August Burning (Book 1): Outbreak (9 page)

The soldier peered back, obviously
shaking. His swagger had fallen to the wayside in thirty seconds. “How the hell
should I know? I’m National Guard you idiots…we were processing civilians
coming out of the city miles back into Jersey.”

“You mean you aren’t even a real
soldier?!”

They heard shouting, and some of the
gun-fire ceased. A frantic mother clutching her two children by the hands burst
around the APC. The soldiers waved her forward, yelling encouragement. Two men
and a girl followed closely, looking exhausted and horrified. Their eyes and
mouths twitched as they pounded the pavement, looking over their shoulders
fitfully. “HELP US!” They screamed in a chorus, seeing the soldiers were near.
All of them had tattered, soiled clothing.

“Tim, what the FUCK?”

Tim’s pasty figure froze completely.
He rose to his feet, abandoning his cover with his eyes fixed down the road.

A sudden, piercing snarl echoed from
brownstone to brownstone. It sounded human in nature, but its sickening primal
nature chilled them to the bone. They all heard the soldiers erupt. A lone
human peeled around the armored vehicle. As the helmeted gunner swung his
barrel to face him, a girl bit his neck from behind. Bullets clanged and rang
off the armor of the vehicle. It started forward, smashing into a parked car.
The soldiers on the roofs began gathering on the sides, retreating from the
fronts nearest the river. Three men with gas masks spread out and forcibly
corralled the survivors. As they wailed and screamed, a sergeant indicated the
frantic mother’s son. He had a visible bite mark on his left arm, pooling blood
where he stood on the hot asphalt.

The sergeant’s mouth shook as he drew
his sidearm. The soldier nearest him blocked his way, raising his own weapon.
As they screamed at each other, a wave of infected humans tore down the block.
They weaved in between broken cars and dead soldiers, moving with a frightening
intensity and a disarming ferocity. Jaxton could see people of all shapes and
sizes, all colors and former creeds. They ran like crazed animals, eyes wild
and mouths dripping with blood. They pushed through the wave of gunfire without
a moment’s pause. Bullets ripped into legs and torsos, spraying blood and
sending several scattering to the pavement. After they overwhelmed the vehicle
in a wave of flesh, the infected charged the line of soldiers in the street.
Under a mosaic of blooming spring foliage, twelve million Americans watched as
their sons were eaten to death on live television. Dozens fled, their metal
weapons clattering on sidewalks. Jax saw another jam his own pistol in between
his teeth before he was blindsided by two children. They tackled him. Snapping
canines sunk into his soft flesh and the soldier wailed pathetically in pain
before his neck was torn out.

The clean-cut soldier was fumbling
with his rifle, cowering behind a fallen garbage can. His lips were lined with
spittle as he attempted to load the rifle and bring it to bear. He rose and
tried to roar. What came out was more of a squawk than anything as he fired his
M-16 wildly. Several infected noticed, and like predators in the wild they came
bounding over struggling forms towards him.

A burly hand reached out and grabbed
Tim’s frozen pale form. “Go. GO!”

The camera lost focus. All they could
hear were screams and gunfire echoing in the background. The camera was lodged
in a car, where it faced out the back window. As the vehicle squealed and
pulled away, the viewers could see the last of the soldiers being overrun in an
orgy of violence.

The feed cut back to the studio. Ted
was there, with his jaw set hard. “Now you have seen what we have seen. That
was two hours ago, in Hoboken New Jersey. We have reports the army is
retreating from the blackout zone as we speak, its units flooding to pre-made
barricades at the Newark line. ” Jaxton rose from the couch, deeply moved by
the anchor’s courage. “The army tried to stop us from showing you this. Even
now they may be on their way to our studios-” The feed inexplicably cut to
another CNN desk, where two stunned anchors sat with mouths agape.

“We need to get out of here. Now.”
Troy rose, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. The others sat in staggered
immobility. Harley raised one quivering hand to point, and covered her mouth
abruptly. Her breathing became labored and ragged, a fitful rush into
hyperventilation. Elvis reached around her and pulled the sobbing head into his
own chest. Bennett clutched Adira’s hand, rubbing it feverishly. Her own chest
rose and fell in time with her pounding heartbeat.

“Call your parents,” Jaxton mumbled,
stumbling into the hallway and shaking his head to clear it of the terror that
had abruptly taken root there. He made it into the stairwell before puking,
with breakfast and lunch coming up in violent retches. The sickening wave of
nausea he had felt passed as he did so. His entire world was crumbling around him.
The video on the news had, in a single instant, wiped out all the customary
concerns and joys of a college kid. All the things that made him nervous, made
him feel waves of pride, of joy…they were all trivial now. He suddenly became
aware that society as he knew it was on the brink of total destruction. They
had all seen the panic breeding around them, and a single video file was about
to make the world explode. Moralities and political correctness would vanish,
gone to the winds. Grades, resumes, job applications, bank accounts…all the
things he and his friends had grappled with, had defined success with, were
hollow. They were broken, empty promises shredded to futility by the explosive
advance of a horrific pathogen. It was some sickness, a terrible illness that
spread like wildfire. He considered his friends. He considered his government.
It was about to become man to man. Each man would be his own dictatorship.
Would it get that bad? Could the government contain it? Jaxton only felt
comfortable trusting something when it had definitively earned that trust. The
political realities of his own country had swiftly disillusioned him years
before, with the advent of a new race war between the police and the black
America they were supposed to protect. How often did people in positions of
authority act with noble intent, for the good of the masses? Seldom, Jaxton
knew. He would not place his faith in the government, who even now had
attempted to hide the reality of the sickness from the people. Jaxton had to get
his friends away from the government, and from the sickness. He fumbled with
his phone, hands already slick with sweat in the stuffy stairwell. His mom did
not pick up. Neither did his brother. Jaxton felt his stomach revolt and his
vomit spattered on the bricks below him. Stifling panicking suspicions, he sent
a single group text: “I’m making for home. If you can get there without too
much danger, meet me there. I love you both.” Wiping away the remnants of vomit
with a sleeve, he rose boldly to rejoin the others.

The group was a rabble. Adira and
Harley had been crying, it seemed, as they stared blankly with red-rimmed eyes.
Bennett stared ahead, vacantly. Several tried to make phone calls, to no avail.
The system seemed overloaded. Jaxton heard shouting in the streets below. The
sirens continued to wail. Troy was at the window, looking upwards. The thud of
helicopter blades rose in a crescendo. “It’s Marine One. They’re moving him.”

Jaxton bumped into him with purpose,
“you don’t know that.”

“There are three of them. They go in
different directions so you have no idea which chopper the President’s actually
in. Trust me, they’re moving him.”

Adira’s eyes burned bright and she
dropped her voice to a harsh whisper. “What about all that stuff you said? You said
the Army would have no problem handling this!”

Troy rounded on her slightly, and his
veins were bulging. “Things change. They’re going to retreat for miles. I need
to get out of here. I need to find my unit. You guys are on your own.”

Jaxton gripped his friend’s arm. “Take
a deep breath. You’re freaking us out a little bit.”

Troy’s eyes burned and he snarled.
“Denying reality is how you get killed.”

Jaxton felt an unnatural surge of
anger coursing through him and he pinned the bearded figure against the plastic
blinds. Troy reacted without thinking, instinctually struggling against the
strong hands that held him. The two men, equally matched in terms of strength,
roared in rage as their frayed nerves gave way to more base emotions. Troy spun
around and kneed Jaxton in the abdomen, doubling him over.
                              
    
 
“Enough! Jesus enough!” Adira strode
towards them, her dark, sultry eyes rimmed red and glistening. There was no
shame in her countenance. She stood between the heaving men.

“Don’t touch me again,” Troy snarled,
resembling an un-caged beast.

Without warning Adira slapped Troy
across the face. Immediately, Bennett took a step towards Troy with his fists
clenched. Troy’s frame snapped forward instinctually, and with tears in his eyes
he lashed out at Bennett. Bennett’s high cheekbones absorbed Troy’s right fist
and he crumpled on the floor, like a child. Troy looked at the shuddering form
at his feet and shook his head with disgust. Grabbing his backpack he burst out
the door.

As the others tended to Bennett, Liam
strode into the midst and grabbed Jaxton roughly by the shoulders. “We’re
taking a walk.”

The pair emerged into muddy afternoon
air, where the streets were a blur of pandemonium. The people that ran about
were in a full panic, oblivious to accepted social norms. Some cars drove on
sidewalks to avoid traffic jams. One driver clipped an open door and slammed on
the accelerator. Everywhere, people jogged. No one was walking anymore, even if
there was no reason to jog. The air was filled with an infectious anxiety that
seemed to be cured only be movement.

Liam wouldn’t let go of Jaxton’s
shoulders, though he struggled like a strong child. “Easy now. Easy. Everyone
is too busy trying to pretend they aren’t scared as fuck.”

Jaxton relaxed slightly, which was
enough for Liam’s large hands.

“And the worst is not knowing. Having
no idea what’s really going on makes the mind spin. And that just takes you to
places you’re better off not visiting. Know what I mean?”

Jaxton nodded, breathing a bit easier.

“Alright. Troy’s gone. He’s not as
tough as he seemed, and he’s gone. Everyone else is panicking because we don’t
have a plan. We need a plan, Jaxton. And we need it now.”

Jaxton’s chest rose and fell rapidly.
“Are you with me? We make for Cold Spring?”

Liam remained calm. “If I had to
guess, and I don’t fucking know much at all, but I would say within 24 hours we
are evacuated to the southern states. I don’t trust that. I say we go with what
we can control.”

“If all hell breaks loose, our
families will expect us there. We make for home.”

Adira forced herself to sit straight,
even though she wanted to slink back into the crack in the couch. She felt
anxious, a feeling that was strangely foreign to her. If her skin hadn’t been
the color of bronze, it would have been flush red with embarrassment. Those
around her attempted to make phone calls and scour the Internet for any
information on the crisis. Often they got nothing; the systems were overloaded.
Adira didn’t even know who these people were, truly. She had met most of them
at a party a few nights before. As much as she could make it on her own, she
couldn’t deny the feelings of relief she felt looking around the room. They
felt capable, and confident, and Adira could see they had a fierce, unspoken
loyalty to each other. The images on the TV would make her shake at night, she
already knew. How could she get back to her family? She looked to her phone
again. No messages. Until she could reach her sister or mother, she would stay
with Bennett, and his friends.

She sighed. How had she gotten here?
Her eyes drifted to Bennett shaggy blond hair and soft face. She knew at the
heart of it, she was using him to feel better about herself. How many other
boys had she chewed up and spat out, despite her own best efforts? There had to
be something else she left behind. That had been the plan, anyways.

Adira had thought the boiling crisis
in the north would have abruptly removed human sexuality from the equation.
That couldn’t have been further from the truth. She eyed all the men in the
room, looking for any distraction from her panic.

Elvis seemed a silly plaything, a
peacock that was both charming and amusing at the same time, though the latter
impression was not of his own design. Liam lorded over the group like a
concerning uncle. Jaxton seemed to be the leader, of sorts. She wasn’t sure if
it was just because he was the center of the wheel; the common denominator that
all of them knew best. And her sweet Bennett was the eager school-boy.

Jaxton returned to the room. She saw
the way he carried himself, and couldn’t fail to note a well-built musculature
under that t-shirt. Those kinds of thoughts seemed to come unbidden to her, now
that there was so much fear and tension in the air. Primal instincts had been
elevated.

“Our parents aren’t going to reach
us,” he started, and Adira saw his eyes lock on her own for a second too long. “I’m
pretty sure Elvis’s are the only ones that aren’t stuck in transit right now. It
sounds like air travel is being grounded. No one is going to be able to move on
the highways,” he explained, looking around with fierce grey eyes. “I, for one,
do not want to stay here. The government is most likely going to evacuate us
south. I don’t care what the risk is- I want to meet up with my family if I
can. Home is where I’ll do that. It’s far enough west and south from New York
that we can reach it if we leave as soon as possible.