Anderson locked eyes with Rex, “We shouldn’t have to go into the airport, but you better take Rex with you just in case. Sulla you’re with me.”
“I’m afraid I’ll to go with Rex,” Sulla said. “His little clan of Amazons pulled me aside this morning and accused me of getting him into this. If he doesn’t come back, it might not go well for me,” Sulla joked. “Besides,” he continued, “we’re old friends, I want to be there if they run into trouble.”
Anderson nodded, “Fine, now let’s liberate some planes.”
“All right,” said Winters, “you heard the man. Let’s move.”
Rex fell into place to the left of Sulla as they headed off down the taxiway in the direction of the airport parking lot at the far end of the runway.
Pittsburgh International was laid out around a central hub with four concourses extending out from the center. On their right in the distance, the end of B concourse extended out at them.
“Sulla, did the girls really talk to you this morning?” Rex said.
“If that’s what you want to call it,” Sulla replied, “I came out of the shitter this morning to find your wife and that girl you pulled out of the body bag waiting for me with guns pointing at my head.”
“Maybe we should have brought them,” Winters said.
“Ginger was pretty torn up with the loss of her parents,” Rex said. “I think she’s dealing by trying to make a new family with the people we picked up.”
"You’re going to have your hands full with the two of them," Sulla said.
"Sounds like the girl you picked up is getting all doe eyed on you," Winters said. "I've seen that stuff play out on deployment. A guy and a girl go through hard times together, and the next thing you know, they’re fuck buddies."
"Oh shit, we're fucked," said Callen.
The group had walked out past the end of the concourse gates to the space between it and the next arm of gates. A US Airways jet, sitting on the end of the concourse coupled with a jet way, had blocked their view inside the massive opening. Past the obstruction they had walked into view of the undead.
An entire window section of the concourse had been shattered at some point in time during the airport being overrun. A food service truck marked, "Meal Wagon," sat coupled to the front of an aircraft it had been servicing. A mass of undead surrounded the truck beating and pushing on the vehicle. A man stood on top of the truck waving and screaming at them.
"Hey, over here." The man screamed. "Please help me."
"He's a little more fucked than we are," said Kovalcik.
"They must have somehow come through the plane," Sulla said.
"There is a section of the concourse windows smashed out in front of the truck," Rex pointed out.
"Unlucky bastard," Winters said, "Must have seen him from the inside and blown the window out when there was enough of them."
"How the heck did we miss this from the air?" Callen said.
"Sun was just up," Winters said. "That area was in a big dark shadow at the time. Let’s get back into cover and get the rest of the group. There is no way in hell we can tango with that many."
Down the runway behind them, automatic weapons fire broke the silence of the moment and rattled out. The noise turned every head in the mass of undead assaulting the truck.
"Oh shit, they see us," Callen.
"Why didn’t they come out with all the gunfire before?" Kovalcik said.
"There was nothing to see then," Rex said, "Now they’ve got something to look at other than Mr. Meal Wagon."
The closest zombie took its first step in the direction of the group; behind it, hundreds followed.
"We can't go back, they’ll follow us onto the runway," Sulla said.
"Get ready to fire," Winters ordered.
"We can't shoot," screamed Rex while he pointed at a fuel truck sitting to their left.
"I know what to do," Sulla said, "Follow me."
“I should have stayed back with all of that estrogen,” Rex breathed to himself while he ran down the taxiway.
Sulla ran in the direction of the end of the next concourse away from a horde of hundreds ghouls. This also had them running in the general direction of the fuel truck.
“What the fuck are you doing, Sulla?” screamed Winters. “That’s the fucking fuel truck we are running at.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Sulla replied, “Just keep running, and get your ass around the corner of the concourse.” Rex noticed for the first time that a section of the concourse they were running at was jammed full of dead. The glass shattered under their pounding and bodies spilled onto the pavement like water. One by one, the dead picked themselves up off the ground and joined the chase.
###
Anderson had a bad feeling, as he made his way down the runway in the direction of the 911th. The base shared the runways with the civilian airport. He had tried to radio the C-130s sitting on the tarmac, and his answer was silence.
He approached the planes with his men to his right and left in a skirmish line formation. They walked past the planes and approached the corner of the nearest hanger. Anderson and his men rounded the corner and saw the flight crews standing in a line shoulder-to-shoulder facing in the opposite direction. Behind the flight crews were 5 soldiers with military police bands around their arms. They were pointing guns at the flight crews.
“There they are, Captain,” one of his soldiers said. “What the heck?” In unison, both prisoners and guards turned toward Anderson.
A Major stepped out from behind the guards and three of his men followed the Major as he approached Anderson. “Captain,” said the Major, “Do you want to explain to me who you are, and why you are here?”
“I'm Rick Anderson, Pennsylvania National Guard out of Butler.”
“Sir,” Anderson asked, “Why are you detaining these men?”
“These men abandoned their duty, Captain. Are you associated with them?” he asked as he continued forward.
Anderson avoided the question, “I’m afraid I need their services to evacuate some civilians.”
The Major stopped and reached for his holstered side arm, “Shoot them,” he ordered the military police.
Anderson brought his own gun up as he dropped to the ground. He squeezed the trigger and hit the Major in the stomach, but the Military Police were already firing on him. Anderson didn’t feel the bullets as they tore through his chest, but their impact knocked him over on the ground. Anderson’s men had their own weapons firing and both groups shot at each other at point-blank range.
Anderson thought about the gunfight at the OK corral as he struggled to bring his weapon back up. Bodies dropped all around Anderson, but two of his men were left standing.
The flight crews had dropped to the ground leaving the other two Military Police to have a clear shot at Anderson’s group. They raised their guns and rained automatic weapons fire killing his last two men.
A man hobbled out from behind a building behind the last two MP’s. The man wore the blues of a Pittsburgh City Police officer and he carried a shotgun. The man also looked badly burned.
The cop pointed the shotgun at the nearest MP and pulled the trigger. The buckshot tore into the shoulder and face of the MP, killing him instantly. The other soldier turned and fired at the cop who was in the middle of pumping another round into the chamber.
The cop fell on his back, but managed to raise the weapon again and fired. The MP fell over and ceased moving.
A flight officer got up and seized an M-16 off the nearest dead MP.
“Grab their weapons,” he ordered.
Anderson opened his mouth to talk, but found he couldn’t breathe right. His voice gurgled as his lungs filled with blood.