Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) (18 page)

“But we didn’t do anything to his brother!” Sadie asked.

Scott, Nelson, Samantha, and those directly involved with Raymond’s death and disposal were the only ones who knew about it. They never mentioned it to the others; this made it more difficult to convince them that Truman was probably making plans to come raid their community.

Nelson looked over at Samantha, then to Eric, and finally to Scott.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute!” Sadie’s husband, Bob, blurted out, noticing the looks exchanged.

Scott had been in Eagle’s Nest the longest, so he felt it was his duty to finally tell the truth. “Yes, Truman’s brother Raymond was killed here. He broke into the old Gallants’ house and attacked Samantha. She killed him. We didn’t want to alarm everyone so we kept it quiet. I can assure you it was in self-defense.”

The room burst into conversation. “Just tell Truman the truth, I’m sure he’ll understand,” Barbara suggested.

Nelson and Eric had to stop themselves from laughing. They both knew that Truman wasn’t a man of reason.

“Yeah, he’ll understand that he now has justification to come after us,” Eric snapped back. Nelson shot him a look. That type of tone wouldn’t win anyone over. The chatter continued as homeowners debated the approach to take.

“Be quiet, please! We need to discuss this together,” Nelson begged.

“This isn’t our concern. You owe Truman an explanation. If you think that going in and killing them all will solve this, you’ve lost your humanity. That’s not how we do things!” Sadie barked at Eric and Nelson.

“Such old fools!” Eric shot back.

“So what happens if we attack him and kill them all, who’s next? When does it stop? Who do we not kill?” Barbara exclaimed.

“You’re an idiot! You really are!” Eric remarked disrespectfully.

“Eric, you’re not helping, stop it!” Nelson snapped. More comments were volleyed back and forth, civility and neighborly affection deteriorating.

Frustrated, Scott stood and whistled loud. Everyone stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

“We’re not going to accomplish anything if we disrespect each other. Sadie, Bob, Barbara, what happens in Eagle’s Nest does affect us all, Nelson is right there. But . . .”

Sadie muttered something but Scott held up his index finger, signaling he needed another minute.

“But Nelson is wrong about attacking Truman. Sadie is right, we don’t do those things. So here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll stay vigilant, keep reinforcing our boundaries, and go about life. If something happens we will work together to fix it, but we must work together.”

Nelson leaned back in his chair, clearly frustrated. The meeting ended shortly thereafter. Nelson stayed at Scott’s to discuss how to enforce the border.

After the meeting, Samantha waited up for Nelson to come back. He walked in and saw her sitting at the bar in the kitchen, playing solitaire by the yellowish light of the kerosene lamp.

“I want to discuss something with you. I know it’s late but it needs to be said.”

“Okay. Is this how Gordon used to feel when he’d come home and hadn’t taken care of the honey do’s?” Nelson cracked, rekindling some of his trademark humor.

“There are two things that need to be done here. We either leave, or you take control of this place and keep us safe,” she stated bluntly. “We’ve already waited long enough. If you ask me, we’re lucky nothing worse has happened.”

His eyes widened with surprise at her forceful tone.

“I’m serious, Nelson. Scott’s plan is stupid. We can’t sit here and wait to be attacked. You need to do something!”

He didn’t know how to respond to her. She was right, he needed to do something. Taking charge wasn’t in his nature, though; he preferred not to have that type of responsibility.

Haley walked into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes, and said softly, “Mommy, I had a bad dream.” Samantha picked her up and held her. Kissing her on the top of her head, she walked out of the kitchen.

Watching them walk off, an intense feeling of protectiveness overcame him. He knew he had to do something. But if he was going to initiate direct action, he’d better do it right.

 • • • 

“The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph.”

—Thomas Paine

Coos Bay, Oregon

G
ordon stepped onto the quarterdeck of the ship. Yesterday he thought that was going to be his last time doing so, but he had given up on making assumptions.

Below on the dock, he saw the Humvee and trailer that Barone had promised. He said good-bye to the Marine and sailor on the deck and stepped off the
Makin Island
.

The M-1123 model Humvee he was driving was a soft top, four-seat variant with a small cargo space. A covered trailer was hitched to the back for the additional supplies and fuel.

Gordon inspected the vehicle and looked through the boxes. It was like Christmas for him. Barone had supplied him with 3,500 servings of freeze-dried food, five thousand round of 5.56-millimeter, five thousand rounds of 9-millimeter, and 1,500 shells of 12-gauge. On his seat was an M4 with scope and laser sight, a Beretta 9-millimeter pistol, and a Remington 870 shotgun with extended tube. There was enough fuel to get him to Cheyenne. In another box was variety of different equipment, night goggles, compass, ponchos, tarps, first aid trauma kit, boots, extra clothes of various sizes, and other assorted items. Seeing all of this, Gordon became more excited about the trip.

“Excuse me,” a voice came from behind him.

Gordon turned around to see a lean, average-height middle-aged man. His hair was jet black and hung just over the tops of ears. His piercing light blue eyes reminded Gordon of a malamute.

“Mr. Van Zandt?”

“That’s me.”

“Christopher Hicks. I work for the mayor. I’m riding with you to Cheyenne,” he said, putting his hand out.

“Hi, Christopher, call me Gordon. Toss your stuff in the back.”

Christopher did just that, then asked nervously, “When are we leaving?”

“Just waiting on everyone.”

Just then another Humvee pulled up. Three doors opened up. A Marine stepped out followed by Cruz and Bethanny Wilbur. The Marine approached Gordon and Christopher and asked, “Are either of you Gordon Van Zandt?”

“Right here.”

“Here they are,” the Marine said, pointing to Cruz and Wilbur.

“I’ll take it from here,” Gordon answered. The two looked tired, weathered, and gaunt.

He thought how strange the situation was—transporting the vice president and secretary of state. This would definitely go down as one of those stories to tell his grandkids. “Mr. Vice President, Madam Secretary, the backseats are yours.”

Cruz walked up to Gordon and put out his hand. “Thank you for taking us. What is your name?”

“Gordon Van Zandt.”

“Mr. Van Zandt, thank you for doing this.”

“Of course, not a problem. I’m planning on leaving as soon as two other passengers arrive.”

Rain began to fall.

“Damn, I hope that the temps hold. I don’t want to deal with snow,” Gordon said, looking up.

Cruz, Wilbur, and Christopher exchanged greetings, then scurried into the Humvee when the first drops of rain hit them.

Gordon looked at his watch. He was getting concerned that Brittany and Tyler were late. Not wanting to be soaked for the ride, Gordon jumped in the Humvee.

A half hour passed, during which Gordon and the passengers chatted and made small talk. Gordon was in the middle, telling the group about his trek from California, when a knock on his window interrupted him. It was Brittany. He excused himself and jumped out.

“Brittany, you’re really late!” He looked around for Tyler but didn’t see him. “Where’s Tyler?”

She took a step toward him. The rain was coming down heavier. Her hair and clothes were soaked.

“Oh my God, you’re going to catch a chill.”

She placed her hand gently on his face and said, “We’re not going with you. I’m sorry.”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“This place will be our new home. It’s safe. We’ll have a real chance here. I just can’t take Tyler back on the road. You know how it is out there. I can’t risk it.”

“I don’t understand. I thought you were coming with me,” Gordon said, clearly upset. Though not having the responsibility of taking care of them made the trip easier for him from a practical standpoint, he had grown to care about them both. He looked forward to having them as passengers on the trip, and in Idaho. He had visions of Haley and Tyler growing up together. He wasn’t prepared for this. Even though they had only known each for such a short period of time, they had been through so much together. He and Brittany had a connection, and though he would never leave Samantha, in another universe he imagined that he and Brittany might have been together.

“You look upset. I thought you’d be happy to be free of us,” she said softly. She hadn’t removed her hand from his face the entire time.

“I am upset. How’s Tyler?”

“Oh my God, he’s a wreck. He officially hates me,” she laughed.

Gordon smiled, then said, “I know kids. He’ll get over it.”

“There’s something else. When you left before the mission, I said some things. Well, I care for you and it’s not fair to me and you, for us to be close. You have a beautiful wife and little girl who you love. You need to go back to them. I will start fresh here.”

Gordon nodded. What she said was a jolt of reality, that trademark pragmatism that he had grown to know and appreciate about her. “Sorry for being upset. I respect your decision and I understand. You need to do what’s best for you and Tyler.”

“I want to thank you so much for saving us. You gave me and Ty another chance and for that I’ll always be grateful to you. I can’t say it enough, you’re a good man.” She leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

Gordon didn’t stop her but he didn’t return the kiss. When she pulled away Gordon looked at her face. He wasn’t sure if it was rain or tears running down her cheeks. He pulled her in and gave her a firm hug and kissed her on the head.

“Be safe, Brittany. I’ll never forget you,” he said, then let her go.

She turned around and walked quickly back toward town.

He stood in the pouring rain watching her till she disappeared out of sight.

Eagle, Idaho

“So just the three of us? This is your plan?” Mack asked sarcastically.

“Are you in or not?” Nelson shot back.

“Of course I’m in, I just wanted to point out that your plan sucks. But if we’re going to knock some skulls, then I’m in,” Mack said with a grin. He spit tobacco juice into a plastic cup.

“Eric, thoughts?” Nelson asked.

“I wouldn’t do a day raid. We should use the advantage we have. We have vehicles; we can move in fast and get out fast. We go in and set up a shooter at the front of the main house and another at the back. The other two will run around firebombing all the buildings. The fire and smoke will draw them out; once they come out we shoot ’em. We stay until they’re all dead. Simple.”

Nelson listened intently to Eric’s plan. It made a lot of sense.

“I like that one better,” Mack said.

“I do too,” Nelson agreed.

“Eric, I need you and Mack to make the Molotov cocktails. I’ll get my dad on board and inform the women of our plans. Tonight our group has the watch, so, Mack, have Seneca take whoever’s shift it is. Bring your rifles, pistols, and lots of ammo.”

Samantha walked into the living room. “Sorry to interrupt. Have you seen Haley?”

Nelson looked up quickly and answered, “Not recently. She came in here about an hour ago to ask if I’d go down to the barn with her.”

“That was my next stop. Thanks,” Samantha said. She grabbed her coat and left.

“Does anyone have any questions?” Nelson asked.

“Yeah, who are the designated shooters?” Mack queried.

“I’ll be one and my dad will be the other. He’s a good shot, and it’s easier for you two to go from building to building than for him,” Nelson commented.

The men were going over minor details when the back door flew open. Samantha came running in. “She’s gone!”

They all looked up at her.

“What do you mean? If she’s not there, maybe she’s over Scott and Lucy’s,” Nelson said.

“No, something happened down at the barn. The stall was open. Macintosh was walking around loose inside the barn. The water bucket had been dumped on the ground just outside his stall and . . .” Samantha was upset and close to tears.

Nelson stood, alarmed by what she was saying.

“. . . and this was on the ground. Haley was wearing it!” Samantha cried out as she held up a silver compass.

...

Nelson had alerted the others to Haley’s disappearance. They quickly rallied to find her by establishing search parties. Nelson and Scott looked for any other evidence around the barn but found nothing. The frigid cold air was still present but no new snow had come for a while now. What snow was left was frozen solid and impossible to create a footprint in. Mack and a few neighbors went south and combed the creek beds and streets. Eric took several others and walked the hills to the north.

By midday they hadn’t found anything.

Nelson called everyone together for a quick briefing before they went out again. Samantha tried to be helpful but found herself on the verge of tears anytime she spoke. Lucy took her aside and suggested she come over for a warm cup of tea as the others tried to sort it out. As Nelson spoke to the group, he couldn’t help but have this remind him of when Hunter went missing. He couldn’t even imagine how difficult this was for Samantha.

Nelson had his suspicions about what might have happened to her. A search of Truman’s area would have to be conducted next, and in force.

“Everyone, thank you all for coming together so fast to help find Haley. So far, we haven’t found any additional clues.”

“I know where she is!” Eric blurted out. “Let’s go get her.”

“You don’t know she’s there,” Barbara challenged.

“Well then, where is she? It’s not as if she just walked off. There’s evidence that there was a struggle,” Eric said.

“It’s not uncommon for little kids to run away when they are upset,” Barbara said, pointedly.

“You really are a dumb person,” Eric responded.

“I agree with Nelson. It makes sense to check that area. We will keep looking in other places but I suggest a group goes out—and in force. Does anyone want to volunteer?” Scott said.

Eric, Mack, Seneca, and Nelson’s dad raised their hands.

“We’re leaving now. We need the rest of you to provide one person to man the gate and others to please keep looking for her here,” Nelson said.

Just like the night before, cross talk started to get louder and louder.

Scott bellowed out, “I’m sorry, Barbara, but this is what we’re doing, period. We’re not going over to Truman’s to attack him but to find out if she is there. That is all.”

“Let’s keep looking here before—” Barbara said before Eric shouted over her.

“Just shut up. This is a child here. We’re going and there’s nothing you can do about it!”

Barbara’s mouth was wide open in shock at how Eric was talking to her.

Nelson had enough of wasting time discussing what he was going to do. They needed to go—and soon, before the sun set.

“Let’s go! Whoever is coming with me, let’s go now!”

Northern Utah, off of I-84

A slight westerly breeze chilled Annaliese’s face. The temperature had dipped down in the single digits, making it a very uncomfortable night’s sleep. The boys annoyed her a lot and many times she selfishly wished they weren’t there. However, a sisterly compassion would compel her to make sure they were doing okay. In the middle of the night, she brought them a blanket that she had set aside to give Sebastian for his late-night fire watch.

Watching Sebastian teach the boys the proper handling of the revolvers the next morning filled her with pride. She loved him for a variety of reasons, one being that he was very patient with people, and he was very compassionate. For her, he was that perfect mix: a man who she could trust to protect her physically but also strong enough to be available emotionally.

He was very thorough in his explanation of the basics of marksmanship, covering sight alignment and sight picture, breathing, the natural arc of movement, grip, the mechanical functions of the pistols, expected recoil, and how to reload. Brandon had shown a natural proficiency with the handgun when he went on his shooting spree at the compound in San Diego, so, for Sebastian, the lesson this morning was for him to feel comfortable handling this specific weapon. He also wanted to impart to him a sense of responsibility. Firearms were powerful things, but overall, they were nothing but tools. And like any tool, could be used for good or evil. The most important thing he wanted to instill in Brandon was to use it for good.

Luke, on the other hand, had never handled a gun in his young life. The lessons were to make him feel more comfortable with a weapon. Once he had developed that comfort, Sebastian thought it would build his confidence. He wanted Luke to understand that it would be okay to use the gun if he had to in defense of himself or others in the group. He knew Luke didn’t have it in him to be a killer, but he might need him one day to help defend the group.

“Now that we’ve covered the basics, I want you to shoot some rounds,” Sebastian said.

“Finally!” Brandon exclaimed.

“Luke, you go first.”

“Oh, come on!” Brandon barked.

“Brandon, you’ve shot before; I’m not worried about your abilities. Luke has never shot a gun. I need him to show me that he feels okay with it.”

Luke didn’t say a word; he just stood and looked at Sebastian nervously.

“Here,” Sebastian said, handing him the old Colt Detective. “This is a very reliable piece; you’ll never have issues with this guy. It’s got six shots in the cylinder. What I like about these wheel guns is if you do have a misfire you don’t have to stress, just squeeze the trigger again. That’s the easiest troubleshooting you’ll have to do with these guns.”

Luke took the gun and held it like Sebastian had shown.

“Take the stance I was telling you. Don’t stand like you’ve seen in movies. That’s all bull. Remember, lean in, arms out, take that fighting stance I showed you.”