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

by Greene, Daniel

  Steele jangled the chain as he undid the lock. He let the anticipation of his arrival dig into Peter’s brain. Peter shifted inside, his every move echoing in the empty trailer. Flicking on his flashlight, Steele shined it on the man in the back. Peter covered his eyes with his forearms.

  “What? What do you want?” he said. The man was terrified and recoiled from Steele’s presence. He would probably never really recover from the mental strain of waterboarding. The feeling of drowning, the water filling his throat, and the terror of not being able to get air to his oxygen-deprived lungs would stick with him. Those experiences would cloud his dreams, forever turning them into nightmares as he slept.

  “Came to check in on you,” Steele said.

  Peter seemed to recognize every part of his voice, and he shrunk smaller in the light. “Steele. No. Don’t come back here. I told you everything,” he yelped. He shifted himself into the corner of the trailer, legs kicking outward. Steele slowly walked along the inner trailer to the cowering man in the back.

  “Settle down, man. I’m not going to hurt you,” Steele said, grabbing the chain that connected Peter to the trailer wall. The big man flinched.

  “What are you going to do to me?” Peter asked, his hands still covering his face.

  “I’m going to take you back to Temple Energy.”

  Peter’s eyes went wide in the flashlight. “Screw you. You’re just messing with me,” he whimpered. “You’re prolly going to waterboard me again. Or pull off my fingertips. Or cut off my balls!” Peter squealed. The man pushed himself further into the corner.

  “I’m not going to do any of those things.” Steele pointed his flashlight away from the man.

  Peter blinked rapidly in the low light. “I don’t believe you,” he sputtered.

  “Don’t,” Steele said. He stuck a key into the lock keeping Peter bound to the trailer wall. He unlocked him, freeing the chain away from the wall. He tugged on Peter’s chain as if he were a dog. “Come on.”

  Peter sat in the corner, whimpers coming from his throat. Steele yanked the chain a little harder than he wanted to, and Peter tumbled upright. An outline of a person stepped in front of the trailer doors. Too early for Jason.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” came Tess’s voice. Steele relaxed a bit.

  “I’m taking Peter back to the pastor,” he said, flat out with it. No time for deception.

  “Why? We can use him as leverage if the Chosen come.”

  “We can use him as leverage now and maybe prevent them coming at all.”

  “What gave you that idea?” she said.

  He jerked Peter’s chain. “Take a seat,” he commanded the broken man. Peter sat in the trailer doorway, his head bowed.

  “I got this message earlier.” He unfolded a piece of paper and handed it to her. She turned on her flashlight and it shined bright on the yellow legal paper, illuminating the words almost too transparency.

  “You’re kidding me,” she said. She looked at him. “You believe this shit? It’s a trap.”

  Steele reached over and snagged the paper back. He held it in his hand like it was a golden ticket.

  “Sure sounds like it.”

  “He wants to meet you in the middle of the night at the roadblock. Far enough away from us where we can’t help. This is suicide.”

  “Maybe.” He was glad he couldn’t see her well in the dark. The disapproval on her face wouldn’t help.

  “Why are you doing this? If they kill you, we won’t last ten minutes against them,” she said. Less than that.

  Steele pointed to the paper. “He’s offering us an opportunity to live. We only need to pay a tithe to live within his kingdom. We give Peter back as a symbol of good faith, then no one else has to die.” He folded it up and put it in his breast pocket.

  “And you believe this bullshit? The guy burned Pagan alive. How can we come to terms with a person like that?”

  “I don’t know if I will ever come to terms with that, but this is a chance that people here won’t have to die. You saw his group. We’re sorely outnumbered and outgunned.” Steele gave a look over at Peter—he knew he was listening—and Peter dropped his gaze back to the ground like a whipped dog.

  “I don’t think you should go,” Tess said, her lips crunching together.

  “If there’s even a small chance I can prevent the upcoming bloodshed, I have to do it.”

  “I picked you to help me because you have half a brain, and now, Pagan is gone which unfortunately means you’re it.” He felt that he caught a hint of deceit in her voice as if she had forced herself to say it. “And when they crucify you or whatever medieval bullshit they decide to do, I will have no one to help me keep this place afloat.” Steele grimaced at her words.

  “I’m only doing what you asked me to do. And that’s protecting these people.”

  “A leader takes a stand. They don’t die shaking hands with fanatics,” she snarled.

  Maybe she’s right. The only way to curb their fanaticism is to stand against it. “It’s the best the I can do.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, dissatisfaction settling in the air like an ugly cloud.

  “I’ll remember you, Mark Steele, after they butcher you and burn your corpse.” If I’m lucky. “The last knight of the apocalypse.” She planted one right on his lips, shocking him. He could feel his cheeks turning red. Is it because Peter is watching? Or is it because Gwen isn’t here? Or did I enjoy it?

  “Are you going to tell Gwen about that one too?” he said quickly.

  He thought her eyes were playful and sad in the dim light. “She and I came to terms over you. I was supposed to get you administratively. But it looks like that’s coming to an end with your daring ploy for peace.”

  She turned and walked away, her thin form disappearing into the night. This interaction made him glad he hadn’t told Gwen about his secret rendezvous with the pastor. I’m going to pay for this.

  “Chicks,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head.

  Steele gave him an eye with a twist of his head. “Come on, Peter. I’ve got a surprise for you.” He yanked Peter’s chain and he tumbled off the back of the trailer. He caught himself before he hit the ground.

  “I-I, don’t like surprises.”

  Steele grinned at his captive. “You’re gonna hate this one.”

  ***

  Waves crashed on the nearby beach. It sounded like an ocean, but it was the call of fresh water. The moon glinted off the whitecaps as they repeated their endless assault on the shore. The two men walked slowly down the center of a two-lane road. The white moon was the only light illuminating the way ahead. Maples and oaks hung over the road like overarching fingers of a tree giant.

  Steele gave Peter a shove in the back for encouragement. The man sobbed a bit in the night, making him sound like one of the infected. Peter passively resisted his every push like Steele was forcing him down a pirate’s plank.

  “Sack up, dude,” Steele said behind him. He scratched under his jacket with the hand holding Peter’s chain.

  Steele kept his M4 at his side. His other hand rested on his carbine. His tomahawk lightly tapped his thigh as they walked. The presence of his sidearm weighed on his hip.

  Peter mumbled through his gag. His curly hair bounced in the dark as he tried to look for infected threats ahead.

  “You know the way.” Steele shoved him. “Quiet.” I don’t know who is more nervous, me or him. Steele’s eyes scanned the terrain. It looked familiar, but the woods and the beach at night all pretty much looked the same. They had ditched their pickup over a mile back so as to not give away their presence.

  Steele’s heart sped up as he noticed a darkness forming across the road ahead of them like a gate. It was a thick dark line. Steele knew it for what it was. The roadblock. The hair on his neck stood up as they neared the felled tree with every step. Someone else is here.

  Steele tightened his hold on the chain, forcing Peter to stop. They stood motionle
ss in the night. The sound of waves battered away at his confidence. They awaited the sound of the dead. Eerily, they had seen none between the two camps. This pastor guy must be good at what he does. Peter shuffled his feet, scraping the pavement.

  “Quiet,” Steele shushed, looking over his shoulder.

  A beam of sunlight hit them. Steele quickly recognized it as a deer shining spotlight. Thirty-two hundred lumens carved through the night, bringing Steele and Peter into the spotlight as if they were two actors on stage.

  In the darkness, he hadn’t noticed them. The men had only been darker shades of night. He couldn’t tell if they twitched or moved or were nervous, only that they stood silent and waiting.

  “Drop your gun,” commanded a voice from the trees. Steele set his gun down on the ground, not letting his fingers move an inch on Peter’s chain.

  Individual lights sprang up in the trees. Hundreds of flashlights flicked on like torches. People were on the beach, in the forest, they lined the top of the log. They rested guns across their chests or held them lazily toward the ground. He was no threat, and they knew it. The lights enveloped them, closing in within ten yards as they surrounded them. Steele pulled Peter’s chain tighter into his gut, feeling his knuckles close to popping on the metal. They all stood watching Steele and Peter for sixty tense seconds.

  A man walked through the circle of lights. His tall form was clad in all black, the only visible part his gray hair. His men parted before him like a flock of sheep for their shepherd. He walked into the ring and stopped. He clasped his hands behind his back and looked at Steele. His eyes finally fell upon Peter and a smile curved on his thin lips.

  “Peter, my son, you are alive,” he said. Peter mumbled loudly through his gag, pulling on the chain Steele had him bound with.

  “Not so fast,” Steele said to Peter.

  “I’m going to be honest, Mr. Steele. I thought you would have put him to death by now in retaliation for the cleansing of Mr. Pagan. I’m somewhat impressed if not confused by this. Vengeance is a normal human response following anger and resentment. But you have held off. I’m curious as to why?” His eyebrows rose in anticipation of an answer.

  “I’m tired of having needless blood on my hands,” Steele said, his eyes ripping the pastor. The pastor nodded with a slight grin.

  “I know you see my actions against the nonbelievers as unnecessary bloodshed, but I can assure you that this is God’s will.”

  “I’m not here to debate God’s will.” Steele shifted his feet.

  “I’m not sure you get to make the rules, Mr. Steele,” the pastor said.

  “I came to make a deal,” Steele said. His voice was flat. He made sure to keep his eyes on the pastor.

  “Ah, yes. A bargain. You may commence,” the pastor said with a wave of his hand.

  Steele licked his lips. “You allow us to live within your Kingdom of God and we will pay your tax. You can have Peter as a show of our good faith.”

  The pastor walked forward to them, foot by slender foot, his boots clicking on the pavement.

  “Yes, the letter. It’s a good idea, no? Two peoples living in harmony.”

  Steele almost choked as he said the words. “It seems reasonable.”

  “Reason. It does seem reasonable. But how do I ensure that your people keep their word that they will pay me what is mine on a regular basis for our protection? I would like to avoid anything like what happened to Peter’s ill-fated peace-party.”

  “What did you have in mind?” Steele said cautiously. This man was as wily as the devil himself.

  “I would like long-term assurance.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Steele watched the man as he paced.

  “I want your camp’s children. All of them.”

  Steele gulped hard. Thank God I sent them with Gwen. Steele’s eyes narrowed. “You know I can’t ask that.”

  “I can promise their safety, more than you can. Of that I’m certain. They will be fed, clothed, even schooled while under my care. They will be warm when winter hits Michigan, and I assure you, it will be soon and it will be harsh along the lake.”

  “How could I ask these people to give up their children?” Steele wondered aloud.

  “It’s that or they will all die tomorrow. Think about it logically. I guarantee their safety. It’s all a parent can hope for in the end time. Freedom from worry. They will be part of the Kingdom of God. His living legacy here on earth. We have largely cleared this whole area of infected. I send out teams on a daily basis to spread our reach. You can be a part of this cleansing. A part of God’s solution.”

  Would I ask Gwen to give up our child to them for assured safety? How could I ever ask people to give up their children or die? “You know I can’t ask people to do this. We will send food and supplies as we find them, but no children.”

  “I’m not asking what you’re willing to do. I’m telling you,” the pastor growled. “Those are our terms.”

  “I can’t accept them,” Steele said. He wrenched Peter closer to his body, using him as cover. Steele knew that the pastor would eagerly martyr Peter if it came to a shootout, but it was better than taking rounds to the chest in the open.

  “Pride cometh before the fall, Mr. Steele. Then again, that trait seems to run deep in your veins,” the pastor said. A smile crept upon his lips as if he knew a secret. His eyes met Steele’s with cold knowledge sitting inside them. Steele’s hand tickled his side as it itched for a gun to hold. The men in the circle seemed to read his mind. Guns lowered and pointed at him from all around.

  “You don’t know anything about my family,” Steele hissed.

  The pastor looked down at the ground and shook his head as if he were disappointed in Steele.

  “I know you and your mother are a lot alike.” A slimy smile grew on the pastor’s lips. Steele’s stomach twisted in aversion to this man.

  “Where is she?” Steele growled. If I bend and roll, I may be able to get a shot off before they waste me and probably each other in the chaos. That bastard is close enough for point shooting.

  The pastor’s eyes held almost mirth around them as if he took pure joy from Steele’s torment. “We’ve sent her back to her maker.”

  “Fuck you,” Steele snarled.

  The pastor sighed. “No need for such harsh language. She could not overcome her pride before she perished in the flames. Even when I offered her a chance to use her God-given gifts to help others.” Steele glared, his nose flaring. “I see her in your eyes.” He can’t fucking know that. How could he?

  “You don’t know shit about her.”

  The pastor’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Sure I do, Mr. Steele. I burned her house to the ground with her and her lover inside. Not too far from here.” He pointed. “I’d say about eight miles south down the coast.”

  “You lie!” Steele yelled at him. Peter whimpered through his gag as Steele jerked his chain. Her house was burnt down.

  “I don’t lie, Mr. Steele. We could have used the top surgeon from St. Anastasia’s North Shores Hospital.”

  The blow took the wind out of him. It was too much. The pastor knew too much. The world grew distant. His heart pounded in his ears. His vision blurred a bit with each heartbeat, coming back into focus for a moment then blurring again. His breathing grew labored and shallow in his chest.

  The pastor’s eyes weighed Steele’s distress with ugly concern. “Maybe we would do better speaking with somebody else from your community. That tomboy. What’s her name? Tess?”

  You already knew. You already knew in your heart she was gone. Fuck.

  Steele reached his hand into his pocket. His eyes never left the bastard’s. His fingers locked around a rectangle remote detonator in his ACU pants. Guns cocked. Two hundred eyes stared down sights at him. Peter’s body shook as he sobbed in front of him.

  “Nobody moves or we all go boom.” Steele lifted his hand in the air.

  The pastor’s eyes grew wide as recognition settled up
on him. Men holding their flashlights took worried steps back.

  “Don’t worry, gents, a few feet won’t make a difference, I made sure of that.” Steele removed a thick coat wrapped around Peter’s shoulders revealing tan blocks of C-4 connected with wires strapped to his chest.

  “He’s bluffing,” the pastor hissed like the vile viper he was. He took a step back toward his men.

  Steele spun around, making sure everyone could see that Peter’s chest was strapped with explosives. “Don’t even think of shooting me.” Steele held his hand with the detonator in the air. “I let go of this detonator and it’s enough to kill everyone here. Enough nails, marbles, and bolts to shred the very flesh from your bodies.” He turned toward the pastor. “The marbles are courtesy of the children,” he said with a wicked look in his eyes.

  The pastor’s face turned into an evil snarl.

  Steele addressed the rest of the pastor’s men. “Even if you did somehow crawl out of here, you would die with no medical aid. Not to mention the attention it would bring from the dead. Imagine crawling away from here mangled until the infected caught you.” He gave the pastor an extra cruel look. “It will send you to hell faster, pastor.”

  The pastor lifted a hand in the air. “Now, Mr. Steele, no need to be hasty. We came to parley, not for more violence.”

  “You came to intimidate, murder, and enslave us. You murdered my mother. She never hurt anyone. And I would rather see every single man here dead than have that befall Little Sable. Even if I have to sacrifice myself.”

  “No one has to die,” the pastor said. His hand wavered in the air, visibly shaking.

  “Shut up,” Steele spat. “I’m making the rules here. Now, I’m going to leave you Peter, and I’m going to go back to my home. If I think someone is following me, he goes boom.” Steele spun Peter around in a circle so everyone could see. Nervous eyes stared back. “If I don’t feel safe on my way back, he goes boom. If I don’t make it back in exactly twenty minutes, one of my buddies makes it go boom.” He stopped and glanced at his watch. “The countdown has begun.” He bent low and snatched up his carbine off the ground.