Infected (Book 2): The Flight (18 page)

Without the engine, the plane immediately began to slow.  Zeke pushed the nose down, trading altitude for airspeed.  His attention was focused on the runway designator numbers three-one which were painted on the end of the runway.   A quick glance at the altimeter showed he was passing through five hundred feet.   He was holding his airspeed at ninety miles an hour, which he estimated was the best glide speed.  It didn’t look like they were going to make the end of the runway. 

A fleeting thought ran through his head and he realized he needed to get the canopy unlatched before they hit the ground.  Once the plane hit, he was afraid the latches may jam, leaving them stuck in the plane.  He quickly undid the two buckles on his side that secured it.

“Should I undo mine too?” Meagan asked.

“Yeah, we want to get out of the plane as quickly as we can when it stops moving.” She undid the front latch easily.  The back latch took all the strength she could muster.  The fast moving air flowing over the glass created an area of low pressure, causing the canopy to pull away from the plane and creating tension on the locking mechanism.  With a grunt, she popped it open. 

The canopy rose three inches, blasting them with hot air that rushed under the front edge.  Zeke squinted in response.  At three hundred feet above the ground, his eyes did a quick one hundred-eighty degree sweep of the airport.  He caught movement coming from hangers on the south side of the field.  A group of people were running toward the runway.

At five feet above the grass at the end of the runway, Zeke pulled back on the stick to stop the sink rate and bleed off more speed.  The propeller hit the ground first.  The carbon fiber blade flexed and then shattered.  The belly hit the ground for a split second.  The plane rose back into the air and hit again, this time gently setting down fifty feet from the end of the pavement.   It slid across the grass and then jolted as it transitioned to the asphalt runway at seventy-five miles an hour.  Meagan covered her ears, trying to block out the scraping sound.  The noise set her nerves on edge, making her cringe.  A handful of people ran onto the runway just ahead of them.  The plane continued sliding, slowly scrubbing away speed as it left a trail of shredded material behind; some of it embedded in the asphalt and some of it floating up in the wind behind them. 

Zeke estimated the plane was still doing close to sixty miles an hour, but, since the pitot tube had been ground off, the airspeed indicator gave no reading.  The leading edge of the right wing smashed into the front girl’s legs just above the ankles and flipped her at least ten feet in the air.  Meagan watched in horror as her body cart wheeled through the air before it disappeared behind the plane.  She landed headfirst on the asphalt behind the sliding Lancair.

The impact to the wing caused the plane to yaw slowly as it skidded down the runway.  Two more infected, running side by side, were taken out by the left wingtip.  The plane violently spun to the left like an out of control top, but maintained a straight track along the centerline of the runway, taking out the rest of the group before it came to a stop.

Before the plane had ground to a halt, Zeke had begun unbuckling his seat belt.  The dust had not yet settled before he was pushing the canopy all the way forward and stepping onto the splintered wing.  Three infected were hastily approaching from behind.  Their clothes were torn and their skin bloody from being slammed onto the runway by the sliding, spinning plane.

“Grab the ax from behind the seat!” Zeke screamed as he pulled his pistol from his holster.  He knew the sound of gunfire would draw ten times what he could kill with the limited number of bullets remaining in his magazines. 

One hundred infected attacking five minutes from now was something he would deal with in five minutes.  Right now, the only thing that mattered was the three infected hobbling toward him at speeds that would rival a high school hundred meter runner. 

He knew better than to shoot when they were beyond his effective range, but panic overcame reason.  He fired his first shot at fifty yards.  He knew he couldn’t make a head shot on a bouncing and bobbing head from that range.  He shot anyway.  The man’s hobbling gait sprang his body up every several paces.  The gunshot coincided with one of those springing strides.  The aim had been good, but the head moved up six inches as the round exploded from the barrel.  The bullet smashed into the man’s upper chest, knocking him flat on his back.  He quickly rose to his feet and resumed his blitz behind his two consorts.  Zeke fired two more rounds in rapid succession.  Both sailed harmlessly between the two leading assailants a mere twenty five yards away.  Three more shots flew downrange. The last one smashed into the nose of one of the on-rushers, who tumbled to the ground when the impulses telling its feet to move stopped racing down its spine. 

Zeke adjusted his aim to the right and fired another barrage.  At ten feet he didn’t think he could miss, but he did.  Three bullets hit the man, but they all missed his head.  Zeke dove to the side as the twenty-something year old man lunged for him.  They both landed on the ground at the same time, eight feet apart.  They got up in unison as if performing a synchronized dance.  Zeke brought the pistol up and fired a double tap into the advancing fiend.   His aim was true and the man dropped at his feet.

As he turned back to the last attacker, Meagan swung her table leg like it was the bottom of the ninth with two outs.  She connected with a blow that would have knocked a fastball way out of the park.  Without waiting to see if the man would get back up, she pummeled him repeatedly until she was convinced he wasn’t going to move anymore.

Zeke dashed back to the plane and began pulling their supplies out.  As he dug, Meagan yelled, “Hurry up, there are more coming!”  He looked up and saw fifty or sixty infected ambling toward them at a fast walk.  He was pretty sure the only thing drawing them to the plane at this point was curiosity.  There had been a lot of noise and they were coming to investigate.

“They’re between us and the hangers,” Meagan whispered. The infected were emerging from a large group of hangers at the south end of the field. “We might be able to make it to that shop to the west if we run.  It’ll be close.”  She dropped the pack she had around her shoulder and crouched behind the plane, out of sight of the oncoming mob.  “What do you think?”

He looked toward the maintenance shop two to three hundred yards to their west and then peeked over the top of the fuselage.  They still hadn’t been spotted. “It’s the only option I can see.  I’ll be right behind you.”

Meagan crouched, looking around the plane and then took off at a sprint, table leg in her right hand.  Zeke followed behind with the ax in his hand and his pistol in the holster.  Two hundred and fifty yards is a long way to sprint, especially when carrying a two pound club.  The herd of infected a quarter mile away provided the proper motivation to keep their pace recklessly fast. 

They hadn’t covered ten steps before they were spotted, and the clamor that arose from the group was the first indication.  A second later, the group engaged in an intercepting line of pursuit.

Meagan was fast, but Zeke easily could have passed her.  He stayed on her heels for the first hundred yards.  He suddenly realized there was no reason for the shop to be unlocked.  If the door wasn’t open, every second they had could mean the difference between life and a violent death.  With that thought in mind, he poured on the speed, blowing passed Meagan.

Her first thought was that he was abandoning her and leaving her to fend for herself.  She lengthened her strides, finding speed she didn’t realize she had.  She still couldn’t keep up and he continued to pull away. 

The front of the hanger was a huge bi-fold door which was closed tight and couldn’t be opened from the outside.  A regular door stood in the adjacent wall.  Zeke arrived at the door ten paces ahead of Meagan.  He latched onto the handle and turned his wrist.  His hand twisted around the stationary stainless steel handle.  It was locked.  He hung his head in despair. There was nowhere else to go.  If they couldn’t get into the building, they would be torn apart in a handful of seconds.

“Maybe there’s a door in the back,” Meagan huffed as she sprinted passed him. As Zeke followed her around the back of the building, their hopes were renewed. On the back side of the building was a window covered with a metal mesh screwed to the siding to prevent people from breaking in.  Another door stood ten feet beyond the window.

Meagan beat him to the door.  His spirits soared when she pushed into the door with her shoulder and it swung open.  The interior of the shop was completely dark.  The outside window faced into an office and did not provide any illumination into the cavernous work space.  Zeke stepped into the rectangular strip of light pouring through the doorway.  Unsure of what was in the dark recesses of the building, he was hesitant to close the door and plunge the building back into blackness. 

Gravel crunched under fifty sets of running feet around the corner of the shop.  The group had mostly fallen silent when Zeke and Meagan disappeared from sight.   The crunching footfalls turned the corner to the back of the shop.  With no other choice, Zeke slammed the door closed, his fingers fumbling for the lock in complete darkness.

“Zeke!” Meagan called from several feet away. 

“I’m here,” he whispered back, not wanting to further incite the bodies banging against the door.  “I’m looking for the lights.”  He continued feeling his way along the wall until he found a bank of switches.  He flicked them up one at a time and was greeted with a pop from the ceiling as the electricity energized each high voltage ballast connected to the lights.

The interior of the shop began to illuminate as the lights warmed up.  The floor was crammed full of planes, most of them appearing to be in various stages of maintenance or inspection.  A low wing Piper in the corner was missing the engine.  Other planes had inspection panels hanging by a single screw.  All were old and in fair to poor condition.  There was one exception.  Parked in front of the bi-fold door was a Cessna twin engine painted white with a pair of red stripes swirling their way down the side of the fuselage like twin ribbons flowing in the breeze.

Zeke crossed the hanger, irresistibly drawn to the aircraft.  It was an immaculately kept 421C Golden Eagle, the flagship of Cessna’s line up from the late 70’s and early 80’s.   The side door was down, the stair extending to a foot above the floor. 

Zeke climbed the stair into the passenger compartment and scooted down the narrow isle between seats. Pushing aside the curtain that separated the cockpit from the cabin, he climbed into the passenger seat and
clicked
on the master switch.  The gyros whined as they spun up in the instrument panel.  He looked to the fuel gauges. Both rested squarely on empty. 

Meagan stuck her head into the cockpit, looking over Zeke’s shoulder.  “Let me guess, you don’t know how to start this one, either?” she mocked jokingly.

“Actually, I do know how to start this one.  I have quite a bit of time flying in this model.  The guy I worked for in college had one of these he used for charter flights.  Several of the companies he flew for had corporate policies that required a copilot.  I had a multiengine rating and got a lot of right seat time.  Sometimes he let me fly from the left seat.  It’s been several years, but I think I can remember how to get the engines turning.”

Meagan’s face lit up.  “So we have a ride out of here?” she asked enthusiastically.  She looked around at the cockpit and back to the cabin behind.  It was a far cry from the tight confines of the tiny shoe box they were crammed into for the first five hours of the trip.  The instrument panel had several high tech LCD screens.  It looked modern, and it inspired confidence.  The cabin was wrapped in soft grey leather and rich wood paneling.  The seats were plush and roomy.

“I could fly it, but according to the gauges, the fuel tanks are completely empty.” Zeke shook his head sadly.  “There’s no way we can get to the fuel pumps outside without attracting too much unwanted attention.  I’m afraid we’re stuck.”

Although dejected, Meagan refused to give up.  “What about the other planes in here?  Could you fly one of them?”

The hanger lights had warmed up to full brightness.  Zeke looked around the hanger at the dozen or so smaller planes stacked into the hanger.  “Yeah, I could fly any of these, but before we could takeoff, we would have to get the plane out of the hanger.  This beast is blocking the way so we would have to move it first,” he said, patting the wingtip as he walked around the twin.  “Depending on which one we took, we might have to move four or five others to get it out.  It would be a pretty risky venture.  The big door is going to make a lot of noise when it starts to open and it doesn’t open very fast.” 

As he walked around the front of the white twin engine, he picked up a clipboard resting on the wing.  It was an inspection “squawk” sheet the mechanics used to log the progress of their maintenance.  He looked over the one entry on the sheet. “That explains why there isn’t any fuel in it.  They just resealed the fuel selector valve.   You have to drain the gas to get the valve out.  It looks like the repair is done, it just needs fuel.”

“What do they do with the fuel when they drain it out?” Meagan asked.

Zeke’s face lit up. “They would either put it in a fuel cart or maybe one of the other planes.”  He realized there was likely enough fuel in the hanger to fill the 421.   Zeke began running from plane to plane opening fuel caps and peering into the wing tanks.

“There’s enough fuel in the hanger to fill the tanks up two or three times,” he announced with a grin that spread from one ear to the other.  “Why didn’t I think of that?  I think you’re going to earn your keep after all.”

“Earn my keep?” she asked accusingly, Zeke’s grin was infectious, and a smile spread across her face as well.

An hour and a half later, they had transferred over two hundred gallons of fuel into their new ride, one five-gallon bucket at a time.

As Zeke was completing his preflight, his cell phone rang.  It hadn’t rung in days and the sound startled him.  He hadn’t even looked at it for reception since he charged it two nights ago.  “Hello?” he answered on the third ring.

“Where are you?” his older brother Connor asked without greeting.

“I’m in Syracuse, Kansas.  It’s nice to hear from you, too,” he answered in response to his brother’s terse greeting.

“I’m glad to hear you aren’t slobbering all over yourself and chowing down on people. How’s the trip coming?” Connor asked.

“It’s been pretty good so far.  I blew up a school first thing this morning and crashed an airplane an hour and a half ago.  It was a shame.  It was a really nice Lancair.”

“Huh, it sounds like it didn’t fly too well.”

“No,” Zeke disagreed.  “It flew fantastic.  We put it through some pretty decent aerobatics and it was rock solid. The only problems it had were related to landing.” 

“Hold on,” Connor interrupted.  “Did you say we?  Are you bringing your groupies with you?”

“Just one.  There were four of us in the group when we started,” Zeke said, turning somber.   “We were in a house that was overrun.  Two good guys didn’t make it out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.  We’ve had a bunch of good people die out here, too.”  Connor ratcheted down his energetic rhetoric in response to the memory of his lost friends and acquaintances as well as the losses his brother had suffered.  He doubted he would ever completely recover from the ache the deaths had burned into his heart.

“How’s the continuation of your trip looking?”

“It’s looking pretty good,” Zeke answered.  “We should be home in a little over four hours.  We’re in the process of requisitioning a Cessna 421 Charlie.  I was just finishing the pre-flight when you called.  It’s all fueled up and ready for departure.”

Connor paused a moment. “When you say requisitioning, do you mean stealing?  I don’t know how they view it in Kansas, but in California, aircraft theft is a serious offence.  Am I going to have to lock you up when I see you?”

Zeke laughed.  “Easy there, Big Brother.  I never said I was stealing the plane.  I said I was requisitioning it.  In the unlikely event it’s ever reported as stolen, I suppose you could try to arrest me.  I’m pretty sure it falls under squatter’s rights or something like that anyway.”

Now it was Connor’s turn to laugh.  “Okay. I can see I’m going to have to launch a full investigation when you get here.  I’ll see where the chips fall after that.  If I get a report that it’s stolen, though, I’m gonna have to take action.  I think plane theft is the modern day equivalent of horse theft.  In Kansas that’s a hanging offence.  If you’re real nice, I might consider not extraditing you,”

Connor paused as he reoriented himself in his chair, trying to take pressure off his sore back.  After finding a more comfortable position, he continued.  “Why don’t you make a layover in Lost Hills before you go to Mom and Dad’s?”

Zeke thought for a second and answered, “We aren’t going to have enough fuel to get back to Mom and Dad’s from there.  Is there fuel at the airport?”

“How would I know?” Connor chided.  “I assume there is.  The power is still on so the pumps should work.  If there isn’t any fuel, there are lots of cars in town.  Most of them don’t have owners anymore.  I’m sure we can arrange a ride for you.  I’m staying at a farm south east of town.  Before you land, circle the area a few times.  Once we see you, it’ll take about fifteen minutes to get to the airport so plan your landing accordingly.  There may be infected roaming the airfield.  We’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Talk to you then,” Zeke said and hung up his phone.

“That was your brother?” Meagan asked.

Zeke could see the pain of loss returning to her face.  The gleam that had sparkled in her eyes as they lightheartedly hauled buckets of fuel was gone.  Now her eyes were filling with tears as the memory of her own family resurfaced. 

Rather than answering her, he wrapped his arms around her reassuringly and held her tight for several minutes before speaking.  “You’re one of us now.  I know you’ve never met my parents, but they will receive you like a member of the family.”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she said. “Outside of my own family, I’ve never met anybody who has shown as much compassion and generosity to me as you have.  You didn’t have to take me under your wing the way you did.  I know you took on a lot more risk by dragging me along with you.  You could just as easily have left me back at Lester and Mildred’s.”  She stretched up on her toes, kissed him lightly on his lips, and then nuzzled her head back into his shoulder.

The kiss blindsided Zeke.  Earlier in the morning, he had pondered a possible relationship developing between himself and Meagan, but it had been something that might occur in the future, not today.  As his mind raced, he realized the kiss had signified their relationship moving from friendship to something more.  The more he thought about it, the more he realized he was in favor of the change.