“Major Sam Warren,” the pilot said as Anderson exchanged salutes with him.
“Captain Rick Anderson. Sir, can I assume you are having radio troubles that you would need to land.”
“Let’s be blunt here, Captain,” Major Warren said. “We just bombed our own people, both military and civilians alike. I refused to move my plane, and my co-pilot was ordered by coded message to subdue me and take over the mission. He complied with his order long enough to move the plane out of harm’s way then turned command back over to me. Our Air Police have orders to arrest us the moment we land back at the 911th. I am afraid that under the circumstances my crew may be shot on sight. Considering that you are in the same boat as the people that were just bombed in Pittsburgh, I’d rather surrender to you, Captain.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that Sir,” Anderson said. “I have orders to quit this post and abandon the civilians. I was also instructed to kill anyone injured regardless of circumstances. I have no intention of following those orders, Sir.”
“Then what do you suggest, Captain?” Major Warren said.
“They’re going to line us up with a firing squad for sure Sir,” Anderson said. “We might as well make it a conspiracy. What about the rest of your squadron?”
“Grounded,” said Warren, “They headed home and have been ordered to re-fuel, re-arm, and stand by. We can decrypt through the jamming and we heard that there are some problems at the airside of the civilian terminal at Pittsburgh International. Supposedly, a few of the infected made it through security before they expired. The terminal is teaming with the undead. What’s your status here?
“Stable,” Anderson said. “The local government managed to get organized and form a militia to deal with the immediate problems. With what we brought them we could hold out here for months. The problem is we are concerned about what is going to happen to the nuke reactor to the West of us if things go from completely fucked, to no chance of survival fucked. By the way, that’s a nice plane you’ve got there. How many people does it hold?”
“Just under a hundred if we’re not carrying toys like your Stryker there,” the Major said.
###
“You wanted to talk to me, Rex,” Paul Sulla said as he walked up to Rex’s black truck.
Rex noticed that his old high school friend looked tired.
“You look like you need a nap” Rex said.
“Yeah,” Paul said, “I do. But I don’t think I’m going to get one, especially after I heard about that trouble you ran into a couple of hours back. Is there anything I can do?”
Rex looked over at Alison sitting with his wife inside the cab. “I think things are as calm as they can be for the moment,” Rex said. “I’m sure if we’re lucky enough, we might get to deal with the emotional aspects of this in the future. Let’s put that aside for now; I wanted you to meet someone. Paul, this is Mazie. She’s a med-student at a school down south. She’s the reason I wanted to talk to you.
“What about?” Paul said.
“Mazie may be able to help us,” Rex said. “I’ll let her explain it though.”
“I’m a 4th year med-student in Pikeville, Kentucky,” Mazie said. I was headed back to school for a seminar when I got sidetracked here. Well, Rex here was telling me about the problem with the radiation, and that we needed to find a place to bug-out to. Pikeville could be an ideal place to go off the grid.”
“I’m listening,” Sulla said.
Mazie continued, “Pikeville is smack dab in the middle of the Appalachian Mountains; it’s a two hour drive to the next biggest city or even an interstate. The population of Pikeville is pretty small. It’s a huge county, takes a little more than an hour to drive through on roads that wind through the mountains.”
“Can we fly in?” Sulla said.
“Yeah,” Mazie said. “They have an airport that sits on top of a mountain about 10 miles outside of town. There are only two roads that cut up the mountain to get to it, and there is nothing around it. The rumor is that the only reason they built it was to smuggle in drugs late at night. I’d say that they really put it there because someone in Washington needs votes from people in their district.”
Another man walked up to the conversation carrying some type of aviation book. “Rex,” Sulla said, “You remember Jack from the meeting earlier; we were going to meet to discuss where to run to. This will fit perfectly.”
“What did I miss?” asked Jack.
“Pikeville, Kentucky,” Sulla replied.
Jack opened his spiral bound book and flipped through the pages. “PBX is the Federal Aviation Administration designation for the airport,” Jack said. He ran his index finger down the page. “The weight limit may be a problem if we use that C-130. I am sure the pilots are going to have to consider this. The smaller planes here will have no problem; it’s even inside our maximum envelope of fuel.”
Twenty minutes later, Major Sam Warren and Captain Rick Anderson joined the conversation.
“That’s rugged country,” said Warren. “I’ve flown over those mountains; they are nothing to sneeze at.”
“What about the airstrip?” Jack said.
“Let me see the book,” said Warren. “Yeah, that weight limit is a problem. We for sure can land, but we may tear the runway to hell when we do it. Of course this other section of the field to the west looks like it’s not paved. We can land on grass or dirt if need be. I don’t see this as a huge problem, but I would like one of your planes to run a pass on the airstrip before we go. In relation to this, I have good and bad news.”
“Which is?” Sulla said.
“There are three other birds fueled and ready to join us at the 911th,” Warren said. “The bad news is there are zombies on the runway at Pittsburgh International. We don’t have to worry about the guards; they have bugged out on other planes. The squadron was ordered to move to Dayton Ohio to support Wright Patterson Air Force Base. The birds sitting there disobeyed orders because they want to help us. We’re going to have to figure out a way to clear the runway and get them off the ground.”
“Major,” Jack said, “Why don’t you use your gunship?”
“We dumped all our ammo killing zombies before we broke off mission,” said Warren.
“There are two life-flight helicopters sitting on the other side of the main hanger,” Jack said. “I don’t suppose you can fly one.”
“As a matter of fact I can,” Warren said. That’s what I do as a civilian for my day job.”
“So we fly some ground people in and shoot up the dead, drag them off to the side then fly out,” Jack said.
“Easy enough on paper,” said Rex.
“It’s a fenced-in facility,” said Warren. “So it might not be too bad till Murphy’s Law turns it into a nightmare.”
“Well,” Sulla said, “what do you think Captain Anderson? Should we put together a team to do this?”
###
The meeting had broken up hours ago with the decision to head out just before daybreak. Rex had moved his group to the other side of hanger two so his gear would be closer to the life-flight helicopters and a single engine Cessna that was to be used in the operation. Rex was sitting on the back gate of the black Dodge Ram cleaning an AK-47. Jack Cotta stood by the back of the truck petting his cat Naomi. Ginger, Alison, Donna, and Mazie stood by watching Rex clean the weapon.
Kimberly lay inside the truck curled into a ball. Rex hadn't heard the girl utter more than a couple of words since he brought her back from the field. Rex had expected her to disappear into the crowd of people at the airport, too ashamed to show her face. Instead, she seemed to have accepted Alison as having some authority over her.