“That’s the main system for Mississauga and Brampton.” He calmly ignored her apology and stuck to the strategy. “We can’t afford to lose it. See you over there, Corporal.”
“Actually sir, I think I should get to the air traffic control tower.” Maggie started to instinctively back away from the fence. “We need to divert the incoming planes.”
“You sure you want to do that?” He stopped and looked at her carefully.
“Sir, if one person goes in then extraction will be quicker.” She tore her eyes away from the failing floodgate of the security fence, “If you could call me a rescue helicopter that would be great.”
“Will do, Corporal,” His voice softened. He wanted to say something else but the right words scattered away.
PING! Another one snapped in half. It sounded like a driver making solid contact with a golf ball but a lot louder.
PING! A second, then a third gave way. The tipping point had been reached and the poles began to snap in staccato rhythm. The bodies poured over the shattered metal skeleton like water stampeding through a broken levee. The hands and legs scrambled over one another in rapt focus of what was before them. They never take their eyes off of you. Maggie felt cold. When they make eye contact it’s like your blood freezes in fear. You have to move, but you can’t. You have to run but you no longer have the will. It’s just you and your soul disconnecting as they come closer.
“Corporal!” The Sergeant grabbed her shoulder. He was strong enough to shake her with one hand. “We have to leave now!”
“Yes sir.” Maggie nodded and whispered. The blood began pumping again as she ran back to the bus. Her surroundings seemed to come back into focus. Maggie heard the banshee cries from police, EMS and fire units to the northeast. The 911 dispatcher had passed the word and the police helicopter had reported back. The sirens seemed to blend together in a rising and falling cry of panic and alarm. It was a warning to run as fast as you can, as far as you can. This is the sound of defeat. Maggie reached the bus and was the last to get on board. This is the symphony of headlong retreat. The bus was on the move.
“Drop me off at the air traffic control tower and then head north to Derry.” Maggie spoke to the driver without a second thought. The driver glanced away from the road in front of him for a quick second with a look of disbelief.
“You sure about that?” A huge man in front broke the silence.
“Yeah,” She nodded grimly.
The gears grinded as they approached the lava lamp shaped tower surrounded by concrete and squat structures. It looked like a lighthouse from another planet. Maggie reached back and grabbed some nylon rope from the overhead rack and was out the door in a second. When she reached the fire door entrance to the tower, it was locked. Maggie had her rifle up in a second and squeezed off a quick burst. She gave a thumbs up to the bus crew before slipping inside. As the bus pulled away, her eyes were distracted by something farther away. Again, it was the eyes that found her attention. How do they do this? Rivet you to the ground in disbelief. Because this just can’t be real, Maggie knew the answer. But there they are.
One face burned its way into her soul. A little girl, perhaps eight in pajamas that had bunnies or some cute animals on them came closer. She bared her teeth at Maggie as her shoulders hunched like a wolf stalking prey. The yellow of the eyes were in stark contrast to her skin that was almost purple with rage. The little girl waved a stump of an arm at Maggie like she was beating an invisible foe.
Maggie abruptly slammed the fire door closed. In the feeble light of the exit sign she wrapped the heavy nylon cord around the silver, horizontal latch that traversed the length of the door. Maggie pulled the rope tight and laced it around the fire escape stairs with a tight, firm knot. If anything, Maggie was realistic. This would hold against a hundred hostiles. But there were thousands on the other side of this door. Wherever they wanted to be, they had the sheer force at their command to be there.
Maggie began to walk over to the elevator for a ride to the top floor and she stopped, her finger hovering over the button. No, Maggie was sure she heard a voice say. Whatever is going on, you need to be careful. That’s right, careful. There was something very wrong here. Maybe it was the jets that still continued to land or the size of the breach. She headed for the stairs.
Walk then listen. Walk then abruptly stop. Maggie listened for the tell tale sounds of being followed. If she was being watched then they were very good. Safety lights seemed to beckon her on in the darkness. Maggie carefully passed what should have been the fourth floor. If they have a fourth floor, she thought. This was like a staircase in a grain silo. No floors, just endless stairs.
Two loud bangs from below made her stop cold. It was followed a few seconds later by a third. The sound echoed past her in the stairway. There must have been thousands of them. What did you think earlier? If they wanted in, they could get in.
Maybe one of them just bumped against the door, Maggie reasoned to slow her breathing. Another noise from the door forced her to quicken her pace. Counting how far she had to go was just one more thing on her mind. The ceiling was a welcoming and foreboding sight at the same time.
In a minute, you’ll fling the door open and kick yourself for being so childish. Maybe, Maggie eyed the door, maybe not.
Her destination was a common fire door. It was an unlocked version of the one at the bottom of the staircase. Carefully, she touched the cold metal surface with her hand. Maggie silently removed her helmet and placed her ear against the door. Voices were muffled slightly but clear enough to understand. Someone was giving orders.
“Perfect, we’ll see you in an hour or so, out.”
She snapped her helmet back on and quietly as she could slipped the safety off of her rifle. I know that voice. She felt her teeth grind as Maggie stepped forward and kicked the door open. He was standing on the right of the perfectly circular room. The view of Pearson silhouetted him as he whirled to face Maggie and pointed a service pistol at her. The large mans eyes burned in recognition as Maggie stared down the sight of her C7A2 at him.
“You,” Otto Jay growled.
“You,” She hissed.
At the right moment in time, the view would have been spectacular. Now, it was a panorama of staggering figures across the tarmac. Smoke seemed to rise slowly in the distance, apocalypse in 360 degrees.
“Well.” His mouth curled up slightly and challenged her. “It’s your move.”
“You really love your cheap movie dialogue, don’t you?” Maggie felt a little freaked at how suddenly calm she had become. She added: “Asshole.”
“Hmmmm.” He seemed amused. There was an underlying current to the conversation that she could not understand. His half smile broke open and he said: “I’ve made all my decisions, we can just wait here.”
The tarmac behind him in the post thunderstorm sun was dotted with forms that were so numerous that they seemed to be stitched together. It was like an interwoven, moving fabric that now claimed the airport as its own. It was deathly silent save for the muffled sirens in the distance. An ongoing testament that someone, somewhere was doing something positive.
A new high pitched note had worked its way into her ears. It was a metallic whine. An airbus A340 inched into view. The scream of the engines started to increase in pitch and pace as the lumbering bird began to pick up speed along the runway. The wheels bounced over the occasional figure that stood in its path. The bodies crumpled under the weight of the plane as hands still clawed at the tires.
Jay knew that she wanted him to turn around at the new distraction. His mouth took on a reptilian smile. He sure as hell wasn’t going to fall for that. She focused on his face through the rifle sight. Wait for it. It has to come.
The speed of the plane increased down the ribbon of concrete that was the runway. The nose of the aircraft began to tip upwards in defiance of gravity. The dull green fuselage reflected patterns of sunlight. The large, multi engine monster passed through a cloud of h
ostiles on the tarmac that must have been a thousand. The turbines sucked bodies into the engines as if they were paper dolls with no weight. Heads, bodies and arms disappeared into the oxygen hungry mouths of the A340’s engines. Behind the turbines, a jet of crimson red was ejected, spattering the tarmac with a barn red after-burn. The jet went airborne for a few seconds and then the bewitching howl of the engines began to change tune. Metal grated on metal. It was the audible proof that parts were colliding, snapping and blowing apart in the fierce velocity of the engine. With no life, the metal machine was a victim of the gravity it sought to defy.
The first part of the plane to make landfall was the landing gear. The tires expanded and burst at the sudden drop of height. Exploding rubber littered the tarmac. The wheels were not designed to take the force of a plane suddenly crashing to earth. A loud metallic snap signaled the final collapse of the landing gear as the belly of the aircraft hit the tarmac. Sparks started to trail like fireflies behind the plane. It seemed to be a furious race of fate as the flickers of fire chased the Airbus down the runway. Slowly, the plane began to turn clockwise as it ran down hostiles, once human forms spattered on to the cockpit windows and fuselage. The sparks that seemed to be chasing the plane had caught up. A fire began to blaze near one of the engines and its fuel line. The careening plane was doomed.
The explosion that followed was like a star being born. A bright light appeared suddenly by the wing and fuselage. In a second the plane, the tarmac and lurching hostiles were caught in an expanding wall of luminescence. A loud thunderclap followed the inflating wave of flaming jet fuel. The building shuddered while the windows shook in a maniacal, drum like rhythm.
Jay didn’t react to the plane crashing into the tarmac. Maggie knew he wouldn’t. But she waited for the flash of the explosion to create shadows on the wall. He instinctively blinked and she squeezed the trigger. The bullets caught him in the chest and shredded his heart. He was already dead when his heals keeled backwards and sent his form crashing to the floor like a wet bag of cement. The eyes were glassy, life had departed.
A face looked up from the console and Maggie quickly pivoted to address the threat. He had been hidden behind Jay’s girth, seated at the console. He was thin with a goatee and black rimmed glasses with white skin that had never seen the sun. His hair was cut short and his business suit was stained with sweat. He slowly raised his hands at the sight of Maggie.
“Lady,” he asked slowly in shock. “What the fuck just happened?”
“I just made a command decision.” Maggie sighted him carefully. She had an adrenalin rush from pulling the trigger. Careful, you’re close to losing it. “Who are you?”
“I’m the air traffic controller.” He nodded toward her. “He came in here waving that gun and told me to do as he said.”
“Okay.” Lower the weapon, she told herself. Her hands refused to obey. What are you doing? Maggie could feel her finger shake. What are you doing? Lower the weapon.
“You gonna shoot me now?” The man asked, his hands were still raised.
“No,” Maggie felt a flash of embarrassment and sickness. She pulled the C7A2 away from her face so quickly he started slightly. Maggie tried to inject calm into her shaking voice. “I’m one of the good guys.”
“That’s what they all say.” There was a touch of sarcasm in his voice. “Can I lower my hands?”
“Yes, of course.” Maggie was almost sick from the look on his face. “Of course, I’m sorry.” There was a blood rush of regret and self recrimination flowing through her now. Is that how innocent people get killed when a uniform and a gun are around?
“Okay,” He slowly lowered his hands and kept a watchful eye on anything Maggie might do.
“What was that last plane you were talking to?” Maggie tried to sound casual. That’s right, change the subject.
“It’s the Prime Minister’s plane.” He answered straightforwardly. The man carefully made sure his hands where she could see them. “His ETA is one hour.”
“Can you turn it around?” Maggie was starting to feel things come together. All of this, they want him here for all of this.
“Sure.” He carefully invited her to the console so he could get on with it.
“Please, go ahead.” Maggie nodded to him and tried again. “Look, I’m really sorry….”
“It’s okay.” He seemed to believe her this time as he sat down in front of a radar panel. Looking over his shoulder, Maggie thought the screen was a bit strange. In the science shows and disaster movies she had seen the radar screen was always littered with blips that were like a thousand goldfish in an aquarium. But here, there were just a few lonely, monochrome dots plying through the green black screen.
“Flight 001, this is Pearson over.”
“Pearson tower, this is flight 001, over” A voice replied within seconds.
“Suggest you return to base flight 001, over.” The traffic controller’s voice betrayed no emotion, just a professional calm.
“Pearson tower, is there a problem? Over...”
“Flight 001, Pearson is being overrun.” He seemed suddenly oblivious to all that was around him. Is this what professionalism was sometimes, a place to hide from the hopeless? “I repeat we are being overrun.”
“Pearson, this is flight 001.” The pilot responded. “We request to speak with General Otto Jay.”
The controller muted his mic and looked at Maggie with an eyebrow raised in question mark. Maggie took a careful breath and spoke in a whisper: “Missing, presumed dead?” She offered.
The controller glanced back at Jay’s body and then returned his gaze to Maggie. Jay was laid out where he had fallen. A hint of red began to seep into the carpet from an exit wound on his back. Jay’s eyes still stared at the ceiling as if he was taking in the conversation.
“If you say so,” The controller commented wryly.
“Pearson? Do you read?”
“Sorry, flight 001. I was just trying to find him.” The controller paused and then looked at Maggie while he completed his sentence. “I am told he is missing, presumed dead.”
“Pearson, we just spoke to him.”
“Yes, flight 001, you did. I was here.” The challenge didn’t even faze him. “The situation here is very fluid. Do you copy?”
“We copy.” On the other end, the pilot clearly was making a command decision, “We are turning around, Godspeed and good luck, Pearson, out.”
In the skies between Stittsville and Richmond, a Bombardier Challenger 604 banked gracefully toward the sun. The turnaround would be slow and leisurely so it wouldn’t wake the Prime Minister who was catching a quick nap while on route. The facilities were somewhat spartan in comparison to the Airbus A-310 that was used for longer flights. It didn’t seem to matter to the PM and his harried staff. They took any time they could to close their eyes and re-energize.
Back at Pearson, the controller stole a glance back at Jay’s unmoving body. The red stain was now an inch or two in circumference.
“Shouldn’t you shoot him in the head or something?” He asked with a nervous tinge in his voice.
“It takes them over an hour to turn.” Maggie had taken a seat beside him. She followed his line of sight and then turned back to the controller. “If you want, I will.”
“No, I’m okay.” He said slowly as his imagination presented vivid images of blood spattered everywhere. “I’m good, really.”
“Okay,” Maggie turned her attention to the radar screen. Two dots were slowly making their way to the center of the screen from the south. “What are those?”
“Shit.” It was spoken like a reply. “That’s Air Force 2: The American Vice President’s plane.”
“And that one,” Maggie leaned closer to the screen to spell it out, “U-N-O 1?”
“United Nations,” His eyes were busy on the radar screen, “The UN Secretary General.”
“Can you turn them around, too?”
“I’ll try.” He tapped the microphon
e and spoke. “Air Force 2, this is Pearson. Do you copy, over?”
“Affirmative, Pearson. This is Air Force 2.”
“Do you have enough fuel to turn back?” He asked into thin air. “We are being overrun. Repeat, we are being overrun.”
“Negative.” A few seconds later came the reply. “We are past the point of no return, request alternate flight plan, over.”
“Stand by, Air Force 2.”
“You see, this is not like it was before.” The controller turned to explain the situation to Maggie. His eyes were a touch wider now. “Planes carry a lot less fuel and there aren’t many airfields left.”
“Why less fuel?” She already knew the answer but asked anyway.
“The expense is crazy.” He gave the answer. “Aviation fuel is like gold. It’s why planes this size rarely fly anymore.”
“We could land them at Base Borden.” Maggie offered, reaching for her Blackberry.
“Forget it.” He shook his head. “The runway there is way too short. These planes need at least six thousand feet of landing strip.”
“I know where they can land.” It hit her like an epiphany as she stared at the last few messages on her Blackberry. The words jumped out at her like a ghost from the past and savior at the same time.
Longest drag strip in the world………..
*
“Pearson. This is Air Force 2, say again? Over.”
“Suggest you land in Highway 400, Just past King Road, over.” The controller listed off the co ordinates Maggie gave to him.
“You’re sure of this?” The pilot asked after a pause.
The controller looked back to Maggie for confirmation. She nodded. There weren’t even any trees. They had all been burned in a wildfire two years ago. He turned back to the console.
“Affirmative Air Force 2, it is five miles of highway. You should have no problem.”
“Thank you, Pearson. Anyone else ever tried to land on this thing?”
“Not sure, but it was a great place for street racing.” Maggie muttered.
“Copy that, Pearson.”
5 Years After Page 6