by Amber Wyatt
“Jeeeesussss...” Hugh exhaled under his breath. Dwayne said nothing, but his sharp eyes flickered back and forth across the screen, noting every detail. Hana did not say anything either, but under the coarse material of her bite-proof suit, she could feel her skin crinkle as goosebumps sprang up all over her entire body. That is a LOT of zombies. If they heard a single whisper from us up here, we wouldn’t stand a chance.
“There,” Dwayne took the phone gently from Hana’s hands, rewound the video and paused it. “Look there. That’s the chest we’re looking for. They’re all standing there just looking at it.”
Hana looked closely at the black shape on the screen. Dwayne was right, it did look like a square chest placed up on a platform next to what she assumed was the newly constructed clean room. All of the zombies down in the hall were standing, facing the chest as if taking part in some unholy ceremony.
“Okay I have an idea,” Dwayne continued. “You see that fire door on the back wall there?” He pointed on the screen to a dark square nearly hidden from view behind the clean room. “It’s locked from the outside, but from here on the inside, if we can get to it without being seen, and I think we can, we can just push the emergency bar to open the lock. Just open up the door a crack. Then we retrace our steps all the way back through here on the second floor to the office window, get back out on the container and push the truck around the outside of the hangar to that door at the back.”
“Why not just go straight out the door when we get to it? Why sneak all the way back here, the way we came?” Hugh asked.
Hana understood why. “If we just push the door enough to pop the lock open it’s not a problem. But if we open the door wide enough for us to get out, sunlight is suddenly going to pour in and all those zombies will notice it. They will start chasing us immediately.”
Dwayne nodded approvingly as Hana spoke, and when she had finished, he continued to outline his plan. “It’s only a few yards from the door to the chest. When we come back around from the outside, we jump through the door, guns blazing, grab the chest, throw it on the back of the truck and drive off.”
“No, not guns blazing.” Hana shook her head. “We will create a diversion up at the other end of the hangar, at the main entrance. Then when they leave and head up toward the other end of the hangar, we sneak in and steal the chest while they aren’t looking.”
“We could use one of the drones, maybe play music on one of the speakers through the front door or something,” interjected Hugh understanding. “It wouldn’t be that hard.”
Hana nodded in agreement. “First things first though, we need to sneak down and open that back door. How are we going to do that?”
“That’s not a problem, on the ground level there’s a back hallway behind all the workshops. It runs along the outer wall for the whole length of the hangar,” Dwayne whispered back. “There are stairs leading down to it just around the corner.”
“Good idea. Okay, that’s the plan we’ll go with,” said Hana. Well, she corrected herself. It’s the only plan we’ve got. She puffed her cheeks as she blew out a breath, trying to think of all the things that could go wrong. It was a long list. She thought about discussing them with the other two, but realized that she was just stalling. We’re going to do this anyway. Hana shrugged her shoulders and waved Dwayne forward instead.
“You know the way. Lead on.”
A few minutes later the three of them were creeping down the back hallway behind the workshops. Dwayne had led them down a staircase behind the next office. It had taken a nerve-wracking few minutes to tiptoe down slowly, step by step, trying not to make a single noise on the steel stairs. But the time had not been wasted. Those long moments had allowed their eyes to adjust to the darkness below, and now they moved down the almost pitch-black hallway slowly, but confidently.
They came to the end of the hangar and rounded the corner of the last workshop. After the dark of the hallway, the dim light filtering in from the main hangar seemed bright. The back of the clean room was straight ahead of them and their target, the locked fire-door was just on the left. Dwayne stiffened and came to a stop as something moved in the shadows behind the plastic sheeting of the new clean room. The three of them shrank back into the corner and froze, weapons aimed in white-knuckled grips at the faint movement in front of them.
A huge shape crept out stealthily from behind the clean room and peered into the central atrium. Hana and Hugh kept their rifles aimed at it, adrenalin thumping through their veins, but Dwayne recognized the silhouette immediately, and lowered his pistol in confusion.
That’s Albert. What the fuck is he doing over here? Those guys left ages ago. Did he decide to come back here and steal the chest for himself? Dwayne’s pulse jumped as his friend straightened up and moved slowly towards the center of the hangar. Shit, he’s going to walk straight into all those zombies in the main hall.
“Psst hey, Albert! Over here,” Dwayne whispered urgently.
Albert’s huge upper body whipped around as fast a cobra striking. His head craned forward and twitched from side to side like a bird, his nostrils flaring and his eyes scanning the shadows where the group was hiding. The huge bodybuilder’s lips parted slowly, baring hungry teeth.
Oh fuck! Dwayne looked at Hana with eyes as wide as saucers. She was sure her face looked equally as shocked. There was no need to say anything. It was clear to all of them that Albert was now a zombie. Nobody dared to breathe as the enormous zombie peered intently into the darkness with its ravenous eyes.
Why isn’t he moving towards us? Hana silently thumbed off her safety and aimed her MPX at the huge zombie’s head but dared not fire. The noise would draw every zombie from the main hall straight to them.
There was a muted drumming noise that became steadily louder. Thunder? No, footsteps, Hana realized, lots of footsteps. She felt her pulse jump and her breathing sped up, faster and lighter.
Around the corner behind Albert a crowd of zombies appeared, running. Without turning around to look at them, Albert simply raised his hand, then chopped it forward, pointing directly at the group hiding in the dark. The zombies did not even pause. They sprinted past Albert, passing on each side of him like a flood of water, and headed straight for Hana and Dwayne.
“Open fire!” Hana screamed. She switched her aim from Albert to the head of the nearest zombie and pulled her trigger.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The Chest
The black shadows of the hallway exploded with light and thunder, as Hana and Hugh unleashed a storm of ear-shattering, automatic fire into the faces of the zombies charging straight at them. Empty brass cartridges bounced and ricocheted wildly off the walls before spattering off into the darkness. In front of them zombie heads burst apart with explosions of brains and blood, but the scarlet-spattered horde behind them seemed to have an endless supply of new monsters, clawing their way past the falling bodies of their dying comrades even as they slumped to the floor.
Firing her weapon in the tightly enclosed space of the hallway, a part of Hana felt as if white hot nails were piercing her eardrums, but she barely noticed. Her mind was razor-focused on aiming her fire into the flood of snarling faces coming towards her. Teeth and eyes glinted in the strobing, muzzle flash of her SCAR assault rifle as the high velocity rounds ripped their faces apart. She could feel a part of her wanting to scream in terror, the panic surging up like a physical sensation behind her shoulder blades, but she ruthlessly pushed it down, deep inside, and concentrated on keeping her front sight on each new target as she pulled the trigger over and over again.
“In here!” Dwayne shouted from behind them, barging through the closest door into one of the workshops, and scanning wildly around inside with his pistol. It was crowded with workbenches and pieces of bulky machinery, but there was no sign of any zombies. “Get in here, it’s clear!”
Hugh physically picked her up and threw her through the doorway so hard that Hana fell to her knees on the dusty floor. S
he quickly jumped to her feet and helped him to slam the door shut in the faces of their pursuers. Immediately the door began to shudder as the zombies outside hurled their bodies against the heavy wood.
“Hold them just one minute,” shouted Dwayne. He grunted loudly as he grabbed the side of a solid looking workbench and started pushing it towards the door. Hana exchanged a panicked look with Hugh, their sweating faces only inches apart as the two of them ground their shoulders together side by side against the shaking door.
“I can hold it. Go help him!” Hugh grunted.
She ran over to help Dwayne and pushed while he pulled. Adrenalin lent the both of them a desperate strength, and in seconds the two of them had manhandled the metal workbench over to the door. Hugh jumped to the side and with a screech of squeaking steel, the three of them shoved the heavy barricade into place up against the thudding door.
Hana looked around wildly as they all stepped back panting. There were no other doors or windows into the workshop. The barricaded door was the only way in or out. We’re safe for the moment. But almost immediately her feeling of relief was replaced by horror. They were now trapped in the workshop exactly like the doomed wretches they had discovered in the rooms above them. She felt a bubble of panic and hysteria rising up inside her, and looked around giddily to see if there was any paper on which to write a goodbye letter. Who would I write to anyway? My husband? She barked out a quick laugh as the irony struck her. Trapped in his underground bunker with four years’ worth of food, Takumi would long outlive her.
Focus! She told herself. You have a weapon and ammunition, and you’re not alone. You’re part of a much larger team, who are also all armed and dangerous.
Hana turned on the walkie-talkie on her belt and keyed the mike. “Thomas, it’s Hana, we are trapped in a workshop on the ground floor, right up at the other end of the hangar from you. We need help. Now.”
“Thomas here. Yes we heard the gunfire already. I did not want to call on the radio in case you were hiding and it gave away your position.”
“Don’t worry, the zombies know where we are now,” Hana marveled at how calm her voice sounded. Inside her pulse hammered hard against her rib-cage and she was unable to tear her gaze from the shaking door. “They have us trapped like rats. We’ve barricaded the door, and we are safe for the moment, but there are too many for us to deal with on our own.”
“No problem. We will create a diversion up at the other end of the hangar and draw them away. Once they have not seen you for a while, they will forget you are there and you can sneak out.”
“No. That won’t work,” even as she spoke the words herself, a horrifying realization slowly congealed in her thoughts as she watched the workshop door shuddering under the assault from the other side. “These ones are… intelligent. No, not intelligent,” the memory of the giant zombie Albert pointing at her popped into her mind. “They are being controlled. They cannot see us but they are still attacking the door, trying to get in.”
There was no reply from Thomas.
Hana tore her eyes from the door to look down at the radio, checking the little LED at the top was lit up, indicating that it was on.
“Hello, Thomas? Do you copy?” She was answered only by silence. Hana exchanged a tense glance with Hugh, who was covering the door with his rifle. “You try and call them,” she gestured at his radio.
Keeping his weapon pointed at the door with one hand, the tall mechanic turned on his radio and thumbed the mike with the other.
“Hello Thomas, this is Hugh, can you hear me? Anyone?”
Once again there was only silence from the radios. The only sound Hana could hear was the relentless hammering against the door, and the muffled whine in her ears that was the result of all the recent shooting without ear protection. Hana rubbed her ears, fruitlessly trying to get rid of the annoying noise. Shit, if we keep on shooting indoors like this, I am going to go deaf!
Then Rob’s voice came up over the radio. “Guys, it’s Rob here. They are arguing. Now he knows where the chest is, Behnke just wants to leave you there. He says he can just come back and retrieve the chest later, with more firepower, or when the zombies have calmed down again. Thomas and Gina are arguing that we should go in and rescue you now.”
“Motherfucker,” cursed Hugh bitterly, half under his breath.
“I don’t believe it…” Hana was momentarily lost for words. She knew that Behnke was ruthless, but this was insane. He cannot be serious. Nobody could be that cold-blooded.
“Rob,” she finally felt the anger swelling up inside her like a volcano about to erupt. “Tell him we have the chest already. We have it with us right here. Tell him that if he is going to leave us here, I will blow up this fucking chest and destroy it.”
There was no answer. She looked at Hugh, but he just shrugged his shoulders. His face was dark with fury, but his gun never wavered from its aim at the door. Hana realized that Dwayne had not contributed to the discussion at all, and she looked around to see what he was up to. She was vaguely aware that he had been rushing around the workshop this whole time, opening and closing cabinet doors, and collecting various pieces of equipment.
“Dwayne what are you doing?”
“Come over here and help me. I have an idea which will help get us out of here,” Dwayne beckoned her over. “Hugh you keep an eye on the door, bro.”
Dwayne pulled a dusty, plastic tarpaulin off an imposing lump which turned out to be a large airplane engine fixed into a solid looking cradle. Then he pulled up a tray in which he had been collecting components, and started fitting them into both sides of the engine.
“Igniters.” Dwayne held up one item by way of explanation, which Hana immediately forgot as he dropped it back into the tray. “This is a Continental 0-470,” Dwayne slapped the engine affectionately. “A solid, reliable engine. We were going to rebuild an old Vietnam-era Cessna Bird Dog ages ago, before I got put in jail. I guess they never got around to it.”
“How can I help?” Hana looked at the maze of wires over the top of the engine. Dwayne was now busy checking each one. “I know nothing about aircraft engines.”
“I need you to check those fuel cans over there,” Dwayne pointed at three big, red, plastic containers under a shelf. “This baby will run on plain gasoline, but that stuff goes bad pretty quick. Pure gasoline, properly stored, will only last six months at most. We used to add stabilizers to it, like a preservative, to extend storage life for a year or more, but those cans might have been sat there for three years. I need you to check if it’s become too oxidized or whether it’s still usable.”
“How will I be able to tell?” With a loud scraping noise, Hana laboriously dragged the plastic containers out from under the shelf, feeling their heavy contents sloshing around inside as she did so.
“Find something clear like a glass to pour some into, so you can look at the gas. It should be almost clear. If it’s discolored at all,” Dwayne wiped his brow. “Well, let’s just hope it’s not, but if it is, then the darker or murkier the gas, the more oxidized and contaminated it is.”
Hana quickly found a beaker on a nearby shelf and knelt down to unscrew the caps off the tops of the fuel cans. Immediately the cramped workshop was filled with the pungent smell of gasoline.
Grunting with the weight, and trying to not to spill too much on the floor, she tipped one of the cans over on to its corner, pouring out a little sample into her beaker. Holding it up against the light, she quickly examined the gas, then poured it back into the container and repeated the process with the other two fuel cans.
While she did so, her thoughts were dark, thinking about how she would like to crucify Behnke to a door and skin him slowly. Maybe pour this gas over him and set him alight. She glanced up at Hugh and caught him looking at her quizzically. Hana realized that her lips was twisted into an ugly snarl.
“Just thinking about that dick Behnke and what I am going to do to him when we get out of here,” she explained.
“Dwayne,” she called back to the mechanic, who looked as if he was finishing up whatever he was doing. “This one,” she tapped the closest fuel can, “looks like ice tea. The middle one looks like coffee. That last one over there looks like chocolate milk.”
“The ice tea will do. It’s not great for the engine long term, but fuck it. I only need it to run for a couple of minutes.”
There was a loud crack from the door, and they all whirled around. Hana’s heartbeat spiked with pure adrenalin. The top hinge had broken off the frame, and the door was leaning into the room on top of the workbench. Undead fingers appeared over the gap at the top, and the horde outside redouble their efforts to ram through the door.
“Dwayne, whatever you’re planning, do it quick!” Hana ran and grabbed the end of the workbench. “Hugh, help me!”
The two of them braced themselves against the metal workbench and fought to keep it from sliding backwards, pushing it back into the shaking door.
“I just need one minute!” Dwayne shouted from behind them. Effortlessly he swept up the heavy fuel can and started pouring it into the gas tank of the engine.
“Hana,” Hugh grimaced. “I’ll hold the bench. You start firing through the door at head height. See if you can slow those bastards down.”
Hana let go of the bench and yelped as it immediately slipped backwards a few inches, the steel legs scraping across the concrete floor. Then she quickly brought up her SCAR and started firing rapid, semi-automatic shots through the door at head height. The dull pain in her ears returned, and she gritted her teeth and continued firing.
It worked. The hammering on the other side of the door became disjointed and Hugh actually managed to shove the bench back even further, completely closing the door again. Hana kept shooting until her magazine was empty, working her fire sideways across from left to right and then back again. She could imagine the crowd of undead just on the other side, the bullets punching through the door to smash into their mindless faces, the floor of the corridor becoming choked with their corpses. She reloaded and started firing again.