An hour after departing, they struck gold. The airfield was tiny, a single hangar alongside some fuel pumps sat at one side of a landing strip, and that was it. Chain link fencing was situated around the entire perimeter of the airfield. The only zombies in view staggered along the outside of the fence, almost as if they'd been following the steady beat of the helicopters' rotors overhead.
As with their last refueling attempt, two heavily armed teams departed from the helicopters to provide support and man the fuel pumps. This time everything went smoothly, like clockwork. The look-outs were primarily concerned with watching the build-up of zombies outside of the fence, staggering along looking for weak spots that could be breached. The long weeks spent in the hot summer sun was beginning to take its toll on the creatures' bodies, exactly as Briggs had predicted. Their speed wasn't nearly as tremendous as in the previous weeks, and their reflexes and coordination showed severe deterioration as well. The helicopters were both nearly fueled to capacity before the first of the zombies actually made it over the fence. As others followed it the look-outs easily picking them off one at a time until the helicopters were ready to lift off.
For the first time since they'd left the mall that first time, traveling to the mysterious research facility, many of the passengers felt a sense of hope. At least on the Stallion anyway, the general mood on board the Blackhawk was one of intense irritation, Steve's mouth having begun to grate on everyone's nerves, bringing tensions to an all new high.
For about the tenth time since they'd fueled up that morning Steve was once again ranting. "All I'm saying people, is that this half assed plan your frigid bitch of a leader has to fly across the country to some mythical place is Colorado is going to get us all killed," he complained to Jones and Evans.
"You got any better ideas?" Jones asked impatiently.
"Yea, let's turn this thing around and go back where we came from. At least there we knew we were safe," he said.
Evans glared at him. "Are you really this stupid?" he demanded. "In case you haven't noticed, we're hell and gone away from that fucking shopping mall. Your plan is suicide. Briggs may be a bitch sometimes, but she hasn't lead us wrong yet."
"Right, tell that to the two people who got eaten the last time she decided to stop the family cruisers here for gas," Steve said sarcastically.
"Steve just shut up already," Monica gritted out between her teeth. "You've been talking shit, saying the same thing over and over for the last two days now. Nobody is changing their minds so just let it drop."
"Who the hell asked you Monica?" Steve griped, somewhat annoyed that even his the person he viewed as his own little plaything was siding against him.
Frustrated, Monica did what she could to move away from Steve. The conditions on the Blackhawk, being what they were, could only be described as cramped at best, even after the loss of Glen. Thinking about the old man brought a twinge of regret and sadness over her. She couldn't help but regret how abominably she'd treated him during all those many weeks together. Her sadness stemmed from her guilty knowledge that even had he survived during that last refueling she probably would have continued to be cruel to him. It had never been personal, he just never took up and defended himself.
Her new position put her next to Private Walker. The young soldier usually looked terrified, even in the safety of the helicopter, she thought. But today, even that was preferable to Steve in one of his moods. Most of his problem had to do with the alcohol withdrawal. Briggs had outright refused to give up any of their supply space to bring his booze along from the mall. He'd been able to at least sneak some alcohol along when they'd gone to that creepy research lab, it'd kept him almost bearable during the weeks they'd spent there. This time though, Briggs had carefully checked over the supplies for any contraband, removing anything deemed not absolutely essential, and leaving it behind. Now, Steve was determined to make them all suffer for it.
Walker leaned close to her ear and said quietly, "Don't take this the wrong way, but your boyfriend's a real asshole."
Eyes wide, Monica quickly turned to him and replied stiffly, "Yea, Steve's a total asshole, but he is NOT my boyfriend."
Walker looked sheepish as he replied, silently berating himself for jumping to conclusions. "Oh, sorry. I guess I just assumed that since you two were, ah, what I mean to say is..." he trailed off, blushing a bright shade of red that brought a smile to Monica's face.
"You mean because you heard us fucking the other night, is that it?" she asked pointedly. When his face once again went up in flames she smiled broadly.
This time he stammered his reply, "Yea, I uh, guess, um, that, uh, that was pretty much it."
Monica finally decided to take some pity on him. "Walker, it's okay. Everyone and their brother knows exactly what kind of a relationship it is that Steve and I have."
"Well, not exactly everyone," Walker said, once again embarrassed. Forcing himself to continue, he added, "I guess I just sort of figured you two had something serious going on like that girl Nicole has with Terry."
"Not hardly. Those two have a serious case of teenage puppy love, with no parents to come between them. Me and Steve, now that is strictly sex, no strings attached," she replied.
"I guess I just always kind of figured that girls needed some kind of emotional attachment to sleep with a guy," he confided, then mentally kicked himself for doing so. He was amazed by the very nature of this conversation, even more so that he was having it with a woman like Monica. Women like her never paid him any attention, he was too shy and introverted to attract them.
"No way Walker. Maybe there are some girls out there who need something like that, but I'm definitely not one of them," she said, smirking. The expression that crossed over his face caused her to laugh out loud, briefly drawing the attention of the others on the helicopter.
Embarrassed once more, Walker tried to change the subject. "So what did you do before all this happened?"
"Well, I did a lot of things I guess," she answered thoughtfully. "I tried cosmetology school for a while, but that didn't work out. After that I was a receptionist, a waitress, a cashier, and then just before all this happened I started exotic dancing."
"Really?" Walker yelped. His wide eyes and red face caused her to once more break into a loud peal of laughter.
"Yes really, I am a cosmetology school dropout," she joked, glancing up and seeing that her laughter had drawn the attention of the others. "What's your problems?" she lashed out belligerently at them.
"Not a thing," replied Cook, smiling. He and Evans had both been entertainedby the look of disgruntlement coming over Steve's face. It was starting to look like that asshole had lost his girl to the young Private Walker. Glancing once more at Evans, he saw he wasn't alone in his thinking on that end. Smiling he settled himself back more comfortably and closed his eyes, hoping to pass some of the time by sleeping.
Late in the afternoon, a huge estate came into view, looking exactly as Briggs had described it to the passengers of the Stallion. As they drew closer to their destination, details began coming into view such as the human figures staggering along the outside of the wall.
"Sonuvabitch, those things are all over that wall," Cowboy commented.
"Yea, but the gate's closed, and there doesn't appear to be any activity on the grounds of the estate. I think we'll be okay," Briggs told him.
"What's that up on the roof of the main house?" Cowboy asked suddenly.
"Looks like people, live ones judging from their movements," Briggs replied, frustrated. "This can only mean that somehow the house has been compromised."
"So what's plan B?" Cowboy asked.
"Get on the horn to the Blackhawk. I want Marshall, Steele, Jones and Evans ready to fast rope onto the roof. Then I want you to turn the controls over to Henry, 'cause you me and Sanchez will be joining them," Briggs told him.
"Kenny, you're insane. We don't know how many of those things could be in that house right now. This could be suicide."
"Wrong. There's three people on the roof and like I said, their movements indicate to me that they're alive. That means they can give us some information on the numbers. Judging from the body shapes, I'd say we got two females and a male down there." She looked him in the eyes, "I'd be willing to be my life that one of those women is Caroline Kelmsley. You know as well as I do that for a trophy wife, she's damn smart and she's got one helluva survival instinct. With that in mind, the other woman is probably Helga Strauss, her head housekeeper and best friend. Caroline would never leave her behind."
"Very insightful Kenny, but that still doesn't mean we're prepared to go up against whatever is in that house," Cowboy insisted. "What if one of those people on the roof is infected?"
Ignoring him, Briggs instead continued with her analysis. "It's summer time, the Senator rarely uses this place except during the winter for ski season. The only exception to that rule is when he feels the need to disappear under the media radar for a few days. That being the case, the only full time staff here year round is the grounds keeper and his wife who looks after the houses in the off season. There's also a full time groom kept in residence down at the stable. That would be only three people here prior to the Senator's arrival. The Senator always travels with four bodyguards, obviously his paranoia showing. He also would have his chauffeur, of course his wife, and finally Helga. When all is said and done, the three full time staff combined with the Senator and his entourage amounts to eleven people. If only three of them are out there on the roof, I'd say there's a maximum of eight zombies for us to deal with in that house. We can handle that."
"I wish I could feel that confident about it Kenny," Cowboy told her.
Inwardly Briggs wished that she really was as confident about the whole situation as she tried to appear. But the truth was, they were beginning to run out of options, and it was time to make a stand. "Just do what I ask, please Chris."
Meeting her eyes once more, he nodded. Then, as Briggs began making her way to the rear to prepare the weapons and equipment, he reached for the radio to notify the Blackhawk of her plans. Shortly, everything was ready, and the soldiers from both helicopters quickly descended to the roof. With weapons at the ready, they proceeded towards the threesome of survivors who wisely stood their ground while awaiting them.
"Oh thank the good Lord we are saved!" the lone male cried out ecstatically, a slight Hispanic accent to his words. Briggs and Cowboy both recognized him as Felix Delgado, the long time head groom for the estate's stable. It was then that the trio began to move slowly towards the soldiers, until the icy coolness of Briggs' voice brought them to a halt.
"Hold it, don't step any closer or we will open fire," she said. "Has anyone in your group been bit?"
"No, no we're all fine," the groom stammered. "Those who were bit, we left them below," he added, trying bravely to smile as he put himself in between the soldiers and the two women who accompanied him.
"Oh my God, Kenny, is that you?" one of the women suddenly called out, stepping forward into full view. She was an elegant, older woman, clad in expensive yet casual linen pants with a matching sleeveless top. The three days a week she spent in the gym, combined with an excellent plastic surgeon and stylist, kept her from looking anything close to her true age.
"Yea Caroline, it's me," Briggs replied, still holding her rifle at the ready.
"Well put that goddamn gun down already then," the woman Briggs called Caroline demanded.
"You haven't changed a bit Caroline," Briggs said, lowering her weapon. "Are you sure none of you has been bit?"
"Yes, we're sure. We saw first hand what happens when somebody gets bit by one of those things," Caroline replied distastefully.
Nodding, Briggs strode closer to where the trio awaited them, shouldering her rifle as she did. "So what the hell happened here?"
Sighing, Caroline took a seat on the roof, motioning to the others to join her. "It's a long story Kenny, you may as well make yourselves comfortable," she suggested. When the soldiers showed no sign of doing so, she began her tale.
"We managed to break out of the city just under two weeks ago. Richard's fanatical insistence on the most top level of all securities is probably the only thing that kept us alive this long at the townhouse. We roughed it through the worst of this thing there, those things surrounding the house in droves," she said, a distant look in her eyes. "There must have been other groups holed up in the city somewhere, sporadically we'd hear gunfire echoing. One day it was really bad, the creatures all started moving away from the house towards the sound. Richard assumed that it meant the creatures had broken through someone's defenses somewhere, was afraid they'd come for us next. He insisted we make a run for it, head here to the estate. Somewhere along the way one of the bodyguards was bit, he didn't turn until after we'd arrived and brought him into the house. But it still took us awhile to catch on that it was the bites that caused the sickness to spread."
"How did you get here, ma'am?" Jones asked.
"Humvees. My husband was fanatical, like I said. Those things probably have better armament on them then half of the ones in service in Iraq," she said smoothly. "Even the windows are bulletproof and the undercarriage was designed to resist bomb damage. Or at least that's what Richard liked to brag to everyone."
"Finish your story," Briggs interrupted. "What happened when you left the townhouse?"
Once again getting a far off look to her eyes, as if watching the events unfold all over again, Caroline continued her story once more. "We fled Denver like I said. We drove as fast as we could to try and keep those things from swarming us, but it wasn't easy. The streets looked like every picture of every war zone I've ever seen. There were abandoned, wrecked, and burned out vehicles everywhere, just filling up the streets. At some point somebody must have tried erecting barricades to slow those things down, but they almost trapped us instead. We just barely squeezed through some places, but once we reached the highways things improved. The first real trouble started when we had to stop for gas."
"Don't tell me," Sanchez started, "You found a perfect, working full service gas station, but they wouldn't take your gold card." The other occupants of the roof glared at him until at last he looked down at his feet, ashamed at his own attempts at humor.
Shaking her head, Caroline went on as if Sanchez had never spoken. "We found a fuel tanker truck abandoned at a roadside rest area. Now, Richard refused to let us out of the vehicles, so I can only speculate about what happened. Richard, Helga, myself, and Edward our chauffeur occupied the first humvee, our bodyguards were in the second. Three of them got out to get the fuel and to fill up the vehicles and I can only guess that that is when Jonathan had to have been bit," she mused.
"There had been a few gunshots fired, no more than five at the most, but then, the guys had us fueled up and ready to go. As far as the rest of us knew, everything had occurred without a problem. We had enough fuel to make it the rest of the way to the estate and it seemed like we were home free. We drove through the night and finally made it here late the next morning, just before noon I guess. It was then that Jonathan started showing signs that something was wrong, we just didn't know how wrong. He was very pale, his skin was clammy, and the veins seemed to be standing out all over his body. Plus he was tired, so very tired, but then, so were the rest of us, we didn't think it was anything more than the stress of our journey. By that evening, he started losing consciousness, moaning in pain. At last we found the bite on his arm, hidden beneath his clothing, festering. It looked like a seriously infected wound. Kevin, one of the other bodyguards, injected him with penicillin, we made him as comfortable as we could, and after that there was nothing to do but wait. The next morning he was practically comatose, still moaning occasionally,
but his vital signs kept getting worse. We dosed him one last time with penicillin and he seemed to rest quiet for awhile so we left him alone."
She paused once more, looking at Briggs and for the first time noticing the man who stood next to her. "Charlie," she said, smiling at Cowboy. "I can't say I'm all that surprised to see you're still glued to Kenny's side, some things never change."
Glancing quickly at Briggs, Cowboy said uncomfortably, "Later, Caroline. Why don't we here the rest of the story so we know what we're dealing with when we move downstairs to clear the place out."
Sighing first, she finally did just that. "Catalina, the maid we keep on staff full time here, she went up to check on Jonathan right after lunch. It was right about the time that he must have turned I guess. He...he tore her into pieces," Caroline paused again, swallowing hard at the memory. "When Thomas, her husband, heard her screams he just took off running to help her, Kevin followed him. By the time they reached the room it was too late, but Thomas went to Catalina's side anyway, determined that he could help her. Kevin shot Jonathan when he lunged at Thomas. It would probably have ended then, but what was left of Catalina came back and bit her husband's arm. Kevin shot her as well, then he helped Thomas out of the room. If we'd realized then that it was the bites that caused the disease to be transmitted I have no doubt that Kevin would have shot Thomas right then and there, putting an end to it all. But we were too naive to put two and two together and figure it out, and now, there's just the three of us left."
"What about the Senator?" Briggs asked. "I find it hard to believe that he didn't figure things out sooner, paranoid bastard that he was."
"I don't know. After Thomas turned and came after us, Richard barricaded himself into his study. You know what that room's like Kenny."
"Yea, the Ft. Knox of home security. Was he bit?"
"I told you, I don't know. We were all running in panic, trying to find a safe place to hide. The three of us finally decided the roof would be the safest place for us. We'd be able to flag down any aircraft that passed over, or at least that's what we'd hoped. With you here I guess our plan worked out."
"What about food and water?" Briggs asked, momentarily ignoring Caroline's last comment.
"Obviously in the heat of the moment we didn't think that far ahead. Fortunately, Felix had a canteen of water, but even rationing that as best we could, we ran out two days ago."
"So how many of those things are left downstairs?" Jones asked.
"A maximum of six if you include the Senator," Felix called out, once more finding his voice.
"Okay then, stay here until we give you the all clear," Briggs said, pushing past them towards the entrance to the attic.
"Wait, Kenny, you can't go down there," Caroline called out, fear in her voice. "Those things down there will tear you to pieces."
"Caroline we can take care of ourselves," Briggs said, pausing as she started climbing through the busted out attic vent. "And you should know that we didn't come across you by accident. Riley directed me here." With that, she disappeared into the attic, followed closely by her team, none of them hearing Caroline's reaction to her words.
"Riley," she whispered. "Oh Helga, my son is alive!" she cried out, turning to embrace the housekeeper.