Chapter 9 – The Beginning of the End.

The night was beginning to set on the store. Anni and Garrett had made makeshift graves for their fallen friends; the graves had been empty: the bodies couldn't be recovered. Anni mourned her brother; Kyle wasn't the best person but he was family and that was all that mattered. Garrett let her mourn; he had stopped feeling for the dead a long time ago.

"We need to leave…" He said quietly.

Anni nodded slowly, knowing that he was right. The horde would be back and they couldn't defend the shop; not the two of them alone. The airport wasn't far either; they could probably make it by the end of the afternoon. They made Garrett a makeshift cane from the debris of the store and loaded up on ammo one last time before they started down the long highway. Garrett limped down the road, giving Annissina covering fire whenever they ran into stray zombies.

Garrett cringed and gritted his teeth as he walked; the battle must have opened his wounds again and he had probably started bleeding internally. He didn't let Anni see his pain though, because she would worry more than she had to. His objective was to get her to safety – everything else was secondary.

"We are close…" Garrett mumbled, spotting a sign on the ground for the airport.

"Yeah, let's get a move on!" Anni said, happy that they would be out of this hell soon.

The two survivors turned down the off ramp and made their way toward the large airfield. They shot more creatures along the way; their bodies even more decomposed than the last ones. These beasts must have been dead longer than the others. The fetid stench just got stronger as they got closer to the airport. The streets were stained with blood, remnants of the airport security trying to hold off the invasion.

As they entered the building Garrett noticed spent shell casings littering the floor and discarded bags ripped open and strewn about. Clothes, laptops, phones, guns, toys, and all other manner of objects were dropped a left where they fell. Garrett even saw a half eaten young girl still clutching her favorite teddy bear. The infected hadn't even bothered to finish feasting on the poor child. He coughed up a small amount of blood. Not much time left… he though. He wasn't a doctor, nor did he know a lot about medical problems; but he could tell he wouldn't last. His vision was already becoming blurred.

"Let's get out there… the radio should… be close." He managed to say, his breathing heavy and ragged.

Anni looked at him with concern in her eyes, but he dismissed her with a wave of his hand.

"I'm fine." He started walking and closed his eyes for a split second.

The airport was deserted other than a few straggling zombies. They were dispatched without much trouble and the two survivors found the radio tower. It was placed near the middle of the airstrip and was actually a fairly nice tower for such a small airport. It had an elevator, which was good news for Garrett. Annissina helped him get settled and they rode to the top, watching as the ground sunk away under them. The elevator doors opened and the stink of stale death washed over the two, the crew having apparently been butchered by a zombie amongst their ranks before they could leave the airborne prison.

A single zombie lay on the ground, surrounded by his formerly living peers. Garrett and Anni made sure to put a round through each corpse's heads, just to make sure. Garrett sat in one of the chairs with a loud thud and tilted his head back, glad to get off his injured leg. He rubbed the knee, the flesh was spongy and sore – it hadn't had a chance to heal properly. He picked up a microphone and tried to figure the controls out.

The console was covered in flashing buttons, dials and odd lights. He had no real idea what he was doing, so he just started guessing. He found a box with a label covered in blood. He wiped some of it away with his finger and smiled to himself when it revealed the word 'Frequency'. He pressed a small button next to the box and the microphone began surfing through available frequencies trying to find an open connection.

For several minutes all that came back was static; but eventually the machine made a small click and Garrett could hear the glory of a silent connection. Someone out there had an open connection – presumably the pilot they were looking for.

"Hello! Hello! Can anyone hear me?" He spoke into the microphone.

No response. He tried again, "Hello? Is anyone there? I have two survivors looking for immediate pickup! We AREN'T bitten! I repeat, we are NOT bitten."

Silence. Garrett sighed and threw his head down, smashing it against the table. He had drug people through hell on this chance. And it had failed. He had led people to their death and he couldn't even give a good excuse why. Anni moved and stood next to the boy and placed an arm on his shoulder.

"It was our best shot…" She said, talking like it was already over. "You couldn't have known." She placed her head on his and breathed deeply, feeling his breathing become ragged again as he coughed heavily, the blood spilling onto the counter.

She stared at him and held him close, about to say something when static emitted from the microphone.

'ou….n..t…. infect…. ight?' A voice came from the static. Garrett scooped up the microphone and started to talk into it.

"No! We are not infected! Please we need pickup!"

'an… there…. 15…. Need….. f…ul…' the voice replied.

"Repeat that please! We can't hear you!" Garrett was trying to clear the channel but for all he knew he could be making it worse.

'Can….there…. in 15…. Need Fuel!'

"We'll have it ready!" Garrett shouted back, the channel going silent once more.

Garrett and Anni nodded to each other and started coming down the elevator again. They escaped the stale room and started moving toward a small gassing station and made sure that fuel was flowing. Garrett hopped into a small cart mover and maneuvered a few stack of crates and other items into a more defensible position; if the plane was loud it would attract the zombies.

Fifteen minutes passed and there was no sign of the promised rescue. Garrett checked his watch and stared at the sky, still sitting in the cart mover. Anni was sitting on a large stack of crates, her rifle constantly pointed on the horizon.

"Where is he?" Garrett mumbled.

"I'm sure he'll be here…" Anni replied, "He said 'around' 15 minutes, not 15 exactly."

Garrett tapped his foot impatiently and was starting to get frustrated. 17 minutes. The pilot was two minutes late. 20 minutes. Five minutes now. At 25 minutes he was about to give up, when the sound of coughing rotors cut the air. The plane was coming in fast and hot, behind the crates and heading straight for the fuel station. It must have been running on fumes, because the engines coughed and whined as the plane tried to steady and land.

The wheels hit the ground with a loud squeal and smoke kicked up from the burning rubber. The small plane had turned out to be a single engine private charter plane. Room inside for maybe four people at the most. There was no co-pilot, only the man working the controls. He was a scruffy man, his face covered in a fair amount of hair, but not enough to be called a beard. He climbed out of the plane and immediately started fueling.

"We'd better hurry!" The pilot said; his voice gruff and hurried. "I saw a MASSIVE group of those things heading this way!"

"Shit…" Garrett and Anni said at the same time.

Garrett moved the cart pusher into position to watch the area the plane had flown in from, while Anni moved down to defend the pilot's position. This would be a hard fight.