Three Miles Out: Book One Read online

  The man slammed the door closed seconds before infected pummeled it.

  He reached up and shifted the bolt to secure it. Breathing heavily, he stepped back. “Sorry it took so long. Someone heard you out there, we had to make sure you weren’t them.”

  “Thank you,” Brady said.

  “Sure thing,” he looked at Bert. “Are you okay, Sir?”

  “I’m fine. Just need to slow my heart and catch my breath,” Bert said. “We can’t thank you enough.”

  “Glad we heard you,” he said. “We’re pretty buried in the belly of this hotel.”

  “There’s more people here?” Brady asked.

  “Yes. We’re trapped. Those things are everywhere. This way.” He led them down the hall. “I’ll get you some water, you can find a spot to settle.”

  “Were you a guest here?” Brady asked.

  “No, I was a food and beverage manager. I was acting general manager for a couple days when it fell apart. The hotel did a flip from being fine, to being overrun about two days ago. Chad.” He introduced himself.

  “Brady, and this is Bert.” Brady replied.

  “Nice to meet you both. We’re all in here. It’s safe. We have access to the kitchen, supplies, food, and laundry. We’re good. Until help arrives.”

  “I don’t think it will,” Brady said.

  “Then we’ll figure something out.” He opened the doors.

  The room was huge, a ballroom probably used for conferences or small weddings. People lined up against the walls, laid on tables, blankets on the floors. There were too many to count.

  “I must warn you, some are sick, some are injured,” Chad said. “We’re doing the best we can. Me, the catering manager and a couple of other employees. We’re preparing for the worst, but none of us are doctors.”

  “You’re in luck,” Brady said, then nodded at Bert.

  “You, Sir?” Chad asked.

  Bert nodded. “I’m retired, but a doctor.”

  “Can you help? If you don’t want to …”

  “Nope. Set me up. I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You got it. I’ll be back.” Chad gave a soft pat to Bert’s back and shuffled away.

  “At least I won’t feel useless,” Bert said.

  “Yeah,” Brady looked around at the faces and froze. In the corner, seated on the floor, shoulder to the wall for support was Corrie. “Oh my God. I’ll be back. That’s Jason’s wife.”

  “My eyes may not be the best, but she looks sick, or injured. So go easy on telling her too much.”

  Brady nodded, told Bert he’d be back and made his way to Corrie.

  “Hey,” he said softly, kneeling before her.

  Her skin was pale, her breathing was rapid, blood saturated her shirt from the gaping wound in her neck.

  She opened her glossy eyes. “Brady.” She smiled weakly. “Brady.”

  Brady dropped to the floor and sat next to her, no sooner had he done that, with a relieved sigh, Corrie rested against him and fell back to sleep.

  He stayed there not moving, holding his best friend’s wife. Wondering if she knew about the baby, if she was there, what hell she had been through.

  He didn’t know how long he sat there, his mind drifting as he held back tears.

  “Hey,” Bert said as he stood above Brady. “Did I wake you?”

  “No, I was just thinking.”

  “I can’t get down there with you. Would you mind sitting in that chair so I can treat you.” Bert pointed.

  “Sure.” Brady gently moved Corrie from his shoulder and allowed her to lay down as he stood. The chair was a few feet away and Brady sat down.

  “Give me your hand,” Bert said. “Rest it right here on the bar.”

  Brady raised his hand and placed it on the rollator.

  “Eh, not too bad.” On the seat of his rolling walker were medical supplies and bandages. “It doesn’t need stiches. Just cleaned and bandaged.”

  Brady looked down to his hand. A human bite mark was between the thumb and forefinger. It had bled badly for a while and stopped. He had forgotten about it. It happened when he was trying to pull the housekeeper from Jason.

  He winced when Bert cleaned and probed it. “It’s not deep. At least a chunk isn’t missing, right?”

  Brady nodded.

  “Yeah, we’ll get this cleaned up. You’ll be just fine.”

  Brady didn’t say anything. He heard Bert’s words, then looked at his wound. He hoped that Bert was right, but Brady knew better. He was bit by an infected, there was no way, short of a miracle, that he would be fine.

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  Even though it happened in an office and over the phone, Brian James was given what the military called a field promotion.

  In the wake of the absence of commanding officer, Colonel Sharpe, and absence of the top command at Fort Detrick, Brian became a Colonel, fully in charge of the quarantined base.

  Not only that, he was therefore drafted into the executive position for warfare strategy against the parasite.

  Upon receiving his command, his first order was to find Colonel Sharpe.

  She was located in a rest area fifty-three miles outside of Washington, D.C.

  Safe, sound, but ill and being processed as a level three, he was told.

  He was just happy his friend and coworker was found.

  Walter Reed was closed down, as was the base. They didn’t have groups of infected roaming the streets, it was quiet. The only movement was that of soldiers, wearing protective gear as they patrolled the streets.

  Using Linda’s analogy of Fort McHenry, Brian vowed to keep the base safe and alive even though he knew from the doctors that the parasitic infection was everywhere on base, and the hospital was looking like a ward from the days of the Spanish Flu.

  Brian had to stay alive and healthy.

  He retreated to the underground shelter and communications center. The soldiers down there worked and lived down there on shifts. He was certain those already below weren’t exposed.

  With plenty of supplies, he sealed off that room and went to work.

  Linda’s plan was in effect.

  No Go Zones were initiated and states sealed off.

  Troops moved in to clean sweep areas.

  Medical supplies and food were on their way into infected zones where aid stations would be set up in the parking lots of shopping malls and school gymnasiums.

  The troops would handle the ‘Zombie’ like invasion, medical personnel would do their best to stop those suffering infection from getting to that stage.

  Still there were so many out there, so many not infected, they were stuck behind enemy lines.

  Brian utilized the communications station.

  “You hold a direct line to FEMA. I need you…” He pointed to another specialist. “To stay in contact with all research facilities, ask for hourly updates even if nothing changes. Keep me posted.”

  He had another monitoring transmissions from boots on the ground, and another solely dedicated to scanning the airwaves for survivors calling out, and militia that would be transmitting for anyone out there alive, needing help, or wanting to help.

  Everyone did their job, and Brian worked on the task of looking at the future.

  Even though defeating the infected was a priority job, Brian looked at another aspect as more important. Safe cities, cities that could be sealed for survivors, proactive testing and even locations in cold zones.

  The continuity of life, the survival of mankind, was vital. He began the task of working on that plan so that humanity did not succumb to the infection that tragically and rapidly was taking over the world.

  While the human race was still breathing there was a fighting chance. It wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

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  Looking for Book 2?

  Book 2 is available on Amazon

  THREE MILES OUT: BOOK 2

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