The Common Cold (Book 2): A Zombie Chronicle-Cabin Fever by David K. Roberts

you’re wrong, buddy. I really hope there’s someone
to report too,” Mike finished, trying to sound optimistic. This appeared to be
personal deception, wishful thinking even, and on a massive scale. One of the
reasons Mike had done the small test flight was so that he could try the radio
from the air. Flicking through the main frequencies they hadn’t heard a single
voice on the airwaves other than their own. There had been nothing but static.
In fact, if BB wasn’t much mistaken, he was pretty sure he could smell the
burning city, the view across it from up there made hazy and impenetrable by smoke.
    By now a crowd of the survivors had gathered, excited by the
resurrection of the helicopter; it seemed to offer so much to their morale at
this point. Cliff had done his job well and kept them safely clear of the
hurricane speed winds it generated. Mike beckoned him over.
    “Get Zoë, we’re going to have a look-see, and bring Bill. If
we can, I’d like to get him some medical attention. We’ll also get some more
fuel while we’re down there, and see if we can report in.”
    “Sure, Boss. Back in a minute.” With that he ran over to the Warrant Officer; she had been standing with the
others watching the test run, anticipating finally being able to get back to
work. “Come on, let’s arm up. We’re going to do a recon.”
    Pleasure at getting back into the air and to her job showed
all over her face as she beamed a brilliant smile in reply. Running into the
cabin she returned with a holstered pistol and a couple of rifles, throwing one
to the sergeant. Her pockets bulged with ammo clips; Cliff had not taken his
pistol off since the engine had failed. Leading Bill Mitchum to the far side of
the chopper, she pulled the far waist door open, while making sure none of the
civvies saw the corpse lying there frozen and strapped to a stretcher.
Carefully she helped him aboard and secured him into a pull-down seat. Cliff
pulled the door closed as the engine spooled up again. In no time they were
airborne and on their way down the mountain towards Denver.
    No-one spoke as they flew towards their previous reporting
point, staring at the massive column of smoke rising from the city. The fires had
diminished somewhat since yesterday but the horizon was still being punctuated
by an occasional orange firework display as yet another source of fuel ignited.
Looking down they saw no vehicular traffic at all and very little movement, the
vast open spaces interspersed with small clusters of awkwardly moving civilians
who ignored them as they flew overhead.
    “They must be infected,” Cliff observed to no-one in
particular. No-one replied; they could see it too.
    Before long they arrived at the makeshift site that had been
set up as the outbreak began. A couple of camouflaged green bowsers sat idly
off to one side with landing markers laid out next to them; this had been their
refuelling point for the action. Several bodies lay on the ground and a few
uniformed people wandered around aimlessly, seemingly oblivious of the
helicopter’s approach. Even from a few hundred feet it was obvious the site had
been compromised. There was also another Blackhawk parked near the bowsers.
Dust had settled covering the canopy and implying it had been stationary for a
good few hours and no-one was looking after it. It had stanchions protruding
from the upper levels on each side and torpedo-like tanks attached.
    “With luck there should be fuel available still. We’ll set
down and switch off,” the Captain announced. “I want you, Zoë and Cliff, to set
up a perimeter and shoot anything that looks like it’s infected and heading our way. BB and I will refuel the chopper. We will be
vulnerable while we do this and I want to be back in the air before we attract
any real attention. From the fighting we saw yesterday, the fast ones are a
particular threat. Just keep your eyes peeled, guys. If in doubt, shoot.”
    “Yes sir,” both replied and