Steele stared at the map. Iowa shared an over three-hundred-mile long border along the Mississippi River. Steele had at most a thousand fighters and he was willing to bet the Iowans were entrenched and unwilling to leave their homes. Tall orders from Kinnick.
“That’s a long area of responsibility. What’s in it for us?” Steele asked. He met Kinnick’s eyes.
Kinnick licked his lips, his eyes dead serious. “A vaccine.”
His answer sucked the air out of the room. Only the soft crackle of the fire reached out. Steele’s breath went shallow in his chest as he digested the information. Gwen and Tess exchanged a glance. Thunder beamed. They could hardly fathom the idea of surviving a bite from the infected.
“That’s wonderful,” Gwen gushed. She wrapped an arm around Steele.
“You can’t be serious?” Steele said.
Kinnick smiled with a slight nod. “Dead serious. You can thank Joseph. He was the mastermind behind it all.”
Steele stifled a laugh. “Damn, that egghead. Glad we saved his skinny ass now.”
Kinnick smiled. “Putting you on that flight to Kinshasa was the best decision I unknowingly made.”
Steele blinked. Not for Andrea and Wheeler. “At least it meant something.”
“It did.” Kinnick’s eyes asked Steele to question his conclusion. He looked back down to the map. “I left Marine Captain Heath in charge of the Northern Iowa AOR. He has Marines and Green Berets under his command from Lansing to Clinton.” His eyes flashed at Steele and went back down to the map. His finger ran up and down the border of Iowa. “I would have you command the Southern Iowa AOR. The border from Davenport to Keokuk will fall to you under a direct military commission.” He glanced up at Steele. “That is if you choose to take it, but I will tell you right now. This is coming. Whether or not you want to play along doesn’t matter, because either way, you’re gonna fight.”
The colonel said what Steele already knew. Steele sucked in air through his nose, looking up at Kinnick. The colonel appeared worn-out, but still held a level of confidence. He believed in his mission.
“Citizens of the towns that participate will be the first ones to receive the vaccine.”
Steele nodded. “Again, Colonel. You ask so much, yet I don’t think I have much of a choice. If there is a vaccine, I want to make sure my people get it. I accept your commission.”
“Excellent,” Kinnick said with a grim smile that quickly faded. “Technically, I’m enlisting you and giving you a field promotion all at once with no training. Not sure that’s ever happened in our nation’s history.” He glanced at Hunter. “This will give you legitimacy in our military structure.” The eye-patched master sergeant kept his face flat.
Kinnick glanced back at the map. “I am going to rejoin the split ODA in Davenport because it’s a larger town, and my personal unit is headed south to St. Louis.” His eyes went back to the map. “Those units were initially for either Hacklebarney, Keokuk, or Burlington. Garrisoning those towns will be up to you now. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good. I’m going to consider all of your units as militia, but the ODA and Marine squads in your AOR will report directly to you.”
Steele was taken aback. “Report to me?” He understood his units reporting to him, but not regular soldiers and Marines.
Kinnick looked back at Steele. “Yes. Luckily, your commission fixes that. I’ll make you a captain, but for all practical purposes, you would be a lieutenant colonel with this much responsibility. I can’t send you to any schools so all of your experience will come from the field.”
Steele gave him a nasty look and shook his head in disbelief.
Kinnick twisted his head in confusion. “Is that a problem?”
Gwen laughed. Her smile, caring and genuine, displayed her white teeth. “People around here have been calling him that for weeks and he hates it.”
Kinnick raised his eyebrows. “Well, I could make you a major or light colonel?” Can’t go higher than me though. General Daugherty would have to do that.”
“No, I don’t want that. Captain is fine,” Steele said. Jesus Christ. There will be no stopping them from calling me that now. He gave Gwen a side-glance. “Don’t get any ideas.”
“Whatever you say, Captain Steele,” she said.
“Goddammit,” he cursed under his breath.
Kinnick laughed and his face grew serious. “Captain Steele, I hereby place you in command of the Southern Iowa area of responsibility. Take any actions offensive or defensive as you see fit to defend the Mississippi River line and the United States of America.”
Steele absorbed the man’s words for a minute. He read the colonel’s hazel-gray eyes. The colonel had been honest enough in the past. He had delivered Joseph and Patient Zero to the government and had been generous with Steele when they departed, but it wasn’t the man that worried Steele. It was who he worked for: the United States Government. He was wary of any promise they made even if it was in his best interest.
Kinnick put out his hand. Steele took it. “Welcome aboard, Captain.”
“Thank you. We will hold as long as you need, Colonel.” Steele leaned closer. “Just make sure that vaccine comes our way.”
Kinnick nodded. “Your command will be the first.” They released hands. “That leads me to the next task at hand. The military prisoners.”
Almost five hundred soldiers were dead or would be dead by the week’s end. The rest were prisoners. Jackson and a few of his men had escaped, but they were so few that Steele didn’t consider them an actual threat. As he stared at the map, he knew a much more deadly threat lurked across the river.
Kinnick eyed him. “We need them to hold this front. Every gun means something. Every trained gun something even more.” A weird expression settled on his face as if he couldn’t figure him out.
Steele clenched his jaw. “They will be given a choice. Life or death.”
Kinnick’s eyes grew wide. “I assure you, Captain, I of all people understand these men’s betrayal to their country, but we have to look beyond that.” He jabbed a finger at the map on the table. “We have to hold here. If the infected cross the Mississippi, we will be overrun.”
Steele studied the map. “Colonel, I will not have men fighting for me that are just as likely to shoot me as the enemy. They will be given a choice. What they do with it is their own journey.”
“Let me take them with me. I can garrison them along the river,” Kinnick said. He frowned as he watched Steele.
Steele gently shook his head in contemplation. “No.”
Eye-patched Master Sergeant Hunter chewed his beard, staring at Steele. “Gettin’ a little big for our britches now, ain’t we? Kinnick is your commanding officer.”
Steele exhaled. “I know exactly what he is, but he showed up about ten minutes late to the fight and these are my prisoners. He can take the commission back for all the good it does me.”
Kinnick and Hunter exchanged a glance and Kinnick continued. “Those prisoners are United States Army. They would fall under military justice laws.”
“I will do with them as I see fit, and the way I see it, is you need us more than we need you, sir.” His eyes were unwavering blocks of ice.
Hunter stretched his shoulders backward. Kinnick waved his prize fighter off.
“You’re correct, Captain Steele. We do need you and desperately. Just think about what I said. Those men could be of immediate help if pointed in the right direction.”
“We shall see.”
Kinnick nodded gravely. “We’re going to stop here in Keokuk, then all the way to Portage des Sioux to rejoin Captain Boucher’s forces.”
“Wouldn’t bother much in Keokuk,” Gwen said. “Heard there wasn’t many people left there, but there’s a bridge.”
Kinnick shifted his stance and tapped the map. “We’ll take care of the bridge on the way through.”
“Thank you. What about Jackson?” Steele said.
Kinnick glanced up. “We’ll have no problem cleaning him up if he shows his ugly face again.”
“I got a bone to pick with him for Lewis and Gibson,” Hunter said.
Steele nodded. “As do I.” For Kevin, Ahmed, and Mauser.
Hunter and Steele shared a hard gaze. Two hunters on the hunt for their very own white whale. Whoever got it would be the victor in more ways than one.
Steele’s eyes fell back to the map. His stare bounced from place to place. There were so many avenues for the dead. Too many. “I will try to pull in the villages west of here. Gwen, how many are there?”
“There are eleven villages in Van Buren County. Plenty of farmers between here and there too.”
Steele nodded. He could count on maybe another thousand people to support him. Not many compared to the dead. A ton when compared with the living.
“When can we expect to get the vaccine?”
“I’m not sure. Aside from those of us they sent to the front line, they will inoculate the armed forces and the populations surrounding the Golden Triangle first.”
“Gives you the shits for about a week,” Hunter said and pushed the huge wad of chew deeper into his lower left lip.
A short smile cracked Steele’s face. “I’ll take the shits over death, but shouldn’t they start on the front line? We’re going to be the ones taking the brunt of the combat.”
Kinnick gave him an apologetic look. “Not my plan. They will get it out as fast as they can.”
Steele made sure there was no question to his words. “We will hold. It’s part of our contract with them.”
Kinnick nodded with a grim smile. His eyes were weary. “We’re good for it.”
KINNICK
Reynolds Farm, IA
Kinnick stepped down off the long farmhouse porch followed by Hunter, Washington, and Hawkins. Their boots crunched through loose gravel back to the river. He made it down to an old wooden dock.
Hamilton One bobbed in the frigid muddy waters of the Mississippi River. Marines sat in the machine gun turrets surveying the river farmlands.
Kinnick’s boots thumped the old wood and it groaned in response. He turned around and observed the old farmhouse for a minute.
The farmhouse was white with black shutters that were a bit faded and needed a touch-up. The porch needed to be entirely repainted. The white paint was peeling away to reveal gray wood underneath.
Steele stood on the porch, leaning on a wooden pillar with a gaggle of followers. His one arm hung loose at his side, the other propped underneath his chin as if he were in deep thought. A sidearm and tomahawk hung at his belt. Gwen wrapped an arm around him with her other hand resting on her swollen belly.
Her grandfather stood behind her, watching him.
Next to Steele stood an overweight biker with long hair and a bandana, his beard gray, and on his right was a wrinkled female biker with permanently puckered lips. A stout biker stood next to her along with a short black-haired woman he at first had mistaken for a teenage boy. A faint smirk lined her face letting him know she knew a snarky secret that he could never find out.
Farthest away from them all lingered the tall clergyman with his broad companion and another with wavy hair and a dashing smile. The clergyman’s eyes were critical as if he held scales and weighed Kinnick’s every move.
These are the people I’ve entrusted with holding the eastern front of the United States. This motley crew of bikers, farmers, fighters, and rebels. Kinnick blinked as he stared at them from afar.
“Forget something, boss?” Hunter asked. His single eye scrutinized the farmhouse. “He’s a bit meaner than the last time we met him. I like him.”
“He is.” Did I make the right choice by giving him control of this AOR? Or have I created a warlord in the power vacuum of a collapsing nation? “There’s something about him. I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Some things are better left uncovered. He’ll keep his word.” Hunter pulled out a can of chew and placed a wad of black tobacco in his mouth. “He’s fought in the past and he’ll do it again. That’s all he knows and that’s all we need to know.”
“I wonder if I’ve made too many assumptions about the man.” Kinnick eyed his one-eyed master sergeant.
Hunter licked his lips, shoving tobacco down with his tongue inside his mouth. “What’s that? He’s fought Jackson twice now. Once to help us escape and once in an all-out battle. He helped us find Patient Zero. Killed plenty of the dead. He’s an ally we not only want but we need.”
“You’re right, but he was different than before. Look at him up there. He’s practically a king.” Kinnick shook his head, not understanding the entirety of the situation.
Steele raised a hand in a short wave. Kinnick waved back.
Have I created something that can’t be stopped? How many times have we armed one group of rebels only to fight them ten years down the road?
“We can worry about it later. As long as he holds, we’ve got a shot.”
Hunter spit into the water. The tobacco plopped and disappeared from the surface.
“Where’s the next fight?”
Is it here? Kinnick looked at the flowing water. “Downriver.”
“You know what they say?”
“What’s that?”
Hunter smirked beneath his thick brown beard. “My grandma always used to say if you’re facing the right direction, all you need to do is walk.”
Hunter spit again and used the gunwale to hop into the Hamilton One. He smiled and gave Kinnick a hand, helping him on board.
Kinnick nodded his thanks. “That’s good advice, Master Sergeant.”
Hunter peered out with his single eye. “I reckon it is, isn’t it.”
A Message from the Author
Thank you for reading The Departing, Book 4 of The End Time Saga. I truly hope you enjoyed this installment. I had so much fun putting this one together for you. If you have the time, please consider writing a review.
Reviews are important tools that I use to hone my craft. They help me identify what I’m getting right and what needs work in my writing. Reviews also help potential readers decide whether or not to purchase and read my work. I take them very seriously and appreciate your time.
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The End Time Saga doesn’t end here. The Holding, Book 5 of The End Time Saga is coming…
A Note
I have a few notes on the places depicted in this novel. Oddly enough, Hacklebarney is a real place in Southeast Iowa. It is a small place, probably only known by the people that live there or have lived there. You will never find it on map. I have been fortunate enough to know some of these great people. They have shared their stories with me, so I decided to honor them by giving Hacklebarney a place on the map as Gwen’s hometown. I took their tiny section of Iowa and turned it into a town on the Mississippi River. So, if while you’re cruising in Southeast Iowa, you hope to find a town sign that reads “Hacklebarney: If it ain’t Heaven, it’s close,” I’m sorry, but unless you pull up a rocking chair to listen to some anecdote from a couple of nonagenarians (and I recommend you do), you’re probably not going to find it. If you do find Hacklebarney, take a million pictures and send them my way!
What you will find along the Iowa banks of the Mississippi River are some of the nicest folks you’ll meet in the United States. I’ve fictionalized them for the sake of my novel, but it is a beautiful part of the Midwest country filled with some of the best people I know. They have good reason to be so proud of their little corner of the world.
As with the other novels, the military units have been fictionalized. The Marine units, ODAs, and Jackson’s Legion are all made up. I have so much respect for those who serve and the dedication it takes to keep us not only safe but also free. A special thanks goes to them. I hope I was able to make this novel realistic enough for your enjoyment.
Every day I make progress on The Holding, Book 5 of The End Time Saga. Those of you who love Joseph, do not despair. He is making his slightly nerdy comeback in The Holding. He had to take a back burner in The Departing to give some of the other characters room to grow. I hope that you can live without him until Book 5.
You may also be wondering, how long is this series going to be? How will our downtrodden heroes survive in an apocalyptic landscape with so much danger? Can the hordes be overcome or is it a countdown to extinction? Will there be anyone left to rebuild? You’ll have to keep reading to find out. However, there is an end in sight.
Right now, there are six books planned for this series. I want to make sure that the characters and stories within make their full arcs but don’t want to lead you on a never-ending tale, rehashing the same threats and stories over and over. If I feel that the series needs more, I will make sure that happens, but at this point, I am only planning on six. Whether or not this happens, may be out of my hands and with my creative psyche or the Nine Greek Muses who throw a story my way every now and then. Either way, I can’t wait to share new novels with you in the future.
The Departing (The End Time Saga Book 4) Page 45