“Sergeant?” he says, and breaks down coughing, his throat hoarse and sore.
Wait, he tells himself. The world does not know how to mind its own business. There are people out there who are going to try to stop you. You must be ready to fight.
He bends to pick up a carbine and pistol, load his pockets with ammo, and scavenge a few MREs and a canteen.
“Did I do right?” he says.
He bends over and coughs, spitting repeatedly.
“Did I do right by you then, Sergeant?”
The civilians gather around him as he starts moving in the opposite direction of the sounds of gunfire. They step out of his way and touch him lightly as he passes. Behind him, a woman sobs quietly.
He pauses long enough to touch his heart and say quietly to himself, “
He will break into a music shop and play every instrument. He will set up house in the New York Public Library and read every one of its books. Life is short, and this is the greatest city in the world, filled with treasures.
From now on, he vows, nobody will ever tell him what to do again.
You made it this far for a reason
Mooney’s heart pounds as the double-prop Chinooks land in Sheep Meadow, the thirty-foot-long propeller blades savagely chopping the chilly air during their descent and sending waves of swirling dust and slivers of grass roaring across the field.
Each of these twelve-ton machines is nearly one hundred feet long and can transport more than fifty soldiers. Today, they will take on only four new passengers.
Next to him, Dr. Petrova is crying.
“We played here,” she says, feebly gesturing at the field. “All of us.”
He can barely hear her. The noise is incredible.
“That was my spot, under that tree,” the scientist adds.
The loading ramps at the rear of the helicopters’ fuselages drop, unloading Special Forces fireteams that fan out and establish security. Several start shooting at distant targets, dropping the first Maddies attracted to the heavy thumping of the rotors.
One of the soldiers stands and waves.
“That’s our cue,” McGraw shouts. “Let’s go!”
The wind blast is strong, tugging at their uniforms and making them cough on the waves of dust. Mooney takes Petrova’s hand to steady her as they half run, half limp to safety.
“We’re almost there,” he tells her, unable to believe they are going to make it.
The woman is pale and weak, murmuring to herself.
But this was his home, she says.
“Whose home?” he asks. “Keep moving, Ma’am!”
We ate ice cream last summer.
The soldiers rush forward to take her arms and help her onto the helicopter. Mooney starts to follow, but notices that McGraw and Wyatt are hanging back at the ramp.
“I’m not going with you boys,” the Sergeant says.
“What?”
“I’m staying behind!”
Mooney looks at him helplessly. Is the man insane, hoping to get killed, or simply freakishly loyal, willing to take the incredible risk of fighting his way back to the Captain? Does he expect Mooney to stay with him, too?
It’s not fair, he thinks.
McGraw says: “I’m quitting the Army!”
Wyatt laughs into the howling wind.
The Sergeant explains, “This was my last mission. I’m done. I’m going to keep my head down until it blows over, and then try to get home to my girl. Good luck to you boys. I wanted you to know I’m proud of you.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Mooney says with a lump in his throat.
“Good luck, Sarge,” Wyatt says.
“Luck I got plenty of,” McGraw says, winking. He salutes quickly and then he is gone, jogging lightly past the Special Forces teams as if the world were just beginning, not ending.
“I’m staying, too, Mooney,” Wyatt tells him.
“You quitting?”
“Naw,” Wyatt says. He pauses for a quick farmer’s blow and then adds sourly, “One of those wanking wanktards back there bit me in the armpit. The infected one got me.”
“Christ, Joel,” Mooney says, too stunned to understand what he is hearing.
“Hurts like hell. I can actually feel the little mothers in my brain. Guess I’ll go somewheres and eat the rest of my chocolate bars. Maybe go swim in the pond back there. Maybe rob a bank. Who knows; a lot can happen in a few hours before I turn into a zombie.”
Mooney’s voice cracks. “But what the hell am I supposed to do without you?”
Wyatt offers up his gimpy smile. “You’ll manage okay on your own, boss. But I’ll have to find a new sidekick.”
One of the Special Forces soldiers appears at the top of the ramp and says, “Coming or going, make a choice. We got company.”
“I’ll see you around, Joel,” Mooney says, holding out his hand.
Wyatt ignores the gesture, backing away awkwardly in the raging wind, smiling and offering a comical salute with his middle finger.
“Contact!”
Several soldiers rush down the ramp and begin firing at a horde of Mad Dogs breaking from the trees and streaming into the back of one of the other Chinooks parked across the lawn, overrunning its guards in hand to hand fighting. The distant bodies flop onto the grass, while others disappear inside the massive helicopter, which suddenly lurches into the air.
One of the soldiers grabs Mooney and shoves him roughly inside, where he lands on the floor shouting in panic. He scrambles into the seat next to Petrova, who screams at the sound of the gunfire, covering her face in her hands.
“No more killing,” she pleads.
An NCO runs down the aisle towards the pilots, roaring a command to get the bird into the air right now.
“You’re going to be okay, Dr. Petrova,” Mooney says. “You made it this far for a reason. You had all those chances to die and you didn’t. You can’t die now.”
The helicopter suddenly lifts hard, rising at a speed of twenty-five feet per second. Gravity sucks at his stomach and toes.
A Special Forces medic works his way down the aisle until he reaches Petrova and begins shouting questions at her: Has she been bitten? Is she otherwise injured? Does she have any other medical conditions affecting her well being? Does she want water?
Turning away, Mooney hops frequencies on the combat net radio, searching for Charlie’s net. The air whistles through the cabin, making it difficult to hear. Then his ears pop and the voices come through clear as a bell.
He finds the sounds of their voices, even describing a losing fight, strangely comforting. They are still alive down there, and as long as they are still alive, there is hope.
