CHAPTER 30
The old and seemingly derelict tarmac looked sad and lonely in the bleak moonlight. The crew roared down a steep hill in their covered truck as klaxons whined from the Russian military camp that they had previously fled from. The situation was urgent, a race to Darya’s private jet that was parked on the opposite side of the tarmac. Bullets scraped and whizzed by their truck from identical enemy trucks that were in hot pursuit. Eddie and Matt fired back desperately while Gavin, Sara, and Darya watched over the baby and made sure Darcy stayed unconscious (he had woken up two times already throughout the 15 minute chase)
Jimmy steered vigorously in order to weave and veer through densely placed evergreen trees. Jimmy turned to Anton, panicked, “I didn’t know there were so many guys to deal with!” he yelled for no apparent reason other than the excitement of the chase.
Anton remained calm; he looked back, grimly, “Neither did I.” Through his thick Russian accent, he spoke with a somber tone that implied that he wasn’t confident that they were going to make it off the ground alive.
The guys in the back could hear the flapping of torn fabric top above them, volleys of bullets shred it, it was a wonder that they had all remained in one piece.
The road smoothed out as they drove onto the heavily weathered tarmac. The sudden loss of traction caused the truck to spin out, colliding with the hangar. Everyone rushed to get out of the truck; Gavin tackled Sara to get her out of the way of a truck in hot pursuit that crashed into the very truck they had just gotten out of. The two trucks erupted into flames, Darya and Gavin felt lucky to be able to see the roaring flames rise and fall, sway, and taper to the wind’s will.
Two more trucks succeeded what their ignited truck before them hadn’t, they drifted so they faced the flames. Before the crew could react, one of the trucks sped ahead of them and four armed men climbed out and stood at attention in front of the truck, staring at the friends with a cold and unblinking stare. The crew decided against shooting, they would lose more than they would win.
The other truck produced four more soldiers who climbed out and stood identically as the ones standing at attention by the truck in front of them. There was a moment where the atmosphere was cold and absolutely silent, saving the crackling of the truck fire and the yowling wind. The rustling of chains broke that moment along with the mindless and painful groaning that was repeatedly met with shushing and cooing. Just like how a mother would tend to her upset infant child.
After a brief moment, two figures climbed out of the fabric covered back of the truck. Under the light cast by the moon, the figures were silhouettes. Not much of them, at the moment was visible, but what Jimmy could make out was puzzling at best: one of the figures held a chain that was wrapped around his wrist, connected to the chain was a thick collar that belonged to an equally sized figure that slouched and twitched constantly.
The figure holding the chain spoke something in Russian and then chuckled, leading the slouching figure, well, more like dragging it, as it was far less than compliant about coming into visibility. It was the Russian commander, he had survived the explosion, but not without loss. Half of his face was severely burnt, blood still oozed from his burn wound. The flesh around his left eye was blackened and covered with a black leather eye patch.
What came next stunned the group beyond belief. On the commander’s chain, slouching and hyperventilating through quick and raspy breaths, was, to everyone’s recognition, Johnny.
“Oh my gosh.” Whispered Sara with a gasp before covering her face and burying it in Gavin’s chest as he took her in, it was Johnny, lanky and gawky as always. However he didn’t recognize them, he merely stared at them with red oceans for eyes while snapping his teeth at them like an aggressive hound. The chain was not the only metal on Johnny’s reanimated body; a bear trap-like contraption was attached to Johnny’s rotting mouth, making it an unpredictable and deadly trap of iron.
The commander sensed the glares of hatred on the back of his neck and turned around. He shot back a taunting look and proceeded to pace in front of the frozen comrades with hands behind his back, Johnny crawled after him on all fours, snapping his metal trap with the cold thrashing sound of metal clashing together at such a velocity that it occasionally spawned sparks. The friends couldn’t believe it, their friend, who hadn’t done anything wrong, was now the equivalent of a trained attack dog. Jimmy couldn’t help but blame himself for Johnny’s abduction and Kylie’s death.
“What? You hate me now?” said the commander slyly and sarcastically. He had a slight smirk tugging on the corner of his mouth. Although his accent was as strong, if not stronger, than Anton’s, he was obviously far more versed in the English than Anton was. He was clearly understandable, despite pronouncing his “W’s” as “V’s”
Matt was steaming with anger; he fondled a grenade in his back pocket, much to the dismay of the soldiers behind him. The soldiers yelled at him in Russian and pulled the pin with his thumb in secrecy before withdrawing his hand. Matt had at least thirty seconds to do what, he thought, he needed to do. At least now, somebody will actually love hi. Maybe he’ll see his sister, Kylie, again.
“Actually, yeah, I do.” Said Matt with calm on his face but a fire was blazing in his belly. He scowled and spit at the commander’s feet. Then, Matt turned around and tackled one of the guards behind them, pushing the guard up against the truck. He beat the soldier to death with a flurry of fists and elbows, blood oozed from the soldier’s bruises and cuts until he stopped struggling and went limp. The kill, to everyone’s surprise, Matt had killed the soldier in a manner of seconds. Matt had sustained multiple bullets to the back that he had painfully ignored. Matt looted the dead soldier’s gun and shot the other three soldiers who had previously tried to tear Matt off his punching bag.
Matt was riddled with bullets, his knees wavered and blood stained his sweatshirt. The rest of the crew, terrified, watched from the ground with their arms over their heads like they were partaking in an earthquake drill. They could hear the thunderous gunfire behind them before hearing the whizzing above their heads. Then, the thunder stopped.
The crew rose their heads to see Matt stumbling towards them, his gun was pointed towards the sky and his eyes began to roll into the back of his head. Matt squeezed the trigger a final time and tried his best to tilt the gun down towards the soldiers up front, before collapsing mere seconds later, inches away from Eddie’s face.
Out of some act of luck, the gunshot was followed by a shriek of pain. Matt smiled on the ground and weakly mumbled, “One more down.” That was the last thing Matt did as his breathing ceased and a trickle of blood dripped from the corner of his mouth.
The friends stood up, saddened but inspired by their friend’s sacrifice. They faced the commander who let out a shriek of anger. Who could blame him; one man just single handedly killed five of his own soldiers. He narrowed his eyes and rumbled, “Execute them.”
The group’s eyes lit up as they grabbed their guns and sprinted towards the plan, finding some cover behind the truck. The two groups exchanged fire until Jimmy entered through the passenger door and started the engine; he motioned everyone to get in. With the screech of tires, Jimmy sped off towards the plane.
He swerved the truck in front of the plane and backed up to create a barrier between the planes entrance door and their pursuers. They watched as the truck driven by the commander’s goons speeded towards them. Sara had an idea; she grabbed one of Jimmy’s grenades and rolled it towards the truck. As the truck barreled over the grenade, Sara shot the grenade with killer precision, causing the grenade to explode. The explosion turned the truck on its side, on fire.
The friends exchanged high fives and celebrations. But when Jimmy turned to Anton with a prepared fist bump, he wasn’t there.
Jimmy peeked over the side of the truck. He saw Anton standing over the commander who was desperately climbing out of the tear in the canvas top; Anton gripped a pistol in his fist. Anton fired a single bullet into the commander’s skull, killing him.
Jimmy turned back to the group who were also looking at Anton. “It’s ok guys.” He said getting their attention. “It’s something he had to do.” Said Jimmy, accepting Anton for his inner anger.
Darya walked up the stairs that led to the entrance of the plane and opened the door, meeting the pilot who had a warm smile across his lips but terror stricken eyes. The warm and relieving moment was interrupted by the sharp sound of seven more gunshots that were followed by Anton’s terrified scream.
Jimmy ran out to find Johnny and Anton fighting. The zombified Johnny tried to grapple Anton, but he kept the distance using his boxing skill as a weapon. He had dropped the pistol after unloading the clip into the commander’s head. This surprised Jimmy, in Russia you don’t trigger gun, gun triggers you, he supposed. Jimmy pulled Anton back and filled Johnny’s chest with bullets, all the while wishing he had grabbed an antidote on the way out of Darcy’s lab. It hurt Jimmy as much as it must’ve hurt Johnny, Jimmy continued to blame himself as he and the rest of the group boarded the plane and sat down into plush leather chairs the color of iced coffee, and they peered out the window.
The pilot walked into the cockpit and announced that it’d be a while before they could take off, saying that he was feeling a bit lightheaded.
The plane’s passenger area was set up for twelve people. Situated adjacent to each other were two booths with three seats on either side of two laminated wooden tables.
Eddie sat next to Jimmy who was looking out the window at the tarmac and the cliff that formed mere inches after the tarmac ended. He jabbed at Jimmy with his elbow, “I think he saw Anton bust open Zangief’s skull.” Referring to the pilot and his lightheadedness.
“Yeah.” Jimmy droned, staring at his reflection in the airplane’s window. He saw someone who failed, on one too many accounts.
Eddie took the hint and rested his back on the headrest. Darya, Jake, Gavin, and Sara were talking enthusiastically about touching down in Russia where they would be greeted with warm meals and an even warmer bed to resT their heads, the anticipation was teeming.
Finally, the engines started and they ran down the length of the tarmac, then, lift off. But something caught Eddie’s eye as he got up to go to the bathroom. Alarmed, Eddie turned to Anton, standing above him, “What’s on your calf?”
“What?” said Anton, confused. He touched his calf and lifted his hand, it was covered in blood. A deep gash in Anton’s calf bleed, there were little divots in the shape of teeth around the wound. They were 35,000 feet in the air and had just discovered that… that Johnny had bit him.
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