Текст книги "Preservation"

Автор книги: Phillip Tomasso

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Chapter Ten

I opened my eyes when my stomach dropped. I opened them wide. My mouth was open wide, as well. I think Charlene and Allison were both screaming, but it was hard to tell for sure over the sound of my own screams. I didn’t think the descent should have occurred so abruptly. The plane jostled up and down and from side to side. We were either hitting pockets of turbulence, or we were not just low on fuel, but out.

Someone yelled, “Brace yourselves!”

I still held both my daughter and girlfriend’s hands. I knew I might be squeezing too tightly, but could not help it, could not stop. I was scared; terrified. The fact that it felt like we’d been falling for several minutes, and continued falling, was disheartening to say the very least. With each foot we fell, we picked up speed. I wondered if my stomach would stop dropping. It didn’t. Catching my breath was difficult, except for screaming. And we continued to, what felt like plummeting towards earth.

I kept thinking about the landing gear. Did it go up when we took off? Had it been lowered as we fell? Were we pointing straight down? Would we just smash and explode on impact?

Closing my eyes and keeping them closed made the most sense. I couldn’t do it. I needed to see what was happening. I did not like not being in control. Sitting back here and not up at the controls irritated my OCD.

I turned my head to look at my daughter. Her eyes were tightly shut. Her mouth was pulled down into a frown, and then opened wide into an O. She might be screaming, but I couldn’t tell. I could not hear her over the whine of engines. I wanted to hold her, hug her. She shouldn’t die this way, should never have to live through something this catastrophic either. No one deserved it, but she didn’t deserve it the most.

Allison’s fingernails dug into the top of my hand and drew blood.

Then we smashed into the earth. The seatbelt pulled tight against my waist, and I felt the air launched from my lungs in a pained gasp. My head rocked back, slammed into the wall of the inside of the plane. Something exploded through the floor of the plane only a foot away from Sues’ corpse, protruding up like a malfunctioned missile. The plane tipped to the left, toward her. I knew what it was that stuck up from the base: part of the landing gear. Despite being bounced back and forth, I saw the wheel. It wasn’t rolling. It was, instead, wedged. Sparks like fireworks sprayed inside the plane.

We were spinning and sliding along the ground.

We hit something hard. This sent the plane spinning in the opposite direction as simultaneously rivets popped and metal tore as the left part of the hull ripped open and peeled away from the plane. Everything and anything loose was sucked toward and out the opening.

We continued to spin, shake and bounce. I saw something like welding sparks split the nighttime darkness, and realized I was looking at the wing tumble and roll away. This felt surreal and seemed to unroll in slow motion. All I could think was, did I just see the wing severed from the body.

Thankfully, seatbelts held us securely in place.

I didn’t think we’d explode since we didn’t have fuel. This did little to calm the fear and flooding emotions.

Then…it was over.

We’d come to a grinding stop. My ears rang. The sound of metal on, what I believed to be asphalt reverberated between my ears. I thought I might be deaf, and that the screeching might never subside, but we’d lived through a plane crash. Only thing I could think, ironically enough was, “Add that to my bucket list.”

#  #  #

Despite wanting to sit still, eyes closed and take deep breaths until my heartbeat slowed to normal, I unfastened my seatbelt and dropped to my knees in front of my daughter. “Charlene,” I said.

She did not move. Eyes closed. My heart almost stopped. “Char?”

I put my hands on her shoulders, and gently shook her.

Her head lolled from side to side. “Honey?”

“Chase?” Allison winced. Her hands fumbled with her seatbelt. She seemed unable to unfasten it. I saw the blood on the part of the plane behind her head. She must have smacked her skull good.

“Daddy,” Charlene said.

I unfastened her belt, leaning forward to hug my daughter. “Scared me, honey. God, you scared me.”

She was crying, her fingers curling into fists in my hair.

Allison managed to get free of her belt, stood, and fell forward.

“Alley,” I said, and had to reluctantly pull away from my daughter. I knelt beside Allison. “Hey, Alley?”

Her eyes were open. “I got dizzy.”

Had to be a concussion. I wasn’t sure how to verify it. Too dark inside the plane to check her eyes, wasn’t sure what I’d look for even if there had been better lighting.

Dave.

I looked to my right. Dave was just getting out of his seat. He looked as battered and beaten up as I felt.  “Hey, buddy, you okay?”

Dave shrugged. “I guess. How are you guys? Allison?”

“A little woozy,” she said, and laughed.

Charlene stood up, stretched out her legs. “Should I check on our pilots?”

“I’ll do that. You stay with your dad.” Dave walked past us, not with steady legs. His knees wobbled and he held his arms out for balance. He may have hit his head as well. Two concussions. Fucking wonderful.

Charlene knelt on the opposite side of Allison. “Where are we?”

“I don’t know, honey,” I said. I figured we were someplace in Pennsylvania. I don’t think we made it to the Pittsburgh Airport. If we did, we’d just done a job to the tarmac.

“Ah, Chase?” Dave leaned into our area of the plane and waved me over. Couldn’t be good. Being cryptic wasn’t going to hide anything from Allison and Charlene, either. One or both of the pilots were dead. I knew it without going to look in on them, and they knew it. I stood up and walked toward the cockpit.

“What have we got?” I said.

He shook his head. “It’s not good.”

I walked past him and peeked into the cockpit, and nearly shrank back a step. A shiver slid down my back as if a skeleton’s icy finger had traced my spine.

I did not expect to see so much blood.

“Don’t worry about me, not me. Check on her.” Palmeri sucked in a deep breath and winced.

I reached around as best I could and placed my fingers on Erway’s neck, feeling for a pulse. I pressed my fingers hard against clammy skin, blood soaked skin. “I’m not getting anything,” I said. I didn’t remove my hand. I moved to a different location, tilted my head to the side and closed my eyes, like that might help me feel for the pulse better. It didn’t, I still could not find one.

The front windshield was smashed out. Debris littered the cockpit. Her head was not split. The wound had to be somewhere else on her body and I couldn’t see it. It didn’t matter. She was dead.

“She’s gone,” I said. “Let’s get you out of that seat.”

Palmeri nodded, lips pursed. She looked down. “Don’t think that’s going to be easy.”

What looked like a metal shaft protruded out of her thigh. “Ah shit.”

I’d said that out loud. Hadn’t meant to.

“Exactly,” she said. She offered something to me. A pocket flashlight. I took it and saw her tears and her lip quivered. She seemed to be fighting the urge to cry. I wasn’t sure why. If there was ever a time to ball, this was it. This was definitely it.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dave stood with his back to the wall between the cockpit and the area where Allison and Charlene were. “Erway’s dead,” I said. “And Palmeri, she’s pinned with a shaft through her thigh. Thick shaft. Only way to get her out is to lift her directly off the shaft, straight up. Cockpit’s cramped as fuck. Don’t think that’s going to work. And, if we do, good chance something inside is severed and then she’ll bleed out fast, know what I’m saying?”

Dave looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe under the plane we’ll get a better view. If we can free the shaft, then she just keeps it in her leg until we find a safe way to remove it?”

“Yeah, I don’t know. That makes sense,” I said.

“It makes sense to at least try it if we can’t think of anything else,” he said.

“I’ll check under the plane. You keep an eye on her. She might go into shock. I looked for blankets earlier. There’s that tarp, maybe some other things we can use to keep her warm,” I said.

Dave nodded.

I clapped a hand onto his shoulder and opened my mouth.

He stopped me. “We’re good, man. I’m good.”

He wasn’t good. I was glad to hear that we were, at least. “Okay, buddy. Okay.”

“Hey, Chase?”

I stopped.

“Remember one thing while you’re out there,” he said.

“What’s that?”

“We just crashed a plane. We’re going to attract a lot of attention. Zombies, and whatever. You know?”

Chapter Eleven

Butler County, Pennsylvania, 2019 hours

I touched the hilt of my sword and knife and felt the weight, light as it was, of the machete in its sheath across my back.

“Where are you going?” Charlene stood beside me. Seemed to come out of nowhere. I was by the door to get off the plane. Could just have easily walked out of the gaping hole on the side.

“I need to check something,” I said.

“What are we checking?”

“Not we. I need you to stay here,” I said.

“I’m going with you,” she said.

“I’d let you, but I need you to keep an eye on Allison. Otherwise, you could.”

“She’s fine.”

Allison was still flat on her back. “She has a concussion. She might start throwing up or she could go into shock, too.”

“Too?”

“Palmeri. She’s injured pretty bad. Dave’s keeping an eye on her.” Dave walked past us.

Charlene grunted.

“He’s looking for blankets, or anything that will keep Palmeri and Allison warm. We don’t want either of them going into shock.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her, but if she starts throwing up–”

“Honey, we need to be together on this, on things. I hate vomit as much as you do.” Changing diapers never bothered me, but I was a sympathy puker. Someone loses their lunch, mine isn’t far behind. Charlene was the same way. Smell alone could start me yakking. “People need our help, and we’re lucky to be well enough to give it. Do you understand that? We might not always be as healthy as we are right now. If that were you or me lying there, wouldn’t you want someone looking out for us? I’m not just shooting smoke. I’m not feeding you a line. We need to look out for each other. We need to,” I said.

“I got it, Dad. I’ll keep an eye on her. And, I’m sorry.”

I pulled her head to my chest. Kissed the top of it. “No need. We all need reminding every once in a while. I know I do, too.”

She pulled away. “You didn’t say anything about Johanna. She all right?”

I had to think a second. Johanna Erway. “She didn’t make it, honey.”

Charlene looked at me. At that moment, I knew she got it. She understood what we’d just talked about; looking out for one another. If we didn’t do this one simple thing, we’d never survive.

If we didn’t do this simple thing, and did survive, what would be the point?

“I’ll be right back,” I said.

“Be careful.” Charlene gave me a kiss on the cheek and went to help Dave free the tarp behind the crates. I watched for just a brief moment longer and then pushed open the door. The flashlight would be necessary once under the front of the plane. I didn’t want to turn it on too soon. The light would shine like a beacon in the darkness.

Dave was right. A plane crash was going to attract attention.

I stepped off the plane and looked around, squinting to see anything. It appeared to be a long stretch of road. It wasn’t an interstate. That much, I could tell. I felt disorientated, didn’t know which direction I faced. Best I could do was left and right. Be nice if lights worked. Looked as if we were mostly surrounded by trees, but not exactly. Something was to my left. A building–a small row of them. Resembled more of a structural shadow in what little light did come from the sky.

I stayed close to the plane, one hand on it, as I made the short walk to the front. My eyes never stopped scanning the area. If we were alone, thank God. If not, I hoped I’d catch movement with enough time to react, and worse case, warn the others. I removed the long sword from the scabbard affixed to my belt.

The darkness was unnerving. Seemed to continually swallow up space around me. Each step I took, the step before was swallowed into nothing. Each step I was about to take appeared to be into a black void. Brought back childhood memories, fears, actually. The trick at bedtime was to turn off the light and cross the distance between the switch and the bed without touching the floor. The floor was not the problem, it was the apprehension behind whatever monster lurked underneath the box spring, because at six, seven, hell at ten, there was always something lying in wait.

It was that feeling that I felt now, overwhelmingly so. I needed to find a way to free Palmeri and then make it back inside the plane in a single leap, or risk being snatched by whatever monster lurked in the darkness that surrounded me.

Decidedly, I thrust the long sword back into the scabbard and lit the flashlight Palmeri gave me and tried to cup and aim the light using most of the palm of my hand. The little beam brought a false consolation that I tried to embrace completely.

The light played over the plane. There were holes all over the front of it. I couldn’t see into the cockpit from where I stood, because it was a little too high off the ground. From where I stood, I could see under it. More than that, I could also see up into it. There I unleashed all the LED power of the flashlight, and the inside of the plane glowed from it.

With no tools, even if I could figure out how to free Palmeri from under here, I wasn’t sure I would be able. The bent and ripped apart metal was sharp, and I couldn’t fit up inside. I could reach in, but in doing so, could no longer see what I was doing. “Dave?”

“We see the light,” he said.

That didn’t help any. “I’m going to try to move things around. If I find the bottom half of what’s in your leg, Palmeri, it’s probably going to hurt pretty good, you know? Tell me when you’re ready.”

“I’m ready,” she said.

I grabbed onto whatever I could and tugged. There was no give. The plane might be wrecked, but twisted metal seemed just as hard to wiggle as untwisted metal. “Anything?”

There was a moment of silence, and then, “No.”

I released whatever I’d gripped and tried a different handhold. “Now?”

“No, nothing. This isn’t going to work,” she said.

I heard Dave. “It’ll work. It’ll work. If anyone can help, it’s McKinney.”

Wish he hadn’t said that. Didn’t need that kind of pressure. I turned off the flashlight, dropped it into my pocket and reached into the hole in the bottom of the plane with both arms raised. I was able to fit my head and shoulders up into the opening as well. Felt like I was climbing up into the Rabbit Hole, until sharp metal sliced through my body. It cut from under my left arm to the edge of my ribcage. “Son of a fucking bitch!”

“Chase?”

“I’m good, Dave. I’m alright.” Warm blood oozed from the wound. I felt it roll down my side. There was plenty to grab onto, so I did. One by one, I attempted pushing and pulling whatever I could, mostly to no avail. “Anything, anything at all?”

“No, Chase, nothing,” Dave said.

I didn’t give up. I kept at it, reaching deeper, higher, and all around me. There was a lot of things under here that could be attached to the shaft that pierced Palmeri.

“Chase?”

“I’m trying,” I said, but claustrophobia was sneaking up on me. My breathing became quick and shallow, and despite the chill in the November mountain air, I was sweating. It hadn’t been that long ago that I signed up to be a volunteer fireman. Being divorced, I was plagued with too much free time on my hands. The days and nights that I didn’t have my kids could be time better spent. I knew this much. Volunteering seemed like a good way to find something constructive to do with my excess of time. I joined an agency, passed the physical and agility tests, and was sworn in to the department.

The way I saw it, I worked on one side of the radio and sent rescuers to various emergencies. It would be interesting seeing what first responding was like. During my SCBA July training, I had to don complete turnout gear; the pants with suspenders, the boots, the jacket, the hooded face mask, jacket, gloves and helmet, and then shrug on an air tank with 30 minutes of air inside that I’d breathe using a mask. I was handed an axe and told to follow my instructor. The purpose was to use up all the air in the tank. It had to be ninety degrees outside, fifty times hotter with the turnout gear on. We walked all around the outside perimeter of the firehouse, into the firehouse and down into the basement, then up to the roof, and then back outside. I was breathing, but I felt like I could not breathe at all. I felt panicked, like I was about to hyperventilate. I wanted to tear the mask off and undress. It was all I could think about. The mask rattled against my cheeks, warning me I was low on air. The rattle and flashing LED increased as the tank’s air supply continued to decrease. If I had been inside a burning building, this warning told me it was time to get out. After seventeen minutes, I ran out of air and I was gasping. The mask fogged and sucked tighter and tighter to my face.

Done, I took the mask off, and shook off the gloves. I removed every piece of gear as if acid was eating through it and would soon devour my flesh. My clothing under the turnout gear was drenched in sweat. I wanted to throw up, but I took slim satisfaction knowing I’d done it. I’d completed the training drill.

I quit the department. There was no way I’d be of use to anyone in an emergency situation if my claustrophobia struck. The worst, and most embarrassing thing about it all had been going back to work after quitting. While the idea of volunteering and being productive had earned me nothing but support from my peers at 9-1-1, I was certain I’d look weak and lazy when I returned. No one ever said the latter. On some though, I saw it in their eyes.

“Chase, we got movement ahead from the trees,” Dave said.

Shit. That brought me out of my daydream. “What do you see?”

“Too dark, but we saw something. Not far. Get back in here.”

The attempt to free Palmeri from under the plane was futile. Nothing under here was loose. I’d wiggled and jiggled anything and everything I could get my hands onto, and nothing. If something was out there, I was a sitting duck. The top half of my body was wedged inside this damned heap of now-twisted metal.

“Chase?”

“I’m coming,” I said. I wanted to slide back out carefully. I had no idea how bad the cut on my side was. It still bled, that much I knew. I could feel the stickiness of it. I tried to kneel as I raised my arms up and lowered myself out of the hole.

“Chase–there is something out there. In the bushes by the road, maybe. I’m coming out there.”

“No! No. I’m almost out. Watch the door.”

I freed myself from the frame and knelt with one hand on the pavement and sucked in a deep breath. It felt good to be out. Confined spaces sucked. I stood and stayed close to the frame and moved cautiously toward the door, my eyes trying to look everywhere at once. I wished I could use the powerful flashlight. I think the last thing I’d want to see is a herd of zombies right in front of me. To not know would be best, or better, anyway.

Dave was at the opened door, held out a hand and hoisted me into the plane. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“Dad?”

I put a hand up. I probably needed stitches, but this was not the time to worry anyone. “I’m okay, guys. I cut my side. It’s just a cut.”

“We can’t defend the plane, not with that,” Dave motioned toward the gaping hole where a wing was once affixed.

“Get ready to move. Make sure we bring anything that looks useful,” I said to Allison and Charlene. “Dave, come with me.”

We went to the cockpit.

“There are things out there. I don’t think they’re people. The movement is all sluggish,” Palmeri said. “They either can’t hear us, or the plane is confusing them. It reminds me of monkeys. Staying close to the trees, checking it out.”

“They’re zombies,” Dave said.

“She’s right. I’ve noticed things like this, too. When I killed my ex-wife, she’d been in a bedroom looking at a picture of the kids. If she wasn’t remembering, then she was remorseful. It was creepy to see.”

“She was a–one of those things?” Palmeri said.

I nodded. “And when we were at the internment camp, I saw one of them step on the corpse of another trying to get closer to the top of the fence. It looked down at the corpse, looked up at the top of the fence, and then used that body like a stepstool. I shit you not. I’d also used a belt to lock the gate. Buckled it, but those bastards unbuckled that belt and got out. They figured out what the problem was and they solved it.”

“You never said anything earlier,” Dave said.

“We haven’t exactly had time.”

“That’s bullshit,” Palmeri said. “You should have told us.”

“What difference does it make? Even now, the things are out there in the woods and are being cautious. They’re not coming right out and attacking. What are you going to do differently? Nothing.” I didn’t want to yell. “Now, we have to get you the fuck out of that seat.”

Palmeri’s face paled. I don’t think it had anything at all to do with my raising my voice. “Chase, if you lift me there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to bleed-out.”

“If you stay here, there’s a better chance that our smart zombies out there will bite you. Not much choice in the matter,” I said.

The cockpit was unbelievably small. The shaft protruded a good seven inches out of Palmeri’s thigh. We would need to lift her straight up and off the shaft. I was not sure how we could do that. There was little to no room to work with.

“I have to pull Erway out,” I said. I reached over and unfastened her seatbelt. I had to stay hunched over, my head banging into the instrument panel on the top ceiling part of the pit. I pushed Erway forward so I could better grasp her arm and shoulder, and then I heaved, lifted, and pulled all at once. Her thighs smacked against the thrusters in the center between the pilot and co-pilot seats as I kept stepping back. Dave grabbed her waist and then legs, helping me move and gently set the paramedic down.

“We’re going to have to do this quickly, because our monkeys are getting more adventurous,” Palmeri said.

I looked at Dave. “Get ready to run.”

“What about . . .?” He pointed toward the cockpit.

“I’m going to get her out and then we’re running.”

“I’ll help.”

“We can’t both fit up there.”

“I’m helping,” he said.