Infected (Book 2): The Flight (15 page)

That evening, Zeke and Meagan sat down to another dinner, each with one of G. Howe’s steaks, salad, and a soda in front of them.  There hadn’t been a lot of food to cook, but a half pound steak was more than enough to fill the hollow feeling in their stomachs that candy bars hadn’t satisfied during the day.

“You would think that G. Howe would at least have a decent steak knife to cut these prime pieces of meat,” Meagan said in frustration as she struggled to cut her three-quarter inch steak with a butter knife.

“Try this,” Zeke said, handing her his multi-tool which he had been using to cut his own meat.

“That’s more like,” she said as the blade sliced through the meat, blood seeping from the pink center.  “It’s hard to believe we’re sitting here eating steak while the world is falling apart around us.  I hardly ever ate steak when the world was going along the way it was supposed to.”

After dinner, Meagan suggested turning on the news to see what was happening.  Zeke picked up the remote and mashed the power button down with his finger.  The TV clicked as the circuitry activated.  The screen remained dark for several seconds while it warmed up.  Eventually, an arrangement of colored bars appeared, replacing the black screen.  A high pitched tone convinced Zeke to push the mute button.  A message scrolled across the bottom of the screen, indicating to viewers that the station was off the air. 

Zeke hit the recall button to switch to CNN.  It was the same.  He rapidly scrolled through the channels, searching for something with news.  A handful of channels were broadcasting, but they were merely playing programs that had been locked into a computer days, or even weeks, before.  There was nothing live on any of the stations.  

“This isn’t a good sign,” Meagan said flatly.  “If all the big news stations are down, it’s truly falling apart out there.  It has to be even worse than we’ve imagined.” 

Zeke nodded his head in silent agreement as he flipped through the channels one more time to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.  He hadn’t. They still showed the same screen with colored bars and some type of no transmission message.

Meagan stood up suddenly, nearly knocking her chair over in her haste.  “I saw a radio in one of the offices.  Maybe there’s a radio station that’s still broadcasting.” Zeke followed her down the hall into the office.  It was an antiquated unit with analogue controls.  She took it off the wall, placed it on the desk, and sat in the principal’s plush leather chair. Zeke sat across the desk from her in the chair reserved for troubled youth in need of guidance. Suspecting he was probably well acquainted with the chair opposite the principal, she made a joking comment about his seeming familiarity with where he sat.

“Hmm,” Zeke smiled.  “It’s been a long time, but I guess I do feel at home in this seat.  It brings back a lot of memories, but most of them aren’t good.”

Meagan laughed as she flicked the power switch past the detent marked cassette and aligned it with the radio demarcation.  The single speaker emitted a harsh static buzz.  “Unless he had it tuned to static for white noise, whatever station it was set to is no longer broadcasting.”  She quickly spun the tuning knob and the orange indicator rapidly traveled down the frequency numbers to eighty-seven.  She slowly drew her finger across the frequency selector again, this time in the opposite direction.  The indicator climbed up the frequencies.  The speaker weakly emitted the familiar tune of a top forty hit.  The sound clarified and she stopped.  “Here’s one that’s still broadcasting.”

“No, that’s an iPod station out of Atlanta.”

“An iPod station?” she asked, arching her eyebrows.

“That’s what I call them.  It’s a station where they have a big playlist on a computer and put it on random.  The computer just plays songs.  It doesn’t have to have anybody there to keep it going.”

“Got it,” she said as she continued through the frequency range.  She stopped at several more stations long enough to see if there was a DJ.  They all seemed to be pre-recorded or playing from a random playlist.

“It was a good idea anyway,” Zeke said.  “I guess we’re not going to be getting any information after all.”

“Not so fast, we still have the AM stations.”  She flicked a selector from FM to AM and started backwards through the range.  “We have a better chance of finding something here than on FM,” she said, the hope in her voice being contagious.

“Nobody listens to AM radio. Why would we have a better chance?” Zeke questioned.

“Two reasons.  First, AM stations tend to be more of the small mom and pop type of operation.  They fill in unique niches.  I would imagine that type of operation would be more likely to keep broadcasting.  If you’re working for a big corporation when all this breaks loose, you’re not going to stick around.  If you’re working at the station you have poured your life into, you won’t be so quick to abandon it. 

“Secondly, AM radio waves are lower frequency transmissions.  They bounce off the ionosphere and are reflected back down to earth long distances from where they were broadcast: in effect, they can get around the curvature of the earth. FM signals are higher frequency.  They pass right through the ionosphere without being reflected. They’re good for line of sight only.”

“How in the world do you know about that?” Zeke asked.

“Same as you, Chemistry Boy.  I have a physics minor.  I learned it in college.”  Halfway through the frequencies, a voice came in through loud static.  Meagan moved the antenna around and it disappeared.

“I would undo whatever you just did,” Zeke advised.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” she retorted quickly as she moved the antenna back to its initial orientation.  The signal returned.  It wasn’t clear, but it was understandable.  More importantly, it was a live broadcast.  They listened for an hour straight to what was mostly old news, rumor, and hearsay.  A phone rang in the studio and the commentator apologized, stating he was expecting a call from his son and had to take it, but would continue with more information after the call.

“He doesn’t have anything to say anyway,” Zeke said in frustration. He continued to sit and listen to the one sided phone conversation coming through the radio.  Zeke removed his own phone from his pocket and looked at it.  It still showed no reception. “The cell network is still down,” he said in frustration.  Finally, he stood and said, “I’m going to bed.” 

As he stood, the commentator returned.  “Sorry about that, folks.  I did glean some news from my son, who is stationed at Hill Air Force Base in Utah.  The military has reversed its policy of enforcing the President’s flight ban.  There is no point anymore.  The infection has taken hold of the entire country.  I’m going to call it a night.  Tune in tomorrow for continued updates.  Good night and God Bless.”  The signal turned to static.

“Did you hear that?  The flight ban has been lifted.  This changes everything,” Zeke said excitedly.

The first hints of the predawn light gently entered the sick room through the narrow windows at the top of the east wall, slowly dragging Zeke out of a deep sleep. His eyes opened, but his body wasn't yet ready to pull itself out of bed and start the day.  He looked across the room to where Meagan was still sleeping, barely visible in the dim light.  Although the room was scarcely illuminated, he could see a semi smile creeping across her face as something or someone in her imagined world brought happiness to her life that was becoming harder to find in the world of harsh reality she would shortly be returning to.

As he watched her in her secret moment of joy, he realized that over the past two days, she had been the sole source of joy and happiness in his own life.  He didn't know if it was because she was the only person in his life at a time when he truly needed companionship, or if she truly was a person he was compatible with.  They had worked together for nearly a year.  At least they had worked for the same company.  They had been acquaintances, nothing more.  They hadn’t really interacted.  In the new world that had been thrust upon them, maybe compatibility was simply a man and woman with beating hearts.  Maybe the lack of uninfected people left to choose from would change people’s views of relationship suitability.

He found her physically attractive and since they had escaped from Mildred and Lester’s home, he found himself becoming attracted to her as a person as well.  As he pondered his future with her, Meagan’s eyes slowly opened and came to rest on where he lay in his own bed.

"Were you watching me sleep?”

He nodded his head in affirmation.

“That's a little creepy, don't you think?" she asked, a mischievous smile forming at the corners of her mouth.

"It isn't like there was anything else to do.  It’s still too dark to see much and I didn't want to turn on any lights and draw the infected away from the entrance.” 

As the sun approached the horizon, the light entering the window changed hue. The white walls in the sick room transformed to a light shade of peach.  Neither Zeke nor Meagan spoke.  Both lay in silence, not wanting to disturb the peacefulness of the morning, a peacefulness they both knew was shortly coming to an end.  In a matter of hours, they would be fleeing from their bulwark of safety, running headlong into the danger lurking just passed the heavy doors on the front of the building. 

Finally Zeke sat up, swung his legs over the edge of his bed, put his feet in his shoes, and tied the laces.  Meagan watched him and then sat up herself.  She raised her arms above her head and moaned as she stretched the night’s stiffness from her body.  "What's the plan?” she asked.

"I was thinking about running down the road to the diner and getting a cup of coffee and a plate of eggs, bacon and pancakes, but I'm open for suggestions."

"Really?" she said, scrunching her forehead up.  "Breakfast does sound pretty inviting, now that you mention it. Do you think G. Howe would mind if we cooked up some more of his steaks?"  They had jokingly agreed two nights before to leave IOUs for G. Howe, the unknown provider of the steaks they had been plowing through every night.  The chances were highly unlikely that he would ever come looking for his meat stash, so they hadn't felt guilty eating it. 

“We ought to cook up some of those eggs too.  I can't imagine the power is going to last much longer.  It would be a shame for all that food to go to waste.  Besides, it might be a long time before we have a chance to eat this well again,” Zeke added, his mouth already beginning to water at the thought of steak and eggs.

After a leisurely breakfast, Meagan leaned back in her chair and asked, "When do I get to see the product of your chemistry genius in action?"

"First of all, I'm not a chemistry genius. I mostly got B's except for when I got the occasional C.  Secondly, I don't think you want to be around when it happens.  I've never set this much off before.  I'm hoping that it goes off when I want it to and not before.  And third, we're not quite ready. We need to build an apparatus to make sure we get the maximum benefit from what we have.  I saw a pile of lumber in the maintenance shop. I need to build a framework to hang the bomb from.  We also need a big container to fill with all the metal we can find. I'm sure the maintenance shop has a good supply of screws and nails.  That stuff will make great shrapnel." 

"I'll trust you on that one." Meagan was noticeably uncomfortable with the whole idea of setting off the homemade bomb, especially with Zeke’s insinuations regarding its safety, or lack thereof. 

An hour later, they had hauled a large pile of supplies up to the roof.  Zeke began nailing two by fours together.  When he was done, he had constructed a twenty four foot tall, U shaped framework.  Meagan, who had been inside the building trying to find items on a wish list Zeke had put together, returned to the rooftop and studied his clumsy looking contrivance. 

"What exactly am I looking at?" she questioned, obviously unimpressed with both the crudeness of the workmanship as well as the object itself. 

"Assuming you were able to locate some rope, we're going to use this to suspend the bomb over the center of the horde in order to increase its lethal radius.  Give me a hand and help me get it in position."

After he explained how he wanted to position it, the two of them slowly lowered the framework over the side of the roof.   The legs of the upside down U bracketed either side of the entrance to the building.  When the legs were lowered to the ground, the infected showed no interest in the pine boards.  However, they continued to show great interest in Zeke and Meagan.

When Zeke had first climbed onto the roof that morning, the number of infected near the building had shrunk to about fifty.  During the night, many had lost interest and wondered away. Of those that had stayed, only a handful had remained near the door.  Most had spread out around the parking lot and school grounds and were milling about aimlessly. Zeke walked to the edge of the roof and surveyed the population below. When he began his construction project, he intentionally worked near the edge of the roof, assuring he was in plain view. His presence alone quickly garnered the attention of the milling mob below.  At first soft moans made their way up to his ears as individuals looked up and saw him.  He was an object of curiosity. Then, as neurotransmitters began diffusing across synapses in still intact areas of the brains below, old memories were retrieved and connections were made in defunct minds. He moved from being on object of curiosity to an object of food.  He became a means of satisfying the gnawing hunger in the stomachs of each infected below. Although they likely didn’t feel pain from the hunger, the feeling fueled an instinctual urge within them to feed.  Some made the connection instantly upon seeing him.  Others took several seconds, but eventually even the most damaged brains figured it out. 

Curious moans turned to excited shrieks which drew nearby infected.  The size of the mob steadily grew.  Hungry shrieks turned to howls of frustration with the realization that a newly discovered meal was out of reach.  The frustration rapidly turned to screams of rage.  The increasing volume echoed off the walls of the brick building.  The arrival of each individual body added to the volume of the ruckus, which caused the sound to carry farther and farther.  The disturbance soon became loud enough to draw infected from all over town.

Although Zeke was unaware, the feeding cries had such a powerful attraction that individuals  locked in their houses became agitated and started breaking through windows and cheaply made doors in order to get to the source of the commotion.  The size of the crowd quickly grew to about two hundred, with more joining the fracas every minute.   

With the legs of the upside down U on the ground, the top of it was several feet above the roof line.  Using a length of rope Meagan had found in the maintenance shop, Zeke suspended an orange five-gallon bucket a foot below the top of the U.  The seventy pounds of screws, nails, bolts, nuts, and washers bowed the two by four under their weight.  Near the top of the mixture of assorted hardware, Zeke gently placed a plastic container full of a white powder.  A closer examination would have revealed it to be a crystalline substance that resembled sugar.  A thin gauge wire protruded through the plastic lid of the container in two places.  Inside the container, the wire dipped into the white powder, forming a U. Two rolls of a much heavier gauge wire had been soldered to either end of the U before it was placed in the powder and the heavy wire had been run across the roof, down the hall, and into the maintenance shop where the ends lay on the concrete floor beside a new car battery. 

As Meagan watched curiously, Zeke tied a long piece of rope to the top of the lumber frame and stretched the rope ten feet back to the base of an air conditioning unit, making a loop around the square metal housing with several feet of slack between the unit and the wooden frame.  The frame stood up straight with the legs sitting on the ground flush against the wall of the building.  Zeke pushed the frame outward, away from the building, while keeping tension on the rope.  As the frame leaned away from the wall, the force of its pull on the rope increased.  Zeke let the rope slowly slide through his hands until it was taut between the frame and the air conditioning unit.  The top of the frame leaned a couple feet from the wall with the bucket suspended a foot below. 

Zeke walked back to the AC unit, took the end of the rope from Meagan, and slowly let it slide through his hands.  The friction of the loop around the AC unit allowed him to maintain control as the wood frame leaned further from the building, gaining more leverage and exerting a greater pull on the rope.  Eventually the frame was at a forty-five degree angle between the side of the building and the ground, the rope suspending the top of the frame twelve feet above the mob of infected.  The bucket of potential shrapnel surrounding the bowl of homemade explosives swung back and forth in the light breeze ten feet above their heads. 

A search of the main office turned up the master list for the combinations to every locker in the hall.  While Zeke was building the frame from which to hang his improvised explosive device, Meagan had searched the lockers, coming up with several backpacks which she filled with drinks and candy bars from the vending machines in the teachers’ room.  She loaded the packs into the truck.  While she had been gathering bolts, screws, nails, nuts, and washers for the IED, she came across an oak table that was being refinished in the maintenance shop.  The legs had been removed and lay on a workbench.  She picked one up to replace the club she had set down beside the painting supplies when they climbed the ladder two days ago.

Zeke and Meagan moved to the edge, looking down at the horde below.  It was pressed up tight against the wall and door to the building. 

"Is the truck ready?" he asked.  He already knew the answer as he had helped load it, but he was nervous.  Once they left the ledge, the group might begin to spread out again. Right now they were smashed together, one on top of the next like a pile of pancakes in a vacuum-sealed bag.  They couldn't pack in any tighter, and Zeke wanted them to stay like that in order for the bomb to achieve its maximum effect. 

"The truck's loaded," she answered patiently.  "I have two backpacks of food and two backpacks of drinks on the front seat.  I also packed the ax you found.  I think we're ready."

"The bolt cutters are still in the truck?" he asked, confirming what he already knew to be true. He was the one who carefully placed the massive set of cutters on the front seat.  They were an integral part of his plan to flee to California.

"They're still resting on the middle of the front seat where you put them.  Everything's ready," she said reassuringly.  It was obvious that he was getting nervous about leaving.  They were about to flee from what had become a bastion of security into the terror and uncertainty that awaited outside.  Zeke was only too familiar with the horrors they would face when they left the school. 

"Okay then," Zeke said.  “I'll stay here for a minute to keep their attention.  Head to the shop and start the truck.  I'll be right behind you."

Meagan hurried across the rooftop and disappeared through the hole in the roof.  Zeke banged on the roof with a hammer, working the infected into a mad frenzy.  Sixty seconds slowly ticked by.  He ran to the hole in the roof and dropped the hammer to the floor below and then carefully lowered himself down until his foot tentatively found the first rung of the ladder.  So far so good.  He checked his watch. Fifteen seconds had passed since he left the edge of the roof.  His feet pounded down the hall, each step echoing off the walls.  As he neared the open door into the shop, the smell of exhaust began to burn the back of his throat.  It was a good sign. It meant the engine was running, indicating the truck was ready.

  He followed the twin lines of blue insulated wire into the shop. They ended beside a car battery two feet from the open driver side of the truck. 

“Here goes nothing,” he shouted as he picked up the ends of the two wires and touched the stripped end of one wire to the positive terminal of the battery and the other to the negative terminal.  The idea was that the high resistance of the small gauge, U shaped wire in the bowl of explosives would cause the wire to heat up red hot.  The super-heated wire in contact with the explosives should be enough to start breaking the weak bonds in the TATP and set off the chain reaction. 

Nothing happened. 

Meagan spoke, "Did it go..." The building shook and the windows rattled as a deep boom exploded through the hallway.  Dust shook from the rafters overhead and wisps of insulation from the ceiling floated to the floor.  Zeke's ears rang sonorously, and he was startled by the ferocity of the explosion. It was far bigger than any he had set off in the past.