Preservation (5 page)

Chapter Seven

“Daddy! Daddy!”

When my eyes opened, I tried to jump forward. Something had me around the chest,
holding me back. I screamed, struggling against it in an attempt to free myself.

“You’re having a nightmare, Dad. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“Chase!” Allison unfastened a seat belt, knelt in front of me. “It was a bad dream. It’s okay.”

I know my eyes were opened wide. I looked around.
At first, I thought I saw computer terminals from work and people around me in blue uniforms. The scene melted into a row of seats a couple of feet across from where I sat. Dave stared at me. Sues had her head on his chest. He still brushed her hair with his hand, with his bloody hand. We were on a plane, headed south. I got it. It came back. “How long was I asleep?”

“Almost an hour, Dad,” Charlene said.

I unfastened my seatbelt and stood up, helping Allison to her feet. “I’m okay,” I said. “Sit back down. Buckle up. I’m going to check on our pilots.”

“Okay.” Allison sat back down, but in my seat, next to my daughter. She wasted no time securing herself to the chair. They snuggled close.

“I’ll be right back. You guys good?” They nodded. “Dave, you need anything?”

He shook his head. “I’m okay. I don’t
know, a blanket? Water, if you can find any?”

Water.
Food. We’d need both, and soon. “I’ll see what I can find.”

There really wasn’t anywhere to look. We were on a plane. If there was water anywhere, it would be around where they were all seated. I saw some strapped down boxes along the sides, by the very tail. I’d explore them once I made sure
Palmeri and Erway were good.

I stood just outside the cockpit. Our pilots chatted, laughing. “Ladies,” I said.

Erway jumped, and spun around. “Scared me, Chase.”

“Didn’t mean to, sorry about that.”
I held up my hands and smiled. “Wish I bore gifts. Like coffee.”

“Coffee,”
Palmeri said, and moaned. “A cup would be amazing right now.”

“A pot,”
Erway said.

“A pot.”
Palmeri nodded.

“How we doing?”
I said.

Palmeri
cocked her head to one side. “Pretty smooth. Take-off went well. Thing’s a box, but it flies nice. I’m keeping at just over two hundred miles an hour, and just under ten thousand feet. I go too high, we won’t just be cold, we’ll need oxygen masks.”

Might explain why I fell asleep so easily.
Lack of oxygen. It was that or just sheer exhaustion. “I’m going to search the plane, look for blankets and water, or for anything useful.”

“Sounds good.”
Erway gave me a thumb’s up. “And, hey, if you find any coffee--”

“I know, I know. I’ll pour you two the first cups.”

“Holy shit, I don’t believe it,” Palmeri said.

I stuck my head forward between them. “What?”

Palmeri didn’t speak. She pointed to her far left and slowly followed the airplane about to pass by us. “That a commercial airline?”

“Yes. Yes it is,”
Palmeri said. “A seven-forty-seven.”

“
We going to hit them?”

“No, they’re at least two thousand feet above us, and they’re pretty far away.”
Palmeri still readjusted her grip on the wheel. “Just where the fuck are they going?”

“Can we ask them?” I said, and pointed at the radio.

“Can try,” Palmeri said.

“They must see us too, right?”
Erway strained against her seatbelt, as if the extra half an inch would give her a better view of the passing airplane.

Palmeri
snatched up the handheld radio that resembled a C.B. “This is Sherpa to the Boeing seven-four-seven, Sherpa to Boeing…”

Static.
Nothing. Palmeri looked at me, and shrugged. She tried again.

More static.
“I don’t think--”

“Sherpa, this is Boeing seven-four-seven, over.”

My hand went to my stomach. Thought I might heave. I knew we weren’t alone, the only non-infected humans left on the planet, but for a moment, I did believe we might be the only ones in the sky.

“Boeing, we have you in sight.
Over.”

“And we see you, Sherpa. How many souls on board?
Over.”

“Seven, seven total.
You? Over.”

“Forty-eight, Sherpa.
We have a total of forty-eight. Over.”

Palmeri
looked back at me, nodding. “Damn.”

“Boeing, what is your destination?
Over.”

Silence.
Static.

“Sherpa, no offense meant, but our destination is confidential. We don’t know you. Based on things we’ve seen, we’re inclined to keep pertinent information to ourselves.
Over.”

“They don’t trust us. Worried we might follow them. Attack their family,” I said.

“Trust is going to be an issue for a while,” Erway said.

I thought about Josh, Dave’s brother. He’d been shot and killed. Shot.
A senseless death by someone with a gun. I’d still love to get my hands on the ones responsible. Part of me believed we should be gathering as survivors and joining forces. At some point in time, we’d need to rebuild. Install government. Figure out how to regain electricity, power and run nuclear plants, and operate water purification plants. Holy shit. It was going to be a daunting task. “I don’t blame them.”

“Sherpa to Boeing, we copy. Wish you a safe flight.
Safe landing. Over.”

A pause.
Static. “We extend our best wishes your way, as well, Sherpa. Be safe. Out.”

Palmeri
set the hand-held down. Kept her hand on it. “I think I’d have felt better not having seen them.”

“Why is that?” I said
.

“I kind of want to join them,” she said.

“We don’t know where they’re headed,” Erway said.

“And they don’t want us,” I said.

“How are we going to make it out of this,” Palmeri said. “I mean, they’re flying north. We’re headed south-west. They think the grass is greener in Canada or the North Pole, and we think the equator. There are probably survivors in Georgia headed to Seattle, and people in L.A. trekking toward Manhattan. Who’s right, you know? Who’s wrong?”

There was some comfort in knowing these thoughts
and that the questions didn’t just run through my mind. The bad part was that no one had any answers. The Boeing might have an idea flying north. Colder temperatures might slow the zombies down. Rain and water seemed to annoy them. There was a good chance snow might be a hundred times better as a natural weapon. I couldn’t deny it. Boeing had me second guessing Mexico.

I mean,
Mexico
. The thought came to me over a week ago, back when this all started. When Allison and I were fleeing the 9-1-1 Center. It was something someone had said on a radio station about how Mexico
might
be a safe bet because they didn’t have flu vaccinations to inoculate their people, not like America had. Then there was the wall. The one we’d built to keep illegal immigrants out of our country. That would be an awesome fortress to keep us safe, once on the Mexican side, from the infected Americans.

That’s what I’d thought then. It was the one thing that I held onto. “I don’t know why we’re going to Mexico. I really don’t.”

“You told us why. We agree with you,” Erway said. “If I didn’t think you were on to something, I’d not have hung around.”

I bit my lip. “You don’t get it though
. I could be wrong. As wrong as the Boeing headed north, or the L.A. people going to Manhattan. Mexico might not be any safer than it was for us up along the St. Lawrence. This thing, this disease, it keeps spreading. For all I know, we’re going to cross that border, God willing, and it will end up like stepping across the threshold into hell.”

“We won’t blame you for trying,”
Palmeri said. “I’ve got nothing better, no more answers than anyone else, but like Erway said, there’s something solid about your plan. Way I see it, the way
we
see it because we talked about it while you were back there, the key to surviving might be just to keep moving. This disease, or infection isn’t going to end anytime soon. The millions affected, we have to get rid of them. How do you get rid of millions of people? Where to you dispose of them? They’re going to need to be disposed of, aren’t they? And the thing is, I don’t think it’s gotten as bad as it’s going to get. I think, we think, moving, as long as we
keep
moving, is going to be the only way to make it. And right now, we’re headed to Mexico.”

“That’s, ah, that’s a lot I hadn’t thought of,” I said. I remembered the things about the zombies, the almost human-like qualities exhibited, and that I still needed to share all of that with the others. We’d not had the time to sit
around and talk.

I walked out of the cockpit area and held a hand out,
placing it against the bathroom door for balance. It wasn’t Palmeri’s flying that had me wobbling. My mind was in the midst of a whirlwind of so many thoughts that I thought my legs might give out.

I needed to
pare down the things in my brain. I whittled it away to just two as best I could. The other thoughts were still there, whipping around like debris in the funnel of a tornado, but I was able to focus. What I concentrated on were blankets and water.

Chapter Eight

Seemed like there had been more than two large wooden boxes in the hold. There were just the two set at the end of the rows of seats.

“Need a hand?” Allison stood.

“Stay buckled up. I just want to see if there’s any supplies we can use on this plane,” I said. I thought about telling the others about the Boeing. I wasn’t sure if that would boost or cripple morale. For now, the best thing to do seemed to be keeping it to myself.

On top of one crate was a crowbar. Both crates were strapped to pallets. I loosened the straps on one and drove the curved end of the bar into the top. I pried at the lid, working my way around each side. The board creaked and moaned in protest.

“Chase,” Allison said.

“I got it,” I said. “It’s giving.”

“Chase,” she said, again.

“Dad!”

I turned around.

Dave unbuckled his seatbelt. He knelt in front of Sues. “No,” he said. “No, no. No.”

Ah shit. I kept the crowbar in my hand. Sues had been dying for some time now, slowly. She must have been in pain. She’d lost a lot of blood, both on the tarmac, and while we’d been on the plane. The pool puddled below her seat made that apparent. I don’t know how long it took once a person died before they turned. I still wasn’t convinced it happened to everyone upon death. My experience with this aspect of the disease was limited. “Dave, are you all right?”

“It shouldn’t have happened to her
. She shouldn’t have been out there driving that thing, pulling us out of the hangar. What had I been thinking? I mean, fuck. Fuck!”

“It’s not your fault, buddy. There’s nothing we could have done.”

Dave stood up. Sues’ head fell forward. Blood, thick and dark, oozed from her gaping mouth. “There is something I could have done.” He pointed a finger hard against his chest. “She didn’t have to be the one to drive that buggy. I could have done it. I could have opened the door. I could have pulled the plane out. I should have. Me.”

We’d had this talk. I felt the same way. I thought I should be doing everything, and felt responsible for everyone. “Dave,” I said.

“No, Chase. No.”

“Dad, she’s moving,” Charlene said. She unbuckled her belt.

I held up a hand, stopping her. “Dave,” I said.

He wasn’t listening to me. He stared at Sues. Her eyes opened. Her head slowly rose off her chest. She snarled and screamed. Her hands shot forward, fingers reaching for a catch on Dave.

He cried, shoulders shaking, head bowed. He ran his hand through his hair.

Charlene walked around Dave and stood next to me. “Dad,” she said, with a hand on the hilt of her sword.

I shook my head at her, and tried again. “Dave.”

He took one staggering step toward Sues. I
wish I knew what was going on inside his head, what he was thinking. Part of me expected him to take a knee in front of his girlfriend and simply surrender. “David!”

He looked up at me. The tears cleaned the dirt in trails snaking down his cheeks. “You’re not touching her.
You. Are. Not. Touching. Her!”

I kept an arm in front of my daughter. I sensed her muscles tense, like she might be ready to strike.

“Dave,” I said. “You can’t leave her like this.”

The scene
was seared into my memory. She thrust her arms and shoulders, as she struggled from side-to-side and back and forth against the seat belt which now, thankfully, worked like a restraint. The cackles she emitted bounced around the shell of the inside of the plane. The screams competed with the droning whine of the engines.

“You are not going to kill her, McKinney. You’re not!” He pulled out a handgun. He aimed it at me, and swung
around, pointing it at everyone.

“Are you kidding me, Dave? Are you out of your f
ucking mind?” I took another step toward him, and in front of my daughter. “Put the gun down.”

Dave didn’t listen. He didn’t lower his gun. He aimed it
, not at me, not at Charlene or Allison, and not at Sues. He tipped his head back and pointed the short barrel under his chin. “There’s no point, Chase. I mean, really, is there? We go here. We go there. What’s the point?”
“We all feel that way, David. We all do, but we can’t give up. We can’t just, just…quit.”

“I have nothing left, Chase.
Nothing. Josh is dead. Sues…” he said. He strained to look at her, and looked away. “None of this is going to get better.”

“It will, Dave. It has to,” I said.

“It has to? What the fuck does that mean? It doesn’t have to, it doesn’t ever have to. This country, this world, this planet, it’s sick. It doesn’t have to do shit to get better. I don’t think I can do it anymore. I can’t just keep doing this. I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t,” he said. The crying came out in sobs. His words were tough to understand. I followed, though.

“We all feel that, Dave. You are not alone.”

Dave lowered the gun, pointing it at Sues. “Yes. I am.”

I held up my hands and stepped closer. “We’re going to get through this together.”

“That’s what she thought,” he said. “That we’d get through this together. I know it sounds stupid, man. It’s stupid, but I loved her.”

“It’s not stupid,” I said. It wasn’t stupid at all. “We’re not alone. We’re not the last survivors. Just a minute ago, before I came back here, we saw another plane.”

“What?” Charlene said. “There was another plane?”

“Yes
, another plane.” I nodded. “We talked to them. A big plane that was headed north. They wouldn’t tell us where, but they were up here in the sky with us. Things are bad, may get worse, but we’re not alone. We’re not. There is a chance we can fix this. Rebuild. Start over. Dave, everything's not lost. It’s not.”

“There’s no hope, McKinney.”

“There is. It’s dim, but it’s there.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think--”

The plane must have hit a pocket of turbulence. We dropped quickly, and tipped left then right.

Dave lost his balance and fell into Sues.

She wasted no time wrapping her arms around him, attempting to pull him toward her mouth. Dark drool dangled from her lower lip. Her clouded-over eyes were open wide as she prepared to bite him.

I’d fallen back
and into Charlene, who went down under my weight.

Allison looked stunned and
paralyzed. She held onto her seat belt with both hands, as if making sure it was tight around her waist. Her eyes were squeezed shut.

“Honey, are you okay?” I said, and struggled to regain my balance. “Dave!”

“Fine. I’m fine,” Charlene said.

Dave locked his hands with Sues, like they might play that childhood game where you bend fingers back until someone screamed
pinochle
to end the pain and torment. This was no game. I felt thankful Dave was fighting back, if only to maintain his own survival.

The plane rocked, tipping to the left side.

Dave’s head, his neck, were a breath away from Sues’ wide-opened mouth.

Then I thought
,
he’s going to let her bite him
. I found my feet and ran as best I could toward them, the crowbar raised.

The plane teetered back and forth before finally leveling out.

The teetering knocked me toward the opposite side of the plane, next to the last seat in the row Allison sat in. I fell hard, my elbow hitting the side of the first crate. Pain shot both up and down my arm. The funny bone. I was not laughing. Tears filled my eyes. “Dave!”

As I managed to get ont
o my knees, the gun fired. Sues’ head flew back as bits of hair and skin, skull and brain painted the inside plane wall in a graphic spattering.

Dave dropped the gun. He lay flat on his stomach.

I scrambled over to him, and lifted his head. “Dave?”

He was crying, lips quivered, his hands were balled into fists. I placed his head on my lap,
and held it there. I kept his head in my lap while he cried.