The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (32 page)

“Yes, sir.”

“It stays light out late up here,” he said from the turret of the tank. He ordered the column to a full stop when he spotted another Doug flag hanging from a local business. He was determined that everyone would know the United States was not tolerating separatists. Even if he had to stop at each individual house, he would stomp out every single individual that espoused secession. As Sherman went through Georgia during the American Civil War, he would plow through Idaho and then continue on to Washington till not one supporter of Cascadia stood. “All units, set up perimeter security and refuel. Third platoon, please meet me”—he squinted to read the name—“at Bear Valley Outfitters.”

He stepped off the tank and stretched. He looked around and took a deep breath. “Ahh, this air is clean. This is really God’s country up here, it’s so beautiful.”

A platoon of soldiers double-timed up to him and stopped.

“Sergeant, go find the owner of that flag,” Schmidt said, pointing.

As his soldiers went for the building, his satellite phone rang. He took it out of his pocket and recognized the number. Gordon Van Zandt.

“Mr. Van Zandt, how can I help you?” Schmidt asked. He then held the phone away from him and got his driver’s attention. “Psst, order our advance team to halt, refuel, and stay put till further orders.”

“Sorry, what was that?” Schmidt said into the phone.

“I want to meet you. I have something to offer for my brother,” Gordon said.

“There’s nothing I’m interested in other than you, Mr. Van Zandt.”

“Where are you so we can meet?”

“I’m a patient man. I’ll see you in McCall tomorrow.”

“Don’t you want to know what I can offer before you turn me down?” Gordon pressed.

“No, I’m not interested. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Van Zandt. Good night,” Schmidt said and went to press the button. He could hear Gordon still talking but he didn’t care. Schmidt pocketed the phone and walked back along the long column. Crashing sounds erupted followed by a few gunshots in the building. A moment later his men exited, ripped the flag down, and began to burn it. Schmidt slowly strolled down to a canvas-covered Humvee. He tossed open the flap and peered into the darkness. A strong aroma of body odor and feces wafted out.

“We really need to clean you up,” Schmidt said, holding his nose. “Just spoke to your brother; we’ll be seeing him tomorrow. How are you doing, any complaints?”

Sebastian struggled with the restraints. He mouth was gagged so he could only grunt his response.

Schmidt could see the fire in his eyes and hear the resistance in his sounds. “You Van Zandts are a tough bunch. But sadly you picked the wrong side.”

Sebastian wiggled closer to the back of the Humvee, his arms and legs bound and tied together in a hog tie. He grunted louder, expressing his disgust for Schmidt.

“Soon it will all be over and the balance of things will be restored,” Schmidt told him, and closed the flap.

Rainbow Bridge, Idaho

Gordon looked at the phone, suppressing the urge to toss it in anger. He turned back to face the soldiers that had just been captured in their ambush on the north end of the bridge.

Schmidt’s patrol had made it to the Rainbow Bridge all the way from Cheyenne without any contact or threat. This had given them a complacent mentality, so when the first roar of the 50-caliber machine gun Gordon had sounded, they were confused and thought it was the roar of the river crashing below. Gordon had the ambush ready for them, and as soon as they crossed over the span of the bridge, they were hit hard by the armor-piercing 50-caliber rounds. The light armor on the two Humvees was not enough to stop the onslaught. Within less than a minute, all were killed, expect for one.

“How many in the main force?” he asked a baby-faced private first class. The man was on his knees with his hands behind his head, fingers interlaced.

The man looked at Gordon then darted his eyes back and forth at Michael, Charles, and the other men around them, then down to his fallen comrades. Looking back at Gordon he began to whimper, “Please don’t kill me.”

“We won’t kill you if you tell us everything we want to know,” Gordon pressed.

“We have about five thousand men, um, over a dozen tanks . . .”

“Tanks?”

“Yes.”

“Not a problem, we’ve got TOWs and Javelins.”

“Please don’t kill me, please!” the man continued to plead.

“I won’t kill you if you tell me everything, I told you that. Now, how far back are they?”

“Um, about twenty miles.”

Charles looked at Gordon, concern written all over his face. Gordon knew they were running out of time. He turned and hollered to Jones and the other Marines who had come with Gunny from Coos Bay. “Hurry up, guys, place those explosives quick! Double time!”

“They could be here any minute,” Charles said, his voice trembling.

“There’s a prisoner with them—do you know what vehicle he’s being held in?” Gordon asked, ignoring Charles’s comment.

“I, um, I can’t be sure. I only heard about him but I don’t know which vehicle he’s in for sure,” the man said, panicked that his answer was not enough.

Gordon took his pistol out and placed it against the man’s temple. “Where is the prisoner?”

“I don’t know, please, I really don’t know. If I were to guess I’d say he’s mid-convoy, but I’ve been with the forward patrol since we left Cheyenne, please believe me.”

Gordon pressed the muzzle of the barrel farther into the man’s temple and placed his finger on the trigger.

“I’m telling you the truth, I’ve told you everything. Please don’t hurt me.”

“Why are they doing this?” Charles asked the man.

“The president has had enough with insurrectionists and secessionists; he’s not negotiating anymore. He’s called on us to wage war against every group,” the man said

“Do you know if they killed anyone in Olympia?” Charles asked.

The man hesitated as he thought.

Gordon pressed the muzzle harder.

“The major sent a team there. I know that, nothing more.”

“What are your plans after McCall?” Gordon asked.

“We’re to go to Olympia next.”

Gordon now looked at Charles.

A loud whistle caught their attention. Jones gave a thumbs-up and called out, “The bridge is rigged.”

“Is there no other way?” Michael asked, slight doubt about destroying the bridge evident in his question.

“No,” Gordon answered, his pistol still pressed against the man’s head.

“What about everyone south of the bridge? We’re trapping them down there,” Michael said.

“From the sounds of it, they’re killing everyone,” Charles added.

“When was the main force moving north?” Gordon asked.

“Last word we got informed us to stop and refuel.”

“Are you sure blowing the bridge will work?” Michael again said.

Gordon was annoyed by Michael’s constant interjections. “We have to stop this advance and if our ambush fails, this does it. I need to get my brother but I don’t know how I can do that without risking the entire operation,” Gordon said, removing the pistol from the man’s head.

He looked up and said, “It’s getting dark soon; I don’t think they’ll move till morning. Schmidt said something about tomorrow, but we need to be sure.” Gordon walked over to Jones, who was getting behind the wheel of a Hummer to head back to Gunny’s southern position. “Jonesy, hold up.”

“What ya got, Van Zandt?”

Gordon liked Jones from the first time he’d met him, in Oregon months ago on his hunt for Rahab. He proved to be a smart, brave, and resourceful Marine.

“You and I are going for a ride south to recon.”

“Okay, let me inform Gunny.”

“What’s going to happen if they get to the bridge before you can get him?” Michael asked just after walking up behind Gordon.

Gordon turned to him and said, “It pains me to say this but I’ll blow the fucking bridge myself. We can’t risk them crossing over. Even if I don’t have Sebastian, we can’t risk the lives of everyone in the town.”

McCall, Idaho

Haley was sitting up in her bed. A fragile smile was stretched across her face when Luke walked in with the gorilla mask, making monkey noises and jumping around.

“Luke, you need to keep resting too. Please don’t get her too worked up,” Samantha said tensely.

He pulled the mask off, his shoulder-length hair clinging to his face. “Sorry, Auntie Samantha, I just thought she could use a laugh.”

“No, Mommy, he’s funny. Please, pretty please can he play with me?” Haley begged.

“You both can play a board game or cards, but no horsing around. And only after you finish your soup,” Samantha ordered, pointing at the bowl on Haley’s nightstand.

“Okay,” Haley answered, a bit disappointed.

“I’ll go get a game. What do you want to play?” Luke asked.

“Go fish!” Haley squealed.

Luke rushed out of the room and down the hall.

Samantha approached the bed and sat down, and placed her hand against Haley’s head to see if she was warm.

“I feel fine, Mommy.”

“Can’t a mother check? You had us worried there, both you and Luke.”

“I knew I was going to be all right, I saw it.”

“You did, huh?”

“No, I did, I saw it in a dream.”

“Was it a good dream?”

“Yes and no,” Haley said. Sadness came over her.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“In my dream, I was there, you and Daddy, even Luke, but . . .” Haley grew quiet.

“But what?”

“Uncle Sebastian, he wasn’t there. Something bad happened to him.”

“Your Uncle Sebastian will be fine,” Samantha said, assuring her.

“Why do you and Daddy lie to me?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I know there are bad people. I know bad people killed Hunter. You tell me all the time that things will be fine, but I hear you and Daddy talking.”

Her comment hit Samantha hard. It was the struggle of parents everywhere: You try to protect your children, but they are always listening.

“Do you believe Daddy and me when we tell you we’ll do whatever we can to protect you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Now finish your soup before Luke comes back.” Samantha kissed her on the head and stood up to leave.

“Mommy?”

“Yes?”

“I know you and Daddy will always protect me. But Daddy won’t be able to protect Uncle Sebastian.”

Banks, Idaho

The huge flames from what had been the Bear Valley Outfitters warmed Schmidt’s face. As each flame danced and licked the remnants of the local landmark, Schmidt’s message to the town was loud and clear.

The sun would soon be dipping below the mountains to the west. He thought about the call from Gordon and laughed to himself. He knew he held all the cards. Family ran deep in most people, and given that, he’d soon be able to exact the revenge he so dearly wanted against the man who had killed his friend.

His patience was growing thin. He didn’t want to camp; he knew he could make it to the valley by twilight. Once in Round Valley, he and his forces would be in a better location to protect themselves.

“Corporal Cast, contact all units. Let’s fire this up, we’re headed north!”

“Roger that, sir.”

“Have our forward elements move into the valley and scout a position to camp for the night.”

“Sir, we haven’t heard back from them.”

This news alarmed Schmidt, who barked, “Where were they last contacted?”

“Here, sir, at this bridge,” Cast answered, pointing at a spot on a map.

“When did you speak to them last?”

“Not twenty minutes ago, but I requested they’d check in every ten.”

“Are you sure it’s been that long?”

“Yes, sir, it was the same time you were on the sat phone.”

Schmidt was never a believer in coincidence. In the pit of his stomach, he knew his foolish threats to scare and intimidate Gordon had only alerted him to his advance. The highway they were on was narrow and a perfect place to ambush someone. His army was vulnerable until they could reach the open valley. If he were Gordon, he’d lay in wait for them, but then again, attacking them would jeopardize his brother. Confusion about how to move came over him.

“Let me see the map,” he ordered. Snatching it, he studied it until he found where they were. “Where was the last known location of our forward patrols?”

“Right there.”

The Rainbow Bridge was a perfect location to conduct an ambush; it was narrow and both the entrance and exit of the bridge were followed by sharp turns. He looked at the topographical lines and saw that a cliff would be to their left and the river would be to their right.

The only way for him to call this ambush was to knowingly place Sebastian in the front and let Gordon know he would be there; this would tell him if they were heading into something.

He examined the map closer and saw another route into the valley. He didn’t like the idea of splitting up his forces but he should at least explore it.

“Corporal, radio the company commanders. I want Alpha and Bravo to break off here,” he said, pointing at a small bridge in Smith’s Ferry. “Tell them to take this route; we’ll all meet up here in this valley. The rest of us are heading to the Rainbow Bridge.”

“Yes, sir,” Corporal Cast said as he picked up the handset and began to contact company commanders.

While his orders were being passed down, he would set up his rendezvous with Gordon. He pulled out the phone, pressed the green talk button, and waited for Gordon to answer.

Rainbow Bridge, Idaho

Gordon had just settled into his seat for the ride south to recon Schmidt’s position when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his trouser pocket and quickly answered it.

“Yes.”

“You’re at the bridge, aren’t you?”

Gordon motioned for Jones to stop before he answered Schmidt’s question.

“I have your brother and I don’t have any qualms about killing him,” Schmidt continued.

“I’m not at the bridge.”

“Bullshit! This conversation is over.”

“Hold on, don’t hang up,” Gordon pleaded, his defiant tone changing quickly.

“You want to meet? Let’s meet.”

“How do I know you have my brother?”