Escape From the Planet of the Dead by Thomas S Flowers

Author:Thomas S Flowers [Flowers, Thomas S]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781988819198
Publisher: Shadow Work Publishing
Published: 2019-11-25T22:00:00+00:00

***

Terry and Conroy were the last flight to take off. They watched as John and McDermott were air bound in the Beechcraft’s. By some miracle, the Cessna Skyhawk started up with no problem. The rotor purred like a roaring kitten. Conroy had salted the runway earlier.

Glancing back, Terry visually checked on his passengers, the mother and the little seven-year-old from Hanger One. Though he didn’t say it, in his heart he vowed to keep them safe. He had even given the father his keys to the warehouse. Told him to take whatever he needed for the journey. Told him to keep off the main roads as much as possible. And to head east. Ditch the Army cargo trucks as soon as they ran out of fuel. Find something less conspicuous. Walk if necessary. Whatever it took.

Satisfied, Terry guided the plane out on the runway. Clear of the hanger and straightened out, he pushed on the throttle, the momentum forcing him and the passengers back into their seats. Faster and faster the small plane trudged until finally they had reached optimum speed and he was able to pull back on the control wheel, guiding the plane into the air. Higher and higher they soared into the grey, thick sky. Ice frosted part of the windshield and port windows, but Houston was still visible below.

“Jesus!” Conroy gasped over the headset, glaring out the passenger window, his breath fogged the glass.

Terry glanced down and smirked. “Yeah, a bunch of real estate for sale at close-out prices, man.” Below them, the entire heart of the city was clogged with abandoned vehicles, stretching out in either direction as far as his eyes could see. Despite the cold, fires burned in high-rise apartment buildings and offices, including Market Square Tower, Montrose, JP Morgan Chase Tower and the Wells Fargo Plaza. No lights. No sounds but the hum of the airplane engine, but even way up here he could imagine the low, droning moan of the dead surrounding and choking off the city. Further out, the entire 225 freeway seemed ablaze. Hexion, Sekisui, Oxiteno, Dow, GEO, LyondellBasell, Chevon, and other Buffalo Bayou based refineries lit up the darkening sky with enormous licking flames. Black smoke billowed upward like the shroud of some eldritch nightmare. Without people to man the machinery, the mounting pressure had released, creating an inferno.

“It looks like hell on earth down there. How did this happen? You’d think someone would have done something. Warned us. Prepared better.” Conroy sank back in his seat looking pale and sweaty.

Terry glanced at him and then gazed back at his instrument panel. “What? You want to put some kind of explanation on all this?”

Conroy shrugged.

“Here’s one as good as any other,” Terry continued, “We’re being punished by the Creator. He visited a curse on us. Maybe, He didn’t want to see us blow ourselves up, put a big hole in the sky. Maybe He just wanted to show us He’s still the Boss Man. Maybe He figured we were getting too big for our britches, trying to always figure His shit out.

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