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

by Greene, Daniel

  “This is Dr. Hollis. He is with the Biomedical Advanced Research and Development Authority. They assist in stockpiling biomedical resources nationwide.” No vaccine for this, Joseph thought. He nodded to the obese doctor.

  “Next to him is Dr. Desai. She is a leader in research for live attenuated vaccines from Johns Hopkins Hospital. Her research into the CCR5 receptor of white blood cells may help us find a cure for AIDs one day.” The young Indian woman smiled at him.

  “Next to him is Dr. Nguyen. You may know him from the CDC.” The short Asian doctor tilted his chin downward. Joseph knew him. In the hierarchy of their organization, Dr. Nguyen was second only to Dr. Williams; both were experts on bioweapons. With Dr. Williams most likely dead in the bunker of Mount Eden, Joseph supposed that made Dr. Nguyen number one in the world.

  “Loved your work on weaponized anthrax,” Joseph said. The Asian doctor bowed his head lower in thanks.

  “If only this were that easy,” Dr. Nguyen said.

  The man on the far end didn’t acknowledge Joseph as he stood scrutinizing Patient Zero. His hands massaged his smooth chin while deep in thought. His close-cropped white hair gave him the look of a military man.

  Dr. Weinroth smiled and spoke a bit louder. “The gentleman on the end is Colonel Byrnes, M.D. We are colleagues from USAMRIID. His research in biosynthetic viruses and vaccination is top-notch.” The United States Army Medical Research Institute of Infectious Diseases was based out of Fort Detrick in Maryland. Joseph knew them well. A secretive group, but they were some of the best minds against any biological threat to the United States.

  The gaunt colonel regarded Joseph with intelligent gray eyes. His camouflage combat uniform revealed itself from beneath his white coat as if it were hiding.

  Joseph was confused. “I thought Fort Detrick was gone? I was under the impression that everyone had met up at Mount Eden in Virginia.”

  Byrnes spoke as if he were annoyed with Joseph’s existence. “Fort Detrick is gone. We were annihilated in under an hour. Our HAZMAT suits did nothing to stop them from ripping through the protective plastic. If I had half of my staff from there, we would be making some serious headway instead of standing here watching Patient Zero cry.”

  Dr. Weinroth’s smile faded into a pretty close-lipped grin. “This has been a difficult experience for many of us.”

  “Tell that to my staff I watched get butchered alive,” Byrnes said.

  Dr. Weinroth’s eyes pleaded with Joseph for understanding. Her eyelashes beat each other furiously. “Fort Detrick was horrible, but all of us have lost friends during this difficult time.” She directed a glance toward the colonel. He was already ignoring them, back to analyzing the subject.

  “We’re all glad to have you here. Someone with your experience will be essential in our research and development against this global outbreak. We’ve adopted the facility staff and name as our own. I think it has more meaning now that we have come from all over the country to work together. Welcome to the Mountain Integrated Medical team.”

  Joseph nodded. It was an impressive team for research, and perhaps, the only team.

  “We call it MIM for short.” She pointed to a patch on the sleeve of her white coat. A doctor’s caduceus, a staff with wings and dual serpents running up its shaft, sat in the middle of two M’s that looked like mountain peaks. The words Mountain Integrated Medical curved beneath the design.

  He took a deep breath and gulped. “Thank you, Dr. Weinroth.”

  “Call me, Rebecca.”

  “Thanks, Rebecca,” he said with a faint smile.

  Her smile in return made his arm hurt just a little less. He supposed that was all the comfort he could ask for in a time like this.

  “I can take a look at your arm later if you’d like. How’d that happen?”

  “I was stabbed,” he said. The cold steel inside his arm still haunted him.

  Concern flooded her eyes. She visibly gulped.

  “It was an accident,” he hurried out. She gave him a quick smile.

  “Of course,” she managed, seeming uncomfortable.

  “I would appreciate you taking a look.” She nodded and turned her attention back to Patient Zero.

  The team stood watching the tears stream down Patient Zero’s stubbly cheeks. These were his band of fellow warriors in the battle for mankind. They had come from all different backgrounds. They had all lost friends and family to the infection. They had all watched, helpless as the world crumbled around them. Now it was time for them to strike back.

  KINNICK

  Golden Triangle, Colorado

  Kinnick rode in a Humvee down a wide residential street. They passed newly built single-family homes, some still with turned earth in unfinished front yards. Humvees sat in a few of the driveways. No other cars drove on the road aside from military vehicles, giving him an eerie feeling in the depth of his gut that he was in the Green Zone of Iraq.

  Three eight-wheeled Strykers grumbled past traveling the other way. The big green personnel carriers had been effective at protecting soldiers in Iraq and Afghanistan from IEDs and small arms fire, and he imagined they were being put to excellent use against the infected.

  Hunter sat behind him, sunglasses on, beard fluttering in the wind, staring out the window. An airman from Peterson Air Force base sat in the driver’s seat and another soldier stood in the center turret, manning the Mk 19 grenade launcher on top of the vehicle.

  “He ever hit any of them with that?” Kinnick asked, throwing a thumb at the turret.

  The driver smiled. “Yup. Shreds the bastards. Sometimes they crawl, but it does good work against large groups and makes it easier when the bastards aren’t quite as fast.”

  Kinnick nodded, wiping a hand through his hair. He had never lost the short, military-style hair even after he retired. Some things just stick with you, but now, his hair was as long as it had been when he was in college at Purdue. Probably a lot more gray than before the outbreak.

  They zipped by long stretches of fences lining the roadways. The fences engulfed entire neighborhoods in sturdy chain-link steel with razor wire spiraling around the top.

  “How far does the Safe Zone span?”

  “We call this the Golden Triangle, sir. We’ve been able to control the area between Peterson Air Force Base, Fort Carson, and Cheyenne Mountain. It cuts off the southern part of Colorado Springs which we now use to house extra troops and civilians.”

  As far as Kinnick could see, there were green and brown mountains, trees turning shades of yellow and brown, and housing. “I understand the triangle, but why Golden?” he asked the airman.

  “Cause if you are inside, you’re golden, Colonel,” the airman said with a grim smile.

  “I see,” Kinnick responded, clamping his mouth shut. The Pentagon died without military support, and portions of the United States Armed Forces sat in Colorado, not even lifting a finger to help their fellow brothers and sisters in arms. Soldiers and civilians all over the country were being overrun and murdered. Can I blame them for creating a base of operations to continue the fight? That’s what I would do. Consolidate my forces and strike back out.

  The Humvee stopped at a fenced-in checkpoint that clearly kept civilians from the military base housed within the safe zone. A soldier waved them through layers upon layers of fencing, concrete barriers, fortified buildings, and machine gun nests. A sign that looked like six mountain peaks read U.S. Air Force, Peterson Air Force Base.

  They rolled to a stop near a modern building with white sides and dark bluish-gray glass reflecting outward, preventing anyone from seeing in. The building had a cold government look to its architecture made with long lines.

  “Here’s your stop, Colonel,” the airman said, sounding a little nervous.

  “Thank you, Airman.” Kinnick and Hunter dismounted the vehicle and walked down the white concrete sidewalk leading to the building. Kinnick could sense the master sergeant’s uneasiness next to him even with the swagger in h
is step, but it was as if he were repelled by the thought of being inside an office building.

  “I’m Colonel Kinnick,” he said to two lightly armed, black-beret clad airmen standing outside heavy glass doors. The area was quiet, untouched by the chaos engulfing the nation. The airman on the right whispered in his radio.

  “You have clearance to enter, sir.”

  The door audibly clicked and the security specialist pushed it open, revealing a large lobby with a shiny polished granite floor. Airmen in Airman Battle Uniforms sat at a large reception desk. Officers swept through the room, holding red folders with papers sticking out of either end.

  Weary from his journey, Kinnick took a seat on a long bench on the wall. Hunter let his carbine rest in front of his body and joined him. Not more than a moment after sitting down, his foot began to tap repeatedly. It was the most uneasy Kinnick had seen him since they’d met.

  “I fucking hate offices. Just something not right about ’em,” Hunter said.

  Kinnick looked around. “Safe and clean. Living men and women. What’s not to like?”

  “All of it. The people. The conformity. The life-sucking vibe that goes along with it. Some guys love the smell of fresh carpet and computers, but not this one.”

  “Just be thankful we aren’t still stuck in the field. We’ll get a nice break now.”

  “I’d take the field any day of the week over this nine-to-five hell.”

  An officer walked by, eying Hunter with his carbine.

  Hunter leaned forward. “See?” He gestured at the man with an elbow. “Look at them. Did you see the way that guy looked at me? Like he’d never seen a gun before. Fuckin’ Powerpoint Rangers rule this unholy prison.”

  Kinnick grinned at the Green Beret. “Just wait until we get inside. They got some nice toys in here. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

  Hunter shook his head. “The Chair Force and their gadgets. No offense. At this point, you are basically a grunt by association, and I’m not saying they don’t have their place, but you can’t win a war from the sky. You need boots on the ground if you want a…” He paused thinking for a moment. “Resolution.”

  “I suppose we should be thankful they’re still in the fight. I’d rather have them than not.”

  They waited five minutes and a short officer with oak leaves on his shoulders and black hair on his head and glasses greeted them. “Good afternoon, sir. You must be Colonel Kinnick. I’m Major Thomas, 10th Special Forces Group, based out of Fort Carson.”

  Kinnick stood up. “Major Thomas, good to meet you.” They shook hands.

  Hunter piped up behind Kinnick. “Figured you would have bought the farm already?” He stood up behind Kinnick. “And somebody promoted you to major?”

  The major narrowed his eyes, focusing past Kinnick. Kinnick thought the major might shove him to the side.

  “Holy hell, Master Sergeant Hunter. I thought you got taken out by a goat herder south of Kandahar,” Thomas said, grinning.

  The two men shook hands. “Would have rather been taken out by a goat herder than be in your shoes. Look at you with your shiny oak leaves.” Hunter pretended to brush his friend’s shoulder off. “A bit dusty too from sitting inside all day.”

  “Promotions are a bit expedited these days,” Thomas said.

  Hunter shook his head. “You used to be a hard charger, and now, here you are pushing pencils with the best of the computer junkies.”

  “I would go back into the field in a heartbeat,” Thomas said. He addressed Kinnick. “You were in good hands, Colonel, coming in with this alley cat. Tough as nails and mean as a bear with a toothache.”

  “Yes, I was. I owe my life to him on more than one occasion.” Hunter had fought like the devil himself against hordes of infected and rogue military units. The rogue units still left a sour taste in Kinnick’s mouth even now. Kinnick had no doubt he would have been killed without him. He would be in a ditch feeding the worms or the infected. It didn’t matter much, because either way, he would have been dead.

  Most of Kinnick’s search and rescue squad had perished during the mission. The tomb of Mount Eden’s underground bunker had claimed most. The bunker that had sat about an hour outside of Washington, D.C., and doubled as an emergency evacuation facility for Congress during a disaster had turned into a pit of hell.

  “Let me get you inside to NORAD. We’ll get you up to speed on the ongoing operations.”

  “Ongoing operations?”

  Thomas gave him a questioning look. He blinked in rapid succession behind his glasses. “Yes, sir. We are at war here. Operations are currently underway to take back the United States.”

  Kinnick couldn’t hide his look of puzzlement. “Carry on, Major.” We are at war, but I was under the impression there weren’t that many of us left.

  Three card-access doors and two ID checks by soldiers and secret service agents and they ended up inside a large operations center.

  The wall was covered in giant projection flat-screen televisions. The huge televisions tracked flights. Others displayed jostling cameras of troops on the ground. Another was a map of the United States, displaying green swaths over large parts of the country. The green seemed to pinch the middle inch-by-inch, starting from the coasts.

  “You still have ongoing flight missions?” Kinnick asked, looking at the flight radar screen.

  “Yes, sir. We are funneling supplies mostly to and from Elmendorf Airfield. It has been largely unaffected by infection. Most of my boys from Fort Carson ended up there. Put some hurt on some bastards and locked that place down.” Faster moving blips on the map caught Kinnick’s eye.

  “You’re still flying combat sorties?”

  Thomas looked at him, confused. “Why yes, sir. Most of our combat runs are in the Colorado area. I don’t understand. Did someone tell you otherwise?”

  Kinnick ground his teeth. “I was at the Pentagon before it fell. We only had local air support. Eventually that stopped. We could have used some help.” He stared at the man for a moment. “Any help.”

  Thomas looked down at his feet before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Colonel Kinnick. Those decisions are above my pay grade.”

  Kinnick’s mouth twisted. “Whose decision was it?” So many lives lost. So many great minds.

  “That came down from the vice president.” He stopped himself. “Well, the President now.”

  “The president’s dead?” Kinnick said louder than he wanted. People wearing headsets turned from their computer monitors to stare at him. Hunter whistled a high-pitched note in surprise behind him.

  Kinnick gave him a nasty look. “Not helping, Master Sergeant. The president is dead?” he said softer.

  “It’s unknown, sir. He went missing during the initial evacuation of Washington, D.C.”

  “Are you kidding me?” The bastard’s been missing this whole time.

  “No, sir.”

  “We had no idea.” Kinnick clenched his jaw. The American public has no idea. Most of the American public has been left for dead. Entire military units have been left for dead, and we don’t even know who the hell is leading us. “Is that bastard vice president here?”

  “I am,” came a voice from behind him.

  STEELE

  Northern Michigan

  Steele peered out into the night as the waves of the giant lake collided with the shore. Fire gleamed in the dark miles down the cliff.

  “You see right there?” Gwen said, pointing out the window. Miniature flames spoiled the encroaching night. Steele crossed his arms over his chest, thinking. This isn’t good.

  “What do you think is going on?” Kevin whispered as if the flames miles away could somehow hear him.

  “Someone set a fire, and it isn’t the infected,” Steele said. He pulled on a snarl in his beard. People always mean bad things.

  “What are we going to do?” Gwen asked on his other side.

  “A fire that size in the night. Must be a building.” His eyes couldn’t leave the
flame. He was a moth to its blaze. It lured him. It beckoned him. It was dangerous and primal, but he couldn’t pull his eyes away. “We will wait until morning and take a look.”

  “We shouldn’t go now?” Gwen asked. Worry plastered her face. He gave her a second glance. Her face was pale like a ghostly shade.

  Must be the food poisoning. “No, tomorrow.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  She will be the death of me. I would have bet on the infected, but the longer I live, the greater her odds.

  “Because it’s dangerous and I don’t want to walk into another trap like we did in West Virginia. Even if it means people who need help have to wait.” He reminded himself of his training. It seemed like a past life, as if generations had come and gone and yet he still lived. Make sure the scene is safe before helping others.

  Is she disgusted or uncomfortable? He couldn’t tell.

  ***

  The next morning they set out early. Dawn cracked the horizon like an egg sitting sunny-side up. The beach was peppered with the tortured faces of the infected, so Steele opted to lead them along the edge of the coastline cliff. They ran through overgrown leaf-covered yards from lake house to lake house.

  Most of the houses were already boarded up for the harsh Michigan winter that lay ahead. Only a few die-hard Michiganders would brave the lake-effect snow the Great Lakes State had to offer. One thing a Michigander always knew was that, no matter what, winter was only a few months away.

  Steele’s mother was one of the brave. She never seemed to mind the cold that winter brought, opting for wood fires instead of sunny Florida or dry Arizona. Most of her friends and colleagues were snowbirds, usually retirees that migrated from the northern states to the south in the winter to avoid the harsh weather. Perhaps the isolation of a Michigan winter was worth it now.

  Steele left his friends near the side of a brown boxy house. Crouching, he ran to the cliff line. Spying down his optics, he zeroed in on the pack littering the beach. They know we’re here. Something keeps them lingering.