Thoughtfully watching her apparent slumber for a few moments, Kenneth turned to his brother. "So what's the real story brother? Who's Snow White over there working for, and where is she taking us?"
"I don't know anymore. She's definitely got connections in all the right places, but I don't know how or why. She could be taking us anywhere," Henry replied.
"CJ have you learned anything about where we're going?" Michael asked, turning towards the former security guard only to see that he too appeared to be asleep.
"I think you boys are forgetting a few things." Peter interrupted.
"How do you figure?" Kenneth asked.
"Well, for one thing, I doubt if our last stop for fuel was successful enough to allow us to reach our destination in Colorado or wherever the hell she may choose to drag us," Peter explained succinctly.
"Another stop could mean we lose more people," Michael murmured.
"Exactly," Peter said. "For another thing, how do we know that those things aren't going to be waiting for us at this unknown destination? For all we know they'll be crawling all over the place."
"You're saying you think this whole thing is some kind of big suicide mission, is that it," grumbled Kenneth.
"Not necessarily, I'm just saying that we need to start asking Briggs some questions instead of blindly following whatever she says," Peter explained.
"But it is a suicide mission," Nicole called out tremulously. "We're all just going to get picked off one at a time whenever we land this thing." As she spoke, Nicole's eyes widened with fear, as if she was watching exactly that fate playing out before her. She pulled Chips into a hug that was more reminiscent of a choke hold. The dog squirmed, trying to break free from her grasp until Terry intervened and forcibly removed Nicole's arms from around the animal's neck, murmuring soothing words to her all the while.
"Nicole baby, every day that we survive is a victory for us," Michael said, hoping to help Terry calm the frightened girl. "I know I said that we could lose more people if we stop again, but it's a risk that we may have to take over and over again if we're going to get out of this thing. Every day that we're alive is a gift, never forget that."
"Have any of us even bothered to ask her where we're going?" Ana asked, changing the subject and looking around the cabin of the helicopter at the other passengers. A faint murmur of denial filled the cabin in answer to her question.
Briggs voice broke through the sudden quiet that had so swiftly filled the helicopter. "Jesus people, how the fuck is a person supposed to get any sleep around here if y'all keep carrying on like that?" she drawled, sounding as southern as Cowboy normally did.
The rest of the travelers turned, almost as one, towards her. Kenneth was the first to speak. "So how long have you been listening?"
"Since I sat down. You people should really make sure that the object of your discussions is actually asleep before you start talking about her." She nudged CJ in the side with an elbow, "Isn't that right Sleeping Beauty?" she asked, grinning at him. He opened his eyes,shockregistering inthem that she'd know he was awake.
"It was nothing personal Sergeant," Ana said. "We just want to know what's going on, where we're going."
"And my saying everything would be explained once we reach our destination basically meant jack shit to you people is that it?" she asked. "Nevermind, I don't want to hear the excuses," she said waving her hand towards them when it appeared as though Michael and Peter were about to speak.
"In answer to your question, we're heading to a private estate in Colorado, the closest city is probably New Castle, in the vicinity of Glenwood Springs," Briggs told them.
"Who lives there?" Nicole asked curiously.
"Senator Richard Kelmsley and his trophy wife own the place, whether or not they're living there right now is another story."
"A Senator's house?" Michael asked. "You mean we're going to break into a Senator's house and hope it's safe?"
"We won't have to break in, I know all the security codes to enter, and as long as the gates are closed the place is a fucking fortress."
"How so?" Kenneth asked, intrigued.
"The main house and a guest house are located on a thirty acre piece of property completely enclosed by a ten foot tall brick privacy fence that's two foot wide and topped with concertina wire. Security cameras monitor every square inch of that fence 24/7 plus any breach of the fence sounds an alarm kinda reminiscent of old air raid sirens from World War II. The main entrance to the gate is usually juiced up with something like 10,000 volts of electricity so any of those walking corpses touches it they're gonna fry."
"What makes you think the power is still running?" inquired Peter.
"Entire property is powered by a private geothermal power plant built underneath the houses, lights will run for hundreds of years whether we're alive or not. The Senator likes his privacy so he wanted to make sure there was no way for the riff raff to get near his little palace even if the power elsewhere went down."
Kenneth narrowed his eyes at her, "And just how the fuck do you know all this?"
"Let's just say I used to be like family to them for awhile," Briggs replied stiffly, rising to her feet and walking towards the front of the helicopter.
"Where do you think you're going?" Kenneth asked, "We're not done talking to you yet."
"I'm going to go try to calculate how much further we're going to be able to fly before we need to fuel up again. Like homeboy over there said, our last fuel up wasn't too successful, there isn't a chance in hell we're going to make it to our destination on what we have in the fuel tank. Now then, I've answered your questions regarding our destination, so as far as I'm concerned this discussion is over."
Briggs booted Sanchez from the co-pilot's seat, sending the soldier into the rear with the rest of the passengers. He smiled broadly at them, "So what the hell got said back here that I missed huh? Musta been something pretty good to piss the Dragon Lady off." He laughed.
"What do you mean?" Fran asked him.
"Sarge is pissed, so one of you had to have said something to her," the soldier pressed, looking around at the group expectantly.
"She didn't look pissed to me," Terry said, confused.
"I guess you have to know the Sarge a little bit more to be able to tell her moods," Sanchez said, still smiling. "Me and the Sarge go way back, so I guess I can read her better than most anyone," he boasted.
"All we did was ask her where we were going," Ana said. "There's no reason for her to get upset over that."
"Ah, so that's what did it," Sanchez proclaimed, glancing to the front of the helicopter where Briggs and Cowboy sat. "She don't like anybody to question her,prefers blind obedience outta people."
"I think you're the one who's pissed at her," CJ said suddenly, a twinge of anger in his voice. "And I think you're just spouting off a lot of hot air about knowing how to 'read' her. Maybe you think you could do a better job leading us, is that it? Or is she right and you're just pissed off about that Randall chick?"
The smile disappeared from Sanchez's face and he all but sneered his reply. "Figures you'd try to defend your girlfriend, asshole. But just remember this, Briggs doesn't try to make friends with people unless she thinks she'll be able to use that friendship to her advantage later. You're just a fucking pawn to her."
"And maybe you're just jealous because she does talk to me even though we're all nothing but pawns to her," CJ replied quietly.
The rest passengers were silent for a short time following Sanchez's outburst, some finally breaking up into small groups to talk, others closing their eyes and either sleeping or doing an excellent imitation of sleep. For his part, Sanchez sat in silence glaring daggers at CJ. CJ took the high road, choosing to ignore the soldier by once again trying to sleep.
In the front of the helicopter, Briggs sat calculating how soon they were going to need to land for fuel. When she'd worked the math, repeatedly coming up with the same answer she radioed the Blackhawk. Marshall had been working the same calculations onboard the other helicopter and both concurred, they had maybe another four hours of flight time left.
"I think we'd better land for the night. Give the civilians a chance to rest, give us all a chance to get off this bird for awhile. We'll be able to better coordinate the refueling effort with the team on the Blackhawk too," Briggs said.
"Agreed. We should be approaching Kansas City soon, we'll try to find a rooftop there," Cowboy responded.
They continued to fly, entering the airspace over Kansas City. Cowboy called over the radio, "Masters, Marshall, you see any clear rooftops big enough to suit our landing needs?"
"That's a negative. This is the first city we've encountered with so many of those things swarming the rooftops," replied Marshall.
Cowboy and Briggs shared a look. "What do you think?" Briggs finally asked.
"Maybe they were drawn up to the top by people escaping by airlifts. Kansas City has regular Army plus National Guard posts in the vicinity, so it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility. They may have been able to pull off a more successful search and rescue operation than Ft. Pastor did."
Briggs looked thoughtful. "Maybe," she said at last. "Or maybe they headed to the rooftops for a last stand. Figured they could barricade themselves there until help arrived."
"If that's the case then how did all the infected end up on the rooftops?" Cowboy asked.
Briggs looked him squarely in the face with an expression that suggested he was an idiot. "Maybe nobody told them how the infection spreads, and by the time they figured it out, it was too late."
Cowboy thought about the news broadcasts he'd seen right after the first outbreaks had occurred. He remembered reports of people being bitten, but nothing being said that that was how the infection was being spread. "Sonuvabitch your right. If they did bring infected people onto the roof with them it would have been paramount to signing their own death warrants. Those poor bastards never stood a chance."
Briggs nodded. "Like I said before, one of mankind's greatest traits, what separates us from the other mammals even, is also our biggest downfall."
"Kenny, you'd have to be some kind of fucking sociopath to see someone injured the way some of those people were and not want to try and help. Not if you didn't realize how the virus spread. Admit it, you couldn't leave someone behind could you? In a situation like that?"
"That's a loaded question Cowboy. You're assuming I'd say 'no, of course I'd try to help.' But I've known right from the start how this things spreads. My answer would be that if I saw someone injured with bite marks begging for help, I'd go with my instincts and shoot them between the eyes, it's the only help left to give them. At least then they wouldn't be wandering the Earth a soulless killing machine."
"So say that hypothetically speaking you didn't know the facts about the virus right from the start, that you were like all those other Joe Blows down there on the street. What then?"
"I guess I must be a sociopath, because I'd still have gone with Darwin's Law in that situation."
"Darwin's Law?"
"Yea, you know, survival of the fittest. Anyone with injuries from a bite would have been getting sicker and therefore slower as the infection progressed and spread throughout their bodies. They'd be a liability to me, so I'd leave them. Their sacrificewould help distract the zombies off my ass and buy me some time."
"That's a little heartless don't you think? he asked.
"So's creating the virus that caused this hell on earth to happen in the first place. I didn't see anybody stopping that asshole."
"I guess you have a point," Cowboy conceded. "But I still have a hard time believing that even you could be that cold."
"It's kind of a non-issue now, Cowboy, so can we just get down to business and find a fucking rooftop before I crash this helicopter just to shut you up."
"Touched a nerve didn't I?" Cowboy asked, earning him another glare from Briggs in reply. To his credit, he appeared regretful of ever having started the conversation in the first place. Marshall's voice coming over the radio brought the discussion to an abrupt end.
"Cowboy, Briggs," Marshall said. "Up ahead, one o'clock, rooftop appears vacant."
"I see it Marshall," Cowboy answered. "Let's circle around, check it over before we land."
The helicopters circled the building. "Damn, looks like we got some live ones down there," Marshall called out over the radio. "Or I guess I should say some dead ones...fuck it, you know what I mean."
"Yea Marsh, we get it, why don't you quit while you're ahead already," replied Cowboy.
Briggs climbed from her seat and disappeared into the rear of the craft, returning moments later with a rifle scope in her hand. She peered out the windshield of the helicopter towards the roof below.
"They're dead alright. Looks like there's only aboutfive of them down there, door appears to be barricaded shut pretty good," she mused. Turning towards Cowboy she said, "If you can hold this beast steady, I'll clear the roof, it oughta be secure enough for the night."
"It's still light out Kenny, we can look further you know, it's not like this is the only building in town. We might be able to dig up one that's already vacant," Cowboy reasoned.
"We'll just burn more fuel that way. Besides, they've already done a decent job of barricading the entrance to the roof for us, seems a shame to waste all their hard work when all we need is five kill shots to clean the place out."
"Sometimes I wonder about you Kenny," Cowboy said so softly that she barely heard him.
Her reply was just as quiet. "Me too, Charlie, me too."
She once again disappeared into the rear of the helicopter, presumably getting her rifle ready to clear the roof. In the meantime, Cowboy notified the crew of the Blackhawk of her plan. The aircrafts circled the building again.
"Cowboy, are you sure she only sawfive of those things down there," Masters radioed.
"That's what she said, why?"
"Look at that far corner, see the fire escape?"
"Yea, what about it?"
"There's movement down there."
"I see it, let's do a flyby, take a closer look."
"Looks like a flag waving. Is there something written on it?"
Briggs' voice suddenly broke in on the conversation, "Cowboy, I'm in position, so why am I looking at the side of the building instead of the roof?"
"Briggs, we see something waving off of the fire escape, can you get a clear visual," Masters asked.
"Well I'll be damned," she said.
"What is it Kenny?" Cowboy asked.
"It looks like a T-shirt...something's written on it...alive inside...14th floor," she finished.
"Should we investigate?"
"If they've held out alive in that building this long they can wait until we secure the rooftop."
"Affirmative Briggs, it's your call," Masters replied.
The Stallion came up and hovered just abreast of the rooftop, Briggs was positioned in the doorway, Heckler und Koch rifle at the ready. Within a matter of moments she'd let five rounds fly, each one hitting their marks as the zombies were drawn to the sound of the helicopter and the scent of the living flesh on board.
"Take us down Cowboy. Masters, have Evans, Jones and Walker ready to join me on the rooftop, we're going down the fire escape to investigate that flag. If we run into any problems down there, be ready to dust off, with or without us."
Briggs' team began their descent down the fire escape. The others had wanted to start setting up camp for the night, removing the corpses from the roof, but Briggs had shot down the idea. She preferred to wait and see what developed below in case another hasty exit was needed.
Once they had climbed down the ladder to where the steps of the fire escape began, Briggs' team began leap frogging their way down the remaining five flights to the fourteenth floor. As they passed the windows to each apartment, each one seemed eerily abandoned. Swallowing hard, Walker nervously asked, "Are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, what are the chances that whoever put that flag up there hasn't already turned into one of those things? Or maybe you already shot them up there on the roof,
Sarge."
"And maybe this fire escape is about to collapse and send us crashing to the pavement, Walker. What the fuck is your problem?" Cook goaded him.
"I just don't want to die," the young Private answered.
Rolling her eyes, Briggs turned to the two soldiers behind her. "Cook, shut the fuck up. Walker, nobody here wants to die, least of all me, but we've got a job to do, and all your gabbing is just distracting us from the mission," she bit out.
With one last look at the two men, almost daring them to say something more, Briggs turned and continued down the final two flights to their destination. Taking up positions around the window, Jones tried to peer through the window for a look inside, but the curtains obscured his view. Shrugging, he shouldered his rifle and tried to pry the window open. In a flash the curtains whipped open and a tall blonde man wearing a tattered uniform appeared before them, brandishing a baseball bat liberally stained brown with dried blood.
Jones leapt back from the window, whipping his rifle from his shoulder and taking aim, all in one smooth motion. The face in the window went white in shock, the baseball bat sliding from his hands uselessly. Briggs called out to the others to lower their weapons before reaching for the transmitter around her neck. "Hey Cowboy, we got some live ones down here. We'll get a tally on how many there are and in what kind of condition and report back. Get the passengers and equipment set up for the night."
As she spoke, the man in the apartment moved to open the window. "Oh my God, I was beginning to think that we were the only ones still alive in the city," he stammered. Upon closer inspection, it was possible to determine that he was clad in the remnants of an EMT uniform. He began to gesture them inside the apartment.
"Jones, Cook, stay on the fire escape," Briggs said, looking down at the street beneath them at a herd of snarling zombies forming below, arms outstretched towards the ladder just out of their reach. "Keep an eye on those things, I don't think they'll be able to reach the ladder, but we're not going to take any chances," she said before climbing through the window.
The interior of the apartment was dark and gloomy, the stale scent of sweat filling the air around them. There was a steady pounding coming from where they assumed the door was, judging by the furniture that had been piled up there as a makeshift barricade. The three of them stood in front of the window, the EMT standing before them, all four waiting for somebody to speak.
"How many more of you are there?" the EMT asked.
"We've got twenty-two people total in our group," Briggs replied. "How about you?"
"There's four of us here. Myself, I'm Tom, my sister Chrissy, and her two boys Dennis and Zachary."
"How old are the kids?" Cook asked, amazed that they'd been able to survive.
"Zachary the oldest is fourteen, Dennis is eleven."
"How long have you been holed up here?" Briggs asked, looking around speculatively.
"Almost seven weeks now. When the worst of the infection hit I was on duty. My partner bought it when we went out on a call about ten blocks from here, I just barely got away on foot. I'd called my sister earlier that day and told her not to leave the apartment or let the boys out for any reason. I worked my way through the neighborhood and here to the apartment and that's where we've been ever since."
A woman's voice called out from behind a closed door, "Tommy is everything okay?"
"It's fine Chrissy, the Army's here to rescue us," he said, his voice almost jubilant sounding.
Briggs fought the urge to roll her eyes again at the tone of his voice. "If you're coming with us you need to gather up what you need, a few clothes, any food or water you might have and bring it up to the roof," she told them. "We fly out of here at first light."
"Wait, why can't we leave now?" Chrissy asked, walking out from what looked like one of the apartment's bedrooms followed by her sons. "How far away is your base?"
Briggs looked at the petite blonde woman and her two sons for a moment before replying. "We're waiting until morning because we're low on fuel. Since those things have pretty much overrun almost every airfield in the country it's too risky to try fueling up at night when we can't see them approaching, or how many of them are already on the ground. We don't have a base, we're just trying to reach a safe haven to hole up until the worst of this blows over."
"If that's the case, wouldn't be safer staying here in the apartment tonight?" Tom asked.
"No. If they somehow make it onto that fire escape we'd be sitting ducks inside this apartment. I want to be close to the birds just in case we need to make a hasty exit," Briggs told him.
"If you put it that way, I suppose your right," Tom admitted. "How soon should we be packed to go?"
"As quick as you can. I'll leave a few of my men to stand guard while you pack and to escort you to the roof, but make it fast." Looking once more at the two boys and their mothershe stressed, "Remember our room is limited, only bring what is absolutely essential."