Before the Dead Walked, page 9
“Yessir,” the young airman saluted, lifted the gate and took off towards the tent city.
“You certainly have a way with words, Robert,” the ensign said with a chuckle.
Hatch didn’t say anything in return. He just squeezed her hand.
The colonel pulled up outside Lupita’s tent. “Don’t take too long, okay? I want to get the fuck out of here ASAP.”
Ensign Alvarez hopped out of the Humvee and said, “I just need my tracking equipment, a sidearm, and my flight-bag. I’ll be along in a few minutes.”
Robert smiled at her and then drove off.
Once inside the tent, Lupita paused for a moment. She was putting everything on the line. Her superiors would disapprove, naturally, but fuck them. They were clueless as to the extent of how bad things were.
So what was the real reason?
She smiled.
That old guy really was interesting. She was intrigued.
Or maybe she had finally found something worth fighting and dying for?
“You don’t have time for this!” she shouted at herself.
With careless disregard for anything she considered unimportant, Ensign Alvarez ransacked the living quarters.
Except it wasn’t her assigned space.
No, this tent belonged to someone she had eliminated several days earlier.
With fanatical attention to rifling open a filing cabinet, Lupita removed the state-of-the-art tracking device, including team profiles, access codes, and the top-secret mission statement. She also slipped into a shoulder holster and checked the Sig Sauer P320, with suppressor. Her orders were clear. Take out the intended target with extreme prejudice.
Certain she had everything she needed to complete her mission; Ensign Lupita Alvarez hurried out of the tent and sprinted towards the control tower.
It was imperative that Colonel Robert Hatch be given permission to fly his C-130D out of Bagram Air Base…even if she had to assassinate someone else.
Chapter 7
Unexpected Special Delivery
“Mayday!”
“Mayday!”
The pilot, wild-eyed and hysterical, yelled into his microphone. “Berlin Tegel Airport, do you read me? Mayday. This is Ariana Afghan Airlines, Flight 124. We need immediate medical assistance upon arrival. How do you read, over?"
“AAA 124,” a Berlin Tegel Airport air traffic control officer answered calmly. “Are you declaring an emergency? What is your situation, over?”
“We have a man on board with a knife,” the pilot delivered his story. “He was attacking other passengers, over.”
The pilot had told an elaborate lie.
“AAA 124, are you safe?” The controller asked.
“The cockpit is secure,” the pilot replied. “Several passengers tackled the man and tied him up.”
It was another fabrication.
“We do request immediate medical care for the poor victims.”
The pilot knew when he took off that he had some injured people on board with him. They were minor injuries and he instructed the flight attendants to assist in any way possible. A few of the passengers had a slight fever. They were given aspirin. That was all there was available with the chaos that was ensuing in Kabul. There were a couple of doctors on board. Those that had money could buy tickets.
The pilot enlisted their help.
They complied and the first three hours of the seven hour flight to Berlin seemed uneventful. The pilot knew that if he told the controllers in Berlin that people were dying with fever, they would be quarantined and turned around as soon as they landed, if they were even given permission to land. So, he played the story of a madman acting out, alone, injuring passengers. He knew that the German Security Force would send in help. His goal was to land and get as far away from the plane as possible.
The consulate in Berlin had arranged for this flight to land as a refugee flight. News reports of terrorist attacks in Kabul were already being broadcast, but most of the facts were unsubstantiated. However, other events in the world were overshadowing this story. There were rumors that Russia had invaded Kazakhstan. That was the event of the day. Had they known the truth about Kabul, no flights would have been able to leave Afghanistan airspace.
One passenger briefly noticed a goat wandering up and down the aisles, but since it was a flight from Afghanistan, didn’t think anything more about it. Even when the goat bleated in a strange way, no one seemed to care.
In the fourth hour of the flight, three passengers had succumbed to the fever that couldn’t be brought under control. The flight attendants agreed to move the bodies to the rear of the cabin and move other passengers forward. They did not see a need, nor did they even think of tying up a dead body. They simply covered them over with blankets.
Everyone on the plane had seen horrible things happen in the city over the past few days and when they saw there were dead on board, a sense of doom overcame many. Some had family members who died from the fever, which turned into something more horrible. They saw it happen with their own eyes. They had seen the dead arise with a ravenous appetite. They naively tried to help and were in turn bitten. Some had family members, relatives and friends eaten alive. As news of the deaths on the plane spread, panic began to simmer, as it had in Kabul. Those sitting in the aisle seats leaned in towards one another and spoke in loud tones about the need to tie the bodies up. No passenger thought this was crazy.
Crazy was the thought of someone returning from the dead.
In the fifth hour of the flight, many passengers were still discussing tying up the bodies. They could not find any rope. No one thought of shoe strings. It took nearly an hour, using a plastic knife from the galley, to cut through a seat belt. They were so concerned with their idea that everyone failed to notice the twitching underneath one of the blankets.
“Groghaasss.”
The sound was from air escaping through parched throat and collapsed lungs.
The zombie smelled blood. Its instincts forced the dead body to rise and push towards the smell of fresh blood that permeated the cabin. The blanket fell off of the face of the standing body, revealing the ashen complexion and gray bubbles of darting eyes. Its pupils dilated then nearly shut, adjusting while looking for light and movement to guide it to its meal.
Another sound, like that of a snoring old drunk, rose from underneath the other blankets. Twitching, jerking movements followed. The smell of so much blood aroused the new life in the dead brains. Three bodies, recently deceased from bite wounds were now ready to feed.
The men working on cutting seatbelts to tie up the bodies failed to hear the gurgling hissing sounds as they got closer. The roar of the engines erased much of the cabin noise. Just as one man was rising from his seat with the belt in his hand, a mouth reached down and bit the hand. The last thing he saw, as the seatbelt dropped from his useless and chewed hand, was two other bodies, one of them a former friend, lurch forward to take a large bite out of his shoulder. His screams alerted the other men. Their instincts told them to jump in and save the man who was being eaten alive, at first. Then, as a counter reaction, they ran away from the hungry corpses, screaming for their lives. Their cries were not as loud as the man being eaten however. His screams pierced the cabin and all the way to the cockpit. The crew became alerted and the navigator stood up to open the door and see what the commotion was about.
Just then, a stewardess opened the door, panic in her face. The look of horror shocked the crew. Their first thoughts were of 9/11 and the hijacked aircraft. Flights out of Kabul however had never been hijacked.
These days, however, no one felt totally safe anymore.
“Captain, the disease has spread here,” she spoke hastily.
They could hear the screams of panic and terror as passengers began to push their way to the front of the plane.
“Secure that door right now!” the captain ordered.
“What about the others?” she asked.
He interrupted. “Now, do it now. Do as I say if you want to live.”
Ever since 9/11, all commercial aircraft had taken on additional security measures to strengthen the doors to the cockpit. No one could enter once the locks were engaged.
They held well. The flight attendant began to describe what she saw occurring in business class and that people were being bitten, eaten, or mortally wounded. She saw the panic begin like a wave and move forward. The flight attendant reacted before any of the passengers. She knew that she had only minutes to escape the hysteria and carnage that was to follow. Only seconds after she entered the cockpit, the crew could hear the noise of screams growing.
BAM, BAM, BAM.
The sound of fists pounding on the cabin door was deafening.
BAM, BAM, BAM.
The wailing cries of those trying to get into the cockpit echoed throughout the airplane. In their mind, it was big enough to hold fifty people. In reality, the four inside the compartment were fairly cramped.
They pleaded, cried, and sobbed to be spared, saved from those slathering, blood-covered teeth, snapping behind them.
The flight attendant crouched on the floor and covered her ears, while softly crying. The Navigator put on his headphones and piped music throughout the cockpit and cabin.
BAM, BAM, BAM, came the constant pounding from the fearful. The crew could not shut out the noise and cries for help. They themselves were helpless. Everyone was trapped. Unless they were to climb out the windows, they would die in their prison.
In the sixth hour of the flight from Kabul to Berlin Tegel Airport, the calls for help were received and emergency responders were in position to receive the wounded once the plane arrived. They had been told that a knife-wielding man was on board, had wounded some people and passengers rose to subdue him.
“We must plan on how we will escape this death trap or we will die here,” the captain stated.
They could hear the cries of the wounded and dying fade through the door.
“If any of them are standing, they will fall down when we land,” he continued. “We will have only a brief moment to open this door, step out, open the hatch and release the emergency chute.” He made sure they were paying attention.
He didn’t have to worry about that.
“Seconds is all we have once we stop. Not everyone back there has turned. Many are sick and dying. You know what is going to happen to them. The eaters are slower than us. We can beat them down the chute, I think, but we’ll only have a few seconds head start.”
Ground control was totally unaware of the situation, but they were in full response mode. Other flights in the area were told to circle and a couple low on fuel were routed to other airports nearby.
“We are going to be in a lot of trouble when they see us leave the plane before the passengers,” the captain warned. “Do not worry about that. This sickness has infected the plane. We are alive, but I don’t think you need to be bitten or eaten. That is what would happen if you go back there. We can try to warn the Germans. They are going to be upset. If it is like what happened in Kabul, they won’t have time to be upset with us.”
“Should we tell them to seal the plane after we get off?” the co-pilot asked.
“That I don’t know,” the pilot replied. “They are not going to understand what is really happening. We don’t understand it. Yes, we should warn them, but only after our feet are safely on the ground. Got it?”
They nodded.
“Good, now strap in.”
“Captain?” the navigator nervously asked.
“Yes,” the pilot replied.
“What about the other two flights that left when we did?” the navigator wondered. “They had some passengers on board who were like these. Tired, scared, wounded, but by what, I don’t know.”
“It is in the hands of Allah, Kalief,” the captain replied. “We must all say prayers and hope for the will of Allah to prevail.”
“KAF 124, this is Berlin Control, you are cleared to land on runway 1A, over,” spoke the authoritative voice over the loudspeaker.
“Roger Control,” the copilot answered. “Thank you.”
From above, they could see the runway. They could see the rows of ambulances and police cars lining the runway, ready to assist the passengers. As the wheels touched the earth for the last time, the pilot coasted, reversing his engines and slowing the heavy plane down.
“Hold on tightly, because I’m going to brake hard,” the pilot warned.
Screech.
The brakes engaged and rubber grabbed the pavement. A sudden jolt and kinetic energy pushed them forward as the plane came to a sudden stop. The crew could hear some screams from the rear, although faint. They also heard the thumping sound of bodies being tossed off balance and falling into the seats and aisles.
“Now!” the captain shouted.
The navigator opened the hatch, but recoiled from the smell that almost overpowered him. The shock that was written on his face was even more horrifying. He could see rivers of blood in the aisle. He saw body parts, arms, hands and some guts strewn over the seats. Some of the passengers had tried to put up a fight. Some succeeded in fending off some of the eaters, but not before getting bit.
They looked up at the emerging and safe crew with anger and hatred. He then saw the gray face of a biter rise and grab a passenger by the leg and instantly start to bite through the pants into the flesh. There were more screams. In this spilt second of time, he saw the bathroom door open. The passenger looked down the aisle, saw people eating people, and knew that he could not make it to the front of the cabin where the door was opening. He screamed for help. The crew saw him and facing the sunlight of the afternoon in their faces, jumped down the chute into the arms of the awaiting crews.
The language barrier was erased with a smile and with a tear. Everyone understood laughter and crying. As the flight attendants slid down the chute, they saw at first curiosity on the faces of the first responders, then disgust. In the minds of the responders, they saw only cowards, leaving their plane before the passengers. In their shouting to each other, the Germans did not understand the Arabic language of warnings. They did not understand that they were being told to not go into the plane. The crew was shouting that they seal the plane. The Germans only heard chaotic sounds as the language barrier could not be penetrated. They did see the frightened faces of the flight crew and again mistook their warnings as the babblings of cowards. Within minutes, another body came into view on the plane. The responders were motioning for him to slide, waving him down with their arms. It did not hear what they were saying. All it saw was the sunlight and movement. Its brain understood that to mean that blood was nearby. It started to walk forward when it fell into the chute and slid down headfirst onto the ground.
The first responders to reach him were taken back by what they saw. The gray ashen complexion, the eyes that darted within bubbles of gray pulp. They heard the grasping hissing sounds as if it were trying to talk. They saw it bite the fingers off of the first person that tried to assist it to the ground.
Another person slid down the chute. Her arm was bleeding profusely, but she was alive. Medics ran to her and hustled her away on a stretcher that would carry her to the hospital. Another, another and another crawled out the door and slid down the chute.
The medics wondered why the rear door had not opened. They called for a step truck to pull up so they could race into the plane and offer assistance. Another body stumbled to the door and fell out of the plane. It was a puzzling site to those watching below. Something was terribly wrong. All that were near the gray and bloodied figure were stunned into shock. Not moving at first. Then reacting as medical professionals do, they rushed to assist. Again, the body was aroused by the scent of blood. It arose and bit into the neck of the first medic that got close enough. Police nearby wrestled the body to the ground, its jaws snapping. They handcuffed the wrists and placed it in the back of their car. Before long, they had fifteen ‘people’ in their cars to be taken to the holding facility inside the terminal.
The step truck pulled up to the open hatch and emergency crews ran up the stairs, medical supplies in hand, and entered the plane. They were slapped in face with the stench. Like the navigator moments before, they were shocked into a state of motionless movement. They regained their senses quickly and immediately ran to the first body they saw. As one medic turned the body over, they saw it open its eyes to reveal the gray bubbly pulp. She was once pretty the medic thought.
“What the hell?” he said in his native language.
But the thing that he was talking to did not hear that. It smelled the scent of the nearby heart pumping blood at a high rate into the veins of the medic’s neck. The once pretty woman, now a corpse, reached for the medics head and pulled it down towards her mouth where she, it, bit into the soft, warm flesh.
Outside the plane, chaos was spreading through the streets of Berlin. Nobody was paying any attention to the cowards who had first run from the plane. One official asked where the pilot was, looking around.
No one had an answer.
The flight crew had vacated the area and was never heard from again.
Not that anyone ever looked for them again.
As evening fell, more and more ambulances were called to Berlin Tegel Airport. News reports of the evening reported on a terrorist incident at the terminal and also noted that everything was under control. Other news told of the increasing riots in Afghanistan. It was interesting news, but as Munich was playing Cologne in futball, most of the nation was busy watching the championship game to pay much attention, if any, to the political news.
It was doubtful that anybody noticed the five long-haired goats scampering across the runways either. In just a matter of hours, however, all of Europe would be reeling from the effects.
Goats, no matter which species or how they were raised, eat just about anything.
