Apocalypse Unleashed (Left Behind: Apocalypse Dawn 4)

by Mel Odom

  “The last time I saw Zero, he tried to kill me.”

  Bones shrugged. “Yeah, well, he’s sorry about that.”

  Sorry that he didn’t kill me? That was the only way Joey could see it. “There’s nothing to understand,” he said.

  “Zero thinks there is. He wants to meet with you and explain how things are.”

  “How are they?” Joey demanded.

  “He don’t want you going to the police.”

  “I haven’t.”

  “Ever going to the police.”

  “I can’t,” Joey said. “I’ll be arrested and tried for murder too.”

  Bones grinned. “Smart thinking. You keep thinking like that, you’re going to stay alive.”

  That didn’t make Joey feel any more relaxed.

  “Zero still wants to talk to you,” Bones said.

  “I don’t want to talk to him.”

  “Too bad. We’re gonna be outside the rec center here in camp at eight tonight.”

  “I’m not coming.”

  Bones frowned. “That would be stupid. If you don’t show up, Zero’s going to come looking for you. You don’t want any of your friends hurt, do you? Or your mom?”

  Joey felt panic swell in his chest. His heart pounded, and he felt dizzy. Even if he knew what to say, he wasn’t sure he could speak. The nightmares he’d been having were coming true.

  “Eight p.m.” Bones held up four extra-long, extra-skinny fingers on each hand. “Be there. Don’t make us come looking for you.” He turned and walked away.

  Weak and dizzy, Joey leaned against the bike rack and tried to think. He didn’t know how everything had gotten so messed up. He closed his eyes and was once more in the trunk of the Cadillac Zero had stolen. They’d intended to take him back to one of the empty houses and kill him because they didn’t trust him. Joey had managed to escape, and they’d shot at him several times before he vanished into the night.

  Now they were here, and he didn’t doubt they’d try to kill him again.

  10

  United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost

  Harran

  Sanliurfa Province, Turkey

  Local Time 0543 Hours

  “Sergeant Gander?”

  Goose came awake instantly. He’d been dozing, not really sleeping. The army had taught him to do that. Soldiers rested when they could and slept when they were able. He’d woken at mess call and received a tray from the guards at his door.

  “Yeah?” Goose swung his feet off the field cot and sat up. Lieutenant Swindoll hadn’t been any too generous with the accommodations of the house arrest Remington had imposed. The local warlords attacked on a regular basis, hoping to drive the entrenched American soldiers from the city so they could loot it at will. As a result, clean housing was at a premium. Goose occupied a cellar under a dilapidated house that looked ready to fall at any moment.

  “Chaplain Miller. We’ve met.”

  “Yes, sir.” Goose got to his feet. Miller was a captain.

  “Might I have a word with you?”

  “Of course, sir.”

  Miller came down the steep stairs with a bright electric lantern fisted before him. The light hurt Goose’s eyes, and he looked away instinctively to preserve what night vision he could.

  “Sorry.” Miller turned the lantern down to a dim glow. “I didn’t think about what that was going to do to you.”

  “It’s all right, sir.” Goose saluted and stood at attention.

  “At ease, Goose. This is just a visit.” Miller was in his fifties, a lifer in the Rangers who—scuttlebutt had it—just couldn’t step away from the military. He was thin and leathery, with a seamed, plain face, a hooked nose that looked like it had been broken in the past, and shaggy gray eyebrows over deep-set eyes.

  Goose automatically dropped into parade rest.

  “Take a load off, Sergeant. This is totally informal.”

  “Yes, sir.” Goose hesitated. “There’s not much in the way of comfort, sir. I’m not exactly set up for guests here.”

  Miller surveyed the small room. It stank of damp earth and was roughly seven feet cubed. The field cot took up one whole wall. Shelves containing canned goods took up another. Sacks of rotting potatoes sat on the floor. Bags of onions hung suspended from the low ceiling.

  “This is ridiculous. Until I got here, I had no idea your quarters were this bad.”

  “It’s dry.”

  Miller shook his head. “I can’t believe Captain Remington has decided this is in the best interests of these men.” He breathed out heavily. “Scratch that. In the best interests of his command.”

  “The captain has his own view of things, sir.” Goose felt strangely self-conscious of his surroundings, as if he were to blame for their meagerness and his inability to be more hospitable.

  “He certainly does, and I must tell you, it’s not a popular view.” Miller hung the lantern from one of the hooks. The dim light chased most of the shadows from the room.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean several of the soldiers—men you came in with as well as soldiers on-site here—are starting to talk about liberating you.”

  Goose shook his head. “That’s nonsense, sir. I’d appreciate if you’d give those men a message from me and let them know they need to stay out of this.”

  “I’ll do that, but I don’t think it’ll do much good. I’ve already counseled against anything like that.”

  “Tell them I fight my own battles.” Goose’s voice hardened. “Tell them if they come in here without me being relieved by the captain himself, that they’ll have to fight me too.”

  Miller smiled ruefully. “They know that. They’ve talked about that among themselves. Truthfully, I think that’s the only thing keeping them out of here now.”

  Wearily Goose wiped at his face with a hand. His beard stubble crackled against his rough hand. “Me and the captain, we’ve been crossways before. We’ve always seen it through all right.”

  “Not to intrude into your personal business too much,” Miller said, “but you’ve never been under house arrest before.”

  “No, sir, I reckon not.” Goose’s cheeks burned a little in embarrassment at that. During the seventeen years he’d been an army Ranger, he’d never once been called on the carpet like this.

  “Why do you think Captain Remington acted the way he did?”

  “I disobeyed a command. I was to stay with the convoy. I didn’t. Men were lost—good men.”

  “You helped a village.”

  “I fell for bait in a trap.”

  “Have a seat.” Miller waved Goose to the cot, then pulled over a barrel from the shelves.

  Reluctantly, Goose sat.

  “We need to talk about what you’re going to do.” The electric lantern light softened Miller’s features and bleached them to almost the color of bone.

  “I’m going to do whatever Captain Remington wants me to do.”

  “Even if it’s wrong?”

  Goose bristled a little at that. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I ain’t seen nothing Captain Remington has done wrong. I’d defend everything he’s done.”

  “I know. But these times we’re in, Goose, these are perilous times. Men are going to be weighed and judged by the way they conduct themselves over these next few years.”

  “I’m a soldier, sir. I’ve been a soldier most of my life. If things work out right, I’m going to retire as a soldier.”

  “You have a young son, don’t you?”

  A ball of pain suddenly knotted up in Goose’s throat. He tried to speak and couldn’t. He settled for a nod.

  “Where is he now?” Miller’s gaze didn’t waver.

  Goose kept his gaze level, but he felt tears burning his eyes. He wanted to speak, but he could barely breathe.

  “All those children disappeared like that.” Miller’s voice grew soft and husky. “A miraculous thing by all accounts.”

  Goose forced himself to sit with his forearms restin
g on his knees. His hands knotted before him, knuckles white.

  “You talked to Joseph Baker about this, Goose. Before he was killed, he told me that the two of you had spoken.”

  “We did.” Goose’s voice was a hollow whisper in the dank quiet of the cellar.

  “He told you he believed this was the time of Tribulation and that the children had been taken to heaven because they were innocents. Do you believe that?”

  Hesitating, Goose stared at the chaplain. Finally he forced the words to come. “I want to. God help me, I truly want to.”

  “But you continue to doubt?”

  “Yes, sir.” Shame burned Goose’s face.

  Miller was silent for a moment. “Everyone I’ve talked to who knows you speaks of what a good man you are.”

  Goose didn’t know what to say to that, so he said nothing.

  “They respect you, and as men love fellow warriors, they love you too. But if you’re a good man, Goose, why aren’t you in heaven with your son?”

  Anger stirred in Goose, dark and rich and almost unconquerable. His legs tightened and almost lifted him from the field cot, but a muscle spasm in his left knee blinded him with pain. By the time he had the pain pushed out of his mind, the anger had gone too.

  “Your son is safe,” Icarus, the rogue CIA agent, had told Goose. “God came and took your son up as He took all the other children.”

  “I don’t know, sir,” Goose stated quietly.

  “Do you believe in God?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Have you ever given yourself to Him?”

  “I was baptized, sir. Back in Waycross. Momma saw to it all of us were.”

  “Your mother made that decision for you?” Interest gleamed in Miller’s gray eyes.

  Goose shrugged. “Momma was a powerful churchgoer when she was alive, sir. She talked Daddy into getting baptized before they were married. When the time came, she let me know she wanted me baptized too.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I got baptized.”

  “Did you talk to God about this?”

  “No, sir. Didn’t have to. Momma was enough.”

  “Have you ever asked God into your heart, to forgive your sins, to work His will through you?”

  Goose immediately felt uncomfortable. “Momma and Daddy taught me wrong from right, sir. I wasn’t ever no trouble to them. Everything I’ve done, I’ve been proud of.”

  “It’s not enough to be a good man in this world, Goose. Unless you’re perfect—and nobody is—then you’ve got to let God work through you, too.”

  “I figure He’s had me do things from time to time. I’ve gone to church, and I’ve given time and money to help out.”

  “That’s just lip service. God wants a personal relationship with you.” Miller paused and licked his lips. “He may have chosen to put you through this, through these times, to build that personal relationship with you.”

  When he spoke, Goose’s words had a hard, dangerous edge to them that he didn’t expect. “Then God picked a bad way to try to get me on His good side. You don’t take a man’s son from him without an explanation. You don’t strand a bunch of soldiers in harsh and unfriendly lands just so they can get chopped to pieces by an invading army or by warlords gathering around like carrion feeders. Meaning no disrespect to you, I don’t approve of God’s ways of doing things. And I ain’t feeling any too friendly toward God about now.”

  11

  Downtown Sanliurfa

  Sanliurfa Province, Turkey

  Local Time 0549 Hours

  Driving his personal Hummer along the downtown street, Remington was cognizant of the suspicious and hostile stares he drew from the citizens who’d decided to press their luck by staying in the city. He disregarded them almost automatically. The way people felt about him was something to factor into his plans but nothing that could deflect or cripple his efforts.

  And Remington knew that whatever fear and respect he commanded was nothing like the hold Goose seemed to have on so many of the soldiers in his unit.

  They’re my men, Remington thought angrily. I’m the one that decided to go to OCS. I’m the one that took the risks and the abuse everyone handed me while I busted my butt to make something of myself. Goose didn’t do that.

  Officer Candidates School hadn’t been an easy choice for Remington. He and Goose had shared a blue-collar background, though they were from different parts of the country.

  Goose had elected not to take his chances with the college boys and elite. Remington had risked his pride and ego by signing up; then he’d sacrificed a large part of his life pursuing the grades he’d needed to earn his second lieutenant’s bars.

  He’d progressed rapidly after that, always pushing his way up through the ranks. He hadn’t earned any friends there, either. As it stood, he was an ill fit among the officers and the enlisted.

  Until recently, though, he’d always had Goose. He cursed bitterly. The problem was, he still had Goose. The sergeant didn’t even have the decency to die when Remington had set him up.

  Twice.

  But Remington felt confident Goose wasn’t going to come out of the box he was in now.

  United States 75th Army Rangers Outpost

  Harran

  Sanliurfa Province, Turkey

  Local Time 0551 Hours

  Miller was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t always approve of God’s ways either. I suspect that’s why I’m here.” He paused. “As a chaplain, I’ve been thirty years in the army. I’ve always told myself I was doing God’s work. But I stopped being a big fan of it over twenty years ago.”

  The electric lantern flickered for a moment, then swung slightly from side to side. Goose watched it with interest.

  “I’ve held dying soldiers in my arms.” Miller’s voice cracked. “Watched young men die scared and in pain. I’ve tended women who’d been raped and savaged by enemy soldiers—or even by men whose eternal salvation I was supposed to secure. I’ve buried children in Iraq, Kosovo, South Korea, and a handful of countries in Africa.” He blew out a breath. “At some point I started asking myself if this was truly God’s work.”

  “Momma always said the devil was loose in the world,” Goose said. “She told me he was the reason bad things happen to folks.”

  Miller nodded. “Your mother was right, of course. But somewhere in that, I lost sight of it. But it’s not just Satan. It’s men. They have free will. They can choose to be close to God or distant from Him. I suspect a lot of them get out of the habit of making that choice or figure once they make it that they don’t have to tend to the relationship.”

  Goose studied the pain he saw etched on the chaplain’s face. Men who talked of war had such looks. Goose had seen it in his own face every now and again. “You could have gotten out of the military a long time ago,” Goose pointed out.

  Miller grinned wryly. “I could have. You could have too. Why didn’t you?”

  “Ain’t in me to be anything other than what I am.”

  “The private security sector has grown a lot over the last few years. You could have signed on with a firm, got a bigger paycheck, and been closer to home. Probably been home more often.”

  “Yes, sir. It’s been pointed out to me. I’ve had offers. Men I’ve trained are there now.”

  “So why didn’t you do that?”

  Goose reflected on the reasons for a moment. He’d never thought about it too deeply because he’d never been interested in leaving the army. “Because, sir, I never quit on anything I’ve ever set my mind on. And at the end of the day, I serve a flag, a country, and a way of life. Not some corporate bottom line.”

  “Do you think life is that simple?”

  “My life is. I keep it simple.”

  Miller smiled. “No wonder you’re so well liked.”

  That embarrassed Goose. He shook his head. “My job isn’t to be liked. I just do what I’m told to do.”

  “Except when you don’t.”

&n
bsp; “Yes, sir. But I’ll stand to take the fall for that.”

  Leaning back, Miller looked around the cellar. “Yet for all that, here you sit under house arrest.”

  Goose remained silent.

  “Actually,” Miller went on, “it’s worse than that. If the armed men guarding the cellar entrance are any indication.”

  “The captain’s just keeping me honest.”

  “Do you really think that’s what those men are there for?”

  “I wasn’t trained to second-guess a commanding officer,” Goose said.

  “You may have to, Sergeant.” Miller’s voice came a little harder now. “The men out there ready to champion you aren’t happy with how things are going. Most of them aren’t sure that circumstances back home are safe for their families. In fact, most of them have lost family. Just like you lost your son.”

  Goose winced. He forced himself to breathe as an image of Chris momentarily filled his thoughts. Guilt hammered him when he told himself he had to quit thinking about his son at the moment. For that split second, he rebelled against being a soldier. Then he grew calm.

  “You know,” Miller said, “if you think about it, maybe this next seven years of unrest and horror we’re about to face is God putting all of us under house arrest. We’re here by choice, and we’re going to have to work our way through it.”

  “If you want to believe that, you go on ahead.”

  “Can you think of another reason everything’s happened as it has?”

  Goose didn’t say anything.

  “This isn’t a good time to be without answers,” Miller went on.

  “I know that, but I don’t have any.”

  “The men—many of them—trust you, Goose. They believe you care about them and have their best interests at heart. They don’t feel the same way about Captain Remington.”

  “Then they’re making a mistake. He’s a good man.”

  “I don’t doubt that you believe that,” Miller replied. “But with you sitting here in this cellar, maybe you can see how some of them would begin to doubt it.”

  Goose folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the earthen wall. He could see how men would think that. Remington, for whatever reason, had made a critical mistake.