Luke smiled as he waved a knife from side to side.
Steele looked right at him. “I’ll be sure to put the first round through your gut.” Steele shifted his eyes to the man with the axe next to him. “Then I’m going to put two into your chest. I’d do one, but you’re a big boy, and I want you to know you’re out of this fight. You’ll die in about a minute.” Steele’s eyes moved to the man next to him. This man was losing confidence with every second. “And you will probably take one through the jaw. I’ll ride the recoil up into your face. Really depends on if I want to save an extra round for Peter.” Steele’s eyes drifted back to Peter. Peter’s throat moved up and down as he gulped.
“Peter, you remember our time together, right? Tell your friends I don’t lie.”
Tension hung over them and Steele counted down in his head. It’s gonna kick off on my terms. Five, Four…
His radio popped, crackled, and blared. The men stopped staring at Steele. A few glanced at his radio on his belt. He’d have to move his hand off his gun and to the radio.
“Steele, this is War Child.” War Child was scouting north, arguably the most important direction for Steele to keep informed about. Their last contact with Jackson’s Legion was south of Grand Rapids and north of their current position.
“Steele, War Child. Do you copy?” War Child’s voice grated on the other end of the line.
Steele took his hand off his gun and slowly put it on the radio. It was one or the other. His eyes never left Peter. If they came for him now, he would most likely only get off one shot before they took him, but Steele made sure Peter knew it would be him that took that bullet. He brought the radio to his lips. “Steele here,” he said low into the mic.
“We’re coming in hot. We got some of Jackson’s scouts following us hard. Boys are definitely itching for a fight. They may be after something I picked up for us.”
“What’d you pick up?” He brought the mic away from his face a moment. The Chosen hadn’t jumped him yet. They listened intently to his conversation. Run or fight?
“Found an almost full fuel tanker at a rural gas station. Gas looks good, not too dark. Should keep us going for a while.”
“Excellent. Lead them into the town. We’ll set up a little surprise for them, but protect that cargo.”
The Chosen men watched him with less volatility, but anger still simmered under the surface.
Steele hooked the radio back onto his belt, feeling better now that his hand was back on his sidearm. “Jackson’s scouts are coming in fast. Do you want to do this now?”
For a few seconds, Steele thought he would be living his last. The Chosen stared defiant, contemplating his demise.
“Or can we put a hurting on them instead? I need men on top of every main street building.” Steele’s heart rate sped up in his chest.
The Chosen stood silent for a moment before Peter spoke. “You heard the man. Luke, let’s get them resupplied and in position.”
Luke gave Steele a nasty stare that turned into a devilish smile as if he would enjoy sticking every inch of his knife in Steele’s flesh.
“Brother Peter’s orders. Let’s prepare a welcome for the Roman scum.” Luke and the Chosen men jogged off. Peter stood for a moment. Steele thought he might say something.
“Remember, Jackson is the enemy,” Steele said to him. He didn’t wait for Peter to respond. He turned around and limped away from them, an easy target to be clubbed down from behind but no strike came. People darted back into buildings and scrambled back into firing positions.
Steele walked haltingly inside the antique store, sidestepping the bodies and going up the stairs. When he reached the top of the stairs, he was exhausted. He tottered for the couch. Tess turned and looked at him from behind.
“Wondering about you. Saw you making friends down the street.”
“If that was making friends, I’d hate to see what making enemies looks like. On that note, we’re about to make a few new friends.” He picked up his M4 in one hand and draped the sling around his shoulders.
“Jackson?” she asked.
“Who else?”
Tess’s eyes darted back out onto the street.
“Get to the roof for this one. Better against somebody that shoots back.”
Tess and Steele climbed more steps to the roof of the store. The roof was flat and sealed with black tar. Brick walls rose up, encircling the entirety of the two-story building. Steele limped over to the wall and rested his M4 on it. Tess followed his lead and joined him. Kevin wobbled up and set his M4 against the wall.
Tess gave him a questioning look. “You sure you can shoot straight?”
“Wouldn’t be able to without the stuff.” Kevin hiccuped and wiped his mouth.
Steele peered out. Heads poked up from the building across the road from them. As far as he could see, his people were lining the buildings of the small town.
Footsteps pounded up the stairs and Margie with her team ran in. They took their place along the roof edge, and their weapons clinked on the red brick. Margie whispered something up to Tony and he squeezed her arm.
They sat in quiet anticipation, each contemplating what they were about to do to the soldiers coming their way.
Steele could hear the motorcycle engines before he saw them. The War Machines slowed down when they hit the village limits and began navigating the bodies layering the streets. A semi drove behind them along with a fuel trailer hitched to the back.
War Child’s voice came through the radio. “Thanks for the heads-up. You get in a fight recently?”
“We had a large pack come through.”
“I can see that.” The old biker was in front, off-roading his bike over a body. The fuel-truck barreled over the dead, unfettered from the bodies.
“There they are,” Tess whispered. She held a set of binoculars to her eyes. The leafless trees allowed them even more visibility from the rooftop. About eight blocks away, a convoy of Humvees followed the bikers in hot pursuit. Dead leaves blew up in the air as they sped through them.
Steele put his radio near his lips. “Commanders. Don’t open fire until they reach the center of town. Watch the crossfire. I don’t want any blue on blue out there, but I want them in too deep so they can’t escape. War Child, get that tanker out of harm’s way.”
Affirmatives echoed over the radios. People nodded on rooftops and windows. The message went down the line from building to building.
The tan military vehicles rolled past the first buildings. The men on the turrets were fixated on the last of the War Machines turning the corner. The front Humvee turret barked in the direction of the bikers. The bikers in the back ducked low and cut the corner on the opposite edge of the main street.
Steele set his M4 carbine on the wall using the roof ledge to rest his weapon. He squatted painfully down for cover. We need cover. These devils fight back.
The soldier in the lead Humvee’s turret slapped the top of the truck as they drove excited to get in the fight. The Humvees slowed as they ran over the bodies in the streets. The man in the lead turret glanced upward. His eyes widened when he saw Steele and all the guns aiming down on him. He swung his M2 .50 caliber turret up. It didn’t matter. Steele had been tracking him the whole way. He decided that this one would be the first to die.
Steele’s bullet blew through the man’s cheek and exploded the man’s neck into the top of the Humvee. The whole right side of the soldier’s neck disappeared, turning into red mush. The soldier’s arm still held onto the gun as his body collapsed into the turret.
Hundreds of bullets destroyed the first Humvee, and the turret gunners on the second and third Humvees were killed outright. The driver in the rear Humvee of the recon unit had quick reflexes, and in a single second, he had thrown his Humvee in reverse and was racing backward down the street.
The gunner on his .50 cal machine gun sprayed windows and rooftops. In the chaos, another soldier appeared in the second Humvee turret and unleashed hot lea
d into the building across from Steele. In a flash of deadly violence, those people were gone. The bullets turned breathing, living people into red mist, totally destroyed by the large caliber rounds.
“Everybody on that gunner,” Steele screamed. They concentrated their fire on him and he took cover as the driver navigated backward.
Near the edge of the village, the Humvees set up in a V with their vehicles. Soldiers hopped out and took cover behind doors. The gunners unloaded into the nearest buildings, driving people into cover. The gun battle blazed away from Steele’s building, but he knew what they were doing.
In a stationary battle, his forces would lose. Surprise was his only actionable tool. That and mobility.
“They’re keeping us occupied until Jackson’s main force can get here.” He lifted the radio to his lips. “Building by building get everyone into the trucks. We’re getting out of here.”
He turned down his line. “Margie, I need you to reinforce the pizzeria and the church down the road. No risks. Just keep them wasting ammo. I don’t want anyone getting hurt.”
Margie nodded, her eyes wide. Americans had been conditioned from a young age to respect and admire America’s fighting men and women for not only their prowess but also their bravery. Now, he was asking them to go toe-to-toe with the military, numbers the only discernible advantage in the fight.
“They may be trained by the best in the world, but these men are not those honorable men and women who still fight for this country.”
Margie frowned and nodded at the same time. “I know.”
“I’ll go with you,” Tess said. She met Steele’s eyes for a moment.
He nodded. Tess was one of his staunchest allies and one of his only friends. Losing her would be detrimental to his position, on top of losing a close friend. “Okay, keep it safe.”
They filed off the rooftop, staying low as they moved. Steele listened to the rattle of the .50 caliber machine guns versus the small caliber weapons popping off in retaliation. His people’s gunfire sounded weak and insignificant in the face of their foe, a child’s complaints versus their parents’ commands.
He brought the radio back up. “We’re leaving. Retreat southwest.”
KINNICK
Warden, IA
Private Gore groaned in the corner of the restaurant. Duncan and Ramos pointed M249 SAW light machine guns out the storefront windows. People sprinted across the street outside. It wasn’t clear if they were running from the Marines inside or the snipers outside. Either way they ran in an attempt to not get hit by gunfire.
Gary sat in a chair, wringing his hands in front of his body. Hunter grabbed Gary by the collar and fear plastered his face. Hunter hoisted him out of his seat. “You set this up, you treacherous ferret?”
Martha sat in a chair at the table and held her face in her hands, sobbing.
Gary stammered. “I. I. No, we didn’t.”
Hunter got his single eye close to Gary. “It doesn’t look like it.”
“I swear. We didn’t. I don’t know who would do such a thing. We’re honest good folks. We wouldn’t hurt American fighting men.”
Hunter stretched his lip with his tongue in frustration as if it were searching for a wad of chewing tobacco. “Well, somebody did.”
“Enough, Hunter,” Kinnick said. He paced, trying to figure out his next move.
Hunter released Gary and the old man fell back in his chair. Martha sobbed and Gary wrapped a comforting arm around her. “It’s okay,” he whispered to her.
Gore moaned out. “Hawk, can you make him more comfortable?” Kinnick said in his direction.
Hawkins walked back over to the injured Marine and checked his bandages.
“The bleeding’s stopped,” Hunter said. He looked over his shoulder at Hawkins. “Hawk is good at what he does, but he isn’t a doctor and we aren’t in a hospital. Gore needs a doctor.”
Kinnick looked at Hawkins’s back. The man’s movements were calculated and precise as he worked on the wounded Marine.
Sergeant Volk approached them, his steps sharp and volatile. His face was extra bitter. “With all due respect sir, what are our orders? The shooter is still out there. They could be organizing an attack on us as we speak. Let’s kill the cuck.”
“I know that, Sergeant.”
The man’s face said he was all but too eager to enact vengeance on anyone he saw fit. “We have to find the people that did this. We’ll make them pay.”
“Enough, Sergeant,” Hunter said. His one eye conveyed extreme violence in Volk’s direction. “Show some respect for the colonel.”
“Yes, sir.” Volk went and took a seat near the impromptu barricade. He leaned close to Whitehead, speaking in hushed tones.
“Gore needs a doctor,” Hunter repeated.
“Then we’ll get him one.” Kinnick turned toward Gary. “Do you have a doctor in town? Or a clinic?”
Gary’s eyes worried. “Course we do. Dr. Yentz is just down the street.”
“Get him.”
Gary looked confused and gulped. “Okay, we will.” He wiped some thinning hair across the top of his scalp and gestured at Martha to stand up. He grasped her hand in his. “Come on, honey.”
Kinnick gave Hunter a short nod. Hunter put a hand on Gary’s shoulder. Gary flinched. “She’s gonna have to stay here.”
Gary’s lip stiffened and he brow furrowed. “What do you mean? She’s my wife.”
“And she’s going to stay here with us until you get back. It’s safer this way.”
Gary looked at Martha and she bit by bit took a seat back at the table folding her hands in her lap.
“Hurry up, Gary,” Kinnick said sternly. He didn’t like keeping the woman as collateral, but he saw no choice. If the man loved his wife, then he wouldn’t get into any foul play.
Gary bent down and kissed his wife. She hugged onto him for a moment. “I will be back with Dr. Yentz.” Gary moved with surprising agility for a man his age and exited the building. He quickly disappeared down the street.
Kinnick turned toward the Marines. “Volk, get Hanger and Tran over to the SURC. There should be a harbor around the other end of the island. Go check that out for any signs of people or anything that doesn’t look right. I don’t want our crew left defenseless while we figure this shit out.” He turned toward Martha. “Is there a way out the back?”
Martha nodded, her chin quivering in fear.
“We aren’t going to hurt you, Martha, but we need your help to stop these people.”
She blinked rapidly. “Of course you won’t. Why would you?”
He reached for her and she winced, cupping her hands in one another. She stared down at her hands.
“We won’t,” Kinnick repeated.
She nodded her head slightly, staring out into nothing. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Hanger and Tran passed by them, trooping through the kitchen to slip out the back.
Kinnick turned back to her. “We’re here to help.”
“Not everyone wants you here,” she said, staring at her hands.
“Who doesn’t?”
She sat silent her eyes distant.
“Who doesn’t?” he repeated. He watched her for a moment before deciding she wasn’t all there.
Within twenty minutes, Gary returned with Dr. Yentz, a middle-aged man with gray hair and thick glasses. His eyes were wide beneath them as if he were stuck in a constant state of surprise. He looked at Hunter and the Marines and blinked, taking in their rugged fierceness.
“Where’s the boy?” the doctor asked. He held a brown leather medical bag in one hand.
Volk led him to where Gore lay on the table. Gary walked quickly back to Martha and hugged her. Kinnick ignored them and approached Hunter, still watching the doctor with an untrusting eye.
Kinnick brought his voice low. “We need to get these people in line and on board, or we must leave.”
Hunter’s one eye glanced at Kinnick from the side. “Copy, sir, but wh
at about Executive Order 17766?”
Kinnick sighed and looked at the wall. Pictures of people drinking, eating, and celebrating dotted one side of the restaurant. Surely the whole community didn’t deserve to be burnt down for the actions of a few. Unless they were all in on it. He eyed the back of Dr. Yentz again. He could be killing the boy now. “I cannot give that order without more evidence and it better be damn clear.”
Hunter turned his way. “Sir, it’s damn clear they don’t want us here.”
Kinnick shook his head. “I’m not leaving here until we have a definitive answer. This is a good strong location. This could be a key link in our chain of defensive outposts.”
Hunter sighed. “Just to have them shoot us in the backs when we get done teaching them how to shoot. I’ve seen it happen before.”
“Our mission is to mobilize these people. They’re scared and somebody is making them scared. If we can free them of whatever devil plagues them, then we will win them over.”
Hunter smirked. “Win over their hearts and minds, Colonel? Maybe you should kiss a few babies while you’re at it.”
“Hell, I’ll babysit their kids if it brings them on board.”
“With all due respect, Colonel, shouldn’t they already be on our side?”
“They should, but they are mistrustful and with good cause. When they needed help more than ever, we were too busy arguing over the political ramifications to take the necessary actions to defeat the virus. Now, we have to play make up. We have to win them back. It’s a hostile homefield crowd.”
“I think I’d rather be playing at a friendly away game.”
“Me too, Master Sergeant.”
Kinnick walked near the table where Dr. Yentz hovered over Gore, his back bent.
After a moment, he looked at Kinnick from the side with very wide eyes magnified by his thick glasses.
“What’s it looking like?”
Dr. Yentz blinked big deer-like eyes. “Your medic did an exceptional job, but without taking him across the river to the hospital, I can’t be certain what his fate might be.” Yentz let his voice drop low. “He probably needs surgery, but I can’t tell without actual testing. I’m afraid he’s suffering from internal bleeding that I’m not equipped to stop in the long term.”
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 18