Jason Campagna: White Ash on Bone: A Zombie Novel

The pilot managed to straighten the wings, but the loss of momentum carried the plane down and over the embankment of the roadway leading into the landside terminal at the far end of the runway. Out of the sight of Rex, the C-130 crashed into the long-term parking lot of the airport. Black smoke and red flame rose from its crash.

The smell of charred human flesh and fuel filled Rex's nose and mouth. He rolled up onto his shoulder facing the runway and felt a wetness running down his face. His hand reached up to his face and pulled a chunk of glass out of his forehead above his left eye.

The radio lying on the ground next to him crackled, "This is AF-One-One-Three. Major Warren's chopper just took out One-One-Two. We are past the point of no return. I think we can make it."

On the runway, the C-130 barreled down strip and punched through the rising smoke of the wrecked helicopter burning on the tarmac.

Rex heard a thump behind him. He turned back at the noise to see a zombie had fallen out of the shattered windows of the smoking concourse above him. Flames were rising out of the end of the terminal closest to the blast.

The male zombie wearing a pilot's uniform pushed itself half way up until its leg bowed at an obviously broken point between its foot and knee. The creature fell back over but after a moment dragged itself in the direction of Rex with its hands and legs. The bone of the broken leg clubbed out behind it.

Rex went to grab for his AK but the blast had knocked it ten feet away. He pushed himself into a sitting position slightly straining under the weight of the thousand 7.62 rounds he carried on his chest.

The zombie lunged out to grab his leg, but Rex kicked back and pushed himself out of the way as its hand brushed his boot.

He gritted his teeth and kicked out at the creature. His foot impacted with the pilot’s jaw, and it crunched backward shattering teeth and bone. The zombie latched onto his leg before he could pull it away. It bit down on the leather of Rex's boot. Its jaw was shattered, but Rex felt its hands tighten on his leg.

The last C-130 roared by behind Rex as it took off into the air.

" This is AF-two-six-zero we are the last one off the ground and we are all clear."

"Roger that," said Cotta. "Rex, are you still with me down there?"

Rex tried to kick the creature off his leg, but it held fast and was trying to claw its way up his body. Rex reached down and grabbed for his holstered .45. The first round wasn’t chambered, so Rex pulled the weapon back into the air. The zombie crawled up his body heading for his face. Rex brought the weapon crashing down on the top of the zombie's head. The blow cracked against its skull and momentarily the zombie went slack.

He kicked out from underneath it and rolled over onto his feet. The zombie regained whatever amounted to its senses and reached out for Rex again. He stepped back and cocked the slide back on his .45; it slammed a round into the chamber on its return. He lightly squeezed the trigger until the gun erupted in his hand. The round struck true in the zombie's head and painted a red splash on the tarmac. Rex scanned the area, but it was clear. Then he reached down and picked up the radio.

"This is Rex, everyone else is dead."

"Where are you?" Cotta said.

"I’m at end of the burning section of the terminal," Rex said. The sound of a small plane’s engine droned over the crackling of fire in the background.

"I’ve got a visual on you,” Cotta said. “Listen, you got more of those things falling out of the broken windows of the next concourse back; you need to get the hell out of there."

Rex walked over to his AK and picked it back up.

"Roger that, I’m headed toward the land-side section of the airport."

"Copy that,” Cotta said. “I can land where they park the Regional Jets, but you’d better hurry."

The first zombie rounded the corner behind him and locked onto Rex, several more popped out behind it.

He slung his rifle over his shoulder and took off running in the opposite direction.

The small plane landed in the distance a half-mile away. Rex wiped the blood out of his eye and looked over his shoulder to see dozens of the undead following him. He had the distance on them, but he felt hunted.

Cotta’s plane was in front of him. It slowed and turned sharply to the right in his direction and back the way it landed setting up for takeoff. Zombies poured out of a glass gate to the regional jet section of the tarmac.

”New plan, ” Cotta said. “Keep coming toward me, I’m going to try and close the distance to you. We need to be outta here before my new fan club meets your fan club."

"No, shit," said Rex, "and I don’t do autographs."

Rex pumped his legs harder across a grass section of the airport; his lungs were desperate for more air. Come on Rex, he thought, push it. Cotta's plane closed the distance faster than Rex could, but it stopped next to the grass.

"I'm not going to push our luck by getting stuck in the grass,” Cotta said. “I suggest you hurry."

Rex was close enough to see someone in the passenger’s seat pop open the side window and take aim at the oncoming undead. Several shots popped out of the plane by the time Rex rounded its tail. Rex was surprised to see Donna leaning out the open door with a rifle in her hand. If she had managed to knock any of them out, the mass of undead approaching the plane swallowed the bodies in their wake. Donna jumped out of the plane covering Rex while he scrambled over the final distance.

Donna pulled the rifle up to his shoulder and took aim at the nearest zombie, a woman in a red business suit. She squeezed the trigger, and the zombie tumbled over. The body tripped the ghoul behind it creating a cascade of falling zombies. Donna flipped the safety on the rifle and climbed into the open door of the plane behind Rex.

Jack throttled the plane, and it lurched forward away from death’s reaching hands. The undead continued to follow the plane, but every second they fell away from their hearts only desire.

"Hang on," Jack said, "I'm not going to bother with the runway."

Cotta pushed the plane down the tarmac of the concrete terminal apron and the small craft quickly picked up speed. The Cessna's wheels left the ground as its wings and engine clawed into the sky. Jack banked the plane to the left to bring their heading around to face north.

Rex looked past the pilot down at the burning terminal below. The fuel truck had torn through a section of the concourse collapsing a section of the building. A crater existed where the truck had been.

"You would all be dead," Jack said. "If they hadn’t blown that truck, all of you could have been caught between groups of those things."

Jack leveled the wings of the plane and the final resting place of the men who liberated the C-130s dipped below the horizon forever.

###

Hours later, Alison and Ginger sat inside the late Captain Anderson's Stryker. Rex and an Air Force Captain, Dan Arnett, were talking outside the hatch of the vehicle. The death of the Captain, Sergeant, and Paul Sulla ripped a sizeable whole in the organization of the survivors at the airport.

Captain Arnett and his C-130s had been challenged by an Air Force radar station out of Ohio and were forced to drop to the deck after F-16s were dispatched to escort them home. Three of the five remaining C-130s broke off, lured the fighters away and were either forced to land back in Ohio or be shot down. Now there were only three heavy lifting planes back at the Butler Airport, including Major Warren's former craft.