The Dead Hunger Series: Books 1 through 5 (154 page)

But next, what I’d come to think of as the job foremen showed up, as politically incorrect as that term might be for the two, half-burned and pregnant females who stepped onto the roof from the stairwell.  I remembered their horrific faces from out in the street, but now, after the fire burned what clothing she had been wearing away, one of them was nude, her belly showing a pregnancy of seven months or more.

She moved toward the helicopter at quadruple the speed of the others, but as she bee-lined toward us, the rest of the reanimated corpses became a focused, surging
river of bodies, flowing toward us with no stragglers and none with a seemingly different agenda.

“Is it ready to climb yet?” I asked.  “Lift off, whatever these things do?”

“Not yet,” said Rachel, her face intense and her teeth gritted.  “And if too many of them … shit.  Shit!”

They had now reached us and they surrounded the helicopter, clawing at the doors and pressing against every window.  We could not see their feet, but knew that several of them must be standing on the skids of the bird.

“If too many of them hold on, we’re screwed,” said Rachel.  “We can only carry so much weight.”

“Now?” I asked.  “Can we go now?”

“Not yet!” said Rachel.  “We’re still ramping up to full speed.  We need another thirty seconds or so!”

“Alright, this is driving me nuts,” said Weston, still holding his wrapped wound.  “Get this son-of-a-mother off the ground, would ya, Rach?”

“I can’t speed up the process, Don,” she said.

Seconds later, a green light flicked on in front of Rachel.  “Yes!” she cried.  “That’s it!  Hold on, guys … here goes nothing.”

She means here goes everything,
I thought. 
Fly or die.
  I hated to be morbid, but I was pretty used to calling a spade a spade.

This is all shit I kept to myself, of course – the calling a spade a spade thing.  I didn’t need to freak everyone else out with my insecurities.  All the same, I was pretty certain that my bloodless face and the fact that I was almost chewing a hole in my lip wouldn’t have tipped anyone off that I wasn’t the most confident man in the room.

The helicopter lifted from the roof, then dropped back down.  The red-eyed female – one of them, anyway – had moved around to Rachel’s door and I hoped to God it was locked.  Red vapor began pouring out of her eyes and I feared it would somehow leak in and engulf Rachel, making her this creature’s slave as another of her kind had so effectively done to my own little sister.

“Too much weight!” said Rachel.  “We need to shake some of them off!”

I looked at the door, and suddenly, the other red-eyed female slammed into the side next to me.  I involuntarily drew back and reached for my Walther.

“Don’t fire through the glass!” shouted Serena.

I looked at her.  “I have to do something, or we just … Jesus!”

I looked at the other side.  It was just as packed.  Serena was in the middle, between me and Nelson.  I looked at the doors on each side.  They both opened outward.

“Get ready, Nelson,” I said.  “Serena, give Nelson your PPK.  Hurry.”

Serena pulled it from her drop holster, chambered a round and put it in Nelson’s hand, who looked at it as though confused. 

“Okay,” I said.  “Nelson, you are going to have to fire the damned gun, because I don’t think you can throw your stars fast enough.  When I give the word, I want you to pull the handle and slam your shoulder into that door so hard you knock as many as you can off the skids.  Then just point that gun right at the heads of the ones forward of the door and pull the trigger until you hear clicking.”

“I’ll try hard, dude.  I promise,” he said.

I patted his shoulder and turned back to the window, where the other red-eyed bitch stared at me.  This one did not pump the vapor out – I suppose she had the basic awareness that I was male and not susceptible to its properties.

“Now!” I shouted, and we simultaneously pulled the door handles and shouldered them hard outward.  On Nelson’s side, five of the creatures fell away.

“Red eyes!” shouted Serena.  “Nelson, shoot the one in front with the red eyes!”

I was focused on my side, where four of them, including the pregnant female, had toppled from the skids at the impact of my door.  Apparently they could not read
our
minds yet, for she didn’t anticipate what I intended to do.

As I heard Nelson firing on the opposite side, I leaned out and aimed my gun down where the pregnant one had dropped, but I only saw her feet as she skittered beneath the chopper.  I returned my hand up and fired three times fast, blowing the brains out of another trio that had been perched on the helicopter skids.

“You got her!” shouted Serena, and I turned to see Nelson slam his door closed and look over at me, a nervous smile on his face.

“Close your door, Dave!” shouted Rachel, and I did.  The chopper rose from the concrete, and this time it did not drop back down.  We moved three feet, then four, then five feet above the roof.

“Unbelievable job, Nelson,” I said, reaching out with my left hand to clasp his shoulder.  “I’m proud of you, man.”

“I’m proud of me!” he said, smiling even bigger than before. 

Two more of the rotters still held to the front part of the helicopter, too far for Nelson and I to handle, but they fell away one by one as she climbed and the wind rocked their emaciated bodies.

Rachel then picked up speed, straightening the airframe out as she moved the joystick forward.  I raised my arms in the air and laughed out loud.

Everyone else began to cheer.

Until a hand slapped the window next to my head and turned my laugh into a scream.  As I watched, the door beside me opened a crack and fingers curled around the edge.

The wind pressed hard against it, preventing the door from opening further, but clinging to the door and standing on the treads was the estrogen-charged female whom I’d lost beneath the helicopter.  I fell back against Serena as I reached for the Walther, but now she had somehow worked her way around to the edge of the door and one of her arms hooked around as she tried to pull herself inside.

“Hold on!” shouted Rachel, and she pushed the joystick hard right, turning the chopper almost sideways.  The door flew open as my body, held only by the nylon restraints, hung over open sky.  Below me the eyes of the female met mine as she clung with the dead fingers of both bony hands, struggling to hold on.  Her feet dangled in air, but she did not kick them or move them at all.  She simply stared at me with her crimson, knowing eyes, her gnashing teeth hungry for my flesh.

I pointed my gun at her face.  Without taking her eyes from mine, she let go.

She just let go.

“She’s gone!” I shouted, and before I knew it, the helicopter turned sharply left, and the door slammed closed again.

My heart could not have beat any faster.  Not if I had just run a 10k obstacle course filled with the walking dead.

“Did you see that?” I asked Serena.  “She chose her death.”

“I’m not sure what I saw,” said Serena.  “Maybe she believed she could survive the fall.”

“But not the bullet,” said Nelson.  “Weird.”

I could not think about it too much.  There were no answers.  All I knew is that we were now in the air.  Since this entire apocalypse had begun, none of us had ever been safer than we were at that very moment. 

Completely out of reach of the hungry dead.

*****

             
Chapter Eight             

“We’re going a lot farther as the crow flies that taking the streets,” said Rachel.  “Not sure of her range, but we’ll probably easily do over three hundred nautical miles on this tank.”

“What’s the difference between that and a regular mile?” asked Nelson.

“Nautical miles are essentially knots,” said Rachel.  “Based on degrees, the planet representing 360 of them.  Divide a degree into 60 minutes, and a minute of arc over the planet Earth is one nautical mile.”

“
Never mind,” said Nelson.  He was not smiling.  No biggie.  I didn’t get it, either, but I wasn’t going to tell Nelson that.  Or Serena, for that matter.

“When we get close on fuel,” said Rachel, “I want to try to set her down somewhere we can refill her.  The nice part is we can recon the area first to make sure it’s relatively safe.”

“Oh, glory,” said Serena.  “That will be a nice change.”

“Got a goddamned headache,” said Don.

I looked at Serena.

“What kind of headache?” asked Nelson.

Serena nudged him and he said, “I’m just asking, because in that First Aid kit there are aspirin that say they’re for tension headache and others that say they’re for arthritis and inflammation.”

“Oh,” I said.  “So Don, which is it?”

“The worst kind,” he said.  “It’s pounding.”

I searched my memory.  Had we told him about the migraine symptom preceding the conversion to flesh-eating zombie?  Had he figured it out on his own, or perhaps once knew and had forgotten about it?

Either way, he didn’t hesitate to share the information with us, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t because he was subtly alerting us to his potential, future transformation.

I eased my Walther onto my lap and lay my hand over it. 

Serena noticed.

*****

We had been flying for just over an hour and a half, and Rachel told us that we were flying at around 134 knots.  Translated, this meant that we had gone well over 200 miles.  Rachel had passed a chart back to me, and gave me a quick rundown on how to figure it out.  Some of what she told me I remembered, and I tried to fake the rest.

“Rachel,” I said.  “It looks like we should make it into the southeast corner of
Missouri before we have to put it down.  How’s it running?”

“Perfect,” she said.  “Not a glitch.  But with the weight we dumped, and the fact that we’re not carrying anywhere near a full load, we’re good for at least that.  I’m thinking we can go another hundred miles beyond that.”

Rachel had located the package with the specifications on the helicopter, and the American version of the Eurocopter EC145 T2 would cruise at 134 knots, which equated to about 152 miles per hour.

Serena pored over the book at advised Rachel that she should be able to travel a distance of 356 nautical miles, which Rachel – to put in plain English for us – told us was just over 400 miles.

“Hey,” said Serena.  “Would a heliport have fuel or just landing pads?”

“Most heliports have landing pads, fuel, the works,” said Rachel.  “Why?”

“Because there’s one in Jefferson City, Missouri.  Do you think you can make it that far?” 

“Where exactly is it?” asked Rachel.  “It should show the latitude and longitude there.  Read them off to me.”

Serena read them off and Rachel entered them into something that might have been a GPS, but I wasn’t smart enough to make that call.

Rachel gave us a thumb up.  “
Okay, yeah.  We can get there, and still have enough fuel to circle around and recon the area so we know what we’re getting into.”

“Bird’s eye view,” said Nelson.  “Speaking of being high, I’m so glad I didn’t lose my weed.”

“You a pot head?” asked Weston, without turning.

Nelson shrugged and held up two fingers about an inch apart.  “Little bit, yeah.  Keeps me mellow.”

“If you were much mellower, you’d fall asleep.”

“I remind you,” I said, “That he saved our asses back there when we couldn’t lift off.  Your ass is included in that grouping.”

“I know, I know,” said Weston.  “I’m just grumpy because of this damned headache.”

For the most part I watched the back of Weston’s head for any temporary unconsciousness.  I didn’t know what he would be when he awoke again.  Serena nodded off, as did Nelson.  I occasionally talked to Rachel to keep her company, and before long, we were hovering over
Jefferson City, Missouri.  I looked out the window as she brought the chopper to within a hundred feet of the ground and nudged Serena and Nelson.

“We’re here,” I said.  “Keep an eye out for anything unusual, Nel, okay?”

“Got it, dude, “he said.  Then:  “Hey, are those people?”

I moved over to his side and knelt on the floor in front of him, looking out.  Every now and then, two or three people with guns ran from one concealed location to another.

Everyone on the ground in Jefferson City knew we were up there, because it wasn’t every day you saw a helicopter or a plane.  Occasionally one did fly over, but it was always a small craft.  Nobody fired at us, so we assumed immediately they didn’t begrudge us our mode of transportation.

“They look like they’re trying to stay out of sight,” I said.  “See any of the dead ones?”

“Gotta be somewhere,” said Nelson.  “We have enough fuel to cruise a few minutes and see?”

“We have plenty, actually,” said Rachel.  “Say the word, and I’ll swoop in a bit.”

“I’m okay with it, but I wouldn’t take any unnecessary chances,” I said.  “It’s not like we can conduct a rescue mission of any kind, and no matter what happens, we could only carry a couple more people.”

The group of survivors we’d seen was several blocks from the heliport, so we could be fueled up and in the air again by the time anyone figured out where we’d gone.  If they’d survived a year, then they had enough knowledge and skill to survive pretty much anything.

Rachel brought the helicopter around the backside of a four story building, and we spotted a small army of the walking dead.  They were on the move, filling a street that was thick with stalled and wrecked cars, the rag-tag, flesh hungry group threading between the vehicles as thick as a river of molasses, moving steadily in the direction of the people we’d seen.  There would be no way for them to know what was around the corner unless they had scouts over that way with radios.

“Rachel, bring it around,” said Serena.  “We have to warn them.  How low can you fly this?” she asked.

“As low as I need to,” said Rachel.  “But no matter what, they’re not going to be able to hear you.  Just use hand motions as best you can, but see if you can get the point across that they need to run in the opposite direction.”

“That’s not going to work,” said Serena.  “No broadcast loudspeaker or anything on this thing?”

“I hadn’t even thought to look,” said Rachel.  She looked up and found a handset.  “Hey, maybe,” she said, following the cord and finding the box to which it was connected.  “Well, what the hell do you know?”

She brought the chopper back over the building and began dropping the skids straight down toward the street until she was no more than fifty feet above it. 

“If you can hear me,” she said, holding the button down, “On the other side of this building there are approximately 100 or more of the creatures coming your way.  We suggest you retreat for a good distance and find cover in a building with a back way out.”

“Good point,” I said.  “Get trapped by this many and you might as well be dead.”

As soon as she had announced, several of them ran in the opposite direction.  I counted fifteen people, and I was glad to see another independent group of survivors.  Two or three of them waved up at us in thanks before joining their comrades.

“Good,” said Serena.  “Maybe we saved some lives just then.”

“I’m heading to the heliport,” said Rachel.  “We need food, fuel and more water.”

“All of the above,” said Nelson.  “and I need to smoke a bowl.”

“Pothead,” admonished Weston.

*****

Regretfully, there were no other helicopters at the landing pad, and the heliport turned out to just be a single pad on the ground outside of St. Mary’s Health Center.  There was an in-ground fuel pump though, and Rachel suspected it was capable of working if we could arrange some temporary power.

When the rotor blade slowed to a stop, we all pulled off our headsets and stared at one another.  I knew we were all glad to be on the ground again, but not without a solid awareness of the dangers that lurked there.

“Wow,” said Nelson.  “Quiet.”

“Nobody happier than me,” said Weston, holding his head.  “I need quiet.”

“You doing alright, Don?’ asked Rachel, her frown bunching up the freckles where her brow furrowed.

He shook his head.  “I need an ice pack and some shut-eye.”

“Sounds like a migraine,” I said, looking at Serena.  “You have a history of them, Don?”

“Not that I know of,” he said.  “Not like this.”

I whispered in Serena’s ear, “He needs to be restrained or someone needs to keep an eye on him every second.”

“Rachel has a gun,” said Serena.  “But I’d still rather not leave him loose in case she’s distracted, working on the helicopter or something.”

“I agree,” I said. 

Nelson leaned in.  “What’s up, dudes?”

“We’ll tell you later,” I said.  “Let’s step away from here for a minute.”

We walked out to the street and looked down it in both directions.  T
he road where the hospital was located was in an older section of town.  In the distance we saw some ambling, hungry souls, but none of them were in groups, so we concluded there weren’t any of the red-eyed women around.

I knew we needed to replenish a number of things since we’d lost our bikes.  We had no machine guns.  We had no more fuel.  No portable radios, and no damned food.  It reminded me of Robert Heinlein’s quote: 
You do not truly own anything that you can't carry in both arms at a dead run.
  He was right on there.

Don’t get me wrong; I wasn’t smart enough to read Heinlein.  His writing was for really smart people, and I much preferred that my science fiction be dished out in short, vague Star Trek TV episodes where Captain James T. Kirk was busily making out with a woman who looked to be half Smurf.

That said, I could comprehend a clever quote by a genius, so long as it was in plain English.  Here’s one from me.  You can write that shit down and put a squiggly line next to it with my name:

It’s that awkward moment when you realize that t
he only nearby food is you.

I made a decision then.  I’ll tell you about it in a minute.  We needed decisive action and we needed it yesterday.

Rachel looked at us and I waved her over.  Don made no effort to leave the helicopter.  He sat there with his head resting in his hands, looking miserable.

She approached, smiling.  Rachel spoke first.  “I really want to thank you guys.”

“For what, Rachel?” asked Serena.

“It might sound silly,” she said, “and I realize that nothing you’ve said or done really seems as though it should have triggered any major revelations relating to my life, but you’ve definitely inspired me to get out of my funk, quit feeling sorry for myself, and do something.”

“You just finished flying us out of danger and over three hundred miles closer to our intended destination, so I think you’re confused on who should be thanking whom,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Nelson.  “You’re helping us.  I didn’t like that bike all that much anyway.  Too much power.”

“Well, Rachel,” said Serena.  “
I
know what you mean.  When Dave and Charlie – maybe you’ll meet her someday – found me in a boarded up house in Shelburne, Vermont, I might have sat there day after day just surviving with the people there.  Since the day I decided to go with David and his group, I came back to life, too.  So I get it.”

“Exactly,” said Rachel.  “I was as dead as those things out there – only difference was I still had a heartbeat.  So yeah.  Anyway, I’m sorry for changing the subject.  What did you need to talk to me about?”

Serena nodded toward me, so I said, “Don’s headache.  You know how the sickness starts, right?”

Rachel nodded.  “It’s been a year since I saw a lot of it, but it’s not something you forget.  Scary dreams and headaches.  I thought about it when he was bitten, but you used that oil stuff, so I didn’t worry.”

“True,” I said.  “And it could be that he has nothing more than a bad headache.”

“But you don’t
really
think so,” said Rachel.

“Coincidences aren’t always coincidental,” said Nelson with a knowing look.

I stared at him for a moment and added, “Like Nelson said, it could be a coincidence, but you can’t bank on them these days.”