The Left Series (Book 3): Left On The Brink by Christian Fletcher Page B

apologetically and shook his head. “No can do, I’m afraid, guys. That vehicle has been loaded onto the C-17 and a whole bunch of stuff packed behind it. The guys haven’t got time to take it all off again. We’ve got plenty more alternative vehicles you can use though. As for Milner…well, you can ask him to tag along but these guys are concentrating on getting out of here, right now.”
    “So basically, we’re on our own,” I sighed.
    Cole shrugged again. “Sorry about that, guys but we have to think about the bigger picture.”
    “No problem, Chief. You’ve done more than enough for us,” Smith said, patting Cole’s shoulder. “We’ll ride this one out. You guys have your own agenda but I’ll take you up on the offer of a vehicle. What have you got?”
    Cole stuck out his bottom lip. “Depends what you want. A fast ride will get you there and back quicker but offer less protection. A slower ride of a military vehicle will have more firepower and armor plating but don’t forget you’re against the clock. Have you got much gear to haul?”
    Smith slowly shook his head. “Only one box and human cargo. Something sleek and fast should be good enough.”
    “There’s a Mustang Shelby in the parking lot out back. One previous owner, a pilot who won’t be needing it no more. Will that be adequate?”
    Smith’s face almost lit up with excitement. I knew how he loved his muscle cars. “Now you’re talking, Chief. Where are the keys?”
    “Still in the ignition, as far as I know. I’ll take a walk down there with you, just to check the coast is clear.” Cole moved to a gun rack to the left of the interior doors that the flight crew had disappeared through. The Chief armed himself with an assault rifle, loaded a magazine and nodded towards the exit.
    We followed the big Navy guy back down the control tower staircase, passing the vacant reception desk and outside through the glass doors. The Air National Guard sentries still stood beside the exit.
    “Not long to wait before we ship out, boys,” Cole muttered at the guards.
    Smith turned on the flashlight and the Chief led the way along a concrete paved path, snaking around the tower perimeter. A small parking lot sat in darkness behind the air traffic control tower, with only a handful of vehicles occupying the spaces. Smith waved the light beam back and forth in sweeps, checking for any unwanted company. A lone male zombie, dressed in ragged blue coveralls staggered into the light from behind a silver colored sedan.
    “Stop!” Cole commanded. He lifted his left arm up at a ninety degree angle to his body, preventing us from proceeding.
    We stopped in our tracks behind the Chief. Smith kept the light beam trained on the approaching zombie, who wailed, almost in a kind of greeting and cumbersomely waved his arms in a grabbing motion. Cole raised the assault rifle with the butt under his chin and assumed a firing stance. He fired one shot and I briefly saw a red dot appear between the zombie’s eyes along with a puff of crimson spray behind the head. Smith followed the zombie topple over backwards with the light beam. The coverall clad zombie lay motionless beside the sedan. Cole kept the rifle muzzle trained on the prone body for a few seconds. Smith scanned the lot again until we were satisfied the area was clear of undead.
    “Okay, the Mustang is parked over there behind that RV.” Cole pointed to the left hand corner of the lot.
    Smith swung the light beam across the blacktop and we glimpsed a beige RV that looked neglected and as though it hadn’t been used in a while. The tires sagged flat and the windshield was covered in debris. We walked around the RV and Smith shone the light onto the vehicle tucked into the adjacent space. I heard Smith physically gasp as he slowly trained the flashlight over the gleaming, dark blue Mustang with twin white stripes running across the center of the vehicle from underneath the front grill to the rear