The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath (2 page)

Switching back to his squadron frequency he raised his wingman, "Ok Huntress, two minutes until they hit the red line and they are not willing to turn back. Let’s take this by the numbers. Maintain your current trajectory and spin up training sidewinders. Concentrate on the port engine, I will take out the cockpit."

Their ordinance package had been designed to conserve ammunition. The Lincoln had a supply of training missiles that they were planning to use up while going sparingly on war shots. The logic being that it was anyone’s guess when they would have an opportunity for resupply. Both of them were carrying two training sidewinders as well as two live war shots and a full load of ammunition for their 20mm Vulcan cannons. The parameters for their patrol was that unless met with aggressive aircraft they were to first expend their training rounds or cannon ammunition before resorting to the live Sidewinders. The patrol earlier that morning that had downed the Gulfstream had done so with only a double burst from his cannon. With such a small aircraft to target the Vulcan had shredded it to pieces in an instant. The much larger 727 would take several bursts of cannon fire to achieve the same results they would be able to reach with just a single practice missile fired from each of their aircraft. Economically it was the better choice and was within the parameters of his position as flight lead to make that call.

The training sidewinders were similar to the real thing in every regard except for the amount of fuel they carried and the size of the warhead that would detonate on impact with a target. In this case, distance was not an issue, they were shooting point blank and the minimal warhead was more than sufficient to bring the aircraft down with hits to one engine as well as the cockpit.

Crusher adjusted his targeting scope and the screen lit up with sidewinders selected, in seconds he was presented with a warbling tone telling him that he had a solid lock on his target. Disengaging the targeting functions he switched to manual fire mode. This would allow him to angle his shot so that the missile passed through the cockpit area instead of the hotter engine return that the computer would automatically select. Huntress would be able to continue using her targeting computer, as long as she stayed off to the rear of the port side wing her missile would impact that engine without even the slightest course correction needed at the distance they were firing. He allowed his own aircraft to drift a little higher and centered himself at a point over the back of the fuselage of his target, it would be a downward shot passing through the cockpit from a center point just behind where the pilot and copilot were sitting. For everyone on the flight deck it would end in an instant with a bright flash. The explosion of the engine would undoubtedly rip shrapnel through the body of the plane and for some passengers inside the fuselage would end their nightmare quickly. Unfortunately there would be survivors who would suffer knowing their fate for the several seconds it took the stricken plane to drop the remaining distance to the ocean below. That was just something that couldn't be helped, even firing the live sidewinders would not completely disintegrate a plane of this size in midair. No matter how they did this there would be survivors who would scream in terror all the way down to the deck.

"Huntress?" He queried.

"Roger, I’ve got good tone and lock." She replied.

He was proud to hear that her voice remained strong and neutral, no emotion shown through, just a naval aviator doing her job. Even if that job was about as shitty as they came.

The target hadn't strayed an inch from its course, hadn't increased or decreased speed, didn't try to dive for the deck or take any form or evasive action. The pilots knew what was coming and had resigned themselves to their fate. There was nothing left for either of them to do, they had the plane in their sights and drawing things out only made it that much worse for those inside who knew they were about to be blown from the sky.

"On my mark, three, two, one, FOX TWO." He called out as he let his missile fly. A second missile leapt from the wing of Huntress' plane an instant later.

"FOX TWO." She called.

The smoke from the two missile trails was still obscuring his view as the pair of missiles hit their respective targets dead on. The plane dipped to the right as a result of the missile strike to the engine, preventing him from seeing the full effects on that side of the fu
selage. From the dozens of jagged holes that suddenly appeared on the far side of the passenger compartment he could tell that the damage on the inside was nothing short of catastrophic. As the plane continued to roll into a slopping dive towards the port side, Crusher and Huntress formed back into a standard flight team with him taking the lead while she came along slightly behind and below following in a nice tight pattern as they banked along with the stricken plane. As long as it remained airborne they were required to stay with it in the event they pilot was somehow able to regain control and resume their approach towards the invisible line marking the boundary of the exclusion zone only a few miles ahead of the them. As soon as Crusher got a good look at the exit hole his own missile had left underneath the cockpit after it tore from top to bottom through the flight deck, he knew there was no chance at all of the aircraft remaining airworthy. The hole was fifteen to twenty feet in diameter with wires and cables dangling freely several feet from the edge of the twisted metal marking the edges of the opening. His missile had not only killed everyone in the cockpit but also obliterated all of the flight controls and smashed the hydraulic system that controlled the flaps and air brakes.

As the plane continued to roll to the port side its angle of dive and relevant airspeed rapidly increased until it was falling so fast that both fighters had to break away from their pursuit
and start making wide lazy figure eight turns at altitude while continuing to monitor its last few seconds before striking the sea. At several thousand feet above the water the actual impact appeared as a large white discoloration on the open water, seconds later the foam around the point of impact began to dissipate and from their altitude they could see no further evidence that the plane had ever existed.

Toggling his radio frequency he called in the result of the engagement, "Guntrain this is Champion 56. Splash one, over."

The reply was cool, calm and level. He imagined that watching the whole thing unfold on the computerized screens back in the CIC of the Lincoln gave the radio operator enough detachment from the whole episode that it was nothing more than a high tech video game for them. They were lucky in that respect. "Roger Champion 56, splash one. Return to normal patrol operations. Scope shows you clear of all traffic at this time."

He broke squelch twice to si
gnal his acknowledgment. There was nothing more that needed to be said.

"Huntress, follow me back to level flight path at angels 20. Drop to fuel conservation speed and let’s try and make the
most of the rest of this patrol. We’ve still got another two hours before we our relief arrives on station."

Pulling back gently on the stick he eased his fighter into a climb to bring him back to the correct al
titude to continue their patrol. He hoped that this was the only excitement they would have for the day. Unlike the exhilaration he had always imagined knocking his first enemy fighter from the sky, he felt nothing but a growing nausea of having just committed nothing more than mass murder. There would be no celebration for him from this first kill.

#

"Her fever is starting to return, I am not sure how much longer she is going to last i
f she doesn't get some medicine. This is the fourth time her temperature has spiked. She hasn't eaten since we got here and I have only been able to get her to hold down a few cups of water." Miranda announced.

They had been taking turns tending to Kimberly since their arrival inside Great Falls
Park. Garrett had been familiar enough with the area to get them to a park ranger station situated well back into the forested refuge where they felt somewhat secure for the first time since the zombies first started to appear. The small ranger station was more of a checkpoint set back into the woods along some of the more isolated hiking trails. It had been constructed to allow park personal to maintain a presence and render aid to the occasional hiker or naturalist who found themselves lost or in most cases, dehydrated from not packing water, and in need of assistance. Since the park catered primarily to the more upscale neighborhoods within Fairfax County and the DC area, the station was well maintained and kept in good shape. It just wouldn't do for millionaires and their guests to be hiking through the woods and come up a run down eyesore of a facility that their hard earned tax dollars went into financing. The station provided them with a roof over their heads, some basic medical supplies and a generator with two spare five gallon cans of fuel. There were three rooms inside the small building, a central office space with supply cabinets and a desk, a bunk room with two cots set up to maintain injured hikers until they could be transported out of the park or recovered enough to walk out on their own power and a separate bathroom area with showers and locker space. They had been pleasantly surprised to note that while there may not have been hot water, the water system was gravitational and they were still able to run water from the sinks but unfortunately not the showers. Kimberly had been tucked into one of the cots while Miranda and Shellie rotated on the other, the three men were relegated to floor space in the outer office area, but it still beat roughing it out under the stars. They had left Garrett's truck and Kyle's police cruiser parked a little over a mile away alongside a service road with access to the trails leading back to the station. It had been a difficult task to move Kimberly and their supplies back through the woods, but they had all agreed that the isolated building would be a much better alternative than the much larger and easier accessed nature center situated not far from the entrance to the park. Garrett and Calvin had returned on foot the day after their arrival to scout out the nature center and had spotted a few of the flesh eating abominations. It had looked like a couple of the park rangers as well as two or three hikers had fallen victim to the virus there in the park and were standing vigil near the nature center in search of their next meal. While that handful of zombies was a concern for them, it was nothing in comparison to large masses that were roaming the streets out in the more populated areas of the surrounding towns. Even keeping their distance from the nature center and studying it through high powered binoculars they had been concerned that those zombies may have started detecting their presence. Only a few minutes after they had moved into position they noticed that a couple of them had turned their faces skyward and started sniffing the air like bloodhounds picking up a trail. Both men had retreated further into the woods and come back towards the center from a different direction against the breeze and were able to maintain an observation point for close to twenty minutes without any further sign that those zombies were aware of their presence. The episode had further supported their suspicions that the creatures were capable of detecting the scent from surviving humans from a good distance away, it was something they had to ensure they were always conscious of.

For the time being they felt that they were safe as long as they stayed clear of any populated areas, but they also recognized that it was not a situation they could maintain long term. Kimberly was sick with the virus and while it was a miracle she had held on as long as she had if there was any hope of her pulling through, they needed to get her some help very soon. There was also the issue of food, Calvin had saved their ass
by thinking to bring along a quantity of MRE's, the plastic pouches containing field rations issued to soldiers in the field. Even though everyone was more than willing to make do with the prepackaged meals. There was already rumblings with Miranda and Shellie that they were having a hard time stomaching the high calorie diets that those packets of food provided. The lack of some other necessities was something that the ladies were also having a hard time doing without. Toilet paper had become the biggest gripe since their arrival, the ranger station had only a few sheets of the valuable paper on hand and that was gone even with careful rationing by the afternoon after they arrived. Shellie had mentioned that other basic toiletry items in addition to something to help combat boredom were going to eventually be needed or she felt that all of them would start climbing the walls pretty soon. Garrett had to agree with her in principle on those points. While they would physically be fine without any of those items, there short time in isolation had already been marked with periods of extreme boredom. They had discovered a total of three magazines and a collection of information brochures about the park inside the station, but each of them had covered that material more than once already and if they were going to be spending a long time out in the middle of the woods, there just had to be something for them to do to keep their minds occupied. Constantly staring out into the trees and jumping at each squirrel or deer that happened by was going to drive them all crazy before too long. The three men were taking turns on guard duty, walking a perimeter around the building and into the surrounding woods while the ladies rotated the duty of keeping a constant eye on Kimberly. Garrett had stressed to each of them that not only were they concerned with her well-being but it was important that she always be under observation since none of them knew much about the virus and how it turned someone into a zombie. If she turned and none of them were there to see it, she could possibly do a lot of damage before they were able to react. They already knew that a single bite from a zombie was the end of the road for the victim. Garrett had already been faced with the unsavory task of putting a bullet through the head of his own neighbor after he had suffered just such a bite from his own son.