Deadland's Harves(40)

Tyler stopped at the roundabout. “Which way do we go, Cash?”

I sighed. “Straight ahead. We need to hit the terminal building first. Lucky for us, it’s a small enough airport that there probably weren’t many people around when the outbreak hit, so there wouldn’t be much reason for zeds to stick around here.”

“Except for the ones still stuck in buildings,” Jase tacked on.

I nodded. “I wouldn’t be surprised if we find at least one in the FBO building.”

“FBO?” Jase asked.

“Fixed Base Operator. Whoever ran the airport.”

“Can we skip the FBO and go straight for the hangars?” Tyler asked.

“The keys to get into the hangars will be in there.” I pointed at the building standing ominously alone just beyond the open airport gate. “We have to check it out.”

“You sure?” Griz asked.

I shrugged. “I’ve never seen hangars left unlocked before.”

“All right. We’ll take it slow.” Tyler stepped on the gas ever so slightly. The car crept through the open gate and he parked about forty feet from the FBO. It was an escape trick we all knew well. Zeds kept getting slower as they rotted away. If we had to leave in a hurry, putting a little distance between us and them made it easier.

I climbed out and breathed in the fresh morning air. No one moved far from the car. We took our time to scan for zeds. Jase was the first to head toward the building after taking several steps in a wide three-sixty. I followed him across the tarmac, crossing the white T-line marked for airplane parking and stepping over cracks in the old pavement. He stopped at the red door and looked through the glass pane.

“How’s it look?” I whispered as Griz and Tyler joined us.

“Not sure yet. Give me a minute,” Jase replied, taking a step back. “I’m going to check the other windows.”

With that, he took off at a run around the building. Jase was Camp Fox’s fastest runner. He was his high school football team’s first-string tight end and a state track hurdler for a reason. Nothing could catch him.

I looked through the window and saw some papers scattered on the floor by the front desk. No blood or stains marred the walls or floor.

I heard a rustle and turned to find Jase returning from the opposite direction he’d left. He slowed down and then stopped. “I couldn’t see any zeds through the other windows.”

“We’re burning daylight,” Tyler said.

I grabbed the door handle. “You guys ready?”

“You open, I’ll go in first,” Tyler said from right behind me.

I twisted the handle and pulled. Fortunately, the door was unlocked, and Tyler went in, holding his sword before him. Griz went in next, followed by Jase. I stepped inside and closed the door with only the quietest click to signal someone had entered.

The air didn’t stink of death, which was a good sign. Still, we moved through the building to make sure no zeds or bandits were lurking in shadows.

“This wouldn’t be a bad place for a small group to hole up,” I said after we cleared the building. “I mean, there’s the fence on the side facing the road, which would deter looters, and on the other side gives a full view of the airport to see zeds coming from a mile away.”

Glass shattered, and I jumped around to see Griz rummaging through a vending machine broken wide open.

“Not a bad place as long as you always had scouts on guard,” Tyler said before joining Griz at the machine.

I walked around the front desk where papers had been scattered. Behind the desk, a small window was opened a few inches. “The wind must’ve blown the papers.” On top of the desk was a clipboard with flight schedules. N-numbers and airplane makes and models were listed on each row, and I smiled. These were planes I could fly. Hanging below the counter of the desk hung several sets of keys. I set down my machete and leaned on the desk to rifle through the keys.

One keychain held a couple dozen nickel keys. It had a plastic fob with “hangars” written in black marker. The other key chains each held only a couple bronze keys, with Cessna or Beechcraft logos on the fobs. “We got lucky,” I said. “All the keys are here. We have our pick.”

I started plucking key chains off their hooks until a movement caught the corner of my eye. I looked down at the desk in time to see a rat—not a mouse but a huge f*cking rat—run across my hand. “Ack!” I tumbled back, launching myself into the file cabinet. My head connected with the corner. Sharp pain blinded me, and I took a nosedive to the ground. Once the starred blackness in my vision began to recede, I let out the longest string of profanity I’d ever accomplished in my life.