Текст книги "Preservation"

Автор книги: Phillip Tomasso

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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter Two

Palmeri drove the Humvee up onto the tarmac and stopped by the chopper pad. Dave and I climbed out and walked to the front of the vehicle. I stared at the helicopter. It resembled a prehistoric bird on furlough from a museum. The front of the thing had a face. The big windows looked like eyes, the propeller blades draped to either side like eyebrows. I don’t know, like I said, to me it looked like a face.

“You okay?” Dave said.

I wasn’t sure if I was. When I’d been a kid, we played ding-dong-ditch. One old woman had wind chimes on her front porch. The house was set back from the road. The idea wasn’t to ring her doorbell, but to swipe your arm across the chimes. The other kids on the street were older. They forced me to do it. I worked up the courage and made my way up her lawn, staying low, and moving quietly from tree to tree. I could hear the others laughing in the street. They were ready to run and hide as soon as I rang the chimes. When I got up onto the porch, about to run my arm across the wind chimes, a light switched on. That old woman sat in a chair on a corner of the porch waiting. I’d stood frozen, and when she got up to come at me, I found my legs and ran away, screaming at the top of my lungs. I felt that way now, but at least I wasn’t alone. “Let’s just check this place out.”

The clouds were one solid sheet of gunmetal-grey that made up the entire sky for as far as the eye could see. The leafless trees stood like skeletons along most of the perimeter. The wind had picked up, brisk and bone-chilling. It smelled wet, as if rain or snow was in the inevitable future. The crisp air filled and stung my lungs. It was going to be a long, harsh winter for survivors in the north. Hibernating the next several months would prove challenging. I prayed they found shelter safe from zombies and full of supplies. None of that seemed likely, though.

Before fleeing the burning cabin, most of us had escaped with weapons from the Terrigino stash. Stocking up on rifles and ammo, machetes, swords and knives, I wore a machete and sheath on my back and a long sword with a scabbard and nine-inch sawbuck-hunting knife on my hip, completely foregoing a rifle or sidearm. I learned the hard way how frightening it was to be surrounded by zombies and out of ammunition. My daughter dressed similarly. Dave had a rifle and a sidearm. Between the two of us, I figured that even if we ran into a flock of zombies, we’d be able to deliver some serious damage before being forced to retreat. I hoped, anyway, because in every instance, it seemed like retreat was inexorable.

The Humvee’s engine let out a low and steady chugging sound; it was just a bit less than a grumble, and a tad more than a purr.  Other than that, the only thing making noise was the wind. It sounded angry, if you wanted to personify it, and ran along the hangar rattling the loose aluminum walls, rocked the helicopter’s blades and caused me to shiver against its force. I wished the vest I wore was equipped with both sleeves and a collar, but then it wouldn’t be a vest. In truth, the shiver might only be partly caused by the frigid air.

The hangar resembled a giant warehouse with a bowed roof, and appeared secured. The doors that let planes in and out were rolled closed. There was a normal door as well. I motioned to Dave with my head that we’d start that way. “Only real door I see,” I said. “Let’s check it out.”

With a slight nod, Dave followed me.

I held the machete by my side and gripped the handle, wishing I’d taken a pair of thin gloves from the Terrignos. Continued use of this thing was going to rub my palms raw. While the rubber might be better to hold than wood, sweat and blood would still make it slippery and difficult to hold, I’d bet.

We reached the hangar, and stood on either side of the front entrance. I put a wrist to my chest, feeling my heartbeat through my clothing.

“Could be a back door, too,” Dave said.

“Probably is,” I said. “Should we do a walk-around?”

Dave shook his head. “If there’s a door, there’s a door. If there isn’t…” He shrugged. His way of saying, Oh well, without saying it.

“I’m good with that,” I said. I switched the machete to my other hand and tried the doorknob. Twisted it left and right. Barely moved. “Locked.”

“Of course. We kick it in, or whatever. If there aren’t any zombies around, they’ll start this way. If there are zombies inside, it’ll be like ringing the doorbell,” Dave said. “I hate this shit.”

“Hating it right along with you,” I said. Don’t know how many times I cursed at home about having to go into work. The idea of being tethered by a headset to a workstation for eight plus hours gave me stomach cramps. Then there was that, stomach cramps. You basically had to raise your hand and get permission from a supervisor to use the bathroom. Right now, though, with things the way they were, I’d take being treated like a fucking preschooler over this any day of the week. “You see any other option?”

“We take that walk-around, see if there is another door, and check if that one is unlocked,” Dave said. “Unless you want to just kick this one in?”

I looked back at the Humvee. It was parked maybe fifty yards away. Couldn’t see through the front windshield since the glass was heavily tinted. I knew everyone inside was staring directly at us. They were counting on us. “Let’s walk it. Make it quick. There has got to be an easy way inside.”

We made our way along the west side of the hangar. I’ve never been in the jungle before, not the Serengeti, Congo, or the Amazon, and yet, I knew Dave and I were being followed. I couldn’t help feel like a gazelle. Out there was a lion, or a pack of lions. I knew it. I held up a fist.

We stopped.

“What?” Dave said, it was a whisper.

“We’re being followed.”

We both spun around.

I laughed first, Dave a millisecond later. I’d been correct. We were being followed. A giant black Humvee had closed the sixty yard gap between us. It was ten yards away, and inching closer and closer. “Guess we’re all going for that walk around the hangar,” I said.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Dave said. “Not a thing.”

I agreed. While there was safety in numbers, having a vehicle filled with armed people on your side only helped. Didn’t hurt.

Once at the corner of the building, I peeked around the side, quickly.

“Well? Is it clear?” Dave said.

I placed my back against the building. My cheeks felt numb. The temperature had to be dropping fast. My breath came out in plumes.

I shook my head, and let out a little laugh. “I looked too fast. I didn’t see anything.”

“You okay?” Dave said.

I nodded. “Ah-yeah, peachy.”

Dave stuck his head around the corner. “It’s clear.”

“Awesome,” I said. “Sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry for,” he said.

But there was something to be sorry for. I felt unraveled. The coming undone took place inside of me, in my head, and chest. Those parts of me seemed like fabric tearing away, being peeled back. I’d lost my son yesterday, and buried him this morning. There had been no time to stop, grieve, mourn, or to heal. None. Nothing.

Dave knew what it felt like, what I was going through. He’d lost his brother only days before that.

Over the last week, all of us had lost someone. Every one of us. I just needed a way to keep pushing on, moving forward, even though I didn’t want to. That was honest and raw. It was the way I felt. I didn’t want to try anymore. I wasn’t sure there was a point. Other than caring for Allison and Charlene, I was drained. They might be the only two reasons I didn’t just give up altogether. Just lay down my weapons, curl into a ball and just fall asleep forever.

The plan to go to Mexico was flat and uninspired. I had everyone all rallied and excited about crossing the foreign border. The fucking zombies were everywhere. The disease would only continue to spread. Things would get worse before they ever got even slightly better. However, things getting any worse was nearly incomprehensible. If Mexico was in any better shape than New York, I’d be more than surprised, I’d be shocked. Fucking shocked.

“Chase,” Dave said. His voice worked at pulling me out of my internal mental melee and back into our reality.

“I’m ready. I’m good. I’ll go first,” I said.

I didn’t need to go around that corner first, though. The Humvee pulled ahead. They must have realized we were looking for another way into the hangar, and were making sure the back of the building had clear access, should there be a second door.

The Humvee stopped behind the building.

Dave and I rounded the corner. “A door,” he said.

“It better not be locked.” We stayed close to the building.

“Smell that?” Dave said. He looked back over his shoulder toward the east. “Fire somewhere.”

“I do. Guessing a lot of the country is burning right about now,” I said. “The dry leaves piled up everywhere –people in homes with no furnace starting small fires indoors to keep warm. There are going to be a lot of fires.”  A lot of deaths. Smoke, and CO poisoning. We stood at the door. “You gonna try it?”

Dave wrapped his hands on the knob and twisted. We both heard the soft release-click. Unlocked. He looked at me. I nodded, signaling he should pull it open when he was ready.

He silently mouthed, One, two, three.

I stood in front of the doorway, machete in a two-handed grip, the blade pointed at the asphalt.

The door stood open.

It was so windy out that it was difficult to hear if there was any movement inside the hangar. There could be a party inside, and I wasn’t hearing it. “I’m going in,” I said.

“I’m right behind you.”

I stepped inside slowly, cautiously, looking left and right. There were no windows, not even on the doors. It was great to get out of the wind. Once inside, the noise from that wind subsided some. I listened hard for any sound of movement. It was too dark to see much of anything, and somehow, the room still felt large and foreboding. It reminded me of the time Allison and I drove through West Virginia on our way to Georgia. It had been the middle of the night and the road was full of twisted turns and curves and tunnels. You couldn’t see anything except what lay dead-ahead in the shallow beam of the car’s headlights. The Allegheny Mountains hugged every stretch of road, and despite a splash of light now and then from vehicles headed in the opposite direction, it was a pitch black that consumed everything and yet, you just sensed the size and greatness of the mountain range. They were a clear and obvious presence, both inducing a level of fear and comfort, perhaps because they have stood for centuries hidden at night by the nothingness of darkness.

I stepped to the left, backed up against the wall and felt around for a light switch. “Check along the wall by you for a light,” I said.

Somewhere, something fell over and rolled. The noise echoed and was loud enough that I jumped and banged my shoulder into the wall. It sounded hollow, like an empty paint can, or some kind of tin bucket. “Dave?” I said, and hoped he’d knocked something over.

“Wasn’t me. Guessing it wasn’t you, then?”

“No, not me. Shit.” It’s what I feared. My hand ran up and down the wall with a bit more urgency. There had to be a switch. Rooms all over the world kept light switches on the wall by a door. It was common fucking sense, to be expected. And yet, I couldn’t find a switch.

Lights came on, slowly, the long fluorescents buzzed and flickered, running along the walls and then finally lit the whole place with blinding brilliance.

I saw it and with no time to kill, dropped to the ground and rolled out of the way. The zombie was fast and lunged at me. Before I could get back up onto my feet, it was on me, knocked the machete from my hands and out of reach. It growled and grunted as it pinned me down.

Most of the thing’s lower lip was gone. The flesh peeled away and hung from the bottom of his chin. A steady flow of thick, slow oozing black blood drooled from the corners of its severed mouth. Patches of the thing’s hair were chunked away from its skull. One swollen eye was shut, the lid looked blistered as if severely burned. The days of zombie life had not been kind to this creature. If I got my way, things would get a lot worse.

At this angle, though, with me on my back and the freaking thing straddling me, I could not reach the machete. Only thing I could do was unclip the sheath on my hip and pull the hunting knife free. I shouted over and over, “Dave!”

I heard a struggle coming from somewhere else in the room. Sound echoed and carried and bounced around and against the walls like a fucking whacked out racquetball.

I took hold of the zombie’s shirt collar and pulled him down toward me. As I brought my other arm up fast, I punched the blade into the thing’s ear. Something popped and before it fell off me, an eyeball rolled free from the left socket.

I managed to get onto my knees and stand up. I gasped, a hand over my stomach and bent forward. There was no time to catch my breath. Dave was pinned on the floor and using a forearm to keep from being bitten. I scraped up the machete as I ran toward them. I took a final step closer and swung the blade around. Wasn’t looking to just make it to first base with that swing. I wanted a home run and aimed for the fences. The zombie’s head did not launch toward the hangar’s ceiling the way I’d envisioned, but fell away from the shoulders and bounced twice before it skidded to a stop on the cement flooring.

Dave pushed the remaining torso to the side. More of that thick, black blood oozed from this zombie’s neck and slowly drained from the corpse the way maple syrup pours onto pancakes. “Fuck! He smells,” Dave said. “These things seem like they’re rotting away.”

I kicked the corpse, the finally dead corpse, and offered a hand to Dave. “At least it was worth it,” I said.

“Worth it, how,” he said.

“Look,” I said.

Behind me was a twin engine plane. It filled a good portion of the front of the hangar.

“How do we fuel one of these things up?”

I shook my head. “I guess we need Palmeri now.”

As I walked toward the door we’d just entered, the Humvee horn blared.

I looked back at Dave.

His eyes were open wide. Horn could only mean one thing…

Chapter Three

The Humvee’s horn screamed like a bass siren. Palmeri wasn’t just honking it, she was laying on it.

I ran for the door, reached it in four steps and shielded my eyes from the Humvee headlights. The passenger door on the Humvee flew open. “Get back in the truck! Come on, get in!” Erway waved at Dave and me with frantic hand gestures.

“Dave!” I said.

“I hear it,” he said. “Zombies?”

“Gotta be!” We exited the hangar. I couldn’t see what caused the excitement.

“The plane,” Dave said. He pointed back from where we’d come out of, and waved it away, as if saying, ah forgiddaboudit.

I climbed into the Humvee. “There’s a plane inside.”

“Zombies coming this way,” Charlene said. She was looking out the side window after Dave got in and shut the door. “I mean, a lot of zombies are coming right at us.”

As soon as Dave was inside and the door closed, Palmeri gave the vehicle gas. Tires protested on pavement as she cut the wheel one way, then the other to get around the hangar. “They came out of nowhere!”

Then I saw them.

They must have come from the woods. They ran at us. Crazed looking. Some wore military clothing. Others were in flannel and hunting camo. Others were flat out naked, or wearing such torn and tattered clothing that nothing was identifiable.

“Holy shit,” Dave said.

“Now what? We don’t want to just leave the plane,” I said.

“We don’t even know if it’s fueled, or if it’s a plane I can fly,” Palmeri said.

“It had two propellers. One on each wing. Is that something you can fly?” Dave said.

“It could be,” Palmeri said. She drove back toward the way we’d initially come.

“I left the door open to the hangar,” Dave said.

“Forget about it,” I said, and almost laughed.

“What?” Dave said.

I shook my head. “Nothing.”

“How many do you count?” Erway said. “I see, I’d say, twenty.”

“It’s what I see,” Charlene said.

“We’re not getting out of this Humvee,” I said. Not a chance. “They’re fast, every one of them.”

“While your machete looks really cool,” Erway said, and held up her AK47, “this is better equipped to handle a situation like this. We need that airplane. I have no idea if Mexico is the answer, but New York is shot to shit. Palmeri, circle back around.”

Palmeri pursed her lips, but turned the wheel.

“Stop close, but not too close,” Erway said.

Once the Humvee came to a complete stop, Erway aimed the AK out the window. “Going to be a little loud, folks,” she said, before squeezing the trigger.

I took Allison’s hand.

Not every shot was a headshot. She dropped three quickly. Blood, brains and skull exploding onto the other walkers. Two, she hit in the gut. Bullets ripped away slabs of flab. It slowed them some, but didn’t stop them. Erway paused and took a deep breath. She exhaled and went back to work.

The sound inside the Humvee was deafening. Allison kept her eyes closed, shoulders hunched. She twitched as shots were fired. Charlene and I locked eyes.

The remaining zombies closed the gap, getting closer and closer to the Humvee. I watched Palmeri. She kept both hands on the steering wheel, ready to punch the gas pedal with both feet if those things got too close.

The final few, she took more time. Aimed. Dropped them one after the other. The last zombie was, at best, twenty feet away from the vehicle. Looked like the bullet pummeled the thing in the left eye socket. It took several stumbling steps forward before another round exploded through its forehead.

Erway smiled, sat back, butt of the AK on the Humvee car mat. “I cannot lie. I kind of enjoyed that.”

I didn’t smile and could not see how cutting down even twenty zombies would be enjoyable. These were people at one time, still were, actually. My stomach churned some.

Allison shook her head, staring at me.

“We going back for the plane?” Charlene said.

“I think we should. All that gunfire is bound to attract more of them to the area. We either try to get out of here in the air, or I say we hit the road and just start heading south,” Dave said.

“I agree,” Sues said.

“Ok,” Palmeri said. “We’re going back.”

“You can do this?” Allison said. She leaned up front between the set of seats. “Fly a plane? I mean, you’ve got a license, I know. You said that, but fly a plane, a big military plane?”

I touched Allison on the back. Her fear of flying was borderline psychotic. Many people did not like flying, but flew. Allison flew once with her family when she was young. They were going on a family vacation to California. The flight was choppy at best, as if pockets of turbulence aligned specifically for the plane she and her family were in. Her mother had a hell of a time getting her to fly back home when the trip came to an end. There were bribery attempts and promises made, but it came down to flat out threats and damning punishments that finally convinced her to get on the flight home. That had been seven days later, so there was a good chance they’d have better weather on that flight. Only Allison was not so lucky. The turbulence was worse. The landing gear wouldn’t lower. Fire trucks and ambulances were on standby at the end of the runway when they landed. Allison didn’t just fear flying, she hated it.

“We’ll know, once we get in the hangar,” Palmeri said. That hadn’t exactly been a reassuring statement, however, it had been honest. “If I can’t fly it, I won’t. No sense getting something up in the air just because I can, if I am not completely confident I can bring her back down safely.”

I wanted to clap a hand against my forehead. Did she really just say that?

Allison sat back, her eyes filled with terror. Her lips quivered and her body trembled. I don’t think she could’ve spoken a word if she wanted. I pulled her into my arms, hugged her tight. Charlene just looked at me with a look I knew all too well. I arched my eyebrows, hopefully telling my daughter to show some compassion. Instead, Charlene rolled her eyes and turned away.

The Humvee stopped by the hangar’s back door. We sat inside because it seemed like no one wanted to move just yet.

Palmeri shut the engine, put the keys in her breast pocket. “On three, we make a run for the hangar.”

“A run?” Sues said. “I don’t see any more zombies.”

“That don’t mean it’s time to walk,” Erway said.

“I don’t think I can do this,” Allison said.

“What’s wrong?” Dave said.

“Nothing,” I said.

“Chase.” Allison fisted my shirt as she lifted her head off my chest. “We should drive to Mexico. We should.”

“Why do you want to drive?” Sues said.

“She’s afraid to fly.” Charlene crossed her arms. “Dad, we don’t have time for this.”

My daughter was right. We didn’t have time for this. “Honey, more zombies will be coming. They heard the gunshots. They are going to come from every direction. We’re kind of committed–”

“To flying? No we’re not.” Allison narrowed her eyes at me, wanting me to know there was still room to debate.

There wasn’t. “This flight will not be like the other two you were on.”

“You don’t know that. What did you say? You said this plane, the one in there, has two propellers? Propellers, Chase? I was on a plane with engines. Jet engines. The one in that hangar has propellers, and you think a flight to Mexico with a pilot who happens to have a license is going to be smoother than JetBlue? No offense, Elysia.”

“None taken,” she said.

“We’re going to check out the plane,” I said.

“I’ll wait here while you check. Elysia, may I have the keys?” Allison held out her hand.

“Dad?” Charlene raised her eyebrow at me, this time. She wasn’t asking me to be compassionate though.

“We’re all going into the hangar, Alley. I am not leaving you out here.”

“We’re going on three.” Erway put her hand on the door handle.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Allison grabbed onto my arm. “This isn’t a good idea. Flying to Mexico. It’s not a good idea. We should drive.”

“You said that, already.” Charlene placed a hand on Allison’s shoulder. “We have to go. You can do this. You can hold my hand the entire time. I won’t let go, not once, but we need to move. We need to keep moving and we need to stay together. We’re not going to leave you alone in this truck, and I’m not going to let go of your hand on that plane.”

Allison loosened her grip on my shirt. “Thank you.”

They hugged.

“This is great, but we really, really need to get inside that hangar.” Erway pushed open her door.