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

by Greene, Daniel

  In this world, it was the strongest and meanest who would survive at the expense of the weak. The United States was turning into a primal shadow of itself. But there was strength in numbers, and if Mauser and his friends wanted to survive, sticking with the military was their best shot, ruthless or not. They needed to be led by a survivor. Colonel Jackson had the cutthroat in him to lead survivors, not some sniveling congressman that hid in a bunker.

  He retraced his steps and limped across the airbase for the command building. He tried to keep something in his hands at all times. A gun, a bag, or food, because he didn’t want a jumpy guard thinking he was an infected running around the compound and take him out.

  “I’m here to speak with Colonel Jackson,” Mauser said. He shifted his weight to his good foot.

  “No one is to see the colonel. He’s in a meeting,” the guard said.

  “Uh, well, can you tell him Agent Mauser is here to see him?” he said.

  The guards gave each other a look.

  “You’re Mauser?” The guard lowered his M4 slightly downward.

  “Yup. Last time I checked,” Mauser said.

  “QB Rattlesnake?” the dumbfounded guard said.

  “I was there,” he said.

  The leader of the two nudged the other. “Go get Sergeant Yates. Tell him Mauser wants to see the colonel,” he said. The guard hustled off inside. The remaining guard’s name tag read Thatcher. His hair was brown like the back of a white tail deer.

  “I heard they had to drag you from the wall, kicking and screaming, because you didn’t want to leave the fight,” Thatcher said, grinning like an idiot. “You are like friggin’ hero around here, man.”

  Mauser was confused. A hero? Just what he needed, more members of his fan club. He only did what he had to do to survive, but a little recognition never hurt.

  “No man, I just go to where the gunfire is,” Mauser said.

  The soldier just gave him a dumb grin and Mauser half-expected him to take out a camera and pop a selfie. Mauser was beginning to feel like a celebrity. “I’d like to shake your hand, sir. It’s an honor,” Thatcher said, slinging his rifle and sticking out a hand.

  Mauser took his hand in his. “You are welcome. It is an honor to serve.”

  The burly red-haired Sergeant Yates appeared from the doorway. “Mauser, you old devil. How’s Youngstown treating you?” the sergeant said, showing some teeth.

  “I’m alright, I was wondering if I could talk to the colonel?” Mauser said.

  Sergeant Yates frowned. “‘Fraid not. He is a bit incapacitated at the moment. Anything I can help you with? Food? Shelter? Supplies?” Yates crossed his arms, revealing a large tattoo of a cross pattée etched into his forearm. From the narrow center, each side of the cross-widened outward.

  “I needed to talk to him about our departure,” Mauser said.

  Sergeant Yates’s tone turned official. “The declaration remains the same. As long as planes are going west, soldiers and supplies will be onboard. Civilians will be extracted by land transport when more mobile units arrive.”

  “I know this,” Mauser hissed. “Can I talk to you inside?”

  The guardsmen gave each other a look.

  Realization crossed Sergeant Yates’s eyes. “Of course. Step inside.” The sergeant raised a meaty hand and pushed open the door. It was dark inside and a couple of officers walked by, speaking in low tones to one another. Sergeant Yates leaned back on the wall.

  “I know what you are going to say, Mauser, and I don’t like it any more than you do. There’s not much I can do,” Sergeant Yates said, his tone indifferent.

  “You know about the mutiny that is coming?” Mauser said.

  “Of course I know about the plotting. It’s been happening since before we left Mount Washington. I’ve talked to many of the men myself. It’s only a matter of time.”

  “Are you kidding me? Isn’t there anything you can do?” Mauser said a little too loudly.

  Sergeant Yates’s forehead scrunched together. “Didn’t you used to be a federal agent? Where are you supposed to be? What about your duties to the United States?”

  His words struck home. Mauser had his responsibilities. He had also been left out to dry when he was in the thick of it. He rationalized it as if they had temporarily released him, and he was a civilian with different expectations. Military had to respond when called.

  “I am sure there is somewhere I am supposed to be, but it’s different for me. I am a civilian,” Mauser said. His own defense sounded weak in his ears.

  “However you rationalize it in your head, but let me tell you, everything is coming to an end. I’ve done all I can to quell the men. Things are changing,” Yates said, scratching his head and looking at his fingernails. He appeared relaxed, like he had resigned himself to his fate and was comfortable with it. He continued, “I’ve lost dozens of men since the beginning. Some men want to protect their families, some men just want to survive, some men are just scared. All things that eat away at our ranks aside from the real problem, the infected. The only thing that is holding us together is the fact that we are stronger as a large group than as individuals, and we have a commander who is looking out for us. Have you seen what the transports are carrying out of here?”

  Mauser shook his head. This was all coming fast.

  “They aren’t bringing in men and supplies to reinforce us. They are taking them back. Except recently it’s all material they want from us. No men,” Sergeant Yates said, looking through him.

  “What does that mean?” Mauser asked.

  Sergeant Yates gave him a practiced look of disgust that only a one-time drill instructor could have.

  “It means that within the next few days, when they get all the supplies they can retract from us, they will stop calling. We will be unofficially on our own.”

  Things are so much worse than we thought. “What do you mean ‘on our own’?” he said.

  Sergeant Yates scowled, turning the color of an angry tomato. “I didn’t take you for an idiot. We will have been deemed combat ineffective. We were combat ineffective weeks ago. Now we are irrelevant. Adios. Lost. We’ve been sending messages out, but have only gotten stick with it in return. We aren’t worth the time or effort to issue orders to,” he said.

  A spike of adrenaline shot through Mauser’s veins, followed by anger and a wash of fear into his gut. “There’s no chance at getting us on one of those transports,” he said.

  “No. They won’t have you. Hell, they won’t even take us. But even if you could go, would you want to pay lip service to a bunch of cowards?”

  “No, but words are a small price to pay for survival.”

  “Save yourself some dignity. We will survive here.”

  “There are a lot of those things out there, and I’m not sure you can stop them. You weren’t at Mount Eden.”

  “No, I wasn’t, but I survived QB Rattlesnake and The Battle of Steel City. We lost a lot of men, but the unit lives on. We will find other units like us. They will join for the right man. And men like you, Mauser, can convince them. You are a warrior. Men respect you here. They recognize what’s in here.” Yates pointed at Mauser’s chest.

  “Ha. It is nice to be recognized a bit. Get my fifteen minutes.”

  “Just remember whose side you are on. The fighting man’s, or a coward who doesn’t give two shits if you die as long as they live.”

  Visions of standing on a blazing tarmac with the dying members of his counterterrorism team flashed before Mauser. Left for dead. You are expendable. You’ve always been expendable, but you only sold yourself the lie that your little life meant something. You were only ever a tool to be used and discarded when broken.

  “I will try to remember that.”

  “The colonel’s a good man. He’s not like them. He will lead us out of this,” Sergeant Yates said.

  “I’ll keep it in mind.” Mauser made to leave the building. I have a lot to think about.

  “We ne
ed men like you, Agent Mauser. Men like us. Men who will do what needs done to survive, including taking on a horde of infected breaching our walls.” Sergeant Yates’s eyes judged Mauser, weighed his soul.

  Mauser nodded. The situation is more dire than I ever thought.

  JOSEPH

  Youngstown Airfield, Youngstown, OH

  Lights lit up the air traffic control tower. The tower was a plain block-style building. Long, wide windows circled the top floor with three-hundred-sixty-degree coverage of the airfield and sky alike. Joseph stood in the shadows of a string of tents. He ducked low, bending into a crouch, and a few soldiers walked by cursing loudly like drunks.

  “I saw there were some new women who came in the other day. Sarge says he doesn’t want us talking to them, but I say what harm can come from some talkin’ and maybe a little sexy time?” the excited soldier said.

  “Damn straight. If we are doing all the fighting and dying, the least the females can do is treat us right,” the other young soldier said.

  “Colonel don’t seem to mind.”

  “We deserve it.”

  Joseph waited until he couldn’t hear them anymore before he stepped out into the light. He crossed through the lights to the other side of the tents. Humvees circled the airfield fence. Every so often a gunshot would ring out. It was time to leave this place. He had been there too long.

  Joseph had a plan, but he needed help or at least cooperation to succeed. Except he didn’t know if he would get it, and in that case his quest against the virus would end here, most likely as a victim of the disease he had taken upon himself to defeat.

  He walked through the civilian campsites. He definitely wouldn’t be mistaken for a soldier, but there weren’t many soldiers in the civilian camp and he wanted to stay away from any common areas to avoid any stressful conversations about why he was out and about. He didn’t think anyone would be looking for him, but he didn’t want to give anyone any suspicions either.

  Circling his way through the tents, he came across hers. Like Mount Eden, this airfield’s commanders let civilians stay within the base confines, albeit away from the airstrip and outside the military camp.

  Adjusting his glasses, he called out softly, “Gwen. It’s me.”

  The tent unzipped and an eye peered through the tent flaps. It judged him for a moment, then peered from side to side.

  “Come in,” she said.

  Joseph let himself into the tent and sat down cross-legged. Gwen sheathed a knife, which surprised Joseph. She noticed him eying her blade.

  “Mauser’s out. Can’t be too safe.” She followed with, “Do you want anything to drink? I got water and some watered-down sports drink,” she said.

  “I’m okay,” he said. He scooched his behind around, trying to find a comfortable spot on the uneven ground.

  Gwen joined him on the ground, crossing her legs. “Have you heard anything about Mark?”

  “I haven’t heard anything,” he said. She looked at him with those eyes. Even unbathed, her beauty made him uneasy. Uncomfortable at best, like he should tell her a joke to make her smile. He settled for trying to save the world.

  “There is something else I wanted to run by you quick.”

  “What’s that?” she said, leaning in closer to him. She clasped her hands beneath her chin and he felt himself blushing a bit. She had a natural beauty that make-up would only cover up.

  Joseph’s mind played tricks on him, distracting him from his true purpose. He was sure he wasn’t the first to fall under her siren’s call. It forced his mind to play a fantastical game of “what if.” Maybe if Steele was truly gone she could learn to love him. After all, if it was the end of the world everybody needed someone to love, including him. They could steal away from here together. Run away from this mess. Make a small life somewhere, hiding from the infected.

  “I, uh, well,” he mumbled. No, she would never go for that. How far would we get without help? How long could we even live unmolested by the infected? Surely some life would be better than this. Even for her. She waited for Steele only to be disappointed at his assured death. How many brushes with death can the man have and survive? He can only put his ass on the line so many times before he buys himself a ticket out of this world.

  Joseph’s logic pounced. She would never go for a man like him. He was a weakling. A coward at best, and she was an angel. Someone else’s angel. A man who had gone out on a limb for him dozens of times to keep him safe; who had never asked to be saved in return. A strong man. An honorable man. A man that had gone out on a suicide mission so others might live.

  Steele inspired him to accomplish his mission. Save the human race. No big deal. It was a war that he must be destined for, because a man with his lack of skills in the physical world should never have made it this far. Not when so many with so many more practical skills had been slaughtered.

  I should reason with her. Steele is dead. Leave here with me. If he told her Steele was dead, it would only make her dig in more in hopes that he was still alive. More importantly, he needed to get to Michigan, and he didn’t want to do it alone. Not again.

  “I need to get to Michigan. It’s the last known location of Patient Zero. It’s a long shot, but I believe it is our only shot.”

  She nodded carefully. The nod of someone contemplating his every word.

  “I can’t do it alone. You and Mauser can help make sure I get there alive,” he said.

  She blinked a few times. “What about Mark? He’s meeting us here. It’s only been a few days,” she said. Her eyes creased at the corners.

  “Gwen, I know, but finding Patient Zero is arguably more important.” Don’t say he’s dead or she will never go. She did not look convinced by his apparent logic. “Mark is from Michigan, right? He will know if we are gone, that we left for there. He knows I must get there,” he said, voice rising.

  She stared, visibly gulping, and then shook her head as she spoke. “How could you ask me to leave him? How could you ask me to run from him? Have you no heart?”

  “But—,” he started.

  “You’re an asshole.” Tears welled up in the corner of her eyes and then dissipated.

  He’d known she would fight him, but what options did he have?

  “I know that doesn’t sound fair.” There was no fairness in this world, only what happened and what didn’t. He presented a very plausible and rational sequence of events. He would never understand women. He would play the safety card next.

  “Gwen, you’re right. I have not been very sympathetic, but we can’t stay here. You almost stabbed me when I came to your tent. You feel it, I feel it. There’s something wrong inside this camp, and every day it gets worse. We must escape,” he said. He reached a hand for her. She flinched when his fingertips grazed hers.

  “It’s okay. I have a plan that will get us out of here safely,” he said, hoping to reassure her. A plan. What plan? He would think of one later. Footsteps drew him out of his connection with Gwen. A head poked into the tent.

  “Is everything okay? Mauser said. His reddish-blond beard was well past a five o’clock shadow. “What’s going on?” he said, taking a seat. His eyes were tempered as if he were tolerating Joseph’s presence.

  “I was just chatting with Gwen here,” he said.

  Gwen looked down and straightened her shirt. “Tell him what you told me,” she said.

  Joseph recounted what he told Gwen, and Mauser listened intently. Then he nodded. “I get the same feeling,” he said. “And I know it looks bad out there, but the military units will stick together and keep us safe. Safer than out there.”

  A giant red-haired wedge between Joseph and his departure. Joseph wasn’t surprised that Mauser wouldn’t want to go.

  “There is no way we are getting on the transports either,” Mauser said. “I talked to Sergeant Yates earlier.”

  “Then we have to leave here,” Joseph exclaimed.

  Gwen looked less and less convinced by Joseph.


  “Excuse me,” sounded from outside.

  Mauser pulled out his sidearm, holding it close to his chest. Gwen slowly slid her knife from her sheath. Mauser pushed himself slowly away from the tent opening and gave Gwen a look.

  “Who is it?” she called out. Silence dragged out for what seemed like minutes.

  “It’s Kevin. Can I come in?” he said.

  Joseph exhaled. Gwen and Mauser visibly relaxed.

  “Yeah Kevin. Come in,” she said.

  He poked his head through the flaps. Confusion spread over his face with a sprinkle of embarrassment. “You guys having a party without me?” he said.

  “No, no. I can assure you this isn’t a party,” Gwen said. She gave Joseph a hard glance and made room for Kevin to sit.

  Joseph liked Kevin. A much more basic man than Joseph for sure, but likable. Steele trusted him. So that gave him clout.

  “How are y’all doing?” Kevin said. His eyes darted from face to face, reading them trying to decipher their previous conversation with just a glance at their faces.

  “I can leave,” he said, looking back at the tent entrance. “You all look like someone croaked.”

  Gwen cracked a faint smile. Joseph felt more than uncomfortable. The more people that knew his plan, the more likely Colonel Jackson would find out and thwart him.

  Mauser studied the West Virginian.

  Kevin threw his hands up. “Well, come on. You look like I just caught you with your hand in the cookie jar.”

  No one said anything in return.

  Kevin rubbed his neck. “Guys?”

  “We are leaving. I want you to join us, but you can’t tell anyone. It will be dangerous,” Joseph said. Mauser looked pissed, but Joseph ignored him. Free help was almost always good help.

  Kevin didn’t hesitate. “You guys and Steele are the only family I got. Where you go, I go,” he said with a nod of his lanky neck.

  “Then it is settled,” Joseph said, pleased with himself.

  “I’m not leaving,” Mauser said. He gave a curt shake of his head.