Hunter raced past 2nd Platoon and they retreated back up the mountainous slope. Kinnick panted as he saddled up alongside the master sergeant. Hunter put his hands on his hips trying to breathe.
“Been awhile since I ran up a fucking mountain. Wahoo,” he half-yelled.
“Glad to have you back,” Kinnick said, clapping Hunter on the back. Hunter stood, taking a big breath, his mustache quivering beneath his greedy oxygen-ingesting.
“Let’s seal the deal,” Hunter said with a wink.
“Stark, you don’t by any chance have a rocket I could borrow?” Hunter asked.
The linebacker smiled. “Alexander,” he called over his shoulder, “would you oblige the master sergeant?”
A helmeted soldier jogged up and handed Hunter a foliage green AT-4 anti-tank rocket. Alexander bowed his head as if he were a squire handing a legendary knight his sword. The master sergeant winked at the young soldier and hefted the 84 mm unguided single-shot rocket launcher up onto his shoulder, taking aim at the fuel tanker. He flipped open the sights and lined them up.
“Clear,” he shouted, ensuring no one was unfortunate enough to be behind him. A moment later, a single shot roared from his launcher. Flames burst from the back of the AT-4. With a screech, the rocket penetrated the tanker. The ground shook as fire exploded outward into the tunnel and the infected.
Hunter turned to Kinnick with a grin under his bushy beard. “That should do.”
“That’ll do.” Kinnick clicked his radio. “Elwood, you may clear out this area. Second Platoon is coming your way.”
Kinnick nodded to Stark. “Go ahead.”
“Be a pleasure, sir,” Stark grinned. “Let’s mop ’em up.” He held his hand in the air, spinning it in a short circle, and pointed his men in the direction of the remainder of the enemy.
TESS
Temple Energy Plant, MI
“Bring me your people, Steele. We will not wait long,” the pastor shouted with a smile. His long-fingered hands wrung themselves together.
“God wills it! God wills it!” shouted the pastor’s men, hoisting their weapons high in the air.
Flames licked Pagan’s legs with their orange viper tongues and he howled in searing pain. His eyes fell on her for only a nanosecond before he forced them shut, his voice rising in agony. His eyes had shouted regret. Maybe it was for never saying how he really felt about her. Maybe it was for something he had done, but he would have only a few agonizing moments to straighten it out in his mind.
“You bastard,” Tess spit at the pastor. Steele pulled at her waist with his hands. She shook him off. “We will never surrender. I swear it. You’ll see my face before you die.”
The pastor shook his head in disappointment. “Such a misguided creature you are, Tess. God’s love will warm your heart one day, child, of that I have no doubt. His embrace will burst you with his love.”
Tess shook. Her body screamed fight or flight. She leaned toward fight. “What more do I have to give? What more do I have to lose?” she screamed. Better to go down swinging. She took a lunge at the pastor, but powerful arms encaged her.
“We can’t stay,” Steele said from behind into her ear. His words were nothing to her. He carried her backwards, and she fought and trembled as Pagan screamed with everything he had inside him. He would continue to scream until the nerve endings in his skin were seared away by the flames, however long it took. Five minutes, seven minutes, until his epidermis split and the fat leaked from underneath the destroyed layers of flesh or the smoke overcame lungs.
She kicked out. She kicked back at Steele. The heel of her foot met his shin. “Let go, you bastard,” she screamed aloud, but her screams paled in comparison to Pagan’s. The notes of agony taking every ounce of breath away from him.
“They will pay,” Steele whispered to her over and over. Moments dropped into the bucket of eternity. Dazed, they saw the chain-link fence open and close. The sneering pastor’s men turned into round-trunked brown maples, skinny lakeshore pines, and slender white birches. Steele released her and she clutched a maple overlooking the power plant. Tears gripped her eyes. The gray smoke was rising from the field, dispersing in the air.
Steele armed himself next to her, holstering his M9 Beretta and tomahawk.
“We can’t let them do this,” she croaked between sobs, leaning on the tree more than standing upright. The fire crackled below, totally engulfing Pagan.
Steele threw branches and twigs to the side, uncovering a black-stocked Remington 783 .300 Winchester hunting rifle. Releasing the bolt backward, he put a brass-encased round into the receiver, locking it forward with a snap of his wrist.
Pagan’s head lolled from his left to right, his mouth was bent in a painful smile, his lungs spent from screaming. Have the flames already licked away the flesh of his face, leaving him with a permanent skeleton’s smile?
For a moment she hoped that Steele might try to save him. “What are you doing?” she spit out. Steele put the hunting rifle to his shoulder. His eye hovered near the optics.
“Mercy,” Steele said from the corner of his mouth, and the rifle cracked out of the forest. Pagan’s head slumped to his chest, a tormented man put to final rest. And tears rolled down her cheeks.
“We run,” he said. He slung the hunting rifle over his shoulder and forcibly grabbed her hand. His hand was hot and rough in her’s. Tree limbs whipped them while they fled through the forest gauntlet. Sand flung from their feet into the air in a rushed ferocity. They didn’t care about tracks. The Chosen knew where their camp was. They knew where they went. It was only a race against the clock before they came for them to exact their price, to force them to live under their unholy regime or be put to death by fire.
Everything happened in a daze. All the trees that passed her were hazy. Her muscles burnt beneath her skin, lactic acid building up, but still, a level of numbness filled her to the very core. An emptiness that made her long for something to believe in. Something to make her feel whole. An emptiness that nothing in this world could ever fill.
Her lungs stung and she ripped her hand free from him. She doubled over, labored breathing exiting her chest. “They’re monsters,” she breathed.
Steele sucked wind. “They are,” he said worriedly, eyes scanning their surroundings. He didn’t sound confident.
“I will kill every…single…one. I promise you,” she said.
“But first we have to get back. Figure out a plan,” he said.
A twig snapped nearby. Her heart leapt from her chest. They couldn’t already be here, hunting us like dogs.
A form came from beyond the trees. Its jaw hung loose, hanging by white tendons to the infected’s skull. Steele bounced upright and met the dead with the butt of his rifle, slamming downward until with the stock until the infected was destroyed. The Chosen were not the only enemies who roamed the countryside.
“Come on,” he said. She followed him unwillingly through the trees. Her anger caused her to drag her feet, slowing her down. This anger was willing her to stay put and fight for Pagan’s honor. Her man. Her partner from the beginning of the planet’s descent into hell. The man had survived the ugliness of fighting religious zealots in a foreign country only to be murdered by religious zealots in his own. A man she was comfortable around and safe. A man she loved. A man who was dead. She never actually believed he would die. Never. Even when they had fought packs of the infected, she always knew he would be there with that damn goofy smile on his face.
The other part of her followed behind this other bearded man. A man who had stepped up into Pagan’s place. It was this part that let her follow Steele and trust his intuition. It took everything in her to give in to this man, but at the same time, it felt right. His internal resolve and willingness to do right glowed before her. She felt bound to him like she had never felt for another man. She had experienced many lovers but not a love like this. Keeping her eyes on the center of his back, she ran behind him taking the hills, sand, and felled tr
ee trunks in determined stride.
Eventually, trees gave way to the asphalt road. Steele sprinted across it. A motorcycle lay on its side in the ditch.
“Thunder did what he was supposed to,” he said. Steele heaved the four-hundred-pound beast upright. He mounted the motorcycle, looking to her to join him. He held his hand out expectantly. “Hurry,” he said, rushed.
Her eyes never left his. She bypassed his hand, cupped his shaggy cheeks, and brought him in close. Their lips locked and she kissed him with all the feeling she had left in her. He slowly pulled away, his eyes wide in surprise. Fire surged through her veins. It wasn’t the anger that drove her but something else entirely. Something she hadn’t felt in so long.
“I-um,” he stuttered. She put a thumb to his lips.
“Don’t say anything. You’ll ruin it.” She swung a leg over the back of the motorcycle and settled in. When she wrapped her arms around his torso, he revved the engine, speeding down the road. She could feel him breathing as the wind whipped them. Tucking her face behind his back, she felt at ease, his closeness tempering the sting of loss. His closeness filling in a piece of her void.
Before long, they found themselves at the entrance to Little Sable Point, and she was hesitant to give up her stranglehold on his body.
“Tess,” he whispered. “We’re here.” He kicked the motorcycle stand out with his boot. He gradually released her from her hold on him. They dismounted the motorcycle.
“Are you okay?” he asked, eyes worried.
“Pagan’s dead and they’re coming for us,” she said.
Her world spun and she landed in his arms. He scooped her up, carrying her through the camp. Everything happened as if she were a mile away in the clouds. People shouted around her. Darkness draped around her like a death shroud. The last thing she remembered was Steele yelling as he stared down at her, his eyes frantic.
STEELE
Little Sable Point, MI
“How fast can we get this camp mobile?” Steele asked Thunder. Thunder scratched at his bandana running along the brow of his forehead.
“Me and my boys could hop out of here in ten. It’s everybody else that will slow us down. We gotta get trailers hitched, the semis are done for, not enough fuel, and we have to make sure we got all the supplies we can manage.” Steele grimaced as the retreat to-do list grew longer and longer.
Turning to Ahmed, he said. “I need you to grab one of the bikes and roll up to the Lakeshore intersection with Larry. No shooting. The moment you see anyone you report back here as fast as you can.”
“Don’t leave without me or you won’t get those hockey tickets when this is over,” Ahmed said. He hefted his M4 and gave Steele a mock salute.
“We won’t. Any chance I get to see the Caps go down, I’ll take,” Steele said after him. I’d be surprised if any of us leave here. Ahmed disappeared into the camp.
“How many trucks need fuel?” Steele asked Thunder.
“Just over half.”
“Goddamnit, man. How’s that possible?”
Thunder scratched his belly as he shrugged. “Some people rolled in here on fumes. Others siphoned the gas off for the scouting vehicles, even the motorcycles. Not many thought past their own escape.” The wheels on the back of a pickup spun, and a family drove away. Every man for himself now. Steele wondered how many people would still be at Little Sable if they had gas.
Steele shook his head in disgust. “We can’t haul the food trailer without at least one semi.”
“No, but we can start loading up the backs of the campers and pickups.”
He looked out over the protective ring of vehicles. “Find the fuel; I don’t want to leave anything behind. I’m going to talk to the volunteers. Reconvene in about thirty.”
“You got it.” Thunder slogged off toward his motley crew of bikers.
Steele spied Max standing nearby looking more scared than anything else. Max held his gun in his hands, his face twitching under the stress.
“Max, grab the rest of the volunteers and have them meet me by the lighthouse.
“Ye-e-es, sir,” Max gave a weak salute and ran off, almost tripping over himself. I’m not sure I can handle his death on my head. He’s only a kid. A kid who wanted to fight.
Steele paced near the lighthouse, his M4 slung around his front. Max arrived with Steve in tow. Moments later Margie arrived, holding her bolt-action hunting rifle along with long-haired Gregor and Hank. Hank looked exhausted from the effort. Bengy stood with his M1 Garand held in one hand. The old man appeared unafraid, revealing not even a sliver of doubt.
“Where’s Nathan and Jason?” Steele addressed the whole group but stared at Max. His responsibility was to find the volunteers and bring them in.
“I-I, couldn’t find them,” Max said.
“I gave you one fucking task and you couldn’t even do that,” Steele shouted at him. Max’s cheeks reddened and he stared at the ground. Steele took a moment to calm himself. What good am I doing yelling at the boy? Can I actually blame anyone for running? We will all be dead in an hour anyway.
“It’s not your fault.” Max looked up, relief washing over his features. “You’re fine, kid.”
“We’re here,” Nathan shouted. His dark skin contrasted greatly with Jason’s pale complexion. They hustled in and took their places amongst the rest.
“Thanks for showing up,” Steele said, hoping his unhappiness was conveyed by the tone of his voice. The volunteers shifted anxiously on their feet. People ran to and fro as they tried to gather all their belongings. What do you got, Steele? A ragtag, half-trained group of scared people.
“When you volunteered to defend Little Sable Point, you knew it wasn’t to only defend against the dead.” He locked eyes with each person in turn, making sure everyone knew he spoke the truth.
“You knew that someday, some prick was going to come down that road and try to take what’s yours, harm your loved ones, and leave you for dead. It’s inevitable. It’s unfortunate. But you’re ready,” he said. His volunteers looked at one another, a fraction of pride overcoming their fears. He adjusted his neck to hide his lie and continued.
“The people that are going to come down that road are fanatics. They have perverted their religion so much that if you don’t join them, they will murder you. I don’t know about you, but that doesn’t sit right with me. They don’t sit right with me. I’ll be damned if they harm a single person in this community.” He stopped in front of Max, dusting off the boy’s jacket.
Max watched his every move in wonderment with wide eyes, eating up his words.
“There’s going to be a lot of them. They’re going to have guns. It will be loud and people will die, but we have an advantage. We know where to hide. We will fight and run, fight and run if we have to until everyone is safely on the road. Little Sable will live on.”
Max cheered loud, raising his rifle in the air. Everyone looked at the goofy teenager. He looked momentarily ashamed by his own outburst. “I’m wi-ith you,” he said.
“It seems like the only way,” Margie said to the group. The men nodded, grim determination settling on their features. They were stronger together.
“We aren’t alone. The Red Stripes are still here. They will fight.” A glimmer of hope danced among their eyes.
“Jason, you hop up in the lighthouse with Trent. Take a deer rifle. If things kick off, aim for the guys that look important. The rest of you buddy up and spread out. Remember, when the shooting starts, you hide behind wheel wells and engine blocks. Anything else bullets will go through. This isn’t the movies.” He left out the part about how some bigger rounds would go through those too.
“If you see something, sound the alarm,” he said and marched off to find Thunder.
***
Two hours later, Steele leaned on a pickup truck waiting for Ahmed to come ripping down the road on his motorcycle. Then the fight would be on. But so far, everything was quiet. He snatched up his M4 and silently patrolled alo
ng the perimeter. People packed and prepped their vehicles for departure.
Steele walked past Margie, who was crouched against a car. He squatted down next to the gray-and-auburn haired woman.
“You need some water?” he asked, offering her a water bottle.
She gave him a side glance and shook her head. “I’m good, Captain.” Her eyes flitted back out toward the line of trees facing the perimeter of vehicles.
He put the water back in his cargo pocket. “You know I’m not a captain, right?”
She only addressed him for a second from the corner of her eye. “I know you aren’t, dear. But the boy, Max. He hangs on every word you say like it came from God himself. He adores you and needs a hero to believe in to get him through this.” The woman, about the same age as his mother, smiled sadly at him, her cheeks quivering a bit.
“You understand?” she asked as if he were a young man.
He gave her a slight nod.
“Let the boy idolize in peace and don’t be so damn hard him. He’s had it bad enough.”
Steele sighed. “You’re right. I’m trying to show him that being a man isn’t something you just become one day. It’s not a number. It’s something that goes deeper. It’s your commitment to your fellow man and your drive to do right conditioned through discipline to oneself.” He took his turn looking out the barricade into the beach-like field before them. Dead yellow grass lay flat before the long line of trees. A road cut through the trees. Even now, they could be winding down the road to reach Little Sable Point or stalking through the trees. No, the pastor wouldn’t sneak. It’s not in his modus operandi. He has God on his side, and he will come with the full fervor of assured victory and guaranteed salvation. When it’s time, we will send him along to find his salvation.
The touch of her hand against the side of his face startled him. Margie’s brown eyes stared into his. “I see hope in you. You’ve given us something, even if it’s a chance to die with a bit of dignity.”
The Rising (The End Time Saga Book 3) Page 31