by B. T. Wright
Wesley settled under the desk and as Colt watched him huddle there, emotion struck. A pain deep inside his chest. Was he really going to leave Wesley there? Alone and afraid? Colt pushed through the door as a tear dropped down his cheek. Deep down, he knew there was a very good chance he would never see Wesley again.
Perched behind the glass of the chopper in the cockpit, Colonel Jenkins yelled, “Vice president, sir, Colt! Take your positions on either side of the garage doors.”
They did. Each man clung tight to the chain that would lift the garage doors. The smoke gathered and was pouring into the air. Colt could feel the heat burning even through the garage door, like he was sitting too close to a fireplace. But he couldn’t back away in that moment, he had a job to do. Colt lifted his shirt over his nose and mouth to protect his lungs, but that wouldn’t last. He inhaled a puff of smoke and coughed hard. His lungs cleared just as Colonel Jenkins gave the order.
“Lift!”
Colt leapt from the ground and reached as high as he could, yanking the chain downward. The garage door lifted faster than Colt had anticipated. Upon his first thrust, the bottom of the door lifted at least three feet from the ground. More smoke poured in—thick, gray, and heavy. Colt didn’t stop pulling, and neither did the vice president. As soon as the garage was high enough, they expected to see the mob pouring in, but amongst the thick smoke it would be difficult to see their advance. Colt and the vice president backpedaled into the center of the hangar to rejoin the others.
The heat poured in with the smoke. Each witnessed the orange flame burn in front of their eyes. The fire burned the length of the entire building at the tree line, precisely where the infected had stopped running once they reached the door to the hangar. The funny thing was though, not one infected body remained.
“Where are they?” Bald looked up from his sights.
Without a second thought, Colt turned around and looked to the second story of the building and up toward the catwalk. He jumped in shock and fright. “There.” Colt pointed.
Bald spun around to witness at least twenty infected peering through the windows of the second story from the outside.
“What the hell?” Bald said. “How?”
Then Colt saw more smoke. This time billowing from the bottom of the hangar at the opposite end. “They’ve surrounded us. There’s fire around the entire building.”
“Why aren’t they attacking? Dylan said.
No man spoke, until Colonel Jenkins thought to say. “Because they want to see us burn.”
“What? Why?” Colt said.
Without a moment to pause, the vice president said, “Posterity.”
The single word shocked Colt. It was a frightening thought. Could these infected be waiting to see what we’ll do? How we’ll react for future reference?
“Damn that’s cold!” Bald said.
“If they’re up there, where’s the rest?” Colt said.
While their attention was on the infected watching from behind the glass of the second story, there was a guttural roar that erupted near the opening of the garage. The noise whipped Colt’s head back around. More infected. A group of them were walking through the line of fire. His eyes bulged as he witnessed them step through the flame without a hint of delay—without a second thought of what might happen to their bodies.
To Colt it was a scene from a horror movie, a scary sequence meant to inflict fear in the audience, but this time, Colt wasn’t the audience, but the actor. With his own mouth agape, Colt glanced to the others, making sure they were witnessing the very same thing.
The first loud burst erupted from Colt’s right. Colonel Jenkins fired rounds from the machine gun that was attached to the helicopter. He was shaken from his thoughts and squeezed off a few rounds of his own.
Then out of the corner of his eye, he saw an explosion of fire. At first, he thought the inside of the hangar might have caught fire, but instead, it was the flame of the grenade exploding from the launcher. He watched as the grenade hit an infected member of the fray. The grenade exploded, causing multiple casualties, but still more continued their advance. Over twenty of them were inside the hangar, hell-bent on violence.
Colonel Jenkins continued to fire the machine guns, but the infected were quick to decipher the path of the bullets and easily avoided them.
Colt blasted into the horde, but realized his shots were futile. Within a second or two, they’d be overrun. He turned to his son—catching Dylan’s eye. His face turned from powerful to timid in that moment.
Colt readjusted his sight back on his enemy. Behind the first wave of infected—outside in the wildness of the day—something happened none expected to see.
A missile trail from the sky, followed by an explosion in the trees.
The explosion stopped the advancement of the lead infected dead in his tracks. Immediately, he shifted his attention back outside and on his fellow infected. But that moment’s hesitation cost him everything. Bald mounted his automatic rifle against his shoulder and fired. He dropped the lead man, followed by five more infected before the remaining turned and fled.
Colt watched as they ran through the flame and back toward the tree line where the missile had just exploded. In a panic, Colt spun to see the second story windows vacated. Every soul was gone, vanished into thin air.
“What the hell was that?” Bald asked Colonel Jenkins.
“No idea. I didn’t call it in. I only had time to relay the mayday as we went down. Our boys must’ve received the message and came looking. I bet the fire gave our location away.” Colonel Jenkins chuckled to himself. “Bastards didn’t realize the fire would be their demise.”
“Maybe not,” Colt said. “Regardless, we need to get out of here. This hangar will be nothing but ash in minutes.”
“Mr. Maddox is right,” the vice president said.
“Yeah, I don’t think those infected will stay away for long. Guarantee they’re regrouping in the trees as we speak,” Bald said. “Counting their numbers before they attack again. Hell, that’s what I’d do.”
“Grab your boys and let’s go!” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt sprinted for the office door. He yanked the door open and saw Wesley huddled in the corner, pushing himself against the wall. His eyes were closed, and he was rocking in place. He didn’t want to see who entered, not until he heard Colt’s voice. He did precisely what his father had told him.
“It’s okay, little man, you did great! It’s me.” He wrapped him close. “We need to move, bud. Now! Can you get up and walk?”
Wesley finally opened his eyes and nodded to his father.
“Okay, good. Go out the door and follow your brother.”
Bald was already leading the charge out the back door. Colt saw him reach down and feel the handle. Bald tapped it twice, checking to see if it was hot. “All good,” he said.
“Go slow,” Colonel Jenkins said.
Bald opened the door, sticking the barrel of his rifle through the doorway before he exited. The vice president was next, followed by Dylan, then Wesley and Colt. Colonel Jenkins again, acted as rearguard.
Colonel Jenkins tapped Colt on the shoulder and leaned in, then said, “Keep those boys close. We don’t know where the infected will be. And I can’t imagine our boys will be our guardian angels forever.”
7
Hunt felt the power from the explosion of the missile strike as the control room shook. The distraction stunned the infected men. They turned their heads toward the sound and stopped from advancing toward Hunt as she stood up behind the desk. All three looked at the door through which the sound had come. That was her opportunity to make a run for it. She didn’t hesitate. She took two bounding steps and jumped onto the desk, leading with her knee. The infected man who walked up the middle of the room was in perfect striking distance.
Before he could even spin his head back around, Hunt’s knee contacted the side of his face and dislocated his jaw. He dropped to the ground, and Hunt fell nea
r. At the sound of her knee contacting his face, and shattering the bones, the other infected shifted their attention from the reverberating blast and back onto Hunt.
She leapt from the floor and sprinted for the open door. Now that the infected men were close enough to the desk, she felt she could run free from the room. Her path was the clearest of all, especially since the infected men had to avoid the scattered debris. But they would move fast and would be on her tail in no time.
She pumped her arms wildly, and her legs churned. There was a long hallway outside the open doorway. She sprinted through the empty hall, running over scattered papers on the floor and blinking lights overhead. Ahead was a split, and as she ran, she reviewed the map in her head. If she went right, the new hall would lead her to another room, much like the one she’d just left. That was the last place she wanted to be.
Left would bring her outside and toward the athletic fields. She hadn’t been outside for more than a few minutes since the invasion. Outside was risky. But she knew it was a risk she had to take. Only slowing briefly, she turned the left. The glass double doors were a hundred yards away. As she approached the double doors, she wondered if slowing her pace to open them would allow the infected men to catch up, but she cast that thought aside, and when she reached the door, she jammed on the lever.
The doors opened, and she continued sprinting in the direction of the football stadium. By the time she reached the grandstand, her legs cramped and her chest heaved from exhaustion, but still she persisted. To her surprise, the gate to the football stadium that was ordinarily closed was open. She sprinted inside the concourse.
With every step she took, a shot of pain ran from the top of her foot all the way up her shin to her knee. When she stepped again with her left leg, the wind picked up an old football program and blew the paper under her shoe. The paper was like ice beneath her foot. Her leg gave out, and she tumbled to the ground.
As she rolled onto her side, her face went blank. She knew the infected who chased her would be right behind her to attack. But no such attack came. She whipped her head all around. As she got her bearings, she realized there was no one chasing her. In fact, there was no one around at all, not a single soul.
Rising from the concrete with her butt bruised, she walked deeper into the stadium. She couldn’t linger by the entrance. Maybe the infected who chased her had just lost sight, and maybe they’d be back.
Walking underneath the seats and into the main concourse of the stadium, she glanced to her right. There was a concession stand there. The windows were covered by a drop-down metal door, but there was another door too. She glanced behind her. Still no sign of anyone. She reached for the handle and turned it.
Locked.
Damn it! She pushed away, and instinctively her eyes went up. If I can just get inside, there’s gotta be something left behind. Some scraps of food. Stall popcorn. Pretzels. Anything. A tear gathered in her eye. She stepped to the door and pounded it with her fist.
When she took a step backward, quickly she glanced left and right. Ten feet away was the first section that entered the field. Moving toward the section, she paused at the opening and crouched down, looking for any sign of infected, but there was none.
Entering the corridor, she held her breath. She didn’t know what to expect as she walked up the subtle rise of concrete. The powder blue of the sky was highlighted with dashing sunlight, and she could feel the heat on her face and skin as she closed her eyes and looked upward.
Beneath her eyelids, she was transported back to a time of normalcy. She swore she heard the uproar of fans screaming after a brilliant touchdown play. The smell of boiled hot dogs swam into her nostrils as she heard a vendor call out to the crowd for a payday, then felt the whole stadium shake as six fighter jets flew low over the field for a flyover just before kickoff.
But when she opened them again, those thoughts, those amazing reminders of what life used to be, were ripped from her psyche, and she stared at an empty field. Raising her eyeline, she saw the seating area, hoping to find a sea of blue shirts and wake from this nightmare. Nothing but brownish gray concrete stared back.
As she continued to scan the field, her examination stopped as another infected person moved into view. They were on the level above her, directly across the field. Hunt stared the infected person down, wondering if it saw her too. She quickly discerned; the infected person was in fact a woman as she began to jog down the staircase.
Hunt needed to find shelter from the approaching threat. If she had learned anything from the previous three days, it was that if there was one lurking infected, there were probably at least two more waiting in the weeds.
Just as she turned around to walk back down the corridor, she jumped in fright. One of the infected members who had stalked her in the control room was standing behind, waiting for her to turn around. Frozen, she didn’t know what to do. But one thing was for certain, the infected hunted like animals in packs and were likely trying to surround her at that very moment.
Without delay, she sprinted again—this time into the heart of the stadium with nowhere to hide.
8
The heat from the fire wasn’t as intense as Colt expected when he jogged out the exit. The orange of the flame caught his eye. For some reason, the fire line stopped about twenty paces from the door. When Colt saw where the fire was burning, he wondered why the infected hadn’t continued to burn the outside. The door wasn’t hidden. It was easily discernable; especially given the level of intelligence they had seen from the infected.
He thought to ask Colonel Jenkins, who followed close behind him, but his thoughts shifted at Bald’s sudden stop.
Why are we stopping? What did he see? Bald didn’t offer any explanation. From behind, Colt followed the back of Bald’s head, and it seemed he raised his eyeline. Colt followed suit, peering through the leaves of the aspen trees that rustled in the wind. The sun pierced the thin needles of spruce, illuminating a path directly in front of them.
“What is it?” Colonel Jenkins forced out. “We need to move, now!”
Bald spun around at the insistence of his commanding officer. “I know, sir, it’s just . . .” he stalled.
“Just what?” Colonel Jenkins said.
“The path there.” Bald nodded to the sunlight.
All their eyes were drawn to it.
“What about it?” Colonel Jenkins said.
“It’s just strange is all.”
“Why is it strange?” Colonel Jenkins said.
“That’s where we need to go. Literally, right there. Right where that sunlight is hitting,” Bald said.
“What? You think it’s a trap? You think these things are controlling the sun now?” Colonel Jenkins chuckled to himself.
“You’re sure that’s the way?” the vice president said.
“Positive! One-hundred percent!” Bald said.
Without another word, the vice president stepped in front of Bald and walked into the group of trees without waiting for Colt or Bald to protect him.
“Sir!” Bald leaped from his stance and cut off the vice president’s advance before he could get too far ahead.
Colt asked his sons to proceed. Dylan caught the vice president, and Wesley was on the heels of his brother quick as a flash. The group’s pace quickened, nearing a jog, but not too fast. Dylan and Wesley had to keep stride. Ducking beneath the thick branches of spruce, Colt kept his eye trained ahead while extending his rifle in front of his body.
How far will we need to go? Will there be shelter? Will the boys be okay once we get inside the Air Force Academy? So many more questions plagued Colt’s mind as they ran, but none could be asked in that moment.
When they came to a clearing in the trees, the air seemed to cool. Or it could have been they hit a cold pocket as they ran. Either way, it was a welcome sensation on Colt’s warming skin. Sweat pooled in his armpits and at his brow. He assumed the boys were starting to tire as well. With the intensity of the workout
they were doing, it would have been strange if they weren’t.
Bald halted at the clearing, pointed, and said, “There!”
Colt followed the gesture. Excitement grew in his belly at the expectation of witnessing the Air Force Academy. Instead, however, the air was sucked from his lungs as stared not at the Academy but a roadway.
“What’s that?” the vice president said before Colt could.
“Academy Drive,” Bald said.
“By Academy, I assume you mean the Academy?” the vice president said.
“That’s right. We get to that road and we can follow it all the way there.”
“Then what?” Dylan spoke up.
Colt lowered his brow at his son’s exclamation, but soon his face softened. He too would like the answer.
Bald caught Dylan’s eye. “Since we lost the Beritrix, I figure we should search. Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a stash. Maybe find some more ammo and reload. I’m know I’m running low. And find another way out of here.”
“That sounds good in theory,” the vice president said. “But Dylan’s got a point. What if there isn’t a way out and everyone’s dead? Now that the bag’s gone, we’re in desperate need of Beritrix, and there isn’t likely to be any at the academy. Not unless the academy keeps some on ice in times of crisis. If we don’t find some by the end of the night, I’m afraid, it won’t matter if we find a way out. Eventually all of us will turn.”
Colt swallowed hard at the vice president’s words. They were true, but at this point it didn’t matter. They couldn’t sulk and dwell. The infected were still hunting them. Even if they hadn’t shown themselves since the fire, they were still there, hiding.
“We should think about the airfield too. If we can get there, there may be a way to get us airborne again,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“I agree, sir, but if we head to the airfield and get bogged down, we may not have another chance to find Beritrix. I would say Beritrix is more important right now. If we find some, then we can make it to the airfield after,” Bald said.