“We saved you all spots,” Lederman said. “Ready when you are, sir.”
Anderson nodded. “Fine, everyone load up. Sergeant Denson, a word.”
He waited until the others were out of sight, then unslung the rifle from his back and handed it to the sergeant. “Make good use of it.”
“I will sir,” said Denson, holstering his sidearm and taking the rifle. “Thank you, Captain. For everything.” Holding the rifle in the crook of his left arm, he stood to attention and saluted the captain. “It’s been an honor.”
Anderson returned the salute. “I’m getting real tired of saying goodbye, Sergeant.”
Denson grinned. “Then don’t, sir. Old soldiers, and all that. Except I’m going out with a bang. Or several. Get those people home, Captain.”
“Count on it.”
Denson took a deep breath, set his rifle in the ready position, and moved off into the jungle without a backward glance.
Anderson shook his head and whispered, “Godspeed.” He watched until he couldn’t see the young sergeant anymore, then walked over to the delivery truck and climbed up into the passenger seat. Gaines glanced over, a single eyebrow raised, and Anderson just shook his head.
“Shame,” said the Georgia native, and put the truck into gear. “I liked that guy.”
Me too, Gunny
, thought Anderson.
Me, too
.
The trip to the airport—
back
to the airport, for some—took a lot longer than Anderson had hoped, but not longer than he had expected. The overgrown and clogged roads were a problem, forcing them to stop and hack at weeds and trees that had grown up around and even through abandoned vehicles and other debris. More than once, they had to backtrack through side streets to go around blockages of the larger roads, and some of these smaller byways had been washed out or eroded after more than a decade without regular maintenance.
“How in the hell did you get these trucks through before, Gunny?” he asked.
“We didn’t, sir. We picked ‘em all up on the outskirts as an afterthought. Figured it’d be easier than trooping all these folks through jungle.”
“Good thinking.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Of course, walkers were also a constant presence on the trip, as the trucks could not be made silent, or even quiet. The soldiers standing guard in the beds of the trucks, or, in the largest truck’s case, on the roof, were firing at walkers continuously.
An Indian scientist, tired and not paying enough attention, was dragged from one of the trucks by a walker that had been hidden by a large burnt car. The poor man lost his balance to the grasping and pulling zombie, and tumbled out of the truck, falling to the road. The walker was on him before anyone could react, and his screams were only silenced after a well-placed shot by Gaines, who had taken a turn atop the delivery truck as Anderson drove. After that, the rest of the scientists huddled close together, out of arm’s reach from the monsters waiting to rip and tear.
Exhausted, the convoy finally made it to the airport, where the soldiers were able to pick off their long trail of zombies quickly as the pavement allowed them to circle the proverbial wagons. Soon, they’d dispatched all the walkers, and Anderson climbed down from the delivery truck’s cab to move around to the rear. Mahoney was talking with one of the soldiers, pointing to the crashed 747.
“I’ll need to see it up-close and personal before I can say for sure, but I think if we can find some of the rescue equipment we can move it off the runway,” he said as Anderson walked up.
“Oh? It looks pretty bad to me,” the captain said, glancing over at the crash. The 747 had come to rest with one wing crushed and bent against the ground and the body of the plane tilted to the left. The plane’s right wing pointed skyward at a forty-five degree angle, with the right landing gear completely off the ground.
I wonder how it stayed that way for so long? Surely, it should’ve rusted out or collapsed by now
.
“Nah, not really. Look, you can see the nose gear is still mostly intact, and the whole thing is just about to go back to level, if only the left wing was cut off. If we can find some of the bigger rescue equipment—fire trucks and such—we might be able to just tow or drag it off to the side. Hell, if worse came to worst, we could just push it right off the edge into the ocean.” He leaned back against the truck. “No, the problem will be getting the other planes ready to fly, first.”
Anderson folded his arms, determined to get his people home. “Just tell me what you need, Chief.”
Mahoney thought for a moment. “We need to find out if there
is
any rescue equipment around, and if so, what kind of shape it’s in. If it can’t be fixed, then we’ll need to come up with a completely new plan. If there
is
workable rescue equipment, we’ll need to find a welding torch and propane, so we can cut through the wing of the plane. But first, let’s go take a look at these other planes, see if they’re at all useful.” He took a step toward the waiting planes, then wavered, and fell back against the truck’s side. “I might need a ride, sir. Looks like the crash took more out of me than I thought.”
Anderson grinned. “No problem. Let’s get the civvies situated first, then we’ll take a look at your planes.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Sergeant Gaines!” Anderson yelled, and a moment later the soldier trotted up. “Gunny, I need you to secure the terminal. We’ve got to have a defensible place for these folks.” The Pago Pago International Airport terminal was, for lack of a better word, small. “Once that’s done, get ‘em all inside, and keep ‘em there.”
Gaines nodded and took off, picking a few men to go with him.
Anderson chose one of those left behind. “Eller, see if you can find any mechanics among the survivors. Particularly aircraft or vehicle mechanics. If there are any, have them report to Mahoney. He’ll need them.” As the soldier moved off to interview the survivors, Anderson turned back to Mahoney. “How long you figure we’ll be here, chief?”
Mahoney glanced up at the captain, shielding his eyes against the bright afternoon sun. “At least three days, Captain. If everything goes well.”
Anderson sighed.
No way in hell
that’ll
happen. We’re going to need some supplies,
he thought as he looked around.
Still, at least we’ve got a plan, now
.
As Mahoney had guessed, the wreck of the 747 was not as difficult to clear as they’d first thought. The broken wing had been almost rusted through already, and with their find of the rescue equipment in good shape—excepting only tires that needed filling from some generator-driven pumps they’d located—they were able to break the wing and push the wreckage into the ocean. In the end, it had come down to a volunteer group of survivors jumping up and down on the broken metal of the wing, since they hadn’t been able to find any welding equipment or even so much as a hacksaw. With only three jumps, however, the tortured metal gave way, and the survivors, jumping on the outer wing portion, had fallen backwards, tumbling down the wing with only minor scrapes and bruises. The plane creaked once and then slammed into the dirt and concrete, the sound loud enough to send their patrols to scout for walkers attracted by the noise.
Since they’d been unable to find any chains or other devices to tow the plane’s carcass, they had simply decided to push it. The airless tires of the plane were mostly shredded and gone, and the landing gear threw a few surprising sparks as it squealed and scraped across the runway. The resistance of the plane caused serious damage to the fire equipment, but eventually they moved the plane far enough that its weight caused it to tip and finally fall gracelessly into the ocean, leaving just enough room for its sister to take off in its place.
The inventory of the other planes was not quite so successful.
“We’ve got two planes that have a reasonable chance of being repaired to useful duty, sir,” said Mahoney during what passed for their lunch on the second day. “There’s a Gulfstream, can’t quite see it from here, it looks like a private plane for somebody—some rich guy, judging by the interior. That’ll hold about twenty, twenty-five if they’re friendly. Then there’s that other 767, there.” He pointed to the large plane with the faded orange and purple logo of Hawaiian Airlines on the tail. “She’ll hold about two hundred fifty folks, though that’s pushing it. I’d recommend we fix both, sir.”
“Why’s that?”
“Well, for starters, it’ll be good to have a spotter plane, something that can go lower and check out the runway in Hawai’i. And, it’ll give us more room on the big plane. Cramming another thirty people in there would be rough, sir. Especially with the injured.”
Anderson grunted. “Good point. So, how long?”
“Three, maybe four days. I’ll do what I can to cut it down.”
“Good. Just let me know when they’re ready.”
Two days later, Anderson was in a briefing of sorts, sitting in the shade outside the terminal. He’d been in hotter weather plenty of times, and the breeze coming off the ocean was cool for once, so they’d decided to do their daily rituals outside. After the terminal had been secured a few days prior, he’d asked Gaines to do some quick scouting around the airport, looking primarily for food, but also for any other useful supplies. The scouts had managed to find some canned goods that didn’t look too rusted or bent, but he wasn’t willing to take that risk just yet. Botulism was nasty, and there wasn’t exactly a hospital close by.
Zavrazhny was sitting quietly, staring out into the ocean with a grim look on her face. Anderson couldn’t blame her. She’d seen a lot in these past few days. He was still wondering about that perfect double-tap kill, though. .
Zavrazhny’s ever-present shadow, the tall Swede, was a few feet away, his back to a young tree and his eyes closed.
Anderson was trying to concentrate on Eller’s patrol report when Mahoney pulled up in one of the trucks. The chief sauntered over, sighing with relief as he took a place near Anderson in the shade.
Eller broke off and glared at Mahoney, who paid not a whit of attention to the younger man, just closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Sweat ran down his face and neck; he’d been hard at work while the rest of them were taking their ease. Anderson would’ve felt somewhat embarrassed, but he’d long ago grown out of such juvenile responses. What was, was. There was no sense in being embarrassed about it.
“Good news, Chief?” Anderson asked, tossing the man a bottle of water when he opened his eyes. “Lukewarm, I’m afraid. As ever.”
Mahoney just grinned. “Better than nothin,’ Captain,” he said, taking a long drink and smacking his lips. “Just what the mechanic ordered.” He wiped his mouth with the back of a grimy hand and coughed. “The G4’s ready to go, sir. Herrick’s taken the boys over to help with the 767. Should be done with it tomorrow.”
“Good. Let’s start getting the supplies loaded—”
“I’m afraid I have something else in mind, Captain,” said Zavrazhny, stepping forward with a pistol pointed at the mechanic’s head.
Eller tensed, about to tackle her, but Anderson put out a hand to quiet the soldier. “Everyone will stay exactly where they are,” he said, not taking his eyes off the Russian’s. “No one will so much as breathe hard.”
“Good orders, Captain. I would hate to have to kill this man,” said the tall woman.
Anderson didn’t believe her for a second.
The real question is how did she get behind him without me noticing? Without any of us noticing?
Without turning his head, he glanced around for the Swede.
And where the hell is her friend? Frank, old buddy, you’re gettin’ slow in your old age
.
“Everyone stay calm,” he said, including Tatiana in his order. “We can work this out.”
“You are right, we
can
work this out. It is quite simple, really.” She motioned for Mahoney to stand up, and he did. She wrapped an arm around him, shielding her body with his against any shots to come in from the soldiers. But rather than put her gun to the side of her hostage’s head, she instead used the arm she gripped him with to hold the gun below his chin, pointed up.
She definitely has training. One stumble, and Mahoney’s dead
, Anderson thought.
Gotta keep everyone cool.
“What do you want, Tatiana?”
“You will fuel the small jet, and put the supplies inside. Then I will leave. Only when I am on the plane will I release the chief.” She thumbed back the pistol’s hammer. “Or, I will shoot him and blow up your big plane. And then shoot you.”
“Blow up the plane? And maroon everyone here? Including yourself? You’re not that stupid.” Anderson looked at her a bit more closely—at least, what he could see of her past Mahoney—and noticed she was shaking. Whether that was her or Mahoney, though, was impossible to tell. Either way, she was clearly desperate, and had just been waiting for the plane to be ready.
“You would be surprised, Captain, what a single grenade can do to a jet’s fuel tank, and how easy it is to make one into a bomb. And a radio-controlled bomb, as well.” With her free hand, Tatiana pulled one of the AEGIS radios from her pocket, her thumb hovering over the push-to-talk switch. He couldn’t see the frequency setting from where he stood, but obviously it wasn’t set on their current frequency, or the bomb would have gone off already, with all the radio chatter. Slowly, Anderson raised his hand to his own throat mic, and spoke quietly. “Anderson to all personnel. Radio silence as of now. No exceptions.”
Zavrazhny smiled. “So, you are a cautious man. I like this. No sudden moves, yes?” She pushed the gun up under Mahoney’s chin hard enough to make him gurgle, and began backing him toward the truck he’d arrived in. “Now, we are going for a little ride. And I think you will be coming with us, Captain.”
“Like hell I will.”
“Then to hell I shall send your mechanic—”
“Fine!” growled Anderson as he began stepping towards the truck. “Just… take it easy. No one has to die today.”
“We shall see, Captain,” said the woman. “We shall see.”
Chapter Twenty