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

by Greene, Daniel

  A handsome man emerged from the power plant’s double-metal door entrance. He wore khaki pants and a nice zip-up sweater. A wooden flail hung from his belt and Steele wondered if it ever swung into his legs while he walked, banging his knees and shins. He waved them forward.

  The man gave them a smile. His wavy blond hair was combed all to one side with a nice part. “Seth, bring them on in. The pastor is waiting.”

  Who is this guy? Some sort of used car salesman?

  “We’re coming, Brother Matthew,” Seth said. He turned to them. “Come on, Steele, and oh yeah, who are you?”

  “I’m Tess,” she spat with venom.

  “Spunky. Thought you were a boy,” he said with a laugh.

  “More of a man than you’ll ever be,” she said.

  Seth’s eyes darkened. “If you lived here, you’d know better than to speak to a man like that.”

  “That’s why I don’t live in this penitentiary.”

  Steele gave Tess a fake smile. “I believe our host, Seth, was going to take us inside to our meeting.”

  “Come on,” Seth grunted. He walked them past Matthew inside the metal doors.

  They stepped inside and were immediately buffeted by the smell of cooking food and laughter. Kids pushed their way by chasing one another.

  “You’re it,” one screeched.

  They ducked in and out of dormant machinery surrounded by metal piping. Women sat in circles preparing food to be cooked. Women and children peered out from behind tents and dividers watching the newcomers. Men chatted here and there. None seemed starved or suffering from malnutrition or apparent abuse. Guns were abundant among them. A few regarded them as they walked by.

  Seth led them through the large open floor; each room they passed was filled with more people. There must be at least a thousand people living here. So Peter told the truth. A power plant fortress with over a thousand people. I was skeptical based on my method of elicitation, but he told the truth.

  They crossed the entire plant. On the far side of the plant, Seth lifted a lever and opened a barred door. Bright morning light hit them again. Why are they leading us back outside? Coal piles loomed over two stories high on flat open ground.

  Seth ushered them forward and brought them down the middle of a gravel-filled path. The path led them in-between giant black rocky piles. The land gradually sloped downward, leading them to water. A narrow canal widened into a lake. Seth stopped them. A tall, slightly hunched old man stood in the water, his back to them.

  His dark pants were cuffed up to his thin calves. His bare feet were submerged in the water. Long-fingered hands were clasped behind his back. It was as if he were going to issue commands to the far-reaching body of water. A faded, worn wood carpenter’s hammer was stuck through his belt.

  Seth stopped and cleared his throat. “Pastor. Mr. Steele and Miss Tess are here.”

  The man didn’t turn around. He continued to look out over the water as if it were telling him a story.

  After a moment, the man spoke softly. “Seth, you may go.” He didn’t look at them. He waved two fingers with his right hand. Seth hesitated. He gave Steele a wary glance, untrusting of him.

  “Pastor, you shouldn’t be left alone with these Gentiles,” Seth hissed.

  “You may go, Brother.” The Pastor waved his two fingers in the air. “God will protect me.”

  “As you command.” Seth bent his head downward toward the ground in obedience. He gave Steele a threatening look and walked back to the plant, feet crunching in the gravel.

  They all stood in silence and moments floated by, evaporating into the morning air. Bold move meeting us by yourself. In two seconds, I could have my hands around his neck. Will your God protect you when I hold you under that water until you stop moving?

  Tess gave Steele a questioning look. She mouthed, “Do we say something?”

  Steele shrugged his shoulders. They were at his mercy. The silence was awkward, long, and almost peaceful.

  “The water is warmer here,” the pastor said. His back held a slight hunch as if it were permanently sore. “Not as warm as if the power plant was running at full capacity. But even the little we use heats the water somewhat,” he said, bringing a foot out and shaking it off.

  Steele held his tongue. He didn’t want to walk into some sort of mind game with the man.

  The pastor dried his feet with a small hand towel. He looked up at them between wiping his feet. “Water is the symbol of life. It brings us rebirth in God’s eyes. It washes away our sins. It brings us new life. It is the harbinger of good.” A smile stretched across his long, weathered face. “And it helps my swelling feet.”

  The pastor slipped his feet back into a pair of black shoes. “You look familiar to me, son.” He blinked as if trying to bring up a photograph of Steele in his mind. “I don’t recall. An old mind is filled with ages of knowledge but won’t be able to remember where you placed your keys.”

  Steele said nothing in response. He let his eyes remain fierce.

  The pastor smiled with tight-lips. “So they call you Steele.” He looked Steele up and down. “A fitting name for a man forged by conflict.” He turned to Tess. “And you must be Tess, an expert on our civil freedoms if what I’m told is true. In another time, I would like to speak with you of moral topics, maybe even have a debate. The church has moved away from debating nonbelievers, something that I never understood. For with righteous purpose on one’s side, victory is all but assured.” Tess gave Steele a sidelong glance, her eyes asking if this guy was a loon. Steele gave her a grim smile in response.

  “We came to discuss terms,” Steele said, keeping his tone flat and his voice calm.

  The pastor grinned a smile of old understanding. “A direct man as well. It’s funny. Before this pestilence gripped our nation, I yearned for quieter days of no cell phones buzzing or the youth being distracted by social media. The days where you could go outside and hear the sound of silence. A slower time. And now that we have this, everything still seems so rushed.”

  The pastor stood watching Steele. His eyes were judging Steele, watching him for anything that indicated his character or the depth of his soul. Steele felt like he might clench his teeth so tightly that he would bite through his jaw, but held himself in check.

  “I hope that Peter is unharmed,” the pastor continued.

  “He is.” Steele produced a small silver cross necklace. He reached out his hand and gave it to the pastor. The pastor inspected the cross and placed it in his pocket. His eyes narrowed to slits, weighing Steele’s truthfulness.

  “It would be a shame if you took this from his corpse and lied to me.” His eyes looked into Steele. Steele met him eye for eye.

  “He’s safe. You have my word.”

  “Your word? A word from a man today means little. How can we trust a man’s word when men beat each other to death over a piece of bread? Only the word of God is something you can trust,” the pastor said.

  “I am a man of my word. I swore an oath to my country, an oath that I’ve kept.”

  “Ah, a military man? No. Not military. Your look is too uncouth. Unorthodox.” He pursed his lips. “Something more covert. An undercover agent? DEA or something?”

  “I worked for the government.”

  The pastor nodded, a seemingly comprehending head maneuver.

  “Pay unto Caesar what is his, but Steele, you’ve forgotten to pay unto God what is his as is written in the Bible,” the pastor lectured. His chin rose slightly as if Tess and Steele were his parish.

  “We aren’t here to banter fucking gospel, preacher. What about Pagan?” Tess said, piping up from Steele’s side. Steele could feel the angry energy ebbing off of her tiny frame.

  “Yes. Mr. Pagan. He is serving a penance through manual labor.”

  “Penance?! For what?” she said, exasperated.

  “For his sins. He was such a misguided man, but I have faith God will yet touch his soul.”

  “He doesn’t
need penance,” she said.

  The pastor smiled, lips pressed together. “Everyone needs penance. Follow me.”

  The pastor passed through the middle of them, walking out in front. He marched through the heaping piles of coal.

  “Plenty of coal here. We could supply this plant for years if not longer. If we could get a good enough presence, we could supply entire communities with power. God willing, we could supply hundreds, if not thousands, of people with power. We would need them to be in the local area, but my men assure me we could fix the transformers and scrap the rest of them for parts.” Steele didn’t know if he spoke the truth, but there was a ton of coal piled up. Coal was a resource they could still use, power plant or not.

  The old man had long strides. He quickly brought them back around the coal plant. Hundreds of cars, trucks, and semis sat in the plant parking lot. “We have enough vehicles to keep up constant supply lines between communities. We can send out scouting parties. Bus people without a place to our communities. We could set up new settlements. My people already travel far and wide eradicating those who’ve come back to our realm as Satan’s Legion.”

  Steele breathed hard looking at all the cars. They have so many more than we do. “A worthy cause,” Steele said to him. The more dead they slew the less Steele may have to face.

  The pastor nodded. “Yes. It is the most important of causes. Jesus crusaded against death, and now, we do as well.”

  Steele bent to Tess. She turned her ear. “We cannot win a war against these people,” he whispered to Tess. She frowned, eying all the cars.

  “Keep following me,” the pastor said with a friendly wave. They tailed him. People from the power plant watched them as they walked by. They bowed their heads to the pastor in reverence.

  He stopped in an open field that once looked like it was used to set trailer beds. Weeds grew in the gray gravel-covered grounds. Armed men stood about talking as if they awaited them. An eight-foot beam stood straight out of the ground, dark and charred ashes mounding at the base. Steele’s gut spiked adrenaline. This does not look good.

  “Steele and Tess. I have shown you what this place can be. I have given you a glimpse of the Kingdom of God on Earth. We have the opportunity to shed God’s light along this entire west coast of Michigan. We have the opportunity to share this with everyone. To rebuild life. To save people’s souls and destroy the devil where his ugly head shows itself.” The pastor squeezed his fist together in a ball.

  “What do you want from us?” Steele said.

  The pastor let his hand fall to his side and he looked up at the sky. “It’s not what I want. It’s what he wants. I can only fight for your souls.”

  “So you’re taking your orders from a magical gray-bearded man in the sky?” Tess interjected.

  The pastor did not smile at her. The look in his eyes said his tolerance was wearing thin.

  “That isn’t helping,” Steele said to her with a terse look.

  She turned on him. “So what, muscle brain? You take your orders from a person who lives on a cloud too?”

  “No, I didn’t say that, but we’re trying to come to terms, not insult our host.”

  “He’s right. You can do whatever you want, Pastor,” she groaned.

  “Thank you, my daughter.”

  “I’m not your daughter.”

  His long face nodded in acknowledgment of her wishes. “If only I could have found you sooner.”

  “Pastor, I’m impressed with your operation. You’re capable of good force projection.” Steele eyed the armed men standing around. Confidence hung about them, not a military confidence, but one of men that held a certain righteousness in their favor. A fervor of a gang of like-minded men. Not a fight I want today. “What are your terms?”

  The Chosen men shuffled on their feet, guns gripped in hands. They all watched Steele and Tess with fervent eyes as if they waited to administer their religious justice upon the two unarmed people at any moment.

  The pastor clasped his hands in front of him. “It’s clear that at the very least some of my followers have been slain. I will not ask why. Peter is level-headed, and I wouldn’t expect it to be his fault,” he stopped, giving Tess a dirty look.

  “Mistakes were made. I regret that, but Peter is alive,” Steele said.

  The pastor nodded his head. “Sometimes God takes our sons and daughters before their time, but this was a part of his plan. I will not claim to understand why he does what he does.”

  Tess huffed next to Steele. Her arms crossed in anger over her chest. Steele tried to tune her out.

  “But I think we can make a deal,” the pastor said. He waved a hand at his men. “Bring out Pagan.”

  Tess tensed at Steele’s side as a man appeared between two of the Chosen. “Pagan!” she shouted. Pagan pulled at the men holding him. They pushed him forward, leading him to the charred, thick beam stuck upright in the ground. They wrapped a rope around him and tied him to the post.

  “Tess,” Pagan shouted.

  “What are they doing?” Tess asked.

  The pastor turned back to his men. “They are preparing him for purification.”

  “Purification? What the hell does that mean?” Tess asked. Her voice rose an octave.

  “Tess, you need to go,” Pagan pleaded from across the field. His face was swollen where he had been beaten. Men tossed dry kindling near his feet. They stacked wood around his legs.

  “Like you purified the homes down the coast,” Tess spat.

  The pastor lifted his chin high into the air and smiled. “You’ve seen some of our pacification of the countryside.”

  This bastard can’t be serious. This isn’t how terms are met. “Pastor, I thought we were coming to terms?” Steele said, words rushed. “Why are we talking about purification?” Each moment this conversation continued, it spiraled further out of control.

  “Sometimes people don’t understand the gravity of a situation. The fight for men’s souls is sadly never done nor easy.”

  Tess took hasty steps forward. Guns were brought to shoulders. Revolvers were cocked. All were pointed at the two outsiders.

  “Pagan,” Tess sobbed at the man. Steele stepped forward and pulled her back away.

  “Careful, Tess. We don’t want a misunderstanding,” the pastor said, his voice chilly as a winter morning.

  Steele cast his eyes from Pagan back to the pastor, his heart rate going faster and faster. This shit is about to hit the fan, his mind shouted.

  “Peter’s not here. We cannot make the trade today even if we wanted to,” Steele pleaded.

  “While I want Peter back, it’s not the only thing I want to come from this negotiation.”

  “What do you want?” Steele hissed.

  “I want our people to be as one. I want you to join us. It’s better for your people.”

  “We’ll never do that,” Tess spat. Steele held her with one of his arms tight around her tiny waist. The pastor’s men laughed at her.

  “I think I’ve given you two a lot to think about,” the pastor said calmly.

  You sure have, you bastard. “Can you give us a minute?” Steele said.

  “Why, of course.”

  Steele turned to Tess, spinning her to face him.

  “We can’t fight our way out of here. We can’t run. We can only listen.”

  She looked back over at Pagan. Her eyes were filled with angry tears.

  “Leave!” Pagan shouted. “Fucking leave!” Spit flew from his mouth. She gave Pagan a quick glance, but her attention was on Steele.

  Her face got close to his. Her eyes glared at him. “I didn’t bring you in so you could fold at the first chance you got.”

  His mouth tightened and he whispered. “I’m not folding. I’m listening to a man who has been pretty darn reasonable, considering that we gunned down eight of his people in the last week. A man who also has a vision, God-driven or not. Think about Pagan. We can still get him back.”

  “I don’t like
him. This isn’t right. He’s threatening us to get what he wants.”

  “I hate that but let’s listen. It may be the only way we leave here alive,” Steele hissed.

  Her mouth clamped.

  They turned back to the pastor. His hands were clasped in front of his body.

  “Tell us more,” Steele said.

  “You will join God’s Chosen people. All of your people must accept Christ or be purified by fire.” His words were as matter-of-fact as if he had said the sky was blue.

  Steele laughed a short laugh. “What do you mean purified by fire?” You know. It’s the way he said it, with all the confidence of a deeply religious man. You’ve seen their handy work.

  “Mr. Steele. We’re building Christ’s kingdom on Earth. There’s no room for those on the sidelines. There are only God’s Chosen and those touched by the devil. Hear me. I’m giving you a second chance at peace. I’m giving you an opportunity to give life.” Thoughts of Gwen raced through his mind, followed by thoughts of his unborn child. All you have to do is join and they will be safe. All you have to do is say words you don’t believe in because they’ve been corrupted. No true follower of Christ would murder the innocent for not joining. Yet here we stand. Will you give up your freedom for safety? Will you make others give up their freedoms?

  “We will not,” Tess shouted at him. Steele held up a hand in the air.

  “We have Peter. Let’s trade and we will leave the area for good. No more conflicts. Nothing.”

  “I’m not afraid of more conflicts with your tiny band, Mr. Steele, but you should be afraid of mine.” More men walked out into the field. All armed. Some held melee weapons: bats, metal bars, and knives. Almost all had guns. All were ready for a fight.

  Fire seemed to burn in the pastor’s eyes as if he were watching his vision play out in real time. “I will burn your community to the ground and kill everyone inside. This is a crusade. God wills it. But,” he held up a long finger, “I’m giving you a choice. Just as God gave Eve and Adam a choice.”

  Steele locked eyes with Tess. Her eyes smoldered with the ashes of her people’s lives and freedom. She would never give in, not even for a chance for peace. They may be all that was left of the United States. They may be the only people left in the world. At what cost do we make peace? What compromise do we make to stand against the true enemy, the dead?