38
Out Of The Blue
I shook my head so hard it almost came off. I’d rather get bit and go cannibal crazy than jump out of a perfectly good plane. Philippe pulled me over regardless and shoved a chute pack in my hands.
One of the special-ops guys bailed out of the plane. Another slipped a pack on, but was grabbed and bitten by an infected. Philippe put the chute on over me and clipped me in tight. He pointed to a yellow tag and shouted something I didn’t hear.
“I get it!” I yelled back. “I think I get it.”
He put a chute of his own over one shoulder and froze. I spun around.
The rest of the plane were either in a corner bleeding, on the floor turning, or on their feet, already turned, staring at us through mad, bloodshot eyes.
Worse still, the hatch that led to the cockpit was swingin
