Free The End: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Dane Hatchell, P.A. Douglas Page B

completely surrounded by the undead, only the top half showed.
    Gus abruptly rose and stood by the window, gazing out as if he were looking for something, someone. “Bo…” he whispered.
    Nothing.
    “Hey, are you listening to me, Mister?” Seth asked. “What’s the plan? How are we going to get back on that helicopter and get out of here?”
    Gus squinted his eyes and scratched his chin stubble, pulling himself away from the window. Barely fitting himself on the empty loveseat across from Willy and the boy, Gus’ arms found both armrests as if it was a seat built for one.
    “We aren’t getting back on the chopper,” Gus said very matter-of-factly.
    “And why? You were sent here to rescue us, right?” Seth said.
    “Bo was our pilot. He’s gone, so we are just going to sit tight for now. Pilots usually stay with the bird and don’t go on missions. We’re so shorthanded we didn’t have that luxury. And now we’ll have to face the consequences. Don’t worry, though. I’ve already radioed reinforcements. There’s no telling how long it will take them to gear up and be on the move. A lot of roads looked congested with zombies and wreckage. I imagine that might slow up the cavalry a little. Until they get here, we’re sitting ducks, and there’s nothing else we can do. And besides, even if we did have the pilot, we wouldn’t have enough ammo to get back out to the chopper anyhow. Sit and wait for the extraction is our only option.”
    “Why would you come here without enough ammo? Didn’t you know how bad things are out here?” George asked.
    “Bad intel. We were told we could land on the roof. Our primary objective was to shut down this signal, not fight an army of walking dead.”
    “What… you mean like shut down the station? Why in the hell would you need to—?”
    “ Ccchhhsss … Blue Bravo, this is Red Tango come in…over… Ccchhhsss …” Willy’s radio chimed in, cutting off Seth. Willy unclipped the handset from his hip and tossed it across the room to Gus.
    The radio looked half its actual size clenched in Gus’ grip. He brought it up to his face with all eyes in the room on him. “This is Blue Bravo, what’s your E.T.A.? Over.”
    There was a moment of tense silence as the group eagerly awaited reply.
    More static.
    “O’four hundred. Civilian status?”
    Gus looked around the room for a second, then held down the button on the handset before continuing. “Three. Uninfected…”
    More static.
    The same voice came back over the radio from the other end but with a different tone to it; a less robotic more human one. “Sorry about Bo. I know you guys were close.”
    “Yeah,” Gus said locking gazes with Willy.
    The same man’s robot inflection came back almost instantly. “Red Tango out.”
    Gus clicked the receiver again, still holding it close to his face. “Blue Bravo out. Stay tight.”
    Gus slung the device back to Willy, whose obvious fatigue had intensified. As he snapped the radio handset back to his belt, a bead of sweat trickled down his right cheek. His eyes looked dark with eyelids that looked like half-open shades. His skin had turned slightly pale. Hiding a cough under his sleeve, Willy sat up and looked about, as if realizing he was the center of attention. “I’m fine, I’m fine. I just need to rest for a second. I’ve been up for the last forty-eight. Give me a break.”
    “You don’t look so good, Mister,” Billy said.
    “Why don’t you sit over here and let Willy lay down for a bit.” George motioned for the boy to sit on his lap, in front of all the colored lights and buttons.
    “Willy over there lost his lunch when we jumped. In all our time out, I’ve never seen him do that. You wouldn’t have anything to drink, would you?” Gus asked, standing to his feet, looking around in the room. “You’re not going soft on me, are you, Willy?”
    “Ya, I have a few bottled waters and a shit-ton of beer in the mini fridge over there,” Seth