Poor bastards, Colonel Jenkins thought, looking down, waiting to see some poor schmuck running out the back door for his or her life only to be overrun.
“Should we engage, sir? Drake looked back to him.
Engage? Why? “Negative. We don’t have the fuel to hover or intervene.”
“Are you sure, Colonel? What if it’s the family?” Drake said.
He gave him a knowing look. “That’s highly unlikely. Probably just some local, held up in the restaurant. Carry on, Masterson.”
The roaring sound of the churning helicopter echoed inside the restaurant, drowning out the screeches from outside. A smile grew on Colt’s face. In here, he wanted to yell. He wished he could jump from his prone state and run outside to flag them down, but he couldn’t, they were stuck. Immobile. And the infected were coming in, it was only a matter of time. He had to do something to alert the aircraft they were there, but before he could think of a plan, the echoing of the chopper faded in the distance, and was replaced by more screeching.
“Wait,” Colonel Jenkins said.
“Sir,” Masterson returned.
“Turn around. Head back to the restaurant.”
“Sir, we don’t have the fuel.”
“Do it. I’ll be damned if we can’t save one person from this hell.”
“Hell yeah, sir!” Drake said.
The helicopter banked left and spun back around. “Lock and load boys,” Colonel Jenkins said. “Aim true and be quick, because we don’t have the fuel to miss our shots.”
Masterson dropped in from the east, hovering low in the sky before they unleashed the first burst of shots. Drake and Bald stood side by side, firing into the group of infected who surrounded the restaurant. At the first shot, the mass of infected shifted their attention to the hovering aircraft. Bald and Drake continued their hail of gunfire and soon the infected began to flee.
“Look at them scatter.” Colonel Jenkins laughed in the headset. “Like ants under a magnifying glass. Great job, men!” He tapped each of them on the shoulder, knowing they’d saved someone, saved a life that was marked for death. “Alright, Masterson. Take us home.”
Once the shooting subsided, Colt rose from the floor, but stayed in a crouch as he walked toward the corner booth. When he arrived, both Dylan and Wesley were shaking under the table. Colt knew they couldn’t stay. It was likely some, if not all, the remaining infected would return. When they did, they’d need to be as far away from there as possible.
“Boys, you did so good. We can’t stay here. We need to leave. To get into the hills and away from the city.”
Dylan crawled out from under the table first, but Wesley remained.
“C’mon, bud.” Colt reached out his hand. “We have to go.”
Wesley stared through glassy eyes, then reached for his father. When he was out from under the table, he lurched around Colt’s neck. Colt bent at the knees and lifted him, then nodded to Dylan to grab the cooler. “Don’t forget that and the bread.”
They reached the door and Colt unlatched the lock, then pushed it open. “Close your eyes, Wesley,” Colt said, noticing the amount of stacked dead bodies outside the restaurant.
Colt saw the tree line, but also saw two abandoned cars in the parking lot. On second thought, jumping into a car would be easier, and a much faster way to get to Colorado Springs. But how much time did they have? How long before the infected would return? Knowing the tree line awaited just beyond the cars, he could check the vehicles first. Carrying one son, and with the other by his side, Colt approached the first car. The doors were locked, and no keys were in sight. Next, he moved to the other. An older car. He touched the handle, and the door clicked open.
“Dylan, climb in there and see if you can find any keys.”
Dylan jumped inside the car and tossed garbage that was strewn about inside the vehicle. Colt scanned the perimeter for any sign of infected. Although he didn’t see anything, he shook in fright when he heard another screech.
“Dylan, get out of there. There’s no time. We need to make for the hills.”
Dylan ducked from underneath the frame of the door, and Colt led them into the thick forestation and headed southeast for the twenty-seven-mile hike to safety.
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
When Colonel Jenkins and his crew entered the vice presidents’ office empty-handed, the wind was kicked from the vice president’s lungs. “I take it the mission was a failure?” He looked only to Colonel Jenkins.
“We found a couple civilians, but they were not the family we were searching for.”
“That’s . . . that’s too bad.” He breathed a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. “We will sleep here tonight. But be aware, we will leave tomorrow at first light. Thank you, Colonel. You’re dismissed.” Then he leaned forward in his chair to go back to writing in his notes.
Colonel Jenkins allowed his men to move out the door first, and as he turned his back to the vice president, he stalled at his words. “Colonel! Give me your gut. Do you think this mission was a foolish, or do you think that family is still out there alive somewhere?”
“Sir?” Colonel Jenkins wondered why he’d brought up that question. Truth was, ever since they’d taken out the infected in Woodland Park at the fast food restaurant, he’d had a feeling, deep in his belly, that he was leaving behind someone important. But his conscience was clear, acknowledging he had given someone a fighting chance.
The vice president rose from his chair and walked toward him as he stood by the door. “I just want you to be absolutely certain. The president was counting on us to find that family.”
Colonel Jenkins lowered his head. He wasn’t normally a coward, nor would he shy away from confrontation, but as he faced the ground, he nodded up and down. Then caught the vice president’s eye once again. “Yes, sir. I’m positive they’re gone.”
“Very well,” he turned. “Then like I said, you are dismissed.”
Colonel Jenkins waited for a moment before disappearing into the darkness of the mountain in search of a warm bunk.
20
In the foothills of the Rocky Mountains
Darkness fell, and it was only then that Colt stopped and fell to the ground, exhausted. He and the boys had hiked five miles south of Woodland Park. As they’d walked, they’d paralleled the road, using the tree line as cover, not once coming across an infected person.
On the forest floor, Colt breathed heavy, collecting himself before he rose to set up camp.
“Do you think that helicopter will come back for us?” Dylan said.
In between breaths, Colt said, “I don’t know.”
Dylan was perturbed. “Why couldn’t they wait? Why did they just fly away?”
“No idea. Maybe they wanted to help, to give us a fighting chance.”
“But how did they know we were inside?”
He breathed out the final sigh when he caught his breath. “Again, I don’t know. If I had to guess, though, maybe they just wanted to take out their aggression on the enemy.”
“Or maybe they were out of gas,” Wesley chimed in. Perhaps his thought was said with the most intelligence.
Colt chuckled. “It’s called fuel, buddy, but yeah . . . that’s a strong possibility.” Then Colt took his first step over a bed of pine needles at his feet.
“What are you doing?” Dylan asked.
“Gathering some kindling for a fire.”
“You’re not serious? We’re not staying here?” Dylan said.
“What? I can’t even count the number of times we camped in the woods.”
“Yeah, but . . . this is different. And we’ve still got a long way to go.”
“You’re right, Dylan, but Wesley needs to rest. So do I after carrying him some of the way.”
Dylan groaned. “Why can’t we find some abandoned car or truck on the road? Sleep there?”
“Can’t risk it. I don’t want to bring your brother out into the open again. Not until we’ve regaine
d some of our strength. We’re going to rest here for the night. We’ll get up at first light and hike for Colorado Springs.”
“Now stay with your brother. I won’t be long.”
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
In his bunk, Colonel Jenkins rolled around restlessly. It was well after midnight now, and he couldn’t find the sleep his body desired. Every time he shut his eyes, he saw the infected entering the fast food restaurant and tearing apart a faceless young family. His imagination ran rampant. He couldn’t stifle the urge to fly out one last time. Just for a quick search. Maybe grab Masterson and take him on a secret mission. A mission neither the vice president nor Bald and Drake would need to know about.
He rolled over again and let out a sigh before looking to his watch. The numbers glowed in the dark. 1:54 a.m. He threw his arm down, before settling on his back, then stared at the ceiling and thought, If they were in Woodland Park last night, how far could they get? Where would they be? Would they follow the highway down into Manitou Springs? Could they get here by morning if they hiked through the night? Maybe they found a car. What would be the search area? Masterson and I could go out before the sun comes up. Hover above Colorado Springs, and maybe we get lucky and see them.
He couldn’t find the answers he so desperately searched for, not yet. He’d have to wait until morning, but morning couldn’t come soon enough.
In the Foothills of the Rocky Mountains
The glow of the campfire burned down to ash as only smoke rose. Colt and his sons were fast asleep. Although sleep had been hard to come by for Colt, and he’d closed his eyes only moments prior.
In a dream, Colt saw Anna smiling. Full of life. Full of beauty. She wore a flowing white cover-up atop her white string-bikini that was stark against her caramel skin as she walked along the powder-sand beach. Colt gave chase, but was never able to catch her. He got close once, but then she appeared farther away while peering back over her shoulder and playfully smiling at him. The sand stretched for miles, and it was glaring against the Carolina-blue skies and tantalizing turquoise water.
As Colt ran, something strange happened, something unexpected. She stopped her flowing pace and kept her back to him. Anna? he heard himself whisper in the dream. But she didn’t turn. Not until, her hair, it . . . it turned from blonde to black. Seeing her through his eyes, Colt stepped backwards and away from her, but not too far. He couldn’t leave, he wouldn’t run. Not from this. He wished he could stay there with her, if only. If only, it was in a dream.
Her body rotated, slowly, much like she had in their house when he’d found her naked in the bathroom. When she faced him, Colt felt his eyes bulge, and his body went rigid. She raised her head, and that beauty that had always lived with her, faded. Her eyes were black, set against her sullen face, and drool dripped from her mouth as she frothed like a rabid dog.
Colt’s body shook. He wanted to wake. He could feel his body trembling, trying to find reality, attempting to pull himself out of the nightmare, but for some reason he stayed there. And as he did, darkness crept into the sky, and lightning crackled against the black.
He prepared himself to be attacked, like he’d been before, but Anna didn’t move from her position in the sand, not until she opened her mouth to speak. And she spoke loudly and with purpose, uttering only one word.
Amy.
Colt shot up from where he lay in the woods and sucked in air, trying to fill his lungs. They felt empty. He scanned the area in a panic, expecting to see an infected person or persons closing in on their position.
But there was nothing. In the still calmness of early morn, there wasn’t a sound aside from the subtle snore of both boys. Colt stared to his wrist to see the time. It was almost five. It would be light soon, and they needed to get moving. The terrain ahead would be difficult to maneuver, and if they wanted to be anywhere near the Cheyenne Mountain Complex by the end of the day, they needed to get going.
Colt stepped toward his sons and shook them as they slept. When both rolled over, Colt said, “We need to go. Here. Eat this.” Colt handed each of them a hamburger bun for energy.
Both sat up and devoured the bread in three bites. As Colt watched them eat, his belly ached for food, for sustenance, something more than bread.
“Are you ready?” Colt said, standing to his feet.
Dylan stood and dusted himself off. Wesley followed suit.
“Good. Stay close to your brother.” He looked to each in turn. “Try not to make a sound as we walk. We’ve got a long road ahead, so let’s try to be fast. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” both said.
Colt led, and they started into their hike a little less than an hour before the sun would rise. There was plenty to be concerned about as they walked, but the only thing on Colt’s mind at that moment was the one word his wife had said in the dream.
Amy.
21
Cheyenne Mountain Complex
Colonel Jenkins stood outside Masterson’s bunk room. He leaned into the door and listened for movement. There was nothing. He knocked lightly, trying not to alert others that slept in the adjoining rooms. But still there was no sound in the room, so he knocked again. There was shuffling, followed by an audible grunt. Masterson flung door open to see Colonel Jenkins standing fully dressed for the day.
At the sight of him, Masterson stood taller and at attention. “Colonel Jenkins? What is it, sir?”
Colonel Jenkins looked throughout the halls and spoke quietly. “I need your help.”
“Sir?” There was a questioning look on Masterson’s face.
“I need to fly out again, to look for that family.”
“But I thought the vice president said we’re leaving first thing this morning?”
“He did. And I assume that’s what his plan is, but I wanted to fly out one more time before sunrise, and maybe a little after. To see if we can find them. Can you do that?”
Masterson answered immediately. “I’ll be ready in five.”
Colonel Jenkins nodded and stepped away from the doorway. He stared down the hallway, making sure no one else loitered at the early hour. The halls remained empty when Masterson exited his room. Without uttering a word, he moved toward the exit of the complex, and Jenkins followed on his heels.
When they reached the exit, two men were standing guard. They saluted the colonel and Masterson, as both men outranked them.
“Open the gate, Staff Sargent Butler,” Colonel Jenkins said.
But the men didn’t move, only spoke. “Sorry, sir, but the vice president, said—”
Colonel Jenkins cut him off. “Let me stop you right there. This mission is sanctioned by the vice president himself.”
“Then why didn’t we get the order?”
“Because I’m giving you the order right now.”
Both men were confused. Butler spoke again, “But I thought—”
Again Jenkins interrupted, “You thought wrong.”
Still they didn’t move, not until Colonel Jenkins stepped toward them with a scowl. “Look! You can either open the gate, or I can go and wake up the vice president from his slumber. Then he’ll walk his old and tired ass back down here, only to reem you out for insubordination.”
At that, both stepped to the guard station and pushed the button to open the door.
“That’s what I thought,” Colonel Jenkins turned and rejoined Masterson.
He didn’t know why, but as the door opened, Colonel Jenkins expected there to be light shining in from outside, but there was none. Darkness consumed the sky, with only faint moonlight guiding their path as they walked.
“Sir.” Butler ran from behind. “You’re going to need these.” In his hand were two flashlights.
Jenkins picked them out of his hand. “At ease, Butler. No need. We know exactly where we’re going.” He grinned to Masterson. And began to walk out the gate, but suddenly stopped and turned back around. “Oh, and by the way, if the vice president asks you where we went. Just tell him
, it was on a joyride.”
“But I thought . . .” Butler trailed off.
Colonel Jenkins chuckled and led Masterson outside.
Out in the elements of the morning, the bitter air cut through their skin. Brrr. Colonel Jenkins thought as goose bumps rose on his arms and he shook.
“Do you think the infected are still near the gate, sir?” Masterson whispered.
“My gut says yes.”
Funny thing was, though, neither man heard anything in the dark of the early morning. Which was peculiar. They expected to hear something, some semblance of rustling. The shaking of the gate. Bodies being pushed together. A screech in the distance. But it was silent.
The moonlight guided their path to the helipad. Masterson took his seat, and Colonel Jenkins used his time scanning the area for any sign of intrusion. But with the lack of light, any movement would be difficult to decipher, maybe even until an infected was standing right on top of them. Colonel Jenkins felt it in his gut, a twinge that someone was watching, waiting for the precise time to react, and out of fear, he urged Masterson to hurry.
“Masterson! Let’s get this bird in the air.”
“Just going through the pre-check, sir. We’ll be in the air in a minute.”
“A minute, damn.” Colonel Jenkins shook his head and spoke aloud, but didn’t mean to. His eyes moved slowly in the dark, unable to keep focus with the reaction of his head turning.
But there was no mistaking the audible screech that echoed in his ears as two infected attacked, leaping into the open cockpit. Colonel Jenkins fell onto the floor, surprised as one of the infected hovered over him. The infected’s jaws were smacking, and his teeth chattered as he lunged for Colonel Jenkins’ neck. Meanwhile, the other infected reached for Masterson, grabbing him from behind, ripping him into the head rest of the pilot’s chair. Colonel Jenkins lifted his left arm up and blocked the infected’s attempt to tear out his throat. With his right hand, he reached for his hip, fumbling for his sidearm. It was snapped in place. His block faltered, and he was losing strength in his arm. The infected lowered closer and closer to his face as spit dripped from its open mouth. Colonel Jenkins turned his head, leaving his carotid artery vulnerable. But he had to—it was the only way to lose inches from the chomping teeth.
Uncivil War: Infected Page 10
