On her way back to the airport, Linda notices something in a ditch and stops to pick it up. It is an empty drink bottle, the kind that sports drinks are sold in. What a stroke of luck, she had been wanting to find something to hold water in, especially something with a no spill lid like this one. And she is starting to feel a little thirsty too. The stream flowing through the ditch is deep and looks clean enough to drink.
She removes the lid and dunks it into the water. Once full, she takes a drink to find that it seems fresh. She drinks the whole bottle down and fills it up once again, then caps it and returns to the airport terminal. All without incident.
She takes a moment to stare at the front window she had smashed out.
"I shouldn't have done that, but what other choice was there? Maybe I can barricade that with enough furniture."
She heads around to the back and removes the chair, fearing that if any of those infected do come around, they might try to climb in.
Once back inside, she sets to work moving the furniture over to the missing window. Afterwards, she uses the desk from that office. That part turns out to be difficult as it is a heavy desk for her to move and finds herself wishing for another one of those adrenalin rushes. But after much tugging, sweating, and swearing, she manages to get that desk up against the other furniture.
She sits on the sofa propped up against her barricade and has a meal of what she now sees as her rations. She knows that she will need to find more supplies. Of course, there are always bugs to be eaten when necessary.
With little else to do, the day passes slowly as Linda simply meanders about the place. She looks out through the windows every now and again to see if any more of those infected are wandering by.
The day drags onward.
The time finally comes as the sun sets and Linda decides to turn in. She lies down across the sofa that she had dragged up against the doorway. She continues to lie there as the twilight slowly fades, causing the interior to grow increasingly dark. Somehow this seems different than when she bedded down for the night back on that island. She figures that it must be a new setting. Then again, there was that house she had fallen asleep in.
Whatever the case, the night is fully on by the time she falls asleep.
Linda enters her home in the suburbs of Pittsburgh to finally see her family and hurries into the living room.
"Everyone, I'm alive!"
Only to stop and gape with horror as they are now all clickers. They screech while lunging at her and tear into her.
Linda instantly awakens as a chill runs down her spine. She cannot move.
What was that?! Is it one of them?! How did they get in here?! She fears that if she moves, it will discover her and attack her! If she can just jump up out of the way, she will be safe. But when should she make her move?!
Time seems to have stopped. All she can move are her eyes and she dare not open them for fear that she will see one of those popcorn-headed freaks looming over her. Then perhaps a finger? Just to prim her muscles. Ever so carefully, she moves first her pinky. So far, so good, and she moves some more fingers. Nothing yet. Now she flexes her hand and since nothing has happened yet, she finally moves her hand, then her arm.
The fear, along with the paralysis, vanishes instantly.
Linda opens her eyes as she rolls over to see that she is still alone and it is still night. She wonders what that was all about, then rolls back over to get comfortable once again and tries to fall asleep. She thinks of her family. Did they truly survive this catastrophe? Or did they end up becoming like . . . them? What if the next infected turns out to be from her family? The thought sends a chill through her.
If she can just make it to Pittsburgh, then all her questions may get answered.
The next time Linda is aware once again, she opens her eyes to see the gloom of the dawn lighting up the interior. She gets up and uses the washroom, having to use her light to brighten the interior. Next, she decides to take those vitamins and the protein powder as her breakfast. It will also tie her over for the rest of the day as she will be too busy flying that plane to eat properly. The vitamins are easy to swallow, but the protein powder proves more difficult as she has to mix in some water from her water bottle and shake the powder container. She drinks it and winces at the disgusting taste, either because she had not prepared it properly or it had been sitting too long back in that house.
Afterwards, she starts moving furniture to get out. Once outside, she takes a deep breath of fresh air and seems more revitalized.
"Looks like a good day for flying." As she notes the clear sky.
Linda looks at the hangar where the plane is, ready and waiting to go, and starts walking toward it. Only to stop as she suddenly thinks about what had almost happened to her yesterday. It should have made her more aware of danger. If any of them happened to have been around, she could have been mauled to death. Her time on that island with no land dangers never helped to heighten her sense of caution.
"I better start getting more aware of my surroundings from now on."
Once at the hangar, she takes a moment to size the plane up. There is more than enough space to start it up and get it moving on its own without having to move it outside. She looks at the tarmac to get a visual of her flight route and follows another tarmac running north.
"I should've checked for cracks in the runway. But that thing yesterday had me all paranoid."
Linda opens the back door. She removes her water bottle and puts the backpack on the seat. As an afterthought, she pulls a seatbelt over it and belts it into place.
She gets on her bike and heads back over to the ditch by the road and fills the bottle up with more water. Although she won't be able to eat properly, she will at least be able to drink. Upon returning to the plane, she gets off and pauses as she looks her bike over.
"I wonder if I should take this . . . ? Yeah, I think I will."
She goes to work stuffing the bike into the back of the cabin. Even though the interior is wider than the bike's length, especially with the wheel turned side on, it is still a difficult task as she needs to keep the door open while shoving that bike inside. Those seats prove to be troublesome.
Linda manages to get that bike fully inside and is able to close the door. She gets into the front and belts herself in. For the moment she does nothing as she just focuses on psyching herself up as she clasps hold of the wheel. All this preparation has come to this moment. The fear of crashing still nags her. That is certainly a risk, especially since she will need to land once again. She remembers hearing one time about how it is easier to take off than it is to land.
She takes a deep breath and sighs while turning the key. She pushes the ignition button, causing the engine to start up and the loud buzzing of the propellor to break the silence of the morning. Clasping hold of the throttle, she pushes it forward and the plane moves forward with a jolt, causing Linda to lunge backward slightly.
"Okay . . . Gotta be careful . . . Don't open up the throttle too much, Linda."
The plane slowly moves out of the hangar. Once outside, she opens the throttle up a little more to increase its speed. She glares at that route, hoping to be able to make the maneuver as it is a hairpin turn.
At that end, she makes the turn. She feels the plane going over the ground. It is only momentarily though as she feels asphalt beneath her once again, nothing to worry about. She keeps turning until that runway is before her.
Now comes the hard part: takeoff.
She pushes the throttle and the plane starts speeding up as its buzzing continues to increase in volume and monotone. Like the rest of the roads, she can see that this runway has seen better days; although it is not as ravaged. Though at this speed, she understands that even a crack in the pavement can trip the plane up with explosive consequences.
And still, she keeps pushing that throttle in until its head touches the panel.
"Yes, yes, that's it. That it's!"
As the plane is now at its top speed from what she sees on the speedometer. Already she has crossed the crossroads with the other west-east tarmac.
"It's now or dead."
Linda slowly pulls up on the wheel and is soon rewarded with the feeling of lightness underneath her. She smiles broadly as joy rushes through her.
"Yes! Yes! That's it! That's it!"
The plane fully clears the tarmac and continues climbing ever higher. Linda's joy turns to euphoria and she laughs.
"Woohoo! I did it! I did it! I'm flying!"
The sun rises behind her as she can see its light gleaming on the fuselage. Since she will be heading in a northerly direction the sun won't be in her face, giving her a clear view of the horizon. The forest rushes beneath her.
Linda's euphoria dies down as she continues climbing ever higher, feeling the weight of the tilt upon her. The horizon is no longer visible and she can only see the clear sky now. She remembers that a plane like this can stall if she climbs too quickly or too high. Watching that altimeter, she soon figures it out: all she has to do is keep that long line on it level with that bar within the glass.
She watches as those numbers on that altimeter keeps climbing. Once it reads two thousand feet, she decides not to push her luck and levels off as she watches that line carefully align with the line in the glass. Once leveled and looking at the horizon, she feels comfortable once again. This time, she looks at that compass and turns the plane just enough to have the letters NW underneath the needle. At least she can see that this compass works.
Off she flies toward the northwest. The landing being the furthest thing from her mind at the moment.
Soaring over the landscape, Linda cannot see the ruin that the mysterious plague had inflicted. All she can see are forest-covered mountains with roads crisscrossing through them. Houses and other buildings dot the scenery every now and again. In spite of the speedometer clocking the plane's speed at over one hundred and forty miles per hour, the land down below seems to pass at a snail's pace to Linda's perspective. She starts wondering if she will reach her destination before nightfall. Or whether she will have enough fuel like she did on that boat.
Or even if she will be able to land this plane properly.
It is close to evening when she approaches a cloudy section of the sky. There are breaks in the cloud, but there are still lots of clouds and they appear too low for Linda's comfort. She glances at the fuel gauge to see that the needle is creeping ever closer to the E.
She keeps searching for an airport to land upon, but sees nothing. She starts to feel the panic welling up in her because it seems as if every time she looks at that gauge, that needle is just a little bit closer to the E. There has to be an airport she can land at.
With the needle just above the E, her desperation becomes such that her heart starts pounding furiously and tears begin flowing down her cheeks. She envisions the plane crashing into the trees and that being the end of her. She next thinks about a lake and attempt to skim the surface to break her impact. That in turn gives her a vision of cartwheeling across the surface of the lake.
"It's gonna have to be a highway then."
She glances to see that the needle is now dangerously close to the E. She turns slightly and lines herself up with a highway down below. Now comes the toughest part of flying: landing.
As she gets closer, the engine starts sputtering and conking.
"No, no, no, no! Fucking no!" As she looks to see that the needle is now over the E.
The engine finally shuts off and the propellor stops spinning. Now she is a deadweight and starts pulling back on that wheel as far as it can go. The next thing she notices is a truck driving up the highway. She is both glad to know that there are normal people still out there. And afraid, now that she is about to crash into that truck.
She keeps getting ever closer and her panic keeps going up. It looks as if the driver is oblivious to the danger quickly descending upon them.
"Come on, you bastard! Come on! Level out!"
Closer and closer she continues to get. All the while the driver is oblivious to the danger from up above. She is now minutes away from impact and is close enough now to see that it is a double cab truck with a white and blue body.
The truck suddenly stops, showing that the driver had seen the danger in time, and she clears the truck safely.
That solved one problem, but the other cannot be solved as the asphalt is only seconds away from impact. Linda quickly braces herself for impact by crossing her arms and clasping them tightly as she presses her chin against her breastbone while shutting her eyes tightly.
The moment the wheels impact violently with the road is the moment her whole world starts tumbling.
After what had seemed like hours, her world finally stops tumbling. Everything is like a dream and she finds herself on the verge of passing out. She opens her eyes and is relieved to find that up is still up and down is still down. Blackness begins to swim throughout her vision. The windshield is covered with thousands of cracks, looking as if it can be shattered with a single blow, and the side windows are busted out. She moves her legs tentatively and even moves the rest of herself around to find that nothing is broken. Her forehead aches terribly and feels somewhat wet. She reaches up to touch it and takes her hand away to see some blood on it.
Seemingly in the distance, sounds of footsteps are heard and a presence looms alongside her. Linda idly concludes that one of those infected had heard the crash and came running. She turns to look up into the concerned face of a young girl instead.
"It's a woman and she's still alive! And I don't think she's infected!" The girl next called out to someone as she turns to acknowledge them. She too sounded distant.
A normal person?! No, two, because she had called out to someone! That someone arrives and Linda is next looking up at a bearded man standing next to her.
The blackness continues to cloud Linda's vision. She hears that girl talk to her again, this time reassuringly and even touches her. But she sounds so distant. Everything is on the verge of disappearing.
The next thing Linda is aware of is strong calloused hands touching her forehead. More words are spoken. Those firm hands feel her over, clasping her head, arms, ribs, and legs. He must obviously be feeling for broken bones. Again more words and this time he starts undoing her seatbelt.
"Y-You're both normal," Linda rasped.
And that was the last thing she remembered before waking up to find herself lying on a soft but firm surface, along with the feel of cool vinyl pressing against the right side of her face.
"So what're we gonna do with her?" She heard what must be the girl from down near her feet.
"I don't know," the man answered in a southern dialect from right behind her, but up a little high.
"Well we can't just leave her," the girl said empathetically. "There might be infected nearby who heard that crash."
Linda hears the man sigh gruffly. He clearly doesn't seem friendly and this starts to worry Linda. Though she doesn't believe him dangerous as he has a girl with him. She carefully opens her right eye while keeping her left one closed to see that she is facing what must be the backseat of their truck. No sense in letting them know that she's awake, now that she knows she was unconscious. Best to glean information through their ignorance of her regained conscious.
"And what red hair she has! It's even redder than mine!" The girl continued. Linda feels the girl brush her fingers lightly against her scalp. "Have you ever seen hair that red before?!"
"Yeah, I have," the man answered. "Back in my day, there were more people like her. They had the palest skin, so they were never able to get a tan and were easily burned by the sun. And judgin' by her skin, I'd say she was definitely out in the sun a lot. But did you hear her say how we were normal?"
"Yeah, I did."
"It means she hadn't seen a normal person in a very long time."
"So where do you think she came from?" The girl asked.
"I don't know. But I get the feelin' that I saw her somewhere before. Anyway, she's awake now, 'cause I saw her tense up slightly when you touched her. That and her breathin's more solid."
Knowing that the jig is up, Linda slowly gets up and turns over to sit up on the seat properly with her hands pressed against her knees. She guessed right over knowing that she is inside the truck and in its backseat. She sizes up her rescuers.
Both of them are White, a man and a young girl. The man has dark hair and eyes, is bearded, and appears to be either in his late forties or early fifties with touches of grey scattered throughout his hair. The girl appears to be in her early teens, with greenish eyes and long chestnut hair worn in a low ponytail.
"Hey there," the girl said.
"H-Hi," Linda answered meekly. It has been so long since she had heard another human voice that was not her own. "Um . . . Ah . . . About what-"
"You ran out of fuel," the man interrupted with assurance, "and was forced to make a crash landin'. We get it."
"Y-Yes," Linda said as she starts feeling better.
"You're lucky that all you got was that cut on your forehead," the man pointed. "It's not serious so I was able to patch it up. You'll only have a small scar there afterwards."
Linda touches a pad taped against the side of her forehead. "Th-Thank you."
"What's your name?" The girl asked.
"L-Linda."
"I'm Ellie, and he's Joel."
"P-Please to meet you," Linda said as she tries to settle her unease by shaking hands with them.
"So where're you from?," Joel asked.
Linda takes a deep breath and sighs long and loud as she brushes her hand back through her bristly hair and looking downward in the attempt to gather her thoughts. Then looks up to both of them as she glances back and forth.
"Okay, this is going to be very hard to believe, but here it goes," she finally said with articulation. "It all started on September the twenty-fourth, two thousand and thirteen . . ."