The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (26 page)

“Okay, but what about my brother? Any more news, anything?”

“No, but I can tell you that the administration is not happy. That’s why it’s important for you both to just lay low until I can get you out.”

“Why are you doing this?” Annaliese asked.

Wilbur took a deep breath. “We made you both a promise to take care of you. I don’t know what happened in Coos Bay but you’re not a party to it. You came here seeking help and I will honor our country’s pledge to do that. If I can do anything in my position I will make sure that we keep the mantle of hope and freedom over one of fear and tyranny.”

Sebastian and Annaliese could see the passion in Wilbur’s face.

“I’ll leave you two. Thank you for listening, and please, I cannot stress this enough—stay close to the phone. If I call and say it’s time to go, don’t hesitate,” Wilbur said. She then turned and exited.

Sebastian rushed to follow her into the hallway. “Madam Secretary.”

“Yes.”

“You’re not telling us everything. What is it?”

“I’m worried about you two.”

“Why? Because of Gordon? Or Schmidt?”

Looking straight and hard into Sebastian’s eyes, she said, “Government has the capacity to do wonderful things and can be an instrument for good, but it can also be an instrument for evil if left in the wrong hands.”

Coos Bay, Oregon

As Gordon drew closer to the jail it became apparent that word of Barone’s death must have leaked, as he saw groups of Marines and others loading vehicles. The streets were still vacant but soon he knew the word would spread to the people; they’d be out too. Some would merely come out to survey the area, but others would be seeking retribution.

He reached for the handle on the front door of the police station when it burst open. Several Marines brushed past him, loaded down with boxes and arms. Their focus was on getting what they could and not on him.

Aside from the men he encountered on the way out, the place was empty. He meandered down the debris-covered hallway toward the holding cells. At the end of the long hallway stood a massive metal door with a small window. He peered through the thick glass and saw people in cells but couldn’t make out any of them. The only way to find out if Brittany was in there was to get inside.

Next to the door was a sliding window and control station for the cells. Before he entered the cell block he picked up a set of larger-than-average-sized keys; he hoped these would be useful. A strong smell of fecal matter and urine overcame him as he entered; placing his arm over his nose and mouth only slightly alleviated the grotesque odor.

“Brittany! Brittany, where are you?” he yelled out.

People began to stir and respond after they heard his calls.

Each cell he looked into housed numerous people, their arms dangling between the bars in a desperate attempt to grab him. Pleas for help and release followed him as he quickly strode down the passageway.

“Brittany!” he called out again.

“Down here, last cell on the right!” she responded frantically, waving her arms.

He jogged the remaining few feet to her and grabbed her hand. “Glad I found you. Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better once I get out of here,” she replied.

He fumbled with the keys, trying several until he found the one that turned the tumblers hard to the right. With a loud clank, the lock unhinged and he swung the door open.

She jumped into his arms and hugged him tightly and said, “Thank you, thank you. I’m so happy to see you. Where are the guards?”

Gordon grimaced from the tight embrace as her affection brought back the reminder of his earlier fight. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said, letting go of her and grabbing her hand.

“Where are the guards?”

“Gone, they abandoned their posts . . . listen, too much to explain, let’s get you to a safe place,” Gordon said urgently.

“No, we’re not leaving until we let everyone out of here,” she said, holding firm and not moving.

“We don’t have a lot of time; things are probably going to get bad soon.”

“These are my friends and neighbors. I’m not leaving without them.”

Gordon saw the stubborn Brittany he’d met months ago on the road. There was the same woman who had saved him and kept him sane for those harrowing weeks after Hunter’s murder. He acquiesced and began to open one door after another. People began pouring out of each open cell and took off toward the exit.

“You’re free, go, go,” she said loudly.

Gordon opened the last one and a man he remembered seeing before stepped out and walked up to Brittany. She embraced him and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

“You okay? How bad did they hurt you?” she said as she petted his handsome and chiseled face.

“I’m fine. I was so worried; thank God you’re safe,” the man said.

Gordon looked at them both, shocked to see Brittany acting in this intimate way.

They again embraced tightly and kissed.

“Let’s go, sweethearts, we have to go!” Gordon barked.

She looked at Gordon and said, “This is Gordon, the man who saved me and Ty months ago.”

The man walked forward and extended his hand. “Nice to meet you. I’m Major Ashley. Brittany speaks highly of you. Thanks for getting us out.”

“Well, Major, it’s time to go. Colonel Barone is dead and when the word gets out, this place could erupt into total chaos. There’s a new mayor and he told me everything will be okay, but I don’t trust human nature.”

“Please tell me our new mayor’s name is Timms,” Ashley commented.

“Yeah, it is.”

“The plan worked,” Ashley said, smiling.

“We don’t have time to waste. We need to go before shit hits the fan!” Gordon stressed, taking Brittany by the arm.

“I’m capable of taking care of myself,” Brittany snapped.

Gordon cocked his head toward her and said, “This isn’t a conversation or debate, let’s go.” He led them out of the cell block through the police station and back onto the street. The level of activity had increased just in the short time he had been inside.

“C’mon,” he said, and began to head back toward city hall.

“Gordon, stop!” Brittany exclaimed.

“What? Let’s go.”

“I’m . . . we’re not going with you,” she said, looking at Gordon then turning to face Ashley.

“Really?” Gordon asked, shocked.

“Yes, you go, we’ll be fine,” she said softly, and walked up to him. She placed her palm on his face and said even more softly, “Thank you for everything; you saved my life more than once. You gave me another shot at life and love.” She looked at Ashley when she mentioned love. “I’ll never forget you. I don’t know why you came back but you did, and you did what you said you would. You took care of me, but you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I . . . uh, are you sure? You can come back to Idaho with me. You, Tyler, and the major.”

“No, I can’t. My place is here.”

Gordon stared at her, then looked beyond her to Ashley. “One second,” he said as he ran back inside the police station. A minute later he emerged and handed her a note. “This is my address in Idaho. If you change your mind you can find me there. You’re welcome at my home anytime, all of you.”

She took the note and carefully put it in her pocket.

“Come here,” he said as he reached for her and hugged her. “Be safe out there. Tell Tyler I miss him,” he said. He was happy for her but also felt an urge to press his case for her to come with him. He didn’t know Ashley and didn’t want to leave her in a situation that could turn bad again. However, he understood that she was trying to build something with Major Ashley and she was sincere in her objection to leave with him. He had to let her go.

“I’ll tell him. He’ll be upset that he missed seeing you, as he misses you so much.”

Gordon’s heart sank for a moment, knowing he would never see her again. “Good-bye, Brittany McCallister,” Gordon said.

“Good-bye, Gordon Van Zandt.”

Gordon turned away and jogged off. He stopped suddenly and spun around. He saw that she was still watching him. “Stay frosty. It’s brutal out there . . . but you know that already.”

 • • • 

Gordon’s short trip back across town was uneventful, but the sounds of gunfire and the occasional scream in the distance told him the word was out and the retribution and paybacks were clearly under way. It brought back memories of Iraq and how some Iraqi civilians mishandled justice post–Saddam Hussein. He understood the violent expression of anger and resentment that had stewed for years among those who had suffered under the Baathist regime, so when he witnessed it he found it hard to involve himself or his Marines. What he feared most was that Coos Bay would continue its spiral into violence even after Barone’s death. This is why he wanted out of there, and quickly.

City hall was more frantic than when he had left it not an hour before. He found Simpson still holed up in his office packing and preparing for his own departure.

“Top, any timing on my Hummer?”

Looking up a bit flustered, Simpson said, “It’s not there. Hold on one minute,” he said as he brushed by Gordon and barked at a guard, “Get ahold of Gunny and tell him to get that Hummer out front ASAP!”

“Yes, sir,” the Marine guard said and marched off.

“Top, I have another request.”

“What you got?”

“Is it possible to get an armored Hummer, a TOW variant with a missile system?”

Simpson gawked at Gordon, mouth agape. “Can I ask what tanks you plan on blowing up?”

“No plans, just prepping for whatever might come my way.”

“Can I just get you a fucking tank too?”

“Actually, can I get that with a half dozen missiles and a half dozen Javelins too?”

“Are you fucking serious, Van Zandt?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Listen here, you helped us but what you did would have been done if you weren’t here. It just helped give us a better cover story to hopefully keep some of the chaos at bay, but I don’t think what you did is worth all of that.”

“I realize it’s a crazy request, but that could give our little town enough firepower to help resist anyone who had something like a tank.”

“Who exactly is going to be attacking you with tanks?” Simpson joked.

“To be fair, how do you think the citizens of Coos Bay would answer that question now?”

Simpson thought for a moment and said, “Van Zandt, I really don’t owe you anything, but I will help you this one last time.”

“Thanks, Top. Oh, and can you toss in some C-4?”

“Go find Gunny Wallace and tell him what you want. You do realize with these extra asks that you won’t be leaving as quickly as you want, right?”

“Understood.”

Simpson walked over to Gordon and put out his hand. “I imagine this will be the last time we see each other.”

“Maybe so. I don’t make grand assumptions anymore, but if you find yourself near McCall just keep going.”

“That’s rude.”

“Just joking. I wish you the best, Top. I know plotting against Colonel Barone wasn’t easy for you and took courage. I’m just sorry it all had to happen, meaning what the colonel did. I know from talking to him he regretted it, but it was too late.”

“Colonel Barone was a conflicted man. I went to war with that man, but he had become someone else. After what happened I couldn’t go along with it any longer, but I felt it best to stay close and plot his demise from inside. You know, sometimes I think he knew all along.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I do, but we’ll never know and it really doesn’t matter anymore. He’s dead and his chapter in this whole fucking apocalypse is now over. You be safe out there, Van Zandt.”

“Good-bye, Master Sergeant.”

“Good-bye, Sergeant Van Zandt.”

“Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live.”

—Norman Cousins

Tijuana, Mexico

T
ears ran down Pablo’s face in a steady stream. He hadn’t cried like this in many years, but he couldn’t control himself as he watched his father’s body being laid to rest in the family crypt. Having ordered the doctors to pull life support the day before was hard, but necessary. He was sad that his father hadn’t gotten the chance to see him forge a new empire that people around the world would hear about for millennia.

Seeing his mother wail, so heavy with emotion that she was unable to walk, made it tougher for him. He wished he could stay in Mexico for a bit longer to comfort her, but if he was to finish what he started he needed to leave immediately. Last he spoke with General Alejandro, his army was a day and a half outside of Salt Lake City. He ordered them to halt and wait for his arrival later in the day.

Dressed in his uniform after the funeral, he walked into the banquet room to seek out his mother, but she wasn’t anywhere to be found. He went from room to room, ignoring others in his family until he found her in her father’s office. There she sat weeping in his leather chair.

“Mother, there you are,” he said softly, walking toward her.

“He would spend so much time in here. He was such a businessman, your father,” she said, looking at the desk.

He walked up to her side and knelt down. “Mother, come to the wake.”

She looked at him with her swollen red eyes and touched his face. “You look so much like him when he was a young man. So handsome, strong, and confident. You’re just like him.”

“Father was a good man. I don’t know if I have that in me. I’m different that way. I’ll never have the moral strength that he had.”

“My boy, you are like him. You have a dream, a vision, and you go get it. You don’t know the word
no
.”

“That’s true,” he said as he kissed her hand.

“He never told you, but after you left he sat me down and told me how proud he was of you,” she confided.

Hearing this took him by surprise.

“He was angry with you because he didn’t approve of your tactics, especially forcing him out, but he knew the day would come when someone challenged him. He was happy it was you.”

“Father was proud of me?”

“Absolutely, Pablo, he loved you. He respected your intelligence and courage. When he came back from seeing your army land in San Diego, he told me that you had done something that he could never do. You had topped him; you were now the rightful patron of the family. However, because of how you had overthrown him he was still angry and needed more time,” she said, and began to cry again.

“I cannot express enough how much these words mean to me. Having his approval, love, and respect is all I’ve ever wanted. To know that he was proud of me validates everything, it justifies the entire endeavor. I can leave today with my head held high and my heart full.”

“My beautiful boy, I wish you could stay, but I know you must leave. Stand up and let me look at you.”

Pablo did just what she asked and stood.

“You’re so handsome, my emperor,” she said, then kissed his hand. “Go, fulfill your destiny.”

“Thank you, Mother. Your words have moved me to action. I will go and finish this. I will immortalize the Juarez name forever,” he said, then turned and strutted off.

Still aglow from his meeting with his mother, he walked up to Silva and said, handing him a piece of paper, “Take this down. After we take Salt Lake City, send out this proclamation.”

Silva looked it over and nodded in agreement.

“Let it be known that after we plant our flag in Salt Lake City, it will be forever known as Juarez.”

Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming

Sebastian slammed the phone down and exclaimed, “We have to go, now!”

Annaliese sat up in bed, fear gripping her body from the panic in Sebastian’s eyes.

“What’s going on?” Annaliese asked.

“It was Secretary Wilbur. We have to leave. Men are coming to arrest us!”

“Who’s coming to arrest us?”

“No time to talk, c’mon!”

Sebastian helped Annaliese out of bed and into a wheelchair. The only thing he took was the pistol on the nightstand next to the phone, tucking the .45-caliber Sig Sauer P220 into his waistband. He wheeled her to the door but stopped short of exiting right away; he opened it slowly and peeked out. The hallway was uncharacteristically quiet; this gave him a chill as he felt the impending doom of what was coming for them.

“We have to get to a loading dock, wherever that is, so please, no more questions. I need to concentrate,” Sebastian barked as he wheeled her at a running pace down the hallway toward the elevators and stairs.

He parked her wheelchair at the stairs and went to pick her up but she stopped him. “Are you crazy? We’re three stories up.”

“I can’t risk getting stuck in an elevator; stairs are the safest.”

The elevator chimed just as he picked her up into his arms. When he stepped to the stairwell door, the elevator door opened to reveal several uniformed men. One of them was Major Schmidt.

Schmidt saw Sebastian and smiled a devilish grin.

Sebastian kicked open the door and walked into the dimly lit stairwell. He knew he couldn’t move fast with Annaliese in his arms, so he’d have to fight them. He cleared the first level of steps and sat her down.

“What . . . what are you doing?” Annaliese asked in fear.

“Trying to make sure we can get out of here,” he replied as he pulled out the pistol and took up a covered position behind the railing at the bottom.

The upper door burst open and the men he’d seen earlier came charging into the stairwell.

Sebastian committed himself and shot the first two men. One tumbled down the stairs and came to rest next to him. Sebastian picked up the man’s M16 rifle and a pistol that was holstered on the man’s hip. He tucked the pistol into his waistband and slung the rifle. “C’mon, that bought us a few minutes,” he said as he went to pick Annaliese up.

“I can walk.”

“No, let me carry you.”

“I can walk; just don’t ask me to sprint,” she said as she snatched the Beretta M9 pistol he had just taken off the man. She held it up and said, “Let’s do this.”

He smiled and gave her a big kiss on the lips. “That’s my girl.”

Sumter, Oregon

Gordon looked at his watch, then bent over in an attempt to stretch his back. Sleeping on the hard ground aggravated old wounds and was another reminder of the hard life he lived. All through life he did everything he wanted at an extreme, but at the cost of his body. He was only in his mid-thirties but his body had the experiences of someone twice that old. He longed to be back in Samantha’s arms and in his own bed. Simpson had honored his word and given him an armored TOW variant Humvee with six TOW missiles, six Javelin antitank missiles, a crate of C-4, detonators, and fuses. He also threw in other goodies for him as well: a crate of M18 antipersonnel mines, a crate of hand grenades, an M240 machine gun with five thousands rounds. He couldn’t wage war for long but he could definitely be a pain in someone’s ass if they came knocking in McCall. After driving through the late evening, early morning fatigue weighed on him, so he found a quiet brush-covered ditch and camped for the night. With his Hummer topped off and two additional five-gallon cans of diesel he’d be able to make it back, but it would be tight. However, fuel wasn’t his biggest concern. The threat from road bandits and modern-day highwaymen were the obstacles he worried about. He was alone and still almost three hundred miles from home, and the roads ahead were not the well maintained. Each mile he traveled would get him closer to home but each bend in the road could spell disaster.

After plotting his route using an old Rand McNally map, he packed his gear and headed back on his way. The first town he’d pass through would be the tiny little town of Sumter. Each town he had journeyed through since the lights went out was a different experience. Some were heavily guarded and others wide open. He had no idea what to expect when he approached the edge of town, but he was cautious. No signs of real life were initially present, but as he made the right turn into the main part of town he saw more activity. He slowed down further as he approached a little establishment called the Elkhorn Saloon. Gordon came to a full stop when a woman with blood running down her face and chest jumped in front of him.

“Please help!” she cried out, waving her arms.

Gordon couldn’t get involved; he had to make it home. He turned the steering wheel and began to accelerate around her when she jumped on the hood. “Please, they have my daughter and they’ll kill her.”

“Get off!” Gordon yelled at her from the safety of the reinforced armored Humvee.

“My daughter, please!”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the front door explode open and a young teenage girl come sprinting out toward them. Behind her were two men and they appeared intent on stopping her. The young girl, no older than thirteen, only made it the length of the cars parked out front before one man tackled her to the ground. The girl hit the ground hard with the man on her back.

The frantic woman jumped off the hood and dashed toward her daughter. When she reached them, she began to kick one man when the other man who had been in pursuit punched her in the face.

Gordon had seen enough. He pulled to the side of the road and stepped out, his rifle at the ready. He just couldn’t allow this to happen. Getting involved could put things in jeopardy for him, but he couldn’t rest knowing he’d allowed these men to brutalize these women.

“Get off the girl!” he ordered from across the narrow road.

“Fuck off!” the man who had punched the woman barked. He proceeded to grab the woman by the hair and began to drag her back toward the saloon.

Gordon calmly slid the two-point sling over his head and walked across the road.

The young girl was wrestling under the weight of the man who had tackled her. She cried and begged, but he was now trying to pull her pants down.

The two men seemed to be oblivious to Gordon’s steady approach. Either they didn’t care or were so blinded by their desire to hurt these women that they didn’t take notice when he walked up to them. Remaining quiet, he let the rifle hang and pulled out his pistol. He stepped up to the man who was hurting the teenage girl and said, “Hey!”

The man looked up, his eyes red with rage and pure hatred. His leathery tanned skin was covered in an uneven and dirty beard that stretched from his face to his neck. The last thing the man saw was Gordon’s pistol in his face.

Gordon didn’t seek this fight, but he also wasn’t about to get his hands dirty or risk going hand-to-hand. He was going to start and end this altercation quickly and efficiently. He looked into the man’s eyes and just squeezed the trigger.

The back of the man’s head exploded. The force of the bullet ripping through his skull flung him back and off the girl.

She wiggled away from him and Gordon in fear.

The man who had been dragging the woman looked up in shock and fear after hearing the loud shot. He dropped the woman but Gordon dropped the hammer on him right after. A well-placed .45-caliber round hit him in the chest, forcing him to fall backward against the front door of the saloon. His body twitched but he wasn’t long for death as he breathed a few times then expired.

The woman sprang up and ran toward her daughter, then embraced her tightly.

Gordon holstered the pistol and turned to them. “You okay?”

“Please help him, inside, please!” the woman begged.

“Who’s inside?”

“He’s a friend, they’ll kill him.”

Gordon looked at them both and decided that he’d extend his aid by helping out the man inside.

“How many are inside?”

“Six . . . no, sorry, four, you killed two of them,” the woman said, clearly flustered from the ordeal.

Gordon turned back and approached the front door. He stopped shy of opening it when he noticed a few windows. He stepped over and peeked inside the dark room. All he could see were shadows but he did hear men yelling. He walked back to the entrance, moved the dead body, and with one fluid motion flung open the door and stepped across the threshold with his pistol at the ready.

Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming

The ground floor of the hospital was busy, and no one seemed to notice them as they walked in an odd, hurried but slow-paced walk. Annaliese was trying to move fast but the pain in her incision radiated from her lower abdomen throughout. She had reduced her pain medication a couple of days ago and now she wished she hadn’t.

Frustrated by their slow speed, Sebastian saw a wheelchair, grabbed it, and put her in it. He then began to run down the hall. Nowhere did he see a sign or posting that directed him to the loading docks.

He abruptly stopped at a nursing station and asked, “Where’s the loading dock?”

The woman working at the desk looked at him strangely. “Is everything okay, sir?”

“Where’s the loading dock?” he repeated.

Her eyes were wide with surprise as she noticed that he was armed. “Ahh, down the hall, take a right, go through the door on the left. The stairs will take you down one level to the loading dock.”

“Thanks!” Sebastian said and took off running.

He made the right and sprinted down the last hallway, dodging and weaving around people, carts, wheelchairs, and beds. He slid to a stop at the end of that hallway and helped Annaliese up. He opened the door and they both began to descend when the door above him burst open. He craned his head but couldn’t see who it was from his vantage point. “Let’s hurry.”

“I’m moving as fast as I can.”

They reached the door at the bottom and opened it. Sebastian blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the bright light of day, and saw a parked Humvee. A man in plainclothes stepped out and waved to them.

“That must be our ride,” Sebastian said.

They scurried along the loading dock but they couldn’t move fast enough. Several uniformed soldiers appeared from the door they had just burst through.