was allowing someone to carry it for her.
Before Cahz could ask Angel what was wrong, the young woman broke in again.
“That still leaves us four seats short,” she said, still focused on the problem.
Cannon said something that Cahz missed over the noise and the demands for his attention.
“The kids’ll fit in fine,” Cahz heard Idris summarise, “but we’re pushing the weight limit. We’ve got enough fuel for the five of us and a few of the pus bags, but they weigh next to nothing. Even if we do stuff this bird full, we’ll be short on fuel.”
Cannon and the young woman were listening intently, although both cast more than an occasional glance at the encroaching zombies.
“Okay, there’s no drag if we don’t use the net,” Idris said, “but we’ll still splash down who knows how short of the ship. And what if the weather turns and we meet a strong headwind? We’ll just ditch a whole lot sooner.”
The scrawny male survivor, impatient to get moving, spoke up, “Could some of us get carried in the cargo net?”
“No, we can’t take the weight or the drag, son,” Idris repeated.
“Anyways, you’d die of exposure before we got back to the ship,” Bates added. “It’s bad enough just getting winched up, but being under that thing for two hundred miles? No way you’d make it.”
“No need for a seat for me dear,” came a frail voice from behind.
The old woman with the baby looked tearful.
“What do you mean?” Sarah asked.
The baby was hoisted to one side and the old woman pulled her collar down. Where the curve of her neck melded into the shoulder there was an ugly bite mark. Already a deep purple hue surrounded the raged oval of torn skin.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect her,” the old woman sobbed.
Cahz watched confused as the thick set survivor walked up to the old woman. Slowly but purposefully he reached down and eased away the swaddling from the child’s face. The baby was screaming. Her cheeks red, her lips pursed, her small lungs howled out a shrill cry. On the corner of the swaddling were wet splodges of blood and across the small child’s face the trail of a scratch mark.
“Shit,” Cahz whispered.
“Oh God no, Elspeth,” Sarah gasped.
“Must have happened when I fell,” the old woman said, turning to the man next to her.
The thickset man stood transfixed by the child. With the back of a finger he stroked the infant’s uninfected cheek while tears ran down both their faces.
“I’m so sorry, Ryan,” she apologised.
“Boss,” Bates broke in, “I’m out of ammo and they’re close.”
“We don’t have time for this, Cahz,” Cannon agreed, a note of agitation in his voice.
Cahz turned to his men and addressed them. “Okay, listen up. This isn’t an order but we’ve more of a chance down here than they do. I’m giving up my seat.”
“Jesus, Cahz, we haven’t survived this long to get fucked by a handful of civvies,” Cannon protested loudly.
Cahz looked his old friend in the eyes. “Like I say, I can’t order you to stay.”
“You don’t give much of an option, Boss,” Cannon said grudgingly. “We’ve stuck together since this shit came down. If you’re stayin’ I’m stayin’.”
Cahz smiled and patted the big man on the shoulder.
Bates tossed his head and said, “I’m taking my seat.”
“I stay,” Angel volunteered.
Ryan stepped in. “No, lady. Your arm’s busted. I’ll stay back.”
“Ryan you can’t-” Sarah started.
“These boys might have the firepower but they don’t know the ground,” Ryan argued. “They’ve got a better chance with one of us to guide them.”
Cahz rubbed the sweat from his upper lip with his gloved finger. The zombies were now close enough to see their gnarled teeth framing their gaping maws. A few more seconds and they would be upon them.
There might have been a better way to solve this problem, but Cahz knew they didn’t have the time to find it. He said, “That’s that settled.”
Cahz grabbed the young woman with both hands and threw her into the chopper. The woman was too shocked to resist and the rotors were too noisy for him to hear her protests.
“Okay miss, in you go,” Cahz said in way of preamble as he scooped up the young girl. As he shoved the girl into the cabin, he called on the scrawny survivor, “You! In the bird now!”
Nathan was ushered into the middle seat.
“Soon as you can, get back here and pick us up,” Cahz said, looking at Idris. His attention then went immediately to Bates, who was retrieving his equipment. “Bates, leave that behind. How much juice is in those batteries?” Cahz pointed at the beat up ghetto blaster.
“Not much, boss,” Bates replied with a shrug. “They’re rechargeable and they’re pre-Zee. If you turn the sound down a bit you might eke out another fifteen, twenty minutes, but I guess about an hour is it.”
Cahz gave a nod. “Okay.”
“Boss!” Cannon’s deep voice bellowed. “Gettin’ a bit close!”
The snarling growl of machine gun fire overwhelmed the dawdle of the chopper blades as Cannon cut a sway through the closest zombies.
“You looking for a decoy?” Bates asked.
“Yep,” Cahz replied.
Bates produced a modified land mine. It was a green oblong with a slight banana curve. Unlike standard issue mines, Bates had been busy modifying this one. One corner had what appeared to be a travel alarm clock duct taped in place. A pair of clumsy wires, intermittently hidden behind more silver duct tape, wound their way into the back of the casing. Cahz had warned Bates about tampering with explosives on more than one occasion, but now wasn’t the time for a reprimand.
“Set a timer on it for, what, five minutes?” Bates offered.
“Make it twenty,” Cahz said. “It’ll act as a distraction. Maybe pull a few away from us.”
Bates made an adjustment to the timer before setting it down and picking up the rest of his gear.
“You packing any more useful toys?” Cahz asked as the soldier perched on the rear seat of the chopper.
“Yeah, sure.” Bates lay down his rifle and unfastened the thigh pouches from his webbing. With a smile he tossed the two packs at Cahz. “Two more claymores, two flares, a smoke grenade and one MRE.”
Cahz caught the packs by their strapping. “Ain’t planning on staying long enough to have to eat army rations. Maybe we can tempt those motherfuckers to eat these instead.”
“Smear it all over you,” Bates teased. “Then no fucker will want to bite you.”
Cannon shouted over the noise with some urgency, “It’s gettin’ tight, boss!”
Cahz rapped his knuckles on the windscreen to get the pilot’s attention. “Get these people out of here!”
Idris gave a nod.
Angel called out from her seat in the front, “Cahz, it’s at least an eight hour turnaround!”
Eight hours was a long time out here and Cahz knew it. But he cocked his head and smiled.
“Quicker you go the quicker you get back!” he said.
“Good luck, Cahz.” Angel passed out her sidearm and a bundle of magazines. There was an assortment of magazines for the sidearm and one chunkier magazine for her rifle. The larger of the clips bore the unfamiliar Cyrillic writing Cahz had seen on much of her Russian equipment.
Cahz looked her in the eye. “You sure?”
“I want empties back,” Angel warned. “Since Izhmash closed, are bitch to get hold of.”
Cahz nodded, taking the friendly jibe.
Cahz firmly handed Angel’s pistol to Ryan. “Okay, we need somewhere high and defendable. Which way?”
Ryan took the gun in his hand. “This way.”
“Stay close, stay sharp, stay alive!” Cahz hollered.
