The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3]
Page 100
Kinnick pointed. “Hunter, concentrate fire on the tunnel entrance. After they are thinned out, I want 2nd squad, 2nd Platoon to move up. Bounding overwatch with 1st squad, 3rd Platoon. In the meantime, we have to figure out a way to seal the tunnel.”
The master sergeant stood, staring. He pointed his gun at Kinnick. Fire exploded outward from the barrel. His SCAR boomed, fast and furious. Kinnick flinched and adrenaline spiked in his gut. An infected woman with gray skin and tangled black hair dropped behind him.
“We got a hot zone,” Hunter yelled. “We should get elevated.”
“I want that tunnel sealed,” Kinnick yelled over the gunfire.
Camouflaged soldiers of Stark’s 2nd squad bounded forward under the watchful eye of Matthews and 1st squad. Stark’s 2nd squad took positions behind cars, weapons pointed at the tunnel entrance. Gunfire pumped out of M4 carbines; M249 light machine guns and M240 machine guns unloaded into the tunnel entrance.
Kinnick and Hunter followed Matthews and 1st squad forward through cars and infected bodies alike. Kinnick tried to keep up, feeling every minute of his age. Open luggage, empty water bottles, metal and plastic pieces of crashed cars littered the ground. Then there were the bodies. Bullet holes riddled their torsos and extremities. Kinnick knew those wounds were ineffective, but at some point, a round had destroyed their heads because the infected no longer sought the living.
Kinnick lunged over a man split in half, his guts strewn about like roadkill. Kinnick’s feet were heavy. Hounding Matthews and 1st squad, they passed Stark’s 2nd squad and took up firing positions behind cars and trucks alike. Kinnick leaned over the back of a pickup. Ping-ping. Ping. His carbine sounded off and an infected fell. He tried to focus more on catching his breath because within a minute he would be back on the move again.
The squads repeated the bounding action. The soldiers from 2nd squad surged past Kinnick and Hunter. Closer and closer they moved to the tunnel entrance, guns blazing as they moved. The tunnel entrance grew larger and larger, like a giant mouth getting ready to devour them. The sheer magnitude of the mountains towered even higher around them.
They slowed down as more infected stumbled from the darkness of the tunnels, a horde of rats from the bowels of the earth. They hobbled out, white eyes penetrating the living soldiers. His men held a continued rate of fire, dropping the dead as effectively as could be deemed possible. Fifteen minutes of continuous roaring gunfire passed, round after round. Calls for reloads were shouted, but the men laid down enough firepower to stem the tide of the infected. Kinnick glanced up the ridge. He could see the tiny members of Stark’s 1st squad disappearing over the ridge top that was more of a ski slope than a hill.
“Keep it up,” Kinnick shouted down the line. He had no idea if the soldiers could hear him over the rippling clamor of gunfire.
Kinnick inched closer to Hunter. The master sergeant fired his SCAR in controlled bursts. “How are we going to get this tunnel blocked? Our plan was to blow the tunnel. Now, I’m not even sure we can get inside.” Kinnick said to him.
Hunter’s shoulder rocked as he finished a magazine.
“Reloading,” he yelled. His fingers slammed a full magazine back into his SCAR. “Not sure, but we can’t keep this up. Look,” Hunter said. He pointed. Walls of flesh and bone grew larger as more came into the light. Hundreds milled shoulder to shoulder, turning into thousands.
“Pull 2nd squad back. We are moving to Plan B,” Kinnick said into his radio. The soldiers of 2nd squad were about ten yards farther ahead and offset from 1st squad.
“Second, rally on, First,” Hunter said into his radio. The soldiers turned back and gave up their ground.
Hunter waved his arm at Elwood, on their left flank, then gave three pumps of his hand at the tunnel.
“Elwood, hit ’em with the rockets. Then we will block up the entrance with vehicles,” Kinnick said into his radio.
Seconds later, white smoke streaked into the air diagonally from above, and the entrance of Eisenhower Tunnel erupted into an orange ball of flame. The dead that weren’t annihilated on impact were launched into the air. Others walked into the flames. Fire caught their clothes and hair, engulfing their bodies in a red-licking blaze. They collapsed onto the pavement as they were cooked by the fire.
Another rocket streaked inside the tunnel. It exploded and a series of booms rocked the ground as cars blew apart. His men cheered. A third rocket penetrated the tunnel entrance. The ground shook upon impact.
“If the bastards didn’t know we’re here, they do now,” Hunter growled, looking over the top of his rifle.
Kinnick watched the flames and black smoke billow out from the tunnel.
“Cease fire, Elwood,” Kinnick said into his radio. The rockets stopped. Only the soft sound of crackling flames was in the air. Kinnick snatched up his binoculars. Zooming in, he scanned the inferno and black smoke. A man crawled on the ground. Others struggled upright, but most were pieces of charred flesh strewn about the ground.
“I’m not seeing many Zulus,” Kinnick said. “Stay alert,” he shouted. No sound of the dead. His ears still rang from the gunfire and rockets. Would you hear them even if they were coming?
He dropped the binoculars. A sudden explosion sounded off in the tunnel, causing him to flinch. A man staggered out of the tunnel. A soldier in the front row fired rounds into his chest, slowing it down. When the top of the infected’s skull flew off, his body collapsed.
“Looks clear,” Kinnick said.
“Don’t count your chickens,” Hunter said. His gaze settled hard on the burning vehicles as if he didn’t trust them for even a second.
Movement caught Kinnick’s eye out of his peripheral vision. He put the binoculars back up to his eyes. A man topped the ridge above the tunnel. He carried another man. Other forms turned into more men. Gunfire sounded like firecrackers from atop the mountain as men shot rearward. Kinnick raised the binoculars back up to his face. Stark carried a bloodied man, his arm wrapped around his waist. They stumbled down the mountainside followed by the rest of his squad.
“Lieutenant Stark, what’s your status?” Kinnick said into his radio.
“They’re coming,” Stark panted. The microphone cracked and popped. “They’re coming,” he breathed heavily into the radio.
Hunter looked at Kinnick, brown beard twitching as he tongued the wad of chew in his mouth. Kinnick looked up at Lieutenant Elwood’s men on the other ridge. He could tell the man was staring back in his direction.
“That’s not enough men,” Kinnick groaned.
Stark hoisted his comrade up onto his shoulder and leapt down the mountain, jumping from rock to rock. As he neared the bottom he stopped. He cupped his hands to mouth and screamed.
“We have to move!”
GWEN
Little Sable Point, MI
Gwen lounged in the corner of the fold-out bench table in Tess’s camper, sipping some very thin tea. It tasted like she was drinking water out of a cup she had used for tea the day before. The only good part about it was that it was hot. The reused tea bags made them last longer, providing her with a touch of respite from her nausea that came and went, seemingly with the wind.
Steele sat across from her, hands wrapped around a hot mug of instant coffee. He gave her a weak smile, only showing her a fraction of his uncertainty. His hair had started to fill in along his hair-part scar, making him look less like a committed patient.
Jack had shown up in the night, throwing the camp into an uproar. The message he carried had only made it worse. He sat outside their camper under the guard of Margie while they debated the plan to move forward.
Tess sat, legs crossed on her futon-style bed, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders making her look like a little boy with her slender features and short hair. Thunder stood in the corner, arms across his barrel chest.
“So, that dick, Jack, claims the pastor wants a truce. Do we believe him?” Thunder said, his bushy eyebrows pressed together.
“As much as I’d rather tell them to fuck off, I agree,” Thunder said.
“You want to meet with this nut job?” Tess said. She gave him a questioning look.
“I will if it prevents further bloodshed.”
“Fine. Let’s say we do meet with this pastor. Do we bring Peter and try and to make a trade for Pagan?” Tess wiped her nose with a hand beneath her blanket.
Steele scratched at his scar. “He was alive a few days ago, although there’s no guarantee he is now. If he’s not and we show up with Peter, there’s not much to stop the Chosen from gunning us down and taking Peter back.”
“We could go in force. Show them we aren’t afraid,” Tess said.
Steele shook his head. “As your partner in command, I would strongly advise against that. It would look like an open declaration of war. We are supposed to be calling a truce,” Steele said. He tried to unsnarl his beard, his fingers working through it slowly.
“I’m with Steele. It will only confirm the worst in their eyes,” Thunder said.
“What’s to prevent them from shooting us either way and taking Peter back?” Tess asked.
“Nothing. But I don’t think their leader would invite us to their camp and gun us down for no reason.” Steele pulled the end of his beard.
“No reason other than you did the exact same thing to them,” Gwen said, piping up. Steele glared at her.
“Okay, any ideas then?” he said.
“You could show up unarmed aside from melee weapons,” Gwen said.
Steele’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not going unarmed.”
“Who said you had to go?” Gwen said. Steele looked uncomfortable as he shifted his weight in his seat. He wasn’t used to being asked to stay behind. His eyes darted at Tess.
Possessiveness rose up in Gwen when she noticed who Mark was looking to for support. Don’t you look at her. Look at me. I am yours. Not her. She doesn’t get to have you. I do.
“I feel like I should be the one to go. I’m responsible for this community’s security, and as a leader, I should be the one at the negotiating table. I don’t really feel like I have a choice.”
“But-,” Gwen squeaked.
“And I won’t go without him,” Tess said.
And who said you were going, bitch? Don’t think I don’t know what you are doing, taking his side on anything we disagree on. She let her eyes talk for her.
“I don’t see why you and Thunder couldn’t go?” Gwen asked as sweetly as she could. She let her eyes fall on the big biker, testing his mettle with her look.
Thunder coughed in his hand. She could tell he was flustered by her words. “It ain’t my fight.”
“But it will be if they come here again,” she said.
“Then maybe it’s best if me and my boys head north. We all could. Leave this mess behind us. We could dispose of Jack along the way. My boys wouldn’t have a problem with that. He’s a whiny jackass who clearly has no loyalty.”
“No.” Steele shook his head. He waved a hand at Thunder. “I won’t have more innocent blood on my hands, no matter how much I dislike the man.”
Peter’s blood coats your hands, Mark.
The older man nodded his acceptance.
“Best case scenario, we hold Peter as collateral to trade for Pagan. Tess and I have to meet with this pastor and see if we can smooth everything over. Make a deal with the man. Thunder, will you provide escort?”
Thunder tightened his bandana. “Me and the Red Stripes will give you a lift.”
“Good, then it’s settled.” Steele rose out of his seat. “Thank you for the coffee, Tess. Tomorrow after daybreak?” he said.
“I can’t wait,” she said, sarcasm riddling her voice.
Gwen stood up, making sure to give Tess a cold gaze before she followed Mark out of the camper. After they were out of earshot, she grabbed his sleeve, making him stop.
“Why were you blowing me off in there? We talked about discussing our decisions,” she said.
“We did discuss it with everyone. I made a promise to protect these people in Pagan’s absence and I won’t back down now.”
“They got along fine before you came around. And what about me? I’m fucking pregnant. What if something happens? You’re going to risk leaving me pregnant and alone in the middle of this hell?”
“Every move we make is a risk,” he exclaimed. His eyes turned empathetic. “I know you’re worried. I wouldn’t take a risk if I didn’t think I had to. The alternative is they come here in force and murder us. If not today, tomorrow, if not tomorrow, the next day. Staying would buy you a day with me. I’m trying to buy us a life.”
She looked down. Sand. Rocks. The wind took a piece of trash, spiraling through the camp. Smoking fires burnt in pits. Tarps on makeshift shelters ruffled in the wind. “I deserve better than this.” She waved her arms wide. “Better than this camp.”
Margie and Jack looked up from the other end of the camper. Margie loosely held a hunting rifle in her hands next to Jack, who sat in a folding chair, hands clasped in front of him.
Gwen went to leave and he grabbed her by the shoulders. She wanted to cry. Goddamn hormones. Is it the hormones?
“You don’t want to be with me. You want a new one,” she uttered.
His eyes were hurt as he read her. “What do you mean?”
He knows exactly what I mean. She wiped her nose. “I see the way you look at her. She’s fun and pretty with a skinny little body. I’m getting all swollen and pregnant. Disgusting.”
“Babe, no.” He reached a hand up to her face, wiping a thumb near the corner of her eye. She crossed her arms, uncomfortably looking away.
“I do these things for you. Trust me when I say I will come back to you. No one can keep us apart.” She knew he lied, but it made her feel like she was back in Virginia saying goodbye to him before he deployed across the planet on the hunt for evil men in even darker places. It made her feel as if everything was almost back to normal even in their disjointed life dominated by Counterterrorism Division demands.
“I need you here,” she mumbled. He pulled her chin up with a rough finger.
“I can’t be,” he said softly. His blue eyes were almost cold steel.
“I know,” she said, turning away. I know you have chosen your duty, but when will you choose me? When do you choose us? At what point do we become your duty?
STEELE
Temple Energy Plant, MI
The sun sat low in the sky, beginning its lazy daily ascent.
A dozen guns pointed in their direction. Three Chosen men stood behind the chain-link gate, guns held in the low ready. Each man wore something different showing no uniformity. One blue jacket, one black jacket, and one camouflage jacket. Others were behind them in front of the power plant. They laid out prone or knelt in cover behind piles of coal. On the roof of the power plant, Steele could barely make out the small forms of men with sniper rifles zeroed in on them.
Steele and Tess stood in the middle of a sand-swept road, waiting to be acknowledged with bullets or otherwise. Jack stood wisely back a few yards away from them.
Out of the corner of her eye, he watched Tess. Her short hair was slicked back like a 1950’s greaser. She visibly gulped.
“They would have shot us already if they were going to,” he whispered to her under his breath. Nodding her head little by little, she acknowledged him.
“Still not comforted,” she whispered back.
“It never gets any easier,” Steele said, making sure his Thor’s hammer medallion, Mjolnir, was tucked inside his shirt. The last thing I need is somebody getting the wrong idea. He raised his hands in the air, holding them up for everyone to see. Tess did the same. Jack stood behind them, hands up.
“We’re here to meet with the pastor. We brought your man, Jack,” Steele shouted.
The man in the black jacket with a light brown bea
rd got closer to the fence.
“And who the fuck are you?” he shouted through the fence.
Steele kept his hands in the air. “You know who we are.”
The man’s eyes widened and then narrowed. “Must be Steele, huh? We’ve been waiting for you. Leave your weapons on the ground.”
Steele laid his M4 carbine and M9 Beretta on the ground. Tess set her Colt 1911 next to his guns. They both stood back up straight, hands high.
“Don’t forget your hatchet,” the man shouted at Steele. Steele ripped it from his belt, flipped it in his hand, and set it on the ground. The man behind the gate snorted. “Open it up.”
The chain-link fence shuddered as the other men pushed it open.
Steele walked forward and one of the Chosen raced out to collect their weapons. A goateed man slapped hands with Jack and smiled.
“Good to have you back, Brother Jack.” Jack gave him an awkward pat on the back. Steele watched them.
So Jack made some new friends, sneaky rat, and has already gave them all the information they needed to infiltrate, assault, and destroy Little Sable.
With a clunk, a wheeled chain-link fence gate rolled closed behind them, effectively shutting them in. The rumble of motorcycles fired up in the distance. Their engines roared like lions. We are still free they seemed to shout. Chosen men twisted, leveling their guns in the direction of the sound.
The man with the soft beard leveled his shotgun at them from the hip. “Got some friends out there, don’t ya?” he said. He eyed the treelined road leading away from the plant.
Steele gave a glance backward. He leveled with the man eye to eye. “We have plenty of friends.”
“So do we,” the man rebutted with a smile. His glance was off-putting, like that of a sober madman. The way he uttered the words made Steele wonder what he meant. Did the Red Stripes just deliver us to the pastor’s men as allies or as prisoners? Was this the deal the entire time? Get rid of the troublemakers? No. Not Thunder. He loves his freedom just as much as we do. Maybe he just guaranteed it. Steele swallowed his doubt.