“Thank you, Captain.” She turned away and pulled the clothes on. The warmth was almost instantaneous. She looked over her shoulder. “Has word gotten to Colonel Kinnick about the dead crossing?”
Heath nodded. “I brought a backup comm. Your unit is reconnected to command.” He watched her as she smoothed her combat uniform.
She raised an eyebrow at him. “Captain, you are staring.” Her side was already darkening with the storm of a bruise.
“Ma’am, it’s not that.”
She didn’t doubt the man, but she was still a woman. A woman with no kids or husband, she was married to the Corps, but in these times, she wouldn’t put it past any man to sneak a peek at a woman if it was just to remember what they were fighting for. Even her best male Marines were still made of flesh and brawn. At their most basic biological level, they were still men. “What is it then?”
“It’s what you did here.”
She stood shakily, every muscle screaming defiance. “What have I done? Where’s Captain Butler?”
“He’s in the next room.” He shook his head. “Major, you stopped them. You destroyed the ice. This section of the river is secure. I sent word to my Marines already to keep tabs on their sections of river. We have civilian militia assisting us in scouting potential ice jam points.”
“Somebody would have figured it out once they came across farther south.”
“I have no doubt that you’re one of the only ones that could have done it after the fact.”
“Nine Marines sacrificed their lives for that endeavor.”
“It was only six. Two Marines and a wounded sergeant made it back. And it could have been hundreds. Hell, could have been thousands of civilians that died because of this ice bridge. It could have been the rest of the nation.” He stopped speaking for a moment. “You and those men prevented that.”
Her jaw tightened and a grim smile touched her lips. “I’m glad they survived.” Her mind didn’t stay on her Marines’ survival for long. She had only bought time in a never-ending war. “Show me to Butler.”
He held out a calming hand. “You should rest.”
“You can rest when you’re dead.”
She marched out the door past him. Marines smiled at her as they walked by. “Majors” and “Ma’ams” were said as she passed.
The door was open to the room holding Butler, Wess, and Riddle. A shit-eating grin crossed Riddle’s face, and the corner of her mouth lifted just a fraction. She was going to have to keep her emotions, joy or otherwise, in check.
“Mad Isabel the pit bull herself!”
“Sergeant. Your familiarity is uncalled for,” Butler said with a scowl.
Riddle’s smile hardly faded despite his commander’s rebuke.
She held up a hand. “Captain. It’s fine.”
Butler didn’t look convinced but did not object.
“Sergeant, I’m glad to see you in one piece.”
He leaned against a chair. The medics had set his leg with a makeshift walking boot.
“I ain’t running anywhere, but I ain’t crawling neither.”
“Good to see.” She faced Butler. “What’s our sitrep?”
Butler took in a deep breath. “Much better than it was. The ice bridge is broken here. Captain Heath’s men are making sure any sections near them are staying broken apart.” He shook his head. “A lot of dead got across. Caused plenty of chaos.”
“Any number on that?”
“I’d say roughly ten thousand.”
She shook her head. “Too many.”
“Well, we aren’t in the heavy population areas either. We were able to destroy some of them as they crossed, but others passed on by to the north and south of our position. The line is stabilizing here, but people in the interior might have a rude awakening.”
“I understand. You’ve gotten word to the southern outposts?”
Butler walked over to the wall. A radio sat on top of a short and stout table made for elementary school students. “Our AN/PRC-158 was destroyed. We have this comm. We’ve gotten word to Captain Heath’s outpost; however, they are reporting that Camp Forge has gone dark.”
“Kinnick knows this?”
“He does, ma’am. He’s saying to hold tight while they figure out what’s happened.”
“So we don’t know if the line has held?”
“We know south of St. Louis is holding. Our breakthrough here is contained, but the southern Iowa AOR is nonresponsive.”
“We were supposed to receive reserve units from them almost a week ago. Captain Steele communicated he sent units, but they haven’t arrived.”
Jesus Christ help us. “We can’t catch a break.”
Butler shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
“Spring can’t come soon enough.” She stood for a minute, breathing in the dusty air. When you didn’t have the numbers, the men, the supplies, or the support, you had to rely on guts to have a shot, and guts were the only difference between the dead and the living. She knew what needed to be done. “Heath, get your men ready.”
Confusion spread on the large Marine’s face. “Ma’am? We thought we’d stay and help in reestablishing Outpost Barron. Clear the surrounding area before we travel back.”
“Butler can handle clearing the area on his own.”
Butler kept his mouth flat. He wouldn’t denounce himself as unready or inept. He was neither, but the man could use a spinal recharge to stiffen him up. She supposed that being on the frontline against the dead half of the nation would be enough to shake even the steadiest of soldiers.
“I’m going with Captain Heath back south. We will link with Steele’s command and ensure his area of responsibility is secure. This is our line, and by God, we will hold it, not because we want to but because we have to. Those are our orders. So we hold on until the bitter end because we’re Devil Dogs, and we don’t know a damn thing otherwise.” She eyed the Marines in the room. Helmets under arms. Weapons slung over chests. “Oorah, Marines?”
Their voices were filled with grim vigor. “Oorah, Major!”
“Good. Heath, we move as soon as you are ready.”
“Yes, ma’am. I’ll get them ready.” He dipped his chin and walked out of the room.
“I’ll brief you before we leave,” she said to Butler.
He gave her a slight nod. “Yes, Major.”
She walked across the hall to a sunlight filled classroom. She stopped at the window and stared out at the land before her. There were houses down the street. A dead swaggered its way near the building. A gunshot rang out. It collapsed into the packed powder falling face-first, sending up a cloud of dusty white into the air. Every last one of those dead devils will be destroyed. For she was a pit bull. She would never let go, never give up, and she would win this war.
GWEN
Camp Forge, IA
A sense of nothingness absorbed the time. Tears fell from eyes. Gwen held Becky, and they took turns rocking Haley when she grew tired of her game. The barn was mostly quiet except for the soft crackle of a fire and sobs of mourning. The barn doors slid open and voices grew louder.
She turned around, looking over her shoulder. He walked inside the barn and people shied away from him, murmuring to one another. An M4 was slung along to his side, and he carried a wood axe in his hand. For a moment, he reminded her of the brute Puck. She stood, brushing her clothes to rid herself of the thought.
With bold steps, he made his way to her. He was horrific to behold. Stained in blood, he could pass for an exhausted Ares, God of War. She cupped his soiled beard in her hands, finding his almost frozen cheeks. His hands fell upon her stomach, the fire in his eyes lessening as he watched her belly.
“It’s done. They’re loyal or dead.” His head shook a bit. “I didn’t want this. By God.” He closed his eyes for a second. His voice came out shaky at first but then got steadier. “We had to. There’s no room for error. We either fight together for a chance or we die.”
She caressed
his cheeks. “I know, baby.” His forehead bent down and rested against hers. “Please tell me you’re okay.” His hands stroked her stomach. His voice came out surprisingly soft. “The baby?”
She tensed her jaw and forcefully closed her eyes. “I don’t know. Dr. Miller said that as far as he could tell it’s okay, but only time will tell if something happened.”
He nodded and licked his lips. “I. Um. I broke some ribs, and I’m going to need some stitches.”
She released him. “Jesus. Why didn’t you say something earlier?”
“It’s not bad.” He looked wearily at the ground. “The alternatives were much worse.”
“I can do it. Sit over here.”
She sat him near Becky, and he hugged her and Haley. He gingerly removed his arms through his shirt, stripping to his bare chest. Gwen grabbed a first-aid kit and sat next to him. His side was already beginning to look like a stormy horizon on a summer day.
“How did this happen?”
“Matthew with his wooden flail.”
She brought her hand up to the slice across his chest, navigating through the coarse dark brown hair sticking in the wound. She used her fingers to spread the slash.
He sucked in air. “Mmm. That feels good.”
She took out a needle specially made for stitching and surgical thread.
“No locals, so it’s going to hurt.”
“I know.”
She stuck the needle into his skin just below the wound and brought the needle through the laceration and pricked it back through. Drawing the thread back out, she concentrated as she tied the thread into a knot. She could feel his chest tensing beneath her. “Try not to tense.”
“It’s hard not to.” He grimaced. “I’m sorry for what happened.” He gazed at her as she worked, his eyes still a little distant. “I should have seen it coming.”
“It’s not your fault.” She gave him a slight dip of her chin and focused on her work. She would not lose him, not after everything they’d been through. She would keep him alive and her child safe. Please be okay, she prayed, continuing her repair on the man she loved.
“Ah, Mayor?” Gerald said. He took off his cap and watched her. He looked like he’d been butchering pigs without an apron. Most of the Iowans had stayed to help with what they could, and that boiled down to salvaging shelters and the collection of corpses.
“Yeah,” she glanced at him.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
She bent her head down, tying another knot. The fact that her grandparents were gone still didn’t feel real. Everything felt fake and hazy like she was viewing it from afar. “Thank you.”
“John was a good man, and Lydia a fine woman. We’re sure going to miss them.”
“Thank you. I am too.” The words were foreign in her mouth.
“There’s something I think you and Captain Steele should see.”
“We’ll find you when I’m done patching him up.”
Gerald’s face crinkled as if he thought better of it. “Maybe now would be better. I just don’t want anything sneaking up on us.”
“What is it?” Steele asked.
“Infected. Outside.”
“Motherfucker,” he swore. He snatched up his shirt and jacket, putting both on and stood.
“How many?”
“About twenty.”
Steele gingerly slung his M4 over his shoulder and across his body. Gwen felt for her handgun on her hip. Dug out of the rubble of her grandparents’ home, it would stay on her hip now and forever.
They charged outside into the smoldering wreckage of Camp Forge to the wails of women and the cries of men mourning the dead and gone.
Their feet dug into the fresh powder coating the blood, soot, and debris from the battle in a soft white. The air was bitterly cold, dropping far below zero degrees. Her breath crystalized in front of her.
Jake stood manning one of the four square sandbag machine gun nests sitting above the walls. He shaded his face from the incoming storm.
Mark climbed the short ladder while Gwen followed, carefully maneuvering the rungs. When she reached the top, the wind howled around them, sounding like a dozen packs of wolves circling their prey. Snow swirled as it was thrown into the air by frigid winds.
Gaping mouths of blackened teeth growled endless streams of moans in her direction. Hands with chipped and broken nails raked the bark-less wooden logs of the fortifications. A few wore camouflage and still had the pinkish skin of recently killed men, but most were dark and gray, full of rot and ruin.
“That’s more than we’ve seen in a long time.”
“More than I’ve ever seen,” Jake said. He pointed the machine gun in their general direction.
“The gunfight and smoke must have drawn them in from the surrounding area. Can you grab a couple guys from Hacklebarney with some long spears or sticks and finish them?”
“No bullets?” Jake asked.
“Save the bullets. Brain ’em the old fashion way.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
Jake’s eyes found her, worry stretching on his simple face. “You guys okay?”
Mark reached for him, squeezing his arm. “We’ll be okay.”
Jake acknowledged him and then eyed her. “I’m sorry.”
“It’ll be fine.” Gwen tried to catch her breath. Her stomach felt like she was falling but would never reach the bottom.
“You’ve given us a minute to breathe.”
Jake nodded his head. “Today’s been an ugly day. I suspect the worst day ever seen in these parts.” His voice indicated more than the deaths bothered him.
Mark inspected the wooden walls with an eye of scrutiny. “It looks slick. Nobody falls.”
A field reached down from the farm to the Mississippi River. The blizzard and gusting winds made the normally easy view of the river a cloud of blowing white.
Jake waved at Gerald below. “Grab Nowlton and brain these from on top the wall.”
“Aight.” Gerald trudged off in the swelling storm.
Gwen cocked her head to the side. The blizzard was always moving, but there was something additional moving inside the fury of whiteness. She brought her hand to her brow, shading her eyes from the stinging wind and snow flurries. She blinked, squinting her eyes and trying to focus on the movement again.
The wind’s moan was subdued and deep across the growing darkness of the day’s end. It came from afar and echoed over the dead just beneath them.
“What is it?” Mark asked. He studied her from her periphery.
“I thought I saw something out there.”
Mark took another glance. Snow laced his beard, settling as if it’d found a permanent home. His arm found its way around her. “Let’s go back inside. Jake and the guys can take care of this. I don’t want you coming down with something.”
She separated herself from him. “No, wait.”
Peering hard, she looked for anything out of the ordinary. A light gray shape surrounded by white moved little by little as if it were a buoy bobbing through a colorless sea. She studied it. It took the shape of a person.
“Somebody’s out there.” She pointed.
Mark settled his M4 to his shoulder, using his optic to scan the terrain. He lowered his gun, staring at her. “Where?”
Her hand wavered. “There!”
He placed his eye near the optic. “Yeah, I see it. Could be one of ours coming back.”
Lighter shapes formed in the blizzard around the first until the field was filled with the outlines of people. Her heart leapt. “Oh no.” She grabbed a handful of Mark’s sleeve. “Look!”
The gun snapped back to his shoulder scanning the land. An unholy discord of moans joined the howls of the wind, increasing in volume. The shapes turned into a wall of frozen flesh. A gray and frigid slow-moving wall of death.
He let his carbine lower. Sharp air currents buffeted them without mercy, whistling fiercely overhead. She held her breath waiting for his assessme
nt but already knew the answer.
His voice came just above a whisper against the power of the storm. “They’re across.”
A Message from the Author
Whew! That was an intense ending. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this installment of The End Time Saga. As you may have gathered, there is another book in the series coming your way, The Standing, Book 6 of The End Time Saga. This is scheduled to be the final installment of the series and the grand finale. I just can’t wait to get the next novel in your hands! Looking for the rest of The End Time Saga? Click here.
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About the Author
Daniel Greene is the award-winning author of the growing apocalyptic thriller series The End Time Saga and the historical fiction Northern Wolf series. He is an avid traveler and physical fitness enthusiast with a deep passion for history. He is inspired by the works of George R.R. Martin, Steven Pressfield, Bernard Cornwell, and George Romero. Although a Midwesterner for life, he’s lived long enough in Virginia to call it home.
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