The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (27 page)

Sebastian looked over his shoulder and knew he had to engage them. “Help her!” he cried out to the man next to the Humvee.

A door at the opposite end of the dock exploded open and more soldiers poured out, rifles at the ready.

Sebastian knew the situation was quickly deteriorating, and to have a chance he’d either have to surrender or kill them all. The option for surrender was dashed because he knew that only meant possible torture and death anyway. So with the clarity that today might be his last day, he decided he’d go down in a fight. He let go of Annaliese’s arm, spun around with the pistol in hand, and began to shoot. His shots hit the men charging toward him. Schmidt, who had just emerged from the doorway, ducked back inside.

Annaliese, taking her cues from Sebastian, held the Beretta out in front of her and started to shoot the half dozen soldiers who had appeared at the opposite end of the dock.

The man from the Humvee reached Annaliese and pleaded, “Ma’am, we need to get out of here.”

Annaliese nodded but kept shooting until the pistol’s slide locked to the rear. She jumped in the truck and yelled for Sebastian to do the same.

Sebastian fired a few more rounds until his Sig P220 also ran out of bullets. Not having another magazine, he dropped the pistol and swung the rifle into his shoulder. With no more men coming from the door he had come from, he turned to engage the soldiers Annaliese had been shooting at. He couldn’t see them, as they had taken cover behind Dumpsters.

She called out again. “Sebastian, hurry up!”

The distance to the Humvee seemed much farther than the eighty feet he had to clear. He lowered the rifle and began to sprint toward her, his eyes locked on hers. The expression on her face dramatically changed as she screamed out, “Behind you!” Before he could react, he felt a searing pain in his left leg as a single bullet ripped through his thigh. His leg gave out as he fell to the ground hard. He looked up and saw the Humvee was only a few yards away. He struggled but stood and began to run again when another bullet clipped his right calf. He again fell to the ground. He cringed in pain but began to rise again as more and more men poured into the loading dock.

Annaliese screamed and started to get out of the Humvee.

“No! No! Take her away, get her out of here! Go!” Sebastian commanded the driver.

“Sebastian, get up!”

“Go!” he yelled.

The man put the Humvee in gear and slammed on the accelerator.

“Stop, no, stop! Sebastian!” she screamed out.

Sebastian climbed back to his feet and brought the rifle up to his shoulder to engage the men when a boot to his lower back forced him to the ground again.

Sebastian rolled over, still holding the rifle, but Schmidt slammed his arm down and pinned it.

“Get it over with!” Sebastian barked.

“You’re no good to me dead, Van Zandt. I need you for something else.”

Sumter, Oregon

Gordon stepped into the dimly lit and musty barroom ready to fight but he found only a single man standing in the middle of the room. His sweat-soaked T-shirt was torn and bloody and he was panting heavily. Gordon scanned the room quickly but saw only turned-up tables, chairs, and smashed bottles and glass along the floor.

He turned the pistol on the man and asked, “I assume you’re the guy I was sent in here to save?”

“Save? I had this under control.”

Gordon laughed at the man’s cockiness. He looked closer at the floor and saw pools of blood, and most bizarre of all, an ear. He looked back to the man, eyebrows raised.

“It’s not mine,” the man said with a smile.

The man was impressive in stature. He stood just shy of six feet but to Gordon the air he gave off made him look taller. His wide shoulders supported his large chest and two muscular arms. His thick black hair was slicked back and he sported a manicured goatee.

“Are you going to shoot me? If not, please put that away,” the man said, his piercing brown eyes still focused on Gordon in a skeptical stare.

“What happened?” Gordon asked as he holstered the pistol.

“Let’s say it was a misunderstanding,” the man said as he turned away from Gordon and walked to the bar. He picked up a full shot glass and tossed it back; he looked behind the bar and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniel’s, unscrewed the top, and began to drink directly from it.

“Looks like I’m not needed. I’ll bid you farewell then,” Gordon said as he turned and made for the door.

“Have a drink with me,” the man blurted out.

“Normally I’d say yes, but I gotta get home.”

“Where’s home?”

Not wanting to answer him, Gordon just said, “Have a good day.”

Outside, the woman and her daughter were gone. Gordon looked for them but they were nowhere to be seen. He strode across the street to his Humvee but stopped short when he considered the cars parked out front. He turned back around and looked at them. The temptation was there to see if he could take one, but he knew the men who had fled could be back and in greater numbers. Pushing the idea out of his mind he stowed his rifle and jumped in the Humvee.

“Hey, where ya heading?” the man said, now standing in the parking lot, the bottle of Jack in his grip.

“Listen, I don’t know you. I’m not going to tell you anything. This was just a chance encounter; I helped out when I saw the woman,” Gordon said.

“I’m headed to McCall, Idaho, after a few more stops around these parts. You headed in that direction? I wouldn’t mind the company on the road.”

The mention of McCall piqued Gordon’s interest. He laughed to himself when he thought about how strange it was that he’d encountered this man in the middle of nowhere and he was headed to the exact same place. Gordon lost his faith long ago in the war-torn streets of Fallujah but sometimes things like this made him reconsider that maybe somewhere there was a divine spirit looking over him. Either way, the coincidence was too much for Gordon to look past. He looked at the man and said, “What’s your name?”

The man took a swig from the bottle and strutted across the street. He stuck out his hand and said, “Nicholas Knight. Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Nicholas, but I like to travel alone.”

“Your loss,” Nicholas smirked.

“Maybe so. Safe travels—maybe we’ll meet again,” Gordon answered as he fired up the Humvee.

Over the rumble of the engine, Nicholas asked, “What’s your name? I didn’t get it.”

“I’m Gordon Van Zandt. Now, don’t get yourself into any more trouble,” Gordon said loudly.

Nicholas nodded.

Gordon gave a wave similar to a salute and punched the accelerator.

Nicholas watched him drive off, took another long swig of whiskey, and said to himself, “Trouble—hell, that’s my middle name.”

“Power tends to corrupt and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Great men are almost always bad men.”

—Lord Acton

Twenty-five miles west of Salt Lake City, Utah

E
ver the believer in divine signs, Pablo couldn’t stop thinking about what his mother had shared with him. Pablo declared that he’d see the mission through and ensure the Pan-American Empire would succeed not only for his glory but for his father’s.

The voice of the chopper pilot sounded in his headset.

“Emperor, General Alejandro is on the command frequency. He is requesting to speak to you.”

Talking into the microphone, Pablo said, “Of course.”

The pilot turned the knob on the radio and gave Pablo a thumbs-up.

“General Alejandro, how are you?” Pablo asked with a joy in his voice that was never present before.

“Emperor, I wanted to check on your ETA. We are in place awaiting your arrival.”

The pilot then pointed out to a spot in the far distance.

Pablo leaned forward and looked until he saw tiny dots that stretched east to west for miles. “I think we see you, General.”

The pilot held up his hand and flashed his open hand twice.

“General, we will be landing in ten minutes.”

“We still can’t see you, but your loyal soldiers look forward to the triumphant reunion with their emperor.”

“I too look forward to seeing my men. Great things are coming for us, General, great things.”

“Sir, I thought I should tell you that we have received an envoy from the United States.”

“What are they doing here?”

“I just received the call from our forces along the northern flank. They pulled up in a truck, white flag displayed.”

“I don’t understand. Why would they come all the way here?”

“The American says he has come on the behalf of President Conner.”

“Where are they now?”

“We cleared them through; they’re being escorted to me now.”

“You cleared them through?” Pablo thundered. “This doesn’t make sense. Did anyone look in the truck?”

A long pause preceded Alejandro’s response. “There wasn’t anything in the back, sir. The truck bed was empty.”

Pablo thought about this unusual maneuver by Conner. Could his victory be at hand? Could Conner see the writing on the wall, and was he now willing to plead for peace?

“Sir, I see your helicopter now. I look fo—”

The radio went silent just as a bright flash painfully blinded Pablo. He jerked away from the haloing glow and cried out, “Argh!”

The pilot flinched and turned his head away, causing the helicopter to drop suddenly.

Pablo turned back and blinked his eyes repeated until his vision adjusted. What he saw now was awesome. A large mushroom cloud towered over the desert; the dots that had represented his army were lost in the immense and fast-moving debris cloud on the surface.

“Turn now, get out of here!” Pablo yelled.

The pilot followed his instructions but just as they turned, a violent shock wave hit the helicopter broadside. The force of the shock wave destabilized the chopper. Alarms sang out inside the cockpit as the pilot struggled to regain control. The helicopter soon began to spin rapidly.

Pablo looked out the window to get his bearings but the intense spinning made it impossible. A feeling of vertigo overcame him as the helicopter spun hard and fast toward the ground.

“Ahhhhh!” he cried out as he closed his eyes and prayed. This could not be how it all ended for him. How could this be, he thought, how? How could this be? He opened his eyes for the last time to see the brown and tan earthly tones of the ground before darkness enveloped him.

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Conner didn’t know when he’d get the word but each time the phone rang or someone knocked he expected it to be Dylan or Baxter there to tell him the exciting news.

He neglected the pile of paperwork on his desk and instead spent the greater part of the day staring out his office window to the now bustling city streets of Cheyenne. He was proud of what he’d accomplished so far and now he had confidence that he could do the same for the rest of the country. For the first time in a long time, he felt true hope. His initial reluctance to deal with his domestic enemies had disappeared. He now questioned his previous mind-set that operated from a place of dialogue or open warfare. He had never thought of using deception and covert actions to tackle his problems, but in the span of a week, he had done away with Colonel Barone, the Republic of Lakotah, and soon the Pan-American Empire. He expected to get some pushback from some in his staff, but once his allies gave him their approval to do what he needed to do on his soil, his conscience would be clear. He knew Baxter would be upset by the secretive manner of the operation, but he always toed the line.

The day before, he had been informed that their mission to Coos Bay had been successful. Timms, the new mayor of Coos Bay, had contacted Cheyenne to inform them of what had transpired and gave Conner the information that he and Schmidt had been curious about—whether Finley been successful. Apparently he had been, much to Conner’s relief.

The phone’s loud ring made him jump. He hoped it brought news of another foe slain. He swung his chair around and looked at the second button glow and flash. An internal line. He reached out, picked up the receiver, and said, “President Conner.”

“Sir, this is General Baxter.”

Yes, this was the call. A smile stretched across his face as he knew what was coming next.

“There’s been a nuclear detonation in the Utah desert. We don’t have any other reports, but it appears to have been set off approximately in the last location we had for the PAE army.”

“Hmm, that sounds like a good thing,” he said, in a weak attempt at trying to sound surprised.

Baxter paused, then said, “Sir, what’s going on?”

“General, please come see me and I’ll tell you everything. Today is a day to rejoice.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be there shortly.”

Conner rested back in his chair and placed his arms behind his head and began to hum a tune.

The phone then rang again. He assumed it was Cruz calling to discuss the news of the nuclear blast, but it wasn’t. It was Schmidt.

“Mr. President?”

“Yes, Major.”

“Sir, you told me to call you if my men saw anything suspicious with General Baxter and Secretary Wilbur.”

Conner sat up in his chair with anticipation. “Yes.”

“Last night, one of my men saw them gather at General Baxter’s quarters.”

“Who is
them
?”

“Secretary Wilbur and your chief of staff, Dylan. We didn’t see the general, but it’s assumed he was there.”

“How long were they together?” Conner asked, his fist clenched.

“About two hours. Then they left and all were followed back to their residences.”

“Thank you, Major.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Is that it?”

“Nothing more, sir.”

“Oh, and good job on delivering the bomb. You’ve given our country a chance to rebuild.”

“My pleasure, sir.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

“Of course, sir.”

Conner hung up the phone. He didn’t have to think too hard to know what Baxter, Wilbur, and Dylan were meeting about; he knew they were still upset about his secret operations. He imagined them commiserating and plotting a way to become more involved in the government. He didn’t want to act rashly, but with this new information, he’d keep them at a distance and monitor their movements.

McCall, Idaho

Knowing that Gordon would be home tomorrow gave Samantha joy and hope. Everything for her and the kids had been improving. The natural concoctions that Phyllis had made had given Haley and Luke some much-needed relief from their painful symptoms. The illness had not progressed, and for Haley her fever had reduced to a manageable level. Luke’s was still high but it hadn’t gone above 102 since she had been administering the pine-needle tea and licorice leaf. Upon seeing the positive results, she had sent the ever-skeptical Nelson into town to tell the doctors that these remedies were proving to be helpful. They weren’t out of the woods yet, and the virus was still proving to be deadly, so she figured spreading this information would be well-received. Each time she saw Nelson he brought stories of others dying and increased numbers contracting it. The town and surrounding area had come to a standstill from what was now clearly a pandemic. She hadn’t received any other news about aid from the federal government and Boise had also been nonresponsive. The rumors were that it had hit them hard there too.

The kids were asleep. During the moments they were resting she spent her time preparing fresh medicines and food that they could keep down. Soup had been great way to hydrate them and give them nutrition that could keep their strength up. She walked into the garage to get some canned chicken for her chicken noodle soup when she heard the phone ring.

Excited to hear Gordon’s voice again she instantly stopped what she was doing and ran back inside.

With a hop in her step and glee in her voice she picked up the phone. “Hi, sweetie.”

“Mrs. Van Zandt?” a man’s voice asked.

She didn’t recognize the voice on the other end. Hearing someone else other than Gordon startled her. “This is she.”

The man cleared his voice and said, “You’ve called the offices of President Conner several times inquiring about Sebastian and Annaliese Van Zandt.”

“Yes, yes, I have. How are they?”

“Ma’am, have you been in contact with your husband, Gordon Van Zandt?”

The man’s question alarmed her but she answered anyway. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me where he is?”

“Who is this?”

“Ma’am, you’ve called wanting information on his brother and sister-in-law but we need to know the whereabouts of your husband first.”

“I don’t understand; he went there for you. Why don’t you talk to him yourself?”

“We’ve tried, but we can’t reach him. Is he okay?”

“Yes, he’s fine, he’s coming home. He’ll be back in McCall by this time tomorrow. Who is this?”

“Good, so he’ll be back in McCall tomorrow. Please relay a message to him for us.”

“Please answer my question.”

“Tell him his brother has been arrested for treason and if he wants him to survive the verdict that will be imposed, he and the leaders of the Cascadian Movement will need to surrender to us.”

Samantha’s heart was in her throat. “Who is this?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“My name is Major Schmidt. Tell him he can give me his answer when I arrive in McCall,” Schmidt said, then hung up.