Omega Pathogen: Despair by J. G. Hicks Jr, Scarlett Algee

blue and red sleeping bag zipped completely closed; by its shape it was obvious a human being lay within. Jim heard his mother Judith weeping and turned to see her sitting on the opposite side of the vehicle with tears streaming down her cheeks as she held her face in her hands.
    “Dad,” Chris said his name again.
    He felt his son’s hand on his left shoulder. Jim turned to his eldest son.
    “Uncle John passed away last night,” Chris said and looked to his uncle’s form in the sleeping bag, then back to his father. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Chris said and his eyes began to swell with tears.
    “I’m sorry. We tried, Dad,” Jeremy said.
    Jim turned to look at him. He pulled Chris and Jeremy to him and hugged them again. “It wasn’t your fault,” Jim said.
    They told what had happened about an hour after Jim had gone inside the hospital. A man and woman had approached them on foot. They had told all in the MRAP that they had to get out and leave it. They were told to leave everything inside and walk away or they’d be burned alive inside it. They had refused to get out and tried to contact Jim. Soon after that a volley of Molotov cocktails were flung at them and that was followed by gunshots at the armored vehicle. The two messengers disappeared for a short time.
    To protect against the gunfire and firebombs, the turret was closed. They were attacked again. This time the dark red pick sped to them and began spraying the MRAP with flame. Arzu had no choice but to flee and create some distance. The weapons they had inside couldn’t be used, they couldn’t open the side gun ports to defend themselves or they risked flames entering the vehicle. If they had stayed, they risked being cooked inside.
    After they got stuck in the mud, their pursuers left and came back with the airboat. Arzu, Chris, Jeremy, and the rest inside were able to keep them away. They pinned the attackers behind the oaks and shrubs, and their pickup. Their attackers’ vehicle had been disabled by Jeremy and a .50 caliber round to the engine when they had returned with the airboat.
    Chris had hit the man Jim had seen buried. He had been careless and a half-inch diameter bullet had taken his arm at the shoulder.
    They had feared Jim dead when he didn’t respond to their radio calls. His family had learned that he was still alive when they saw him the night before as he approached their assailants. In their night vision optics, they had seen a man stalk to the pickup, and knew it had to be him.
    Jim knelt in front of his mother; she still wept for John. She lifted her head from her hands and wrapped her arms around him. Jim could feel her tears transfer from her face to his. “I’m so sorry, Mom,” Jim said.
    “It wasn’t your fault, Jimmy. It was their fault, those other people. I’m thankful you’re okay,” Judith replied.
    Jim stood so he could help start the work of digging out the MRAP from the mud. As he rose, vertigo took over again and he lost his balance. Kathy grabbed and steadied him. She hugged Jim.
    “You really look like shit,” Kathy said, and gently touched his bandaged head.
    Linda welcomed Jim’s return and hugged him as well.
    Jim began to introduce Royce to everyone but Arzu reminded him that Royce had already introduced himself earlier that morning from afar. “That’s right. Royce told me that,” Jim said.
    Jim enjoyed the bittersweet feeling of being reunited with his loved ones again, but knew daylight was very precious. It wasn’t late in the day but without the benefit of weather forecasts, they couldn’t be sure a storm wouldn’t roll in and darken the day enough for infected to emerge from hiding.
    They set about digging the mud away from the MRAP’s rear bumper so they could attach the tow truck’s cable to the snatch hooks. Jim took a turn after Chris began the process, but after only two shovels of muck thrown free of the bumper, he was overcome by pain in his head and nausea from bending to