Cruz rubbed his belly and answered, “They have the best rice pudding. I think it was made in 1980, but it’s damn good.” Cruz had put on some weight and his black hair with a few grays had become more grays, but his handsome baby face looked the same.
“I haven’t succumb to the devils of food; in fact, the apocalypse has been good for my waistline,” Conner commented, raising his arm so Cruz could see how lean he had become.
“You do look good, so you’re telling me the presidency is the next best thing to Weight Watchers?”
Conner switched his tone and replied, “I wish, this job is what you make of it, and I’m thrilled to be done with it.”
Cruz put his arm around Conner as both men walked to a tufted leather sofa and chair that sat next to a large bookcase off to the left of Conner’s desk. “I still can’t believe you’re resigning. You know, I would have never pegged you as someone to just…quit.”
Conner fell into the chair and said, “I don’t look at it as quitting. This job isn’t supposed to be permanent, and I was never elected, so I didn’t have a term to fulfill. After your call the other night, I got thinking that I had become the problem. Maybe if I stepped aside, you could get some things done that I couldn’t.” Conner paused for a second but needed to say something so that Cruz knew he felt his time in office had been productive. “Even though the conflicts are over, you just need to handle the final details.”
Cruz raised his eyebrows, curious as to what Conner was talking about. “What does that mean?”
“It means I stole a small bit from your playbook.”
“And that was?”
“I was able to contact the leader of the Cascadians, and wouldn’t you know it, he was willing to strike a deal.”
“You did what?” Cruz asked, sitting up in his seat.
“I have to be honest, Andrew, I wasn’t sold on your way of doing things and I didn’t want to leave office as the man who only crushed skulls and killed people. I wanted a legacy that said, ‘I ended the wars of secession and rebellion.’ It sounds nice, doesn’t it? It will look good on the entrance to my presidential library.”
“Why would you go and do something like that without consulting me first, especially after your announcement yesterday?”
“You’re angry?”
“I’m not angry, I just don’t understand why you go and do things without getting input,” Cruz protested.
“I got input from you, I believe you specifically mentioned doing exactly what I did,” Conner said, defending his actions.
“I just would have liked to—”
Conner interrupted and asked, “To be the one so you could take the credit?”
“It’s not that, never mind,” Cruz relented.
“I think it’s a win-win for us and them,” Conner said.
“So what were the terms?” Cruz asked.
“Surprisingly this Charles Chenoweth was very accommodating; I think he could see the writing on the wall. After we wiped out one of his armies, he all but felt we were going to come and kill them too,” Conner said and continued, “You see, Andrew, what I did against them did work and what you proposed worked. I brought them to their knees and your way brought them to submission but voluntarily.”
“Good, so what were the terms?” Cruz asked again.
“They come back into the nation fully. He and some on his committee will be given pardons and be allowed to finish their short terms. They will all have to sign declarations swearing allegiance to the United States. We will send in US troops at a later date to help organize a new election that will occur in three months.”
“So the governors of those states won’t be given their positions back? Just like that, you kick them aside?”
“It was a compromise and one that ensures we don’t have to fight or go in there killing people. Mr. Chenoweth told me in so many words that they would disappear into the mountains and begin a guerilla war that would go on forever. We both know how that can work out, so to prevent that, I gave him that one term, plus I wanted him to feel like he was winning on something.”
Cruz nodded and pondered.
Conner continued, “What he also pledged to do was give us the coordinates for their last remaining force that is west of McCall. Once we have that, our air force will deal with them. He then volunteered to give up the more radical wing of their movement, the Van Zandts, and if Gordon Van Zandt is alive, we’ll finally get him and bring him to justice here in Cheyenne. I recommend a public trial followed by a quick public execution.”
“This guy is giving you a lot, can he deliver?”
“So he says. He will get everything set and speak with his committee to finalize those details. I’m expecting a call from him soon, like any minute, once they’ve voted to move forward with the surrender.”
“Unbelievable, I have to say, Brad, bold and effective. Great job,” Cruz said, acknowledging the deal was a good one and one he could work with. It promised less bloodshed and a reunification of those states that had been lost.
“I thought so too,” Conner admitted, feeling proud of his decision.
“Did you do anything that I should know about concerning the rebels in Cheyenne?”
“Nothing is different. That, my friend, is your problem to handle.”
“I will.”
“Now go get yourself cleaned up and be back here in a couple hours for the ceremony,” Conner said, a large grin on his face.
Cruz exited the office, both excited and nervous for the future.
Conner went back to packing his boxes. His confidence was at an all-time high. The closer he got to his last second as president, the more he had no designs on coming back or getting in the way. He had thought about it, but it just didn’t make sense. He had acted contrary to his past beliefs when he reached out to Charles Chenoweth and it had worked out. The wars of secession and rebellion would soon be over, and he would be given credit for it, so he could go into retirement proud because he’d be known as the man who had saved the United States.
His phone rang.
Conner stepped over and grabbed it. “Yes.”
“Mr. President, this is Major Schmidt.”
“Yes, Major, how are you?” Conner asked happily.
“It’s all cleaned up, the two we mentioned yesterday are gone and there is nothing that links us to the bombings because I’ve gone above and beyond and taken care of my team personally.”
“You did?” Conner asked, shocked.
“It had to be done, sir, to guarantee no one could talk.”
“Good man, thank you, Major.”
“Thank you, sir, my privilege.”
“I’ll see you soon, then.”
“Yes, sir.”
Conner hung up the phone and walked to the window. The sun had just crept over the horizon, its rays making for a new day, one for him and his country.
Sandy, Utah
“Run! Get to the bunker!” Eli Bennett screamed as he ran into the center of the yard. Eli had been a real asset to the community since arriving with Annaliese months ago. His background in avionics and engineering had been beneficial in developing a windmill system for power. They hadn’t yet completed its construction, but if his plan worked, they’d be able to generate enough power for much of the housing on site.
The distinct sound of a .50-caliber machine gun roared in the distance.
Samuel burst from the house, with Annaliese close behind. “What is it?”
“There are people coming. They’ve broken down the gates and are killing everyone!” Eli hollered with a panicked look on his face.
“Where is Robert?” Samuel asked, referring to Robert Blankenship, the head of security for the property and once deputy sheriff of Salt Lake County.
“He’s dead. They’re all dead, gunned down. I was up there working when they came out of nowhere. Hurry, we have to get to the bunker,” Eli yelled.
“We’re not just giving up yet, we need to plan a defense,” Samu
el said, stepping off the deck, a rifle in his right hand.
Annaliese came up behind him, walking and putting on the shoulder holster that Hector had given her.
“You can’t defend against this, Sam. We gotta hide,” Eli barked.
“I’m not about to cut tail and run just yet. It’ll take an army to run me off,” Samuel declared with bravado.
“Sam, this is an army. They’ve got tanks and armored vehicles.”
Shock spread across Samuel’s face. He thought of the two uniformed men from the other day and knew his assumptions had been correct. He turned to Annaliese and ordered, “Get your mother.” Turning back to Eli, he said, “Get everyone you can find and head to the bunker.”
Hector wheeled out onto the deck in his wheelchair and down the ramp. He was back in it but only for short bursts to rest while he built up his stamina. “No.”
They ignored him.
Annaliese raced back into the house while Eli took off yelling for everyone to head to the bunker.
Hector pushed right up to Samuel and yelled, “No!”
“No what!” Samuel yelled back.
“Run, run, no…bunker!”
“Run? Listen, boy, you’re crazy. They can’t get us in the bunker,” Samuel snapped and turned to walk away, dismissing Hector’s suggestion.
The roar of heavy weapons again sounded in the distance.
“RUN, RUN, RUN!” Hector screamed.
Samuel kept walking away.
Hector looked towards the house then back to Samuel and the people who were now scrambling towards the bunker behind the hospital.
Annaliese came out with her mother and saw Hector heading down the driveway towards the sound of fighting.
“Hector, where are you going?” she hollered.
He heard her but kept moving.
“Hector!”
Lake Cascade, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia
“I’m heading out!” Luke yelled as he raced to the door. He had his morning training with Sanchez and it was something he didn’t want to miss.
Samantha called from her room, “Please drop off Brady’s pants and underwear at Joyce’s.”
“I don’t want to be late,” Luke replied.
“She’s just across the hall. Give them to her; I want her to know I even washed them.”
“Oh, c’mon,” Luke groaned.
“Just do it, love you. Oh, I almost forgot,” Samantha cried out and raced out of her bedroom and up to Luke waiting by the front door.
“What?” Luke asked, contorting his face in frustration.
Samantha grabbed the bag of clothes and handed it to him, then said, “Lance Corporal Sanchez and I spoke last night, and I think it’s fine if you have that pistol.”
Luke’s eyes lit up with excitement. He hugged her and said, “Thank you. I promise I’ll be responsible. I won’t let Haley get near it, I’ll keep it clean, because that’s what you’re supposed to do and…” Luke rambled, clearly elated by the news.
Samantha touched his face and swept his long brown bangs out of his eyes. “I know you’ll be responsible with it. I need you to be a man now.”
Luke stood straight and proudly declared, “I will be.”
“I know you will. You’ll make me and Gordon proud.”
“I will.”
“Now go and drop those clothes off, and please hand them to her personally.”
“Okay.”
Samantha gave him a kiss on the head and opened the door for him.
Luke stepped out and walked down the hall to Joyce’s room. His mind raced with visions of him being grown up and defending his family with honor. He saw himself a brave soldier of the republic, fighting for the freedoms of his people. Luke approached Joyce’s door and saw it cracked open. He went to knock but stopped when he heard Joyce.
“But we just got here. What about the threat in town?” Joyce complained.
“Get your shit and your boys. I have my people downstairs; we have to get you out of here now,” Charles ordered.
“But why, where are you taking us?” Joyce asked.
“Do you always have to ask a thousand questions? Why can’t you just do as I ask when I ask? Trust me, it’s important that you come with me.”
“I’m not doing anything unless you tell me why,” Joyce replied defiantly.
Charles grabbed her by the arm and barked, “This whole place is going to go crazy any minute. I sent a driver over here, but your refusal is beyond contempt. The fact that you made me come over here to convince you pisses me off.”
“Why is this place about to go crazy?” Joyce asked.
Charles grabbed a bag and began to stuff items into it. “You’re lucky I care for you because if I didn’t, I would have just left you here.”
“What is going on?” Joyce asked, almost screaming.
Charles jumped over to her and snatched her by the upper arm. “Shut up! We can’t have anyone hear!”
“Hear what?” Joyce asked again, refusing to go without knowing what was happening.
“I’ve struck a deal with President Conner and the United States. We are to surrender, and in exchange, they’ll not fucking kill us. I just saved your life. Now get your shit together.”
“You surrendered?”
“Yes, there was no other choice. He called me late last night and offered terms that I couldn’t refuse. If I didn’t, he was going to do to us what he did to Gordon and his men, so if you value your life like I do, you’ll get going now.”
“But why are we leaving?”
“Are you drunk?” Charles asked, leaning in to smell her breath. “You are, you’re fucking drunk.”
“I only had one, just an eye-opener.”
“Listen, part of the terms was to arrest all those connected to the Van Zandts, that includes quite a few in this building and around the resort. Michael Rutledge has been taken into custody already, and those loyal to us in the militia are coming this way now.”
Luke recoiled when he heard Charles’s admission. He turned to go warn Samantha when he dropped the bag of clothes.
Charles saw the door was cracked and opened it fully to find Luke standing there.
“You? What did you hear?”
Luke looked stunned. “Nothing.”
Charles grabbed him and pulled him inside, slamming the door behind them.
Sandy, Utah
Hector pressed forward down the rocky and uneven driveway until he saw the tank coming towards him. He stopped, thought about what he should do, and decided then and there he’d take a stand, literally and figuratively.
Bracing his weight against the arms of the wheelchair, he pushed himself into a standing position. With his feet firmly planted, he stepped away from the chair and stood defiantly in the way of the rumbling tank.
Annaliese delivered her mother to the burgeoning bunker and raced back to get Hector.
Samuel saw her leave and called after her, “Anna, where are you going?”
“To get Hector.”
“No, we don’t have time,” Samuel hollered.
“I’m not leaving him out there,” she replied, running away.
“He made that decision. Now let him go!” Samuel yelled.
Annaliese didn’t listen; she disappeared around the barn.
“Go get her, Samuel!” Annaliese’s mother barked.
“But she’s being foolish,” Samuel protested.
“She’s your niece. Go get her and Hector, now go!” she yelled.
Samuel grunted and sprinted as best he could for a sixty-five-year-old, his Mini-14 rifle in his grasp.
The shooting had ceased.
Hector stood with his hands up.
The T-72 tank rumbled to within six feet and came to a full stop. The turret whined as it turned the 125-millimeter cannon to face Hector.
Hector looked into the rifled barrel and wondered if his life was about to be taken. When the hatch on the turret opened, he knew he’d bought himself some time and that was
all he needed.
A man emerged from the tank and looked down at Hector. In his teeth a chewed cigar hung. He pulled it out and said, “You’re a brave man.”
Uniformed soldiers enveloped Hector, with their rifles at the ready.
The man climbed out of the turret and stepped onto the front of the tank. A grin stretched across his face as he cocked his head and looked at Hector. “How is it that the bravest man here is a cripple?”
Hector closed to within a foot and braced himself against the tank. He looked up and said, “Stop.”
Amused, the man, an officer by the insignia on his collar, laughed and said, “I did stop.”
Annaliese came running around the bend in the driveway.
The soldiers turned their rifles towards her.
Hector yelled, “No!”
Annaliese stopped and froze when she saw the men.
Samuel then appeared and did as Annaliese had when he saw the mass of men and tanks.
“Listen, cripple, there doesn’t need to be any more killing. Just turn over all of your supplies and we’ll let you live,” the officer said.
“No, you won’t,” Hector said, struggling to speak.
“I won’t? Maybe you’re right,” the man said, pulling out a sidearm and pointing it at Hector.
“Don’t shoot him, please!” Annaliese begged.
“Look, boys, we’ll have some fun later with that pretty one.” The man laughed.
Hector leaned in and said, “Look at me.”
“Huh?” the man asked.
“Look at me.”
“I’m looking at you, and you’re one ugly man. Now I’m bored with this. I have a hungry army to feed.”
Hector swallowed hard and found the words. “My name is Pablo Ignacio Juarez Luiz and I am your emperor!”
The man chuckled.
Hector turned to the men around him and repeated, “My name is Pablo Ignacio Juarez Luiz and I am your emperor!”
All eyes turned to him; they were shocked by what this cripple was saying.
“You are not. Our emperor died,” the officer said.
“I am Pablo Ignacio Juarez Luiz. I am your emperor and I am very much alive!”
Blood, Sweat & Tears: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 5) Page 19
