Nurse Alissa vs. The Zombies | Book 6 | Rescue

by Baker, Scott M.

  Frank leaned forward and gazed out the cockpit’s side windshield. “He’s right. We almost flew past it.”

  “We’re going to get ourselves killed if we keep this up.” Robson mumbled it to himself, but it came through loud and clear over the speakers in their headsets.

  Robson maneuvered the Seahawk so he approached the airfield from the southeast, keeping the wind behind them, and hovered over the portion containing the terminal and tarmac, which offered him more landing space. He descended to an altitude of one hundred feet and stopped.

  “Check the ground beneath us. I don’t want to land on something buried in the snow.”

  Frank searched the area in front of the helicopter. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Chris?”

  “Hang on.” He scanned the area beneath their right flank, then moved over to port and did the same. “Nothing down there I can see.”

  “Any deaders?”

  “I doubt they can make their way through this shit.”

  “I’ll take what I can get. Make sure you’re strapped in. This will be bumpy.”

  Chris buckled himself in near the starboard door so he could observe the landing.

  Robson brought down the Seahawk slowly. The closer the helicopter got to the ground, the more snow that was churned up by the downdraft. Chris could tell they were about fifteen feet from the ground. He realized he had been holding his breath and exhaled with—

  The wind picked up suddenly. A downdraft combined with a crosswind slammed into the Seahawk. The landing gear absorbed the shock and bounced the helicopter a few feet back into the air where the wind tipped it to port at a fifteen-degree angle. The tips of the rotors slashed through the snow and clipped the concrete beneath. The rending of metal filled the troop compartment as all four rotors were torn from the engine, breaking into pieces, the shards hurtling across the airfield, one crashing through the window of the main terminal. The helicopter’s fuselage rolled and teetered a moment before coming to a rest on its port side. A few seconds later, the engines ground to a halt and a deadly silence fell over the airfield.

  Chapter Six

  It took thirty minutes to develop a plan to rescue the stranded survivors and coordinate it among all three groups. It suffered from several disadvantages, mostly involving a handful of humans, half of them civilians, battling two thousand of the living dead in the middle of a blizzard that severely limited their ability to move. Add to that the groups had few weapons and limited ammunition and the odds of success, despite the bravado, did not appear all that good.

  The school group spent five minutes gathering everything they needed, including winter boots, a parka, and gloves for Alissa. For weapons, they had four carbines and four Sig Sauers between them, each with an average of three magazines of ammunition, and the only suppressor being on Alissa’s sidearm. In addition to the Ka-Bar knife Alissa carried and the one Chris gave to Boyce, the group scrounged up from the abandoned personal possessions two hunting knives, one switchblade, a baseball bat with a six-inch steel spike drilled through the end, as well as a Glock 23 .40 caliber semiautomatic pistol, a 9mm Makarov semiautomatic pistol, each with an extra magazine, and an old .38 caliber revolver. The weapons were evenly distributed among the group with everyone except Susie receiving a way to defend themselves.

  Alissa, Hoskins, MacIntyre, and Boyce checked out the elevator halfway down the corridor. Using a crowbar found in the supply closet, Alissa pried open the doors so MacIntyre and Boyce could push them aside. Thankfully, the elevator sat on the first floor or their plan would have to be scrapped.

  “So far so good,” said Hoskins. “Let’s check out stage two.”

  Boyce used a broom from the janitor’s closest with a coat hanger duct taped to one end to hook the elevator cables and pull them toward the opening. Hoskins grabbed them and swung out into the shaft, lowering himself to the roof of the car. Kneeling, he rapped on it once. Nothing happened. Lifting the access panel, he crouched and peered inside. It was empty.

  Hoskins gave a thumbs up.

  Using the same procedure, Boyce, Patricia, Ramirez, and Ken joined them. Alissa and MacIntyre lowered Susie to the others.

  “Are you okay?” asked Alissa.

  MacIntyre nodded. “Just hurry up and clear a path for me. I don’t know how long I can contain them. When that horn blares, all hell is going to break loose.”

  “Good luck.”

  MacIntyre used the broom to pull the cable closer for Alissa to slide down. Hoskins and Boyce had lowered themselves into the elevator. Alissa joined them.

  Hoskins held the crowbar in his hand. “Okay, ladies and gentlemen,” he whispered. “It’s showtime.”

  MacIntyre strolled to the stairwell at the northern end of the school. During the initial attack, they had pushed school chairs, cots, and any furniture that could be found down the twin stairwells to block the rampaging deaders. It worked. The structural integrity of those barricades would now be put to the test.

  Centering herself at the top of the stairwell, MacIntyre withdrew her Sig Sauer.

  “Hey, meat sacks!”

  The four deaders on the landing spun around to face MacIntyre. She fired a single round into the face of the closest deader, an elderly woman whose dentures had fallen out. Its head exploded, showering the others behind it in gore. The action had the desired effect. The noise, the violence, and the smell of fresh meat incited the deaders into a frenzy. The other three charged MacIntyre, attempting to crawl over the pile of furniture to get her. Carnage broke out on the first floor as every deader in the building rushed to the commotion. The pack ran up the stairs, crashing into the makeshift barricade. It moved a few inches. For a moment, MacIntyre thought the deaders would break through and overwhelm her. The pile of furniture compacted and held. Deaders tried to scale it, becoming entangled in the metal arms and legs.

  Hurry up, you guys, she thought.

  Inside the elevator, Alissa and the others heard the gunshot followed by the stampede of the deaders to the stairwell, waiting until the pack was at the other end of the building trying to reach MacIntyre.

  Hoskins snapped his fingers and pointed to the doors.

  Boyce moved forward, inserted the crowbar between the twin sliding doors, and pried them open a few inches. Nothing moved on the other side. Hoskins raised his carbine into the low-ready position, moved to the center of the car, and nodded. Alissa and Boyce pulled them open enough for someone to slip through. Boyce raised his weapon and he and Hoskins passed through into the corridor, each scanning the southern and northern sectors, respectively. No deaders were in sight. Hoskins looked at Alissa, pumped his left fist up and down by his head, then raised his forefinger to his lips.

  Alissa stepped beneath the access panel and whispered, “Now.”

  Ramirez lowered himself into the elevator, then helped Ken lower Patricia and Susie inside. Ken joined them last. Boyce motioned for them to follow. Slowly and quietly, the group made its way to the school’s southern exit, Boyce and Alissa in the lead, Ramirez and Ken on either side of the women, and Hoskins bringing up the rear.

  At the end of the corridor, everyone formed a line. When Hoskins nodded, Boyce opened the door and stepped out onto the landing. The stairs turned left and ran adjacent to the building. Boyce descended, scanning the area in front of him. Ken and Alissa moved out onto the landing, scanning the northern and eastern flanks. Once certain there were no deaders around, Alissa waved for the others to join them, whispering for the civilians to follow Boyce. Hoskins brought up the rear, unlocking the door from the outside so he could gain access to the building, then shutting it quietly.

  Boyce stopped at the corner of the building and peered around back. Four deaders stood by the school bus, each covered in a few inches of snow and showing little movement. He knew at least twice that many were on the other side of the bus or just out of sight. Hoskins and Alissa joined him.

  “We have four between us and the bus, plus another four to
six in the area,” the medic advised.

  “We can’t risk gunfire,” said Hoskins. “If those things in the stairwell come running, they’ll trap MacIntyre inside.”

  Alissa tapped her Ka-Bar. “What about knifing them?”

  “Are you up to it?”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  Hoskins turned to Ken and pointed to his carbine. “You know how to use that?”

  “Did some time in Africa and the Middle East.”

  “Excellent. You and Ramirez protect the women. We’re going to take out those deaders silently. Don’t fire your weapons unless absolutely necessary.”

  “Roger that.”

  Turning to Alissa and Boyce, he ordered, “Let’s go.”

  The three slung their carbines over their shoulders, removed their bladed weapons, and rounded the corner.

  What is taking so long? thought MacIntyre. She checked her watch. Damn, it had only been seven minutes. It seemed like an hour. She had to keep them occupied a little longer.

  Jumping onto her end of the barricade, MacIntyre growled at the deaders, sending them into a frenzy.

  Alissa approached from the rear the closest deader, a male dressed in a blood-soaked National Guard uniform and with the right side of its face eaten off. Moving through two feet of snow proved more difficult than originally thought. Doing so quietly was damn near impossible. For some reason, the deader had not noticed her. Alissa curled and uncurled her fingers around the handle of the Ka-Bar to keep them from freezing.

  When six feet away, the Guardsman deader turned to Alissa. It didn’t snarl, didn’t lunge. In fact, it seemed oblivious of her. Alissa pushed through the snow, used her left hand to grab it by the collar, and plunged the Ka-Bar through its right eye. She angled the blade down into its limbic system and twisted. The thing barely responded, stiffening for a second before collapsing, pulling itself off the blade.

  The muffled sound of the body hitting the snow attracted the attention of the other three deaders. Alissa expected them to attack, raising the alarm for the others. Instead, they shuffled through the accumulation toward the humans. Alissa, Hoskins, and Boyce made their way toward them, stopping a few feet away and waiting for the deaders to get closer, then dispatching them with a knife blow to the head.

  With the visible threats removed, they headed to the back of the school bus. Hoskins checked the right flank. Three deaders stood between them and the front door. The lieutenant held up his thumb and two fingers, warning the others what they faced.

  Boyce pointed to himself and Hoskins, then to the rear of the bus, running his forefinger in a three-sided square to indicate the rear emergency door. Hoskins replied with the okay signal then leaned over to whisper to Alissa.

  “We’re going to clear the bus. Cover us.”

  Alissa nodded.

  Boyce grabbed the exterior handle to the rear emergency door, waited for Hoskins to acknowledge he was ready, then opened it. No pack of deaders flowed out. The lieutenant climbed in, checked the last three rows for deaders, then helped Boyce inside. Both men made their way to the front. Nothing was aboard the bus.

  Boyce slid into the driver’s seat. “The keys are in the ignition.”

  “Can you drive one of these?”

  “It shouldn’t be difficult. Do you want me to start it?”

  “Let’s get the civilians on board first.”

  Hoskins made his way to the back and jumped out. Alissa kept her attention focused on the three deaders beside the vehicle. He tapped her on the shoulder.

  “I’m going to get the others. Wait here and help them on, then have Boyce start the bus and honk the horn three times.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To cover MacIntyre’s escape.” Hoskins rushed off to the end of the school.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Patricia.

  “Everything is fine. Head over to the bus and get inside. Alissa will help you. I’ll follow in a minute.”

  The four civilians headed for the bus, following the tracks in the snow made by the others. As they approached, Alissa held her forefinger against her lips, telling them to stay quiet.

  “I’m cold,” whispered Susie.

  “We’ll turn on the heat once we start the engine.” Alissa lifted Susie onto the bus. “Take a seat near the front.”

  Patricia climbed on board followed by Ramirez and Ken. Ramirez made his way to the front.

  “If you want, I’ll take over. I used to drive one of these part-time.”

  “Be my guest.” Boyce changed places with Ramirez.

  Ramirez turned the ignition. The engine emitted a half roar and died.

  The three deaders beside the bus raised their heads.

  “Shit,” mumbled Boyce. “Is the battery dead?”

  “That would be a clicking noise. I got this.” Ramirez pumped the gas pedal three times and tried it again. This time, the engine started, blowing a cloud of black smoke out the exhaust, covering Alissa. She choked and hacked.

  “Hit the horn three times,” ordered Boyce.

  Ramirez did, sending the signal to MacIntyre.

  MacIntyre checked her watch again. She had been at the barricade seventeen minutes, growing nervous that something had—

  Three blares from the bus horn sounded outside. About fucking time.

  The deaders farthest from the barricade turned their attention to the new potential source of food.

  MacIntyre shouldered her carbine, unsheathed her knife, and sliced the blade along her left thumb. Squeezing the base, she dripped blood on the barricade. The smell had the desired effect. Most of the deaders were driven into a frenzy and attacked. Some that seemed more intelligent than the others began pulling away the furniture to get at her. MacIntyre unslung her carbine and fired into the pack, taking down three and wounding several others. The damage had been done, however. The weakened structure gave way under the onslaught and fell apart, furniture cascading down the stairs. Seven deaders broke through and lunged toward her.

  MacIntyre ran to the elevator.

  She had no way of knowing that the last seven deaders in the pack had reversed direction and rushed back to the first floor.

  Alissa jumped back from the bus to escape the exhaust. Noticing her, the three deaders lurched toward her, their pace slowed by the accumulated snow. No sense in being quiet now, thought Alissa. Raising her carbine, she took them down with shots to the head.

  Boyce popped his head through the emergency exit. “Is everything okay?”

  “Just clearing the area.”

  No one on the bus noticed the seven deaders at the other end of the building, attracted by the noise, making their way through the storm toward them.

  Hoskins watched as the seven deaders raced onto the first floor, searching for food. He raised his carbine, aimed, and took down two with single shots to their heads.

  Spotting prey, the other five charged.

  MacIntyre ran down the hall and jumped into elevator shaft, grabbed the cables, and slid down to the roof. As she lowered herself through the panel, five deaders rushed through the open doors above her, raining down on the elevator. To prevent from being crushed, she dropped into the car, twisting her ankle when she hit. A female deader in street clothes fell in after her while a deader in a National Guard uniform crawled through the panel. Both glared at her and snarled.

  MacIntyre removed her Sig Sauer from its holster and fired three rounds into the head of the female deader, throwing it against the opposite wall. She shifted her aim and took out the one dangling from the ceiling with a single shot. Blood dripped from its shattered head. Using the handrail attached to the wall, she lifted herself to her feet. Above her, more deaders landed on the roof.

  Outside the elevator, the five remaining deaders switched their attention from Hoskins and stormed the partially opened door. A deader with no right arm pushed its way through. MacIntyre placed the barrel of the Sig Sauer against its forehead and fired, blasting off the t
op of its skull and covering her in gore. The limbic system remained intact so the deader still attempted to get at her. She aimed through the ruptured skull and fired, blowing off the rest of its head. As the body slid to the floor, two more deaders attempted to crawl over it.

  A loud thump landed behind her. MacIntyre spun around. A third deader had pushed the Guardsman through the panel and attempted to climb down. MacIntyre aimed and fired two rounds through its skull. The deader went limp.

  A hand clutched her shoulder. One of the deaders pushing through the elevator doors had grabbed her. MacIntyre spun around, using her gun hand to break its grip, and jumped into the far corner. The deader collapsed into the elevator and struggled to its feet. MacIntyre fired two shots into its temple, then switched her aim and took down the third deader blocking her escape with two more shots. Two more living dead faces centered themselves in the opening. MacIntyre switched out magazines and fired two rounds into each of them. With no more deaders outside, she began pulling away the bodies.

  Another thud sounded from behind her. The pack above had pushed the corpse through the panel and two more had jumped down. MacIntyre fired one round into each of their heads, bringing them down, then double tapped them. Another dropped down, tripping on the bodies and falling to the side. She placed a round through its gaping mouth.

  “Give me your hand.”

  MacIntyre glanced over her shoulder. Hoskins stood in the corridor, reaching through the open doors. She reached out her left hand. The lieutenant grabbed it and pulled her to safety over the pile of bodies.

  A teenage girl deader dropped through the panel and rushed MacIntyre, landing on her right leg. Being halfway through the doors, she had no room to aim. The teenage deader sunk its teeth into MacIntyre’s right thigh, ripping through her uniform and tearing into skin. MacIntyre cried out in agony. Once in the corridor, she lowered her Sig Sauer and emptied her magazine into its head.

  Hoskins tried to help her up. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “It’s too late for that.” MacIntyre unslung her carbine and handed it and her pouch of ammunition to the lieutenant, then reloaded her Sig Sauer. “I’ll hold them off so you can get to safety.”