The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (30 page)

In retrospect he felt foolish for calling Gordon’s wife and telling her they were coming. This lost for them any element of surprise they would’ve had. He was usually a disciplined man, but he allowed his personal emotions to interfere with his judgment.

“Sir, is it nice to be back in the saddle?” asked Corporal Cast, his tank driver.

Schmidt folded the map and placed it back in his pocket. “Yes it does, Corporal, yes it does.”

“You expect we’ll get much action?”

“Oh, I don’t think we’ll have much of a fight. These folks are more bark than bite. That’s not to say we shouldn’t be on our toes, but I imagine we’ll mop them up in a day or two.”

“I just hope we get a chance to finally use this,” Corporal Cast said, referring to the 120-millimeter rounds for the tank’s main guns.

“Don’t fret, Corporal; we just might have a chance to use it. Our mission to destroy these groups has just begun. Be patient. Our time will come and this old tank will get an opportunity to show us what she has. Now, no more questions. Focus on driving.”

“Roger that, sir.”

Reaching into a side pocket he pulled out an old photo. It was a photo of him, smiling, his arms embracing a young woman who held a baby. He stared at it as his mind raced back to that time. No one really knew Schmidt, much less took the time to try. He was hardnosed and efficient, allowed only a few people to get close. Staff Sergeant Finley had been one of those men. Now he was gone, like the people in the photo. Deep feelings began to rise in him but he stopped them. He quickly put the photo away and focused back on the mission and task ahead.

With the rising sun at his back, he pressed forward toward the wide-open plains of western Wyoming and eastern Idaho. Soon he’d be in the central mountains of Idaho, where he’d strike another blow for the United States and seek the retribution his soul needed.

“One of the penalties of refusing to participate in politics is that you end up being governed by your inferiors.”

—Plato

McCall, Idaho

A
s Samantha sat on the back deck, she looked out at the dark clouds in the east. She loved summer thunderstorms, especially in the evenings. Back in San Diego, she and Gordon would cuddle up on the long sectional couch with the kids and watch the dazzling display the lightning would showcase on the black sky. She smiled when she thought of those long-ago days, the
ooh
s and
ahh
s that followed each flash, the kids laughing and squealing when the thunder would roll. It was hard for her to get excited about the storm coming their way now. Haley was still sick with no sign that her symptoms were subsiding. The natural remedies seemingly lost their potency, which caused great concern. For Nelson, the greatest concern was that Haley had stopped urinating, which could be a symptom of something far worse, renal failure. Renal or kidney failure had been a major cause of death from NARS, and the only way to stop her kidneys from failing was to stop the illness. Though that seemed impossible, Luke’s condition had vastly improved to the point that his fever had broken and he could now walk around on his own. His recovery gave them hope.

Every day brought news of more death from what had now been given an official name, NARS (North American Respiratory Syndrome). The pandemic had spread to towns all along Highway 55 south of McCall to Boise. With no word from Gunny or Charles, chance of a cure seemed weak at best. Even if Charles showed up with a vaccine of some type there wasn’t the assurance that it would even work.

Gordon’s days had now been consumed with preparing for Schmidt’s arrival. The members of the Cascadian leadership took offense to Gordon’s abrupt entry into their ranks, but after many conversations, he was given the newly created title of defense minister. This title didn’t mean much but it gave Gordon a position at the head table with the Cascadian political machine. With his role as McCall defense chief, he covered all the bases.

Gordon unlocked the front door and walked in; his body was feeling the fatigue of sleepless nights. His eyes focused on Samantha sitting on the back deck. The house was silent, almost too quiet. A flutter in his chest hit him as he rushed down the hallway to Haley’s door. His fears of seeing a lifeless Haley were alleviated when he saw her little body lying there, each breath labored. Emotion filled him when he imagined losing her. If he had any fear left in him, it was that. Losing Hunter had been unbearable, but if he lost Haley he had no idea how he or Samantha would cope.

Haley shifted in her bed and began to cough. He was about to enter her room to provide comfort when a hand touched his.

“No, don’t,” Luke said.

Gordon looked at Luke’s frail frame. The skin on his face was drawn back; his cheekbones protruded sharply and his cheeks were hollowed. Even though his appearance looked bad, this was an improvement for him. Luke had survived the virus, and for them, he was a walking and talking sign of hope.

“You should be resting,” Gordon said after closing Haley’s door.

“I was but my back hurts from all the lying down and I’m starving.”

Gordon smiled. “Come on, let’s get some food in your belly.”

Both walked into the kitchen, where Luke began to open a can of fruit salad. Gordon saw Samantha was still sitting outside.

“Hey, if you don’t need my help, I’m going to check on Sam.”

“Sure,” Luke said, his mouth full.

Gordon opened the slider and stepped onto the deck. His first step produced a creaking sound, which startled Samantha.

“Hi,” she said. A glimmer of happiness appeared on her face when she saw him.

He walked over to her side, bent down, and gave her a big kiss on her cheek.

“Sit down next to me,” she said, patting a small spot on the oversized chair she sat in.

He did what she requested and immediately put his arms around her. He looked out over the mountains and saw the dark clouds. “A storm’s coming. The rain will be needed for sure.”

“I hope it’s not too late for our little garden,” she said, her eyes now focused on the tilled and dry dirt they had spent so much time working on two weeks before. So much had happened since they planted the garden that no one took the time to water it.

“Our garden will be fine.”

“I need you to do something. I know you’re busy, but . . .”

Gordon could see her getting emotional. “What? Anything.”

“I’m beginning to think that our only hope in saving Haley is with this vaccine, but there’s no word from Smitty or Charles, nothing, and I’m just worried that we’re running out of time,” she said. Tears began to stream down her face.

“Haley’s strong; she’ll make it. Look at Luke. He made it and Haley got sick a couple days behind him so I think that any day now, she’ll be up and about.”

“I’m not a fool, Gordon. I know she’s not peeing anymore and her feet are swelling. I know what that means.”

“She’ll be fine.”

Samantha cut him off and barked, “You don’t know that for sure, you’re guessing. I need you to do something!”

“What would you like me to do?”

“Go find Smitty and Charles. I told you that I needed you here, that I needed you to be with us, but if Haley is going to survive, we need to try every last method. We’re losing precious time.”

Gordon didn’t know how to answer her. She was very emotional and in some ways, he knew she was right. He was leaving Haley’s life in the hands of other men. He knew what Haley’s new symptoms meant, but he didn’t want to say anything, as if keeping quiet about it would make them disappear. He had concerns about Schmidt’s forces and he hadn’t yet made any plans on how to get Sebastian back, but if he were to try to plead a case for staying and preparing for that, it would fall on deaf ears with his wife. It wasn’t that she didn’t think those were issues, it was that she prioritized Haley’s life above everything else.

Knowing the only answer to her emotional request was to give her what she wanted, he answered, “I’ll leave immediately.”

She reached out and took his face in her hands and said, “I don’t know if you’ll find them or if this will be a success, but we have to try. I hope you understand that I can’t lose her, I can’t.”

He placed his hands over hers and said, “I understand, you don’t have to explain yourself. I love you, Samantha; you’re the most incredible woman and mother. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

She stared deep into his blue eyes and said, “Thank you, but stop being so mushy and get your ass out there. Your family needs you.”

Gordon hadn’t finished packing his Humvee for the trip to Olympia when a familiar sound echoed in the distance. He paused and listened to ensure his ears weren’t playing tricks on him. As he stood leaning against the cold metal door, the sound of heavy chops of propellers ripped through the air.

“Looks like we have some visitors,” Gordon said out loud. He jumped in, fired up the Humvee, and sped off down the driveway.

Cheyenne, Wyoming

Conner’s hands shook as he read the paper he was just given. It was a transcript of operational details from Schmidt. If Conner could use one word to describe Schmidt it would be effective. He had executed a wide-ranging operation that Conner couldn’t have imagined as a possibility and completed it without anyone knowing. While Schmidt had been planning his troop movement toward McCall, he had created and deployed much smaller operations to infiltrate and eliminate the other groups, very much like what they had done to Barone.

Before his departure, Schmidt had mentioned he had other irons in the fire. While they were tackling the Republic of Lakotah and PAE, Schmidt had been busy deploying two-man teams to other locations. A team was in place in Arizona, two teams were sent back to Georgia, and a team had made it to Olympia, Washington. These teams had two objectives: get close to the leadership and gather intelligence. The team in Washington reported back that they had easily made contact with the Western Cascadian leadership and were now settling in. Their hope was to provide critical information to Schmidt as he began his movement to Olympia after dealing with the Cascadians in McCall.

A slight tap on the door signaled that his new assistant was there. She was unlike Dylan in her approach and demeanor, and after the brazen betrayal from Dylan it was welcome.

“Come in!” he hollered.

She opened the door slowly and stuck her head in. “Mr. President, sorry to disturb you but I have some important information.”

“It’s okay, Heather, come on in,” he answered, waving her in.

Heather stepped forward. Her body showed an uneasiness and tension that Conner wasn’t familiar with. When she reached the front of his desk, she quickly wiped away a tear from her cheek.

Conner picked up on her tension right away, and when he saw the tear he immediately asked, “What is it?”

“Mr. President, it’s Dylan,” she said as she clasped her hands together in front of her. “He’s dead. The guards found him in his cell,” she said, her voice showing emotional strain.

“What? How?” Conner blurted out, shocked by the news.

“I just received the call. They found him lying on the floor. He slit his wrists.”

 • • • 

Conner looked down at Dylan’s cold, pale body. A wave of emotions ran through him as he thought back to the first time he met him those many years ago. They had been through so much together and after losing Julia, Conner had no one else closer to him besides Cruz.

“Why, why, Dylan? Why did you betray me? Why did you do it? It didn’t have to be this way,” Conner said, placing his hand on Dylan’s cold stiff hand. He removed it and put it back in his pocket. How strange dead skin feels, he thought. You can tell that the person or soul isn’t there anymore.

He took one more look at his old friend and colleague, said a quick prayer, and stepped away. He would miss Dylan, but he would never forgive him for what he did.

As the door to the mortuary closed behind him, he looked down the hallway before him. Half of the lights were on, and those that did illuminate were dim and flickering, making it almost impossible to see the door at the opposite end. He paused to take in the scene, thinking it an appropriate analogy. This hallway seemingly represented the path he was on: the areas that were lit became his vision and plan for the country and the dark or faint places were the surprises and obstacles that were out there but he couldn’t see. He stood under one of the flickering lights and sighed. No longer would he be caught in the darkness. Not if he could help it.

McCall, Idaho

Rainey and several police officers had also heard the helicopter and followed it until it landed in the hospital parking lot. Not taking any chances, Rainey and his men converged on the helicopter with guns drawn.

The ramp on the helicopter lowered and a uniformed crew chief slowly stepped down, waving his hands.

“Get on the ground!” Rainey ordered.

The man did as he was ordered and dropped to the ground. Rainey and his men kept their positions, ready to engage whatever threat might appear from the helicopters.

A moment passed, then three other people appeared from the darkness inside the belly of the CH-53 Sea Stallion helicopter and walked slowly down the ramp.

“Stop right there and get down!” Rainey ordered.

“Chief, it’s Gunny Smith. I’m with Charles Chenowith and his sister,” Gunny barked, his arms held high.

Rainey leaned in and focused his eyes. He had only met Gunny twice but the man looked familiar.

“Chief, we have the vaccine! Please let us proceed,” Gunny pleaded.

Just then Gordon came speeding into the parking lot, the Humvee’s tires squealing as he abruptly stopped behind Rainey’s parked truck.

Utter relief and joy filled Gordon as he laid eyes on Charles and Gunny. He assumed the woman was Charles’s sister and the box she was carrying was the vaccine.

Not waiting a minute, Gordon hurried over to them. “You were always one for flashy entrances,” he joked.

Gunny smiled and said with a wink, “You know me, always the show boat.”

“I assume you’re Charles?” Gordon asked.

“Yes, nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you. This is my sister, Elle,” Charles answered.

“Are you in charge?” Elle asked Gordon.

“I can help you with whatever you need.”

“I need a place to set up, a lab with power so I can begin to synthesize large batches,” she said, placing down her large case. She pulled out a mask and gloves and put them on.

“I’m McCall Police Chief Rainey. Who are you?” Rainey asked, walking up.

“Chief, this is Elle. We need to get her set up immediately,” Gordon answered excitedly.

“Who?”

“The woman who has a cure!” Gordon said.

“Before we get everyone worked up, let me first say that what I have has never been tested on humans. I can’t guarantee it will work, so please temper any expectations,” Elle cautioned.

“Let’s not waste any time, let’s get her a place to set up!” Gordon barked.

“Right this way!” Rainey said.

As they rushed off, Gordon turned to Gunny. “Where did you get the bird?”

“It’s one of Master Sergeant Simpson’s choppers. I had an interesting encounter a day ago in central Washington.”

“Interesting encounter?”

“Long story, but I ran into Top and a convoy of his men on their way north. I recognized the vehicles and took a chance to see if they’d help. Long story short, he said yes and here I am.”

“Don’t bullshit me. What did you have to give in return?” Gordon asked, curious.

Gunny looked down and away, not wanting to answer the question, but knew he couldn’t get away with it. “I thought it was better to make a deal than not arrive or arrive too late.”

“What did you do?”

“I offered them the vaccine after we mass-produce it.”

“Oh, that’s cool.”

“So this bird will stay here until then.”

Gordon looked at the chopper. His eyes widened when an idea came to mind.

“I know that look, Van Zandt. What’s spinning in your fucked-up brain?”