The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (28 page)

“Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for; it is a thing to be achieved.”

—William Jennings Bryan

Cheyenne, Wyoming

C
onner cleared the main executive conference room for this meeting with his top staff. A small army of lower level staff had been in the room working on new congressional districting. No one had arrived yet, so it gave Conner time to look at the maps and printouts that were draped across the table and pinned to the walls. He leaned in and stared at a map that showed congressional districts. Each state was broken into a grid pattern. It resembled nothing like the districts he was familiar with. His staff was getting rid of the gerrymandering that was so prevalent before. However, these districts were nothing more than suggestions, because the state legislatures still held the power to district. He appreciated his staff’s passion, but they lacked political experience. After he was done with his announcements today, they’d be a bit more aware of how things worked, politically speaking.

One by one they all entered the room and took their seats. Conner stood, smiling and overtly happy, his hands on his hips as he hovered at the end of the long conference table. To him, this was a briefing and a celebration.

With everyone settled in their seats he called out to Dylan, “Bring in the refreshments.”

Dylan walked in with several bottles of champagne. Conner grabbed one of the bottles and popped the cork.

Many in the room were shocked by this break in protocol. Seeing Conner so happy was one thing; seeing him open a bottle of champagne was something entirely different.

“Dylan, pour everyone a drink.”

Dylan poured the glasses and handed them out. When everyone had a drink he turned to Conner.

Conner began his prepared speech. “Several things happened this week that were pivotal to our ability to rebuild. We destroyed a separatist movement; we removed a tyrant in Oregon, reunifying those states with us; and late yesterday, we destroyed the entire Pan-American Empire army.”

Several people murmured and talked but soon fell quiet. Everyone was obviously aware of what had happened to the Lakotah, but the news of Barone and the PAE was a surprise.

“Many of you have been suspicious of my new tactics, so much that a few of you openly challenged me. I heard you, told you I’d include you in on some of the operations, but I couldn’t include you on the specifics of the former two operations.” Conner took a moment to collect his thoughts and continued. “You all knew about my mission in Coos Bay, but what you didn’t know was my sole objective was to assassinate the colonel. I didn’t want intelligence; I wanted to get rid of the man. I knew by doing so, his entire organization would collapse. We have been getting spotty reports and the one thing that stood out to me was that the resistance he was facing was fierce and the loyalty from his troops was not solid. If we could remove him we would end his insurrection. So, along with Major Schmidt, we did just that. We were able to get in a good man to do the job, but we needed a patsy to help get him close and that was the man Gordon Van Zandt. The mission was successful, but it came at a price, and that was the loss of Staff Sergeant Finley. Mr. Van Zandt proved his loyalties were with Colonel Barone and apparently after Staff Sergeant Finley did his job, Mr. Van Zandt killed him. Our country lost a good man and we will remember him, but he sacrificed himself for a great cause and that was preserving our country.” He paused as a few in the room looked at each other uneasily. “So, let’s raise our glasses first to Sergeant Finley and to our successful mission in Coos Bay,” Conner declared, raising his glass high.

All in the room raised their glasses and repeated with Conner, “To Staff Sergeant Finley!”

“Now, let me get to the best news. Late yesterday, we destroyed Emperor Pablo and his Pan-American forces outside of Salt Lake City. We delivered the lethal blow by means of a nuclear weapon—”

Crosstalk erupted in the room at the mention of the nuclear weapon.

“Be quiet, please, let me finish!” Conner yelled.

The room fell silent.

“The nuclear weapon that we used against the PAE was meant for us. It was the last of their weapons; it was the weapon that was supposed to have destroyed us in Cheyenne Mountain but for whatever reason never made it. We came into possession of this weapon not long ago; Major Schmidt captured it when he was heading here and we . . . I have no doubt that the weapon, if it had made it here, would have been used against us. I ordered Major Schmidt to deliver the weapon back to its rightful owners, the PAE. Yesterday that package arrived under the guise of a peace envoy. Sadly the mission was a suicide mission and we lost two men.” Conner picked up a piece of paper. “A Private First Class Browning and Specialist Walter gave their lives so that we could live another day. They too gave all for this country.” Conner put down the paper and picked up his glass. “To Private First Class Browning and Specialist Walter.”

Soon everyone was on their feet, clapping. Conner nodded and took in the praise. He let a few moments pass before instructing everyone to sit back down.

“Now we can move forward without the threat from these forces. However, our work is not done. There are more separatist factions to deal with and we are moving on them now. I won’t go into operational details but soon, our country will be free of everyone who wishes to stop its advance toward reconstruction.”

The words
won’t go into operational details
struck a nerve with a few in the room, one of them being General Baxter.

“Sir, I’m not here to rain on any parades and I don’t want to take away from these recent achievements. They were important and I applaud our forces for successfully carrying those out. But I feel the need to remind you of the promise you gave us.”

“I’m aware of the promise, but as president, I have the privilege to change my mind. Ever since the episode with General Griswald months ago, I’ve been forced to become more watchful. Our country and this government are fragile,” Conner said, pacing around the room.

Dylan jumped in and said, “Sir, you keep breaking promises. Days ago you put off Project Congress. We had been working on that for a long time; there are hundreds of people and candidates who had been working hard. Many people are upset, the people desire it—”

“Desire it? I don’t think so; the people don’t give two shits. The people care about having running water and electricity, they care about food, they care about having access to health care and they want to live in peace without the threat of violence. It’s what you care about, Dylan—it’s what you and others in here care about because you’re from the political class. Go ask anyone out there on the street and have them prioritize having a congressman or having clean water, and I can guarantee their answer. I’m not getting rid of the idea all together, just for now. We have too much to work on.”

Dylan began to shake his head but stopped short of saying anything else.

Wilbur then spoke up. “Mr. President, abolishing the plan to reestablish the Congress and then undergoing these covert black operations might not be the best PR for the country to our allies—”

Conner cut her off as he had Dylan. “Madam Secretary, I’ve spoken with our allies; they have promised to continue to support us.” He puffed up. “I will continue to operate under the emergency powers granted me under the National Defense Authorization Act. Until I see that we are ready, I will continue the reconstruction while simultaneously pursuing the eradication of any threats on American soil.” Conner walked to the door and opened it. A moment later Major Schmidt walked in with several armed soldiers.

The tension in the room was palpable as each soldier walked in and took up positions throughout the room. Conner closed the door once everyone was inside.

“Everyone knows Major Schmidt. He and his men have become an effective weapon for the United States. I want you all to thank him for everything he has sacrificed.”

Several people applauded but many sat in fear.

“Mr. President, what is going on?” Baxter asked.

“General, after the bombs destroyed our bunkers we have known that the only way for it to have happened was with inside help. I believe even today we are faced with those within our ranks who would do us harm or undermine our goals of achieving a stable nation.”

Several people began to stir in their chairs and look around uneasily.

“Recently we tried made an arrest of a suspected separatist. While Major Schmidt and his men were en route to execute the warrant, the accused was tipped off. What that tip resulted in was a gunfight that left four of our people dead and two wounded. We captured one of the persons but the other was able to flee and is still at large. We happen to believe that the tip came from someone sitting here. Someone in this very room helped a suspected separatist flee.” Conner walked over and stood near Wilbur. He placed his hand on her chair and leaned in.

Wilbur began to sweat.

Baxter’s eyes darted around the table. He hadn’t been the one who made the call but he was aware it had happened. Fear now rushed through his body as he wondered if Conner was aware of his secret meeting with Dylan and Wilbur. This meeting hadn’t involved much more than discussing options to help temper some of the more aggressive and totalitarian positions that Conner had made. No one was advocating removal. He had begged Wilbur not to make the call but she said that arresting the Van Zandts was illegal, as they hadn’t done anything wrong. She argued that without evidence of any wrongdoing, an arrest couldn’t be justified. She maintained that practices such as these, arresting political rivals or innocent people, could be the beginnings of a slippery slope toward a dictatorship.

Conner leaned farther until his head was past hers and he was staring just feet from Dylan, who sat across from her.

“Why, Dylan, why did you do it?” Conner asked.

“What? I didn’t do anything,” Dylan shouted out, surprised.

“Major Schmidt, arrest Dylan, get him out of here. I don’t want to see him.”

“Sir, Mr. President? This is a mistake, I didn’t do anything! I didn’t warn anybody. Mr. President, please, you’ve got the wrong person,” Dylan pleaded as two soldiers stepped forward and grabbed him by his slender arms.

“I trusted you,” Conner said, looking at Dylan with disgust.

“Mr. President, please!” Dylan begged as he was dragged out of the room and down the hall.

“Sir, what’s going to happen to him?” Baxter asked.

Wilbur was in complete shock but she couldn’t fall on her own sword. There was important work to be done, and she knew she had to be at the helm of it. Someone had to keep Conner in check. It wasn’t right that Dylan was being arrested, but she assumed they could work out a way for him to be released. Her mind started swimming with ideas as she nervously glanced at Baxter.

“He will be detained for as long as need be. We will find the right time to try him, but now we are busy,” Conner answered as he walked back to his spot at the head of the table. He leaned forward, picked up the glass that still had champagne, and raised it. “We’ve all been through so much. We’ve all suffered and lost loved ones. But day by day we are rebuilding, and we will be whole as a nation again, soon. Tomorrow is a fitting day to celebrate our recent victories. Tomorrow we will celebrate the Fourth of July, but with new vigor. We will have a national celebration the likes of which haven’t been seen since the first Fourth of July was celebrated those many years ago. We are now free from the threat of an invader, we are free from the threat of a tyrant, and we are free from the threat of traitors who would tear our nation apart.”

Everyone stood with their glasses in hand. Conner could see some trembling; the shock at what just happened was still running through their bodies. He knew he had struck fear in them and that was exactly what he wanted to do.

Raising the glass even higher, Conner said, “To the United States of America!”

New Meadows, Idaho

If Gordon had been blindfolded he’d still know he was close to home by the rich smell of pine in the air. The drive from Sumter to New Meadows had been uneventful and Gordon was thankful for that. However, it was an eye-opening trip. He saw a landscape filled with people working the earth to plant gardens and crops or out working with what livestock they had. Everyone was living the life of their ancestors. They were outside, working with their hands to make ends meet; but now making ends meet had a new meaning. He laughed to himself when he passed an abandoned fast-food restaurant. How easy it was to feed the population before. People had taken the easy access for granted so much that it was commonplace to throw huge amounts of it away. He remembered the dinner parties where people were so picky over what they ate because they could be; he himself was guilty of those behaviors too. Food had become an industry, and he understood how that happened. However, along the way of industrializing food so that the masses could be fed, the people forgot where food came from. But now, food was no longer taken for granted—it became the fuel to sustain existence again. As he made the turns past the new farms and freshly tilled fields, he wondered if food would ever become what it had been in the Before, or if people realized the gluttony of the past was not a good thing at all.

Samantha had called him the moment she had gotten off the phone with Schmidt. So many things had been going through his mind after learning that Sebastian was in custody back in Cheyenne. He could only presume that it all had to do with what happened in Coos Bay. If the pandemic hadn’t rushed him home, the news that federal forces were coming to McCall to arrest him added to his motivation to get there. He was happy that he had asked for the armament he now possessed. He now had some tools that they could use to protect themselves from whatever was coming their way.

The drive gave him the opportunity to reflect on the past few months. So many things had happened to him and his family since the lights went out back in December. One thing that became abundantly clear to him was that his actions were always reactive rather than proactive. He didn’t want to do that anymore. Samantha and others throughout his life had accused him of being “hardheaded and stubborn,” and now without a doubt he knew they were right. It took the murder of Hunter to show him that he couldn’t just go off half-cocked in this new world. If he wanted to survive he needed to carefully plan his actions.