The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (13 page)

“I know it’s all confusing, honey, but Daddy will be home soon. When we get home I’ll set up a tent in the great room and we can camp out together, make it special.”

Samantha’s overtures didn’t do anything to help relieve Haley of her sadness. Tears welled in her daughter’s eyes.

“That sounds like fun!” Luke chimed in, in an attempt to help. “If it’s clear tonight why don’t we look for falling stars?”

Luke’s persistence finally brought a smile to her face.

“Sounds like we’re going to have fun tonight,” Samantha said. It was a temporary solution, but in this situation, it was all she could do.

 • • • 

The chopper taking Annaliese and Sebastian back to Cheyenne arrived close to the expected arrival time. Working like a pit crew, the medical staff exited the chopper and scooped up Annaliese.

For the second time today, Sebastian’s face was awash in tears. Samantha embraced him tightly.

“You be safe and watch over my sister,” Samantha said. Tears now filled her eyes too.

“It makes me so happy that you two love one another. She thinks the world of you.”

“Well, I think the world of her. She’s amazing,” Samantha said and gave him another big hug.

The crew chief on the helicopter hollered, “We gotta go!”

Gordon ran up and gave him a hug. “I love you, brother. Be safe.”

“I can’t thank you enough.”

“It’s what family does.” Gordon looked at his brother and remembered the time Sebastian had stopped by his house for dinner well over a year ago. He looked so different now. His sandy blond hair was shaggy and hung below his ears. A trimmed and groomed beard graced his face, giving him an older and more rugged look. Even his blue eyes looked older. If this new world had one thing that was universal it would be its ability to sap every ounce of youthful innocence and idealism right out of anyone. A combat tour didn’t even have the same lethal effect on one’s psyche as this world did. The wars he and his brother had been through may have scarred their humanity, but this world had the ability to utterly destroy it.

Luke and Haley both ran up and grabbed Sebastian. Seeing them together brought a smile to his face.

“Luke, listen to your aunt Samantha and take care of them both, especially this one,” he said, tussling Haley’s hair.

“I will,” Luke said.

“I’m going to miss you, Uncle Sebastian,” Haley said as she squeezed him.

“I’ll bring you something special back,” Sebastian said to Haley. He picked her up and held her tight. “I love you, little one.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He put her down just as the crew chief again hollered, “If you’re coming, it’s gotta be now!”

Sebastian took a brief moment to look at each one before turning and running onto the helicopter.

All four watched the chopper lift off slowly, bank, and fly over the hospital and out of sight. Not an eye was dry; even Gordon had to wipe tears away. Soon the choppy echo of the helicopter was gone. They all looked at one another and didn’t say a word. The next farewell was scheduled to come at any moment, and for Samantha and Haley, this one would be even more difficult.

The thumping sound of rotors again echoed off the buildings and surrounding trees. As the sound grew louder, Samantha stepped close to Gordon and gripped his hand. Haley too drew closer. Gordon looked at her, smiled, and picked her up.

“I love you, baby girl,” he whispered to her.

“I love you most.”

“I love you from here to the moon.”

“I love you from here to the moon and back.”

“I think you have me beat there,” Gordon said as he squeezed her tighter.

A black HH-60 Pave Hawk appeared over top the hospital. It circled the parking lot and set down not fifty yards from Gordon. When the main rotor stopped, the flight engineer, dressed in a dark flight suit and helmet, exited.

The man wearing the flight suit approached them. “Are you Gordon Van Zandt?”

“That would be me.”

“Where’s your gear?”

Gordon gestured to the pack and M4 on the ground before him.

“You have less crap than the other guy,” the flight engineer commented.

“What other guy?” Gordon asked as he looked over the flight engineer’s shoulder.

“The other guy we’re taking with us. He came in on the cargo plane from Cheyenne.” The flight engineer shrugged.

Another man suddenly stepped out of the chopper and stretched. He was clad head to toe in a green digicam uniform.

Gordon didn’t like when plans were changed without him being made aware of it. Putting Haley on the ground, he walked past the flight engineer and up to the man who yawned and bent over to stretch his back.

“God, my back hurts from riding in that thing,” the man complained.

“Who are you?” Gordon asked in an irritated tone.

The man stood and looked at Gordon. He was average height, approximately five foot ten inches. His straight, groomed black hair showed age as it was sprinkled with gray along the sides. “Excuse me?” the man replied, eyebrows raised.

“My mission to Coos Bay doesn’t call for another person. This is a delicate plan and anything can jeopardize it.”

“Let’s not get off on the wrong foot. My name is Staff Sergeant Finley. I was ordered to join this op not eight hours ago,” Finley said, offering his hand to Gordon.

“The president never mentioned I was being accompanied by anyone. It will be hard enough for me to get in, much less another person,” Gordon said, not taking his hand.

“I have my orders and I’m coming. If I don’t, the mission is scrubbed. I’ll get on the radio and call that bird with the woman back,” Finley replied defiantly.

Gordon knew the importance of being tactful, so he bit his tongue and nodded in agreement to the new plan.

“Let me go get my gear,” Gordon said, and walked back to Samantha and Haley.

Under his breath, Finley commented, “Looks like the major was right, he is an asshole.”

Gordon first stepped up to Luke and smiled tightly. “Watch over the girls, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Luke had grown on Gordon, much like he had on Samantha. His initial skepticism was replaced by real affection. He could see why Sebastian had a fondness for this smart young man.

“Thanks, buddy. I’ll see you soon.”

Gordon stepped in front of Haley and looked down.

Her little eyes told him the pain she was feeling inside. She cried out, “Don’t go, Daddy, please stay.”

Gordon swept her up in his arms and hugged her tightly. Tears welled in his eyes. The pain he felt leaving them again tore at his chest. If there was another way to accomplish what he had to do, he would have done it, but there was no way around it. “Oh, baby, I’ll come back quickly. I promise. I won’t be gone long.”

“Last time you were gone a long, long time. Bad things happened.”

A few tears ran down his face, as he didn’t know how to answer her. He hugged her tightly and repeated, “I’ll be home quickly. I will.”

Samantha began to rub her back as Haley cried loudly.

Gordon wiped the tears from his face. He looked at Haley clinging to Samantha and smiled. “Should we make a Haley sandwich?”

“Yeah, I think we should.”

He stepped forward and placed his arms around them both.

Gordon looked into Samantha’s eyes and said, “I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Be safe.”

“I will.”

He knew his good-byes were taking a long time when he overheard the flight engineer and Finley make a comment.

Gordon pulled away and looked at the men.

“Staff Sergeant Finley, I assume you have comms?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I need to get your contact information.”

“I can’t give you my info,” Finley remarked.

“Don’t be that way. No one is going to be drunk dialing you. We’re all in this op together. Hand it over,” Gordon demanded.

Finley paused then and said, “Hold on.” He dug in his pocket and pulled out a phone. He scrolled through the phone until he came to the number. “Here,” he said once he found it.

Gordon took the phone and plugged the number into the phone he had. With Finley now going, he didn’t have a need for a phone to call the president—he could just use his. He knew it was a risk, but leaving Samantha with a phone gave him peace of mind

Finley took the phone back and said, “Hurry up. We have to go.”

“One second more,” Gordon said as he walked back to Samantha. “Take this,” he said, handing the sat phone to her.

“Won’t you need it?”

“We have comms. I want you to have something. His number is programmed inside. Don’t call unless there’s an emergency or you see someone has called the phone.”

Samantha took it, nodding appreciatively.

Gordon winked at her, and because he never felt you could say it enough, said, “I love you.” He turned around and swiftly walked to the chopper and boarded.

The rotors began to whine and move and within moments they were spinning fast. The chopper lifted off and Gordon looked into the distance, unsure of what the future held for him.

“The essence of lying is in deception, not in words.”

—John Ruskin

Five miles outside of Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific State of America

T
he smoke from the smoldering fire wafted over Gordon, waking him up. The dawn’s light was just showing in the eastern sky and the chirping of the birds was announcing the pending morning. Finley was still sleeping, nestled in his sleeping bag. Gordon stood up and looked around at their campsite and the surrounding groves of trees they had called home for the night.

The ride to Oregon didn’t go as planned. Their first stop was Mountain Home Air Force base for refueling, and from there the ride took a couple hours. The fuel range on the choppers prevented them from getting as close as had been discussed, so they were set down ten miles east of Roseburg, Oregon. From the landing zone they both set out on M1030 motorcycles. The bikes were rugged and handled very well off road. It had literally been years since Gordon had ridden a motorcycle, but when he got back on, his muscle memory kicked in. He soon was his aggressive old self, the pre-Samantha, pre-kids warrior.

He and Finley agreed that they wouldn’t attempt to cross over into Coos Bay until the morning, as coming up on a checkpoint at night could be unnerving to both those approaching and to the guards. Best to approach in the light of day to alleviate any issues. Their final approach into town would be from the south along Route 42.

Gordon rolled up his bag and stowed it on his bike. As he was digging through his pack for something to eat, a clanging sound alerted him that someone had broken their makeshift perimeter detection devices, or in layman’s terms, the cans they had strung on a string. He pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and held it out in front of him in the direction of the sound.

Finley jumped up, grabbed his rifle, and was immediately at the ready. “See anything?”

Gordon didn’t answer; he slowly walked toward where the sounds came from, a large group of trees and thick shrubs that flanked their campsite. He strained to see anything, but nothing moved in the trees. Silence now blanketed the area.

“Psst, what do ya think? See anything?” Finley whispered.

“If I did, don’t you think you’d know?”

A loud crunching of leaves followed the cans clanging again.

“Whoever is there, come out!” Gordon ordered, and took a step toward the edge of their campsite.

A much louder crash of crunched leaves and broken branches made Gordon hyper-focus on the spot, his finger on the trigger. He was tempted to just shoot into the shrubs but he quickly assessed that whoever or whatever it was was clearly scared enough not to attack. With his decision made, he boldly walked toward the area to flush out whoever was there. Suddenly a large golden retriever came bursting out of the shrub.

“Holy shit, you scared me!” Gordon cried out.

Finley swiveled, rifle in his shoulder. When he saw the old dog he began to laugh.

The dog came up to him, sniffing and rubbing against his leg. He bent over and began to pet him but stopped when he felt large ticks all over the dog’s body.

“Come here, pooch!” Finley called.

“Don’t, the dog is gross. He’s covered in ticks. And, hey, we should pack up and go. You nearly slept the morning away. We have a long day ahead.”

Finley nodded and made his way over to his gear. “So, I hear you were a Marine?” Finley asked. They had mostly avoided small talk on their trip, Gordon still agitated at Finley’s unannounced presence.

“Yes, a long time ago.”

“You ever get trigger time in theater?”

“Yeah, in Iraq back in 2004. You? What’s your story?”

“Three tours under my belt. I’ve been in for over twelve years now.”

“Oh, a lifer?”

“I love this shit!”

“You love
this
shit?”

“C’mon, how many jobs allow you to blow shit up and . . .” Finley stopped when he realized how odd it must have sounded. He thought for a moment and further commented, “Yeah, I know everything has gone to shit, but I’m an action guy. I was made for this.”

Gordon thought about his last comment for a second, then said, “I guess you’re right. That’s one of the four reasons one goes into the military.”

“What are the other three?”

“You never heard of the four types? There are the ones who join strictly to get the benefits like college, then there are the super patriotic ones, there are the action guys like you, and then there are the killers, those who like to kill. The military gives them that license to do that.”

“Seems about right. I love the action, but I also love my country and if I can get a bad guy in my sights, I don’t mind putting him down. Maybe I cross several categories.”

“I was like you, action and patriotism. But I have no problem ending a savage’s life if need be.”

“I heard you’re quite a badass, a true no-bullshit kinda guy. I was briefed on your past and your trip with the vice president. You definitely have a reputation and that’s cool.”

Gordon ignored his comment, grunting. “You ready?”

“Let’s do this!” Finley shouted with excitement.

Both men fired up their motorcycles and sped off out of the woods and toward Coos Bay.

McCall, Idaho

After tossing and turning most of the night, Samantha decided to get up and start her day early. She made a carafe of coffee, grabbed a book, and took a seat on the back patio. The dawn’s glow was replacing the darkness, ushering in a new day. She read a few pages of
For Whom the Bell Tolls
, by Ernest Hemingway, but soon realized she wasn’t retaining anything. She exhaled heavily and put the book down on the table next to her. She used to love Hemingway, but reading some of his works wasn’t escapism anymore. She didn’t find it enjoyable to read about death and war when her life was just that. As she waited to see the sun’s first rays, her mind turned to Gordon. She was worried sick about him and wondered where he was in his trip. The temptation to call him on the satellite phone kept nagging at her, but she knew the delicate nature of what he was doing and didn’t want to jeopardize anything.

The sun’s rays felt good against her cool skin. She relaxed into the chair and closed her eyes. However, her slumber didn’t last long as a knock on the glass sliding door behind her disturbed the peace and quiet. She turned and saw Haley, rubbing her sleepy eyes. She waved; Haley returned the wave and motioned for her to come. She jumped up and opened the door.

“Good morning, honey. You should be sleeping,” Samantha said in a sweet voice.

“I had a bad dream,” she whimpered.

“Come here, I’ll take you back to bed,” she said, picking her up.

“No, I want to cuddle with you,” she said, burying her head into her neck.

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Sure, I’d love that. Let me get a blanket from the sofa here,” Samantha said as she grabbed a large animal-print throw from the sectional. They both sat and said nothing to each other for a few minutes. Haley broke the silence by asking, “What happened to Auntie Annaliese? Will she be okay?”

“Auntie Annaliese is sick so she went to go get better.”

“Will she die?”

Samantha’s heart skipped a beat. “No, honey. The doctors are going to make her all better.” She rubbed her arm, and noticed that Haley felt a bit warm.

“You’re a little warm, baby. How do you feel?”

“I’m fine, Mommy.”

With everything that had happened to Annaliese, the thought of Haley getting sick made Samantha nervous. She tried to push aside the negative thoughts, but it was difficult.

“You sure?”

“Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen Diamond, my unicorn?”

Samantha chuckled to herself; the innocence of youth never failed to surprise her. “No, but let’s go find her.”

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Conner woke early and took advantage of the extra hour to work out. Excitement and the anticipation of news from Coos Bay were making him feel like a child waiting for Santa Claus. The operation to send Gordon had been hastily done, but if all went as planned he’d have the edge on Barone he’d been wanting since the day he heard about his mutiny.

The rigorous run on the treadmill made him sweat profusely. Each bead of sweat represented toxins and negativity leaving his body. The apocalypse had been good for him if you gauged it on weight loss alone. Since the lights went out he had lost over forty pounds, and when he looked in the mirror he saw the Brad Conner he knew in college. Never again did he want to go back to the overweight and lethargic man he had allowed himself to turn into. His captivity by the gang taught him that physical strength was critical in the new world. Even though he now had protection, he knew firsthand that no matter how much protection you have, you can’t rely on it. That would pertain to Barone soon, he hoped.

He had renewed focus on reassembling the country, piece by piece, state by state. That included trying to get Texas, Alaska, and Hawaii to come back into the fold. The first thing to do, though, was eliminate the threats of Barone, the PAE, and the various separatist groups. Once that was accomplished, the reconstruction could progress unencumbered and he could work diplomatically on having those states return to the union.

The reconstruction effort would soon show much improvement once the steady stream of aid and equipment from Australia and other allies came. The projections were very promising—each month, more and more of the country would have their grids back and running. Conner was confident that everything could fall into place. He jumped off the treadmill with a type of energy he hadn’t felt in years.

 • • • 

Conner exited the locker room and looked at his watch. He had an hour until his first meeting. The thought of a cup of fresh coffee sounded great, plus he wanted to check on his friend, so he decided to make a run to Pat’s.

Once in the armored Humvee, he called Dylan on the secure phone and informed him of his destination. Looking out the window, he marveled at how the city was changing so quickly. Each day it grew more and more as migrants moved in from all parts of the United States. They came looking for hope and so far, he was giving it to them.

At Pat’s, many regular patrons sat inside. He exchanged handshakes and hellos before reaching the counter. Pat was busy behind it.

“Mr. President, good morning! The usual?” Pat asked.

“Yes, sir. The place looks great. You can hardly tell there was a brawl here.”

“Yeah, it was mostly turned-up tables and spilled drinks. Nothing that couldn’t be fixed.”

“How are you?”

“Fine,” Pat answered as he was pouring Conner a hot, steaming cup of coffee.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. No use crying over spilled coffee.” Pat walked over with a paper cup filled to the top and handed it to him. “Here you go, sir.”

Conner pulled out his wallet and removed a twenty-dollar bill.

“Glad to hear you’re fine. Here,” Conner said as he handed the money to him.

As Pat counted out his change, he clucked his tongue. “It’s so funny using money again. I have to admit that it’s been difficult to get people to use it.”

“We have to start again somewhere, and what better place to start the use of a currency again than in the capital city? I realize it’s not going to be easy for people to trust it, but we can’t keep trading eggs and milk. Eventually we have to have an established and standardized currency to do trading and commerce with.”

“Indeed. Your money is always good here,” Pat said with a broad smile.

“Anything new going on here?”

“Ha. Things do happen here. Sometimes I think I’ve created a monster with this place.”

“What does that mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing, but you know those guys, the Lakotahs. A few others came in this morning. I heard them mumbling about how their people were arrested the other night. After they left, I found some more flyers.”

“Let me guess: pictures of me with a bull’s-eye on them?”

“If it were I’d have it over there on the dartboard,” Pat said as he reached down the counter and handed the papers to Conner.

Conner flipped through the sheets of paper. They were similar to those from the other night, but with some strikingly different language. What caught his eye were phrases like “tyrannical federal government,” “free our prisoners of war,” and “free the Lakotah people.” The bottom called for a march for “freedom” coming in two days.

“Can I take these with me?” Conner asked.

“Sure, I don’t need them; I was saving them for you anyway,” Pat said, then made his way back behind the bar.

“I’ll catch you later, thanks,” Conner said, raising his cup. He stopped just before exiting and called out, “Can you contact me if these guys come back in?”

“Sure thing,” Pat replied.

“Cheers,” Conner said, and left. He walked out of the shop and jumped into the Humvee. “To the capitol,” he instructed the driver.

As they sped off, he looked over the flyers again. He would have to stamp the Lakotahs out, but he wouldn’t go looking for them. He’d let them come to him.

Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming

Sebastian couldn’t sleep. He had stayed awake all night as they ran test after test on Annaliese. Finally, the MRI showed the doctors what they needed to see. In her lower abdomen, a blood clot in an artery was cutting off blood flow to her lower intestine. Once they determined this, the doctors raced her off to have emergency surgery. The test result and surgery had happened so quickly that he hadn’t had a real chance to talk with her.

One bad image after another kept coming into his mind. He pictured her on the operating room table covered in blood and the heart monitor flatlining. It took all he could to block those visions out of his mind. Never before was he so worried or had he felt such fear at the potential of losing someone. Having someone die close to him wasn’t foreign; when he was younger his parents died and even though it upset him then, the fear of losing his wife felt even more tremendous. The only thing he imagined could be worse was losing a child. He could not even fathom how difficult it must have been for Gordon and Samantha to lose Hunter. Seeing their pain affected his own willingness to have children.