The End Time Saga (Book 2): The Breaking Read online

  “No more than the Wildcats can win a Super Bowl. We are being whittled away, Colonel. We need a game changer. You and me both know Virginia is lost.”

  Kinnick grimaced. General Travis’s words stung. Not because he had a great affiliation with Virginia, but because his family was out there when it all happened. He had left a hasty voicemail to his wife about leaving town or coming to the Pentagon. She never returned his call. His children had been at school when the outbreak started. He hadn’t heard anything. He knew in his heart they were gone. How could they possibly survive this? He tried not to think of them out there. Cold. Dead. Alone. At night, he would lay awake crying as he stared at the ceiling, wondering if it was even worth going on.

  General Travis saw the look on his face, and a moment of sympathy crossed his creased features. It was there and passed. Only a memory of empathy. The only thing that remained in the general was a hard resolve, a man with a righteous sense of duty. A man who knew his duty would bring about his demise, but marched forward anyway.

  “Hell is not conquered easily.”

  “No sir, it isn’t,” Kinnick said, staring down at the table below them.

  “We need something that can win this. Something that gives our people hope to continue the fight.” Travis paused, eying Kinnick. A pang of doubt crossed his face, uncharacteristic for a man of his standing. Kinnick knew this. He knew what was at stake.

  “I don’t know if you were briefed on this, but Mount Eden had a collection of scientists working on a cure for this disease. Some of the top authorities in medicine, virology and whatever other experts they could piece together from the region. And now we have no communications with them. We may have the only facility left that could support finding one.” The severity of the situation shone in the general’s eyes. As if the loss of troops and supplies weren’t enough, most of the leading scientists could have perished inside Mount Eden. America’s fate was spiraling down the drain.

  “Tell me about a Dr. Jackowski?” Travis asked.

  Kinnick frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t recall the name.”

  “I have a report here from before the outbreak that you helped orchestrate an operation to escort our diplomats and embassy staff out of the U.S. Embassy in Kinshasa. There was a doctor with them, a Dr. Jackowski, that was at the Mount Eden facility, and he may have found Patient Zero. A team of the scientists from USAMRIID are claiming if they can get their hands on Patient Zero, we’ve got a shot.

  “Fort Detrick is still operational?”

  “No, but they have a small contingent here, and a few more remote locations for continuity of operations.”

  “I authorized the Kinshasa mission. Nasty business with some Counterterrorism agents. I never received the update on their mission status.”

  General Travis gave him a firm nod. “The mission was completed. Dr. Jackowski made it to Mount Eden. The problem is … he’s missing.”

  STEELE

  Backbone Peak, WV

  Steele gently moved a branch from his view. He was deathly quiet and his movements were slow and calculated. The hunter must move cautious and deliberate, for prey spook easy. The human eye catches off-color and movement the most easily when searching for enemies. His borrowed camouflage and setting up in the night provided him with the greatest defense from detection from his hillside position.

  Steele and Kevin sat in a makeshift blind of branches, leaves, clumps of moss and dirt. It reminded Steele of deer hunting. The smell of wood fire floated up to them from the camp below. Few people moved about the camp.

  Kevin sat dejected and sullen, head low on his chest. Steele had to practically drag the high school teacher by the neck up to the ridge. Steele watched Kevin for a moment. No. He is no coward, he is just scared.

  Steele touched his knee. He mouthed “keep a lookout.” There was no point in them both going up there if Steele was going to be doing all the work by himself. He was nervous too. The terrain was foreign to him. Every jagged rock, leafy shrub, sappy pine and deer path was outside his knowledge base. This was someone else’s backyard. The people below knew this land like the back of their hand. He was the intruder. He was the invader that disrupted their land.

  Any one piece of the terrain could betray him at any moment, including Kevin; all were familiar to the men and women in the camp below. He didn’t have a team of professionals at his back. He didn’t have the equipment to fight any sort of battle. He didn’t know how many assailants he was going to have to engage. He didn’t know if Gwen was even there. The X factor was the infected. If they stumbled upon them, they could kill them, or give them up to the camp below. Each was its own unique death sentence. A choose your own adventure where you lost every time.

  Steele ground his jaw. It sent pain through his healing skull. He refused to give into the things that could go wrong, and he looked at all of the things he had on his side. He was an excellent marksmen and had extensive fighting experience. I’ve got an ally. I’ve got surprise. That counts for something. It will be enough. It has to be enough.

  The two men let the sun dip behind them, and he took a pair of binoculars from Kevin and gazed over the camp.

  Kevin spoke, his voice a small whisper. “What do you see? Is Puck there?”

  Steele scoured the scene below. Six small log cabins sat quietly on the hill. A man and a woman walked together. The man chased the woman into a cabin and closed the door.

  “He’s big. Like six-foot-six or seven. Had a black beard the last time I saw him,” Kevin whispered. He rubbed his jaw and squinted as he watched the camp.

  “Last time you saw him?” Steele asked.

  “Yeah, ya know. Around town,” Kevin said quickly.

  A few men walked along the perimeter, but they weren’t big enough.

  “Nah, I don’t see him,” Steele said.

  “That’s good. He’s a real asshole,” Kevin said. Steele pried his eyes away from the scene.

  “I don’t care what he is, if he has Gwen, he’s a dead man,” Steele said.

  “He’s a cruel bastard. I’m not sure you understand.”

  “I don’t care.”

  Scanning, he saw two distilling sheds, partially covered with woodland camo tarps; must be where they cooked up their moonshine. The tarps would prevent anybody who happened upon the camp from seeing the sheds. There was some sort of large hole on the far end of the camp. A few nightly bonfire pits. He stopped studying with his binoculars as he came across two men.

  “There, in the middle.” He handed Kevin the binoculars, who placed them up to his eyes.

  “I see ’em. Two tied-up guys.”

  “That washed-up, shirtless ginger with the tattoos chained to the pole is my friend Mauser. And that asshole next to him is Ahmed.”

  “Asshole?” Kevin inquired.

  “Not my favorite acquaintance,” Steele said.

  I hate him, but if he shows me where Gwen is, I’ll kiss him. I swear it. He rolled his eyes to the sky. You hear that, Big Guy? You can hold me to it.

  The faint crunch of leaves and clumsy feet in the trees below rolled up the mountainside. Kevin pointed out with his free hand. Steele took the binoculars back. Two infected approached the camp. They felt their way through the trees, exhausted and soulless.

  Nobody ran. Everyone continued about their hill business. A man stood almost thirty feet from where they walked. Steele was sure the moonshiners could see the dead. He felt the “pucker effect” knowing that he was about to watch a man be murdered by the dead. The dead picked up their pace a fraction when they saw the man.

  One of the infected tangled himself in a near invisible barbwire. It struggled with the impediment, wrapping himself up in it like a spider web. The barbs tore its skin, hooking its flesh. The other crawled through the wire and got back on its feet. Steele tracked it as it marched, and with a single arm reached out for the nearest moonshiners. The moonshiner in the t-shirt didn’t even react. The infected collapsed face first into a ditch. Interestin
g trap.

  “I have an idea for the morning. I’m going to need your help. Do you have a pair of running shoes?” Steele said with a grin.

  Kevin’s eyes flared. “I’m not going into the camp.” Kevin crossed his arms across his chest.

  “You won’t have to. You’ll be just fine.”

  GWEN

  Backbone Peak, WV

  Gwen lay on the stinking bed. A brownish-yellow stain stretched over the mattress, reaching for her. The damp and dirty mattress lumped up into her hip, leaving her back in perpetual discomfort. Her hands were stretched above her head and cuffed to the rusted heavy metal frame. She clinked her wrist over the flaking metal frame in a futile effort to free herself.

  She bent her neck backward to get a look at her restraints. Grasped in her hands, was her bent, warped picture. She longed for the captured moment in time. Why can’t I be back there?

  Drunken laughter filled the night, pummeling her will. Puck’s big-bellied hoot roared above the others. They didn’t seem to care that the infected might hear them. The fools will draw the dead right in on us.

  She sat upright, her arm awkwardly stretched behind her. How are we going to get out of this? I’ve got to have a plan. Her eyes searched the cabin for anything that could be used as a weapon. Wood sat in a pile near the fireplace. If I can get something to smash over his head, then I could escape. But these jackasses know these woods and these mountains, and we would be bringing along injured people. Doesn’t matter. I can’t wait here only to die.

  She pulled on the bed. It rattled as it moved. The heavy metal frame weighed down the whole thing. Grunting with exertion, she yanked on her cuffs, dragging the bed a tough inch. The wood pile jeered her from several feet away.

  “Come on, you stupid thing,” she whispered. She strained with effort. The bed groaned under her pressure. She stopped when the laughter ceased. The silence enveloped her; the lack of voices froze her in time. Why aren’t they laughing?

  The door of the cabin creaked open. Oh my God. A giant squeezed in through the doorway. The frame looked for more space. She shouldered the bed back and took a side roll into it. She wrapped herself into a ratty blanket, her handcuffs running along the frame. Holding her breath, she waited.

  “See you tomorrow,” he called out. “Owen, don’t forget to watch the fences,” he slurred.

  The cabin door latched closed, and he lumbered across the floor, each heavy step causing the floorboards to grumble loudly in protest. He couldn’t have seen me. She held her breath, but it forced itself out of her chest.

  Her heart thundered. Will he do it this time? She squeezed her eyes closed, trying not to breathe too hard. Please leave me be. Don’t touch me.

  The flimsy mattress gave way to the large man as he lay down next to her. The bed bowed in the middle. She could feel the heat running off his body. He ran a robust finger down her shoulder. Her skin crawled beneath his touch, and she flinched as he flicked away the shoulder strap of her gown, letting it fall limply down her arm. No, please, she thought. Not like this.

  The mattress complained beneath his weight like it may give up at any moment and collapse. The sour body odor and booze overpowered her senses. Soon he would overpower her physically with his body. She waited for it.

  Puck’s breathing leveled out.

  Silence. Nothing happened.

  She chanced a glance over her shoulder. In the dark, his chest rose and fell in a routine pattern. She turned back away from him and exhaled in the darkness. Thank you, Lord. She didn’t sleep as her mind ran through every scenario possible. I will escape.

  JOSEPH

  Mount Washington, Pittsburgh, PA

  The Humvee sped for a side road and the driver took it up a steep hill roadway. Old nineteenth century homes decorated the hillside built during Pittsburgh’s industrial rise. Joseph’s head thumped against the window as they ran over corpses in the streets.

  At the top of the hill, they passed a red brick church, then drove past a series of concrete barricades and taller concrete walls. A soldier stopped them at the chain-link fence gate. Movable barriers sat to either side, ready to be rolled into place at a moment’s notice.

  “Whattaya got, Pope? You get that bottle of vodka?” the guard asked. He looked in the back at Joseph.

  “It’s in the back. Henderson decided he’d pick up some doctor. Claims to be on a secret mission.”

  The guard laughed. “Sure thing, buddy.”

  “I’ll get at you later,” Pope said.

  “Come on in.” The guard waved them through.

  Pope steered them inside the base. The passed a dozen soldiers in full combat kit. Large tents were set up near the center of the camp. Pope took them down a lane and stopped.

  He gave Joseph a smirk. “This be your stop, Secret Agent.” Specialist Henderson hopped out after him. “Don’t drink all that vodka. I’ll be back later,” Henderson said to Pope.

  “Whatever, bro. You drew the short straw on this one,” Pope said. He spun the wheels as he drove off. Henderson sighed heavy.

  “Come on, Doc.”

  Henderson not very gently led Joseph in the direction of a big drab tan tent that sat on the edge of a steep cliff. Humvees drove in and out of a motor pool. They passed barracks-style tents, all seemingly the same.

  The camp boomed and the earth shook. Joseph dove for the ground, eating dirt in the process. He instinctually covered his ears with his elbows. After a moment, he looked up and around at Henderson. The young soldier stared down at him with a big shit-eating grin on his face.

  “First time around a 1-5-5 artillery piece, huh? Don’t worry, you get used to it,” Henderson yelled with a laugh. “Here.” Henderson offered Joseph a gloved hand and helped him up.

  “See there.” Henderson pointed to a group of tall artillery pieces. They were in a neat line, long barrels standing at salute along the mountaintop.

  “Those are so loud,” Joseph said. He gave the artillery pieces an untrusting look.

  “Here, put these in,” Henderson said, handing Joseph a pair of neon yellow foam earplugs. They looked used and worn.

  Joseph looked at them doubtfully.

  “Sorry pal, that’s all I got. I’m not sick.” And after he thought for a moment. “Not that I know of.”

  Joseph stuffed the plugs in his ears anyway.

  “Where are you taking me?” Joseph said and stopped. “You can untie me. I won’t run away.”

  “You wouldn’t have wanted to go into the quarantine zone anyway. Nobody usually comes back from there.”

  Joseph glared and raised his hands up to be cut free. “You wouldn’t want to go where I came from either. The East Coast is overrun. It’s only a matter of time before the infected make their way here.”

  The color drained from Henderson’s face. “We’ll get you untied,” he said, sliding a knife out from his belt.

  He slit Joseph’s zip-ties and the thin plastic fell to the ground. “I heard it was bad out there. I have a sister up in New York. I haven’t heard from her in weeks,” Henderson said. Joseph didn’t respond.

  They walked in silence until they reached the command tent. The tent sat on the edge of a very steep cliff leaving it free from infected assault on one side. Joseph also realized that meant they had no way to escape if they were overrun. The remains of Pittsburgh sprawled before him.

  A single large brown river flowed freely six hundred feet below them. The river split into two and a piece of land stuck out in the water like a defiant middle finger in the landscape. Skyscrapers jutted up from the city while dozens of bridges connected the surrounding hills to the city of Pittsburgh. The downtown was covered in thick black smoke. The manmade giants of steel and glass sat dark. A single gray building slouched, ready to collapse at any moment. The only signs of life were reflections of fire glowing in the windows that hadn’t been shattered. Specialist Henderson stood alongside Joseph for a moment before he spoke.

  “You are in Quarantine Base Rat
tlesnake. We are here to make sure nobody leaves Pittsburgh through the Fort Penn tunnel.” Henderson pointed at the rivers.

  “The farthest one at the divide is the Allegheny, and the one closest to us is the Monongahela. Where they connect together, makes the Ohio. You see that there?” His finger pointed to a large yellow-seated stadium sticking out on the side of the river.

  “That was Heinz Field. They turned it into FEMA Facility Hope weeks ago. The boys call it Camp Hopeless. All of our wounded used to go over there and not come back. Now no one goes over there.” He pointed in turn in each direction. “We have three other quarantine staging areas around the city. Each group covers a sector.”

  The landscape must have been a beautiful panorama before the outbreak. Bridge after bridge led out from the city center. Yellow, black, suspension, and high-rise bridges crossed the rivers.

  “The City of Bridges is what they call it. The most in the entire world,” Henderson bragged.

  “Wow, how do you know all this?”

  “Grew up in Mount Lebanon about fifteen minutes away. Bleed black and yellow.” He was cut off by another barrage of artillery which thundered, shells clapping the air. Earth and concrete erupted on the other river bank across the river, launching debris hundreds of feet into the air.

  “What are they shooting at?” Joseph asked.

  Henderson looked at him, confusion in his eyes. “They’re shooting at the crazy people across the river. They pretty much shoot all day. Until the barrels get too hot. Then they take a break.”

  A long open-roofed barge that typically hauled coal up and down the rivers docked below. Men scrambled with supplies toward a red trolley car on the side of the mountain.

  “What are they doing?” Joseph asked. Henderson winked. “That’s the Duquesne incline. We move supplies and people up and down the mountain that way. It’s faster than driving around, and it keeps our shooting lanes clear. You see, since we blocked the Fort Penn Tunnel, some of the infected still make their way up the mountain over the road. So we set up a bunch of heavy machine guns and sniper nests along the way to pick them off. Hehe. A couple of times we had to take a big dump truck and drive over a group of them. We usually just push the dead bodies over the edge down the mountain.”