I fall out of the aircraft before I even have a chance to finish the thought, “What new fresh Hell is this?!” I hit the roof with such force my breath is knocked right out of me. I look up at the frightened faces of my family looking down from the helicopter and there, holding on to the runner while trying to reach into the cab, is what’s left of Kaboom. And behind the helicopter are more of them. More and more and more of them, and not just behind the copter, but all around, crawling against its airstream as they try to reach us and pull us all down. It seems our pile of dead wasn’t the only pile going on around the school; it was simply the first to reach us.
I’m not scared. I’m not shocked. I’m angry! We’ve come too far to die now! I wave the others away and yell, “Take off! Take off before they can get a hold of you!”
And then as sudden as the drama started, it’s over. In a ballet of perfect timing I watch Houston slice off Kaboom’s arm with Grant’s machete in one motion while at the same time Grant, his feet held fast by the others, leans out and grabs me by the hand. In a split second, the helicopter has taken off, too quickly for me to be pulled fully into the cab, but fast enough to leave the roof before it’s overrun with the Infected.
I hang there by Grant’s hand, never taking my eyes off of his. It’s the briefest of moments before he and I are hauled up inside with the others, but it feels like an eternity. Not in a bad way, in a romantic, slow-motion-bouncing-through-the-fields-on-a-summer’s-day-into-your-beloved’s-outstretched-arms way. Except in my case it was me being held fast by the love of my life, the wind blowing the hair back from my face, the sun setting in front of me, and the bone-shaking force of explosions behind me.
I’m securely belted back in my seat by the time I see the final blinding flash as everything that ever belonged to us or threatened us is turned to ash.