The End Time Saga (Book 5): The Holding

by Greene, Daniel

  “I’m not sure I’ll ever understand this.” His eyes were worried, seeking assurance. “You’ll look after them, right?”

  Steele cocked his head. “I do look after them.”

  John gave a terse shake of his head. “After I’m gone.”

  “Don’t talk like that.”

  Dry seriousness settled on John’s features. “We all dance to death’s tune.” His eyes darted to Haley. “Some sooner, some later than others.”

  Steele guided him out of the room. “Some later,” he whispered.

  GWEN

  Farmington, IA

  Dr. McKee’s office was a single room doctor’s office with a full window peering into the lobby. The senior doctor’s mittened hand shook as he unlocked the front door, the key jingling softly. “People’ve mostly been coming to see me at my house.” He glanced at them with a soft smile on his pink lips. “They don’t get much unless they’re really sick. I don’t have any diabetes medicine left.” His Adam’s apple bounced beneath his scarf. “There’s not much that can be done for them.”

  “Thank you,” Gwen said, nodding. The doctor had the decency to arrive by mid-morning.

  He opened the door. Gwen, Jake, Gregor, and Linden followed him in. The hunched doctor walked to the next door and tested a gold doorknob and it opened. They passed a single evaluation room, cupboards, and a sink. A heart monitor machine rested off in the corner on rollers, lifeless without power.

  Doctor McKee removed his mittens before opening the cabinets. “Now, let’s see what we got left.” He adjusted small white packages to where he could read them. “Normally, we would send people to the pharmacy, but we still carry some medicine on hand for patients in immediate need.”

  Moving the medicines one by one, he held them up in the air, inspecting the sides. He glanced over his shoulder. “You say the flu, right?”

  “The flu and strep.”

  “Strep is pretty darn tough to tell without testing at a lab.”

  Her voice hardened. “We need antibiotics and antivirals.”

  Dr. McKee nodded his head thoroughly. “All righty. He scooped up four boxes and set them on the counter. “There we have it. I got four antivirals and two antibiotic treatments.”

  Gwen’s heart sank in her chest. “That’s it?”

  He gave her a sad smile. “‘Fraid it’s all we got. I hope we don’t catch a glimpse of that here this winter. Plenty of old folks.” He eyed her for a moment with an experienced eye. “You know you need to take better care of yourself, young lady. Both illnesses can be deadly for mother and child.”

  Gwen entertained him. “Thank you, doctor. I’ll remember that.”

  He handed her the packages and she clutched them to her chest. Medicine was one of the most precious objects of an apocalyptic world, a finite resource that dwindled daily. Jake could see the pain in her eyes.

  “We will find more,” he said.

  He brought her in for a hug and she let herself be comforted. He held her for a moment before letting go.

  “There’s not enough. Not even close. There must be almost a hundred people sick at Camp Forge. We have enough for four people.”

  “Bonaparte isn’t too far and Dr. Farmer in Keosaqua has already helped with the injured after the battle. I’m sure he will help again,” Jake said.

  “We don’t have time to waste. Every day means something. The more time we spend finding medicine, the more people that will die.”

  “I’m sorry. Wish we had more,” Dr. McKee said.

  “Thank you, doctor.”

  They followed his short hallway and back through the sitting area. Gregor waited there.

  “Did you get enough?”

  “No.” But I have enough for Haley.

  They went back outside. The wind picked up and howled across the road. The scrapes and grinds of shoveling met her ears. A truck rumbled by with a plow. The doctor gave a short wave. “We’re on fuel rations, but he clears out the street once a week. Helps people move around a bit.”

  The small town’s main street consisted of only a couple businesses, a restaurant, and an administrative office that doubled as a post office.

  “I have to go check on Mr. Simmons. Bad leg.” The doctor waved as he peeled off down a side street.

  Everyone else congregated in the administrative building. Mayor Tibbets paced inside. “I’m worried, Trooper. What if they come in force? What will we do?”

  Trooper Linden’s appearance was almost relaxed. “I’ll have Greg plow snow on the bridge. Ficke and Martin should be able to handle any in ones and twos.”

  “There were at least ten that surrounded the Anderson’s house. ’Bout gave Mrs. Anderson a heart attack.”

  With a curt nod, Linden eyed Gwen. “If you don’t want me to go, I will abide by your direction, but I think we would do well to see Camp Forge for ourselves.”

  Mayor Tibbets bobbed her head in agreement. “You’re right. You’re right. These people need our help.” She faced Gwen. “Did you find everything you needed?”

  “Unfortunately, no. We were only able to find enough for a few people.”

  Tibbets wrung her hands in front of her. “I’m sorry. I know Dr. McKee would help you as much as he could.”

  Gwen sighed. “You’ve all been so helpful. Thank you. But we must move on.”

  Linden checked his magazines and his sidearm. “Me and my men are ready.”

  His stoic demeanor and handling of firearms tipped her off as to someone that was more than just a gun and a badge. “Trooper, were you prior military?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Did two tours in Afghanistan with the 10th Mountain Division.” His men, decorated with a dusting of flurries and their miscellaneous winter gear—coveralls, overalls, and down flannel jackets—crowded inside the building. “Gents.”

  “Thank you, Mayor Tibbets. We will keep up communications with Farmington by person or radio.”

  The older woman steadied herself. “We’ll be here.”

  They stepped into the street. A line of horses stood in the snow along with the hay wagon. Kenny helped himself up and offered her a hand.

  “Bonaparte’s about nine miles if we stay on this side of the Des Moines River,” Kenny said.

  “It’s longer, but let’s try to make it by nightfall.”

  “We will be just fine.”

  “Wait,” came a voice echoing through the town like a creeping avalanche.

  Two men and a smaller form came trotting down the street on horseback.

  The smaller woman waved her hand in the air. “Wait!” Its voice was feminine and familiar. Gwen squinted.

  The woman kicked the horse into a trot and pulled it along the wagon.

  “Tess?” Gwen uttered, confused. She eyed what became the Westerling sons, Patrick and Pete. “What are you doing here?” Her heart leapt in her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  Tess breathed hard. “Gwen.” Her nose was swollen and round where it had once been small and petite, the woman’s slender features now robust and purpling, the shade of a summer sky.

  “Oh my God, what happened to your nose?”

  “I was attacked.” She shook her head, holding a hand in the air. “Not why I’m here. We don’t have time for that story.”

  Gwen inspected her mounted men. “We were just leaving for Bonaparte. We still don’t have enough medicine to return to Camp Forge.”

  “We have enough at Forge.”

  Gwen narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”

  Small worried seams formed on Tess’s brow. “Steele’s being betrayed by Thunder. He’s got plenty of meds hidden under the floor of his cabin.”

  Gwen digested the words, her mouth settling into a nasty scowl. “Thunder has medicine?”

  “Enough to treat everyone in camp.”

  “People’ve been dying, and he’s holding out on us?” Gwen turned to the side in disgust. How can this be?

  Tess’s mouth twisted. “I. I don’t get it, but it’s true.” Sh
e removed a pill bottle from her jacket pocket and tossed it in the air.

  Gwen caught it with a rattle. The prescription antiviral medication was scrawled on the side.

  “You’re sure there’s enough? Antibiotics too?”

  “A duffel bag full.”

  They had a chance if the right medications were there. Haley had a chance. The medicine had been there the whole time. Her stomach roiled with anger. “We go back.”

  JOSEPH

  Cheyenne Mountain Complex, CO

  Joseph didn’t think it was possible for Colonel Byrnes to be more gaunt than he had already been, but he was wrong. The lines creasing his cheeks were deeper, and his skin stuck tight to his narrow, almost emaciated face.

  “Over here,” Byrnes said. He led Joseph to the corner of the open cave cell, giving him a thin-lipped smile. “I knew you would come.”

  “This place is awful.”

  “There’s a spigot in the wall over there, so we have plenty of water. A little short in the food department. Like we’re an afterthought.”

  “How are we going to get you out of here?”

  “They’ve rounded up so many of us. I’m not even sure who’s still out there.” Byrnes looked down. “I’m not sure who flipped, but the true traitor is still out there.”

  “Me neither. I’m new to this whole thing.”

  “You did good getting down here.”

  “The challenge is getting you out. We’d have to get you past all those guards, cameras, up the elevators past who knows how many more soldiers. You’re in an impregnable mountain.”

  Byrnes’s chin sunk as he thought. “There are more of us outside the complex. We must get word to them.” He coughed heavily and gave Joseph a weak smile. “Wet down here. We must move sooner than later. We don’t have time.”

  “What do you mean move?”

  “This is bigger than a few disgruntled officers. We have loyal units throughout the military, but they won’t move without an assurance we can succeed.”

  “Loyal units? This is madness. This is the United States government.”

  “The government that is twisted in its own hunt for survival. You read the document?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then you know what their plan is. Executions. Camps. Forced Labor. Vaccine for loyalty. State control of everything.”

  “I know.”

  “This is not only the fight for survival of our people but for our nation and beliefs.” He gripped Joseph’s shoulder with a bony hand. “We cannot let this government execute our people and withhold a life-saving vaccine,” he hissed. “They only want to hold on to power. Not for any other reason. You know this. We must stand against this.”

  Joseph edged closer. “Look at where you are? I’m not some kind of ninja. I can’t get you out of here.”

  Byrnes gave a soft shake of his head. “I don’t give us long. The vice president doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave loose ends hanging around. We’ve already been condemned. A couple days and they’ll line us up and put bullets through us.”

  “I can’t believe this is happening.” He glanced up at Byrnes. The colonel’s eyes were filled with sorrow, but a glint of fight still lingered in them. “I’ll think of something. I just don’t know what.”

  The guard’s voice echoed through the hole. “Everything all right down there, doc?”

  Joseph gave a worried glance at the opening. “Just finishing up!”

  Byrnes squeezed his shoulder. “You’re our only hope.”

  Drifting through the prisoners, he left his friend and colleague in the darkness of a cave prison cell. He gripped the ladder. The soldier’s shadowed face stared down from above.

  “Wondering if they ate ya,” he said as he laughed.

  The metal rungs clanged and the guard helped him out of the hole.

  “You get too many people in a cave. Turns them into monsters.” The guard pulled up the ladder. “Which one of them is sick?”

  “The tall man. I’m not sure his name. No names here, right?”

  The guard nodded and grinned. “That’s what they say.”

  He gave him a doctor’s glower. “They will all catch the same illness if they are not fed more and regularly.”

  “Don’t matter too much. A few are scheduled for their sentencing in a couple days. Why waste the food on a bunch of traitors that are going to be put down like the dogs they are.”

  “I see.”

  “Frankly, I’m surprised they sent someone all the way down here to look at them.”

  They walked back to the door.

  “What’s your name again?”

  Joseph gulped trying to hide his fear. “Dr. Jackowski.”

  The guard glanced at his badge as if verifying the information.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on the sick prisoner again. Scheduled for death or not, they deserve to be treated humanely.”

  The guard snorted. “Fucking bleeding hearts. You’d think this disaster would have gotten rid of all of them.”

  Joseph spun on the man. “Have you seen what the spread of an airborne disease does on a contained ventilation loop?”

  The guard stood taken aback. “No?”

  “Let me tell you what happens.” He pointed at the hole. “If those people down there catch an airborne illness, guess who’s going to be the first to contract the disease. You. Then that spreads through the complex’s population like wildfire. If we don’t have enough medicine to treat everyone, then people will start to die, but all while only some of the air is being recycled which means that disease gets stuck down here. So you might want to treat them a bit better, or this whole place could go under.”

  His head nodded dumbly. “Okay. We’ll get them some extra food tonight.”

  “I’ll be back tomorrow.”

  AHMED

  Northern Missouri

  The Old Grossman Farm was more of a field and less of a farm. Tufts of straw-colored grass stuck through the light dusting in dense clumps. Trees outlined the grassland like natural fencing. The land had been cleared at some point but had overgrown with neglect as nature took its liberty.

  Ahmed scanned the area. “Where’s the farmhouse?”

  Jim hopped down from his horse. “Used to be over there.” He pointed near the outline of a dirt road. Only empty space remained. “Fell down about twenty years ago.”

  The Singleton group followed their de facto leader Jim, dismounting from their saddles. Jim’s other distant relations, the Foxworths, had made the trip north to join them. The three men, one no more than a teenager, looked like aged clones of one another.

  “So it’s not a farm anymore?”

  Jim gave him an irritated look. “Somebody still farms it.”

  “The Grossmans?”

  “No, we go off who owned it the longest, and that was the Grossmans, so we call it the Grossman Farm.”

  “But they don’t own it?”

  “No, that’s what it used to be so that’s how we know it.”

  “I see, so it’s not the Grossman Farm.”

  “Technically, no.” Anger bubbled behind Jim’s ice-like eyes. “Drop it, brownie. You’re making me regret bringing you.”

  Ahmed removed his shotgun from his saddle. “You and me both. You think it’s wise to be out in the middle of a field?”

  Jim patted his horse’s flank. “The Grossman Farm is a no man’s land. Neutral zone for us. No harm and no foul out here. It’s off-limits.”

  “Why?” If he was going to be embroiled in this conflict, he wanted to try and understand the roots of it.

  Green pines were the only ones with anything left on their branches. All the maple, elm, and oak were barren of life. Jim stared, watching them all equally. “I dunno. Just is.”

  Lee cleared his throat. His hair was billowing in the wind like a field of gray wheat. “Marv Grossman married Tillie Singleton. Grossman was a cousin of the Baileys a hundred years back. This became a neutral site when the two clans
needed fair ground to discuss terms on. Roughly halfway between the old Bailey and Singleton homesteads. Now that I think of it, it may have been part of the Bailey lands at some point.” He reflected, rolling his eyes upward. “Anyway, no one was shown no preferential treatment nor ill here. Over time, it became a customary meeting spot.”

  “This has been going on for a hundred years?”

  Jim shook his head and spit. “Longer. Theodore Bailey stole a cow from Rod Singleton in 1829.” He waved in a direction. “Prolly six miles that way. We been feuding ever since.”

  “Wait. This is all over a cow?”

  Jim gave Ahmed a baleful gaze. “No, it ain’t over a cow.” He straightened his jacket. “It’s just how it started.”

  “Christ Almighty,” Ahmed said. How can this be happening in a modern society?

  A frown clouded Jim’s face. “Hey. I don’t want to hear any of that coming out of your mouth. It ain’t natural.”

  A chuckle formed in Ahmed’s throat for the first time he could remember. “You know we have him as one of our prophets too.”

  Jim’s eyes expanded with shock as if Ahmed had slapped him. “I won’t be hearing any of that tricky jumbo. Isn’t beef sacred to you guys?”

  “Those are Hindus. Muslims are supposed to refrain from pork.”

  “I pity your poor soul.” He shook his head. “Fried tenderloin sandwiches, roasts, ham, bacon. Dear God, man, please say bacon is not on the list?”

  “Bacon is on the list. At least from pigs. Beef and turkey are okay.”

  A mean sneer took place beneath Jim’s goatee. “Turkey bacon. You can go to hell.”

  “Trying to avoid that.”

  “Now that ain’t right. You’re missing out on one of the few joys that man can experience.”

  “Don’t. It’s a choice.” No use in getting Jim all riled up before they were about to enter peace talks with their rival. No shootouts for this guy. A civil little talk then I’ll be on my way.

  Pickup trucks with yellow-beaming headlights drove down the country road nearby. They dipped over the ditch, rocking, and into the field, driving toward them. Four truckloads of men.

  Ahmed stopped counting at sixteen. There were more than before, despite the loss of several members. They more than doubled Jim’s crew.