Chaos Theory: A Zombie Novel by Rich Restucci

woman fell to the floor next to Ship, half her head missing. Ship looked at the kid, who shrugged. “I reloaded.”

Escape
     
    Ship and Kat fixed the door while I got some noodles cooking on the stove. I was still freezing, and Ship told me via notebook that I was cold because I had lost so much blood. Kat apologized again when she heard that she had almost killed me. I was already feeling better, and the big guy told me I had been out for over a day. I had thought it was the same night that we escaped from the town that the zombies had found us at the hanger, but it had been the following night. Ship also told me that I would stop feeling cold in a couple of hours.
    Ship’s jacket was covered in zombie goo, so it had to go. We couldn’t risk him or Kat getting infected because of a jacket. Unfortunately, there was nothing else big enough for him to wear. The big guy and the girl sat down to some noodles, and when they were done, Kat asked for a knife. I gave her one of the knives I took from the dead rednecks, and she started cutting up the sleeping bag Ship used to transport her. She found some wire, and soon enough my giant buddy had a functional poncho. He smiled at her and she smiled back.
    We got some shut-eye, Ship taking the only watch, and had crappy coffee and some kind of chicken MRE for breakfast. Kat announced that she had to pee, and we were shit out of bathrooms, no pun intended. I still wasn’t up to doing much, so Ship took the kid outside, both of them armed to the teeth, while I checked our packs and started making a list of what we had and what we would need.
    We were OK with food for a while, and there was plenty of snow to melt for water. Ammo was good too, with a total of six hundred sixty rounds for the Glocks, twenty six rounds for my .357, and two hundred and eight rounds for the rifles. Ship had been carrying most of the ammo, and it was damn heavy. I distributed some into my tactical vest ammo pouches, but Ship would still have to carry more than I would. I would carry the MREs and other sundries, but I wasn’t ready to travel yet, and just performing these mundane tasks exhausted me. Every now and then the pain regulator dude would let me know he was still in control and amped up my substance p. Pity there’s no more Google, or you could look up what substance p is. Guess you’re shit out of luck.
    I hit my rack pretty quick, keeping my weapons near. When the makeshift door opened and Ship and Kat strolled in, the bright outside light hit me hard in the face. They had been gone longer than it takes to take a piss, so I asked what was up. This was when the Sasquatch clued me in to his little strategy.
    Apparently we were flying out of here, and Kat wanted to come. She had decided that if we meant her harm, we had had plenty of time to do said harm and hadn’t. We were the lesser of three evils, zombies and rednecks being the primary two. Ship had a plane, which is why we had come through Psycho Town, and were now holed up in a hangar. His plane was in another hangar across the tarmac. Problem was, there was a foot of snow on the runway, and the plows weren’t running. Solution was that Ship had found an airport plow, and it was gassed and ready. It was already at the end of the airfield.
    So the plan was to pack our shit into the plane, which was fully fueled, tow it through the snow with the plow to the end of the northern runway, run the plow down the runway a couple of times, and take the F off. All the while we needed no zombies to come looking at what the plow noise was, or rednecks to shoot holes in our plane when we were airborne. Great plan.
    We were all dead if we stayed here. Even though the area was less populated than a big city, there were too many people, and everybody wanted to kill us. If we went north, there would be less people, but the infrastructure would be as collapsed as it was here, so we weren’t sure if we could land the plane in the snow that would undoubtedly