LZR-1143: Evolution Page 12

The wheels rose slowly from the cement ground as the next corpse stumbled into the belly of the helo, falling comically to the ground, seemingly confused.

  Through the glass of the cockpit, I saw the head of the unwanted stowaway peek out from behind the seat and lunge forward, mouth darting between the helmet and the shoulder. Over the radio, I heard the tearing scream that came next, a visceral pain followed by a wet, tearing cough. Then the static returned.

  The helicopter hovered ten feet into the air, and suddenly started yawing hard to the right. The nose dipped awkwardly to the ground and the blades tipped forward. I screamed, and turned around, taking Kate to the deck with me as the rapidly spinning rotor blades of the large helicopter tore into the cement. The metal grated against the hard concrete and shattered as the aluminum and steel body of the gray beast crumpled hard against the ground.

  The tail, still propelled by the rapidly spinning rear vertical rotor, spun around hard in a circle nearly parallel to the ground, grinding the nose into the pavement, and whipping the tail around like a rocket.

  I watched, breathless and stunned, as the tail slammed into the second helicopter as it was beginning to lift off, likely as Hartliss was realizing the danger of the crashing aircraft. He tried to pull up and rise faster, but there was no way to avoid the quickly spinning tail of the first, doomed bird. The tail rotor tore into the thin metal and spun through the tail of Hartliss’ craft, marching toward the main fuselage and cabin, tearing a thick gash into the skin of the aircraft.

  I saw Hartliss struggle at the controls as his helicopter whipped from side to side, even as a large group of creatures from the tower approached the scene. In one last valiant effort against the undead, I saw Hartliss grimace over the controls as his chopper spun out of control; he slammed the stick to the left, bringing his tail rotor around to, and through, the group of ten creatures wandering forward. Blood sprayed into the air momentarily before the tail met the crumpling and disintegrating form of the first helicopter, which was spinning and grinding against the concrete.

  I saw Hartliss turn to look over his shoulder once, and then the first bird exploded in a ball of fire and debris. Seconds later, the second helicopter followed suit, spraying debris and fire for hundreds of yards and vaporizing the group of creatures instantly. I ducked my head, and I could hear pieces of metal and concrete fly by like bullets.

  A searing hot pain sliced down my back as I covered Kate with my own body. Dirt and chunks of metal clattered to the ground, and I heard Peters curse loudly into the microphone.

  “Fall back ... building, I say again ... the building.”

  The radios were for shit, but I didn’t need to talk to realize that it was too late. The SEALs had stopped retreating when the choppers exploded, fearing the debris. Two routes were cut off, now, and the ghouls approaching from the tower would cut them off from the building before they could gain that ground. We scrambled to our feet, and I squinted in pain. My back was on fire, and Kate moved to look at it.

  “It’s a bad gash, Mike. We need to do something about it.”

  “No time,” I said curtly, gesturing towards the two fronts of creatures closing in. “We need to move.”

  “What about them?” she asked, pausing and staring toward the retreating sailors.

  I simply shook my head and grabbed her arm, dragging her after me. I wasn’t about to be the main course at this county fair. No deep-fried movie star on a stick. No sir. There was nothing we could do to help those men, and I had a hunch about the cargo plane with the open back door.

  “They’re on their own, we can’t help,” I said as I began to jog.

  She looked back as we ran, knowing my assessment to be true.

  The SEALs were in full-auto mode now, spraying into the crowd at head level, taking out multiple zombies with a thick suppressing fire. They sprinted toward the building, but they were cut off by nearly a hundred creatures that had flooded from the control tower. I spared one last look behind us as we approached the broken belly of the nearest C-5, whose cargo door stood open to the night air. The wind picked up and blew the smoke from the smoldering helicopters on the other side of the runway. The flames illuminated the SEAL team’s last stand as they formed a circle and fired into the approaching creatures.

  They shouted to each other as they fired, trying to concentrate and coordinate fire. But there were too many. They slowly backed into a tight circle, until they were touching. I heard the first automatic rifle sputter to silence, then the loud concussions of a reserve shotgun. More shots, then more silence. Loud blasts from more shotguns and pistols.

  The moans were loud in the night air, then louder over the radio as Peters transmitted one more missive.

  “Godspeed, folks. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

  Then, “Fire in the hole!”

  I turned around, not wanting to see what came next. Several grenades dropped at the same time, as the team simply evaporated in an explosion of fire and body parts. The surrounding creatures and the SEAL team alike exploded in red and brown mist as the second concussion of air in as many minutes assaulted our ears. We got to the open rear of the plane, even as the closest part of the horde marked our location, turning inexorably in our direction.

  I stood at the cusp of the open cargo bay door and squinted into the darkness. The vehicle sat, straps halfway undone, headlights shining off the reflection of my flashlight’s beam.

  Now the only question was, were the keys inside?

  It was dark, and my shoulder and back burned like wildfire. We stumbled to the front of the cabin and simply stared at the huge machine. A large pool of blood led to the forward area of the cargo bay, where a crewman sat crumpled against the bulkhead, throat torn out and spine shattered against the thick metal.

  Though halfway untied, two large nylon straps still clung to the stanchions on the metal floor. We instinctively moved to the releases and worked the hinged metal clasps until they loosened. I tore the strap loose, feeding it through the hinge until it broke free, listening as Kate did the same.

  I stood, turning toward the open cargo door at the rear of the plane as the first creature shambled into view, backlit by the glowing fires and fading floodlights. Across the cargo bay, Kate shouted, “Mike!”

  I heard the worry in her voice as her footsteps pounded around the front of the vehicle and she appeared next to me.

  In a soft whisper, she asked “Hartliss?”

  I shook my head, biting back the emotion. But there were bigger problems at hand. I held my finger to my mouth, and she nodded back.

  Two more followed the first. They approached the open door and stood, white and red eyes simply staring, as if waiting to hear us or see us before coming inside. We froze, holding our breath.

  Beside me, Kate released her breath slowly as they turned aside, walking past the open door into the darkening night beyond. The floodlights on the side of the tarmac were dimming, now, having exhausted the small reserve of emergency power triggered by the doomed SEAL team. I jerked the driver’s side door open quickly, planting myself in the driver’s seat and searching for the ignition.

  I had played a maniacal soldier in “Captain Crazy” seven years ago, and had done some filming in Fort Bragg. Among other things, it gave me a passing familiarity with bad food, guns and ammunition—albeit blanks—and military machinery. So when I saw the up-armored Humvee loaded up in the back of the plane, I knew we had found something special.

  The up-armored Humvee was a hardened version of the standard military Humvee, with thick steel armor on all sides, a large brush guard on the front, a fifty caliber machine gun in a three hundred and sixty degree armored turret, thick bulletproof glass windows, and large tires on a raised frame, so we had fewer concerns about dead bodies getting caught underneath or blowing a tire, and it moved quickly enough to outdistance a herd of those things.

  As I sat down, fumbling for the ignition and searching in the oppressive dark for any semblance of familiarity, fiv
e more creatures wandered into view behind us, staring up and into the plane with purpose. They heard the movement inside, and began to enter the plane’s large cargo bay.

  “Okay, jig’s up! Let’s go!” I spoke in a hushed tone, but urgently.

  Kate leapt into the passenger side as my hand flew to the locking mechanism. I shut the heavy door and it slammed against the thick housing. As I looked up as the door was closing, I flinched as I saw more than twenty more creatures stumble into view.

  I fumbled in the dark for a light switch to search for the ignition. Behind us, they had moved to the top of the ramp, stumbling momentarily on the uneven, dark flooring. I cursed as Kate stated the painfully obvious.

  “Uh...where’s the light switch?”

  Yeah, I was already on that, thanks.

  “I thought you were in charge of that,” I said wryly. Suddenly, the plane jerked downward, likely responding to the shifting weight, balanced as it was on destroyed landing gear, and sending the Humvee back against its chocks slightly and throwing us off-balance. Reflexively, I extended my arm to my side in a protective gesture, like a mother protecting a child from a sudden stop.

  My hand hit the fabric and flesh of Kate’s chest, and she looked down at my hand.

  I stared, wondering how it had gotten there.

  “That’s not a light switch, genius.” She was nice about it, but very efficiently moved my hand to the steering wheel.

  I could feel the blood rise to my cheeks and was thankful for the pitch black of the interior as I stammered an apology. She laughed as I listened to her move against the seat.

  “Don’t worry about it. Most action either of us have had in quite a while, I’d wager.”

  Again, thankful for the darkness, I nodded.

  “So you ever been in one of these before?” she asked, hopefully. “I’d hate to think you got me in here under false pretenses just for a grope, and now have no damn clue about how to drive our trapped butts off this plane.”

  I chuckled, glad to see she had her sense of humor back and wasn’t still acting pissed about earlier.

  “Yeah, I rode in these a few years back during one of my films. They’re hard on the ass, but they move like an armored bat out of hell and pack a good punch. We weren’t going to outrun that horde on foot, and I figured they’d be bringing a few of these in with the returning troops. Sand and bad roads are hard on these, and they have to cycle them through for maintenance fairly frequently. If I could find a little light, I think I remember where the ignition is.”

  Fumbling my fingers lightly across the controls in front of me, I searched for the ignition. I remembered watching the driver before, but it was a long time ago, and I had a tendency to drink copiously before doing my own stunts so my memory wasn’t what it should be.

  Three creatures had reached the rear of the vehicle, their rough, bloodied hands running over the hard exterior. They started pounding on the glass and steel as they moved forward, toward the front of the truck.

  “Any day now ...” Kate said, voice drifting off worriedly as she watched them approach in the rear mirrors.

  “Yeah, yeah. We should still be okay if we ... Got it!”

  The huge engine roared to life as the electronic gauges lit up.

  “Great! Now do you know how to drive it?” she asked, still staring at the mirrors.

  I smiled, looking at the hatch above my head leading to the fifty caliber machine gun on top and shaking my head.

  “Nope, but I’m not driving. You are.”

  Chapter 15

  She was still muttering under her breath as she played with the controls, bloodied hands now pounding ineffectually on the armored sides and glass of the vehicle. Ten more zombies had wandered into the cargo bay, and many more were approaching outside.

  When I told her that she was going to drive out of a crashed plane, over a passel of zombie bodies, and into the dark night, she was less than thrilled. But when I told her what my job was going to be, she calmed down slightly. Now she was reduced to calling me names under her breath while I made a last minute inventory.

  I wasn’t an expert with the gun—truthfully, I had only used them in the flicks, but I was fairly sure I could handle a machine gun well enough to plow down a few zombies. The crew of the plane had been kind enough to load it for me. In fact, the pile of spent shells beneath the turret indicated they had used it before bugging out, which left me with an armed and active weapon, ready to fire.

  The only catch was that the gun was external. Which means I had to poke my happy head into the night air and eyeball my targets personally.

  “You good?” I asked.

  “I think so. If I’m reading these controls right, I think I just need to release the brake. You ready?”

  “Yep. We can roll when you’re ready. Just remember, we gotta keep moving. Can’t have them hang up under the wheels.”

  “Okay...” she took a deep breath, exhaling loudly. “Just so you know, there are about a hundred of those things behind the plane now.”

  I took a breath, readying the gun and nodding. I turned the turret, watching them shamble into place and stunned anew at how very human and real they looked. Some of them, at least. But I had to remember, these things were just walking, moaning meat-sacks. They weren’t human, they weren’t sentient. They were just ... dead. And they were in my way.

  “What’s new?” I said. “Sounds like par for the course.”

  The engine roared and the reinforced tires grated against the metal floor of the plane. I drew the slide on the gun, and sighted the closest creatures at the foot of the ramp. The zombies inside were pounding on the sides of the vehicle, hands urgent and frenzied. Behind us, more than a dozen were shambling forward.

  Outside, the last of the flood lights had long since died, leaving the tarmac bathed in the light from the rapidly dying fires of destruction. The rain and wind still whipped against the ground and the bodies of the wreckage and the dead alike.

  Behind us, they pressed forward, more arriving as we reversed. They shambled forward, swaying ever so slightly, staring toward the vehicle. All eyes were trained on me; eyes lodged and swiveling out of dead, decaying bodies and tattered faces. The entire horde was moving slowly toward the plane, packed body to body.

  The Humvee tipped down slowly, and I yelled down into the cabin, worrying again as we moved into the crowd; even a powerful machine like this could get mired in bodies if we weren’t careful.

  “Step on it—we’re going to need to plow through with some speed. When we get clear of the plane, switch gears and go forward, under the left wing. They’re all coming from the right, and we have a clearer path on the opposite side!”

  I didn’t wait for a response. I looked up and tightened my grip on the machine gun. They were waiting for us, and I didn’t want to disappoint. I always liked to make an entrance. I pressed my fingers down on the handle of the gun and spit fire into the crowd.

  Almost as one, they moaned and surged forward, even as the hot lead blasted them backwards, taking off body parts and slamming them to the ground in droves.

  The Humvee accelerated sharply as I fired into the packed bodies. Chunks of flesh sheered off into the night air and heads and torsos exploded in red and brown mist. The confusion of the suppressing fire, which I shot to the right and left of our path—never directly in our way for fear that inert bodies were more of a roadblock—thinned the herd slightly, but enough to allow for the wheels to move cleanly against the tarmac.

  We cleared the back of the plane, and moved into the horde, bodies thick around the armored sides. I could hear wheels snapping bones and I listened to bodies get crushed against the cement, like the sound of ripe melons being pressed into the ground. There were many more here than I thought initially. Maybe more than three hundred already, and growing quickly. In the light of the moon and the Humvee’s running lights, I saw no end to them. Only bodies pressed against one another and more streaming toward us from the main buildin
g and the gap in the fencing.

  In front of the Humvee, to the left of the airplane, they thinned out, as I had suspected.

  I shouted down to Kate, and looked back up as the machine shuddered to a halt. Expecting to move forward, I braced myself against the side walls of the turret. From below, I heard Kate curse loudly.

  Around us, they moved in, clambering against the metal walls, hands slamming into our sides, managing to shake the heavy vehicle with their mass. Arms snaked across the unyielding brown armor. Teeth gnashed and hands smeared blood and other matter on the vehicle. I fired into the crowd again, pushing them back briefly.

  But when the gun went silent again, they moved forward.

  The situation was getting a little sticky.

  “Um, Kate? I think we need to move forward now.”

  I fired again, noticing the shortening length of the ammunition belt. I didn’t know if we had any more in the cabin, but I knew that if I left the turret once, in this crowd, I wasn’t coming back up again. They would swarm the top in moments. I started firing short bursts as the more aggressive creatures sought to climb on top of the vehicle. The bodies were so thick that they were virtually pushed forward onto the flat spaces.

  I fired again.

  And again.

  “I can’t fucking ... I think I stalled out! This goddamned ... I think this is ...” She was pounding on things below; I could hear her screamed curses and frantic voice. Then, finally, “There you are, mother fucker! I got you now!”

  The engine roared again, and the Humvee jerked forward.

  Then stopped.

  “Crap on a stick!” I heard her roar, wondering briefly at the absurd mental image that her vulgarity summoned.

  I fired into the crowd again, grateful for the brief movement forward which had crushed several creatures below the treads of the thick tires.

  I heard the metal clang behind me before I smelled the stench of death and I turned quickly, just as its head lashed forward for my neck. My pulse slammed through my neck as my hand shot up toward the rotting, bloody face of a middle-aged woman in a flannel shirt, the webbing of my palm between my thumb and forefinger striking her in the throat. I crashed back against the turret rim as the head detached from the body and my hand traveled cleanly through her spine and neck.