The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath (30 page)

Since the situation was now taking on the air of a legitimate emergency the rest of their conversations were transmitted over the fleet network. The nature of her emergency would be clear on the carrier and search and rescue operations would be mobilized in preparation for
an unscheduled landing or bailout. Crusher then corrected himself. In any normal situation that is what would happen. Until the air samples they had collected on this mission were analyzed against the ones from the earlier flight, there would be no search and rescue mission forthcoming. The chemical and biological detection equipment in his cockpit were showing no signs of contaminants and he at least considered that a positive sign. If Huntress had to set down or bail out she most likely would not be landing in a virus laden hot zone. Of course what she would be facing on the ground could end up being much more terrifying. Without a significant security force to back them up, a downed pilots chances of long-term survival on the ground were not promising.

Keeping his voice steady and calm he relayed instructions to his wingman, "Huntress. I want you to stay with me into a gentle climb. Radar shows the storm ceiling at eight thousand. We are going to shoot for nine thousand and then have you go through a shutdown and restart on your number two. Copy?"

When she came back over the radio her voice was trembling with fear, "Crusher, I don't think I can make it. Power is still bleeding off and level flight is becoming impossible. I don't have the thrust to climb."

"Shit", Crusher muttered to himself. Checking his radar imagery and running through some quick calculations he realized that at best she had another three or four minutes of flight time at her current rate of descent. That did not give her close to enough time to even reach the coast where she could ditch in the ocean. They were just approaching the downtown section of McLean, Virginia, several minutes
flight time outside of Washington, DC. Looking over his charts it appeared that her options were limited on the best places to punch out. McLean had a dense population center, but compared to some of the surrounding towns and cities, it was going to end up being her best option. If she survived the bailout, she would have to find a place to hold up and activate her emergency beacon. It would take at least a day before the analysis of the air samples he had collected was completed. From there it would be up to leaders above his pay grade if a search and rescue effort would be attempted. He wasn't about to pass along those thoughts to Huntress, but he was sure that if he was able to reach that conclusion then she was as well.

The best he could do was to help her get on the ground safely, mark her position and then make the best speed possible back to the carrier to get the process started. "Alright Huntress. According to your rate of descent and our location, you will be reaching the most favorable bailout point in just over one minute."

"Understood." She replied as stoically as possible. After a couple seconds she came back on the net, this time all pretense towards toughness were absent from her voice, "Crusher. I'm scared. Will anyone come for me?"

"Look, right now my instruments are telling me
there are no contaminants in the air. I am going to make sure you get down safely and then beat feet for home and deliver my samples. Once you are on the ground, get somewhere safe and hunker down. Keep your head down and turn on your beacon. I'm not going to rest until a SAR bird is authorized to come for you." He wanted to reassure her but he also didn't want to give her a sense of false hope, "It might take some time. Just stay out of sight and remember your survival training."

All naval aviators are required to complete a rigorous and grueling survival course. Escape and evasion techniques are drilled into them over days of training. They are taught how to live off the land and to fashion weapons and booby traps from a wide variety of common items they may encounter on the ground. The focus of that training was based on the premise that the pilots would be coming down behind enemy lines during a conflict. A good portion of that training concentrated on survival in an urban environment. If Huntress could successfully apply some of that training here there was a good chance she could hold out on her own for several days or even weeks. Of course, she first had to survive the landing for any of it to be helpful. If she came down and found a greeting party waiting for her that training would not be able to save her.

Crusher knew what she was doing in her cockpit at that moment. Counting down in her head she was pushing her body as far back into her seat as possible and adjusting the straps over her shoulders to the point they were almost cutting off circulation. The ejection itself would be a concussive event that posed the risk of serious bodily injury or even death. Since she was able to control the point of ejection she would be able to set up the optimal conditions to ensure her survival at that critical point. She was bleeding off speed as slowly as possible and would continue doing so until she received a stall warning at which point she would add just enough thrust to avoid the stall. Once she had dropped off speed she would then push the controls forward a notch to put the plane into a gradual descent. This would ensure that the ejection propelled her up and clear of the plane as well as putting the point where the plane would eventually crash into the ground a good distance from where she landed.

"Ten seconds." Was all she said, indicating that her preparations were complete and she was now ticking off the last few seconds before pulling back on the handle that would blast the canopy free of her cockpit and ignite the motors under her seat
launching her into the jet stream and free from her dying plane. Crusher pulled back a little more on his stick and maneuvered to a point several hundred yards behind and above Huntress. He had to continually slip his plane from side to side to avoid going into a stall himself at such slow speeds. It was important that he be positioned correctly to witness her ejection. Seeing her clear the plane and then making sure her shoot fully deployed would let him know that she at least had survived the two toughest parts of the ejection process. The storm would prevent him from assessing the area where she would finally hit the ground so he just had to have faith that she would not come down in the middle of a crowd of zombies. She would not turn on her emergency beacon until she had reached someplace safe so that would take a significant period of time. Crusher hoped to be almost back to the carrier by the time that happened.

"God speed." He called back to her. Three seconds later he saw a puff of white smoke around the cockpit of her plane and watched as the canopy shot up into the air and was swallowed in the darkness of the storm. A second and a half after the canopy blew clear there was a bright flash of yellow flame from inside the cockpit followed by blur of motion as the ejector seat was shot high into the air above the plane. It looked like a clean ejection and from the path the seat took as it climbed into the sky it did not appear to have struck anything on its way out. Crusher was able to track the seat from the burning rocket underneath. Five seconds after leaving the plane the rocket burned out and the seat dropped away from under Huntress. Crusher now had to put his plane into a gentle spiral while keeping his eyes peeled to the region of sky where he anticipated Huntress was now falling through the storm. He had been focusing so much on the emergency and ejection that he had paid little attention to the storm conditions. As he was searching the clouds looking for any sign of her shoot he noticed for the first time that the storm had abated quite a bit. The wind and rains had died down to something closer to a run of the mill thunder storm. Visibility had improved by several hundred feet and he could even make out a few details on the ground. He could even feel the difference in the way his own plane was responding, the buffeting winds were no longer blowing him back and forth and the ride felt much smoother.

The shoot blossomed open almost exactly where he had anticipated it would. He felt a brief measure of triumph at his ability to calculate the location in this type of weather. It was still too dark for him to make out any details of Huntress dangling underneath the canopy but it looked as though everything had gone right for her to have survived the ejection. He marked a waypoint on his digital map to indicate the general area she would most likely hit the ground and then turned back towards the East and punched his throttles forward. He had to get back to the carrier as fast as possible and deliver the samples his plane was carrying. It would now be a race against the clock to save Huntress. Unfortunately it would be a race that he had little control over after delivering his cargo. From that point forward it would be up to scientists, Admirals and Generals on whether the woman lived or died.

The short stop in the sandwich shop was enough to give all of them a chance to recharge and get ready to move on to the hospital. Garrett had spent the time outlining their movements from the moment they left the shop and when they reached the hospital. They would move as a group with their able bodied shooters staying to the outside and protecting their weaker numbers. He redistributed ammunition and went through a few drills with Kimberly and Shellie on firing handguns. Shellie was down to six shells for her shotgun and Garrett wanted her to keep those in reserve in case it looked like they would be overrun. Kyle remained conscious and even in his weakened condition insisted on keeping hold of his M4. Garrett understood how the man felt, there was nothing like the helpless feeling that came from being unarmed in a hostile environment and leaving your fate in the hands of others.

Kyle was riding in the back of the Range Rover with half of the rear seats dropped down to allow him room to stretch out with Doug's makeshift IV drip suspended over him. Shellie was behind the wheel with Garrett riding in the passenger seat and Doug siting behind him keeping an eye on Kyle.
There had been some debate about who would drive the police cruiser. Miranda had volunteered but Garrett convinced her that she would better serve them in the passenger seat ready to provide covering fire if they got in a jam. Ultimately they decided on putting Cameron behind the wheel with Emily and Kimberly riding in the back seat. The teenager had eagerly insisted he was up to the challenge and the only other option would be to have Emily drive and that was just something that Garrett was not willing to entertain. Cameron would lead the way with Kimberly providing directions. Cameron was instructed to keep his speed at no more than twenty miles an hour on the few roads where they were able to reach anything close to normal driving conditions. As it turned out that was never a realistic option. All access roads leading towards the hospital were nothing more than packed parking lots completely clogged with vehicles. It was clear that as things started to fall apart as the infection descended on the masses, many people had made desperate attempts to seek medical attention. Many of them likely fell victim to the sick relatives they were bringing to hospital when those loved ones slipped away only to return a short time later and turn on their family members. Several of the cars they passed bore testament to the horror many of those people faced. Dried blood stains covered the insides of many windows and the tattered remains of ravaged bodies were clearly visible inside several vehicles. In some cases they spotted zombies trapped in cars and trucks, the closed doors proving too big an obstacle for them to overcome. Along the way they passed four large herds of undead mindlessly milling about in their states of near hibernation. The storm continued to serve as successful camouflage because in two of those instances their vehicles passed within on a few feet of several of those zombies without them noticing. They were forced onto sidewalks and onto grass medians for most of the drive until they finally reached a section of road just one block from the hospital where there was simply no more room to maneuver around the congestion. Garrett jumped out and positioned Miranda and Shellie in locations to provide security while he instructed the drivers to get turned around and parked in a way that would allow them to make a run for it if they found themselves having to leave quickly.

The storm was dying down even more and it was starting to look as though they would soon
lose the cover it had been providing them for relative safe movement outside. As soon as both vehicles were positioned to Garrett's satisfaction he led the way along the sidewalk towards the hospital. They were able to see the building from a block away and even at that distance it was evident that a great deal of damage had occurred. The portion of the building housing the emergency room and dock area for ambulances had been reduced to nothing more than a pile of charred rubble. The only thing that had spared the rest of the hospital from falling victim to the fire was a narrow corridor that connected the ER to the main building. When the fire reached that corridor the roof had collapsed and cut the fire off from spreading further. The main portion of the building rose to a height of seven floors and from their location they were having a hard time finding a single intact window on any of those floors. Several of the broken windows had makeshift ropes still hanging from them fashioned from bed sheets, hospital gowns and an assortment of medical supplies. Along with obvious bullet holes stitched across wide swaths of the building it was clear that the hospital had turned into a war zone as the undead returned to life all at once and in large numbers. Two military transport trucks were parked closer to the end of the block providing some explanation for the quantity of bullet holes along the outside of the building. Garrett's hopes of scavenging weapons and ammo were raised at the sight of the vehicles. But when they reached the trucks they found them completely empty and stripped bare. The only thing they found inside the cab of one truck was a piece of bone from a human forearm with the hand and two out of five fingers still attached. The presence of obvious teeth marks along the bone answered the question of why it was stripped clean of skin and meat.

"Oh my god! That's disgusting." Emily cried out before realizing how loud she was. Before another word could escape her mouth
, Miranda's hand flew around her face from behind and clamped down hard over her lips.

Everyone else froze in place while Garrett scanned left and right searching for any movement nearby. It didn't take him long to spot trouble heading in their direction. At first he saw five zombies sticking their heads up amid the tangle of traffic all around them and then that number grew to twelve. In seconds they were facing close to twenty zombies who had been attracted to Emily's unexpected exclamation and were now moving rapidly toward the small group. The tightly packed cars all over the road, sidewalks and surrounding patches of grass made for an obstacle like course that was proving difficult for the undead to easily negotiate. Garrett thought that the obstacles were making up for the advantage they had lost in the darkness of the heaviest parts of the storm. But even with that little stroke of luck they were now in the sights of a large number of zombies and experience had told them that they would not give up easily. Garrett also realized that with the storm breaking up, any gunfire was going to once again start attracting more attention to them.

"Move!” Garrett cried out as he grabbed Emily by the arm and turned her around to follow along behind him.

Several zombies had materialized from inside a dry cleaners between them and the hospital causing Garrett to lead them out of the street and across a foot bridge through a small park. Garrett saw that the park led up to the side of the hospital and the presence of several overturned wheelchairs near the walking paths told him that the
park was probably once used as a rehabilitation spot for longer term patients. As they crossed over the bridge into the park, Doug called out quietly from behind Garrett, "This is the physical therapy section. It’s probably the best place we could enter. It would have been closed when the outbreak reached critical mass and there is a good chance that no patients or staff were in this part of the hospital."

Garrett studied the double glass doors at the end of a rectangular entryway. Even though the doors were made of glass, they were tempered and solid, reinforced to prevent them from easily breaking if a patient in a runaway wheelchair or gurney were to crash into them. A set of exterior doors was followed a few feet into the entryway by a second set that gave direct access to a large waiting room. Looking back towards the road, Garrett saw the zombies coming after them were still picking their way through the tangle of vehicles. From the slow progress they were making he was sure they could reach the doors and get safely inside the hospital before the first of them reached the footbridge behind them. Leading the way through the park Garrett continually scanned left and right into ravines and groves of trees and bushes looking for any surprises that may be lurking nearby.

"Garrett!” Shellie cried out from behind him.

Whipping his head in that direction Garrett spotted a zombie in a hospital gown along with a length of wires and
tubing still connected to his arm and chest dragging on the ground behind him. The zombie had been on the far side of a trio of trees growing in a patch of grass right in front of them. It stepped into the path beside them at just the right moment to catch Garrett by surprise with his attention focused on the far end of the same stand of trees. Wheeling backwards, Garrett would have fallen on his ass as he stepped off the concrete walkway but instead he backed right into Cameron who had been trailing along beside him. In those few seconds as Garrett moved clear of the zombies grasp and tangled himself with the teen boy the zombie lunged forward and drove headlong into Emily sending the two of the tumbling over into a flower garden beside the path.

"Emily!
” Doug cried out as he started rushing towards the two figures tussling with each other in the overgrown flower patch. Kyle grabbed him by the sleeve of his shirt and held him back before he could jump blindly into the mix.

Emily had at least thirty pounds on the guy and was able to maneuver him up and over her as she tried to roll from side to side to free herself from his grasp. Even with her advantage in weight, the raw strength the zombie was just
too much for her to overcome. Miranda was trying desperately to track their movements with her pistol but found it impossible to risk a shot without hitting Emily in the process. Garrett saw what was coming as if he were watching a slow motion movie. The zombie grasped Emily tightly around her midsection and pressed his face up against her ample bosom. Before Garrett could take a step forward to intervene, the creature had ripped through her shirt with his teeth and torn a chunk of flesh free from the side of her left breast. Emily howled in pain and anguish, a sudden surge of adrenaline triggered by the bite enabled her to push herself free from the zombie and roll off to the side just enough to put several feet of distance between them. Miranda saw the move coming and before he zombie was able to recover she squeezed off a double tap into his forehead. With its mouth still full of blood and gristle from Emily's breast meat the zombie tumbled over onto its side and lay still. Emily remained sitting up as a pained and terrified look fell over her face.

Kyle released Doug who raced to her side tearing the shirt off his back as he went. Dropping to his knees next to her he pulled the remains of her shirt away from the wound exposing her ruined breast and pressed his balled up shirt against
her to staunch the flow of blood flowing onto the ground around her. Emily howled in pain as Doug pressed the shirt hard against her chest. Garrett couldn't hear the words he was saying to her but by his tone he was sure that Doug was trying his best to calm his wife down and give her some measure of reassurance. There was nothing any of them could say at that moment, Emily was as good as dead and they all knew it. One look at her face and it was clear that was exactly the thought going through her mind as well. For just a brief moment Garrett entertained the thought of simply ending it for her right then and there. The physical and mental distress that husband and wife were about to suffer was only going to be a drain on the rest of them and possibly lead to more casualties. But listening to Doug's gentle sobs and words of encouragements for his wife he realized there was no way he could do it. Casting a glance back behind them he also saw that they were running out of time. The first of the zombies in the street had found a path through the snarl of traffic and were now racing at full speed for the footbridge into the park. He also saw that their numbers had grown to closer to forty and if they weren't all moving and behind secured doors in the next few seconds, Emily would not be the only one facing her mortality in a pool of her own blood in that little park. Stepping forward Garrett stood next to Doug and grasped him gently on the shoulder.

"Doug, help her up. We have got to get moving." He waited for the man to offer some argument about the rest of them continuing on without him. He was pleasantly surprised when he wiped the tears from his eyes, stood up and grasped Emily firmly by her arm to help her stand.

"Come on Emily. We need to get you inside right away. Maybe there is still something we can do." The statement was tinged with a sense of false hope, but Garrett understood its necessity in that situation. Doug recognized there was nothing that could be done for his wife and that pining over her situation there in the park would only serve to get more of them killed. The psychology of the condemned was something he had heard about but never witnessed in person. It had to do with casting aside common sense and grasping to some figment of hope no matter how impossible it may be. Marshalling all of her remaining strength, Emily pulled back against Doug's grasp and shot to her feet. She grimaced in pain as the wound on her chest opened even more from the sudden movement, blood spurting out from the sides of the already drenched shirt pressed against the bite.

While Doug helped his wife
get moving, Cameron took over assisting Kyle limp along towards the door. Garrett noted the fresh blood stains spreading across Kyle's midsection and realized that his wounds must have started bleeding again. Garrett didn't know if they could all make it through any more challenges. Reaching the entrance he pressed both his hands into the space between the doors and pushed with all his strength until they slid open enough for Miranda, Shellie and Cameron to reach around behind him grab the edges of the doors. With two of them pushing against each door they were able to slide them apart just enough for everyone to rush inside. The four of them then stepped through the opening and reversed the process pulling the doors closed behind them. The lobby of the physical therapy wing was in perfect condition without any indication that it had been exposed to the violence and mayhem that marked the outside of the building. Most importantly of all there were no bodies or signs of life. After a quick sweep of the exam and treatment rooms, Garrett directed Doug and Cameron into a room with several gurneys.