“I don’t have the luxury of time, manpower, money, technology, fucking anything. Do you want to know what I found out?”
She shook her head no, her chin lowering to her chest, but he told her anyway. If people knew what evil was at work in the world, they would barricade their houses and never come out or steel themselves for the fight.
“This pastor is a nasty dude.” He stopped himself. She needed to know. People can’t live blind to the forces of darkness arrayed against them. They must brace themselves for the upcoming battle. They must see the enemy for what they are. They must build their fortitude for the fight ahead.
“The pastor is insane. Some sort of religious zealot screwhead.” Steele shook his head. “I didn’t understand half the religious bullshit Peter was saying. He kept mentioning the Kingdom of God and his Chosen people. I don’t know what that means, but I understand the numbers. He has over five hundred armed men under his command. Five hundred. I have ten.” Her eyes widened.
“He has a safe place. A fortress. Hell, he could sit back and wait for us to starve and then kill us, or he could wait for us to go to him and then he can really torture us, finishing us off with a slow roasting barbecue. They’ve been ‘purifying’ people with fire and I don’t mean singeing a little hair. I mean burning people while they are still alive.”
“How do you know?” She was closed off from him but listening.
“Peter confirmed what I had already seen. Rat-Face had been hung from a tree, doused in gasoline, and burned alive. His mouth was hanging open in a final scream.”
Gwen’s eyes went wide.
“I’m not the bad guy here, far from it. Peter will live. But what options do I have? I either get the intelligence and we have a small chance, or I talk to a fanatic all day, get nothing for it, and our odds of surviving grow even dimmer by the hour.”
“There has to be a better way than this,” she said, spreading her arms quickly and letting them fall back across her stomach, protecting herself from either the wind or his presence.
“There is. I sit and befriend him over a period of months. Give him things. Feed him. Talk to him. Gain his trust. But I don’t have enough time. This is a ticking time-bomb scenario.” He looked down. Peter and I could have been friends. He may even have become an ally over time.
“How do you know these things?” she asked softly, her voice fearing the answer to her question.
“I’ve done this before.” He watched her for a moment and quickly started again. “In the Division.”
“Oh.” Her face grew sad as she read into his eyes.
He looked past her. “It’s more to scare the prisoner than anything else. Aside from some bruises, he won’t be permanently damaged. I’m sure he hates me, but I can live with that.”
“It doesn’t hurt you?”
He wobbled his head, no.
“No, I kind of turn it off. Separate myself from the situation. Kind of the same as when I shoot someone. There is a ‘work me’ and the Mark you know.”
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know either of you.” She reached up, touching his face with a gentle hand. It almost felt foreign to him, like he had only ever known the violence of touch. “And who will save you?”
He felt the lump in his throat. Am I doing the right thing? How long before I can’t come back? Have I already gone too far?
“What’s done is done. We can’t look back now.” He took her hand off of his face. “Just accept me.”
She nodded vigorously. “I accept all of you,” she whispered. He stuck out his hand, and she took his fingers into hers. They walked back to their tent hand-in-hand.
THE PASTOR
Temple Energy Plant, MI
The pastor smashed his glass into the wall. It shattered below a bulletin board he was using to pin up maps of the area. Matthew peered at his own feet, brushing his flawless hair back into place with a nervous hand. Paul rubbed his hands together in front of his body as if he couldn’t get whichever sin he was wrestling with off his skin. Even Luke with his greasy long black hair appeared somewhat uncomfortable.
“They haven’t returned? I thought this place was only fifteen miles away,” he said, looking back at his maps as if he didn’t believe anything they would say anyway.
“Maybe they’re running behind?” Paul said, his voice meek from inside his long-limbed frame.
“Peter is not one to be late. He knows better. He had strict instructions to deliver the message and return. No supply runs. No fighting. Straight there and back.” He drummed his fingers on his fake tan wood desk. Peter would not deviate from his task. I shouldn’t have shown such anger in front of my disciples. He took a deep breath. Even Christ showed his anger when the people used his temple as a market. Smoothing his black shirt, he stared at the map on the wall. Faded light blue water pushed up against a jagged lime green coastline. A black marker circle enveloped a single half-inch pink lighthouse near the shore of Lake Michigan.
“I could take a larger group to their camp and purify them if my father wills it,” Luke said, licking his lips. Luke wasn’t a member of his parish before the outbreak. He came upon them, eagerly adopting their ideology and methods.
“No.” The pastor met his disciple’s eyes. Luke was unwavering like an unafraid dog. “You are too eager, Luke.” Your eagerness may be rewarded yet. But I must be patient. I will hold him in reserve.
Luke’s lips twitched. “Your wish is my command.” Luke bowed his head in deference.
Rabid dogs always turn on their masters. Who will watch him now that Peter is gone? Paul? No, he is too timid. Matthew may be sufficient.
The handsome blond man stared right at him as if he could read his mind.
“You may go and bring in our new brother,” the pastor said, waving a hand at them. Luke left the room and returned a moment later followed by a bald-headed man.
“Come in,” the pastor said. The man stood as if he were in the vice principal’s office.
“How are you and your family enjoying our accommodations, Brother Jack?” he said, folding his hands on his desk.
“Very good, pastor. The food has been wonderful. Thank you for accepting us.” The new member towered over the others in the room.
“God’s Kingdom is open to all who are his sons and daughters,” he said.
“Amen,” Jack said, eyes searching the floor for inspiration.
“I need you to deliver a message for me to your-,” the pastor said, stopping to consider his words, “former camp.”
“I don’t know. They weren’t happy about my family leaving. That bastard Steele tried to stop me. Threatened to hurt me and my family.”
“God has no mercy for such roguish men. Fire may purify him of his sins.”
“I…” Jack’s eyes widened. “You would burn him?” His face twisted at the words.
The pastor spread his hands. “Alas, it is not up to me. I am but a vessel of the greater good. It’s apparent that this Steele doesn’t take kindly to my followers, so I will send you instead.”
“But I’m one of your followers now.”
“God has brought you to me for a reason. His will is seen clearly,” the pastor said, raising an eyebrow at the men.
“But I don’t-,” Jack said.
The pastor cut him off. “Your family will be safe. I assure you.” He let his eyes rest on Jack’s ruddy face. Jack gulped.
“Luke,” the Pastor said.
A slick stringy-black-haired man stepped up. “Yes, Pastor,” he said.
“I would like you to put Jack’s family under special watch while he delivers a message for me. I want you to make sure they never leave your sight.” Luke licked his lips.
“As you command,” Luke said with a bow of his head. Luke gave Jack a cruel smile. The pastor waved him out. Luke turned and left the room. Jack watched the twisted man leave, visibly shaken.
The pastor eyed Jack’s troubled face. “You see, they will be safe the entire time. I give you my
word.”
KINNICK
Eisenhower Tunnel, CO
The brown land surrounding the highway tunnel entrance was covered with rocks and thin straight pines that covered the mountainous terrain. It looked like a boxy two-lane storage warehouse built into the side of the mountain. A brown base of concrete led up to a block of beige concrete with small windows facing the highway.
The helicopter hovered, the roadway growing closer and closer beneath them. Within moments, the chopper touched the concrete with a bump. Soldiers jumped out. Thick boot treads thudded onto the highway. They dodged chunks of debris and worked around abandoned vehicles.
Kinnick hopped off the helo following Hunter. He kept the back of his senior NCO close.
“I want three-hundred-and sixty-degree coverage,” Hunter called out to the men. First squad, 2nd Platoon spread out in every direction. They weaved into and behind abandoned vehicles. They used the cars as cover. They were the first boots on the ground for Kinnick’s desperate operation.
They held their positions as the helicopter ascended and disappeared. The thundering of rotors announced more of their comrades. In one minute, another helicopter set down. Boots pounded the concrete as they raced to fill in gaps within their sectors. This happened four more times until the entirety of the 2nd and 3rd Platoons were on the ground in a circular defensive position. A cache of supplies was set down in the middle.
“That’s all of them,” Hunter said, watching the last helicopter fly away. He spit on the ground. Brown stained the concrete.
“It’ll have to do,” Kinnick said. Hunter nodded his affirmation.
Hunter gestured with his head. “So that’s the fucker we gotta take down?”
Four hundred yards ahead, the Eisenhower Tunnel loomed like a German World War II bunker and Kinnick’s men were the first onto the sandy beaches of Normandy.
“That ugly behemoth is it.” The task of taking it down daunted Kinnick, and dread filled the air as if his men expected to be shredded by bullets at any minute. Not bullets but teeth. Gunfire rattled from its direction.
“Lieutenant Stark, give me a sitrep,” Kinnick shouted. The linebacker of an officer knelt behind a red Ford Taurus.
Stark turned his head to the side as if he were calling a shift in his defensive set. “Sir, we got infected coming out of the tunnel.”
“Leave your 2nd squad in place covering the tunnel. Move 1st squad to our right flank, and you go with them. I want you to take them to the other side of that ridge. I want to know what we are dealing with. Report back as soon as you get eyes on,” Kinnick shouted. The thick-necked man ran to his 1st squad, leading them through the cars. Gunfire popped off from the squad as they moved.
Kinnick turned to his left. Elwood’s 3rd Platoon took cover next to him. “Lieutenant Elwood, I need your 2nd squad to cover our left flank. Leave your 1st squad with me.” The hunched lieutenant nodded his head vigorously as if he just had a winning roll in D&D.
“Sergeant Matthews, stay with the colonel. You are covering the tunnel. Sergeant Putnam, bring 2nd squad up the hill with me,” he shouted. Fourteen men ran for the sides of a hill. Slowly, they scrambled up the hill, taking a flanking position.
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 crackl
ing 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
The Rising (The End Time Saga Book 3) Page 27