Uncivil War: Evolution
Page 18
“Get Cassandra Craft and her Beritrix.”
“Beritrix? You mean that stuff you have to take?”
“Yes.”
“Why would the president want the Air Force to ‘get’ you?” she used finger quotes. “And your medicine?”
“I don’t know, Keith, but I’m not sticking around to find out.”
“Whoa, whoa, what a minute. Calm down and take a breath. I think you’re overreacting a bit, don’t you?”
Before Craft could answer there was a knock on the door. “Cadet Craft. The Colonel needs to speak with you. Could you come out and follow us please?”
I’m not here, she mouthed to Keith. Then Craft, spun and stared to the window. She walked over to it, spun the latch, and lifted. She looked down from the second story. This is gonna hurt. She talked herself up before popping out the screen. The men at the door knocked again.
“Craft. Don’t make the Colonel wait. He said, your presence was urgent.”
“I’m sorry,” Craft whispered. “I can’t let them take me.”
She walked to the window and chucked her bag to the ground below. Then she pushed her torso through the opening held on as she spun around, so her legs dangled below the opening and she stared back into the room.
Keith walked over to the door and opened it slightly. “She’s not in here. I’m trying to do my—” But the men wouldn’t allow Keith to finish her sentence. Instead they burst inside just as Craft let go and fell to the sidewalk below.
She landed hard, but nothing her fit eighteen-year-old body couldn’t recover from. Instantly, she jumped from the hard concrete, and scooped up her bag as she ran away from the dorms.
Every single cadet who strolled on the sidewalks at that hour stared as she sprinted. Her lungs burned and lungs ached as she held onto her pack that was slung around her back. She didn’t see the men giving chase behind her and there was nothing in the way of cover—not where she was running—not until she’d made into the thick tree line of the Rocky Mountains. But they were far in the distance and that was wishful thinking in that moment.
The men were barreling down on her position and would soon catch her. When they did, they wrapped her into a tackle. Sitting atop her back, one of the men pushed her face into the grass and threw his knee into her spine, as they locked her wrists into handcuffs.
“Why’d you run, Craft? You could be court-martialed for this.” One of the men stood, ripping her from the ground with her arms stuck behind her.
She faced the two men as they stood, both of their jaws were clenched, upset she had the audacity to run. But she offered no quarter.
The airman led her away and everyone who’d seen her run, looked on with a concerned eye. Perhaps wondering what she could have possibly done.
The men lead her through a building, one Craft didn’t know well. But in fact, the very same one she ran into the officer. An office waited at the end of the hall. The door was open, and the colonel waited behind his desk and refused to look up, even though he had to hear the commotion as they led her down the hall.
As the airmen lead, both men gripped her arms tight, one on each side. It’s not like she could rip free and make another run for it, but at that point, deep down, she couldn’t help but wonder what the president wanted with her and her medicine.
The door to Colonel Patterson’s office was wide open. The men led her inside, dropped her bag onto the office floor, then took a step back and waited for dismissal.
“Thank you, Johns, Matson.” Colonel Patterson nodded. “You’re dismissed.”
Colonel Patterson looked up from his desk and removed his reading glasses from his eyes and stared up at Craft from behind his desk. She stood with her chin high but was reluctant to look him in the eye.
“Why did you run?” he said.
She didn’t answer, not at first.
He rose from his desk, walked around the side, then sat on the edge only a foot from where Craft stood. “I’ll ask again, why did you run?”
But she remained silent.
“You know, I can court martial for this?” He tried to strike fear in her.
Go ahead, she thought. But then maybe figured it’d be best to ask a question of her own. “What does the president want with me? With my Beritrix?”
“Ah. So, you did read it?” Colonel Patterson stood from the edge, walked around his desk, then grabbed a folder. He opened the flap and returned to his position in front of where she stood. “I figured as much. When I finally received this from Petty Officer Warren, the stack of papers was out of order. Warren was disheveled and loaded me up with some nonsense about running into a cadet. I assume you were that cadet?” He nodded to her. Finally, she answered with a nod of her own. “He told me you read through some of the orders. Ha.” He chuckled to himself. “Imagine that. You, of all people, read an executive order to come and find you. I can’t imagine that cruel irony. Especially when that order came directly from POTUS.”
Colonel Patterson held the paper in front of her, almost taunting her to look. Against her better judgment she did.
“Read it.” Colonel Patterson nodded to the paper.
Shocked, she reached for the paper and read, slower this time.
Eyes Only: Colonel Kirk Patterson United States Air Force
An executive order has been brought down by the President of the United States. Find Cassandra Craft and her supply of Beritrix.
“Yeah, I read that already. That’s why I ran.”
“You ran because you were scared,” Colonel Patterson said.
Craft wished to speak. But he was right, that’s exactly why she ran.
“What you didn’t read, was this.” He lifted another piece of paper, resting it on top of the other. “The second part of the order.”
Scientist have discovered Beritrix is what will stop this apocalypse from taking over the entire human race.
Her face went white at one word. “Apocalypse, sir?” she asked.
“Now you want answers.” Colonel Patterson laughed. “I’m afraid that’s above your clearance level, cadet. Tell me, where is your supply of Beritrix?”
Instinctively, Craft looked down. “Back in my dorm.”
“Liar. You wouldn’t have left it there, not since you knew the president was looking for you and the medicine.”
Quick. Think of something. But before she could speak, he walked around the desk again, and stepped toward her bag.
No. She wished to say, but she couldn’t, he wouldn’t believe any lie she’d spout at that point, not until he looked on her person.
He had two steps remaining, but just as he bent over to reach for it, an alarm rang out from overhead. A loud reverberating alarm. A tone Craft had never heard before. Colonel Patterson stopped in his tracks and stared toward the door, as if he knew someone would be entering at any moment.
“Sir, it’s unit 26, sir. “I’ve just received word, sir, they’ve gone . . . they’ve started attacking other airman, sir,” cadet Duncan said.
“Where?” Colonel Patterson said.
“The airfield, sir. Men, sir. They’re . . . they’re.”
“Spit it out, man!”
“They’re killing one another.”
That was the distraction Craft needed. “Stay with her.” Patterson nodded to the scrawny man.
Duncan entered the room and stood by the door. Craft stared at him and wouldn’t drop her gaze. It didn’t take but a moment for him to become uncomfortable. “What? Why are you staring at me?” He yelled.
Craft didn’t make a sound. Even if she did, it wouldn’t likely be heard over the piercing scream of the alarm. Duncan avoided eye contact with her, which is precisely what she wanted. She knew as soon as he turned around, maybe felt too uncomfortable, she could make her move. He did. He reached for the door and closed it. In that moment, she rushed him. He didn’t even see her coming. She dipped her shoulder and sent him flying face first into the thick oak door. His head smacked the wood and he crumpl
ed like a tin can.
Feverishly, Craft searched the room for any sign of a key ring. Her head went up, down, all around. There was nothing, not until she stepped behind the Colonel’s desk and pulled open his top desk drawer.
Jackpot, she thought seeing a ring of keys. She lifted them and immediately began to feel for the opening of the handcuffs. Finding the hole was much harder than she thought it would be. It took her over a minute, but after she freed herself, she ran to lift her bag.
After opening the door, she peered into the hallway to see a multitude of men and women scattering in the halls like ants in the hot sun. Inside the panicked scattering, there was pained screams that echoed over the piercing alarm.
She swallowed hard, knowing the one word that stuck out on the page aside from her name and Beritrix: apocalypse. Could Armageddon be on the doorstep of the Air Force academy? She didn’t want to believe it. But then she thought about Duncan’s first words to the colonel after the alarm.What did Duncan mean, men attacking men? Like a fight?
She had no idea but was about to find out.
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Acknowledgments
First and foremost, we want to thank you, the reader. We love what we do, and no matter how many people help us along the way, none of it would be possible if you weren’t turning the pages.
To our family and friends. Every creative person is neurotic as hell about their creations, and we just want to thank you for always helping to keep our heads on straight. And for indulging all of our ridiculous ideas.
To our editor, Josiah Davis. Thank you for your hard work in making our story sound better, and for helping our writing become sharper.
To our advanced reader team. You are our megaphone in helping spread the word about each new novel we release. You all have become friends, and we thank you for catching those last few sneaky typos, and always letting us know when something isn’t good enough. Jake and Colt appreciate you, and so do we.
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
B.T. Wright and Jonathan Dudycha are the authors of the Uncivil War series. They found common ground in 2016 because they discovered they are adults still playing make-believe, and they had a similar background playing college baseball. Because they have penned novels in similar genres, it made sense to collaborate on a project just for the sheer fun of it. B.T. lives in Lexington, Kentucky with his wife and son. Jonathan hangs his hat in Ponte Vedra, Florida with his wife, son, and daughter. Though they are “blue steel” in the photo, in reality, serious is a rare occurrence.
Join the online family:
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Also by Wright & Dudycha
Both B.T. and Jonathan write thrillers under different names.
If you enjoy espionage and crime thrillers B.T. writes under the name Bradley Wright. Here are his other novels:
Bradley Wright
Xander King Series:
Whiskey & Roses
Vanquish
King’s Ransom
King’s Reign
Scourge
Vendetta (prequel novella)
Lawson Raines Series:
When the Man Comes Around
Shooting Star
If you enjoy espionage and sea adventure thrillers Jonathan writes under the name J.D. Dudycha. Here are his other novels:
J.D. Dudycha
Gage Finley Adventures
Scavengers
Dark Descent
Buried Secrets
Deep Blue
Hurricane
Niki Finley Thrillers
First Shot
Second Best
Third Degree
Baseball Stories
Paint the Black
Sitting Dead Red
Chasing the Dream
Inside the Dugout: A collection of Baseball Stories
For information on upcoming releases, contests, freebies, and deals on future novels, head over to-
www.wrightanddudycha.com
-and join the reader team. We don’t write often, and we will never spam you or share your information. Thanks for being a part of the team. Talk to you soon!