Day by Day Armageddon (7 page)

  We made it to the front, and just as I thought, a welcoming committee was there to greet us. I stood and counted thirty of them. John climbed through the window over the driver's seat and I did the same and sat driver. I started the ignition and rolled up my window. We would have been in a pickle if we hadn't wedged the H2 inches from the open door to the store. As we pulled out into the parking lot, I lost all care and just mowed them over. John was busy pulling the stickers and tags off his new Remington.

  It was time to find shelter, as the sun was starting to get low. We got on the service road along 1-35 north and started to look for a spot to shy. I recommended lo John that we find a semi-sale spot and just sleep in the Hummer. He agreed and joked, "The motel six isn't exactly open anyway."

  I kept driving, until we reached a small town called "Kyle" just south of Austin. There was a sign that read, Kyle, Texas "Welcome Home." That was when I noticed the spot. There was a large hay field with a fence around it, and no sign of any of those things shambling wound. I pulled into the drive and picked up the t-handle that held the gate in place. Motioned John to switch seats and pull through so I could secure the gate again. We pulled the Hummer in between four round bales of hay. The bails covered up the sides of the vehicle so I hat if anything approached, it would have to do so from the front or the back. John and I made sure all doors were locked, and John went to sleep. It's 2330 now, so I suppose I should do the same.

  John and I awoke at 0615 this morning to the sound of a rooster crow in the distance. I started the H2 up and pulled out from between the hay. We pulled over to the gate, and looked down the load in the direction that we came. There were a lot of them in the distance. Couldn't tell if they were heading our way. Could it be possible that they heard our vehicle and were following the sound this far? I hope not.

  We arrived at the outskirts of Austin, TX at 0705. The smoke was almost unbearable. Visibility was only at around a hundred yards. Every now and again when the wind would blow just right, I could catch a glimpse of the taller buildings in the distance. One of them looked like a torch, as its tip was burning brightly. To the right, I could see what looked like an airport air traffic control tower. John and I took the next road to the right toward the tower.

  We made it to the outer perimeter fence. It was a small private airport, with a few Cessna aircraft, and two small jets sitting inside open hangars. A section of the fence was destroyed, so we drove right up onto the tarmac. We surveyed the area, and didn't see any immediate danger. I tied off a rope to the front nose wheel of one of the Cessna 172 (picked out the best looking one), and opened the cockpit door. To my surprise, sitting in the passenger seat, 1 found the aircraft pilot's kneeboard, flight computer and chart.

  I climbed in the cockpit and yelled at John to take it slow and easy, and to pull us over to the refuelling station. I shut the door and concentrated on the checklist, so that I could turn the aircrafts electrical system on and check the gauges for fuel or anything out of the ordinary. Every few seconds I felt the aircraft tug, as John towed the aircraft and I to the pumps. After checking the gauges, I was happy to find that both wing tanks were full, so I opened up the door, jumped out and ran ahead to tell John to
flip
a
bitch, and pull the bird back to the tower.

  At the tower, I used the aircraft checklist to do a walk around inspection. I didn't fancy the idea of losing my engine over a heavily infested area. I prepped the bird for flight, and discussed with John our next plan of action. We took out our atlas and looked for the nearest airport to our homes back in San Antonio. I looked and looked, and all I could find was the international airport in the centre of the city. That was unacceptable.

  John bent down and had a puzzled look on his face. He asked me if I had ever been to the "Retama Park Racetrack" off of 1-35. He told me we passed it on our way out of town. I had never heard of it since I hadn't lived there long. John asked how much length I needed to land the plane. I went out to the cockpit, and looked in the chart compartment. I couldn't find any info. Some of the smaller planes I have flown needed maybe 1,000 ft, with beta. This bird didn't have beta controls. I had to take a guess. I would probably need 1,500 ft minimum. John said that he thought it might work.

  John and I brought our weapons up, and carefully approached the tower entry doors. John opened the door and I took point. The elevator was obviously out so we had to take the stairs. We shut and latched the door behind us. We quietly ascended. There were windows at the top of every flight overlooking the runway. I heard and saw nothing until we got to the top of the stairs. I saw a coagulated pool of blood sitting in front of the tower control centre door.

  I motioned for John to look. I walked up to the door, slowly opened it, and jumped in ready to blast. I didn't expect to see this… One of the controllers had taken out four of those things, and I then, probably out of despair, had turned his pistol on himself and did the same. I opened up the doors to the observation deck and John and I threw the bodies over the side, opposite the side the aircraft was on.

  John and I went back down stairs to unload the H2. We brought everything into the lower just to be careful. Locked up the hummer' and went upstairs to plan.

  John expressed to me that he would not leave his dog in the basement to starve to death. I understood. John told me that he would take the H2, and meet me at the racetrack, and then we would both go to the house in the H2 together. I would have to fly the bird and land safely at the track. I had many hours in military aircraft, but never in a Cessna. It was going to be risky, but necessary.

  I calculated that it would only take me around
35
minutes to do the start-up checklist get airborne and be over the track. This meant that in order to conserve fuel, John was going to have to leave before I did. It was a two-hour trip for him. I showed John my calculations and he agreed it would be best he leave first.

  Dark outside. Only fires can be seen in the distance. Found some airport departure/approach plates for this airstrip. It was a good thing too. Found out that there is a water tower two hundred feet high, off the departure end of the runway. I would never have seen it in time with all the smoke. Now at least I know what general direction to fly when I get off the ground. It's time for sleep now.

  It was time to fly the coop, literally. John and I went outside this morning and looked down at the base of the tower. Apparently we had made too much noise. There were ten of them walking around the tower, bumping into it, making metal tapping sounds. I distracted them as John threw the non-breakable supplies to the ground so that we would not have to make multiple trips.

  John came over to me and handed me his 22. I told him I would take care of them while he consolidated the supplies. Visibility was still only around 100 yards.

  I shot the creatures and quickly helped John with the last of the supplies. We made it down the stairs without incident. I took what I needed for the flight, i.e. my guns, some food and water, and left John with the rest. I asked John if he was sure. He said yes. I told him I would meet him at the track at 0930 hours. Last night we took a portable radio from the tower, so John could reach me on 121.5 when we needed to talk. It was the aviation distress frequency. Doubt anyone would mind.

  John got in the Hummer and drove off. I got in the aircraft, and locked the doors, and started checking everything I could for the wait. All the smoke in the air and poor visibility must be fucking their senses up. I figured that those gunshots would have attracted more. I Jim getting scared, and am leaving now…

  I'm in the air now. Aircraft is trimmed up (so I can go hands free), and I am headed back to the track. Decided to do a little recon mission since I was in the air so early. This plane is relatively easy to fly. I thought it would be more trouble than this. After taking off, I decided to head toward the base and see if the walls were still intact. I remembered the VOR frequency, dialled it in to the navigation aid, and followed the needle. My heart sank as I descended through the clouds at 2,000 feet.

  I flew right over the base, as low as I could and saw the horror. Every building was either on fire, or destroyed…Looked like an air strike.

  That might explain what happened to Austin IX. I pulled the aircraft around into a shallow fifteen-degree angle of bank and headed toward the gate. The gate was totally destroyed, and through the smoke, I could see thousands of walking dead dominating the landscape inside the base. I then brought the bird on general course to make rendezvous the track.

  I am home. Don't feel like writing. The dead are the lucky ones.

  Yesterday was a hard day. I made it to the track with plenty of fuel to spare. The fence was intact and there were no creatures present. Looked like I was going to have enough room to land, but noticed that the track was uneven, and it looked like about a ten-degree grade. I was going to have to show some good aileron control to keep both wheels solid when I landed.

  I came over the northern end of the track at 85 knots. Pulled back power, flared, touched the back two wheels…eased the elevator control and brought the nose down. Pulled power back to idle, and let her roll to a stop (no breaks, since the track was dirt). Looked down at my kneeboard and flipped the pages to the engine shutdown checklist, I shut her down after I taxied her to a less visible spot on the back end of the track.

  Now came the waiting game. It was 0930 when I set down, I didn't see the H2 anywhere, and it would be difficult to miss a canary yellow H2 even at two miles visibility. If John came, he would see the bird, and know I was near. I decided to try and find something to cover the plane up with, so it would be less noticeable to anyone… living or dead. This was a racetrack, so I was sure there is some type of tarp somewhere. I took my rifle and headed for the maintenance area. Outside the chain link fence of the track, there were numerous un-dead walking around. Some of them were rapping on the fence. Angry at their inability to walk through it. I know that if enough of them came, they would do just that.

  I approached the maintenance area with caution. 1 stood in front of the steel door and listened… I could hear the sound of banging metal. Sounded like someone was using a hammer on the floor inside… My philosophy has always been stealth over confrontation. I walked around the building looking for windows. I found one in the rear, about eight feet off the ground. The only problem was that there was a corpse shambling about on the opposite side of the fence. It couldn't get to me, but I concluded that it would make a lot of noise if it saw me. Window was a "no go." I quietly hugged the wall back to the door.

  The sound had stopped. This was really fucking with my head. I couldn't take it anymore so I eased the door open and looked inside. It was dark, except for the spear of light shining in through the window that I had seen. I could smell rotting flesh.

  I shut the door again. My instincts told me, fuck the plane cover, it's not that important. For some reason, I ignored that. I took out my LED light and tightened it on the light mount of my rifle. I switched the light on and opened the door again. Put the muzzle of my weapon in so that I could light up the dark garage. The smell was almost unbearable.

  The source of the noise became immediately apparent. A dead mechanic, crushed by a hydraulic lift was lying there on his back, reanimated, and banging a torque wrench on the ground. A low grunt came from his badly mutilated body as he tried to look up at me. He was reaching for me. It was then,
all in the span of a second,
that the following happened:

  I saw the bite marks of the flesh that had been torn away on his face and neck. I knew that he didn't do it to himself, and deduced that there was another dead fuck in the room. Last, but not least, the door flew open and I was tackled by one of them (Best guess, the same one that had the mechanic for lunch).

  The only thing that was keeping this stink ridden shit ball from biting my nose off was the fact that I had my weapon wedged between us. I pushed it off, and it (couldn't tell male or female) grabbed my wrist. I gave it a nice rifle butt to the head and it fell back. I immediately got to my feet and popped a round it its miserable head. I wanted to just fucking mow it in half, but the reasonable half of me said, don't waste the ammunition.

  The door to the garage was shut, and it was going to fucking slay that way. I could hear the sound of fists on the door, and I knew that there were more inside. I went back on the side of the garage where I saw some oil drums and rolled one of them back around to the front, to put in the doorway and prevent whatever was behind that door from opening it and ruining my day.

  No more exploring. I carefully started walking back toward I lie plane. I noticed that I had gathered an entourage of fans on the oilier side of the fence. I guess they enjoyed my little execution. They were gnashing their teeth on the metal wire, and groaning and beating on (lie chain link fence. It made me uneasy.