The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4)

by Daniel Greene

  Vigo nodded. “What if the bridge is closed?”

  “I know a spot where there should be a boat you can commandeer. If things get too dicey, abandon the trucks and flee into Mackinaw City. Either way, you’re going to have a long ride.” Steele outlined a route through the Upper Peninsula. He looked up at the man. “You’ll have to cut down through Wisconsin to get back to Iowa. We’re headed here.” He unfolded the map and made it bigger and pointed to a tiny square in the southeastern corner of Iowa. “Hacklebarney, Iowa.”

  Vigo nodded his acceptance, fingers twisting his mustache near the side of his mouth. “All right.”

  “I’ll need the Geminis to head east. The same idea applies. Turn south around the town of Mio, and we can link back up near the border, here.” He pointed at a tiny square on the map all the way south near the Indiana/Michigan border. “Burr Oak.”

  The powerfully muscled biker nodded. “It’ll be good to ride hard again.”

  “Gat and the Eighters, I need you to head northeast. Curl around the top of the state, and somewhere around Rogers City, go south and link up with the Geminis. Then you will need to make double-time to rejoin us before we leave Michigan.”

  “Not a problem. But what about our bikes?”

  “You can put them in the back of the empty trucks if things get sticky, roll them out, and hightail it out of there.”

  Gat nodded his acceptance. “Aight.”

  “Good. The rest of us are going to curl back away from the lakeshore toward the middle of the state and head south. They are expecting us to run north, so we go south.” He eyed them to make sure they understood the plan. “The War Machines and the Red Stripes will be scouting out front of our main convoy. Wolf Riders will take our right western flank as we move south. Margie, make sure that teams of volunteers are ready to run interference on any masses of infected or Jackson’s forces we come across. We’ve been lucky that not many people live this far north.”

  War Child took a drag off his cigarette before he spoke. “Are you sure we should be splitting our forces?” At his age, he had to be a veteran of some forgotten war.

  “I want our enemy to think we are everywhere and nowhere. In a concentrated engagement, we lose. So let’s make him spread out and follow us in every direction. Hopefully, it will be enough to let the main group break free.”

  War Child only gave him a slight nod. “Could work,” he grunted.

  Steele turned toward the pastor. “Please have your men ready. We may need them to fight a retreating action.”

  The pastor dipped his head. “God’s people are always ready to crusade on his behalf.”

  Steele’s radio crackled. Thunder’s voice came through. “We got a scouting unit coming up the road.”

  Steele ground his teeth, making his jaw hurt. “We need more time. See if you can draw them off or kill enough of them to make them think they are facing the entire convoy.”

  Thunder’s voice was muted through the radio as if he spoke while holding it away from his face. “Copy. We’ll try and give them the runaround.”

  “We gotta move people,” Steele called out. “We have a short clock.”

  “You heard the man!” Tess shouted. “Let’s get those trucks divided up between the clubs.”

  The bikers mounted their motorcycles and rumbled off to their respective clubs. The pastor nodded to Steele before he sped away in his Jeep.

  “It was a good idea splitting up some of the rival gangs,” she said.

  “I thought so too, but what if War Child is right? Maybe I should be concentrating my forces instead of spreading them out. I know the general principles of war, but I’m not a practitioner.”

  Steele folded his map and peered south.

  “Well, you’re about to be a practitioner, so let’s hope you read the right books because it’s too late to change now,” she said.

  “I know.”

  The faint taps of gunfire rumbled in the distance as if Jackson himself knocked on their door.

  GWEN

  Bullis Family Farm, IA

  Gwen walked her horse down a dirt driveway. New red metal-sided barns stood ahead, along with a beautiful renovated blue farmhouse with a freshly painted white porch ringing around it.

  Haley held onto Gwen’s stomach as they rode. “I see ’em,” Haley squealed into Gwen’s back.

  Cattle tramped around an unraveling hay bale behind a thick, gated fence. Jake walked over to another bale of hay. He cut the twine off and a drove of cattle attacked the food.

  “Easy now, Trixie,” Jake laughed. He shoved a cow out of his way. He exited the enclosure and waved at Gwen with a work-gloved hand and a deep smile. He wiped his brow and walked for them. She waved at him, her heart fluttering inside her chest for a moment. Why am I nervous?

  When he got close, she pulled her horse to a halt and he patted Patsy’s flank.

  “Whoa, Patsy,” he said, rubbing the horse’s thick shoulder.

  He looked up at her through his five o’clock shadow. “I was wondering when you’d show.” He looked the same as when she had dated him. Bigger and older now, his face more filled in, but still handsome with a farmer’s strength.

  “Had to run into town and talk to the mayor,” she said.

  “That old sleazeball.” He scratched Patsy’s nose.

  “He hasn’t changed.”

  His water-blue eyes met hers. “Some things don’t.” His eyes lingered in hers, the sparkle promising her a farmer’s wife’s life. A life she had almost had. A life she had turned away from.

  “I wanna feed the calf,” Haley hollered from Gwen’s side.

  “All right, little girl.” Jake reached for Haley and she leapt into his arms. He brought her gently down to the ground. “You’re gettin’ heavy.” He ruffled her hair. “Gram’s been feeding you well.”

  “I eat what I want,” she said in a high-pitched voice.

  Jake patted her and pointed. “She’s in the barn over there. I’ll grab you a bottle real quick.”

  He offered to take Gwen’s reins, and she handed them to him. He walked her horse over to a water trough. He wrapped the reins loosely on a post nearby. Gwen threw a leg over the horse and stepped down onto the ground. She gave Patsy a pat on the hindquarters.

  “Uncle Jake, hold my hand,” Haley said. He took his glove off and grabbed Haley’s, heading for the barn and leaving Gwen behind. Jake pushed hard on the barn doors, rolling them open one at a time.

  They walked inside. It smelled like dry hay and cattle. Jake walked over and picked up a bottle. “She’s over in that stall,” he said loudly.

  Haley sprinted over to the stall and looked between the rails. “She’s so little,” she shouted, looking up at Gwen with the wonderment of seeing another creature that was young and little like her.

  “She is,” Gwen said. She smiled at the small calf. It couldn’t have weighed more than sixty pounds. The calf lifted its head that seemed too big for its body and let out a weak high-pitched moo.

  Jake leaned on the stall gate. “Yeah, the mother had a hard time. It was after all the craziness started.” He bent low next to Haley, handing her the large bottle. “Here you go, kid. Now remember it’s a baby, so you gotta be nice to it. You promise?”

  Haley’s head bobbed up and down. “I promise.”

  “Good,” he said. He unlatched the gate and Haley ran in. Gwen followed them. Jake knelt down next to the calf and petted the top of its head. “Shh. It’s okay, girl.” He waved Gwen over.

  It had been so long since she had been around farm animals and their young. The calf reminded her of the tiny human life that she had inside of her.

  “Go ahead, Hale,” he said. Haley reached out and patted the calf. She held the bottle in one hand while petting with the other.

  “Good girl,” the little girl repeated. She put the bottle nipple near the calf. It stretched its neck to latch on.

  “She’s doing it,” Haley hollered. Eyes wide, the calf sucked with all its m
ight.

  “Yes, she is,” Gwen said, laughing. Jake laughed too and gave Gwen an extra smile. “She’s a good eater. Just like someone else I know.”

  Gwen pretended to be offended. “Stop.”

  “Girl, I remember when you used to house those grinders at the state fair. Don’t tell me you forgot already.”

  She laughed and then narrowed her eyes. “Who said I couldn’t still?”

  “Haven’t seen it done in awhile,” he said with a smirk.

  “Doesn’t mean it hasn’t been done.”

  He put his gloves in his back pocket. “It’s good to have you back home.” His eyes seemed to twinkle at the thought and the reality alike.

  She didn’t lie. Being home felt right. “It’s good to be back.”

  He licked his lips. “You know, I never had a chance-” he started.

  Gwen held up a hand. “Jake, please.”

  She could see Haley eyeing them. “Can we walk outside?”

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Haley, Uncle Jake and I are going to go take a walk. Do you remember what I said about the sick people?”

  Haley rolled her eyes. “Gosh, like every ten seconds you talk about it. Don’t let them close, run away, and tell an adult.”

  “That’s right. It’s very important. We’ll be just outside.”

  Gwen and Jake walked outside, striding along the cattle enclosure. She crossed her arms over her body to hold in her butterflies and to keep warm.

  “I never got a chance to plead my case,” he started. His words always came out slow like he had all the time in the world for conversation. “I felt blindsided by the whole thing. It was like one day you just up and left for the city.”

  She kept her eyes downcast. “Jake, it wasn’t about you. It was about something I had to do for myself. I needed to leave.”

  “And now you’re back,” he said with a small smile and a shy glance.

  “Not by choice. You realize that the world is collapsing? People are eating each other alive. The government has broken.”

  He gave her a cocky smile. “No better time to be in Iowa then.”

  She was not humored. “I shot Dan Macintosh in the head on the way to town,” she said quickly.

  His face darkened. “Now, Gwen. I don’t like the way you’re talking.”

  “Ask my grandfather. It’s true. Things will never be the same.” In the world or between us?

  He looked down at his feet. “I know, Gwen. I don’t understand all of it, but I know it’s bad. I seen ’em down by the river. I helped the sheriff take away some of the bodies, but it doesn’t mean everything is different. People have to keep living, and there are still some good parts of life ahead.”

  She stopped and took his hands in hers. She felt the tears growing in the corners of her eyes. “Jake, I’m seeing somebody else. You know this. He’s out there somewhere.” She let her eyes drift out over the fields. Or rotting in the dirt with the rest of my friends.

  “But he ain’t here. And he ain’t us,” Jake said, jutting his rounded chin out.

  The cattle mooed as they rummaged into their food.

  “I know he isn’t, but he’s coming.”

  “I’m hearing what you’re saying. Just remember that the way I feel won’t change. There’s just no one like you, Gwen.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not that farmer’s daughter you fell in love with anymore.” She let her eyes float away from him. “I’m not sure what I am.” Aside from pregnant.

  He cupped her chin and reached up, wiping away a tear from her eye. His hand smelled like dirt. “Sure you are. You’re exactly that girl I fell in love with only a little older.” He smiled. “And a little skinnier.” His hand fell to her hip in exactly the right spot. “And a little more sure of herself.” His face leaned close. “But still the same.” Their lips connected and for a moment, she fell back in time.

  KINNICK

  Mississippi River

  The island town stuck out of the Mississippi River as if it were built on a barge near the center. It seemed that any manner of flooding would take the island down beneath the water like a Midwestern Atlantis. A white water tower with a red roof gave the impression that the townsfolk had built a rocket in an attempt to flee to outer space.

  Coffey took the throttle down and cut the SURC to an idle while the men aboard stared at the town. A cool breeze buffeted the SURC. They were the only boat on the river now. All the others had continued down the Mississippi River to the next villages and towns to build the defensive front.

  Kinnick pulled out his map. GPS was a mess. All they ever got was a “connecting error” every time they tried to use it. At this point, they left the device off. His eyes scrolled south from Dubuque. They had overnighted in the middle of the river, anchored while the men slept. A sliver of green stuck out on the map centered in the river. Kinnick turned the map sideways and held it closer to his face. In tiny black lettering, his eyes could barely make out the name Warden written on the map.

  “Should be Warden,” Kinnick said, looking out at the island.

  Coffey peered in the same direction. “Decent-sized town.”

  “Good vantages. Good control of the river. Easy control of access. This would make a formidable bastion. Now we only have to figure out if anybody’s home.”

  Kinnick gave a short nod and Coffey instinctually maneuvered the SURC in the direction of the island without Kinnick asking him to do so.

  A metal railroad bridge rose in the distance. The steel girders formed arching triangles and were rusted reddish-brown. A section of the bridge was swung out, separating a portion of the track from the rail. It appeared as if it had been moved for a barge to pass, but the operator had forgotten to move the track back in place.

  “Either they’re smart for separating the railroad to Illinois or they’ve already been overrun.” Kinnick glanced at Coffey. The young Marine’s gaunt face was taut like a bowstring and his mouth flat as if he had prepared to be punched in the face.

  “Let’s find out, Marine.” Kinnick tried to keep his fears of finding the island infected deep below his surface.

  “Oorah, sir.” The SURC throttled up and toward the island. White water whipped up along the hull of the craft as it sped for the island.

  As they got closer, Kinnick pointed, “Let’s aim for the wooden dock there near the edge of the island. Volk, prepare your squad for contact.”

  Volk stood and shouted at the men with a nasty grin on his face. “You heard the colonel. Lock and load, Marines.”

  The Marines checked their M4s and M16s. They lifted magazines from their carriers, inspecting to make sure they were topped off with bullets and replaced them back inside their vests. Charging handles were inched backward to ensure rounds were chambered. Gore swung the machine gun toward the town and Duncan followed suit with his minigun.

  “A little more time for Lucinda to get some love,” Washington said. He held his M4 carbine upward and kissed the barrel.

  “Why you call her Lucinda?” Boone drawled over to Washington.

  “That’s my grandma’s name.” The thick African-American man smiled, licking his lips, staring at his gun with affection.

  Boone grinned with a confused look on his face. “Why in the hell would you name your gun after your grandma?”

  Washington narrowed his eyes. “She’s the best woman I’ve ever met, just like this fine piece of kick ass.” He looked over a Boone. “She would whoop the whole lot of ya up and down the street with just a look.”

  “Must be one big mama,” Hanger joked.

  Washington gave him a glare. “Watch yourself, fool.”

  Boone smiled. “You gotta picture?”

  Washington unfastened his shirt pocket. “Right here.” He gave the photograph a loving look and spun it toward the group of helmeted Marines. A big round woman was centered in the photograph and could have been Washington’s twin with a wig.

  Volk gave him a smile. “What’s she b
ench?”

  “A hell of a lot more than you, Sergeant.”

  They roared in laughter.

  Volk stood and looked over at the island. “You ugly sons o’ bitches look absolutely badass. Get ready.”

  The Marines quieted down. Hunter and Hawkins were already standing crouched down, ready to jump ashore.

  Hamilton One drew in closer to the island. Waterfront houses built in the ’60s and ’70s lined the shore.

  Coffey let them glide within ten yards of a small private white sand beach.

  Sergeant Volk pointed. “Drop the hatch.” Two Marines popped open a hatch linked to the front of the boat. It flipped open and steps dropped down, getting them close to the shallow water where the Marines could jump the rest of the way.

  The Marines and the two Green Berets splashed ashore followed by Kinnick. Kinnick’s boots submerged in the water and its chill made him shiver.

  No one complained as they marched onto the lifeless beach. His men turned quiet as they checked for threats, living or dead.

  They walked past single-story homes with wide windows facing the water. Some were rundown or worn with age, and others had a newer look with better-kept lawns. The crew crept from the beach, guns in an aggressive low-ready, passing beach houses for the sidewalk adjacent to a two-lane street.

  The sidewalks were different in front of every home as if each household was responsible for their own upkeep. A few of the slabs were chipped and cracked while others had fresh, newly cemented ones.

  Kinnick’s men moved cautiously down the street, passing houses with only dark windows. Other windows had been boarded up with random pieces of wood. Guns skipped from doorways to windows as they stalked by. Every man held the tension as if they expected to be attacked at any moment.

  They reached a four-way stop intersection. A gas station sat on one side. Cars were parked in its four-spot lot. A small single family home was situated on the other side of the street. A brown wood-sided two-story restaurant was located on the other corner. The neon sign was dead in front. The lifeless letters made up the name Sheldon’s Lucky Number Seven. Kinnick could feel the weight in the air as if somebody was close. His eyes bounced over the windows and doorways of the houses.