Uncivil War: Awakening
Wright & Dudycha
Contents
Newsletter
Title
Also by Wright & Dudycha
AUTHOR’S NOTE
UNCIVIL WAR
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Acknowledgments
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
Also by Wright & Dudycha
Newsletter
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Also by Wright & Dudycha
THE UNCIVIL WAR SERIES
UNCIVIL WAR
UNCIVIL WAR: INFECTED
UNCIVIL WAR: EVOLUTION
UNCIVIL WAR: TAKEOVER
UNCIVIL WAR: RECKONING
UNCIVIL WAR: AWAKENING
Copyright © 2019 Holcomb & Shaw Publishing LLC
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.
Holcomb & Shaw Publishing LLC
www.wrightanddudycha.com
Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead,
or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design by DDD, Deranged Doctor Designs
UNCIVIL WAR AWAKENING/Wright & Dudycha
1st ed. ISBN: 9781694355027
To my family.
Whom I love endlessly.
Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.
Anthony Brandt
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Uncivil War is an episodic six novel series where you’ll follow two brothers into the apocalypse. What makes our story unique is that I, B.T. Wright, will be writing Jake Maddox’s story, and Jonathan Dudycha will be writing Colt Maddox’s story.
The advantage this gives us as co-authors is that each brother will truly have his own unique voice, because the authors have theirs. We believe the stories of the different brothers are much more authentic because of the way we have split the storytelling duties.
As the reader, you get to see the apocalypse from two different perspectives along the same timeline. Jake lives in Kentucky and Colt lives in Colorado. They both confront their own obstacles along the way while trying to fight their way back to each other. Each novel in the series is from one brother's perspective, battling through a world that all of a sudden is nothing like it used to be.
We hope you enjoy the ride. It has certainly been fun for us to write.
Book 6
by
Jonathan Dudycha
Prologue
Executive Airport
Twenty-five miles outside Mount Weather, Virginia
Colt Maddox felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He sat on his hands, paralyzed by the fear that held him in place. An infected man paused before entering the room, and dread simmered on the surface of Colt’s psyche.
The infected mocked him, saying only three words: “I’m coming in.”
Colt’s eyes bulged as he watched the infected reach through the empty window frame where the glass once sat and grab the handle to unlock the door.
Colonel Jack Jenkins and Brian Bald sat close—both current members of the United States Air Force—on the floor next to him. Neither moved, perhaps they were frozen in fear as well.
The beam of Bald’s flashlight highlighted the burly beast who was about to enter.
Once the door was unlatched, the infected man shoved his shoulder against it and pushed inward. They had stacked tables against the door as a barrier, but the infected man pushed through them with ease.
Scooting on his hands, Colt backed away, following on the heels of Colonel Jenkins and Bald, who both fell back deeper into the room as the infected pushed through. Colt jumped from the ground and spun in a panic, searching for his sons. Dylan and Wesley were standing behind Bald, who gripped his automatic rifle in front of him. Colonel Jenkins also clung to his weapon. When Colt joined them, all five faced the oncoming threat. They were ready to fight, but there was only one problem—they were all out of ammunition.
“If you take one more step, I’ll blow your damn head off,” Bald bluffed.
But the infected man didn’t stop his approach. He did something none could have expected. After avoiding the downed tables, he stopped mid-room and roared out a guttural laugh.
The infected shook his head, staring only at Bald, and said, “No bullets.”
Colt’s eyes widened again. How can you know that? How can you speak? Colt was overwhelmed by everything he’d seen the infected do in the last twenty minutes of his life. Up until that point, he’d never seen the infected drive, never seen them act so . . . so normal, as if they had training in warfare, or military intelligence. And if that wasn’t enough, he’d only heard them utter one word until then, the name Amy.
This . . . this was different, it was like the infected knew how to play on a person’s emotions. How to make them . . . afraid.
Colt grasped his Browning BLR Lightweight 81’ and wished it would do any good to raise it. To aim down the barrel and take the shot to end the infected’s miserable existence. Without ammunition he couldn’t, but he wasn’t going to let that stop him from protecting himself or his family.
Then, Colt rolled the rifle over, grabbed the forearm—just beneath the barrel—and hoisted the stock over his shoulder. He had to make the first move, especially when the safety of his sons was involved. Colt stepped closer—ready to use his rifle like a swinging baseball bat.
“Colt.” Colonel Jenkins reached to try to stop him, but Colt didn’t wait.
Bald handed his flashlight to Dylan and said, “Make sure your dad knows where he’s swinging.”
Both Colonel Jenkins and Bald followed Colt’s lead and flipped their rifles over, knowing that was the best way to defend themselves and take down the threat.
As Colt got closer, the infected ceased laughing, and his face went stern. Perhaps he could tell a fight was imminent.
In the small space, Colt raised his rifle and swung. The infected ducked, which threw Colt off balance and down toward the dumped tables still stacked in a pile near the entrance of the room.
Lucky for Colt, Colonel Jenkins and Bald followed up with their own attempts, otherwise the infected could have easily dispatched Colt as he struggled to regain his footing.
After catching himself on the table, Colt whipped his head around to witness the infected dodging and blocking both Colonel Jenkins’ and Bald’s attempts.
The infected’s moves were incredibly swift and agile for a man weighing
nearly 250 pounds. Upon every strike with their weapons, the infected countered with a jab or an uppercut. Colt came in from behind, this time leading with the stock of his rifle. The butt jammed into the back of the infected’s head, sending him forward.
The infected shook, then spun to see Colt standing there. Before he could move to retaliate, Bald struck him again, this time on the side of his face while his head was turned. The force carried the infected off-balance. He didn’t fall, but his legs were wobbly.
This was their chance. The infected tumbled toward Colt. Again, Colt swung, but instead at his head, Colt aimed directly for the infected’s left knee.
“Ah!” There was an audible screech, and it sounded so human it almost gave them pause.
What the hell was that? Colt thought. But not long. He couldn’t let that distract them.
The move crippled the infected, and it dropped to its knees. In the follow through with his rifle, Colonel Jenkins and Bald ran to face the infected before he could strike again. Colt watched as Bald lifted a knife from the sheath on his hip.
The infected’s head remained down, and Colonel Jenkins reared up with his rifle and struck him on the back of the neck. He was now laying, face first on the floor. And while he lay, Bald raised his knife and ended the oversized beast with a single strike.
Each man stepped backwards and stared at the infected corpse. They sucked in air and tried to catch their breath. Even though the battle was short-lived, the day leading up to these events certainly had taken their toll.
Leaving Bald and Colonel Jenkins’ side, Colt spun and walked toward his sons. As he looked at them, Colt knew that specific battle had been predicated on one simple undeniable purpose—protect Dylan and Wesley at all costs.
Dylan shined the flashlight at his father’s chest. “He won’t be able to hurt us anymore.” Colt said, then reached for both and pulled them tight.
Once Colt pushed out of the hug, Wesley looked up at his father and said, “Is Uncle Jake coming for us?”
Colt nodded but couldn’t know for certain. Sure, they could hear gunshots outside and they could only assume it was the marines that were promised midflight, but still there was uncertainty. But, he needed to put their minds at ease. “He is. Maybe he’s even outside right now.”
“Even once it’s dark?” Dylan added. “I mean, with no lights. How could they even see the infected before it’s too late?”
Colt sighed and couldn’t answer. Dylan was right. Unless they were equipped with night-vision, they wouldn’t be able to breach the doors at night. Even if they could see in the dark, it would still be too dangerous. The infected were smart. Adaptable. For lack of a better word, they were chameleons.
And Colt knew their numbers had grown. After taking off from the airfield at the Air Force Academy, the infected had assembled a force of over 10,000 strong. Would that number mirror what they had seen in Colorado? No one knew. Still, Colt needed to give them comfort.
“You know your Uncle Jake. He’s a badass. Guarantee he can take down a few measly infected,” Colt said.
Both his sons grinned. But then Colonel Jenkins leaned in Colt’s ear and said. “We need to talk.”
Colt smiled back at his sons, then followed him and Bald. They didn’t walk far for the adult conversations, but far enough, and out of earshot.
Colonel Jenkins didn’t even wait before leading the conversation. “That was a senseless move you made there, Mr. Maddox.”
Colt was confused. “Pardon me, sir?”
“The move with the infected. Brave . . . but stupid.”
Colt couldn’t tell if that was a compliment or not, so he left it alone. “What are we gonna do about the door?” he said.
Each man stared at it.
“We either leave, or we barricade it again in hopes no other infected try to break it down,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“I vote we leave,” Bald said. “Meet those bastards in the field and fight them off one by one.”
“With what? The lone knife in your hand?” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Once we make it outside, our boys will see our approach and light the bastards up,” Bald said.
“That’s my hope too, but be realistic,” Colt said. “If my brother, or whoever is out there, hasn’t breached the building by now, it’s likely they won’t until morning.”
“All the more reason to make a run for it,” Bald said.
Colt stayed quiet for a moment.
“So you vote to stay, Mr. Maddox?” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt gritted his teeth. He didn’t want to. He knew movement was life, like Jake had taught him over the years. But when he recaptured sight of his sons—Dylan, severely injured, and Wesley, only seven—he realized neither had the ability to make a swift getaway.
“I do,” he said.
Bald coughed sarcastically, “Candy ass.”
“Easy, Bald. I happen to agree with Mr. Maddox.”
“What? Are you kidding me, sir? Stay here? Wait for another behemoth to break down our door?” Bald gestured to the dead infected on the floor.
“Mr. Maddox is right. If we leave, we’re going out blind with no idea where our boys are. Hell, even if they do have scopes, they could get us mixed up with a group of approaching infected. We can’t exactly identify ourselves in the middle of the night. Yelling would give away our location. We’d be overrun with infected before we got ten feet from the door.”
“So, what? We wait here to die instead? We have no bullets. No way to protect ourselves.”
“You seemed to do pretty good with that knife,” Dylan chimed in. He’d obviously heard the entire conversation.
The men stopped talking, but only briefly to take in Dylan’s comment. “Look, you said it yourself. You accepted responisiblity for Dylan falling out of the golf cart and getting hurt. You can’t possibly think we can protect him out there. He can hardly walk,” Colt said.
Bald stayed silent. It was Colonel Jenkins who said the final word. “It’s decided. We reshuffle the tables and stack them against the door. Then we sleep in shifts. One person stays awake in case a threat arises. If not, we wait until the cavalry arrives.”
“When’s that gonna be?” Wesley said.
Colonel Jenkins looked to Wesley and said, “My gut is with your father. Probably not until the morning. So, buckle up. We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”
1
The sun faded in the distance, and darkness would be upon them soon. Marine Gunnery Sergeant Clayton Lund, along with six other marines, was bogged down by the infected outside the building in which they knew Colt and the others were being held. Lund knew his men would be at a disadvantage once darkness set in. But they were at an impasse. They’d been given an order directly from the President of the United States: Do not leave their current position, not until the vice president and the others are safe.
But Lund wasn’t provided with the whole truth. It wasn’t his fault though, because when Colonel Jenkins had radioed for clearance to land upon approach to Mount Weather, he left out that the vice president had died giving his life for Dylan Maddox back in Colorado.
It was not that Colonel Jenkins did it intentionally, but he took it incumbent upon himself to tell the president face to face, or in better circumstances than while still in the air without explanation or emotion behind the comment.
But that was neither here nor there, Lund and the others would stay through the night, or at least until the helicopter arrived from Mount Weather with reinforcements. Which he was told wouldn’t be until the following morning.
Currently, Lund and two others from his unit had been driven back to the doors of their Humvee. Multiple infected hostiles were rushing their position. Each man fired shots, slowing the infected as they ran, but they were swarming, and many more still came.
“McGovern, can you hear me, over?” Lund spoke through his radio. “Have you breached the door? We’re under attack here. We need to get the vice president and the others
out of that building, now!”
Staff Sergeant Marcus McGovern was leading his unit toward the building. McGovern saw a few men and two children enter the structure upon their arrival. He also witnessed two separate Humvees arrive just before they did. And the beings that vacated the Humvees weren’t human, but infected. Somehow the infected must have interrupted the communication between Colonel Jenkins and Mount Weather. Maybe from the plane. Then they sent out a ‘fake unit’ to intercept.
“Negative, sir. We cannot get close enough. Not in the twilight. It’s too light to use night-vision and too dark to see anything with the naked eye. I don’t think we’ll be able to get to them, at least not yet. Over.”
“Can you retreat to your Humvee? Get back to the cover of your vehicle? Over.”
“I don’t know, sir, we’re caught in the middle. Bogged down. Too close to the building and not close enough to our Humvee. Over.”
Lund dropped the magazine from his rifle and loaded another. He ceased communication for only a moment, then tried to get it back. “McGovern, don’t worry about the building. Return to your Humvee, get inside, and we’ll reformulate the plan. Over.”
But there was silence on the other end. Lund didn’t notice it at first, he had to clear a path through the infected who continued their relentless approach, now from the rear. Again, he said, “McGovern, do you copy? Over. Return to your vehicle! Get to safety!”
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