Desolation (31 page)

 

Wayne laughed.

 

“Now that I don’t believe,” Wayne said with a smirk. “You’re a
liberal bitch when it comes to shit like that.”

 

“Keep talking shit, Wayne, and I’ll save a bullet for you,”
Jonathan said as he glared over at him.

 

Both men burst out laughing and then fell back into an uneasy
silence.

 

Andrew sat on one of the benches outside the cockpit and folded
his arms across his chest.

 

He looked over at the bulkhead door that led into the rear storage
compartment of the plane.

He felt guilty about locking Jerri in there but he really couldn’t
risk having her run around and blowing his cover. He tried to think of a
good way to smuggle her into the Capital but he had trouble keeping his
thoughts straight.

He had to deal with his own problems before he could deal with
hers.

Andrew closed his eyes and massaged his temples. He knew that
his infection was probably worse than he realized, but he also knew that
he wasn’t technically bitten so he stood a chance. All he really needed was
some strong drugs and he knew that the Capital could provide them.

He knew he would have to lie to get access to the drugs but in
the grand scheme of things fooling a few soldiers and doctors would be
child’s play.
He was too close and he had come too far to fail.

42

W
ayne stepped out of the cockpit scratching his flabby
stomach. Once a portly man, malnutrition and starvation had whittled
away at him and left large flaps of skin hanging off of his gangly frame.

He looked over at Andrew and frowned.

Andrew was slouched on the bench with his eyes closed. How
anybody could sleep through the rough ride was beyond Wayne’s
understanding.

Wayne walked over to Andrew and tapped his shoulder.
“Get up,” Wayne grumbled.

Andrew kept his head slouched down and his eyes closed,
unconscious. His clothes were soaked with sweat.

 

“Wake up!” Wayne shouted.

 

Andrew startled awake and erupted into a coughing spasm. His
gas mask instantly fogged with spittle.

Wayne stepped back in revulsion.
“Nasty son of a bitch,” Wayne grumbled, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew slurred through his mask. “Is everything
okay?”

“I just came to tell you to strap your ass down. We’ll be landing
shortly,” Wayne said. “We’re about ten minutes away and about to break
through the clouds.”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Andrew replied.

 

Wayne mumbled and shook his head and sauntered back into the
cockpit. He slammed the door shut behind him.

 

Andrew’s scattered thoughts turned towards Jerri.

“Shit,” he murmured. He was angry at himself for being so
sloppy and careless. Instead of napping he knew that he should have done
something about the girl. Never mind the corpse he left hidden in one of
the bathroom stalls; given Andrew’s scrambled feverish mental state, he
had forgotten all about it.

He glanced out one of the plane’s small circular windows and saw
that the sun was beginning to set.

He looked down underneath the bench he was sitting on and
stared at the empty green army duffel bags that were stuffed under the
expanse of the benches on both sides of the plane.

It was a sloppy hiding space but it would have to do.

Andrew forced himself off of the bench and stumbled towards
the cargo bulkhead door. He threw himself against the large locking bar
and slid it aside, coughing all the while.

The heavy door cracked open.

“Jerri,” Andrew whispered hoarsely into the dark room, trying to
peer through the shadows. He squinted but couldn’t get his eyes to adjust.
“Come out of there! I have to hide you. We’re almost there.”

There was no response.
He grew increasingly annoyed.

Just as he was about to step into the room, the cockpit door flung
open and Jonathan stared at him with a pale expression.

 

“You better come see this,” Jonathan said anxiously.

Andrew startled and spun towards the cockpit. He nodded and
pulled the bulkhead door shut again and made his way towards the
cockpit taking labored breaths, curious. In his haste he forgot to slide the
locking bar back in place.

When Andrew reached the cockpit he almost fell onto the floor
as a wave of nausea and dizziness overwhelmed him. He managed to
catch himself on the doorway and tried to steady his breathing.

Andrew walked up between the two pilot seats and stared down
at the ground below.

The shadowy remnants of Bismarck, North Dakota sprawled
across the land for miles. The few buildings that once composed
Bismarck’s skyline had been ravaged by artillery fire and were reduced to
decaying husks. Nature reclaimed the fractured city streets as vines
entombed the countless abandoned vehicles and encroached up the sides
of the vacant buildings.

A few miles north of the city Andrew spotted Camp 7.

The majority of Camp 7’s complex was composed of row after
row of featureless concrete tenements with an expansive monolithic
control tower centered in the middle. The tower was crowned with
antennas and satellite dishes. On the left side of the tower sat the dining
hall, a hospital, and the gallows. Running down the middle of the camp
was a runway complete with multiple aircraft hangers. A towering
concrete wall complete with guard towers and topped with triple rows of
razorwire encircled the entire complex.

The massive facility made Camp 6 look miniscule in comparison.

Just outside the camp’s walls stood two large grain silos adorned
with the FEMA logo and acres of wheat, corn, and other plants that
Andrew couldn’t make out. A series of irrigation piping covered the
seemingly endless fields and numerous tractors and farm equipment
peppered the landscape.

Andrew’s eyes welted with tears and his hands shook
uncontrollably. The Capital was everything he had hoped for.
“I did it,” Andrew said in awe, coughing. “I… I made it. I’m here.
Everything is going to be okay…”

Wayne cocked an eyebrow and looked up at Andrew. Curious as
to why the deranged man was so elated, he stared out the window in
apprehensive silence.

Vines had snaked their way up the sides of Camp 7’s derelict
perimeter wall and the guard towers appeared to have been abandoned for
quite some time. Moss and debris was ensnared in the rusty razorwire and
large sections of the wall had crumbled away. Aside from a few scattered
lights, the moldy concrete tenements looked dark and most of their
windows were shattered. Fire appeared to have gutted the massive control
tower standing in the center of the camp and the hospital looked
abandoned. The streets were piled with garbage and the light poles stood
askew, many toppled. The landing strip was covered with mud and most
of the hangers had collapsed in on themselves.

Outside of the camp, two empty weather-beaten grain silos stood
crooked and covered with mildew. Acres of dead fields, twisted irrigation
piping, and broken-down farm equipment covered the arid land.

The pilots stared in disappointment while Andrew’s eyes welted
with tears.

 

As the pilots contemplated their next move, the low-fuel alarm
started chiming steadily.

 

Begrudgingly, the pilots started the craft’s descent with sunken
expressions.

 

As the plane’s altitude lowered, a series of red runway lights lit up
the landing strip below, beckoning the plane closer.

 

“See? They’re waiting for us,” Andrew said, delighted.
Wayne and Jonathan exchanged an uneasy glance and fastened
their belts.

 

“Just…. go strap in,” Wayne told Andrew in a listless, defeated
voice.

 

A chill ran up the back of Andrew’s spine and his blood turned
icy as sudden realization dawned on him once more.

 

“
Fuck
,” Andrew cursed between his clenched teeth. He had to get
to the back and hide the girl fast. Coughing loudly, he spun around…
Jerri was standing there, waiting. In her hand she held the scissors
she had managed to take from the first aid kit.

Before Andrew could react, Jerri quickly brought the scissors up
against the side of his neck and pressed the blade into his skin just enough
to draw a bead of blood.

Andrew winced and quickly held his hands up in a sign of
surrender. He made no attempt to reach for his pistol.

 

“What are you doing, Jerri?” Andrew asked in a calm voice.
The two pilots turned towards the sound of the commotion and
their eyes widened.

 

Jonathan, the only pilot who was armed, quickly reached for his
holstered pistol.

“Don’t,” Jerri warned. “If you move another inch I’ll kill him.”
Jonathan froze.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Wayne asked Jerri, really wishing he
had a sidearm.

“Stay calm. She’s just a civilian I picked up from the camp. She’s
not going to hurt anybody. Just do what she wants,” Andrew said calmly.
He kept his arms raised with his open palms facing her.

“And you decided
not
to say anything about a fucking
stowaway?!” Wayne shouted.

 

“I promised her that I would get her to safety,” Andrew said
without taking his eyes off of Jerri.

 

“Imagine that,” Jerri said. She reached up and tore the gas mask
off of Andrew’s face.

His face was pale, soaked with sweat, and blood dribbled out of
both of his nostrils. The skin around his eyes was black and puffy. His lips
were ashen.

Jonathan and Wayne briefly looked at Andrew and couldn’t place
the face but didn’t really care; they had more pressing concerns at the
moment.

The craft, controls unattended, wobbled.

Wayne, hands shaking, turned his attention back towards the
controls with a focused intensity. He was determined to land and put an
end to the theatrics unfolding behind him, attempting to ignore the
altercation altogether and focus his attention where it was needed.

The plane steadied and continued its descent.

 

Jonathan left the flying to Wayne and kept his attention solely on
Jerri with his hand resting on his holstered pistol.

 

Andrew stared at her sternly.

 

“What’s this about, Jerri?” he asked, coughing. “What do you
want?”

“I want you to step out of the cockpit,” Jerri replied coldly. She
glared at the two pilots. “And I want them to keep this plane in the air!
Don’t land at the camp!”

Jonathan scoffed.

 

“You lost your fucking mind if you think we’re going to take
orders from you!” Jonathan exclaimed.

Wayne didn’t respond and kept his hands wrung tightly around
the yoke as the craft dropped altitude; his knuckles were turning white and
sweet beaded across his forehead.

Jerri stepped towards Andrew and pressed the blade deeper into
his skin, drawing more blood.

 

Andrew didn’t seem fazed.

 

“Step out and get out of my way,” Jerri ordered again. “I don’t
want to hurt you but I will if you don’t move.”

 

Andrew grinned at her, hands still raised.

“We both know that you’re not going to do anything,” Andrew
said. “Besides… we’re almost there so just stop with the charade and give
me the scissors before you end up getting hurt.”

“I’m not going to ask you again,” Jerri said as she kept the blade
pressed against him. Her hand was shaking.

 

Andrew lowered his arms some and broke out into a coughing
spasm, covering her face with spittle.

 

“Jerri… Stop,” Andrew said in a gentle tone. “Just stop. You
want to see Jacob again, right?”

Jerri scowled.
“You’re so full of shit,” she said bitterly.
Andrew frowned.

“Enough of this,” Andrew said. He snatched Jerri’s wrist and
squeezed tightly, pulling her hand away from his neck. He dug his fingers
into her skin and forced her to grip to loosen and made her drop the
scissors. “I tried to be gentle with you. I tried to get you to see reason but
you forced my hand. If you want to end up on the gallows then that’s
your choice.”

Jerri let out an agonizing cry as Andrew’s grip tightened around
her slender wrist.

 

“We could have had a new life together, you and I. But you just
had to go and fuck that up too didn’t you?” Andrew angrily spat.
Andrew stepped closer towards her and reached his other hand
up towards her throat…

As soon as Andrew stepped forward, Jerri reached for his pistol
with her free hand and pried it out of his holster. She pressed the pistol
barrel into his abdomen and fired four shots in rapid succession.

Jonathan quickly fumbled with his pistol as he tried to clear it out
of his holster.

 

Jerri pointed the gun out towards Jonathan and fired three shots,
striking him in the chest.

Jonathan flung backwards into his seat and sunk down as he
choked on his final breaths. He managed to pull his pistol out but quickly
dropped it to the floor as his grip fell limp and his eyes hazed over.

Wayne let out a terrified scream and kept his attention fixated on
the controls. Below the craft, the landing gear lowered as the plane made
final descent. The plane was moving too fast to safely land and Wayne
knew it; in his panic he didn’t care about the risks, he just wanted to hurry
up and get there.

The pistol shook in Jerri’s hands as she breathed short frantic
breaths. She pried her other arm free from Andrew’s weakening grip and
pointed the pistol at him.

“Get out!” Jerri said as tears blurred her vision.

Andrew stumbled backwards of the cockpit, nearly falling over.
He grasped his stomach with both hands and blood trickled out from
between his fingers. He coughed up a spurt of bloody bile as he stared at
her with sunken eyes, pleading, defeated, betrayed. He collapsed on the
floor and curled into a fetal position and lay motionless.

Jerri slammed the cockpit door shut and jammed the pistol
against the back of Wayne’s head, wiping her tears away with her forearm.
Wayne winced at the feeling of the hot muzzle.

The plane buzzed just a few feet off over the runway, going too
fast. Aluminum sheets and loose pieces of debris blew off of the roofs of
the hangars as the craft blazed by.