RIZEN: Tales of the Zombie Apocalypse (5 page)

Mike stood at the window of the control tower, and
watched in total silence as a small light appeared off in the distance.  He
pulled his binoculars, and saw that it was indeed Flight 124.  He kept the
binoculars trained on the airliner as it came in for a landing.  The plane was
moving pretty shakily, but Mike could still tell that Roger was at the stick,
and even through the illness, giving it everything he had left. 

The plane moved quickly downward towards the runway,
and as the wings seemed to teeter steeply to the right and left.  Mike dug tips
of his nails deep into the meat of his palms as the 747 quickly lost altitude. 
The landing gear came down without issue, but moments after they did, the plane
landed hard on the wheels, sending the aircraft rebounding off the runway and
back aloft a few dozen feet. 

Mike wasn’t a religious man in the least, and yet he
suddenly realized that he praying aloud for God to spare his friend for the
sake of his wife and unborn child.

The plane began to move back down towards the
runway, and this time when the wheels hit, they seemed to stick to the tarmac. 
The plane then began to slow, but not before losing directional control and
spinning to a halt in the grassy field at the end of the runway.

Mike raised his binoculars and could see Roger
stumbling around inside the cockpit.  He picked up his headset and began
shouting, “Roger!  Roger, you did it!  Roger, do you read me?”

Mike watched as Roger very awkwardly slid his
headset on.  Roger spoke in a broken and strained voice.  “Mike?  I can’t see
too well.  Did we make it?  Did I land it?  They wanted to know.”

Mike laughed as he spoke, “You did it, buddy.  You
got it down without a scratch, like always.”

“Good,” Roger said with a massive exhale.  “I’m just
glad you’re both here.”

“Roger?  What do mean both?”

“Mi-Yung is here, and she brought our little baby
girl.  She’s so beautiful, Mike.  I didn’t think I’d get to see her.”

“Roger, we’ve got a team of responders with
tranquilizer guns right outside the plane.  We’ll knock any of the infected
passengers out first, and then we’ll get to you.  You’re going to be okay.”

“Sorry Mike.  You won’t get to me.  Not in time. 
I’m… not right.  I don’t want to hurt anybody, Mike.  I don’t want to hurt my
baby.  You’re going to take care of them now, okay?  Don’t say no.  Please
don’t say no.”

“Roger, we’re going to get you out of there,” Mike
shouted into the headset.  Mike then watched in horror through the binoculars
as Roger pulled a pistol out of a locked box under the control panel, and
pressed it to his temple.  “Oh God, Roger.  Don’t!  Please!”

“Tell my baby I landed this plane.  Tell her I did
everything I could.  That I was a good man.”

“ROGER?!?  Please Roger!  Just wait.  We’re almost…”

“I love you Mi-Yung.”

A flash momentarily illuminates the cockpit, and
Roger crumples to the floor.

Mike flings his headset against the wall, smashing
it apart into several pieces, and stumbles backward tumbling to the floor.

Tears flowed hot and heavy down his face as he tried
to stop the image of that flash from replaying again and again in his mind.  
He clutched at his churning stomach as the gunfire began to erupt outside the
tower. 

Mike shakily rose to his feet and shuffled to the
window.  He looked down as the emergency response team fired wave after wave of
tranquilizers into the enraged and infected passengers that came streaming from
the opened hatch.  The infected people didn’t stop.  They didn’t even slow
down.  They simply overwhelmed and toppled the entire line of responders,
knocked them to the ground, ripped them out of their protective hazard suits, and
began tearing them all apart limb from limb. 

Police began firing live rounds, but most of those
seemed to have no impact.

The control tower was filled with screams and soon
people began to head for the stairs, trying to go ANYWHERE to escape the
madness unfolding just below.

Mike didn’t bother.  He just stood there at the
window, and watched the masses of bloodied and frenzied people as they shredded
the flesh of every living person that got in their way.  They were like a swarm
of fire ants devouring all things in their path, as they rushed towards the
terminal.

Mike went to his desk drawer, found the old bottle
of Scotch he’d been holding onto for quite some time, and then proceeded to
pour it into a couple dusty glass tumblers. 

He filled them to the very brim.

ABOUT
THE AUTHOR

They smell awful, can't talk and possess a
single-minded hunger for human flesh.  Zombies are the stuff of nightmares.  Or
if you're like Kirk Anderson, they're the kind of monster you daydream about. 
Kirk has always been fascinated with science fiction and horror, writing short
stories in school and during his free time.

Over time, Kirk’s fascination has grown beyond
simple tales of biting and being trapped in a confined space.  Kirk's desire to
explore all stages of a zombie apocalypse is what drove him to publish
RIZEN
,
a haunting collection of four loosely connected zombie short stories set in
reverse chronological order and taking place over the span of 10 years.

Contact Kirk: 
[email protected]

Galleon
Publishing
Atlanta,
GA

This book, or any portion
thereof, may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the
express written permission of the author or publisher.

This is a work of fiction and all
names, places, incidents and character traits are products of the author’s
imagination.  Any resemblance to actual persons or events is purely and totally
coincidental.

Copyright 2012
(All Rights Reserved)