Hey Zombies

.

.

.

Camp Out

Sid was the last one to drop dirt on the mound. They had buried Jamie off next to the wreckage. Sid gently padded down the dirt and made it smooth. In his hand was a jutted piece of metal, made strong through his own hands and a little leverage, it was this handmade tool that Sid used to bury Jamie. Sid set the piece of debris next to the pile and backed away, standing next to everyone else who surrounded the large dirt mound in a large circle. Behind them, Charlie lay still unconscious on a large piece of fabric torn from the seats. Across from Sid, stood Arnold and Gerald side by side. Arnold held Helga's hand as he, she, and Gerald walked towards the mound. The three of them stood tall together. Arnold let go of Helga's grip and walked towards the mound. He held a large cluster of pipes in his hand which he stabbed into the dirt when he was close enough to the mound. It was two strips of metal tied together in a cross form. Arnold and Helga backed away as Gerald stayed put. He took in a deep breath.

"Sorry I wasn't there for you when you left for the army bro…you were so good to me throughout...and..I'm gonna miss you. Don't know what I'm gonna do without you but..I've got my friends here. Rest of the family," Gerald smiled as he looked around at everyone who smiled back at him. His and Arnold's eyes locked for a second and Arnold nodded slightly. Gerald looked back to the grave, "Say hi to Dad for me up there will you Jamie-O?...And…Mom too,…and Timber-." Gerald couldn't finish the name. He broke down in tears. Arnold immediately ran to his side, so did Sid and Helga. The adults watched as their sons and daughter embraced their friend, all of them in tears as they cried over Jamie's grave.

A huge breeze fluttered in the sky, chilling everybody to the bone. The sun started to peak over the horizon as the morning started. The rays glided over the desert sand as the breeze carried little particles through the air, bringing with them a chilling sense of ambiguity for what the future held.

.

Two days later

.

Gerald continued his normal routine of sitting next to the mound, staring at it. He had already been there for hours. Sid, and Arnold saw him there when they woke up to continue their salvaging of the plane hull. It was mid day and they continued to strip what they could from the wreckage, pulling apart every piece of metal they could and gathering what was scattered around inside the passenger cabin. Helga was nearby with Charlie, constantly checking his heart rate, still pumping but faint. The plane wreckage was starting to look skeleton. Most of the seats were used for fires at night time, and anything they could siphon from the plane's gas tank was used to start them. The lighter they had was pocketed from Jamie's belt. Bob and Miles were nearby discussing plans for what the group's next move was going to be. Of course he and Miles didn't always agree on everything.

"Same shit as yesterday…Gerald hasn't budged." Sid said.

"Yeah I know." Arnold agreed.

"The guy lost his brother Sid, you think he's gonna be all hunky dory right away?" Helga argued, hearing the two talk from her location.

"Maybe we should say something." Sid said, practically ignoring Helga's abrupt comment.

Arnold silently volunteered. He sat the scraps of metal he had in his hand down on the ground and walked slowly towards Gerald and the dirt mound. He passed his mother who was tending to Miles' head and arm bandages.

"Gerald." Arnold spoke. As always, Gerald didn't reply, at this point, Arnold would have done what he did the last few times he tried this and walk away. But this time he was persistent. Arnold got closer to him, he could see one of Gerald's hands twirling a small pendant with his fingers and the other was in his pocket.

"Gerald…you know we have plenty of work to do, we're gonna be picked up soon and…and we'll be rescued…"Arnold was spewing smoke at that point. He decided to raise his hand and put it on Gerald's shoulder.

Gerald snapped, and from his pocket, he drew a Colt pistol, thumbed the hammer and aimed it right at Arnold's face.

Everybody saw it and stood up alarmed. A voice cried "Gerald!" although Arnold couldn't distinguish who it came from, on the basis he was paralyzed by his fear. He stared as Gerald's hands began to grow orange again, the mystical power that Gerald beheld was emanating once again.

"Stay…..away…from him." Gerald spoke very quietly…smoke erupting from his fingers as they slowly burned the metal on the gun he held.

"It's okay, Gerald. Take it easy." Arnold said, choking on his spit, "Everything's fine, I'll leave you alone for a little longer, okay?" Arnold said. Gerald said nothing and he put the hammer back on the gun and put it back in the holster. Arnold walked away. Miles, as if on cue, walked up to Gerald behind him. Stella called out to him and Arnold tried to pull him away, Miles shrugged both of them off, with a mild concern for Gerald's safety instead of theirs. Arnold went back to Helga and Charlie.

"Where'd you get the gun, Gerald?" Miles said, looking at the pistol, almost recognizing it.

"From you." Gerald replied.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want anyone touching my brother." Gerald said. Miles patted his belt, dumbfounded; realizing Gerald had indeed snatched the pistol he had taken when Kappa Station was overrun.

"Okay Gerald, have it your way…you can protect him all you want, just remember, we all want to help you, we're not trying to hurt you." Miles said. With that, he turned and walked back to where Stella was. Helga and Arnold watched from their sitting position.

A clap of thunder roared from the southern direction. A majority of the group looked toward the sound and saw fireworks of lightning flashing in the sky. The south emitted a feeling of dread and terror with its dark clouds. The other three directions showed light, clear blue skies and a sense of hope struggling for survival.

"Think that's gonna hit us?" Arnold asked. Miles walked up beside him.

"Looks like it." Miles said. Helga looked at the incoming storm, and then down at Charlie.

Suddenly, Charlie's nostrils began to flare. His chest began to inflate, taking in new deeper breaths. Helga excitingly got closer to him.

"Charlie?" Helga asked, panicked, "Charlie, talk to me, speak." Charlie began to cough, sucking in more air but choking on the scratchiness in his dry throat. Arnold and Miles heard and went to them, the commotion attracted everyone else too, drawing them in. Gerald, however, continued to sit by the mound.

"My god, he's okay!" Arnold roared. Everybody looked, "Charlie's gonna be okay!" In an instant everybody gathered around to welcome Charlie back to the twisted reality they lived in.

"Hey give the kid room, people!" Grandpa Phil hollered. Everybody was relieved as Charlie regained consciousness.

Charlie couldn't remember a thing since he collapsed. He was saddened by the news of Jamie's death. The scar where he was bitten continued to gain color. It was not a healthy sight. Last thing he remembered, Charlie thought, was Miles threatening Victor back at Kappa before he passed out. Although the group felt somber that Charlie couldn't tell them anything, they were still thankful he was alive. His regaining consciousness was the next stroke of hope this group had since they realized no one was harmed in the wreckage; a circumstance that people like Arnold and his father continued to ponder. Even Victor, still cuffed inside the plane hull thought about reasons as to how or why no one was actually hurt.

Later that day, Victor tossed and turned inside the hull, struggling as people stepped over him continuing to strip the plane of anything useful. Bob and Miles had just cleared out the rest of the passenger section. Although it was a good opportunity to smack talk to his captives, Victor continued to be the wiser and stayed quiet. Miles and Bob exited the plane. The storm clouds loomed closer, the thunder grew louder and the lightning was brighter.

Arnold watched it approach. He loved rain. He remembered when he first bought the ring he was going to propose to Helga with. He went on a campaign trip with Marty Green to Chicago. It was raining cats and dogs for the three days he was there. When they went through the mall, the diamond caught his eye and he had to have it. The cost cut his bank account in half, but at the time it was worth it. Arnold realized only a higher power could know where the ring was now….

He was interrupted when Bob called a group meeting. "Hey guys! We got a problem here."

"What's going on?" Suzie asked.

"Plane's stripped of everything, we got the passenger and cockpit sections cleared out, got all the fuel siphoned, just one thing left, the cargo hold." Miles said.

"What about it?"

"There's a cache of something in there, and luckily we can get to it, the crash busted a hole in the bottom of the plane, but we'd need someone small to climb inside."

"Isn't there like a hatch that can get into it from the passenger cabin or something?" Suzie suggested.

"Eduardo's plane is a Class 2, cheaper design, we can only get into it from a hatch on the outside, which is burrowed, and it'd take days to dig under and into the hold." Miles replied.

"We were adventurers sure, but we never really focused on…investment." Stella said. For a second, Miles and Stella began to think of Eduardo. He was an FTi scientist like they were but Victor forced him into early retirement. Last they remember, he took one last trip to San Lorenzo and never came back…

"So which one of you kids is up for a little snatch and grab? Helga, wanna give your old man a hand?" Bob asked.

"Dad, I'd barely fit in there, I'm too tall." Helga replied.

"Yeah but…" Bob said.

"Bob, let it go, she's done doing the dirty work." Miles spoke up. Bob just smirked at how Miles had just chided him.

"I'll go." Erupted Charlie's hoarse but audible voice. The group turned.

"I've always been the 'small scrawny kid', let me go in, get whatever's in there."

"Sure you've got the chest for it?" Arnold asked.

"As far as I know, I feel fine. I just gotta crawl in there, grab the merch and get out—ack!" Just then Charlie started coughing violently, he fell to the dirt.

People became panicked again, Helga, Arnold, and Sid ran to his side. Gerald did no more than glance at the crowd in its frantic state before he turned back to his grieving.

"Get some water!" Miles hollered. Phil ran to the case of water that was part of the stash in the passenger section, fortunately it was not sucked out from the explosion that tore the plane's exterior apart. Phil came back with one bottle and began to pour it over Charlie's still active face. He carefully swallowed the driblets that flowed past his lips and down his throat. The lukewarm liquid relieved his throat and Charlie began to breath smoothly once more, the moisture cooling his tongue.

"We can't do this…he's too weak, Who knows what could be happening to him." Stella said.

"No," Charlie hacked and coughed, "I'm fine. Just let me get in there and out, whatever's down there, I know you guys need it." Charlie said as he continued to hack up his own lungs.

"If you're doing this, you're going to rest first. We can try later when the sun starts setting and you've had time to cool down." Arnold suggested.

"Don't think we've got time for that." Phil said as he pointed at the sky. Everybody looked up as the storm clouds began to roll over them. Slowly but surely, the people began to feel drops hitting them. Miles tapped his cheek where a drop of rain had landed on him.

"We gotta get down there and fast." He said, "If that rain causes a flash flood, whatever's down there could get ruined."

"Get me up, I'm going now." Charlie said as he struggled to his feet.

"Charlie, no, you need to res—"

"I'm going Arnold, it's now or never." Charlie interrupted. Arnold stared at him for a second, puzzling over his determination but decided to accept it for what it was. He nodded

"Be careful."

Charlie continued to struggle to his feet as he hobbled across the thinly mudded desert terrain towards the plane. Arnold followed.

"Gimme a light." He said. Arnold handed him Jamie's lighter.

A large boulder jutted from the plane wreckage which was tilted at an angle. The hole was bent inward, the boulder sticking in from the side. Sand had already seeped into the cargo hold. Charlie got on all fours and stuck his head inside, carefully climbing past the boulder which blocked part of the wrecked entrance. Charlie struck the lighter to find his way inside. A bright flash was followed by a clap of thunder as the rain began to pour quicker, drops of water kicking up little bits of sand as they landed and soaked into the ground. The depths of the ground began to absorb higher and higher before the surface of the dirt began to soak in water. All around, the group could see puddles forming as the rain flooded the area around them.

Miles looked around at his surroundings and realized the danger was only escalating.

"Arnold, get everyone on top of the passenger cabin now."

"Why not just get them inside?" Arnold suggested.

"This whole area could flood; we need to get them to higher ground." Miles replied. Arnold nodded and grabbed Helga by the hand. Stella, Phil, and the others followed as they ran around to the other side of the plane hull in hopes of finding a way to climb on top.

The fire kissed Charlie's fingers with its heat as the wind that entered the hole with him blew all around. Every now and then Charlie had to kill the lighter to let it cool off before he began searching again. During times when the lighter was extinguished, Charlie felt around in the pure darkness. On one of these periods, Charlie felt hardened cloth, he followed it to a stitch, and then felt a handle. He lit the lighter once it was cooled off and stared at a large brown bag, he had found the cache. He could see a faint pattern of camouflage on the fabric. Charlie stuffed his knees under his chest and pushed upward until his whole body was fit inside the small cargo area. He pulled the bag closer to him and felt around for an opening or zipper. Charlie wasted no time once he found it, opening it up to reveal four Mossberg shotguns, two MP5 sub machine guns, and two M4A1 assault rifles. He looked in horror as he raised the lighter higher to reveal the rest of the cargo hold, where he could see at least five other bags of a similar design.

Outside, the rain was not letting up. Arnold watched as the clouds swarmed the skies and the water began to rise as the moistened ground failed to absorb it. Puddles began to form. By that time, Sid was the last one that Arnold helped up onto the plane whilst everyone else was sitting down and letting their clothes absorb the rain, waiting for it to stop. Arnold looked down and saw as the ground turned to mud.

Miles started to walk in circles to keep his mud soaked feet from getting stuck.

The sounds of rain pouring on hard metal and claps of thunder were all too familiar to Miles, but the grunts and snarls that followed into his right ear were something new. He turned behind him to see four warm bodies, with drool falling from their lips, soaking in with the rain that pattered on their heads. Their decaying bodies and grotesque form were not something Miles wanted to see. He looked back to make sure everyone else was safe and sighed with relief to see all of his group had safely made it on top of the plane wreckage. It seemed the infected bodies wandering closer and closer to the wreckage, but gave no sign that they had detected the group of survivors. It was only unveiled to them when one spotted Miles standing there in his soaked clothes, breathing heavily through his chest…

.

.

.

To Be Continued.