by B. T. Wright
“But Dad, I really need to go.” His voice was louder now.
“Shh!” Bald turned and reprimanded him for his insistence.
Colt bent down to his son. “Can you hold it just a while longer?”
Wesley dropped his head to the ground and shook it no.
By now, the gap Bald, the vice president, and Dylan created was over twenty feet wide.
Colonel Jenkins leaned over Colt’s shoulder and said, “Just let him go. I’ve got your back.”
Colt glanced up to see Dylan. His son stopped, but only for a second. Colt nodded to him, then grabbed, Wesley’s shoulder and guided him to the opening. At least in the opening there wouldn’t be any surprises, not while his son was vulnerable.
Colonel Jenkins remained close to Colt, who stood by his son. He knew he’d be afraid to pee alone. The rest of the crew stopped their march fifty feet away.
Keeping his eye on the opposite hole parallel to their current position, Colt noticed more movement. But it wasn’t from the ground or behind the bushes of sage, instead the movement came from inside the trees. At least three trees that were planted side by side swayed—not from the wind, but because something was moving them from the inside.
Colt strained to see, then took one step, directly in the puddle of urine his son just left.
“Uh, Dad . . . what are you doing?” Wesley furrowed his brow.
But Colt didn’t speak, he continued his pace until he saw one infected fall. Instantly, he shot upright, and yelled. “They’re in the trees!”
At his call, dozens of infected fell from the limbs. Each landing on its feet and setting off into a sprint.
Colt whipped around to gather Wesley.
“There’s too many! They’re coming from all over!” Colonel Jenkins said.
At once, Colt caught Dylan’s eye in the distance.
Colt stepped toward him, wanting to run. But he couldn’t leave Wesley behind, not in the rush of infected. His eyes were wide with sorrow, with fear. Dylan shared the same look as he gazed into his father’s eyes from far off.
“Dylan! No . . .” But there was nothing Colt could do. He couldn’t go after him.
Dylan spun around and followed on the heels of the vice president and Bald. Colt stared at the back of his son, when Colonel Jenkins approached him and shook him. “We need to run! Now!”
Colt’s mouth hung open in shock. How had this happened? Dylan was his son. His reason to exist. He lost him. And he was out of his protection and at the mercy of the infected.
11
Colt carried Wesley in his arms as he followed Colonel Jenkins, who sprinted back on the plush fairway running toward the tee box. But before their feet could reach the edge of the ladies’ tee, two more infected blocked their path. Colonel Jenkins shifted his route left and entered a cluster of trees.
Colt didn’t agree with the Colonel’s decision. More infected could be waiting, ready to ambush and attack. But with the threat behind and now in front of them, there was little choice.
The trees were denser, but not as thick as the sagebrush. Once inside the first layer, Colt recognized a structure. It couldn’t have been more than 200 feet off. It wasn’t the building they’d witnessed from the road, no this looked like a residence, maybe where the superintendent of the golf course lived.
He shifted Wesley into his other arm. His biceps burned from his heavy weight. He needed to set him down. A fight seemed imminent.
“Colonel,” Colt whispered.
He spun around and locked eyes with Colt. He didn’t need to say another word. He and Colonel Jenkins shared the same idea. In that moment, Colonel Jenkins hit the deck, amongst the shrubbery. Colt set Wesley down next to the colonel and put his index finger to his mouth to keep quiet. Then signaled to Wesley to lay next to Colonel Jenkins.
Colt crouched down, but still stayed upright, getting a bearing on their enemies’ position. With his hand locked around the handle of his rifle, Colt wondered what he could do.
But as he searched, he heard Colonel Jenkins whisper from below. “Colt.”
Colt shot his head to the ground to see Colonel Jenkins holding something in his hand. Colt readjusted his eyes to make sure he wasn’t mistaken. In his open palm, Colonel Jenkins held two hand grenades.
“What the? Where?”
“Hangar,” Colonel Jenkins whispered. “Same crate as the RPG.”
There was another sound ahead, and more movement. Colt saw the brush swaying. The infected were there, no more than a few feet from their current position. If they stalled, they were dead. Before Colt could speak again, Colonel Jenkins pulled the pin on the grenade and let it fly.
The rise of the black projectile caught Colt off guard, and immediately he fell to the ground to protect his son from the flying shrapnel.
“Boom!” Fire erupted from ahead.
Once Colt’s hearing returned, he heard the whines and wails of multiple infected. Colonel Jenkins didn’t wait around to witness another swarm push through the brush. Instead he picked himself off the ground and ran toward the building. Colt lifted Wesley off the ground, and they didn’t stop until they saw the back of the home.
The yard was surrounded by trees and undergrowth. Once through the thickets, they sprinted for the back door. When they reached the back door, Colonel Jenkins stretched for the handle.
C’mon. Be open, Colt hoped.
His face curled into a smile when Colonel Jenkins swung the door open. Colt stepped closer and was about to enter, but Colonel Jenkins held his hand up to stop him.
“What are you doing? We don’t have time to wait. Get in there!”
Colonel Jenkins looked at Colt with steely eyes. “If these things are as smart as we think, they’re going to find us here.”
Colt spun his head back around and looked to the trees. The infected were close—he knew it. No way that grenade had stopped them. Perhaps it had pissed them off even more. “Yeah, sure. But I’m not keeping my son outside any longer.”
Again, Colonel Jenkins held up his hand to cut off Colt’s advance. “I get it. I’m just saying, if we leave the door open, we can let them think we’re inside. Then haul ass somewhere else.”
He had a point, a damn fine one.
“Do you know of a better place to hide?” Colt said.
“There’s plenty along this road. There might even be a vehicle we can boost along the way. Get us back to your son faster.”
A shriek erupted from behind them and shook Colt where he stood. He didn’t even respond to Colonel Jenkins. Without hesitating, he ran away from the property, heading south without a proper bearing.
Quickly, Colt realized they were heading back toward Academy Drive. When his feet met the unforgiving topsoil of the unmoved earth, he stopped, realizing they were out in the open.
Colonel Jenkins caught him from behind, then pulled at his shirt collar and led him east on a dirt path and back into the trees. The thin path of crushed rock carried them directly toward another building. At the backside of the building there was another door—this one glass. Colonel Jenkins approached and pulled it open.
Colt couldn’t believe their luck. But then thought again—it wasn’t luck that kept these doors open, but rather the absence of a maintenance man who would make sure each building was secure.
Colt expected Colonel Jenkins to walk in, but he didn’t. Instead, he reached down, leaving the door open a crack. Then set a grenade on the concrete, wedging it between the ground and the door. When the grenade was jammed, he pulled the pin, leaving the handle compressed.
Colonel Jenkins rose, looked Colt in the eye and said, “Once that door is opened, kaboom!” His eyes got big, and he mimed the explosion with his hands. “Let’s keep going. There’s a parking lot through these trees. If we’re lucky, we’ll find keys and a ride out of here.”
More trees approached, and as they pushed through the next grove, Colt’s thoughts turned to Dylan. Aside from the burst of gunfire they’d heard once they al
l fled, they hadn’t heard more. Did Bald protect my son? Were they overrun? Is Dylan still alive?
That last thought stopped Colt. Instantly, he yelped, “Stop! We have to go back.”
Colonel Jenkins stepped in front of him, coming nose to nose. “Are you crazy? Why? We can’t go back. Did you see how many infected were chasing us?”
“But . . . Dylan, he may be . . .”
“If he’s with Bald, he’s alive. The man’s more than capable of taking care of him. Trust me. He’s fine. Let’s just find a vehicle and make our way back to them. You’ll see him again, that’s a damn promise!”
The pep talk was exactly what Colt needed. He didn’t know Bald well, but Dylan was as stubborn as his mama. And after all she’d been through, she was still alive and kicking. There would always be fight left in the Maddox family, no matter what.
After gathering himself, Colt looked down to Wesley, smiled, and nodded at him.
“C’mon. We’ve got to keep moving,” Colonel Jenkins ducked from under a tree and forced his voice to a whisper.
Holding Wesley’s hand, Colt dropped under the same tree and followed Colonel Jenkins deeper into the woods.
Their pace was quieter now, and not as fast, but that was before an eruption of sound and fire exploded from behind. Shrill screams echoed amongst the trees, and Colonel Jenkins accelerated into a sprint.
Colt’s heart pumped wildly. In fact, it hadn’t stopped pounding to the beat of a battle drum since he saw the first man drop from the tree.
From underneath the branches, Colt saw an open parking lot connected to another set of buildings. There were at least ten cars and trucks parked. Colonel Jenkins stalled at the end of the tree line and waited for Colt and Wesley to catch up.
“I count eleven vehicles,” Colonel Jenkins said.
Colt hadn’t run through the number in his head, but still said, “Looks right.”
“How’s about you take that half, I take the others?”
Instantly, Colt found Wesley’s eye. He knew his youngest son would slow him down and he could work much faster on his own, but he couldn’t leave him alone. Colt searched the area, but there was nothing to hide inside. Everything in front was wide open. Then Colt looked over his son’s head to the trunk of the tree.
Two can play at this game, he thought. “Wesley, can you climb that tree?”
Wesley looked to it, then nodded to his father.
“Then up you go!” He lifted his son under his arms and placed him on the lowest limb.
Colt and Colonel Jenkins watched Wesley climb—at least fifteen feet from the ground. Then they looked to each other and both said, “Ready?”
12
The first vehicle Colt came to was a black SUV. Fancy. Maybe a Lexus or BMW, but Colt didn’t take the time to look. The vehicle was pulled straight into the parking spot, and only about fifteen feet from the tree line. The windows were tinted dark, almost too dark to see inside. Colt didn’t bother plastering his head against the glass. Instead he reached for the handle and pulled.
Locked.
Damn.
It was only then that Colt pushed his forehead on the glass of the driver’s side window. His vision was cloudy from the tint, but still, he could see the black leather of the seats. Nothing. No sign of keys anywhere.
The next vehicle was across the parking lot and in the next row. A white sedan with a cracked windshield. It was an older car, and Colt’s heartrate climbed as he approached.
If anyone would leave the keys stashed inside, it’d be this car, he thought.
A twinge formed in his belly when he lifted the handle and the car door opened.
Yes!
He dropped inside the driver’s seat and grabbed for the ignition, but no keys were there. He flipped down the mirror above, but again no sign. Lifting his elbow from the center console, he opened it. There were scattered and crumpled papers inside, including an out of date registration form, and a couple of birthday cards, but nothing of use.
It would be foolish to dawdle any longer, so Colt proceeded to the next vehicle. A truck. Not too dissimilar from his F-150. But this truck was newer, and in pristine condition. He moved to the driver’s side door to see the digital keypad. First, he tried the door. He knew it would be locked.
Here goes nothing, he thought, typing in the code 1. 2. 3. 4. 5.
But the doors didn’t unlock.
Figures, idiot.
But Colt was desperate and willing to try anything at this point, including breaking a window if it came to that. But that would be foolish, even now. Not only would he have to break the glass, but as soon as he opened the door, the noise of the car alarm would alert the surrounding infected.
Just as he backed away from the truck, he heard Colonel Jenkins whistle. Colt spun around, and Colonel Jenkins waved him over.
“What is it?” Colt said before he reached him.
“Keys.” Colonel Jenkins pointed through the window. “But it’s locked.”
Sure enough, there they were, dangling from the ignition, teasing them. Colt knew exactly what that meant. An alarm.
“Go get Wesley. We need to be ready to drive off the instant we get inside.”
Colt stared to the tree Wesley was perched in. “Wait, what if the car is out of gas, or it doesn’t start? This thing can’t be newer than a 2000.” Colt backed away, getting a better look at the exterior.
“Maybe we’ll get lucky. Maybe it doesn’t even have an alarm.”
“That’s unlikely, even for a 2000. I had a 2000 Honda in college. That baby had the best alarm system I’ve ever owned. And it came standard.”
“So, what, you wanna just leave this thing here in hopes we find another?” Colonel Jenkins words struck Colt hard.
And he was spot on. This was their best opportunity. “You’re right. I’ll grab Wesley, you find a rock to break that window.”
“Will do.” Colonel Jenkins rested his rifle against the side of the car and scanned the area, before running after a rock.
Sprinting toward the tree, Colt stopped beneath the branches and looked up. “Come on down, buddy, we found a way out of here.”
Wesley climbed down limb by limb. Colt scanned for infected. His eyes danced, and he couldn’t focus. He started to rock in place. “C’mon, bud, you gotta hurry.” He didn’t mean to rush his son. The last thing they needed was Wesley to fall out and get hurt, but Colt knew they couldn’t linger in one spot. Not as long as they had.
Wesley reached the bottom branch, and Colt reached up and lifted his son free.
“That’s my boy.” Colt smiled at Wesley and ruffled his hair.
Just as Colt raised his eye from his son, he instantly put his hand across his chest, locking him in place like a seat belt. In the distance, there stood three infected. Two men and a child. They were at the edge of the parking lot, on the opposite end of Colonel Jenkins. He hadn’t seen them yet, as he was busy making his way back to the sedan with a bulbous rock in his hands.
The infected waited to attack. They were just standing there, staring at Colonel Jenkins. It was as if they wanted him to see them attack, as if they were hunting for sport. As if they didn’t want to surprise their prey, but wanted their prey to flee and make their kill more difficult.
Colonel Jenkins caught Colt’s eyes and nodded to him. He must’ve expected them to walk toward him and the car. Colt did the only thing he could think to do. He shook his head no. Colonel Jenkins scrunched his brow, not understanding at first. But after a moment, he spun around and looked behind him.
Colt couldn’t see his face, but imagined it wore a shocked expression. He removed his hand from Wesley’s chest, then unwrapped his rifle from around his chest and fixed it against his shoulder. He peered down the sight and waited for the infected to move. Colonel Jenkins slowly turned back around to face Colt and Wesley, then called out.
“Get your boy to safety. These bastards are mine.” Colonel Jenkins held the rock tight—his only means of protecti
on, since his rifle was stacked against the driver’s side door of the sedan.
Colt’s mouth gaped. Inside he was screaming, No! But Colonel Jenkins didn’t even hesitate, instead he sprinted directly at the flock of three.
Forced to make a quick decision, Colt could either swing around and run back into the trees, or sprint across the parking lot to the adjacent building.
It was the latter. They’d tried the trees, and the truth was Colt wanted to stay out of the forest. He had no idea how far the trees and golf course went. And with no understating of how to make it back to the academy and toward his son, Colt didn’t want to take the risk.
They had ground to make up. The side entrance to the building was almost a football field’s distance away. And the three infected who stood at the entrance of the parking lot were nearly the same.
Colt clung to Wesley’s hand and guided him forward as they ran. In his periphery, he witnessed the infected child break away from the two adults and make his way toward them to try and cut them off.
Please be open. Please be open, Colt thought as they approached the side of the building. He made a gamble. If that side entrance was locked, they ran the risk of having to use the loud weapon to defend themselves.
Colt spied the infected child as he ran, then looked back toward the building, gauging the distance they had to make up. They were slightly ahead of the threat, and odds were good.
Sixty feet to the door and only inches away from an alleyway that led to the side entrance. Colt took one last fleeting glance at the infected. He was close, but not close enough, and he’d have to change his route once he made it to the corner.
Colt continued sprinting and pulling Wesley along. He breezed through the alleyway and hit the side door at full speed. The door slowed him down but didn’t stop his momentum fully. The door gave way, and Colt fell inside . . . but he fell inside without his son. Wesley slipped from his grasp and into the arms of the attacking infected.
13
From his butt, Colt watched the closing door as fear took him in that moment. His stomach fell, but he didn’t hesitate to regain his footing and throw the door back open. When he did, to his surprise, the infected child wasn’t pinning his son down, not standing over him, not even threatening Wesley at all. He was waiting for Colt.
