The Dead Among Us (Chapter 2: Deliver Us)
1147 hoursThere's a dead man in the back of my helicopter. He's dead from shock. Apparently ether isn't as effective on a six foot eight inch, two hundred pound grown ass man as it is on the average person. And I use 'average' loosely here.Gale's frozen solid. I wonder how many times this has happened to him, where he's had to deal with dead people. So he puts down the machete, and it sounds like he's gasping through his mic, and then he puts both paws against the dead man and just...Shoves him out.Skydiving is fun, after all. His body hits the ground with a sickening splat and maybe ten or so dead fuckers break off from the crowd surrounding my people to go eat what's left. More are coming towards the bird, which right now is maybe a hundred feet up. Gale is completely ignoring him. I need him to snap out of it. I scream at Stevens to shake him, and she takes one look at him and says, no, that's not happening. I curse and click my tongue. I radio down to Caro that he needs to talk to his boyfriend because I'm busy flying. Caro acknowledges but says, "I'm a little busy, but I'll try!!"I look back at Stevens and tell her to pick up the M60 and provide support to the rest of our little militia on the ground. She gave me a "Yes Sir" and went for Gale's '60, but then Gale must've gotten his shit together, because he put his paw on it first, and told her to back off. He picked up the gun and wrapped the belt around his arm."I'm fine, let's go, we've got work to do."And then I see something that really makes me feel useless. So it turns out I'm not the only helicopter pilot on this base that's still alive, because someone's up in an Apache, and I'm hearing over the radio, "This is Warrant Officers Jack DuPont and Alexander Stevens, designated Hornet 4, hailing the pilot of the UH-1 in front of us. Please identify yourself, over."Thank fucking God.Stevens... Is that Miss Steven's brother? Stevens and DuPont, I say, this is Chief Warrant Officer Jack Taylor, designated Whistler One. I used to work here, I continue, I flew Apaches just like you. Listen, I tell them. I need support, guys. My door gunners are currently engaging undead hostiles in this area and making any necessary medevacs. I need you to provide addition support, fly around and blow shit up, I don't care, but we can't do this on our own. The more help the better, but try not to get trigger happy. There's not exactly any one making bullets anymore, I muse.I get a "Yes Sir" from Stevens, who then asks, "Is my sister on board, sir?"Yes. Yes she is. "Is she okay? Can I talk to her?"Not at the moment, she's engaged, I respond, but I can give you my word she's doing A-Okay. Now get to work, soldiers, we need to clear this place out, hua?"Hua, Hornet out."I take the helicopter around and
Gale and Stevens start shooting again. Stevens has to reload, and then I remember the fuel gauge. Shit.Hornet 4, come in."Go ahead."Hornet, I tell them, we're currently critically low on fuel, we need to make a landing and refuel, you're gonna be loosing your extra support. We probably won't need any assistance, but don't forget we're down here, over."Copy that, Whistler. Also, recommend you head for Fuel Station Bravo, Alpha's been under maintenance for a while so it's probably non-functional."Much obliged, Hornet, Whistler out. And I put let go of the mic button.So I swing around again and we're heading for the next available fuel depot, which if I remember, is about half a mile away from base headquarters. We get there without much trouble, but when we land, it turns out there's already someone there waiting for us. They look happy. There's two soldiers, both sergeants, waiting for me when I get out of my helicopter to work on refueling. One of them's got a hose over his shoulder, and the other, a blonde fox, says, "Heard you over the radio, thought you could use some help since we were in the area. Sergeant Kasey Remington, sir." Well, thanks, let's get this bird topped off, I ask, okay?They nod and the silent one, I think he's a red panda, goes to hook up the helicopter to the fuel depot. I think it's amazing that there's still people here, to be honest... "Sir?" The panda notices me staring off into space. I snap out of it and look over at him.Yeah?What I didn't realize is that I had been standing there for a good five minutes doing nothing while he was topping off the bird. I need to stop being so spaced out, I guess. The two soldiers had already brought up their rifles and were ready to go. They asked if they could hitch a ride to the Eastern Barracks, since that's where all their stuff-- and their friends-- are. I gave them the okay, and they climbed in right as I started the engine. Gale had to pop off a few rounds, if only to put down some dead-'uns. It takes roughly two minutes before the rotors are spinning fast enough for me to get us in the air safely. I immediately turn the bird east and we're right above the barracks in less than three minutes. I lower the collective and say, pile out, boys, this is your stop. Sergeant Remington fast-ropes down, but the red panda lingers for some reason. I look back to get a look at his name tape. It reads Cadenas. CADENAS, I yell in my best drill-sergeant voice. He looks up, snapping out of his thousand-mile stare. Get the fuck out of my bird, I tell him, and he nods a Yes Sir and hooks up to a fast-rope, wrapping his gloved paws around it. "Just wanted to say, sir, I think we'd all be fucked if you and your civvie friends hadn't shown up. Catch you on the flip side." And without another word, he was gone. Out of my helicopter. Stevens looks down at the two soldiers, brave little Green Berets who
might've just plummeted into a herd of death, and she says they made it. I nod a couple times and turn back around. What I'm greeted with almost scars the shit out of me. Suddenly, Fuel Reserve Alpha explodes, and when a giant, 8,500 gallon fuel reserve explodes, it's no pretty little cap-gun pop. No, this thing explodes a ton of dynamite, in a bright fireball that nearly blinds me. I try to shield my eyes, but my worst mistake was taking my paw off the cyclic stick, because the shockwave that comes straight at us shakes the bird so violently that we almost get chucked into the trees right there. I have to brave the practically atomic flash and grab the cyclic, just so I can level out the helicopter. Warning lights and sirens are going on all around me, and engine status isn't hot. The first lesson they teach you in flight school, is don't ever take your paw off the cyclic stick.Then I realize we're spinning. Slowly, yes, but still spinning. I have to press down on both pedals, first the right one, then the left to get us pointed at the fuel station. The second lesson they teach you is don't let go of anything, period, except the collective. Unless you're falling. But we're not falling. The worst thing that could happen now is the radio tower that's about a quarter mile from the fuel reserve collapses. When Felice sees it wane and alerts me, I think, well shit, what could be worse? What could be worse, is if we had been closer to the explosion. And suddenly, the Memorial Hermann comes to mind. I press on my mic to see how everyone's doing. "Oh, just peachy," Storm tells me. That old dog needs to shut the fuck up. He's too old. I swear.You see, canines age fast. Especially big 'uns, like me and Storm. But since Storm is bigger, him being in his 40's now, he might as well be a 70 year old human. And me, I'm 34. I'm basically 50. I know. I always joke about how I won't make it past 50, I wasn't lying. Gale, you see, he's just peachy, always. He ages like a regular human, and I've seen how humans age. Good god, they don't age like fine wine, they age like milk. Felice will probably out live me by about 15 years, but he's only 26. Yeah, I know, gross, I'm so old, he's so young, but for him, 26 is basically 36. Age is complicated here. So basically, I once dated a guy who might as well have been 60. It's not as bad as you think, he had some strength all right. While canines may age fast, they don't show it too well.Moving on.But then Storm calls up again and sounds like he's panicking. "Jack, Jack, come in! It's Felice! He's hurt... Oh god... He's got shrapnel in his leg, Jack, I need you to get the fuck over here now!" I panic too. I swing the bird around immediately and start flying towards the west. Storm tells me he and Felice are a klick or two from the radio tower, and I'm there in a flash. I set down and Storm is strong enough that he can carry Felice on one shoulder
and drop him into the bird. Find a partner, I told him. I'm not letting you go out there alone. As much as I give him a hard time, I care about Storm. I'll admit, I may still be a little soft for him. He agrees and runs over to another soldier that had been with him, supporting him. I pull up and hover and Gale gets to work. He and Stevens have to tourniquet the leg because the piece of metal is stuck in Felice's right lower thigh. They tie it off tight and Gale pulls it out and throws it overboard. He then moves to clean the wound-- much to the disapproval of my boyfriend-- and starts stitching it. He tells me it's gonna be a messy job with us shaking like this, but he's going to try, dammit. It only takes him maybe a minute or two to apply the sutures before he's bandaging. Felice is taking it like a champ, because he yells at me to put him back on the ground now. I tell him, no, sit next to me before you rip your stitches, dumb ass. He pouts and sits next to me, looking bored, and I tell him that's what he gets for not taking cover, because I know you didn't. "Yeah, so? What do you care?"I cock and eyebrow and tell him not to push it, or no sex for a week. He buttons up fast, grinning like a hyena. Lil punk.Shaun calls back up and says they just found two medics by Infirmary Alpha, but one of them got shot-- ol' friendly fire accident. I mutter a curse and tell them to just stabilize him there in the Infirm, and Shaun agrees. Caro tells me he found a working Humvee, minigun mounted and everything, which reminds me that I should have some M134s mounted on my bird, except that they eat ammo faster than a redneck at a range.Gale and Stevens are back on to providing support, and poor little Fel is just sitting next to me madder than Beelzebub in brimstone, and I can't help but chuckle. Storm radios in, saying not only has he found some more people, but that he's starting to see less and less of the Infected, which is good news-- beyond good. It means we may actually win this thing.1203 hours