KILL BOX: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 2)

by Steven Konkoly

  “It’s those damn lights on campus,” said Larsen.

  “Not our problem,” said Rich. “I’m going to leave my team in the park for now. They can cover the city approaches. We just have to worry about the interstate. Let’s go.”

  They broke through the bushes, heading down the grassy embankment toward the rest of the group. David and Joshua had already reached the airplane, spreading out to clear the exterior. Chang waited with the Harpers on the embankment.

  “He really landed a fucking plane on the interstate?” said Rich.

  “Yeah,” said Larsen. “It was either that or face off against an Apache helicopter. I figured we were dead either way.”

  “You probably should be,” said Rich. “How is he going to take off without lights?”

  “The aircraft should have taxi lights,” said Larsen.

  “I meant runway lights,” said Rich. “At a hundred and fifty miles per hour, I don’t think taxi lights are going to be much use.”

  They reached Chang and the Harpers a few seconds later.

  “You have headlights, right?” said Larsen.

  “Taxi and landing lights,” said Chang.

  “Is that enough to take off?” said Larsen.

  “It’s a straight length of interstate,” said Chang. “As long as it’s still clear, I just need to see the lines right in front of me.”

  “Fuck,” muttered Rich.

  “I have to admit, this sounded better in theory than in reality,” said Larsen.

  “I’m just throwing this out there. So don’t read anything into it,” said Rich. “We can get all of you out of here on foot. It’ll take a good twenty-four to forty-eight hours to do it right, but—I don’t think I’d want to take my chances flying out.”

  A quick whistle drew his attention to the airplane. David stood in front of the propeller, giving him a thumbs-up.

  “Chang?” said Larsen. “It’s up to you. I’m good with either option.”

  “It’s not just up to me,” said Chang. “Everyone gets a say. Jack? Emma?”

  Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Can you do it without lights?”

  “As long as the highway is clear.”

  Larsen peered west down Interstate 70. “There’s a car in the breakdown lane about four hundred yards from this overpass.”

  “I can hug the left until we get past it,” said Chang. “Throttle up after that. We’ll have plenty of highway left for the takeoff.”

  “I’d rather get the hell out of here,” said Emma.

  “That settles it for me,” said Jack.

  “David was pretty clear about his feelings,” said Larsen. “He wanted to fly out.”

  “Then that’s it. Get everyone loaded up and get out of here,” said Rich. “Dr. Chang, get in touch with Greenberg when you land. They’ll work out a way to get you to safety.”

  “Got it,” said Chang. “Good luck out there. Stay safe.”

  “Will do,” said Rich. “Larsen, what’s your plan after this?”

  “As long as Chang is in good hands, I’m headed west to meet up with my family,” said Larsen.

  “They’re safe from this?”

  “From the virus. Yes. From whoever is behind all of this? I don’t know,” said Larsen. “That’s why I need to get to them as quickly as possible.”

  “I’ll fly you to Colorado,” said Chang. “I owe you that much.”

  “One step at a time,” said Larsen. “We can hash this out later, once we’ve safely landed outside the quarantine zone.”

  Muted snaps cut through the night, turning all of their heads toward the park above them.

  “Get out of here. Now,” said Rich.

  Larsen guided Chang down the rest of the embankment toward the plane, where David and Joshua waited. He looked back when they reached the highway shoulder, seeing that Rich had already retreated to the thick bushes framing the interstate side of the park, presumably watching over them from the high ground.

  “How’s it look?” said Chang, stepping onto the highway.

  “The exterior looks fine,” said David. “The cabin is clear. You want us in the same places?”

  “That seemed to work out well last time,” said Chang.

  “Worked out well for everyone with seats,” said David, patting Chang on the shoulder. “Just kidding. We’re fine in back.”

  Larsen’s attention drifted to the park above them. The rate of gunfire had increased, contrary to what he’d expected.

  “We need to get out of here right now.”

  Chapter 45

  Chang nudged the throttle forward, coaxing the aircraft forward along the highway. The moment he was clear of the overpass, he lightly tapped the right wheel brake, turning him toward the center of the highway. When the aircraft responded, he let off the brake and steered with the rudder pedal. Within seconds, he was pointed west, down their makeshift runway.

  “Ready?” said Chang.

  “Not really,” said David, from the back of the cargo compartment. “Just kidding. Please get us out of here, Dr. Chang.”

  He flipped the switches for the taxi and landing lights, illuminating the highway and the concrete structure framing the overpass. Chang centered the plane between the guardrail on the right and concrete supports suspending East Street above the interstate—and throttled forward. The aircraft rapidly picked up speed, hurtling down the pavement, into the inky dark abyss ahead.

  Chang eased the Cessna left, using the dashed lane markers to center the fuselage between the left two lanes of the four-lane highway, where they would avoid the vehicle stopped on the shoulder. The aircraft gained more speed, swiftly outpacing the illumination cast by the taxi lights on the road ahead of them.

  “Let me know when we’re past the stranded car!” said Chang.

  He intended to go full throttle at that point, getting them airborne as quickly as possible. Larsen leaned toward the center of the cockpit, trying to get a clear view of the road ahead through his night-vision goggles.

  “Coming up fast,” said Larsen. “Three. Two. One. That’s it! All clear.”

  Chang eased them into the center of the highway and pushed the throttle forward.

  “Hang on, everyone! Here we go!”

  The plane lurched forward, its dependable three-hundred-horsepower engine buzzing steadily. Everything felt and sounded right. He just needed the airspeed at this point. Maybe five more seconds. Once they were a few hundred feet in the air, he’d ease them into a steady leftward ascent, leveling off at five hundred feet. He’d stay at that altitude until they passed over Interstate 465, the inner quarantine boundary, where he’d drop to two hundred feet and change course to throw off any ground patrols that spotted them. Then they were home free!

  “Turn left!” screamed Larsen. “Turn left!”

  He fought every instinct to react, knowing that any sudden pedal or brake maneuver at this speed would be disastrous. They’d careen into the concrete center median or spin into the guardrail on to the right almost instantaneously, crippling the aircraft and likely killing all of them. Instead, he throttled back, hoping that the plane would slow down quickly enough for him to use the pedals to steer. His hope was short-lived.

  A figure appeared briefly in the aircraft’s lights, zooming past Larsen’s window and striking the right wing with a heavy thud. Everyone screamed, and for a few seconds, Chang thought they might be okay. He even started to throttle back up for takeoff—before a metallic, crunching sound from the right side of the aircraft changed his mind. He brought the aircraft to a stop and hopped out the passenger door without saying a word.

  Chang gave the spinning propeller a wide berth as he jogged to the other side of the aircraft to examine the scantly illuminated wing. They were screwed. The wing strut was bent inward and splattered with blood, the strut completely disconnected from the fuselage. To make matters worse, the wing dipped noticeably downward. When he’d landed the plane this morning, he’d been worried about a nearly imperceptible ha
lf-degree dip. Now it was at least ten degrees lower than its normal position—parallel to the ground. There was no doubt that the wing was structurally damaged. The aircraft was grounded.

  “What’s wrong?” said Larsen, leaning his head out the passenger window.

  Chang yelled over the propeller noise, “The wing is screwed!”

  Larsen spilled out the passenger door, and for a brief moment, Chang thought the former SEAL was going to punch him for getting them into this mess. Instead, Larsen brushed past Chang and fired three quick shots at an unseen enemy.

  “Get us back to the overpass!” said Larsen, firing three more shots into the dark. “Right now!”

  Chang was back in the pilot’s seat within seconds, throttling forward so he could turn the aircraft around.

  “What happened?” yelled David, leaning between the Harpers in the row of seats right behind Chang.

  “We hit one of the infected,” said Chang. “Damaged the wing. There’s no way we can take off. I’m taking us back to the overpass.”

  “Jesus. This can’t be happening,” said Emma.

  Larsen jumped into his seat a moment later, yanking his door shut.

  “Step on it,” said Larsen. “We have company.”

  “I’m doing what I can!” said Chang, tapping the brake hard enough to force a tight, right-hand turn.

  “Threat axis?” said David.

  “From the north,” said Larsen. “Port side when we straighten out.”

  As the aircraft swung around, David hit one of the windows on the left side of the fuselage with the butt of his rifle, shattering it in place. Another hit knocked the glass free.

  “What are you doing?” said Chang, looking over his seat.

  “Keeping us alive,” said David before firing through the window.

  Larsen pushed his way between the front seats, taking a position between Jack and Emma in the second row.

  “Get up!” he yelled at Jack. “Take my seat.”

  The second Jack had cleared the seat, Larsen started firing. Chang couldn’t see what they were shooting at, but he got the distinct impression they had plenty of targets to choose from. Neither of them stopped shooting until he’d throttled up to forty knots, a little more than forty-five miles per hour.

  “We’re clear!” said David.

  Chang eased off the throttle, bringing the aircraft’s speed low enough to avoid stressing the wing any further.

  “Now what?” said Chang.

  “Back to square fucking one,” said Larsen, pounding the seat with his fist.

  “What does that mean?” said Chang.

  “Back to NevoTech. I highly doubt your friends stuck around,” said Larsen. “I guarantee this thing drew a shit ton of attention, and it’s going to attract even more when we return.”

  “I’ll contact Gary,” said David. “Maybe they can throw some of those ladders over for us.”

  “Or we can stop this thing on the other side of campus, where they have some closer gates,” said Larsen. “Is that possible?”

  “I can take us just past the Madison Avenue underpass, if I can find it,” said Chang. “South Delaware street runs north-south along the western campus boundary. That’s where all of the vehicle gates are located.”

  “Let Gary know where to expect us,” said Larsen.

  They taxied for a few more seconds while David tried frantically to reach Hoenig.

  “Guys, I think I passed Madison Avenue already,” said Chang, peering through the window next to him. “Or maybe we never got that far on takeoff.”

  “Are you serious?” said Larsen.

  “I can’t tell in the dark!” said Chang. “Sorry! It’s an underpass. We might have gone right over it.”

  “Dammit. Then take us back to the East Street overpass,” said Larsen. “They probably still have the ladders over there. It’s our best bet. We might even be able to make it to the first gate. The one we used when we first arrived. David, please tell me you got Hoenig on the radio.”

  “I got him,” said David. “But he said the streets are crazy around campus. He thinks we might be better off ditching the plane and heading south from the highway. Try to link up with Rich’s team.”

  Chang couldn’t see how that would improve their situation. The area south of the interstate was packed with apartment buildings and homes. They’d face the same problem, with no hope of finding refuge.

  “We don’t have a choice. We have to try to get back into NevoTech,” said Chang.

  Chapter 46

  David pushed his earpiece into place. “Gary, this is David.”

  “Got you,” said Hoenig.

  Thank God he’d kept the earpiece and the radio. He’d almost left it in the security hub, but Hoenig insisted he keep it—just in case. Their current situation more than qualified as a “just in case.”

  “We’re almost back to the overpass,” said David.

  “Fitzgerald and Mitch hear you approaching,” said Hoenig. “Along with the rest of the city.”

  “How bad is it on East Street?”

  “No worse than before,” said Hoenig. “Chang’s friends did a number on the first few waves of crazies.”

  “They aren’t still there by any chance?” said David.

  “The crazies? They’re all over the place,” said Hoenig.

  “No. Chang’s friends.”

  “Negative. They took off as soon as you did,” said Hoenig.

  “Except we never took off,” said David.

  David didn’t hear Hoenig’s reply. Larsen got up from his seat and kneeled next to the cargo compartment door, barking out orders.

  “As soon as we stop, everyone gets out. Go around the back of the plane. The back!” he said, hitting the back of the front passenger seat. “That includes you, Jack! Around the back.”

  “I get it!” said Jack, annoyed. “Around the back!”

  “We run like hell for NevoTech after that,” said Larsen. “David, Josh and I will clear the way. Stick together, no matter what!”

  The aircraft started to slow. “Coming up on the overpass,” yelled Chang.

  “Gary, we’re seconds from stopping,” said David. “Keep the information flowing.”

  “I’m focused on the eastern-facing cameras,” said Hoenig. “I’ll send Fitzgerald and Mitch back to the point where you jumped the fence. They can follow you down the sidewalk, from the other side of the fence, and add to your firepower if things start to spin out of control.”

  “Can you send more of the security team?” said David. “I’m thinking we might need everybody.”

  “I can do that, but Fitzgerald and Mitch are the only two officers on the ground with suppressed rifles,” said Hoenig.

  “I don’t think it’s going to matter,” said David.

  “Consider it done,” said Hoenig. “I’ll have some of them grab the ladders on the way over. It looks clear near that corner.”

  “It won’t be that way for long,” said David.

  “Probably not,” said Hoenig. “Good luck.”

  David didn’t respond. The plane jolted to a stop, and Larsen sprang through the clamshell doors, reaching back inside to help Emma out. When she hesitated, David pushed her into Larsen’s arms and turned to make sure Josh followed him out.

  “Ready for this?” said David.

  “I think so,” said his son.

  “Stay between Larsen and me,” said David. “Do not shoot unless it’s absolutely critical. Your rifle will draw too much attention.”

  He hit the pavement with his son, and they both ran for the back of the plane. David was worried about Josh more than anything else right now, but he couldn’t show it. His son’s best chance of survival lay in the group’s cohesive, “fast-as-shit” passage from the airplane to NevoTech. If it didn’t work out, at least they’d die together. Not a cheery thought on any level, but it was all he had right now. The Cessna’s engine sputtered a few times, going completely silent.

  Larsen grabbed h
im as they ran past the plane’s tail. “What’s going on with Hoenig?”

  “We meet up with Fitzgerald and Mitch where we left them,” said David. “If possible, they’ll push the ladders over and cover us while we climb back over. He’s sending the rest of the security force over.”

  “Let’s go,” said Larsen before moving toward the guardrail at a slow jog.

  “Stay tight,” said David, looking over his shoulder—and catching movement behind the group. “Contact. Rear. Everyone down!”

  Larsen spun in place, aiming over the group, and David shifted to the left, each of them triggering their rifle-mounted infrared targeting beams at the same time. Green lines connected the rifles to the closest darkened shapes, but neither David nor Larsen fired. Call it gut instinct. Whatever it was undoubtedly saved their lives. Four beams immediately reached out from the figures, two reaching each of them.

  “Jesus, you guys are jumpy,” hissed a familiar voice. “Stand down.”

  “Rich?” said Larsen. “I can’t believe you’re still here.”

  “We were on our way out—”

  “Save it for later,” said David. “We need to get moving.”

  “Lead the way,” said Rich.

  David took off for the edge of the highway, but didn’t get more than a few feet before Emma screamed. He started to turn, but a strong hand stopped him.

  “Don’t. We’ve been played,” said Larsen, a green dot illuminating his face.

  “We’re taking Chang,” said Rich, over the scientist’s muffled protests. “No time to argue.”

  He turned his head far enough to see one of the operatives struggling to hold Chang in place, the crook of his elbow pressed over the scientist’s mouth. David tensed, infuriated to see Chang held against his will. After everything they’d been through, it had come down to this. A kidnapping! Larsen must have sensed what was coming.

  “Whatever you’re thinking,” whispered Larsen. “Forget it. Chang is lost. We need to focus on ourselves right now.”

  “Bunch of backstabbers,” hissed David.

  “Hey, we held up our end of the bargain,” said Rich. “You had your chance. You don’t get another.”