“What is this place?” Dylan said.
“A trophy room,” Colt answered.
Colt walked beyond his sons, heading directly for the refrigerator. The Beritrix needed to remain cold. He opened the door, feeling for cold air. The refrigerator was old and did not display a digital reading of the temperature anywhere. Colt felt cold air rush out, but fell back at the presence of a foul odor. Argh, something’s rotten. Colt pulled his shirt away from his chest and lifted it over his nose. He searched the contents and saw a brown paper bag in the rear, against the back. Fluid stains made circles and ovals all over the bag. He pinched the bag in-between his thumb and index finger and lifted it out. A pungent aroma followed. When Colt turned, Dylan saw him holding the bag away from his body and asked.
“What is that?”
“Don’t know, but I’m not keeping it in the same fridge as our medicine.” He walked through the sliding glass door and to the opposite side of the home and tossed the bag into the woods.
When returned, Colt went to the open fridge and searched the contents. “Are you guys hungry?” Only ketchup, mustard, a jug of mayo, and three packets of relish sat on the high shelf. A jar of dill pickles sat in the middle, along with a half-gallon of milk with today’s date on it.
“I don’t think I could eat anything after smelling that,” Dylan said.
“I don’t blame you,” Colt grinned. “But we gotta eat something, and soon.” Above the fridge was the stacked freezer. He pulled the door open and searched inside. There was a bag of frozen hamburgers and hotdogs, but nothing else. Deep in his gut, Colt knew the power would fail soon. He closed the freezer and moved to the pantry. It was nearly barren, aside from a half-opened box of spaghetti. He lifted the box and turned it over looking for the best-by date. The noodles had expired months ago. Ridiculous.
Once back in the kitchen, Colt stopped and leaned on the island. They couldn’t afford to spend too much time in Walter’s house, and they needed supplies for the long road ahead. Just as Colt found a pad of paper and pen to make a list, he glanced up. His mind was scattered. Are we really going to DC? How the hell are we going to make that trip? That’s almost 2,000 miles. We’ll be dead before we leave Denver. Perhaps that was speculation, but Colt had seen enough ‘end of the world’ movies to know population meant death. The better scenario was to find something closer, some vacant property in the mountains, and wait. But if Jake was right and Beritrix was the only thing keeping them human, waiting was not an option.
At that, Colt abandoned the pad and paper and searched the cabinets for a pot to boil water. The noodles would provide energy for the following day, and the hamburgers would give them protein. Once he found a pot, he filled it with water and stuck it over the lit burner.
When he returned to his blank list, he peered up to think, and in doing so saw his sons standing on the opposite end of the home and staring out the window.
“Dylan? What is it?” Colt moved toward them as they stared.
But Dylan remained quiet.
“Dylan?” Colt wondered why he didn’t receive an answer. But as he approached, he peered over his son’s heads. His eyes bulged as he saw the same three mountain lions devouring the paper bag full of rotten meat. He wrapped his arms around them and pulled them back into the middle of the home.
Upon their first step, the floor creaked. Colt froze in place. He could still see the animals through the window. The small snack didn’t occupy them for long before their attention was back on the house. The mountain lions broke apart, each pouncing in different directions. Colt left his boys and moved to the window, partially shielding himself by the interior walls as he searched through the glass, making only his head visible.
“I’m scared, I want to go home,” Wesley said. “I want Mommy.”
Colt whipped around to see Wesley’s first movement. It was toward the sliding door they had just entered.
“Wesley, no!” Colt raised his hand, but it was too late.
Wesley reached the sliding door and slid it open. Colt broke for him, sprinting across the living room. When he reached him, Wesley already had one foot outside, Colt grabbed him and pulled him back inside, falling to the wood floor in the process.
“Stay down!” Colt was furious but had no time to reprimand his son. He rose from the floor, and as he turned, he stopped. Immobile at the presence of a mountain lion. The lion crept forward, but only a few inches. His shoulders rose and fell with each step before coiling onto his back paws, ready to pounce.
Colt was helpless. His Browning was twenty feet behind him, sitting on the countertop. If he made a move toward it, he’d risk the lion attacking Wesley on the ground. Not knowing what else to do, Colt held his hands out to his side, making himself seem bigger. Maybe he could intimidate the lion. Maybe the lion would just turn and run away. But that was wishful thinking.
Instead, the lion attacked. Bending its hind legs, the beast pounced. As it flew, Colt spread his arms wide, ready to catch the animal in his long thick arms. He didn’t know what he’d do once he caught the beast, but figured he could hold on long enough for his sons to reach safety. But the lion never reached him. Instead a loud burst echoed inside the home. A gun shot.
The lion let out a yelp once the bullet pierced its hide and fell to the ground. Colt ripped his head around in shock to see Dylan on the other side of a smoking gun. Dylan locked his grip tight and fired again. Again, the bullet punctured the fur. The lion turned and hobbled as blood poured from its wounds. As he turned for the exit, his long tail dragged through the pooling blood on the floor and eventually made its final exit.
Colt crept to the door and yanked it shut just as the lion fled. He stared through the glass and watched as the other two lions leaped on top of the injured animal, sunk their teeth in, and tore it apart.
5
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
Colorado Springs, Colorado
The fleet of helicopters hovered above the earth as Henry Lawrence, the vice president, stared out the window at a giant H stamped into the concrete of the landing pad. Six armed men were standing guard, waiting for the chopper to land. Each man kept a keen eye outward, away from the landing chopper, never taking their eyes off the wilderness. It was as if they expected to see something running at their position at any moment.
When the vice president’s helicopter touched down, the pilot stifled the rotors, shutting down the engine. One of the armed men ripped the door open and reached inside. Over the noise, he yelled, “Sir, I’m Colonel Jenkins. We need to get you to the briefing room immediately. The president is waiting to speak with you.”
With a panicked look on his face, the vice president asked, “Does he know what’s going on?” Ordinarily a colonel in the Air Force wouldn’t know all aspects of the truth, not at the presidential level, especially in the matter of national security, but the vice president was in shock and didn’t know what he was asking in that moment.
“I don’t know, sir. My orders are to bring you inside. That is all.”
The vice president scooted toward the open hatch and stepped onto the skids of the chopper. “Lead on, Colonel.”
Joining the vice president was the president’s chief of staff. Both men leaped out and jogged behind Colonel Jenkins. They ran through a half-moon opening built into the side of a mountain of rock. This was a main entrance, an entrance tall enough and long enough to fit five semi-trucks inside. The vice president looked up the face of the opening, following the mountain upward. The wall of jagged rock climbed, seemingly to the heavens, as the top disappeared into the low-lying cloudbank.
Once through the semi-circular opening, the temperature dropped. The air was cool and dry. Not surprising due to the lack of sunlight. Colonel Jenkins continued forward, only stopping at the guarded desk to offer his credentials.
“Mr. Vice President, sir, it’s my honor,” the guard saluted.
He nodded to the guard, then proceeded inward.
“Colonel,” the
vice president said as they walked.
“Yes, Mr. Vice President.” He didn’t turn but rather continued his path with haste.
“Have you seen many of those . . .” he paused, not knowing what to call them.
“We call them infected, sir.”
“Sure. Have you seen them?”
“Of course, sir. They’ve overrun the city. We’ve held off many as they tried to breach the complex. There are still some outside the gates, but I assure you, the gate will hold. Luckily, we had just enough men to defend ourselves. And this place is pretty much a fortress, so it’s unlikely they could even break through.”
“Thank God for that,” Mark Joyner the joint chief added.
“How many men do you have?” the vice president asked.
Finally he stopped at a door and spun around. “Wish we had more.” He opened his hand and welcomed the men inside.
The vice president nodded and walked inside. The joint chief followed him. Both took their seats at the back end of a long rectangular table and faced a screen. The TV screen spanned across the entire wall of the conference room. It was only them inside as Colonel Jenkins waited outside and stood guard. The screen sparked to life, and the president stared forward.
“Oh, Hank, I’m so glad to see you safe,” the president said. “You too, Mark.”
“It was touch and go there for a while in Salt Lake City. We barely made it out alive,” the vice president said. “But, yes, John, we’re safe now. And as you know, this place is pretty much impregnable.”
“Good. Hunker down for the time being and let me go over the situation.”
“Mr. President,” Mark spoke up.
“What is it, Mark?”
“Do we know what this thing is yet? Has anyone claimed responsibility?”
“That’s where I was about to begin. Not that we’ve heard,” the president said.
“Sir, do you think this is an outbreak?” Mark added.
“That’s hard to say. I don’t think we have enough information to make that call right now.”
Mark slumped back in his chair, and the president saw him fall defeated. “But we have our best men and women working on that right now. We have the finest minds studying this pandemic. I assure you, if this is an outbreak, they will find the cure to save us all. But until they do, don’t forget to take those.” The president nodded to the table where a collection of vials of Beritrix were sitting. “Take it every day.”
“Will do, John,” The vice president said.
“Even though I have no doubt that the complex is safe and can withstand this disaster, I feel it’s best you try to meet me here at Mount Weather. If we’re all together, I won’t have to worry about the rest of my cabinet. Are the choppers prepped and ready for takeoff?”
“I believe so, John. After we arrived, Connor Masterson, our pilot, informed us he would stay with the chopper and refuel. He is at our disposal when we need him. And he is one hell of a pilot. Trust me when I say we’ve got the best to get us out of here.”
“I have no doubt. Those Air Force boys are one of a kind. I do have one favor to ask before you leave.”
“Name it, John.”
“I was told by one of my finest scientists that a man and his two boys would be making their way toward your position. It is mission critical he and his family accompany you here to Virginia.”
“A man, sir? His family?” The vice president knew how unlikely it would be to find them.
“I know what you’re thinking, Hank, but like I said, they are critical.”
“How are we supposed to find this family?” Mark asked.
“Like I said, supposedly, they are on their way to you.”
“And how long would you like us to wait?” the vice president asked.
The president sighed on screen. “Don’t wait more than two days. If they don’t show up tomorrow, you could send some men if you feel it’s safe.”
“With all due respect, sir, do you think it’s wise to send our own men to find them? Isn’t our military more important than this family? I mean, how much manpower do we even have left?’
“Yes, they are as important, maybe more so. Besides, Hank, you of all people should know how it is—sometimes you need to sacrifice a few pawns to capture the king.”
“You’re sure, John?” the vice president asked.
He nodded.
“Then consider it done.”
“But to answer the second part of the question: in short, no. We don’t know how much of the military we have left at this point. How many men do they have on the ground there?”
“Colonel Jenkins said not enough, but he’s right outside, shall I bring him in and ask?”
“Please do,” the president said.
The vice president nodded to Mark, who walked over and opened the door and invited the colonel inside.
He stepped in and stared to the wall, immediately saluting the screen. “At ease,” the president said. “How many military personnel do you have available to you?”
“Seventeen, Mr. President.”
“Seventeen?” The president nodded his head on the screen, seeming to mull over the number. “Very well. Thank you, Colonel.”
Colonel Jenkins saluted and left the room once again.
Once Colonel Jenkins was out of earshot, the president spoke again, “That’s less than I expected. We have a lot more here. Hopefully, we’ll get word there’re more around the world, but for now, let’s consider what we have. That’s all I have for you, Hank. When I find out more, I’ll call you back.”
“Do you think we’ll continue to have power?” Mark asked.
“I can’t imagine we will for much longer, but . . . that’s a good point actually. Sooner or later, I assume the power will fail. Talk to the colonel about prepping the radio room for a frequency we can communicate over. I assume he’s done so, but with the lack of personnel, maybe he hasn’t had the chance. Again, that’s all I have for now. Remember to be on the lookout for that family and leave as soon as they show up. Don’t stay any longer than you need to.”
“Roger that, John.”
The president appeared serious when he spoke on the screen, as if this was life and death. “Oh, and Hank . . . be careful.”
“Always am, sir.”
The president nodded and the screen went black.
6
South Park, Colorado
Once the mountain lions had devoured their meal, they turned their attention back onto the house. Colt stepped away from the sliding glass door and fell back to the middle of the room. On his way toward his sons, he lifted his rifle from the table, then grabbed them and huddled close together, watching the predators approach the glass.
One of the lions licked its lips as blood from his former companion dripped into his mouth. As the lion peered inside, the animal lifted its paw and swiped at the door. His nails scratched, drawing a six-inch line across the bottom third. Then the lion brought its nose to the deck, where blood from the now deceased lion stained the wood, and slopped up the mess with his tongue.
The other mountain lion walked toward the opposite sliding door. He fell onto his hind legs and sprung at the glass. The door held, but the lion pushed hard to test its limits.
“Dad, I’m sca-red,” Dylan said.
“Me too, son. Just aim your gun at the door. If the glass shatters, don’t hesitate to put another bullet in him. On second thought, empty the entire magazine.”
But the lion fell from the door, back onto all fours. The door held, but the lions didn’t vacate; instead they paced across the deck and waited for another mistake.
Colt pushed out the breath he was holding in. “I think it’s okay now.”
“You don’t think th-ey, th-ey can get in, do you, Dad?” Wesley peered up at him.
Colt knelt to his son’s level. “No, buddy, I don’t. But I need you to use your brain next time.” Colt fluffed his son’s hair.
“Yeah, idiot! You almost got us all k
illed.” Dylan glared at his younger brother.
“Dylan, that’s enough!” Colt scolded him, looking back over his shoulder.
Dylan huffed and walked away.
“Where are you going?” Colt didn’t want him to stray far.
“To piss. That alright with you?”
Colt didn’t need to answer but showed disdain at his choice of words in front of his younger brother. He returned his attention to Wesley, offering a smile, but fear remained on Wesley’s face. He pulled him into a hug before moving toward the sliding glass doors. On the other side of the glass, both lions rose from their prone state and shadowed Colt’s movements. Colt pulled the blinds shut. They slid across the track until they reached the far end. He twisted the rod, and the blinds swayed, then closed. Then he walked toward the other side and did the same.
“Out of sight, out of mind.” He turned to Wesley and offered a smile and a wink.
“I’m hungry, Daddy,” Wesley said.
It seemed making the lions invisible put his son at ease, at least for the moment. “Sounds good, champ, I’ll get right on it.”
Colt set his rifle down again and moved to the stove, where he hadn’t realized the water had been boiling for a few minutes. He dumped the spaghetti noodles into the stock pot and opened the fridge to grab the hamburger meat. Throwing open multiple cabinet’s, he scavenged for a frying pan, then tossed in two frozen patties.
“What’s this?” Dylan nodded to the covered sliding glass door, upon his return from the bathroom.
“Out of sight, out of mind.”
“That’s stupid! It’s never going to work.”
“Easy, kid. I’m doing whatever will put your brother’s mind at ease.”
Dylan didn’t respond to his father, but was more interested in what was cooking. “You really think it’s a good idea to put the smell of raw meat in the air?”
Uncivil War: Infected Page 3
