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impala_chickTitle: Flying Clubmobile
Pairing: Tatty Spaatz/Sandra Westgate
Rated: Teen
Word Count: 3,524
Summary: There was no checklist for zombies on the runway. The Army was doing its damnedest to come up with one, but it was still in draft form. The number one rule, the only rule really, was to stay in the fort.
Or, the one where Tatty becomes a pilot because of some extraordinary circumstances. And then she meets Sandra.
A/N: Warning for the zombie apocalypse! Written for the heavy artillery holiday exchange. This is the fic I'm the most proud of writing in 2024 just because I liked the world building I did for this one.
Fic on AO3
Tatty brought her Fort in smooth as butter, just like she’d been taught. The Flying Clubmobile had a bunch of bullet holes in her, and flak nearly took out the right wing, but her whole crew was alive and for that Tatty was grateful.
That was the one and only thing about the Munster Raid that had gone according to plan. The Flying Clubmobile was towards the rear of the formation, so she witnessed almost everything that happened. Tatty knew that 13 forts were up in the air when they hit flak, but they were thinned out quickly. The lead fort went down in a horrifying ball of fire, and then the next fort met the same fate only seconds later. She didn’t see any shoots. Engine fires were sparking up all down the line, and the flak was merciless the entire time. Their formation position was probably the only reason her crew was still alive.
Landing was the only easy part of the day. There was a checklist for that, a checklist she could recite backwards from memory long before she was allowed into the cockpit of a plane. She had been studying Army manuals, sneaking off to make copies of her father’s documents whenever she could. Being a donut dollie left Tatty with a lot of time on her hands. After the donuts were made and the equipment cleaned, she’d just be waiting around for the crews to return. It was the perfect opportunity for study, although she never in a million years thought she’d be able to put any of it to use. That was until the Army got real desperate for replacement pilots and crews. So desperate that they asked women to sign up.
Once Tatty put the fort down on the runway, she could make out the distinctive shapes of three people near the base of the watchtower. But they weren’t walking like normal people. One’s head lolled to the side, something viscous dripping from its mouth. The second was dragging its leg along with both of its arms, making it move at a snail’s pace. But the third one started charging towards the fort as soon as it looked up and noticed it.
Zombies.
There was no checklist for zombies on the runway. The Army was doing its damnedest to come up with one, but it was still in draft form. The number one rule, the only rule really, was to stay in the fort. Even though the fort reeked of piss and gunpowder and the entire crew was sore and possibly bleeding; even though the last thing Tatty wanted to do after that mission was sit inside the Fort that almost got her killed. No one could get out safely until the ground crew ensured the tarmac was clear.
So she settled back against the seat of the left side pilot’s chair, and got on the radio.
“Pilot to crew, stand by for the all clear. That one was tough, but I’m proud of all of you.”
She made sure the radio was clicked off before she blew out a long, steadying breath. Munster had been her toughest mission, hands down. When she’d first been allowed to start training, she thought the elation would never fade. It felt so good to be behind the yoke in those early days. Now she still felt proud as she sat in the pilot’s chair, but there was a helluva lot more baggage.
Tatty no longer jumped when gunshots rang out outside the fort. She should have known by then not to look down, but the noise drew her attention.
A jeep, carrying two army officers plus the driver, had shot the zombie in the back of the head. It crumpled to the ground, its shining in the waning afternoon sun. The other two had already been dispatched. She could see their crumpled bodies on the ground too.
Someone would come to move them at some point, but for now the priority was getting her crew out of the Fort and into the relative safety of the bunker.
They’d seen zombies scale fences and scale forts. Some of them were clever enough to try door handles, which meant that they’d eventually figure out how to get inside the Fort. Tatty did not want to be around when that happened.
The jeep pulled up under the hatch, and then three solid knocks sounded against the door. That was the all clear. She got on the radio again.
“Pilot to crew. That was all clear. Back half, go. Pilots, Nav, Bombardier, we wait.”
She heard her crew acknowledge over the radio, and then she heard the hatch swing open. The only way they left the fort now was to get directly into a jeep. A human couldn’t always outrun a zombie, but a jeep could. It was the safest way to travel these days.
It only took a couple of minutes for half of her crew to get out and load into the jeep. She heard the hatch get secured, and then she watched the jeep speed out from under the Fort.
She looked over at her co-pilot, Rosie.
“Are you doing okay, Rosie?” She asked. She was using her customer service voice, the one she used to use all the time as a donut dollie. Sometimes she slipped into it without meaning to, but now she did it on purpose. It had been Rosie’s first mission, and he hadn’t said anything since they landed.
“Yeah, thanks Tatty. You’re a helluva pilot, that’s for sure.”
Tatty nodded in thanks.
“You are, too. Could not have done that without you. That was a crazy first mission.”
Rosie smiled, and he looked totally normal. She didn’t like the way everyone coddled her when she got back from her first mission, as if they were worried that she was going to crack any second. So she wasn’t going to do that to Rosie. But still, it didn’t hurt to let him know that he’d done a good job.
“Glad they have us flying together,” Rosie said. “I learned a lot.”
The other guys she’d flown with hadn’t been very pleased to have a woman for a co-pilot, but they’d at least had the good sense not to say anything downright rude. However, the most she got from them was a silence that signaled their begrudging respect after they flew with her. Rosie was the first to pay her a compliment, and he sounded so earnest that Tatty took it at face value. Tatty was going to keep on believing he was genuinely a good guy unless he did something to prove her wrong.
A jeep came roaring down the tarmac to pick them up. She couldn’t tell if it was the same one or a different one. They had at least two functional jeeps before she left for Munster, but a lot could have happened while they were gone.
Then three knocks echoed in the quiet, and Tatty got on the radio again.
“Pilot to remaining crew, all clear. Let’s go.”
Rosie unbuckled and went out just ahead of Tatty.
She counted heads quickly before she dropped out of the Fort and into the back of the jeep. She reached up to lock the hatch, and then the jeep sped away. She recognized the back of Jack Kidd’s head as he drove. The air exec job sure had changed drastically since the war started. But she was thankful Major Kidd was still around to help take care of everyone. He was often the one who shuttled returning crews back to the bunker.
No one said anything as they drove. The silence was eerie as everyone kept their heads on a swivel, alert for zombies. Once they made it to the bunker, Major Kidd drove in through the garage door, which was quickly pulled shut behind them. Tatty’s eyes squinted to adjust to the dim lighting underground, and then they all unloaded.
At that point she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. They were theoretically safe down there, as no zombie had yet figured out how to get past the thick steel garage door and winch opening mechanism.
She walked on auto-pilot to the relatively new interrogation room that had been set up in the bunker. There were 12 other forts up there with them. Surely someone else was going to return.
Even though she’d seen all the destruction in the air, nothing could have prepared her for the horrifying reality of walking in and realizing they were the only Fort that had returned. It was dead silent as the rest of her crew looked up at her, waiting for her to come join them at the table.
She knew the Army couldn’t afford that type of loss. Not when they were already down crews from the initial zombie outbreak, and then from the subsequent raids that had been going off even without adequate formation sizes. The Army Air Forces had already called up all of the WACs, and asked every donut dollie in England if they’d be willing to learn how to fly. There was probably no one left to ask.
She sat down heavily, and the interrogation was a blur. She lost count of how many times the nav said no record, or of how many Forts Rosie saw burst into flames.
When they were finally done, all she wanted to do was lay face down in her bunk. Maybe for hours. But Colonel Harding stopped her on the way out and called her into his office.
“Lieutenant Spaatz, have a seat.”
It was cramped in the underground HQ, but a chair had been pushed against the wall just inside the door. Tatty did as she was told.
He put his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, his face grim.
“I need someone to represent the Army Air Force at a conference at Oxford.”
Tatty’s face crumpled. This is what she’d feared ever since she’d accepted an Army commission: that they’d parade her around because of her name and because she was one of only a few female pilots on active duty. She was finally doing what she was destined to do, and she was good at it. She did not want to come off the line for a dog and pony show.
“I can tell by your face you don’t like it, but this isn’t coming from me. Doc Stover and Colonel Spaatz think this is a good idea. It’s all temporary, anyway. The conference has been truncated to two days. Two days of R&R in Oxford, I think you can handle it.”
“Sir, I-” Tatty scrambled to come up with some excuse before she was cut off.
“Look, I’m not asking.” Colonel Harding was using his commander’s voice on her. “You’re a good pilot, Tatty. I want you back here ready to fly again. We’re already low as it is.”
Tatty sighed. There was no getting out of it if her father had ordered it.
---
Tatty couldn’t doze off on the train, even though she felt exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the terrifying booms of flak and saw Helen’s fort burst into flames just out of the corner of her eye. Steal bars ran across the windows to keep out zombies, so she couldn’t really look outside to distract herself. She tried to busy herself with a book but she couldn’t focus on the words. At least they didn’t run into any Zombies on the track.
She was escorted by jeep directly from the train to the schoolhouse. None of the British soldiers talked to her on the drive, but that was probably because they were all busy scanning the horizon with their rifles at the ready.
The boy at the front desk of the Oxford dorms couldn’t have been more than 15. He stared at the pilot wings on her uniform but didn’t comment on them. Instead, he welcomed her tepidly and said she had a roommate named Subaltern A. Westgate. Tatty had no idea what a subaltern was but didn’t ask. She hadn’t heard whether the British AF had women pilots, so she just assumed her roommate was a man.
“Have a good time at the conference, Ma’am,” the boy said once they reached her room and he put her bag on the floor. “Please remember not to leave the premises without an escort.”
She nodded in thanks and then shut the door. The room was huge and full of simple comforts like a bright bedspread with a sophisticated red design, and a full length mirror. It was easily the nicest room she’d had since she left the States.
She immediately kicked off her heels and laid face down on a real, honest to god mattress. It was divine. Suddenly having nothing to do was a stark contrast to the life she’d been living on Thorpe Abbotts. Every soldier, even every pilot, had to cover down on every job that needed doing because there were simply not enough living bodies around to do them. It was a luxury not to have new pilots to take on training missions, no mission reports to write, no laundry to do, and no coffee to make.
Another great thing about Oxford was that the zombie defenses were much more fortified than back at Thorpe Abbots. She’d heard there were far more zombies in the cities, but they normally were picked off quickly. This was because the big cities had the resources for guard towers and snipers and a strict curfew. She planned on thinking about zombies as little as possible while she was away.
The conference didn’t start until the next morning. She knew there was some kind of social event downstairs that night, but she did not feel compelled to move any time soon. It was incredible what a comfortable bed and having absolutely no responsibilities did to a person, because Tatty was out like a light. She didn’t dream at all, and stayed asleep until a strange voice woke her up.
“Lieutenant Spaatz, I presume?”
“Oh shit -” Tatty scrambled up off the bed so fast that she nearly fell. “Must have drifted off.”
Tatty realized there was probably drool on her face and hastily wiped her mouth.
“Oh, don’t worry, lieutenant. I’m the one interrupting your no-doubt hard earned nap.”
The woman standing in Tatty’s doorway had a distinctly British accent. She also had bright red lipstick, kind eyes, and perfect hair. She held her cover between her hands as she smiled, not the least bit embarrassed. Her boldness wasn’t off-putting, though. To the contrary, it somehow made her seem more amicable.
“You know, I’m usually more put together than this.” Tatty stood up straighter, desperately wishing she’d met this woman under different circumstances. Tatty was wearing her dress uniform, but it was all wrinkled from laying down, and her pantyhose had a rip. If she had a male roommate, she wouldn't have cared. But this woman seemed like someone that Tatty would want to impress.
“Of that I have no doubt,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “Are you going to the social tonight?”
Tatty caught the way the woman gave her a brief onceover. Well, that sure was intriguing.
“You bet. Let me just freshen up.” Tatty tried not to sound too eager.
“Great. I’m Sandra, by the way,” she said. Her smile was absolutely dazzling this time around. Something about it seemed much more genuine then her previous smile had been.
When they went downstairs for the social, the room was already full of US Army and British RAF soldiers. Tatty took a deep breath and pasted on her smile from her Donut Dollie days. She scanned the crowd, hoping there would be another woman among them. It turned out there were indeed a few others, and she and Sandra made a beeline for them.
Tatty ended up having a great time with Sandra by her side. Even when a British RAF pilot tried to butt into their conversation, Sandra dispatched him with an acerbic tongue that forced Tatty to hide her laugh politely behind her hand. Tatty was so charmed by her, she didn’t realize the evening was coming to an end until Sandra pointed out that they were very nearly the last ones left in the room.
With a surprised laugh, Tatty followed Sandra upstairs.
“Fancy a drink?” Sandra asked as she unlocked their shared bedroom.
“Absolutely,” Tatty said with a grin. She slipped off her heels and settled into a huge chair by the fireplace.
She watched Sandra walk down the small hallway that connected their rooms. When she came back out, she had two glasses and a very fancy looking bottle of dark liquor. She’d ditched her dress jacket and her shoes.
The pair of them drank and told stories until Tatty’s sides started to hurt from laughing so much.
“It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about the war,” Tatty mused later after she felt delightfully buzzed. “I feel like I have to keep my guard up all the time around the boys.”
“I know what you mean,” Sandra agreed. “Some of them treat us so strangely.”
Tatty couldn’t get enough of Sandra’s bright smile and sparkling gaze. By that point, the top few buttons of her blouse were undone, and Tatty tried very hard not to stare. The liquor was making her brain feel blessedly calm and her skin tingled with warmth. But there was still an awful pit in her stomach. She hadn’t quite figured out how to make that hollow feeling go away yet.
“I haven’t had a woman I could confide in since Helen,” Tatty said.
“Was Helen your girlfriend?” Sandra asked gently.
Tatty knew that the word 'girlfriend' could be referring to a non-romantic friend. But Sandra was looking right at her when she asked, and her face was soft and sad. From the way Sandra had been eyeing her earlier in the evening, it was possible that maybe Sandra knew something about being attracted to women. Tatty felt like she could trust her. Or maybe that was just the liquor talking. Either way, Tatty found herself spilling her guts without even intending to.
“Helen was my best friend. We didn’t date, but maybe that’s because we didn’t get the chance. After the zombies came, I really thought I’d seen the worst of the war. But it turns out that wasn’t true. Helen went down in a Fort right next to mine. She was a navigator. I watched her burn up. Maybe I shouldn’t have convinced her to sign up. She could have stayed a donut dollie and been safe on the ground.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sandra said. Her voice was steady and sincere as she reached over and took the glass from Tatty’s shaking hand. “It’s ok to grieve. But don’t think for a second that Helen’s death is your fault.”
She put the glasses down on the end table and scooted closer on the floor until she was at Tatty’s feet. She took Tatty’s hand in hers and held her gaze.
“I’ve lost people, too. But this war is Hitler’s fault. Your friend’s death is on him.”
Tatty appreciated her words. They weren’t enough to erase the pain and the guilt Tatty felt, but it was a start. Every time Tatty talked about Helen, it got a little less painful. And Sandra made her feel so seen. It was nice to be on the receiving end of genuine empathy, instead of being expected to be the one to comfort others.
Sandra nodded solemnly and then got up from the floor as she said, “It’s time for bed now, I think.”
“Oh, you don’t have to go,” Tatty said as she stood up. “I’ve had the most marvelous time. Sorry to bring down the mood.”
“Not at all.” Sandra paused for a moment, and then put a hand on Tatty’s shoulder. Her hand was warm through Tatty’s dress blouse. “It’s just, I’m not sure how much longer I can resist kissing you.”
Tatty’s breath caught in her throat. She immediately grabbed Sandra’s waist and searched her face.
She decided to do the brash, American thing and press her lips to Sandra’s. They were soft and pliant against her own, and Tatty could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Sandra leaned into Tatty’s touch, and into the kiss, and it was nearly as thrilling a victory as being able to sit in the pilot’s chair. Sandra tasted like the deep oaky whiskey they’d been drinking and she smelled like lavender perfume.
“Please tell me you’ll spend time with me tomorrow,” Tatty said against her mouth.
“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Sandra said softly. “In fact, I heard there might be a party we could check out before curfew.”
She stepped back and gave Tatty a devilish wink. Tatty blew her a kiss in return, which made Sandra laugh.
Tatty had a hard time falling asleep that night, but for once it wasn’t because of the war.
Pairing: Tatty Spaatz/Sandra Westgate
Rated: Teen
Word Count: 3,524
Summary: There was no checklist for zombies on the runway. The Army was doing its damnedest to come up with one, but it was still in draft form. The number one rule, the only rule really, was to stay in the fort.
Or, the one where Tatty becomes a pilot because of some extraordinary circumstances. And then she meets Sandra.
A/N: Warning for the zombie apocalypse! Written for the heavy artillery holiday exchange. This is the fic I'm the most proud of writing in 2024 just because I liked the world building I did for this one.
Fic on AO3
Tatty brought her Fort in smooth as butter, just like she’d been taught. The Flying Clubmobile had a bunch of bullet holes in her, and flak nearly took out the right wing, but her whole crew was alive and for that Tatty was grateful.
That was the one and only thing about the Munster Raid that had gone according to plan. The Flying Clubmobile was towards the rear of the formation, so she witnessed almost everything that happened. Tatty knew that 13 forts were up in the air when they hit flak, but they were thinned out quickly. The lead fort went down in a horrifying ball of fire, and then the next fort met the same fate only seconds later. She didn’t see any shoots. Engine fires were sparking up all down the line, and the flak was merciless the entire time. Their formation position was probably the only reason her crew was still alive.
Landing was the only easy part of the day. There was a checklist for that, a checklist she could recite backwards from memory long before she was allowed into the cockpit of a plane. She had been studying Army manuals, sneaking off to make copies of her father’s documents whenever she could. Being a donut dollie left Tatty with a lot of time on her hands. After the donuts were made and the equipment cleaned, she’d just be waiting around for the crews to return. It was the perfect opportunity for study, although she never in a million years thought she’d be able to put any of it to use. That was until the Army got real desperate for replacement pilots and crews. So desperate that they asked women to sign up.
Once Tatty put the fort down on the runway, she could make out the distinctive shapes of three people near the base of the watchtower. But they weren’t walking like normal people. One’s head lolled to the side, something viscous dripping from its mouth. The second was dragging its leg along with both of its arms, making it move at a snail’s pace. But the third one started charging towards the fort as soon as it looked up and noticed it.
Zombies.
There was no checklist for zombies on the runway. The Army was doing its damnedest to come up with one, but it was still in draft form. The number one rule, the only rule really, was to stay in the fort. Even though the fort reeked of piss and gunpowder and the entire crew was sore and possibly bleeding; even though the last thing Tatty wanted to do after that mission was sit inside the Fort that almost got her killed. No one could get out safely until the ground crew ensured the tarmac was clear.
So she settled back against the seat of the left side pilot’s chair, and got on the radio.
“Pilot to crew, stand by for the all clear. That one was tough, but I’m proud of all of you.”
She made sure the radio was clicked off before she blew out a long, steadying breath. Munster had been her toughest mission, hands down. When she’d first been allowed to start training, she thought the elation would never fade. It felt so good to be behind the yoke in those early days. Now she still felt proud as she sat in the pilot’s chair, but there was a helluva lot more baggage.
Tatty no longer jumped when gunshots rang out outside the fort. She should have known by then not to look down, but the noise drew her attention.
A jeep, carrying two army officers plus the driver, had shot the zombie in the back of the head. It crumpled to the ground, its shining in the waning afternoon sun. The other two had already been dispatched. She could see their crumpled bodies on the ground too.
Someone would come to move them at some point, but for now the priority was getting her crew out of the Fort and into the relative safety of the bunker.
They’d seen zombies scale fences and scale forts. Some of them were clever enough to try door handles, which meant that they’d eventually figure out how to get inside the Fort. Tatty did not want to be around when that happened.
The jeep pulled up under the hatch, and then three solid knocks sounded against the door. That was the all clear. She got on the radio again.
“Pilot to crew. That was all clear. Back half, go. Pilots, Nav, Bombardier, we wait.”
She heard her crew acknowledge over the radio, and then she heard the hatch swing open. The only way they left the fort now was to get directly into a jeep. A human couldn’t always outrun a zombie, but a jeep could. It was the safest way to travel these days.
It only took a couple of minutes for half of her crew to get out and load into the jeep. She heard the hatch get secured, and then she watched the jeep speed out from under the Fort.
She looked over at her co-pilot, Rosie.
“Are you doing okay, Rosie?” She asked. She was using her customer service voice, the one she used to use all the time as a donut dollie. Sometimes she slipped into it without meaning to, but now she did it on purpose. It had been Rosie’s first mission, and he hadn’t said anything since they landed.
“Yeah, thanks Tatty. You’re a helluva pilot, that’s for sure.”
Tatty nodded in thanks.
“You are, too. Could not have done that without you. That was a crazy first mission.”
Rosie smiled, and he looked totally normal. She didn’t like the way everyone coddled her when she got back from her first mission, as if they were worried that she was going to crack any second. So she wasn’t going to do that to Rosie. But still, it didn’t hurt to let him know that he’d done a good job.
“Glad they have us flying together,” Rosie said. “I learned a lot.”
The other guys she’d flown with hadn’t been very pleased to have a woman for a co-pilot, but they’d at least had the good sense not to say anything downright rude. However, the most she got from them was a silence that signaled their begrudging respect after they flew with her. Rosie was the first to pay her a compliment, and he sounded so earnest that Tatty took it at face value. Tatty was going to keep on believing he was genuinely a good guy unless he did something to prove her wrong.
A jeep came roaring down the tarmac to pick them up. She couldn’t tell if it was the same one or a different one. They had at least two functional jeeps before she left for Munster, but a lot could have happened while they were gone.
Then three knocks echoed in the quiet, and Tatty got on the radio again.
“Pilot to remaining crew, all clear. Let’s go.”
Rosie unbuckled and went out just ahead of Tatty.
She counted heads quickly before she dropped out of the Fort and into the back of the jeep. She reached up to lock the hatch, and then the jeep sped away. She recognized the back of Jack Kidd’s head as he drove. The air exec job sure had changed drastically since the war started. But she was thankful Major Kidd was still around to help take care of everyone. He was often the one who shuttled returning crews back to the bunker.
No one said anything as they drove. The silence was eerie as everyone kept their heads on a swivel, alert for zombies. Once they made it to the bunker, Major Kidd drove in through the garage door, which was quickly pulled shut behind them. Tatty’s eyes squinted to adjust to the dim lighting underground, and then they all unloaded.
At that point she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. They were theoretically safe down there, as no zombie had yet figured out how to get past the thick steel garage door and winch opening mechanism.
She walked on auto-pilot to the relatively new interrogation room that had been set up in the bunker. There were 12 other forts up there with them. Surely someone else was going to return.
Even though she’d seen all the destruction in the air, nothing could have prepared her for the horrifying reality of walking in and realizing they were the only Fort that had returned. It was dead silent as the rest of her crew looked up at her, waiting for her to come join them at the table.
She knew the Army couldn’t afford that type of loss. Not when they were already down crews from the initial zombie outbreak, and then from the subsequent raids that had been going off even without adequate formation sizes. The Army Air Forces had already called up all of the WACs, and asked every donut dollie in England if they’d be willing to learn how to fly. There was probably no one left to ask.
She sat down heavily, and the interrogation was a blur. She lost count of how many times the nav said no record, or of how many Forts Rosie saw burst into flames.
When they were finally done, all she wanted to do was lay face down in her bunk. Maybe for hours. But Colonel Harding stopped her on the way out and called her into his office.
“Lieutenant Spaatz, have a seat.”
It was cramped in the underground HQ, but a chair had been pushed against the wall just inside the door. Tatty did as she was told.
He put his elbows on his desk and leaned forward, his face grim.
“I need someone to represent the Army Air Force at a conference at Oxford.”
Tatty’s face crumpled. This is what she’d feared ever since she’d accepted an Army commission: that they’d parade her around because of her name and because she was one of only a few female pilots on active duty. She was finally doing what she was destined to do, and she was good at it. She did not want to come off the line for a dog and pony show.
“I can tell by your face you don’t like it, but this isn’t coming from me. Doc Stover and Colonel Spaatz think this is a good idea. It’s all temporary, anyway. The conference has been truncated to two days. Two days of R&R in Oxford, I think you can handle it.”
“Sir, I-” Tatty scrambled to come up with some excuse before she was cut off.
“Look, I’m not asking.” Colonel Harding was using his commander’s voice on her. “You’re a good pilot, Tatty. I want you back here ready to fly again. We’re already low as it is.”
Tatty sighed. There was no getting out of it if her father had ordered it.
---
Tatty couldn’t doze off on the train, even though she felt exhausted. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the terrifying booms of flak and saw Helen’s fort burst into flames just out of the corner of her eye. Steal bars ran across the windows to keep out zombies, so she couldn’t really look outside to distract herself. She tried to busy herself with a book but she couldn’t focus on the words. At least they didn’t run into any Zombies on the track.
She was escorted by jeep directly from the train to the schoolhouse. None of the British soldiers talked to her on the drive, but that was probably because they were all busy scanning the horizon with their rifles at the ready.
The boy at the front desk of the Oxford dorms couldn’t have been more than 15. He stared at the pilot wings on her uniform but didn’t comment on them. Instead, he welcomed her tepidly and said she had a roommate named Subaltern A. Westgate. Tatty had no idea what a subaltern was but didn’t ask. She hadn’t heard whether the British AF had women pilots, so she just assumed her roommate was a man.
“Have a good time at the conference, Ma’am,” the boy said once they reached her room and he put her bag on the floor. “Please remember not to leave the premises without an escort.”
She nodded in thanks and then shut the door. The room was huge and full of simple comforts like a bright bedspread with a sophisticated red design, and a full length mirror. It was easily the nicest room she’d had since she left the States.
She immediately kicked off her heels and laid face down on a real, honest to god mattress. It was divine. Suddenly having nothing to do was a stark contrast to the life she’d been living on Thorpe Abbotts. Every soldier, even every pilot, had to cover down on every job that needed doing because there were simply not enough living bodies around to do them. It was a luxury not to have new pilots to take on training missions, no mission reports to write, no laundry to do, and no coffee to make.
Another great thing about Oxford was that the zombie defenses were much more fortified than back at Thorpe Abbots. She’d heard there were far more zombies in the cities, but they normally were picked off quickly. This was because the big cities had the resources for guard towers and snipers and a strict curfew. She planned on thinking about zombies as little as possible while she was away.
The conference didn’t start until the next morning. She knew there was some kind of social event downstairs that night, but she did not feel compelled to move any time soon. It was incredible what a comfortable bed and having absolutely no responsibilities did to a person, because Tatty was out like a light. She didn’t dream at all, and stayed asleep until a strange voice woke her up.
“Lieutenant Spaatz, I presume?”
“Oh shit -” Tatty scrambled up off the bed so fast that she nearly fell. “Must have drifted off.”
Tatty realized there was probably drool on her face and hastily wiped her mouth.
“Oh, don’t worry, lieutenant. I’m the one interrupting your no-doubt hard earned nap.”
The woman standing in Tatty’s doorway had a distinctly British accent. She also had bright red lipstick, kind eyes, and perfect hair. She held her cover between her hands as she smiled, not the least bit embarrassed. Her boldness wasn’t off-putting, though. To the contrary, it somehow made her seem more amicable.
“You know, I’m usually more put together than this.” Tatty stood up straighter, desperately wishing she’d met this woman under different circumstances. Tatty was wearing her dress uniform, but it was all wrinkled from laying down, and her pantyhose had a rip. If she had a male roommate, she wouldn't have cared. But this woman seemed like someone that Tatty would want to impress.
“Of that I have no doubt,” she said with a conspiratorial smile. “Are you going to the social tonight?”
Tatty caught the way the woman gave her a brief onceover. Well, that sure was intriguing.
“You bet. Let me just freshen up.” Tatty tried not to sound too eager.
“Great. I’m Sandra, by the way,” she said. Her smile was absolutely dazzling this time around. Something about it seemed much more genuine then her previous smile had been.
When they went downstairs for the social, the room was already full of US Army and British RAF soldiers. Tatty took a deep breath and pasted on her smile from her Donut Dollie days. She scanned the crowd, hoping there would be another woman among them. It turned out there were indeed a few others, and she and Sandra made a beeline for them.
Tatty ended up having a great time with Sandra by her side. Even when a British RAF pilot tried to butt into their conversation, Sandra dispatched him with an acerbic tongue that forced Tatty to hide her laugh politely behind her hand. Tatty was so charmed by her, she didn’t realize the evening was coming to an end until Sandra pointed out that they were very nearly the last ones left in the room.
With a surprised laugh, Tatty followed Sandra upstairs.
“Fancy a drink?” Sandra asked as she unlocked their shared bedroom.
“Absolutely,” Tatty said with a grin. She slipped off her heels and settled into a huge chair by the fireplace.
She watched Sandra walk down the small hallway that connected their rooms. When she came back out, she had two glasses and a very fancy looking bottle of dark liquor. She’d ditched her dress jacket and her shoes.
The pair of them drank and told stories until Tatty’s sides started to hurt from laughing so much.
“It’s nice to be able to talk to someone about the war,” Tatty mused later after she felt delightfully buzzed. “I feel like I have to keep my guard up all the time around the boys.”
“I know what you mean,” Sandra agreed. “Some of them treat us so strangely.”
Tatty couldn’t get enough of Sandra’s bright smile and sparkling gaze. By that point, the top few buttons of her blouse were undone, and Tatty tried very hard not to stare. The liquor was making her brain feel blessedly calm and her skin tingled with warmth. But there was still an awful pit in her stomach. She hadn’t quite figured out how to make that hollow feeling go away yet.
“I haven’t had a woman I could confide in since Helen,” Tatty said.
“Was Helen your girlfriend?” Sandra asked gently.
Tatty knew that the word 'girlfriend' could be referring to a non-romantic friend. But Sandra was looking right at her when she asked, and her face was soft and sad. From the way Sandra had been eyeing her earlier in the evening, it was possible that maybe Sandra knew something about being attracted to women. Tatty felt like she could trust her. Or maybe that was just the liquor talking. Either way, Tatty found herself spilling her guts without even intending to.
“Helen was my best friend. We didn’t date, but maybe that’s because we didn’t get the chance. After the zombies came, I really thought I’d seen the worst of the war. But it turns out that wasn’t true. Helen went down in a Fort right next to mine. She was a navigator. I watched her burn up. Maybe I shouldn’t have convinced her to sign up. She could have stayed a donut dollie and been safe on the ground.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Sandra said. Her voice was steady and sincere as she reached over and took the glass from Tatty’s shaking hand. “It’s ok to grieve. But don’t think for a second that Helen’s death is your fault.”
She put the glasses down on the end table and scooted closer on the floor until she was at Tatty’s feet. She took Tatty’s hand in hers and held her gaze.
“I’ve lost people, too. But this war is Hitler’s fault. Your friend’s death is on him.”
Tatty appreciated her words. They weren’t enough to erase the pain and the guilt Tatty felt, but it was a start. Every time Tatty talked about Helen, it got a little less painful. And Sandra made her feel so seen. It was nice to be on the receiving end of genuine empathy, instead of being expected to be the one to comfort others.
Sandra nodded solemnly and then got up from the floor as she said, “It’s time for bed now, I think.”
“Oh, you don’t have to go,” Tatty said as she stood up. “I’ve had the most marvelous time. Sorry to bring down the mood.”
“Not at all.” Sandra paused for a moment, and then put a hand on Tatty’s shoulder. Her hand was warm through Tatty’s dress blouse. “It’s just, I’m not sure how much longer I can resist kissing you.”
Tatty’s breath caught in her throat. She immediately grabbed Sandra’s waist and searched her face.
She decided to do the brash, American thing and press her lips to Sandra’s. They were soft and pliant against her own, and Tatty could feel her heartbeat pounding in her ears. Sandra leaned into Tatty’s touch, and into the kiss, and it was nearly as thrilling a victory as being able to sit in the pilot’s chair. Sandra tasted like the deep oaky whiskey they’d been drinking and she smelled like lavender perfume.
“Please tell me you’ll spend time with me tomorrow,” Tatty said against her mouth.
“Wouldn’t dream of doing anything else,” Sandra said softly. “In fact, I heard there might be a party we could check out before curfew.”
She stepped back and gave Tatty a devilish wink. Tatty blew her a kiss in return, which made Sandra laugh.
Tatty had a hard time falling asleep that night, but for once it wasn’t because of the war.