But McGovern’s voice never came back across the radio. Instead, the next voice he heard was from the opposite side the Humvee he was currently using as cover. “Sir, McGovern is down,” Corporal Lance Nixon said.
Lund lifted his aim away from the rear and stared in front of him. There was no sign of McGovern or the two other marines who went with. They weren’t retreating. They were overrun by the enemy.
Lund found himself in a daze as he looked for McGovern’s location. More infected were scattered close to McGovern’s last known position, and Lund offered no quarter. In a flurry of hate, he unleashed a barrage of gunfire upon them.
Dropping multiple hostiles, Lund continued his relentless firing until every one of the infected was dead—at least the ones he could see. From behind the end of his smoking rifle, Lund turned and climbed inside the Humvee and slammed the door shut.
As each man sat inside the Humvee, Lund found Nixon’s eye, who was sitting in the driver’s seat now. Lund sucked in air and tried to catch his breath.
Nixon said, “What now, sir?”
Lund shifted his attention back out the windshield. There was no longer any sign of infected anywhere. But the night was still young. They had to be regrouping. There was no doubt they would attack again.
Inside of the Humvee, they felt safe.
“We stay here. I don’t think it’s wise to move on the building. Not now.” Darkness had set in, and the night was there to stay. “It’s too risky. I mean, yeah, we could drive toward the entrance of the building, strap on the night-vision, and breach, but what would we find? More infected?”
“What about the vice president, sir? Shouldn’t we try to find him?” Nixon said.
“The hero in me says yes. But the realist makes me think that’s foolhardy. There’s only three of us now, and no one else is coming until dawn. At the earliest. We have no idea what the schematics of that building are. No idea the size of the rooms. No idea where the threats will be coming from. If we enter in the dark and the vice president is alive—along with the four others in the group—I don’t know that we’d be able to tell the difference between them or the infected.”
“So, what then, sir?” Nixon said.
“Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait it out. Stay in the Humvee until sunrise.”
“Do you think the vice president will still be alive by then, sir?” Lance Corporal, Jerry Malone said from the backseat.
Lund paused. He knew it was unlikely. “From everything I’ve seen from these infected, I’d have to say no. But for the country, the red, white, and blue, I wanna say yes. We cannot lose the vice president. And our orders are to stay no matter what. I have no doubt in my mind that once that sun lifts above the horizon, we can breach the building and burn through the infected with ease. But in the dark, I . . . it’s just not smart. And like my old Lieutenant Colonel, James Junk, used to say, better to be smart than dead.”
“Jimmy Junk? Really?” Nixon said.
Each man shared a laugh at the peculiarity of his name.
“I didn’t always believe that motto, but the older I get, and in this current world we live in, that slogan is gold.”
“Me too,” Nixon said.
Lund leaned forward in his seat, looking out his window. It was still quiet. After searching, Lund slouched in his seat, and said, “Malone, you take first watch. I’m gonna catch some shuteye.”
“What if I see them, sir?” Malone said.
“Unless they’re unleashing hell on us, it’s probably best to keep quiet.” Lund shut his eyes, only for a moment, then reopened them. “Oh, and Nixon.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Keep that annoying snarling snore to a minimum. I’d hate to have your breathing be the death of me.”
Lund lowered a ball cap over his eyes, then thought, That helicopter extract can’t get here soon enough.
2
Colt sat on the floor of the dark room and rested his head against the hard wall. He kept his eyes open, but his eyelids were beginning to droop. After all, he’d been propped up in the same position for the better part of three hours. He got the early morning shift and could feel the heaviness of sleep try to overtake him on multiple occasions. The only thing keeping him awake at that point was hope. He glanced down to his watch. 6:24 a.m. The sun would be up momentarily, and with the promise of the early morning rise came the expectation help would be coming.
The only problem was they hadn’t heard a single shot since sunset the previous night. If someone truly was coming for them, why did they have to wait until morning? Then Colt thought better of it. If they’d attacked at night, they would’ve likely been overrun with ease. The infected were smart and could target anyone walking about in the darkness. At the night, the infected were at a supreme advantage.
But just as soon as that twinge of hope entered Colt’s mind, it faded and turned to anger when a rise of sound erupted from right outside the classroom door.
Damnit, Jake. Colt pushed his lower back against the wall and climbed to his feet. That better be you, or someone for a rescue, because it’s about damn time you show up. Colt crept toward the doorway, careful not to utter a sound.
Once he felt his foot touch the tables that were stacked against the door frame, Colt waited. He wanted to speak, to see who was moving behind the door, but he couldn’t give away his position. Not with the infected being attracted to sound.
After more shuffling movement from the hallway, anticipation mounted inside of him. Colt stepped forward again, and as he picked up his foot, the toe of his shoe caught the lip of the table which tripped him, and he pitched forward. He leaned down to catch himself, but in doing so, the tables shifted, and in that shift came a booming noise.
“What was that?” Colonel Jenkins whispered in the dark, apparently wide awake.
Colt didn’t return comment. He was focused on hoping the strangers from the hall hadn’t heard.
“AHHHHH!” A shrill screamed echoed inside the room, followed by the sound of pounding.
He was dead wrong.
Colt leaned his 210-pound frame against the tables—the only barrier between him and the infected from outside the door.
Amongst the screams, Colonel Jenkins and Bald joined Colt by his side, as they too shoved their shoulders against the tables.
“What the hell happened, Colt?” Colonel Jenkins said.
Forced with a decision, Colt could’ve easily blamed it on bad luck, but he couldn’t lie, that wasn’t his nature. “I heard a noise. Some shuffling from outside the room. I went to check—to see if it was our escort—you know, my brother—and that’s when I kicked the tables.”
“Damnit man,” Bald said. “They know we’re in here now.”
“I’m aware of that,” Colt knew Bald blamed him.
As they pushed hard against the tables, and among the shrieks, Colt felt a shudder through his hands. But it wasn’t just the movement of the table against him. The vibration grew from outside and bounced off the walls and boomed in the open hallway.
“You guys hear that?” Colt said.
“You’re damn right I do,” Colonel Jenkins said. “That’s no horde of infected. That’s our ride out of here.”
Colt’s belly stirred, and a smile spread across his face. It was Jake. Colt could sense it.
“You hear that, you bastards!” Colonel Jenkins screamed. “That’s the cavalry come to save our asses and blow your damn heads off.”
At once, the shrieking stopped, as did the pushing. Colt still shoved hard against the tables, but once he didn’t feel resistance, he said, “Where are they going?”
“Running like cowards, no doubt,” Bald said. “They know they’ve been beaten.”
Could be, I guess. But not likely.
Colt didn’t buy it, not until he saw a beam of light from the side entrance slice through the cracks between the tables. “They’re going outside!” Colt pulled the first table off the stacked pile. “Quick! Help me! We need to stop them b
efore they get to the chopper and harm my brother.”
“Hold on there, chief.” Colonel Jenkins grabbed Colt’s shoulder. “Let’s not be hasty. Maybe it’s a trap. Maybe they want us to believe they left, only to ambush us once we open the door. Without any ammo, we can’t go out there with nothing to protect ourselves. We need to sit tight. I know that may be hard because your brother is out there, but it’s the best plan for our survival—for your son’s survival.”
Colonel Jenkins was right. But that didn’t mean Colt liked it.
All was quiet inside the Humvee. Lund sat awake slouched against the seat. It wasn’t until the rumble of the rotors sent him bolt upright. He leaned inward staring out the top of the windshield.
“Here come reinforcements, boys.” Lund smacked Nixon on the shoulder, then he jolted awake. Nixon immediately closed his mouth and wiped the droll from his cheek. “When they hover above, you shift that baby into drive and haul ass toward their landing zone. They need cover fire. I know every infected within a five-mile radius will be drawn in by that sound.”
As the chopper approached, Lund altered his focus from the sky, toward the building just as a line of infected pushed through the side door.
“Maybe even before that.” Lund nodded at the line which exited the building. “Screw the landing zone, hammer the gas, and let’s go get those bastards.”
“Roger that, sir!” Nixon slammed on the pedal.
At the sound of the tires rolling over the pavement, the group of infected who fled from the interior of the building whipped around and watched the Humvee drive toward them.
The Humvee was barreling down on the infected’s position. Though the funny thing was, when all spun to watch the approaching vehicle, none ran in fear. They stood their ground and waited.
“We got you now, you bastards.” Lund looked over at Nixon. “Plow them over.”
But just as he finished his last syllable, his eyes bulged at the scene beyond Nixon, and out the driver’s side window. The hood of another Humvee was on a collision course.
Lund reached for Nixon and yelled, “Nixon! No!”
But his warning was too late. The other Humvee rammed directly into the driver’s side door.
Their vehicle rolled like a tumbling rock down a mountain, finally coming to rest with its roof packed hard against the side of the brick façade.
Dazed, Lund shook his head gather his bearings. He shook numerous times, but still he was turned around. When he came to, he realized his door was pinned against the pavement.
“Nixon.” Lund shook him. “Are you okay, are you alive?!”
There was no response. Then he saw a projectile of glass sticking into his forehead. Lund couldn’t see the depth, but his survival didn’t seem likely.
“Malone? Are you okay? Are you alive?”
There was a grumble and a wince of pain. “Alive, yes. Okay? That’s another story.”
“There’s no time for that. Get your rifle. We need to move. I can’t see them, but I assume that same Humvee is waiting for us to get out.”
Lund unbuckled himself from the seat and leaned forward. He was about to crawl over Nixon, but as he reached for his pulse, he smelt something familiar.
Gasoline.
“Malone. Get your stuff, and get—”
But Lund couldn’t finish his comment—nor was he able to escape—because an explosion blew the Humvee sky high and incinerated all that remained inside.
3
“What the hell was that?” The noise was louder, too loud for a landing chopper, and the shudder shook the building.
“Sounded like a car bomb—or an IED—or something,” Bald said. “And it was close, damn close to the side of the building.”
Colt couldn’t help but think of his brother. Was it Jake? Did he fire a missile from the helicopter?
But the loud bang was only the beginning. Shot after shot resonated inside the building. The sound was muffled, but easily distinguishable.
“Daddy.” Wesley stepped close to his father and hugged him around the waist. “I’m scared.”
Colt settled his hand on Wesley’s head and fluffed his hair. “I know you are, buddy. I’m scared too. But Uncle Jake is coming. I know he is. And he’ll be here soon.”
Then the room fell silent. No one wanted to speak. They wanted to listen. Not for more gunfire, but for a human voice. The gunfire was a great sound to hear, but they needed proof of life. Deep down, they needed to feel the presence of humanity. A sense of safety or a sign that the infected had been beaten and were no longer a threat.
More gunfire boomed. With every shot, Wesley jumped into Colt’s side, sending a shudder through him as well.
The battle lasted for another fifteen minutes until sound ceased. The longest fifteen minutes Colt had ever experienced.
“Are they done? Are they alive?” Dylan asked.
But how could they know? How could anyone know?
No one dared answer Dylan’s question. Instead all remained silent, hoping to hear that sweet sound of the English language. But there was another sound instead. The sound of the side door to the building being pushed open.
“Ja—” Colt started but Colonel Jenkins shushed him.
No words came from the hallway, nothing but the noise of feet dragging over the surface of the floor.
Colt’s stomach sank. How can the infected still be out there?
Something continued to walk. It was moving slow, dragging his legs—like they had been injured somehow. But the sound was getting closer to the door.
Walk past. Don’t you dare stop here! Colt thought. If you do, I’m gonna kill you with my bare hands. Rage boiled in him at the thought of the infected getting the best of the men in the helicopter—getting the best of his brother. On second thought, come, you bastard. Because I’m gonna rip you apart.
Colt untangled Wesley from his waist and led him away if a fight was coming.
The infected stopped walking directly outside their room—as if they knew someone remained inside.
There was silence now. They were all too scared to even breath.
At that moment, from outside the door, a blast of red and orange lit up the darkness.
The explosion sent the door off its hinges and blew the tables and all who stood behind them deep into the room.
Colt was thrown into the wall on the opposite end. He was shaken, but he slowly regained awareness. He opened his mouth and shook his jaw, trying stop the ringing in his ears. He looked up to see an infected standing where the door used to be—now a hole ringed with fire. The infected stepped inside.
The glow from the flame lit up the small space. Immediately, Colt looked to his left. He had to get Dylan and Wesley’s eyes.
Dylan wrapped his brother into a ball, and neither would dare look at the monster who approached. Colt looked back to the infected. He was shirtless, and his chiseled muscles and ripped abs only added to Colt’s fear.
Upon the infected’s first step, Colt rose in unison to meet the unwelcome visitor. In the firelight, Colt looked down to see the tibia bone protruding through the infected’s calf muscle—which explained why it was dragging its leg down the hall.
Once the infected made it two steps inside the room, Bald winced as he lifted one of the tables from his body and stood.
“You sonofabitch. You entered the wrong damn classroom,” Bald said.
The infected smirked at Bald.
“What are you smiling at, you bastard. What? You think since you bested all the men outside you’re something special?” Bald said. Then looked down at his leg. “From the looks of it, I’d say you’re a little worse for wear.”
But the infected held his gaze, still staring at Bald. Then instead of smirking, he fell into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” Colt said.
The infected turned his hand over. There was a grenade inside his palm. Clearly the infected had a flare for the dramatic. He must’ve carried two with him. One to blow the door. Th
e other to finish the job.
“Wait! No!” Colt held out his hand to stop the infected.
Colt turned to his sons. They were still huddled together. He wished to run to them, get there in time before the infected pulled the pin and killed them all. But as soon as Colt turned, the infected raised his opposite hand and reached for the pin.
Inch by inch, its hand extended. Just as its fingers grasped the pin, another man entered the room from behind. He didn’t even hesitate. The sound of gunfire roared inside the classroom, and the muzzle fire erupted from the end of his M9.
The infected fell to the ground like a brick through the air. In shock, Colt didn’t know what was happening, but he saw the grenade drop from the infected’s hand and was rolling directly toward him.
“Everybody down!” Bald yelled into the room.
Without hesitation, Colt leapt on top of the grenade and waited for the aftermath. He held his breath, thinking only of his family. Anna. The boys. Find a cure, Jake. Help Anna. Help everyone. Find a way to get our world back to the way it was. I know you’re still alive out there somewhere.
After ten seconds and no detonation, Colt felt a presence over him.
“Hey there, brother,” Jake said.
At his words, Colt rolled over in disbelief. He was still alive. His brother Jake was standing there. Coming to their rescue. Colt leaped from the ground and faced him.
“Jake! It’s you! It’s really you!” Colt grabbed him and pulled him tight.
“Uncle Jake!” Wesley yelled, and came running, to clutch them both.
“Damn you’ve grown up.” Jake said looking at his nephews.
Colonel Jenkins and Bald joined them too.
“That had to be the bravest damn thing, I’ve ever seen,” Colonel Jenkins said, nodding at the grenade that remained on the floor.
Colt was filled with pride but wouldn’t speak of it.
“Or the dumbest,” Jake was quick.
Uncivil War (Book 6): Awakening Page 2