The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) (33 page)

No response. Gordon could hear the sound of gravel and unintelligible sounds, then Schmidt’s voice saying something that he couldn’t understand.

“Hello?” Gordon asked.

A moment passed, then a voice he remembered came across the phone.

“Gordon, don’t do anything this fucker says. Don’t do anything except kill this piece—”

“There’s a valley just a few miles from the bridge. We will be there in an hour,” Schmidt said, and hung up the phone.

“Major, hold on, Major? Damn!” Gordon bellowed.

“Let me guess, change of plans again?” Jones joked.

Sandy, Utah

The abrupt stop of the vehicle jolted Annaliese awake.

“I think we’re here,” said the man who had saved her in Cheyenne.

Eli Bennett had driven Annaliese all the way from Cheyenne to the outskirts of Sandy, Utah. When Wilbur asked if he’d help rescue two people, he had no idea it would take him this far. Getting out of Cheyenne proved difficult, but coordination with Wilbur made it possible. Eli had been a civilian contract worker at Warren Air Force base, providing avionics services before the lights went out. He had met Wilbur at Pat’s Coffee Shop soon after she had arrived there. Many a night after leaving Pat’s, they discussed politics, and soon she came to trust and confide in him. Even though both were single, neither had ever explored a romantic relationship; however, they both shared a passion for an open and free country. When she made the call telling him that she needed him, he didn’t hesitate. Now he was parked outside a large metal gate in the middle of the desert with a woman he had met only ten days before.

Their exodus from Cheyenne had been relatively uneventful. After spending several days in a safe house, he ushered her from the city. When asked where she wanted to go, she didn’t hesitate. She told him to go to Sandy. He didn’t know what to expect but he was fully committed to her safety.

“How do we get in?” he asked.

Annaliese’s recovery, while not the most ideal, had gone well, considering they were on the road. “I’ll be right back,” she said, exiting the Humvee. She approached a fence post ten feet from the gate. She carefully bent over, and upon standing back up, she held a key in her hand. Seeing how uncomfortable she looked, he got out and assisted her in opening the gate.

Once inside and with the gate locked back up, she told him where to go.

He drove for what seemed like five minutes when a bright light ahead blinded him. He slowed down and eventually stopped.

Annaliese opened the door and said, “It’s me, Annaliese!”

The light flashed on her face quickly before being pointed toward the ground.

“Annaliese, you and your beau are not welcome here!”

“Uncle Samuel, he’s not here! Please, we need you, I need you!”

Samuel walked out of the darkness and into the light of the headlamps. He strode up to her and stopped just a few feet away. “What happened? Who is this?” he asked, flashing his light into the cab of the Humvee.

“Please, we’re tired. I’ll explain everything later.”

“Who is that? Where’s Sebastian?”

“His name is Eli Bennett, he saved my life! And Sebastian, I don’t know where he is, but I need your help. Please, help me!” she begged.

He looked at her again. This time the resentment in his eyes was gone. Regardless of what had happened he had the capacity for forgiveness, especially for his niece. He walked up to her and before he could put his arm around her, she embraced him tightly and began to sob.

“Uncle Samuel, I need you to help me save Sebastian,” she sobbed.

He returned her embrace. He looked at her face as tears streamed down and softly said, “C’mon, let’s get you inside and cleaned up. We’ll talk about Sebastian and what we can do, but let’s first get you and your friend inside.”

With his arm around her, supporting her as they walked, he said, “Your mother will be so happy to see you. It’s been too long.”

Rainbow Bridge, Idaho

A harvest moon was rising, casting a yellowish glow over the rocks, pavement, and tall pines. With Gordon’s sight limited, the sounds of the river were more pronounced. The mighty North Fork of the Payette crashed and moved underneath of him.

He stood on the north end of the bridge, waiting, a lone man ready to meet the man who held in his hands his brother and last member of his childhood family. Gordon couldn’t and wouldn’t allow Schmidt north of the Rainbow Bridge, and with the lack of time to react, he simply waited at the bridge for Schmidt to arrive.

The first sign of Schmidt’s arrival was the squeaking and rumble of tank treads upon the pavement. He squinted hard and saw a black mass moving toward the south end of the bridge. As it moved closer, he was able to focus and see the outline of the body and barrel. Six other vehicles followed behind the tank, but it for sure was not the force the private first class or man from Horseshoe Bend had described.

The tank came into full view when it turned and faced him head on at the opposite end of the bridge. The turret opened and out popped a man. He couldn’t make out who it was but he could only assume it was Major Schmidt.

The man began to walk toward him; Gordon too began to walk till he faced the man he believed was Schmidt.

“Gordon Van Zandt?” Schmidt asked.

“Major Schmidt?” Gordon replied.

“Yes, I’m Major Schmidt, U.S. Army.”

“So, before I—”

Schmidt cut him off by saying, “You broke your word. This is not the valley we had agreed to meet in. If I can’t trust you when it comes to a simple meeting, how can I trust we’ll be able to conduct this transaction?”

“I can’t let you pass this bridge. You and your army will never cross the bridge. You don’t have jurisdiction here. This is Cascadia now.”

“Ha, there is no such place, just a fantasy in the minds of fools.”

“Remember a guy by the name of George Washington? I’m sure King George had the same sentiment you have,” Gordon shot back sarcastically.

“This is a nice land you have, I’ll say that. This area is quite beautiful. Too bad it’s not really yours,” Schmidt said.

“Where’s my brother?”

“He’s back in one of the vehicles, but if you want him you’ll have to come with me, as will the other Cascadian traitors.”

“I have something else that you’ll be interested in. I know you heard of the NARS outbreak. Well, we found a cure, a vaccine. I will give you this vaccine in exchange for my brother and for you turning your people around and heading home.”

“Mr. Van Zandt, the deal is off,” Schmidt said, then turned and began to walk back to his tank.

“Stop!” Gordon yelled.

Schmidt turned, walked right up to Gordon’s face so that he was inches away, and said, “I don’t know why I offered a deal, because I’m going to march my army up to McCall and destroy it along with you and your family.”

Hearing the threat against his family was all Gordon needed to push him over the edge. Unable to stop himself, Gordon head butted Schmidt. The impact from Gordon’s forehead busted Schmidt’s nose wide open. The shock from the blow forced him back a few steps, but Gordon was right on top of him, leveling punch after punch to his face.

Schmidt reeled farther back from Gordon’s powerful punches until he fell onto his back. Gordon then pounced but Schmidt rolled out of the way. Gordon hit the concrete road hard, his knees and elbows taking the brunt of the jump.

Schmidt saw his advantage and kicked Gordon in the side, the blow knocking the wind out him.

The fight brought Schmidt’s men pouring out of the vehicles and onto the bridge to assist their commander.

“Back away, he’s mine,” Schmidt ordered as he stood.

Gordon was still on the ground but moving to get up. Again, seeing an opportunity, Schmidt kicked him in the stomach, but when he pulled back for another kick, Gordon grabbed his leg and twisted it. Schmidt’s knee popped and he fell onto the road.

Gordon had the clear advantage and he was going to take it. He pulled a pistol from the small of his back and placed it in Schmidt’s face. “Give me my brother!

Schmidt’s men raised their rifles but Schmidt yelled, “No, don’t shoot! Get his brother!”

Schmidt’s soldiers brought Sebastian out of the back of a Humvee but wouldn’t walk him past the front of the tank. Gordon could see he was limping and that he looked frail. “Sebastian, it’s Gordon. I’m getting you out of here!”

“Don’t trust this motherfucker, brother! He’s deceiving you!” Sebastian cried out.

Gordon rammed his pistol into Schmidt’s face and ordered, “Have your men let him go!”

Suddenly, a loud explosion followed by heavy machine gun fire could be heard in the distance. Somewhere south and, by the sound of it, miles away, a gun battle had just broken out.

Gordon looked to the south just long enough for Schmidt to sense he was distracted. Schmidt hit the pistol out of Gordon’s hand with one hand and punched him in the face with the other.

Gordon fell back and hit his head against the concrete railing of the bridge.

Schmidt scurried up and hobbled back toward the tank and his men.

“Gordon!” Sebastian yelled. “Run, get out of here!” With what little strength, he had he kicked one soldier in the side of the knee with his good leg and used his body to push by another, both men falling to the ground.

Sebastian began to make his way toward Gordon but Schmidt grabbed him and dragged him back.

“Give me my brother or I’ll destroy you and your entire army. You have one chance or I’ll kill you all!” Gordon screamed.

“You don’t have anything to barter with, Van Zandt! You’re a stupid, stupid man!” Schmidt responded as he took a pistol from one of his soldiers and placed it at Sebastian’s head.

“Brother! Save yourself, fight another day. Please, go!” Sebastian cried out.

“Schmidt, you’re making a mistake. You and your army will never make it!” Gordon shouted.

“Enough talk, I hold all the cards!” Schmidt yelled as he pulled the trigger.

The bullet passed through Sebastian’s head. For a second he stood, staring out, before he dropped to the ground with a thud.

“No! No!” Gordon screamed in agony at seeing his brother fall. “Open fire, open fire!!”

With that command the hillside behind Gordon came alive with heavy machine gun fire. A heavy barrage of bullets rained down on Schmidt and his small convoy.

Responding to the attack, Schmidt’s men began to fire back, but the onslaught was too much. Gordon’s men were ripping them apart.

Knowing he needed to get off the bridge, Gordon ran back and took cover behind the corner railing on the north side of the bridge.

With a roar, Schmidt’s tank fired, the round hitting the embankment behind Gordon.

In response to the tank fire, Gordon heard the familiar pop and whiz from a TOW missile system. The thunder of it launching soon ended with the metal-crushing sound of it impacting Schmidt’s tank. The direct hit shoved the turret partially off the chassis, killing all inside.

It was difficult for Gordon to see what was happening, but he could tell that Schmidt’s forces were overwhelmed and losing. Moments later he heard the cry of “Cease fire, cease fire!”

The haze from the gunfire drifted through the moon-lit sky, accompanied by the cries of the wounded on Schmidt’s side.

Gordon stood and started for the south side of the bridge. His slight jog turned into a full sprint until he reached Sebastian’s body. He fell to his knees and picked up his brother’s body and laid it in his lap. “I’m so sorry, little brother. I’m so sorry, I couldn’t save you.” Gordon was so engrossed with Sebastian that he didn’t take notice of his men who came across the bridge.

Michael walked up to him and said, “Gordon, I’m so sorry.”

“I failed, once again, I failed,” he moaned.

A man came up to Gordon and said, “No sign of Major Schmidt.”

This got Gordon’s attention quickly. He looked up and asked, “Are you sure? There’s no way he could have survived that.”

“No, sir, we can’t find him. He’s not with dead.”

McCall, Idaho

Samantha shot up in bed when she heard Haley’s screams. She grabbed the pistol on her nightstand and raced down the hall to her room. When she opened the door she found her sitting up but no longer crying. Instead, she seemed to be talking to herself.

“Haley, sweetheart, is everything all right?” Samantha asked, walking into the room, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other.

“I’m fine now, Mommy,” Haley answered, evidence of tears still on her face.

Samantha put the gun and flashlight down and brightened the lantern on her nightstand before she sat on the bed. “Honey, you were screaming and crying.”

“I’m okay now, Mommy.”

“Bad dream?” Samantha asked as she embraced Haley.

“No.”

“Well, everything will be okay, I’m here now,” Samantha said, rocking her.

Samantha sang a lullaby, and as she laid Haley’s head back down on the pillow she asked, “Who were you talking to?”

“What?”

“When I came in your room, you were sitting up. It looked like you were talking to someone.”

Haley turned away from her.

“Haley, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

She rolled back over and asked, “Promise me you won’t get mad?”

“Oh, honey, I promise. What is it?”

“It’s Uncle Sebastian.”

“What do you mean?”

“I was talking to Uncle Sebastian. He came to me and told me that he was fine and to be a good girl.”

Samantha didn’t know how to deal with Haley’s stories but decided to just play along. But deep down, she was a bit freaked out.

“I had a nightmare that he died and then he was sitting on my bed. He talked to me,” Haley explained.

“Okay, we’ll talk more in the morning. Time to go back to bed,” Samantha said as she lowered the brightness of the lantern. When she stood up to leave, the phone began ringing in her bedroom; she jumped when she heard it. Chills spread through her body and the hairs on her neck stood. She knew who was calling and why.

“Only the dead have seen the end of the war.”

—George Santayana

Smith’s Ferry, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

T
he image of Sebastian being murdered was burned into Gordon’s memory. The temptation to mourn Sebastian was strong, but he knew doing so now was not smart, nor would his brother approve. So to fight the urge, he kept himself busy after the battle. Along with the others, he surveyed the battlefield and took inventory of what spoils in equipment and hardware they had seized.

The battle to south of Rainbow Bridge, just east of Smith’s Ferry, was the main engagement. Schmidt had sent his main force across the river and into the hills through small unimproved roads with the hopes they’d reach Round Valley. Once there they’d be able to envelop Gordon.

What Schmidt didn’t know and the reason he also failed at the Rainbow Bridge was he assumed Gordon didn’t have an organized and armed force of his own. Schmidt’s hubris cost him the battle and his small army. The men Gunny’s company didn’t kill ran off and dispersed into the countryside. Fugitive number one was Major Schmidt himself. Gordon wanted him like nothing else.

With the battle won and the spoils counted, the men from McCall all gathered around Gordon, Charles, Gunny, and Michael. They had been chatting near the wreckage of a smoldering tank. Gordon noticed the men gathering first, their eyes focused on the men they considered their leaders. He stared back and saw in them pride and fear, but not hope. Then an idea came rushing to him like a freight train at high speed. This was his moment. This was the time for him to rise and take a position of strength. Very few times in history do moments like this come along, and he wasn’t about to let it slip past. Then thoughts of Sebastian came to him, followed by anger. Some would rejoice in their victory then settle back into a haze of complacency. He had seen it before and knew the natural instinct for many was to avoid conflict. But he knew he could prevent that mind-set from setting in. He not only wanted revenge for Sebastian, he needed it. If he was going to get it, he had to be the one calling the shots.

He looked over at a man he knew from McCall, a friend of Michael’s and an ardent Cascadian. In his hands, he held a Doug flag that was duct-taped to a large stick. He walked over, took the flag, and jumped on the tank.

Standing tall on the charred tank, Gordon held the flag high and began to speak. “Some of you know me and some don’t. My name is Gordon Van Zandt. I’m a simple man who wants to live in peace. I’m like you, all of you, no better. I want to live in a place where I know my family will be safe from the types of thugs who sought to harm us. Together we all stood and fought back against the tyranny that our government has resorted to, just to retain power. Together we all, citizens of Cascadia, defended our new land. Together we came and took a stand against tyranny and for liberty! Today we proclaimed to the powers in Cheyenne that we won’t be silenced, our voice will be heard until it’s so loud that all will hear the name Cascadia. Today, we made history, for today we gave birth to our new country, the Republic of Cascadia. Years from now men will talk about this day and wish they could have been here among us as we declared our independence and formed a true republic!” Gordon thrust the flag high above his head and hollered, “Long live the Republic of Cascadia!”

Cheyenne, Wyoming, United States

Conner knew his luck would eventually run out. Too many great things had been happening; he just didn’t think the end of that record would be so devastating.

Schmidt had survived the Battle of Rainbow Bridge and fled into the mountains. There he had found a safe place to call from his sat phone, in the hopes that Conner could rescue him. If it had been just any commander, Conner would have left him to his own devices, but Schmidt was no ordinary man. He was Conner’s hammer, and a builder needs his hammer.

Conner picked up the phone and dialed out. “Get General Baxter in here, ASAP.”

Fortunately for Conner, Baxter was just downstairs. Within minutes he was sitting before Conner.

“I need a SAR team to be deployed to Idaho immediately,” Conner ordered.

“A SAR team to Idaho? Who the hell is in Idaho who needs rescuing so bad?” Baxter asked.

Almost embarrassed to tell him, Conner opened up about the mission there and what had happened. He detailed exactly what Schmidt had told him.

If Baxter were not a disciplined man, he would have laughed out loud upon hearing the story. He didn’t like knowing that a major U.S. military force had been beaten by a ragtag group in Idaho, but deep down he was happy that Schmidt was humbled. He also hoped that this event humbled the president too, to the point that he and the others would be included in the planning and implementation of all military exercises. Knowing that the timing wasn’t right to gloat and demand a new way, he kept his opinion to himself.

“Did the major give coordinates?” Baxter asked.

“Yes, it’s all here,” Conner said, handing Baxter a piece of paper.

“I’ll get right on this, sir,” Baxter said as he stood up to leave.

“This goes nowhere.”

“Yes, sir, I wouldn’t want to embarrass the major.”

“It’s not about embarrassing the major, it’s about not advertising that we can be beaten. This type of thing will only embolden others!” Conner scolded.

“Yes, sir.”

“General, this was a serious loss for us. We have lost a sizeable force, approximately five thousand men, along with tanks and other equipment.”

“Yes, sir,” Baxter acknowledged.

Conner could sense the slight joy in Baxter. He knew Schmidt wasn’t liked by the others but to rejoice in your allies’ losses was disgusting to Conner.

“General, are we good?”

“Sir?”

“You know what I mean. Are we good, between you and me?”

What pleasure that had just been displayed on Baxter’s face vanished.

“Yes, sir, we are good.”

“Glad to hear it. Go get the major and leave me.”

Baxter turned and exited.

Conner knew this wasn’t over with the Cascadians. If they had enough of a force to stop Schmidt, they were more of a serious threat than they had anticipated. He swiveled in his chair till he was facing the large window; he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let it all sink in.

A knock on his door jolted him out of his thoughts. “Come in.”

Heather walked in and placed a message on his desk from Cruz in Cheyenne Mountain. Before he read it, he had the sinking suspicion that more bad news was coming. So as to not add to what was a bad day, he pushed it aside, swung around, leaned back, and pondered his next step. He had achieved much in the past weeks, so a few missteps were bound to happen. Like the chess master plots his move with an eye for his opponent’s countermove, he would now wait to see what the Cascadians did next. He had many other pieces in play on the table, but he wouldn’t rest until he checkmated Gordon Van Zandt.

McCall, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

The first thing Gordon saw when he parked the Humvee at his garage was the small brown hummingbird. He stared at the little bird, mesmerized by the blur of its wings. Moving in jarring and rapid motions the bird moved close to the shattered windshield before darting away. He quickly looked to see where it had flown but it was gone. He’d seen the bird before; it was one that he and Haley had watched weeks ago in the garden. It had found a home close by and was just going about its day unaware of the tragedy that had occurred hours ago. Its life was going on peacefully, unlike his, which had taken another radical turn. But maybe the little bird had its own troubles and he just wasn’t aware. Maybe in its short existence it was fighting to cling to life like he was.

Once again, Gordon’s life had been hammered at the hands of men with murder and power in their hearts. The battle last night was decisive; they had dealt a severe blow to Schmidt and Conner. However, this was only the first battle in the war—a war he never asked for, a war that he knew would be bloody and horrific. Gordon was a man familiar with history, and never in history had civil wars been conventional. Civil wars brought out the worst in people; it showcased bitter and personal rivalries that made it a type of warfare that knew little boundaries.

Even though Cascadia had won, Gordon had lost. He had already lost his son and with him went his soul, but now he had lost his only brother and with him went his heart. Gordon refused to lose anyone else close to him. He would do whatever was necessary and utilize whatever means were at his disposal to ensure his family was safe. The only way he knew to do that was to take the fight to them. He would not rest until everyone who had been involved in Sebastian’s death had fallen. Even if it meant killing thousands, he would not stop until he and Cascadia were free.

His meditative state was broken when the sound of wood and metal drew his attention to the front door. He looked and saw Samantha, then Haley came from behind her and grasped her leg. Finally Luke appeared and stood next to Samantha. All were staring at him as he sat in the bullet-riddled and smashed-up Humvee.

So much had been lost since that fateful day over seven months ago. When their old lives came to an end in San Diego, he did everything he could to make it work, but it failed. As they drove down the long road he came face-to-face with the horrific consequences of making a wrong decision. The purpose of bringing Samantha and Haley to McCall was to find a sanctuary from what the world had become, but even there he had failed. He failed to see things or failed to anticipate the evil that lived in the hearts of others. Now he had crossed the line of departure and there was no going back. He was at war with the very country he had sworn to defend so many years ago.

He looked at his family, what remained of it, anxiously waiting for him to come to them. The new world was harsh, unforgiving, and cruel, but he would never surrender or give up. He knew that in order for him and his family to survive he would have to embrace the new world, let it envelop him like a warm blanket.

He opened the door and painfully stepped out. He looked down at his clothes; they were torn, bloodied, and stained. He’d remove them later, but what he could never remove was the torn person he’d become.