Blood, Sweat & Tears: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 5)

by G. Michael Hopf

  She stood waiting for the second item, but it didn’t come. She watched him move towards the window and look out. The afternoon sun beamed through the window and cast his shadow long in the room. “Was there something else?”

  “Um, yes, sorry, forgot. Your offices, where are they exactly?”

  “Two floors below here,” she replied.

  “Huh,” he said and took a drink.

  “Why?”

  “Oh, no reason, it just dawned on me that I don’t know where everyone’s office is, that’s all.”

  “Thank you for trusting in me, sir,” Wilbur said then quickly left.

  When the door shut, Conner drank the remaining scotch, turned and threw the glass. It smashed against the far wall. He looked at the shattered glass and grumbled, “You wouldn’t know trust if it smacked you in the face.”

  Mountain Home, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  Gordon hung up the satellite phone and instantly felt sad. Hearing Samantha’s and Haley’s voices made him long for home. All he wanted was to be there, in their arms, safe and sound, but none of that would matter if he didn’t win this war, a war he didn’t choose but was thrust on him.

  Samantha took Nelson’s advice and discussed the sensitive and controversial items concerning Gordon.

  Hearing her explain things always soothed him. She seemed to be one of the few people whose voice could get through his thick skull. He promised before hanging up that he’d heed her advice and think before acting or opening his mouth.

  Samantha told him about the increasing number of people who were expressing their displeasure with independence and the war. Gordon dismissed them and felt they were a small but vocal crowd. He’d discovered long ago that he couldn’t make everyone happy, and he chalked this up as one of those situations. Gordon knew the war must be fought, he knew that tyrants like Conner and their henchmen wouldn’t stop until they had crushed all opposition, and in this age that meant wiping them off the map. As Gordon’s influence and tales of his victories spread, so did the threat to his personal safety and his family. Before he left for his campaign, he instructed his oldest and dearest friend, Nelson, to care for them. Nelson was the best person for the job and took it seriously.

  The attention he was getting also brought deals like he had struck with Jacques. He had also received communications from his counterparts in Arizona and Georgia. Unfortunately any alliances with them were short lived, as word trickled down that Conner had snuffed them out.

  A single filament bulb suddenly turned off without notice, then flickered back on. He looked up at the single bulb suspended from the ceiling of his quarters and felt grateful. The base had been running off of a spotty system of generators sent from Cheyenne, and when they became overloaded, the entire system would go black. Just having power was a luxury he didn’t take for granted, and one that, when he had it, made him appreciate the days not so long ago when power was so available. He sometimes thought of how the world would look if they succeeded in their pursuits of independence. Things like getting the power back on and returning life to a state of pre-attack normalcy would be a priority, and if not done quickly enough, could also spell doom for them. Winning the war of independence against the United States was but one war they’d have to fight; the second would be providing a sound government. It was critical to be successful with the second as much as the first.

  Jones had reported not long before that the company commanders were anxious to know what their next objective was.

  Gordon couldn’t agree more that keeping the army moving was necessary to morale both in his army and at home. But exactly where would they go next? This vexed him as the earlier conversation with Jones replayed in his mind.

  A map of the Pacific Northwest lay unfolded on a table behind him. After spending hours going over new objectives, he still wasn’t any closer to making a decision.

  A light tap at the door gave him a much-needed reprieve from his thoughts. “Yes,” he called out.

  The door opened and in stepped a beleaguered-looking John Steele. “Hi, Gordon.”

  Gordon looked at John’s weary face and bloodshot eyes, then saw he was holding the treaty in his hand. “So is it solid?”

  John closed the door behind him and walked to a folding chair next to the table and sat down with a huff. He tossed the treaty on the table and finally answered, “It looks good; I don’t see anything that could pose us a problem. It doesn’t bind us to do anything; all it spells out is that both parties mutually recognize the other and respect the boundaries referenced. I double-checked what those were with the coordinates listed, and it all checks out. They get all of BC with no further claims by us.”

  “So it’s a good deal?”

  “Yeah, good for them, of course, but for us, I’m not so sure,” John confessed.

  Curious as to John’s comment, Gordon took a seat across from John and asked, “Please clarify.”

  “The deal doesn’t reference a military alliance. I think it should, I think we should add something that one pledges to help the other if they are attacked. You know sorta similar to what NATO was.”

  “Okay.”

  “And the biggest threat is what kind of political shit storm this is going to cause with Charles and the committee. Jones was right; they’re going to go berserk. Do you want that trouble?”

  “I can deal with them,” Gordon replied confidently.

  “What if they don’t take the military alliance?” John asked, going back to his first point.

  “I gave the man my word verbally the deal I was looking for. They had all but threatened to attack us for BC. We don’t need another front opened up against us.”

  “I understand, but all this treaty does without the military alliance is give us their promise they won’t wage war over those lands, nothing more. You see, you’re showing that we’re weak in some ways,” John said.

  “We’re not weak; we’re vulnerable if they come for us too,” Gordon declared, his voice rising slightly.

  “You don’t know this Jacques. Jones is right; he’s not a good guy but a shrewd politician. He sees this is better for him than you and could exploit it.”

  “In my defense, Jacques didn’t want to deal until he saw we had some successes. Now he’s willing to get into bed with us,” Gordon said.

  “Then he may be open to it. The weakness he has is he may need us down the road if the Canadians ever get their shit together and go after him,” John surmised.

  “That’s what I’m betting on,” Gordon said.

  “Then tell him that, tell him Cascadia will come and help if he’s attacked,” John said then yawned. “Sorry, I’m exhausted.”

  “You’ll be there tomorrow too and can help present our case.”

  “I have your back if you need it,” John said, grinning.

  Gordon returned John’s grin. He could see John was waning and didn’t want to hold him longer but needed to make sure his closest confidant was good on the home front. “So how’s the family, did you get a chance to call them?” Gordon asked.

  “Yeah, I did, they’re good. You know, having these sat phones makes life almost seem normal.”

  “They’re a bit spotty, but they do work well, and it beats not having any comms.”

  “Listen, I’m whooped and my eyes hurt. I’m calling it a night,” John said, rubbing his eyes.

  “Thanks for doing this, and please don’t ever stop being you.” Gordon smiled.

  “Being me?”

  “You held me accountable but in a good way. You’re a smart guy and I needed you to step in and make sure the deal was right. And your advice on adding a clause about military support is brilliant.”

  Nodding his head and with a great sense of pride in his tone, John replied, “You don’t become one of the most successful law firms on the West Coast by luck.”

  Gordon extended his hand and said, “Thanks.”

  John took it and shook it firmly. “You’re welcome.” He stood up but
stopped just short of walking away. “So where to next?” John asked, looking at the map on the table.

  Gordon placed his head between his hands and sighed. “Between you and me, I don’t know. I’m going to sleep on it and hopefully I’ll have an answer in the morning.”

  OCTOBER 30, 2015

  “A lie told often enough becomes the truth.” – Vladimir Lenin

  Mountain Home, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  Gordon stood quickly from the table, a grin stretched across his scarred face, and one final time offered his hand to Jacques. This time the handshake sealed a treaty that would bring both new nations closer while creating a chasm in his own. “I look forward to a long and prosperous relationship between our two countries,” Gordon declared.

  “Me too,” Jacques replied. He had agreed to the change in terms, which created a military alliance between both nations. This would be a huge step for Gordon and he planned on using this soon.

  Each party gave platitudes and said their farewells.

  Gordon escorted Jacques and his delegation to their helicopter and saw them off.

  No sooner had the helicopter disappeared over the horizon than Jones stepped forward, a frown on his face and the satellite phone in his hand. “Your timing is impeccable.”

  Gordon gave him a devilish grin and said, “Let me guess, Charles?”

  “Yeah.”

  A chilly wind swept over them. Gordon didn’t know if it was coincidence or it portended the conversation he was about to have. He grabbed the phone and placed it to his ear. “Van Zandt here.”

  “I’ve just arrived in McCall, thanks to Master Sergeant Simpson, but I hear you have no plans of sending him to Olympia,” Charles bellowed over the phone.

  Gordon held the phone away from his ear only to bring it back to answer, “No, I need them to fall back and get into defensive positions in case Conner’s forces head east.”

  “Might I remind you that Olympia is our capital?”

  “Olympia is the capital of the west; McCall is the capital of the east.”

  “We’re one now, and as one, we have one capital. Without a capital, we don’t have a country!”

  “Charles, calm down. The country is alive and well as long as I’m out taking territory and you’re there representing the people.”

  “The committee is calling you back. You need to come to McCall right away and tell them face-to-face why you’re refusing the demands of the duly elected leaders,” Charles snapped.

  “You must be confusing me with someone else, but I’m the supreme leader of all the Cascadian forces. I feel it best to keep my troops driving towards Cheyenne, and Simpson’s falling back to defend McCall. By the way, the governor of Idaho has fled and Boise has fallen too. That comes as no surprise, but we are making progress, and I’m not about to leave the field to come back and talk,” Gordon said, a slight irritated tone in his voice. He could hear Samantha’s voice echoing in his head and he’d promised he’d keep his cool, but if Charles kept coming at him, he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to keep that promise.

  “Gordon, you have an obligation to follow the laws of our new country. You’re being summoned and you need to come,” Charles demanded.

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Then you leave me no choice but to call for your formal dismissal as commander of all Cascadian forces.”

  “Go ahead and try it,” Gordon dared him.

  “I have the votes, especially after your inhumane behavior following the surrender of the US forces in Mountain Home.”

  Jones’s jaw had dropped and his eyes were glued on Gordon as he heard the defiant tone he was giving Charles.

  “Like I said, go ahead and try it.”

  “I will.”

  “And who will lead this army, huh?”

  “We have capable people,” Charles said but was unable to name one person. Charles took a deep breath and paused; he could see how the conversation was going sideways. “Gordon, come back, talk to the committee. Put John Steele in charge until we can get through this,” Charles said, his tone shifting in an attempt to reconcile.

  “Charles, do me a favor and relay this to the committee: I don’t apologize for not sending Simpson’s forces into a battle they’ll most surely lose. I’m fighting this war to win, and winning means I have to do things that aren’t popular or politically expedient. If my decisions lead to us losing this war, then my punishment will be more severe than anything you or the committee could ever deal out. I’m pressing forward and taking advantage of my successes, and will see you and the committee when I return victorious against the United States.”

  Jones could only hear one side of the conversation and, upon hearing Gordon’s speech, raised his thumb and nodded.

  No reply came from Charles.

  “Charles, you there?” Gordon asked.

  A few voices burst over the phone. There were too many people talking for Gordon to make out who it was or what they were saying. Suddenly the voices disappeared and Charles came on. “I put the phone on speaker so the entire committee and the McCall council could hear. All I can say is they are not happy. Your insolence and disregard for the civilian command are noted and will be dealt with,” Charles threatened.

  Gordon’s blood began to boil. If there was one thing he hated, it was being threatened. “Put the phone back on speaker,” he snapped. That was it, the promise of keeping his cool was gone.

  Charles obliged.

  “Whoever is there listening, it’s easy for you to sit and pass judgment. You’re not here on the ground fighting; you’re sitting comfortably back there trying to dictate how a war should be conducted. I witnessed for myself how that is folly. The wars this republic will fight will be led from the battlefield, not a conference room. Like I said earlier, if I fail, then you can pass judgment and do what you will, but if I succeed, and I plan on doing just that, I want to have each one of you who opposes my efforts to publically apologize then step down from your positions.”

  The phone erupted with chatter and yelling.

  “And one more thing you can chew on while you’re sitting on your asses. I have signed a treaty with Jacques Marceau, the prime minister of Western Canada.”

  Charles clicked the phone off speaker and yelled into the receiver, “You did what?”

  “He just left not two minutes before you called. I forged a mutually binding agreement between our two countries that will benefit us both.”

  “You don’t have the authority!” Charles blasted.

  The behind-closed-doors rivalry between Charles and Gordon had now erupted into an open feud, only Charles had one advantage, that being he had been able to convince the political forces to side with him. What Charles miscalculated was Gordon’s strength, that being he had the allegiance of the army.

  “This treaty will hasten the end of the war and help us secure our victory sooner,” Gordon informed him.

  Side chatter over the phone was confusing for Gordon.

  Charles emerged again and declared, “You misplayed your hand, Gordon. Your days are numbered. You see, I have the votes—”

  Gordon’s blood was boiling. He had heard enough from the people he considered political hacks. Not letting Charles finish, Gordon fired back, “You may have the votes, but I have the soldiers.”

  Sandy, Utah

  Annaliese exited the house, expecting to find Hector, but he wasn’t there in his typical spot on the porch. She stood and placed her hands on her hips and thought it strange. Ever since he could wheel himself around, he had come out there daily. It didn’t matter the weather, she’d always find him there. So where was he?

  Back inside the house, Annaliese called out, “Hector?”

  No reply.

  Her mother exited the mudroom, holding a basket of rags. “Off to do some cleaning.”

  “Have you seen Hector?”

  “Not since breakfast.”

  “Hmm.”

  She put on a heather gray sweat
er, pulled her long blonde hair into a ponytail, and went looking for him outside. A bit of concern crossed her mind only because he was always in his spot.

  Samuel had built a ramp off the deck, but he had only used it once right after it was completed. Nope, Hector was a homebody if anyone ever was.

  The property was huge, so if he left the house, he’d have many places to get lost.

  Her first stop was the gardens, not there. Every one she came upon she’d ask his whereabouts, but got the same response, no one had seen Hector.

  From the back gardens to the corral to the storage facilities, she looked for him but nothing. Her concern turned to a tinge of fear. He couldn’t get too far and he couldn’t walk, or at least not that she was aware of. She had attempted physical therapy with him, but he refused to really try.

  Flustered as to his location, she stood in the wide open yard in between the main house and the barn that operated as their clinic. She hadn’t looked in there, and it was the last place to go.

  She hurried there, opened the front door and immediately spotted him.

  Hector was sitting next to a patient who had been brought in not unlike him. She was covered in third-degree burns over most of her body. The difference for this patient was her prognosis was not good, so they had stopped giving her critical medicines that were in short supply and put her on a stream of morphine.

  She walked towards him but stopped when she saw he was holding the woman’s hand.

  He had left his comfortable spot on the porch to give love and comfort to a patient.

  She was in awe at the sight of him petting her hand.

  He bent over and whispered into the unresponsive woman’s ear.

  Annaliese couldn’t make out what he said, but he had talked more than yes, no or thank you.

  Done, he lifted his head but spotted Annaliese and nodded.

  This was her signal to approach. She came forward and said, “You’re so sweet to come sit with her.”

  He nodded.