“All right. Let’s head out, then,” Tyler said.
I grabbed my machete off the desk and noticed a small mirror propped next to the PC. I looked at my reflection and nearly dropped the mirror. No wonder getting stitched up hurt like a bitch. A jagged enflamed line cut across my forehead and down my cheek, which looked almost like the number seven. I touched the skin around it. “Wow, that’s really going to leave a mark.”
No one said anything. I don’t know if they were afraid I was going to cry or what, but the urge didn’t even cross my mind. Times had changed. Before the outbreak, even though I’d always been a tomboy, I would have dreaded a big scar across my face. Now, the creek by our cabin was the closest thing to a mirror I had. Chances were this cut would leave a hell of a scar once it healed. Yet I’d probably not even notice it as long as it didn’t hurt.
I swiped all the keys, all the while keeping a careful watch for the mutant-sized rat. We headed out of the building and back to the car. “Let’s go for that row of hangars closest to the FBO first,” I said, pointing. “The doors will be easier to open, and that’s where the smaller planes will be.”
“You need to learn how to fly a bigger plane,” Griz said as Tyler drove us toward the row of hangars. “I hate small planes.”
“How would you know?” Jase asked. “You sleep through every trip.”
“Sleep is underrated,” Griz said. “And I still think Cash needs to find a bigger plane.”
“No, I don’t,” I said. “Bigger planes are more complicated to maintain. They require a longer runway. Besides, since I have no experience in them, the risks of me making a mistake go up exponentially. None of those constraints fits our current lifestyle,” I said.
Griz cocked his head. “Good point. Small planes are good.”
Tyler parked the car, and we went about checking the hangars, first for zeds, then for a plane that met our needs. When I unlocked the fourth hangar, I smiled. “This is the one.”
While Jase walked around the hangar, I checked the plane over. Griz and Tyler pushed the large metal door open. Metal creaked against metal, making a horrendous screech. “Make it quick,” Tyler said after dusting his hands off on his pants. “It looks like we’ve attracted the attention of a couple zeds in the field off the runway.”
Unveiled by sunlight, a nearly new Cessna 172 sat in the hangar, the N-number on its tail matching a number on one of the key chains I carried. I stepped on the spar and looked at the sticker by one of the fuel tanks. “Hey, this one takes auto fuel! Let’s get this outside.” I grabbed the prop. Tyler and Jase each grabbed a strut. We pulled the plane straight outside. I unlocked the baggage compartment and Griz dumped an armful of food and supplies from the trunk of the car.
“I’m going to get this ready while you guys finish loading up whatever fits.”
All three went to work at unloading the car into the plane. It didn’t take long. The baggage compartment in the 172 was small, and with four of us, we were grossly overloaded. I started the engine, and it ran smoothly. “Thank God,” I murmured as I ran through the checklist.
The guys climbed inside, and Tyler took the front seat next to me. “Better hurry because we’re going to have a party in another couple minutes.”
I taxied out without checking all the instruments. “Oh shit.” My heart beat faster, and my eyes widened. “Zeds are on the runway already.”
A few shapes peppered the middle of the runaway, but many more were headed straight for the pavement from the trees.