“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
The President of the United States of America patted his young daughter on the head. “I know, sweetheart. We’ll get you something to eat once we’re up in the air. Now buckle up.”
A man in a black suit sitting across from the President leaned forward. “Sir, I can have one of my men bring her something from the galley.”
The President shook his head. “Thanks, Riker. She’ll be okay until we’re up. Did the galley staff even make the flight?”
“Some,” said Riker. “It’s a skeleton crew, at best.”
Seated next to Agent Riker, Press Secretary Olivia Saunders pulled a package of peanut butter crackers from her purse and offered them to the child. “Would you like these?”
Lilly’s eyes opened wide and she nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, please.”
Olivia handed the crackers to the young girl who began to tear at the plastic wrapping. Olivia smiled until her eyes drifted down into her purse. On top of neatly filed papers and makeup was a small photograph of her own children. Olivia felt the President staring at her and quickly snapped her purse shut.
“I’m sure they’re safe,” said the President. Outside his window, the darkness had begun to envelop Washington D.C.
All of them knew. Nobody was safe.
The engines of Air Force One spun to life; louder than usual, the President thought. The 4,000 square foot plane had so many rooms and amenities that after only a few flights the President realized how easy it was to forget he was hurling through the air, but not this time. The whine of the engines continued to climb until every passenger was pinned into their seat. Interior panels vibrated and rattled as the plane launched hard to the sky.
As they pulled away from the tarmac, the President looked out his window and saw what looked like oil, spilling over into the runway.
The safest plane in the world passed through a layer of clouds and began to level off. The force pressing them into their seats began to ease, and the aisles and hallways of Air Force One quickly filled with people.
“Are you still hungry?” the President asked Lilly, touching her hand. The President looked at Agent Riker, who looked down at one of his men, who got the message without a word being spoken. As Lilly and the agent left for the dining hall, the President also unbuckled and stood. Olivia and Riker followed his lead and the three of them moved next door into the conference room.
The table in the center of the conference room seated eight, while the white chairs and couches circling the room could hold another dozen. The President took his normal seat while other staff and cabinet members entered the room. During a normal meeting in the conference room all of the seats would be filled. This evening, more than half remained empty.
“Is this everybody?” asked the President.
Riker, with a finger on his earpiece, nodded. “I’m afraid so, Mr. President.”
As each person entered the room their attention was drawn to the large flat panel television mounted on the far wall. On it, a cable news broadcaster was describing the chaos below.
“…not completely sure of the… Denise, are you there? Did we lose Denise?”
The right half of of the screen was black, with Denise’s name printed at the bottom.
“I think we’ve lost our video feed with… wait, something’s moving. What is that?” asked the reporter.
Denise’s window expanded to fill the entire screen. The remote feed wasn’t dead; something large and black had filled the entire shot. Whatever the blackness was, it was moving. Pulsing. Occasionally, a pair of eyes or set of teeth flashed in the middle of the mass.
“It’s sideways,” said Agent Riker, pointing at the screen. “The camera is laying on the ground, sideways.”
Everyone tilted their heads to the left and the images began to make sense. It was a mob of people, their bodies packed so tightly that they had blocked out the light. Their clothes, their skin, even their hair was dark. They were moving together, shuffling, but there were so many of them it was impossible to tell where one person ended and the next began. One big black, throbbing tumor.
“Jesus Christ,” said the President. “What the hell is going on?”
“I don’t know yet,” said General Banes, entering the room and taking a seat across from the President. “I’ve got twenty reports and don’t believe half of them.”
“Who are they?” asked the President.
The General looked down at his notes and then back at the President. “About an hour ago, we began receiving reports of large crowds of people moving through the streets of Washington D.C. Local police called on the Guard, but neither was able to control the crowd. So far, both nonlethal and lethal measures have been ineffective.”
“Ineffective?” asked Olivia.
General Banes looked at the President. “Permission to speak freely?”
The President nodded. “I suspect we’ll be doing a lot of free speaking before this is over.”
General Banes addressed Olivia. “It means after firing tear gas into the crowd they started firing bullets. Neither one had any effect.”
“How is that possible?” asked Agent Riker.
“There are lots of ways,” said the General. “Maybe they’re wearing body armor. Maybe they’re all under the influence of some drug. Pump enough PCP into the city’s water supply and this is the result I would suspect.”
“You think someone has contaminated the city’s drinking water?” asked Olivia.
The General shrugged his shoulders. “I did, at first.”
“Permission granted to keep speaking freely,” said the President.
General Banes removed his glasses. “It’s not just happening in D.C. They’re reporting similar mobilization in New York City. And Phoenix. And Houston. And Seattle.”
“Is it just the major cities, or…”
“I don’t know,” replied General Banes. “Again, the U.S. Military is not in the business of guessing. But if it’s not every city, it’s certainly a lot of them.”
Agent Riker leaned forward. “If this is an attack launched through the water system, it would be the most coordinated and widespread act of terrorism in the history of the free world.”
“The water thing is just a guess. There are other ways to control people. It could be some sort of mind control or mass hysteria. We just don’t know yet. And there’s something else bothering me.”
Everyone at the table leaned forward, prompting the General to continue.
“The Air National Guard is estimating that at least a million people are marching through the streets of D.C. right now.”
“Isn’t the population of D.C. just under 700,000?” asked Olivia.
“So where did they all come from?” asked Agent Riker.
The General shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“When will you know?” asked the President.
“My phone is lighting up like a Christmas tree,” replied the General. “I’ll let you know something when I know something.” On cue, his phone buzzed again and the General glanced down at the screen. “Maybe that’s something.”
“What’s the plan for now?” asked the President.
“To keep you in the air,” replied Agent Riker. “Whatever’s down there can’t get to you up here. We’ve got enough food in the galley to stay up here for a month. We’ll get a fuel tanker up in the air and keep circling until we figure out what’s going on.”
General Banes placed his phone down on the table without saying a word. His face had grown pale, and the chatter at the table died down.
“What is it, General?”
The General stammered briefly, searching for words. He grabbed the audio/visual cable from the center of the table and connected his phone. The flat screen television on the wall switched to display the photo the General had just received.
A gasp broke the silence of the room. Then another.
On the screen was a picture of a million black ants, piling on top of one another to form a dome shape.
Another gasp.
“Why are you showing us a mound of ants?” asked Olivia.
One by one, people in the room realized what they were looking at.
“I don’t see it. What?” said Olivia.
“Those aren’t ants,” said the General. “They’re people. And that’s not a mound. It’s the White House.”
Once the gasps stopped, Olivia began to sob. “Excuse me,” she said, quickly moving next door to the press offices. Agent Riker followed her.
“It’s going to be okay,” said Agent Riker, once inside the office.
Olivia stepped toward him and buried her face into his black suit, still sobbing. “Do you think so?”
Agent Riker could not tell if the plane was vibrating or his legs were trembling. “I don’t know, to be honest.”
The woman took a step back and wiped her eyes. “What is this? What’s going on?”
Agent Riker shook his head. “It’s my job to know everything, but I don’t know what this is.”
“What happened to everybody inside the White House? What about the kids?” Again, she began to sob.
Agent Riker put his hands on Olivia’s shoulders. “Listen. We don’t know what’s going on down there. But right now, we’re up here. Up here, we have to remain calm. We will solve this. Why don’t you go down to the galley and make sure Lilly got something to eat.”
Olivia dried her eyes and nodded. “Yes. I… Okay.” The woman wiped her eyes again, straightened her jacket, and left for the galley.
Agent Riker reentered the conference room and found the television full of static.
“It’s not us,” said a middle-aged man with glasses, inspecting the television. “They’ve stopped broadcasting.”
With the television out of commission, rumors filled the room. A woman said she heard the streets of Cleveland were completely filled with people. A man reported his cousin in St. Louis told him the interstates were completely shut down, blocked by people.
General Banes entered the room, holding his cell phone. “Mr. President, may I have a word with you in private?”
The President looked up. “If it’s about what’s going on, I think everyone should hear it. We’re all trying to put what little information we have together right now.”
The General looked around the room. “I’d rather not.”
The President raised an eyebrow.
The General responded. “All right, sir. We currently have enough fuel onboard to keep Air Force One in the air for approximately four hours.”
“Until we dock with a fuel tanker,” the President added.
The General shook his head. “We’ve lost all air-to-ground communication. Either the satellite dishes have been knocked out, power’s gone or… nobody’s down there to answer.”
“So where can we land?”
“Hopefully we can find an airport that’s not overrun with people. If the towers stop responding we’ll have to dip down for a visual, and that burns fuel.”
The President took a deep breath. “Any more good news?”
The General cleared his throat, and placed his cell phone on the table, face up. “Before I lost contact, I received a text message and this picture from my brother. The picture is of his television. He was watching the news and saw this. It’s a picture of my father, walking toward the Washington Monument.”
The President picked up the phone and looked at the picture. “I’m sorry. Is he okay?”
“Mr. President, my father has been dead for four years. I watched them bury him in Arlington National Cemetery myself.”
The President looked up from the phone into the General’s face. “I… don’t understand.”
“I’m not sure I understand either, Mr. President.”
“Are you trying to tell me that the people marching in the streets are dead? Like zombies from a horror movie?”
“Mr. President, I don’t know what I’m trying to tell you at this point.”
A rough patch of air shook the plane and the General grabbed the doorjamb to steady himself.
“General, find out what’s going on up front, will you?”
“Yes, Mr. President,” replied General Banes.
On his way to the cockpit, General Banes passed Agent Riker.
“Agent Riker,” said the General. “Have you seen Agent Martin or Agent Willrath? I need someone on the radio, scanning every frequency for any messages.”
Riker shook his head. “Neither one made the flight. I’d say we’re half-staffed, at best.”
Another bout of turbulence caused Agent Riker’s knees to buckle and he grabbed the wall to stay upright. The General stumbled forward, grabbing on to Riker’s shoulder.
“Riker, I want you to do me a personal and professional favor.”
“If I can.”
“I’m going to the cockpit. Don’t let the President out of your sight. And if shit hits the fan… aim for the head,” he said, motioning toward the gun he knew Agent Riker had tucked underneath his suit.
“Shit hits the fan?”
“Don’t let him out of your sight,” said the General, before continuing up toward the cockpit.
Agent Riker watched the General disappear before continuing back to the conference room.
General Banes walked down the hallway leading to the cockpit and stopped to listen before knocking. Through the reinforced door,, the General could hear bumps and slams coming from inside. Two more steps and he banged his fist on the door. “Open up!” he shouted.
The banging continued and the plane bounced twice more.
General Banes raised his fist again and the banging stopped.
Then, slowly, the handle began to turn.
General Banes took a step back.
The handle continued to turn.
The General took a deep breath.
Suddenly, the latch clicked free and the door flew open. The pilot of the plane flew through the open doorway toward the General like a madman. He headbutted the General in the chest and the two of them fell to the ground. The pilot, covered in blood, quickly mounted the General and clawed at the man’s face with his fingers.
The General tried to roll and buck the maniac off of him, but his leg was caught between a row of seats and there wasn’t enough room to maneuver. He brought his hand up from underneath himself and pressed his thumb into the pilot’s eye.
The pilot’s head was forced back, and then with a snarl he came down upon the General, biting his neck and removing a large chunk with his teeth.
The General’s mouth begin to fill with warm blood. He struck upward with the palm of his other hand, hitting the pilot in the nose. Banes felt the man’s nose shatter, but it didn’t stop him. Banes jerked to his right and twisted back to his left, burying his elbow into the pilot’s temple and knocking him off. The General tried to stop his neck from bleeding by inserting a finger into the wound, but the flesh was torn and there was no hole to plug.
The pilot was working his way back up to his feet when the General kicked him hard, knocking him back into the cabin. The lock on the cabin door was designed to keep people out, not in. General Banes began to feel light headed. The pilot was laid out with his back against the console, but was already beginning to stir. Behind him, blood covered the plane’s instrument panel and windows. In the co-pilot’s seat, Banes saw bits of the other man.
When the pilot was back up on his hands and knees, General Banes stepped forward and kicked upward into the bloody creature’s ribs. The pilot howled in pain and his arms and legs frantically began to lash out.
General Banes, now completely inside the cabin, locked the door behind him. The pilot was almost upright again when Banes grabbed the fire extinguisher from the wall and bashed the pilot’s head with it. The side of the monster’s head caved in, spraying more blood across the cabin.
General Banes turned and smashed the door with the fire extinguisher in an attempt to jam it closed. He hit the door a second time and slipped in the sticky blood covering the floor. His head was spinning as he fell to his side, dropping the fire extinguisher.
General Banes reached for the extinguisher and spotted the pilot’s feet. Banes looked up, and the undead beast launched a furious attack that the General was in no position to defend.
“Everything is fine,” said Agent Riker, returning to the conference room.
“What’s going on up there?” demanded the President.
“General Banes is in the cockpit now. Everything is fine.”
“Where are we headed?”
“We’re circling, Mr. President, until a fuel tanker arrives or we find a place to put this thing down.”
“Look out the window, Riker.”
Riker looked and saw coastline approaching. They were headed out to sea.
“Well Mr. President, I’m sure they’re—”
“Look out the other window.”
The agent did as he was told. “I don’t understand.”
“The view’s the same,” said the President. “We’re not circling. We’ve leveled off.”
“I’m sure the pilots know what they’re doing.”
“I’m about to find out,” he said, placing his hands on the conference table and standing.
“Mr. President,” said Agent Riker. “With all due respect, General Banes asked me to keep you here. And stay with you.”
“With all due respect? Bill, I’ve known you for years. Are you telling me you’re going to disobey a direct order from the President of the United States and not let me into the cockpit.”
Riker pulled the front of his jacket back, revealing his pistol. “That’s what I’m telling you.”
The two men’s eyes were locked when a loud crash came from the rear of the plane. When Agent Riker directed his attention to the source of the noise, the President charged him. Riker was caught off guard and sprawled backward, tripping over a chair and landing on one of the couches, causing people to scatter. The President never stopped, streaking past the agent through the door.
Riker leaped to his feet and gave chase. “Mr. President!” he shouted. Hurdling a chair, the agent entered the hallway and saw the President running at top speed, hell bent on reaching the cockpit.
Riker heard another loud crash behind him and instinctively threw his arms up to cover his head. Riker looked back over his shoulder and saw them, coming. But how had they got on the plane? Someone on the ground must had been infected before boarding. That was the only answer.
The agent doubled back and slammed the door behind him. He looked for a lock on the door but there wasn’t one.
“Riker!” yelled the President from up ahead.
Agent Riker cut into the main hallway that connected the rest of the plane with the cockpit. The hallway served as a buffer between the cockpit and the rest of the plane. Riker quickly slid the lock behind him into place.
“Riker,” said the President with fear in his voice. “Something’s not right up here.”
“Something’s not right back there,” replied the agent. Riker watched the door he had just locked closely and walked backwards until he was standing next to the President.
The two of them turned to face the cockpit together. The only noise in the hallway was the wind, whistling past the oval windows. All that remained outside was ocean and sky. They were traveling due east it seemed, out over the ocean. The sun was setting behind them.
Something inside the cockpit banged against the door — once, then twice.
“Get behind me!” shouted Agent Riker.
The President dove past Riker as the agent pulled his pistol from its holster and aimed it at the cockpit door.
Another smash. This time, the door flew open. Inside of the cockpit looked like the remains of a gutted animal, covered in bloody bits.
A snarling creature emerged from the cockpit. Although his face had been torn to shreds, the General’s outfit was very recognizable.
“General Banes,” said Riker, but there was nothing left in the General’s eyes. They were white and cloudy. The General’s lip curled like a mad dog’s, and when he raised his arms and stepped forward, Agent Riker began filling him with bullets.
The first two shots left holes in the General’s uniform but did not stop his progress. Remembering the man’s own advice, Agent Riker placed a third bullet in between the creature’s eyes. The General’s head whipped back from the impact and he fell to his knees before collapsing on the floor.
Riker could hear the President yelling at him but could not make out the words over the ringing in his ears. A few seconds later, the ringing subsided.
“Someone’s banging on the door!” the President shouted.
“Don’t open it!”
A loud groan came from the cockpit as the pilot crawled into view. His eyes were also dead and white. His uniform was soaked in blood.
Riker didn’t waste any time firing twice more, placing two bullets into the pilot’s skull. The pilot dropped like a lead weight, twitching on the floor between the two captain’s chairs. Sparks flew from the control console behind the pilot as the bullets drove into it.
Riker’s ears were still ringing when they began to pop. Outside the window, the water was closer than before. They were losing altitude.
The President grabbed Agent Riker’s shoulder and shouted. “Someone’s trying get in!”
Both men pivoted to face the rear door. The wind outside continued to howl.
Agent Riker removed the earpiece from his ear.
And then, through the door, a voice.
“Daddy?”
“Don’t open that door, Mr. President.”
“But Riker, it’s—”
“Don’t open that door.”
The President of the United States looked at the door, Agent Riker, and back at the door. He took a step toward the door and Agent Riker raised his pistol.
“Mr. President.”
The President took another step.
“Mr. President, I’m warning you.”
The President looked back over his shoulder at the agent. “I have to.” After a few more steps, the President turned the lock and opened the door.
Press Secretary Olivia Saunders lay dead in the aisle, eviscerated. Straddled on top of the disemboweled woman was Lilly, with creamy white eyes and fine blonde hair slicked down against her face. In each of her small hands she held parts of Olivia.
The President stopped breathing and stumbled backwards. He opened his mouth but could force out no words. There were none. After several more steps, he bumped into Agent Riker.
Behind his daughter, more of them were coming.
Agent Riker placed his pistol in the President’s hand.
The young girl slowly lifted her head and turned it toward the two men.
“Daddy, I’m hungry.”
END.
By Rob O’Hara
Rob O’Hara is the author of Commodork: Sordid Tales From A Bbs Junkie
Facebook: Facebook.com/RobOHara
Twitter: @Commodork
Web: www.RobOHara.com