Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) (22 page)

“Major, I’m not going to get into this nonsensical back and forth with you. He did what he did and here we are,” Gordon said matter-of-factly.

“How can you have that attitude?” Wilbur fired back, not giving up. She couldn’t bring herself to understand Gordon’s laissez-faire demeanor.

“Major, I’ll be very frank with you. I stopped having any allegiance to any group except my family after your beloved government fucked me.”

“I don’t know your story, but anyone who aligns themselves with a man like Barone is a traitor in my book too!”

“Exactly, you don’t know my story. But I’m independent in this whole thing. I will never put any government or entity above my family. I’m here to repay a man who helped me, then I’m getting back to my family.”

“So where is your family?” she asked.

“They’re in Idaho, waiting for me.”

“Where in Idaho?” Christopher asked.

“Central Idaho,” he answered. Gordon didn’t want to give too much personal information away.

“So that woman you kissed wasn’t your wife? How would your wife feel?” Wilbur said leadingly.

“Shut the hell up. I don’t have to explain myself to you or anyone. I saved that woman from a pack of hungry men. She and I went through a lot together.”

“Key word is
together
,” she said, and winked at Christopher.

Christopher wasn’t taking the bait to tease Gordon.

“Brittany and I never were together in that regard. She had feelings for me, which happens when two people go through traumatic events. She’s a good woman, a mother, and trusted friend, nothing more,” Gordon said bluntly.

“How did you end up in Coos Bay?” Christopher asked.

“What’s up with the twenty questions?”

“I think we’re going to be together for a bit and I would like to know who I’m spending that time with,” he answered simply.

“I used to live in San Diego.”

“Oh my God, I’ve heard San Diego has collapsed. Just total chaos,” Christopher said.

“San Diego is just one of many cities that we’ve lost control of,” Wilbur added.

“So, Secretary of State, what happened to the federal government’s response to this?” Gordon asked.

“Where do I begin? It’s just been very overwhelming. I don’t know how anyone could tackle something this huge,” she said. She went on to detail some of what she knew about the recent efforts without jeopardizing anything classified. She covered her life at Cheyenne Mountain, Conner’s nuclear strikes, the coup attempt, then his disappearance. She told them about the struggles for the federal government to get a handle on the rampant chaos, the mass migrations, mass starvation, and the numerous nuclear plant accidents.

Gordon was impressed by her candor. It wasn’t what he expected from a government official, and he respected her more for it. He and Christopher posed many questions, which she answered to the best of her ability.

She explained that a decision had been made to abandon the east and that new boundaries had been established for federal control. When she told them about the secession of Texas, Alaska, and Hawaii, they both gasped in disbelief. All the news was just too incredible to believe.

She then brought them up to date on how she happened to be there, from the nuclear detonations on the other federal bunkers to how she and Cruz were captured in Portland.

Gordon had assumed the rest of the country was in an unmanageable condition but he didn’t know it was this bad. He now knew without a doubt that the old world, the old way of life, were gone forever. He wanted to tell Wilbur that what they were trying to do was honorable but almost impossible. Normalcy, as they had experienced it in the past, could not be restored.

“And now I’m here with you two,” she said at the end of her long story.

“My story isn’t as exciting as that,” Christopher uttered.

“Don’t wish for the excitement, trust me,” Gordon quipped.

“I actually agree with you on something!” she said with a smile.

“Hey, I’m sorry if I was rude before. These times are really wearing on me,” Gordon said with real sincerity.

“That’s okay. I started it, I apologize too. We’ve all been through a lot. Tempers flare up. I understand,” she said.

With tension broken, they all started to swap stories of the good old days. Christopher in particular had some that were just unbelievably funny. Their laughter reverberated off of the steel warehouse walls. It was the first time that Gordon could remember laughing this hard in a long time.

“Come on, tell us your story. How did you get that gnarly scar on your face? Shark bite your face, California boy?” Christopher urged.

The jovial mood collapsed with that innocent question. Gordon didn’t answer. He just stared at the ground.

Sensing the mood shift, Christopher said, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something difficult.”

“It’s okay. We should check on the vice president,” Gordon recommended.

Wilbur nodded, then stood and walked away.

Gordon too stood up. “Can you stand watch for a bit? I’m going to look around the grounds some more.”

“Sure thing,” Christopher answered.

Gordon stepped away to explore their refuge.

The building appeared to have been a manufacturing plant at one time. Yellow hash marks outlined the empty equipment spaces. On the walls signage still hung; one said,
NUMBER OF DAYS WITHOUT AN ACCIDENT
. In the blank a large zero was written. Below it was a handwritten note that read,
No more accidents and no more jobs. Thank you China and Corporate America.

He followed an arrow that led him to the floor manager’s office. He opened the door to find trash, papers, and an old metal desk. Tucked in behind it was a large cushioned chair. He stepped over and sat down.

He needed to rest and this just might be the place to do it. He placed his rifle against the wall behind him, kicked his legs up on the table, and closed his eyes.

Sacramento, California

“Sir, there’s a man here to see you. He says it’s urgent,” a guard said, interrupting Pablo and Isabelle’s dinner.

“Who is it?”

The guard looked nervous. He had forgotten to ask for the man’s name. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know, sir. He insists that it’s very important.”

“Does anyone know how to do their jobs?” Pablo groaned. Upset about being disturbed, he wiped his face and stood up from the table. “Excuse me, my love.”

He marched out of the room and walked with the guard to the foyer of the mansion. Like the rest of the mansion, the foyer was lit like a Christmas tree. Pablo had seen that his needs came before others and had generators operating twenty-four hours a day to keep power and electricity available for himself.

When he walked in he saw the informant who was tasked with daily updates about Pasqual’s coming and goings. His eyes widened with surprise, which soon gave way to anger.

“Leave us!” he snapped at the guard. Walking over to the man, he grabbed his arm and dragged him forcibly down the hallway and into a small parlor room.

“Emperor, I have some very important information that I thought you’d want to know about urgently!” the man exclaimed.

“I told you to never come here at night, never! We are to meet every day at the same time in the garden. You never come inside!”

“Sir, I-I-I know who the general is seeing. I-I-I have a n-n-name!”

Pablo was still holding him but finally let go. “Go ahead!”

“I saw a woman, sh-sh-she’s about his age, oh, and sh-sh-she looks Mexican.”

“So, old General Pasqual is meeting a woman. That’s it. He’s having an affair!”

“N-n-no, sir. There was also a man. Ah, ah, he’s younger.”

“So what, probably her son.” Pablo stepped away from the man and paced the room, laughing. “So, the general is running around for a piece of tail.”

“N-n-no, sir. The younger m-m-man was wearing a uniform.”

“A uniform? One of ours?”

“N-no, sir.”

“You mentioned a name. What’s the name?”

“J. Ortiz.”

“Did you get an address too this time?”

“Y-y-yes.”

Pablo walked to a small end table where he saw a pencil and paper. “What are you doing? Write down the name again and the address.”

The man did what he ordered.

Pablo asked if there was other pertinent information. He told him there wasn’t anything else. Changing his tone, Pablo then thanked him, before reminding him to never come to the house at night again. The man nodded and rushed out.

Pablo looked at the paper. J. Ortiz, 5632 Cloverfield Dr., Folsom. He placed the paper in his pocket.

Back at the dinner table, after a few minutes, Isabelle asked, “Is everything okay? You’ve been quiet and haven’t eaten since your visitor left.”

“I’m just not hungry. This chicken is dry.”

“Was it General Pasqual coming here with another ‘urgent’ message?” Isabelle joked.

Pablo slammed his fist onto the table. “Shut up! Mind your business! What I do and who I meet is none of your business!” He stood up quickly, causing his chair to fall backward. Not saying another word, he stormed out of the dining room.

 • • • 

“Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself.”

—Leo Tolstoy

Five miles east of Hines, Oregon

“H
e’s improving. His fever is gone but he’s still feeling—” Wilbur said before Cruz cut her off.

“Like shit,” Cruz stated flatly. He took a sip of water and a labored breath. Even the effort of sitting up was tough for him.

“Is he well enough for us to get back on the road?” Gordon asked.

“Another day or two. I think he should rest here. It’s so uncomfortable sitting in that vehicle,” Wilbur said, placing a rolled-up blanket behind Cruz.

“Another day or two? We’re already behind schedule; I’ve not been able to communicate with anyone. They’re probably freaking out, wondering what happened.”

“Let them freak out; he needs to get better before we move again,” Wilbur barked.

Cruz raised his hand weakly. “I should be fine to go by tomorrow. Let’s not wait any longer.”

Gordon smiled. He had become very anxious and had dreamed of his wife and Haley during his nap in the office. All he wanted to do was get to McCall.

“Should we try the radio again, maybe drive to a higher elevation?” Christopher suggested.

“No, let’s just stay here. We appear to be safe and we have everything we need,” Gordon replied, then walked away. He stepped outside to get some fresh air and think.

Christopher joined him. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all.”

“This is all so crazy.”

“What do you mean?” Gordon asked.

“Thinking about how life has changed. When the lights went out, I was at work. At first we all cheered because nothing worked. We chatted, laughed, and enjoyed those initial hours. Hey, anything to not have to work. But then the odd stories of cars not working began to come in. I was meeting with the mayor and she was trying to find out what had happened but again, nothing worked. It wasn’t until I walked home and sat down with my wife and daughter that I first became scared.” Christopher paused. He appeared uncomfortable with what he was about to share. “My wife and daughter made the most of it the first couple of nights. She set up a tent in the living room for my daughter. She loved it. The problems started about forty-eight hours later. The stores were ransacked and looting began in the streets. The mayor, she stood up for our town and order. We were lucky, most of the police stayed on the job.”

Gordon watched Christopher. His voice trembled the more he talked.

“I still remember that day. It’s seared into my brain. I was with the mayor working on a plan to close down the roads when the old finance director came in.” Christopher paused again. His lip was quivering now. “She told me that my wife and daughter were killed when a group of men came to the hospital to loot. My wife was a nurse and she started taking Melody with her there. She wanted her to learn the importance of helping others, even when it was more convenient to just stay home. She went there every day to help those who were critical. The men came in and just killed them.” Christopher was now crying openly.

Gordon knew this man’s pain. He had been there himself.

“The man who killed my son, Hunter, gave me this scar,” Gordon blurted out.

Christopher looked over at him at the mention of the death of his son.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yours too,” Gordon said.

“I watched this man murder my son right in front of me and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I watched as the life drained out of my boy. The helpless feeling that you had, I’ve known that too,” Gordon shared.

“This is why we need to make this work, this is why we need to support people like the mayor. She has a plan for Coos Bay that doesn’t come from a place of violence.”

While they both shared a common story of tremendous loss, Gordon realized that their lives were completely different. How they approached the new world was not the same and never would be. Christopher was a gentle and good man, but didn’t have the same ruthless pragmatism that Gordon had.

Gordon didn’t want to insult Christopher, so he kept his reply simple. “Your mayor might be a good and righteous person, but the only way to peace in this world is through the barrel of a gun.”

Eagle, Idaho

Preliminary searches had been conducted for Nelson but Samantha knew he was gone for good. There wasn’t a shred of evidence that he was alive; nothing pointed them in any direction. Haley wasn’t able to help either. When they asked her where they had kept her, she told them that she never saw because they had her blindfolded the entire time. Looking for Nelson was like searching for a needle in a haystack. She didn’t know what else to do, so while she was out for one of the drives she took along several signs she had made.

Weeks ago she had an idea of placing signs along Highway 55 directing Gordon to where they were. She was inspired from seeing similar handmade signs along the way to Eagle. When she first mentioned the idea, Nelson had scoffed at it, then worried that it could draw attention to them. But now it seemed like the only thing they could do to put their minds at ease.

Eric joined her this morning. As he finished hammering the last sign over the highway sign he turned and said, “I hope this works. Doubt it, though.”

Samantha didn’t answer him.

“The roads are looking pretty good. We might be able to explore farther north soon to see if the route is open to McCall.”

“Is it me or is it weird for you to be discussing leaving for McCall without Nelson?” Samantha asked.

“I was assuming we’ll have found him by then,” Eric said.

“Will we ever find him? It’s been two days and we don’t have any idea what direction they went in.”

“They couldn’t have gone too far, they were on foot.”

“Yeah, but if you go south just a mile there are literally hundreds if not thousands of homes. What do we do—just go from house to house?”

“So we stop looking?” Eric asked.

“No . . . but how long do we stay here? Do we risk our children? I honestly don’t know what to do. I feel horrible because I’m the one who killed Raymond, and Nelson sacrificed himself for me. How do I not keep looking for him? When do we say that’s enough? Is it weeks, months, years, never stop looking?”

“Ask those questions of Frank and Gretchen. I think you’ll get the answer,” Eric blurted out.

This discussion reminded her of the argument she had had with Mike and his wife, Stacy, back in the desert when she was looking for Gordon and Hunter. The irony of how she was now rationalizing stopping her search for Nelson and heading north to the safety and seclusion of McCall was unsettling.

“If we don’t find him in a couple months, what happens? Do we leave? Do we leave Frank and Gretchen here? Oh my God! They’ll hate us,” Samantha lamented.

“In the end, I guess we all will do what’s important to us and our families regardless of others. Gordon was right. It really is every man for himself,” Eric mused.

She pondered this complex question. Is that what we do as humans? Many people bragged or spoke confidently of loyalty and fidelity, but what do we really do when lives are on the line?

“You know, I would never leave here if it was just me. But I have Haley and I have to think of her safety. Nelson was right, Truman and his people will come back one day when they need things. I don’t want to be here when that happens. So I guess I’ve come full circle in some ways. I’ll keep looking for Nelson, but when we can go, we’ll have to head north. I think that’s what he would have wanted.”

Eric didn’t respond. Something over her shoulder caught his attention. “Hey, look, an elk.”

She turned and saw the massive animal standing a few hundred yards away.

“God, they’re such big animals,” Eric said.

“I think I’ve come to realize we’re the real animals, not them.”

Cheyenne, Wyoming

“Nothing? You’ve sent choppers out there and nothing? No communications?” Conner asked, concerned about the report that all contact had been lost with vehicle bringing Cruz back. “Why did they drive? I still want to know why we let that happen. I knew that idea was stupid.”

“We’ve managed to get some drones back online and they’re now operating around the Pocatello area. We have estimated our forces would have linked up with them around there,” Baxter added.

“Any thoughts if this was all a ruse by the colonel?”

“Sir, your guess is as good as mine.”

“We don’t need guesses. I need solid information. Get the colonel on the phone immediately. Let me know when we have him patched through.”

It took an hour to arrange the call with Barone. When Conner picked up the phone, he had no idea where the conversation was going to go. Their treaty was built on trust, and if Barone had betrayed him again, he might very well be faced with a two-front war.

“Colonel Barone?”

“Yes, this is Barone.”

“Colonel, do you have any idea where the vice president is?”

“They’ve been gone for a few days, so I’d suspect they might be close. But they are driving, so there are a myriad of issues that could have happened.”

“Why didn’t you fly them here?”

“We don’t have the resources to fly people everywhere. I’m sorry.”

“You have choppers. I know you have to have surplus fuel,” Conner challenged.

“Mr. Conner, I did what I did because my needs on the ground dictate it,” Barone fired back.

“I’d prefer it if you called me Mr. President.”

Barone paused a few moments before he replied, “No, I’ll call you Mr. Conner; you’re not my president anymore, remember?”

“Whatever! Why didn’t you mention that you weren’t flying them when you called me days ago? If you didn’t have the helicopters I would have offered to come get them. This is just crazy.”

“Frankly, you never asked how they were getting there; I was quite astonished you didn’t ask for that very important detail, but then again . . .”

“Stop the bullshit, Mr. Barone. Did Vice President Cruz and Secretary Wilbur leave Coos Bay?”

“Ha, you’re asking me because you suspect that I might have lied to you and am holding them? Let me assure you, I want the deal we’ve agreed to. Holding Cruz and Wilbur would do nothing for me now. I wouldn’t be so foolhardy as to blow a good thing.”

Barone was right—it wasn’t sensible for him to hold on to Cruz and Wilbur.

“Why do you suspect that they’re not heading your way?” Barone asked, curious.

“Because they’re not here yet. Once we found out you were driving them, I sent out a team to intercept them. By our estimates they should’ve crossed paths, but nothing. No signs of them. We’ve since launched drones along the route they were traveling. Somewhere along the way they disappeared and we have over twelve hundred miles of road to search. Not impossible, but it’s quite an operation.”

“I see why you’re concerned. What would you like from my end?”

“First, how well do you know the men taking them?”

“I sent one man.”

“What?! You sent one man?”

“Yes, that’s all I could spare. The local civilian authorities also sent a person and my guy had two others who he handpicked to go with.”

“So it’s not just one man, there’s a four-man team that went with them?”

“Yes,” Barone answered, lying about the team size so as to not enflame Conner any more.

“Can you dispatch some air and ground elements to trace the route?”

Barone was silent for a moment.

“Well, don’t answer right away,” Conner said, annoyed by Barone’s silence.

“I’ll put together several teams and have them deploy right away. Please have General Baxter keep in contact with me. If you find them before I do, I want to know so I can recall my teams. I need every person here,” Barone answered.

“Since we’re allies now, may I ask if everything is okay? I’m seeing red flags with all the ‘needing all people’ or ‘can’t spare the resources’ talk coming from you.”

“We are dealing with things not unlike you are. By the way, how is Cheyenne? I hear it’s windy and cold there.”

“It’s just fine here,” Conner replied, then drove the conversation back to a more professional topic. “Please return the favor and stay in touch with General Baxter.”

“I will, if that’s it. I’ll get right on sending those teams out.”

“That’s it, thank you. Oh, before I let you go, I did want to thank you for destroying the PAE’s naval forces. I can’t tell you how much that helps us both.”

Both men hung up.

“Dylan! Get in here,” Conner hollered.

Dylan ran in from the adjoining office. “Yes, Mr. President.”

“Get Baxter on the phone or in here, whichever is fastest. The colonel made some interesting comments and I need to see what is going on over there in Coos Bay.”

“Is everything okay with the colonel?”

“I don’t know, that’s why I need to have Baxter’s help. I’m concerned . . . very concerned.”

Coos Bay, Oregon

Barone hung up the phone and stepped back into the main CIC. He was on board the
Makin Island
, as it was the only place he could have long-range communications.

“Top, we need to send out a few teams. Apparently our guy Van Zandt can’t follow directions. He might be lost, shot up, or, worst case, dead.”

Simpson was talking with a senior chief petty officer about a ship issue when Barone interrupted his conversation. “I’m sorry, sir, what was that? Who might be dead?” Simpson asked loudly.

“Van Zandt and the vice president.”

“Roger that, sir, I’ll get several teams ready to green light in six hours, will that work?”

“Yes, that’ll be fine.”

Barone left the CIC and went directly to his old stateroom. He was feeling the beginnings of a migraine and needed some privacy. He lay down and closed his eyes for what seemed like a minute, then the intercom sounded.

“Colonel Barone, Colonel Barone, please report to the CIC.”

“Shit!” he cried out as he sat up. He was so tired he hadn’t even taken off his boots. He looked at the bed and said, “I’ll be back.”

Simpson met him outside the CIC. “Sir, we’ve got a problem.”

“Isn’t there always a problem? What is it?”