Origins of the Outbreak by Brian Parker

nights.
    Soldiers from Fort Hood would drive the twenty minutes to Belton to flirt with the girls at the university and inevitably the local boys would take offense.  Craig had been stationed at Fort Hood for four years on this tour and it was a never-ending cycle.  Sometimes he wished for the simplicity of Fort Irwin, California.  It was the Army’s desert training facility and there was nothing within fifty miles of the post, in any direction.  Soldiers tended to not get in as much trouble when they were stationed out there – or at least the Army was able to handle things in-house because no other authorities were involved.
    The sergeant checked his cell phone again out of habit.  No messages or missed calls from the night before were a good thing, so he poured his coffee into a travel mug.  He lived in a small Belton neighborhood on the side of town closest to Fort Hood.  He’d chosen to live farther away from work so his family didn’t have to deal with the drama of Killeen, the town right outside of Fort Hood.  Killeen had almost two hundred thousand people in it, whereas Belton only had twenty thousand when school was in session.  He liked the small town feel of the place and the bigger city was only a short drive away.  Plus, Belton straddled Interstate 35.  From the interstate, they could go north or south to anywhere in the country.
    As he started to reach for the front door handle a blinking red light at eye level reminded him to turn off the alarm.  He’d made that stupid mistake before and the damn siren had woken up the entire neighborhood!  He quickly tapped the six-digit code into the keypad and pressed the “off” button.  It beeped quietly, letting him know that the system was disarmed.
    He opened and closed the front door quickly, but didn’t lock it behind him since he needed to take the trash out and then roll the outside trashcan down to the street before he left.  It was a nice morning, the weather would be perfect for the six-mile formation run with the company that the commander did every Friday.  There was a lot of siren activity somewhere towards the center of town that Craig guessed was probably near the university.  The thought that one of his soldiers was in trouble in Belton crossed his mind quickly, but he pushed it aside.  The odds that the problem in town was caused by one of his thirty-five Joes when there were almost forty-fiv e thousan d troops stationed at Fort Hood were astronomical.
    The duffle bag went into the back seat of his car along with the boots that he’d picked up from the foyer and he placed his coffee mug in the cup holder.  As he straightened up from the inside, the bushes on the opposite side of the car began to shake.  He glanced over and thought there must have been some type of wind gust that came through that he didn’t realize – that, or the neighbor’s damn dog was out again.  He’d almost hit the stupid mutt on several occasions as he backed out of the driveway for PT.
    The bushes had stopped moving, so he rushed inside to get the trash.  If he dilly-dallied too long, then he’d get caught up in the rush of traffic at the gate.  Craig pulled the bag out and tied it off.  Then he quietly placed another in the can and walked over to the door.  He closed the door carefully behind himself and locked it.
    Before he’d even pulled the keys out of the deadbolt some motherfucker jumped him from behind and grabbed hold of his shirt.  His years of Arm y combative s training kicked in instantly and he reached over his shoulder and gripped the hand.  He held the hand tightly as he twisted to face his attacker and the guy’s wrist snapped.
    Craig had seen some shit.  He’d shot people in combat – some of them less than ten feet away – but he’d never held someone’s body as a part of the m broke .  He dropped the hand in horror and looked up into the ruined face of a security guard.  The soldier recoiled even further in horror