
“I thought he asked what time it was,” Goose added, “and I said 5:45.”
“So I said that there was nowhere on Earth where the temperature was five hundred and forty-five degrees,” Kyle continued. “He said the core was that hot. But the core is inside of the Earth. So he said…”
“A volcano, fucker,” Goose shot.
Kyle rolled his eyes again and looked directly at Goose, “If you were in a volcano you’d have to be in the Earth. Not on it.”
“But that’s the right answer,” Goose added.
“No,” Kyle cut him off, “because I meant climate. You know? Something produced by nature.”
“A volcano is part of nature,” stated Goose.
“No,” said Kyle.
“Yes,” Goose followed up.
“No,” repeated Kyle, “because a volcano is in the Earth. And it would exceed five hundred and forty-five degrees.”
“You never said it had to be exactly that temp, fucker,” Goose argued.
“My exact words were that nowhere on Earth was the temperature five hundred and forty-five degrees,” retaliated Kyle.
“Admit you were wrong, fucker,” Goose demanded.
“No. Because I’m not,” Kyle laughed. “What do you think, Cale?”
Cale looked at both men. They were both hopeful that he would take their side.
“A volcano technically puts you inside the Earth,” answered Cale.
“Exactly,” Kyle smiled.
“Fuck you guys!” Goose said before walking off, “I’m going to get another opinion,” he added as he stomped away.
“Man, you just need to admit you’re wrong,” said Kyle as he followed him.
Cale laughed and shook his head. He wasn’t surprised at the argument. It was just a way to blow off steam.
“So, when do you think the first flight will go out?” asked Ballard.
Cale shook his head, “Hard to say. Whenever Thomas gets the other pilots trained up, I guess.”
They were fortunate to find a certified pilot. The original plan had been to use the military pilots, but none of them had flown anything quite that large. Having Thomas available had sped up the process of cross training them immensely. Once word had spread about there being a fully trained and certified pilot, more people stepped forward and voiced their desire to go home.
“I just thought since you were friends with the sergeant first class, that you might’ve heard,” said Ballard.
“No. It’s not him who decides,” Cale informed him. “It’s all on the pilots and getting them trained.”
“But ultimately, the sergeant will be the one who gives the go ahead,” Ballard stated.
“Yeah, but he isn’t just sitting around, making us wait. He’ll tell us right away when the pilots are ready,” explained Cale.
He nipped the rumor in the bud immediately. If they began to doubt their leadership, things would only get worse. Blair had
nothing but the best of intentions for his people. “I’ve gotta piss,” Goebel shared with the group as he jumped up.
Ballard and Cale sat in the corner, while around them people talked or played cards to pass the time. Ballard looked up to see if anyone was listening, while Cale stared at the floor.
“Hey, Sergeant,” Ballard started.
Cale continued to stare at the floor.
“I was gonna ask…” he pondered finishing his question, “Are…are you alright? I mean…”
“Yeah, why?” Cale laughed.
“I heard some things, is all,” he explained.
Great. More rumors.
“What kind of things?” asked Cale.
“Just that you…well, you…,” Ballard trailed off.
“That I what?” Cale hadn’t looked up from the floor yet.
“I noticed that you talk to yourself,” stated Ballard.
“Yeah,” Cale joked, “I do that.”
“No. I mean like you talk to someone who isn’t there.” He’d mustered up the courage to just throw it out there.
“Uh…I don’t know what you mean.” Cale played coy. “Everyone talks to themsel…”
“It went around that you were yelling someone’s name before they brought you in,” confessed Ballard. “And you were by yourself.”
Cale fell silent.
“Then, you were acting weird when you got into that shoot out with those civilians,” he added.
“They were kids,” Cale mumbled.
“And when we were clearing this place out, I just noticed…” he wasn’t sure how to end the sentence.
“Yeah.” Cale focused on one of the threads in the carpet.
The smell of the dead was still faint. It’d take a lot more than four cleanings to purge the stench.
“Sergeant…” Ballard started.
“Just call me Cale,” he interrupted. “It’s my driver from Iraq. He was also my best friend.”
Ballard nodded. “So, why do you see him?”
“He…he got infected,” stated Cale. “I…I had to kill him. He asked me to.”
“Shit,” Ballard whispered.
Cale’s dirty little secret was out now. It wouldn’t take long for the word to spread.
“I’d like to keep this…” Cale started.
“Between us,” finished Ballard. “Yeah. I won’t say anything,” he said sincerely. “Does the sergeant first class know?”
Cale shook his head, “I don’t think so, but I’m sure he must suspect. I haven’t exactly been able to keep things under wraps.”
“Do you see him all the time?” Ballard asked.
“No. I’m not really sure what triggers it,” confessed Cale.
“It sounds a lot like post-traumatic stress disorder,” he offered.
“PTSD?” Cale sounded surprised. “I don’t know.”
“Come on,” Ballard argued his point, “you’ve seen the videos the army makes us watch. The ones where the soldiers get all angry, say, after a tailgate slams, or the one where that guy sees his dead buddy in his kitchen.”
“Yeah. I wish I could see Zach in my kitchen. Then at least I’d be home,” Cale joked.
Ballard chuckled and silence fell over the two men. Cale was still zoned out, staring at the floor when Goose came strutting back up. He was a stocky man in his forties. The top of his head was bald, but he had short hair growing around it. His features were similar to Cale’s, with dark hair and blue eyes. Kyle was right beside him. Kyle, however, had a chubby baby face and a mole next to his right eye.
“Lightning,” Goose said arrogantly.
Kyle just rolled his eyes.
“But lightning isn’t constant,” Ballard observed.
“I read somewhere that there was an island that was perpetually in a thunderstorm,” Goose quickly added. “With hundreds of strikes recorded in an hour.”
Kyle raised his hands in mock surprise. “Oh, an island somewhere that you read about.”
“I didn’t realize I had to cite my sources,” Goose argued.
“Well, you do,” said Kyle.
“Lightning is hotter than five hundred and forty-five degrees,” Cale offered.
“And again, it isn’t constant,” added Ballard.
“Fuck you guys,” Goose replied, holding up the middle fingers on both his hands at them.
Kyle laughed, and Goose stomped away to sulk in defeat.
“Some people, man,” Kyle chuckled.
Cale laughed.
“Hey, we’ve got a meeting with SFC in about five minutes,” Kyle told Cale.
“He’s here?” Cale asked.
“Got here about an hour ago,” Kyle informed him.
Cale jumped up to join him.
“Later, Ballard,” he said, and walked away with Kyle.
Ballard went back to cleaning his tomahawk.
“What’s the meeting about?” asked Cale.
“Not sure, man,” Kyle shrugged.
“Is it just us?” Cale inquired.
“Nah. All the NCOs are supposed to be there,” stated Kyle.
Cale followed him to the restaurant that had been deemed the official NCO club. Inside, the tables had all been pushed together to form one long one. Blair stood at one end. Other NCOs had already begun taking seats. Kyle and Cale sat next to one another, and then Curtis joined them a moment later, sitting next to Cale. Blair waited for the last few stragglers to enter and be seated before he started.
“This everyone?” he asked.
They all looked around the room to see if anyone was missing. After a moment of silence, it was concluded that no one was absent.
“Alright, people,” Blair began, “I have some good news.”
Cale’s heart skipped a beat in anticipation. Everyone held their breath.
“Thomas says we’re good to go,” stated Blair.
The group of men erupted into cheers and applause. Cale couldn’t help but join in. Blair waited for the commotion to die down, while outside the NCO club the lower enlisted began to gather out of curiosity.
“Okay. Okay,” Blair smiled. “Now the bad news.”
Suddenly the positive energy was sucked out of the room.
“Now, not everyone can go on the same flight,” Blair explained, “We’re going to draw up a roster and flight dates for all of you.”
Blair looked directly at Cale.
“I’d appreciate it if the first group that goes over helps to establish a permanent base. That way we can fly more of you over,” Blair said to the group.
He was still looking at Cale, obviously directing the words at him, and Cale nodded. It confirmed for him that he’d be on the first flight over, and a wave of excitement hit him. He began to fidget in his seat.
“When is the first flight leaving?” asked Curtis.
Blair looked at his personal entourage of NCOs.
“We’ve agreed that the first flight will head out in eighteen days,” he informed them.
“Why that long?” Cale asked.
Blair looked at him again.
“We’ll need to figure out where in the US you’re going. That also gives us enough time to figure out who’s going and who’s staying for now. As well, it ensures that our pilots are fully trained and ready,” offered Blair. “After the first flight we should be able to send one out every three days. I’d like it if we could ferry people back and forth and start helping everyone who wants to get home.”
The room was content with his answer. It was exactly the news they wanted to hear; they were going home. The summer was drawing to a close and would soon give way to autumn.
47.
Departure
Cale had been packed and ready to go for the last two weeks. Every day he fantasized about Blair coming in and announcing that they’d bumped up the flight date. Unfortunately, that never happened, but today was the day. He hadn’t slept a wink the night before. Those who were fortunate enough to be on the first flight had stayed up all night, j
oking and talking. One of the soldiers, a woman, blared, “Momma, I’m Coming Home” by Ozzy Osbourne all night, and many times the group had burst into song.
He checked his watch. It was 0345. Wake up was supposed to be at 0400, but the flight wouldn’t leave until 1000. Cale decided he’d just sleep during the flight. He, Ballard, and Kyle had played cards all night.
“What time you got?” Ballard asked, as he laid a card down.
“Almost four in the morning,” Cale answered.
“Good God, why does it seem like this is taking forever?” asked Kyle.
“Because it is,” Cale said with a smile.
“How long has it been since you’ve been home?” asked Ballard.
Kyle thought for a moment. “I was supposed to go home back in June, but I didn’t take leave, so I’d say about fifteen months.”
“Shit,” Ballard replied.
“What about you?” Cale asked him.
“What month is this?” asked Ballard.
“We’re at the end of September,” Kyle informed him as he played a card.
“Damn it!” exclaimed Ballard. “How is it possible to suck this much at this game?”
Kyle laughed and shrugged.
“Well if it’s the end of September…” Ballard started.
“It’s the very last day of September,” added Cale, as he gathered the cards to shuffle and deal.
“It’s practically October then,” laughed Ballard.
“Yep,” Kyle chimed in, “October.”
“Then it’s been just under eleven months,” Ballard answered.
“You?” Kyle asked Cale, as he picked up his cards.
Cale quickly counted the months in his head.
“Sixteen months,” he stated. “That sounds right.”
“Fuck. I bet you’re excited then?” Kyle asked rhetorically.
Cale nodded, “October.”
The three of them laughed and continued the game. Hand after hand was played as they tried not to talk about the time. After a while, Goose came over to join.
Z Plan (Book 2): Red Tides Page 31