*
“You know, sir, this is almost a waste of time,” Sophia said.
They were hovering, ramp down, over the roof of an apartment building. Five survivors were being loaded, all who had survived in the complex off of Wonderwood Drive.
“Because we can do this all day, every day, and still barely make a dent in the world?” Wilkes said. “I agree.”
“We need to get rid of the zombies,” Sophia said, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. Every time they hovered for any time, infected from the surrounding area closed in. “We could just hover and machine gun them. That way the survivors can self-extract.”
“There’s a lot of bullets on Blount Island, Wolf,” Wilkes said. “But not enough to clear an estimated one hundred million infected. Or weapons barrels or weapons for that matter.”
“We’re loaded and ramp up,” Anna commed.
“Figure out the strategic later,” Wilkes said, pointing southeast. “Next pick-up. Thataway.”
* * *
“You never realize how many cars there were in the world till you see something like that,” Wilkes said, looking down.
The I-295 bridge out north out of Greater Arlington was jam packed with vehicles. There were wrecks, places where people had desperately tried to ram their way out of the traffic jam, some evidence of fire, nothing huge. And now they were rusting ruins, roamed by a few infected.
“Same thing in London, sir,” Sophia said. The Queen Elizabeth Bridge had been dropped but the M25 had looked much the same. Heck, most of London was just as packed with cars. “Not sure how we’re going to move on the ground.”
“By going around the bridge,” Wilkes said. “Okay, do we see any obstructions?”
There was a group of survivors camped out on the mid-river island the bridge crossed at a sand quarry. Possibly they were from some of the people who had gotten stuck on the bridge. Or maybe they’d gotten there by boat but with the exception of one canoe, there didn’t seem to be any boats. What there was was a huge S-O-S composed of dump trucks and construction equipment. It was easily visible from space.
“Negative here,” Olga said.
“Nothing here,” Yu added.
“Negative, Tail,” Anna said, earning her a smile from EZ for her correct terminology.
The small camp had fifteen survivors and one of them apparently knew something about air-mobile operations. He’d set out a set of cloth panels anchored by metal parts that were in a Y indicating the wind direction and had the survivors lined up for boarding. He even had them to the side so they were out of the way of the rotor. The one sticky bit was that more than half of them were armed with bolt action or semi-automatic rifles.
As soon as the helo settled, the group moved forward, women and children first. A couple of the women were armed. Anna held up a hand, pointed to the weapons and motioned that they had to be cleared and pointed down.
The women who were armed showed that the chambers were open and she nodded and waved them in. Same with the men. One wanted to load with the magazine in an AR-15 and she shook her head and motioned for it to be dropped.
“Not only no,” EZ said on the intercom, which the passengers couldn’t hear. “But fuck no. Keep an eye on that asshole, Port.” His own fingers twitched toward his .45 holstered on his vest, but he stayed in place. Sophia abruptly remembered that EZ’d been shot during an op, and the interpreter who’d done it had been on board his aircraft. The flight engineer was out of his seat, standing in front of the cockpit access, watching the onload with steel in his remaining blue eye.
Leo was forward, casually leaning on his machine gun which could be swung inboard.
“Keep the rounds out of the chamber,” Olga shouted, moving down the line of refugees. “Rounds, magazines, out .”
Some of them had pistols. She was just going to have to accept those. This group didn’t look like the type to try to fully disarm.
“Tell
“You know, sir, this is almost a waste of time,” Sophia said.
They were hovering, ramp down, over the roof of an apartment building. Five survivors were being loaded, all who had survived in the complex off of Wonderwood Drive.
“Because we can do this all day, every day, and still barely make a dent in the world?” Wilkes said. “I agree.”
“We need to get rid of the zombies,” Sophia said, looking down at the parking lot of the complex. Every time they hovered for any time, infected from the surrounding area closed in. “We could just hover and machine gun them. That way the survivors can self-extract.”
“There’s a lot of bullets on Blount Island, Wolf,” Wilkes said. “But not enough to clear an estimated one hundred million infected. Or weapons barrels or weapons for that matter.”
“We’re loaded and ramp up,” Anna commed.
“Figure out the strategic later,” Wilkes said, pointing southeast. “Next pick-up. Thataway.”
* * *
“You never realize how many cars there were in the world till you see something like that,” Wilkes said, looking down.
The I-295 bridge out north out of Greater Arlington was jam packed with vehicles. There were wrecks, places where people had desperately tried to ram their way out of the traffic jam, some evidence of fire, nothing huge. And now they were rusting ruins, roamed by a few infected.
“Same thing in London, sir,” Sophia said. The Queen Elizabeth Bridge had been dropped but the M25 had looked much the same. Heck, most of London was just as packed with cars. “Not sure how we’re going to move on the ground.”
“By going around the bridge,” Wilkes said. “Okay, do we see any obstructions?”
There was a group of survivors camped out on the mid-river island the bridge crossed at a sand quarry. Possibly they were from some of the people who had gotten stuck on the bridge. Or maybe they’d gotten there by boat but with the exception of one canoe, there didn’t seem to be any boats. What there was was a huge S-O-S composed of dump trucks and construction equipment. It was easily visible from space.
“Negative here,” Olga said.
“Nothing here,” Yu added.
“Negative, Tail,” Anna said, earning her a smile from EZ for her correct terminology.
The small camp had fifteen survivors and one of them apparently knew something about air-mobile operations. He’d set out a set of cloth panels anchored by metal parts that were in a Y indicating the wind direction and had the survivors lined up for boarding. He even had them to the side so they were out of the way of the rotor. The one sticky bit was that more than half of them were armed with bolt action or semi-automatic rifles.
As soon as the helo settled, the group moved forward, women and children first. A couple of the women were armed. Anna held up a hand, pointed to the weapons and motioned that they had to be cleared and pointed down.
The women who were armed showed that the chambers were open and she nodded and waved them in. Same with the men. One wanted to load with the magazine in an AR-15 and she shook her head and motioned for it to be dropped.
“Not only no,” EZ said on the intercom, which the passengers couldn’t hear. “But fuck no. Keep an eye on that asshole, Port.” His own fingers twitched toward his .45 holstered on his vest, but he stayed in place. Sophia abruptly remembered that EZ’d been shot during an op, and the interpreter who’d done it had been on board his aircraft. The flight engineer was out of his seat, standing in front of the cockpit access, watching the onload with steel in his remaining blue eye.
Leo was forward, casually leaning on his machine gun which could be swung inboard.
“Keep the rounds out of the chamber,” Olga shouted, moving down the line of refugees. “Rounds, magazines, out .”
Some of them had pistols. She was just going to have to accept those. This group didn’t look like the type to try to fully disarm.
“Tell
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