Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) (4 page)

Haley lifted her head out of the pillow and looked at Nelson. Her eyes were swollen and red from the crying. She wiped away the tears with her hand and used her sleeve to wipe her runny nose. The mention of Macintosh broke her tantrum. “Is he all right?”

“He’ll be fine, but he and I both need you to help me. I’m going down there now and I can’t do it without you,” Nelson said gently.

With purpose in her eyes, Haley jumped out of the bed and ran out of the room. Watching her take off, Nelson smiled.

...

“Here, take this,” Nelson ordered Haley, handing her a bag of Epsom salt. “Dump in few scoops’ worth.”

Nelson was preparing a salt bath for Macintosh’s hoof. Scott told him this would help draw out the abscess. Haley carefully and diligently did what he ordered.

“Good, that’s enough. Now let’s get Big Mac,” he said to Haley.

She unlocked the stall and opened it. “Hi, boy,” Haley said to Macintosh.

Nelson got Macintosh up and placed his hoof in the tub of water. “Thank you for helping,” Nelson said.

Haley petted Macintosh softly. “Everything will be fine, we’re taking care of you,” she whispered to him.

Nelson watched their interaction. He was happy she decided to come down. He wasn’t sure if what they were doing would help Macintosh—he was just doing what Scott had recommended. Having never cared for a horse before, he was skeptical. He wasn’t a religious man, but he prayed that Macintosh healed. If what he and Haley did became instrumental in his rehabilitation, she would have a renewed confidence.

“Nelson, do you think my daddy will come back?”

Struck by the question, he answered carefully. “Of course he’ll come back. He’s out taking care of all of us right now.”

“I don’t know if he will,” she said flatly, still giving Macintosh her attention.

“I know he’ll come back. He just has to finish up some things.”

She looked up at him. “You said that Hunter was coming back. And he died.”

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

“So, what are we doing?” Conner asked calmly.

Baxter and the other officials in the room watched him with uneasiness.

Conner had only recently come from his own self-imposed sequestration. After his return from captivity, he was met with the news of the suicide of his beloved wife, Julia. He had only survived his ordeal at the hands of the rogue group by staying strong with the hope he’d see his wife and new child someday. When Baxter broke the news, he locked himself in his quarters and didn’t come out for two weeks.

After he emerged, he was ready to get back to work. He was presented with endless reports of mass deaths, more nuclear attacks, utter chaos, and an almost complete unraveling of any governmental control on all levels. The news of Cruz being held captive specifically hit home. It seemed to him that all the people he cared about were being taken away from him.

There was no doubt in Baxter’s mind that Conner was suffering from depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. He had been through a terrible ordeal while being held hostage, and upon his miraculous return, he was welcomed with so much bad news, it would have been understandable if Conner hadn’t come out of his room again. Baxter had taken command and accomplished what he could. Negotiations with Australia had progressed, but they hadn’t yet committed to assisting the U.S., plus what they could offer would be scarce now, as they were providing assistance to so many other nations affected by the EMPs. There was so much to do, and Baxter was feeling overwhelmed. Now that Conner was back, Baxter hoped that they could start moving in a positive direction.

“General, I need to know! What are we doing? What can we do? How do we take care of over three hundred million people?” Conner said with an edge in his voice.

“Sir, should we take a break?” Baxter asked, with a hint of concern in his voice. “We’ve thrown a lot of information at you.”

Conner looked at all the faces around the room. He then shifted to a softer tone. “People, I understand that I’ve been gone. A lot has happened to me. Hell, a lot has happened to all of us. We want the best for our country, but I don’t know what we can do. The situation out there has taken on a life of its own. I spent weeks out there. I have seen with my own eyes what is happening. We have been put in an untenable position.” Conner leaned back in deep thought.

“Sir, we’re here to do what we can to help the U.S. get back up,” Dylan said in answer to Conner’s first question.

“Yes, but what if we can’t? What if it’s just too much?” Conner shot back.

“Mr. President, not all of our efforts have been failures. We have seen success—” Baxter started, but was cut off.

“Define
success
. If a man is having a heart attack and falls into thorny shrubs, pulling out thorns will not save his life. He’s still dying from a heart attack,” Conner exclaimed. “Since my disappearance, things have only gotten worse. Most of our underground facilities have been destroyed by an unknown force, we have had issues with nuclear power plants, our cities have collapsed into chaos, the camps we’ve set up have all been turned into death camps because we don’t have the resources to property supply and man them. The vice president has been taken hostage by a rogue colonel, an army has landed in Southern California and is marching north, and the only positive development? Australia is
closer
to making a decision in our favor to send food and equipment.” He slammed his fist on the table.

“What are you saying we do, then, give up?” Baxter asked, clearly upset.

“We don’t give up, but we’re spinning our wheels here. You were on to something when you drafted this map,” Conner said, pointing at the map showing the new borders of the United States. Conner stood and walked over to it. “What has developed here?”

“That plan was made so that Portland would become the new capital,” Baxter said.

Conner stood in front of the map and looked at it. “We have to realize that the United States as we knew it is gone. Texas is gone, Alaska is gone, Hawaii is gone, Barone is claiming these states as his,” Conner said, pointing to each location as he named it. “What we can do is create a new country, founded on the principles of the old. We need to find a place to call home ourselves. We can’t spend what little resources we have left on attempting to take back what is now gone.”

“Excuse me, sir, but that sounds like surrender,” Baxter said pointedly.

“On the contrary. We will deal with Barone, the Pan-American Army, and others out there, but let’s first secure a spot. Create green zones we can operate from.”

“How is that any different from us operating from here?” Dylan asked. Others sitting at the table were looking back and forth, exchanging nervous glances.

“We will continue with the plan you and Cruz had established, but pick a city where we can get it up and running with minimum resistance,” Conner said. He looked at everyone and could see their confusion. “Look, I’m embracing the plan, but the previous plan didn’t anticipate Barone or the Pan-American group. We know the mountain and central U.S. is still solidly in our camp. Let’s find a place to call home. Let’s plant our flag there, bring all resources to bear, let the world see what we are doing. We will fight if we have to defend ourselves. We are not surrendering but shifting.”

“Where should we go?” Baxter asked.

Conner turned back to the map and pointed. “General, put me in contact with the governor of Wyoming. We’re heading to Cheyenne!”

Coos Bay, Oregon

“Please calm down. I can’t address your concerns if you won’t allow me the chance to respond. Now, please, one at a time,” Barone barked at the group comprised of the mayors, city managers, and councilors from Coos Bay and North Bend.

“Colonel, we are hearing reports that the United States government is still operating. This runs contrary to what you told us,” stated Cynthia Brownstein, the mayor of Coos Bay.

“I’ve heard the same thing,” Roger Timms, the Coos Bay city manager, said.

The room burst back into loud chatter, harsh questions and accusations being hurled at Barone.

Upon his arrival, he told the people that the United States government had collapsed under the weight of the attacks. He told them nothing of his mutiny and the ongoing battles between his forces and what was left of the United States. He knew his story was weak and that soon he’d have to face the day he’d be challenged. The buildup toward this confrontation had started a week ago when two sailors had come forward to tell the truth to whoever would listen.

Barone suppressed his desire to stand up and tell them all to go to hell. He knew if he wanted to build a new country and have loyal citizens, he would have to win their hearts and minds.

Master Sergeant Simpson yelled, “People, enough! Be quiet so the colonel can answer your questions. He called this council meeting so he could address these false reports!”

Barone raised his hand toward Simpson. “Master Sergeant, it’s fine.”

Silence took hold only when Barone stood from his chair and walked from behind his desk to sit at the table facing the group of civilian leaders.

“Let me again thank you for coming. I want to answer every question you have but I need to have time without interruption to do so. Will you grant me that?” Barone asked calmly.

“Colonel, I’ve heard some very bad rumors. You need to come clean with us about why you’re here!” exclaimed Barry Milford, a councilor from North Bend.

Two more people in the room shot questions at Barone without giving him the chance to answer. The tempo and chatter again picked up.

“Why are you here?” a voice yelled from the back.

“Is it true, did you and your Marines mutiny?” another person yelled out.

“Yes! Yes, we did!” Barone bellowed.

His answer finally silenced the room.

“If you want the truth, then I need the chance to explain everything. I’ll tell you all I know. I hope you’re prepared, because it’s ugly.”

No one answered him; the vocal group was now shocked into silence.

“We came here seeking refuge. We came here seeking a new place to call home. We’ve been here for weeks now and we’ve done nothing but provide assistance and support. We’re not here to harm anyone.”

“Why did you lie to us?” Brownstein asked.

“If I had pulled our ships in here and said, please let us help us in exchange for you helping you, and oh, by the way, we mutinied against the old United States, I don’t think that would’ve gone over so well,” Barone answered her.

“Why did you mutiny?” Barry asked.

“I told you a half truth. The truth is, the United States has been effectively destroyed. Washington, D.C., is gone, New York City is gone, the U.N. is gone, and the president and Congress are all dead. It is true that the devices that destroyed our infrastructure were detonated over Europe and Asia. Australia is the only country besides nations in South America and Africa that were left untouched. What you have experienced here has happened across the entire nation. Many cities have fallen into chaos. I haven’t embellished or misrepresented those facts.”

“How can we trust you?” a voice called from the room.

Barone put his hand up, gesturing for patience, and continued, “I’m not going to bullshit you anymore. I’ll tell you everything. If you want us to leave, we will do that, but let me explain myself first.” He was prepared to handle the consequences and he now felt that if he was able to present his case to the people, he’d win. When he and his group had arrived, the towns of Coos Bay and North Bend were faring well, considering the circumstances, but they were not without challenges. What his group offered them was security and hope. He knew he had leverage just by threatening to leave.

Crosstalk and chatter began to rise in volume.

Roger Timms stood and faced the group. “The colonel has proved to be helpful to our communities, and I say we hear him out. We can convene later about this. Let’s show him the respect he deserves.” He turned back toward Barone. “Go ahead, colonel.”

“Thank you, Roger,” Barone said with a slight smile on his face. He then began to explain everything, starting from when he was first informed of the attacks while he was stationed in Afghanistan. From there, he took them to the shores of Southern California and described what his men discovered there. He went into the conversations he’d had with leadership elements of the United States, including his conversation with Conner. He left nothing out, except what happened in Salem and in Portland. He knew that would not fit into the narrative he was creating. He wanted to showcase himself as a leader who was willing to buck the system to protect his family and other Americans at the risk of losing it all. When he brought up the choice to come to Coos Bay, he emphasized that there were other places outside the United States they had looked at but it was his devotion to America that made him settle there. He finished his lengthy monologue by saying, “I appreciate you all listening while I droned on. My people and I want nothing more than to continue working together to make a new place to call home. We have something to offer, and you have something to offer. We need each other in order to survive this, so please keep this in mind when you all meet later.”

Most in the room nodded when he finished. Roger stood again and said, “Ladies and gentlemen, let’s meet at the Coos Bay City Hall to discuss this.”

Everyone stood up and left. A few walked up to Barone and shook his hand.

With the room vacant except for Barone, Simpson, and Roger Timms, Roger took the moment to say something to Barone personally.

“Colonel, thank you for your candor and honesty. I wish you had been honest with us from the beginning, but now, having heard what you went through, I can understand why you weren’t. I wanted to again express gratitude for all of the support you’ve shown us here. Regardless of what happened in the past, I want to continue our partnership. I’ll do whatever I can to make sure this is managed properly.”

“Thank you, Roger. It’s good to know that I have a friend here.”

“You do,” Roger said, then put out his hand. They shook, and Roger turned and left.