The helicopter passes over the middle of Piedmont. There are many bodies on the ground, some being chewed on by vultures.
“I was afraid of that,” says Stone. “The birds’ll eat the infected flesh, and then fly off and spread the disease.”
“If it is a disease,” corrects Hall.
“Drop the gas canisters,” orders Stone.
“Someone’s supposed to be alive down there!” says Hall.
“Somebody did something,” says Dempsey, as they fly over a dead family, sprawled in a chuch parking lot. “That’s for sure. Let’s give it a double dose.”
The helicopter drops several cannisters on the town. Yellow clouds spring up from below.
“That gas will only kill the birds,” says Stone, surveying the results of the cannister drop.
“Okay, Dempsey,” says Stone, “hover over the main street and drop the ladder. Do not attempt to land. Is that clear?”
“Roger,” says Dempsey. “Clearer all the time.”
“When we climb down,” says Stone, “lift off to a thousand feet and hover at a safe distance. And come back when we signal. If anything happens to us, — you have your orders.”
“Yes,” says Dempsey.