Primus Unleashed

by Amber Wyatt

  Tristan, firing steadily at the glistening heads on his side, heard Hugh but did not care if Behnke was endangering the others. There must have been a hundred zombies coming up around them, and Behnke wildly firing a machine gun in all directions was infinitely preferable to the other option, which was Behnke lying curled up at the bottom of the boat crying for his mother.

  Hana did not say anything, but thinking quickly, started shooting the zombies between the two boats as fast as she could. If there are no targets between him and us, Behnke will stop firing that damn machine gun in our direction. She was right. The zombies in the small body of water between them were quickly taken care of and Behnke switched his fire to the front, unloading almost an entire belt of ammunition in one long burst into the water between his canoe and the plane. Most of the bullets hit nothing but water, but at such close range even Behnke managed to drag his fire across most of the dark shapes coming out of the water in front of him. Zombie heads exploded, adding a murky, bloody mist to the water spraying high into the air.

  At the back of the boat Gina had finally beaten the zombie back into the water and was looking around trying desperately to see a clear patch of water to which she could move their boat. Her pistol was still in its holster on her belt. Even though the electric motor was the lightest model available, she still needed both hands to haul it around and operate it.

  Then the zombie came back up on her other side and grabbed the gunwales, tipping them all into the water. Behnke screamed as he spun in the air, still firing his machine gun, and then thumped into the water with a tremendous splash. Tristan shouted in shock as one of Behnke’s last bullets punched straight through his forearm and then he too disappeared under water.

  Flailing around underwater Gina groped blindly with one hand and found the zombie’s shoulder, then quickly shifted her grip to lock her hand around its throat, pushing its gnashing teeth away from her face. In a flash, her other hand drew her pistol from her holster and fed the muzzle into its open mouth. She pulled the trigger twice and the straining, cold flesh under her fingers instantly went limp. She gasped for breath as her head broke the surface. Fucking Jesus, I’m in the water! Fighting down the panic she saw a lane clear of zombies, shoved her pistol back into its holster and struck out for the clear water, the adrenalin pumping through her arteries giving her a massive burst of speed.

  Hana changed magazines and took a second to look around and assess their situation. Actually, most of the zombies closest to them were already dead after the first, furious few seconds of shooting. But there were still many more emerging from all around the depths of the swamp, jaws agape and a terrible hunger in their dead, black eyes. Ahead of her, Gina was speeding through the water like she was in the Korean Olympic swimming team, and had already nearly reached the plane wreck. Behnke was flailing around like a panicking hippo, but thankfully he had dropped his machine gun. Of Tristan there was no sign.

  “Rob, get us to the plane!” Hana turned to him at the rear of the boat and gestured urgently towards the plane in front of them. “There’s no zombies coming out of the plane. They’re all in the water. Get us to the plane, fast!”

  From behind, Thomas and Wilkins watched the desperate struggle unfolding in front of them; Thomas tense and alert, Wilkins open-mouthed with horror. Thomas saw an opening and pointed urgently.

  “There! Wilkins, go. Head straight for Behnke!” He indicated the flailing billionaire, whose splashing and screaming had attracted a circle of approaching zombies, heads bobbing above the surface of the water. “Go! For God’s sake man, go!”

  Struggling a little with both hands bound together, Wilkins twisted the throttle to full power and aimed the canoe straight at Behnke. Thomas kneeled up in the front of the boat and opened fire with his SCAR, starting with the zombies closest to his employer and working his way outwards. Zombie heads puffed out clouds of dull blood and they dropped back into the water. By the time they reached Behnke, all the zombies in the water around him were dead and sinking out of sight. But they were not out of danger yet. A wide circle of weed-draped zombie heads, and even more numerous, sinister, underwater swirls, were still closing in on them.

  “Don’t stop,” Thomas shouted back at Wilkins. “Carry straight on through to the plane.”

  As they passed Behnke, still waving and screaming, Thomas leaned over and grabbed the back of the billionaire’s assault vest. Then he cursed as Behnke twisted in his grip and tried to climb up his arm, grabbing at the side of the canoe and nearly tipping them into the water too. Thomas threw himself over to the other side, leaning out over the muddy water to counteract his boss’s weight. They were balanced, barely, but they had slowed almost to a standstill since they were now dragging Behnke’s considerable bulk through the water.

  Thomas craned his neck around and looked ahead. Gina was pulling herself up over the edge of the wrecked frame of the plane’s cargo hold, and into the passenger cabin. Hana’s boat had just arrived at the plane and its passengers leapt out on to the aluminum framework to start their climb as well. Wilkins gave a shout of alarm from behind and Thomas looked back, his blood freezing in his veins.

  Several of the swirling eddies under the water close behind them turned into zombies, who emerged dripping from the water. At their boat’s speed, barely above a crawl, they stood no chance of making it to the plane before the zombies reached them. Behnke looked back at their wet, hungry faces and let out a deafening wail of terror. Then he started thrashing around even more than before, nearly tearing himself out of Thomas’s grip.

  A barrage of rapid shots cracked above their heads and peppered the water around them, punching holes in the zombies’ heads and dropping them back under the water. Thomas craned his neck around and saw that the rest of the group were kneeling at the edge of the chopped off cabin floor, firing as fast as they could. The characteristic noisy pops of their assault rifles were interspersed with the rhythmic booming of Rob’s shotgun.

  In the end it was the swamp itself that saved them. Waiting, but immobile in the water, the undead passengers of Columbus 754 had become enmeshed in three years’ worth of weeds and other vegetation, which had twined in and around their limbs, choking their attempts to move. As slow as Thomas’s boat was, the zombies were even slower. By the time Thomas and his puffing, splashing employer reached the wreck of a plane, all of the zombies pursuing them had long since been shot, and had sunk back beneath the muddy surface of the water.

  Nevertheless, the others kept up an alert watch, weapons reloaded and at the ready, as Thomas, Behnke and Wilkins climbed up past the yawning cargo hold and into the cabin. Wilkins was hampered by his bound wrists, but Thomas leaned back out, and with a deep grunt, heaved him up and over the edge.

  “Where is Tristan?” Rob asked frantically. “Can anyone see Tristan?” Behnke looked down at the floor. None of the others met Rob’s eyes as he pushed his way past them to look out over the still, swamp water. “Tristaaaan!” he shouted, voice echoing back from the tree line.

  “We saw the whole thing from behind,” Thomas said in a low voice. “Once Tristan went into the water, he did not come up again.”

  So, he is the first one to go, thought Hana. I wasn’t expecting that.

  The others tensed slightly, but there was no emotional outburst from Rob. Instead his shoulders sagged slightly and he turned his face away from the water to look back towards the others. Grief made the lines on his face stand out in harsh relief, but he did not look shocked or surprised. He just looked older and very tired.

  “Well,” he said in a resigned voice. “The way he lived, it was going to happen sooner or later, I suppose.” Gina bit her lip and took half a step forward, trying to think of something to say, but suddenly Rob’s eyes focused on something behind her, and his shotgun snapped up into his shoulder, ready to fire. “What the fuck is that?” He said in a choking voice. They all spun around to face the shadows, weapons coming up to firing position.

  Not all of the pas
sengers on Columbus 754 had disembarked yet. Three years before, as they were accelerating down the runway, the first zombie attack had erupted at the rear of the plane and the survivors had abandoned their seats and fled towards the front, fighting desperately for their lives. But many of the first victims had still been in their seats when they were attacked, their seatbelts securely fastened, ready for take-off. They were still sitting there now.

  Thomas, Hana and Hugh switched on the small but powerful tactical lights mounted to the sides of their assault rifles, lighting up the aisles and splashing harsh white light back through the cabins to the rear. The hissing at the back grew louder and arms and heads waved frantically as the zombies bucked in their seats. Nightmarish shadows, lurched and spasmed across the walls of the plane.

  “Oh my God,” breathed Hana, stunned for the moment. At the back of her mind she was relieved that whatever the seatbelts were made out of, it seemed to have resisted rotting in the humid atmosphere of the Everglades.

  “Let’s clear them out,” Gina said in an angry voice. But as she stepped forward ready to fire, she abruptly let out a sob and her pistol dropped. Hana looked over her shoulder and saw why. The very first zombie, leaning out into the aisle, straining against its belt and stretching its hands towards them, was a young girl, about eight years old. She had blonde hair, not black, but still the resemblance to Gina’s daughter, Bella, was striking.

  “You stay here and watch the water,” Hana said, and firmly but not unkindly took Gina by both shoulders and moved her back towards the sunlight. “We’ll deal with this.” She nodded to Hugh and Thomas and the three of them raised their weapons and moved forward.

  Clearing the back of the plane was unpleasant but surprisingly quick. Hana was reminded of the English idiom of ‘shooting fish in a barrel’. This is probably as close to it as you can get. She thought. Thank goodness we decided to bring the suppressors. Otherwise with all the shooting in such an enclosed space she felt sure they would have suffered permanent damage to their hearing. Even so, her ears were still ringing by the time they had finished. There had been sixteen zombies still strapped into their seats at the back. All the toilets apart from one had been empty, and when they had forced open the door to it, they had found only a rotting skeleton.

  “Poor guy,” Hugh said to her. “He must have managed to escape and hide himself in there, but then he was trapped with no way out. Hope he died when they crashed.”

  When they were sure that all the zombies were dead, she and Hugh walked back to let the others know. As they retraced their steps through the cabin, she started to notice details that she had missed when she had been focused on shooting zombies and making sure that each row of seats was clear. There was hand luggage everywhere, but only fairly small bags. Maybe they could only bring what they could run with? She thought to herself. And then as she noticed a laptop and camera spilling out of one of them, a second thought came to her, which she felt ashamed of, but could not stop thinking about. These are basically just bags of money lying around waiting to be picked up. And it’s not as if the dead zombies have a use for it any more anyway, right?

  “Hey Hugh, wait a second” she whispered. The two of them stopped and let Thomas go ahead, back to the rest of the group. When he was out of earshot she continued. “I bet those bags are full of money. Or jewelry. Or both. These people were running away and they could only take one bag. What do you think they were carrying? The most valuable things they owned, right? There must be a fortune just lying around here.” She was glad the darkness hid her flush of shame. Will he think I am suggesting something shocking and immoral?

  “Yeah,” he looked around thoughtfully. One of the zombies at the back of the plane had looked like somebody’s grandmother. She had been draped in pearls and was wearing a watch whose diamonds had glittered brightly in the beam of his flashlight, as he shot her neatly in the forehead. “Maybe we should come back at a later date, you know, and do a proper clean-up of the plane?” He gave her a wink that made her smile. A smile that she quickly wiped off her face as she realized that she was feeling a tingle all the way through her body. Is it possible that I actually find him attractive? Hana was so shocked at the idea that she stopped paying attention to her surroundings and promptly tripped over a bag in the aisle.

  As they reached the rest of the group, Thomas and Rob were climbing down and into the cargo hold underneath them.

  “Rob are you sure you’re ok?” Gina asked.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Need to get to work and distract myself, you know,” he puffed as he swung down into the hold.

  “Where are those two going?” Hana asked.

  “Flight data recorder,” replied Gina, peering over the edge where the other two had disappeared. “It’s in the hold at the back apparently.” Then she turned to face Hana with a puzzled face. “So how will the data from the flight recorder tell us about the source of the Lyssavirus?”

  “It won’t,” answered Wilkins from the side. “Getting to Columbus 754 and retrieving the flight recorder was the original objective for this expedition.” He looked over at Behnke, but seeing that the other man was sitting slumped back against the wall, glassy-eyed and panting, Wilkins continued. “They also thought that patient zero for the plague was on board. But it’s not a plague. It’s a chest. A wooden chest.”

  “A wooden chest?” Gina was baffled. “What, like a treasure chest?”

  “Well it’s a book to be exact,” Wilkins added, “inside the chest.”

  “You’re not making any sense at all,” Gina looked around questioningly at the others but Hugh and Hana just shrugged and looked back blankly. This was the first time that they had heard anything about a chest or a book themselves.

  “Here, this will explain it better.” Wilkins struggled to reach his thigh pocket and unbutton it, but his hands were too tightly bound together.

  “Oh, for God’s sake,” Hana stepped towards Wilkins and his eyes grew wide as a knife magically sprouted from her hand. But she just reached over and cut the zip ties between his wrists. “If you were going to turn into one of them, you’d have done it by now.”

  “Thank you,” he looked up gratefully, rubbing his wrists, then took a plastic packet out of his pocket. “Here, read this and it will all make sense.” He took out an envelope with a copy of the original letters and handed it over to them. Gina, Hana and Hugh all moved over into a patch of sunlight to see them better.

  By the time Thomas and Rob climbed back up into the cabin, the other three had finished reading and Behnke was standing up, lost in his thoughts, looking out over the still, silent waters of the swamp. His canoe was still floating out there, belly up and half submerged.

  “Where’s the flight recorder?” asked Hana, puzzled.

  “We don’t need the entire recorder,” Thomas replied. “They are actually, by their nature, quite hard to remove from the airframe. This aircraft type is equipped with a combination data recorder and cockpit voice recorder, with a survivable memory unit which is purpose-designed for quick access. I have removed the memory chips, that’s all we need.” He nodded at the papers in her hands. “So, I see you know about the book and the chest.”

  “Yes. It sounds crazy, but then what the hell isn’t crazy about a zombie plague? It makes more sense than most of the theories I have heard.” Hana shrugged her shoulders. “So, we are looking for a chest. But there is nothing up here in the cabin. Was there anything in the hold?” The three of them had simply absorbed the information in Wilkins’s papers without comment. There was no point in theatrics, questioning or debate. Clearly Behnke and his team believed in the existence of the book or they would not be looking for it in the first place.

  “No,” Thomas replied. “I do not believe that the departure of the flight was organized enough for anyone to have had time to load any baggage. Our research of airport security footage and also witness statements showed that the plane’s take-off was rushed and chaotic, with many passengers injured and le
ft behind on the runway.”

  “So, if the chest was on board, and it’s not in the hold or here in the back of the plane, it might still be in the front? Maybe in the cockpit?” Gina gestured at the other part of the fuselage opposite them. She looked down at the muddy ripples below and shuddered. “Shit. I really don’t want to get back in that water.”

  “Well the boats are the only way out of here and back to the trucks anyway,” Hana smiled. “Might as well check the other side since we’re already here.”

  In short order they had shuttled across in the two remaining canoes to the front half of the wreck, and climbed up into the cabin, guns at the ready, flashlights on, searching for new targets. They need not have bothered. It was empty of zombies, although there were plenty of abandoned bags. Hana tapped one with her toe and she and Hugh exchanged a meaningful look.

  “The cockpit door is locked,” said Thomas from up front. “And I do not think that we can breach it with the tools that we have brought with us. Do we have explosives?”

  An idea struck Gina and she quickly ducked her head down and looked out of one of the windows to confirm where she thought the body lay. She let out a laugh, which surprised her almost as much as the others.

  “I think I know who can help us get in,” she walked over to the main cabin door and peered at the faded instructions before pulling on the red emergency handle. “I have always, always wanted to do this.” With that she pulled the larger handle up and pushed against the door. It was wedged shut. Thomas leaned over her and gave it a push, and with a cracking of the rubber seals the door flew open. Gina dropped down to her knees and pulled the red emergency handle on the floor of the doorframe. The handle dutifully popped out, but nothing else happened.

  “Oh,” Gina said, disappointed. “I thought that the…” Then the huge, orange emergency slide erupted from underneath the doorway, stretched out far over the water, and slowly finished inflating. “Yes!” A huge smile split her face and she pumped her fist triumphantly.