by B. T. Wright
After a full day without running from infected, everyone was all rested up, well fed, and well hydrated. Ready for the next move. But Jake knew they weren’t really ready for a next move. Not for what was coming. That’s why when the first morning had passed without a helicopter coming to take them to Mount Weather, he began training select members of Professor Reed’s group. Training them for the trek they were going to have to make to Mount Weather, Virginia. By land.
He had been communicating with Emily. They talked in as much code as they could. They even said some of the more sensitive things in pig-Latin. But Jake wasn’t counting on anything, or anyone coming to help him. As he had many times over the years with the Army, he instead was preparing for war. He began training Jess, Tyler, Amy, two of Bryan’s men, and three others that were willing to make the journey with them from Charlie’s group in everything from weapons to tactical movements and defensive hand to hand combat.
The thing he couldn’t train them for was the evolution of the infected. Because he had no idea to what level they had evolved. If how far they’d progressed in one day was any indication, he believed they would be completely up to speed by the time he and his crew hit the road. The longer they waited to move, the more complete the infected’s capabilities would be. Which Jake planned to treat them like any other threat he had ever faced, like they were as capable as any of the best soldiers in the world. Preparing for less would leave them even more vulnerable than they already were.
The problem was, his “team” wasn’t ready. They had a lot to learn, even to get the basics down. Bryan was good––he was a Marine––but his two men and the three others were weak. In the meantime, one of the members of the group was a technology expert. They sent out small drones with even smaller cameras just before nightfall yesterday, capturing a look at campus. Overall it was quiet, which made Jake even more nervous. After listening to Amy’s translation of the conversation where the aliens had stated, “move on to phase two”, Jake figured that even though he didn’t see any infected on campus, they were most certainly plotting. Or they at least were making sure they were familiar with all of their host bodies’ cognitive and physical functions. It further reinforced that the longer Jake waited to move Amy, the better prepared the infected would be.
Jess, Tyler, and Amy were comfortable in the basement of what they now knew was the library building at UC. Everyone had been very generous in taking them in and making them feel welcome. Professor Reed was busy helping plot a course to Virginia which stayed off the main roads. Emily was still maintaining that a helicopter would be coming, but she still couldn’t say when. She mentioned there were several bases with working helicopters and planes, they just couldn’t mobilize yet. They were all still fighting to keep the infected at bay.
Jake knew these things were going to just keep coming. He just didn’t know what they wanted. Whether it was extinction, or making Earth their own, it didn’t really matter to him. His job was the same either way; keep them from winning. The first step in that would be securing Amy, and letting people much more knowledgeable than him help understand exactly what she was, and how they could use her to fend off the aliens. Once he got Amy to Mount Weather, he could then be made aware of the situation around the country, which Emily explained there were more people reporting every hour.
Jake knew a war was coming. It was inevitable. And he was built for it, maybe better than anyone else left on the planet. All of that would have to wait. His first mission was clear, and that was his sole focus. Get Amy to Mount Weather.
Day three down in the bunker was going to go just the same as day two had. He had already made love to Jess––the rest of the day he would be spending every hour on a different aspect of combat training. When Jess and Tyler weren’t training, they would be working with Charlie to continue to perfect the course to Virginia and work up a supplies list that would sustain them weeks on the road if necessary. The most difficult was the Beritrix. None of them knew why it continued to keep them from turning into one of the infected, but a daily dose did. Those doses, however, were running low. It would already be gone if everyone had been taking it. But the air filtration system that Charlie had used a lot of the university-allocated money on was doing the trick for the people not on Beritrix.
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.”
VOLUME TWO
Book 2
by
Jonathan Dudycha
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 int
rusion.
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. 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 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 and keep giving it to the boys too. 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 wh
at 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.
2
Only two paces separated Colt and Anna in the bathroom, and even in his moment of shock, he reacted. He bowed up and blocked her exit. She could not pass, the boys couldn’t see her, not like this.
On any normal day, Colt would have been able to handle his wife. She stood five-foot-four and weighed 125 pounds, but when she contacted him it was like running into a brick wall. She sent him flying through the doorway and dropped him on his ass.
He skidded to a halt with his hands acting as brakes on the freshly mopped cedar planked-floor. His righthand brushed against his holster and nicked the Glock. His fingers hovered over the grip, but couldn’t lift it free.
“Anna. I know it’s you, I know you’re in there.” He held up his hand to deflect her approach.
She lacked response, only continued forward, almost stalking him as he sat helplessly. He gulped the lump of spit that formed, thinking there was no way he could stop her, no way he could kill this . . . this apparition that had taken over his wife. She took one more solitary step, but then a yelp echoed from the hallway.
It was Wesley.
Anna whipped her head to the right and saw him.
“Anna no, don’t,” Colt begged, and in that moment, he rose to his feet.
Anna didn’t heed his call, nor did she delay, she ran for Wesley.