“Luckily, tomorrow will be a shorter flight, so we shouldn’t burn quite as much oil. Plus, we’ll have plenty of fuel left.”
“Let’s hope we won’t need it.”
“I give up,” Griz said from several feet away. He threw down the screwdriver.
“You were trying to pick a lock with a screwdriver?” I asked.
He rolled his eyes. “Aw, shucks. Why didn’t I think of that? I left my lock picking kit at home.”
He picked up the brick doorstop sitting by the door.
Clutch spoke. “Don’t break—”
Griz smashed the brick into the door. Glass shattered and shards fell.
“What are we going to use for a door now?” Clutch asked.
Griz shrugged. “You’re smart. Figure something out.” He reached through, unlocked the door, and peered inside. “Hello? Anybody home?”
After a long moment, Griz turned back to us. “Smells fresh enough.” He held the door open. “After you, my lady.”
“Why, thank you,” I said with a curtsy and stepped inside.
Griz must’ve been confident there were no dangers inside, or else he never would’ve let me go in first. Both Clutch and he were a lot alike. They always were the first ones to walk into danger.
Glass crunched under my books as I crossed the tiled floor and grabbed several sectional maps for areas I didn’t yet have. “This place is brand new,” I said. “Most small airport offices are falling apart.”
“There’s your oil,” Clutch said, pointing at a box by a display case.
“Well, that was easy,” I said. “I should’ve held back from making that promise.”
“Promise or no promise, it’s the right thing to do.”
I shrugged before testing the couch. “Ooh. Dibs on the couch.”
“Go ahead,” Griz said from the hallway. “I’m taking a recliner.”
I followed him into the pilot’s lounge where two leather recliners sat in addition to a workstation. After we checked the restrooms, we broke into the vending machines and stocked up on candy bars. I left the chips for someone else, as most chips tasted too stale anymore.
Ten minutes later, we’d each downed a soda and candy bars. No one had spoken for a while, and I had something to get off my chest. “Hey, Griz?”
“Yep?” he mumbled after tossing a handful of Reese’s Pieces into his mouth.
“What really happened to Hodge?”
His chewing paused for a moment before continuing. “He died.”
Clutch was carefully watching Griz.
“Did you kill him?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“But, you did have something to do with it,” Clutch said.
Griz shrugged. “There was someone who wanted him dead more than I did.”
I leaned back when the pieces fell into place. The last time I saw her, she’d seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. It had been so obvious, yet I hadn’t even thought of her. “Vicki.”
Griz didn’t respond, which was as much an affirmation as agreement.
After a while, Griz spoke. “We all wanted to do it. The bastard deserved it. She shouldn’t be punished for delivering justice.”
“She won’t,” Clutch said. “Hodge killed himself. End of story.”
“End of story,” I echoed.
“He begged,” Griz said. “When we let her at him, he begged like the pansy he was.”
“Good,” Clutch said.
I inhaled deeply. I wanted to find pleasure in Hodge’s death, but I only found retribution. It was good enough, and I took another bite.
Once we were full of food, we lounged around the office. It was cold in there and would be uncomfortable tonight, even with the small camp stove Clutch had brought along. But, it was better than flying at night and arriving at Moose Jaw in the dark.
I sat at the desk and perused the drawers for anything useful. In the drawer with pens and rubber bands, I found a key chain with a single car key on it. “Hey guys?”
“What’s up?” Griz replied.
“Either of you see a Dodge parked around here somewhere?”
“Yep. A nice Dodge Challenger was parked in back.”
I tossed him the key chain. “That must be their loaner car.”
Griz smiled. “Nice.” And he headed out the door.
A moment later, I heard a car start. My eyes widened. “I’m surprised it started.”
Clutch, who had been lying on my couch, sat up and rubbed his stiff shoulder.
Griz hurried back in. “Anyone in the mood to check out the area?”
Clutch pushed himself up with a grunt. “Not a bad idea. Any locals would’ve heard us fly in. It would be good to know what kinds of risks we might have to deal with tonight.”
I pulled my gloves on. “Let me lock the plane.”
Once I locked the plane doors, we all stood in front of the airport office, staring at the broken glass door.
“I told you not to break it,” Clutch said.
Griz held up a finger. “Hold on.”
He disappeared back inside, the sound of pounding and banging ensued, and Griz returned with a wood door with a
Ladies
sign on it.
I sighed. “What am I going to use now for privacy?”
“You can use the guys’ bathroom.”
I scrunched my face. “You know how disgusting guys’ bathrooms are?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he propped the door behind the other and pulled out some paracord. Once he had it tied onto the metal bar in the door, he took a step back and put his hands on his hips. Pride gleaned in his smile. “Problem fixed.”
Clutch narrowed his eyes. “I could sneeze and knock that door down.”
“I’d like to see you do better,” Griz said.
“Well, it’s enough that if any animals or zeds tried to get through, we’d know,” I said. “But, it sure wouldn’t stop a person with an IQ above forty.”
Griz blew us off and headed toward the car. I climbed into the backseat, and enjoyed being chauffeured.
Griz played it safe, carefully plowing through snowdrifts. He stopped after we made a full circle of the airport.
“I could get used to this,” I said, enjoying the quiet. We saw only a few animal tracks and no zed tracks. No tire tracks besides ours. Out here, it felt as though we were the only ones left in the world.
“Let’s check out how many tracks there are at the edge of town,” Clutch said. “It’s close enough to the airport that it could be a problem.”
Griz agreed. “My thoughts, too.”
I enjoyed the view and heated air as Griz weaved down roads toward the town.
“Stop,” Clutch commanded.
Griz hit the brakes. “What do you see?”
Clutch pointed to the right. “See those soccer fields over there?”
I slid across the seat to look out. The fields were still a half mile away, but something wasn’t right about them. Instead of open fields, tall fences enclosed rows of white trailers lined up like they would be in a RV park. Griz drove toward the soccer fields, and I watched as we approached the fields. Zeds—at least a couple hundred—stood around. Reinforced fences surrounded the fields.
As we approached, no zeds moved, but I sensed their gazes upon us. “There are so many of them.”
“They’re frozen,” Clutch said.
Griz brought the car to a stop not far from the fields. “This must’ve been a FEMA camp set up during the outbreak. It did a good job at containing them. The fences are still standing.”
“Not quite,” I said, and pointed to a place in the fence where a tunnel had been dug under. Dirt sat upon snow. Inside the fence, streaks of brown zed sludge stains led to the tunnel. Two large dogs were yanking at a frozen zed in a morbid game of tug o’ war. The zed had no face—it had already been torn off by the dogs. When the zed fell, the dogs continued to pull. One fell back with its prize: an arm. The second dog soon followed with the other arm.
They carried their “food” back to the fence and crawled under. When they crossed the road, they paused to look at us. Deeming us no threat, they continued away from town, one of the dogs dragging the leash still connected to its collar.
“Wow,” was all I managed to say after the dogs disappeared.
“It’s like a deep freezer full of beef for them,” Clutch said.
Griz chuckled drily as he turned the car around and started back toward the airport. “Now, that’s the definition of irony.”
“How so?” I asked.
“Zeds hunted the dogs. Now, the dogs hunt zeds.”
Nothing about this felt ironic. It felt sad. Beloved pets had been abandoned and forced to do awful things to survive. They weren’t much different from us, I suppose. We’d done some pretty awful things in the name of survival, too.
I noticed Clutch was eying me, and I tried to give him my “I’m okay” look.
But, it was hard to fake it when I knew we were nowhere close to being out of the woods yet.
Chapter XXIII
After a cold night, we were anxious to sit in a warm airplane as soon as the sun rose the following morning. The Cessna lifted off the runway easier today, with less weight than when we’d taken off in Nebraska yesterday morning.
Clutch checked the airplane’s clock. “We have under three hundred miles left, so we’ll be there in roughly two hours, give or take.”
“We’ll have to be careful when we get close to Moose Jaw,” I said. “We know they have an operational air force, and I’m not sure how they are at welcoming other folks flying into their airspace.”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Griz said.
Clutch dialed in numbers on the radio. “The radio’s set to the frequencies listed on the map. If they’ve changed them, we won’t have any way to know unless they’re transmitting them.”
When we were one hundred miles out, Clutch began to transmit our intention and location on the radio. When we were fifty miles out, someone responded.
“806 Romeo Bravo, this is Wing 15. Squawk 1219.”
Clutch read back the instructions and set our transponder to 1219 so they could track us. When we were only ten miles out, the tower fed us landing instructions, which we followed to a T. When I was on final, I could hear Griz praying in the backseat, and I shot him the bird quickly before focusing on my landing.
Fortunately, for my ego and our well-being, this landing was spot on. When I pulled off the runway, the tower directed me where to go next.
“806 Romeo Bravo, take taxiway Alpha to the FBO.”
I taxied toward a large hangar bearing an Air Force sign. A man jogged onto the ramp and flagged me to park at a location not far from the hangar.
“806 Romeo Bravo, cut your engines and stay in the plane until you are authorized.”
I smirked. “We’re the only plane with its engine running. It’s not like they need to keep using our N-number.”
“Guess they want to stay in practice,” Clutch said.
Once we stopped and I cut the engine, I turned to Clutch. “We made it.”
He smiled. “Thanks to you.”
I couldn’t help myself, and I leaned over and kissed him. “And thanks to my navigator.”
“Don’t forget me,” Griz said. “It was my praying and good luck that got us here safely.”
I laughed. “Thank you, Griz, for getting us here.”
The flagger approached, and I opened my door to talk with him.
He had a wide smile. “Welcome to Wing 15. We don’t see many planes that aren’t based here. You can step out and stretch if you need, but please wait by your plane for another minute or two. Our official welcome wagon is on its way.”
After a quick glance to each other, we climbed out with our gear, weapons sheathed, and I grabbed the cooler. We stood together. Clutch and Griz stood tall, tense, and still. I fidgeted, waiting to see what came next.
A black SUV came speeding toward us. I found myself shiver, not from cold, but from nerves, as the vehicle came to a stop only ten feet away. The front passenger door and two back doors opened, and three men stepped out, two of them holding machine guns. The third man, a younger one of perhaps twenty or so, walked over to us and smiled. “I’m Peter. Welcome to Moose Jaw, the capital of the Provinces of North America.”
Chapter XXIV
Peter escorted us into the large hangar where several military jets sat. His armed guards followed ten feet behind us. They had allowed us to keep our weapons, though a machete against a rifle wouldn’t exactly be a fair fight.
I knew Clutch and Griz were as on edge as much as I was. We were in a new place, surrounded by unknown people.
Armed
people. And, these people were currently in control.
Despite Clutch and Griz’s cool demeanors, I’d bet they were ready to jump into action the instant these people turned hostile. I knew that if they thought anything was off, they’d let me know. They always seemed to know how to handle these situations. I felt much safer that they both came along on this mission.
Peter talked as he led us through the hangar. “Most newcomers are found by our recon teams and brought here. It’s pretty rare to have folks fly in here themselves.”
“We’re from New Eden, in Nebraska,” Clutch said.
Griz added, “New Eden’s radios were knocked out. Otherwise, we would’ve called ahead.”
“I’m glad you came,” Peter said. “We’ve been worried that something happened to New Eden. We had planned a trip down there, but mechanical issues have been grounding our drones, and fuel for manned flights has been restricted to training and high-priority missions only.”
“We have time-sensitive material to get to an expert ASAP,” Clutch said.
Peter held up his hand. “Aline already knows you’re here, and I’ll get you to her as soon as I can. I’m not trying to be a bottleneck, but we have protocols to follow. Before I can bring you into the capital, you need checked for bites or any signs of infection. Don’t worry, we’ll get you to the people you need to see.”
Behind the jets stood a makeshift room built with plastic and tarps. Peter motioned to a person wearing blue rubber gloves. “Mason has done this a thousand times before. It doesn’t take long if you do as he says. I’ll take you into the capital after you pass inspection. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll need to get time slated on Aline’s schedule so you can meet with her today.”
“Who’s Aline?” I asked.
Peter smiled. “Oh, Aline Palvery is the President of P.N.A., the Provinces of North America.”