Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) (26 page)

She tried to reach for her pistol but couldn’t. Resigned to what was about to happen, she closed her eyes.

A shot rang out.

She opened her eyes and the man fell over backward.

The shot had come from behind her; she looked back and saw Seneca. Having more time, she wiggled out from underneath Nelson and pulled out her pistol.

Truman’s group targeted Seneca but she ran away, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared. She ran from the gate toward a large boulder about fifteen feet away.

Samantha sat up and fatally shot two of them.

The ferocity of the gun battle had caused everyone to forget about the mysterious vehicle.

Without notice, a Humvee plowed into the remaining three, the force of the impact tossing their bodies like rag dolls.

Nelson had come to and was coughing. He cried out in pain and rolled onto his back, his hands still tied.

Seneca ran to him as Samantha tried to stop the bleeding from his wounds.

Eric stood up and yelled, “Who is that?” pointing to the truck.

The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Gordon.

Sacramento, California

When Pablo had finally called it a night, his bloodlust had taken the lives of thirteen people. With each new person he tortured, more information and names were divulged. The insurgency had managed to penetrate his ranks by buying some of his men. He had never given it any thought, but if he was able to buy an army, it only proved that his army could also be bought. A mercenary army is only as loyal as the highest bidder. These men weren’t fighting for their country, they weren’t fighting for honor, or for something they believed in. It was all about money. This new insight made him realize that going forward, he wouldn’t be able to demand loyalty; he had to pay for it.

When he walked into the dining room he expected to see Isabelle but she wasn’t there. He grabbed the decanter of wine and a glass and took his seat at the head of the table.

After pouring the cabernet, he followed his wine-swilling ritual. He swirled it, then stuck his nose in the glass. After that, he examined the legs, impressed with what he saw. The final part of his ritual was taking the first sip. When the first taste of wine entered his mouth he swished it around, then swallowed.

“Sublime!” he said to no one in particular.

He looked at his watch. She was running about ten minutes late.

A small dining bell sat on the table. He picked it up and rang it. A servant quickly came in and asked, “Yes, Emperor?”

“Is the special treat ready to bring in?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, I’ll ring again when I want you to bring it in.”

“Yes, sir,” the servant said, then left the room.

At the same time the main dining room door opened and Isabelle came in. “So sorry I’m late. You know us ladies.”

“I understand, beauty takes time,” he softly said.

“Oh, is that the Paso Robles wine?” she remarked when she saw the decanter.

“Yes, it is, but I have something else I want you to try; it’s a surprise. I’ve also had the chef prepare something special for dinner too.”

“What’s the occasion?” she asked after kissing him and taking her seat.

“Today was a magical day!”

“Oh my God, I heard what happened to your car. I was worried sick until I heard you were safe and sound,” she said, reaching over and grabbing his hand.

“Are you hungry? I’m famished,” he said as he picked up the bell and rang it.

The servant came in with a large covered tray and placed it on the table in front of her. “Madam, would you care for some wine?”

“Yes, that would be fabulous.”

The servant grabbed a second decanter from a buffet table behind her and poured her a glass.

She had adopted his passion for wine and had even started her own ritual similar to his.

“
Salud
,” he said as he raised his glass.

They touched glasses and each took a sip.

“Oh my, that’s so good. It’s really rich, with a hint of . . . ah, I don’t know. Here, you try it,” she said, handing him the glass.

“No, thank you, my dear. I’m more than happy with this glass.”

“So you want to hear about my day?”

“Sure, I love knowing what you do! It really connects me to you.”

“Yes, I know how you love to know the ins and outs of what I do or who I talk to.” His tone had shifted a bit. Gone was the sweet demeanor.

“Ha, what does mean?” she asked, picking up on his more aggressive tone.

“Today, I started with torturing General Pasqual and two of his family members, a lovely lady by the name of Maria and her son, Jorge. After the general told me what I needed to know, I killed him, Jorge, and little Maria. Oh, little Maria. What’s the most accurate way to say it? Let’s just say she was fucked to death.”

The smile on her face vanished and fear gripped her.

“I then had the pleasure of torturing the captain who oversees the command post operations. He had so much to say, he really was the most vocal. He gave me so many names, and when I felt confident he was done, I split his head in two. Then it got really interesting! The names he gave me led to this wonderful young man by the name of Jordan.” Pablo stood up and removed the cover from the tray, exposing the head of a young man.

Isabelle shrieked when she saw the head.

“I understand you and him know each other very well. Look at how I decorated his head.”

She covered her eyes with her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at the head of her lover and leader of the local insurgency, Jordan DeMint. The intelligence that he and Isabelle provided to Conner and the United States had been valuable.

“Look at it!” he screamed at her.

She began to wail and shake.

“Now Jordan here, he was very tough, and I didn’t get too much out of him. Even after I cut off his cock and stuffed it in his mouth he wouldn’t give any information up. Fortunately for me, your father was the most forthright,” Pablo said as he rang the bell again.

The servant came in with another covered tray and placed it in front of her.

Pablo removed the cover. There on the tray was her father’s head.

“No! No!” she cried out.

“You asked me for mercy weeks ago. I showed you and your father mercy. I took you into my bed. I trusted you and you stabbed me in the back. You betrayed me!”

She began to crouch and tried to get up, but vertigo set in and she fell to the floor.

“I drugged your wine. When you wake up in a few hours you’ll be down in my playroom. I don’t know what I’ll do with you. Maybe you’ll follow in Maria’s footsteps or maybe I’ll just trim parts off of you slowly. I don’t know yet.”

She crawled on the floor toward the doors.

“I have to admit, you had me fooled. You really did,” he said as he lay on the floor next to her so he could see her face. “So before you close your pretty little eyes let me tell you what’s going to happen to your country. I’m going to rape, pillage, burn, and destroy everywhere I go, and since you and your president thought it fun to fuck with me, I will go after him now.” He rolled onto his back and looked at the white popcorn-textured ceiling. “I sent a few people to go shoot him, but now that seems so . . . what’s the word? Blasé. No, I’m going to cross the mountains like Hannibal crossed the Alps. I’m going to take my army and march on Cheyenne. I’m going to burn that city to the ground and stick President Conner’s head on a spike.” He leaned over and kissed her quivering lips. “Now, go to sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you soon.”

Coos Bay, Oregon

When the news of the massacre outside city hall trickled down to Gunny Smith, he couldn’t believe it. He had been with Colonel Barone for years. He didn’t always agree with some of his actions, but now this was too much for him. There had been grumbling and dissent brewing within the ranks from the first day Barone had ordered the mutiny. Most of that had disappeared when they arrived in Coos Bay. Many of the Marines and sailors had grown attached to the town and the people. They knew it was politically difficult for Barone to navigate the most recent objections from the mayor but to murder them all, to gun down men, women, and even children in the street was too much.

“Lance Corporal Jones! Get your ass in here!”

Jones came into the partially lit living room of the small house that served as the in-town barracks for Gunny’s sniper team.

“Yes, Gunny.”

“Go find the rest of the team, have them report here ASAP.”

“That might be difficult; there’s a lot of chaos going on,” Jones lamented.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, Lance Corporal!”

“Yes, Gunny,” Jones said and turned around to leave.

“Hold on, one second!” Gunny barked.

Jones stopped abruptly and turned around. “Yes?”

Gunny exhaled deeply, then asked, “What’s your opinion on all of this shit?”

Jones looked surprised, then answered with a question. “You’re asking me for my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Jones looked apprehensive; he was afraid to speak his mind. The earlier events had created a tension even among the Marines. No one knew who to trust.

Seeing this delay in answering, Gunny added, “I’m not going to repeat what you say to anyone, I’m not some type of Gestapo. You can freely speak what is on your mind here.”

Sheepishly, Jones said, “Well, I think what the colonel did was wrong. I’m actually surprised he had Marines pull the trigger.”

“I’m not surprised. You have to remember, in the end, we’re just people too. We’re not robots, we all have emotions and individual thoughts.”

“Gunny, how do you feel about what happened today?”

“Jones, things are going to get a lot worse around here. What the Colonel did today will not end today, he just made things worse. We have a choice, you have a choice, but before any of us go off and do something rash, I want to pull the team together. You all are my family and we should talk about this like a family.”

Jones nodded, then left. As the door closed, Gunny relaxed into the large leather chair. He thought deeply about everything. When they had arrived in Coos Bay it felt like they were coming home. Now this peaceful and functioning city had been turned on its head. He couldn’t be a part of this new direction Barone was heading in, he just wasn’t sure what direction he should go in. He could just bite his tongue and keep his head down, but silence is nothing more than a voice of approval. Without a doubt a resistance movement would rise up, but for it to matter they would have to have the support of Marines. The question he then asked himself was, could he join that effort or would he and his team be better off outside? If they left, where would they go? The conversation he and Gordon had back in Klamath Falls then came to mind.

“Idaho, maybe we’ll go to Idaho.”

Eagle, Idaho

“Gordon!” Eric exclaimed.

Samantha turned around when she heard his name. She stood up and stared at her husband, frozen to the spot.

“Sam!” he called out to her as he walked briskly toward her.

“Oh my God, Gordon!” she cried out and ran into his arms.

They both embraced and held each other for a long time. He smothered her with kisses and kept saying, “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

“Why? Why didn’t you come back?”

“I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry I failed you, I failed all of you, especially Hunter,” he said, as tears started to flow.

“I’m so mad at you. But I’m so happy you’re back,” she said, choking back tears.

“Where’s Haley? Is she okay?”

“She’s missed you so much, she’s been through a lot. She needs you.”

Seneca looked up from Nelson’s side and yelled, “Hey, you two, Nelson needs attention!”

Gordon and Samantha ran over to help out.

Nelson opened his eyes and said, “Am I dead?”

“No, buddy, you’re going to be okay,” Gordon said, holding his hand. “We gotta get him inside and get him treated!” They quickly loaded Nelson and Eric into the Humvee and took them to Lucy’s house.

Hearing of the death of her husband was a shock, but Lucy kept herself composed enough to treat Nelson and Eric. Her prognosis for Eric was good, but she wasn’t sure Nelson would make it. She was able to remove the bullets from Nelson’s back but he had lost a lot of blood. Now it was a matter of waiting and seeing if he’d survive.

Christopher, Cruz, and Wilbur offered to help but they found that they were more in the way than helpful. They exited the house for the Humvee. It provided a familiar place to sequester themselves while they waited for whatever came next.

As they sat discussing their next move, Christopher managed to make contact with the command element at Mountain Home Air Force Base over the radio.

Wilbur quickly took the radio from him, and after a back-and-forth with an officer, she detailed their situation. It appeared that Mountain Home was functioning, but greatly impaired. They would inform Cheyenne of Cruz’s location and situation, and radio back when they made contact. In the meantime, they were sending reinforcements to their coordinates.

Wilbur tossed the handset aside with a deep feeling of satisfaction. It had been a long time since she had felt . . . hopeful.

“Should we just head in that direction?” Christopher asked Wilbur.

“Mr. Vice President?” Wilbur directed the question toward Cruz, who was relaxing in the backseat.

“Let’s sit tight until we get word back from Cheyenne. I also think we owe it to Mr. Van Zandt to stick around in case we can be of help somewhere.”

“Speak of the devil,” Christopher chuckled as the front door opened and Gordon stepped out.

Gordon saw the three in the Humvee and nodded, acknowledging their presence. His shirt was stained red with blood. He looked at his hands. They too bore a deep stain from all the blood.

Cruz exited the Humvee and walked up to Gordon.

“Mr. Van Zandt.”

“Yeah,” Gordon responded. He was looking at his clothes now.

“We just made contact with Mountain Home. They are aware of our status and are contacting Cheyenne for further instructions.”

“It just gets everywhere,” Gordon commented, his focus on his pants.