The End Time Saga (Book 5): The Holding

by Greene, Daniel

  Stopping, he held his axe in one hand. She spied on him. He dipped his skull, straining to see the ground more clearly with his single eye. He studied the tracks for a moment and followed her decoy trail.

  She audibly exhaled, her teeth clanking together. She squeezed her elbows closer to hold in her fading body heat. I have to get my hands free and get warm. Her mind briefly flashed the thought of using Willie as a horseflesh sleeping bag. No, not Willie, but that prick Jarvis would be fine.

  The unsteady scrape of boots on uneven terrain came closer. She sucked in air and held her breath. This stupid asshole doesn’t know when to die. He wavered as he walked back into the clearing. He coughed, letting her know he was close.

  “You thought you could trick me,” he said, spitting blood on the ground. “I know you’re here. Why don’t you come on out and we’ll have a little party?”

  Her breathing came out more forced as she tried to keep from shivering to death.

  His footsteps sounded as he walked the perimeter. “Just you and me, babe.” He leaned around a tree, looking at the ground not more than twenty feet from her. He let his axe drag along the rough trunk of her fallen maple. The metal on the wood clinked and clanged as the axe skipped over the bark’s rivets and divots.

  Tess closed her eyes for a moment, attempting to calm herself. The footsteps got closer and closer to her hiding place. Her heart thundered in her chest, trying to both keep her alive and give her away. She opened her eyes again.

  Two tan combat boots splattered in blood and snow stood in front of her. “Why can’t we just have a nice little date? You and me.” A hand grabbed her shoulder, pulling her upright. He moved the axe blade toward her neck. She shook, struggling to not collapse. Fresh pink fingers lined his necklace.

  Leaning closer, he said, “I’m going to add a few more tonight.” Blood still dripped from his eye socket’s mess of flesh. He punched out with his axe into her nose. The blow sent a shockwave of pain into her skull, and her world spun.

  In a daze, he stretched her along the fallen trunk with her hands hanging off the other side. “You don’t need these? Do ya?” he spat into her face.

  She blinked, trying to gain something to fight him away with. “No.”

  “Now hold still. If I miss, we might take off a bit more than we’d like.”

  “Prick.”

  “Or how about an eye for an eye? Eye for your hands. What’s the difference?” He brought the axe over his head like a medieval executioner. The only solace she had was knowing that after he was done, she would bleed out fast never having to know the rest of her body’s fate.

  A jingling drifted in the air. Jarvis turned his head to the side. “What the hell?”

  A four-legged form galloped through the trees. The shadowy beast ran into the clearing.

  “Motherfucker?” He turned and took a step toward Willie as he charged. Tess threw a bony shoulder into his back. The axe swung too far to the right. Willie let out a high-pitched neigh and trampled Jarvis beneath his hooves into the ground.

  Jarvis let out a groan from the ground. His leg was bent backward, and his eye rolled into his skull. Willie slowly walked up to Tess. He bowed his head and brought it near hers. She put a shaking hand on his nose and leaned forward, resting her head on his. The horse’s breath fogged the air and night crept upon them. Willie’s head dropped and he lowered himself, rolling on his side. Tess watched him as his chest stopped. His last effort having saved her from Jarvis’s wrath.

  She crawled down next to her mount. “Thank you,” she whispered into his warm neck. She stroked his neck. A loud moan brought her shivering body to attention.

  Jarvis pushed himself up with a single hand. His other draped around the axe, using it as a crutch off the ground. He spit warm blood, and it sank into the snow. “You stupid fucks.”

  Tess stood shakily. A nasty snarl curled on her lips. “You killed my horse.”

  “That’s just the first thing I’m going to do to you.”

  She ran at him, throwing all her weight at the battered man. They burst into the powder on the ground. She crawled atop him, hitting him with her joined fists. He laughed at first. The second strike, he grunted as she struck him on the spoon handle. He jerked when she slammed her palms into the handle. The third blow she connected, he started to shake and spasm. Again and again, she pounded the spoon handle until it disappeared beneath her hands and into the recess of his skull.

  She screamed in his face. “Raarh! You killed my horse.” She sat back on his stomach breathing hard, the heat of her rage the only thing keeping her alive. She looked around the clearing. “Son of a bitch.”

  Darkness overtook what little light remained. Exhausted, she let her chin fall to her chest, the adrenaline in her body subsiding gradually. The cold would kill her quickly. She shoved at Jarvis’s body. “Bitch.”

  A voice startled her. “Don’t move or we’ll shoot ya.”

  She faced the man’s voice. A shotgun was trained on her. Three men had spread out behind her guns aimed in her direction.

  “If you ain’t sick, say something now or die.”

  She looked down at the dead soldier then back at the twilight sky and sighed.

  “I won’t ask again,” the man said gruffly.

  She stared him in the eyes. “He killed my horse.”

  The hunter lifted his shotgun skyward. “Jesus Christ.” He jogged to her, feet crunching through the frigid underbrush. The other men closed in from the sides. When he got close, she prepared to strike him. He must have seen the look on her face because he stopped short. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

  “Holy shit, she killed that army guy.”

  She gave him an exasperated look and the man took a step back.

  “Don’t you forget it.” She tipped over into the snow and felt herself become weightless to the faint sound of voices.

  STEELE

  Camp Forge, IA

  The line of men and women were spaced out evenly with over four feet between each person. Their ages ranged from as young as sixteen to as old as seventy, and they all faced the same way. They held their mixture of long guns toward the ground in a safe position. A sergeant walked behind them.

  “When I say the line is hot, you may begin to engage your targets. We are focusing on accuracy not speed. Anybody can shoot fast, but it don’t mean shit if you can’t hit ’em in the head.”

  Most of the people that had come to Camp Forge for training were farmers. They were not foreign to firearms, most having handled them from a young age, and learned well under the instruction of the soldiers.

  Thunder stroked his beard as they observed. The civilians came to the camp on a rotating basis for training, giving them split time between farm maintenance and military instruction.

  “The squad structure seems to be working well with them,” Thunder said.

  Steele nodded, watching. The men and women displayed their weapons, planting them into their shoulders. “Ludlow’s men are a great asset.” He rested a hand on his tomahawk head.

  “Fire!” the sergeant yelled. Gunfire kicked off as they sighted small circle targets at the end of the field. The two men stopped talking and inspected the civilians. The firing line died down.

  “Is the line clear?” the sergeant yelled.

  The other instructors confirmed. “The line is clear. You may stand back. Next squad.”

  Thunder and Steele walked away from the firing line and toward the next group training. Two additional squads worked in tandem with one another. One group simulated laying down covering fire while the other moved. They shouted as they ran. “Moving!” The trainees went prone and took aim at fictional enemies in the trees.

  “Suppress fire,” yelled a sergeant at a trainee. He stood behind the man lying prone. “Get that SAW up.” The trainee struggled with the bipod of his SAW light machine gun. “Cover your squad!”

  A team leader shouted from the other squad. “Left side, move!” They bounded out
of the snow and ran in a flanking maneuver.

  “They’re learning,” Steele said.

  “But are they learning fast enough?” Thunder asked.

  Steele watched a man trip and fall, dousing himself in white. “As fast as we can train them.” He rubbed the top of his scarred scalp. It has to be enough.

  “Come, Thunder. I need your advice inside.” Steele ushered the big biker forward, and they trudged through the dirty snow back to the Reynolds’ white farmhouse that served as Steele’s headquarters.

  They kicked off snow from their boots as they entered the foyer. Thunder plopped on a bench. John and Lydia Reynolds sat next to Becky at the kitchen table. Lydia rested a hand on Becky’s shoulder, attempting to comfort her.

  “How is she?” he asked them.

  Becky looked up, tears in her bloodshot eyes. She rubbed a hand over them. “She’s okay. Same as yesterday.”

  “I’ll check in on her later.” He watched her for a moment, not knowing the exact words to comfort her.

  Becky gave him a faint smile and tilted her head to the side. Her voice croaked. “It’s my baby.”

  Steele had to exhale before he became emotional himself. Haley was an extension of Gwen and therefore an important part of his life. “Gwen will come through.”

  Becky gulped her throat quivering. “She’s always been the hero.”

  A sad smile crossed his lips. “I know.” He turned to John. “Can you join us in the other room?”

  The wrinkles around the eighty-five-year-old man’s eyes deepened. “Of course.”

  He took his leave and joined Thunder at the parlor table. A map was laid out with circles over broad swathes of areas.

  “War Child’s command has arrived in Burlington, which is good, but I’m worried about Keokuk. We don’t have a good presence down south yet.”

  Thunder’s chocolate-colored eyes reminded Steele of a twinkling Hersey bar. “With some help, my club can stand up an outpost down there.”

  Steele shook his head. “No, I want you here.” His voice dipped. “I still don’t trust the pastor and I need you close.”

  Thunder silently gave a short nod. “I understand that concern.”

  “What I’d like to do is get some of this militia in the fight. We have about four hundred additional militia from the surrounding areas on a rotating basis. I’d like to move a company of our most highly trained with a squad of military advisors down to Keokuk. Set up an outpost. Then as the other groups get trained, we can rotate them out.”

  “I don’t see why that wouldn’t work.”

  “The others I’d like to get some trigger time on the infected. I’m thinking we should start two squad patrols between here and Keokuk and Burlington.”

  Thunder stared. “What about water routes?”

  “When we need extra speed, but I want these roads safe from infected or otherwise.”

  “You think Jackson’ll show his ugly face again?”

  “He may.” The idea of the rogue colonel roaming free in his rear was unsettling, but he didn’t have the resources to scour the countryside and bring him to justice. “I don’t want him harassing the people here while their sons and daughters are off fighting.”

  “Agreed.”

  He faced John. “Where is a good base to set up an outpost? Not all the way in town, but recognizable enough for people to find.”

  John wrinkled his nose as he thought. “Well. Let me see here. Hmm.” He exhaled forcefully. “There’s a plant down there.”

  “Where?”

  With a gnarled finger, John tapped the map. “‘Bout here.” His fingered touched the outside of town. “Yup, they make steel castings. Right off US 218 there.”

  “That should work. Now, who to lead this militia company?”

  John rubbed his chin.

  Thunder’s gray caterpillar like eyebrows closed in on one another before he spoke. “Garrett would do it. I don’t want to lose him, but he has prior military experience.”

  Steele nodded. “I trust him to get the job done.” He put a hand under his chin as he thought. “John, do you know of anyone local that could do the job? Somebody that everyone trusts?”

  “Well, let’s see.” He leveled his chin as he thought. “Van Fogerty was in the army. They like him down at the American Legion. He could probably do it.”

  “Let’s get Van in here.”

  ***

  Hours later, Van and Major Ludlow stood in the parlor. Steele sat behind his desk and leaned back in his chair. Major Ludlow’s arms were folded across his chest. His bug eyes observed Van with interest.

  “I just don’t know Captain Steele.” Van sighed. Crow’s-feet wrinkled around his eyes, and his formerly blond hair had retreated before the onslaught of gray. He had cold blue eyes. “I don’t want to leave my family.”

  “We need men like you to lead in our militia. John recommended you, and that means he trusts you. Your résumé is good. You acted as a drill instructor at Fort Benning. You served in Persian Gulf.”

  “Everything you say is true.” He set his jaw. “But I’m not leaving my family no matter how bad you need me. Not in a time like this.” His mouth formed a flat line of resistance.

  Steele scratched at his beard. “I have no objections to you taking them with you.”

  With a strong shake of his head, Van said, “I won’t force them into an area that isn’t secure and a place that ain’t home.”

  “Well, what about here at Camp Forge? I can promise them a place to stay. It’s secure. The walls are up. We got plenty of fighters. We need you. Your country needs you to serve again. This is our one and only line of defense. Your farm will disappear beneath the feet of the dead if it doesn’t hold.”

  Van let out a deep sigh. He understood the request. They were asking a lot of him. But like all good men, he knew when to stand. “I’ll bring them in, but you have to promise me their safety.”

  “As safe as my own.”

  Steele shook hands with the man. “I’ll expect you in the morning to depart south.” He addressed Major Ludlow. “I’d like to send a squad of your men with him.” A look of relief settled on Van’s face.

  “I have a sergeant willing to go. Sergeant Campos. I’ll make sure his squad is ready in the morning.”

  “Thank you, Major.”

  Ludlow dipped his chin and left the room.

  “We are sending our best with you. Plenty of ex-military in that company. We’re going to have you set up in a steel factory north of town. John says it’s a good spot. It’s gated, fenced, strong concrete walls.”

  “Victory Steel Castings. I know it.”

  “Collect everyone still alive there. You’re call sign is Outpost Victory. I want you clearing out Keokuk, collecting survivors, and setting us up for success in the region. In three months, we will rotate a new company down south, and your militia will go on call as needed.”

  “We’ll do our best.” Van nodded.

  “We can do this.”

  “You’re asking a lot.”

  “I’d ask more if I could.”

  Van stood in silence for a moment. “All right.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “See you in the morning, Captain.”

  Van left the room, and Steele stretched. He spread the fingers in his right hand as far as they could go and then clenched them in a fist. He glanced at the fieldstone fireplace for a moment. The fire skipped and danced in the stone enclosure. He stepped out of the parlor, eyes running up the chipped and dinged wooden stairs.

  Each step groaned beneath him, complaining his entire way to the top. The first door on the right was closed. He stood next to it. His hand hovered over the door handle. His hand formed a fist and rapped his knuckles on the wood. A deadened sound resounded.

  “Becky?” he said softly.

  He tested the doorknob, letting it twist and swing inward. John knelt by the side of Haley’s single bed, his hands clasped in front of his body folded ove
r the girl.

  “I’m sorry, John,” Steele said. He started to close the door.

  The grandfather kept his head down and his voice wavered. “Wait.”

  Steele stopped, poking his head back in. “Yeah?”

  “Come in.”

  Steele walked inside the room and stood near the single bed. Extra blankets were thrown over the little girl. Her cherubic face, small and precious, stuck out from underneath them.

  John slowly got up from the ground. He stared at her from above. His voice came out slow and tired. “I pray every day for her. Every hour really.” He gulped. “She never leaves my mind.”

  “I know.”

  John went to say something and stopped, tears forming in his eyes. “I ask God why her? Why not me?” A faint smile filled his lips. “I’ve seen love and experienced pain and lived a life worth living, and I’m near the end. I’m ready.” He sucked his lip trying to cover his emotions. “But this girl. She’s only just beginning. She doesn’t know these things. She won’t for many years. Yet here she lies, so young and full of life, and here I stand, old and worn. It just don’t make sense.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  John licked his lips. “Why not me?” His eyes searched the ceiling for an answer. “Why her, Lord? Take me instead.” He stared for a moment, awaiting a response from the heavens.

  “She will hold on.”

  “Will she? She’s going to die. Dr. Miller said it’s in her lungs. She barely breathes now.” He frowned.

  How do I console a man speaking the miserable truth? A man who’s whole world is sinking. Steele moved closer to John and put an arm on his shoulder. It was bony beneath his shirt, a frame lacking sufficient siding. “Have faith. Things will be all right.”

  John shook his head, looking at the pale girl. “To watch your little ones die before your eyes is hell. It’s unimaginable.”

  “It is. I’m here for you.”

  The two men stood in silence for a minute watching the girl hang on to life, her tiny chest struggling to rise and fall. John exhaled audibly.