by B. T. Wright
“Roger that.”
“Jenkins out.” He cancelled the frequency, then turned over his shoulder and spoke to the rest of the cabin. “We’ll be on the ground shortly and there will be an armed escort there to meet us and bring us back to Mount Weather.”
The cabin erupted in applause, and Colt looked back his sons and grinned at the news. “How about that?” Colonel Jenkins bumped knuckles with Bald. “You ready to meet the president?” From Colt’s perspective it seemed both shared the same admiration of the president. To them, the commander and chief still meant something. Always would.
“Cannot wait,” Bald said.
“You ever met him?” Colonel Jenkins said.
Bald laughed nervously. “Uh, no. You?”
“Once. At Langley. I was there for training a couple years back and he came through. Great man.”
Bald nodded, but then his face fell. “But what do we tell him about the vice president?”
Without skipping a beat, Colonel Jenkins said, “The truth. The man died a hero, didn’t he?”
“Without question, sir. Gave his life for the kid’s.”
“And I’ll never forget it,” Colt interjected.
Colonel Jenkins looked back at Colt. He hadn’t yet noticed his presence. He nodded to Colt, then grinned and said, “There is no greater way to go than that. The president needs to know his friend died to save your son’s life. I’m sure he’ll be as proud as he can be in this time of crisis.”
The plane banked hard to the right, and Colt looked out his window at the trees below. In the distance behind the flashing light on the wing, there were rows of homes—a neighborhood without a single light flicked on. No streetlights, no house lights, nothing. It was not that Colt expected there to be, but from the air, it was a strange sight to see. The last time he’d been on a plane—a few months prior when he visited his in-laws at their lake home in Minnesota—they had landed at night; and the entire skyline was lit up like the fourth of July. He remembered the twinkling of the lights vividly. But now, the land was clear, and there was not a breath of life across it.
In the moment of reflection, he thought about his brother once again. Jacob, I hope you’re there to meet us. Not that I need you to rescue me. His mouth turned into a grin at the thought of his baby brother coming to his aid. But he missed him. During the last conversation they’d had before leaving the compound in Colorado Springs, Jake had convinced Colt to leave Anna so they could find a cure together. Be the hero to Anna and the rest of mankind. Colt coveted that idea, now more than ever. They were getting so close to the president, so close to the action, to finding out more about the infected. So close to getting answers to his questions which Jake couldn’t tell him over the radio, because, like Jake said, someone could be listening.
Colt didn’t know what his brother had meant at the time. Maybe when he met Jake again he could shed some light on that weird little nugget.
He’d been too caught up in his thoughts to notice how close they were to the ground, and Colt felt his body jump off the seat when Colonel Jenkins landed. His seat belt locked, and he leaned forward as Colonel Jenkins applied the brakes to slow the plane.
Colt looked out his window for any sign of the cavalry, but he saw nothing. Only a cluster of trees that paralleled the runway. He felt the plane swerve to the left and then once again shortly after.
“It looks like the roadway is up ahead,” Colonel Jenkins said. “I don’t see any sign of our boys yet, but we’ll pull up close to the road and deplane so the marines can see us.”
“You think they’ll send marines?” Dylan asked.
“I imagine they’ll send whoever they have,” Bald said.
“I’ll bet they send my Uncle Jake. He’s a Delta,” Wesley was proud.
“I hope you’re right, bud,” Colt said.
“Dad.” Wesley gritted his teeth and shook in his seat.
“Oh, that’s right.” Colt looked to the cockpit. “Any way you guys see a building with a bathroom? Wesley still has to go.”
“Yeah, there’s one just ahead. And I don’t see anyone around. This might be the best time, but watch your six, we’ve got no idea what’s around. No idea who we’ll encounter.”
Upon stopping, Colonel Jenkins said, “Bald, go out and act as backup.”
Colt watched Wesley unbuckle his seatbelt, then he did the same. Both waited for Bald to pass beyond and toward the exit. Once the door was open, Bald looked back to Colt and said, “Stay as close as you can and don’t let your son out of sight.”
Colt nodded, then looked to Dylan. “Stay with the colonel. Only come out if he insists you need to, understand?” Colt said.
Dylan nodded, then he and Wesley followed Bald outside and down the ladder to the cement. They walked slow. Colt held his rifle out to the left, and Bald held his to the right, taking turns scanning from the buildings to the tree line, expecting to be met at any moment, but there wasn’t even one infected—not even a straggler—anywhere on the horizon.
When they reached the doorway, Colt turned his back to Bald and watched for the enemy.
The door was open, and Bald said, “Are you ready?”
His question threw Colt at first.
Ready? Of course, he’s ready. Colt looked down to Wesley, but soon realized Bald’s question wasn’t about the readiness of his son’s stomach, but rather about what they might encounter inside. And with no knowledge of the structure, they could’ve been walking right into a trap.
28
The hallway was dark, with no windows providing light anywhere. Bald sparked his flashlight to life, and Colt wrapped his rifle strap around his chest and held onto Wesley’s shoulders as they walked.
Colt peered over Bald’s shoulder, following the glow at the end of the beam. There were doorways on each side of them. They were classrooms, or some sort of offices. Colt couldn’t know for certain. Halfway down the hall, Bald stopped.
What is it? Did you hear something? See something? Colt wondered, but Bald didn’t acknowledge the stall, nor did he linger in the same spot for long. He took his next step carefully, then shined his light on the set of doors to their right.
The outline of man was stamped on the placard. Bald nodded, then proceeded inside to make sure there wasn’t a threat waiting. Colt followed close, still holding Wesley.
The bathroom was small, only one urinal and a stall. Bald trained the light on the floor and searched for feet under the door. There were none.
“All clear,” he whispered and put the light to the door, waiting for Wesley to use the light as his guide.
Wesley walked inside the stall, and Colt shut the door behind him, then moved himself to the urinal. A few seconds passed, and Wesley spoke, “Dad.”
“What is it, little man?” Colt whispered.
“I’m done.”
“Okay, come on out.”
Before Colt could say anything else, Wesley flushed the toilet without thinking.
Colt whipped his head around and searched for Bald. A look of desperation and torment hung on his face. Colt opened the stall door as Bald moved to bathroom door, and peered back into the hallway to see if the noise had alerted any infected inside the building.
In the black of the bathroom, Colt reached for Wesley and guided him through the darkness while Bald held his light through the crack. Wesley found the sink, then Colt touched Bald on the shoulder, alerting him they were ready to move.
Bald swung the door open slowly and crept out. But this time Colt didn’t have his hand on Wesley’s shoulder to guide him. Wesley stuck close to Bald as Colt unslung his rifle and stared deep into the empty darkness of the hallway, waiting for a surprise attack.
As they walked, Colt couldn’t help but think about every suspense or horror movie he’d ever seen. This was it. Right when the bad guy or boogieman would leap from darkness and scare the popcorn right out of your lap. But this was no movie. He was living the fear he felt. And with no way of seeing what was coming,
Colt prayed they’d see the light of day sooner rather than later.
Bald reached the door and stopped, then whispered over his shoulder. “Ready?”
“Without question,” Colt said.
Even with the sun setting in the sky, the brightness temporarily blinded Colt as he put his hand over his eyes to shield them from the glare.
He noticed the plane in the distance. Colonel Jenkins and Dylan were climbing down the ladder, just as a noise rose from the left side. Rolling tires over rocks and debris on the ground. A set of Humvees were driving directly toward their position.
Jacob. Colt smiled. He was there. He really came. Without thought, Colt started walking toward the approaching vehicles, but for some reason the Humvees stopped about 100 yards away, even though there was plenty of concrete in front of them to continue.
Colt stopped walking too. As did the others. Instinct told him to turn and gauge Colonel Jenkins’ reaction. His face wore confusion. Then Colt sought Bald’s eye. All he could do was shrug. Colt returned his attention on the Humvees. Not one person exited.
“What are you waiting for?” Colt said.
It was as if they needed prompting, because at Colt’s words, every Humvee door opened simultaneously. But what hopped out was not who Colt was expecting. It wasn’t Jake. Or any other human soldier.
Infected poured out of the vehicles.
Colt’s eyes bulged in their sockets at this realization. His body rotated instinctually and immediately searched for his sons. He broke from his position and ran to Wesley’s side just as Bald opened fire. Colt waved Dylan toward him. “Dylan, come on!” He pulled Wesley back toward the door of the building.
Dylan hobbled near, and when they reached the door, Colt ripped it door open and pushed his sons inside. Then he gave one last transitory glance toward the two Humvees. Was he mistaken? Could the infected, really be standing there? Driving real life Humvees?
The infected remained standing, staring at Colt, taking position behind the open doors, using them as cover until Bald and Colonel Jenkins stopped shooting, or until they ran out of ammo.
Colt waved at Colonel Jenkins and Bald. “Let’s go. Get inside.” They soon began to run toward him, but he needed to move inside first to find his sons and make sure they weren’t being attacked. By the time he witnessed what was happening outside, the heavy auto-close door had shut. He yanked it open again, and expected to feel his son’s presence, but they weren’t there.
“Dylan? Wesley?” Colt whispered through gritted teeth.
Silence.
His stomach fell. Damnit, where are you?
Colt felt for the wall. He found the left side and ran his fingers across the sheetrock at waist level in search of the first door frame. The sheetrock was coarse on his fingertips, and as he stepped, he came to the first metal door frame. Just as he did, the door burst open again as Colonel Jenkins and Bald came rushing in.
Bald flipped the flashlight on. Colt found their eye but was blinded by the flash. Bald lowered his wand and put the light to the floor. They made up the distance and said, “Where are the boys?”
Even with the beam lowered, Colt’s expression was vacant. Something was wrong.
“I’m sure they went into the bathroom. Wesley was probably scared and ran off. Dylan had to follow,” Bald said. “Come on we need to move. We know where he is.”
Bald was probably right. There was no use worrying about it now, Colt knew. They didn’t have the time. But as they walked, Colt couldn’t help but thinking about the scene that had just unfolded outside. Driving? Seriously? How? How could they be driving? How did they know we were here? If Colt had thought deeper, he might have figured out the answer. He had discussed it with Jake a day ago. But his thoughts didn’t go there, because Bald and Colonel Jenkins were forced to a stop before they ever made it to the bathroom door.
Bald guided the beam down the hall, and toward the end. Standing there were Wesley and Dylan. Oh, thank God, Colt was relieved, but just as he made a move to fetch them, he saw something else. An arm draped across their chests and a hand covering their mouths.
Colt swallowed hard. Two infected men were holding them hostage, keeping them from speaking—for calling for help. In the beam, Colt could see tears, riding the wave of despair down their faces.
Colt clenched his fists. He was ready for a fight. He’d kill the infected with his bare hands if it came to that. But before Colt could take his first step, the door opened from behind. And along with the last light of the night, in walked the group of infected.
29
In that glimmer of light, Colt raised his rifle and fired toward the door, dropping the first man who entered. From behind him, he could hear two other rifle shots, and then the subtle yelps from his sons. They must’ve been set free. But he couldn’t turn around to see, not yet. More infected would be coming in from outside.
The first infected Colt had dropped blocked the doorway, leaving it cracked and allowing just enough light to shine in so he could see, at least until the sun finally fell behind the horizon for good that night. Another infected entered, and again, Colt fired, dropping him atop the other the instant his head came into view.
“Come on you, bastards, keep coming.” Colt didn’t expect they would. Soon they’d wise up and stop walking into their own deaths.
Another three-round burst rang out from behind him. Bald and Colonel Jenkins were taking down more.
Only one other infected tried his luck through the back door. Colt made short work of him too, but just as the infected fell, the last round flew from the chamber of his rifle. He was empty. Immediately, he felt for his pockets. There was no brass left. Colt backed up and spun around to witness the action from the opposite side of the hall. Bald had just dropped two more infected who were circling toward them. Colonel Jenkins was holding both Dylan and Wesley across their chests now.
Colt bent down. In the orange glow of the flashlight’s beam, he could see tears fresh on their faces. He lifted Wesley from the floor, then leaned into Colonel Jenkins and said, “I’m out of ammo.”
“Me too.” A look of desperation hung on his face.
Colt searched for an escape route. There was a doorway, directly beside Bald. Colt reached for the handle. It was open.
Colonel Jenkins shined his light inside. It was a classroom. Multiple tables lined the room, with a white board spanning across the opposite end. At once, Colt set Wesley down and began flipping the tables over and stacking them close to the door. As soon as Bald fired his last shot—he had to be running low—they would barricade the door.
At that, Bald sprinted through the opening and yelled, “Close it! Close it! They’re coming!” Colonel Jenkins slammed the door shut, and Colt pushed the first table in front of the door. Then they grabbed another, and another until they had stacked them midway up the frame.
From three feet off the frame, Bald flashed his light through the rectangular window carved inside the door, and it showcased multiple infected lining up against the outside. But only one of them was smiling, as if he knew they had them trapped.
Colt, Bald, and Colonel Jenkins backed into the center of the room. Each gripped his weapon and wouldn’t let go.
“I hate to be the one to say this but . . .” Bald stalled. “I’m out of ammo.”
“Me too,” Colt said.
Bald locked eyes with Colonel Jenkins, who could do nothing but shake his head no.
Stuck without an exit—without ammunition—they were trapped.
Crash!
The window inside the doorway shattered and the first of the tables was pushed over. The infected were plowing through.
Colt grabbed his sons close, not knowing what to expect. Not knowing when help would come.
Uh, Jake, now would be a good time for you and the cavalry to show up.
It was at that moment that they heard more gunfire.
“What was that?” Dylan said with hope in his voice.
No one wanted to sp
eak in case it had been a random boom. They wondered if they had only imagined the sound of shooting. But then another shot came, and another. Once again, Colt looked to the doorway. It seemed the infected had stopped trying to breach the door.
“That, my friend, is the cavalry,” Colonel Jenkins smiled down at Dylan.
Colt unhooked his arms from his boys and crept forward.
“What are you doing?” Bald forced out.
Colt didn’t answer. He needed to make sure the threat was gone. He needed to feel safety for his boys. As he came closer, Bald and Colonel Jenkins shined their lights from behind, showing Colt the way. He stepped on a glass shard, and it crunched beneath his feet. He stopped only briefly, but when he looked down, more surrounded his feet. His eye didn’t linger on the floor long. Instead, he studied the vacant frame where the glass had once been. Open to the hallway, it was dark, but he could see, at least a little. He stepped closer now and leaned.
“What is it? What do you see?” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt spun his head around and was about to speak, but then something grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward the door. It was an infected. An infected man was yanking him into the door.
Colt pounded down on the arm that was gripping him with both fists, but the hold was too tight. Bald and Colonel Jenkins ran to Colt’s side, shoving the butts of their rifles into the arm of the infected.
When the infected finally released his grip, all three men fell to their backsides. Bald raised his light to the rectangular window to witness the infected man standing there. The infected lowered his head through the open hole and said, “I’m coming in.”
Epilogue
“Fire! Twelve o’clock,” Marine Gunnery Sergeant, Clayton Lund said over the radio.
“I see him, sir, but there’s too many. They’re attacking from all angles,” Staff Sergeant Marcus McGovern said.
“Do you have eyes on the package?” Lund said.
“Negative, sir,” McGovern said. “We saw the last of them fleeing inside the building when we came upon the scene. We couldn’t see who it was, but they were human. Not infected. It looked as though the remaining infected from the Humvees turned and scattered at our first shots. There’s a pileup of infected in front of the side door, at least I think that’s what I see. Tough to say in this light, sir.”
