The End Time Saga Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Greene, Daniel

  “Rye?” Steele asked.

  “Ha. Yeah, man, Madam Scarlet Grey’s Whiskey. Ulysses S. Grant’s favorite. Same recipe.”

  Steele took a long drink of the rye. It was smooth and singed Steele’s throat a touch at the very end like someone held a match flame near the back of his mouth.

  Steele grimaced a bit and nodded his head. “That’s good. Lucky for us, I didn’t dump this one on my head wound,” he said with a half-laugh. They sat in silence for about ten minutes, letting the alcohol dampen the adrenaline from their slaughter.

  Kevin broke the silence by throwing a log into the wood stove furnace in the corner.

  “I see that my clothes fit you terribly.”

  Steele snorted a laugh. “Well, I started in my underwear, so be thankful that I am wearing anything at all.”

  Kevin rose a hand. “Keep them. I’d rather not imagine us wrestling with you in your underwear.” He sat back down and poured Steele another glass.

  “How’d you get here?”

  Steele took a long sip of the whiskey. It burnt his throat more this time.

  “I woke up practically naked in a ditch. My friends were gone, and I had a hole in my head.”

  “Gone? Sounds like some bad friends.”

  “They wouldn’t have left me by choice,” Steele said. They stared at the flames together.

  “Where are you from?” Kevin asked.

  “D.C. I came in on a flight from Africa where a bunch of the passengers became infected. We had a hell of a fight on our hands. We killed a lot of people.”

  “Shoot people on a plane? Where did you get guns?”

  Steele looked over in his direction. “I wasn’t kidding about being a Fed, but it got bad when they left us for dead at McCone. Me and a few of my fellow agents escaped Virginia with a doctor. I just can’t remember what happened when we got here.” Steele took a long pull of the whiskey. The alcohol numbed the pain in his head, muffling the drums.

  “So that whole ‘Division’ bullshit you fed me isn’t BS. You guys like fight terrorists or something?”

  Steele shrugged a bit. “Sometimes. Track ’em, find ’em, fight ’em, the usual.”

  “Wow, that must be a bang-up job,” Kevin said.

  “Not as glamorous as you would think. Long hours. Lots of assholes. How about yourself?”

  “I’ve been hiding out here since they closed the schools. I used to be a history teacher at Jefferson High School about ten miles up the road. Had only seen one or two of those things before you showed up. Hit them in the head and buried them out back. Is it true what they are saying? The whole East Coast is infected?”

  Steele stared at the fire through the wood furnace door. “Yes.”

  Kevin’s voice shook as he spoke. “I mean not everybody? Everybody can’t be infected.”

  “Tens of millions. Every one of us that dies joins their team. Every person bitten joins them and it happens fast. Just one of those things in a group of people could infect everyone in a matter of a minute.”

  “I’ve read plenty of world ending events in history. Shit. Open the Bible. There have been plagues. Disasters. Famines. War. Huge migrations of people. But it hasn’t been until recently that the world has been so interconnected. Never anything like this.”

  “It’s happening, and we are losing.”

  Kevin ran a hand through his hair, reciting his story. “They closed the school down after so many people became sick. Everyone raided the grocery stores for everything by the time the day was over. That’s why I was down the road at my neighbors. No idea where they went so I dug through their stuff and grabbed some essentials. You know, mostly food. Oh yeah, and I found some gas for my car out there.”

  Steele leaned his head back. Gas. Gas. Gas.

  “Dude, are you okay?” Kevin asked.

  “ARGHH.” Steele massaged his temples. Pain struck deep in his mind. “What did you say?” It hurt him to think.

  Kevin looked concerned. “I said, I got gas for my car. Are you alright?”

  Steele looked back at Kevin, hardly able to see him in the dim firelight of the stove. Gas. That was it. Everything crashed upon him at once.

  “We were in our mobile lounge when we came upon a woman stranded on the side of the road. She was probably twenty, pretty, showing a lot of cleavage. Me and my friend, a doctor, went to see if we could help. And someone shot me from the trees. Lucky for me they were a little off,” Steele said, closing his eyes.

  Kevin drank his whiskey greedily.

  “There was something about that girl though, something distinctive. I just can’t put my finger on it,” Steele said.

  Kevin shook his head. “I wouldn’t put it past anyone around here.”

  Steele patted the bandages running around his head. “It was her laugh. Her laugh was this high-pitched cackle or something. You know, like a witch’s but higher.” Steele took another sip of his drink, letting the whiskey burn just enough to know he was drinking, but not enough to hurt his throat.

  “That’s all I got. A damned laugh.”

  “Wait. Did she tell you her name?” Kevin said.

  “Umm. I can’t remember. Lindsay, Kelly, Brittany, something like that.”

  “Did she have a mole on her cheek?”

  “I just can’t remember. Ashley, maybe?”

  Kevin stood up. “Ashley O’Neill,” he uttered, his face dropping. “She’s, huh, was a student of mine a few years ago.” He fell back down to the couch. “She was always hanging around a bad crowd. A couple of guys that were known for being rough. Puck Roberts, Casey and Henry Barnum, and Chuck Connolly. They distill their hooch on Backbone Peak. Everyone knows to stay away from there. Sheriff doesn’t even mess with those guys,” he said, voice weakening at the end.

  “You know where Backbone Peak is?”

  “Yeah. I do,” Kevin said cautiously.

  “Do you have any camouflage?”

  “Uh, it’s West Virginia.”

  “You and me are going to be good friends, Kevin.” Steele leaned back, getting comfortable on the couch. He watched the fire, waves of exhaustion crashing into him.

  “I’d catch some Z’s, because tomorrow we’re going to check in on your friends.”

  Kevin gave him a weak smile and tipped his glass back.

  KINNICK

  Pentagon, Arlington, VA

  Kinnick nodded to a few Pentagon police officers who were carrying equipment to the roof. No more than sixty men and women remained of the uniformed police force. As first responders, they had been attacked and driven inside, and that was only the beginning.

  The officers were followed by some overweight defense contractors. Everyone had to pull their own weight now. No sitting. No idleness. Each day could be your last.

  Kinnick walked down the center of one of the Pentagon’s corridor rings, passing glass cases holding General MacArthur’s soft service cap and five-star uniform. Two sliding doors glided apart and he stepped into a corridor much nicer than the rest. Joint Chiefs of Staff Army wing. Fine dark wood lined the walls. Emblems of each of the branches of service were inlaid within the granite floors themselves. He stopped at a large conference room. The door was covered with fancy engravings. The greatest military in the nation is confined inside its beautiful headquarters.

  A major sat at a desk. The name tag on her light blue uniform read Holt.

  “General Travis is waiting for you,” she said.

  He gave her the best smile he could muster. “Thank you, Major.”

  Her left cheek rose a bit in return. She looked down at her desk.

  “Smiles suit you better,” he said.

  She looked up and gave him a better one. “How can you expect me to smile at a time like this?”

  “You could be on rooftop duty with me.”

  She stifled a grin. “I guess it could be worse,” she said, looking down at her desk. “We have more bad reports coming in.”

  “Outbreaks inside?”

  �
�No,” she whispered.

  “Then we’re doing better than yesterday.”

  Her lips flattened as she tried to maintain her composure.

  “We will get through this,” he said. His mind mocked him. Remember when you told Jackie everything was going to be fine? She’s rotting somewhere, now.

  “Yes, sir. We will,” Major Holt said. He nodded to her and pressed down on the flat gold door handle.

  Major General Travis brooded on the other end of the room, gazing at a digital map displayed on the wall. It was out of place in the regally decorated room, seeming more in line for a computer hacker than a military general.

  The sixty-two-year-old general’s short cropped hair was white on the sides, turning an ashy gray on top. His hands were clasped firmly behind his back. His aides, a captain and a lieutenant, raced back and forth, bringing him reports. General Travis no longer wore his dress navy blue Army service uniform, but had opted for the universal combat ACUs.

  “These are the times that try a man’s soul,” General Travis muttered. He took a deep breath, staring at the map displayed in front of him. “I wonder what Thomas Paine would have said about this mess.”

  “He would have said that this was no place for the summer soldier and the sunshine patriot,” Kinnick said. He clenched his jaw at his words. Am I a winter soldier?

  General Travis continued to weigh the dismal map before him. “I am sure he would. Any headway in the roof operations?” The general never lifted his eyes from the map.

  Kinnick had the urge to stand at attention but knew that it was not necessary. He settled for holding his hands in front of his body.

  “We’re tossing anything heavy enough to put a hole in someone’s head. It seems to be working to a certain extent, but the infected are never-ending.”

  Travis looked over his shoulder at Kinnick. His eyes beat his brow ridge for space. “Any helicopters from Mount Eden? Langley?”

  Kinnick frowned. “No sir. None in sight.”

  Travis turned back to the map.

  Large red X’s sat over military bases in the region including Andrews Air Force Base, the next most likely place to acquire aid. Further west a circle sat around Mount Eden.

  General Travis turned around and began flipping papers over on the table. “As you already know, the Pentagon is a large contingency facility with stores of food to last people months, especially as our numbers decrease. This place is not a fortress, but a giant contained city.”

  Kinnick nodded. He was no novice.

  “The Mount Eden facility was vital to our survival,” Travis said.

  Kinnick interrupted. “I know that sir, but those doors down there are built to withstand nuclear bomb blasts. Fifty thousand people couldn’t push their way in here. We—.”

  General Travis cut him off looking up at him. “I do not mean our survival here, Colonel. I mean our survival as a species. This epidemic is global. Our forces have been eradicated abroad. We’ve lost all communications with General Benner at CENTCOM. And General Walters in Stuttgart. Europe has gone dark, Africa is dark, Asia is dark, Australia has been overrun with refugees, South America is overrun, only the furthest outposts of Northern Canada remain untouched by this plague. You get the picture right. We may only have one shot at beating this thing. That is why we have fought so hard to hold here. We are quickly becoming it,” he emphasized the word. His steel-colored eyes traced a line on the map.

  “If we lose, mankind loses. America has always been the bastion of hope for the future. Now it is time for it to fulfill its promise. Others will hold, but it’s only a matter of time. Look at the map.”

  General Travis moved to the side to allow Kinnick a full view. The general tapped the corner of the map, and it zoomed out into a much larger map of the United States. He jabbed at key points on the map, dragging his finger to scroll over the terrain. He slid the map low to the distinguishable outline of Texas.

  “We have portions of the 1st Armor Division operating out of Fort Bliss, Texas.” He scrolled his fingers to the top right. “The 76th and 63rd armor regiments are moving west. I am guessing to Colorado. We could request assistance from the 59th Stryker Brigade Combat Team under Colonel Hartman. Stellar soldier. But General Dunbar can’t spare them. Traveling overland, they may not exist by the time they get here. We could try and hold an airport down and fly them up, but I can’t risk leaving the safety of this building. I do not have the vehicles to make a run for it. I’ve got National Guard units running failing quarantine operations at every major city in the U.S.” He widened the map, dragging two fingers apart.

  “I do not see these as feasible options at our current rate of attrition. Peterson Air Force Base is operating in Colorado, but, let’s just put it this way. We aren’t getting much feedback.”

  The map was a grim realization of the dire predicament they were in.

  “Can we pull a National Guard unit south from Philly? Or east from Pittsburgh? Bring down some troop transports?” Kinnick asked. Pittsburgh still had a circle around it. The quarantine of both D.C., Baltimore, and every eastern seaboard city had X’s through them.

  General Travis coughed onto his hand, looking even older than his age.

  “Sending units east would be suicide at this point. I’m pretty sure the President would veto any moves like that. It looks like the Commander in Chief wants his forces west. It doesn’t surprise me. I would have done the same thing, but it doesn’t help us much either. We are deep inside enemy territory now.”

  “No one can relieve us?” Kinnick asked. He stole a glance at the map. A question mark hung over Mount Eden to the West.

  “No more than the Wildcats can win a Super Bowl. We are being whittled away, Colonel. We need a game changer. You and me both know Virginia is lost.”

  Kinnick grimaced. General Travis’s words stung. Not because he had a great affiliation with Virginia, but because his family was out there when it all happened. He had left a hasty voicemail to his wife about leaving town or coming to the Pentagon. She never returned his call. His children had been at school when the outbreak started. He hadn’t heard anything. He knew in his heart they were gone. How could they possibly survive this? He tried not to think of them out there. Cold. Dead. Alone. At night, he would lay awake crying as he stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was even worth going on.

  General Travis saw the look on his face, and a moment of sympathy crossed his creased features. It was there and passed. Only a memory of empathy. The only thing that remained in the general was a hard resolve, a man with a righteous sense of duty. A man who knew his duty would bring about his demise, but marched forward anyway.

  “Hell is not conquered easily.”

  “No sir, it isn’t,” Kinnick said, staring down at the table below them.

  “We need something that can win this. Something that gives our people hope to continue the fight.” Travis paused, eying Kinnick. A pang of doubt crossed his face, uncharacteristic for a man of his standing. Kinnick knew this. He knew what was at stake.

  “I don’t know if you were briefed on this, but Mount Eden had a collection of scientists working on a cure for this disease. Some of the top authorities in medicine, virology and whatever other experts they could piece together from the region. And now we have no communications with them. We may have the only facility left that could support finding one.” The severity of the situation shone in the general’s eyes. As if the loss of troops and supplies weren’t enough, most of the leading scientists could have perished inside Mount Eden. America’s fate was spiraling down the drain.

  “Tell me about a Dr. Jackowski?” Travis asked.

  Kinnick frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall the name.”

  “I have a report here from before the outbreak that you helped orchestrate an operation to escort our diplomats and embassy staff out of the U.S. Embassy in Kinshasa. There was a doctor with them, a Dr. Jackowski, that was at the Mount Eden facility, and he may have found Patient Zero. A te
am of the scientists from USAMRIID are claiming if they can get their hands on Patient Zero, we’ve got a shot.

  “Fort Detrick is still operational?”

  “No, but they have a small contingent here, and a few more remote locations for continuity of operations.”

  “I authorized the Kinshasa mission. Nasty business with some Counterterrorism agents. I never received the update on their mission status.”

  General Travis gave him a firm nod. “The mission was completed. Dr. Jackowski made it to Mount Eden. The problem is … he’s missing.”

  STEELE

  Backbone Peak, WV

  Steele gently moved a branch from his view. He was deathly quiet and his movements were slow and calculated. The hunter must move cautious and deliberate, for prey spook easy. The human eye catches off-color and movement the most easily when searching for enemies. His borrowed camouflage and setting up in the night provided him with the greatest defense from detection from his hillside position.

  Steele and Kevin sat in a makeshift blind of branches, leaves, clumps of moss and dirt. It reminded Steele of deer hunting. The smell of wood fire floated up to them from the camp below. Few people moved about the camp.

  Kevin sat dejected and sullen, head low on his chest. Steele had to practically drag the high school teacher by the neck up to the ridge. Steele watched Kevin for a moment. No. He is no coward, he is just scared.

  Steele touched his knee. He mouthed “keep a lookout.” There was no point in them both going up there if Steele was going to be doing all the work by himself. He was nervous too. The terrain was foreign to him. Every jagged rock, leafy shrub, sappy pine and deer path was outside his knowledge base. This was someone else’s backyard. The people below knew this land like the back of their hand. He was the intruder. He was the invader that disrupted their land.

  Any one piece of the terrain could betray him at any moment, including Kevin; all were familiar to the men and women in the camp below. He didn’t have a team of professionals at his back. He didn’t have the equipment to fight any sort of battle. He didn’t know how many assailants he was going to have to engage. He didn’t know if Gwen was even there. The X factor was the infected. If they stumbled upon them, they could kill them, or give them up to the camp below. Each was its own unique death sentence. A choose your own adventure where you lost every time.