“I’m glad it wasn’t worse,” Kinnick said to him. Airmen sat at cubicles, facing a giant radar on the wall.
“How’s Hawkins doing?” Kinnick said. He had been in nothing but meetings since he had returned.
“Hawk? If we hadn’t sent someone to pick him up, he would have waged guerrilla warfare until they were all dead. Again.”
“You got one hell of an operational detachment.”
“Sins and skins.” Hunter put out a hand with a smile. Kinnick locked hands with the man. A cool circular piece of metal pressed flat into Kinnick’s palm. Hunter released his hand and a half-dollar sized coin sat in the palm of Kinnick’s hand. Across the top, it read “SKINS” in red writing. Beneath that, a skull wore a wolf headdress and red arrows lined the back with a single number “51” at the bottom.
“I talked with Hawk. Well, talked at Hawk. And we decided that we wanted to get you inducted as an honorary member of our unit before…”
“Before it’s too late,” Kinnick said and returned the smile.
“We never know when our time comes, but when it does, meet it with bullets and a smile,” Hunter said.
“Sins and skins, Master Sergeant.”
“Sins and skins, Colonel. And I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Hunter nudged Kinnick. His single eye looked around the room before he leaned in. “You’re the first, and probably only, chair force member to be inducted into our ODA.”
“It’s an honor that I will hold dear,” Kinnick said, staring at the coin.
“And I’ll see if we can dig up a patch for you somewhere. Your uniform is a bit sparse.”
Kinnick laughed. “Much appreciated.” Kinnick turned away, looking at the giant projection of the surrounding airspace.
They sat in silence for a moment watching the green planes scoot inch by inch across the radar. Almost all of them floated from north to south.
“No need to go west,” Kinnick said. He grimaced, feeling guilt for failing his nation. Large red rings sat around the major cities of the West Coast, projecting the spread of nuclear fallout contamination and other affected areas.
“Colonel Kinnick?” A major said, peering into the cubicles. Kinnick stood up.
“I’m here.”
The major nodded. “Please come into the War Room,” he said from across the operations center. Kinnick managed his way through the cubicles into the vice president’s War Room.
A host of officers sat around the table. General Daugherty was there to the right of Vice President Brady. His mouth was set to an irritated twist and a general air of displeasure to see Kinnick alive. Kinnick took a seat at the far end of the table. Brady’s tie was gone today. He wore a simple white collared shirt underneath a navy blue suit.
“We’re glad to have you back Colonel Kinnick,” Brady said. Kinnick kept his face flat. He was unamused with the man who had ordered nuclear strikes within his own nation.
Daugherty cocked his head to the side like Kinnick was an odd creature. “It’s true. I admire your bravery even if it was an ill-advised mission. We clearly need men of your leadership quality within our ranks.”
Kinnick gave him a terse nod. If we only had men of better quality leading us from above, he thought.
The general cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. “But the fact remains that the passes in Colorado were not holdable, and we were forced to launch a full-scale nuclear strike against the West Coast.”
Papers shifted. Some of the officers stared down at their reports. There was clearly dissent among them, or at the very least, shame.
“As the briefing in front of you states, the strikes were a great success. We are estimating an eight-five percent kill rate within the metropolitan areas.”
“One hundred percent kill rate for anyone still alive there,” Kinnick said flatly. Heads turned toward Kinnick. Eyes quickly averted. Other stared brazenly, knowing what they had supported.
“May I continue, Colonel?” Daugherty said with an emphasis to make Kinnick’s rank seem small and insignificant. He was making sure everyone knew that he was in charge and nothing Kinnick could do would change that.
“It’s impossible for us to know the number of American deaths in relation to the bombings, but we consider the losses to be negligible.”
Kinnick masked his disgust by taking a sip of his coffee.
“Gentlemen, this was the only way. Kinnick, we are aware of the sacrifices that your men made to hold the passes. We gave your plan a chance, and it failed, so we moved forward with a sure thing,” Daugherty said.
“You gave me a hundred men when you and me both know I needed hundreds of troops and full air support. It was a suicide mission.”
“If it were up to me, I would have given you no one,” Daugherty said. His eyes grew angry behind his glasses as he spoke. “You took our men on a suicide mission that you wanted to lead. What about those soldiers we will never get back? Those men who died for nothing. Men that could have been ready to fight the bigger battle on the even more important front.”
“Enough, General,” Brady said. He faced Kinnick. “Colonel. We aren’t going to fight you on it. What’s done is done. The bombs have been dropped on us, by us.” He gestured a thumb at himself. “That’s on me.”
Kinnick shut his mouth. The vice president was right. Kinnick couldn’t change what had happened.
“Do you want to be a part of this military?” Daugherty asked.
What do I have left? He had thrown his hat in with the military since he had found himself trapped within the Pentagon instead of taking care of his family in Northern Virginia. What about my men out there? What about the Skins? You still have a place here even if the leaders are jacking it all up.
“I am committed to this country.”
Daugherty eyed him suspiciously. Brady patted the general’s arm.
“See there, General. Colonel Kinnick is only a bit frustrated. We lost some good men out there. But we must continue. Perhaps the colonel will be a bit more sympathetic with more intelligence.”
“Very well,” Daugherty said. He clicked his remote control instead of taking a swing at Kinnick.
A rounded aerial view of tan farmland lit up the screen.
“This is from a drone from over western Ohio,” he said. Fields flew by as the drone passed overhead of yellow corn husks and brown burnt leaves. The fields quivered ever so slightly.
“Sorry, it’s hard for me to see. Is that water?” the major that collected Kinnick asked.
The general zoomed it in. “That, Major, is what’s coming west as we speak.”
Forms swarmed the fields. None of them stopped as they stumbled forward. Like a river, they only went around obstacles. Thousands. Tens of thousands. Hundreds of thousands.
“There are so many,” the major uttered. The words came out soft.
Kinnick closed his eyes.
Daugherty zoomed out. Millions of sand-sized infected walked across the screen. “As you can see, this is the threat we now face. They are gathering, sweeping across the Midwest. This is a mere fraction of their numbers, and they are coming this way.”
“How many?” Brady asked.
“Millions. Our best estimates, depending on infection rates, are over a hundred million.”
Brady shook his head. He sat back in his leather chair, eyes wide. He held his hands in front of his body, fingers spread out. “Nukes are off the table for this one?” he asked.
“I’m afraid they are if we want to survive fallout. We could get away with it in the west because of the Rockies, to the east we will be contaminated. The land, the people, everything will be poisoned. Those in our bunkers will survive, but for how long with limited supplies, I don’t know.”
Kinnick gripped his brow, a headache setting in. The situation was worse than he could ever imagine.
“Air assets?” Kinnick said, looking up. He ran a hand along his jawline. He hadn’t realized he had grown a grizzled beard.
“Very limited.
I believe you saw the extent of our air power in the passes. Our drones are becoming very difficult to control. I don’t expect they will be reliable in the near future.”
I wonder what they did with the pilots, Raven and Battle-axe.
“Ground?” Kinnick asked, his headache swelling.
“Limited. Don’t you see, Kinnick? This is the battle we all fear. The west was only the anvil; this is the hammer.” The general looked over his glasses at Kinnick.
“Somebody get me a goddamn drink,” Brady said, throwing his hands up. “I thought the nukes were going to set us straight.” An officer stood up, pouring the vice president a glass of scotch.
Brady watched him with disdain. “More, Major,” he said. The major filled the glass to the brim and brought it back to the vice president, handing it to him gently.
Kinnick zoned out. The officers argued with one another around the table. Their conversations turned to faint chattering in the background of his mind. All he could see were the infected on the screen. Swarms of the soulless marching. Do they even know why they march?
They all marched in one direction, toward them. All with a single purpose. The murder of all things living. Daugherty’s words echoed in his head. This is the battle we fear. We are on the brink of annihilation.
A Message from the Author
Thank you for reading The Rising, Book Three of The End Time Saga. I truly hope you enjoyed this installment. I had so much fun putting this one together for you. If you have the time, please consider writing a review.
Reviews are important tools that I use to hone my craft. They help me identify what I’m getting right and what needs work in my writing. Reviews also help potential readers decide whether or not to purchase and read my work. I take them very seriously and appreciate your time.
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The End Time Saga doesn’t end here. The fourth installment is coming soon…
A Note
Little Sable Point Lighthouse is a real place in Michigan. I fictionalized the location to fit my needs as a writer, but it does exist. I’ve been there once and it’s a beautiful place with a wonderful beach and views of picturesque Lake Michigan. When choosing a place for the Steele family home, I knew that I wanted to use Little Sable Point Lighthouse as a location for Tess’s camp so I placed them in relation to one another. I took some liberties with spacing and location of forests and parking around the lighthouse. If you have a chance, you should consider checking out this wonderful park.
While the Eisenhower Tunnel is a real tunnel in Colorado, Dunluce Pass is a fictional mountain roadway near the Eisenhower Tunnel. South Fork, Independence, and Mosquito are all real passes fictionalized for the sake of my novel.
I’ve done this in my other books with Pittsburgh, Fairfax, Pentwater, Washington, Kinshasa, Grand Haven, and others. I’ve fictionalized the places to fit my story better. I try to keep it real enough where the reader could look up a place and see the picture I’m painting, or if they’ve been there, perhaps recognize the imagery. It’s a delicate balance between realism and the fiction of the story.
The same holds true for the military units depicted in the books. I try to create entirely new units so as to not depict a unit in the wrong light. There are a great many veterans out there, and I really want them to find my writing realistic without losing them because everything about a particular unit wasn’t spot-on. An extensive amount of research goes into this balancing act and I sincerely hope you’ve enjoyed this installment of The End Time Saga.
- Daniel Greene
02/27/2018
Special Thanks
No book comes to fruition without the help, assistance and support of a horde of people.
To my wife, Jen: You have been so supportive of me throughout this entire journey that I don’t know how I’d do it without you. You’ve been there through ups and downs and haven’t balked at any challenge sent your way. You are a one-of-a-kind woman and I am so lucky to have found you on that night back in 2011.
To my Beta Readers and Contributors (Kevin, Dan, Brady, Jennifer, Beth, Joe, Eric, and Mike): You have done me and this book such a wonderful service. You have helped take my writing to the next the level. Thank you.
To my Cover Artist(Christian): Your work is amazing as always. You really are able to capture the exciting essence of the series.
To my Editor( Lisa): Your thorough and meticulous work on my novel is so important. My deepest thanks. Please see her services here: Lisa's Editing Services
To my family, friends, and readers: Thank you for pushing me along on this journey as an author. Your support means the world. As long as you keep reading, I will keep writing.
About the Author
Daniel Greene is the author of the growing apocalyptic thriller series The End Time Saga. He is an avid traveler and physical fitness enthusiast with a deep passion for history. He is inspired by the works of George R.R. Martin, Steven Pressfield, Bernard Cornwell, and George Romero. Although he is a Midwesterner for life, he now lives on the East Coast.
Books by Daniel Greene
The End Time Saga
End Time
The Breaking
The Rising
The Departing (Coming later 2018)
The Rising (The End Time Saga Book 3) Page 43