August Burning (Book 2): Survival (26 page)

“Sir. Your orders.” A young army sergeant stood before them in full combat gear, his camouflage obviously intended for operations in a summer forest. His eyes were red from crying outside, alone.

Troy stood and surveyed the room. His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat to hide it. “At ease, sergeant. We need to assess the situation before we make a plan.”

“Sir, with respect, the food is all gone.”

Jaxton drew closer. “We can’t risk taking any more food from our stores at the Citadel. Maybe some of my men can get their hands on your canned food. I think we know where Agis stores it.”

Troy regarded his old college friend with a hard mouth. “When can we strike back?”

Jaxton’s nose twitched, and he shot a glance to Adira, resting on a pew. “We need to wait for the right moment.”

“Is he Army?”

Adira shook her head. “Police. We think.”

“What kind of weaponry? Training?”

“We can talk about that later. It’s advanced. Almost military grade weapons.”

Troy was taking deep breaths. “I can’t tell you how glad I am to see you guys. I thought we’d never speak again.”

“The others wanted to come. Elvis, Liam. They’re dying to come. It was too risky.”

Troy nodded and shifted his vest. “I thought we would be safe here,” he said painfully.

There was a pause. “What is going on outside?”

Troy met his gaze, and there was a suffering burning behind his eyes. “Its overrun.”

“How much of it?”

Troy shook his head. “The last time we had any real communication with the government, the infection had crossed the continent, and outbreaks were popping up all over Asia.”

“And Europe?”

“Europe has fallen. Russia tried to create a nuclear wasteland in the Baltic States and Poland. Just dropped dozens of battlefield-size nuclear warheads on a massive swath of land, like a wall. A swath of burning waste one hundred miles deep. The infection didn’t advance that way. But it snuck in over the Caucasus, through the ‘stans. It’s all over. There’s nothing left.”

The silence lingered. It was the first news of the outside world Jaxton and Adira had heard in months. Any hope they might have held for salvation was crushed. It was just them.

“We don’t have much time,” Troy warned, his lips shaking.

Adira leaned closer, sensing his intensity. “What do you mean?”

Troy peered at them. “How many infected are there here?”

“Almost none. I don’t think they make it over the ridges easily. Just those that make it through the gorges. A few a week, it seems. Never more than ten at once.”

“They are coming.” Troy broke off his gaze, and looked to the sergeant, who looked away.

Jaxton grabbed his shorter friend by the arms. “What are you saying?”

“The hordes. The infected travel together more frequently than not. The Eastern Seaboard, it was…what one hundred million people before the infection, right? The majority of them are now infected, traveling in massive groups looking for food. They scour the landscape, drawn by smell, like packs of predators thousands strong. The infected avoid colder places. They will not go far into Canada. We were tracking two hordes before the communications failed.”

“Where were they, these…hordes?”

“Two from the New York area were eating their way through New England. They will not stay there long. They will turn south, avoiding the frigid Canadian climate, and head straight through here to find more food, more people.”

Adira dropped the gun. “Then we need to leave. We need to leave soon!”

Troy shook his head. “They are not constrained by normal human endurance. Hordes move far faster than normal humans. Unless you have gasoline left?”

Jaxton sighed angrily. “Not enough to get more than a few miles.”

Troy gripped Adira and Jaxton, together. Their friend seemed much older. “Then you must pray they do not find the valley. We must pray.”

“We, sir?” The Sergeant took a step forward, doubt stricken.

Troy spoke without giving him the benefit of a glance. “It is too late to leave, now. Our fates are one.”

Adira swallowed, and steeled herself. “How many, how many are there, in the hordes?”

“They said…anywhere from fifty to two hundred thousand.”

Jaxton shook his head. “This is madness. If they come here, we will be swarmed. Overrun. Killed to a man.”

Adira looked to him. “What if we waited it out? Boarded up the Citadel? Hid deep inside? Would they keep moving?”

Troy had not blinked for a long time. “It is hard to say. I do not know enough. But it’s all we can do.”

“Not with Agis inside. We cannot risk it. There is no telling what he is capable of,” Jaxton warned.

“He must be killed. When can we strike? Jaxton, tell me, when can we strike?”

The other soldiers crowded around, the visions of their comrades being cut down a few nights prior still burning bright in memory. They were eager, and hurting.

Jaxton sensed their pain. “The Citadel is too well defended. It cannot be there. He has doubled the night guards, and keeps the weapons under close guard. He suspects not all of you have been killed. Daily patrols go out, searching endlessly. No, it will have to be outside the sanctuary.”

Adira racked her brain, forcing it to churn despite the malnourishment. “What about the hillsmen?”

“Who?” Troy demanded, sensing an opening.

“We don’t even know who they are. Agis has made speeches about them though, about the threat they pose. He’s trying to keep the survivors blinded, prevent them from thinking about the massacre, he wants them afraid. Agis wants to take the hillsmen down, on their own turf. He says the town won’t be ours until we do.”

“Who are they? More survivors?”

“Not quite,” Jaxton said. “They’re infected. I know that. But they’re different. They retain some mental faculties, it seems. It’s like they’re fighting the infection, or something. I don’t know.”

Troy’s bloodshot eyes lit up. “Beta infected.”

“What?”

“They’re beta infected. Genetic mutation, or something. I don’t think they totally figured it out. It happens to a very tiny minority of people, .01% or something. Their bodies handle the virus differently. They are humans still…but barely. Their intelligence is severely reduced, with the instincts of an infected. Some can even speak.”

“One spoke to us, to me. They could have killed us, but they didn’t,” Jaxton affirmed with bright eyes.

Troy nodded. “It’s very hit or miss. There’s no telling what they will do. Their bodies are a constant battleground for the infection. The power of the virus, it changes like a pendulum. At times, the infection will dominate their psyche, and you wouldn’t be able to differentiate them from normal infected, from the alpha infected. Other times, they appear like incredibly sick humans, with dumbed down brain functions. Wild-cards. There’s a group of them, here?”

“There is. They inhabit a certain area of the town, near the northern ridge. Deep forest.”

“And this son of a bitch, this fucking Lieutenant? He wants to march out, and take them on?”

“That’s what it sounds like.”

Troy nodded ferociously, like a rabid animal. “That’s where we do it. We let him challenge the betas, and that’s where we take him.”

…

Bennett could barely keep his eyes open. They were being tugged shut. And his head was swimming. He reached out and knocked over a plastic bottle.

“You’re too fucked up. Again.” He could hear Layla’s voice breaking through his delirium, and it comforted him. He wished it was Adira’s, though. His hands found purchase on her hips, and in the darkness he tugged. She gave way with a grunt of disgust.

“What are you so worked up about?” He heard her ask.

“Is there any more?”

She tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let her. “No. You snorted it all.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I shouldn’t have.”

She stopped struggling. “It’s ok,” she sighed. “Are you ok?”

“No. No, no, no, no. I’m not, you bitch. I’m not ok.”

Layla tried to rise once more.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry. I’m sorry again. Come back. Don’t leave me alone.”

“God you’re awful like this,” she said with barely contained disgust.

“I fucked up, baby, I fucked up.”

“What did you do?” she asked, suddenly invested.

“I shot at my friend,” Bennett wailed.

“What friend? What are you talking about?”

“Troy. He was friend, friend of mine from …college, before this.”

“This Troy… he was in that army convoy?” Layla asked slowly. “The one that was going to attack us?”

“They weren’t going to attack us.”

Layla recoiled, as if struck. “Of course they were. Agis said-“

“I know what Agis said. We attacked them. And I shot at my friend.”

Layla shook her head in exasperation. “Ok, you shot at your friend. How do you know this? Did you see his face that night?”

Bennett tried to look at her eyes, but he couldn’t find them. “Troy isn’t dead.”

She grabbed him and shook violently. “What do you mean…Bennett what do you mean he isn’t dead?”

“I heard…I heard Liam and Elvis talking…I snuck to their room….I wanted to find…Adira. But I heard them. And some of the soldiers are still alive out there, in the town. More than some. They’re alive. We didn’t kill them all.”

Layla rose quickly. “Who else knows this?”

“No one. Just me. Well, me and you. So two people….” His head swam. “Layla, my Layla, can you keep a secret for me?” There was no answer.

“Can you keep a secret for me, Layla?” But Bennett was alone.

…

“Do you think they can understand him?”

Troy shrugged, his trained eyes sweeping the woods beyond for any signs of motion. “Private. Get to that tree line. I want surveillance in case there’s anything out there.”

A portly soldier took off at a trot across the field, holding his helmet with one hand.

Troy sighed loudly. “Jameson, go with him.” A red-faced corporal took off after his struggling friend.

The metal factory loomed over them all, red with rust and blocking out the winter sun. Adira could see Jaxton speaking with the hillsmen, just a stone’s throw away. She looked beside her. There were fifteen people left with Troy, mostly soldiers.

Adira felt her stomach complaining. She tried forcing the anxiety away but it just came on stronger, rolling through her limbs as she watched Jaxton trying to communicate with the balding female beta-infected, her white dress stained as ever. Maybe the woman had even killed Tessa, all those moons ago. Adira suppressed her rage with effort and gripped her weapon. It was good to have a rifle again.

Adira scowled as Jaxton’s voice grew louder, and he made grand gestures with his hands. Behind the lady with long strands of hair, the other hillsmen swayed and stared with pale eyes. Several were chained, and snarled like beasts. This was insanity. They were losing self-control randomly, and regaining it after a random period of time.

“Perhaps this was a mistake,” Troy growled.

“Give him time,” Adira whispered.

They had to be back by nightfall from their “hunting trip”. Agis was giving a speech tonight, and any absences were likely to be met with suspicion. Liam, Elvis, Wilder and Duke awaited their return with feverish anticipation, she was sure. They had all clamored to come along, but Jaxton wanted to draw as little attention as possible.

…

Out of vocal range from his friends, Jaxton spoke to the infected woman. “Do you understand anything I am saying?”

Her pale eyes appeared vacant. But she opened her mouth. “Yes,” she croaked. “You help us.”

Jaxton shook his head. “Many of you will die. Do you understand that? If we wait to attack the bad men until they arrive here, many of you will die.”

The woman swayed as she spoke, as did all the others behind her. Jaxton could see her rotting yellow teeth, stained with blood and flesh. “Better for you, though. To attack, here.”

Jaxton frowned. Maybe this one wasn’t so dumb after all. “Yes, there will be more confusion. We have a better chance if we work together. Do you…understand? We work together.”

Her strands blew on the wind, and one detached from her head and floated away on the winter wind. “Thank you. Thank you. You will help us.”

Jaxton recoiled slightly, afraid he was being misunderstood. “Well, yes I suppose. I-“

“We want one thing, if we help you.”

Jaxton frowned, surprised she was able to formulate a demand. “Name it.”

Within a second the woman stood two feet from Jaxton’s chest. He heard shouting behind him, but raised his hand to calm his friends. The woman’s vacant eyes remained locked on his as she drew the barrel of his gun up, to her head. She held it between her eyes. “Kill us.”