“That too,” the doctor agreed.
“Ok, let me hail the Cap, and we will get the hell out of here.”
CHAPTER 8
Team Webb–Airport Terminal
Webb moved to look around a kiosk near a departure gate. His team was in one of the departure gates, sections off the main terminal. This part of the airport was filled with more narrow hallways and a lot of ambush-prime real estate, like various kiosks, alcoves and shop fronts. The floor at their location was carpeted, but the main walkway was tiled or poured epoxy. The hard floor, couple with the echoes in the high-ceiling terminal, provided an early warning alarm.
Webb turned to the team, “Ok, we need to search this airport for the doctor and do it quickly. I am open to options for the most efficient way to make this happen.” The team brainstormed the best way to achieve this.
“The phone,” someone said.
Webb responded, “What?”
“The phone.” Everyone turned to Myles.
“The phone?” Abarra said.
“Yeah, you know Mr. Smith, please pick up the white courtesy phone.”
“You idiot,” Doc stared at him. Myles looked down.
“Whoa, wait a minute. Maybe he is on to something. We could use the intercom on the phone, ask for anyone to call our phone if they hear us. It won’t immediately give our position away, and it may stir up these infected and give their position away. Myles, you’re a genius. Doc, apologize.” Webb stared at Doc.
“What?”
“Apologize to Myles, now. That’s an order.”
“Sheesh, ok. Sorry, bro.”
Webb snickered as he snuck over to the gate counter. He looked at the counter and luckily there was a phone list taped to the inside. He picked up the handset and pushed the numbers for the intercom. The terminal speakers squealed loudly and made everybody jump.
“If there is anyone trapped in the terminal, call number 92053. We are the US Army, and we are trying to escort civilians out of here safely. We are looking for Dr. Costa. Dr. Costa, we are here to secure you and transport you to Dearborn CDC. Please contact us and give me your location. Time is of the essence.”
As soon as Webb started speaking, the screams and wails reached their ears.
“Damn, that stirred them up,” Myles whispered.
“Yeah, but they have no idea where we are,” Abarra replied. They heard footsteps coming at them quickly. People were running toward them.
Webb was thinking, how do they know where we are? The small crowd of infected came running down the walkway and stopped near the team’s location. The team heard an assortment of growling, heavy breathing and clicks.
Abarra looked around the half wall he was hiding behind to see what was going on. The horde was standing there looking around, their heads twitching left to right, and they made that clicking sound with their tongues. Abarra moved back behind the wall and looked at Doc. “God damn tick tocks. Which means they are still highly functioning.”
Doc nodded with clear fear in his eyes. One of the infected looked around and hissed.
“There is prey here…. click, click. We need to find them and infect them, or maybe kill them. Infect or kill, infect or kill, infect or kill, click, click. Wait for the phone to ring. Infect or kill, click, click, infect or kill.”
The rest of the group recited, “Infect or kill, infect or kill. Click, click… click, click.”
“I can’t stand that clicking,” Doc whispered through clenched teeth
Abarra grabbed his shoulder, “We’ll make it through this. Just keep it together.” Doc nodded.
Webb thought about what the infected had said, “Oh shit!” He reached up and turned the ringer off just as the phone starting lighting up. “Holy shit, that was close,” he thought to himself. Webb picked up and whispered, “Hello, Dr. Costa?”
“Uh-no, this is Allison Reeves. I am a TV news reporter. We were here to get our news chopper ready to take off for the day, when some crazy people started attacking my producer and cameraman. They just started biting them and ripping them apart.” Webb could tell she was crying. “Oh God, can you help us? Please help us!”