"You're an airline pilot, not a helicopter jockey."
The Canadian grinned. "Hey man, I can fly anything. Besides, I thought you didn't like DiMassi."
"I don't. He's a worthless, lazy, fat fuck."
"Him and Bates really went at it, huh?"
"Yeah. Can't say that I blame Bates. DiMassi took this baby up without clearance. If something had happened, we'd have been totally cut off."
Quinn grew quiet and concentrated on landing.
Steve pushed his headset microphone out of the way, turned on the bullhorn and raised it to his lips. He steadied himself and then leaned out the open door.
"ATTENTION. YOU ON THE ROOF. EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY. GET DOWN AS
LOW AS YOU CAN, AND WE'LL GET YOU TO SAFETY."
He shot a puzzled glance at Quinn.
"Why aren't they listening to me?"
Quinn sighed and shook his head.
"They think we're zombies. Happens all the time."
"Check on Jim," Frankie told Don as she bent over Danny. The boy was curled into a ball, his face contorted with pain. The helicopter drew closer.
Don dragged Jim's unconscious form away from the middle of the deck, afraid the zombies would land the helicopter on his friend, and brought him alongside Danny. He could barely make out two figures in the cockpit. The machine hovered directly over them.
"GET AS LOW AS YOU CAN," the voice repeated. "WE NEED TO DO THIS FAST."
Over the bullhorn, it was impossible to tell if they were undead or alive.
"Daddy?" Danny coughed, starting to awake.
"What happened to them?" Frankie asked.
Don shook his head.
"Daddy?"
"He's okay, sweetie. He's okay. Just lie still."
"Let's get them back inside," Don panted, pulling Jim toward the stairwell.
"Are you crazy?" Frankie shouted.
Don jabbed a finger at the helicopter. "How do we know those aren't zombies flying that thing?"
The stairwell door crashed open.
"We don't." Frankie clenched her teeth. "But they are."
Don spun around. The undead poured from the stairwell with weapons drawn, their pale and gray faces alive with glee. Then they saw the helicopter and stopped.
The voice on the bullhorn boomed.
"DROP!"
Frankie and Don ducked, shielding Jim and Danny with their bodies. Steve opened fire, strafing the zombies at head level. Craniums exploded like rotten vegetables. The remaining creatures fired back, then ducked inside the stairwell for cover.
"Guess that proves they're not zombies!" Frankie yelled. "Let's go!"
She pulled Danny toward the helicopter as it touched down on the roof in a cloud of dust. Don followed with Jim.
All four survivors were battered and bleeding, and for a second, Steve considered that they might actually be zombies. Then he saw the little boy gaze at the unconscious man, and knew better. Only a son could stare at his father with that much love. He helped the four aboard and got them situated.
Quinn sent the helicopter skyward just as the remaining zombies opened a second volley.
The thrum of the chopper's blades filled the cabin. Don and Frankie glanced around in confusion.
"Strap yourselves in," Quinn yelled, flipping up his visor. "It's gonna get bumpy."
He turned away from them and opened fire. The massive rounds shredded the zombies on the roof.
"Who are you people?" Don asked.
"My name is Luke Sky walker. I'm here to rescue you."
"What?"
The red-haired, freckle-faced pilot chuckled over his partner's gunfire and the roar of the rotors.
"Sorry. I always wanted to say that. My name is Quinn and this here is Steve."
"Where are you guys from? What's going on?"
"I'm from Brooklyn. He's from Canada. Like I said, we're here to rescue you."
"Clear," Steve said, and leaned back in his seat, breathless. He removed his helmet. "Whew-that was intense."
Lacking a headset, Don had to shout. "I don't understand any of this. How did you know where to find us?"
"For that matter," Frankie piped up, "how did you even know we were in trouble?"
"We didn't," Steve answered, reloading his rifle. "There was a big battle near the border of Pennsylvania and New Jersey earlier today.
Near Hellertown."
Startled, Frankie jumped in her seat, but kept quiet.
"We were sent out to look for survivors. We were on our way back when we saw zombies converging on the garage. We figured with that much activity there must still be somebody alive on the ground. Lucky for you guys we decided to investigate. You folks weren't involved in that, were you?"
Don shook his head. Frankie kept quiet.
Steve reached out and shook Don's hand. Then he reached for Frankie's.
She turned away.
"It's okay," Steve told her. "We're not gonna hurt you."
"She's had a bad day," Don said. "And she needs medical help."
"I understand." He smiled at Danny. "What's your name, little buddy?"
"Danny."
"Nice to meet you, Danny. I bet that guy there is your father, huh?"
"Yeah. How did you know that?"
"Because you look like him ... and because you remind me of my little boy, back in Montreal."
"Why aren't you with him now?" Danny asked.
"I-I got stuck in New York when everything happened. I was there on business. I don't know if he's ..." He trailed off and shook his head.
"You should go find him," Danny said. "My daddy came across five states looking for me."
"Five states, huh?"
"Yep." Danny counted them off on his fingers. "West Virginia, Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New Jersey."
"Wow." Steve's face turned sad.
"My head hurts." Danny rubbed his temples.
"I've got a headache too," Don said.
"That's our fault," Quinn replied. "Sorry about that. Looks like it knocked your father out completely."
"What are you talking about?" Frankie asked.
"Shit." Don pointed ahead of them. "Look at that!"
A massive cloud of dead birds swarmed toward them.
Frankie gripped the seat. "Oh my God."
"No sweat." Quinn grinned. "Watch this."
He flicked a switch and the birds began to drop from the sky.
"What the hell is that?" Don whistled.
"U.B.R.D., or Ultrasonic Bird Repelling Device. I can't tell you how it works, but it's saved my ass more than once. That's why your heads hurt.
Guarantee you the zombie's heads hurt worse, though."
"What's it do?" Frankie asked, kneading her scalp.