The Uncivil War Series Box Set

by B. T. Wright

  The infected held onto the arm rest as his body was dragged over the rocky road.

  “Shoot him!” Bald yelled.

  Dylan couldn’t get a clean shot, not from his position in the vice president’s lap. To get a clean shot, he would need to lean forward and rotate his body. But that was a difficult task, and a risk he didn’t want to take. If somehow the infected was able to grab a hold of him, or bit him anywhere on his body, what would happen? None had seen.

  “I can’t get a shot,” Dylan said.

  “Sir, can you shoot him?” Bald asked.

  The vice president nodded. “Hand me the gun.” He held his hand out.

  Dylan rested the weapon there. The vice president extended the Glock from his body, aimed at the infected man, and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  No shot echoed into the day.

  The slide was blocked, and a projectile caught. “It’s jammed.” He lifted the Glock up, then ejected the round. He pulled the trigger, but again nothing happened. Though he hadn’t seen it when he re-aimed, but the slide was locked back and the chamber was empty.

  The vice president showed both Dylan and Bald.

  “Well, that sucks.” Bald hit a bump, then turned the cart to his right just as they jumped the curb and entered the parking lot.

  In doing so, Dylan was thrown from the vice president’s lap and onto the floor. From his position, Dylan bounced with every imperfection of the road. He did his best to hold on, but there wasn’t much room, nor was there anything to grasp. He felt his body slipping toward the edge. If he fell out, he was a dead man. It wasn’t possible for Bald to slow either, not with the infected running behind them. Dylan could’ve climbed back into his seat but ran the risk of the infected grabbing a hold of him.

  “Is he still there?” Bald looked to Dylan on the floor.

  The infected’s body was flush against the side, with his bare feet dragging on the pavement. Dylan knew first-hand that these bastards could hold on for a long time.

  Dylan nodded.

  “Do you think he’ll let go?” the vice president said.

  “No.” Dylan didn’t waver.

  “How can you be sure?” Bald asked.

  “Because one of these bastards held onto my father’s truck for the better part of ten miles.”

  “Seriously?” Bald said.

  “Yeah, and we didn’t know it until he climbed his way into the bed of my father’s truck and ripped my little brother out the back windshield.”

  “No shit?” Bald said.

  Dylan’s eyes went wide at the recollection and he nodded.

  “Can you kick him off?” Bald said.

  Dylan extended his torso so he could see better. “I don’t think so. His head is too far away.”

  “What about his fingers?” Bald suggested at the arm rest. “Sir, can you pry them up?”

  “I will try,” the vice president said.

  “Use the Glock,” Dylan said.

  “What?” the vice president said.

  “Use the butt of the Glock. Hit his fingers with the bottom of the gun.”

  The vice president scooted closer, but not too close to the edge in fear of the infected somehow grabbing him. “Alright, here goes,” the vice president said. He reared up and slammed the butt of the gun down.

  As the polymer body was flying through the air, Bald took his eye away from the road, only for a moment to watch the vice president knock the infected loose, but that moment of distraction proved to be disastrous.

  A left turn approached. But when Bald saw the shift in the road, he was too deep into the turn. He had to overcorrect or run the risk of crashing into a grouping of trees. Swerving tossed Dylan from the floor and onto the pavement of the road.

  Bald rammed the brakes to the floor, and the cart came to a skidding halt. Dylan rolled over the pavement, coming to a rest only when his body struck a thick pine. He reeled in pain on the ground. Both from the collision with the tree and the open wounds of road rash on his arms and legs.

  As he rolled and howled, the rest of the world seemed to fade, and all he could concentrate on was the pain. When he captured sight of the approaching infected, his screams of pain turned into screams of terror. The pain he was feeling in that instant was nothing like what he’d experience once the infected bit into his flesh.

  He held his breath as the infected approached. It was the very same man who held onto the side of the golf cart. He wasn’t chasing after Dylan, though, he was walking slowly, as if to taunt him.

  As much as it pained Dylan to move, he curled into a ball. He couldn’t run, not then. His body was injured, and the open sores on his legs would burn too much. The infected man closed in and was only a few feet off. Three feet away, he stopped, tilted his head to the side, and grinned. Then hissed like a snake.

  Dylan’s heartrate spiraled out of control. Fear froze him, until he saw an arm fly across the infected’s chest, and the infected tumbled to the ground.

  Dylan’s eyes went wide, and he scooted back across the ground. Bald joined him by his side. “C’mon, get up kid. Get up!”

  In his horror, adrenaline kicked in, and Dylan rose. He couldn’t even feel his wounds as Bald guided him beyond the vice president, who was on the ground wrestling with the infected man. Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off the vice president. Once on the passenger seat, Dylan called out, “No. Stop. We can’t leave him.” He stepped out of the cart but fell back in when he felt the harshness of reality take its toll on his body.

  “He’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

  Bald drove away, but Dylan didn’t lose sight of the vice president. The man held his own for a while. At least until, four more infected joined the fight.

  “Why did you let him come after me? Why didn’t you just shoot the infected?”

  “I tried. He just took off after you. I didn’t even have the chance to stop him.”

  Dylan couldn’t watch as the infected tore the vice president apart. All he could do was weep. Weep for the man who had given his life for his own.

  18

  The food Colt consumed was enough to fill the void in his belly, but something else was missing. His body was starting to feel groggy. Slow moving. He didn’t know why. Was it the Beritrix? No, he had his normal injection that morning. It was something else. Like he was sensing danger. Maybe with Dylan. But inside the building, they’d heard no more shots. If they had, maybe his mind would’ve been put at ease, but still. Something felt off.

  Colonel Jenkins was staring at Colt. Almost yelling at him, waiting to move outside. “Colt! Are you ready to move? Now’s our chance.”

  His words knocked Colt from his trance, and he shook his head from side to side. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

  “Good. On my count. Three, two, one.”

  Colonel Jenkins sprinted through the parking lot. Colt and Wesley were close behind, but as Colt ran, he felt sluggish. His movements were slowed and his reaction time lessened. By the time he reached the car, Colonel Jenkins had broken through the window and was already in the driver’s seat. “Get inside,” he said over the honking horn of the car alarm.

  When Colt reached the driver’s side door, he leaned on the roof to stabilize himself.

  “Dad, are you okay?” Wesley said.

  “Yeah. Yeah. Just dehydrated,” he lied, even though that could’ve been the culprit.

  “What are you doing? Get your ass in the car.” Colonel Jenkins leaned over in the driver’s seat to catch Colt’s eye.

  Colt swung the door open and let Wesley enter the back seat, before he dropped inside. Colt didn’t notice the car alarm had ceased once Colonel Jenkins started the engine, nor did he see the approaching infected.

  “Buckle up, boys.”

  Colonel Jenkins shoved the car into drive and slammed on the gas, running down the first of the approaching infected. The weak four-cylinder engine couldn’t gain enough speed to stop the infected fully. As Colt stared at the
blacks of the infected’s eyes upon approach, he was reminded of what happened at Eleven Mile Reservoir when the shirtless infected ripped Wesley out of the rear windshield.

  Colt was going to make sure that didn’t happen again, so he raised his rifle. Not thinking about the consequences of what would happen when the windshield was blown out, Colt cocked his weapon and loaded a round.

  “What the hell are you thinking?” Colonel Jenkins said. “Lower your rifle.”

  Colt followed his instruction just as Colonel Jenkins spun the wheel to the left. The infected lost his grip and slid off the hood onto the pavement.

  Colonel Jenkins drove east on Academy Drive, speeding down the road with haste.

  “Colt, are you alright over there?” Colonel Jenkins asked.

  Colt was white and shaky, but aware enough to answer. “I’m okay, yeah.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He nodded. “How far is clubhouse?”

  “A few miles.”

  The car fell silent. “What’s on your mind?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “Aside from Dylan? Beritrix.”

  “Mine too,” Colonel Jenkins said. “We don’t have the supply anymore. And if we can’t find any by tomorrow morning, well . . . how long have you gone without it in the past?”

  “Not more than thirty-six hours, that’s for sure. Probably more like thirty at the most.”

  “Is that why you look like a ghost? You don’t think we can get our hands on it?”

  Colt stared at him, then unfolded the flip-down mirror to look at himself but didn’t respond.

  Colonel Jenkins continued. “That’s why I say once we find your boy, and the others, we make our way to the airstrip and find our way to Virginia.”

  “You really think there will be an airplane in the airfield hangars?”

  “Damn straight. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Let’s just get to your son, Bald, and the VP, sound like a plan?”

  Colt nodded.

  When they came to the intersection of Academy Drive and Stadium Boulevard, Colonel Jenkins spun the wheel left to drive back north. Colt didn’t expect to see anyone driving toward them, but as Colonel Jenkins turned, he leaned forward in his seat and said, “What the hell?”

  Colt strained to see as well.

  “Is that?” Colonel Jenkins started. “Well, I’ll be damned. It looks like a golf cart, but there’s only two passengers.”

  At his words, a knot formed in Colt’s belly. Dylan. No. Can’t be. Colt turned frantic. “Two? Why’s there only two?”

  “I don’t know,” Colonel Jenkins said, but as they approached, Colt could see Dylan was there.

  Air filled his lungs, but clearly something was wrong. As they approached, Colonel Jenkins slowed, but Colt didn’t even wait for the car to stop before jumping out to meet his son.

  “What happened to you?” Colt said, running up to the cart and joining his son by his side.

  “He fell,” Bald said.

  “Fell? How?”

  “We . . . uh, had to make a quick turn.”

  Colt studied his wounds. He could tell his son had been crying. “A quick turn, what the hell does that mean?” Colt said.

  “It means we had an infected on our ass. It was holding onto the side of the golf cart, and the vice president, he . . . well he, leaned over to take care of the infected and when he did, I had to turn quickly, and that’s when Dylan fell out.”

  “So this is your fault!” Colt stomped around the front of the cart and toward Bald.

  “Dad, no, it’s not.”

  When Colt stepped again, he was cut off by Colonel Jenkins’ words, “Where’s the vice president?”

  Bald and Dylan went cold with distress. “He’s . . . he’s gone,” Bald said.

  “He saved me, Dad.” Dylan broke down.

  Silence filled the air. A silence for the vice president, but Colonel Jenkins spoke clarity. “I know we need to mourn the dead, but now is not the time. We need to move off the road,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “Where? The academy? The airfield?” Bald said. “You think we can get either place by nightfall?”

  Colt looked west. The sun was setting just over the mountains.

  “I do,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “What about Dylan?” Colt said. “He needs to be tended to. His wounds looked after.”

  “Like I said. There will be plenty of people in Virginia for that,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “What about the stadium?” Bald said.

  “What stadium?” Colt said.

  “No! We make for the airfield.” Colonel Jenkins was unbending.

  “The airfield’s another three, maybe four miles. The stadium is right there.” Bald pointed beyond their car, into the near distance. “Why not fix Dylan up there and make for the airfield in the morning? At first light.”

  “That’s all well and good, but have you forgotten about the Beritrix. We still need our injections. If we can’t fly out tonight and get a shot before dawn, we’ll be walking dead by morning.”

  There was a silence. Colonel Jenkins was right. They needed to get to Virginia as fast as possible.

  “Fair enough,” Bald said. “You think we can get Dylan in the car?”

  Colt moved to his son’s side, reached inside the opening of the cart, and lifted his son. Just as he began to walk forward, something stopped his momentum.

  A sound, a subtle hum caused Colt’s stomach to tighten with worry. But as he raised his head, concern left him. He was filled with hope at the sight of an approaching vehicle.

  19

  “Take up arms!” Colonel Jenkins aimed his weapon toward the approaching SUV and stepped in their direction.

  Colt held tight to Dylan. He wouldn’t let go, not with another threat coming. As he watched the approaching vehicle, he couldn’t help but think, deep down, that there were infected inside. Impossible. He shooed that thought away. No way. A car? They can’t be that advanced.

  “Please don’t shoot!” A woman yelled just as she stepped out from the driver’s side door with her arms raised into the air.

  From far off, they couldn’t see her fully, but she was most definitely in an Air Force uniform.

  “Name and rank?” Colonel Jenkins yelled into the twilight.

  “My name’s Hunt. Cassandra Hunt, and I’m a fourth-class cadet.”

  “What are you doing out here all alone?” Colonel Jenkins continued.

  “Looking for you,” she said.

  “Come again?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “I heard an explosion earlier. Like missile fire. The roar of that missile saved my life. I was trapped by three infected—men from my own unit were hunting me, and they followed me all the way to the stadium.” She turned and motioned to the field in the distance.

  “Did you eliminate them?”

  “No, I couldn’t. I’ve lost my weapon.”

  “How have you survived this long without a weapon?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “My charming personality.” She grinned.

  “From what we’ve seen, you need a whole hell of a lot more than that to escape these monsters,” Bald added.

  “I guess I must be lucky then.”

  “Luck’s got nothing to do with this apocalypse, sweetheart,” Bald said.

  “Sweetheart? Boy, do you have the wrong girl.”

  Before Bald could return comment, Colt cut through the crap and asked the pressing question that had plagued his mind ever since the helicopter went down and they lost their stash. “Do you have any Beritrix?”

  “No.”

  Colt’s shoulders slumped. “How have you survived this long without it?”

  Hunt seemed reluctant to speak, and Colt wondered if she was hiding something.

  “Look you found us, not the other way around. If you have some, let us know. We’re in need,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “You know about Beritrix?” Hunt said.

  “Of course. How do you think we’ve surviv
ed this long?” Colt said.

  “You mean you all have WD17?” Hunt said.

  “Me and my boys do. The others do not,” Colt said.

  Shock crossed her face. They could tell she hadn’t run into many survivors, if any, since this all began. “How are you . . .?” she trailed off.

  “Alive?” Colonel Jenkins filled in the blanks.

  “Ever since the outbreak, we’ve been on a daily regimen of injections. Same as you,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “And that works?” she said.

  Colonel Jenkins looked to the others, then chuckled to himself and shrugged his shoulders. “Seems to.”

  “Now that you know our story, do you have any or not?” Colt pressed.

  She gritted her teeth, then nodded. “I don’t.”

  “Then what’s with the twenty questions? Why quiz us on such nonsense?” Bald stomped forward.

  But she stopped him in his tracks with her next words. “But I know where you might be able to get some. It’s not mine, It’s the coach’s.”

  “The coach’s? What coach?” Colt said.

  “Of the football team.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Bald said. “Coach Logan has WD17?”

  “Apparently,” Hunt said.

  Colonel Jenkins waited a moment to gather his thoughts. If they went to the stadium, they couldn’t make for the airfield, not until morning.

  “You sure there’s enough for all of us?” Colonel Jenkins said.

  She nodded. “I am. I saw three vails in the fridge in his office.”

  “That’s more than enough for one injection. Especially, if we can get to Virginia in the morning,” Colt said.

  Colonel Jenkins shot Colt a stare. He didn’t even have time to reprimand him before, Hunt spoke, “What’s in Virginia?”

  “That’s need to know. Way above your pay grade.”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Bull shit.”

  “Excuse me, cadet?”

  “Look, I mean no disrespect, sir, but in case you haven’t noticed, most the world is lost.”

  “And I suppose an apocalypse makes it okay to disrespect the chain of command?” Colonel Jenkins said.