The End Time Saga (Book 5): The Holding

by Greene, Daniel

  “Major Ludlow and Captain Ogden. You may come forward.”

  The soldiers inside the barn shuffled. Another tense minute passed.

  “Major Ludlow,” Steeled called at them. “Captain Ogden.”

  A short man, a hair over five feet tall exited the mass of soldiers followed by a taller man. They walked outside and shaded their eyes to the brightness of the winter day. They took hesitant steps, not wanting to be the first prisoners executed but with enough respect for themselves to continue forward. Nervous feet moved them closer.

  Steele held out a hand. “That’s far enough.” Ludlow’s bug eyes watched his every move, and Ogden’s face fell into a distrusted frown like that of a confused teenage boy.

  “You both have stood against the United States of America. You have killed good hardworking Americans. You have robbed, murdered, and pillaged as you saw fit under the command of a madman.” Steele stopped, gathering himself. “This is your one and only chance to come back into the fold. Your chance at redemption.”

  The lieutenants of Jackson stared defiantly. Ogden sneered. “We’re Legion. We’re all that remains.”

  Steele’s voice grew strong. “Wrong.” He continued louder. “The United States government has adopted all these men as militia forces in accordance of executive order and commissioned by Colonel Kinnick, United States Air Force.”

  Ludlow’s eyes grew larger and Ogden’s narrowed.

  “Impossible,” Ogden called out.

  Steele approached them, keenly aware that he was walking into a potential crossfire situation if the soldiers decided to rush him to escape. He stuck his hand into his breast pocket and removed a piece of paper and handed it to Ludlow.

  Ludlow’s eyes scanned the document, and he passed it to Ogden.

  “How did you come by this?”

  “Like I said, orders from Colonel Kinnick, commanding officer of Operation Homefront.”

  Ogden shook his head no. “Impossible. The government abandoned us. Left us to die. Why would they be giving you command?”

  Steele took the paper back and shoved it in his breast pocket. “I cannot speak for their actions before, but now more than ever, we need to be united against the dead. I need your men here to help defend this part of the river.”

  “Ha,” Ogden said. His boy-like face sneered. “Go fuck yourself.”

  Bug-eyed Ludlow considered Steele for a moment. “What are your terms?”

  A skift of snow settled on the tops of their heads and shoulders, little flakes of white speckling the men. The wind picked up, swirling the flurries around them. More than an inch already laid across the land and the Reynolds’ farm fields.

  “You have a choice. Either stay and fight or leave now, swearing to never take arms against us again.”

  “You’re going to let us go?” Ogden asked.

  “You may go, but you will be given nothing. No food. No weapons. No coats. Only what you wear on your back. Everything else will be given to the men who join and fight.”

  Ogden stared up at Ludlow. “You’re not seriously considering this are you? We can’t join this rebel scum.”

  Ludlow gulped, giving him the distinct appearance of a bull frog. “We will be treated fairly?”

  “You will be treated fair, but know this, until we are assured of your men’s loyalty, they will not have weapons, and if your men think for a second that they have free reign on these civilians like in Youngstown, my justice will be swift and harsh, and you will pay alongside your men for each infraction.”

  Ludlow lifted his chin. “I understand.”

  Ogden stuck his chest out. “I’d rather die than pay lip service to the likes of you pathetic pissants.”

  “Then leave.” Steele turned and pointed toward the entrance. “But you have to live with the fact that your nation lived and died on these riverbanks, and you did nothing to save it.” He nodded to Ludlow, whose almost unblinking eyes took in everything about Steele.

  “Join or leave. You have five minutes. Talk to your men.”

  The two prisoner officers turned around and went back to plead their case.

  After a tense five minutes, the soldiers began to trickle out of the barn. In twos and threes, the soldiers walked out of the barn and into the open. Ogden led them. The men drifted down the road like camouflaged snowflakes with no winter weather gear and no weapons. If the elements didn’t catch them, the infected would.

  Tess spoke from the side of her mouth. “How many do you think will stay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  More men trickled away, following the trudging feet of the man in front of them.

  Frank’s voice hushed into his ear. “You should kill them away from here. They’ll only be trouble.”

  “Aye,” Thunder added. “They’ll either die and turn or regroup and come back. Either way we’ll be fighting them again.”

  “The best way to destroy an enemy is to make him a friend.”

  Ludlow came out with a cluster of soldiers at his back. They approached Steele with respectful caution. His gut tightened. They eyed him curiously. Major Ludlow put a tight hand up to his brow in a salute. Moments later, all his men did the same.

  Slowly, Steele saluted back.

  “Major Ludlow, Ohio National Guard at your service, sir.”

  “Glad to have you on board.” He let his hand drop to his side, eyes running along the soldiers. Can you be trusted? Have I signed my death warrant? Will you even make a difference in this war to come?

  AHMED

  Northern Missouri

  He was already awake when the key scraped the lock and it clicked open. Sadie walked quietly inside.

  “You’re awake?” she said under her breath.

  “Yes.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed and touched his arm, staring distantly at it. “We thought you were dead at first.” She continued to stare away. “Like all the others.”

  “How did you find me?” Vague memories of farm fields and a line of timber filled his vision.

  “The dogs. They sniffed you out and kept a whining.” She glanced at him. “They do good warning us about the infected. Never thought they’d do good at finding the living too. Come on.” With a tender hand, she placed his arm around her and sat him on the edge of the bed. She held a smile in for a moment. “You ready?”

  Ahmed grunted a yes. She bobbed them up and down three times. “One, two, three.” She thrust them both upright, and he let his legs take some of his own bodyweight.

  “Get those legs beneath you. Nice and easy.”

  They took careful steps toward the door. Each footstep allowed his body to remember what it was supposed to be doing. They reached the door, and she let him lean for a moment to catch his breath.

  She was slender. He wouldn’t say skinny, but by no means overweight. He didn’t know if that was a result of the end of the world, a genetic disposition, or a combination of the two, but he knew she was strong to be lugging him all around. “You’re strong for someone so small.”

  “Farmer strong.”

  “Are we on a farm?”

  She laughed a little, sounding too hearty for a girl of her stature. “My family farm. A few head of cattle.”

  “I’ve never been to this part of the country before.”

  She smiled. “Never too late to visit. Come on, city boy. Let’s get you fed.”

  He had the sudden feeling that she used the same tone with the farm animals when it was feeding time.

  She pulled him snugly to her side and walked with him down a hallway. The hallway opened to a kitchen with six people sitting around a rickety table. There were bench seats on either side and chairs on the ends. A fire roared in the fireplace across the next room and he could feel the heat emanating outward. Two small children played with toy cars and multi-colored building blocks on the rug nearby.

  She led him to the bench and helped him take a seat. The eyes of the adults stared his way. Most were more curious than malicious, b
ut a hint of suspicion still hid inside. All except Jim. He sat at one of the table heads. His fingers were laced over his plate with his elbows on the table. Pale blue eyes chipped away at Ahmed like ice picks.

  Ahmed touched his face, aware that he probably resembled a homeless man. His black beard was snarled and much longer than he’d remembered it. His hair was longer too, a cluster of tiny black curls that puffed out every which way when they grew too long.

  They all continued to stare until an older woman across the table smiled at him. “Wel-come,” she said loud and broken. His eyes darted to Sadie, wondering if there was some impairment with her hearing or speech.

  Sadie shot daggers at the woman and dug a long metal spoon into a black iron pot sitting in the center of the table and put a slab of roasted meat on his plate.

  “He’s American, Mom. He speaks English,” Sadie said in irritation.

  Ahmed ignored the mother-daughter spat and watched the meat fall apart on the plate, revealing a reddish inside. She scooped potatoes and drippings, letting them pour over top of the roast and settling into a gravy pool on his plate.

  “It’s pot roast,” she said and took a seat.

  “Sorry,” she said. “That’s my mother, Kelly.”

  The woman smiled at him. “It’s good to have you?”

  He lifted his eyes from his divine plate. “Ahmed.”

  Her smile didn’t fade as she digested his name. She repeated him. “Ahmed.”

  “You know Jim and Kyle.” Jim’s eyes didn’t waver, but Kyle’s eased around the edges with friendliness. A lady sitting next to Kelly eyed him with suspicion. She shared similar chocolaty-colored hair and the same curls as the rest. “That’s Barb, my aunt.”

  An older man with wrinkles around his hard eyes sat at the end opposite of Jim. His eyes had the same pale ice hue as Jim’s. “My father’s name is Brad.”

  The whining of dogs begging at the table turned Sadie’s head. “And these are our dogs. Tank and Bear are the German Shepherds. Peanut is the coonhound. Tank and Bear are brother and sister. Tank’s the girl.” She grinned with a bit of embarrassment then added, “Jim named them.”

  “Better than something stupid like Cinderella or whatever shit you like,” Jim said.

  “Jimmy,” Kelly scolded from the other side of the table.

  “Just saying. Can’t waste a good dog on a crap name.” He picked up a fork, and stabbed a piece of his beef, and put it in his mouth as if the conversation was over.

  Kelly smiled at Ahmed. “Interesting name. Where are you from?”

  “Washington.”

  “The capital?”

  “Yes, D.C.”

  “Super interesting,” Jim said. He shoved a potato into his mouth and watched Ahmed as he chewed. “Long way from home, ain’t ya?” he said, chewing with his mouth open.

  Kelly reprimanded her son. “Jimmy, we haven’t said grace.”

  Jim put down his fork and glared at Ahmed.

  “I’m a long way from home and my friends.”

  “Who’s you’re friends?” Brad said from the other end. His voice was deeper than the others, and they all gazed down at their plates when he spoke, Jim included. His tone held the reverence of a preacher or principal, that of a man who was used to holding authority, familial or otherwise.

  “It’s a long story, sir.” He didn’t know why he added sir, but he felt like he should. It was like he spoke to his own father, a man that demanded respect through words or action or both.

  Brad sucked his teeth. “Don’t beat around the bush. Which group were you with?”

  Ahmed took a deep breath. His words could be the end of him. “I was in a group led by a counterterrorism agent.” Hopefully that adds some clout.

  The ice-blue eyes weighed him, determining whether or not he told the truth. “Feds, huh? Don’t reckon I trust them much. What’s his name?”

  “Mark Steele.”

  “Don’t reckon I heard of him neither.” Brad’s upper lip twitched as if he had a bone to pick with them. “You know Sly Bailey?”

  “No, sir. Am I supposed to?”

  The icy eyes stayed on Ahmed for a moment. “Who shot you, boy?”

  Ahmed took in a breath, but before he could speak, Kelly spoke. “Let’s say grace; otherwise, this food will get cold.”

  Brad’s lip twitched. “Fine, but then we get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He held out his hands to either side.

  Sadie held out her hand and Ahmed took it. The entire family interlocked hands.

  “Bless us, oh Lord, and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty through Christ our Lord. Amen.” Ahmed fumbled along, mumbling beneath his breath. They released each other’s hands, replacing flesh with metal forks.

  “Say, what kind of name is Ah-med?” Jim said with a mouthful of food.

  “It’s Arabic,” Sadie said hurriedly.

  “You ain’t no Christian? Can you eat beef? Isn’t that sacred?”

  Sadie tensed next to him.

  Ahmed put his fork down. “I can eat beef, and no, I’m not a Christian, but I feel blessed to have this food as much as you.” His stomach growled loudly, garnering a short smile from Kelly.

  Jim frowned as if Ahmed had tricked him. “You better eat up. We don’t waste nothing.”

  The family put their heads down and the streaks of forks and knives on plates were the only sounds in the room.

  Ahmed forked a piece of beef and potato and forced as much as he could in one bite. The warm beef with the starchy potato melted in his mouth, and it was so flavorful and delicious he thought he might die.

  He closed his eyes for a moment, thanking God to have let him live even if it was only to have this meal. He opened his eyes and they all were staring at him. He lowered his eyes in embarrassment.

  “You were moaning,” Sadie said.

  He breathed a laugh. “This food is so wonderful. I felt like I haven’t eaten in so long.”

  “You haven’t,” Kelly said.

  Barb eyed him with continued mistrust. “You been in and out for almost a month.”

  “A month?”

  “You were so bad when we found you. Almost white you were. Not an extra drop of blood in you. Sadie there spoon-fed you broth for weeks.”

  Sadie studied her plate in discomfort as if her attentive care was something that brought her shame.

  Brad piped up again. “Who shot you?”

  It took everything in his power to stop eating. “I was in a large group. Over a thousand people. We were trying to find a way across the Mississippi River and get north to Hacklebarney.”

  “Iowa? Why?”

  “That was a safe point for us.”

  Brad narrowed his eyes. “Iowa? Idiots Out Wandering Around.” He shook his head.

  “Yes. We’d been driven out of Michigan by the dead.” He purposely left the part about Colonel Jackson out.

  “Damn son, that’s bad news. Real bad.”

  “A group of bikers we were scouting with turned on me and killed my friends.”

  “They were deader than a doornail when we found ’em.” Brad went back down to his food, scooping a piece of meat in his mouth. “Well, you be on the right side of the river now. Don’t know nothing about your group. No sign of ’em.”

  Tank lifted her head and let out a muted growl. Jim scrutinized the dog. “What’s it, girl?” Everyone at the table looked at the dog as if she were actually going to speak. Tank stared off toward the outside, her lip curling lazily upward. Bear turned toward the door and let out a lower growl.

  Brad waved at Jim and Jim shook his head. “I swear if it’s another deer,” he said under his breath.

  “If it’s another deer, we’re gonna shoot it and eat it. Save the herd.”

  Jim walked over to the window with a hand on his openly holstered handgun. The window was boarded up, but Jim shifted a loose board and slid it horizontally to the side. The gap gave him a small slot to peer through almost unnoticed
. His eyes scanned the dimming light. “Ain’t nothing there.” He slid the piece of wood back into place. “Dumb dogs.”

  Tank’s and Bear’s ears drooped with the disapproval of one of their human masters. Jim retook his seat, swinging a hand at Tank as he walked past. The dog skillfully dodged the swipe and laid her head back down with a sigh.

  Peanut ran for the door and paced. Brad’s face turned angry. “Goddammit, Peanut. Wait a minute.” The reddish-colored dog continued to pace and whine in front of the door. Truck engines rumbled from the outside. All the dogs growled and raced for the door, excited by the prospect of new people.

  Brad snatched a scoped semi-auto rifle from the corner. “I thought you said there was nothin’.” Jim handed a shotgun to Kyle.

  “I didn’t see nothin’.”

  “That don’t sound like nothin’. Kelly, get those kids in the cellar. You remember the plan. Stanton’s.” He hesitated a moment, staring at his son. “You too, Jim.”

  “Dad, I’m staying with you. This is my fight.”

  Brad’s eyes hardened in the corners. “It’s our fight, but we have to let this cool down. Cellar, boy. I won’t have none of it.” His tone was one of no arguing.

  Jim cursed and fled down the stairs.

  Sadie wrapped an arm around Ahmed. “Come on.” She led him toward the basement door.

  “Who is it?” Ahmed asked.

  “No time. I’ll explain later.” He let her lead them.

  The family funneled into the basement. Sadie set him down next to a work bench and table for wood crafting. Tools lined the wall. One of the children cried and Barb picked her up into her arms. Sadie tiptoed up the cellar doors and watched through a crack. Ahmed weakly joined her.

  “Who’s there? Infected?”

  Fear shown in her eyes. “The dead don’t knock.”

  Truck headlights beamed on the front of the house from not one but three pickups.

  “Jackson?” he whispered.

  Sadie’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Who’s Jackson?”