The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever (2 page)

“What got hit? Who did it?”

“There’s a ’
shroom
cloud over the
international airport. To answer your second question, I think we did it. I can
see high altitude contrails from the south east. They can only be ours.”

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“You may well call on Him, Zoë. Only He can save the poor
bastards under that. I can also see fires where what looks like a few airliners
have gone in, probably lost control because of the EMP. I think this has gone
well beyond a little civil unrest and a bit of illness. Let me see what the
boss wants to do.” He flicked the general comms switch and spoke. “
Cap’n
, what are we
gonna
do? All
shit’s broken out down there and now some
sonovabitch
has nuked the airport. What is our mission supposed to be now? I think we’re
just pissing into the ocean here.”

“Good question; and your observation
is
right on the money. I’ve been trying to raise Ground but the radio seems to be
out.
Probably the result of the nuke.
Wait one.” There
was silence for a moment before he came back on the line. “We have a mayday on
the Guard frequency. We’ll check that out. The bird is still fully functional
but the co-pilot has a bit of eye damage. As we’re closest we’ll just do this
last mission and call it a day.”

“Really?
Don’t you want to get Bill
back to the medics?” Cliff asked, speaking his mind and wondering at the
cavalier approach of this captain to one of their own, injured and needing
attention.

“The Lieutenant insists we respond to the distress call,
Sergeant. So we’ll do just that before heading back to base.” Simms voice
sounded a little irritated at being questioned by the sergeant. Noticing the
tone, Hinkley adopted a more appropriate manner.

“Roger, Captain. We’ll secure our one passenger; I don’t
think there’s much we can do for her anyway,” Hinkley replied as he watched the
injured woman writhe against her constraints, trying desperately to get free.
Every time she looked their way her teeth worked uncontrollably as if she was
anticipating a meal. Hinkley felt a cold shiver down his spine at the sight.
Was this the End of Days, he wondered?

*

The mayday call had originated only about fourteen miles
from their current position near the hospital and so they
arrived
on-scene six and a half minutes later. Hovering over the lakes they saw a
cluster of rustic-looking huts, probably fishing cabins or holiday homes. A
couple of cars could be seen parked up outside one of the dwellings. There was
no-one in sight so the Captain came down lower, looking for any signs of current
occupancy or emergency. The lakes were nearly five thousand feet higher than
Denver and so with the additional height above sea level came an unwelcome
reduction in temperature of approximately twelve degrees Centigrade; they could
see that the edges of the lakes were light green and frozen solid, leaving a
slightly deeper green hole in the middle of each one where the water had not
yet crystallised into ice. With the doors open for enhanced vision as they
searched for whoever had sent out the distress signal, the change in
temperature became very noticeable and Zoë’s teeth chattered even though she
wore thick thermal clothing. Her gloves were also beginning to let the cold in,
causing her fingers to go stiff, so she clapped them together to keep the blood
flowing properly; she’d be useless if they got any colder.

“Can anyone see a living soul down there?” the Captain asked
over the intercom.

“Negative,” came two answers; no-one expected a reply from
the now partially-sighted co-pilot.

“I’ll try over there,” the Captain replied moving the
aircraft towards another lone building. “There, can you see that?”

“I see it,” Zoë replied.

A solitary figure appeared to be wandering towards them,
legs awkwardly carrying him over the hard, frost-bitten ground, his face hidden
by the fur-trimmed hood on his parka.

As the area was clear of buildings and other obstacles the
helicopter touched down and Zoë and the Sergeant leapt out to offer assistance,
Zoë grabbing the flare gun as she did so; having lost her own sidearm earlier
it was better than nothing. As they covered the ground towards the man their
pace slowed as they noticed his movement was awkward, the occasional spasm
racking his body. After what they’d seen so far, they weren’t about to take any
chances.

All too soon it became clear that they were walking into danger
as the man began to run towards them and threw himself bodily onto the sergeant,
his arms flailing with a lack of control.

“Cliff!” Zoë shouted in shocked surprise. Due to the raised
parka hood, neither had been able to see the expression of pathological hatred
seared into the man’s face until the last moment. Running to her crew-mate’s
assistance she could see that whatever was wrong with the man, his strength
hadn’t diminished at all; he had the big sergeant pinned down and was inexorably
lowering his mouth to take a bite out of Cliff’s face.

“
Oi
, you!” she shouted at the
creature, hoping to distract it. As it turned its head slowly towards the sound
of her voice, she forced the muzzle of the flare gun into its open mouth and
pulled the trigger. Smoke billowed and a red light illuminated the cheeks to a
deep red before hissing as it erupted out of the back of its head. Cliff grimaced
as he pushed the dead man aside and scrambled to his feet.

“Thanks, girl,” he said, panting and watching in horrified
fascination as the creature’s head
 
began
to catch fire from the intense heat of the burning magnesium. Because of the blade
wash from the helicopter, the smoke blew towards him and he moved away sideways
in disgust. “Jeez, that stinks,” he said, wrinkling his nose.

“Was that creature the person that made the emergency call?”
Zoë wondered aloud.

“Maybe, I don’t see anyone else around. He must have changed
immediately after, that’s all I can say.”

Suddenly noticing that the sound from the helicopter’s
engines was fading, they turned around to see the four huge blades slowing
until they finally came to a standstill; the twin engine exhausts began to click
as they cooled in the icy wind. Zoë and Cliff ran back, anxious to find out
what was wrong. Leaping back in, Zoë made her way forward.

“What the hell’s the problem now?” she asked, nervous at the
thought of being trapped all the way up here in the mountains with no transport
out. She hated the cold. “Did you see that? That mad bastard just tried to take
a chunk out of Cliff. Thank God I had the flare gun with me.”

“Yeah, I saw what you did. Well done and very colourful. Anyway,
more importantly for now, the engines appear to have died. We just lost all our
electrical power,” Captain Simms replied. He had already started to work his
way along the bank of trip switches on the panel, hoping to find one to reset. If
only it could be that simple, he thought to himself.

“And that means what exactly? Don’t tell me we’re stuck up
here in this bitter cold. Captain,” she added quickly.

“No radio, no engine, nada. It means that unless we can fix
it we’re in for a long wait before we can get any assistance. Got any decent roadside
cover?” he
asked,
an amused look on his face.

“Ha, ha,” she replied, quietly relieved that he didn’t seem
to be worried. Peering across at Bill Mitchum, she noticed that his cheeks were
wet from the tears streaming from his damaged eyes. “How you holding up, Bill?

“Smarts like a bastard, but I seem to be getting some of my
sight back already.”

“Come on cry-baby, why don’t you come back here and I’ll see
what I can do to relieve the pain.”

“Unfeeling bitch,” he replied, trying on a faint smile. “Did
I actually say that or just think it?
My bad.
I meant sure,
thanks. I’d love you to help me.” Peering closely he looked roughly in her
direction; she was pleased to see he hadn’t lost his sense of humour at least. He
stumbled as he climbed over the central console but made it back to the cabin without
falling over.

“Sit here and let me have a look,” she said, leading him to the
stretcher furthest away from the injured woman who had started to pant and growl
like an irritated dog, clearly frustrated at being tied down. Her face was
smeared with flecks of bloody drool but worst of all was the state of her eyes,
the corneas a blood-engorged deep red surrounding white centres. Zoë had never
seen anything like it; God knows what they were to do with her because no-one on
board the helicopter had any of the skills to give her the necessary medical
attention.

Someone somewhere owes us a proper goddam explanation for
this crap; this isn’t civil unrest, this is something much worse - and
infectious, based on this woman’s reaction to being bitten.
 
Engrossed in the task of irrigating Bill’s
eyes, she was startled by the sound of a woman’s voice calling out to them.

Captain Tom Morgan and First Officer Brad Bukowski, both
late of their behemoth A380 that was now lying in pieces along the length of
runway 35R at Denver International Airport, were travelling with their
new-found companion, Chuck Walker, an elderly neighbour of Tom’s. The truck
they were in was a purloined military troop carrier; its size and engine power
made it perfect for the run up into the mountains and to Tom’s holiday cabin up
at the edge of the Stapp Lakes. Chuck’s foresight and preparedness meant that
the back of the truck was full of provisions that would be essential for them
to survive the coming days and possibly weeks until they could venture back
down to the town, hopefully to find a semblance of normality had returned. Normality
was most likely a pipe dream, all three doubted such a state of affairs was
even possible any longer; what they had seen so far pretty much precluded a
positive turn of events. For now though they didn’t want to look too closely at
reality.

Chuck had no family members to worry about as he was the
last of his line; this wasn’t the case for both Tom and Brad as they had loved
ones they were desperate to get back to. With luck Tom’s need would soon be
sated when they reached his cabin; he was hoping against hope that his wife and
sons had managed to get to the relative safety of their holiday retreat in the
mountains. Unfortunately Brad’s wife was in San Francisco, his home proper. At
least that’s where he lived before all this madness started.

“I can’t believe we’re nearly there,” Tom said, his
excitement growing at seeing his wife and boys again. Just to see the familiar
reservoir and the curve of the road as it led towards his cabin made his heart
beat faster.

“This is pretty much in the middle of nowhere, buddy,” Brad
observed. “Why’d you have a hut up here anyway? You don’t fish, do ya?”

“You’ll find it’s not quite a hut we’re going to. It’s away
from everything. Sometimes it just feels good knowing there’s almost no-one
around. It’s just so damn quiet, perfect for me. And yes, I do fish, but only
when I want something to eat, none of that sport crap.”

“And I thought I knew you,” Brad said, wondering what other
surprises Tom had in store.

“Haven’t you ever been camping, Brad?” Chuck asked.

“If I did it would be somewhere warmer than here, I can tell
you. And the tent would have at least three stars over the door.”

Chuck chortled at the reply. “You’re in for a helluva time,
then.”

They lapsed into silence as they peered into the rapidly
deepening darkness. With the headlights off they were using the starlight to
see by. All three men were on high alert, expecting possible hostility from any
direction; they had already learnt the hard way that it was unlikely they would
find anyone they could trust, infected or not. Looking across the expanse of
the water they could see the small makeshift homes and boat house that filled
up in the summer months with boating, mountain climbing and hiking enthusiasts.
Right now there appeared to be no-one present, no tell-tale lights glistening
in the deepening dusk welcoming them and certainly no movement. Not that that
was necessarily indicative of anything; unless a person had just arrived from
the Moon they would know not to be foolish enough to advertise their presence, and
certainly not at night. Brad looked up at the sky, peering at the thousands of
stars. “At least it hasn’t snowed,” he thought out loud, receiving nodding
agreement from the other two. The sky was brilliantly clear and it was going to
be a damn cold night. Brad shivered at the thought; nights like these were why
he lived in SF.

“There it is,” Tom announced as they entered the clearing
where his holiday cabin lay. “What the…” his sentence remained unfinished as
they were confronted by a parked up Blackhawk, with closed doors and blade tips
secured to the fuselage. Clearly it had been there a while; there was frost on
the canopy. Looking across he saw lights on in his cabin. His heart jumped,
partly hoping his wife and kids were there and partly in nervous anticipation
of who he would find in his home. He pulled up well short of the cabin,
deciding it was the better part of valour to be wary. He knew their arrival had
been noted as he saw a face appear briefly at the main window before
disappearing quickly again.

Chuck was the first to speak. “They’re probably military, judging
by the ’copter. We should be okay.”

“That’s not like you to be so trusting, Chuck.” Brad
commented.

“Didn’t say I trusted them, sonny, but maybe they’ll be of
use to us. Many hands make for light work and all that. What do you want to
do?”

Tom thought for a moment before replying. “I think we ought
to approach from different directions. There is a rear exit so we’ll have to
watch out for a possible surprise attack. I’m too
frickin
’
tired
to stake it out or anything like that, I think I’ll
just go up to the front door and you and Brad can cover me from either side.
You up for that?” he asked both of his companions.

“Works for me,” Brad replied.

“We should just hang back a little so we aren’t in each
other’s cross-fire,” Chuck suggested to Brad.

“Okay, let’s do this.” Tom approached the door while Brad
and Chuck spread out, remaining behind the shrubs and trees that edged the
clearing. They were now able to cover the front door as well as anyone coming
around from the back.

With his heart in his mouth, Tom knocked on the wooden door
and waited, preferring not to walk straight in. Muffled voices could be heard
inside and then the sound of footsteps as someone came to the door. With a
click it opened a crack and he let out a sigh of relief at the sight of his
wife.

“Laurie!” he exclaimed as she rushed out and into his arms.
No words were necessary as they hugged each other tightly. His two sons shot out
and clung to their father.

“Dad, Dad!” Jake the youngest kept saying over and over
again.

“Boys.
God, I thought I’d never see
you all again!” Tom hugged them tightly, feeling giddy with the relief; his
knees felt weak as if he was going to collapse. Eventually they relinquished
their tight grip on each other and Tom was able to look at each one in turn,
somehow not yet believing his eyes and amazing good fortune at having located
them so easily. At any point during the last forty eight hours his luck could
have turned on a dime and he might have died, never again to see his family and
kiss his wife, who, he reminded himself, was far and away the best kisser he’d
ever known.

During the joyful reunion Brad and Chuck had approached
warily, guns at the ready, still uncertain as to the condition or friendliness
of any others that may be inside.

Strangers stepped slowly out into the open, weapons in hand
but lowered in a non-threatening fashion. The first down the step was Captain Simms.

“Good evening. I think introductions are in order,” he suggested.
“My name is Mike Simms, Captain. These are my crew members, Bill, Zoë and
Cliff. And that’s our helicopter,” he finished rather unnecessarily, pointing
at the downed machine. “Hope you don’t mind us holing up in your cabin.
Given the extenuating circumstances, and all that.”

“Not at all, Mike. I’m pleased to meet you all.” Tom’s joy at
finding his family in one piece was bursting out of his normally sober
countenance and he couldn’t help but be effusive in his own introduction. “I’m
the happiest man on earth right now and I go by the name of Tom, Tom Morgan.
And I have the honour of being this woman’s husband, and father to these great
lads.”

“And I’m First Officer Brad Bukowski, his second in
command,” he said, pointing at Tom, all the while smirking at Tom’s change in
demeanour, think he was one lucky SOB to find his family amid all this chaos.
“This here’s Chuck Walker, a neighbour and travelling companion of ours. Good to
meet you all.”

Laurie ran over to Chuck and hugged him tightly. “I’m so
glad you made it, Chuck. And fancy you joining up with Tom. How did that happen?”

“I’ll tell you when we get inside. It’s freezing out here
and we should get out of sight just in case there are any crazies about.”

Finished with the introductions, they all filed back into
the cabin where a warming fire was burning in the pot-bellied stove, on top of
which a pot of coffee brewed.

“God, that smells good,” Brad said.
“Any
chance of a cup?”

“Of course,” Laurie replied, “where are my manners? Honey,
do you want one?”

“Does a bear…” Tom began, faltering as he remembered his
kids were present, and quickly changed his response. “I’d love one, thanks babe.”

As he looked around the living room he could see that given
the circumstances everyone had made themselves as comfortable as possible.

He was more than grateful that it had been the military that
had found his family. His fears for their safety had proved unfounded and he suspected
the same turn-on-a-dime luck had decreed that they all survive together at
least a while longer.

“So you’re a pilot, Tom,” Captain Simms stated. “Your wife
says you fly the A380.
Amazing beast of a plane.”

“Yes, I do,” Tom admitted. “And it is pretty amazing to fly.
I’m a captain and fly for Americas United. At least I did. I’m afraid I left my
bus in pieces at Denver International Airport. But you know what they say, any
landing you can walk away from…”

“Is a good landing,” Simms finished the sentence, smiling.
“Didn’t they nuke the airport? How could you land?”

“Yes, the nuke appears to be a fact. We landed in the dark and
quite frankly if it had been a daytime landing we might not have chosen the
runway we did; there was debris all over it but it was hidden in the dark,
hence our less than perfect landing. We had hydraulic problems and had no
undercarriage.”

“Holy shit!
Sorry, Ma’am,” Simms
corrected himself. “I’d ’a loved to see that. Damn. That same bomb did for our
engines, too, it seems.” Simms remarked.

“Luckily we were on the ground out there when they finally failed,”
Bill Mitchum replied, staring straight ahead through bandaged eyes.

“I’m guessing flash burns?” Brad asked the hapless pilot.

“Yeah, I was looking over towards the airport when the
firecracker went off.”

“God, I hope you’ll be okay. You guys were lucky you didn’t
get blown out of the sky.”

“We nearly did,” Zoë added.

“Man, I still don’t get why they’d pull a stunt like that.”

“Probably made sense to the Brass at the time,” Simms
replied. “Perhaps everything was going to hell and they just tried to put an
end to it, who knows.
Bastards.”

 
Conversation petered
out at this point, everyone too shocked by the recent events to continue polite
conversation.

“So,” Simms continued eventually, “I’m thinking if we could
borrow your truck tomorrow we could head down to town to see what’s what,
perhaps even to report in. We’ve had no radio contact since we landed yesterday
afternoon. What
d’ya
think
, Tom? You’ve been down there more recently than me,” Simms
was clearly eager to return to duty and get his co-pilot some proper medical attention.

“Sure you can borrow it, Mike, but I think it’s a pointless
danger to put your crew through. When we flew in last night,” he began,
then
paused. “God, was it really only a few hours ago?” he
asked rhetorically. “Damn. We flew in from the UK and the whole of the USA was
in the dark.”

“Except for some pretty, orange explosions,” Brad
interjected helpfully.

“Apart from those, thanks Brad. There was nothing, no radio
comms, not even anything on the Guard frequency.
Sweet FA.
We had a brush with the USAF a couple of hundred miles out but after that,
nothing. I don’t think you have anything or anyone to report into; I think it’s
all gone.”

“When we got down,” Brad continued, picking up on the story,
“we saw evidence of significant battles where the army seemed to have come off
worse. When we left the UK everything looked completely screwed there; we took
off without permission and no-one challenged us, not once, which was real weird,
especially since 9/11. There was no radio chatter anywhere in the world, not HF,
UHF or VHF, nada. Last news report I heard this ‘thing’, whatever it is, was
everywhere.”

“Folks, I think we need to post watch tonight,” Chuck chimed
in for the first time. “If these things, the infected people, come here, they
will attack us.”

“Funny you should say that. We got an emergency call that
brought us up here,” Simms said, “but all we found was one wacko who attacked
Hinkley here. We were forced to kill the man. Other than that we haven’t seen a
soul apart from your family.”

“Be grateful, Captain,” Chuck replied.

“You might just be right, Chuck. When we were called to duty
this morning, we had a quick briefing from Intelligence who told us it was a
simple matter of civil disobedience. I and the crew are all recent arrivals
back in Denver after extended exercises abroad. We had no recent local
knowledge so we accepted what they told us. All we had to do was to be on
station to airlift out possible casualties and some folk who were ill with some
sort of unknown infection; that’s actually a medevac helo out there. Frankly
what we saw told us that we’d been kept in the dark, unless of course Command
didn’t know anything either. Hell, these ‘ill’ folk nearly cost us our lives; we
were trying to rescue normal people while these same infected people were
trying to catch and eat them. If I hadn’t seen it with my own two eyes I
wouldn’t have believed it possible. It was like something off the National
Geographic channel. With Laurie’s story about how she escaped, and the things
you are telling me from further afield, I don’t know what to think now. Last we
saw, things looked real bad in town, especially after the nuke, but I didn’t
really believe we wouldn’t get it back under control. Who would? I thought, you
know, in a couple of days from now we’d just be licking our wounds and getting on
with the clean-up.”