So this was something that I wrote for my Beginning Fiction class. I wanted to write something different and do some genre writing. As a note, I don't want zombie films, but it was inspired from what my friends have said and stuff. Read and review. I feel like expanding this piece, but I don't know. Maybe you guys can push me to.

-Watereyes

Family Values

The black van roamed farther. The dirt around it swirled in masses. Faster and faster they drove. The mountains that had seemed like conquerable peaks grew as the van sped down the winding valley. The driver, Sgt. Michaels, gazed down at the navigation devices. The panels and monitors blinked and buzzed with orders to drive left, than right. Behind Sgt. Michaels sat Sgt. Cloverfield and new recruit Private Derek Michaels. The veteran and Sgt. Michaels' son were tracking the colony that he had been following. They were moving in rapid bursts. Much faster than the scientists had anticipated. This colony must be fresh. The victims would have just changed only a day or so ago.

"Come in Sgt. Michaels. Over." A crackled voice came in through the radio that was mounted on the dashboard. Sgt. Michaels fumbled over the steering wheel and moved to pick up the receiver.

"This is Sgt. Michaels. The colony seems to be moving at a rapid pace. They are heading toward the mountainside faster than we can reach them. Over."

Private Michaels peered up from his monitor and studied at the furrowed brow of the Sergeant as he reported to headquarters over the status of the infected. It was his first time being on a purification mission. It was his first time on active duty. He had struggled to impress his father after so many years. His father had always focused on the military and the purification project. He knew that to his father he was a disappointment. He wasn't the brightest in his class, and had barely passed the tests to be part of the project. He begged his father for an opportunity to redeem himself and urged him to send him on the next mission. Even though Sgt. Michaels protested, after Private Michaels talked to Sgt. Cloverfield, did the stiff father give in. Only if his son, the recruit, stayed in his place and followed proper directions like any soldier.

"Michaels, we have a problem. The sun is beginning to set and the colony is moving too far ahead to follow them. The forest at the base of the mountain is going to be good camouflage for them and you know we cannot get stuck in there following them."

Sgt. Michaels turned around to look at his superior, "and it's to late to go back to base isn't it."

Private Michaels stopped checking the computers to listen to the seasoned soldiers discuss the new strategy. They didn't have much intel on this new colony, but from what Private Michaels could gather, this colony was a stronger breed than the one that they were used to. The time from infection to possession, from the information on the computers, was almost nonexistent in them. From the little research he had done, it seemed as if the military had no information on these types of infected. The speed that they were moving at was only found in the infected that had survived capture and even then, it took them weeks to gain such movement, but even those individuals didn't possess such high stamina nor intellect like this colony was showing.

"Then we must camp here." Michaels ordered as he slowed down the van and drove it behind a wall of sand.

"Here father?"

Sgt. Michaels stopped the van and turned around to look at the Private, his son. He noticed the young look of innocence on the new recruit. The glimmer of fear mixed with excitement in his eyes. The face, clean from scars, was still being held high. He shook his head. The boy still had hope that this would end peacefully; that this would end at all. This wasn't a war that would come to a close once the enemy was defeated, no this was a lifestyle. The infected were taking over the planet, and this breed was a sign that they were growing smarter and more adept to surviving the dying land. And his son, the one to carry his name was living in a fantasy world that this would end when the last page was flipped.

"Yes, here Private. A slip up again of rank and we might have to reconsider future missions for you. I pulled strings to you on this important mission Private, you better not screw it up."

The three men sat huddled in the back of the van. They all knew that it was dangerous stopping here. They were open targets if the colony decided to move back. They had no choice though, the base was too far to travel and without the Sun on their side, traveling the desert was a death sentence. The men passed around the rations of food that they had left. They had been after this colony for days longer than they had expected. It wasn't normal to continue to follow a colony that was moving away from a populous area, but from the information that they were gathering, the speed and the type of movement, headquarters gave orders to follow and bring back a specimen; as two dutiful men, Sgt. Cloverfield and Michaels agreed since this would be both of their last missions before being able to return home.

"Sgt. Michaels, how were the infected created?" Private Michaels relieved the silence that had surrounded the men.

"The infected? Do they teach you nothing in training anymore? No, of course they don't or simply it's that you don't pay attention like you should." He shook his head and glanced away from the recruit. Sgt. Cloverfield witnessed as the look of guilt spread across the Private's face as a similar look of shame spread across the Sgt.'s.

"Kieth, give the poor kid a break. He's just trying to pass by the time. Besides it would serve us good to have a refresher course on the matter. Especially with this new strain." He chuckled trying to ease the tension between the father and son pair. .

"Oh fine, to pass the time, but this better be the last time I have to repeat myself, Private. As you know, the infected were a result of the nuclear residue from the Fourth World War."

The residual nuclear waste had been building around the Earth since the first atomic bomb was dropped in Nagasaki during WWII. Once WWIII began, the superpowers of the world began using nuclear and biological warfare. The combination of the two began to mix unnoticed in the atmosphere for centuries. Finally, after the remaining superpowers in the world began to wage their fifth war, did the effects of the first bomb appear. Humans around the world were getting sick, infected. First households, than towns and finally metropolises were under siege of the strange infection. It started without warning. The first symptoms resembled a cold. But on the third day from the presumed infection date, the true symptoms would begin to manifest. The skin around the neck would redden. The veins would swell and become black. The convulsions would commence after. Short bursts, twitches, would course up and down the body. Then the possession would begin.

If the infected were to get past this point, there would only be a tiny window of opportunity that the vaccine could be used, if not, the victim would fall under the control of the infection. The parasites attacking the body would then consume the mind. Slowly the victim would lose their grasp on reality and then would be under full control of the parasite, who's mission, as scientists were beginning to uncover, dealt with destroying the remaining plant life on Earth.

"And that is why the infected exist. It is the job of the US Army to protect the nation from all harms. Even if there is little left to the nation."

The United States of America had been the most hurt by the infection. The children and grandchildren of the original nuclear and biological bomb testers had passed the infection through their genes and once the infection mutated into what it was, countless people across the country fell prey to it. And now it seemed as if people were being born with the disease or maybe the disease was merging with human cells and consuming them from the start of inception.

The men continued to talk a bit more until the scanners began to shut down. As the darkness of the night enveloped them, creeping over the van and bringing a cold chill with it, did Sergeant Cloverfield decide that it was time that they rest. The three men huddled together trying to conserve as much energy as possible without using the last of the reserve energy that was held within the van. They had been tracking this colony for days and they needed to return with a specimen so that the scientists could analyze them and find a cure. All around the globe plant life was disappearing, dying as the disease spread and fewer people were around to tend to plants and trees. The last of the forest vegetation was dying out and with it, so was the vaccine. The night lurched forward. The three men's breaths were slowly syncing together as the moon sailed up above. The temperature of the desert dropped rapidly as the hours past, the breaths of the three men became think and visible and as the fog began to cover the windows, heavy footfalls approached the van.

Sergeant Cloverfield woke up slowly from his sleep. It wasn't like him to sleep so deeply on a mission, but after serving many years, the pain and drag of working so long had at last taken it's toll on him. His reflexes and vision were starting to slip from his control. Sooner or later, he'd have to admit to himself that age had caught up to him. The Sgt. stood up and stretched when his ears caught a noise coming from outside. He moved towards the front seat when a scraping sound peeling on the windows. The fogged up windows blurred the image of the thing outside, but as Sgt. Cloverfield got to the front console, a face slammed itself against the window, screeching and biting. Then, just as the first one had appeared, a dozen more faces crashed against the van covering all the windows. The moans and snarls rattling the crimson colored teeth were muffled against the glass, but even so, a chill ran down Sgt. Cloverfield's spine.

"Dammit, Sgt., we're under attack." He turned around to awaken his comrade and his son when the van started to shake.

The dirt covered hands banged against the van and tilted it back and forth. Sgt. Michaels and his son woke up with a start and tried to focus on the situation.

"Sgt. I thought that they were miles away from us, how could they get here so...?"

Michaels turned around to snap at the foolish soldier, "Private, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't be under an ambush attack."

The shaking got stronger and pieces of equipment began to bounce around in the van. The three men had to grab onto the sides of the van to keep their balance, but as hard as they tried, they couldn't get a strong hold. The violent moans, screeches, and yells filled the once quiet night air. Ear-splitting scrapes filled the interior of the van as yellow nails clawed at the metal. The men fell to the floor clutching at their ears trying to block out the painful sound.

"Dad, what are we going to do?"

Fists began to pound on the windows. Harder. Faster. The beating joined the scraping. Sgt. Michaels tried to inch towards the steering wheel to turn on the van and get them out of there, yet, as soon as he got to the front seat, the front part of the van began to rise into the air. The infected were pounding on the glass with unregistered strength that began cracking the windows. Just as Michaels got to the wheel, the back door was stripped from its hinges. A foul stench filled the close confinements. The musk of dying flesh, dirt, and other smells made Sgt. Michaels want to hurl the contents of what he had left in his stomach just so that could cover the smell that surrounded him.

The infected gripped into the vehicle. Their voices resounded and shook the older soldiers. The lifeless eyes, the open mouths, the twitching fingers rushed in. The crimson liquid fell from their eyes, their noses, covering their bodies. The liquid fell onto the floor setting prints down which led to the three victims. The youngest, rested closest to the colony. They extended their grips to the young soldier. They locked onto the boy, gripping the strings of his boots to pull him closer to them. Their shrieks of victory erupted from within the vehicle which led the stoic Sgt. Cloverfield to stop in his movements.

"Sgt. Micheals—" The infected grabbed onto the boy and dug their nails into the new flesh. "Dad, please hel..."

The voice of the crying lad was drowned out as the infected swallowed him into their midst.

Sgt. Michaels stood their looking at the spot where his son had been lying when a fist smashed into the van. The broken glass glimmered under the moon light as it fell onto the floor. The fists that had forced their entry trashed around breaking more glass and leaving traces of their flesh on the jagged shards.

"Keith, we need to go get your son—" Those were the last words that Sgt. Cloverfield spoke as one of the infected launched itself through the side door and drove it's hand through the Sergeant's chest ripping out his heart and leaving it dangling from the pumping veins. The dead Sergeant collapsed to the floor as the infected wriggle trying to escape it's victim and move onto another. The infected came in swarming. After so many years of service, Sgt. Michaels didn't know what to do.

Intel told them that if they were to be the last men standing, that they must do all that was possible to return to base to share their information. Of course they must bring back their comrades, recruits were always expendable though, he had said so himself, but if all else failed, he had to make it back. He was a man that followed orders. He had served for 30 years faithfully to the government, but eighteen years ago, he had made a vow to a newborn that he would take care of him until he was a man. As the infected swarmed around him and he reached for his rifle, Sgt. Michaels made an oath to himself that he would bring, not a comrade back with him, but his son.