The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever (6 page)

“Our house is on the outskirts, on the other side of Potomac
Street, in
Cambray
Park. My wife complained we
weren’t close enough to the shops but I reckon that might just be a benefit
right now.” Cliff’s voice sounded more hopeful as he peered through the rising
smoke trying to see his house.

“Right, we’re over the shopping mall.
Which
way, buddy?”
BB asked.

“Head east on the main drag until it intersects with Potomac
Street, it’s the big one in the distance. Then hang a right and it’s about a
hundred yards down on the left.”

BB descended so that he could read the street signs. After a
moment he saw the sign for Potomac and turned right. A petrol station and a
block of flats were on his left. In a moment Cliff continued his instructions.

“Keep going, there, that large entrance. See the green
awning? Just past there.”

BB brought the helicopter into a hover over the entrance.

“I can land on the road and you can go in if you like, or I
can hover and you winch down into your back yard if that’d be better.
Your call, Cliff.”
BB wasn’t at all sure he wanted to land;
there was something he was sensing, something ominous. All of a sudden he knew
what was different. There was not a soul on the streets, not a one - that
couldn’t bode well. There were also too many houses and too many places to hide;
so much risk all of a sudden. “I don’t like this. I’m rescinding the landing
option, Cliff. We’ll winch you down. Something ain’t right.”

“Roger,” Cliff replied. His voice gave nothing of his
thoughts away.

“Come on Cliff, let’s get you strapped in,” Zoë ordered.
Together they set him up on the harness and clipped the passenger loop to his
straps.

“Cliff can direct you and you can guide me in, Zoë.” BB
ordered.

“Roger.” Zoë’s voice was clipped as she concentrated on
getting the winch ready. “Move a little forward, the yard just short of the
swimming pool.” Cliff was pointing to their property.

“I see it,” BB replied, edging the huge helo forward, its
downdraft tugging fiercely at the trees underneath. Pieces of garden furniture
went flying, their travel abruptly arrested by the fencing. After a moment they
were hovering exactly on point and now he heard the buzz of the winch as it
lowered the sergeant down. Mike was keeping his eyes out for the infected. From
his vantage point it looked like a high risk option lowering his man into this
confined area. Zoë had a rifle up and ready while managing the winch. She
wished she had a second pair of hands right at this moment. A tap on her
shoulder startled her and she turned to see Mike at her side; he must have read
her mind. Having left the flying to BB, he took her rifle, allowing her to
focus on her own job of managing the winch and the load. He scanned the area
looking for threats. A couple of people were moving in the neighbouring yards,
clearly infected, their movement awkward as they edged towards Cliff’s landing
point.

Mike fired a couple of shots into the ground to get their
attention, just in case they weren’t infected, but they took no notice. The
next couple of shots drilled down into their heads and they collapsed, no
longer a threat. Mike smiled at his shooting; sheer fluke, he thought, I’d have
never been able to do that on the range.

Cliff touched down gently at the bottom of the yard and
immediately unclipped himself from the line. Drawing his gun he crouched and moved
cautiously towards the rear of the house. Suddenly he stopped, statue-like, his
gun slowly lowering.

“Is he okay, Zoë?” BB asked, not liking what he was seeing.

“Wait one,” was her only reply. Clearly she was waiting to
see what the problem was.

Next moment Cliff stood up straight in shock, his gun
remaining pointing down. A woman with dishevelled hair and face covered in
blood and bearing her teeth came rushing out of the house and ran towards the
man, her hands clenching and unclenching in desire. It was clear even to those
in the helicopter that she was infected. Cliff remained rooted to the spot in
shock. A shot was heard, the sound whipped away by the hurricane winds of the
blades, and her head exploded in a splash of red after which she fell forwards
onto the thin, dry grass in front of the sergeant. Cliff looked up at the
chopper with a look of murderous intent on his face. After a moment it changed,
as if all emotion had drained from his body. Whether or not he realised his
life had just been saved, it was hard to tell; his features had become an
indecipherable mask. He ran into the house, his panic obvious in his awkward
movements.

BB hovered and counted the seconds that passed by as Cliff
remained out of sight. Forty seconds so far. Looking further afield he could
see they were drawing a crowd of Infected; the rotor beat seemed to be a great
draw to the undead and in a moment they would have to leave, Cliff or no Cliff,
as his residence would soon be overrun.

Fifty five seconds; now a minute.
“What do you want to do, Mike?” BB asked. “He’s your man.”

“Give him another thirty seconds.”

“Roger. Thirty seconds it is.” BB continued to count down;
they would be safe up here, but in less than a minute this place would be
overrun. Five, four… Finally the sergeant ran out into the garden and BB
breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the man held a bloody child in the crook of
his arm, all the while firing behind him whilst simultaneously trying to get
the passenger loop from his harness over the kid’s head. Multitasking while running
to the end of the yard, he was struggling with his fear to do the simplest task
properly and by the look on Cliff’s face it was obvious he was being chased by
something or someone and was now seriously at risk of not making the safety of
the winch line which was hanging there invitingly a few enticing yards in front
of him. A couple of people, blood covered and clearly enraged, came running
from the house and bore down on him and the child. Two more shots from the helicopter
and Mike took them out cleanly, each with a perfect head shot. If there was ever
an Olympic sport of zombie shooting, he would have earned a couple of
golds
by now. More people took their place and slowly the
yard filled with zombies, most slow but seemingly goaded on by one or two of
the faster ones.

The winch whined as it slowly lifted them off the ground,
their suspended bodies within feet of their pursuers. “Go!” Zoë shouted to BB
and next moment the chopper pulled its massive weight into the sky, dragging Cliff
and the child away from danger like a fly fishing lure. As they climbed
thousands of the undead could be seen filling the streets around the house.
BB’s instincts had been spot on; going in from the road would have proved fatal,
maybe even compromising the helicopter and its crew. Lesson learned. The beat
of the helicopter’s blades had definitely drawn the Infected, the ring of dead
centring on where they had been hovering a moment before, something they would
have to take into account in the future; it might even prove a benefit under
the right circumstances.

Cliff finally arrived alongside the helicopter and Zoë
helped him swing into the cabin. In a rush of emotion she grabbed him and held
them both in an embrace, feeling Cliff’s sobs as he cried with release of tension
and world weary sadness at the loss of all but one of his family. After a
moment he pulled away and released himself from the harness. As he put the
child down, Zoë could now see it was a blood-smeared little girl of no more
than four or five years of age. She looked at Cliff questioningly but he
avoided her eyes and just sat staring straight ahead, one arm around the most
precious person on his personal planet.

*

On the return trip to the fuel depot, they hovered over the
writing on the roof of the Cherry Creek Shopping
Center
,
peering downwards to see if there really was someone waiting for rescue. Not a
soul stirred, the roof was bereft of bodies, living or dead. Clearly this place
was either deserted or they had succumbed to the sheer numbers of infected in
these sorts of areas.

“It might be worth paying a visit periodically just to see
if there is anyone there,” Mike suggested.

“You might be right,” BB observed. “I tell you something, after
what we just saw at Aurora, I’m not landing to rescue anyone. Their numbers are
just too massive. It wouldn’t matter if you had a chain gun; you couldn’t get
them all before they got you.”

“Yeah, I’m not in a rush to get in among those bastards either.”

“Let’s get back to the dump.” BB said as he gained height
again and headed west. A few minutes later they arrived and he saw with relief
that the other helicopter had remained untouched, the dust on the canopy
undisturbed. Performing a recon circuit they could see that the crowd of undead
had dissipated again, a few idly wandering, nothing left to draw them towards
the landing area.

“Right, let’s do this quickly,” Mike said. “Land and run to
your chopper, I’ll take over this one. Zoë, you go with him and offer cover. If
you can’t get it started, BB, give us a sign and run back. If you can, give me
the thumbs up and I’ll hover, waiting for you further west of here. Don’t want
to attract any unwanted attention to this place. I can refuel another time, I’m
sure it’ll still be here for a while. GPS still works so if we get separated
you’ll still be able to find your way back.”

“If you’re sure,” BB queried the decision. “I can help you top
off your tanks first.”

“Yes, I’m sure. We’ve still got plenty. Get going, both of
you. Don’t want to attract those things again.”

Needing no more encouragement, BB and Zoë ran for the other
chopper and opened the doors carefully, making sure they were still alone.

BB jumped into the cockpit and sat in the right hand seat.
His vision out to the right was significantly reduced with the massive fuel
pods but he didn’t mind, they would make getting his wife back much more
possible. As he began the engine start sequence he reminded himself of the
guidance Mike had given him about what the extra fuel load would do to the
handling properties. The engine began to spool up and he gave the thumbs up
signal to the other ’copter which immediately lifted off in a cloud of dust and
moved off to the west to wait for him.

Everything looked good so far; the engines sounded correct, gauges
as expected and the fuel indicated full on internal and external cells. Pulling
up on the collective, he was startled by a tremendous thump as a man leapt onto
the front of the canopy, pulling himself up using the wiper mounts, and
supporting himself on the FLIR cone. His face was badly injured, flaps of skin
flicking in the strong wind. The lack of flesh on its cheeks gave the creature
a strangely amused look, its permanent bony and toothy smile almost drawing a reciprocal
response from BB in return as he stared in shock at the apparition.

“What the fuck?” BB shouted bringing Zoë forward.

“How in the name of goddam hell did that get there? Do you
want me to go out and deal with it?”

“Absolutely not!
No need to risk
yourself, girl, I’ll get rid of it as we head back to the cabins. It can’t hang
on forever.”

Climbing towards the other helicopter Mike spoke to him over
the radio. “Looks like you’ve got an unexpected passenger. What do you want to
do about it?”

“With luck he’ll fall off by the time we get to the cabin.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“With the outside air temperature and wind chill from the
downdraft the bastard should be pretty much frozen solid by the time we get
there so we could just scrape him off like a bug,” BB replied having already
given it some thought.

“Yeah, well. Just in case he doesn’t, let me land first and
we’ll get ready to kill it when you touch down.”

“Sure thing, Mike.
Thanks.”

“Roger.”

They flew on together in silence, BB flying high and just
behind Mike’s helicopter. BB tried hard not to look at the man’s face as it
stared in at them. Zoë was transfixed by fascination; she’d not been this close
to one of the creatures before without having to kill it and was examining it
closely.

“Look at that poor bastard,” she commented. “To think he was
once a soldier, with a life; maybe he had kids and a missus, maybe they’re just
like him now. It’s hard to picture that when you see him in that state, the
only thing human about him now is his uniform.” The man’s face was beginning to
freeze; what were once loose flaps of skin had ceased their rapid flailing in
the downdraft as they froze, becoming rigid. The movement of its eyes began to
slow down until they ceased altogether, staring at nothing in particular.

“I was right,” BB exclaimed. “He is freezing. It would be
interesting to see if he would revive when defrosted. It would tell us if we’re
safe in the mountains until spring. Think about it, if the whole of Denver
freezes and gets snowed in, then perhaps the zombies will freeze completely and
the problem will be over.
If he doesn’t revive.”

“Tell Mike. If you want to try this out you don’t want him
to shoot the thing as you land. Perhaps we can tie it up. We have those plastic
hand cuff thingies on board that chopper. With his hands secured behind his
back he’ll never get out of them.”

“Okay.” Pressing the PTT button he called up the other
chopper. “Hey Mike.
BB here.
We’ve had an idea.” He
explained his thoughts and agreed on an approach to securing the creature. It
was agreed finally that BB would put down by one of the cabins further away in
order to do this work away from their settlement, just in case of problems.

Arriving at the lakes Mike put down in the same place he had
started from and shut down. BB hovered while they and several others ran over to
a distant cabin and signalled him to land. BB noticed that Cliff wasn’t among
the helpers; nor was that weird religious woman, he noted. Perhaps the sergeant
had gone inside with his kiddie. He did see Rob, Danny and Tom, all eager to find
out what was going on. The air was still so he lined up easily in a parking
area as near to the target cabin as he dared. The wheels gently touched down.
Lowering the collective completely the blades continued to turn but remained
out straight, reducing the downdraft to almost nothing while at the same time giving
the group of helpers more safety room above their heads as they performed their
task. Waiting for the blades to stop would have cost them valuable time before
they could secure the zombie, perhaps giving it the opportunity to resist if
still capable of doing so.