Done, I took the mask off, and shook off the gloves. I removed every piece of gear as if acid was eating through it and would soon devour my flesh. My clothing under the turnout gear was drenched in sweat. I wanted to throw up, but I took slim satisfaction knowing I’d done it. I’d completed the training drill.

I quit the department. There was no way I’d be of use to anyone in an emergency situation if my claustrophobia struck. The worst, and most embarrassing thing about it all had been going back to work after quitting. While the idea of volunteering and being productive had earned me nothing but support from my peers at 9-1-1, I was certain I’d look weak and lazy when I returned. No one ever said the latter. On some though, I saw it in their eyes.

“Chase, we got movement ahead from the trees,” Dave said.

Shit. That brought me out of my daydream. “What do you see?”

“Too dark, but we saw something. Not far. Get back in here.”

The attempt to free Palmeri from under the plane was futile. Nothing under here was loose. I’d wiggled and jiggled anything and everything I could get my hands onto, and nothing. If something was out there, I was a sitting duck. The top half of my body was wedged inside this damned heap of now-twisted metal.

“Chase?”

“I’m coming,” I said. I wanted to slide back out carefully. I had no idea how bad the cut on my side was. It still bled, that much I knew. I could feel the stickiness of it. I tried to kneel as I raised my arms up and lowered myself out of the hole.

“Chase--there is something out there. In the bushes by the road, maybe. I’m coming out there.”

“No! No. I’m almost out. Watch the door.”

I freed myself from the frame and knelt with one hand on the pavement and sucked in a deep breath. It felt good to be out. Confined spaces sucked. I stood and stayed close to the frame and moved cautiously toward the door, my eyes trying to look everywhere at once. I wished I could use the powerful flashlight. I think the last thing I’d want to see is a herd of zombies right in front of me. To not know would be best, or better, anyway.

Dave was at the opened door, held out a hand and hoisted me into the plane. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“Dad?”

I put a hand up. I probably needed stitches, but this was not the time to worry anyone. “I’m okay, guys. I cut my side. It’s just a cut.”

“We can’t defend the plane, not with that,” Dave motioned toward the gaping hole where a wing was once affixed.

“Get ready to move. Make sure we bring anything that looks useful,” I said to Allison and Charlene. “Dave, come with me.”

We went to the cockpit.

“There are things out there. I don’t think they’re people. The movement is all sluggish,” Palmeri said. “They either can’t hear us, or the plane is confusing them. It reminds me of monkeys. Staying close to the trees, checking it out.”

“They’re zombies,” Dave said.

“She’s right. I’ve noticed things like this, too. When I killed my ex-wife, she’d been in a bedroom looking at a picture of the kids. If she wasn’t remembering, then she was remorseful. It was creepy to see.”

“She was a--one of those things?” Palmeri said.

I nodded. “And when we were at the internment camp, I saw one of them step on the corpse of another trying to get closer to the top of the fence. It looked down at the corpse, looked up at the top of the fence, and then used that body like a stepstool. I shit you not. I’d also used a belt to lock the gate. Buckled it, but those bastards unbuckled that belt and got out. They figured out what the problem was and they solved it.”

“You never said anything earlier,” Dave said.

“We haven’t exactly had time.”

“That’s bullshit,” Palmeri said. “You should have told us.”

“What difference does it make? Even now, the things are out there in the woods and are being cautious. They’re not coming right out and attacking. What are you going to do differently? Nothing.” I didn’t want to yell. “Now, we have to get you the fuck out of that seat.”

Palmeri’s face paled. I don’t think it had anything at all to do with my raising my voice. “Chase, if you lift me there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to bleed-out.”

“If you stay here, there’s a better chance that our smart zombies out there will bite you. Not much choice in the matter,” I said.

The cockpit was unbelievably small. The shaft protruded a good seven inches out of Palmeri’s thigh. We would need to lift her straight up and off the shaft. I was not sure how we could do that. There was little to no room to work with.

“I have to pull Erway out,” I said. I reached over and unfastened her seatbelt. I had to stay hunched over, my head banging into the instrument panel on the top ceiling part of the pit. I pushed Erway forward so I could better grasp her arm and shoulder, and then I heaved, lifted, and pulled all at once. Her thighs smacked against the thrusters in the center between the pilot and co-pilot seats as I kept stepping back. Dave grabbed her waist and then legs, helping me move and gently set the paramedic down.

“We’re going to have to do this quickly, because our monkeys are getting more adventurous,” Palmeri said.

I looked at Dave. “Get ready to run.”

“What about . . .?” He pointed toward the cockpit.

“I’m going to get her out and then we’re running.”

“I’ll help.”

“We can’t both fit up there.”

“I’m helping,” he said.

Chapter Eleven

I had one foot on the floor, a knee in the co-pilot seat and was bent forward to keep from banging my head on the toggles and switches on the above instrument panel. I did my best not to think about Erway dying in this spot. It wasn’t working. It wasn’t that I felt her ghost, but I had chills. “You’re going to have to help as much as possible,” I said.

Palmeri’s face was covered in a sheen of sweat. She nodded. “I’ll try.”

“It’s going to hurt, probably a lot.” I smiled, as if I were joking. She didn’t. I placed one hand over her thigh, the other under the thigh by where her knee bent. Dave stood, holding Palmeri’s outstretched arm and under her shoulder. “On three,” I said.

The count was silent. The three of us head nodded at each other. One. Two. Three…

Palmeri let out a scream and I cringed. She must have known better because she bit her lip. Sweat poured profusely from her brow. The shaft and wound made a horrible sucking sound as her thigh rode up the length of metal.

The angle I was at was more than awkward. We needed to lift her at least another three inches to clear the shaft. It wasn’t happening easily.

“Chase,” Dave said.

I knew what he was going to say. He dropped to his knees. Now crying silent sobs, Palmeri placed her arm on his back and pushed, as he set his arms under her ass and lifted. I heaved, trying to keep the leg as straight as possible. Blood bubbled up from the wound. I thought I could smell it; coppery and metallic. The sight of it was a bad sign. Palmeri looked at me, eyes wide.

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“Stop,” she said. “Set me down.”

“We’re not putting you down,” Dave said. With a final grunt, he pushed and she rose, her thigh clearing the top of the shaft, and she was freed.

Moving her out of the pilot seat, and out of the cockpit, with me stepping onto and over the co-pilot seat and center console, we set her down. I looked up. Allison and Charlene were watching us. They had their gear gathered by the door, ready to run.

“I need something to tie off the thigh,” I said, and moved beside Palmeri. She took my hand and squeezed it hard. “We’re going to stop the bleeding and then hobble our asses to somewhere safe.”

“Just go,” she said.