The Uncivil War Series Box Set

by B. T. Wright

  The heavy air rolled over Colt’s truck as they made their way into it. Then a mist began to fall and covered the windshield with tiny droplets of water. He flicked on his wipers and reached down to turn on his headlights.

  Visibility was at a minimum. He could only see maybe twenty to thirty feet. With no way of knowing what would come next, Colt reduced his speed, well below the posted speed limit of 45. He did not want to be surprised by another oncoming vehicle, or the chance of more infected standing in the road.

  “Dad, I’m hungry,” Dylan said from the back seat.

  “Grab a snack from the supplies we grabbed from Walter’s.”

  “I’m not hungry for a snack, I need a meal,” Dylan said.

  Out of instinct Colt leaned forward, scanning the shoulder for a restaurant. But knew if one was even close, no one would be there to serve them.

  “Sorry, bud, I don’t know if we’re going to get a meal again for a while.”

  Dylan huffed and said, “That sucks.”

  “Tell me about it, I’m hungry too.” Colt caught his eye in the mirror. “Just grab something out of the box.”

  Colt heard Dylan ransacking through the small box and with every toss of his hand, he could hear Dylan’s disappointment. “Dad, there’s nothing here.”

  Colt clenched his jaw, getting frustrated with his son. He knew there wasn’t much, but it wasn’t the time for his son to be picky. Watching Dylan, taking his eye off the road, he saw Dylan look up and point out the passenger side window.

  “What about that?” Dylan said.

  Colt followed Dylan’s gesture and witnessed a building off the right side of the road, marked with the word Food on the covering. He lifted his foot off the gas and slowed as they approached the entrance. Peering out the window, Colt scanned the area. But with his sight limited due to the fog, he knew he couldn’t risk driving off the road. “Can’t, bud, sorry.” Colt shifted his view from the store and back out the windshield.

  “Argh, are you serious, why not?”

  “Are you serious?” Colt looked at his son through the mirror and asked with sarcasm.

  “Alright, I get it, there could be infected people out there, but how long do you seriously think we can last without food?” Dylan said.

  “About three weeks.”

  “Oh, seriously?” Dylan’s tune changed.

  “Yeah. As long as we have water. And besides, we’ll be in Colorado Springs by nightfall. If nothing else, I’m sure the vice president will have plenty of food to give us.”

  “You really think the vice president is still waiting there? What if he left? What if there’s nothing there but infected?” Worry shone through in his voice.

  “We can’t dwell on that possibility, Dylan. We have to hope.”

  “Hope! Ha. That’s a load of bullshit. What exactly is there for us to hope for?” Dylan turned his attention away from his father’s vision.

  “Easy, Dylan, I know you’re frustrated, but you need to stay positive. You keep throwing a pity party for yourself, and you’re going to end up . . .” Colt paused, unwilling to say, ‘like their mother.’ But he knew it to be true. They couldn’t fall into the trap of fear and self-loathing. All of them needed to be there for each other, to be strong, and survive.

  In the skies over Midland, Colorado

  When the helicopter flew over the ridge, the pilot steered due west. As they soared, Masterson spoke through his headset. “We’ve got a pretty thick fog bank to the north of us. I say we stick to the south and west for now, what do you say, Colonel?”

  “You’re the pilot. But yeah, I assume, it will be difficult to see anyone there.” Then Colonel Jenkins thought again about their path. “Continue on this heading until we reach 285. Once there, we’ll follow the highway back north and loop back around.”

  “Roger that, sir,” Masterson said. “I’ll have to keep an eye on our fuel level though.”

  “Understood.”

  It wasn’t until they reached Saddle Mountain that the fog began to lift to the north.

  “Hey Colonel, that’s ElevenMile right there, isn’t it?” Drake asked.

  “Sure is.”

  “You remember that giant Kokanee you pulled out of there last October?”

  “Hell yeah, man it was gnarly looking. And the teeth, hell they looked like piranha.”

  They men shared a laugh, then refocused their attention to the valley below.

  Divide, Colorado

  Once outside the city limits of Divide, Colt slowed as he entered town. Still the fog was thick, but not as thick as before. Visibility was about a quarter mile now. The town was empty, vacant of infected, at least so far.

  Colt knew they had almost thirty miles until their destination, and as he continued, he kept a constant eye on his gas gauge. The needle hovered just over the E. C’mon, baby, you can make it. Don’t let me down now. We’re so close.

  Just as the thought entered Colt’s mind, something under the hood shook.

  “Uh, Dad, what was that?” Dylan recognized the shutter.

  Damn, he heard that, Colt thought. “You heard that, huh?”

  “More like heard and felt that. What was it?”

  He didn’t want to scare his sons, not until there was a need to make them concerned. “It’s nothing. This truck is old. You know how old trucks can be.”

  “You always said this thing would never break down. It was a beast.”

  “She is a beast.” He rubbed his hand over the dash. “Aren’t you, sweetie.” He did his best to speak nice, as if that would matter, somehow calm the truck down.

  But again, the truck clunked and shook before it backfired.

  There was a stoplight ahead, and Colt didn’t know if he should slow. Obviously, no light flickered, because of the lack of power, but still he wanted to be certain no one entered through the intersection. Quickly, though, he threw that thought away the instant he realized taking his foot off the gas would stop the momentum of the truck. That was the last thing he wanted to do. The ride to Woodland Park was at a lower elevation than Divide. Worst case, Colt could put the truck into neutral and coast. But they were still a long way off from freedom.

  18

  In the skies above Fairplay, Colorado

  “Sir! You seeing this?” Bald said through the microphone.

  But Colonel Jenkins was on the opposite side of the helicopter. “No, what do you got?”

  “Looks like some downed fencing and tire tracks leading away from the road. The grass is pushed down like someone went off-roading to avoid something.”

  “Where you seeing this?” Colonel Jenkins shifted over Bald’s right shoulder.

  “Right behind the semi.” He saw Colonel Jenkins hovering there.

  “Yeah, I see it. Looks like there’s one dead infected on the highway too,” Colonel Jenkins said.

  “Still doesn’t mean it’s our family,” Drake chimed in

  “True, but it gives us an indication someone bested these bastards.”

  “Why do you say that?” Bald said.

  “Do you see an abandoned vehicle that may have made those tire tracks?”

  All looked to the ground below.

  Then Bald turned and said, “Nope.”

  “Me neither.”

  Colonel Jenkins returned to his seat and strapped back in to continue his search.

  “Sir,” Masterson said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “We’re running low on fuel, sir. And daylight. We need to return to base. Refuel. Maybe we can come back out tomorrow.”

  Colonel Jenkins sighed, knowing that was unlikely. The vice president had been strict in his order. If the family was not found by tonight, they were to leave first thing the next morning. “Push the fuel we have left. I don’t know if this family will get another chance if we return, especially after nightfall. The vice president was unbending with his order. I don’t think he is going to risk our lives by going out again.”

  “Roger that, si
r. Would you like to continue on 285?”

  “Yes. Follow the highway. Once we get over the pass, we’ll loop back down toward the Springs. Will we have enough fuel for that?”

  “I think so, sir.”

  “Good. Make it be so.”

  Woodland Park, Colorado

  In what was usually a bustling city with plenty of traffic and people to watch, there was no movement. However, there were far more abandoned cars in the parking lots of the local establishments. Restaurants. Retail stores. Gas stations. You name it, there was at least one vehicle, if not multiple, stalled out or left behind.

  Colt had never travelled this far east on US 24. This was his first visit to Woodland Park. The beauty of the city was undeniable and bigger, more developed, than he’d anticipated. Still with the amount of buildings, they didn’t detract from the majesty of the Rocky Mountains.

  “Dad. What if we stop somewhere here?” Dylan said. “There are plenty of places to grab food from.” Colt joined in Dylan’s enthusiasm, in awe of the selection of restaurants they could stop on a normal day. But this was no normal day, this was no normal situation.

  “I . . . don’t think we can,” Colt said, but he didn’t really believe his own words. Why couldn’t they stop? It wasn’t likely that groups of infected would be in every establishment. Besides, it had been almost a full day since they’d had something to eat, and Colt hadn’t seen one sign of infected since they dragged the man from Eleven Mile Mountain Reservoir. “Screw it.” Colt swerved into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant. Just as he entered the lot, the truck lurched and came to an abrupt halt before he could shift into park.

  “Aw, what was that?” Dylan leaned over the bench seat. Colt saw the concern on his face. “Are we going to stop?”

  “We are stopped.” Colt whipped his head around. “Boys. It looks as though we’re going to get some food after all. And now that we must do this, we do it together. I’m not leaving you out here alone while I go search inside.”

  Both eyed him. Excitement lingered in Dylan’s eyes, but Wesley’s were wide with fear.

  “Don’t worry, bud, I’ll be with you the entire time,” Colt reassured Wesley.

  Then Dylan added encouragement getting excited at the prospect of food. “Me too. We’ll protect you.”

  Colt offered a smile and Wesley returned with his own.

  “Dylan you have the Glock?”

  “Right here.” He showed his father.

  “Good. Hand me the rifle.” Colt nodded to the seat where the gun lay. “Alright we take this slow, okay? And we stick together. No wandering off. Got it?” Colt looked to Dylan, knowing he had a proclivity to do so.

  “Got it,” Dylan said.

  Colt stepped out of the truck, and his sons followed from the back seat. As they walked, Dylan whispered from behind. “What about the truck?” he said. “What do we do about the stuff we found at Walter’s? What about the medicine?”

  Colt didn’t bother turning around, but rather kept his eye trained ahead, scanning the area for any movement. “For now, we leave it. After we go inside and grab the food, we’ll have to come back and get it.”

  They tiptoed near the side entrance of the store front and peered through the glass. There was no sign of any infected. Only trash scattered about on the floors. Old half-eaten burgers and fries remained on some of the tables. Just inside the door there was a mop and bucket. The mop was on the floor, and the bucket still full of murky water.

  Colt reached for the handle and pulled. He only opened it a crack. The door screeched, and Colt stopped pulling. He clenched his face and closed his eye. He wondered if anyone inside had heard the screech. He waited for only a moment to see movement, but there was none.

  “Ready?” He nodded to Dylan.

  Dylan nodded back.

  “Wesley come here.” He stood behind his older brother. “Stay in the middle of Dylan and me.” Wesley moved over to stand between them. “Dylan. Stay close to both of us. Do not let your brother out of arms reach. Understand?”

  Again, Dylan nodded.

  Once inside the first set of the double doors, Colt reached again for the handle of the next set. This time the door didn’t creek, but slid open with ease. To their right was the bank of three cash registers and the menu that hung above. The smell of old fries and stale grease hovered in the air like a bad odor, but even in the stink, Colt’s stomach ached to be filled.

  Colt peered over his shoulder and whispered to Dylan. “Kitchen.”

  On the left side of the counter there was an opening. Colt walked through the opening, and his sons followed close behind. The drive-thru window was to their left. They walked by the fry drop box. Colt looked in to see the bin completely empty. Damn. Then he proceeded deeper into the kitchen. The condiment station sat off to their left. He peered into the plastic containers that hung suspended above the counter.

  Tomatoes. Pickles. Lettuce. Cheese. Onions, he thought.

  Colt reached in, and lifted the pickle tray, figuring they would be fresh enough to eat. “Dig in.” Colt said.

  Without thinking each of his boys dipped their hands inside the pickle juice and ripped the round vegetable from the bottom of the container and stuffed their faces.

  Next Colt lifted the tomatoes out. They seemed to be fine, not rotten, but had been sitting out at room temperature for a day and had likely grown bacteria. Then he looked to the lettuce. It was wilted and starting to blacken.

  Colt raised his head and searched for a freezer. There had to be food there. If the door had remained closed since the power went out, it might still have fresh food to consume. He found the set of steel double doors.

  “Boys,” he whispered.

  They both looked up from the container of pickles as he nodded to the freezer.

  Dylan acknowledged his father’s suggestion and put his hand over Wesley’s to get him to stop.

  They would need to step around the end of the condiment station to reach the freezer. Walking slowly, they turned the corner, where they saw a bag of unopened hamburger buns. “Grab that bag,” Colt whispered to Dylan. He did so just as Colt reached for the horizontal metal handle of the freezer.

  He pulled it open, expecting to feel the rush of cold air, but there was none. Colt continued to tug the door open, to let light inside. There’s gotta be something. But as the natural light shined on the floor, an infected revealed itself. There standing in the back of the freezer was a woman.

  Colt’s eyes bulged at the sight of her. He didn’t hesitate before screaming, “Run!”

  With the door being as heavy and slow as it was to close, Colt left it open, and bolted with his sons. The infected woman sprinted out of the freezer and chased Colt as he ran through the kitchen. As they ran, Colt reached for anything he could find to hinder her path. Ripping mixing bowls, plastic containers, and cutlery from the high shelves.

  Dylan reached the doors first and he tore the first set open, allowing Wesley to run through. Colt was close behind, but so was the infected woman. “Dad! Hurry!” Dylan screamed.

  She was only two steps behind Colt as he hopped over the countertop and ran for the open door. Once through, he immediately grabbed the doors from Dylan’s grasp and slammed them shut. Dylan and Wesley fell back into the second set of doors as Colt held the handles to protect them.

  The infected woman shook the glass. Colt remembered the mop on the floor. “Dylan! Quick! The mop.” Dylan lifted it from the floor and waited for instruction. “Slide the shaft through the two handles in the door.” Dylan did as he was told, but Colt still wouldn’t let go. He looked to his father and said, “Do you think that will hold?”

  “Nope.”

  Further concern flashed across Dylan’s face. “But I don’t need it to. We only need to slow her down.”

  Then the infected woman stopped shaking the doors and stepped away. Her move surprised Colt. “Quick. Give me the Glock.” Colt knew the rifle wasn’t necessary at close range. He reached out his
hand, and Dylan set the handgun down.

  The woman let out a loud piercing screech and ran head-first for the glass. But she wouldn’t get any closer as Colt stopped her dead in her tracks with one shot through the middle of the forehead.

  19

  The three of them remained in the vestibule in a pile of glass, staring at the dead infected woman on the floor. They waited without speaking. In that silence, screeches emanated from outside the restaurant, but the voices seemed far away.

  Colt whipped his head around, unaware of the exact origin of the screeching. In the foreground of his vision was his truck. The medicine. Panic set in. The cooler in the truck was more important than the bread in their hands.

  “Stay here,” Colt whispered to his sons, knowing the greater threat remained outside those doors.

  Once outside, he didn’t bother searching for movement, instead he crept toward the truck, reached inside the cab, and grabbed the cooler. Without bothering to close the door, he snuck back into the restaurant to rejoin his sons. After shutting the doors to the restaurant, Colt looked near the handles. A lock was there. He spun the lock, then checked to make sure it held.

  “You think that will hold?” Dylan said.

  “No. But this is probably the safest place we can be right now.”

  “How do you figure?” Dylan said.

  “Because out there we’re in the elements.”

  “Yeah, and in here, there is a dead infected woman on the floor. What if they can sense her body. Smell her blood, anything?”

  Of course, Colt had thought of that possibility, but at least in the restaurant they were behind locked doors. He’d rather take his chances.

  Instead of opening the second set of doors that led into the restaurant, Colt crouched down and stepped through the empty frame and moved toward the dead woman. Standing over her, he set the cooler down, then squatted.