Kinnick rubbed his brow. “Is the hospital operational?”
“Went dark over a month ago.”
The young Marine’s face was pale, his soft fuzzy mustache barely visible. His chest rose slowly and fell as if he only slept.
Yentz looked disappointed. “His fate is in God’s hands now.”
Kinnick nodded. “Thank you. Do you know who did this?” Kinnick threw it out there. What could it hurt to ask the man if he knew of anyone?
“I can’t believe anyone would do this. Sure, we have our fair share of local idiots, but they’re harmless.” He paused and spoke lower. “But I wouldn’t put it past them neither. There’s been a lot of talk ’bout where y’all been. To see you show up now may have rubbed people the wrong way. Aren’t you supposed to be helping us, not asking for help?”
“No one can do this on their own. We need each other or this won’t be much of a fight at all.” Kinnick met his eyes. “Do you understand? If we could do it on our own, we would have already done so.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Worse.”
They stared at one another for a moment. Kinnick debated whether or not to tell the doctor about the nuclear holocaust engulfing the west coast. He figured that wouldn’t help the trust between them and held his tongue.
“You may go, doctor.”
Yentz’s eyes lit up. “Really?”
“We aren’t in the business of taking hostages. We’re here to help.”
“Thank you, Colonel. I will check back tonight to make sure he’s comfortable.”
The doctor took his medical bag and wandered toward the front entrance.
Volk pointed. “Where’s he going?” He watched the man quickly open and close the door, leaving the blinds on the door quivering. The doctor retreated down the sidewalk at a brisk pace.
“I let him go.” Kinnick was calm. He knew he was playing the long game with these people. He needed to take one hundred perfect steps for every mistake he made with them. That’s how trust was built, one good step at a time where he made the right and sensitive decision with the people’s well-being in mind. Then they would see him and his men like they were supposed to, as protectors and liberators and not as occupiers and invaders. He didn’t think it would be fast, but he believed it was possible with enough calculated persistence.
“What if he’s one of them, telling everyone about our defenses?”
“He’s not.”
Volk’s eyes scrunched up. “But how do we know? Shit, he could have been the one pulling the trigger.”
“I can tell, Sergeant. He’s not our suspect.” He’s not telling the whole truth though. He was hiding something, but he’s not the shooter.
Volk shook his head in disagreement. Kinnick thought he heard the sergeant say “bullshit” under his breath.
Kinnick turned to the side, looking over his shoulder. “Gary. Come here.”
Gary stood up and hesitantly walked to Kinnick like a timid dog that needed more convincing. “Yes, sir?”
“Can you get everyone together? I mean everyone in Warden.”
Gary looked scared. “I…I can try.”
“Call them all together.”
Gary looked at Kinnick.
“Now,” Kinnick commanded.
Gary stepped through the Marines and walked up the stairs to the balcony. Kinnick followed him. Hunter grabbed his sleeve.
“Colonel, what are you doing? There’s a sniper still out there.”
“We have to trust each other. No one is going to buy in if I stand next to him with a gun to his head or hide inside with a gun to his wife’s.”
Hunter shook his head in disappointment. “Sir. I don’t think that’s a good idea. In fact, I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to even stand here. Kitchen is better.”
Kinnick patted the soldier on the shoulder. “Sometimes it’s better to be brave than smart.”
Kinnick followed Gary up the wooden outdoor stairs. He took a step next to Gary. The small island town was laid out before them. Nothing moved, almost as if it were deserted.
“Go ahead,” he said to the man.
Gary hesitantly put a megaphone to his lips and his voice boomed. “Warden,” he said and his voice magnified. “Warden, come on out. It’s safe. They won’t shoot.”
A minute passed before the first person emerged from their house. They were followed by groups of ones and twos. They trickled into the four-way intersection in front of the restaurant.
They stared up at Kinnick and Gary. Kinnick looked at the crowd, wondering if one or more pointed a gun at him from afar. If the sniper struck him now, he wouldn’t know it was coming. Only a zip, pain, and then the echoing of the rifle from afar, or if he got lucky and hit Kinnick in the heart or head, it would just be black out, game over.
“Is that all of them?”
Gary looked out. “Looks like it.”
Most of the people had guns and worried looks on their faces. Some looked angry, others generally upset.
Kinnick motioned he wanted the megaphone. Gary placed the megaphone in his hand and took a step back, wary of what Kinnick was about to say or maybe he knew the shooter was zeroing in his rifle on Kinnick at that very moment.
Kinnick cleared his throat and put the megaphone to his lips. “People of Warden. You have a murderer in your midst, and I want him alive.”
STEELE
Roseville, IL
He crumpled a plastic bag in his hands. Crumbs lined the bottom, but its caloric contents were gone. He let the bag float to the floor. The chain grocery store’s front windows had been shattered at some point and the shelves inside picked clean of anything useful. Animals had gotten everything else.
“You find anything?” he called out at Kevin. The former schoolteacher looked at him overtop the short aisle shelves and grimly shook his head.
“Nothing,” Tess shouted from the other side of the store. She kicked a grocery cart with a boot, sending it rolling away. It banged as it struck the wall.
Steele walked down a dark, empty aisle. His damaged leg still hindered his natural gait, but it was manageable. He cut through a checkout lane, its number three sign dead. The gum, candy, razors, lighters, and soda had been cleaned out of the small shelves near the register leaving them empty. It felt wrong to him and out of place for a store. The cash register drawer was busted open. A few dollar bills stuck out. He snagged one and held it up for a second. George Washington’s iconic face stared back.
Kevin spoke. “They called him the American Fabius.”
Steele held the dollar in his hand for a moment. “What’s that mean?”
Kevin hiccuped, clearly already well into his daily allotment of liquor. “Derives from the Roman Quintus Fabius Maximus Verrucosus, well-known for many things, but in our case, he developed the Fabian war strategy closely followed by good old George there.”
“What’s the Fabian strategy in a nutshell?”
Kevin smiled. “You don’t know, do you? You’re a follower and don’t even know it.”
“No, I don’t.”
Kevin shrugged. “It’s a strategy of war where you avoid frontal assaults and pitched battles in favor of attrition and indirection.”
It was Steele’s turn to smile. “Ha. If you call retreating every chance I get ‘indirection’ then yes, that’s been my plan the entire time.”
“Not a bad tactic for the underdogs.”
“True.” Steele shoved the dollar in his pocket. He never expected to use it. “I just wanted a memento of the old world.” Bullets, food, and water were this world’s currency.
They exited the store, crunching through broken glass to reach the outside.
His convoy of cars, pickups, semis, and motorcycles stood in a long line looking more like a rural county Fourth of July parade than anything resembling a fighting force. Macleod sat atop his motorcycle, watching Steele with untrusting eyes. His long black goatee draped down his chest.
Steele shook hi
s head at the man. “No food.”
Macleod’s face twisted in anger, and he spit in disgust. He waved his Wolf Riders forward. He roared his engine, taking off back to the front of the convoy.
The food situation had gone from bad to worse when it was discovered almost half their stores of food inside the semi had expired. Now the convoy was forced to stop and quickly scavenge in towns as they fled before Jackson’s forces. Steele chanced a glance back in the direction they had come.
War Child and his War Machines had formed the rearguard and were a few miles away. A good sign, for the time being was that Jackson wasn’t right on top of them. Unless he was flanking Steele’s bogged down forces while they stopped for supplies. Or perhaps he was enveloping them as they foraged, encircling them with a noose made of men, guns, and Humvees. Frankly, Steele didn’t know much about his enemies movements.
Steele walked back to his pickup and Tess ran around to the other side, hopping into the driver’s seat and turning the ignition. The engine turned over and then after a struggle started. “That’s a girl, Red Rhonda,” she said to the truck patting the dash. She steered the pickup back into the convoy.
She stared ahead as she spoke. “We don’t have enough food.”
Steele gave a hasty knife hand out the window and the convoy rolled to a start. “I know that.”
“People need to eat and things are going to get nasty if we don’t find anything.” She closely followed the truck in front of them, bringing the pickup to about fifteen miles per hour.
He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have an answer. “Hey, you. What are we going to do?” She continued looking back and forth from the truck to him.
Steele watched the trees, houses, and businesses ease by them. The sky was a muted gray as if the world was suddenly devoid of all color, mirroring their dire predicament. “I don’t know. We either starve and go fast or slow down and scavenge for food.”
Her voice grew soft as if they could hear her. “What about the clubs? They are in it for the food, and now, we don’t have any.”
“They’ll get what they were promised when we reach Iowa. Right now, nothing matters unless we get there in one piece.”
“So you’re going to let us starve?”
His face set in a scowl. “Yes, goddammit.”
She shook her head. “This is messed up. What kind of leader lets his people starve?”
“One that doesn’t want his people shot.”
“We need food too,” she continued.
Steele threw his hand up. “I knew this wasn’t going to be a walk in the park, but I need your support. There are no magic bullets here, just bad and worse options.”
Tess shook her head. “You swore to lead and defend these people through the worst times anyone has ever seen.” She placed her hand on his arm. “No one said it was going to be easy.” She released his arm. “That’s why you have me.”
“Thank you, Tess, but if we panic, we’ll break. I need you to help me keep everyone together.”
Bright red brake lights slowed them down, and the convoy came to a rolling halt. Steele ignored it for a minute. He scooped up his radio.
Before he could speak, gunfire sounded far-off from the front of the convoy.
“What’s going on up there?” he said into the radio. Static scratched out. He glanced at Tess before he leaned out the window, trying to get a better view. The drawn-out line of vehicles stretched over a mile along a dusty rural road.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the pastor’s contingent,” she said.
“Shit. What the hell are they shooting at? Take me up.”
Tess twisted the steering wheel and rolled up the side of the road, cruising past all manner of vehicles.
She slowed near a section of the convoy that was splintering off the road down a residential street. Over fifty men clambered down the center of an unlined bucolic avenue. A blond man with a perfect comb-over waved a wooden flail around his head like he was a knight in medieval times. On the other end, a horde of infected marched their lonely way toward them in opposition.
“Forward, brothers and sisters. Let us cleanse the earth of this wretched curse,” he shouted. Tess stopped the pickup behind them.
“Hey!” Steele shouted. He pointed out the window at the blond man. “Hey, you.” The blond man turned to face him, fervor in his eyes and a fresh white smile upon his handsome face.
“Yeah, you. What’s your name?”
The man walked closer. His khaki pants were somehow clean during the apocalypse. “My brothers call me Matthew.”
“And what are you doing?” A volley of gunshots kicked off as the Chosen men moved forward at a slow walk. The bullets struck the infected, knocking some back and others down, but any infected that hadn’t been impacted by a headshot rose back up and continued their trudge. “By the time the infected reach this road, we will be long gone.”
Matthew laughed too loud and it turned Steele’s insides just a touch.
“God has other intentions for us that you do not control. Join us and help purify these tormented souls.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
Matthew gave Steele a small bow. “No man may command me for God moves my feet and directs my hand.” He turned his back on Steele and walked back to his line of followers. They walked slowly, firing at will.
Steele shook his head in anger. His hand drifted to his sidearm, but it rested there in anticipation of the battle to come. No good would come from a shootout between him and fifty Chosen, but their blatant disregard for the convoy’s safety and waste of ammunition were enough for to make his blood boil.
“Look at them,” Tess said. She scrutinized them with fire in her eyes. “They’re insane.”
Steele clenched his jaw. “And stupid. They are compromising our position.”
The long line of Chosen kept up with their intermittent gunfire. Infected tumbled and fell as bullets aimed high bit through their rotting flesh. When the unorganized remaining infected got close, the Chosen men and women changed over to bats, clubs, knives, and spears.
Steele watched the blond man run forward ahead of his followers and swing his wooden flail side to side, the weighted end cracking skulls from its front swing to its backswing.
Steele spied the pastor’s navy blue Jeep sitting in the open ahead.
“Take us up there.” Steele pointed. Tess rolled the pickup forward, pulling alongside the pastor’s open-air Jeep. Peter sat behind the wheel and dirty-haired Luke stood in the back an AK-47 in his hands.
The pastor perched regally in the passenger side, his hands folded in his lap. His black shirt’s lines were crisp as if it were freshly dry cleaned and pressed. His long face watched his men destroying the infected with a pleasant fervor. Tess rolled down her window and Steele yelled through it.
“Pastor!”
The pastor’s lips twitched in pleasure and a slow smile crawled across the older man’s lips. “Mr. Steele.” He nodded. “Have you come to watch my people at work?”
Steele twisted his neck to the side as if he were stretching. His lips ground together in a frustrated half grin. “No, Pastor, I did not.”
“A pity. Matthew has quite a knack for it.”
Matthew whirled his flail over his head and arced it down, smashing an infected woman’s skull. Bodies covered the residential street as if they were having a block party and everyone passed out at the same time.
“Pastor, with all due respect, we do not have time to stop and cleanse this neighborhood. There’s a greater enemy on our trail and I don’t want them catching us.”
The pastor blinked slowly as if Steele’s words annoyed him. “With all due respect, Mr. Steele, there is no greater threat than those marked by the Beast.”
Steele weighed him for a moment. “Can we wrap this up? I would hate to have to move the other parts of the convoy forward and leave your men and women exposed.”
Cheers went up on the residential street. Steele coul
dn’t make the words out, but he knew “God” and “Victory” were two of them. The Chosen walked among the bodies, whacking anything that still moved with blunt weapons.
The pastor stood up and saluted his men. “Bravo, my good men.”
“We don’t have time for this.”
The pastor finished acknowledging his men and waved Steele away as Matthew approached.
Blood soaked the man’s preppy sweater. His khakis were saturated with guts and grime.
“Excellent work, Brother Matthew. You have done a great service to this community. God’s Kingdom grows today because of your valiant actions.”
Matthew bowed his head in deference.
“Any causalities?”
Matthew smiled. He took the back of his hand and wiped his forehead, smearing blood across it. “None, father.”
“A blessed victory. You may bring your expedition to a close for I fear Mr. Steele is very concerned about Colonel Jackson’s men catching up to us and I agree. We must be going.”
“As you wish, Father. We came across a family down on the end. They are grateful and wish to join us.”
“Give them a fair share of our food and water. If they are sick, have Adam or Carter to see them. We care for all our people.” He gave Steele a small smile and a sideways glance from the corner of his eyes. Matthew bowed and walked back to his waiting cohorts.
“Great shooting, everyone. We are going to be on the move in five minutes.” He held up his hand, fingers spread out. “God has blessed us this day.”
Steele crunched his teeth until his jaw ached. The pastor had defied him. He had destroyed a number of infected as well as rescued people and recruited them to his cause all in one move. I must keep this man closer than kin.
“If you stop again, we leave you,” Steele said at the pastor, not to him. If the pastor wanted another debate, he wasn’t going to get it. Steele had stated a fact. Steele would ultimately lose if he had to leave the pastor behind, or lost his people to Jackson, but the point had to be made. He needed the pastor in line.
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 19