One hundred men and women took a stand across the runway from an army of zombies. A light breeze flowed from the grassy field behind the humans, carrying the delicious scent of life towards the horde. The zombies nostrils flared and their heads turned from side to side trying to breathe in all of the smell of fear and flesh. Glistening teeth wet with saliva which ran down the zombies chins, those that had jaws. Many of them were missing body parts, often black dried blood coated jagged bones sticking out of the fleshy stumps. Towards the back of the line were those that were missing legs or feet, grinding sharp bone splinters on the asphalt with every step.
The infected stood there only for a few moments, held back by an invisible force, ready to advance on the inferior numbers of humans at a moments notice. The few minutes of anticipation felt like hours. Every last detail sank into Frank’s mind, seared into his memory forever.
Jason and the woman they called ‘The Welsh Bitch’ ran as fast as they could from their position beside Richard. They were well trained and fit, they ran to the ranks of the living in seconds. At the same time, a pair of soldiers threw down their weapons and ran. They were well trained, but cowardice and drove them to abandon their brothers in arms. They ran into the field behind the small line of defense, past the inner line of law enforcement officers.
“You’re all going to die!” One of them screamed as he ran out into the field.
That moment three exhausted figures looked up from their positions, they were on one knee, braced to fire. Their dark eyes looked to their leader for guidance.
Richard stood up, his tendons already healed, and glared into Frank’s eyes. He watched the smug grin creep across Richard’s face and from the depth of Frank’s lungs he roared the order.
The moment the deafening sound of continuous gunshots were echoing across the tarmac, the infected moved forward. While some shambled, many trotted forward towards what humans stood their ground. The legion of zombies jumped, stumbled and tripped over their own dead as the first lines were culled. The humans moved backwards as a practiced unit towards the Chinooks keeping aim and ensuring the front-runners of the advancing zombie army were kept at bay.
The advancing force spread out into a larger line, they crept closer to their intended meal. The gap between the two opposing groups closed closer together beyond comfort. Forcing the Corporal to order “Fall back! Get inside, ready to lift off.”
The rotor blades were at full speed, the twin turbine engines roared. The second Chinook lifted off the ground. Jason launched himself at the skid of the chopper, caught by a friendly hand mid-air as the last two remaining helicopters lifted off the ground. The soldiers continued fire at the undead as long as the zombies could still make a leap of faith and grab a hold of the helicopter, wanting to climb to their intended victims with no thought for their own safety.
The two machines reached flight altitude and turned towards the west, towards the safety of the US Army base in the outback. A black puff where Richard last stood appeared, followed by a second puff in the rear door of the lead chinook. Four bodies were thrown out that same door in seconds. Gunfire, screams and grinding metal were heard over the headsets of the second chinook. The co-pilot looked over in disbelief “Who’s on that chopper?” he had forgotten all formalities. The pilot replied “The Corporal and his team, a few civies and a few LEO’s.”
“Fucker bit me!” the pilot bellowed, his roar of anguish and pain broadcast through the speaker as another body flew out the back of the Chinook.
The falling body disappeared in a cloud of swirling black and re-appeared in the second chopper. Richard ensured the pilots were the first to die, he grabbed their throats and ripped them out as if he were peeling a pair of bananas simultaneously. When he turned to face the rest of the occupants of the second helicopter, they opened fire. Good soldiers are trained to aim for center mass, to put two slugs in the chest of an enemy and then evaluate the situation. Richard’s torso was riddled with bullet holes. Blood stains spread, blooming across his shirt like desert roses after a rain. His jaw was hanging sideways with his cheek ripped on one side thanks to the Colonel.
The soldiers, per their training, took stock of the situation. Seeing their target still standing, guns were raised a second time. Richard disappeared once again. The two dead pilots slumped forward pushing the controls of the now airborne tomb forward, causing the chopper to nose down towards the ground.
Richard stood calmly at the head of his legion of zombies. He watched the skies as the second chinook made its hurried descent to the earth. He heard the crunching sound of metal over the screams before an explosion, then a whistling sound as shards of metal flew past his head. Richard looked behind him to see a dozen of his soldiers standing back up with large holes in them where shrapnel from the explosion had carved large holes in their bodies. Two soldiers were down on the ground with segments of their spines missing, their legs non-functional
Frank looked out the side door of the first chopper, ready for a second aerial assault. It never came. The Corporal was bound securely in his seat as he drifted of to sleep, or death, no one was sure which. This was not the time to take chances. Frank sat opposite to the Corporal and studied him in his slumber. He watched the man’s breathing falter and change, he watched the veins on the Corporals forehead expand and pump blood faster. The Corporals eyes twitched for a moment beneath his eye lids before he opened them staring straight to Richard.
The Arrivals <<