Date: 2017-12-26 05:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Zombies; Horror
Description: Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, an ancient virus is released within Yellowstone National Park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction? Follow along with a select group of individuals as they fight for survival. Can they avoid the infected? Can they evade the military called in to help? Can they trust each other? Will humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?
Publisher: DevilDog Press
Rights: Copyright 2017 Heath Stallcup. All rights reserved.

Caldera Book 2

Out Of The Fire

Heath Stallcup

Copyright © 2017 by Heath Stallcup

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Edited by Rob M. Miller

Cover by Jeffrey Kosh

Created with Vellum

To both of my girls.

You both love zombie stories and this is a different twist on the genre for you.

It may not be what you’re used to, but if the ‘zombie apocalypse’ ever really does come, it most likely will be some kind of rage virus versus the slow, shambling, walking dead.

Rule #1: Cardio…

Contents

Acknowledgments

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Caldera The Series

About the Author

Also by Heath Stallcup

Also From DevilDog Press

Acknowledgments

To my wife for putting up with my crazy self. I don’t know how you do it. Somebody had better submit your name for sainthood.

My sister Sheila for being such an awesome proofreader and catching my mistakes and double checking everything.

Terri Clark, who gave the ‘Go-No Go’ on this book.

Mark Tufo and Joe McKinney…you two got me started reading the zombie genre. I realize this isn’t exactly the same thing, but I hope I do you proud.

Sandra Mantooth…I wish you had talked me into choosing this career path YEARS ago.

Chapter 1

Buck yelled, “I can see something moving in the trees!”

“Okay, that’s enough. Load up!” Bob leaned across the side to Skeeter. Skeeter turned and came sprinting toward him, rounding the front of the RV and up to the door. “Inside, Buck, now!” He stood outside the door, holding it open for his son who was slowly backing toward the RV.

“There’s movement out there.” Buck pointed as he turned and headed to the door just as figures broke through the tree line and began sprinting toward them.

“Inside, now!” Bob began pushing him inside, stumbling and tripping behind him.

He pulled open the wound in his shoulder, causing a white hot flash of pain to shoot down his arm. He felt his arm go numb from the elbow down and his hand became a useless appendage.

Cursing to himself, Bob rolled inside the RV and pulled the door shut with his other arm, locking it behind him. He pulled himself to a standing position and began moving forward, just as the first thumps began hitting the side of the RV, rocking it slightly. He could hear muffled screams from outside the RV and knew that if he didn’t hurry, more would be called to their location. He didn’t think that a large group could topple the monstrosity, but he didn’t want to stick around and find out.

Slipping in behind the wheel, he released the parking brake and threw the large motorcoach into gear. “Keep an eye out for Mom.” He turned to Buck who had taken his seat again in the front and gave him a knowing look. He then glanced into the rearview mirror and caught Skeeter’s eye. “And speak up if you happen to see your sister.”

Bob had to bend down slightly to see out of the clean spots he had created in the windshield, but at least he could see. Only one of the crazy people had come around to the front of the coach and was near his side. He pressed down on the accelerator and watched as the oversized, flannel-dressed man was pushed out of the way when the coach rolled forward.

Glancing at the side mirrors, he knew there was a pretty large group following them, but he didn’t care at this point. He had to be careful of the cars parked along the side of the road.

“Just floor it, Dad!” Buck yelled.

“I can’t,” Bob replied through gritted teeth, fighting the pain in his shoulder. “If I ram any of those parked cars, we’re toast.”

Buck shook with adrenaline as he continued to lean forward and stare into the side mirrors. The figures chasing them weren’t falling back fast enough. “They’re gaining on us.”

Skeeter had moved up and was staring out the front windshield, her eyes scanning the view that the headlights lit up. On occasion, she would see a fast-moving figure in the distance flit across their path, but she couldn’t make out any of the details. “This is nuts.” She moved back to a side window and tried to see, but couldn’t make out anything through them, either.

Skeeter froze when she heard a thumping noise that sounded like it came from the roof. She turned her head upward and stared at the ceiling. “Buck? There’s no way they could get up on top, is there?”

Buck looked at her as though she were crazy. “Of course not. This thing is like fifteen feet tall.” But then he heard the hard-thumping noises coming from the ceiling as well, and his eyes widened. His head snapped toward his dad who was white knuckling the steering wheel. “Could they?”

Bob shrugged. “Unless they figured out how to climb the rear ladder.”

“There’s a ladder on the back?” Buck repeated, astonished. “Why didn’t you ever…I mean…” he trailed off. He picked up his crossbow and went back by Skeeter. “I didn’t know there was a ladder on the back.”

“Isn’t this your RV?”

“My uncle’s.” Buck released the safety on the bow, listening intently as the thumping increased in spots. “I can’t tell where it is.”

Skeeter pointed up to a spot on the ceiling. “There. I think.”

Buck shrugged and pointed the crossbow straight up and pulled the trigger. The bolt disappeared into the ceiling and a scream could be heard from above the RV, followed by a loud thump.

“Did you get him?” Skeeter asked.

Buck shrugged again. “No clue. But the banging stopped.” He shot her a lopsided grin. “Maybe I shot his hand? He ain’t a knocking.”

Both kids stood underneath the hole that Buck had shot into the ceiling, watching and listening for more banging, but it didn’t come. After a few more moments, Buck patted her shoulder and moved back forward.

“We’ll have to be extra careful when we leave the coach, Dad.” He took his seat and stowed the crossbow. “There may still be one on top.”

Bob nodded, failing to actually respond. Buck noticed that he seemed paler than before and leaned closer. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Bob answered, his head swaying slightly to the rocking of the RV. Buck leaned forward and studied him.

“You look really rough. Do you need more Tylenol or some water or something?”

“I’m fine, Buck. I just need to get you kids to safety.” Bob continued to drive as his eyelids began to droop.

“No, you’re not.” Buck came in closer and took another look at him. He pulled up his bag and pulled out his flashlight. Flipping it on, he looked at his dad in the light and nearly gasped. His skin had turned an ashy gray color and his shoulder was dripping blood. “Jesus, Dad,” Buck groaned as he dug in his pack again. His first aid kit was about extinguished of supplies, so he trotted back to the bathroom.

Buck pushed open the door and ignored the blood splattered everywhere. He pulled open the cabinet below and pulled out the box of sanitary napkins. Ripping one from the package, he sprinted back up front and reached over the captain’s chair that his dad drove from.

“This may hurt…” he said as he pressed the absorbent material to the reopened wound.

Bob hissed in pain, but continued driving. Buck leaned back and yelled at Skeeter. “Get some water and grab something for pain.”

“Where would it be?”

“Look in the bathroom. Medicine cabinet,” Buck yelled as he continued to press against the wound.

Bob’s head began to rock back and forth and Buck patted his cheek. “Dad, stop the coach.”

“No… have to get you kids to safety,” he muttered as his eyes fluttered shut.

“Dad!” Buck yelled in his ear and Bob jolted back up, almost swerving into the line of parked cars. “Pull over, I’ll drive.”

Bob chuckled weakly. “You can’t drive,” his voice croaked. “You’re too young.”

“Stop the coach!”

Bob fought the urge to push on and brought his foot up to the brake. As soon as the coach was stopped, Buck reached up and pulled the air brake. He looked at Skeeter who had just returned with a bottle of water and something rattling in a smaller bottle. “Help me with him. Let’s get him to the bed.”

Together, the two kids dragged Bob to the foldout bed and laid him out across it. “Watch him for me, okay? Just hold this on his wound and give him as much water as he can swallow,” Buck said, his eyes filled with worry.

He turned and went up to the pilot’s seat. Releasing the air brake, Buck pushed down on the accelerator and began driving the giant RV. His nerves were quickly put to the test as the cars dotting the sides of the road began to quickly narrow and close in on him. He hit the high beam on the headlights and looked ahead. His stomach quickly fell through the floor as his eyes fell on something he hadn’t expected.

Parked in the middle of the road sat a car, its hood up. With cars lining each side of the road, and this car parked in the middle, there was no place for him to go. He’d either have to back up over a half mile, in the dark, through winding uphill rocky roads with zombies on his tail…or go through the roadblock. Stopping here and hiking out the rest of the way wasn’t an option. Even if his dad were in better condition, these things moved way too fast.

He glanced back at Skeeter tending to his dad. “Tell me something?” Buck asked.

“What’s that?” Skeeter replied.

“Is it better to gain speed and ram through a roadblock, or move up to it slowly and push it out of the way?”

“Depends on the roadblock, I guess.” Skeeter wiped at Bob’s brow with a damp rag. “What is it?”

“A car,” Buck sighed as he began to slow down.

“A what!” Skeeter screeched as she jumped up and ran to the front. “Oh, no.”

“Yeah.”

“Where would you push it to?”

“I don’t know. Into the others? Off to the side?”

Skeeter wrapped her arms around Buck’s neck. “We’re screwed, aren’t we?”

“Say again your position,” the tinny voice repeated over the speaker.

Hatcher rolled his eyes and keyed the microphone once more.

“I’m sitting inside Watchtower Sierra one-oh-two,” he repeated in a slow and deliberate voice. “Two others have left on all-terrain vehicles in order to lead the attackers away. Proceed with due caution, but please send assistance!” Hatcher released the key on the microphone and leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. Why was dealing with military people so much trouble?

“Wait one,” the tinny voice responded.

Hatcher turned up the volume on the radio and stepped away for a moment, stretching his legs. His back ached and his head throbbed from a lack of sleep along with too many adrenaline rushes. He peered over the edge and saw three dark figures clawing at the base of the tower, trying to climb the long, rough-cut timber that made the supports. Shaking his head, he stepped back and into the darkness of the tower. The grand majority had followed the ATVs as Mitch thought they would. He only hoped they didn’t run into any trouble along the way.

Hatcher heard static as the radio keyed back to life and he quickly slid back into the chair. He wrapped his hand around the microphone as a different voice filled the speakers, rattling them until he turned the volume back down. “This is Colonel Vickers of the Air National Guard, state your name and the nature of your emergency.”

Hatcher’s shoulders drooped as the wind blew out of his sails. “With all due respect, colonel, I’ve already explained the nature of my emergency at least a dozen times. If I have to do it again, can you do me a favor and gather up whoever the hell else will need to hear it and get them all together, so I’ll only have to explain this one more time?” Hatcher spat with more venom than he really intended. He listened to the silence of the radio for a moment and feared that he may have barked at the wrong person, or worse, totally pissed off the one person who could actually make things happen.

He waited in silence for a moment before the voice returned, “I’ll give you this much, son, you got spunk.” The voice sounded a bit softer than the first time. “My lieutenant has informed me of your…reported state of emergency.” The colonel did not sound convinced of Hatcher’s sincerity at the moment. “I’d like to hear it from you myself.”

Hatcher sighed and keyed the mic. “And are you the one who actually makes decisions?” He released the key then rekeyed it quickly, “Sir?” He added the title as most military would to keep from pissing the man off any more than he already had.

Hatcher noted a tone of amusement in the colonel’s voice when he returned to the radio. “I most certainly would be.”

“Very well then,” Hatcher sighed. “I can only hope you’ll believe what I have to tell you, because my life and the lives of my friends depend on it.” Hatcher went on to detail the night’s events as he knew them. He explained how the concert goers were attacked and how once they were scratched or bitten, they too became crazed and attacked others. He explained how the whites of their eyes filled with blood, then the blood settled in the iris, turning them a deep red. He detailed the jerky, almost bird-like movements of their heads, and how they seemed to be overflowing with energy as they could run full out without stopping and didn’t seem to tire like normal people.

To his credit, the colonel listened intently and didn’t interrupt. Of course, Hatcher knew that he would have to key his mic on the radio and he wouldn’t be able to hear him, but he assumed that the colonel was still listening or taking notes, as he didn’t inundate him with questions on the few occasions that he released the key on the mic.

When Hatcher finished, he waited for a response. And waited. And waited. Finally, he keyed his radio again and spoke, “Colonel? Are you still there?”

Hatcher waited a bit longer and was about to give up when the radio came to life again. “I’m still here, son,” the tinny voice responded. “I was taking notes, then I had to make a call.”

“So what should I do?” Hatcher asked. “Will you be able to send help?”

He waited again for a response, but none came. He continued to wait, assuming the colonel was still on the phone. Hatcher drummed his fingers on the table and spun in his chair a bit as he waited. With his nerves nearly shot from not being able to raise anybody from the Forrest Service, the Park Service, or the sheriff’s department, these guys were his only hope.

He reached up to the key the mic just as the radio shot a burst of static and the colonel’s voice returned. “Sit tight, son. I’m trying to coordinate with a handful of different groups, but I’m doing my best to get some boots on the ground to assist.”

Hatcher shot a questioning look at the radio. “Other groups, sir?”

“This is sounding like an infectious disease, and my superiors are in full agreement. They’re hot-flighting the CDC to your location. That means we’ll most likely have a full garrison on the ground before daybreak,” the colonel said quickly. “I’m trying to coordinate with the Pentagon as well with which troops to send.”

Hatcher nodded and smiled, then his gears started turning. He considered the colonel’s last statement. Which troops to send? What difference should it make? We need to contain these people to prevent the spread of…but how does the military best contain anything? Hatcher’s mind spun faster as he considered the ramifications. He snatched up the mic and keyed it. “Colonel, are you meaning what I think you’re meaning?”

Again, there was silence on the line and Hatcher didn’t know if his nerves could take waiting much longer. “Colonel?” Again, he waited as static filled the air. “Colonel, if you plan to send boots into my park just to mow people down when there’s a chance they could be treated and released…” Hatcher warned.

Again, no response. He set the mic down and paced. His heart rate had increased, and his breath rate had increased as well. He continued to think of the vast numbers of people who were present at the concert. Surely not all of them were ‘infected.’ Surely some of them simply scattered into the woods to escape the attacks. He knew for a fact that Mitch and Candy were…Mitch!

Hatcher scooped up the mic and keyed it, “Colonel, be aware that not all of the people in this park have been compromised. You cannot simply come in, guns blazing!” Hatcher fell into the chair and stared at the radio, mentally begging the man to respond.

A short burst of static came across the speakers and the colonel’s voice echoed out from the speakers, “We are under direct orders to contain this outbreak, no matter the costs, Mr. Hatcher,” the colonel informed him, his voice sounding eerily mechanical. “If you have people in the park, I strongly suggest you gather them up and have them ready for a medical inspection before we arrive.”

Mitch slid to a stop at the crest of a hill and peered behind them. “I’m not seeing anybody back there, do you?”

Candy looked back over her shoulder, but all she saw on the road was dust. “Negative,” she coughed. “But then, I can’t see anything.”

Mitch stepped from the ATV and checked the fuel tank. He still had half a tank and so did Candy. “We should be good for a little bit,” he said as he climbed back on. “But I’m ready to slow my roll for a bit. Maybe ease back on the running and see if we can’t spot anybody out here.”

“Do you really think anyone would have made it this far?” She stared into the dark woods on either side of them.

“As the crow flies, we ain’t that far from where the shit went down.” Mitch pointed to their right and through the trees. “The amphitheater is out that way. The lake is straight ahead.” He pointed to their left and ahead. “The road is going to veer off that way and we’ll come in on the other side of the campgrounds.”

“You must know this area like the back of your hand.”

“Actually, I work another area of the park, but I love studying aerial maps.” He kicked the ATV into gear and slowly pulled away, Candy right beside him. He leaned forward and rested his forearms on the handlebars. “We used to come down to this part of the park when we’d get bored.”

“We?” Candy asked, fishing. “Wife? Girlfriend?”

Mitch chuckled. “No, my buddy Darren and I. We liked to fish the lake.” He shot her a sideways look and smiled. “Catch and release, but it was still fun.”

Candy nodded and smiled back. “So, is Darren back at the part of the park where you work?”

Mitch lowered his eyes to the road and shook his head. “Nope. I had to shoot him tonight,” he said flatly as he continued on.

“I’m sorry…” Candy trailed off, unsure what else she might say.

“I’m not,” Mitch said absently, remembering what Darren was like. “It was a mercy.”

“He got infected?”

Mitch simply nodded. “Some crazy-assed naked woman running around the woods with a group of others, they got him and…” He turned and stared at her a moment, his face unrecognizable. “It only took a few moments. He got this fever, then he got really mad, then he just lost it. Like he didn’t even know who he was. Or who I was. Or anything.” Mitch shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, wishing she could reach across the few feet separating them and hold him. “You know he’s in a better place now.”

Mitch simply nodded. “The dry creek bed,” he said solemnly. “Always was one of his favorite places.”

Candy turned and shot him a wide-eyed stare, her mouth hanging open. Did she just hear him correctly? She inhaled deeply, about to give Mitch a stern lecture, when he suddenly applied the brakes. “What’s that?” He motioned ahead with his chin.

Candy snapped her head around and peered into the headlights. She could see something moving in the roadway ahead, but she couldn’t make out exactly what it was. “Is it a person?”

Mitch’s hand dropped to his pistol and he unsnapped the retention device. He felt the cool plastic of the grip as his hand slipped over it and gently tugged it from the Kydex. He pulled it up and switched hands, then hit the accelerator once more, slowly pulling the ATV forward.

“Stay with me. There may be more than one of them.”

“I am not leaving my home, Richard! I think you’ve had too many beers with this strange man,” she argued. Then, lowering her voice, “And how do you even know that he’s really an ex-lawman?” She poked him in the chest with her finger.

“Harriet, I saw this with my own eyes! This isn’t something that Bill and I just cooked up to try to scare you with.”

“Good, because it isn’t working. Jason just got here, and I refuse to leave this house with my grandson just because you had one too many and got to telling monster stories around a damned campfire!” She stood up and began to storm from the bedroom.

“How do you explain the man by the side of the road? Why would he be covered in blood?”

“Do not start again with that, Richard, I’m not in the mood. I already told you what he told me, and I—”

“Harriet, dammit!” He jumped to his feet. “For once in your stubborn life, will you listen to me?” Richard’s face was now red and she stepped back from him. “I’m trying to save all of our lives here.”

“I don’t think I know you anymore,” she stated as she turned and started for the door.

Bill stepped into the doorway. “I can’t secure this place, Rich. There are too many windows.”

Harriet jumped back and glared at the man. “Why is he still in my house?” She pointed at Bill.

“Maybe because he saved my life,” Richard said as he stepped toward the door. “If it hadn’t been for him and his Jeep, I’d still be stuck down at the lake and most likely dead.” He crossed his arms and glared at his wife. “Or is that what you want?”

Bill looked from one to the other and couldn’t quite understand what was going on. “Is there a problem here?”

“Nothing we can’t handle.” Harriet reached for the door and slammed it in his face. “That man is no cop.”

“That man is a retired state trooper.”

Harriet opened her mouth to shout something at him when there was a light knock on the door. She ground her teeth together and glared at Richard. Reaching for the doorknob, she jerked the door open, “What?!” She found herself staring at an open badge wallet with Bill’s retired ID and badge in it.

“Just short of thirty years, ma’am,” Bill said softly. She stepped back slightly so that she could look at it more closely and allow her eyes to focus. “I’m not sure what’s wrong here, but I can assure you, the threat he’s telling you about is real. The people at the park have…well, for a lack of better words, lost their ever-loving minds. They’re attacking each other, killing each other, and some appear to even be eating each other.” Bill stepped into the room and folded up his wallet and placed it back into his pocket. “Now, I know this may be a lot to take in, and maybe even harder to swallow, but it appears to us anyhow, that if someone is bit by one of the crazy folks, they go crazy and attack others, too.” Harriet continued to stare at Bill, her gaze narrowing. “Richard here had one thought on his mind the entire time we were down there fighting our way out. And that thought was to get home to you and your grandson.” Bill stepped between the two and held his arms out. “Now, I don’t know about you, but this man just fought his way past hundreds, if not thousands of crazy, screaming, red-eyed, cannibalistic zombies just to get here to save y’all. I think the least you could do is listen to him.”

Harriet stared at Bill a moment then shook her head. “You’re just as crazy as he is,” she muttered. She pushed past both men and stepped into the hallway. “I don’t know what kind of sick joke you two think you’re playing, but I’m not falling for it.”

“Hold on a second,” Bill said, lifting a finger into the air. “How about if we can prove it?”

Richard shot him a questioning look. “We are NOT taking her to the park.”

Bill shook his head. “We don’t have to.” He motioned toward the window with his head. “Remember the one that ran into the side of the Jeep? He was covered in blood and kept trying to bite the window.”

“You could have hit an animal,” Harriet said. “A deer or a raccoon, or…”

“Deer don’t have human hands,” Bill said. “This guy kept scratching at the glass trying to get in,” he stated matter-of-factly.

Harriet glanced at Richard who was nodding and smiling at Bill. She turned and stared at Bill. “You two hit a man with your car, then come here with that kind of story?” She stared at the pair, shaking her head. “You’re both sick.”

Bill turned to Richard and shrugged. “Is she always like this?”

Richard shook his head. “No. I think it’s denial.”

“You want me to suddenly believe in zombies and that Yellowstone is crawling with them and we have to run for our lives and I’m the one who isn’t in touch with reality?”

She nearly jumped when Jason tugged at her shirt. “Gram? That weird man is back. He’s at the front window, and he doesn’t look right,” he said.

Bill glanced at Richard and pushed passed Harriet who was now babbling something about shooting neighbors. Richard shot past her as he fell into step behind Bill. Harriet marched behind Richard, complaining the entire way. “You will NOT shoot at somebody that we offered help to…” She trailed off as her eyes fell upon the man she had helped along the road. She noticed his eyes first, then the blood that soaked his neck and shirt. “Oh, my God,” she whispered.

The man at the window beat his hands against the glass when they entered the room and opened his mouth wide. The scream that came from his throat didn’t sound human and Jason quickly covered his ears. “Make him stop!”

“I intend to.” Bill immediately stepped toward the back door. “Keep his attention on y’all,” he barked as he stepped out the back.

Harriet turned to Richard, “What is he doing? Richard? What is he going to do?”

Richard stared at her. “What do you think? He’s going to put him out of his misery.”

“You can’t…” She turned and faced the man who was now snapping and biting at their images in the glass. His fingers, devoid of flesh, scraped along the glass as he tried to rip them from the smooth cage that separated him from his prey. “He can’t do this,” she whimpered. “He’s still a man.”

“Not any longer.” Richard stepped closer to the window and pulled Harriet with him. “Look. Look at this and tell me that this is still a man.” The closer they got, the more agitated the man became. He snapped and bit at them more vigorously, the clicking from his teeth audible through the thick glass.

Harriet looked at the thick brown slime he left behind on the glass and tears formed in her eyes. “He can’t be…” she sobbed.

“He is.” Richard pushed her up to the glass. “You decide, Harriet. Either I’m crazy, or this guy is. Either you listen to me, or I open the door and let your new friend in for a cup of tea.”

She snapped her head around and stared at him, his jaw set, his eyes hard. She knew in her heart he’d never do it, but she also knew what his statement meant. ‘Wake up and smell the coffee. This is the new reality.’

Harriet felt her legs give out and she crumpled to the carpet, her hands covering her eyes as she sobbed. She only jumped slightly when Bill’s 9mm sounded outside their home and the screaming stopped.

Jason turned around to look where the screaming man had once stood and saw an ugly brown splatter against the window. “Is he done?” he asked quietly.

Richard smiled at his grandson. “I’m afraid so, Jake.”

“Good,” Jason said. “His pain was hurting me.”

Richard stared at the boy a moment. “His pain?” he asked. “Why would you say that?”

Jason turned and looked up at his grandfather. “Couldn’t you feel his pain? That’s why he’s so angry. That’s why he wants to hurt everything,” Jason explained. “Something inside makes everything hurt. A lot.” He stepped away from the living room window and plopped back on the couch. “It would make you crazy, too.”

“Colonel, your chopper is ready,” the young sergeant said as he handed the senior officer his briefcase.

“Has Fort Collins called back?” He grabbed the case and his cover as he headed toward the door.

“Negative, sir,” the sergeant stated as he fell into step behind the older man. “Duty Officer is on standing orders that any and all priority calls are to be routed to you while in flight, sir.”

Colonel Vickers paused at the open doorway and checked his watch. It was a hell of an early start for this day. He sighed and looked back down the hallway. Major Chappell came around a corner and handed the colonel a large cup of coffee. “Sorry I’m late, sir.” She held open the door as he stepped through.

“Chopper’s ready, Major,” Vickers said as he turned and headed to the helo pad. “Do we have boots ready to hit the ground?”

“That’s affirmative, sir. They’re already in transit. A platoon of Army regulars, sir.”

“Regulars?” Vickers paused and gave her a sidelong glance. “I thought all regular units were deployed.”

“Not this unit, sir,” she informed him. “This is a ghost unit.”

Vickers smiled. Nothing like bringing in the heavy guns for a cleanup operation. “ETA to Yellowstone?”

“For us or for them, sir?”

“Both,” Vickers clarified as he stepped up into the chopper, the whine of the engine beginning to be too loud to hear around.

Both he and Chappell donned headsets and she adjusted her lip mic. “Ghost unit, designated Bravo Two should be boots down in less than an hour, sir. We should be landing in about forty-five minutes.”

“Our accompaniment?”

“I’ve arranged for a squad to provide security until the ghost platoon arrives. They’re designated Bravo One, since they are our primary security, and will be staying at the Forward Command Post,” she stated as she rifled through her papers. “We’ve designated the local Ranger Station to act as the FCP, since it is the most solid structure and seems to be near the primary.”

“Very well, Major.” Vickers nodded and sipped at the coffee. He pulled out the sealed copy of his orders and thumbed through it. Shaking his head slowly, he handed the last three pages to Chappell. “Read and heed, Major.”

“Sir?” She gave him an inquisitive look as she accepted the papers.

“Private orders from the Joint Chiefs and the SecDef,” he said quietly. “Only you and I know about it, and these are to be destroyed upon reading.”

She stared at him and shook her head. “I don’t understand, sir.”

“Plausible deniability.” He stared straight ahead and avoided her gaze. “If the shit hits the fan, you and I get to be the fall guy.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the papers and read through them quickly. “Well, doesn’t that just suck.”

“Yes, it does,” he agreed. “However, if we pull this off, we both can look forward to very long and distinguished careers.” She glanced at him again and noticed no display of emotion.

“Somehow, sir, your lack of enthusiasm doesn’t bode well for our success.”

“It’s not our success that concerns me, Major. Of that, I have no doubt,” he stoically replied, finally turning and looking at her. “It’s the ramifications when we do succeed.”

Chapter 2

“I’m not going to say we’re screwed…,” Buck trailed off as he stared at the car blocking their path ahead.

“But?” Skeeter added.

“But things aren’t looking so great right about now,” he said just as the RV scraped along the side of one of the parked cars, jerking the huge motorcoach to the side and jarring Skeeter.

“What do we do?” she asked as her head jerked from side to side.

“Ram it,” Bob croaked from the bed.

“What?” Skeeter turned back to him and drew closer.

“Pull up to the rear bumper and push the car out of the way. This thing has enough power to pull a house down. Surely it can push a damned car,” Bob said as he began to cough.

Skeeter turned to Buck. “Your dad said to push it out of the way. Pull up to it and just push it!” She reached for the bottle of water and lifted Bob’s head to it. She dribbled water into his open mouth, being careful not to spill it. “Slowly,” she urged as she kept turning her head to the front to watch Buck ease the huge RV to the dead car in the road.

“Where do I push it to?”

“Anywhere, just…out of the way,” Bob said.

“He said anywhere out of the way. Just get us through!” Skeeter felt the thumps start hitting the back of the RV as enraged park dwellers began catching up to the slowed monstrosity of a motorcoach. “You better hurry!”

Buck eased up to the car, then mashed the accelerator down, listening to the large diesel engine roar behind him. He glanced to the side mirror and saw black smoke belch from behind as the huge coach began pushing the much smaller stalled car down the road, its tires sliding in the gravel until its front fender met another parked car and the vehicle slid to the side. “It’s sliding sideways!” Buck called.

“Gun it,” Bob said from the bed. “Keep it going.”

“He said to gun it!” Skeeter yelled from his side. Bob winced at her shrill voice as the panic sent it up two octaves.

“The pedal is to the floor!” Buck called back. He watched in amazement as the car, once wedged between two other parked cars, soon began scraping farther along, tearing huge chunks from the sheet metal bodies of the cheap, newer-minted autos.

With a shriek, the front bumper gave and the dead car’s front end folded, rolling the auto in front of the coach and into the side of a pickup truck. The truck’s bed caved in as the car settled half on and half in the back of the truck as the huge motorcoach continued to push the two vehicles out of the way and off the roadway.

Buck could feel the steering fight him as the coach’s own body snagged on the ragged sheet metal and dragged along as he pushed it past the wreckage. “We’re pushing through!”

“We’re making it!” Skeeter bounced on the bed, causing Bob to wince.

Bob moaned and reached a hand up to stop her. “Please. Celebrate up front.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” She patted his shoulder as she got up to leave and Bob nearly pissed his pants as the pain shot down his shoulder and into his elbow. He grunted and nearly doubled over on the bed.

Skeeter went forward and sat in the passenger seat, staring out the front while Buck tried to steer the house on wheels down the narrow road. “Watch for that station wagon.” Her finger pointed to a rusted hulk parked half in the road.

“I’m doing my best here,” Buck said, his knuckles nearly white from gripping the wheel. “Are we losing them yet?” he asked, afraid to peel his eyes from the front.

Skeeter leaned forward and stole a glance out the side mirror. She could see a few dark figures still chasing them, but the dust from the road made it impossible to tell just how close they were. “I can’t really tell.”

“Go to the back bedroom. There’s a big window there you might see out of better.”

Skeeter got up and started back then paused at the door. The crazy sister was back in the bedroom. She knew this. She also knew that she was supposed to be tied up, but she felt the cold fingers of dread wrap around her guts and twist.

With a deep breath, she cracked open the door and peeked inside. A large lump in the floor with a blanket over it that must be the sister lay prone, barely moving as the RV bounced and rocked over the rough road and scraped along the parked cars. Skeeter stepped wide around the lump and hopped onto the mattress behind it. She scooted to the window and opened the blinds. The sight out the window caused a lump to form in her throat that she couldn’t force down.

Skeeter pulled the blinds all the way open and propped the door open. Better to glance back than have to come back into the same room as the zombie sister. Moving back to the front, she took her seat next to Buck and trained her eyes straight ahead.

“Well? Are they still following us?” Skeeter’s mouth formed a tight line and she simply nodded. Buck chanced a glance at her and shook his head. “What?”

“There’s a lot more than I woulda thought,” she said quietly.

“How many?”

Skeeter turned and stared at him. Buck slowed slightly so he could turn and see her. For the first time, he noticed the streams of tears running down her cheeks. “Lots,” she said as she sucked in air. “Lots.”

Buck could feel the color drain from his face. He turned back to the road with renewed purpose and pressed the accelerator a little harder. Although he was having enough trouble trying to force this monstrosity through the gauntlet of parked cars, he knew that he had to put some distance between the zombies and themselves, or this trip would end up being a short one.

“Not too fast, Buck!” Skeeter cried as she reached out to brace herself. “We’re not going to make it.”

Buck saw what she was referring to as the lights lit up the two large SUVs that were parked half on the road and half off. Of course, the two vehicles that could have parked completely OFF the road, had to be cautious and park nearly IN the road. Buck didn’t need a tape measure to know that they’d never fit through the two giant gas guzzlers. He also knew that, even if he slammed on the brakes, they’d never stop in time.

“If you can’t stop, go faster!” He mashed the accelerator to the floor and pointed the flat nose of the RV for dead center between the two rear bumpers. “Hang on!”

They felt the giant coach scrape along the side of a smaller car just before the collision and the two SUVs jumped into the air, their rear bumpers disintegrating in the night. Plastic and steel erupted into an explosive show as the giant coach pushed through, but Buck felt the driver’s side steering jerk to the left and he fought the steering wheel with all of his might to keep the beast on the road and between the parked cars.

“Oh, shit!” he yelled as the coach continued scraping the cars along the left side of the road, completely ignoring his turning of the wheel.

Skeeter shrieked as the metal and fiberglass from the coach scraped away along the parked cars, showering the side of the coach in an orange show of sparks. Buck held the accelerator to the floor, trying to put as much distance between their pursuers and the coach before the RV couldn’t go any farther. He could feel the monster slowing as it continued to scrape the parked cars, and he knew that it was only a matter of moments before the beast would roll to a shrieking stop. He turned to look out of the side mirror, but it was gone.

“Are they still back there?” he yelled above the noise, but Skeeter was too busy having a full-on panic attack to look. “Skeeter!” He stole a glance her way to find her nearly in a fetal position in the passenger seat.

As the RV rolled to its final resting position, Buck shut off the engine and stepped out from behind the wheel. “We have to get going,” he said as he pulled Skeeter’s arm. She continued to rock back and forth in the chair, her arms covering her face. “Skeeter!” He jerked her from the chair. “It’s run or be eaten!”

He stepped back to the bed and patted his dad’s leg. “Up and at ’em, big boy,” he barked as he picked up his bag. “We gotta go.”

Bob shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Oh, yes you are.” Buck reached for his hand.

Bob pushed him away listlessly. “Buck, I’ve lost too much blood. I can barely keep my eyes open,” he whispered. “I can’t run. I can’t even stand.” Bob forced open his eyes and stared at his son. “You have to go,” he said, a weak smile crossing his lips. “Live for me.”

Buck shook his head and backed up a step. “No, not like this.”

“Yes,” Bob replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “Go. Now. While you can. Just shut the door behind you and pray those crazy bastards don’t know how to open it.” He smiled at his son and Buck felt something inside him break. “Save Skeeter. Get help. Send them for Keri,” Bob said as his eyes slowly closed.

“Dad?” Buck shook his dad’s leg. “Dad, open your eyes.”

Skeeter came up and placed a shaky hand on his shoulder. “We can stay. Just lock the doors, right?”

Buck shook his head. “No, he’s right.” He picked up Bob’s bag and handed it to her. Pulling the 9mm from his dad’s waistband, Buck tucked it into his own. “We gotta move. Now!” Buck went to the door and cracked it open. He glanced down the rear of the RV and didn’t see any movement. He pushed the wrecked door open and helped Skeeter down.

Pulling Skeeter over to the line of cars, the two slipped between the parked cars and began making their way down the line, crouched low and staying below the line of site. It didn’t take long for the screams and sound of feet crunching in the gravel to catch up to their ears, then the pounding on the side of the RV. Buck tried not to think about his dad trapped inside, or the fact that it was his errant shot with the crossbow that left him in the condition he was in.

He continued to lead Skeeter down the hill and away from the crazed zombies beating on the RV and screaming at the top of their lungs.

Hatcher stood on the ladder just feet above the three figures below him. He lined up each one with his pistol and easily removed the top of their skull with single shots. As the last one fell to the ground, body twitching in the dirt, he dropped to the roof of the shack and climbed down to the ATV waiting below. As expected, Mitch had left his damaged unit behind.

Hatcher checked the fuel level and knew he couldn’t go the long way around. He’d simply have to go back the way they came and hope to make it back to the ranger station. He sighed and straddled the ATV. Switching it on, he knew this was one ride he really wasn’t looking forward to.

Hatcher pulled his radio and keyed it. “Anybody listening out there?”

He stared into the sky and sighed. He’d already tried the more powerful radio in the tower and received no reply, what did he think would happen with a handheld?

“If anybody is listening, you need to find your way back to the station. The military are on their way and they won’t be taking prisoners,” he said, his throat tightening. “Does anybody read me?” He waited a moment and tapped the radio against his forehead. “Dammit,” he cursed to himself.

He turned the wobbly wheeled ATV around and began the trek back down the steep, rocky road. Hatcher let the engine act as a brake as the knobby tires slid through the sharp rocks. When he hit the bottom of the fire road, he turned and accelerated, feeling the shake and wobble as the ATV fought him. Hatcher suddenly realized the extent of Mitch’s strength to be able to handle the warped vehicle and make it appear to be more capable.

He slowed the vehicle enough to where the vibration was more tolerable and noted that, at the rate he was travelling, the military would most probably be done and left before he made it back. Hatcher gritted his teeth and thumbed the accelerator again. Pushing the vehicle to its limit, he felt his shoulders take the brunt of the shaking as the speed increased. He crested a small hill and felt the ATV pick up more speed on the downhill side, incredibly, smoothing out the shake as the speed increased.

Hatcher lowered himself on the machine to decrease the wind resistance, wishing for the first time that the machine was built for speed rather than durability.

He felt the brisk night air bite at his eyes as he shot across the dirt roads, and the sting of dust and small insects sent cold tears streaming across his face. Keeping the engine revved and his full attention on staying upright, he pushed both himself and the ATV to cover as much ground as possible in as short a time as he could. He was determined to reach the ranger station and a telephone. If nobody would answer the radio when he called for help, perhaps they would answer a direct call.

Hatcher fought to keep his eyes open as the stinging caused him to squint. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw dark figures sprinting about on either side of him in the darkness of the trees. None had ventured out in front of him, nor made their presence known by screaming loud enough to be heard over the engine’s howl, but he was almost certain they weren’t figments of an overactive imagination.

He slid the ATV around a sharp curve and nearly flipped the machine, having come up on two wheels, but with a creative application of brakes and then accelerator, he righted the little off-road machine and spun gravel as he shot off in the direction of the station once more. The cold mountain air chilled his face and hands as he pushed both man and machine to their limits and he breathed a slight sigh of relief when he recognized the wide arc of road leading up to the last long hill before the downhill run to the station.

Hatcher leaned farther across the handlebars and mashed the accelerator wide open, the engine whining in protest as the ATV climbed the hill for home. Daniel knew he didn’t have much farther to go when something darted across the road ahead of him. It was just beyond the reach of the ATV’s headlight, and he nearly released the accelerator due to being startled. Instead, he adjusted his grip and settled lower on the machine. Whatever it was had moved fast, and he didn’t want to make himself any bigger of a target than he had to. It could easily have been one of the many wolves released into Yellowstone from the reintroduction projects, or it could be one of them.

He crested the long hill and saw the lights below reflecting off the trees, lighting his way home. He pushed the ATV harder, knowing time was of the essence. He could see movement for sure now as the ATV’s light scanned the tree line, slicing its way down the hill toward the station. There were definitely a lot of somethings moving in those trees, but he couldn’t be sure if they were friendly or not.

Hatcher didn’t release his grip on the accelerator until he was nearly to the ranger station, then he locked up the brakes and slid across the parking area, spraying pea gravel across the other ATV he’d left parked there earlier in the night. For a fleeting moment, he feared he would have to pry his cold, deadened hands from the handlebars, but they released on their own after a second try.

He staggered to the door of the Visitor’s Center and pushed it open, then pushed past the displays, heading straight for the makeshift office. He pulled his keys by habit, but the door was unlocked. He entered the office and flipped on the lights, checking quickly that it was empty. For a fleeting moment, he half-expected to see Shelly sitting behind the desk, a smart remark ready to shoot from her lips. When that thought crossed his mind, that familiar pain twisted in his midsection.

Hatcher only allowed himself a moment of guilt before shutting the door and slipping in behind the desk. Lifting the old style rotary phone from the cradle, he listened for a dial tone and began dialing.

Mitch slowly pulled up the ATV and allowed the figure to come into view. Candy stayed behind him and to his side, so as not to allow him to get into her line of fire. As he got closer, the figure staggered farther into the middle of the road, then turned and faced the two oncoming ATVs.

Mitch stopped and stood on the pegs, trying to see better, shifting his pistol to his shooting hand. “Hello,” he called out.

The figure cocked its head to the side and Mitch shook his own head. He’d seen that happen too many times before to not know what happens next. He lifted his pistol to the ready position when the figure waved an arm above its head. “Hey! Over here!”

Mitch immediately lowered his weapon and squinted into the light. “Are you injured?”

“Yeah,” the figure called. “I think my arm is broken.”

Candy pulled up alongside Mitch. “Let’s go give him a hand.”

Mitch held his hand out to stop her. Turning back to the figure that he couldn’t see, he called again, “Have you been bitten?”

The figure stopped staggering toward them and paused, again with the head cocked to the side. “Maybe by some bugs. Why?”

Mitch leaned close to Candy. “Don’t trust him ’til we verify. They can turn quick.” He holstered his pistol and pulled the ATV closer. As the light fell on the figure in the road, he didn’t expect to see what he saw.

Fisher stood cradling his arm, his upper torso covered in blood. “Where’d that blood come from?” Mitch asked, keeping the ATV back about fifteen feet from him.

“This crazy naked woman with the biggest…,” he paused when he saw Candy next to him, her brows raised high. “um, biggest, uh, well…,” he stammered.

“No need, man.” Mitch smiled at him. “We met.”

Dwayne shot him an embarrassed grin and nodded. “Yeah, well. She and I tussled and this bitch tackled me like I was a little kid, right?”

“I know the feeling,” Mitch grumbled.

“So, anyway, we rolled a bit, and she rolls me right into this huge puddle of blood,” he said with a sour expression on his face. “Except it had like, chunks in it. Like innards and stuff, ya know?”

“No, but go on,” Mitch said, rolling his hand for Fisher to hurry up.

“Okay, so I pull my gun to shoot her crazy ass, and she just snaps my arm before I can even squeeze the trigger and flings me into the woods,” he said, his eyes wide with disbelief.

Mitch stared at him stoically. “I ain’t buying it, man. Why didn’t she munch your ass like she did everybody else she ran up on?”

“I have no idea. All I know is that I wake up in the woods, I have no idea where I am, and I wander around until I found the road. Then you two show up.”

“And you haven’t seen anybody else since you came to?” Candy asked.

“Oh, I’ve seen some people.” Fisher nodded at the woods. “If you want to call them people. They’re running around in the woods like a bunch of rabid dogs, screaming and howling and fucking attacking people and…” he stared Mitch in the eyes, “it ain’t pretty, man.”

Mitch motioned for him to come closer. “Let me see your eyes.”

Dwayne stepped up and Candy handed him her torch. Mitch flicked it on, and although Fisher flinched slightly at the bright LED light, Mitch satisfied himself there was no blood pooling in the whites and that the irises were clear. “Okay, I don’t think you got the crazy.”

“So, what the fuck is going on?” Fisher visibly relaxed when Mitch lowered the light.

“I don’t know,” Mitch sighed. “But we’re working our way back to the station now. Anybody we find that ain’t sick, we’re going to try to help.”

A scream in the distance had all three of them snapping their heads in the general direction. “I think we better scram,” Candy said. “Hop on. You can ride with me.”

“Thanks.” Fisher hurried over and slid in behind her. He grabbed the rack with his good hand and the three took off along the road and away from the scream.

Bill stepped back inside the house and waved at Richard. “We need to get moving. If this guy can find your house, so can others.”

Richard held a finger up. “Just a second.” He turned to his wife and helped her off the floor. “Honey, you need to grab some things, and we need to go. Get Jake’s bag and you throw some stuff together so we can get the hell out of here.”

She stared at him through her red, swollen eyes and nodded. “Alright,” she hiccupped. “Just give me a moment.” Richard watched her disappear into the bedroom and he turned back to Bill. “She’s just going to grab a few things for the road.”

“Are we taking my Jeep or…?” Bill asked.

Richard shook his head. “The road is paved from here on,” he explained. “We can follow you or you follow us. Either way.”

Bill relaxed a bit and stretched his neck. “What a night, huh?”

Richard’s shoulders slumped, and he shook his head. “I’ve never spoken to her like that in all the years we’ve been married.”

Bill patted his shoulder. “She was being unreasonable.”

“True, but I still shouldn’t have—”

A scream pierced their conversation and Richard immediately stiffened. He ran back into the bedroom and found Harriet slapping at a man who was pushing at her and forcing her back toward the bed. A simple glance revealed the sliding glass door to the rear patio was open, a breeze blowing the curtain in. Richard pulled his pistol from his pants and took aim. His first shot went wide, grazing the man’s shoulder, but Bill’s shot hit him square in the temple, sending his twitching body to the floor.

Harriet rolled away and clung to Richard. He held her shaky body as she sobbed. “Are you okay?” he asked as she trembled and cried. “Were you bit?”

“I never saw him,” she cried. “I was in the closet, and when I turned around, there he was, coming after me!”

“But were you bit?” he asked, forcefully this time, shaking her slightly.

She turned big, wet eyes to him and shook her head. “No, his teeth kept snapping at me,” she cried. “They clacked so hard.” She sobbed again and broke down crying.

Richard noticed the blood all across her arms and nodded. “Okay, then, let’s get you cleaned up.” Bill stepped across the room and pulled the sliding door shut, locking it. Richard simply nodded at him as he led her into the bathroom. He looked back at Bill, “Will you stay with Jake while I get her calmed down?”

“Sure.” He turned and ushered Jake out of the room.

Richard sat Harriet on the commode and pulled a hand towel from the rack. As he wet it, she continued to tremble and cry. “I’m so sorry. I never saw him.”

“It’s okay, Honey. It’s not your fault. He came after you,” he soothed.

Richard began wiping away the blood from her arms when she suddenly pulled away. Harriet hissed, “Ooh, that hurt.”

Richard stared at her forearm and saw a nasty scratch along the inside of her arm. He looked up at her and met her gaze. “So, he scratched you?”

“I guess so,” she responded softly.

Richard smiled warmly and patted her arm. “It’s okay. We’ll get this disinfected and bandaged right up,” he said. He pulled down the bottle of hydrogen peroxide and poured a small amount across the scratch. She winced slightly as it foamed up. “Let it sit for just a moment, okay? I’ll be back to finish drying it and then we’ll bandage you all up, okay, sweetie?”

She smiled at him and nodded and Richard kissed her forehead as he got up. He walked into the bedroom and pulled his pistol out of his pants again. As he felt the heavy steel weapon in his hand he glanced back at the open bathroom door, then at the bedroom door. Richard sighed and turned to the dresser. Their wedding picture still sat there, encased forever in the sterling silver frame. He picked it up gently and ran a finger down her cheek.

“I’ll always love you,” he whispered.

Tucking the pistol back into his pants, Richard walked out the bedroom door and pulled it shut behind him. He strode into the living room like a man on a mission. “Bill!”

Bill came out of the kitchen with a piece of ham in his mouth. “Sorry, it looked too good to pass on.”

“Come here,” Richard said as he grasped the wide screen TV mounted to the wall. With a slight pull, the TV slid out and to the side. Behind it was a false wall with a fire safe. “I need you to do something for me.”

Bill watched him and got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He knew it wasn’t the ham. “What are you doing, Richard?”

Richard pressed his thumb to the scanner then punched in the buttons and the door opened. “I need you to take Jake home to his dad, please.”

“Yeah, sure. As long as you come with me.”

“I can’t.” Richard pulled out a black leather satchel. “Harriet was scratched,” he said solemnly, his eyes never leaving his purpose. “She only has a few moments, so I need to work quickly. I’d like to maybe spend a little time with her before she…” he trailed off.

“Aww, hell,” Bill breathed. “We can wait. Maybe lock her up, come back for her later?”

“I’ve got bearer bonds, gold, cash…my Rolex.”

“What the hell are you doing?”

“This is my cash. For in case things go bad.” He continued to stuff the items into the bag. “I think things have gone bad, don’t you?”

“So, what are you doing?” Bill asked again.

“This is yours now,” Richard said. “All you have to do is get my grandson home, safe and sound.”

“No!” Bill grabbed Richard and spun him around. “I won’t do it. Not unless you come with me!”

Richard staggered with the spin, but kept a hand up to hold the leather bag in place. He met Bill’s stare and his jaw ticked. “She’s my wife, Bill,” he said quietly. “For richer or poorer, sickness and in health. I can’t leave her like this.”

“In just a little bit, she won’t be your wife any longer,” Bill said quietly, hoping his words would sink in.

Richard smiled and patted his new friend gently on the face. “All the more reason I need to spend as much time with her as I can.” The sadness in his eyes was more than Bill could stand. “Please. Just use this to help get Jason home, the rest is yours. To help make your retirement years more comfortable.”

Bill grimaced as he looked over his shoulder at Jason coming up the hall with his bag over his shoulder. He sighed heavily, then nodded. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I’m doing it for the kid.”

Richard smiled and nodded, pulling the larger man into a hug. “I knew I could count on you,” he whispered in his ear. He let him go and turned back to his safe. As he continued to pull items out and stuff them in the bag, he hollered for Jason, “Jake!”

“Yeah, grandpa?” he asked as he came up beside him.

“Uncle Bill is going to take you home, okay, buddy?” Richard said. “I’m afraid Gram is going to need some special care, and I’m going to stay with her for a little bit,” he lied. “You need to listen to Uncle Bill. He used to be a cop you know.”

Jason turned to Bill, “You’re my uncle? How come I never met you before?”

“I was in Texas.”

Richard finished packing the leather bag and handed it to Bill. “Remember what I told you,” he said. “The address is right here.” He handed him a folded slip of paper. Bill took it and slipped it into his shirt pocket.

“I really wish you’d change your mind and come with us,” Bill said.

Richard shook his head. “Can’t.” He looked down to Jake and squatted in front of the boy. “Give your Grandpa a hug.” He pulled the boy in and squeezed him tight. “I’m so sorry you have to go right back, Jake. I know you were really looking forward to staying, but…” Richard choked up a bit and looked up to Bill while he still held his grandson. “Just remember always that I love you, okay?”

“I know, Grandpa,” Jason said as he hugged him back. “Tell Gram I love her, and I hope she gets to feeling better, okay?”

“I will.” Richard’s tears started to form in his eyes.

He motioned for Bill to take the boy before he lost his nerve. He watched them walk out the back door before he turned down the hall and toward the bedroom. He paused by the door and put his ear to it for just a moment. When he opened it, Harriet sat on the bed, her head in her hands.

“Hey, sweetie. Ready for me to wrap that arm?”

She looked up at him and shook her head. “I’m infected, aren’t I?”

Richard contemplated lying to her. In all the years they’d been married, he’d never once lied. He couldn’t start now. “I don’t know. Maybe. Why do you ask?”

She inhaled deeply and stared at him. “I feel hot,” she said. “And, there’s this.” She pointed to her eyes.

Richard leaned in and saw that the whites of her eyes were beginning to fill with blood. He felt his lower jaw quiver as he sat down on the bed beside her. “Then, yeah. You are.” He nodded. He felt the tears run down his cheeks as she reached over and took his hand.

“Where’s Jason?” she asked, suddenly worried.

Richard smiled at her. “Bill is going to take him home.”

She gasped slightly and cocked her head at him. “He’s going to drive him, instead of flying? That’s quite a drive.”

Richard nodded. “He’s retired. What else is he going to do with his time?” He gently pressed his forehead to hers.

For the next few moments the two sat quietly, heads pressed together, hands gently folded into each other’s. Finally, Harriet, pulled him close and kissed him. “Do you think it’s going to hurt?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Richard sniffed back the tears and shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out.”

She looked at him, somewhat startled. “What do you mean, ‘we,’ big boy?”

He squeezed her hand and stared at her. “Where you go, I go. For better or for worse, remember?” He smiled at her and the tears squeezed out of his eyes.

Harriet shook her head adamantly. “No, Richard, I don’t want to live like that,” she said. “As soon as it happens, I thought you would…” She stared at him expectantly. “I’d hoped you’d put me out of my misery.”

Richard’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head. “No, Harriet, you can’t ask me to do something like that.”

She held his face in her hands, a tear escaping her eye. “Sweetheart, I didn’t think I’d have to ask you,” she said. “I would have thought certainly you’d know I wouldn’t want to live like that?”

“You can’t ask me to…” Richard choked.

Harriet suddenly winced. “Ooh, Richard?”

He pulled in closer to her and squeezed her hand. “Yes, darling?”

She shivered again and her shoulders nearly convulsed. “It does hurt,” she said through clenched teeth.

“I’m here, my love.” Richard moved to her other side. “What do you want me to do?”

She shook harder and fought to regain control of herself. She reached out for him, but, instead, grabbed the pillow. She sunk her nails into it and all but screamed, “Shoot me!”

Richard stepped back away from her, his hand going for the pistol in his pants. As he pulled it and released the safety, he backed up to the wall and brought the barrel up to line up with her head. “I don’t know if I can,” he whispered.

Harriet shook nearly to the point of convulsions, and Richard wanted nothing more than to load her in the car and rush her to the hospital. She suddenly snapped her head around and stared at him, her eyes a ruby red. She sniffed the air and cocked her head to the side as if trying to decide what exactly to do with him.

Richard took one last look at his wife, and for the briefest moment, his mind registered the fact that, other than the red eyes, she looked just as beautiful now as she did the day he met her. Then she opened her mouth to scream and he squeezed the trigger.

Colonel Vickers stepped from the helicopter and strode across the open space that was now filled with blowing trash. Major Chappell was hot on his heels, her hands full with paperwork and briefcases. Before the second chopper touched down, the side door was sliding open and men with automatic weapons were slipping out and falling to the ground below. The squad members quickly double timed it away from the chopper as it shut down its engines and began to power down.

Colonel Vickers walked across the gravel lot and only gave a cursory glance at the natural amphitheater. He noted the equipment still on stage, the lights hanging askew, and the clothes and trash scattered about.

“If those are blood smears, we’ll need samples before the CDC gets here,” he announced. “And have them set a perimeter all along the natural borders, here, here, there, there, and I want a set of eyes up on that hill.”

Major Chappell nodded. “Consider it done, sir.” She glanced to the squad leader who simply nodded and hurried off to relay the colonel’s wishes. “And the Ghost Unit when it arrives?”

“Let them do what they do best, major,” the colonel said as he pulled open the door to the Visitor’s Center. “Search and destroy.”

“And are we caring about any non-infected civilian casualties, sir?” Major Chappell asked as the colonel led her through the room.

The colonel paused for just a moment and shook his head. “Not particularly, however, if this is what we think it is, the infected will have a much higher body temperature,” he explained. “If we use thermal goggles to search out all living things, we should be able to tell infected from non-infected.”

“And the primary mission, sir?”

Vickers paused again and smiled at her. “Is still our primary mission, Major. If we can capture one or more of the subjects, preferably in pristine condition, then that is our primary objective.” He turned and headed for the office in the rear of the center. “But we are in no way to allow the CDC to know about the primary objective. The primary is strictly black book, off the record.” He paused at the door and pointed his finger at her. “Remember what I told you about plausible deniability? That’s why,” he reiterated as he tried the knob.

Vickers stepped back half a step and stared at the locked door. “Your sidearm, Major,” he ordered as he held out his hand. Margaret Chappell pulled her Beretta 9mm and handed it to Colonel Vickers. He released the safety and aimed at the doorknob.

The door opened just before Vickers squeezed the trigger. “Most people just fucking knock,” Hatcher spat as he stood and stared at the man with the gun in his hand.

Vickers stood with the gun still aimed at Hatcher’s dangly bits and for just a moment, Daniel wondered if he might still pull the trigger. Vickers set the safety again and handed the weapon back to Major Chappell. He pasted on a smile that sent a cold chill down Hatcher’s back. “I’m Colonel Vickers. And you are?”

“Ranger Daniel Hatcher.” Hatch did his best to keep a poker face. “This is my park and my office.”

“Hatcher? I believe we spoke on the radio.” Vickers pushed his way in to the tiny office. “We’ll be setting this up as our primary command post, Major.” He ignored Hatcher and moved behind the desk. “Have the unit commander report to me here.”

“Very well, sir.” Major Chappell turned to leave.

“Hold on there just a moment.” Hatcher turned and faced Vickers. “I just told you, this is my office.”

“Yes, and thank you for vacating it.” Vickers motioned toward the door. “I have a lot of work to do now, so…”

Hatcher was just about to unload a double barrel mouthful of Grade A, Choice, Prime Cut curse words, when two men he’d not noticed appeared out of nowhere and scooped him up from under the arms and dragged him out of his own office. Vickers stuck his head out of the door and motioned to Hatcher, “Congratulations on getting out of that tower. I hope the rest of your people have as much luck in getting back here before my men go to work.”

Chapter 3

Buck and Skeeter continued down the hill, slipping from car to car, sliding between the parked vehicles, and when the occasion called for it, sliding under a taller vehicle if they thought they heard or saw something that was a bit too close. As the two now pressed themselves into the ground under an SUV, Skeeter peered past Buck to the rear of the auto.

“I don’t see anything,” she whispered. “I think it’s clear.”

Buck continued to lay where he was, his face turned away from her. Skeeter edged out farther and stole a quick glance in both directions. Sliding back to her hiding position, she tapped Buck. “The coast is clear. We should move out.”

Skeeter began to scoot closer to the edge again and noticed Buck not moving. She paused and studied his form in the dark shadows of the car’s undercarriage. Scooting closer to him, she placed a tentative hand on his shoulders and felt his body shaking, the silent sobs reverberating through his body. Skeeter inhaled deeply and moved closer to him. She wrapped a comforting arm around him, but he pushed her away.

“Stop,” he whispered.

“It’s okay,” she replied softly.

“You have no idea.”

“I understand you’re sad,” she said. “I’m upset, too. I’ve lost my sister and—”

“I’ve lost my entire fucking family,” he nearly shouted. He caught himself and lowered his voice again. “My dad and I may not have always got along, but he was all I had left.” He turned to face her, and she stared into his swollen and teary eyes. “Keri was the first, then my mom, and now…” he trailed off.

“There wasn’t anything you could do. He made you go.”

Buck snorted with derision. “You still don’t get it, do you?” He shook his head. “All of this? The zombies, my parents, my sister…I could have stopped all of this. I knew what was going on as soon as I saw it. If I had just spoken up and made my dad quarantine my sister. Or made him realize when mom got attacked what would happen to her. But no. I thought it couldn’t be real,” he mocked himself.

“I ignored everything I knew…everything that was right in front of my face and pinned my hopes on my dad getting us to the hospital tomorrow morning.” He shook his head and beat his brow against the dirt road beneath them. “I should have trusted my gut and made him listen to me. Keri might still be infected, but at least my parents would still be here and nobody else would be hurt.”

Skeeter stared at him open mouthed. “Seriously? You’re going to blame yourself based on what? Late night movies?” She punched him hard in the arm. “You need to quit being a pussy and straighten up. There is no way your parents would have listened to you, even if you had threatened them,” she whispered sternly. “You couldn’t have convinced them your sister was a zombie if she had risen from the dead and staggered around moaning ‘bra-a-a-i-i-inz’,” she mocked him back. “If you tell me you invented this zombie plague with a basement chemistry set, then I’ll let you blame yourself. But unless that’s the case, we need to get out of here and I need you to help me keep an eye out for these things.”

Buck kept shaking his head, ignoring her. She punched him again and he twisted his face to meet hers. “Besides, you have the gun, remember? I don’t know how to use one, so man up, big boy.”

Buck stared at her for a long moment, then pursed his lips. “You can be really demanding, you know that?”

“I’m a woman.”

“You’re a girl.”

“And you’re a boy. But I need you to man up like you’ve been doing,” she said more softly. “Seriously, Buck, I can’t get out of here by myself.”

He stared into her eyes and nodded. “Okay,” he sniffed. “Let’s do this.” Buck crawled to the edge of the SUV and stole a glance out from under the car. The coast was still clear, so he waved her out from under it as well. The two made their way farther down the hill, staying along the roadway the entire time.

Skeeter tugged at his arm and pulled him close. “Tell me again why we’re sticking to the road? Isn’t it awfully open?”

Buck paused to catch his breath and nodded. “Yeah, but it leads back to where the concert was. And there were buildings there like a ranger’s office or something. Maybe there will be normal people there, or a phone or…something.”

Skeeter rubbed at her lower legs. “My legs feel like someone is driving spikes into them.”

“Shin splints. You’re not used to hiking up and down these kinds of hills, are you?”

“Are you kidding? I usually sit behind my PS3 console to kill zombies.” She smiled at him and he felt something…different.

“Join the club,” Buck said, glancing around trying not to stare at her. “I suppose there’s a slight chance that someone left keys in one of these cars, but if we do find something like that, as soon as we start it, it’s going to be like ringing the dinner bell for everything with red eyes out there.”

Skeeter nodded, but then shot him a smile. “It might pull some of them away from the motorcoach.” She shrugged.

Buck gave her a grim look. “Somehow, I doubt they were kept out for very long.” He turned away from her to hide the concern on his face. “We split up. You take this side of the road and I’ll take the other. If you find anything, just holler and I’ll come to you. I’ll do the same.”

Skeeter’s eyes widened at the idea of separating, but she said nothing as he broke away and darted across the road, leaving her alone to search her side. She watched him go from car to car, trying the door handles of each one. She went to the closest car and tried the handle. Locked. Staying low, she hurried to the next vehicle and tried it. As soon as she tried the door handle, the interior lights came on, but the door remained locked. She stifled a yelp as she sprinted to the next car.

She kept glancing back over her shoulder to see if anybody had noticed or was approaching the vehicle, but so far, the area was free of dark, sprinting figures, and no screams broke the silence of the night. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding when she lifted the door handle of the next car. Locked. Scooting farther down the line, she tried the next and the next, but both were locked. She was about to consider their attempts an effort in futility as she reached the next car and tried the door handle. The interior lights came on, as did the headlights, and the car alarm sounded in tandem with the vehicle’s horn. She stood in shock as the siren sounded and the lights flashed, and she knew that anything within miles would hear it. Her head jerked toward Buck who was now up and sprinting down the line, trying every car door he came to. She took off at a dead run, following suit.

She finally came to an old pickup truck, and not only was the door unlocked, the window was down. She pulled open the door and slipped her head inside, looking for keys. They weren’t hanging from the ignition, so she pulled down the visor like she saw in the movies. Nothing. Dammit. They were always there in the movies. She looked in the floor, under the mat, then she pulled open the ashtray. BINGO! She fumbled with the keys and finally found the right one. Jumping into the truck, she turned the key and heard the engine turn over. With a loud roar, the motor caught, and she pulled the transmission lever into reverse, backing into the car behind her. She cut the wheel and pulled the transmission lever into drive, then gunned the engine, pulling out onto the dirt road. She flipped on the lights and slammed on the brakes, barely missing Buck as the lights illuminated him in the middle of the road.

Buck slammed both hands on the hood of the truck just as it came to a stop in front of him, the dust and dirt rising into the headlights, casting him in an eerie glow. He suddenly disappeared, and she sat up in the seat, looking for him. She nearly screamed when he pulled open the passenger door and jumped in.

“Let’s go! They’re coming!”

Skeeter turned and looked over her shoulder for just a moment and saw dozens of very fast-moving figures bouncing from car to car or running full out down the dirt road. More than one had stopped at the car with the alarm going and was beating on the windows, trying to get in. She stomped her foot on the accelerator and the powerful V-8 engine pulled them both back in the seat as the truck roared out onto the dirt road.

“Easy, hot rod!” Buck yelled. “Don’t wreck us before we get out of here.” He laughed as she pitched the truck from one side to the other. He was amazed at how much wider the road seemed from a pickup truck rather than from the seat of the giant motorcoach.

“This isn’t so easy you know,” she screamed from the driver’s seat. “I’ve only driven once in my life, and it was just to back my mom’s Honda down the driveway!”

Buck shot her a smile. “How far was that?” He watched her as she bounced the truck off the rear fender of a very expensive looking Mercedes.

“About fifteen feet,” she admitted. “Maybe twenty.” She overcorrected again and slid the rear end into the side of a minivan.

Buck laughed as he slid across the seat and into the door. “You’re not doing too bad,” he yelled over the roar of the engine. “But you might want to slow down a bit.”

Skeeter slammed on the brakes and Buck slid into the dashboard while Skeeter bounced off the steering wheel, sounding the horn when she did so. When she bounced back, she rubbed at her head. “Oh, my…that hurt!”

Buck picked himself up from the floorboard and slid over next to her. “Trade me,” he offered. “I’ve had a little more practice.” Skeeter slid out from the wheel and the truck rolled slightly forward while Buck slipped in behind the wheel. He glanced in the rearview mirror, then goosed the gas pedal again. “They’re coming.” He did his best to put distance between them.

“What if we can’t lose them before we get to the ranger place?” Skeeter tried not to turn around and look behind them. “I mean, what if they follow us all the way there?”

“Then we lock it up tight and try to wait them out,” Buck said as he stared at the road. He kept increasing his speed until he didn’t think he could control the truck if he pushed it any further, then backed off a little. “We’re not too far. As long as we can make it inside and lock the doors.”

Skeeter finally turned and stared out the back window, looking for crazy people. She suddenly turned to Buck, her eyes wide. “What if the doors are locked when we get there?”

Buck shook his head rapidly. “One problem at a time.”

Hatcher was livid. He had been unceremoniously dragged from his own office by uniformed men, then chained to the stairs of the Sheriff’s Department Mobile Unit, then, after more choppers showed up, people in white space suits dragged him to a makeshift tent, stripped him down, sprayed him with something that smelled like bug killer mixed with glass cleaner, checked him in places that nobody but his momma had ever seen, and gave him a shot without his permission.

“Immunity booster, my ass,” he muttered through gritted teeth.

They tossed him what looked like an orange prison jumpsuit and he told them to kiss his ass. He marched, bare-assed naked across the grounds and back to the locker room where his spare uniform was. He was a ‘by-God Park Service Ranger,’ and he would wear the uniform. As he sat in the locker room getting dressed, a female officer entered and tried to question him. She was a major or something. He was too mad to remember, but he did get an ounce of joy by throwing her out on her cute little derrière.

After he laced up his old boots, Hatcher searched for a duty belt and came up empty. The bastards had stripped him of his weapon and duty belt and he didn’t have a spare. He went down each line of lockers and came up empty there, too. He would have thought that surely Fisher would have an extra…that’s it! Fisher’s gun they had found in the woods! Hatch turned and started to go to the ATVs, then realized, Mitch had taken his ATV at the watchtower. He didn’t have it any longer. He stopped in his tracks and cursed himself. Hatcher was just about to punch the wall when he remembered, no…he had put Fisher’s gun into the back of the ATV he was riding when he and Shelly went out. When he and Olson left, they took fresh ones from the maintenance shed. He had left the ATV with Fisher’s weapon in it parked in front of the Ranger Station. Smiling to himself, Hatcher stepped out of the locker room behind the maintenance area and strode across the ‘compound’ that the military was creating.

Hatcher kept his head forward, but his eyes scanned the entire area as men worked at a hurried pace, erecting tents with tube connections, setting up decontamination centers, medical suites, another tent that had to be an armory, what with the security that was around it. Vehicles began pouring in from up the mountain and Hatcher knew this wasn’t just a search and rescue anymore. They really were going all out.

As he continued across the area, he saw a group of soldiers outfitted for war huddled together, one man speaking to them in hushed tones. Apparently, they had radio headsets, otherwise they couldn’t hear him. His voice was too low, and there were far too many of them. However, one thing he did notice sent a chill up his spine. To the man, they each had a set of night vision goggles strapped to their helmets.

Hatcher hurried his pace as he strode past the group, doing his best to act as if he had a purpose. He never wavered when he heard the leader instruct his men, ‘Do not allow yourself to be bit or scratched. No contact with bodily fluids or…’ but no matter how hard he strained his ears, he couldn’t hear the rest of the instructions. He refused to slow his pace or stop to listen. He would do nothing to draw attention to himself.

Hatcher approached the ATV and went straight to the rear storage compartment. He opened it up and dug around in the rear until his hand found the grip of Fisher’s 1911. He slipped it out of the compartment and into the back of his pants, allowing his shirt to fall over it. For once, he was going to allow his shirt to remain untucked.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice asked.

Hatcher didn’t need to look up to know that Colonel Vickers was leaning against the door of the station. He also didn’t need to look up to know that the lid to the storage compartment had concealed his actions. He pulled a Maglite from the compartment and shut the lid. “Your people stripped me of my gear.” he said, meeting the man’s gaze. “I don’t suppose I’ll be getting it back.”

Vickers smiled and Hatcher hoped the bastard’s face would crack. “No,” he said, inflicting as much finality into the single syllable word as he could.

Hatcher shrugged. “Fine.” He stepped up onto the ATV. “Then I guess I go out with just a flashlight and my dick in my hand.”

“I haven’t given you permission to leave this area, Mr. Hatcher.” Vickers pushed away from the doorjamb.

“And I didn’t ask for it,” Hatcher said. “In case you’ve forgotten, this is still my park. I’m still the ranger in charge, and those are my people out there. I intend to get them back here safe,”

Vickers stepped away from the doorway and intercepted Hatcher. “I can’t let you do that, Mr. Hatcher.”

Hatcher reached behind him and brought the .45 up to Vicker’s forehead. “You can’t stop me,” he said as he started the ATV.

Vickers recoiled slightly and held his hands up. “It’s your funeral, Mr. Hatcher,” he said quietly, waving him off with his hand.

“Yeah. I thought maybe you’d change your mind.” Hatcher tucked the .45 back into his waistband. He shoved the flashlight into the handlebars and accelerated out of the parking area and past the crews who were hurriedly transforming this part of his park.

As his ATV shot off into the darkness, Major Chappell stepped out of the shadows. “Should I order him shot, sir?”

Vickers considered the option, but shook his head. “No,” he said quietly. “If the infected don’t get him, then we’ll shoot him when he returns.”

“Hey, wait!” Candy shouted above the sound of their engines. She braked the ATV and swerved to the side, swinging the headlight around.

“What is it?” Mitch yelled, pulling his sidearm and scanning each way. “Did you see one of them?”

“No, better. Look!” She pointed off and down through the trees. “Can we get down there?”

Mitch pulled his ATV around and looked over the edge of the road to where she was pointing. He could see into a campsite, with an ambulance parked next to a tent. “I’m not sure.” His mind started going through the aerial maps he’d studied. “I’m sure we can, I’m just not sure how.”

Fisher leaned forward and said, “The woods are a little less dense back there. We might could navigate through them there.”

Mitch shot her a questioning look. “But why you want to be going there? The road will take us all the way around.”

“The ambulance,” she said, as if he were daft. “I used to be an EMT. Fisher has a broken arm. I know there should be supplies onboard that thing I can use to help him.”

Mitch shot a glance at Fisher who only shrugged. “I could use a little relief, man.”

Mitch sighed and nodded. “Okay, we’ll give it a try.” The two backtracked to where the woods were a little less thick and slowly drove through the thirty yards of forest to the campgrounds on the other side. As they pulled out of the brush that lined the road on the other side, Mitch had his pistol out and was scanning the area. “Just try to be quick, okay?”

They parked the ATVs next to the ambulance and Candy hopped into the back. “Something really bad happened in here,” she said as she dug through the multiple drawers of supplies.

“What do you mean?” Fisher tried to stick his head in.

“I mean, don’t be sticking your head in here,” she warned. “You might lose your lunch.” She hopped out of the ambulance and set the supplies on the ground. She turned to Fisher. “Ever have a broken bone set before?”

He shook his head. “Never had a broken bone before. This hurts like you wouldn’t believe.”

She patted his shoulder. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Dwayne’s eyes widened. “Hey, you know I can wait ’til we get to a hospital.”

She smiled at him. “That might be a while, considering the circumstances. And the way your arm is swelling, it would be best if we do this now. The longer we wait, the worse it will get.” She began spreading the supplies out on a plastic bag. “Trust me. A little pain now for a lot more relief in a little bit.”

Fisher shot a worrying glance at Mitch. “Does she know what she’s doing?”

Mitch shrugged. “Beats me, bro,” he said. “But I can tell you from experience, the best docs I ever had were field medics in the military, so, take that for what it’s worth.”

Fisher inhaled deeply and blew it out. “Okay, then. What the hell. Let’s do this.”

“That’s my boy.” She patted his shoulder as she sat him on the ground. “Now, lucky for you, you only broke your ulna. Had it been the radius, you’d be in a lot worse trouble,” she commented as she prepared a hypodermic needle.

“Aw, do I have to have a shot?”

“Trust me,” she winked slyly. “You’ll wish I had given you two of these in a minute. But we’re going to need you to walk out of here, so this is all you get.” She stuck the needle in his arm and he winced, then he hissed as she depressed the plunger.

“That burns.”

“Only for a moment,” she said softly. “Tell me when it stops hurting.” She began opening other packages. She pulled out a flat metal bar and curved it slightly with her hands. She had him hold his arm out and shaped it to fit his arm with it bent slightly.

Fisher’s eyes got somewhat glassy and he smiled at her. “You’re pretty.”

Olson glanced at Mitch. “I think it’s kicked in,” she said with a smile. “I’m going to need your help.”

Mitch shrugged. “How can you tell?” He stepped over closer. “He’s right. You are pretty.”

With that comment, she blushed and turned her face from him. She had to concentrate on what she was doing for a moment and told Mitch to hold Fisher down. She explained they would need to ‘pull’ his arm from the wrist and sort of ‘stretch’ it so that when it was released, the bone would go back into its original place. She also explained this would hurt. A LOT. And even though she had given him a pain killer, he would come unglued.

“As big as he is, and as strong and muscular as he is, I don’t know if I can do it,” she admitted softly.

Fisher giggled and stared at her chest. “You can do whatever you want to me.”

Mitch gave him a dirty look. “You mean like this?” He placed a foot on Fisher’s chest and grabbed his arm, jerking it hard and straight up until the man howled, then he snapped it back.

Fisher appeared to pass out from the action. Olson stared at him a moment, slightly in shock from the speed and fluidity of his movement, but she nodded her head. “Yeah. Exactly.” She swallowed hard, then stared at Mitch. “Can you sit him up? Gently?”

Mitch smiled. “That I can do.”

She held Fisher’s arm while Mitch sat him up on the ground. She placed a thick pad under his arm, then the bent metal bar under his elbow, and had Mitch hold it in place while she began wrapping it with an ACE bandage. It took three to properly wrap his large arm, but when she was done, she was pretty proud of the work. “I think that will do it.”

Mitch looked at her and smiled. “Not bad. Only one problem, Doc.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“I ain’t carrying his big, dumb ass out of here.”

She chuckled and pulled up a small vial. Cracking it under Fisher’s nose and waving it, he jerked away from her, coughing. She looked at Mitch. “Smelling salts.”

Fisher tried to wave her away with his broken arm and snapped instantly awake. “Ow, sonofasmokinwhoreinchurch!”

Mitch laughed at the outburst and let the man go. Fisher caught himself and sat on the ground, woozy. “What the hell?” He was obviously still very woozy.

“We need to go,” Candy said.

“My head is spinning. I can’t move,” Dwayne said as his eyelids tried to flutter shut.

A scream in the woods behind them shattered the stillness of the night. Mitch was instantly up and with pistol drawn. “You best get your ass up or I’m leaving you as a distraction!”

Fisher was rolling to his side and fighting to get his feet under him. “I hear you,” he cursed as he staggered up. “Son of a…I can barely move.”

“I got you.” Candy slipped his good arm over her shoulder. “We need to get moving.” She directed him back to her ATV and helped him on it. “Can you hang on?”

He nodded tiredly, but she wasn’t sure. She punched him in the shoulder and he stared back at her. “Ow.”

“But can you hang on?” she asked as Mitch straddled his own ATV and fired it up.

“I guess I better, or Billy Badass there is going to use me as crazy-bait,” Dwayne said. “As much as I enjoy wrassling with big-tittied, naked women, that one will kick my ass and eat me for a midnight snack.” He shook his head groggily and stared at Candy a moment in shock. “Sorry. I blame the drugs you gave me. Normally, I wouldn’t…I mean. I blame you.”

Candy rolled her eyes and jumped on the ATV. She fired the engine and gunned the accelerator, pulling out ahead of Mitch, with Dwayne hanging on for dear life.

Bill and Jason hadn’t driven far before encountering a car on the side of the road. Jason sat up straighter in the seat of Bill’s Jeep and stared out the window. “That’s the car of the man Gram helped.”

The man you shot, Bill thought. He knew Jake didn’t have to say it. It was one of those things that could go unsaid, but they both knew it to be true.

“I wonder where his wife is?”

Bill slowed the Jeep at his words and stole a glance at the boy. “Wife?” Bill stared at the abandoned car. “The man had a wife?”

Jason nodded and sat back down in his seat as they passed the car and slowly rolled farther down the road. “Y’all didn’t say anything about him having a wife,” Bill said. “Was there anybody else in the car? Kids?”

Jason shook his head. “No, just him and his wife.” He didn’t elaborate any further, and Bill didn’t know if it was because the boy chose not to, or simply didn’t know.

Bill sighed as he tried to decide what to do. The infected shouldn’t have made it this far out. For one to have made it? A fluke. Two…well, they were travelling together, so, it’s understandable. But one is now gone, the other unaccounted for.

Bill slowly rolled the Jeep to a stop. “Why are we stopping, Bill?” Jason asked. Bill didn’t even notice that he didn’t call him ‘uncle’ Bill. The boy may be young, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew there was no relation between himself and the large Texan.

“We need to stop this, Jake.”

“Keep them from getting out of the park, you mean?”

Bill’s hand trembled as he thought of Richard sitting alone in the house, intent on becoming infected with his wife. If what the boy said about them being in pain was true, there was no way he could leave the man like that. And there was no way that any authorities could know that it had gotten all the way out here.

“I don’t know what I mean anymore,” Bill replied softly.

“You want to help my grandpa, don’t you?”

Bill nodded, his mind drifting back to the gentle man he’d met at the park. He hadn’t known him for very long, but he had grown to really like him. He respected him. And now here he was, running away with the man’s grandson. He was a peace officer. His job was to help people, not turn and run.

“Yeah, son. I guess I do.”

“I’m glad,” Jake said as he slipped his hand over to pat Bill’s. “It will be all right. I promise.” Bill turned and gazed at the little boy, his eyes still bright with innocence and somehow, he felt that it would be. He didn’t know how, but he did.

“Well, okay, then. Let’s turn around and see about that, shall we?” Bill turned the Jeep on the narrow road and flipped a quick U-turn.

The trip back didn’t take near as long as Bill drove faster than he had during their departure. He pulled into the driveway and slid to a stop. As he unbuckled his seatbelt, he turned to Jason. “No matter what you hear, you stay here. If I’m not back in ten minutes…” he considered the kid’s options, “well, just lock the doors and stay low. Hopefully somebody will come for you sooner or later.”

“You’ll be back,” Jason said.

Bill stepped out of the Jeep and released the safety on his 9mm. “I hope you’re right, kid,” he replied softly under his breath.

Bill entered the house through the rear entrance. He stepped into the living room and scanned the empty room. The lights were still on, but turned low. He went down the hall and the bedroom door was slightly ajar. He could hear a noise inside, but wasn’t sure what it was. Stepping closer, he heard sobbing.

Bill stepped closer and pushed the door open.

Richard sat on the floor next to the bed, holding the body of Harriet in his lap, tears running freely down his face. Bill lowered his weapon and stepped inside the room. “I’m sorry.”

Richard looked up at him through tear-swollen eyes and shook his head. “She begged me to end the pain,” he cried.

“I know,” Bill said softly. “I know.” He knelt down beside his friend and took his hand. “But right now, there’s a little boy out in my Jeep that really wants his grandpa.”

Richard looked up at him and shook his head. “I can’t, Bill. I can’t look him in the eye after killing her,” he sobbed. “She was everything to him. He was the apple of her…” he trailed off, his words catching in his throat.

“Believe me, that kid knows more than you give him credit for.” Bill patted his arm. “And he needs you.” He pulled at Rich and helped him up from the floor. They sat Harriet gently on the bed and Bill spread the comforter over her body.

“What am I going to do? She was my everything.”

Bill shook his head. “I can’t answer that one, buddy.” He eased him out of the room. “But she’s at peace now, and you ended the pain. You came through for her in the end.”

Richard sobbed again, and his legs started to go out from under him. “Easy there,” Bill soothed. “Come on.” He directed him out of the room and sat him on the couch. “Do you need clothes or anything?”

Richard shook his head. “I can’t think right now.”

Bill nodded. “Right.” He sighed heavily and glanced out the window to the Jeep where Jake sat. “Well, I still have your bag of money, so anything you need we can get on the road. But your grandson is sitting in your driveway. Anything creeps up on the house, and he’s a sitting duck. We really need to get gone.”

Richard seemed to snap out of it then. He stood up and Bill gave him a helping hand as he walked out the door. “Just get in the back and try to rest. I’ll get us to a hotel or something for the night.”

Richard nodded as Bill led him to the Jeep and opened the back door. He slipped into the back and neither he nor Jason said anything as Bill got in the front and began turning the little SUV around. “How about we point this thing towards Portland and work our way to your house, eh, Jake?” Bill said, trying to lighten the mood.

Jake nodded as Bill started to move them back down the drive. “Okay. But the army mans will probably try to stop us.”

“There are roadblocks on all the highways, byways, entrances, and exits. We have a unit combing the woods now, and choppers doing flyovers looking for heat signatures, and radioing their locations back to the ground teams. Trust me, sir, we will have this outbreak contained and cleaned up before nightfall tomorrow,” Vickers said into the satellite phone.

Major Chappell stood to the side and made notes while the colonel paced and nodded. “Yes, sir. As soon as we can,” he responded. The major glanced at him and wished that she could hear both sides of the conversation. “We’ve commandeered the local ranger station and a few police assets that were left on the scene. They aren’t much, but they’ll work for an operation of such short duration.”

Major Chappell wished that just once, the higher brass would leave the safety of the Pentagon and drag their tight asses into the woods for an operation like this one. She’d seen some of the first bodies that were brought back. They were close, and upon seeing the activity at the scene, began screaming and attacked. They were made quick work of, but the damage to the bodies before they were shot made her wonder how they continued to live, much less be so lethal.

“The CDC has just arrived and is setting up their own shop, sir,” Vickers explained. “From Fort Collins. The New Vector-Borne Infectious Disease Laboratory, or some such. I’m not exactly sure, but this is right up their alley, and they were the closest branch,” Vickers continued to explain as he kissed their collective asses. It made Chappell sick.

“Yes, sir, I’ll keep you updated,” he said again before hanging up. Vickers sighed and placed the satellite phone back into the secure briefcase. “What a bunch of morons,” he muttered.

She turned to the colonel. “And they’re the source of our black operations orders, sir?”

Vickers raised a brow at her. “Negative, Major,” he replied softly. “As far as the Pentagon is concerned, this operation is simply a contain and cleanup.” He stared out the window at the light beginning to form on the horizon. “Those orders come from a much higher source.”

“Higher than the Pentagon, sir?”

“Better not to know. Plausible deniability ring a bell? We’re going to have a long day ahead of us. And we’ll be needing that Mobile Command trailer cleaned out.”

“On it, sir,” she said as she turned to leave.

“Major, one more thing.” Vickers continued to stare out the window.

“Yes, colonel?”

“This is from the Pentagon.” He turned to face her. “There were no survivors.”

Her face never wavered as she nodded. “Yes, sir.” She turned and headed out the door to relay the colonel’s orders. As soon as she stepped out into the brisk mountain air, she felt her knees begin to buckle.

“What the hell have I gotten myself into?”

Chapter 4

Buck overcompensated on a turn and felt the pickup begin to fishtail. As he steered to correct it, the vehicle slid sideways on the dirt road and he watched in horror as the front fender collided with a parked car. The rear of the truck spun around sharply and hit another car on the opposite side of the road. The momentum carried the truck over on to its side, rolling it to its top and partially over to the other side.

Neither he nor Skeeter had bothered with a seat belt, and subsequently they bounced around the inside of the cab, smashing into each other, never feeling the cuts from a thousand pieces of safety glass as it rained down upon them. Buck found himself wedged under the steering wheel on the floorboard, his arm pressing the gas pedal to the floor, the rear wheels spinning uselessly as the engine revved faster. Skeeter lay across him at an angle, her arm wedged behind him and stuck against the side of the truck’s interior.

“That wasn’t fun,” Buck muttered as he pried his arm up and off the accelerator. “Can you move off me?” he asked as he tried to squeeze between the steering wheel and the seat.

“Oh, my God. Is it going to blow up?” Skeeter panicked as she thought of all of the movies she had seen where cars exploded as soon as they collided with another vehicle. “We have to get out before it blows up!”

“The back window.” Buck pointed to the rear of the cab. The rear window had been popped completely out of the cab and—at some point—had shattered in the rear of the bed. “Crawl out there.”

Skeeter unceremoniously stepped on Buck as she pushed herself up and out of the hole. Buck slid across the floorboard and slipped out from under the steering wheel. He saw his dad’s pistol laying against the door panel and reached down to grab it. He didn’t know if they’d be able to make it far, but he knew that any weapon they could save from this mishap might mean life or death for them both. He tucked it into his pants again and grabbed for the backpacks, tossing them out the window.

“Take these,” he said as he tried to wedge himself out the window.

Skeeter had already crawled to the ground and was feeling every stiff muscle that her body had produced in the wreck. She ignored the bags as they fell out the rear window and walked in circles as Buck fell out onto the ground as well.

“We are so screwed,” she muttered as she continued to walk in circles, staring out at the woods.

“Grab your bag and let’s get the hell out of here,” Buck said as he tried to stand up straight. “They’re not far behind us.”

“We’re screwed.” Skeeter turned and stared at him wide-eyed.

Buck grabbed her by the shoulders. “Grab your bag!” he hissed through gritted teeth. “We gotta move!”

Almost on cue, a scream broke the night air and they both turned to stare back down the way they had come. Without headlights to light up the area, they couldn’t make out any figures racing down the hillside, but Buck knew they were close.

“Now!”

Skeeter picked up her bag and the two took off again, hugging the vehicles along the side of the road, yet trying to stay concealed.

“Should we try to find another car?” she asked.

“They’re too close.”

As they crested a slight rise, the road came to a ‘T’ with cars parked along both sides and going both directions. Skeeter gave him a panicked look and grabbed his shirt, balling it in her hands.

“Which way do we go?” she asked, the screaming behind them getting louder.

Buck stared at the line of cars going both directions and shook his head. He tried to sound like he knew where he was when he spoke.

“Left.” It continued downhill and the only thing he remembered during the drive coming in was that it was nearly continuously uphill. “Yeah, we go left!” He grabbed her by the pack strap and the two took off at a dead run.

This time they ran down the middle of the road, not trying to conceal themselves. The screamers were getting too close, and although Buck was exhausted, the sudden rush of adrenaline had his feet moving just fine. He reached his hand out and grabbed Skeeter’s hand while he ran. “Stay with me!”

Buck could feel his legs burning and knew that Skeeter had to be about worn out as well. He was slowing down and his lungs were burning, too. He could only hear the crunch of the gravel under his sneakers and the beating of his heart mixed with the huff of his breathing as he willed himself to keep going. He could feel himself slowing even more, with Skeeter pulling him back a little at a time as they rounded a bend. He saw one more long line of cars going down yet another steep slope and he cursed to himself. How many freaking people drove to this stupid concert, anyway?

Buck felt his feet slow to a mindless walk, even though his brain was screaming at his legs to step it up, go faster. Skeeter had let go of his hand and stopped completely. Hands on her knees, she was bent over, gasping for air.

“We…need…to keep…moving,” Buck wheezed out. Skeeter just waved at him with her hand as she turned around and attempted to throw up.

Buck grabbed her hand and pulled her over behind the cars one more time. They both fell to the ground and tried to use a large SUV as cover, but if anything came down the hill, their wheezing and coughing would be a dead giveaway.

Skeeter pulled her bag around and twisted the cap on a bottle before taking a long draw from the lukewarm water. She handed the bottle to Buck, and even though his mind told him to sip it, he swallowed three big gulps and felt his stomach churn. He sat leaning against a tire, sweat running down his back and into his underwear, when he heard the distinct sound of small engines running full out. He tapped Skeeter and pointed out into the woods.

“You hear that?” he asked breathlessly.

She tilted her head a moment, then rolled forward to look around. Buck came to his knees and peered over the fender of the SUV. Slowly, he chanced standing. He couldn’t hear footsteps approaching, nor had he heard a scream, but he didn’t want to let them know exactly where they were.

Slowly, he stood and scanned the area. He thought he saw light coming through the trees ahead. It almost looked like a set of headlights were cutting through the woods and would intercept the road they were on.

“Look,” he said, pointing. “There.”

Skeeter saw the lights, too, and shoved the bottle back in her pack. “Can we catch them?”

“I don’t know.” Buck shook his head. “But we can try.”

He grabbed her hand again and the two took off down the road as fast as their weary bodies would take them.

Hatcher waited for a bullet to rip into his back as he drove the ATV out of the makeshift compound the military was erecting. When it didn’t come, he wasn’t sure if perhaps the colonel was bluffing with all of his grandstanding, or perhaps he assumed Hatcher would meet his doom out here in the wild with all of the crazy infected people. Either way, Hatcher felt pretty ridiculous as he slowed the ATV and assessed his situation. He had a flashlight, a custom .45 with one magazine, and no backup.

Great freaking plan, pal.

Daniel did his best to clear his mind. “Okay, where would they most likely come in from?”

He stopped and looked at the crossroad ahead of him. If they came the shortest and most direct route, they’d arrive on the forest road at his left. If Mitch was aware of it. If Mitch wasn’t aware of it, they’d come through the secondary campgrounds and come through the road on his right. Hatcher debated waiting right where he was until a helicopter flew overhead at a diagonal to him. He remembered what he’d overheard about air support and seeing the soldiers with the night vision goggles.

“If that crazy-assed colonel thinks I’m just going to sit back and let him write off people like Mitch, then he has another thing coming to him.” He kicked the ATV into gear and shot off down the fire road on his left. “Please be on this road, Mitch,” he muttered as he accelerated up the rocky hill.

Hatcher road like the Devil himself was on his tail as he tried to close the distance between himself and Mitch. He tried to visualize the area from a bird’s eye view. Where did the roads lead to, where did they branch, where might they intersect again? If he could find a place where he could catch Mitch and Candy before they could possibly split off, he could keep them from driving into a trap.

Hatcher pushed his ATV as hard as he dared. and when he was certain he was at the right spot, he cut the four-wheeler to the side and took it off the road and onto another game trail. He wasn’t positive he could catch Mitch and Candy before the winding road they were on would hit the Y, but he prayed that he could beat them there. He knew they had a long and winding journey ahead of them when they left from the tower. They definitely went the scenic route when they led the crazy cannibals off, but barring anything horrible happening, they should be coming in on this road any time.

He came out of the game trail a little faster than he’d hoped and slid across the gravel, the chopper passing overhead once more. At least, he wondered if it was the same chopper. It was impossible to tell for sure at night. Hatcher spun the rear end of the ATV around and accelerated hard up the road, determined to close the distance between himself and his friends.

“Wait up!” Candy yelled above the growl of the engine. “He keeps slipping.”

“What’s his major malfunction?” Mitch snapped as he slid his ATV to a halt next to hers. “I’m about ready to leave his ass.”

Candy shot him a dirty look. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact I doped him up so we could set his arm?” she shot back in a snarky tone. “Ease up, will ya?”

“We ain’t got all night.” Mitch revved the engine to his ride. “These things be crawling all over the place,” he said as his eyes scanned the surrounding woods.

“Well, if they come, they come, but I need to make sure he’s secure.” She twisted open a water bottle and splashed water on Fisher’s face, snapping him back awake.

“Wazzat?” he started. “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I’m just so sleepy.”

“I know,” she soothed. “It’s that shot I gave you.” She slapped at his face gently to wake him. “But I need you to stay with me.”

Dwayne nodded. “I’m trying,” he said softly. “It’s just so hard…” His head nodded.

Mitch unstraddled his ATV and muttered, “This is for your own good.” He walked up beside Fisher and slapped him silly. Fisher’s eyes bolted open. “You awake now?”

“Yeah. I’m awake.”

“Good. Stay that way!” Mitch stepped back to the ATV and hopped on it, the springs groaning with his weight. “Don’t be babying him. He’s a grown-assed man.”

Candy’s eyes narrowed on him as she got back on the ATV. “Just hang on,” she called over her shoulder.

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” Fisher called back, the pain in his arm throbbing and keeping him more alert.

Mitch rolled out, and Candy fell in behind him. They continued on their path and their headlights soon fell on a Y in the road. Candy rolled up beside Mitch as he slowed down. “Which way do we go?”

Mitch sighed as he shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “I’m thinking that, if we go right, it will take us up and over by the overflow where they sent all the cars to park for the concert. They had these shuttles bringing people back and forth from there.” He saw her giving him a confused look and he smiled. “These big-assed golf carts. Holds about ten people.” He pointed left. “But I think if we go that way, it will take us down through the campgrounds.”

“So, which do we take? Do we check out the campers and see if any of them need help, or do we go with the parked cars and hope that maybe the road is empty?”

Mitch shrugged. “I think the campground way is probably a bit shorter, but if anybody down there is hyped up crazy, we could be looking at a very short trip.”

“Well, we could…,” Candy trailed off. “Somebody’s coming,” she said, pointing up the road.

Mitch had his sidearm drawn and pointed up the road before she finished speaking. Candy rolled her ATV to the side to illuminate the road. “They’re waving their arms.”

“Could still be messed up.” Mitch took a bead with his front sight on the lead figure. They waited until the figures got closer and began slowing down. They were shuffling forward, feet dragging, still trying to wave their arms.

“Mitch, they look like kids,” Candy said as she started to get off her ATV.

“Don’t let them get close,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “If they’re infected, your goose is cooked.”

“Help us,” a weak voice called out, just before collapsing on the road in front of them.

“Show me your eyes!” Mitch yelled.

The girl on the ground could barely lift her head, but she raised her arm, her finger pointing up. “Did she just flip me off?” Mitch asked, disbelievingly.

“I think that was a ‘wait a minute’ sign,” Candy said, a caustic smirk crossing her face.

The second figure staggered up behind her and stepped into the light. “They’re not far behind us,” he croaked through dry lips. “Help, please,” he said as he staggered forward, his lanky limbs barely able to carry him any farther.

“Let me see your eyes!” Mitch reiterated.

The boy fell to the ground in front of them and stared into the light. “We’re not zombies,” he croaked, his throat dry. “But they’re right behind us.”

“Zombies?” Mitch said. “They be crazy sons of bitches, but I dunno if I be calling them zombies,” he whispered to Candy, who was already jogging to the two small kids.

“Come on.” She trotted over to lift the kids to their feet. “If they’re right behind you, we need to get you out of here.”

“Where the hell we going to put them?”

“You have a rack in the front and room on the seat,” Candy said as she helped the two kids back to the ATVs.

“Oh, hell no. This thing barely carries me.”

“Fine. Then you take Fisher and I’ll take the kids.” She shot him an evil stare.

Mitch glanced at Fisher who was sleeping sitting up again. “Aww…fine. Give ’em to me.”

“Be nice,” Candy whispered. “They’re kids, and they’re obviously exhausted.”

She helped Buck onto the front rack. “Can you hold on to this?”

“Ma’am, if it means not having to run anymore, I’ll hold on to anything.” He gave her a tired smile.

“Great.” Candy winked at him. She got Skeeter on the back and placed her hands on the rear rack. “Just hold on here.” Skeeter nodded and gripped the rack with white knuckles.

“Can we go now?” Mitch asked sarcastically.

“Oh, I thought we’d wait ’til the zombies got here and introduce you to them,” she said as she straddled her ATV again and elbowed Fisher in the ribs, waking him again.

“Everyone’s a comedian,” Mitch fired back as they pulled forward.

He thought driving the ATV was a pain in the neck before, but the added weight over the front end made steering it almost as big a pain in the ass as driving his previous ATV with the bent rims. The steering was dead and non-responsive, and the added weight made taking corners quickly a thing of the past.

The two took off as quickly as they could, Buck informing them that turning right would be a big mistake.

Left it was then.

Mitch gunned the ATV during the straightaways and had to slow considerably for curves and corners, but it beat the hell out of walking. As they crested a small hill, Buck pointed off in the distance,

“More lights!” he shouted above the engine.

“How many?” Candy asked.

“Just one,” Mitch said. “Looks like another ATV.”

Candy slowed a bit and looked at Mitch. “You think it may be another ranger?”

Mitch shrugged. “Most likely if it’s out here.”

The pair accelerated again and tried to meet up with the oncoming light. Mitch wasn’t surprised to find Hatcher’s ugly mug show up in his headlight.

“Looks like you picked up a few strays,” Hatcher noted as he pulled alongside Mitch, his relief obvious that the pair were unharmed.

“More than a couple,” Mitch said. He poked Buck with his finger. “You. Off. Go ride with him.”

Buck shot him a dirty look, but slid off the front rack of the four-wheeler, a longing look cast over his shoulder at Skeeter before he slipped onto the back of the other ATV.

“I see you found Fish.” Hatcher nodded toward the man who was now leaning against Candy, a line of drool working its way down her shoulder. “Is he bit?”

“Are you kidding?” Mitch chuckled. “If he was, I’d have already put a bullet in him. No, this redheaded, freckle-faced freak just got his arm broke by Miss Big Ti…er…I mean, um.” He glanced at Candy, then back at Hatcher. “He got his arm broke by one of the crazy people,” Mitch said smiling. “Nasty woman with no clothes on.”

Buck spun his attention around when Mitch said that. “Hey, did she have blonde-colored hair? Green eyes?”

Mitch stared at the kid a moment like he was crazy. “Kid, she had red eyes, just like all the other crazy muthas out here tonight.”

Buck felt like slapping himself in the forehead for that one. Of course she did. “I mean, did she have blonde hair? Thong underwear on?”

“Kid, she was naked as the day she was born,” Mitch shot back. “And don’t you be getting no ideas, neither.”

Buck shot him a hateful look and pointed at him, “What color was her hair, dammit?”

Mitch leaned back at the outburst and gave Buck a surprised look. “I couldn’t really tell ya, kid. It was all dirty, leaves and twigs and shit in it.” He started to chew the kid out for the attitude until he saw the range of emotions crossing his features. “She mean something to you?”

Buck’s shoulders slumped as he stared off into nothingness. He gave a slight shake of his head, realizing that even if he could find her, there was little to nothing that could probably be done for her.

Skeeter watched the exchange from behind Mitch and leaned forward, whispering beside him, “That’s his mom.”

Mitch turned to her. “You sure about that? There’s a lot of women out in these woods tonight that are acting all crazy.”

Skeeter nodded in his shadow. “If she was nude and had large breasts and blonde hair, then yeah. That’s the description of the woman we’ve been searching for all night.”

Mitch nodded slightly. “If I’d had my way, I’d have put her down earlier. She killed at least one of my men,” he replied quietly. “I feel for the kid, but that crazy lady is bad news.”

Candy turned toward Hatcher. “Were you able to reach any of the other rangers? Maybe the sheriff’s office?”

Hatcher sighed and shook his head. “Yeah, uh, about that,” he said slowly.

“Oh, I do not like that sound of that,” Mitch groaned. “Please don’t tell me we’re on our own out here.”

“No, we are definitely not on our own out here,” Hatcher informed him. “Worse.”

Mitch gave Hatcher a dirty look. “What do you mean, ‘worse’? How can we be worse off than being on our own?”

Hatcher inhaled deeply and let it out slowly. Then he told them the tale of Yellowstone’s military invasion.

“What Army mans?” Bill asked as the trio hit the paved road and he turned toward the main highway. “Did you see something in the woods that looked like an Army man?”

Jake shook his head. “No,” came his simple reply.

“Then why would you say something like that?” Bill asked, at ease now, but trying to make conversation and get the boy’s mind off his catatonic grandfather in the backseat.

“Because they’re at the park now.” Jason stared out the window absently.

“Oh, they are?” Bill smiled and patted the kid’s shoulder. “And what are the Army mans doing at the park, son?”

Jason fiddled with something in his lap and shook his head. “They’re going to kill all the zombie mans.”

Bill’s foot came up reflexively from the gas pedal and he turned to stare at him. “What did you say?” His mind not sure that it registered correctly.

“The Army mans are there to kill the zombie mans,” Jason repeated. “They’ll probably kill the other people, too.”

“How can you know something like that?” Bill asked. “You couldn’t know something like that,” he stated as he turned his eyes back to the road and hit the gas again.

Richard leaned up from the rear seat. “We might want to avoid all of the roads that have park entrances, Bill.”

“He can’t know that,” Bill repeated, staring at Richard through the rearview mirror. “Can he?”

Richard sighed and shook his head. “Jason is…special,” he answered. “Sometimes he’ll say something out of the blue that makes no sense, then a day or so later, things come to pass, and you realize, what he says did make sense.”

“Like what?” The hair on the back of his neck standing up at the idea.

“I dunno, Bill. Just…things,” Richard said as he flopped back into the seat.

“Like what?” Bill asked again.

“Like, one time he said something about a train going boom. Then the next day, the Santa Fe derailed. Big chemical spill. Had to evacuate a town.”

“Okay, well, that’s just coincidence,” Bill said, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“There have been others,” Richard said, sighing and staring out the window.

“Like what?” Bill asked again.

“Like I can’t think right now, okay?” Richard spat. “My mind is in other places.” Bill shot him a quick glance at the sudden outburst, then turned back to the road. “Just avoid the park if Jason says we need to. Trust me on this one.”

Bill felt a sudden chill and turned the heater up a little. He glanced down at the little boy sitting next to him and couldn’t figure out what it was about the kid that suddenly gave him the heebie-jeebies, but he felt like somebody had just walked across his grave.

“Anything else we should know about?” He faked a smile.

“Just watch the road,” Jake said as he pulled his seatbelt on and made sure it was tight.

Bill noted the action and pulled his own seatbelt on. He glanced up in the rearview and nodded to Richard. “Put your seatbelt on.” Richard nodded slowly and went through the motions. Bill continued to watch the road for the next couple of miles, but Jason’s warning kept replaying in his mind. He leaned toward the boy and whispered, “That was sort of vague, don’t you think? Care to share a few details?”

“What’s ‘vague’ mean?” Jake asked, big blue eyes boring into him.

“It means you didn’t give me much to go on. I could use a little more meat on the bone, son. Give me something with a bit more detail to it. Give me specifics,” Bill urged. “Like what exactly am I supposed to be on the lookout for?”

Jason nodded at him. “Zombies.”

Bill turned a glance to the kid who was still fiddling with something in his hands. “Zombies?”

He turned his attention back to the road just as the headlights shone on two figures running toward them in the road. Bill cut the wheel hard to the right while trying to slam on the brakes. The car hit one of them nearly head on and the Jeep slid around, hitting the other running figure with the rear door before sliding into the ditch and rolling the little SUV onto the driver’s side.

The Jeep slid into the ditch, burying its nose into the soft soil and driving the side of the vehicle into the berm of dirt that made the downhill side of the ditch. Once the vehicle stopped moving, Jason looked out the windshield and saw dirt and grass on Bill’s side and stars on his side. Something wasn’t right, and he wished that grownups would learn to listen, instead of questioning everything.

Bill sat in the muted glow of one headlight shining into the ditch and tried to lift himself up from the driver’s door of the Jeep. He could hear Richard muttering curses softly in the backseat of the Jeep as he unbuckled and fell against his own door. Bill unbuckled his seatbelt and began to open the front roof panels for the second time tonight. As soon as he loosened them, he crawled out into the unwelcomed scent of freshly plowed earth and cut grass.

“Jason, undo your seatbelt,” he whispered back inside.

“We should wait here while one person goes to get my car,” Richard said from inside the Jeep.

“What? Why?”

“All three of us out on the road?” Richard glared at him. “With a kid? We’d be fodder for those things.”

“And sitting here in a wrecked Jeep wouldn’t be? Do you really think they’d stay out for long? They’d break out a window and make pretty quick work of whoever was inside.”

Richard stared at the windows and then looked at Jason who simply nodded and began crawling out the open roof. He paused and turned back, “Come on, grandpa. We’ll make it,” he whispered.

Richard nodded and began crawling over the center console to the forward sunroof. “We’d better hurry. It will be sunrise soon, and then we won’t be able to hide anywhere.”

As if in answer to his statement, one of the figures struck by the Jeep began dragging its twisted body toward them, growling and clacking its teeth. Bill went to the rear of the Jeep and pulled open the twisted rear door. He pulled out the tire tool and met the crawling ghoul as it dragged itself across the road.

“I’ve had about enough of your kind,” he muttered as he brought the tool down on its head.

Major Chappell stood by while the people in the white space suits ran their tests and hurriedly moved about the tent. She looked about the busy makeshift lab, but couldn’t discern one person from another. She grabbed the closest of the white-suited people she could find.

“Excuse me. I’m looking for a Captain Andrews?”

The white-suited person stared at her a moment as if studying her, then pointed to the other end of the tent. She nodded and marched off. Maggie Chappell had never been one to display fear, and she wasn’t about to start now, but as she walked through the different counters filled with scientific equipment, half-filled beakers of unknown fluids, slides and reagents, she stifled a shudder. Who knew what was growing in those beakers?

“Captain Andrews?” She approached another white-suited figure.

The figure turned and gawked at her, then hurriedly grabbed her arm, pulling her out of the tent. “Major!” His voice sounded muffled coming from out of the helmet’s speaker. “You shouldn’t be in there without a HAZMAT suit. You have no idea the things we’re working on in there,” he warned.

“That’s why I’m here, Captain,” she said authoritatively. “Colonel Vickers would like an update.”

She watched the captain’s mouth move, but nothing came out. He slumped his shoulders and his hands came up to remove the helmet. “Sorry. We’ve been having trouble with the helmet coms since we got here.” She found herself staring up at the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He was a ruggedly handsome man, and not one she would consider a ‘science nerd’ as the colonel had warned her.

Maggie cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. “Your report, captain?” Her voice all business once more.

“Ah, yes,” the captain said, turning to set his helmet aside. “Well, major, the preliminary subjects we’ve studied have all been deceased. As I’m sure you’re aware, the recon unit has done a remarkable job of tracking them down and bagging them, but unfortunately, they’re killing them all.” He frowned. “What I really need is to get my hands on a living, breathing specimen.”

“That won’t happen, captain,” she stated unequivocally. “Our orders are quite clear.”

Captain Andrews stared at her for a moment and she felt her insides quiver. It was as if he could see inside her and she didn’t like it. He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “That’s not entirely true, now is it, Major?”

She took a half-step back and cocked her head slightly, measuring him. “What are you getting at, captain?”

He cut a slight smile and nodded toward the Sheriff’s Department Mobile Unit, which had been cleaned out. “I mean that,” he said. “Aren’t we supposed to be using that for the colonel’s little special operation?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She put on her best poker face and looked him square in the eye.

“Then I guess I better close my trap. If you’re not in on the game plan, then…” He turned and picked up his helmet again. “Best not say anything to the colonel about what I just mentioned. If you aren’t in the inner circle, then you might end up next to one of my specimens. Maybe a casualty of the operation?”

She reached out and grabbed his arm. Hard. “Pretend for a moment you are supposed to know…” She began to twist his arm. Andrews tried to resist at first, but soon found his knees folding as she bent his arm behind his back. “If I find out from the colonel you aren’t in the inner circle, then rest assured, I’ll be back. And I’ll have a bullet with your name on it,” she whispered in his ear.

Andrews hissed through gritted teeth. “Relax, major. We’re both on the same team here.” He slapped at her arm, effectively tapping out. She eased her grip on him and allowed him to regain his footing. “The colonel informed me of our real orders.” He stood and rubbed at his arm.

“And?”

“And like I said, I need living breathing subjects.” He glanced to the side to ensure nobody was within listening range. “We’re wanting to time the infection rate if we can, so if you can find any non-infected, that would be nice, too,” he added sarcastically.

She tried to stifle her surprise. “You intend to infect them on purpose?”

“Only in the name of science,” he argued, a smile crossing his face. “We need to know how fast the infection spreads if we hope to weaponize this thing.”

“Shouldn’t that be done at a real laboratory and not here in the field?” She did her best to stifle her shock.

“Yes, it should. But the orders already came down that there are to be no survivors. We can study this thing before it gets a chance to mutate,” he said emphatically. “All viruses mutate over time.”

She looked at him cautiously. “So, this is a virus?”

“Yes, of course it is.” He rubbed at his arm and gave her a dirty look. “It’s the one we’ve been playing with for nearly three years, but this…THIS, is the real thing. In its natural state. This is the untainted original, not some engineered shadow of the real thing.” He seemed nearly giddy. “No, this is a real Picasso, not some cheap art store print put in a gaudy frame.”

She took another half-step back and stared at him. “You’ve seen this before?”

Andrews nearly laughed. “Now who isn’t in the inner circle?” He shook his head and chuckled. “Of course I’ve seen this before! I’ve been working on perfecting it!” He tossed his hands out to the side to wave at all the activity going on. “This is all here for me! I’m the reason we’re here. This is my baby.”

“You created this?”

“What? No, I didn’t create this. Only nature could create something this perfect, this…this…pure,” he nearly whispered due to his perceived awe of the bug. “No, I found an article written by a couple of hack academics in some lame periodical about what they thought killed off Neanderthal man. We connected the dots, stole their research, stole some of the DNA, and, I’ll admit, the idea was brilliant, but the DNA was simply too old. It wasn’t truly viable anymore.” He sighed as he recounted the story. “Anyway, we went to work trying to repair the broken strands, and we were really this close to having it.

“But now…NOW we have the real thing. This is the original in its purest form,” he declared. “How it survived all this time, I’ll never know.”

“So, all of this is in order to weaponize the virus?”

“What rock have you been living under?” He stared at her as though her nose had just fallen off. “What do you think we do at Ft. Collins?”

She suddenly stiffened and stared blankly back at the man. “Frankly, captain, I don’t care what you do or where you do it at. I’m simply to take the report back to the colonel.”

“Then go. I’ve got work to do.” He reached for his helmet again, then froze. “But tell your goons out in the woods to try to bring me a living, breathing specimen, please. Oh, and an uninfected specimen, too, if you please,” he said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

Maggie didn’t stifle the shudder this time as she stepped away from the captain. She questioned her sanity and her judge of character as she marched away. How could she have ever looked at those dead eyes and ever found anything attractive about that man?

Chapter 5

“Okay, so the military are here, but it’s not a rescue,” Mitch reiterated. “They’re using helicopters, most likely with infra-red to track down ‘the infected,’ and then sending in ground troops to round them up?”

Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t think they’re rounding up anybody with automatic weapons and night vision,” Hatcher replied softly. Both kids groaned and went limp as if the wind had been knocked from them.

Candy dismounted and went to comfort Skeeter, but Buck seemed to shrink into the shadows farther behind Daniel. “There must be something we can do?” Candy said as she stroked Skeeter’s hair. “We have people out there, too.”

“The colonel was quite clear. Anybody who wasn’t already back at the station and ready to be checked out by their medical personnel by the time they got here were to be written off,” Hatcher stated. Skeeter let out a small, muffled cry when he said that and buried her face into Candy’s chest. Hatcher gave them an exasperated look, but shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know how else to say it. “Look, just because he says that, doesn’t mean we can’t keep looking for—”

“No,” Mitch interrupted. “They have hunters in the woods that will most likely be shooting anything that moves.” His eyes focused on something far off, his mind obviously hatching a plan. “I know from my own experience with those things that they’re burning hotter than normal people. Like they have fever or something.” He remembered the EMT’s comments when he found Darren. “They’ll light up real easy for the chopper boys to find, even in this dense foliage. It will be as simple as directing the ground crews to where the densest groups are, then they march in and clean them up.”

Hatcher shook his head. “So what do we do?”

Mitch shot him a serious stare. “We infiltrate the base, take the colonel and redirect traffic.”

“Do what?” Hatcher wasn’t sure he heard him correctly.

“We take over their command,” Mitch restated. “We don’t need a large force. A two- or three-man team could easily slip in and take him. You said he took over your office, right?”

“Yeah, but—”

“And there’s a back door, right?”

“I don’t have the keys anymore, Mitch. They took everything when they ran me through decontamination.”

Mitch smiled. “Who needs a key? I ain’t met a lock yet I couldn’t pick.”

Hatcher studied the large man sitting across from him and shook his finger at him. “What exactly did you do before you were a ranger?”

Mitch smiled again. “I was a Ranger. Worked with SOG for a while before I decided to support the Arbor Society.”

Hatcher’s brows knitted as his mind connected the dots. “You were military…” He finally figured it out.

“Something like that,” Mitch said as he straddled his four-wheeler again. “We need to find a safe place to ditch Fisher and the kids.”

Buck leaned off the side of the ATV. “No. I’m going with you.”

Hatcher shook his head. “I don’t think so. This will be dangerous.”

“I can help,” he argued. “I helped get Skeeter out of the woods!”

“And you only wrecked one motorhome and a pickup doing it,” Skeeter joked. Buck shot her a withering look and she quickly ducked back behind Candy’s protective arm.

“Look, I’m good with a crossbow, and it’s a quiet weapon. They’ll never hear me coming. I’m small and I’m fast,” Buck said.

“I said ‘no’ and I meant it,” Hatcher said.

Buck squared his shoulders and stuck out his chin. “You can’t stop me. I’m my own man. I can do what I want.” He pulled out his father’s 9mm and racked the slide.

Hatcher quickly grabbed the weapon and pulled it from his grip. “First off, in this operation, I’m the senior officer. Second, I need you to stay behind and keep an eye on Fisher. He’s hurt and drugged up. The guy can’t even stay awake.” He pointed to the man drooling on himself and slowly sliding from the back of Candy’s ATV as she wasn’t there for him to lean on. Hatcher leaned in close and lowered his voice, “And third, I need you to keep an eye on the girl for us. Keep them both safe in case we don’t make it back. If those military creeps are out there hunting for anything that moves, I need you to have eyes in the back of your head.” He slowly handed the pistol back to Buck. “And be willing to take the first shot. Crossbow or pistol.” His eyes met Buck’s and there was a silent communion between the two.

For the slightest of moments, Buck understood what Hatcher was truly asking him and he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he said solemnly. “I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

“Kid, we all do things we don’t like,” Hatcher said, starting the ATV. “That’s what being a man is all about.”

The group rode in silence as Hatcher directed them to a point close to the station. They ditched the ATVs in a thick stand of brush and laid Fisher out in a pile of leaves to sleep off the shot.

“Remember, don’t shoot the pistol unless you have to, kid,” Mitch warned. “It will give away your location and they’ll be on you like ducks on a junebug.”

Buck nodded even though he had no clue what Mitch meant by ‘ducks on a junebug.’ He wasn’t stupid and had seen enough movies to realize that if they stuck their heads out, they’d be easy to spot to anybody with night vision. He just prayed that the thick canopy of limbs overhead prevented the choppers from picking up their body heat.

“If they get close, I’ll use the bow first,” he whispered.

Hatcher patted his shoulder and whispered back, “Good luck, kid.”

“Same to you guys,” Buck replied as Hatcher, Mitch, and Candy slipped along the tree line up the ridge.

They followed the trees until they reached the top then belly crawled to the edge. Looking out over the compound, Mitch tapped Hatcher. “It will take a long time to get around all this.”

“Any way through it all?” Hatcher asked.

Candy pointed to the Mobile Unit. “They’re gutting the MU.”

Mitch squinted against the slowly brightening sky and nodded. “Probably have plans for it,” he said. “Maybe if we can skirt down to the backside of it, we can use it as a block. Stay low and go tent to tent until we’re close to the station, then just bolt for the front doors?”

“Full frontal assault?” Hatcher considered the idea. “Three against…how many?”

Mitch shook his head. “Most aren’t even armed, buddy. My guess is the real threats are already in the woods.”

“So, we have to hope that the few that are armed don’t notice us,” Hatcher said. “Sounds like a hell of a plan.”

“It’s either that or spend the next hour and a half slinking through the woods, hoping we don’t bump into a kill squad, and praying we reach the back door,” Mitch countered.

Hatcher sighed. “You were ex-military. Whatever you think gives us the best shot.”

“If I had my way, we’d have a sniper up here on this ridge with a suppressed rifle covering our asses, but we don’t have that option.”

“Whatever we do,” Candy piped in. “We better hurry. It’s starting to get light.”

“Agreed,” Mitch said. He tapped Hatcher and pointed to the left. “That side. We’ll skirt along the trees, then slip down behind the Mobile Unit.”

Mitch took off along the ridge, staying low and using the brush as cover. Hatcher and Candy fell in behind him and followed suit. When Mitch positioned himself behind the MU, he paused and studied the area. “Looks like the area is clear.”

He slipped out from the brush, slid down the rocky hillside, and rolled along the ground until he was under the MU. Belly crawling to the edge, he scanned the area for any alarmed soldiers, then twisted and waved his arm for the others to follow. Hatcher shook his head and motioned for Candy to go next. She did her best to emulate Mitch’s movements, but landed square on her ass at the bottom of the rocky hill. Slightly stunned, she crawled on all fours until she, too, was under the MU trailer.

Mitch continued to watch the area and whispered for her to motion to Hatcher. She leaned out the backside and waved for him. Hatcher fought the urge to yell, “Geronimo!” as he dove out of the bushes and slid down the rocky hill. He could feel the dirt and rock slide up his pants leg and could almost swear it was embedded in his shorts by the time he reached the bottom of the hill and he began to roll under the MU.

As all three came together again and caught their breath, Mitch crawled to the rear of the MU and scanned the area again. The compound was nearly silent.

“Let’s get ready to move,” he said. “The shortest distance to the station is to scoot to that big white tent, then the two shorter ones. After that, we can slip in beside the station and the maintenance building.”

“There’s an alleyway behind the maintenance building,” Hatcher said. “It shouldn’t be locked, and we can reach the back of the station from there.”

Mitch smiled and nodded. “Then that’s the goal,” he turned back to scan the area, “On my mark.”

A figure in a white HAZMAT suit burst from the large white tent next to the MU and removed his helmet. “We got live ones coming in! Prepare the trailer!”

Bill still carried the bloody tire iron in his hand as they walked up the paved road to Richard’s house. Richard held Jason’s hand the entire way while the youngster hummed to himself. On more than one occasion, Bill wanted to ask Jason not to hum from fear that it might attract more of the ‘zombie people,’ but he held his tongue. The kid seemed to have some kind of precognitive ability to know what was about to happen, and if he seemed to feel safe humming, then who was he to ask him to stop?

Bill was feeling twice his age as Richard’s mailbox came into view. He knew that Richard must be feeling both physically and emotionally drained after everything he had been through this night. As the trio approached the driveway, Bill noticed the sky growing paler, and turned to look back at the horizon. Great, he thought, we’ll be driving right into the rising sun.

“Grandpa, I’m thirsty,” Jason said as they turned and started up the driveway.

“I’ll get you a bottled water,” Richard replied absently as they trudged up the driveway.

“And a Pop-Tart?”

Richard nodded gently. “And a Pop-Tart.” As they reached the top of the hill, Richard fished in his pocket and handed Bill his keys. “Take your pick,” he muttered as he released Jason’s hand and went in the back door.

Bill watched him a moment, unsure if the old man would actually return. He looked at the Buick SUV sitting in the driveway and turned to the garage. Lifting the door, he saw Richard’s pickup inside. It was a standard cab and both vehicles were two-wheel drive. Considering they would be traveling on paved roads and away from this mess, he figured the larger cabin of the Buick would be much more comfortable. Maybe they could take turns riding in back and catching a nap while they drove Jason home.

Slipping in behind the wheel of the maroon Buick, he slipped the key into the ignition and turned it. It chimed at him and purred to life. The digital dash came on and he smiled at the site of the gas gauge. Three-quarters of a tank. They wouldn’t have to stop for gas anytime soon.

Jason crawled into the back seat and had already buckled up. He stared at Bill who hiked a brow at him. “Are we going to hit any more ‘zombie mans’?”

“Not if you keep your eyes on the road,” Jason said, his eyes never leaving Bill’s. Bill felt a cold chill run up his back, and he honestly didn’t think it was the air-conditioned leather seats.

The passenger door opened and Richard got in. He handed Bill a bottle of water and handed Jason a box of graham crackers and a small ice chest. “There’s extra water in there, in case you want more later.”

“Grandpa, these are cinnamon,” Jason said as he looked at the box.

“Sorry, buddy. That’s all I could find.” Richard laid his head back and closed his eyes.

Jason laid the box in the seat next to him and stared out the window. Bill studied the two of them and put his foot on the brake. “Are we ready?” he asked. Neither said anything as he pulled the shift lever into drive. “Let’s try this again.”

Bill started rolling the Buick forward when Jason suddenly yelled, “Stop!”

Bill slammed on the brakes and stared wide-eyed at him. “What’s wrong, kid?”

Richard had snapped out of his stupor and turned in his seat as well. Jason sat in his chair as if something had him frightened, the color drained from his face. He stared out the front of the car and Bill slowly turned to look. Nothing was there. He turned back to Jason, “What’s wrong, kid?”

“Army mans,” he said softly.

Bill turned again and looked down the driveway. He couldn’t see anything. He looked to the woods and didn’t see anything there, either. He continued to stare out the windshield and muttered, “Kid, there ain’t nothing out there…” just as a Humvee drove past the end of the driveway going in the opposite direction.

Bill turned and looked to Richard, “What now?”

Richard shook his head. “I dunno. Make a run for it?”

Both men shrugged. Slowly they turned and looked at Jason. He was fumbling with the box of graham crackers.

“Hey, kid?” Bill asked softly. “Is it safe to go now?”

Jason looked up absently and shrugged. “They’re gone now.” He went back to peeling open the box of crackers.

Bill looked to Richard once more for confirmation. Richard shook his head. “It’s up to you.”

Bill sighed and let the brake off slowly letting the Buick roll down the driveway. When they reached the end of the drive and the road was clear, Bill pulled out and turned the way the Humvee had come from.

“Let’s try to put some distance between us and them.”

Buck kept rising up onto his knees and peering through the thick brush in the direction that the three adults had went. “I’ve got a really bad feeling,” he whispered to Skeeter.

“Please don’t do anything stupid, Buck,” Skeeter whispered back.

She sat with her knees drawn to her chest and her arms wrapped around them, doing her best to keep her body as small as she could. The large pine tree that she leaned against hid her from the roadway on her right and Fisher’s soft snoring had almost lulled her to sleep more than once. Every time her eyelids got heavy, Buck would scurry over to the edge and peer out again.

“You can’t leave me here alone. Not with him,” she whispered, motioning toward Dwayne.

Buck didn’t turn back to face her as he continued to stare out toward the edge of the rise where the three officers had stopped and studied the concert area. “I just want to take a look. I need to know what’s going on.”

“No!” Skeeter almost yelled. “You can’t. You heard what the dark-haired guy said. He wants you to stay here. You know how to use the gun…and the bow. If anybody came while you were out there, we’d be sitting ducks.”

Buck finally turned and faced her. “I’ll only be a minute. I just want to take a look.” He pointed above the bushes. “It’s dang near light out. I won’t be able to once the sun is up,” he argued urgently. “I’ll just be a second.”

He rose to slip out when Skeeter pulled his shirt and dragged him back. “Shh!” she whispered. “I hear something.”

Buck glared at her, convinced she was lying. Then he turned his head a bit. There it was; a low rumbling sound coming down the hill. He heard it, too. He quickly crawled to the other side of the small clearing and spread the limbs slightly so he could see toward the dirt road with all of the cars parked along it. He could just see the lights of a vehicle coming down the hill on the woods side, between the cars and trees. Whatever it was, it was bouncing around roughly.

“They’re going fast,” he whispered.

Within moments, a military transport vehicle roared by, dust and debris rising in its wake. It crested the hill and disappeared down the other side. “Something is happening, Skeeter.”

“Maybe they’re bringing back some of the zombies? Or, maybe they have a way to help them.”

Buck shook his head. “You heard what Daniel said. They aren’t here to help anybody,” he replied dejectedly. “They may have some people who aren’t infected, or maybe they just have dead bodies, but whatever they’re carrying, it isn’t good.”

Skeeter lowered her eyes and kicked at the ground with her shoe. “Maybe they already killed everybody and they’re just in a hurry to go home.”

Buck nodded. “Maybe,” he sighed and settled in close to her. “Skeeter, the only way we can have even a clue is if I sneak over there and get a peek at what’s going on. If I don’t, we can sit here hiding and go crazy trying to guess.” He laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “I promise, I won’t stay out there long, and I double-promise, I’ll be back. I won’t leave you.”

She raised her face to him and he saw her red-rimmed eyes, the tears flowing freely down her cheeks. “Do what you want, Buck. I won’t stop you,” she sniffed.

Buck felt a knot in his stomach as he saw the pain in her eyes and glanced over his shoulder at the sounds of activity from the other side of the hill. He reached behind him and pulled the gun from his waistband.

“Here,” he said as he handed her the pistol. “Now you know I have to come back.” A crooked smile crossed his face.

Skeeter reached out with shaky hands and took the pistol from him. It was still warm from being tucked in his pants. “I’ll keep an eye out from here.”

Buck gave her a quick nod and slipped through the brush. He stayed low to the ground, and as soon as he could see anything manmade, he flopped on the ground and belly-crawled like he had watched the officers do. He crept to the edge and peered over, his eyes taking in the activity below. He watched as men in uniforms dragged struggling people from the back of the transport, collars around their neck, poles attached like dog catchers use with vicious animals, and lead them into the semi-trailer parked below. People in white suits and helmets were rushing around carrying metal cases and one man was directing things.

Buck watched the activity for what seemed just a few moments until he heard a psst from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Skeeter’s small hand waving him back from inside the brush. He cursed to himself and stared back at the scene once more, trying to force his young mind to memorize the scene. He slowly began backing away and scurried back to the brush.

Once Buck was back inside the clearing, he hunkered down low. “What? Why did you wave me back?”

Skeeter’s eyes were wide with fear and she held a finger over her lips, motioning him to be quiet. With her other hand she handed him the pistol and pointed in the other direction. “I heard something,” she mouthed to him.

Buck reached for his pack and pulled the crossbow from it, cocking it quickly and loading a bolt. He leaned against a tree and listened intently. Fisher’s soft snoring was the only sound he could truly discern.

Skeeter stayed low against the tree, her heart hammering in her chest as she fought to keep her breathing from forming a scream. Although her head remained still, her eyes shot from side to side, hoping to catch a glimpse of the source of the noise before whatever it was attacked.

Buck slowly stepped out from his position and turned his head, hoping he might hear whatever it was that had Skeeter so rattled.

SNAP.

There it was! A twig on the forest floor or a low branch, but easily not something that happens without being moved. Buck released the safety on the crossbow and moved the weapon to point it in the direction of the noise.

He could hear rustling sounds now, as if feet were moving, dragging along the ground. He could feel his body tensing with anticipation as the noises grew closer. He fought to control his breathing. He knew he would likely only have one shot available. Buck strained his ears to listen, each sound of the forest suddenly alive and amplified. He could hear the source of the footsteps sniffing the air. Heavy breathing, grunting, scratching, and pawing as it grew closer.

Buck could feel his fight-or-flight response kick into high gear, and his hands began to tremble as the sounds grew so loud, he knew that whatever the source must be was right on top of them. He instinctively took a step back, himself rustling the detritus on the forest floor of their little clearing. He glanced down at his betraying feet, his eyes wide as the shock of his own actions came to light in his frightened mind. In the split second it took his eyes to come back up and focus, the source of the noise was stepping into their clearing.

Tattered clothing, broken nails, blood-covered mouth, ragged hair, gray skin—all of the indicators of the infected—did little to strike fear into the heart of the young man wielding the crossbow as much as the blood-red eyes that met his own. The creature that stepped into their clearing may have once been a woman, but now she was intent on ripping flesh from bone. She paused only long enough to consider her prey. She opened her mouth to scream the location of the morsels when Buck instinctively raised the crossbow and fired. The scream sent shivers up his spine, and Skeeter screamed in response, but the infected woman was cut short in her attempt as the bolt entered her nasal cavity and the tip exited the back of her skull.

She convulsed slightly before she fell back, her head making a sickening crack against a rock at the base of a small pine. Buck quickly scanned the area , then scampered to Skeeter, wrapping an arm around her. She was curled into a ball and screaming as Buck tried to console her. She jerked away from him and screamed louder as he tried to get her to stop.

“Shh! Skeeter! Stop!” Buck tried to pull at her arms. “Skeeter!” he yelled. “We’re safe!”

She shook and continued to push away from him, convinced he was a zombie until she actually opened her eyes and stared around the clearing. “Safe?” she choked.

“If you’ll stop screaming, yeah,” he whispered. Fisher snorted and moved a bit, rolling slightly onto his good arm, then resumed his sleep. “If your screaming didn’t call the Army or any more of the zombies, then yeah. We’re safe,” Buck whispered.

Skeeter was still shaking, but she nodded, choking back the bile that had risen in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I thought we were dead.”

Buck shook his head. “You’re tougher than that,” he said. “I’ve seen you—”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’m too tired, Buck.” She met his eyes, and she suddenly looked much older than the ripe old age of fourteen. “This night has just taken too much from me.”

Buck stroked her hair and pulled her close for a hug. “I understand. But it’s over,” he said, glancing back at the body. “For now.”

She nodded, and he heard her sniffling as she turned her head. “I don’t know how much more I can take.”

“Hopefully, Daniel and the others will get this over with quickly.”

He heard the buzz of activity through the dense thicket of trees slowly die down in pitch and replayed in his mind what he had witnessed before he had been called back. The soldiers leading the people out of the transport. The people in white suits scurrying about so hurriedly. The semi-trailer seemed to be the center of attention, and Buck couldn’t grasp what could possibly be going on that there should be so much hurried activity surrounding what he’d seen. Whatever it was, it must have been important.

Captain Andrews directed personnel as they prepared for the incoming delivery of breathing specimens. Apparently Major Chappell made good on his request to bring in viable subjects. Captain Andrews was nearly giddy with anticipation as he had his people prepare the trailer. The air conditioning units had been turned as low as they could go in hopes of slowing the progression of the virus as it ravaged the test subjects he had waiting.

Captain Andrews stepped into the trailer and walked to the back. He opened the thin door and entered the holding cell area. A young woman and a sheriff’s deputy both sat in cells on opposite sides of the short hallway. Both wore zip tie cuffs behind their backs, securing them to the stainless-steel bar mounted securely to the bench that was bolted to the floor.

“Well, it seems that your wait won’t be much longer,” Captain Andrews addressed them both without looking at either of them. “Very soon, we’ll have fresh carriers here so that we can extract the samples I need and then we can observe nature first hand.” He turned to leave, but paused, his back to them both as they struggled against the gags in their mouths to scream for help. “Your service to your country is appreciated,” his voice dripped with sarcasm.

Andrews stepped with purpose to the end of the trailer and exited the steel door, leaving both the man and woman to stare at each other. The deputy continued to struggle with his bindings, but simply could not free his hands. Eventually his shoulders went slack and his head dropped.

The woman continued to struggle with hers. She could feel the sharp edge of the flex cuffs biting into her soft flesh, but still she struggled. Somehow, she knew if she didn’t, this would be the end for them both. She pulled at the plastic restraints until she felt the warm blood running down her hands and she bit at the gag in her mouth to keep from screaming. She refused to go out like this.

Both of them looked up when they heard the big diesel motor pull up alongside the trailer and the deputy stiffened. He had no idea if the military had brought more of his brothers in blue to incarcerate here with him, or if there were civilians to be held against their will, but the idea had him livid. He began struggling against the cuffs again with renewed vigor. The smooth steel tube the cuffs were wrapped around had no sharp edges to catch on and simply slid either way as he tugged and pulled. There was nothing for the plastic to catch on and possibly chip away with, yet he continued.

Outside, the activity commenced as soldiers ran to meet the transport, long steel poles in hand. Men in white HAZMAT suits stepped out of the white tent and began directing them as they came to the rear of the transport and another soldier connected two poles to the leather collars at the necks of the infected individuals, then unchained them from the rear side panel of the truck. As the soldier stepped back, the two soldiers with the poles pulled and directed the infected toward the trailer.

A white-suited man entered and walked ahead of the infected individual. He strode to the far side where the cells were and opened the rear cell. He made sure to hold the door open with the bars in front of him, even though the infected individual was bound, hand and foot. As the soldiers escorted the individual in, the infected still lunged for the white-suited man and snapped his teeth at him, causing him to jump farther back. The soldiers pushed him deeper into the cell and chained the collar to the rear wall, effectively limiting the infected’s movements to about six inches from the rear wall of the cell.

Both the deputy and the young woman stared in horrified fascination as the soldiers led two more infected in and chained them to the rear walls of the adjoining cells, then departed. Captain Andrews stepped in afterward and studied the situation. Nodding his head and smiling, he patted the bars of the cells.

“Very soon, you’ll be joining your new friends here,” he said. “And I’ll expect your cooperation as the virus takes hold.”

The deputy tried to shout an epithet through the gag that was quite obvious, despite the t-shirt twisted and tied through his teeth. Captain Andrews paused and shot him an evil stare.

“Oh, you’ll cooperate, officer. Or I’ll let their friends eat you for lunch.” He chuckled at his threat. “Trust me. There are worse things than simply suffering a fever for a short time,” he said with a raised brow. “I imagine being eaten alive would be one of them.”

He turned and walked out of the trailer, slamming the door behind him. The creature next to the woman sniffed the air and began to scream at the top of its lungs, followed by the creature next to it. The creature next to the deputy simply stared at him, its red eyes studying him. It tilted its head and sniffed the air in his direction, lip curling as if something disagreeable met its nostrils.

In the low light of the holding cells, the deputy watched the red-eyed demon on his left as it held his gaze, its two partners continuing to scream, the woman across from him crying into her gag. The man and the monster continued to stare at each other, neither able to say a word as time continued to tick by.

Chapter 6

Hatcher had to remind himself to breathe as the soldiers stepped out of the Mobile Unit and walked back to the transport. If any of them had turned and even glanced under the trailer, they all would be caught. He had no doubt in his mind they’d be shot or worse. A lot of the conversation above their heads carried through the thin floor of the trailer, and while Hatcher couldn’t speak for Mitch or Candy, he knew his guts were twisted at the moment with pure anger.

Mitch tapped him lightly and pulled him from his own thoughts as the transport started and pulled away. The trio watched the white-suited man step down from the trailer’s steps and walk back to the white tent with purpose. The tent appeared to be under some kind of suction as the tent flap fought him when he pulled it open and sealed tight behind him after he entered.

“We have to do something,” Candy swore softly. “I heard a woman up there crying.”

Mitch shook his head. “First things first. We snag the full bird and get him to order them to stand down.”

Hatcher fought with his own inner demons, but he had to agree. Three against a small army of armed men was suicide, but if they could get that skinny bastard in charge, they stood a half chance of pulling off a takeover. Something told him that the colonel’s sense of self-preservation would overcome his sense of duty, no matter how twisted it may be.

“Richardson is right. We stick to the plan,” he told her softly, but his eyes betrayed him. His heart went out to those trapped in the trailer as well.

Candy ground her teeth. “Fine, but can we at least be quick about it?”

Mitch kept his eyes glued to the parking area and nodded. “I think now is our best chance. If we cut back behind the trailer, we might be able to sneak past that white tent. I can hear something running near it that will help mask any sound we make.”

Hatcher agreed. “I think they have that tent under a vacuum or something. Look at the way the flap pulls in and the edges are sealed with Velcro or something.”

“I’d bet that whatever they’re doing in there isn’t good,” Candy added.

Mitch was belly-crawling back to the rear of the trailer and urging them along. “Stay low and stay quiet.” As he emerged from below the trailer, he pulled his weapon and released the safety. He checked the grounds one more time and took off at a sprint, Hatcher and Candy hot on his heels.

Mitch came up beside the white tent and slowed, dropping low again. He stole a quick peek around the edge of the tent and waved the other two around with him. Being in close quarters now, he holstered his pistol and pulled a survival knife from his boot sheath. He crept along the edge of the tent, staying low as the sun began to rise behind them. Mitch cursed to himself, knowing that a rising sun could easily cast shadows along the sides of a canvas tent, he bent lower and increased his speed. He stopped at the edge of the white tent and poked his head out quickly, stealing a glance in both directions. With two more tents ahead of them and the coast clear, he waved his companions on and took off at a sprint.

The trio shot between the two darker green tents and ran to the end of the canvas alleyway, ducking low and sliding behind a low stack of wooden crates. “The maintenance shack is right over there,” Hatcher whispered, pointing across the short expanse of clearing.

Mitch wished his adrenaline would start pumping up again to help him clear his mind and give him the clarity of thought he’d always counted on when it came down to a life or death situation, but it wasn’t coming. Apparently, after all these years, his brain didn’t consider this an ample enough threat to dump the precious hormone into his system.

He stole another glance and pulled back sharply. He signed to Hatcher there were two soldiers out there, but Hatcher had no idea how far away, what they were doing, what direction they were looking, or what their purpose might be. Mitch settled in and checked the sky again. With a slight shake of his head, he slowly eased his head out and checked once more. As more of Mitch’s body eased out, Hatcher felt surely the soldiers must have vacated the area, but Mitch held a hand out, staying them.

Mitch slowly stepped out and away from the tents, his hand obviously motioning for Hatcher and Candy to stay put. Hatcher squatted lower and strained his ears for a moment, hoping to hear anything that might give him an idea of what was happening beyond the corner of the canvas.

After a moment, Mitch returned with two M4 carbines and spare magazines, his knife returned to the sheath on his boot, blood obviously still on the blade. “Coast is clear now, but we need to move. Those guys may be missed soon.”

The trio took off quickly, still staying low, and crossed into the small maintenance yard. “This way,” Hatch said softly as he took the lead. He sprinted to the back of the maintenance yard and around the corner of the building. As he rounded the corner, he noted the gate was locked and reached for the keys that he no longer possessed. “Dammit.”

Mitch looked at the seven-foot wooden fence and the padlock on the gate. He pulled his survival knife once more and slipped it into the clasp of the gate. With a single upward movement, he popped the mechanism from the rough-cut cedar, screws and all. “Let’s move,” he whispered as he slipped the knife back.

Hatcher glanced at the man and shook his head. “Remind me not to piss you off,” he mumbled.

Hatcher fell in behind Candy and Mitch as they slipped into the woods and worked their way behind the ranger station and Visitor Center. “Second door,” Hatcher whispered as the trio came to a stop at two sets of steel doors.

“Can’t we just kick it in?” Candy asked.

“Steel reinforced,” Hatcher said. “We have bears out here, remember?”

Mitch pulled his wallet out and retrieved two thin metal wire picks from the folds. Slinging the M4 over his shoulder, he went to work on the lock while Hatcher and Candy took up sentry duties. It took Mitch about thirty seconds to defeat the locks. “We’re in.”

“That was fast.” Hatcher was honestly impressed.

“Not really, brother. I’ve gotten rusty. Should’ve had that cheap lock in about ten seconds.”

Mitch pulled his rifle around and Hatch took point. He turned the knob slowly and cracked the door open. Peering in, he noted that nobody was within eyesight and no shots were fired. He entered slowly, Mitch and Candy behind. Mitch shut the door quietly and relocked it to ensure no sentries came in to surprise them on their six.

Hatcher motioned them to where the office was and the three spread out, doing their best to steer clear of the windows. They approached the office from three sides with Mitch coming right up the middle.

They could hear someone inside, moving around and then something slammed down in anger. Hatch nodded to Mitch, who kicked the door open and leveled the M4 on the officer.

The sudden action startled the Army officer and a squeal of surprise shocked all of them. Mitch stepped in farther, the M4 lowering slightly as his eyes took in the sight before him. Although his eyes were seeing it, his brain just wasn’t quite processing the information being sent to it. His jaw dropped slightly as he stared at the Army officer standing in front of him, shaking in fear.

“Maggie?”

Bob Jennings faded in and out of consciousness from under the bed he had made in what should have been the dining area of the motorhome. He had come to once and thought maybe he could pilot what was left of the coach down the mountain, but as soon as he tried to get off the bed, he swooned and his vision went black. He had fallen to the floor and got tangled in his own blanket. With an obvious fever, Bob used that lucid moment to gather what little energy he had and pulled himself under the mattress platform and crawled into the far corner, effectively hiding from the creatures that continued to beat on the walls and doors of the coach. He could hear Keri trying to scream in response to those outside and it broke his heart. He cried himself to sleep, praying that his son and that little girl…what was her name again…well, whatever it was, he prayed that they made it away from this madness.

As he slipped into another guilt-infused sleep, he could have sworn he heard gunshots in the distance. He even heard a few bangs against the motorhome that sounded like someone was maybe striking it with a pipe. Hard.

When a window broke, he felt for sure the end was near. The crazy, infected, rabid, zombie people would burst through at any moment and begin using him like a squeaky chew toy. He tried to pull himself into a tighter ball and realized he simply didn’t have the energy. Bob lay there, hidden under the bed, weeping in despair, when he heard human voices outside the coach. More gunshots and fewer screams, less beating along the walls, followed by more gunshots. He dared to hope that perhaps the cavalry had come when the door to the coach jerked open and a military style boot stepped into view.

The automatic weapon sprayed the interior of the coach before the soldier even had a chance to see if anybody might still be human inside and Bob froze, afraid to even breathe. The matching boot came into view, followed by another. Eerie yellow lights reflected across the interior of the coach.

“Front’s clear,” came a gruff-sounding voice.

“Check the rear,” came another.

Bob could see the boots as they walked to the rear of the coach and he desperately wanted to scream at them not to hurt his little girl, but fear paralyzed him.

“Got a live one,” came the first voice again. “Doc still wanting specimens?” he asked.

“Negative. He’s got enough now,” replied the second voice, the light from his rifle lighting the floor of the coach right beside the bed by where Bob hid.

Bob flinched when two rounds were fired at the rear of the coach and the soldier walked back to the door. “No survivors,” he chuckled as he stepped out and jumped to the ground.

“Yup. No survivors,” replied the second voice.

The door to the coach was slammed shut, and Bob continued to lay in the darkness under the bed for what seemed forever. He could feel the hot tears sliding down his cheeks as he remembered Keri’s birth, her first steps, her first words…images of her flashed through his mind as if on a photo slide show on high speed. His body shook as physical pain worked through him, racking his body with anguish.

He had promised his little girl that daddy would make it all better. He had promised her he would get her to a doctor and they would fix it. He had promised her that it would all be okay. He had promised her that nobody would ever hurt her so long as he breathed because he was her daddy…and he had failed her. He had lain there, hiding under the bed like a scared child and let strange men come in and kill his daughter.

Anger flared through him and he found himself clawing his way out from under the bed. He was breathing hard as he came to his knees and tried to catch his wind. He looked down at his shoulder and the bloodstained shirt he wore. The wound had finally stopped bleeding, and Bob honestly wondered if it wasn’t because he had actually run out of blood.

He inhaled sharply and walked on his knees to the fridge. Jerking open the door, he pulled out two bottles of water. He opened them both and began drinking them as quickly as he could. He knew he needed to replenish his fluids, and while he didn’t have any IV bags available, this was the best he could do.

Bob could feel the cool water running down the front of his chest and soaking his pants, but he didn’t care. Grabbing a third bottle, he cracked the top and began forcing himself to sip at it as he pulled himself to his feet. Fighting the urge to black out, he leaned against the countertop, then the walls of the coach as he worked his way back to Keri. He had to know for certain.

As soon as he got to the doorway, he knew. He didn’t have to check for a pulse. The soldier had shot her at pointblank range through the head, her hair a splattered mess of bone, brain, and blood mixed with carpet.

Bob felt his legs try to go out from under him, but he leaned against the wall of the RV once again and forced the water down. It tried twice to come up as the memory of his daughter’s demise came back to him, but he forced himself to hold it down.

Bob worked his way back to the fridge and pulled the last remaining bottle from it. He knew most of the other three had helped, but just moving around the inside of the RV had taken so much of his energy. He pulled a couple of Keri’s candy bars and a granola bar from the top shelf and bit through the wrapper. Sugar, grains, anything to fuel him at this point, he’d take. He was a dad on a mission.

He knew the odds were slim to nothing that he could avenge her death, and the odds of finding the same soldier that had actually pulled the trigger were near zero, but if he could take out one of the bastards before he bled out, or was killed by one of the zombies, he could die happy.

Buck was starting to think that Skeeter had actually fallen asleep when she stirred and pulled away from him. He had held her while she cried, and he listened to the activity decrease, the noise levels dropping to near nothing. He heard the same truck he had watched come in earlier leave again, and now it was so quiet that it was nearly spooky. The park ranger laying on the ground near them had rolled to his side and had stopped snoring some time before, and now the sounds of the forest had Buck’s nerves on edge.

As Skeeter pulled away, she wiped at his shirt and smiled at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. There’s been more than one time I’ve wanted to scream. Or cry,” he chuckled. “Or both.”

“No, I meant for slobbering all over your shirt.” She sat up slightly, still wiping.

Buck glanced down and shrugged. “No big deal. I’m so filthy, my mom would have a fit. A little drool and snot isn’t going to hurt anything.” He looked down and smiled at her.

She smiled back, embarrassed, and wiped at her eyes. As Skeeter sat back, she noticed the woman’s feet that Buck had put down. “That is so creepy.”

“I can’t exactly toss her off the edge over there. They might get suspicious if it started raining zombies.”

“It just gives me the creeps,” she said again. “I mean, it’s a dead body and it’s right there.”

“I know.” He pulled his bag over and dug in it. He came up with two more granola bars and handed one to Skeeter. “Breakfast?”

She stared at him as if he had two heads. “There’s a dead body right there.”

“I’d offer her one, but I only have two.” Buck held it out to her. “But if you’re not hungry—”

Skeeter snatched the bar from his hand and began peeling the wrapper. “It’s just,” she paused and looked at the body again. “I dunno. Wrong, somehow.”

“What is?”

“To be eating right next to a body,” she said quietly.

Buck nodded toward Fisher. “There’s a body,” he said, his mouth full of granola bar. “Doesn’t bother me a bit.”

She shot him a ‘duh’ look. “That body isn’t dead.”

He hiked his eyebrows at her. “You sure? He hasn’t snored in a while. Just tell yourself she’s napping.”

“With an arrow in her head. Right.” Skeeter smirked and rolled her eyes.

Buck shrugged. “Some people have a hard time falling asleep.” He shoved the last of the granola into his face and tossed the wrapper down.

“Don’t litter.” She shot him the evil eye.

Buck paused his chewing and glanced at her. He fought the smile trying to form across his face as he picked up the wrapper. “Yes, Mother,” he mumbled as he shoved the wrapper into his pocket.

“You wouldn’t want a soldier to find it and know we were here, would you?” She gave him a knowing look.

“I think the napping lady might be a dead giveaway.” He fought the urge to smirk.

Skeeter stared at him and then turned her back to him to finish her granola. Buck stared at her a moment longer and finally threw his hands into the air in frustration. Women!

Fisher stirred a bit and rolled over onto his broken arm, waking him with a start. He looked around the makeshift camp and stared wide-eyed at the two kids sitting near him. “What the hell is going on?”

“You were asleep,” Buck said.

“I know that.” Dwayne pulled himself up to a sitting position and cradled his arm. “The question is, who the hell are you, and why am I here?”

“Well, let’s see. You broke your arm, the deputy set it. She had to dope you up, and you were about worthless after she did it, so we more or less babysat your butt,” Buck stated.

Fisher shot him a sideways glance. “And you are?”

“Buck. That’s Skeeter.” He pointed to the young girl who was still giving him the cold shoulder. “And keep your voice down. We’re sort of hiding.”

“Really?” Fisher replied in disbelief. “From who?”

Skeeter turned and gave him a dirty look. “From the Army.”

“The Army’s here? Sweet,” he said, trying to stand.

“Not sweet.” Buck stood and tried to get Fisher to lower his stance. “They’re not here to help.”

“Oh, really?” Fisher did his best to tower over the kids. “And who put you in charge?”

“Daniel did.” Buck squared off against the large, red-haired man. “He and that really huge black guy, Mitch, are down there right now with a lady cop trying to capture the colonel of the Army and force him to stop being a dick.”

“Kid, you’ve been reading too many comic books.” Fisher shook his head in disbelief.

“He’s telling you the truth,” Skeeter all but shouted in a loud whisper. “Now, please, get down or they might see us.”

“I’m not going to get down. If anything, I’m going to work my way back to the ranger station and see if I can assist.”

“You’ll be shot before you get anywhere close,” Buck said.

“Now I know you’re nuts,” Fisher said. “The Army doesn’t just come in to a national park, guns blazing, and start shooting at people.”

Bark from the tree next to Fisher erupted a moment before the report from the shot sounded. The splinters showered the back of his neck and head and he instinctively ducked. He rose back up again, his hands raised as much as he could with his arm wrapped, while he yelled, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot! We’re not infected!”

Dwayne Fisher’s shoulder exploded as the next round ripped through the muscle, bone, and sinew. He was in mid-turn as the third round entered the back of his head, effectively removing the front of his face. He was dead before his body hit the ground, the pain from the shot to his shoulder never having a chance to register with his brain before it was destroyed with high-velocity, copper-jacketed lead.

Skeeter, to her credit, didn’t scream as Buck grabbed her arm and pulled her through the brush toward the edge of the lookout he had stared at the station from. He wasn’t sure exactly where the soldiers were, but he knew they had to be out toward the road for the shots to have hit Fisher where they did. That meant he was going to run the other direction, and that direction lead toward the ranger station.

As Skeeter followed, Buck’s mind reeled. He knew that to be caught anywhere near the station by soldiers would mean a bullet, but to stay where they were meant the same thing. He saw the disturbed ground where Daniel and the others had slid down the hill and he quickly pulled Skeeter after him.

“You ever play baseball?”

“No, why?” She thought he must be crazy to ask such a stupid question at a time like this.

“Because we’re about to go on the world’s longest slide into second base!” he huffed as the pair ran to the same spot and he pulled her after him.

With his right leg in front and his left leg tucked under him, Buck did his best to slide down the steep, rocky hill while tugging Skeeter along with him. The moment they hit the ground, Buck was pulling her behind him as he sprinted across the compound and over the parking lot to the ranger station. The entire time, he prayed that Hatcher and his people had already taken the station and had the Army leader in handcuffs, or this was going to be a very short escape.

Captain Andrews sat at a computer terminal in the green tent that housed his ‘office.’ His pressurized suit was unzipped and hanging from a peg in the corner, his helmet discarded haphazardly at the foot of the suit. He sat arguing with the image on the screen of his computer, growing more impatient by the moment.

“I don’t see why you won’t come down here Viv. I’m telling you, this is it!”

“And I’m telling you it can’t be!” Dr. LaRue argued. “Joseph, the virus we found in the Neanderthal mitochondria was degraded and ancient. There is no way it could have travelled half-way around the world and not mutated.”

“Darling, that’s what I’m trying to explain. I honestly believe that this is Archaea. It makes total sense if you think about it, a thermophilic archaea? Where else could it live and sustain itself than in thermal vents? And what is Yellowstone covered in?” he posited. “Listen, they’ve found others here before. True, most were bacteria, but who’s to say there weren’t viruses as well?”

Vivian sat back in her chair and stared at the image on the computer screen. “I should mention this to Neils.”

“No!” Joseph sat up and picked up his computer. “He’s a peacenik, and he’d never understand our work,” he said rapidly. He carried the laptop to the door of the tent and peered out, then closed it. “Viv, I am so close to this, I can taste it. We can both prove our thesis and show the world,” he whispered. “You can prove that the DNA you extracted was real and that the results you predicted were right. I’m seeing those results right here, right now,” he whispered excitedly. “Extreme fevers, swollen brains, the blood pooling in the orbital sockets, the delirium, the extreme aggression, it’s all present.”

Vivian pulled her computer screen forward again and sighed. “You’re sure? You’re not just telling me what I want to hear?”

Andrews ran his hand through his non-regulation hair and sighed. “We’re about to conduct some tests.”

“What kind of tests?” Her eyes narrowed.

“The military officers are demanding the tests be done,” he lied. “They want to know the timeline of the vector. The infection’s transition rate.”

“Joseph, what animals are you testing on?” Her eyes slowly widened.

Andrews wouldn’t meet her gaze. “Humans.”

“Oh, my God!” She pushed away from the desk, knocking the computer aside. “How can you go along with this?”

Andrews rolled his eyes and looked away. “If I don’t, they’ll force somebody else. At least this way we can—”

“It’s murder, Joseph! We both know the end result of this. It’s death. There’s nothing that can fight this infection!”

He picked up his computer angrily and shook it. “Look at me!” he yelled. “Look at me, dammit!”

She slowly stepped back in front of the camera and he stared at her. “This will be done, with or without me. Understand that,” he lied again. “At least if I’m here, I can document the results and prove our theories.”

“I don’t understand why you would want me there,” she said, her voice void of all emotion.

“Because I could use your help. To prove both of our theories…” He threw his hands in the air. “Your reputation will remain intact. There is an outbreak here and we are studying the infected.” He looked up and met her gaze. “If you like, you can limit your activities to only those who are already infected.”

She studied him a moment, then shook her head. “I suppose, if nothing else, I could be a witness to what is going on.”

“Yes, you could,” he replied, thrilled that she would be joining him. “How soon can you be here?”

“I’m supposed to lecture at the University of Arizona today, but…” she glanced at her watch. “I can be at the air base in a couple of hours. Maybe less. Can you have a transport ready?”

“Ready and waiting.” A smile formed across his face. “And here you thought we could have a simple vacation.”

“Not a working vacation, Joseph. Level-four protocols, I presume?”

“As best we can provide out here in the woods. We’ll provide whatever you decide you need.”

“I’ll see you in a few hours.” She closed her notebook.

Bill crested a hill and saw a military checkpoint ahead. A lone soldier stood in the middle of the road ahead of the checkpoint and held his hand in the air, motioning for the car to stop. He immediately slowed the car, uttering a string of curses under his breath.

He turned to Jason. “Why didn’t you warn me, boy? We might could have avoided them.”

Jason shrugged. “It don’t always work.” He stared up at Bill with red-rimmed eyes. “I might coulda saved my Gram if it did.”

That one simple statement hit Bill hard as the words sunk in. He glanced to the rearview mirror and saw Richard slowly close his eyes, shaking his head. He was all too familiar with the knife slicing his guts at the moment. Although he wished he had time to console his friend, he had to try to deal with the military ahead of them.

Bill stopped just short of the soldier and the man in uniform approached, rifle at the ready, “Where are you folks headed?”

Bill smiled and nodded toward Jason. “Just taking my nephew home. He came out to visit for a while and we’re taking him back to his dad’s.”

The soldier cast a disbelieving eye at the group and then back along the road. “At this hour?”

Bill never missed a beat. “It’s a pretty long drive. Wanted to get an early start and beat the traffic if we could.”

“Traffic? Out here?” The soldier stiffened.

Bill’s face puckered and shook his head. “Of course not!” He almost called him a moron. “In the city. We didn’t want to get there at rush hour and be stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic if we could avoid it.”

“Well, the road is closed,” the soldier stated. “In fact, all of the roads in and out of Yellowstone are closed.”

“Yeah, but, we’re not going to Yellowstone. We’re going away from Yellowstone. We just need to drive about a quarter mile further on this road to where it T’s out so we can get away from here.”

The soldier leaned down and grimaced at Bill, doing his best to be intimidating. “I said, the road is closed.” He took care to emphasize each word.

Bill simply nodded. “Okay, then. Any idea how we can get back to the highway then?”

“Not my problem.”

Bill paused and actually considered confronting the young man, asking him if he had ever heard of the United States Constitution or the Posse Comitatus Act, but thought better of it as the young man brought the rifle to bear on the vehicle once more. “You need to turn the car around, old timer,” he said dismissively as he turned away.

Bill’s blood boiled with the ‘old timer’ remark. He glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Richard pleading at him with his eyes. “Don’t,” he whispered.

Bill’s hand was just going to the door handle when his eyes fell on a commotion beyond the young soldier. In the early morning sunlight, Bill could see people sprinting up the road toward the military road block. The soldiers had their eyes on the Buick and never saw the sprinters coming. Bill tapped his horn and pointed behind the soldier, but the soldier’s attention was all on Bill.

“I thought I told you to turn this shit heap around?”

“Hey look, pup,” Bill began smartly, “our finding the highway might not be your problem, but maybe they are.” He pointed behind the soldier. “I don’t think they care that the road is closed.”

The young man smiled at him knowingly. “I may be young, pops, but I’m not stupid,” he said slowly and quietly. “I’m not falling for a sucker punch.” He stepped away from the car and squared off. “Step out of the vehicle.”

Bill shook his head. “I don’t think so, sonny. Your buddies may need your help.” Bill pointed again.

The soldier chanced a quick glance down the road and caught sight of the sprinters just as they hit the rear of the road block. He tried to scream to get their attention, but it was too late. The infected were upon them. Screams of soldiers mixed with quick bursts of automatic weapons fire and the howls of the infected.

Richard tapped Bill on the shoulder. “Maybe we ought to go the long way,” he breathed quietly.

“I think I can get through while they’re distracted.”

“No!” Jason and Richard both exclaimed, anxious to turn around and head in the other direction.

Bill threw the car into reverse and made a four point turn around on the narrow-paved road. The front tires spun slightly in the loose gravel by the side of the road as he accelerated away from the scene and he pushed the Buick to its limits. “I think they’re even more frightening in the daylight.”

“Yeah, because you can see them coming,” Richard agreed.

“They’re mad because it hurts,” Jason said quietly, staring out the window.

Bill slowed the Buick and cast a quick glance at the boy. “What’s that? How can you know all this stuff, kid?”

Jason shrugged as he continued to stare out the window at the passing trees. “I just do.”

Richard tapped Bill’s shoulder and pointed to a narrow road on their left. “It’s not in the best of shape, but if you take it slow, we should make it to the highway.”

“Without four-wheel drive?” he asked, his attention pulled from the small boy and his odd ability. “This thing doesn’t exactly have the ground clearance of your truck.”

“If you take it slow we should be okay. The county maintains the road,” Richard replied.

Bill slowed the car and took the turn, noting the broken pavement quickly turned into a dirt road, ruts and potholes a plenty. He slowed the vehicle more and navigated between the obstacles as best he could. “How far to the highway?” Bill bounced as the Buick scraped bottom on a particularly rough section.

“Couple of miles, if memory serves. It’s been a while since I’ve been down this way.” Richard glanced back behind them nervously.

“Relax. We left them munching on MREs,” Bill muttered, observing Richard’s nervous behavior.

“I can’t help feeling like they’re everywhere,” Richard replied.

“We’ll be fine once we hit the highway and put this place in our mirrors.” He navigated the Buick between two more potholes and accelerated slightly only to see Jason throw his hands up against the window just before something solid slammed into the side of the car. “What the—” Bill exclaimed, swerving.

A body bounced off the rear fender and rolled into the road, quickly gaining his feet under him and scrambling to catch the car. Bill saw the man’s face in the rear window and pushed the accelerator harder.

“Up ahead,” Richard groaned.

Bill looked up and slammed on the brakes, the infected man pursuing them slamming hard into the rear of the Buick’s tailgate. Bill quickly threw the car into reverse and began backing up, oblivious to the infected man behind him. Looking over his shoulder and peering out of the stained rear window, he felt the car rise and fall as it crunched over something large, four infected quickly gaining on them from the front.

“You better hurry,” Richard said as he peered over Bill’s shoulder and stared out of the windshield.

“I need a place to turn around! “

Bill finally found a place where the narrow road appeared wide enough to handle the SUV and he spun the wheel, slamming on the brakes, and throwing the gear selector into drive at the same time. The motor gunned as the front tires spun in the soft dirt, then caught and shot them in the direction they had just come from. The first of their pursuers had caught up to them and grasped at the rear window wiper, ripping it from the mount as he fell to the ground.

“This isn’t going to be smooth,” Bill shouted as he pressed the accelerator to the floor.

“Just get us out of here!”

The little Buick bounced and scraped along the dirt road, suspension bottoming out as it pitched from pothole to pothole, rut to rut, and slid in the soft dirt of the barely maintained road. “I thought the county kept this road up?” Bill asked as he fought the wheel.

“They keep fallen trees cleared off it mostly,” Richard shot back. “Hardly anybody uses it.”

“Of course not,” Bill muttered. “Cutbacks in the outback.”

As the Buick neared the paved road, Bill slowed down and the Buick bounced the passengers along the broken pavement. Bill edged the nose up to the road and checked for traffic. He quickly pulled the car onto the paved road and pressed the pedal to the floor; infected soldiers and campers sprinted up the road after them.

Bill looked at Richard in the mirror, his eyes full of one all-important question. “Tell me there’s another way off this mountain.”

Colonel Vickers had headed out before daybreak in a light chopper for an overhead view of what his men were facing. The number of bodies being returned to the makeshift camp simply weren’t adding up compared to the number of vehicles cited, and he wanted a firsthand view of what was being reported. Donning the helmet that allowed him to see what the IR cameras captured, he could discern a number of heat signatures in the woods; most burned much brighter than others and from what he had gathered from Andrews, the infected should burn brighter. Their body temperatures should skyrocket, their brains would swell, they would undergo a transformation that, for all intents and purposes, would make them appear feral.

As the chopper climbed higher and Vickers got a better view, he was beginning to see just how spread out the infected were. While his soldiers were hunting them in standard formations, the infected were out hunting the uninfected and wildlife in small packs or single units. He sighed as he realized that standard military tactics simply weren’t going to work.

He keyed his mic and told the pilot, “Take me back.”

He sat back in his seat and tried to think. This situation was worse than trying to ferret out insurgents in some damned cave. You could always bomb the entrance to the cave and starve them out or cut off their oxygen supply or simply cave it in. No, these damned things could scatter to parts unknown. If just one of the infected got through his nets…got into a heavily populated area, it would spread like wildfire. Vickers shivered at the thought.

True, they wanted to weaponize the virus, but not to be used on U.S. soil. It was to be used on somebody else. Somebody not American. Infect an enemy nation and let them deal with their own population and stop being a threat to us. At least, that was the plan as he knew it.

Vickers shook his head and made the decision. He needed more troops. His ghost unit was effective, but couldn’t possibly cover the area necessary in the time they had. He needed something that could wipe them all out quickly, before they spread. If only this was Buttcrackistan, he could…yes, he could. He could order up a tactical strike.

A Massive Ordnance Air Blast Bomb (MOAB) or Mother of All Bombs, dropped right here. The blast should be sufficient to level the area, the concussion would kill anything living, kick up enough soil and debris to effectively bury the evidence and not put any more troops at risk.

Vickers felt his heart race as he considered the risky proposition…how could he convince his bosses that it was necessary? Could he convince them? The populace wouldn’t have to know that it was the military. Yellowstone is quite active. There have been theories of how it could ‘blow’ at any time. Perhaps they could spin it that it was a minor volcanic eruption. Somehow the volcano erupted, but just enough to blow off pressure here?

Well, that was for the spin masters. He just had to sell the idea. Vickers looked up from his hands and saw the chopper settling in near the station, dust already rising from the blades. He unbuckled his seat belt and prepared to depart as the chopper set down. As the door slid open on the side of the chopper, he stepped out and ignored the salute of the soldier standing next to him. He had a phone call to make and higher ups to convince that it was time to blow up Yellowstone.

Chapter 7

Bob practically fell out of the wrecked motorcoach. His hands collapsed under him, embedded with bits of sharp stone and gravel from the road as his body collapsed on top of them, the air forcefully pushed from his lungs. He rolled to his side and groaned in pain. He felt so weak, but his rage fueled him. He lay on the dry dirt road, letting his anger build to give him the energy to pick himself up, reliving the horror of seeing Keri’s body, prone in the rear of the RV, her head split open from the soldier’s bullets.

He pushed himself up from the road and leaned against the coach until the fuzziness in his head cleared. It was only then that he saw the mayhem that had taken place outside the coach. The bodies ripped to shreds from the high-powered rifles of the soldiers were beginning to sour. The brownish stains of blood and gore splattered across the side of the coach and pieces of human flesh that lay scattered across the roadside were attracting insects on a level that Bob didn’t think possible.

In the early morning sunlight, Bob fought not to gag as he pulled his bloodstained shirt up over his mouth and covered his nose. The smell of bodily excretions was almost enough to make him vomit, and the sight of his shoes squishing through bits of flesh and fluid-filled innards was almost his undoing, but he choked the bile back down and forced his feet to continue their march. He knew that staying where he was would do him no good, and he had to get started.

Bob staggered toward the line of cars and used them to assist him in his walking. Using them as a crutch, he began the trek down the dusty road and toward the ranger station that he knew he had passed on his way up to the hot springs. Every once in a while, he’d check a door on a car, just to see if some moron had perhaps left his car unlocked and maybe left the keys in it. The line of vehicles was so long. He knew the odds were against him, but it only took one.

The early morning sky was quickly turning lighter and the shadows that hid everything from view were slowly receding. The trees were becoming less ominous, the low brush providing fewer dark hiding places. Bob had never been much of a praying man, but he found himself asking whatever powers that be, Please, don’t let the zombies get me before I can get my revenge.

In his state of constant pain, near exhaustion, and blood loss, Bob found it somewhat amusing that he was praying to God to allow him to live long enough to kill another…for revenge. His mind kept nagging at him that this just wasn’t right. Something about ‘vengeance is mine’ sayeth…someone. Something his grandmother had told him when he was little. Or maybe he had heard it when she dragged him to Sunday School. It didn’t really matter. He still begged for the chance.

Another car, another locked door. Another twenty feet of dragging his broken and bloody body across rocky, dusty roads to the next one. He paused at a long station wagon with the windows cracked and peeked inside. No water, no food, no signs of intelligent life. A map, some stuffed toys, and fast food wrappers that looked like they may have survived from the Kennedy era. Bob staggered back a step and took in the car. It looked like a late-Sixties or early-Seventies Oldsmobile. He smiled to himself as he realized, this hunk of junk would be considered a classic now. Tuna boats, he had called them. An honest gas-guzzling dinosaur. Probably got the same mileage as the motorcoach. Could probably take a harder hit than themotorcoach, too.

He staggered on to the next car and checked it. As Bob continued down the road, he was oblivious to the helicopter flying overhead in a zig-zag pattern, nor was he aware of the soldiers over the next rise sneaking up on a trio of infected. As he lifted the door handle of the Lexus, the alarm went off, startling him and causing the trio of infected to turn in the direction of the noise, noses lifted in the air, snuffling for a scent.

Bob staggered away from the offending car, willing his feet to move him farther down the line of vehicles and hopefully to something with an open door and, God willing, keys in it.

Bob grunted with pain as he forced himself to move faster down the line, mindlessly pulling on door handles, pushing buttons, or tugging on pulls. He could hear something moving rapidly in the woods over the sound of the nerve-wracking honk and bleep of the alarm from the auto behind him. He kept casting nervous glances back over his shoulder as he searched for the source of the noise in the woods, but he didn’t see them yet. Sometimes, the imagination is worse than reality; but somehow, he doubted that this was the case.

As he reached a slight bend in the road, he saw an empty space in the line of cars, thrown gravel along the road indicating somebody had left in a hurry. He used that break in the parked cars to slip on the other side and pray that he could hide himself from whatever broke through the woods.

He continued to check the door handles, his energy ebbing, sweat pouring down his face, when a shot echoed through the woods. Bob froze, threw himself against the side of the SUV he stood next to, and slowly slid down the side of it. Another shot rang out and a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the woods.

Bob lay on the ground, his ragged breathing sounding unusually loud to his own ears when an answering scream came from nearby. He wished that he could have been anywhere but where he was at that moment. He could hear movement in the woods close to him when the first screamer sounded again and a figure burst from the woods uphill from him. It stood near a truck and stared across the line of cars into the woods on the other side of the road.

Bob held his breath as he stared at the filth-covered figure. It had once been a man, but now, with his clothes ripped to tatters and his face and hands covered in fresh blood, Bob wasn’t sure if its humanity could ever be recovered. The man creature listened intently until another scream echoed through the woods, then bolted across the parked vehicles and into the forest at breakneck speed.

Bob let out the breath that he had been holding, and his body slumped into the dirt. His hands shook as his mind accepted the realization of just how close he had come to being a Manwich for Zom Doe. He did his best to gather himself and tried to get moving again when more shots rang out in the woods. He didn’t even want to take the time to wonder if the zombies got a hunter or a soldier got a zombie or…no. There were too many variables for him to even try to guess.

He worked his way farther down the line, pulling at door handles. One of these damned things had to be open. And when he found the one he knew providence had in wait for him, he’d be able to travel without totally draining his energy. He had to save some of that in order to get his revenge.

“Richardson, what are you doing here?” Maggie asked.

“Me? I work here.” Mitch stepped farther into the office. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Hatcher pushed his way into the office and looked around. “Where is Vickers?”

Maggie turned to stare at Hatcher as though he had materialized out of thin air. “Who are you?” She turned to Mitch and hooked a thumb at Hatcher. “Who is he?”

Hatcher stepped closer to her, closing the gap and definitely getting into her personal space. “I was here earlier, sweetheart,” Daniel hissed through clenched teeth. “Vickers sent me off to the showers, told me to sit the fight out. Ring any bells? Said if my people weren’t here by the time he got here, to write them off. Jogging your memory?”

Maggie’s eyes widened as she stared at Hatcher. “Oh, you’re the game warden guy.”

Hatcher’s eyes narrowed. “Park ranger,” he corrected.

“Right.” She turned back to Mitch. “Why are you here? I heard you dropped off the grid.”

Hatcher turned an angry eye to Mitch who was still staring at the major. “I did,” Mitch said quietly. “Got sick of being other people’s pit-bull, so I quit.” He motioned around him, “This is home now.”

“Seriously?” Maggie’s eyes widened, the distaste in her voice apparent.

“Yeah,” Mitch nodded, “seriously.”

“You were a warrior.”

“Still am.” Mitch kept the rifle leveled at her.

“Excuse me,” Hatcher interrupted. “Where the hell is Doctor Evil?”

Maggie rolled her eyes at him and placed her hands on her hips. “He’s not here.”

“I can see that.” Hatcher was losing his patience. “Care to explain?”

“He took a bird up to get an overview.” She turned back to Mitch. “What are the odds?”

“Slim,” he said, smiling.

Candy stepped up and stuck her hand out. “Deputy Candice Olson.”

Maggie looked at her as though she had just climbed out of a wet bag of garbage. “A pleasure.”

Hatcher motioned toward the major. “Will she work? For the plan?”

Mitch suddenly sobered and stared at him. “No, she won’t.”

“What plan?” Maggie asked.

“The ‘nunya’ plan,” Hatcher said as he pushed past her. “None ya business.” He began rifling through the things on his desk as she came around beside him.

“What are you doing?” She reached for the papers he held.

“Looking for anything we can use to help us stop Vickers,” Hatcher stated.

“There’s nothing here.” Maggie tried to pull the folders from his grip.

“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.” Hatcher jerked the file folders free.

“Hatch!” Mitch yelled. “She ain’t the enemy.”

Hatcher paused and stared at him. “She’s working for the enemy, bud. That makes her one of them.”

“Actually,” Maggie began, “I’ve been questioning my part in all of this.”

“Oh, really?” Hatcher shot back sarcastically.

“Yeah,” Maggie said in a defeated tone. “I’ve found out a few things recently that…” she trailed off.

“What did you find out?” Mitch asked as he moved in closer to her.

Candy watched his body movements and felt a sudden pang of jealousy. She watched his hand as it rubbed down the lady soldier’s back, consoling her, and Candy’s vision went red. She couldn’t explain her sudden onrush of emotions, but she knew there was a lot more to their history than met the eye.

“They’re planning on doing experiments on the survivors,” Maggie said softly. “Horrible experiments.”

“Like what, Mags?”

She lifted her big doe eyes and probed his own. “They’re going to infect them with the virus. Right here, at the park. Not in some secret government lab, but here.” Her voice nearly broke as she admitted this to him.

Mitch looked at Hatcher who froze behind the desk. “Is that what that huge white tent is for?”

“No,” she shook her head. “They’re going to use the trailer.”

Candy squared her shoulders. “Our trailer? The MU? Oh, hell no.” She glanced at Hatcher. “We can’t allow this.”

“We won’t.” Hatcher closed the folders he had been rifling through. “I have this. It’s a start.”

Maggie turned and looked at the folder he held triumphantly over his head. “What is that?”

“Top Secret orders,” Hatcher said with a smirk.

Maggie shook her head. “Those aren’t real. The real ones are locked in a metal briefcase.”

Hatcher’s face fell and he turned to Mitch. “Does that sound right?”

Mitch shrugged. “Beats me, man. I never worked with the paper pushers. I was a ground pounder.”

Hatcher turned back to Maggie. “Show me.”

Maggie stepped away from the desk and to the filing cabinet. She pushed the cabinet from the wall and pulled a metal case from behind it. “It’s locked.”

Hatcher tossed it to Mitch. “Do what you can.”

Mitch pulled his knife and made quick work of the locking mechanisms. “Cheap piece of shit,” he mumbled as he tossed the briefcase on the top of the desk.

Hatcher lifted the lid and Maggie pulled the orders from inside. “If we get out of here alive, this is what you’ll need.”

Candy nearly jumped out of her boots when the front doors of the station banged against the wall and feet could be heard running through the center. “Someone’s here,” she whispered as she melted against the wall, bringing her pistol up to bear on whoever rounded the corner.

Her eyes went wide and she quickly lowered her weapon as Buck and Skeeter came sliding across the linoleum floor. Both kids slid around the corner and nearly screamed with relief when they saw the huge black man standing in the doorway to the office. “They killed Fisher!” Buck yelled as he closed the distance to the office.

Hatcher pushed his way through the office and pulled Mitch aside so he could exit the office. “Are you sure?” Buck collided with him, nearly collapsing into his arms.

Buck was nodding his head. “Yes, sir, I’m positive. He was shot at least twice. The second one took his face off.” Buck was nearly yelling from the excitement of the run.

Candy caught Skeeter in her arms as the young girl caught up to Buck and she pulled her into the small office. “Are you okay?” She held her at arm’s length and inspected her as a mother would check a child.

“Were y’all seen?” Mitch stepped out of the office and bent his neck to peer out of the windows.

“No, sir,” Buck huffed as he tried to catch his breath. “I don’t think so.” He gulped another breath of air. “There wasn’t anybody out there when we ran across the parking lot, but somebody might have seen us from up there.” He pointed to where they had been camped.

Mitch slid over to the window and stared up at the ridge. From where he stood, he didn’t see any activity up there at the moment. He stayed against the edge of the window and continued to watch, studying the ridge for any movement. He was about to give up when he caught a slight movement at the edge and the glint of a reflection, most probably from a rifle scope.

He edged back away from the window and turned to Hatcher. “I don’t know if they saw the kids come in or not, but there’s somebody up there now.”

“We have to assume they did.”

A familiar sound broke the silence of the office and Mitch bent his head back around the corner. A small transport helicopter was coming in and flying low. It slowed its approach and he could tell it was preparing to land. “We’re about to have company.”

“That would be Vickers,” Maggie stated.

“Okay, we need to set up a welcoming party for him,” Hatcher said. He turned to Candy. “Grab the kids and go around by the back doors. Stay low, stay quiet, and stay out of sight until we have Vickers.”

“Roger that.” Candy grabbed each child by the hand.

Mitch ducked low and headed toward the front doors of the station. As they approached the doors and began to take position, Mitch turned and looked at Maggie. “You with us on this?”

She had her back turned to him. When she turned around, she held a .45 caliber pistol and was raising it. “I can’t be a part of your little revolt, Richardson.”

Richard shook his head as he tried to think of another way off the mountain. “The only ways that we can get out of here is the county road or the highway. Unless you can sprout wings and fly!” he shouted sarcastically.

Bill slowed the Buick and stared at Richard in the rearview. “Anybody up this way have a plane?”

“What?” Richard asked, not sure he heard him correctly.

“Does anybody who lives out here own a plane?” Bill asked again, more slowly and deliberately.

Richard thought a moment, slowly shaking his head. “Not that I know of. Why?”

Bill sighed and settled back into his seat. “Nothing. It was a long shot, anyway.”

“Why did you ask?” He honestly wanted to know.

Bill dismissed the question. “I took a few lessons way back in the day. You said the only way off was the county road or the highway. Unless we could fly.” He shrugged his shoulders and chuckled. “Like I said, it was a long shot.”

Richard sat back in his seat and thought again. “I don’t know anybody that has their own plane, but that doesn’t mean nobody does.”

“The odds of anybody up here owning a light plane and a flat enough piece of land to have cleared it for a landing strip?”

“Oh.” Bill hadn’t thought of that. Flat land in mountain country wasn’t easy to come across. Still…

Bill looked at Jason. “Any bright ideas coming through to you?” He wasn’t expecting an answer.

“I’m hungry,” Jason said.

Bill nodded. “Yeah, kid, me, too,” he answered quietly.

“I hate to say it, but, I suppose we could go back to the house?” Richard offered. “Grab a bite. Swallow some coffee. Recharge our batteries. I don’t know. Maybe think of something new?”

“Maybe give those soldier zombies a chance to clear away from their roadblock and give us a chance to run it?”

Richard shrugged. “As good a plan as any.” Richard reached over and ruffled Jason’s hair. “We can give junior here a chance to eat, freshen up. Maybe he’ll dream us up an escape route.”

“Deal.” Bill continued on toward Richard’s house. He could feel the Buick’s front end shaking as if it had been knocked out of whack or lost a few wheel weights. He thought maybe they should take Richard’s truck the next time out. If there actually was a next time. He had a sneaky feeling that once they got to the house, they might not get a chance to leave.

As he pulled into the drive, Bill kept his eyes peeled for any kind of movement. He drove the Buick up the driveway and parked close to the house, leaving the drive open so that the pickup could be pulled out and a hasty escape could still be made.

As Richard and Jason went inside to start a pot of coffee and throw together a quick meal, Bill opened the garage door and pulled the truck out. He grabbed their meager belongings and tossed them into the bed of the truck. Although the cab might get a little cramped, the truck had much better ground clearance than the car and should they be forced to take another county road, he felt more confident in their ability to survive the drive.

Bill walked back into the garage and looked around. He found a plastic tub that was labeled ‘camping gear.’ Pulling it down from the heavy wooden table, he noted its heft. Bill pulled the lid off and was pleased to discover a tent, still in the box, a camping stove and hand axe lay underneath, along with two sleeping bags. Rifling around in the tub, he found a lot of useful items one could use while camping, so he snapped the plastic watertight lid back on and carried it to the pickup. He lowered the tailgate and slid the tub into the back and up against the cab. You never know if you might get stranded in the middle of nowhere and need emergency supplies.

He took another look around the garage and his gaze settled on a gas can. He picked it up and it felt nearly full. He set it in the back beside the tub and closed the tailgate. With emergency gear packed, he felt that they had everything they could take with them in case things got out of hand.

Bill paused and chuckled to himself. Got out of hand? They were on the run from the Army…there were hundreds, if not thousands of zombies raging through the forest attacking anybody and everybody they thought they could sink their molars into, his new friend just lost his wife to this blasted rage disease, and he’s thinking, IF things got out of hand? What the hell else would need to happen for things to really get out of hand? He sat down on the tailgate of the truck and shook his head.

“This retirement thing is really starting to suck.”

Vickers had just stepped from the helicopter when Captain Andrews came running up to him. “Colonel!” he shouted above the whine of the rotors winding down. “Colonel, can I speak with you, sir?”

Vickers sighed, but the action was lost on the young scientist. “What is it, captain? I have some very important calls to make, and time is of the essence.” He glanced at his watch.

“Sir, we’ve made some exciting discoveries that you need to be made aware of.” Andrews stated as he tried to lead the colonel back toward the tent. Colonel Vickers stood his ground, wanting to go to the station house where his satellite phone was set up. “Sir, if you’ll come this way, I can show you.” Andrews sounded very much like a child wanting to show a parent a good grade he had earned on a school paper.

“I don’t have time, captain. Show it to Major Chappell. She can brief me later.” He turned and marched toward the station.

“But, colonel!” Andrews shouted unnecessarily. “We’ve figured out how to attract the infected.”

Vickers paused and rolled his eyes. “Of course you have, captain. Wave live meat in front of their eyes and they’ll come running,” he said blandly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

“No, sir,” Andrews stated. “Ultrasound.”

Vickers paused and turned back. “What was that?”

“Ultrasound.” Andrews was smiling now. “You see, their brains are swollen and they’re in great pain. I think that’s partly why they’re so aggressive. But when they’re exposed to ultrasound, they become almost…,” he shrugged, “…docile.”

“Say again?” Vickers turned toward Andrews. “Are you saying you’ve found a cure?”

“No, sir,” Andrews corrected, shaking his head. “But it attracts them like…well, like a pied piper. It eases their pain and they come running.”

“So let me get this straight,” Vickers repeated. “Ultrasound makes them feel good and they’ll run to it?”

“At the right frequency, yes, sir.” Andrews was smiling now.

Vickers nodded. “Show me.”

Andrews waved him toward the white tent. “If you’ll follow me, sir, we have a demonstration all set up for you.”

“This won’t take long, will it?”

“No, sir, it won’t.”

“Tell me, captain,” Vickers asked, “if this works as good as you say, why aren’t they all running this way to feel better?”

Andrews pulled open the tent flap to allow the colonel to peer inside at the device that Andrews was pulling out. It looked like a space gun from a B-movie. “Mainly, colonel, because we haven’t had it on for very long, but also, because the volume is low, so the effects are pretty much localized.”

“But if we increased the volume, we could attract them all?”

Andrews paused and considered the question. “Hypothetically, yes.”

“No hypotheticals. I need to know.”

“We could pull them all in to a centralized area, yes,” Andrews said. He turned and smiled at the colonel. “Are they too scattered for your boys to hunt down?”

Vickers simply stared at the younger officer. “You might could say that.”

Vickers had a different idea. Plant the device in the ground away from the base, turn it on high, let the infected be attracted to it like bugs to a light, then drop a MOAB on them and toast them all at once. But he didn’t want to say anything to the young captain about it, lest he get cold feet. For whatever reason, this little creep liked working with bugs, like the one that infected all these people.

Andrews carried the portable device to the trailer and pulled open the door. Vickers followed him inside and watched as the creatures chained inside increased their screaming and snapping activities. The two civilians chained to the walls in the adjoining cells had gone past caring anymore and stared silently at each other, their faces stained with previously shed tears. The woman looked as if she might have even soiled herself at one point. The police officer sat in a pool of blood, no doubt from trying to escape the plastic cuffs that bound him.

“So show me.” Vickers thought he could see his breath in the trailer and his agitation was evident.

Andrews nodded and flipped a switch. The machine he held hummed slightly and the creatures began howling even louder at first. Vickers thought, If this is making them feel better, then they certainly aren’t showing it. Andrews made a few adjustments to the knobs on the sides, and suddenly their screams stopped. All three of the chained creatures, seemed to sigh in unison and stare off into nothingness. If Vickers didn’t know any better, he’d swear they’d all three been given a dose of some type of sedative.

“If I adjust this either way, it almost seems to amplify their pain. But right here, at this setting, it soothes them.” He seemed almost giddy.

“How did you find this out?”

“By accident, actually,” Andrews stated. “None of the anti-viral medications that we currently know of have any effect on this virus. I was trying radio waves, light, anything to break up the molecular structure. It was a logical progression to go to sound waves to try to destroy the molecular bonds that hold it together.”

“Whatever,” Vickers interrupted. “How did you find this?” He pointed to the ray gun.

“Oh. Well, I was using ultrasound when I noticed their screams were becoming more…” he chuckled at himself, remembering the increase in pain that the creatures felt, “pronounced?” Vickers waved him on. “Yes, well, it was then I realized that the device was having an effect on them. So I thought that maybe it could be used a ‘less lethal’ weapon on them. You know, to maybe capture some more live subjects for us to study. And, anyway, when I hit this one frequency, they started acting like…well…like this.”

“Like they’re stoned.”

“For the lack of a better word.” Andrews shrugged.

“Music soothes the savage beast.”

Andrews turned a quizzical face to the colonel. “Oh…no, colonel,” he stammered. “I-I wouldn’t call it music. More like a vibration. A hum, maybe, but more like a simple frequency tone generator that—”

“Doctor!” Vickers interrupted. “I really don’t care.” The look he gave Andrews indicated his full intent. “But you think this will attract them? Or do you think they’ll just stop where they are and lay down, start craving brownies or want to paint peace signs and wear tie-dyed clothing.”

“Huh?” Andrews didn’t catch the reference. “I’m almost positive they’ll follow the sound. It’s like a drug. They’ll want more.”

“We need to test this. As quickly as possible.”

Andrews smiled. “Yes, sir.” Andrews suddenly paused and stared at him. “Um…how?”

“How do you think? In the field, you idiot,” Vickers barked. “I need to have them all gathered into one place. Preferably one place in a clearing. High ground. Easy to spot.”

“Oh.” Andrews was beginning to realize Vickers intent. “Very well, sir. I’ll see to it.”

“No. You won’t,” Vickers sneered. “I’ll see to it. Prepare the ultrasound device for testing, captain. Set it to the proper frequency and maximum volume. Or…loudest setting. Just do whatever you have to do so that it can be heard the easiest by these things.”

“Yes, sir.” Andrews suddenly felt dejected. It was his discovery, and now some grunt would be field testing it. He sighed as he turned and stepped from the trailer. “I’ll have it ready momentarily, sir.”

Vickers followed him from the trailer, noting that as soon as it was turned off, the creatures began to stir from their calmed mood, gnashing their teeth and screaming once more. Vickers eyed the two civilians and shook his head. He didn’t envy what would soon become of them.

“Are you certain?” Dr. Andersson asked as he stared at his computer. Vivian LaRue’s image stared back at him via video conference, and the look on her face confirmed how serious she was. Neils slumped in his chair. “And this is the same virus we discovered in the Neanderthal?”

“Joseph swears it is an exact match.” Vivian settled in closer to the camera. “He claims there has been no genetic drift from the samples we published.” Her accent lilted as she gestured wildly with her hands. “This is unheard of, Neils!”

“I agree,” he replied, stroking at his chin. “With the amount of time alone, the virus should have mutated hundreds, if not thousands of times.”

Vivian shook her head. “I’ve yet to tell you the worst part,” she nearly whispered. “They’re planning to infect people with it. Healthy people!”

Neils collapsed into his chair, his face momentarily slipping out of view from the camera. “No! They don’t know what they’re doing. This disease may well have caused Neanderthals to become extinct…if they allow modern man to be exposed…”

“They’ve already been exposed,” Vivian explained. “They plan to test on more of them.” She glanced over her shoulder then checked her watch. “Joseph’s expecting me to meet him there shortly.”

“You mustn’t!” Neils exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You’ll be stepping into Ground Zero.”

“You think I don’t know this?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I thought I cared for this man and now…” she trailed off.

Neils gave a slight gasp, unaware of the situation. “I had no idea, Vivian,” he replied softly. “What will you do?”

“He is expecting me. What can I do?”

“You mustn’t go,” Neils answered. “It is far too dangerous.”

“He will know that something is wrong if I do not,” she whispered. “I offered to contact you and he became upset.”

“I would think he would!” Neils practically yelled. “Look at what they are doing!” He sat back in his chair and considered her options. “You should run away. Go back to the E.U.”

“I cannot. My work…”

“You could work anywhere. You could work here with me.” His voice had a tone of pleading in it that she recognized, but refused to acknowledge.

“What if I could stop them, Neils? What if I could go there and perhaps toss the monkey wrench into their plans?”

He shook his head vehemently. “It is too dangerous.” He stood and began pacing, not caring that he was walking out of the frame of the camera. “This is the military, no? They cannot be reasoned with.” He stepped back into the frame and leaned toward the screen. “You can’t do it.”

“Neils, I really don’t think I have a choice.” She sighed and shook her head, her hair falling down and covering her face. “But I might be able to derail their efforts.”

His eyes narrowed as he stared at her image. “How? You know what it’s like working with a military group. Remember when we tried to work with the Legion?”

She nodded and smiled sadly. “This isn’t the Legion, Neils. This is the United States military. They have rules,” she said, hoping she was right.

“Obviously not if they plan to infect healthy people!”

Vivian hung her head in defeat. She knew he was right. “And if I can somehow taint their samples? Or maybe switch the virus with saline? Or simply let the people that they intend to infect somehow know what is coming so that they can avoid the vector…I don’t know!” She shook her fists at the screen in frustration. “But I feel responsible for this. I have to do something!”

Neils sighed and slumped back in his chair. Finally, he raised his eyes to meet hers and nodded. “Very well,” he said softly. “Do what you must.” He leaned closer to the screen and met her gaze, “But promise me you will be careful. And if there is any way possible for you to transmit their intentions to me, do so! I’ll hold on to it in case you are successful,” he promised. “But if you are not…I’ll expose them to the world.”

Chapter 8

Bob Jennings continued down the road, checking each car that he came across. On more than one occasion, he came across an open car, but no keys. Bob knew better than to try to hotwire the damned thing. That crap only worked on television. And even if he could get it to start, the steering column was still locked, so he couldn’t steer it. He needed something with the keys in it!

As he sat in the front seat of a Volkswagen, he searched the meager contents for anything he might find useful. There was nothing he could use for a weapon, no food, and only a partial bottle of water with a lipstick stain wrapped around the top. Bob ignored the lipstick as he tilted the bottle back and sucked down the piss-warm liquid, nearly gagging on the nicotine aftertaste. Tossing the bottle aside, he realized, whoever Ms. Lipstick was, she must have been a smoker.

He dug through the glove box, the center console, and the cup holder looking for keys, and was ready to scream when he came up empty. He sat in the driver’s seat and sighed. For shits and giggles he pulled down the visor and a set of keys slid out and fell to the floorboard. Bob sat and stared at the silver and black keys as if they were foreign objects. Nobody puts their keys up there except on television. Chuckling to himself he groaned as he leaned forward and pulled the key ring from the floorboard.

He sat back in the seat and considered his options. He was assuming the car would start, but he was so tired. He could feel his eyelids trying to fall and he wanted so terribly much to just curl up and take a nap, but he knew his exhaustion was due to blood loss and his overnight tromp through the woods looking for Lucky.

Bob pushed himself from the seat and slipped around to the rear of the car. He popped the trunk and rummaged around, looking for anything: more water, food, an energy bar, gum, anything he might could use to keep his energy up, stay awake, or possibly use as a weapon. He pulled his head away from the trunk in disgust. This was obviously a lady’s car. A very messy lady’s car. Old dry cleaning that was now covered in road grit, a bag of trash, old magazines, and a flat spare. Not much that might be of use.

Bob shut the trunk and stared out at the line of autos in front of him. He could use the little Jetta in front of him or he could ransack some of the others. The odds of finding a usable weapon were slim. Maybe a tire iron, a stray golf club, or a ball bat left by someone’s kid…if he was lucky. With a sigh, Bob wedged back into the small Volkswagen and slid the key into the ignition. With a twist of the key, the small engine purred to life and he pulled the door shut. He slipped the car into reverse and backed into the car behind him. He chuckled to himself as he considered leaving a note for the owner of the Audi, but, instead, he put the selector into DRIVE and pulled out of the long line of cars.

As Bob began the slow trip toward where the ranger station was located, he began noticing things. The smashed cars that were parked along the road. The dents and scrapes, the paint transfers…they all matched. Whoever it was was either hurt, blind, or a really bad driver.

Bob slowed down and rolled down the window of the Jetta. He shook his head slightly as he stared at the scrape alongside of a white car. Could Buck and Skeeter have done this when they left? He was stopped beside the white car, considering the possibilities when a scream broke him from his reverie. His eyes glanced about, but nothing caught his attention. Bob took off again, slowly increasing speed in the little Volkswagen, eyes darting about looking for the source of the scream, when something solid hit the side of the car, rocking it.

Bob nearly yelped as a shadow crossed his rearview and his head snapped around just as something large and dark came up the passenger side of the car. He instinctively floored the little car and watched as a bloody hand smeared the side window and down the side, a barely human voice screeching after him as he accelerated away.

Bob’s eyes continued to dart from side to side, his heart rate through the roof, his adrenaline peaked. He could hear his own breathing coming in short pants over the roar of the little engine as he gunned it down the rocky and twisting road. He happened to catch a view of a really nice chopper parked alongside the road and wished, for just a moment, that his shoulder wasn’t shot and he had a key to the bike. The idea of having a two-wheeled ride seemed somehow better; even though it offered zero protection from the zombies. Just the idea of quick acceleration and being able to maneuver easier gave him a sense of freedom that the little Jetta lacked.

As Bob took the twist in the road, he immediately locked up the brakes and nearly slid into a pickup that was practically laying on its side in the middle of the road. Somehow, it had gotten jammed between the two lines of parked autos and apparently rolled.

Bob could feel the bile rise in his throat as he realized he had at least one zombie behind him in the road, a stuck pickup in front of him blocking his path, and two rows of cars blocking his way on either side. He knew he was in no condition to outrun the hyped-up zombie. He looked to the rearview mirror and gritted his teeth. Tossing the gear selector intoREVERSE, he pressed down on the accelerator and began backing up as quickly as he dared. If he could only find a spot wide enough to turn around or get outside of the line of cars…he might stand a chance.

Bob navigated the little Jetta as best he could, the dust from his drive down the road still hanging lazily in the mountain air obscuring his view. As the dust began to clear, Bob sped up a bit more, doing his best to keep the rear bumper of the Jetta from smashing into either side of the rows of cars. He had just cleared a small rise when the pursuing zombie came into view and Bob instinctively let off the gas. The small car slowed and Bob desperately looked for anywhere he might be able to turn the car around or cut off the road. With nothing viable in sight, he pressed the accelerator back down hard and fought the steering wheel as the front wheel drive car shimmied backward up the hill toward the screaming man.

Bob didn’t try to miss him when he charged the car, and the sickening thud of the impact, in addition to the resulting broken rear glass, only obscured his view more as the infected screamer bounced up and rolled over the vehicle to collapse on the roadway in front of him. Bob slammed on the brakes when he couldn’t see out of the rear window anymore and clutched at the steering wheel, his breathing coming in short, panting breaths.

He tried to see out of the side mirror on the driver’s door, but it was simply too small and restricting to navigate the car backward up the winding road. He sat for a moment longer in the car, contemplating his options. Slowly, he reached for the door handle and opened the door just a little. He craned his neck as much as he could and saw the legs of the man he’d just hit lying on the ground in front of him. The only sound he could hear at the moment was the purr of the German-made engine as it ran directly in front of him.

Tentatively, he stepped from the car and struggled to stand. He kept the majority of his body still in the car and leaned forward. The zombie’s head lay in a pool of blood, one arm twisted at an irregular angle, one leg had a bone sticking out of it. Bob shuddered at the thought he had done that simply by backing into him. Of course, the fact that the man was running toward him full-tilt, may have played a small part.

Bob stepped from the little car and looked behind him. Car after car lined both sides of the road with no obvious wide spot to turn around and no openings for him to get out. He tried to spot another small car that he might be able to push out of the way, but even in today’s economy of horrendous gas prices, Americans still loved their SUVs and huge luxury cars. What he wouldn’t give to find a light weight machine parked out here, like a Prius or a Smart Car or…the motorcycle!

Bob strained his brain to try to remember how far back down the road it was. Surely it wasn’t that far…he remembered spotting it and wishing he could be riding it. Shortly after that, this dumbass tried to tackle the car, then he nearly ran into the roadblock. Bob looked around the area until he found a rock.

He began beating out the rear window. The only way to see would be to remove the shattered glass. Then he could try to back up the road to the bike, push it out of the way, and drive outside the line of cars.

That is, if he didn’t run into any more screaming zombies.

Mitch stared at Maggie as she spoke, the .45 in her hand flashing in his eye. His mind raced as he pictured her leveling the weapon and possibly even firing it at him. So many possible scenarios played out in his mind in the blink of an eye. Her holding them at bay until armed troops came in and secured them. Her simply shooting them where they stood and declaring her allegiance to the oath she swore. Or she could play on his own sense of allegiance and try to have him turn over his own weapon, perhaps turn sides and assist them in whatever sideways plan they had up their collective sleeve. In that brief moment that Mitch’s eyes settled on her service weapon, he recalled all the times she had acted as the handler for him and his team of misfit commandos. In that brief moment, he thought he could feel his heart breaking.

Maggie stared at him briefly before she bent down and slid her pistol across the floor to him. “I can’t be a part of whatever you’re about to do.”

Mitch was frozen in place as he watched the 1911 slide across the polished floor and settle just inches from his booted feet. He lifted his eyes to her and shook his head. “Why not? You said you were questioning all this.”

“If I assist you, it would be akin to treason,” she answered. “I’m many things, Richardson. But I’m not a traitor.”

“You’re not bound to following unlawful orders, Major. You know that,” Mitch all but begged her to join their side.

“I’m not going to stop you, Staff Sergeant,” Major Chappell replied. “I just can’t be a part of this.” She cast a glance out the window and slipped back toward the office, letting the door shield her. “Besides, it doesn’t look like he’s heading back this way. I think that squirmy captain got his hooks into him.”

“What squirmy captain?” Mitch leaned toward a window and tilted his head over to peek outside.

“The one that is wanting to do the experiments on the healthy survivors. The man gives me the creeps. He has eyes like a shark.”

“I know the type.” Mitch nodded.

“Sounds like a politician,” Hatcher added.

Maggie smirked. “Very much so. Like there’s no soul behind them.”

“Yup.” Hatcher turned to Mitch. “Definitely a politician.”

Mitch sighed and checked over his shoulder toward the rear of the building. “Y’all doing okay back there?” he asked Candy.

“We can wait as long as you need us to.” She held a child in each arm and shielded them from the front of the room.

“Then I say we maintain position and wait for the colonel to return,” Mitch said.

Hatcher stole a glance out the window again. “Might as well. We can’t dance.”

“Speak for yourself.” Mitch grinned at him. “In the meantime, see if you can find something we can use to hogtie his sorry butt with once he becomes our property. We’re going to need to keep him secure.”

The sound of duct tape being ripped from the roll snapped both of their heads toward the office. “May I suggest you tape me to a chair? Otherwise it could look suspicious when the colonel joins us.” Maggie dangled the duct tape from one hand and raised a brow at the pair.

Mitch glanced at Hatcher who simply shrugged. “She’s your friend. Go tape her up,” Hatch said. “I’ll watch the door.”

Mitch kept low as he crossed the bank of windows and came back up at the office. “Want the padded chair?” An impish grin crossed his features.

“Why not.” Maggie smiled at him. Lowering her voice, she shot him a sideways and somewhat sultry look. “I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I used to wonder what it would be like to tied up by you.”

Mitch paused and studied her a moment, then ripped off a piece of the duct tape. “Maybe you should have said something back in the day.”

“You know officers aren’t supposed to fraternize with the enlisted,” she replied, shooting him an evil grin.

“Who said anything about fraternizing? Trust me, you’d be lucky to walk once I was done with you. There wouldn’t be any fraternizing.”

Major Chappell actually blushed with that one as Mitch placed the piece of tape over her mouth, removing her ability to try to one up him. As Mitch finished taping her feet to the legs of the chair he stood up and admired his work. He smiled and rolled the chair to the corner of the office. He glanced over his shoulder and noted that nobody could see them from where they now were. He stood straighter and stared down at Maggie taped to the chair.

Lowering his voice, he smiled at her and whispered, “Yeah, I could do some serious fraternizing now and ain’t nobody could stop me, huh?” He could see her trying to smile beneath the duct tape covering her mouth. He leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Yeah, I don’t know exactly what’s up with you yet, but I know that this ain’t how the Maggie Chappell I once knew and respected would ever act. So, if you got some kind of secret end game you ain’t telling me about hidden up your sleeve, or maybe you’re just playing me…well, let’s just say that fraternizing will be the least of your worries.”

Mitch stepped back and studied her. He allowed her to see the hardness of his eyes before he stepped back out of the office, duct tape twirling around his finger.

As he approached the door, he nodded to Hatcher. “Anything new?”

Hatcher shook his head. “Nothing yet.” He nodded toward the trailer across the parking lot. “Pretty sure Vickers went in there with some asshole in a white chemical suit. The asshole was carrying something that looked like a ray gun prop from a bad 60s science fiction movie.”

“Something tells me that weren’t no prop,” Mitch said as he took his position on the other side of the door. Hatcher turned to him to add another smart aleck comment and noted the look of concern on the man’s face. “You don’t look so great, buddy. What’s up?”

Mitch snapped out of his deep thoughts over Maggie and shook his head. “I dunno. I’m just…something ain’t right about her.” He motioned toward Major Chappell in the office.

“What do you mean?”

“She ain’t acting herself. Like…she’s off or something.”

“Like she’s zombie infected off, or—”

“No, just…not acting right.”

“Okay. How so?” Hatcher asked.

“Like, she was all coming on to me and shit.” Mitch scratched at his head, obviously confused.

Hatcher’s eyes widened and he stared at him. “And this is a problem because—”

“Because she was my handler back in the day, that’s why.”

“I’m still not seeing the problem.” Hatch shot him a silly grin. “The girl is hotter than a three dollar pistol.”

“Exactly!” Mitch pointed at him excitedly. “My point.”

Hatcher shrugged and gave Mitch a dumb look. “You lost me somewhere.”

“The girl is just too—” Mitch’s argument was interrupted by a loud bang against the rear door, startling Candy and the kids, and causing Skeeter to yelp. Both men turned simultaneously, training their weapons on the rear door as Candy ushered the kids farther away from the area and closer to the storeroom. “What the hell was that?”

“Beats me,” Hatcher replied. He cast another furtive glance out the window and verified the coast was clear. “Maybe a guard heard us talking?”

“They’d be storming the front doors, guns blazing,” Mitch replied.

The bang repeated, followed by a loud thump. Both men studied the door and Mitch motioned he would check it out. Hatcher stole another glance out the window, then motioned him on. Mitch sprinted to the rear of the center and pressed his ear to the door. After a moment, he pulled back and shook his head. Hatcher shrugged, and the motion was met with another loud whump against the back door.

Candy stepped forward, leaving the kids huddled against the storeroom door. “Do you think it could be one of the crazies?”

Mitch cursed lightly and nodded. “Possibly.”

Hatcher approached and shook his head. “We can’t shoot them if it is. The gunfire will attract more soldiers and we’ll lose our advantage.”

Another loud bang against the door followed by a muffled scream sent shivers up Hatcher’s spine. “We have to stop them, whoever it is.”

Mitch set his jaw and motioned to the door. “Let them in. I’ll put a stop to ’em.” He pulled the knife from his boot sheath.

“Mitch, this isn’t some unsuspecting guard…,” Hatcher began.

“And this ain’t my first rodeo with these ungodly sons of bitches. Open the door.” He narrowed his eyes and crouched.

Hatcher motioned to Candy to get back with the kids and he settled in next to the lock. Mitch got lower and prepared to take the bastard out the moment he came through the door. Hatcher turned the deadbolt and pulled the door just as the infected threw itself against it. The door flew open and the person came tumbling into the center.

Mitch sprung like a coiled snake, striking while the infected was off guard and trying to get to its feet. It had been a woman in its life beforehand, but Mitch’s knife put a quick end to her attacking the rear door. He sunk the blade deep into her skull, twisted and pulled the knife free before she even registered their presence. As Hatcher began pushing the door shut, two more infected slammed into it, beating him against the rear wall and knocking the wind from him.

The first infected came in the door with his nose in the air, sniffing. He brought his head down and his eyes fell upon Mitch, bloody knife in his hand and a feral look in his eyes. The man cocked his head to the side and studied him for just a moment, unsure what Mitch might actually be. Then he opened his mouth to form the scream that Mitch was all too familiar with. Mitch leapt forward, bringing the knife in straight to catch the man’s lower jaw and pinning his mouth shut as he thrust the knife up and through the top of his head. The infected man shook momentarily and danced the dance of death as Mitch’s knife short circuited his brain.

While Mitch held the infected man at bay and struggled not to be scratched or clawed by his vibrating limbs, the third infected bounded into the room and leapt off the body of the first dead zombie, coming up right next to Mitch. Mitch barely had time to register her presence before she grabbed his knife hand and sank her teeth into the meaty muscle of his twitching arm.

Neither of them heard the door slam and lock as Hatcher struggled to suck air into his body. He knew that some of the infected had forced their way in and knocked the crap out of him, but if there were more out there, he’d keep them out. He scrambled for his gun and could barely see to level it at the scene in front of him.

Mitch stared into the red eyes of the naked woman who had caused the death of Darren and taunted him in the woods. She pulled back from his arm with a wet ripping sound, and he felt the burning sensation of liquid fire shoot up his arm as her teeth ripped skin, meat, and sinew from his muscled forearm.

With gritted teeth, he switched hands and pulled the knife from the skull of his infected victim and slashed at the crazy bitch with his good arm. She bounced back from him as if she could read his movements and he barely left a scratch across one of her heavy breasts that gravity dragged back slower than the rest of her could move. Although his knife had carved a nice slice across her soft mammary, she never reacted other than to chew the meat in her mouth and swallow.

Mitch crouched into an attack position and the crazy, red-eyed bitch followed suit. Slowly the two circled one another. Her lashing out with her bone-tipped fingers and him slashing with his knife. Hatcher followed with the rifle, trying like hell to keep the crazy bitch in his sights.

Candy stood in front of the children, shielding them with her own body, her arms spread wide to protect them. As the crazy woman circled around, Candy shifted and Buck caught a glimpse of the fight, the filth-covered woman had her back to him and he shivered at the thought of possibly being bitten, maybe being made into one of the red-eyed zombies. Then he noticed Mitch’s arm and his eyes widened, his breath quickening.

“Oh, my God,” he whispered. Candy instinctively pressed him back, but the two warriors had circled each other again and Buck caught sight of the naked woman’s features.

Buck Jennings felt the color drain from his face as the realization struck him. His knees suddenly went weak and for a moment, his heart broke. He wanted nothing more than to run to her. No matter that he was seventeen, he was still her son, and this was his mother.

“Mom!” he choked out, and all eyes turned to the young man shielded in the corner, tears running down his face.

As the red-eyed creature turned at the unexpected noise, Mitch used the distraction to his advantage and struck. He sunk his knife deep into the temple of the crazy red-eyed naked bitch and buried it to the hilt. She immediately struck out with her arm and knocked him to the side, but the damage was done. His knife had struck home, the swelling on her brain had been relieved, her cerebral spinal fluid flowing out from the puncture, taking bits of bone and brain matter with it. The increased pressure of the CSF causing a bloody spray, much like an arterial slice to the neck as her body fell to the floor in convulsions.

Buck pushed away from Candy and ran to her side. He still kept his distance, fear of infection keeping him from trying to hold her hand or cradling her while she died. He fell to his knees and cried next to her twitching body.

Mitch sat up and shook his head. “Bitch can hit,” he muttered as he tried to crawl to his feet. Hatcher staggered to his side and helped him up.

“We need to get that arm looked at,” he said. “There’s a first aid kit in the office.”

Mitch shook his head. “Too late, man.” He turned sad eyes to his friend. “One bite, one scratch…you’re toast.”

“What?” Hatcher’s mind raced. “No. No, that can’t be right,” he said disbelievingly.

“Trust me, man. I’ve seen enough out in the woods. I know what I’m talking about.”

Hatcher shook his head as he pulled at Mitch. “No, we just need to clean the wound—”

Mitch pulled his arm away and glared at him. “Face it, man. I’m done. Stick a fork in me.” He pulled Hatcher aside. “Don’t let me turn into one of them freaks, okay?” He pulled the knife from the body on the floor and flipped it around to Hatcher, handle first. “I want you to do this. You’re the only one I trust to do it and do it right.”

Hatcher was shaking his head. “I can’t do that,” he said, his voice breaking. “I-I don’t know how.”

“It’s easy, man.” He pointed to the base of his skull. “Just slip it in here and twist. Turns the lights out. Easy peasy.” His eyes pleading.

Hatcher felt his eyes watering up and his hand shaking. “But you’re my friend…”

“And you’re my friend.”

“What if you can’t catch it? What if…what if you’re immune?” Hatcher knew he was grasping at straws, but straws were all he had left.

“Like the thousand or so other folks that were here? Don’t, man. There ain’t no miracles gonna pull my fat out of this fire.”

Hatcher sighed hard and looked around. “Maybe you could just go outside…maybe kill a few more guards or something. They could maybe…I dunno.”

“Death by cop?” he joked. Mitch staggered a bit, then shook his head. “Wow. Is it getting hotter in here? It’s getting hot in here,” he said softly.

Hatcher shook his head. “No, not really.” He glanced at Mitch and noticed his eyes were filling up with blood. “Oh no.”

“What?” Mitch asked.

“Your eyes.” Hatcher pointed.

Mitch shook his head lightly and paused. “Oh, don’t do that. My head is killing me.” He glanced at Hatcher again. “Oh, shit. This thing is fast.” He glanced around the room and his eyes settled on Candy. “Sorry,. I was really wanting to ask you on a date when all this shit was over. Looks like that ain’t gonna happen now.” She covered her mouth and turned away from him, her eyes watering.

“Mitch, I don’t know if I can do this,” Hatcher said softly. Candy’s sobbing could be heard behind them, Buck’s beside them.

Mitch was starting to get wobbly, but he fought to maintain his presence of mind. “Do it. Do it now.” He lowered himself to his knees and turned his back to Hatcher. With his thick, meaty finger, he pointed to the part of the skull on the back of his head. “Put the tip here. Push hard, then twist. That’s it.”

Hatcher lifted the knife to his friend’s head. He placed the tip where his finger was. It felt so heavy in his hand. So damned heavy. He didn’t know if he could continue to hold the cold steel as he pressed the tip to his flesh. “Here?” It sounded as if his voice was a hundred miles away.

“Yeah. That’s the spot,” Mitch said with a sigh. “Now just push really hard, and when it’s in, twist. And remember. I begged you to do this. I don’t want to be one of them.”

Hatcher nodded. “I love you, man,” he said softly.

“Love you too, ma—” Mitch never finished his sentence as Hatcher’s arms jerked forward, thrusting the knife into his friend’s skull. Without even thinking, his wrists twisted as soon as the handle hit bone.

Daniel Hatcher stood silent for a moment with his friend stuck to the end of the blade. He felt a warm, sticky fluid wash over his hand and he twisted the knife the other way and pulled it back, allowing Mitch to fall into a pile along with the other dead zombies. Hatcher didn’t remember dropping the knife, but his ears picked up the tinkle of the metal as it bounced against the polished tile floor.

Without looking down at his friend, Hatcher shouldered his weapon and staggered back to the door, his eyes staring forward, his mind still dazed. He glanced once more out the window. He really wanted Vickers to now come swaggering back to the station. He needed to make somebody pay for all of the pain he was feeling, but couldn’t allow himself to show.

Bill entered the rear of the house and could smell the coffee brewing before he ever walked into the kitchen. The bone-weary ache in his body hadn’t really had a chance to settle in between the bouts of adrenaline rushes and rapid escapes. The dark-roasted Columbian beans smelled heavenly as he nearly collapsed into the chair at the counter.

“Truck is all loaded,” he breathed as he pulled his bandana from his rear pocket and swiped at his forehead. “I found some camping gear in the garage and took the liberty of tossing it into the back. Just in case we end up having to overnight it in the middle of nowhere.”

Richard glanced up from the cooler he was packing and nodded with a forlorn stare. Bill didn’t miss the look and probed him, “Did I do something wrong?”

Richard startled from his gazing into nothingness and gave a halfhearted smile. “No,” he replied softly. “I just…” He looked up from the cooler and sighed. “I had intended to take Harriet camping one day. She was always too busy.” Richard stared out the window and chuckled lightly. “Truth be told, I think she hated the idea and always had an excuse, but I held out hope.” He turned his attention back to the cooler. “Just packing a few perishables for the trip. Don’t want them to go waste.”

Bill noted the luncheon meats and cold cuts, the cheeses and crackers, condiments, and a couple loaves of wheat bread sitting beside the cooler as Richard packed every square inch. He set a blue ice pack on top of each section and sealed the top. Patting the top, he turned and shut the refrigerator door. “As soon as the coffee’s done brewing, I can fill the thermos and we’re ready.”

“I could use one now.” Bill yawned. “Do you have any cream or that powdered stuff?”

Richard opened the refrigerator again and pulled out a small carton of Half & Half. “I got the flavored stuff, too, if you want it. Harriet always…” He paused and turned away.

“That’s okay,” Bill said, standing and picking up the carton. “This is just fine.”

Richard pulled a matching set of stainless-steel travel mugs and filled them, pouring the rest of the pot into the matching thermos. As the pair left, Richard grabbed the cooler and Bill took the mugs toward the door. Jason, who had remained silent the entire time, picked up a small canvas bag and fell into step. Bill noticed the small blue bag and raised a brow.

“What you got there, son?”

Jason never missed a beat as he stepped past Bill. “Ammo.”

Bill watched the young boy as he walked out the back and carried the heavy bag to the truck, following his grandfather. He paused at the rear of the house and watched the two load their burdens into the back of the truck, wondering if either would ever truly be okay again.

Bill slipped in behind the wheel of the truck and started the engine as Jason crawled in and Richard shut the door solidly behind himself. “Which direction should we try?” Bill asked.

“I was thinking about what you asked before. About anybody who might have a plane,” Richard said. “I know a fella who might have access to a helicopter. He used to fly one for crop dusting. But that’s a long shot, and it’s a pretty good trip in the wrong direction.”

Bill nodded. “And the other option?”

Richard shrugged. “Try to run the blockade where all those soldiers were.” The way he said it, Bill knew he was leaving the decision up to him.

Bill looked to Jason who seemed to be staring at the radio. “Any suggestions?”

The boy just shrugged. “Nothing itches.”

Bill’s brows hiked up and he stared at the kid as if he had grown another head. “Nothing…huh?”

“Sometimes he can ‘see’ things. Sometimes he ‘hears’ things. Sometimes he gets…feelings. Like an itch. If nothing itches, that’s his way of saying, he doesn’t know.”

Bill nodded. “Well, the shortest distance is the fastest way out of Crazyland.” He turned to Richard. “My vote is the road block.”

“Then let’s go,” Richard said. “No sense in wasting daylight.”

Bill pulled the truck out of the drive and avoided the Buick as he approached the roadway. He half-expected Jason to yell at him to stop at any second, but the boy continued to stare at the radio. Bill reached out and flipped it on for him and hit one of the presets. A country station twanged out old western songs on an AM frequency and Jason smiled slightly.

Bill checked the road and pulled out, gunning the truck to close the gap between the house and military vehicles parked near the highway. It didn’t take long before they saw their first zombie. Dressed in blue jeans and a flannel shirt, the creature was covered in blood, dirt, and filth. Bill slipped to the oncoming traffic lane and watched as the creature maneuvered to intercept. He was running full speed toward the oncoming truck with no intention of slowing down.

Bill caught sight of Richard’s arm going forward, his hand bracing against the dashboard, preparing for the impact, when he suddenly braked and jerked the wheel to the right, narrowly missing the feral man. Richard’s eyes followed the man as he turned and began to chase the truck, much like a dog might chase a car that dared cross into its neighborhood. “I thought you were going to hit him,” he breathed as he let go of the dashboard.

“I’d really rather not. Hitting a human body with a vehicle can do a lot of damage.” Bill turned and glanced toward Richard. “To the vehicle.”

As he crested the next ridge, he saw two more on the side of the road, but they didn’t have time to track the truck and get in the way before he passed. “I figured they’d hear us coming,” Richard said as the truck blew past them and they turned and began pursuing.

“I figured they would, too.” Bill looked around. “I’m thinking maybe the rocky ridge and the trees are throwing the sound off to them. Or maybe their condition makes it somehow harder for them to zero in on sounds.” He shrugged. “Either way, I’m not looking a gift horse in the mouth.”

They continued on and pushed past two more zombies, both in uniform, one still with his rifle strapped to his back. Bill wished he could have found a safe way to run him over and retrieve the weapon, but there was no sense in risking themselves over a stupid gun.

Although he was avoiding hitting people, he was still fighting fatigue. Bill sipped at the hot coffee and shook his head to stay sharp. “I’m a little turned around here, buddy. How much farther to the blockade?”

Richard pointed up ahead. “Should be around this next bend.” Bill slowed the truck slightly and craned his neck to see. Just as Richard prophesied, the military vehicles were parked in the road around the next bend and down the hill. Bill scanned the area looking for any human-sized movement and didn’t spot anything. He studied the vehicles and noted that the blockade was mainly the two Humvees parked across the lanes of traffic. “There’s not enough room on the shoulder to get around them.”

“Ya think we have time to get out and move them?”

Bill shrugged. “We’ll have to make time.”

“I hope they left the keys in them.”

“If not, we toss them into neutral and push them out of the way.” He looked to Richard and smiled. “We can use the truck to push. My back ain’t as young as the rest of me.”

They stopped the truck at the blockade and Bill threw the transmission into PARK. As he stepped out, Jason grabbed his arm. “Watch out for the Army mans,” he whispered. “They bite.”

Vickers sat in the seat of the chopper, the mobile satellite phone case across his lap. “Yes, I know he isn’t in his office yet, but I need to speak to him. Tell him it’s Colonel Vickers and it’s important,” he yelled into the phone. “Yes, I’ll hold.”

He sighed as he slumped back into the uncomfortable seat. Vickers held the phone to his ear and craned his neck around to watch the ultrasound device be loaded into the back of the transport truck. A handful of his Ghost Team members had come back to replenish their supplies and load the GPS positions of dropped tangos for the regulars to pick up and dispose of. He decided this would be a good time to reassign them to positioning the attractant device.

He was a bit perturbed by some of his men referring to the infected as zombies, but at this point, he didn’t really care. Yellowstone was about to have a goodly portion of its acreage laid waste to. They could call them mole people for all he cared.

Vickers heard the phone come alive and he snapped to, “Yes, general,” he yelled into the phone. “This is Vickers.” He paused and nodded. “Yes, sir. Clean up efforts are underway, but we’ve run into a few issues, sir.” He nodded and smiled. “Well, sir, it would seem that the infected have taken to the woods and scattered. Even the ghosts are having extreme difficulties in tracking them, sir.” He waited and shook his head. “Negative, sir. Even with air support, they’re too scattered. It takes far too long to cover the amount of territory they’ve…” He trailed off as the general from the Pentagon continued to throw armchair options at him. “Negative, sir. We tried that as well. Ineffective, sir.” Now was the time. “I do have an idea, sir. It is a bit…unorthodox. And it would take a bit of media spinning, but I believe it is workable and will be effective.” He waited as the general took the bait. “A series of MOAB runs, sir.”

Bingo. Then comes the shit storm, the rants, and ravings of blowing up a pristine national landmark, blah-blah-blah, yadda-yadda-yadda…

“Sir!” Vickers interrupted. “The infected are beginning to extend beyond the perimeters. We can break protocol in such circumstances, and when you consider that Yellowstone is volcanically active, we have plausible deniability. Sir, we can claim that it blew up on its own, killing civilians that were here on an overnight concert that was to benefit the park and attempt to preserve it. The military just came in to try to save the civilians.” He allowed his option to sink for a moment. “Truly, in the end, the only difference is that we flatten a few trees and possibly start a few fires. Fires that will hide any evidence…”

Silence.

“Sir, it truly is a win-win for us,” Vickers offered.

The general came back with a line of questions and Vickers happily answered them. In the end, he was more than content with the answers he got.

“Yes, sir. We got what we really wanted, anyway. We just need to contain the outbreak before it gets out into the civilian population here in our own country.” Vickers continued to nod, continued to kiss the general’s ass, and continued to bow and scrape as long as he had to. He got what he wanted.

Yellowstone was about to be flattened. Burned to the ground in a brilliant flash of non-nuclear firepower that had never been used on American soil except for testing in the badlands. He couldn’t help but smile.

Chapter 9

Bob pushed the Jetta up the hill as hard as it would go. The little German made car belched and farted, backfiring as it lurched and jerked, missing and sputtering, choking on its own fuel as it climbed the steep hill. Bob could see the sunlight glinting off the chrome of the chopper just ahead. So many thoughts ran through his mind as it came into view. Should he just ram the bike and try to knock it over, driving the car through while it was still running, or should he risk stopping the little car and hoping it stayed running while he tried to push the bike out of the way and making a hole large enough for the Jetta to get through? And if the Jetta got through, was the shoulder solid enough for him to drive the car the rest of the way to the ranger station?

As Bob approached the bike, he realized, the chopper was far too large for him to even consider knocking over with the car. Even if he could, he couldn’t actually drive over it! He pulled the Jetta up to the bike and put it into PARK. Why the car began running like crap, he didn’t know. Maybe somehow the car formed a Vulcan mind-meld with him and decided since he was half a step from death, the car needed to be, too. Who knew?

As Bob opened the door to step out, the Jetta farted real loud, backfired, and then died. So did his hopes of ever starting it again as steam began shooting from the radiator. Bob fell back into the seat and turned the key, looking for a temperature gauge. Nope. He looked for an idiot light. He saw where one was supposed to be, but…even when he turned the key and all the other lights came on, the TEMP light didn’t glow. Great! he thought. I just burned up the only transportation I had, plus I just backtracked probably three-quarters of a mile. Bob stepped from the car and approached the bike. Maybe…nope. No keys. He wasn’t that lucky. And since Bob hadn’t been trained in the fine art of grand theft auto or horse thievery, he was sort of fucked.

For shits and giggles, he pushed the bike out of the way and got back in the Jetta. “Please start,” he mumbled. He turned the key and heard a grinding noise. “Well, farfegnugen!” he yelled. “Ya little piece of shit.” He pounded the dash and wished he hadn’t. The dash was much more solid than the plastic looked.

Bob crawled out from car and began trudging back down the steep hill. “I don’t suppose one of you fuckers want to volunteer to take me down there, do you?” he asked the line of cars. None stepped out of line. Apparently, they’d all been in the military at some point in their mechanical lives. “That’s what I figured.”

As the sun rose, the tall trees ensured there was no breeze. Bob suddenly felt very warm, the thick paste forming in his mouth making his tongue feel three sizes larger. He could feel his feet dragging along the dusty road, and although he was still checking door handles, he had long since given up hope.

He remembered reading an old western book where a fella had got caught in the desert and his mouth had gotten so dry… The fellow had bitten his tongue to force his mouth to water. Bob tried it and cursed the writer of the book for being a damned liar. All he got was a bit tongue, and, he was almost certain, a bug in his mouth from having his tongue stuck out. And the worst part was, if it was a bug, he couldn’t work up any spit to get rid of it. Whatever the gritty bit was, it would just have to stay trapped to the sticky stuff until he could find real water to rinse his mouth.

Bob paused on more than one occasion when he thought he heard something in the woods. He’d listen intently for a bit until he was certain that nothing was moving, then trudge on again. More than once, he heard gunshots in the distance. Once he thought that maybe they were firing at him, but no puffs of dust around him assured him he wasn’t the intended target.

It seemed to take forever before he came to the rolled pickup that caused him to have to backtrack. He stood and looked at the truck for a moment, wishing he could roll the damned thing back over and use it. He could see the keys right there in the ignition. So what if the truck was bent like a pretzel. He was almost certain it would start. It had keys…why wouldn’t it? With a muttered curse and a slow kick to the tailgate, Bob trudged past it and continued his journey. He checked doors and sunroofs, tapped windows and rear doors of SUVs. Eventually, he came to a minivan, and, without thinking, he pulled the door handle and it popped open as he continued staggering by.

Bob paused and turned his head slightly. Was he seeing things in his exhausted state? He stared at the door, slightly ajar. Nope. It was open. He turned back to the van and pulled the door open even wider. It actually felt cooler inside. He noted that the car was sitting in the shade, whereas he had been walking in the sun.

Duh.

Bob chuckled slightly to himself and slid open the side door. He rifled through the interior and didn’t find anything promising. “Son of a…,” he began, then paused. A glimpse of white plastic in the rear of the minivan stopped him. “What is this?” he asked himself as he climbed onto the backseat, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. Bob pulled the ice chest closer to him and felt a thrill as he realized there was something in it!

He flipped the lid up and…Glory Be! Tears tried to run down his cheek, but his eyes couldn’t really form them. There, floating in a slurry of mostly melted ice, sat sodas, an unopened package of bologna, a bottle of mustard, and a soggy loaf of bread.

Bob shuffled around to the rear of the minivan and opened the rear hatch. He sat down heavily in the back and turned the ice chest toward him. Pulling a small chunk of ice, he sucked on it as he popped open a lemon lime soda and drank greedily. It was so cold it gave him a brain freeze.

It hurt so good.

Bob was nearly giddy as he pulled the partially soggy loaf of bread from the cooler and began building a very basic, but quite awesome sandwich.

As he sat in the back of the van eating, he glanced around the interior of the car. If this thing came standard with a machine gun and a spare set of keys, he’d think he had died and gone to heaven.

Bob couldn’t find the machine gun anywhere. He did, however, find a set of keys, but none that fit the van. Probably to an office or an apartment somewhere. He continued to dig and found the tire tool. It was light, had an almost pointed end and a large lug wrench on the other. Handy defensive tool. As long as the other person you were going against didn’t have a gun. Or a knife. Or a crossbow. Or hell…a baseball bat. Bob shrugged. It beat having his dick in his hand, and that was all he had before he found the tire tool. He wasn’t going to bitch.

He dug around a little bit more and pulled out a Dora backpack. He stared at it a little bit before shaking his head and shoving it full of sodas and the bologna. He crammed as much of the dry bread as he could fit into it and slung it over his shoulder. “Say map!” he chuckled as he stepped away from the van. He stopped and stared at his reflection in the tinted side window of the van. “Damn, Bob…you’re losing your mind,” he muttered. “But you do look good in a Dora pack.” He tapped the window with the tire tool in salute to himself and trudged off.

“Time to make some soldiers pay.”

“What the hell is he doing out there?” Hatcher said as he continued to steal glances out the window.

“Hatcher?” Candy whispered from the rear of the center. “What’s he doing?”

“He’s on some kind of phone.” Hatcher continued staring out the window. “He keeps watching those guys by the truck, then talking to someone.”

“You think Chappell knows what’s going on?” Candy raised her voice a little.

Hatcher shook his head. “No idea.”

He chanced a glance toward the office. It was unusually quiet back there. He contemplated making a run back there and checking on her, but he didn’t want to miss a chance at Vickers as soon as he came through the door. Hatch gritted his teeth as visions of Mitch again shot across his eyes. He could feel the warm blood oozing out over his hand and it made him want to wet himself. He could feel the crunch of bone in the joints of his hand all over again and it made his stomach turn. Hatcher didn’t know why his brain was doing this to him, but it was more than he could stand right now. He didn’t need this. It was too hard to deal with without replaying it over and over.

His ears picked up the sound of grit being ground between heel and concrete and he cast a glance through the window again. Vickers was walking up to the door, stepping up the concrete steps leading to the center. Hatcher spun around and flattened himself behind the door, ready to spring into action.

Vickers entered the center with a spring in his step, ready to begin packing out the office and preparing to depart. They had little time to call back the dogs and watch the show, then swoop in and act the part of the heroes. He never saw the figure that stepped from the shadows and brought the butt of the rifle down on the back of his neck, turning out the lights.

“Did you get him?” Candy asked as she stepped tentatively out from the rear of the center.

Hatcher stood over the man, debating on finishing him while he was down. Although he wanted to make him pay for what he had to do to Mitch, he knew deep in his gut he couldn’t tie Mitch’s death to Vickers. Not really. He blew out a hard breath and finally met Candy’s gaze. “I got him.”

Vickers groaned from the floor and tried to roll over. “We better tie him up,” she said as she marched across the center. She turned quickly back toward the children. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Hatcher jogged to the office and grabbed the chair across from his desk. It was only then that he saw Maggie taped up in the corner. He could tell from the tears that she already knew Mitch’s fate. He paused only momentarily before he grabbed the other chair and dragged it out to the floor.

Candy was waiting with the roll of duct tape and the two made quick work of securing the colonel to the solid wooden chair. “If he can worm his way out of that, just shoot his ass,” Candy muttered.

Hatcher was reminded of an insect trapped in a cocoon when he looked at the colonel taped to the chair. Not much more than his eyes, nose, and salt and pepper hair was exposed. “That’s gonna hurt like a bitch when it’s ripped off.” He smiled.

“It’s supposed to,” she said, tossing the empty roll aside. “So now what do we do with him?”

Hatcher poked him with the barrel of his rifle. “We wake him up. Make him call off his soldiers.” He poked a little harder and Vickers barely grunted, his head lolling slightly to the side, propped by the taping that Candy had performed.

“What if he won’t?” She tried to keep the children from hearing.

“He will,” Hatcher said, his teeth grinding. “Or I’ll shoot his damned kneecaps out.” He turned the gun around and brought the butt down hard across the man’s knee.

Vickers eyes shot open and he tried to scream, the tape holding his mouth shut. He breathed hard through his nose as he took in his surroundings.

“Well, good morning, colonel,” Hatcher said, venom dripping from his voice. “Nice of you to join us.”

Vickers’ eyes settled on the man, and it was obvious he was having a bit of trouble focusing. He blinked a few times, then mumbled something. “What?” Hatcher asked, mocking him. “Oh, you have something right here…” Hatcher reached across and ripped the tape from his mouth.

Vickers fought not to yell as the tape removed the outer layer of skin. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Easy there, old dog,” Hatcher warned. “Or the tape goes back, and I let her rip it off again just for smiles.”

“Yeah, and I’ll keep ripping it off until your face comes off with it,” Candy threatened.

“First things first,” Hatcher began. “We need you to call off your dogs.”

“Yeah, and then you need to give me back my damned MU!” Candy barked.

“Your what?” Vickers was honestly puzzled.

“My Mobile Unit!” Candy yelled. “The damned trailer you stole. The one you’re planning to do all your experiments in.” She gave him a knowing look and dared him to deny it.

Vickers eyes widened. “How long was I out? Where is Major Chappell? Where are my men?”

“We’re the ones asking questions here, buster!” Candy stepped in front of him. “You’re the one answering them!”

“How long was I out?” Vickers nearly screamed.

“Just a few minutes,” Hatcher replied. “Just long enough for us to secure you to the chair.” He got close to Vickers’ face, “Why?” He tapped him with the barrel of his M4. “You got some place you need to be?”

Vickers began struggling against his bindings, “We have to get out of here,” he nearly shouted. “I need to see Major—”

“Why?” Hatcher yelled, forcefully pushing the barrel of the rifle under his chin. “What the hell is going on here, Vickers?”

Vickers continued to struggle, ignoring Hatcher and his threats. He knew that if anybody were within miles of the strike zones, the concussion alone would turn their insides to jelly. Trees, buildings, vehicles, basically anything above ground would be subject to terrible pressures and the resulting vacuum, followed by fire. Lots and lots of fire. The thought of being shot in the head would be much more preferable to being on the outer fringe of the blast zone of any of the bombs headed their way.

“I’m not asking you again, Vickers,” Hatcher said as he chambered a round in the M4. Vickers stared at the man with stoic anger. Hatcher stood and pushed away from him. He lowered the barrel to the man’s crotch and let it hover in silent threat. He dragged the barrel along his taped thigh and settled it at the man’s kneecap. “Maybe if I just started shooting off pieces of you?” Hatcher’s tone was quiet and evil, visions of Mitch falling to the ground tightening his finger on the trigger.

Vickers watched the man’s eyes and his breath quickened. He thought he knew the man that stood before him—or at least men like him—but he saw something change in his eyes just as he placed the barrel to his knee. Vickers knew without a doubt that the man standing before him would do it. Not only would he do it, he’d enjoy it. He blamed him somehow for what was happening here, he could sense it. Panic rose up, gripping him by the throat like a vise and he tried to raise his hands in protest, only to be reminded once more of being bound.

“Wait!” His eyes round with panic. “Wait, wait, wait…” Vickers stammered.

Hatcher slowly took his eyes from the man’s knee and met his gaze. “You’d better be truthful.”

Vickers swallowed air as he considered trying to lie, but his mind raced. He knew if Hatcher sensed a lie, he’d shoot him. Vickers couldn’t escape if he were wounded, there’d be no time to call for a medevac. If he told the truth, he might shoot him, anyway. Perhaps a hybrid of the truth…

“There are bombs on the way,” he nearly whispered.

“There’s what?” Hatch nearly yelled.

“The Pentagon…we can’t contain the infected…” Vickers was shaking his head. “They’re too scattered. We can’t stop them. If they reach populated areas…” His eyes probed Hatcher’s, hoping he’d see reason. “They’re sending conventional bombs. BIG conventionals. Flatten the areas where we can find them. Pray to contain it. I was about to call in my people,” Vickers spoke in short sentences, rapidly, hoping the urgency would get through to them. “We have to pull out before the bombs get here. Then we come back and clean up any stragglers.”

“You can’t just blow up a national park!”

Vickers hung his head as much as the tape would allow. “You can when there’s a volcano under it,” he said quietly. “They’re planning to blame it on volcanic activity.” He suddenly lifted his head and stared at Hatcher, “I couldn’t stop it if I tried. It’s already been decided. The bombs are coming. Standing here threatening me isn’t going to stop them.”

“Call them and tell them to cancel it,” Candy yelled. “We may still have people out there.”

“Are you not listening to me?” Spittle flew from his thin lips. “Stupid cow, I can’t!”

Candy’s eyes widened as she stepped forward, backhanding him. “You need to learn some manners.”

Vickers glared at her, opened his mouth to fire back a retort when Hatcher snapped his fingers, gaining his attention. “How soon?”

Vickers glared at him, his lip curling in disgust. “Less than an hour. Depends on the time and how long I was out.”

Hatcher sighed and nodded Candy toward the office. “Go let the major loose. Something tells me we’re going to need her help.”

She sighed and marched toward the office, her distrust of the Army officers evident in her behavior. Hatcher turned his attention back to Vickers. “How do I know you aren’t just playing us?” His jaw clenched with the desire to cave the man’s head in.

Vickers did his best to shrug. “Tell ya what, Ranger Rick. Wheel me out by the chopper, key the radio long enough for me to call back my troops. I’ll be more than happy to load everybody up and leave Jellystone Park. You and your happy clan of cave bears can stay here and play hopscotch until the next batch of tourists come cruising in to see the sights,” Vickers offered with more than a mouthful of malice. “I really don’t give two shits what you and yours do. But I’d really like to get off the top of this hill before the fires of hell get dropped on top of my head.”

Hatcher stared at the man a moment, then slowly pulled his knife from his pocket. He folded open the blade with his thumb and felt a satisfying click when it locked. For the slightest of moments, he could almost see himself pulling the blade against the loose skin of Vickers thin throat, but held himself. Instead, he walked behind the man and began cutting the tape that held him to the chair.

“No more tricks. No more bullshit.”

“No more tricks,” Vickers agreed. “Just get off this fucking mountain before it’s too late.” Vickers was already devising a plan on how to turn the tables on Hatcher once his Ghost warriors returned to base. Perhaps add him and the cow deputy to the fold of civilian test subjects.

“Where’s Mitch?” Maggie asked as she stumbled out of the office, rubbing her wrists where the tape had been bound too tightly.

Hatcher turned a solemn eye and noted her tear-streaked face. It took him back she might actually care about his friend. He motioned toward the rear of the center and she brushed past him without speaking.

“What is she carrying on about?” Vickers asked as he peeled the tape off his lower body.

“One of ours was bitten while we were waiting for you to drag your sorry ass back here. Had to put him down. She knew him.”

“Really?” Vickers said absently. “Somehow I find that hard to believe. Major Chappell runs in select circles,” he commented as he finished pulling tape off his ankles.

“Yeah?” Hatcher felt his blood beginning to boil. “Well, Mitch Richardson was a pretty damn ‘select’ person if you ask me.”

Vickers paused and glanced at Hatcher. “Richardson?” He sat up in the chair, balls of tape still in his hand. “Large black man? Staff sergeant, I believe. I think I remember him.” He tilted his head and nodded slightly. “Yes. I believe he was with Alpha Company. Second Battalion, Fifth Group out of Fort Campbell.”

“He was my friend,” Hatcher replied softly.

Vickers stared at him for a moment and nodded slightly, “You’re a better man having known him.”

Hatcher didn’t know why, but it angered him just having Vickers mention him. If he knew Mitch, why didn’t Mitch say anything about knowing Vickers? Maybe Mitch didn’t remember him? Maybe Vickers was one of those paper pushers who simply sent men off on missions, never expecting them to return? Maybe Mitch was one of those men who returned when he wasn’t supposed to? Whatever the situation, he really didn’t want Vickers talking about him anymore.

He was just about to warn the man off when Candy rounded the corner, her eyes wide. “Hatch. We have a problem.” Her face was pale and her hands were trembling.

Hatcher knew that whatever the problem was, it had to be bad. He took off after her and when he came around to the back of the center, he saw Maggie standing over Mitch’s body, shaking her head. The problem, though, was obvious. The back door was standing wide open. “Who…” Hatcher began.

“Buck is gone,” Candy said.

The blood in Bill’s veins froze when the words flowed from little Jason’s lips. “Watch out for the Army mans,” he warned. “They bite.”

He felt his guts twist and his asshole tightened as the words hit his ears. He simply looked into those little eyes and nodded, a lopsided grin crossing his face. “No worries, squirt,” Bill said. “I’ll keep an eye out for them.”

He slid out of the truck and his eyes darted everywhere. Richard ran to the Hummer parked in front of them and pulled the door open. “No keys.”

“Hop in and put it in neutral,” Bill said. “We’ll push it out of the way.”

Richard climbed into the truck and began looking around the spartan interior. He couldn’t even find a place to put a key, much less…a scream echoed off the rock wall next to the highway and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Richard looked up through the dirty windshield and saw Bill scrambling to get back into the truck. He pulled it up to the front bumper of the Humvee and began pushing the massive truck backward.

Richard held the clutch in and steered the massive truck as best he could. It was nearly impossible at such slow speed and fighting the huge tires. As the Humvee rolled back far enough that the pickup could pass, something solid hit the side of the military vehicle and Richard screamed. Something outside the truck screeched a reply and a bloody face appeared at the window of his door.

Richard scrambled over the transmission tunnel and was trying to open the other door when another face appeared at that window, bloody hands leaving smears across the glass. He looked up through the windshield and saw Bill quickly backing up, away from the Humvee, a zombie in a soldier’s uniform giving chase.

At first, Richard was angry and panicked that Bill could leave him there, abandon him to these…these things. Then he saw the little head in the middle of the cab and he realized, he would do the same thing if it meant saving his grandson.

The zombies outside began beating on the glass, trying their best to break their way into the metal can of lunch. Bill looked around the interior in a panic. Like a fool, he had left his pistol in the pickup. All he had on him was a knife. He slumped back in the seat and looked up to the ceiling to pray, the canvas top of the Humvee flapping lightly in the breeze.

Richard’s heart doubled in rate as he realized that the zombies could tear right through the canvas. But then he realized, so could he. He pulled his hunting knife out and cut a slit in the middle of the top, then stood on the transmission tunnel and slid through the slice in the canvas. He could see Bill up ahead on the road coming back in his direction.

Richard pulled himself through the canvas and dragged himself across the top of the Humvee, the zombies outside jumping and reaching for him every inch of the way. Doing his best to balance himself on the soft canvas top, he waved at Bill while trying to keep the zombies attention on the blocked side of the Hummer.

He stood on the edge of the truck and screamed at the creatures, “Old man Manwich, right here! Come and get it, you big, ugly sons of bitches!” Richard kept stealing glances up the road and waving with his arms, motioning Bill to bring the truck up along the side of the Humvee. “Stay over on this side, you bloody bastards!” Richard swore. “Don’t you screw this up for me, or so help me, I’ll cut your nuts off and wear ’em for a necklace!”

Bill watched from a distance, and it didn’t take him long to figure out what Richard was doing. “Your grandpa’s a gutsy old man, you know it, kiddo?”

He tried his best to roll the truck up toward the blockade as quietly as he could so as not to distract the screaming creatures from Richard’s yelling tirade. It took all of his driving skill to slide the old truck around the one that chased them back up the hill a moment ago and not smash the front end up in the process; he really didn’t want to risk hitting one now.

As he approached the Humvees, one of the creatures spotted the oncoming truck and made a mad dash for them. Bill cursed under his breath and accelerated toward the madman. He tried the same trick as before by pulling into the other lane, fooling the creature into changing its trajectory, then pulling the wheel hard at the last minute, but this time, the zombie hit the front fender, smashing the headlight and taking off the driver’s mirror. The bloody soldier careened off the road and lay in the ditch in a crumpled heap as Bill accelerated toward Richard. He slowed as he approached the Humvee and Richard dove from the top and into the back of the truck.

One of the zombies had come from the back of the blockade and chose that moment to step in front of Bill just as he accelerated, suddenly appearing, then disappearing under the truck. A sickening thud was heard, followed by a series of thumps and bumps as the body was dragged part way down the paved road.

Richard hit the bed of the truck hard and rolled into the ice chest. He wasn’t positive, but he was nearly certain he had cracked a couple of ribs when he impacted with the bed of the truck. Being old really sucked. He rolled onto his back and watched as the blue sky rolled by, white whispers of clouds painting it as though it were any other day. The truck rocked and bumped as Bill continued down the road.

Richard felt it best to just lay there and not try to move for the moment. He really didn’t want to try to stand, only to have Bill jerk the wheel to avoid another zombie and him be pitched over the edge of the bed. After far too short a drive, the truck slowed and Bill opened the door. He bent down and ensured that nothing was under the truck, then leaned over the edge of the bed. “Hey, daredevil, want to ride in the front with the civilized folk?”

Richard groaned and nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess,” he croaked. “I was starting to feel like a sack of potatoes back here.”

Bill helped Richard out of the bed and into the cab. They drove about another half-mile to the sign indicating the highway ahead and the entrance to the park. Bill continued to watch the gauges and shook his head. “We have a problem.”

Richard sighed. “You mean besides everything else that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. What else could go wrong?”

“I think we’re leaking fuel,” Bill said. “Probably when Mister Ugly went for the dive under the truck.”

“Great.” Richard rubbed a hand through his thinning hair.

“How far up the highway to a garage that could maybe fix it?”

“How much do we have left?”

“Between a quarter and half.”

“What did we start with?”

“Nearly full,” Bill replied.

“We’d never make it.”

Bill slowed the truck and turned to him. “What do we do? I grabbed the lawnmower gas, but that won’t get us very far.”

Richard thought for a moment and shook his head. “The only other idea I have will sound crazier than bat shit.” He stopped and looked at Jason who only smiled.

Bill shrugged. “Hit me with it.”

“We go back to the park.”

“I don’t think I heard you right, because it sounded a lot like you said go back to the place we fought like hell to get out of last night.”

Richard nodded. “Yeah, I know. But do you remember all them cars down there? Well, there are a few boats on that lake, too. And on the other side of that lake is another ranger station and they have trucks, and there’s another road. A road that also leads to a highway.”

Bill chuckled to himself. “That’s nuts, but hell, it’s so crazy, it just might work.” He pulled the truck to the intersection and turned left. “To the park we go. Hell, this is where I was headed in the first damned place. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna let a zombie apocalypse destroy MY vacation!” He laughed.

“That’s the spirit!” Jason said.

Bill looked at the boy and smiled. “So, did you get a vision of us making it safe to the other side?”

“Nope,” Jason answered as he played with the radio.

Bill frowned at the boy and finally said, “You know, kid, you really need to work on this whole ‘telling people what they want to hear thing.’”

Buck ran through the woods, tears streaming down his face, until he couldn’t run any farther. He collapsed to the ground, the knife that killed his mother clutched in his hands. He didn’t know why he decided to run, but he knew he couldn’t be there any longer. He couldn’t even hug her goodbye from fear he might catch the same disease that stole her from him in the first place. All he could do was sit next to her naked body and cry like a baby. He couldn’t even cover her nakedness up.

It hadn’t bothered him so much until Skeeter touched him. She had only meant to console him, but for some reason he couldn’t explain, it embarrassed him. She had seen him cry. She’d watched him lose it, right there in front of everybody, and he couldn’t stand to be around them any longer. As soon as their attention was somewhere else, he grabbed the knife from the floor and slipped out the back door.

Buck sat there now, under the canopy of the great evergreens, his breath coming in big gulps as he turned his eyes to the sky. Why did this have to happen? Why did it have to be his family? Why did it have to be his sister? His mom? Why couldn’t this have just been a movie like he used to watch on late night TV with bad actors and even worse special effects? He fell forward and sobbed again, the image of his mom’s filthy naked body laid out on the cold floor of the Visitor’s Center, blood and puss around her head.

He dug his hands into the soft, dark earth and screamed as loud as he could, forcing all of his anger, his angst, his pain into one full outburst. He lay back on the ground, inhaling for yet another, when a scream came echoing back to him in reply from deep in the woods. Suddenly, Buck went stiff. He could feel his body begin to tremble at the realization of what had answered his call, and his breathing came in short and shallow pants. His head frozen, his eyes darted back and forth, trying to spot movement in the shadows of the woods.

Buck slowly rolled to his side and stared off into the woods. He could hear the crashing sound of something moving fast in the trees, branches breaking and feet moving fast. His ears couldn’t quite pinpoint the direction it was coming from or the direction it was going, but it was getting louder. He slowly got to his knees and tilted his head. Closing his eyes, he focused all of his attention on the sound of the creature that crashed in the forest.

He could hear the footfalls growing louder, then…suddenly, they stopped. Buck strained his ears to listen, but he heard nothing. Not even the birds were chirping, and it seemed as if the insects had enough sense to vacate the area. As he concentrated with all of his might to listen, another scream pierced the air and Buck nearly wet himself. The zombie was so close, he feared that any movement on his part would bring the mad creature right to him. He heard movement again, and he was able to get a general direction. Buck glanced around and saw a large tree he might be able to use as a block. Slowly, he got to his feet, and, ever so carefully, he placed one foot in front of the other, slowly lowering each foot until he could lean behind the tree.

Buck concentrated on controlling his breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth…slowly. However, his heart was beating so loudly, he knew that it would give him away. It sounded like a bass drum in his ears. Surely it must be echoing all through the woods.

Another scream cut through the woods and Buck clutched the knife with both hands. Maybe if it found him, he could get a good cut in before it ate him. Maybe he should just go ahead and do himself in before it got a chance to turn him into a zombie like his mother…

The rustling and crashing of feet dashing through the woods startled him, and Buck nearly jumped as the creature came closer. He could feel his body shake as the rustling came closer, then stopped close enough that he could hear whatever it was breathing. He could hear it snuffling the air, snorting, and sniffing as if trying to get a scent of its prey. The creature screamed again, then took off in the direction Buck had come from, using hands and feet to claw its way up the hill as fast as it could.

Buck chanced a glance from behind the tree and saw a man with long hair and tattered clothes scrambling up the hill, his hands throwing debris behind him as he clawed his way up. He slipped from behind the tree and took off in the other direction. He had no idea where he was going, but he wasn’t going to waste any time getting there.

Captain Andrews sat in the back of the transport as the truck bumped and jostled up the dirt road. At one point, they stopped, and a group of the soldiers got out to clear a pickup out of the road that had somehow gotten wedged between two SUVs.

Captain Andrews stood up in the back of the transport and looked over the edge as the men hooked a chain to the heavy front bumper of the truck and pulled it out of the way, then used the same bumper to simply push cars out of the way. The next order of duty was to simply push the pickup off the road as well.

He grunted and sat back down, thinking to never call on these brutes if he ever got his own vehicle stuck. They had all the finesse of a bull in a china shop.

As the truck jerked forward again, Andrews was tossed to the side and found the wooden bench he rode on to be even less comfortable than he remembered before they had stopped. The truck continued its slow, lumbering pace up the mountain road until they eventually passed all of the parked vehicles and had turned off onto another road, continuing the relentless climb upward.

Andrews had a sneaky feeling what Vickers was up to. He was going to use the ultrasonic frequency device and the makeshift amplifier to call all of the infected to one area so that a single gunship could make quick and easy work of them. No more risking soldiers on the ground. Who knew? The gangly bastard might even be on the gunship himself and fire the first rocket propelled grenade into the crowd. Andrews was sure it would give Vickers a thrill to watch the bodies explode into a pink mist as the RPG hit its intended target.

The truck slowed and one of the soldiers in the back hopped over the rear tailgate, unlatching it before the truck came to a complete stop. “Time to unload, Doc,” he said as he dropped the rear gate.

“Here?” Andrews asked, looking about at the deserted area. “We’re at the top of a hill.”

“Yup,” The soldier said dryly. “Keen sense of observation you got. Must be why they pay you the big bucks.”

Andrews bristled and stood erect. “I’m still a captain, corporal,” he seethed. “I would think you could show a little respect.”

The soldier paused and cocked his head in thought. “You’d think, wouldn’t ya?” he grinned just before he began pulling the crates from the back of the truck. Three more soldiers appeared from the front and began unloading the rest of the crates.

“We’re on a clock here, Doctor Andrews.” A very large sergeant major directed the men where to stack the crates. “Care to begin?”

Andrews huffed and began wiring up the amplifier. As he plugged the amplifier into the ultrasonic frequency device, he would occasionally glance at the soldiers who were setting up a containment fence around him. “What are you doing?”

“Setting up an electric fence around the device. The colonel doesn’t want them creatures getting to it and messing with it. Maybe accidentally turning it off before they’re all called up here,” the sergeant major replied.

Andrews nodded, but it still made him uneasy. He worked as quickly as he could, totally aware they were in the open. He connected the lithium ion battery pack to the amplifier and flipped on the controller.

As the LED indicators came up, he mumbled to himself and nodded, “Good. The batteries at full charge. We should have at least twelve hours’ worth here.”

He tested the cable connections once more and flipped on the device. Almost immediately, a scream was heard nearby. One of the soldiers dropped to his knee and brought his rifle to the ready. He scanned the nearby trees as Andrews adjusted the controls. Andrews glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t shoot it. I can use its response to fine tune this.”

“What if it comes at us?”

“Don’t shoot!” Andrews yelled back. He adjusted the knob and the screaming intensified. Something large could be heard crashing through the woods toward them, and the soldiers became antsy. Andrews continued to adjust the frequency generator. “Almost got it.”

The creature was increasing its speed as it approached, and the soldier tightened his rifle to his shoulder, ready to fire on whatever broke through the woods and came into the clearing. Andrews fine-tuned the dials then stood. “There, I think that’s it.”

Everyone near the device stood silently, listening for the creature and its approaching footsteps. The screaming had stopped and the rapid advance had ceased. No more sounds of breaking limbs or feet crashing through the woods came at them. Andrews turned to the sergeant major and indicated the barrier. “You might want to finish that. There will be more coming.”

The man simply nodded and prodded his men to step up the pace. They finished connecting the panels together, slipped the rubberized blocks under each side of the panels, and then connected the wires to the battery pack via its own transformer. When Andrews flipped the switch for it, one of the men tossed a stick against the barrier and sparks flew.

Satisfied their task was complete, the sergeant major ordered all gear packed up. Andrews watched the men load the crates back into the truck as a lone infected man stepped from the edge of the woods and lumbered slowly toward them. He made no aggressive moves and seemed almost happy to be finding his way to the sound generator.

Andrews watched as one of the soldiers, excited at the sight of the bloody man, pulled his rifle and was about to fire. “Hold your fire! I need to observe his reactions,” he said as he placed his hand atop the man’s rifle and gently pulled it down.

The infected man walked right past the soldier and around the heavy transport truck. He walked toward the generator as if in a daze, his red eyes almost glowing in the daylight. He moaned low in his throat as he approached the barrier and when his hand hit the electrified barrier, the shock knocked him back and to the ground. He sat there a moment, unsure of exactly what had happened, but sure he didn’t want it to happen again. He looked at his hand and the black burn mark on it. The infected man pulled himself to his feet and walked back to the barrier. This time he simply stood there, swaying gently as if listening to a slow song.

The sergeant major in charge of the outing came up beside Andrews. “I’ll be a son-of-a-bitch. He isn’t the slightest bit interested in us.”

Andrews smiled as he stared at the subject. “No, he’s not,” he replied. “And did you see what he did after he got bit by the fence? He didn’t try a second time.”

The sergeant major checked his watch and patted the doc on the shoulder. “We need to go. Time’s wasting.”

“Are you sure?” Andrews asked. “I’d really like to get some samples while we’re here.” The sergeant major was already pulling him back toward the truck. “I promise, they’re as docile as a kitten.”

“Kittens have claws, Doc. Time to go,” the man said as he pushed him toward the back of the truck. “Load up.”

Andrews lowered his head and sighed. Nobody understood the sacrifices that science demanded these days.

Chapter 10

Bob had watched as a truck full of soldiers drove by while he hid in a bush. He could hear them over the next rise, probably screwing with that damned pickup that blocked the road. He debated on turning back and following them, but, good grief! As big as this stupid park was, there was no telling where they’d end up going. With all of the side roads and possible outlets, he could walk for days and still never find them. He knew better. His strength was just beginning to return, but there was no way he could catch a truck while he was on foot, and if he did, what would he do? He was armed with a tire tool and a Dora backpack filled with warm sodas. He decided to keep working his way back down toward the ranger station and hope to either find help or take a couple of the bastards out with him. Maybe if he was lucky, he could run into some real weapons along the way.

Bob tried to stay to the brush along the side of the road and out of eyesight. If one truck was moving along the roadways, there could easily be more. He may not have much advance notice if another came along and was moving faster. Or if one of those damned helicopters buzzed him. He glanced skyward and stared up through the canopy. He hadn’t seen or heard any this morning and wondered if they had quit, or were simply working another part of the park. It didn’t matter. They could be back at any time.

As Bob trudged along, he did his best to keep his wits about him. He tried to stop every once in a while and check out the area he was in. Scan the woods with his eyes and ears to make sure nothing was sneaking up on him.

The going was slow and the progress even slower. Bob tired easily, and he knew it was from his shoulder wound. He wasn’t entirely stupid. He knew that his blood loss, lack of sleep, and the high altitude were all playing a part in him being one step up from a slug. But he was a slug with self-righteous rage. Rage fueled by the senseless killing of his teenage daughter, and he was determined to have his pound of flesh.

Bob paused and pulled the backpack off for a drink. He pulled a soda from the back and popped the tab, listening to the satisfying hiss and fizz of the soda as he leaned against a tree. The fizz continued far longer than expected and slowly increased in volume to a growl. It took Bob a moment to realize he was hearing the truck return. He took a long pull from the soda and drank as much of the liquid as he could, letting the carbonation burn his throat before he tossed the can aside and stole a glance around the tree he was using as cover. The large truck came lumbering down the road again, this time slowing as it neared him.

Bob feared he hadn’t found a good enough hiding place until he watched the truck pass him and finally stop a mere hundred yards away. Bob lowered himself to the ground and peered underneath the brush along the road. He was so close to the ranger station, but…it wasn’t a ranger station anymore. Now it was some kind of military complex with tents and military vehicles scattered about. There weren’t very many people milling about. Perhaps they were all out in the woods hunting the zombies?

Bob slipped back into the woods and continued toward the compound. As he drew closer, he went from tree to tree, doing his best to remain concealed. He watched from cover as the men in the truck unloaded the last of a few crates and stacked them near a large white tent. Then the soldiers scattered, with most going to a large green tent and disappearing from view. Bob stayed low and watched for any kind of roving security. He didn’t see any perimeter guards, and he didn’t notice any kind of security systems. Something seemed hokey about the whole thing.

He started to step out into the clear when he heard voices approaching. Muttering a curse under his breath, Bob slipped back into the woods and hid behind the largest tree he could find. He waited as the two uniformed men strolled by, security the least of their worries. They would walk a bit, stop, talk, walk a bit farther, stop, and talk some more. Bob lay in wait, hoping that they would come close enough for him to brain one of them hard enough with the tire tool to end his miserable existence. One good strike across the back of the neck should do it. If the other one got him, well…so be it.

He tried not to think about how much his legs hurt as he lay crouched in the shadows and waited for the soldiers to get close enough for him to possibly strike. He shifted his weight slightly, trying to regain circulation to his feet when the two soldiers’ attention shifted. They both turned, their rifles coming to their shoulders. Neither soldier fired, and one finally chuckled, tapping his partner. Bob couldn’t see what had them so enraptured, so he risked standing. He looked beyond the soldiers and saw the zombie creatures slowly approaching the compound. They weren’t acting crazed, nor were they screaming. They weren’t sprinting or running. They were simply…walking. They didn’t look totally enraged, either. Bob stood there a moment and took in the sight of the two soldiers chuckling while the zombies slowly approached.

He stepped out of the clearing and slowly walked up behind the two soldiers as they intently watched the approaching creatures. Although they kept their rifles on them, neither soldier had his finger on the trigger…as if they knew the zombies wouldn’t attack. Bob didn’t know why this made him so angry, but it did.

He hefted the tire tool and brought it down in an angry arc across the nearest soldier’s neck where it attached to his shoulder. The reverberations through his hand and arm nearly caused him to lose his grip on the tire tool, but Bob stepped into the second soldier and swung upward as the man turned toward him, a shocked expression painted across his face. The lug wrench end of the tool caught him right under the front of his jaw, and the sickening crunch told Bob that if the man woke up, he was going to need some serious dental work.

Bob stepped back and admired his work for a moment. He smiled at himself as the tire tool slipped from his hands. He reached down and removed the rifle from the first man he had dropped and pulled a spare magazine from his belt. Slipping the magazine into his pocket, Bob began shambling toward the zombies as they came shambling toward him. He leveled the rifle at them, but their eyes never fell upon him. They were staring off into the distance as their feet carried them to whatever Fate had in store for them.

Bob stopped and stared at them as they shambled by. People of all shapes and sizes came crawling from the surrounding woods to fall into the silent compound. Some had horrendous wounds that were beginning to fester, some had bad cuts and scrapes. Some looked perfectly normal, other than a few smears of dirt and unkempt hair. Well, that and the blood-red eyes.

Bob shook his head as he watched them all shamble out of the compound and up the road he had just come down. It was if they were in a trance. He took a chance and stepped in front of one, his rifle at the ready, but the creature simply stepped aside and continued on its path.

“Pardon me,” Bob said, a smile forming as he turned and watched them go.

Bob stood a moment longer, watching them, his eyes scanning the group, but he didn’t see her. He knew the odds of her being with this group were pretty small. Of the hundreds, if not thousands that were present at the park, going by the cars abandoned along the roads, Lucky could be anywhere.

Bob turned and looked at the ranger station. He may not have a clue what the hell was going on out here, but he was willing to bet there was a phone in there.

Hatcher bolted out the back door and stood on the cement landing. His eyes scanned the woods, but he didn’t see any sign of the boy. He cupped his hands to his mouth to yell the boy’s name, when he heard a scream off in the distance. Hatcher paused. If he yelled, he’d just attract more of the infected here for them to deal with. One look at Mitch would tell you how well that works out. And if there were infected that close, Buck couldn’t yell back even if he heard him.

Slowly, Hatcher lowered his hands and sighed. As much as he hated to admit defeat, there wasn’t anything he could do.

Candy came up beside him, her eyes pleading. “You have to find him, Hatch!”

Hatcher shook his head. “Where would I start?” He waved his hands out toward the woods. “It’s only a couple million acres out there. I have no idea which way he went.”

She grabbed his arm and squeezed. “He’s just a little boy.” Candy pulled Hatcher around and stared at him. Her eyes were overflowing. “We’ve lost too many already. Can’t you do something?”

Hatcher squared his shoulder and stared deeply into her eyes. His gaze told her how much he wished he could. “Candy,” he began softly. “I have no way to begin. With all of the infected tromping around back here, I can’t track him. I have no way of knowing which tracks are his and which are…” he trailed off, his eyes breaking away. Hatcher pointed off into the woods. “I was about to yell for him when a screamer called out. If I yell now, they’ll come running for us. If he tried to yell back, they’ll know right where he is.” Hatch shook his head. “I hate to say it, but…there’s nothing I can do.”

Candy felt her chest tighten as she realized that Buck would be left on his own against ungodly odds. She felt herself begin to sob even as she tried to hold it back. She fell into Hatcher’s arms and buried her face in his chest. “He’s too little.”

“I know,” he whispered.

“If anybody can survive out there, it’s Buck,” Skeeter said softly, taking Candy’s hand. Candy sniffed back her tears and wiped at her face. She had to put on a brave face for Skeeter if nothing else. She stared down at her freckled nose and tried to smile. “Try not to worry about him, Candy. He’s tougher than he looks.”

Candy nodded and pulled the young girl to her. “You’re pretty tough yourself, you know that?”

“Not so much,” Skeeter said as Candy led her away from the door. “It was Buck that kept us going through all this.”

Hatcher took one more long look out the door before he pushed it shut. He turned the deadbolt in place and leaned against it, sighing as he stared down at Maggie, still clutching Mitch’s hand.

“We need to get ready to go,” Hatch said mechanically. “Vickers says they’re sending bombs to flatten this place.”

Maggie lifted her red-rimmed eyes and stared at him. “What?”

“Vickers said…” Hatcher paused and stared at her. “Wait, how did you know something happened to Mitch, but you didn’t hear any of my conversation with Vickers? We were right by the door?”

“I could hear you and Mitch talking. You were practically yelling after the fight with the infected and…” she choked back a sob. “Afterward, I just sort of…” she turned away.

“You what?” Hatcher demanded.

“I stopped caring. I didn’t give a damn what Vickers had to say,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t care about any of this.”

Hatcher paused, his anger quelled. He saw the depths of her feelings for Mitch now. Apparently, her flirting with him was sincere, and his oversized buddy just didn’t know how to take it. Hatcher stepped toward her and scooped her from the floor.

“We need to go,” he whispered in her ear.

Maggie went limp when Hatcher first lifted her, but she soon found her legs. He helped her to the office where Vickers was throwing files into a satchel and violently shoved a file cabinet out of the way. “Where’s my briefcase?”

Hatcher reached into his shirt and pulled out the files he had stolen from the metal case. “Looking for these?”

Vickers eyes grew wide and he reached out with a claw-like hand. “Those are Classified!”

“These are our insurance policies.”

Vickers narrowed his gaze. “Those may well be your death warrants.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Hatcher stepped out of Vickers’ reach. “If we make it out of here alive, then you get your classified orders back.”

“And what’s to stop me from simply having my men mow you down and taking them?” Vickers asked, a wicked smile crossing his features.

“The fact you don’t know if this is all of it or not.” Hatcher replied, stuffing them back into his shirt. “Play nice and you’ll find out.”

Vickers growled low in his throat, but continued stuffing his papers into the satchel. “The chopper will be here shortly.”

“As long as it’s big enough for all of us.” Candy waved her pistol at the entire crowd.

“It is.” Vickers sneered at the woman.

“Good,” Candy replied. “Because I’d hate to have to throw your ass out over the top of the mountain to save on weight.”

“Oh, my God!” Maggie breathed.

“What?” Hatcher stepped closer to see what was wrong. “Is something…” he felt his own breath catch in his throat. “Oh, my God.”

They stood at the window and watched as dozens of zombies came walking past the center. They strode right past the doors and windows and through the parking lot. From all sides of the compound they stepped out of the woods and into the clearing of the compound and began following the road out from the station and into the park.

“What the hell is going on?” Hatcher spun on Vickers.

Vickers stepped past him to the window and smiled. “It would appear that they have their…sound…thing turned on.”

Candy turned to him and stared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Vickers ignored her as he stepped back into the office. “It’s a device that attracts the infected. Makes them docile. Eases their pain. Or, that’s what Captain Andrews claims. Attracts them like a moth to a flame.”

“Where the hell are they going?” Hatcher asked.

“I had my men take it to a clearing at the top of a rise a few miles back into the park. Up near some hot springs,” Vickers replied. “They congregate up there in one big bunch so that when the bombs come, they’re all together.”

“You ordered the bombs, didn’t you?” Hatcher asked, already knowing the answer.

“The Pentagon ordered the bombing,” Vickers lied. “I simply saw it as an opportunity to help in—”

“Bullshit!” Hatcher yelled, advancing on the man. “You did this, didn’t you?” Hatcher grabbed the thin man and went to throw him against the wall of the office, but Vickers spun, used Hatcher’s own weight against him, and threw him to the floor, using his foot against his throat to hold him there.

“Ranger,” Vickers said softly, “you can either use this opportunity to come with me and save yourself and your people, or you can stay here and die.”

Hatcher grabbed at Vickers’ ankle and tried to twist him off him, but the man was much stronger than he appeared. Vickers leaned down and reached inside Hatcher’s shirt, removing the files. He flipped them open and thumbed through them.

“As I suspected, they’re all complete.” He scowled at Hatcher as he slipped them into the satchel.

“Let him go,” Candy said quietly. She pulled the hammer back on her pistol just before she pressed it tightly against the temple of Vickers’ skull. “I’m not going to ask twice.”

Vickers lifted his foot and Hatcher rolled away, choking and gasping. “Well played.” Vickers nodded to Deputy Olson.

“You’re still a dick.” She backed up and allowed Hatcher a chance to get to his feet.

Hatcher stood, hands rubbing his throat. “You,” he coughed. “You ordered that bombing, didn’t you?”

“Would it make a difference if I had?” Vickers asked, avoiding answering. “It can’t be stopped either way.”

“I knew you were a liar.” Hatcher stepped out of the office.

“Perhaps,” Vickers called after him. “But I’m a liar that is going to save your life.”

Candy stepped away from the office door and trotted after Hatcher. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” Hatcher replied.

Bill drove the truck toward the park, his anxiety level increasing with every mile. He kept staring at the gas gauge and praying they made it. “We’ll have to go through the concert area and all those campgrounds again, won’t we?”

“No, there’s a boat ramp turnout up ahead. You bypass all of that,” Richard said, pointing. “It goes to a deeper part of the lake with a concrete boat ramp that’s away from where all the tourists go to swim.”

Bill raised his brows and nodded. “You mean we might actually catch a break here?”

Richard shrugged. “Maybe.”

As they reached the bottom of a hill, Bill saw the sign for the boat ramp and turned down the road. The gas gauge dipped dangerously low and Richard pointed him toward another turnoff. “That’s a short cut.”

Bill turned off on it and they quickly emerged at a parking lot with a dozen or more trucks with trailers, many with boats still on them. “That’s eerie,” Bill said softly as they drove through the line of trucks.

Not a single person could be seen. More than one vehicle had a smear of something brown along the side of it that both men knew to be blood.

“Keep your eyes open,” Richard said.

Bill pulled the truck over to the loading ramp. A truck and trailer still sat in the water, the boat to be loaded or unloaded nowhere in sight. “Well, damn, I guess that would have been too easy, huh?”

“We could check the boats in the parking lot. See if any of them have keys. Maybe hook them to this and unload them in the water.”

“We’re about out of gas.”

“You got the lawnmower gas, right?”

Bill nodded, but he just wasn’t comfortable with the idea of trying to find a boat, then manually dragging the trailer over to another truck. “What about the dock?”

Richard shrugged. “It’s on the other side of the parking area.” Bill turned the truck around and they drove across the gravel to the dock area. The truck began to sputter and died just a few yards short. “Well. If there isn’t one on the dock, I guess we’ll have to use the mower gas.”

Bill stepped out of the truck and slipped his pistol into his pants. He walked to the concrete steps and peered down to the dock. He turned to Richard and gave him a thumbs-up. “There’s two of them down there. Let’s hope one of them has keys.”

The three of them walked down the long flight of steps to the floating dock, eyes constantly scanning for zombies. Richard had the creepy feeling that something was watching them, but he hadn’t even heard a bird call. The first boat they reached had a set of keys, but it was awfully small. Bill considered trying to cross the lake in such a small craft and was getting motion sickness just thinking about it. The other was a much larger, twenty-three foot pleasure craft with an open bow.

Bill stepped onboard and there weren’t any keys in it. He hung his head and turned to Richard. “I guess we’re going in the U.S.S. Upchuck.”

Richard hopped onto the larger craft. “Not everybody keeps their keys in the ignition.” He reached across to the passenger seat and opened the boat equivalent of a glove box. Presto! One set of keys, complete with a floating key ring.

“Oh, thank God,” Bill said. He looked at Richard. “Do we go back and start huffing all of our stuff down here?”

Richard cocked his head as he thought. “Not all of it. Just the cooler.”

The two men went back up to the truck and grabbed the cooler and the small bag with extra ammunition.

Just in case.

Jason stayed behind to guard the boat.

Just in case.

When they returned, Richard started the motor while Bill cast off the lines. “She’s got a full tank,” Richard said. “It will take a little over half of it to get to the other side. Once we get into the deeper water, we can set course and just let her cruise.”

Bill smiled. “Thank God zombies can’t swim.”

Richard nodded. “No joke,” he agreed as he goosed the accelerator lever forward and steered the boat away from the dock.

Jason sat in the front of the boat and stared out across the lake. He turned back and stared into the sky, then back across the lake. He sat back down and frowned. Something bad was coming. He looked at his grandfather and Bill. They seemed so happy. What was it Bill had said? Something about telling people what they wanted to hear? Jason decided to simply say nothing at all.

Buck ran until his lungs were burning. His legs felt so weak, but he kept going. He knew he had to keep going. He had reached a small creek and slowed down. He saw the water flowing across it and it was quick. It looked so clear and Buck dipped his hands into it. It felt so cold. He cupped his hands and drank greedily from the creek. His throat was so dry from running and the metallic taste from being scared still hung in his mouth like a bad penny. Plus, his throat still stung from screaming, but the cold water felt all that much more wonderful.

After drinking his fill, Buck rolled over onto his back and stared up into the canopy of trees. He could just see bits and pieces of the blue sky beyond as the trees swayed with the high breeze and he smiled. Finally, a little piece of something close to normal.

He lay there for a moment and closed his eyes. He tried to pretend that life was normal. That he was home, Keri was yelling at him for going through her things. His mom was rushing around trying to get things done before her and dad went out for dinner. They liked to have their date nights from time to time.

Buck would sometimes stay up all night and watch movies or get on his dad’s computer and play video games. Dad’s computer had more RAM and a better video graphics card, so the games would load faster and there was no buffering in the middle of play. Dad didn’t like him being on it because he used it for work, but Buck was careful to erase his tracks. It wasn’t like he was surfing for porn. Buck chuckled to himself as he sighed and remembered how things used to be.

Not like now.

Not with Keri all infected and trussed up like a pig in the RV. Mom was…well…Mom wasn’t coming home again. And Dad? Well, Buck prayed that his dad didn’t die from his shot in the shoulder. He looked so bad when they left him back there. Surely the zombies couldn’t figure out how to get into the RV…

Buck groaned and rolled over onto his side. He was so tired. He wished he could sleep, but he knew he couldn’t. He had to keep going. He pushed himself up and onto his knees. He opened his eyes and saw a muddy pair of boots standing in front of him. Buck started to scream, but held it in. Slowly he raised his face and took in the filthy man standing before him.

The man’s clothes were tattered rags from running through the woods, catching on the limbs and brambles. His arms and legs were scratched and ripped open in spots, blood dripping from his hands. When Buck saw his eyes, he wasn’t surprised. They were blood-red. The man simply looked at Buck, his head tilted to one side. He seemed to study Buck for a moment, then stepped to the side and walked past him.

Buck lay there on the ground, on his knees, and listened as the man trudged up the hill, his footsteps crumpling leaves and twigs as he slowly made his way up. Buck felt like throwing up everything he’d eaten since Kindergarten as he realized how close he came to being zombie chow.

He collapsed onto the ground and his entire body shook. “Why didn’t he eat me?” he asked himself softly, his voice breaking.

Buck lay still, his eyes squeezed shut in disbelief when his ears picked up the rustling of more footfalls upon the forest floor. He froze with fear, but his eyes shot open. He didn’t dare move, but his eyes darted from side to side. He saw another zombie trudge by, not twenty feet from where he lay. It crossed the shallow creek and crawled up the bank on his side and began climbing the steep hill, following the path of the man who had just gone by moments before.

Buck lifted his head and watched as the nearly naked woman fell into step behind the man who had just moments before stared at him. Neither seemed interested in him at all. Buck fought to get to his feet and stared at the couple as they slowly climbed the hill.

“What the heck is going on?”

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to turn back,” the chopper pilot announced through the headphones.

Dr. LaRue sat up from her notes and asked Why, then realized her voice wasn’t carrying through the mouthpiece. She looked around for the microphone key and punched the button. “Why’s that? They’re expecting me.”

“They didn’t exactly say why, ma’am,” the pilot explained. “The whole area has been declared a no-fly zone, ma’am.”

Dr. LaRue hated how they constantly said ‘ma’am’, but she hated even more how the military did things and never explained themselves. “Is there any way I can speak with Dr. Andrews? He’s the one who asked me to come here.”

“I’m not sure, ma’am,” the pilot replied. “I can’ try to patch you through.”

“Please do.” She huffed as she sat back in her seat. She put her research away and stared out the window. Of all the amazing things she had seen here in America, she loved this rough wilderness the most. The serenity of the woods, the mountains, the waterways, it was most breathtaking.

The pilot squawked in again, “Ma’am, I couldn’t reach Dr. Andrews, but I did reach a friend of mine at the airbase. He couldn’t really tell me anything, but there are ways of saying things without really saying things, if you know what I mean.” The pilot was beating around the bush. She truly wished he would just spit out what he had found out.

“And?”

“Well, ma’am, if what I’m hearing is correct, the reason we’re being redirected is, the area is about to be Ground Zero for a strafing run,” the pilot said. “It sounds like they’re about to bomb Yellowstone National Park.”

Vivian sat back in her chair, the shock evident in her face. “Are you certain?” She practically tried to climb forward in the cabin.

“Well, ma’am, no, I’m not certain. But from what I gather, that would be my best guess.” The pilot cleared his throat and said, “In fact, I’m supposed to land you about forty miles from the designated area and wait for the fallout.”

“Fallout?” She gasped. “Surely it’s not nuclear!”

The pilot laughed. “No, ma’am. That’s just an insider term that means, wait ’til the dust settles. In fact, from what I understand, they’re using very large, but very conventional weapons.” He tried to set her at ease.

“How can you ‘gather’ all of this if your friend didn’t really tell you anything?”

The pilot smiled and shot her a set of perfectly white teeth, reminding her of an automobile salesman. “It’s sort of a secret code that we air jockeys developed during the war, ma’am.” He chuckled again. She almost expected to hear him tell her, ‘I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

“I see.” She sighed. “So, there’s no way to communicate with those at the site?”

“My guess is they’re in the middle of bugging out. Most probably in transit or packing up and preparing to be in transit.”

Vivian shook her head. “This isn’t good.” She dug in her bag and pulled out her cell phone. It indicated no service and she slammed it on the seat beside her in frustration. Keying the radio again, she asked the pilot, “Is there any place we might fly this thing where I could get cell phone reception?”

“Not from inside the craft, ma’am,” he replied. “We have jamming systems that preclude the use of cellular devices.”

“Whatever for?” She was shocked she couldn’t at least try to call Joseph from the air. “Even commercial flights offer cell service.”

“This is a military craft, ma’am,” the pilot stated as if that should be the answer in and of itself.

“So? I need to reach Captain Andrews. If you can’t raise him by radio, perhaps I can call him.”

The pilot shook his head. “After Iraq and Afghanistan, all military craft are equipped with cellular jamming equipment. That way, if anybody sticks an explosive device onboard, they can’t set it off with a cellphone from a distance. No, ma’am, if you want to set off a bomb on this baby, you gotta be a suicide bomber and send yourself straight to Allah in bits and pieces.”

“That’s pure and utter lunacy,” she muttered, not realizing she had keyed her microphone again.

“Maybe, but it sure cut down on the number of craft lost.”

“Well, can you turn it off for just a few moments while I try to call Captain Andrews? You can turn it right back on once I’m finished and—”

“No can do, ma’am. It’s hardwired into the system. I have no control over it.”

Vivian sighed again in frustration. “Fine. How much longer until we reach our destination? Do you know if there will be cell service there?”

“We should be there in about thirty minutes, ma’am, but I can’t tell you for sure if you’ll have signal or not.”

Vivian clutched her phone and prayed. “Please let me reach him in time.”

All the way back toward the camp, the soldiers talked about how little time they had to pack their gear to ‘bug out.’ Andrews tried not to seem interested in their discussion as this was the first he had heard of the Army pulling out from the park, but he listened intently. Soldiers being soldiers, they tended to gripe and bitch about every little thing, blowing them out of proportion, but this…this was more than simply exaggeration.

Andrews realized a very important part of the plan had not been revealed to him… whatever Colonel Vickers had up his sleeve, he had not been informed. As they made their way back down the mountain, Andrews couldn’t take any more and finally turned to the disrespectful corporal, “When did you get word that we were pulling out?”

The corporal looked at him as if he were stupid and shook his head. “Just before we left the hilltop. General order to bug out came down. And here we are sitting out here babysitting you and your project with our thumbs up our asses.”

Andrews’ eyes widened as he looked at the noncom, his blood suddenly boiling. “First off, corporal, this little project, was Colonel Vickers orders, not one of my little pet projects. So we were both stuck out here. Second, why wasn’t I informed of this ‘general order’?” he barked, his face turning red.

The corporal smiled and shook his head. “Maybe because people like you aren’t issued these.” He pulled an ear piece from his ear. “Radios are kind of nice to have when you’re in the field. Sir,” he added with enough venom to royally piss off Captain Andrews.

Andrews felt his anger rising for just a moment, then he felt a peace come over him as his own plan formulated. If Vickers wants to bug out and take away his living test subjects, then Andrews would find his own. Even if he had to use unwitting volunteers. He was sure that someone as weak minded as this young booger muncher would be more than willing to be inoculated against the viral threat that waited out there in the woods. Andrews smiled inwardly as he planned his revenge against any noncom that would be insubordinate to him.

He simply nodded as he sat back against the hard-wooden bench. He glanced out the back of the truck and smiled when he saw the wrecked pickup in the distance. He knew the camp was just around the bend. He could grab his notes, his vials, his laptop, and a few more items of vital importance and get them packed before they had to leave.

Andrews sighed and began making mental notes of the inventory he’d need to start over, ticking off in his head the bare necessities he’d need to preserve his perfect virus for years to come.

Chapter 11

Bob walked up to the front of the ranger station, his eyes watching his own reflection in the windows as he approached. It hurt him to hold the rifle with both hands, but he did his best to at least give the impression he was capable of using it. As he approached the front of the station, he could hear yelling inside. A confrontation of some kind as two men’s voices rose up in anger.

He paused at the edge of the parking area and hovered with one foot on the concrete steps leading up to the building. He could feel his heartrate increase as he considered storming the building, gun blazing. His only desire being to take out as many soldiers as he could before they could gun him down…all to avenge Keri.

He stood there contemplating his next move when the roar of a large diesel engine snapped him from his contemplation. Bob turned and saw the large transport truck round the bend at the end of the road and enter the camp. The truck pulled around the tents and stopped in front of the large white tent, its occupants not noticing him standing at the front steps.

Bob was in the open with nowhere to go, and the passenger door to the truck opened, with a very large man stepping out and hopping to the ground. Without thinking, Bob turned and began walking toward the truck. He couldn’t hold the rifle to his shoulder, so he held it at his hip and leveled it at the man standing in the open door of the truck. The man had his back to him and was reaching back inside the vehicle for something. Most probably his weapon, so don’t waste time.

Bob opened fire.

The first rounds caught the front fender of the massive truck and Bob instantly adjusted. The next few rounds caught the door and shredded through it, splintered metal fragmenting and slicing through the large man’s midsection. Bob continued to fire, severing his spinal column and shattering his kneecap from behind.

The driver of the truck, having heard the gunfire, hit the ground and pulled his own weapon. He went around the front of the truck and began scanning for a sniper. Bob went around the back where the three soldiers and a man in an Army uniform and a white coat sat. Three of the soldiers began firing before Bob could clear the back of the truck, but he ducked back around the side, hugging the side of the truck. The soldiers began pouring out the back of the truck and around the other side, the last one trying his best to lay down covering fire.

Bob knew these were probably his last moments to live. He found it odd that he was okay with that. His daughter was dead, his wife was infected and missing. He had no idea where Buck was…he could only pray that somehow, some way, the boy had made it to a safe place. But as he stood here now, with his back against the side of the transport truck, Bob had made his peace with his maker. The world had gone to shit, and he was about to flush the commode.

He spun around the corner and pointed the rifle into the back of the truck again. The man in the uniform lay sprawled across the back of the truck, a bleeding wound across his forehead. Bob smiled at the realization the man must not have been much liked if his own men knocked him silly and abandoned him there. He still couldn’t raise the rifle to aim, but he could lay it across the top of the tailgate and empty the magazine into the prone body.

As Bob pulled the empty magazine and shoved in the full one from his pocket, soldiers began pouring out of the green tent. “Shit,” he muttered as he pulled the charging handle back and sent a round into the chamber. He leveled the barrel on the first wave of approaching soldiers and pulled the trigger.

Bob didn’t see where his bullets went as his eyes were closed most of the time, but he felt someone punch him HARD in the shoulder. The world suddenly fell into slow motion and time stopped having meaning.

The impact of the punch to the shoulder nearly spun him around and he felt his hand go numb. The rifle was slipping from his grip no matter how much his brain screamed to hold on.

Someone else punched him in the thigh and he felt his leg go out from under him, toppling him to the ground. He felt the wind go out from him as he impacted the ground and his head bounced against the dirt and gravel. He finally opened his eyes and stared ahead. Numerous sets of military boots were running in his direction as little plumes of dirt jumped up into the air. At first, Bob didn’t realize those little plumes of dirt were from bullets being fired at him, but he saw a spark fly off the rifle just feet from his head and it dawned on him then the cause of the tiny eruptions.

He suddenly felt stupid.

Bob didn’t have time to feel stupid for very long as a 5.5.56mm full metal jacket round entered the side of his skull and exited the other side. The shock wave of the bullet’s travel liquefied the jelly-like mass of Bob’s brain as it traveled through his cranial cavity, instantly shutting off nearly all electrical function of the brain. The shock wave traveled through the brain stem, shutting down the autonomous systems as well.

Bob Jennings, husband of Lucky, father of Keri and Buck, was no more.

But he’d gotten his revenge.

“What the devil is all this?” Vickers demanded as he stormed out of the station. He stood on the front steps and watched as a contingency of soldiers advanced on the body of a man and kicked a rifle away from him. “What happened out here? Where’s the roving security?”

“It would appear he disabled them and took their weapons, sir,” one of the soldiers said, holding up the M4 carbine.

Vickers scowled and shook his head. “We don’t have time for this kind of foolishness!” he shouted. “Finish packing the essential gear and get it out of here!”

“Yes, sir!” the man shouted, snapping a salute before turning and hustling the others back to work.

“And get another set of sentries posted!” Vickers yelled.

Hatcher stood behind him with a sardonic smile. “Looks like another good citizen that isn’t too keen on being bullied by the big, bad, military industrial machine.”

“Watch yourself,” Vickers warned. “You can easily be left behind.”

“What about the people in the trailer?” Candy asked.

“They were infected,” Vickers stated as he turned and reentered the office.

“Now I know that’s bullshit,” she called after him. “I overheard your conversation earlier. That crazy guy wanted to infect them as some sort of experiment and—”

“And he DID,” Vickers interrupted. “End of story.” He waved his hand toward the door, “In case you haven’t noticed, the woods are crawling with people who are either infected or about to be. And, as I’ve explained, the solution is at hand. Now, you can either stay here and be part of that solution or you can prepare to leave. That choice is entirely up to you.” He glanced at his watch. “You have three minutes to make up your mind.”

Maggie walked past the arguing pair as if in a trance. She entered the office and picked up a single bag, then turned and walked out the door. Hatcher followed her with his eyes and thought she was shell-shocked in more ways than one. He turned and entered his office to gather some of his personal belongings. He picked up a photo of Shelly and stuffed it into a duffel bag as Vickers stepped in behind him. “What are you doing?”

“I’m packing.” Hatcher continued to stuff personal items into the bag.

“You can’t,” Vickers said, reaching for the bag.

“The hell I can’t.” Hatcher snatched the bag back from him. “You said—”

“WE are packing because we haven’t been here yet,” he explained. “Don’t you understand, Ranger Rick? This is about to be a natural disaster that the military will come to aid in. You don’t get advanced warnings of natural disasters. Therefore, you don’t get to pack anything.” He leaned in close and glared at the man. “You should feel damned honored I’m allowing you to walk away from this.”

Hatcher squared his shoulders and glared at the man. “You caused this.”

“No!” Vickers yelled. “We did not.” He pointed a long, bony finger at Hatcher in emphasis. “If you’ll recall, you called me, remember?”

Hatcher stepped back and bit his tongue. “But you and yours were working with this damned plague long before it ever hit here. How do I know you didn’t release it as some kind of test?”

“Because we’d never release it on our own country.”

“Like I would believe you?”

“Believe me or not, it’s truth.” He reached out and grabbed the bag from Hatcher. “In order for this to work, everything here has to survive or not on its own accord.”

Hatcher ground his teeth in frustration. “Fine. Except for one thing.” He grabbed the bag back and pulled Shelly’s photo out of it. He stuffed it into his shirt and tossed the bag back onto his desk. “The rest can burn.”

Candy stuck her head into the office. “There’s a chopper coming in.”

“And that would be our ride,” Vickers said with a smile.

“After you.” Hatcher waved toward the door and watched Vickers exit. He actually fantasized about sinking a knife into the man’s back as he walked out of the station.

“We have less than thirty minutes before the strike,” Vickers stated. “Cutting it a little close, I know, but what is life if you don’t have a little excitement?”

“What about your troops?” Hatcher asked.

“They’ll be far enough away. They’re sending a MOAB, but it’s what is known as a Big BLU. An earth penetrating, thirty thousand-pound bomb.”

Hatcher shook his head, confused. “I’m not following you.”

As they walked out the door and watched the helicopter approach, Vickers explained, “We needed this to actually appear like a natural disaster. So, in order to throw up enough dirt and debris, they decided to send a ‘bunker buster.’ Something that penetrates deep into the ground and explodes with enough force that it looks like a natural disaster.” Vickers smiled. “Only an explosive forensic expert would know the difference, and since this place is basically a giant volcano, nobody would think to send one here.”

Hatcher grabbed the man’s arm and spun him around, “Is there any chance it could actually trigger a volcanic eruption?”

Vickers shook his head. “That’s why I directed them to the highest point and not the lowest. The crust would be thinner in the low areas and thicker in the higher areas.”

Hatcher’s mind was spinning. “Where did you send them?”

“To the top of a high hill. Up by some hot springs.”

Buck heard gunshots and he froze. The soldiers must be shooting the slow, stupid zombies…except, he thought he was farther away than that. He paused and looked back up the hill. He couldn’t see anything moving up the hillside and he had been travelling along the creek for a while. Unless his sense of direction was way off, he should be making a wide circle around the center. But he should be able to see some of the slow-moving zombies if they were still climbing the hill.

All hell broke loose and gunfire echoed throughout the low area that he was in. Buck instinctively lowered himself behind a tree and tried not to imagine the carnage the soldiers must be unleashing on the zombies stupid enough to wander into their camp. He shook his head and for a moment, even felt sort of sorry for the creatures. The ones he had encountered meant him no harm, he was certain. They seemed much more interested in getting somewhere, just, not in any kind of hurry.

Buck finally let out the breath he was holding when the shooting stopped. He stepped out from behind the tree once more and stood there a moment, thinking about what he was doing. He was alone in woods full of zombies. Army soldiers were out here, and they were shooting at anything that moved. His only weapon was a knife and as his grandpa used to say, only an idiot brings a knife to a gun fight.

Buck slumped down at the base of the tree and looked out at the creek he was walking by. Why did he have to be so stupid and run out on the ranger and Skeeter? Just because he had been crying and…his mom had…

Buck pushed the thought from his mind and stood up again. He wiped at his face and gripped the knife tighter. He’d go and find his dad. They’d fight their way out of the woods together and then come back and get Keri.

Yeah. That was as good a plan as any.

Buck stared up at the sky and tried to get his bearings again. Glancing up at the hill where he was sure the ranger station was, he began trekking off in the general direction where he was sure the RV had been left.

He hadn’t gone very far when he heard another helicopter in the sky. This one sounded close…like it was coming in for a landing.

The helicopter set down in a soft patch of grass outside the staging area. Numerous military vehicles and tents were already set up, people busily working. Vivian stared out of the helicopter as the pilot finished the shutdown sequences. “Thank you for flying Pterodactyl Airlines, be sure and put your seats back in the full upright position and your trays up in the locked position.” The pilot grinned at her.

“Will I have cell service now?” she asked, obviously perturbed.

His face fell at her ignoring his favorite joke, and he nodded. “Yes, ma’am. You should, if there is any signal to be had.”

She looked at her phone and sighed at the sight of two bars. She quickly pulled the headphones from her ears and dialed Joseph’s number. The phone rang until it went to voicemail. She cursed silently and tried again with the same result. “Why won’t you answer?”

The pilot turned in his seat and shrugged. “They could be busy, ma’am. Remember, they’re trying to get out of that place. Could be that he simply can’t hear it.”

She glared at him for butting in to her business and reached over to pull open the side door. As she stepped out of the helicopter, she hit the button on the phone again and listened for him to pick up. Again, the phone rang and went to voicemail. “Dammit!”

Vivian snatched up her bags and marched away from the helicopter, angry for being stuck out in the middle of nowhere, angrier that she couldn’t be at the site and able to help the people that were supposed to be used in the experiments, and even angrier that the military was planning to blow up the site and wipe away all the evidence.

Amidst the hustle and bustle of the crowd at the staging area, Vivian considered her options. She watched as soldiers, medics, and people she couldn’t identify hurried about her. She decided it was time to take Neils up on his offer.

She stepped away from the noise and confusion of the busy and growing crowd and dialed his number. It was time to tell him everything she had learned. She may not have any evidence to back it all up, but he needed to know where things stood in case anything happened to her.

Vickers walked out of the front door carrying his satchel with Maggie right behind him. She stepped in front of the colonel and opened the front door of the chopper for him across from the pilot. Vickers climbed in and began buckling up while Maggie secured the door from the outside. Hatcher and Candy stood outside with Skeeter, bowing slightly to keep below the spinning rotors.

Maggie waved them over to a side door that she slid open and helped lift Skeeter into the back of the helicopter. Candy entered next and sat next to Skeeter, helping her to buckle in. Hatcher watched as trucks began to pull out of the makeshift military compound, heading out toward the park entrance.

Maggie tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention and Hatcher started to get in. Maggie stopped him with a hand on his chest. Hatcher halted and looked at her. She held out her service pistol to him, her back blocking the view of anybody in the chopper. She said nothing, not that he could hear it if she had, but her eyes told him everything he needed to know: Don’t trust Vickers.

Hatcher accepted the weapon, tucking it neatly in the back of his pants before he stepped into the chopper and buckled his own safety harness. Maggie got in across from him and pulled the door shut, latching it behind her.

The ride to the staging area was short and bumpy. Hatcher had never ridden in a helicopter before, and although they appeared smooth and fast on TV and in movies, this one seemed slow and choppy. They travelled as the crow flies and arrived fast enough, but he felt as though he had been sealed in a trash can and rolled down a hill. It didn’t help that the seat had little to no cushioning and the pilot was keeping the craft low to the ground. It was almost as if he was trying to adjust for every tree top that he met.

When they finally came to the clearing outside the park where the staging area had been set up, Hatcher nearly gasped at the number of military personnel on-site. A large white tent with a red cross ablaze across the top was set up in the middle of the area, surrounded by numerous other green and tan tents. Military vehicles of all types were scattered about, and the place literally crawled with people.

Hatcher glanced up at Maggie, his eyes wide. How would Vickers dare get rid of the three of them with this many witnesses.

As the chopper circled the camp and came to a grassy area near other aircraft, it began its descent. Hatcher’s heart began to race as he considered their options. Could they possibly make it to a vehicle and escape? Could they hide among the many tents and perhaps slip away and back into the woods unseen?

The chopper set down and rattled his teeth, the gun at the small of his back suddenly feeling easily detectible. Hatcher reached around and unbuckled, pulling his shirt loose to fall over the weapon, concealing it. He looked to Maggie who was opening the side door and stepping out.

Hatcher followed her out and bent low again, stepping away from the rotors overhead and toward another chopper sitting idly by. He turned and waited for Candy and Skeeter.

Vickers marched up to him and shouted above the sounds of the helicopter winding down. “There’s a medical tent over there,” he said pointing. “Have your people checked out and get something to eat. Major Chappell will have you a tent assigned so you can get some rest.”

“What happens after?” Hatcher asked.

“After?” Vickers repeated.

“You know…after the bombs hit.”

“Ah.” He glanced around to the numerous troops and indicated them with a wave of his hand. “My men and I come in to render aid, declare it a disaster, find you and yours alive and the only survivors. You will be properly debriefed and once we are certain you will never breathe a word of what truly happened here, you’ll be free to go.”

Hatcher stared at the man. “And how will you know that?”

Vickers gave him a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Nothing sinister, I assure you. Professionals from another branch of the federal government will come and speak with you. Once you have signed a fully-binding non-disclosure statement.”

“A statement that says the official story is the real story.”

“Exactly.” Vickers smiled again.

“I should have known.”

Vickers glanced at his watch. “There’s still time to have you returned to your station,” he offered. “Barely.”

Hatcher glared at the man a moment longer. “Don’t you have a third world government to overthrow somewhere?”

Vickers smiled again and turned on his heel. “I thought you’d see things my way.”

Chapter 12

The C-130 that suddenly dropped in altitude and aligned for the sight had a crew of eight for this mission. Using satellite imagery, the locator beacon was zeroed in on, and the first images were brought up as the plane began lining up to drop its payload.

The tech sergeant adjusted the gain in the image and sat back. “Uh, Lieutenant?” he called. “There are a TON of civilians at the target sight, sir.”

“Those are tangos, Tech Sergeant,” the lieutenant called back. “Carry on.”

The tech sergeant felt his guts tighten as he transferred the coordinates to the bomb’s internal navigation system. A slight whirring sound verified that the gimbal system was active as the motors activated and the coordinates were accepted. Somehow, he couldn’t accept that American civilians were now tangos. Especially American civilians at Yellowstone National Park. Hell, it could be some of his family down there.

As the plane shifted slightly, the tech sergeant felt the pull of gravity against the restraints of the seat as the plane came around and settled in for its run. The ventilation system increased the internal atmospheric system in preparation for the opening of the huge rear loading door.

The tech sergeant typed in the commands and waited while the satellite magnified the image twice more. He nearly gasped as the image clarified and the tangos came into view. Bloody faces, torn and ragged clothing, missing body parts…images all reminiscent of a Romero movie now played on the screen in front of his eyes. “Dear God in heaven,” he muttered.

“Cut the chatter,” the lieutenant ordered. “Prepare for release.”

The tech cleared the image and sat back in his chair. He couldn’t have seen what he had just seen. It couldn’t have been real. Surely this was a training exercise to see what the serviceman’s reactions would be.

Wasn’t it?

*****

Colonel Vickers walked through the camp toward what would be his command center. As soon as he stepped into the tent, a woman in a business suit approached him, “Excuse me, are you the one in charge here?” Instantly, he was annoyed by her accent, but he had to admit, she was easy on the eyes.

“Yes, that would be me, but I’m too busy to—”

“You need to call off this bomb of yours!”

Vickers stepped back and looked down his nose at her. “And you would be?”

“My name is Dr. Vivian LaRue. I worked with Dr. Andrews. I am the one who co-discovered the virus,” she said rapidly. “Colonel, if you allow this bomb of yours to happen, you run the risk of—”

Vickers held up his hand, stopping her. “I cannot stop the bombing if I wanted to, Doctor.” He tried to sidestep her, ignoring her complaint.

“You do not understand, colonel!” She grabbed his arm. “Colonel!” she screamed. “You will not contain the virus, you will spread it!”

Vickers paused and turned on her. “What did you say?”

“You heard me,” she said, lowering her voice. “The virus is thermophilic. It likes heat. It lives in hot, moist environments. That is why it survived here in this thermally active area for hundreds of thousands of years, unchanged!” she tried to explain. “If you use a bomb like your soldiers are talking about, one that goes into the ground and explodes with a lot of heat, you will vaporize—”

“Yes.” Vickers smiled. “We will vaporize the virus and be done with it.” He clapped his hands and again tried to walk away.

“No!” She stepped in front of him again. “This virus lives…no, it thrives in waters heated by the earth’s core. It lives in waters heated by magma. Do you really think that your little bomb will vaporize it?” She set him back. “No, your bomb will simply spread it.”

“But, it’s supposed to kill the people, not—”

“Where is the bomb supposed to go off?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She had heard enough from the soldiers here to know exactly what was happening.

“At the hot springs at the top of the mountain,” Vickers replied softly.

“Precisely. A hot springs. An avenue for the very virus we are trying to control to escape, and you want to superheat it, vaporize the water, allow it to rise as steam and form clouds,” she explained. “It can then condense and be carried…where?”

Vickers stared at her a moment then glanced around the room. “Where are the prevailing winds blowing?”

One of his soldiers looked up from a computer and said, “Wait one, sir.” After clicking a few keys, he looked up again and replied, “Toward the west, southwest from here, sir.”

“You are about to send this virus along the Western Seaboard, colonel,” Dr. LaRue stated. “Call off the bomb!”

Vickers looked at his watch, then lifted his eyes to hers. “It’s too late.”

*****

Bill was laying back in the rear of the boat enjoying the breeze off the lake. For the first time in a long time, he was smiling. “I think we might actually make it, buddy.”

Richard turned the pilot’s seat around and grinned back at him, “It’s about damned time something went our way.”

Jason finally came to the rear of the boat from the open bow. He climbed into his grandfather’s lap and hugged him. “Can we just go fishing, Grandpa?”

Richard leaned back so that he could look at his grandson’s face. “What?”

“Can’t we just fish for a while?” Jason’s voice barely audible over the sound of the boat’s engine.

“Why would you ask something like that, buddy?” Richard asked.

A flash of light behind them caught Richard’s attention and Bill turned around so fast, he nearly put a crick in his neck. “What the hell was that?”

Richard quickly throttled down the boat and both men stared back behind them as a mushroom cloud began to form on top of a high ridge behind the lake.

“Oh, my God,” Richard muttered.

“Th-the volcano didn’t…”

“No,” Richard said adamantly. “That’s an explosion. And it’s forming into a mushroom cloud.” He gave Bill a panicked look. “Does that mean it’s nuclear?”

Bill shook his head. “No. If it was a nuke, it would have vaporized the lake.”

“Please, Grandpa.” Jason said with tears in his eyes. “Can’t we just go fishing for a little while?”

Richard turned his attention to the boy and stared at him for a moment. The boy had tears running down his cheeks. Richard stole a glance at Bill. Bill’s face fell as the realization hit him. There was no way out this time.

Bill turned a forlorn eye to Richard and simply nodded. “Let’s fish,” he said quietly.

Richard pulled Jason into a tight hug. “Yeah, buddy,” he said, his voice growing tighter. “Let’s do some fishing.”

Bill stood up and lifted the lid from the bottom of the boat and began pulling out the fishing gear while Richard killed the engine. “Fishing sounds like a heck of an idea.”

*****

Buck had worked his way around the station and was still following the creek up the hill. He knew that a creek wasn’t far from where they had left the RV. He just hoped and prayed it was the same creek he was walking next to. He felt fortunate he hadn’t seen any more zombies or soldiers since the chopper left, but he also felt it odd he hadn’t heard any kind of wildlife, either. He could understand not hearing or seeing any of the larger wildlife that was indigenous to Yellowstone, but he expected to hear some birds once in a while.

He kept looking up into the trees, hoping to see what he couldn’t hear. Once, he thought he saw something moving, but it was simply part of the canopy, blowing in the wind. Buck wished he had kept up with his pack and his books. He could thumb through and find out what kind of animals to expect and what to look for; but, somewhere along the way, it had gotten left behind.

As he continued along the creek bank, he felt a tremor in the ground. Similar to what he felt the night before, but different. This didn’t feel like it came from deep in the earth…this felt like it came across the top of the ground. Almost like the ground moved. Buck stopped and looked around. Surely, if there had been any birds in the area, they would have taken flight.

Then it happened. The earth shifted violently. It heaved and rippled as a sound, unlike anything he had ever heard before, violently blew the treetops to the side like a giant sneeze. The action knocked him to his knees and he fell, rolling down the steep embankment and into the creek.

Buck hit the water, and the briskness of it took his breath away. He immediately shot his legs under him to gain purchase, only to realize that the water was much deeper than he would have guessed. The current was stronger than he thought, and he could only guess that the steeper hill he had been climbing had caused the water to increase in speed.

It swept his feet out from under him and carried him farther from his intended destination. Buck fought to keep his head above water and the swirling currents kept pulling him back towards the middle of the running waters. He bobbed to the surface, gulped a mouthful of air, and was swallowed by the water once more. As he came up again for air, he felt his hope vanish when he saw the same hillside with the station pass by…rapidly. He had no idea that the waters were that deep or moving that rapidly.

Buck continued to fight the currents as they carried him farther and farther away, eventually depositing him along the bank, soaked, exhausted, and chilled to the bone. Buck pulled himself half out of the water and lay in the mud, wondering what in the world had just happened.

Again.

*****

“I’m not signing a non-disclosure statement,” Candy said. “You saw what they were going to do to those people!”

“Shh!” Hatcher held a finger to his lips. “Look, I don’t disagree with you, I’m just telling you what liver lips told me.”

“Well, I’m not going to do it.” She pulled Skeeter closer.

“I don’t think I will, either,” Hatcher said, thinking of Shelly. “Which means, we need to get the hell out of here.”

Candy sat down and pulled Skeeter next to her. “How are we supposed to do that?”

“We steal a car. Or a truck. Or…”

“If you say a helicopter, then I’ll sign the damned paper.” Candy’s mouth pulled into a tight line. “I doubt you can fly one of those things.”

Hatcher threw her a go-to-hell look. “We get out of here. We just need some kind of distraction.”

“I guess you could shoot old liver lips,” Candy said dryly.

Hatcher chose to ignore her. “Or we could wait for them to start going in after the bombing. Maybe afterward, they’ll be so busy they won’t notice?”

“I’m sure they’ll be wanting to use all of their cars and trucks and other vehicles. You know, to transport all of the survivors.”

The ground shook slightly and Hatcher and Candy’s eyes met. Skeeter pulled away and whimpered Buck’s name. Hatcher stepped out of the tent they were in and looked in the direction of the ranger station. Off to the side, he could see a column of dirt rising into the air. A cheer went up from the majority of the military troops and Hatcher turned to Candy. “I think we may have found our distraction.”

“We’d better be quick about it then.”

The three of them snuck out of the tent and headed back toward the road where the majority of vehicles were parked. Staying low, Hatcher went from vehicle to vehicle looking for something that might be easy to steal. “None of them have keys.”

“They’re military vehicles, Hatch. They don’t use keys.”

“They don’t?” Hatcher gave her a stupid look.

“The heavy-duty ones don’t,” Candy said. “At least, that’s what my brother said.” She pulled him farther down the line. “But we want something fast and nimble.”

She pulled him to a camouflaged Suburban. “Check this one.” She pulled Skeeter aside. Hatcher opened the door and checked.

“Bingo,” he whispered.

Candy opened the back door and scooted Skeeter in, then climbed into the front passenger seat. “Why were you whispering?”

Hatcher shrugged. “I don’t know.” He turned the key and brought the big V-8 to life. He pulled the transmission lever to DRIVE and floored it, throwing gravel as he pulled the huge truck out onto the road and driving away from the staging area. “It just seemed like the thing to do when stealing a car.”

Candy laughed as she craned her neck to look behind them. She couldn’t see much through the dust of the dirt road. She finally relaxed a bit and settled into the seat. “Just take me home, James.”

“The further the better.”

*****

Vickers and Dr. LaRue were walking quickly toward the helicopter landing area when a young lieutenant approached. “Colonel!” he called. “Somebody just took one of the Suburbans without proper access. Should we pursue, sir?”

Vickers paused and thought for a moment. He chuckled and shook his head. “Fucking Ranger Rick and the cow.”

“Sir?” the young officer asked.

“Never mind, lieutenant. Negative. Just continue with the OP as planned,” Vickers said. “I have to escort Dr. LaRue to Washington on a matter of national security. Major Chappell is now in charge.”

The young officer snapped a salute that Vickers ignored. He quickly boarded the chopper with Dr. LaRue and took off away from the dust and vapor cloud.

*****

The large flat screen mounted to the wall displayed all of the carnage taking place up and down the West Coast. People running rampant in the streets, fires burning out of control, planes falling from the skies, emergency services shut down, the West Coast was in ruins.

The talking heads were doing their best to keep up with the horrible accounts. “From Vancouver Island to Baja, California, the number of people infected with the blood borne pathogen now called the ‘rage virus’ by internet bloggers and gamers has been estimated to have surpassed the thirty million mark—”

Click.

“Mexico has sealed its borders and the drug cartels have joined forces with—”

Click.

“South America is now feeling the full effects of the ‘rage virus’ as travelers from the north try in vain to escape—”

Click.

“The European Union has declared a state of emergency and suspended all air travel until—”

Click.

The screen went black as the tall gentleman sighed and rocked in his high-backed leather chair. With a sigh he set down the remote and poured another glass of scotch. A side door opened to the office and a man entered in a rumpled three-piece suit. “Sir? It’s time.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, sir.” He pulls a memo from a briefcase. “It’s official. The virus has spread across the country, sir. It’s not just on the West Coast any longer. The Eastern Seaboard is infected.”

“Good heavens,” the gentleman sighed as he set the scotch down.

“Mr. President, we need to get you to a secure location.”

“Is any place secure now?”

“Yes, sir. We have several,” the aid replied. “And we have an expert standing by to advise you on this epidemic, sir.”

“An expert? Who the hell could be an expert on something like this?”

“He’s a colonel from Fort Collins, sir. The military attaché for the CDC’s New Vector-Borne Infectious Disease Laboratory,” the aide said. “His name is Vickers.”

To Be Continued in “Return to Yellowstone”

Caldera The Series

For years, the biggest threat that Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with the extinction of Neanderthal man, the virus erupts into a crowded Yellowstone. The park is packed with sight seers and party goers during a benefit concert who are all now fodder for the ancient rage virus.

Follow along as Park Rangers and local Sheriff’s find themselves overwhelmed with a park full of infected human cannibals.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, an ancient virus is released within Yellowstone National Park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction?

Follow along with a select group of individuals as they fight for survival. Can they avoid the infected? Can they evade the military called in to help? Can they trust each other?

Will humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves scattered. Clinging to life in clusters, hiding from the infected and scavenging from the remnants of humanity, life has evolved to mere survival.

The United States government has attempted to reestablish itself in the last safe place on earth…an offshore flotilla of naval vessels. The last of the CDC’s disease researchers work tirelessly to find a cure, but the virus keeps mutating. They need the original strain from Yellowstone.

Only one man knows the park well enough to escort the military to the source of the virus. Daniel Hatcher is called upon once more to face the threat of Yellowstone. Follow along as they try to survive ground zero.

Months after an ancient rage virus erupts from the depths of Yellowstone, survivors find themselves battling not only the infected, but each other. Predators prey on the weak and strength comes only in numbers.

Government researchers are working tirelessly to find a cure, but time is running out. Over 90% of the world’s population is dead or infected and the number climbs daily.

Follow a select group of survivors as they fight to carve out an existence while defending themselves from rage fueled cannibals and roving bands of marauders.

About the Author

Heath Stallcup was born in Salinas, California and relocated to Tupelo, Oklahoma in his tween years. He joined the US Navy and was stationed in Charleston, SC and Bangor, WA shortly after junior college. After his second tour he attended East Central University where he obtained BS degrees in Biology and Chemistry. He then served ten years with the State of Oklahoma as a Compliance and Enforcement Officer while moonlighting nights and weekends with his local Sheriff's Office.  He still lives in the small township of Tupelo, Oklahoma with his wife and three of his seven children. He steals time to write between household duties, going to ballgames, being a grandfather to five and being the pet of numerous animals that have taken over his home. Visit him at heathstallcup.com or Facebook.com for news of his upcoming releases.

From the desk of Heath Stallcup

A personal note-

Thank you so much for investing your time in reading my story. If you enjoyed it, please take a moment and leave a review. I realize that it may be an inconvenience, but reviews mean the world to authors…

Also, I love hearing from my readers. You can reach me at my blog: http://heathstallcup.com/ or via email at heathstallcup@gmail.com

Feel free to check out my Facebook page for information on upcoming releases: https://www.facebook.com/heathstallcup find me on Twitter at @HeathStallcup, Goodreads or via my Author Page at Amazon.

Also by Heath Stallcup

My stories so far: The Monster Squad Series

The first saga:

Humanity has spent its time enjoying a peace that can only be had through blissful ignorance. For centuries, stories of things that go “bump” in the night have been passed down and shared. When creatures of the night proved to be real, the best of America’s military came together to form an elite band of rapid response teams. Their mission: to keep the civilian populace safe from those threats and hide all evidence of their existence.

This time, they face the largest threat ever to rise against mankind as it prepares its own twisted Apocalypse. The only thing standing in its way is the Monster Squad. Man and monster will fight side by side in an epic battle to the death to try to defeat an evil so great, it could only have been created by the hand of God Himself.

The second saga:

An ancient evil is awakened by a naïve pawn. Planned centuries in advance by fallen angels, the reign of Lilith is put into motion. With a legion of demons at her command, she plans to enact her revenge upon the world’s largest religious group before thrusting herself center stage and taking her seat upon the throne as Queen of the World.

With threats coming at them from every angle, the Monster Squad turns to an ex-member to form a new team—a team made up of the most unlikely warriors to hunt down and face the Demon Queen.

However, when it comes time to remove the Queen in this grand game of chess, will they be able to sacrifice their own game pieces to do it?

Caldera Trilogy

For years, the biggest threat Yellowstone was thought to offer was in the form of its semi-dormant super volcano. Little did anyone realize the threat was real and slowly working its way to the surface, but not in the form of magma. Lying deep within the bowels of the earth itself, an ancient virus waited.

Recently credited with wiping out the Neanderthals, the virus is released within the park and quickly spreads. A desperate plea for assistance reaches the military, but are they coming to help those battling for their lives or to wipe out every living thing in an effort to prevent a second mass extinction? Can humanity survive the raging cannibals that erupt from within?

Whispers Trilogy

How does a sheriff’s department from a small North Texas community stop a brutal murderer who is already dead and buried?

When grave robbers disturb the tomb of Sheriff James ‘Two Guns’ Tolbert searching for Old West relics, a vengeful spirit is unleashed, hell bent for blood. Over a hundred years in the making, a vengeful spirit hunts for its killers. If those responsible couldn't be made to pay, then their progeny would.

Even when aided by a Texas Ranger and UCLA Paranormal Investigators, can modern-day law enforcement stop a spirit destined to fulfill an oath made in death? An oath fueled by passion from a love cut down before its time?

Forneus Corson

Nothing comes easy and nothing is ever truly free. When Steve Wilson stumbles upon the best-kept secret of history’s most successful writers, he can’t help but take advantage of it. Little did he know it would come back to haunt him in ways he’d never have dreamt… even in his worst nightmares.

With his life turned upside down, his name discredited, his friends persecuted, the authorities chasing him for something he didn’t do, Steve finds himself on the run with nothing but his wits and his best friend by his side. When a man finds himself hitting rock bottom, he thinks there’s little else he can do but go up… unless he’s facing an evil willing to dig the hole deeper. An evil in the business of pitting men against odds so great, they risk losing their very souls in the attempt to escape…

Mind Trip

These are just some of the dark and twisted ideas that have run through the mind of Heath Stallcup over the years. Join him in a journey to the darker side of short story fiction.
Mobsters intent on ruling the world reveals that sometimes you just can’t go home.
The release of a zombie virus and the ramifications of trying to hide it.
Sometimes reality isn’t what you think it is. Those noises in the attic may not be rats…
Dwelling on the past can be introspective but refusing to let go will skew your reality.
You know you are about to die. You want nothing more than to protect your loved ones. In a fever induced delirium you lead the threat away from those you care most about.Hunter Trilogy

Born of Viking stock, careered into the Swedish Navy, Sven Ericsson finds himself in the fabled New World. Away from the restraints of society, the young Northman is dragged into long nights of debauchery; nights that lead him into the waiting arms of a dark beauty who will change his very nature forever.
Fighting his new unnatural status, Sven steers clear of humanity, skulking along the fringe of society, and filling his inhuman need with the blood of the outcasts or the easily forgotten. A shadow among the shadows...until extraordinary events, centuries later, force him to emerge from the dark. A mishap of his own making pits Sven Ericsson into a moral quandary that will remind him what it means to be a warrior.
He is a killer. A fighter.

And a Hunter of his own kind.

Check this YA Zombie thriller from JJ Beal.

Lions & Tigers & Zombies, Oh My!

The cold war has heated up again. This time the battle will be fought in every street of America.

Trapped in a major city, hours from their small town country home, a team of young girls find themselves cut off from everyone they know and left to fend for themselves as the world spins out of control.

With nothing but their wits, their softball equipment and their friendship to hold them together, they face incredible odds as they fight their way across the state. Physical, emotional and psychological challenges meet them at every turn as they struggle to find the family they can’t be sure survived. How much more can they endure before reaching the breaking point?

Also From DevilDog Press

Zombie Fallout by Mark Tufo

Nemesis by Suzanne Madron

Prey: Blood of The Ancients By Tim Majka

All That Remain By Travis Tufo

From The Ash By Dave Heron

Mossy Creek A Maggie Mercer Mystery By Jill Behe