Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) (25 page)

“However you think is best,” Annaliese responded, staring out the window. “You know, what about the mountain passes? Do you think they’ll be open?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, but we’ll go as far as we can.”

“Can you teach me to ski, Sebastian?” Luke asked.

Sebastian looked into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but I don’t ski, I snowboard.”

“That would be even cooler,” Luke said with a grin. It was the first time he had spoken in the past few hours.

“Sebastian, your brother’s name is Gordon, right?” Annaliese asked.

“Yeah, why?”

She pointed out the window. “Look.”

He looked where she was pointing and was dumbfounded. A wood sign with the name Gordon was plastered below a sign that read
EAGLE ROAD
.

“Is that for your brother?”

“I don’t know, but I’m going to follow it.”

He turned off on Eagle Road and headed north.

All he could think was how strange that someone would post that. Questions filled his mind. Was that for his brother or someone else? If it was for him, what did they mean?

Coos Bay, Oregon

Barone had called for a tribunal to try Mayor Brownstein in the death of the Marine.

His hope was to show he could be judicious and wanted to play by the rules that Americans were accustomed to. The protestors had returned to the front of city hall and outside the ships within hours of Brownstein’s arrest. The size of the demonstrations was large. Not as big as the last one, but significant. The message coming from the group was that she should be released, and that though the Marine’s death was a tragedy, she didn’t pull the trigger. Conspiracy theories had even surfaced saying that Barone had planted the shooters to justify arresting her. Barone was beginning to feel like he couldn’t do anything to satisfy the people who opposed him.

Simpson and Roger Timms had reminded him that at least 80 percent of the town’s populations supported him and didn’t want him to leave or be tried. They didn’t agree with what he had done, but many were ready to forgive him.

He had joked with Simpson that if he could just get rid of the 20 percent, everything would be fine. That joke then turned to an actual idea. What if he could just arrest them all, take them to the edge of town, and drop them off? Problem solved. That, of course, was his sledgehammer fix, but if he wanted to stay put in Coos Bay, he’d have to be more diplomatic. The problem for him was that he thought diplomacy was for politicians. Barone liked to fashion himself the anti-politician. The urge to use his military might to take over was burning inside. It took most of his discipline to fight it. If Brownstein’s resistance continued past the tribunal he didn’t know if he could control his natural tendencies.

Roger then came up with an idea to negotiate with the others for her release. This could alleviate ratcheting tensions. The tribunal’s verdict had a predestined outcome and Barone had instructed them to ask for the death penalty if a guilty charge came back. This threat of death was given so he could put fear into her and make her change her tune.

After much deliberation he went with Roger’s idea. A meeting with those leaders who opposed him would be conducted immediately in city hall.

...

Barone typically liked to arrive very early to important meetings, but with this one he did the opposite. He wanted the people to wait for him.

Before he left his office, he placed his pistol in its holster. After what happened, he wasn’t about to walk into a room with a group of people who hated him and not have the means to protect himself.

As he strode in, feeling confident, he glared at each and every person there. The local leaders who opposed him had now grown to seven, including Brownstein.

Brownstein was sitting front and center. She too looked confident.

Taking his place at the head of the room, he began, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m not going to rehash what just happened. That’s a waste of time.”

“You’re right; this is also a waste of time. Whatever little clever idea you think you have here, it won’t work,” Brownstein said, lashing out at him.

“Just wait a minute, Mayor. I want us all to make this work. Here are the facts: I have a treaty with the United States. They have allowed us to move forward with our own country, the Pacific States of America. In exchange, we will join forces against the Pan-American Empire.”

“The only country we belong to is the United States of America. I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth anymore,” she berated him.

“Mayor, can we have a civil conversation?” Barone asked. He genuinely wanted to make it work, but her tone was beginning to annoy him, making it hard to control his temper.

“Colonel Barone, we don’t negotiate with terrorists and that is what you are to us. We will never make a deal with you, we will never obey you, we will never stop resisting you. These are the facts!”

Barone’s temper began to flare, but he again controlled it. “Mayor, what I am proposing is this: I cancel the tribunal and release you in exchange for you stopping these protests. The progress we have made in town here is now in jeopardy. We need to come back together as a people to make this work. We can’t be divided anymore.”

“We will never be united with the likes of you, you traitor!”

“Now, that is enough!” Barone yelled, his voice full of anger.

Brownstein now stood and yelled back, “We will never rest. We will fight you until we die. You have to kill us all if you want us to stop!” The other six nodded in agreement.

“Very well, this conversation has ended, I guess. If you’ll excuse me,” Barone said, and walked off. His face was flush with anger and a couple beads of sweat had formed on his forehead from his raised blood pressure as he strode toward the exit. His focus was singular. All he could think of now was finishing this for good.

The six councilors congratulated Brownstein on her steadfastness. They hadn’t taken notice of the intense look that had gripped Barone’s face as walked past them.

“We’re so proud of you,” one said.

Another said, “You’re the bravest person I know.”

Brownstein enjoyed the positive feedback. She exchanged some bravado talk with the others when the door opened. Barone was standing there again.

She looked up at him but the brave, confident face turned to one of terror.

Barone walked back in with an M-16 rifle. “You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. You told me what has to be done, and so you’ll get your wish. You all have to die!” That urge, that burning urge that he had managed to keep suppressed, was now too much for him to keep inside.

Brownstein looked at him but didn’t move, as she was frozen with fear. Three of them ran for other doors and the other three ducked behind chairs.

He took aim on her and pulled the trigger. The rifle roared to life with a three-round burst. The first bullet hit her in the abdomen, the second in the chest, and the third in neck. She fell backward and crashed into some chairs. By the time her body hit the floor, she was dead.

He rained bullets in the directions of the ones who had run for the exits. When the bolt locked back he had killed them. He didn’t have another magazine so he dropped the rifle and pulled out his pistol. The remaining three hadn’t moved since the gunfire began. He calmly approached each one.

Regardless of their pleading for mercy, he showed none. He put a bullet into each of their heads.

When he finished with them he exited the council chamber.

Simpson was waiting for him in the hall, a look of shock and terror on his face.

“Now what?” Simpson asked, not knowing what else to say. Fear of saying something filled him as he chose his words carefully.

“We’re going to end this little rebellion today. She said that it wouldn’t end unless we killed them, so kill them. Kill them all!”

“There’s no turning back from that, sir. You do know that?” Simpson cautioned.

“I’m fully aware. Make it happen! Get Timms on the horn. Let him know I’m disbanding the city governments. Everything falls under our military control as of now!”

“Copy that,” Simpson replied to Barone. He stepped away from Barone and keyed the mike on his radio handset. “All commanders, this is Charlie Actual. You are weapons free. I say again, you are weapons free. Disburse the crowd with all means necessary, to include deadly force, over.”

Nothing happened. The radio crackled and a voice came over, “Charlie Actual, the is Charlie Two, over.”

“Go, Charlie Two,” Simpson barked into the handset.

“We need a clarification of last command, over!”

Simpson gave Barone an uneasy stare.

Barone marched over to him, grabbed the handset, and yelled, “All units, this is Colonel Barone. Open fire on all the protestors, take no prisoners. I say again, kill all the protestors!”

There was a brief and uncomfortable pause but soon the roar of machine guns erupted outside, followed by screams.

Barone walked over to the large window and looked down on the street out front. The protestors were running in every direction in the hopes of escape. Some Marines were not firing, but others were. Clearly his commands were not universally being heeded. However, enough were obeying to ensure that not a soul would be left standing.

Barone was done with talking, done with politicians, done with democracy. He was now a dictator and would rule with an iron fist.

Eagle, Idaho

So many different scenarios had run through Samantha’s mind when Eric told her that Truman’s group had returned. Many of the scenarios had fighting breaking out between the groups. It was a probable outcome and this time she wasn’t going to have Haley anywhere close by. On their way to the front gate, she dropped Haley off at Eric’s house.

Pulling up to the gate, the first person Samantha saw was Nelson; he was badly beaten but alive. She closed her eyes and thanked God for answering her prayers.

If he was still alive, Truman and his group saw value in him and were here to negotiate for something.

When she took a rough count of the group she counted ten, seven men and three women. The one person missing in her count was Truman.

On her side of the gate, they had Eric, Mack, Frank, and Scott.

“Nelson! How are you?” Samantha asked.

He smiled and cracked a joke. “Oh my God, I’ve had the best time. I get a massage every morning, followed by filet mignon and lobster for dinner every night.”

She smiled. “Where’s Truman?” she asked.

A man she had never seen before stepped forward and spoke. “Truman’s dead. I killed him.”

Samantha was shocked to hear that.

“It’s true. They killed him last night,” Nelson confirmed.

“Truman was a smart guy, but he was too sentimental. We need someone in charge who thinks clearly. Your friend here is valuable. He’s not valuable to us dead so we’re here to bargain for his life,” the man said.

“What do you want?” Eric asked.

“We want a couple vehicles and food.”

Samantha was ready to take the deal without a second’s thought when Nelson blurted out, “Don’t do it, Sam. You need the food and the vehicles. If you give them two vehicles that will damage our ability to survive.”

“He’s right,” Eric agreed.

“This is a life. This is about Nelson’s life,” Samantha chided Eric.

“I’m talking about life too—yours, Haley’s, mine!” Eric snapped back.

“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the man chimed in. “We can give you your friend and you give us what we ask for or we will just take it.”

“Don’t give in to them. If you fight then you at least have a chance!” Nelson said.

The man walked over to Nelson and hit him with a closed fist.

“We’ll do it!” Samantha shouted.

“No, we won’t!” Eric countered.

The rumbling sound of a vehicle caught all of their attention. Truman’s group looked in the direction of the sound and they all began to spread apart in anticipation of fighting who was coming.

“Are you expecting someone?” the man asked.

Samantha and the others exchanged looks before she answered him. “No, everyone in our group is here.”

“Jesus Christ, Samantha, is there anything else you want to give away?” Eric lambasted her.

The sound of the engine rumbling grew louder. Truman’s group grew tenser when the vehicle came into their view. A few lifted their weapons and took aim.

“Shoot the vehicle!” the man ordered.

With their entire group focused on the vehicle, Eric took action. He aimed and shot the man who was speaking for the group.

Nelson, with his hands tied behind his back, ran toward the gate. Samantha sprinted toward him.

Eric aimed at a second person and shot him.

In an instant, some in Truman’s group turned their guns on Eric and the others.

Mack managed to get off a few shots before he was hit three times, once in the stomach, once in the hip, and a round in his left leg. He fell to the ground and grunted in pain.

Eric was calm and steady as he aimed at the woman who had just shot Mack. He was squeezing the trigger when he was hit in the shoulder.

Samantha opened the gate for Nelson but not in time.

Several bullets struck him in the back and he fell into her arms. The force caused her to fall backward with him on top of her.

Scott had a shotgun and was blasting away. He hit one of the men, but then several of them targeted him and let loose a volley of fire. One of the shots was fatal; he fell to the ground with a gasp.

Frank ran over to help Nelson but a barrage of bullets rained down on him. He too was hit several times, with one fatal shot to the head.

Mack yelled out in pain, and from a kneeling position he shot and killed the man who had delivered the fatal shot to Frank.

The group trained all of their guns on Mack and fired. He yelled out before falling over dead.

There were still six people from Truman’s group alive and unhurt. Seeing everyone on the other side down they stopped shooting.

“We got them all!” one of the women cheered.

A man in the group walked inside the gate and up to Samantha, who was struggling under an unconscious Nelson. He raised his rifle at her.