The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (20 page)

“MERS.”

Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific States of America

Barone donned his tactical vest and loaded his magazine pouches. It felt good to be getting dressed for battle. He hadn’t informed anyone of his plans to accompany his men on the final raids of the evening, so he imagined his presence would motivate them. He couldn’t resist going; the information that Brittany had provided them was more valuable than Major Ashley’s. This last set of raids would wipe out the remaining rebels.

A loud knock at the door was followed by Simpson calling out, “Sir, I need to speak to you!”

Barone walked out from behind his desk and opened the door. “I’m going on the raids tonight,” Barone said, with a proud look on his face.

“Sir, I really have to protest. We can’t risk losing you.”

“Julius Caesar didn’t sit on the sidelines. He rode into battle with his men and so will I.”

“Can I recommend that you draft a chain of succession in case you die?”

“Top, since when did you become such a worrywart?” he asked, patting him on the shoulder.

Knowing he’d never win the debate, Simpson pivoted the conversation to another urgent topic: Gordon Van Zandt.

“Sir, you’re supposed to meet with Van Zandt. Don’t you remember?”

“That can wait till tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to have fun,” Barone said as he gathered more gear.

“Sir, he has information about President Conner. He says it’s very important.”

Barone looked at his watch then said, “Two hours till we go green, not going to happen. I’ll meet him first thing in the morning.”

“I’ll set the meeting for zero nine hundred,” Simpson said, a tinge of defeat in his voice.

“Sounds good. On your way out, tell my guards to go get some chow. I want their bellies full for tonight’s raid.”

“Roger that, sir,” Simpson said and exited.

Barone was tempted to take a drink, but resisted the impulse. He wanted his mind and senses clear for this battle. On his way out of his office, he stopped and examined his reflection in the mirror. “Looking good, Devil Dog! We’re going to kill some fucking rebels tonight!”

Cheyenne, Wyoming

With Schmidt as his new weapon, Conner felt confident that success was around the corner. All the obstacles and distractions that prevented them from getting on top of reconstruction would soon be resolved. Equipped with the knowledge that Pablo Juarez planned to use a nuclear bomb against them in Cheyenne made the decision to use one himself much easier. The internal debate that had been raging was over.

Ever the realist, he knew that unpredictable events would still occur, and today was no exception. Conner’s mid-morning briefing was interrupted with the news that a pandemic of what appeared to be a MERS-type coronavirus had hit Idaho. The virus had broken out in Mountain Home Air Force base, which was operating as the temporary state capital for Idaho. To date, they had no deaths but hundreds had become sick. Wilbur reported to Conner that it had spread up to McCall, where a smaller outbreak was under way. Conner was disturbed by the news, but he also saw it as an opportunity to remove another threat: the eastern Cascadians.

“Excuse me, Dylan.”

“Yes, Mr. President?”

“I need you to do something. It’s important.”

“What can I do for you, sir?”

“Please find Major Schmidt. I’ve tried to contact him, but he’s been unresponsive.”

“I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Conner walked to the window and looked out on the city below. The town was alive with activity. With his approval, he had allowed more and more people to come into the green zone. It was a slow process but the quicker he could integrate the refugees, the more vibrant the city would become. The growth was explosive but necessary. He began to call Cheyenne the Shining City—a beacon of hope to the many who had no home. It would be a symbol of a new America, a new republic. The one thing he needed to do was stop those hell-bent on dividing and destroying it. He knew that if he pulled it off, he could be that leader in history books who had a truly transformative effect.

He spotted a young woman pushing a stroller, her dark hair pulled back with a blue bow. Every few feet he could see the baby’s hands grab at the toys that dangled from the mobile over him. How innocent and sweet, he thought. If he could accomplish his goals, that child would never know the horrors that he and so many had seen. Seeing the baby made him think of his son and the child he would never meet, the little baby that had never been given a chance to live. It pained him even more to think of Julia, his wife and trusted partner for so many years. If she had only held on for a few more days, she’d be alive.

Schmidt finding the loose nuclear weapon brought the entire conspiracy into stark view. He now had the name of the man who caused him and his family—as well as the rest of the nation—unfathomable pain. Conner’s urge to capture the brutal dictator was unlike anything he had ever felt. Violence coursed through his veins. He fantasized about standing before the man who was directly responsible for murdering his family and taking his life personally. But the sensible side of Conner knew that such an operation could jeopardize the plan of destroying the entire PAE army. Conner would be victorious and see Pablo and his army vanquished, but he would have to let his selfish desires go. The plan was in motion and soon it would be realized. The old saying came to mind: “Live by the sword, die by the sword.” This is exactly what would happen to Pablo Juarez, the self-appointed emperor of his mercenary army. Conner would ensure he died by his sword.

A grin crossed his face as he continued to watch the mother and baby. She stopped the stroller and was cradling the baby in her arms. Right there in front of him was his purpose, he thought to himself. He must win for that little baby, for all of the youth out there. For the future. He had to be victorious over all that threatened them.

A tap at his door pulled him away. He spun around and hollered out, “Come in!”

The door opened to reveal Schmidt in his customary faded uniform.

“Take a seat, Major. I have an idea, a good one. You’ll be jealous that you didn’t think of it yourself.” Schmidt nodded and sat across from him.

“Let’s get to business. Major, we might have an opening in Idaho that wasn’t there before. There’s some type of pandemic that has broken out in Mountain Home and has spread as far north as McCall.” Conner briefed him on the pandemic and his idea for using it as a way to roll a military unit into McCall to deal with the Cascadians.

“I’ll have a plan by tomorrow or the next day,” Schmidt said, standing up.

“Good man. How’s the other op going?”

“It’s in motion now, sir. The package will be delivered in a few days.”

“Excellent, excellent. That’s it, Major. Have a good night. In fact go get a drink on me at Pat’s. Put it on my tab.”

Schmidt nodded and exited.

Conner walked back to the window and looked out. The woman and baby were now gone, but what was not gone was his passion for making sure they would have a life and a country.

Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming

“Oh my God, all this time together and you never told me,” Sebastian cried out with laughter.

“I didn’t want to. I don’t know, it doesn’t bother me too much. I just roll you over and you stop once you’re on your side,” Annaliese said, a smile gracing her tender face. Her recovery had progressed much faster than the doctors had projected. Soon she and Sebastian would be able to go home.

“No one ever told me I snored! I figured I did now and then, but you make it out like I’m registering on the Richter scale.”

“Um, yeah, it can be bad, especially after you’ve had a few drinks. But I don’t mind, really. You’re easy to push over.”

“What, now you’re calling me a pushover?” he teased her.

“You know what I meant,” she said, pinching his arm.

“Ouch! God, you’re always hurting me—now you’re beating me up emotionally too!”

“Stop! Me, hurt you? I can’t, you’re a big strong man. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”

Sebastian was lying next to her on the bed and went in for a kiss. As he pulled away, he realized he couldn’t imagine a life without her. She truly was his soul mate. If anything positive could have come from the horrible events, it was his finding her.

“I love you so much. You’re so beautiful,” he said as he placed his lips gently upon hers.

She returned his kiss with a bit more passion.

“I love you too, Sebastian Van Zandt. I know this is corny but you’re my prince charming. I dare any woman dispute that when they were growing up they didn’t want a handsome prince to come and sweep them off their feet. You were that man; although you didn’t come in on a white stallion.”

“Actually it was a stallion, a sea stallion.”

“Huh?”

“The helicopter, the one I crashed in, it was a sea stallion.”

“Well, I guess I stand corrected, my prince did come in on a stallion, but I kinda swept you up with your broken leg.”

“I’m not a stickler to following all the societal rules anyway. I liked that you swept me up,” he said, then laughed. “Thank God you did sweep me up.”

“You have to thank my father for that.”

“He was a good man. I didn’t know him long but I could feel the goodness in him. He was a special person.”

Annaliese grew quiet as she thought of her father. After a long pause, she said, “He was a great man. . . . I miss him.”

Sebastian leaned in and kissed her again. This time she didn’t return his kiss. The expression on her face told him that her mind and heart were now with her father.

“Do you think my mother’s okay?” she asked.

“I’m sure she’s fine. One of your uncle’s positive traits is that he’s prepared. She’s not in need of anything, that’s for sure.”

“You’re right. I’m sure she’s keeping busy with my brother and sister.”

“Knowing your little brother, he’s probably already taken over control of the place. He’s a character, that one.”

“Do you suppose I’ll ever see them again?”

“Yes, I do. I do think you’ll see them again one day,” he said as he caressed her face.

A moment passed. They embraced, then she broke the silence with a question. “How is Gordon?”

“I spoke to Secretary Wilbur yesterday and she told me everything appears to be going well. They don’t have a timeline on when they’ll leave, but he’s fine. I worry about my brother, but then I remember that he’s my brother, and he’s as tough as nails. I swear nothing will kill him. Even if he did die, God would take one look at his crusty ass and send him back.”

“Don’t say such things.”

“I’m not saying anything Gordon wouldn’t agree with.”

“Gordon’s a good guy. I really like him and Samantha. . . . Actually I love them both, they’re family.”

“Yeah, Gordo’s a good guy. He’s always been there to help me, no matter what. He always looked out for the little guy or the underdog. He’s never been afraid of a fight. When we were younger, if he saw a smaller kid being bullied by older kids, he’d step right in and defend the smaller one even if it meant throwing punches,” Sebastian recalled, a slight grin creasing his face. “I never told you this story, but there was this one kid, I think his name was Samuel, or maybe it was . . . either way doesn’t matter. Well, the kid was in special ed in Gordon’s freshman class. These boys, seniors, were picking on him. Gordon saw this and immediately stepped in. Of course the three seniors thought they could bully Gordon too because he was a freshman, and, well, they bargained wrong. One thing my old man always told us growing up was don’t start a fight unless you have to. If there is no way out and a fight goes down, be the first to strike. Gordon was a good listener for sure. He struck first, hitting the first boy straight in the nose. From what I heard, Gordon just started whaling on them, one punch after another until the three seniors were down. Then like nothing had happened and as cool as ice, he picked up Samuel’s stuff and escorted him to the bus. Needless to say, those boys never messed with Samuel again.”

“Your brother strikes me as a defender, a sheepdog type.”

“He definitely is the sheepdog keeping the wolves at bay.”

Annaliese reached and turned his face toward hers. She touched his eyebrows, cheeks, and then leaned in for a kiss. After the kiss she scratched his beard and asked, “How long do I have to be tortured with this?”

He scrunched his face and asked, “What, you don’t like the look?”

“Ahh, I do, but if given a choice I think I want baby-butt smooth face over prickly, hairy face.”

“What will you give in exchange for one baby-butt smooth face?” Sebastian joked.

“Umm, how about a big wet kiss?” She giggled.

They kissed and laughed.

“You must be needing to go out and stretch your legs. I know you have to be curious as to what’s happening here,” she said.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”

Sebastian was curious; he did have a desire to see Cheyenne.

“Honey, please go ahead, go out, take a look around,” she pressed.

He looked at her and answered, “Okay, since it’s so important to you.”

“It is important to me. I’m fine here, go out and see the sights.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll go out tomorrow, okay?”

“Good. Now let’s get back to you shaving that face,” she teased.

“Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.”

—Mike Tyson

Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific States of America

I
t was early but Gordon was awake and pacing the berthing space, nervous about his upcoming meeting. After Barone sent word last night that he wasn’t meeting with Gordon until this morning, his men took them back to the ship. He and Finley were under house arrest. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere except the mess hall, and even that had to be under the watchful eye of two guards.

Finley groaned as he stretched. “My body aches. Christ, these beds fucking suck.”

“Stop the whining. That’s all you do. Suck it up, would you?”

“Fuck off, Van Zandt. God, you’re such a stress case. By the way, who is this woman?”

“She’s a friend.”

“Bullshit, no one is willing to go as far as you have for a friend. You must have been sticking your dick in her,” Finely chided.

“Go fuck yourself!” Gordon snapped.

“Fuck you!”

Gordon’s temper flared and he stormed over to Finley. He put his face in his and said, “Say something else, go ahead, motherfucker, say something stupid. I’ll fucking ruin you.”

Finley stepped back; a surprised look gripped his face.

Gordon’s anger had reached a point that he was truly willing to beat Finley to a pulp. He was tired of people accusing him of having relations with Brittany; he was tired of the comments and innuendos. Fortunately for Finley a knock on the berthing hatch saved him from getting pummeled.

Gordon walked away from him toward the hatch, his fists clenched. He opened it up to see two Marines.

“Colonel Barone can see you now,” a Marine lance corporal said.

“Let me get my gear,” Gordon said.

Finley quickly put on his trousers and grabbed a few things while Gordon was gathering a couple of items. They both met at the hatch at the same time.

“I don’t think he asked for you,” Gordon said snidely.

“Incorrect, the colonel wants to meet him too,” the Marine said.

Finley shot Gordon a look.

“You won’t need those,” the Marine said, pointing at the men’s pistols that were nestled in their shoulder holsters.

Gordon and Finley looked at each other and reluctantly removed their holsters.

“Let’s go. The colonel is waiting.”

McCall, Idaho

Samantha defied Nelson’s recommendation of embracing the children. She couldn’t stop herself from holding Haley. She went along with his instructions as far as wearing her mask and gloves, but Haley’s cries and pleas were too much for her to say no to hugging her child. She rocked her little limp body and sang her lullabies—anything to ease the pain, even just a little.

Nelson had paid a visit late last night with the news he had learned from Rainey. Because there wasn’t a cure, the kids would have to suffer through the symptoms until it passed. He had been honest with her about the probable prognosis from other coronaviruses like MERS. When she heard that thirty percent of those who contracted MERS died from complications, it frightened her to action. She immediately called the number Gordon had given her. However, no one answered. Again, she was left alone to fight for Haley’s life, and like before, she was determined to prevail.

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,” she softly sang as she rocked Haley. Haley’s movements were slow, as fatigue was a large part of her symptoms too. Just the effort of lifting her arm took everything she had.

The temptation to take Haley and Luke to the hospital crossed Haley’s mind, but without a real treatment she didn’t see a reason to do so. She could do just as much good by monitoring and providing comfort at her house than at a hospital surrounded by other sick people.

Like usual, Nelson arrived on time. If he was ever accused of anything, being prompt was something that all could agree on.

She laid Haley gently back into the pillows and brought the blankets and sheets up to her chin. Brushing her sweaty head, she said, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” The only sound that Haley emitted was a series of loud coughs.

Samantha stepped into the hallway to see Nelson dressed head to toe in blue hospital scrubs, booties, latex gloves, and a mask.

“Look at you,” she joked.

“I can’t take any chances.”

“I know, you’re smart. I, on the other hand, can’t help but hold them.”

“Sam, you can’t do that, you can’t risk getting sick,” he admonished her.

“It’s the only thing I can do. You said there’s no cure so all I can do is ease their symptoms, and one of those is emotional stress. They need me and I need to be there for them.”

He sighed. “I can’t argue with you on that. So, how are they?”

“Haley has gotten worse; she now has diarrhea and her cough is bad. I can actually hear the mucus in her lungs. Luke seems to have stabilized, though. I don’t know if it’s something to celebrate yet but I’m thankful he’s not worse. His temperature hasn’t gone above 103.”

“That’s good news.”

“Let’s go into the great room. It’s so dark in the hallway and with you looking the way you do I feel like I’m in a horror movie.”

They both made their way into the room. The sun’s morning light cascaded through the massive east-facing windows. It was the views out those windows that sold the property for her years before. Standing in the orange light was Seneca; she had become inseparable from Nelson ever since the outbreak.

“Hi. I didn’t know you were here,” Samantha said.

Like Nelson, she too was adorned with protective gear and clothing. “Hi, Sam.”

“I’d give you a hug but something tells me you wouldn’t appreciate it,” Samantha joked.

“Ha, no thanks,” Seneca cracked.

Samantha walked passed them both and into the kitchen; she took off her gloves and removed the mask she had been wearing. She poured water from a pitcher over her hands and applied soap and began scrubbing her hands and forearms.

“I haven’t totally abandoned your advice,” she said, lightly mocking.

“You wouldn’t be laughing if you got this,” Nelson said with a serious tone.

“Anything new since I saw you last?” Samantha asked, now toweling her hands and arms dry.

“I stopped by and saw Chief Rainey on my way over this morning. The government rep from Boise died late last night.” Nelson’s schedule had turned into a routine of seeing Rainey in the morning, followed by Samantha, and then in the evening he repeated the process, if possible. He felt it important to bring Samantha the most up-to-date information as possible before making his visits.

“Oh my God.”

She sat back on a tufted ottoman. The lack of sleep showed on her face. Her eyes were bloodshot with dark bags under them.

“I want to ask you about any possible natural remedies or holistic medicines we should try.”

“Sam, we’re not going to cure this with oregano or any other essential oils. This is serious. If it was so easy to cure MERS, SARS, or any other type of coronavirus it would have been done by now,” Nelson said in a condescending tone.

“How do you know that?”

“Samantha, I never figured you for one of
those
types,” Seneca quipped, trying to lighten the mood.

“What type is that? The one doing whatever she can do to keep those two kids alive in there?”

“Are we going to have this conversation? The best thing we can do now is hope that Boise can come up with something or you can reach Gordon and he can get direct help from Cheyenne,” Nelson chimed in.

“I can’t sit here and put the fate of Haley and Luke in someone else’s hands. I need to try something, anything, that can at least alleviate the symptoms so it doesn’t progress to pneumonia or any of the other complications. I have to try.”

“While you’re trying with those natural remedies, please keep trying Gordon. I think you have a better shot there.”

“I’m not giving up on hoping he can help with Cheyenne, but in the meantime I’m going to talk with some of the ladies at the auxiliary, put our heads together.”

“You do that.”

She ignored his sarcasm. “Can you both do me a favor?”

“Anything.”

“I need you to watch the kids later when I do meet with them.”

Nelson didn’t hesitate. “Of course, not a problem.”

Loud coughing erupted from Luke’s bedroom followed by a bellow. “Aunt Samantha, help!”

Samantha and Nelson ran down the hall and into his room. She approached the bed but Nelson held her arm. She turned and shot him a look.

“Put this on. Humor me, please. You’re no good to anyone if you get sick,” he pleaded.

Knowing he was right, she quickly put on her masks and latex gloves.

Luke coughed several times. His entire body shook when he did. Both she and Nelson could hear the large volume of mucus in his lungs.

There wasn’t much Samantha could do other than provide comfort. She rubbed his back and whispered something unintelligible.

Taking a deep breath, he looked at her, tears in his eyes. He held up the hand he had been coughing in.

Samantha’s eyes grew wide.

“Nelson, he’s coughing up blood!”

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Dylan rarely showed anger, much less contempt, but after Conner told him the plan to restore the legislative and judicial branches of the government would be put off indefinitely he had to tell Conner exactly how he felt.

“Sir, you promised. You not only promised everyone on your staff but you promised the people that you’d bring back the two other branches.”

“There’s no time for it.”

“Yes, there is. You don’t have to be involved in the process. In fact, sir, you don’t need to involve yourself in every detail about everything. Delegate and let your staff do these things,” Dylan said, his voice elevated.

“Dylan, I don’t have time for debate on every issue. Now is not the time to have a legislature sit around and possibly block or slow down what I’m trying to do. What I’m doing is too important.”

“Sir, all I hear is
I
and
me
. This isn’t about you, this is about providing a sense of stability to the people.”

“I am providing them stability, and that stability will increase if we stick to my plan.”

The door to his office flew open. An excited Baxter walked in.

Conner and Dylan looked up, startled by Baxter’s unannounced entrance.

“What the hell?” Conner shouted out.

“Sorry, sir, no time for pleasantries,” Baxter said.

“Dylan, please leave,” Conner said.

Dylan walked out quickly.

“What’s wrong with you? You barreling in here surely gives people pause that something’s going on. Next time, be more tactful.”

“I tried to call, but these damn phones keep failing. Our friends from the Republic of Lakotah are holding a large rally, and I mean large.”

Conner looked at his watch then said with a slight smile, “Perfect, right on time.”

“They managed to organize inside the green zone and are heading here, toward the capitol.”

Conner opened his desk drawer, pulling out a small pistol. He tucked it in the waistband in the small of his back.

Baxter looked confused. “What’s that for? I’ve never seen you carry. You’re not thinking of going down there, are you?”

Conner ignored his question and picked up the phone. The phones were dead. He placed the receiver down and picked up a handheld radio.

“Major Schmidt, this is President Conner.”

After a few moments of silence the radio crackled to life.

“This is Schmidt, go ahead, sir.”

“Our guests have arrived.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Conner pocketed the radio and began to make his way to the door.

“Sir, you can’t go down there. This group might be looking for a fight.”

“General, if it’s a fight they want, we’ll give it to them.”

“Please, sir, it’s too risky.”

“General, you can’t lead a country sitting behind a goddamn desk!”

Tijuana, Mexico

The move to the beach house was successful, while unadvisable by the physicians. Pablo’s father had now fallen into a coma, and the conversation about him shifted from his quality of life if he awoke to how best to let him go. So many family memories had been created at this house over the years. One of the first things Pablo did after arriving late in the night was to walk along the beach. Along his walk he thought about his life and how in an odd way he had been blessed. It was his own prodding that forced his father to include him in the “family business.” So often his father told him he wanted to see Pablo live an ordinary life. He had created wealth, not ordinary wealth but true generational wealth. Pablo could have done whatever he chose to do. He could have followed his father’s wishes and gone on to do something legitimate and safe, but his own desire for approval went beyond a father’s recognition for simple accomplishments. Built upon a deep-seated insecurity, and to show his father that he could be a “greater” man, he went in the direction that led him to the battlefields of America.

As he walked the beach, he wondered for just a moment what it would feel like to walk away from it all. To live an easier life. To live by the ocean, spend his days relaxing rather than planning for battle. He picked up a handful of sand and let it fall through his fingers. But he reminded himself that the easy path was not the best one. He was on a path that he couldn’t turn back from now. He didn’t have the luxury to doubt himself—not now. He wiped his hands off and went back to make the final arrangements for his father and his army.

 • • • 

Walking into his casita, he discovered that the cool ocean air had blown through like a whirlwind, tossing papers and flipping pages on books he had opened. He closed the doors, arranged the papers on his desk, and noticed the red blinking light on his phone. He called the last number that had called him, and the familiar voice of General Alejandro answered.

“Emperor, hello.”

“You called?”

“Yes, sir. Bad news. We lost contact with our team headed to Cheyenne.”

Pablo clenched his jaw. “Is this confirmed?”

“No, sir, but it’s been a long time since we’ve heard from them.”