Dead and Rising: Terminal

Breakdown

The copter flew in a straight course over the ocean of evergreen trees capped with snow and was climbing higher every second. The mountain loomed ahead, blanketed in a dull gray frost and jutting into the even grayer sky in an almost vertical slope, reaching about 3,209 feet with no sight of a path worthy of taking.  Pilot Mike Denske scanned the horizon and looked for any sign of movement below. He clutched the cyclic stick, and after confirming that there was no movement, slowly pushed it forward and urged the copter on.

The copter descended as it picked up speed. Co-pilot Oliver Keaton had a nervous look in his eyes as he gazed out into the endless sea of green and white. He was opposed to the mission from the beginning, claiming it to be nothing short of suicide; a pointless assignment. Of course there would be no people outside in freezing temperatures-- and if there were, they were goners anyway. Dead to the world.

He sighed and shook his head disapprovingly, casting the thought out. “Denske, you stupid git. There isn’t anyone out here, so can’t we just pack up and RTB?”

RTB. Return to base. That sounded like a good idea at this point. Keaton’s ass was starting to go numb and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Mike didn't look away from the horizon and frowned. “I told you, Keaton, last night I know I saw a light out here. If there is anyone in this forest, we have to get them at all costs.”

 Keaton groaned but didn’t say anything else. The copter was travelling at a very nice clip of about 110 miles per hour and was sailing smooth as it passed quickly above the trees. Denske was still determined as ever to find survivors out in the desolate wasteland that had once been Pennsylvania, but Keaton had lost hope long ago. He thought Denske was foolish and naïve for attempting the pathetic rescue. And to top it all off, they were running low on fuel.

“Hey, Mike, we’re starting to run out of Go Juice. I think it’s about time to call it day, eh?”

Mike was silent, his eyes set below and moving left to right frantically. Then he grinned.

“You’re right, you stupid English bastard.”

 Keaton let out a sharp cackle and said, “Whatever, you damn Polack.” Then they burst out into a somewhat forced laughter, not altogether  natural, their faces red from cold under their masks.

The sky was cloudy and covered the sun most of the day, and a slight drizzle was present all the while, adding to the bitter cold outside. The windows were frosted over, making it hard to see past them, and Keaton could watch his breath float on and dissipate as he chuckled. Down below the forest stretched for miles in each direction, tree tops covered in snow, and all of it under the shadow of the mountain. If anyone got lost out here, they’d be dead within a day, he was sure of it. If the zombies didn't get them, the frost sure would.

 But there was still a small voice nagging at the back of his head saying that maybe Denske was right, maybe there were people alive down there. Ever since the whole situation started, he’d doubted himself more often than not. And doubt led to failure, which inevitably caused death.

Denske turned the copter around with the ease only a skilled pilot could pull off, something Keaton liked to call a "swat turn". Impressive as it was, there was a lot of land in between them and home, and Keaton was more than a little annoyed at how careless Denske was with such a low supply of fuel.

Mike smiled, proud of his maneuvering skills. He’d clearly been showing off to the rookie pilot.

“Oh, yeah, real mature Mike. Why don’t we just zip around until all of our fuel runs out? Maybe skitter to the ground and hike a couple miles back to base, before we get disembowled by the monstrosities out here?”