Uncivil War: Takeover

by B. T. Wright

  “I’m sorry, but . . .” he trailed off.

  “Not as sorry as you’re about to be.” Bald cocked his rifle, ejecting a round for effect.

  Colt held out his hand. Begging Bald to stand down. Lucky for Colt, he did.

  “I know it’s hard being here. Holed up in this stadium all by yourself. You’re a survivor,” Colt started.

  “Damn right,” Coach interjected.

  “But look, we need your help. My boys”—he grabbed for both of them—“they need the injection. We’ve all been on Beritrix since birth. WD17, same as you. If we don’t get it in the morning, all of us . . .” Colt spun around the room and gestured at the entire group. “We’ll be zombies by midday.”

  Coach Logan stared at each man—and the boys. Lastly, he turned to Hunt and spoke only to her. “I told you not to go. But you didn’t listen. This is on you.” Instantly, Coach Logan spun the handle of the unlocked door and jumped inside his office. Everyone outside stalled, wondering what he would do next. They received their answer when he spun the lock on the handle.

  Colt grabbed the handle but found it wouldn’t turn. “Damnit.” He pounded the door with his fist.

  “Step aside, I’m breaking it down.” Bald centered himself to the door and lifted his rifle.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Coach Logan’s voice was strong from behind the door.

  “And why not?” Bald didn’t want to play his games, but he obliged.

  “Because I’ve got a .44 Magnum pointed right at it. And if anyone tries to break the door down, they’re gonna end up with a hole inside of ‘em.”

  Bald stood firm, then looked to Colonel Jenkins and said. “.44 Magnum? Who’s this guy think he is, Dirty Harry?”

  “Stand down, Bald,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “Sir?” Bald questioned.

  “We need to formulate a plan,” Colonel Jenkins said, then fell into the center of the room.

  Every person followed the colonel. When they came close, Colonel Jenkins looked to Hunt and said, “Is the Beritrix inside?”

  She nodded. “The fridge is on the floor. Behind his desk.”

  “You’re certain?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “It was when I left to find you.”

  Colonel Jenkins brought his hand to his chin and rubbed the stubble.

  “What are you thinking, sir?” Bald said.

  “Is there any other way to get into the office?” Colonel Jenkins looked to Hunt.

  “No. None.”

  “What about his family? Any alive? Did you talk to him about it?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “I did. He was vague about them. A wife and two kids, I think.”

  “Jackpot,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “What?” Colt cut in. “He’s not going to give in on account of losing his family. I tried to pull on his heart strings with my boys, he didn’t even flinch.”

  “What about your wife?” Colonel Jenkins stared at Colt.

  Colt gulped a lump of spit that formed in his throat. “What about her?”

  “Use her. Tell him she’s still alive,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  Those words sank him. Colt hadn’t told his sons about his wife—about their mother. Her survival was still a secret, because deep down, he didn’t want them to feel her loss again. What if Colt couldn’t bring her back? What if she never turned into Anna again? But now, Colt had no choice.

  “Uh, Dad, what the hell is he talking about?” Dylan said.

  Colt stalled, and his mouth gaped. He didn’t have the words. But he didn’t need to say anything. Not in that moment. Dylan recognized the look on his face—the humility and desperation.

  “Dad! What is he talking about?” Dylan pried.

  Before Colt could answer, Colonel Jenkins stepped in close so only Colt could hear. “Tell them the truth. They deserve to know.”

  Colt ushered Dylan and Wesley away from the group and guided them to a row of lockers. He sat each of them down and knelt to their level. He forced a nervous smile on his face. He didn’t know how to begin—where to begin? But then the dreaded words fell out. “Mom’s alive.”

  “What? How? Where? We saw her . . . she was one of those things. She tried to kill us,” Dylan said.

  “She’s different now. They’re keeping her alive. On a monitor. I spoke to her. She recognized my voice.” The faintest sign of hope moved over Colt’s face.

  “Who’s they?” Dylan had to know.

  “At Cheyenne Mountain Complex.”

  “What the hell? Are you shitting me? Why didn’t you tell us, we could’ve seen her—talked to her before we left,” Dylan said. “And what do you mean they’re keeping her on a monitor?”

  “I mean . . .” Words stuck in his mouth. He couldn’t go into every detail. The web of lies would spin in Dylan’s imagination like a top. Make it seem worse than it was. And he still needed Dylan to respect Colonel Jenkins and Bald. “She’s safe, that’s all.”

  “Safe?! How the hell is she safe?! She’s a damn infected.”

  “But, Jake—”

  “—Uncle Jake what? It’s always about Uncle Jake and getting back to him. Now that Mom’s alive, screw Uncle Jake, I want to go back to her.” With that, Dylan stood up and hobbled away from his father in search of solace.

  “Dyl—” Colt rose from the ground to go after him but couldn’t when he saw the look on Wesley’s face. He was the one who needed more comfort in that time. Dylan just needed to cool off. Colt reached down and hugged his son and felt the emotional twinge in his gut when Wesley said, “I want to see Mommy.”

  Colonel Jenkins joined Colt and put a flashlight on his shoulder. Colt looked to see who it was. He acknowledged Colonel Jenkins.

  “What do you think?” Colonel Jenkins said. “Do you think you can do it? Do you think you can talk sense into Coach Logan?”

  “Of course, but . . . do you think it will work? I mean, the guy seems on edge. Unhinged even.”

  “We gotta try. Come morning we won’t have access to any other Beritrix. And I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to tempt fate. Who knows how long we’ll last before we turn?”

  22

  From behind the beam of light, Colt stared at the blue door as he walked toward Coach Logan’s office. He played through the scenario in his head—what he planned to say. Just be calm. Talk about Anna. Your relationship with her. How you loved her. What she means to you. But as he continued to think, he ran out of real estate and landed at the door earlier than expected. He wasn’t prepared, but still . . . he reached out and knocked.

  There was no answer, but Colt didn’t hesitate. “Coach Logan, it’s Colt Maddox.”

  “Go away,” he said.

  Good start. But Colt didn’t dwell on his cold welcome. “Look. Hunt told me you lost your family.”

  Coach Logan sat in silence.

  “I get that. I lost my wife. Her name was Anna. She turned into an infected before I could give her a shot of Beritrix.” Colt paused, but didn’t wait. He needed to continue without being interrupted. “She attacked me. Then she went after our sons. I had to stop her. I couldn’t let whatever she turned into control her mind. She obviously wasn’t herself. She was some awful thing that felt only hate and rage. Her eyes turned black, like a shark. I even thought I saw them roll back in her head, like a shark does when killing its prey. What human can do that? None. She wasn’t human anymore.”

  Colt didn’t see it, but Wesley and Dylan had come within earshot as their father described the scene from their lives.

  He continued. “I had to protect my sons, I had too. You get that as a father, right?” Colt might have been spewing this information to Coach Logan, but it seemed it was cathartic for him too—a therapy session.

  “You killed her, didn’t you?” Coach Logan said. There was emotion behind his voice, as if he’d been crying while listening.

  “Almost,” Colt said.

  “Almost?” Coach Logan didn’t understand.


  “I couldn’t bring myself to do it. When we left the house, I had another chance. I stopped at the end of our driveway, got out of my truck, and walked to an opening. A clearing where I could see the large propane tank that sat off the side of our kitchen wall. I could’ve fired a round to end the devil that my wife became, but instead, I lifted the rifle away. I let her live. And it’s a good thing I did, because I recently found out that the Air Force found her wandering alone. They took her to a safe place to study her. To find out more about what these things are.”

  “You mean, they’re dissecting her? Like an animal.” Coach Logan sounded angry. “How could you let them do that to her?”

  “No. No.” Colt held the door, moving his head to the side and touching his cheek to the wood. “It’s not like that at all. They’re not dissecting her. They’re evaluating her. And while they’re doing that, my team has been sent on a mission to Virginia to help find a cure. See, if all goes well, when we arrive in Virginia, I may be able to help find a cure for this and ultimately bring my wife back from the dead. But we can’t do that unless . . . unless, we got those shots of Beritrix. We won’t survive the next day without a shot. We lost our supply when our helicopter went down.”

  Colt waited and stepped away from the door as he heard movement inside. He held his breath, hoping he hadn’t pissed Coach Logan off to the point of firing his weapon. Bald and Colonel Jenkins moved—one on each side of Colt—with their weapons at the ready. The door clicked, and the handle spun. From the light inside, the one attached to the lamp inside the office, Colt could see Coach Logan’s eyes were wired with red and filled with tears. He stood in his doorway and wept. In between sobs, he spoke, “I couldn’t let them take me. I had to. I had to.” He kept saying. “I had to do it. They were going to kill me.”

  Colt leaned close to Coach Logan. He was breaking down to the point of despair.

  “It’s okay,” Colt consoled. “What happened?”

  “My wife. I . . . I killed her.” More tears came, and he gagged. As if the words were too much to say and the weight of the burden too much to carry. “And my kids. They . . . they . . . attacked me. I couldn’t stop myself, I couldn’t . . . I had to, please you have to believe me.” This was a confession.

  There was only one thing Colt could think to do. The only humane thing to do. He reached for Coach Logan and pulled him close. “Shh.” He let him continue crying. Empathizing with his situation. Colt could relate. He’d almost done the very same thing this man was describing.

  Colt held him for the better part of a minute before Coach Logan pushed out of the hug and said, “Follow me.”

  Colt did. He followed Coach Logan to the refrigerator. Coach Logan reached down and grabbed the vials from inside and set them on his desk. As Coach Logan lifted the vials from the shelving, Colt noticed he had grabbed them all.

  “Please take them,” Coach said. “Can you forgive my selfishness?”

  Colt nodded, but then said, “We can’t take them all.”

  “Please do. You need them more than I do.”

  Colt tilted his head. “Come on, don’t say that—don’t give up hope. You can come with us. Come to Virginia.”

  “What good would I be there? I can’t help you. There’s nothing I could provide. I’m a murderer. A child killer.” His head fell again, trying to fight back more tears.

  “You’re not! You did what was necessary to survive,” Colt said the words, but didn’t believe them. Even he didn’t know if he would have had the strength to kill his own family. In fact, he’d rather have joined them in the afterlife, than spend another minute in hell on earth.

  Coach Logan didn’t respond to Colt. Instead, he stared into blank space without saying anything else. “Please. Keep them cold for us. Sleep tonight. You’ll change your mind by morning, I promise you.” Colt turned and left.

  After exiting the office, he searched for Dylan, but Colonel Jenkins cut off his path.

  “Great work in there,” he whispered. “You got what we needed?”

  “The man’s hurting. I did what any person with a soul would have done.”

  “Even so, nice work. We’ll bunk here for the night and leave at first light.” Colonel Jenkins stepped away from Colt and found a spot in the corner.

  Colt shook his head at Colonel Jenkins’ lack of empathy and once again searched for Dylan. He was near the row of lockers he’d guided the boys to. He was huddled next to his brother. Colt walked slowly, gathering his wits in case Dylan wanted to go another ten rounds.

  When he arrived, he was surprised to see Dylan and Wesley cuddling—laughing together. A smile formed on Colt’s face. “What’s so funny?” Colt asked when he got close.

  They were giggling uncontrollably. When they finally got their emotions under control, Dylan said, “You remember that time when Mom stepped on one of Wesley’s Legos?”

  Colt recalled it immediately. “She cussed up a storm, then picked up the Lego and chucked it across the room and hit Wesley square in the head?”

  Now Colt joined in the ceaseless laughter.

  “And she looked at Wesley and said with a straight face, ‘That’s what you get?’”

  Their laughter continued for the better part of five minutes.

  When it stopped, Dylan looked to his father and said, “That’s what I remember most about her. The times she made us laugh.”

  Colt regained his composure. “Yeah, she could do that. Bring us all to tears over her crazy antics.”

  Then Dylan’s face turned from a smile to serious. “Thank you for not killing my mom.”

  And before Colt could answer, Dylan threw himself into his father and wrapped him tightly in an embrace. Colt rubbed his son’s back until he let go.

  Dylan scooted next to Wesley, and Colt joined both. He snuggled in, closed his eyes, and held them until all fall asleep and waited for the next sun to rise.

  23

  Darkness consumed the locker room. Colt glanced to his watch and the hands glowed. 5:07 a.m. The sun would be up in less than an hour. He rolled over. Sleep was best, but he couldn’t get comfortable on the rough carpet. A subtle hum rose and fell as both Dylan and Wesley squeezed close and snored in unison.

  After five minutes, Colt put his hand to his forehead and pulled his hair back. His mouth turned into a wide yawn, but he knew sleep would evade him, especially now that his mind was playing Coach Logan’s story on repeat.

  He imagined Dylan and Wesley turning into the infected. He found himself thinking about what he would do. He couldn’t imagine lifting a hand to hurt them. He immediately rushed to judgment. How did Coach do it? I could never hurt my sons, I’d die first. Then he swallowed that unjust sentence and sat up. In the opposite corner of the room, he heard a whisper. He tracked the faint noise until it brought him directly to Colonel Jenkins and Bald. Colt squatted and asked, “What’s the plan?”

  “At first light—which should be in about fifty minutes—give or take,” Colonel Jenkins said, “we take the injection of Beritrix then hightail it to the airfield.”

  “Will there be any way to radio ahead of our arrival?” Colt said.

  “I assume so. Although, I don’t know which type of aircraft will still be operational. We’ll need to survey the area and see what we can find while still being quick about it. If we can find a helicopter, we still won’t make it all the way to Virginia. We’ll need to refuel. I’d prefer we find a small aircraft. Then we can put some distance between here and Virginia.”

  “A plane? Really?” Colt said.

  “Yes. If the plane is decent size and full of fuel, we should be able to reach Mount Weather without stopping.”

  “Well, that’s positive.”

  “It is, but there’s a problem,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “What problem?” Colt asked.

  “Last I spoke with Mount Weather, they mentioned they have space for a helicopter to land, but they won’t have a runway for the aircraft to touchdown. We’ll have to find an
airstrip nearby.”

  Colt’s stomach tightened. He knew that would be risky, especially since, once again, the infected would be able to hear of the plane’s arrival.

  Colonel Jenkins didn’t stop there. “But that’s if we can even get off the ground at all.”

  “What do you mean?” Colt said.

  “An airplane needs to gather speed down a runway. A chopper can simply kick from the ground and lift-off.”

  Colt sighed. He’d had such a narrow focus on flying out in a helicopter that he hadn’t even thought of a plane.

  “Nevertheless, let’s worry about that when we come to it,” Colonel Jenkins said. “For now, let’s just gather our things and wait until Coach Logan wakes up. Colt, are your boys ready to move fast?”

  “As fast as we can. Dylan’s still pretty banged up from the road rash, as you know. His injuries might slow him down.”

  “He’ll stick with me. Don’t worry, I got him into that mess, I’ll be damn sure to get him out,” Bald said.

  “Good. Good,” Colonel Jenkins started. “What about the girl?”

  “What about her, sir? Colt said.

  “Do you think she’s an ally? Do you think she’ll be a help to us if we bring her along?”

  Colt didn’t even need to think, “As opposed to what? Leaving her here?”

  “Look, Colt. I don’t need to be the one to tell you this, but we don’t know how much room we’ll have in the plane or chopper, or whatever vehicle we find. I just don’t want to take unnecessary risks. I’m playing the soldierly game here. You know, trimming the fat.”

  “With all due respect, sir, we’d likely be dead without her. We have no idea what we’ll find at the airstrip. And if nothing’s functional, what will we do? Wish for Beritrix to fall from the sky?” Colt said.

  “I’m in agreement with Mr. Maddox, sir,” Bald said. “She’s shown . . . some moxie.”

  “Fine. But I’m leaving her and the Coach in your hands, Colt. If they fall behind, I can’t make any promises, understand?”

  Colt didn’t want to agree, he had his own family to deal with. The last thing he needed to do was babysit them. However, Hunt seemed cunning and could take care of herself. The coach on the other hand—he was another story.