“They mentioned a small airport. Helicopters and planes coming in and out during the weeks prior to the outbreak,” Palmeri said.

I remembered them saying as much and thought it suggested guilt on the part of the military.

“What good’s an airport? My guess, there aren’t going to be pilots on standby, drinking coffee and reading the newspaper,” Dave said. “No, I think we just keep driving. Just head south.”

“There don’t have to be pilots there,” Palmeri said.

“Ah, I’m thinking there sure as shit does,” Dave said.

Palmeri shrugged. “As long as there is fuel and a plane, I can get us out of here. I know you think Mexico is our best bet, Chase. A plane’s going to help us get there a hell of a lot faster than taking roads, and off roads, even in a small tank like this.”

I nodded. She was right. “And you can fly? A plane?” I said.

“Have a license and everything,” she said, and looked up at me in the reflection of the rearview mirror. “Not on me. You’ll just have to take my word.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said. “A damn good one.”

“Don’t go getting all excited yet. A lot is going to depend on what is there and fuel. Fuel is going to play a pretty major role in this plan,” she said, smiling. “Let’s see if we can find that airport.”

Charlene smiled, too.

“What, honey?” I said.

“I was just thinking about the first time we flew together, to Florida.”

“Disneyland,” I said. “How can you remember? You were a baby.”

“Okay,” she said. “I don’t remember it. I just remember how many times you told the story. Felt like more of a memory, I’ve heard it so much, like something I actually remembered.”

We sat there silent for a moment. Allison nudged me in the side with an elbow.

“Ouch!”

“Are you going to tell us the story?” Allison said.

I looked around. We had, at this point, nothing but time.

“I’ll tell it,” Charlene said. “Can I, Dad?”

“Yeah, of course.” My daughter looked happy and her small smile melted my heart.

“I was maybe nine months old. We flew out of Buffalo on a direct flight to Orlando. My dad had me in his arms getting on the plane, and I was fidgeting and crying a little. He’s making his way to our seat and everyone’s rolling their eyes at him. Oh yeah, they’re thinking, he’s that guy. The guy with the baby that’s going to cry for four hours,” she said, her hands clasped together and rested in her lap. It was the most animated I’d seen her since first finding her and Cash at my apartment in Rochester.

“Hate guys like you,” Allison said, and again gave a shot to my gut with her elbow. No way was I admitting those jabs hurt, so I just made a face and playfully pushed her back.

Everyone seemed drawn into the rendition, waiting for Charlene to continue. I even found myself taken in by it, anxious to hear the rest.

Charlene knew what she was doing too, what she was accomplishing. I saw it when we locked eyes for a brief moment. Yes, I knew the memory made her happy, but I also saw the intelligence behind her need to share. The storytelling was a distraction that wasn’t only helpful, it appeared necessary.

“Dad gets buckled in, my mother next to him. She’s digging through the diaper bag for the baggie of Cheerios, teething rings and rattles. She hopes one of those things is going to quiet me down for the flight. Naturally, none of them do. Then the plane is on the tarmac, headed in line for our turn to take off, and before you know it, we start to pick up speed, shooting down the runway. As we lift off the ground, my head just gets lower and lower until it’s on my dad’s chest, like the force of take-off pushed me against him, and just like that,” she said, and snapped her fingers, “I’m asleep and stay asleep for the entire flight.”

“No way,” Allison said.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “The whole flight, and I couldn’t move at all. I was afraid if I even tried to open the complimentary bag of peanuts--”

“Found it!” Palmeri said. “Not much of an airport, but I see a helicopter parked next to a hangar.”

I hated reality. It seriously knew how to hack the shit out of good times. I gave my daughter a wink. She winked back and lowered her head some, as if suddenly shy.

“Are you licensed to fly a helicopter?” Sues said, pointing at the bird that sat on a pad.

“Ah, no. I’m not.”

We seemed to all sigh collectively. “Okay, so now what?” I said.

“We should check the hangar. The size of that thing, fifty-fifty chance a plane is inside,” Palmeri said. “Can’t hurt to look, anyway.”

“Also a fifty-fifty chance the hangar could be filled with mechanic, wrench wielding zombies, too,” Dave said. “And pilot zombies. And just, you know, a ton of freaking zombies!”

He was right, of course. “You see any creatures anywhere?” I said.

“No, none,” Erway said. “Looks pretty deserted.”

“Hate that,” Allison said. “Maybe it’s just me, but deserted seems a hundred times scarier. At least if we see them, we can handle it. Take them out. But when there is nothing, none of them, I just get that searching the rooms-of-a-haunted-house feeling.”

Sues kept nodding her head in agreement.

“Nobody get out of the truck,” Erway said, which was a statement that did not need to have been made. “I’m going to check out the hangar. I agree with Allison, not a fan of the deserted. I’m thinking if there are zombies anywhere, they’re inside that hangar. So give me a few minutes to see what’s what inside.”

“I’ll go with you,” Palmeri said, and unfastened her seatbelt.

“I don’t think so,” Dave said. “You’re our pilot. Kind of a commodity right now. We need you. I’ll go with Erway. We’ll clear the hangar and signal when it’s safe.”

I saw Sues’ grip tighten on Dave’s forearm. Nothing extreme, just her fingers squeezing a bit more than they had been.

This was how it was now. To get from place to place, chances needed to be taken. They would always be dangerous. The unknown was that way. It was never going to seem fair, either. Couldn’t be the same people always volunteering. Everyone was going to need to take a chance, a turn. No one wanted to risk their life. I knew I didn’t. I knew I was tired. I knew I never wanted to die and leave Charlene all alone. I couldn’t imagine a worse fate than that, except her dying.

“Erway is our medic,” I said. “She’s staying. I’ll go with Dave.”

“You’re talking about me like I’m not here,” Erway said.

“No,” I said. “That’s not what I’m doing. I’m talking to everyone else. Making it clear.”

“I can pull my own weight,” she said.

“Didn’t imply you couldn’t. And soon enough, we’re going to have to put together a risk-taking rotation.” I smiled. “For now, let’s not do this. It’s not a pissing match. It’s like Dave said about Palmeri. A pilot, a medic. That’s pretty essential right now. I have a machete. A knife. I can be replaced.”

“Stop, Chase,” Allison said.

“You know what I mean.”  I was between Allison and Charlene. I slid forward and knelt in the center of the Humvee. “It’s Dave and me. And like Erway said, no one else gets out of this vehicle. No one.”

I was referring to my daughter. If anyone was going to risk getting out and coming to help, I envisioned her being the one doing it. I wanted to make sure Allison caught on, and kept Charlene from leaving. I hoped she picked up the meaning by the tone of my voice. I had no way of verifying whether or not she did without coming out and asking, so I decided to play it safer and simply asked, “Am I clear?”

The five of them acknowledged.

“Dave, ready?”

“Ready, sir.” He sighed in a long, loud breath. I don’t think he meant to let that escape from his lungs in front of everyone. It just sounded like a depressing bag of deflating desperation and surrender.