The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4)

by Daniel Greene

  Hunter tossed the men their guns. They caught them and hugged them dearly. Volk checked the status of his quick. “Whew, I missed this little bad boy. Ha, so are we going to leave the Biggs a going-away present?”

  “We are not.”

  Volk shook his head in disgust. “Seriously?”

  “That’s not all.” The men stared back at Kinnick.

  “Sergeant Volk, you have been demoted to private first class for actions unbecoming a United States Marine.”

  Volk snorted. “You can’t do that.”

  “It’s done.” Kinnick looked at Washington. The muscled African-American Marine was stoic. “Washington, you are now rifle squad leader and promoted to sergeant. Duncan, you’re now fire team Alpha leader.” He turned back to Volk. “I’ll accept your resignation if you want to stay.”

  Volk seethed in anger and continued to pack his gear.

  “Hunter, is Hamilton One ready?”

  The bearded operator nodded. “It is.”

  Kinnick approached Gary and Martha. “I apologize for all of this. We meant to build an outpost and train the people here. Now two people are dead and we are nowhere closer to setting up an outpost. I hope that you will be ready for the dead when they come.”

  Gary’s face was accepting of the facts. “We’ll do our best. This wasn’t meant to be.”

  Kinnick glanced at Martha. “Your hospitality has been above and beyond the call of duty. When we meet again, maybe you can whip up some of those world-famous meatballs.”

  She gave him a sad smile. “I will, Colonel.”

  He turned back to Gary. “Wait a little while after we leave, but the goods will be on the docks. A dozen carbines, enough rounds to last you, and a crate of MREs. It’s the best we can do and not be based here.”

  “Warden does appreciate the government’s assistance.”

  “Hold the line, Gary. You can do what you’d like with the Biggs family.”

  The two men clasped hands.

  Gary nodded. “We’ll handle them.”

  Kinnick left them and walked for the door. “Hunter, let’s move.”

  ***

  Hamilton One motored down the muddy waters. The sky was black and the moon covered by bitter nighttime clouds. The boat navigated the river at a slow pace. Once they were out of eyesight from Warden, Coffey flicked on the lights over the pilot’s house to assist him in navigation that an errant tree or infected body might hinder.

  The Marines were shady, camouflaged forms sitting along the front of the craft. Heads were down and a general quietness hung over them as if the week’s events had placed a yoke of exhaustion upon their shoulders.

  Kinnick leaned toward Coffey. “We’re going to leapfrog the other teams down the river. Take us to Hacklebarney.”

  “Roger, boss.”

  “Hopefully, we will have a better time than we did in Warden.”

  Coffey kept his eyes on the river. “At least we got the bridge blown.”

  “That should help.”

  Kinnick maneuvered over and took a seat next to Hunter. The master sergeant’s head was dipped, beard running down his chest like a scroll. His head bounced with the boat and he stirred himself awake.

  “Colonel.”

  “Master Sergeant.”

  They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the motor kick along.

  “I know you didn’t agree with what happened back there.”

  “Nope.”

  “That decision is on me, Master Sergeant.”

  Hunter answered quick. “I only follow orders.”

  “I’m gonna need you to watch him.”

  All of their eyes drifted to the front of the small craft. Newly-made Private Volk sat in the front, his gun between his legs. The decision had been a tough one. Kinnick had weighed all the options in his head over and over. Leave Volk to the public’s whim or free him and risk unrest. In the end, it was better to leave his team intact versus letting the mob string up his Marines. Best not to leave things to chance. He had left the supplies, knowing the town would need them to survive the coming winter.

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.” He smiled a bit under his beard. “My only eye.”

  Kinnick gave a short laugh. “You know we’ve gone directly against an executive order. You know what that might mean in the future.”

  Hunter’s voice came out assured and relaxed. “I do.”

  “I still have your support?”

  Hunter nodded. “You do. I don’t disagree with your decision to leave that place.”

  “What do you disagree with?”

  “You left supplies meant for people that will use them in the hands of a group that wants us dead. Not the best use of our limited resources. We don’t even know when we’re going to be resupplied.”

  Kinnick nodded and sucked in air. “This situation is bigger than even that. As long as they fight the dead, they’re helping us. They’re critical to this front whether or not they want to be. If they won’t fight with us, then they are on their own, but it doesn’t mean we can’t give them some sort of support. We are all still Americans.”

  Kinnick gestured with his head at the Marines. “How do you think they will handle not having justice for Gore?”

  Hunter studied the deck. “This ain’t the first time we’ve lost one with nothing to show for it. What’s done is done.”

  “What’s done is done,” Kinnick repeated. The men accepted the fact that eventually they would have to answer for going against orders.

  The woodland banks skipped by them, only dim shapes in the night. All manners of death marched their way and the weight of preparing these people for it was enough to sink a hundred ships. Do we even have a chance?

  GWEN

  Reynolds Farm, IA

  She stopped near the faded red barn doors. A deep sigh escaped her. Her feet were swollen and her body near exhaustion. Just don’t think about it. She used the old wooden door of the barn to steady herself.

  “Gwenna,” Haley yelled at her from across the yard. The little girl ran up to her and latched onto her leg. Gwen gave her a faint smile.

  “Did you take those bandages to Dr. Miller like I asked?”

  The little girl’s blonde head bobbed up and down. “Yup. All o’ dem.”

  “Good girl. Now take that bucket over there and run over to the pump. Keep filling it and bringing it Dr. Miller, okay?”

  “Okie dokes,” the little girl chimed in. Gwen stroked her head fondly. The little girl hefted a metal pail by its wire handle and trudged away.

  Gwen collected herself and turned the corner into the barn. The wounded and dying lay in shoddy rows. The deceased lined the outside back of the barn. She would have Mark and Pa hitch up a wagon to haul the dead away to be burned. It seemed to be the only way to cleanly handle the destruction of those that had expired.

  Dr. Miller stood next to Mr. Uhl, a farmer from north of town. He wiped his brow and gave her a sad smile. “Mayor.”

  “How’s he doing?” Dr. Miller glanced down at the wounded man. He quietly shook his head no.

  “Not much longer.” He glanced around the room. “I’m running low on supplies. I just—” He bent closer to her. “We can’t handle the number of wounded.” He rubbed the side of his head. “I can’t handle them. I’ve never treated gunshot victims let alone this many people at once.” He stopped. “And inside a barn.” He sighed. “Gwen. I’ve never seen this many wounded. Many of these people are going to die because we don’t have access to a hospital.”

  “Keep doing your best. I sent the sheriff up to Burlington to see if we can find any help at the hospital. I’ll send B.B. over to Keo to see if Dr. Farmer can help.”

  “Thank you,” Dr. Miller said. He physically steadied himself. “I’ll do what I can.” He bowed his head and went back to checking his patients. Becky wiped her hands on a rag, approaching Gwen.

  “What’d you do with that little girl of mine?”

  “Sent her on a mission for w
ater buckets. Should keep her busy for awhile.”

  Becky’s eyebrows climbed up at Gwen. “Break time? I could use a cigarette.”

  Gwen smiled. “Me too.”

  Becky’s eyes grew large. “After all those lectures you gave me.”

  Gwen sighed. “Not with the baby, of course. I’m just saying. It might help take the edge off things.”

  “Well, I hate to break it to you, but things are about to get even more stressful.”

  “What?” Gwen breathed.

  Becky’s eyes shifted toward the barn doors. A solid man stood there, arms crossed over his chest. He leaned on the frame with his red-and-black plaid sleeves rolled up to his triceps.

  Gwen saved an evil glare for Becky.

  “No one told you to date two men at the same time,” Becky reminded her.

  Gwen opened her mouth to respond and closed it. “That’s not what happened.”

  Becky angled closer. “I’m taking a smoke break.” Her eyebrows bounced on her face. “I’d suggest you make a break as well.”

  Gwen shook her head at her sister and Becky walked away.

  “Gwen?”

  Gwen turned around. “Jake.” She gave him a smile.

  “Hey, there. Just came by to tell you that my dad and I got most of our harvest in. Gotta ’nuff hay for the upcoming winter to feed the cattle. John’s going to supplement with part of his corn harvest since there’s no one to buy anyway. Most of the farms are going to have to dump part of their crops. Should be enough.”

  “No, don’t. Tell them to store it. Even temporarily. We might be able to trade it and we can eat it if we have to.”

  He nodded his handsome face and gently placed his hand on her shoulder. She kindly moved his hand away.

  He blinked a few times, unfamiliar with her rejection. “What’s the matter? You aren’t getting too high and mighty now that you’re mayor, are ya?”

  She chided him with her eyes. “Jake, you know that this isn’t going to happen between us. I’m carrying Mark’s child.”

  He chewed his lip and shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve never stopped loving you, Gwen. I thought that when you came back, we would pick up where we left off. We had something special.”

  “We did, but as much as we could try to pretend that everything is the same as it was ten years ago, it’s not.” She peered down at his chest before she continued. “I’m different. As much as you think you aren’t different, you’ve changed too. We were flirting with the past, but we’re living in the present. And in the present, there is no us. I’ll always care about you, but only as a good friend.”

  Jake’s face drooped in sadness. “Can’t say I’m happy about that ’cause I don’t think I’ll ever change my mind about ya.” He took a deep breath and gave her a sad smile, “As much as you didn’t want to believe it, I always knew you belonged here. Ha. Now look at ya. Mayor of Hacklebarney, Gwen Reynolds.”

  She smiled. “I have no idea how that happened.”

  “Well, I sure do. You’re the right woman for the job. Smart. Tough. You love these people. The right kind of woman we need to lead us through whatever this is.”

  “Thank you, Jake.”

  “I’ll be around if you need me. You know where we live.”

  He embraced her and walked away.

  She gave a small wave. “I’ll see you soon.”

  He flashed her his winning grin. “I know.” He tucked his hands in his pockets and walked away.

  She spent the rest of the afternoon caring for the wounded. Sometime late in the day, she wandered back to her grandparents’ house. She was beyond weary. She dragged herself up the porch steps, petting at Dutch and Rocky who laid at the top. Rocky’s tail beat the wooded porch floor. Thump. Thump. Thump.

  Grandpa Reynolds sat in his wooden swing. “How about you take a load off?” He patted the seat on the swing next to him. She collapsed on it and he gently moved the swing with his feet. She rested her head on his bony shoulder.

  “I’m proud of you.”

  She lifted her head for a moment and rested it back down. “Thanks, Pa. I don’t know where’d I’d be without you.”

  “Nonsense, girl. You got a good head on your shoulders, but even more importantly, you have a good heart in your chest. You don’t need much else with those two working for you. ’Cept maybe a good man.” He laughed to himself. “But it seems like you got a good one of those too.”

  “I do.”

  The swing creaked as they swayed front to back.

  “I talked to Jake about the harvest. He says they’ll have more than enough.”

  “That should do. The winter will be long and harsh. We need to keep the animals well fed. There be a lot more mouths than usual to feed, but we’ll make do. We always do.”

  She could feel his eyes on the top of her head. “Did you talk about anything else?”

  She slowly lifted her head off his shoulder. “Yes, Pa.”

  “He ain’t too bright, but it ain’t fair leading him along if he’s not your cup of tea.”

  “He’s okay with it. He understands.”

  “I’m proud of you.” He squeezed her in his arms. “Your gram’s got some hot stew on the stove.”

  She kissed his cheek and stood up. “Thanks, Pa.”

  “Go on now.”

  She placed a hand on the doorknob and turned. Yelling erupted down the drive. She turned around. Her grandfather sat up, leaning forward and squinting down the road. Helmeted men in camouflage marched down the center of the driveway.

  “Mark!” she screamed and swept up her grandfather’s shotgun.

  STEELE

  Reynolds Farm, IA

  A fire crackled in the Reynolds’ farmhouse fireplace. Flames licked the logs with fiery tongues, reaching for the top of the chimney. The heat put out from the fire was small in comparison to the throng of people pressed together inside.

  Colonel Kinnick stood near Steele, surveying the map. His ACUs were still mud splattered. His hand sat beneath his chin. “I can’t believe you pulled that off against Jackson,” he said, staring at the map. He gave Steele a little smirk. “Double envelopment. Nice work.”

  Eye-patched Master Sergeant Hunter grunted. “Nice little ambush. Didn’t save much for us.”

  Thunder laughed through his gray beard. A red bandana held back his long hair. “Sure didn’t. I thought the kid was crazy standing up against that little prick, but he didn’t even see it coming. Drove right in through the sandbags.” He glanced at the pastor sitting in an old chair near the fireplace, a blanket draped over his legs. The gaunt pastor looked as if he were prepping to give a fireside chat. “The Chosen really strung them along.”

  The pastor nodded. “My people did what they had to do.”

  Steele glanced at him. The pastor’s bearing was impossibly frail, his face bruised and his body battered. “They held much longer than I asked.”

  “God was with us on that line.”

  Steele gulped and met his eyes. The Chosen had lost almost one hundred men and women in the battle.

  “Once the last Humvees had passed the sandbags, me and my ol’ girl Red Clare opened up on them. The rear vehicles never saw us coming. I took a lieutenant’s head off with my Benelli in the first thirty seconds.”

  Red Clare coughed a smoker’s cough and narrowed her eyes at Thunder. “Pretty sure the Seven Sisters did the brunt of the fightin’ while you and the Stripes farted around in the trees.”

  “Now, now, Clare. Me and my boys did plenty,” Thunder said, patronizing her.

  “Ha,” Red Clare laughed. She gave Thunder a sly smile beneath wrinkled lips.

  Steele rested his left hand on the head of his tomahawk. “This had a lot of moving pieces. If anyone of you had failed to do your part, we wouldn’t have succeeded.” He glanced at everyone in the room. His eyes passed from War Child with his bandaged head to Gwen and her grandfather John to Tess, and finally to the badger of a man Frank.

  Kinnick nodded his hea
d in confirmation. “Unfortunately, we don’t have much time to celebrate or hunt for Jackson and his renegades. There is a greater task at hand.”

  Steele met his gray eyes. “What do you need from us?”

  Kinnick took a deep breath. “Well, everything.”

  A small smile settled onto Steele’s face. “Colonel, I don’t think there’s been a time when you haven’t asked for everything.”

  Kinnick gave a short chuckle. “I ask on behalf of what remains of our nation, however many few of us there are.”

  “We will do what we must.”

  Kinnick eyed him for a moment almost as if he were going to ask something and thought better of it. He cleared his throat. “I will say that I was surprised to find you here and with so many capable people under your command. More of a blessing than anything else.”

  “We’re not here by chance.”

  Kinnick looked around the room. “Neither are we. The road’s been long to reach here, and unfortunately, I can’t offer much. Our operation is massive and our front spans the entirety of the United States. I am to rally the northern portion of the western front.”

  “For what?” Steele asked, but he already knew the answer. He knew it was only a matter of time before the armies of the dead reached them.

  “To hold against the dead,” Kinnick said. He studied the people in the parlor. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Millions of infected are marching this way, and we need to hold out until the military can get established enough to do what they were meant to do and take the fight to the bastards.”

  “When can we expect military relief?” Steele asked.

  Kinnick sighed. “I don’t know. I wish I could give you something, but don’t plan on soon.”

  Steele nodded. Hold against all odds for an infinite amount of time. Sounds about right.

  Kinnick placed a hand on the map spread over the card table that originally had a chessboard on it. “I’ve been deploying partial ODAs and rifle squads of Marines all along the Mississippi River in an effort to train and set up a militarized civilian front to fight the infected. You being here has changed what I’ve been asked to do. To have a reliable fighting force sitting in the center of our line is huge for us.” He looked up at Steele. “This means I can speed up to the next sector and I don’t have to deploy my Marines and Special Forces units along the rest of Iowa. You made my life a little bit easier.” Kinnick gave Steele a happy nod.