Uncivil War: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller

by B. T. Wright

  That was the mission that was set for that evening: to get more Beritrix. They would need a much larger supply with seven or eight of them making the trip to Mount Weather. This would be the first small gauge of how the team would be able to work together, and how their training would hold up. It would also give Jake his first look at how much the infected had evolved. It was a key element in knowing when they could leave for Virginia.

  Even this first move out into the open air wasn’t set in stone. If they had a bad day of training that day, that first move would be pushed back too. All Jake could do was focus on the next hour, and then the next one, and so on. He took a sip of his coffee and stared blankly over the common area of the bunker. He was the only one awake other than the guards and radiomen, so the room was empty and silent. Leaving him alone with his thoughts. Every second he had alone with his thoughts, the other thing that had been weighing on his mind maybe more than anything else always came storming back.

  His brother Colt and the boys.

  Colt had always been a hunter and great outdoorsmen. This fact gave Jake a little bit of hope––that, and the fact that the thing that he and his brother had most in common was that they never quit. Two great qualities when you live in the mountains and the end of the world happens. But worry came with those comforts, because Jake knew how hard it was for him to survive out there, and he was a highly-trained soldier. Not to mention he’d had two adults alongside him. Colt only had his sons, which would only make it more difficult for Colt to survive.

  Would Colt be able to handle the evolution of these things? Could he adapt to their changing habits? It had nearly killed Jake twice. If he’d had to protect two young men in the process, it might have turned out differently. The longer the silence lasted for Jake, the more the worry grew. And the more the worry grew, the worse he felt about his brother’s chances. The not knowing was enough to drive a man insane.

  Sitting idle was making him sick. He had never had anxiety before, but if he didn’t get up and get moving, it was going to overwhelm him. He didn’t want to know, he needed to know. And the need to know was getting to him. Filling his head with doubt. Any more time alone and—

  Jake couldn’t take it. He knocked his coffee mug to the floor with a violent swing of his arm. It smashed into a dozen pieces, he stood from his chair––his insides churning––and let out a scream. Just as he did, the hallway door burst inward and the radioman came running into the room.

  “Jake, Emily is on the radio from Mount Weather. She needs to talk to you. She said it’s urgent.”

  Jake’s chest was still heaving from the moment he’d had with himself. After hearing the word urgent, his breath quickened even more. “Is it about a helicopter?”

  “No, she said it’s about your brother.”

  UNCIVIL WAR: INFECTED

  Book Two

  Wright & Dudycha

  AVAILABLE NOW!

  Sample: Uncivil War: Infected

  Chapter 1

  South Park, Colorado

  Colt Maddox grasped his axe, twisting his fingers around the hickory handle. He brought down the blade with force, cutting through the thick piece of wood like a fiend. The split wood lay in half. He picked up both chunks and tossed them into a disheveled pile.

  Bringing his hands to his lower back, he arched into a stretch, and the sun gleamed on his rugged face in the afternoon glow. His shoulders were wide and his arms long, and his thick, dark graying beard just added to his manliness. But father time was catching up with him, as it does all.

  Another log rested beneath him on a bed of pine needles. Just as he reached down to lift it, a noise—a reverberating snap—echoed near the edge of his property close to the country road. He shot a look to his right and scanned the area for any sign of intrusion.

  He’d had trouble in the past with poachers coming onto his land illegally to hunt elk. All fifty acres of his property were surrounded by state land, and more than a few trespassers had tried to use the excuse that they didn’t know where they were. That was a line of bullshit. Any hunter in these parts knew exactly where they were.

  He shook off the noise and reached down again, but again came a snap. This time Colt would not allow it to be a coincidence. He took one step to investigate but was distracted by the sound of rolling tires over crushed gravel. Colt spun to see his wife Anna driving up the driveway in her SUV. She noticed him and gave him a smile and a flicked wave before she proceeded up the drive.

  He watched her exit the SUV with an overnight bag in hand. Even after a long day of travel, she was still stunning—always in his eye. Her blonde hair was tied up in a ponytail and she wore a zip-up sweatshirt with a pair of blue jeans that hugged her curves. She had just returned from a trip to visit her sister in New York City. Her plane had landed that morning; only now had she reached their home in the middle of the Rocky Mountains.

  She walked up the decked staircase and toward the front door of their log home. Colt stepped forward and started up the slope. He wished to hear all about her trip, but his path was stopped by his son’s call.

  “Dad, it’s Uncle Jake,” Dylan yelled to his father. “Says he needs to talk to you right away,” Then Anna came near to her son. She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek before proceeding inside.

  Colt shouldered his axe, avoided the scattered trees, and walked up the incline until he reached the patio that led directly to his house. He’d built their house with his own bare hands—sure it took almost five years to complete, but it was perfect, each log set with precision and accuracy, and it would withstand anything mother nature sent to test it.

  When he reached the wrap-around deck, Dylan, his oldest son, held out his cell phone. He rested his axe against the wood support that ran to the second story. He smiled at Dylan but waited for him to re-enter their home before speaking to his brother.

  “Jacob. Long time, no talk.”

  “Where are you?” He cut to the chase.

  “Hello, to you too, soldier.”

  “Colt, are you with Anna and the boys?”

  There was hysteria in Jake’s voice.

  “Jacob, what the hell is going on? You sound skittish, like you’re hiding from a ghost.”

  “Colt! Listen to me. Get Anna and the boys and lock up. Don’t let anyone in or out until you hear from me again. There’s some sort of disease or something that has spread. Millions of people are already infected—”

  “What are you talking about?” Colt interrupted. “What disease? You mean like the flu?”

  “I mean it’s airborne. And if you get it, you’re dead. But still alive. You—”

  “Do you realize what you sound like?”

  But Jake didn’t acknowledge his question. “Colt, would you just listen to me for once and do what I’m saying? Make sure you keep taking Beritrix, and make sure you give it to Anna right away. And keep giving it to the boys. You hear me? It will keep you alive for now.”

  “Jacob, where are you? What’s going on? It sounds like you’re talking about some sort of apocalypse. Walking dead, stay inside, give everyone Beritrix—”

  “I know what it sounds like, Colt. You don’t think it sounds crazy to me too? But I just watched a man chew the Adam’s apple out of a kid’s throat right in front of me. I had to literally smash his brains in to stop him from doing it to me. Get Anna and the boys to safety and lock everything up. Grab any weapon you can, give them the Beritrix, and when I get more information, I’ll call you. Got it?”

  Colt lifted the phone from his ear and stared down in disbelief. How? How could there be people doing these things? Alive, but not?

  “Colt! Colt!” he heard Jake yell into the phone.

  But he didn’t answer his brother. He didn’t bring the phone back to his ear, because as Colt stood, his youngest son, Wesley ran out the front door to play with his dinosaurs on the cedar deck. Frozen in shock, Colt couldn’t shake his brother’s words or even Wesley’s play-talk ringing in his ears, until .
. . another snap resounded again in the trees, this time closer to the home. And it wasn’t caused by the rolling tires of Anna’s SUV.

  His thought went to his son and his well-being, just as he hung up on his brother. Colt turned the corner to see Wesley on his hands and knees. He sprinted toward him and scooped him up without explanation.

  “Daddy, what are you doing?” Wesley looked up from his father’s arms.

  An emotion lingered on his face—one he’d never shown Wesley before.

  Fear.

  Once inside, Colt tossed Wesley onto the couch, spun around and slammed the door shut, then locked the deadbolt.

  The staircase was just to his right. He climbed to the top, bounding two steps at a time. At the top of the stairs were three doors: the boys’ bedrooms, and Colt’s office. Colt pushed into his office and went directly to the closet. Inside was a Browning gun safe. He typed in the combination and spun the handle.

  Three handguns—a Glock 23, a Sig Sauer SP2022, and a .357 Magnum revolver lay across the top of the shelf. Next to the Glock was a belt holster. He lifted the holster and the Glock. Then shoved the magazine inside the Glock, racked the slide to load a round, and pushed the handgun into the holster that sat on his right-side.

  Below the shelf were three rifles and a shotgun. He lifted his favorite hunting rifle—a Browning BLR Lightweight ’81—and slung the strap over his head and across his chest. As he was loading ammunition into his pockets, Dylan walked in.

  Dylan held tight to his own phone but looked up and said, “Uh, Dad, what are you doing?”

  Colt didn’t answer his question, but instead asked one of his own. “Where’s Mom?”

  “She said she was going to take a shower.”

  Next to the gun safe was a mini-refrigerator. It had multiple uses. Cold beer, soda. But the most important use was for Beritrix. (Medicine Colt and his boys had taken daily since birth due to a defect in their DNA.) Beritrix acted as an immune system booster, and it always needed to be kept cold. If the boys ever had an attack in the middle of the night, Colt’s office was the closest room to theirs. Colt threw open the door and grabbed the remaining three vials and syringes and stuffed them on top of the ammunition he loaded into his pocket.

  Without further explanation, Colt breezed by his son. He needed to find Anna.

  He hurtled down the staircase. Wesley lay precisely where he left him. He clung to the armrest of the couch, unwilling to move, scared by his own father’s demeanor, but Colt couldn’t stop to calm him or help. Anna needed to know.

  From the hallway, Colt heard the shower running. When he reached for the bathroom door, steam poured from underneath.

  “Anna?” Colt tapped on the door.

  No answer.

  He knocked again, this time harder and his voice went up. “Anna, honey, can you hear me?”

  He reached for the handle and pulled down. It was unlocked, and the door clicked open.

  “Are you in here?” His eyes remained on the floor but rose as he stepped inside in search of his wife. He looked to the glass first, maybe she was inside washing herself and didn’t hear his call.

  But she wasn’t there, not in the shower. Instead, she was standing nude with her face against the wall. Her blonde hair was tossed and wiry, different than normal.

  “Honey?” he questioned softly. Then Colt noticed more peculiarity.

  The skin along her spine, vertebrae by vertebrae, went black as it cascaded from her hairline to the base of her lower back. She turned slow—only an inch at a time. When she faced him, the color left his face. What stared back was not Anna, not his beautiful wife of fifteen years, this was something different, some thing.

  Instead of sea green eyes staring back, she peered through eyes void of color, black, with a deep sullen gaze.

  Is this what Jacob meant? No. Can’t be. Not Anna.

  “An-na?” He held onto hope that his wife was somewhere inside, maybe buried deep, but there all the same.

  She made no response. She simply tilted her head, shrieked, and attacked.

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  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, we want to thank you, the reader. We love what we do, and no matter how many people help us along the way, none of it would be possible if you weren’t turning the pages.

  To our family and friends. Every creative person is neurotic as hell about their creations, and we just want to thank you for always helping to keep our heads on straight. And for indulging all of our ridiculous ideas.

  To our editor, Josiah Davis. Thank you for your hard work in making our story sound better, and for helping our writing become sharper.

  To our advanced reader team. You are our megaphone in helping spread the word about each new novel we release. You all have become friends, and we thank you for catching those last few sneaky typos, and always letting us know when something isn’t good enough. Jake and Colt appreciate you, and so do we.

  ABOUT THE AUTHORS

  B.T. Wright and Jonathan Dudycha are the authors of the Uncivil War series. They found common ground in 2016 because they discovered they are adults still playing make-believe, and they had a similar background playing college baseball. Because they have penned novels in similar genres, it made sense to collaborate on a project just for the sheer fun of it. B.T. lives in Lexington, Kentucky with his wife and son. Jonathan hangs his hat in Ponte Vedra, Florida with his wife, son, and daughter. Though they are “blue steel” in the photo, in reality, serious is a rare occurrence.

  Join the online family:

  www.wrightanddudycha.com

  author@wrightanddudycha.com

  Also by Wright & Dudycha

  Both B.T. and Jonathan write thrillers under different names.

  If you enjoy espionage and crime thrillers B.T. writes under the name Bradley Wright. Here are his other novels:

  Bradley Wright

  Xander King Series:

  Whiskey & Roses

  Vanquish

  King’s Ransom

  King’s Reign

  Scourge

  Vendetta (prequel novella)

  Lawson Raines Series:

  When the Man Comes Around

  Shooting Star

  If you enjoy espionage and sea adventure thrillers Jonathan writes under the name J.D. Dudycha. Here are his other novels:

  J.D. Dudycha

  Gage Finley Adventures

  Scavengers

  Dark Descent

  Buried Secrets

  Deep Blue

  Hurricane

  Niki Finley Thrillers

  First Shot

  Second Best

  Third Degree

  Baseball Stories

  Paint the Black

  Sitting Dead Red

  Chasing the Dream

  Inside the Dugout: A collection of Baseball Stories

  For information on upcoming releases, contests, freebies, and deals on future novels, head over to-

  www.wrightanddudycha.com

  -and join the reader team. We don’t write often, and we will never spam you or share your information. Thanks for being a part of the team. Talk to you soon!