The End

by G. Michael Hopf

  “I appreciate you all coming, but this is a closed-door meeting and you do not have all the information,” Mindy said in a weak attempt to respond.

  “This is our community, not just yours! You do not decide for all of us anymore! There are more of us just outside, we have gathered many in the community and they support Gordon. So maybe the people that should be getting fired from their jobs are YOU!” Simone exclaimed, her eyes still swollen from tears.

  Mindy sat, shocked, as did the rest of the four members of the board. Looking confused and in disbelief they all looked to one another for an appropriate reaction.

  From outside the room, someone yelled, “Gordon! Gordon!” Suddenly a chorus of people began chanting his name.

  Gordon turned around to look at everyone; he was unaware that his neighbors felt this way about him.

  Mindy looked defeated, and instead of attempting to quell the group she stood up, grabbed her binder, and stormed out of the room via a back door. The rest of the board, including Dan, followed her out. Gordon glared at Dan as he left. He knew that he’d have to deal with him again and soon. This fight wasn’t over yet.

  December 16, 2014

  Anyone can hold the helm when the sea is calm.

  —Publilius Syrus

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  Griswald exited his room and closed the door, then looked up and down the stark and dimly lit hallway. He had become more cautious about his movements and surroundings since he had been meeting secretly with those he thought supported his opposition to President Conner’s plans. With another meeting concluded, he was pleased to see his group grow daily. He felt soon he would have strong enough support to openly challenge Conner. With each new meeting he left feeling more confident. One topic that came up a lot in his meetings was what to do with Conner. Griswald’s initial intentions were not to depose Conner but to convince him he did not have support and will of his staff. However, that position was shifting toward usurping Conner.

  Griswald had been working nonstop since the attacks and had barely slept. The reports coming from the outside were frightening; the death toll across the country was growing each hour. Local small gangs and groups were taking advantage of the situation and there wasn’t much anyone in government could do. They had been able to reach out to thirty-four different governors. They had pledged the support of the U.S. government, but all knew it was mainly talk. Each governor they spoke with asked the same questions. They wanted to know when that support would come and how much. All Griswald or anyone on his staff would say is “soon.”

  Even while the general was working behind the scenes against Conner, he did his appointed job. He didn’t mean the new president ill will. He actually liked Conner personally but now felt he was not fit to lead.

  Griswald entered the command post briefing room. Everyone looked up at him; he had never been late to a scheduled briefing. He offered his apologies to the president and all present and took his seat. The vice president continued his update on the calls he had just had with governors and how the situation looked in those state capitals. The reports from each governor sounded the same. They had set up various safe zones for civilians to go to, and the state capitol was in operation but obviously limited due to no power. Each governor had reported that their surplus supplies were running short and soon they would be out. They had reported that violence against civilians had increased dramatically. The only advice they could give their people was to stay indoors. The one word they all told the VP was that the situation was becoming “hopeless.” Cruz tried to reassure all of them but he did not make any promises. He told each one of them that the president and new government were working hard with the help of the U.S. military and foreign governments to get aid and supplies to them fast.

  “Andrew, thank you. I want to put this out to all here. Please feel free to comment openly,” Conner stated following Cruz’s briefing. “Who do we resupply first? We have ships just off of our shores now with food, fuel, medicines and equipment. Where should those go first?”

  The eight people present around the table just looked around at each other. No one wanted to answer, because the answer meant that someone else would suffer or go without.

  Finally Griswald broke the silence. “Mr. President, let’s first ask one question: Where will the new U.S. capital be? From there we can look at where we should send supplies.”

  Conner nodded in acknowledgement of the question. He was thinking about the question. “That is a good question, General. I have given only a little thought concerning the new capital. That would make more sense to build up the governmental infrastructure so that we have a solid base to work from. Where do you propose, General?”

  “I believe we should find a coastal city, one that has a large port. This will make it easy to get that city back online and rebuilt. From there we can look at expanding out from there.”

  “What about here?” someone asked.

  “Why not here?” Conner asked too.

  Griswald replied. “It is far easier to get the resupplies and new transformers via ship than plane. A city that has a port that can handle large container ships is where we should go.”

  “That makes a lot of sense, General,” Conner said, making some notes.

  “We have another problem that I didn’t think of till late last night,” Griswald said. He leaned forward and said, “I cannot believe none of us had thought about this.”

  “What is it?” Conner asked, looking concerned.

  “When we select our new capital we should ensure it’s nowhere near a nuclear power plant.”

  Gasps came from in the room. No one needed him to explain further, they knew exactly what Griswald was talking about.

  Conner leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. He, too, knew what Griswald was talking about. “How could we not think about this before? As if we needed another problem.”

  “How many sites do we have across the U.S.?” Houston asked. He was sitting next to the president.

  “I don’t know. Does anyone?” Griswald answered.

  Everyone in the room shook their heads no. Griswald turned to his aide and ordered, “Go find out, we must have that information here somewhere.” Griswald’s aide didn’t hesitate. He departed the room with urgency.

  “It appears we are premature in discussing the location of the new capital. Please alert the governors and our forces about this new threat. We will need to see what we can do to attempt to evacuate people away from those reactors,” Conner said. He was clearly upset by the new revelation.

  “Sir, forgive me for even mentioning this, but what can we really do? What aid can we deliver and how exactly can we evacuate people?” Houston asked.

  “General, we have to try something; we cannot sit around and do nothing. Let’s inform the governors and we’ll go from there,” Conner said.

  “I can’t believe we all overlooked this,” Griswald stated.

  “Mr. President, I don’t think it’s premature to have the question about how we will distribute resources. Let’s be realistic here. This country is huge and with the limited resources we have we can’t get to everyone; we’ll need to focus on a small area and work from there. We have to put all of our focus, energy, and resources into one city and work from there. In essence what I am saying is we need to abandon parts of this country and hope we will be able to get them back up later,” Houston said.

  Conner just sat and reflected on Houston’s comments. He knew that in some way the general was right. The task before them was overwhelming, and if they took what they had and spread it across the country they would never chip away at the problem. They would have to commit to one city and work from there. But what city?

  “General, I hear you; let’s discuss this topic when we have the info we need.”

  All in the room agreed and Conner moved on the meeting.

&nbs
p; “General Griswald, since we never heard back from Barone we have to assume he is carrying on with his treasonous path. What have we done about that?” Conner asked.

  “We have alerted our forces in Hawaii to intercept them; we have also contacted the commander of the USS Topeka, an attack submarine that is operating in the Western Pacific.”

  “Just one sub?” Conner asked, surprised.

  “I was in error when I said we had three at our disposal. That is what we have to spare right now.”

  “Okay, fine. Sorry, not meaning to question you. I just want the colonel stopped and want to make sure it happens,” Conner said to Griswald apologetically. He then continued on with his thoughts. “I have to admit that after each meeting, I get more upset and I feel useless,” Conner said, standing up. He started to walk around the room. “There isn’t much we can do but talk. We don’t have enough food to go around; we don’t have the equipment or parts to get our grids back up. We now are faced with nuclear meltdowns on an apocalyptic scale. We have lost our entire infrastructure and there isn’t much we can do but sit here, talk, and wait. I cannot stand this feeling. We haven’t responded to our enemies, we just talk. We sit a mile in a mountain, we are safe and have enough food to last us years, while our countrymen right this minute are struggling to survive. Many will die, they will starve, they will be raped and murdered.” All in the room just watched him pace. The more he talked the more he was getting upset. “How many will die before we stop talking and start doing something? The ultimate question I have for all of you is, will our country survive this?”

  USS Makin Island off the southern coast of the Philippine Islands

  “We made it through the Malacca Strait and past Singapore with no trouble. Now we’re about to enter the Western Pacific. I don’t know what to expect from here on,” Barone said after taking a drink of his coffee.

  He and his son, Billy, had been getting together almost daily. Barone enjoyed his son’s company and felt blessed that they were able to be together during this time.

  “I’m sure we’ll be fine. I can’t imagine the president would attempt to attack us,” Billy said, taking a bite of toast.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure, son. He’s been a tough talker all of his life while in Washington. Who knows, maybe he’s a chicken hawk.”

  Billy chuckled, “Hopefully he is.”

  “If all goes well we should be spending New Year’s with your mom and sister.”

  “I’d like that. I hope they’re okay.”

  “Oh, I’m sure they are fine. It will take a lot to take out that old gal. Your mom is a tough cookie and she has Megan locked down I’m sure.” Barone openly talked with confidence about his wife and daughter’s safety but inside he was deeply concerned.

  Barone looked at his son as he ate. Billy reminded him of his wife, Mary. He looked like her a lot and had her fire and strong will. As he looked at Billy, he now wished to himself that he had been home more with him when he was growing up. He now longed for the days when Billy was young. He never really had too many intimate and deeply private conversations with Billy or Megan. He wondered if they resented that he spent so much time away. He wondered if Billy resented that he never went to his baseball games or missed those moments to comfort him when he had a nightmare growing up. Barone had given most of his adult life to the Marine Corps and his country. Now all that time invested was given for what? Why did he make a decision that could prove fatal if he were wrong? He finally admitted to himself that his country was gone and that the Marine Corps he knew died along with it.

  “Son, what is the talk amongst the Marines you’re with?”

  “Dad, everyone is with you, they are just anxious. We all want to get home as fast as possible,” Billy said, looking up from his plate.

  Billy’s words brought comfort to him. He knew his son was smart and in tune with what was happening on the ship.

  Their conversation ended when the General Quarters alarm sounded. Both men looked at each other and didn’t say a word. Barone jumped up and ran out of the mess hall. The corridors were alive with activity as men rushed back and forth on their way to their assigned duty stations.

  He climbed the last ladder well and entered the bridge. Inside he encountered a hub of activity. The radio operator was contacting the other ships in the flotilla.

  “Why has General Quarters been sounded?” Barone asked.

  “Colonel, we have a submarine on sonar,” a junior naval officer answered.

  “Where is it?” Barone asked.

  “The sub is approximately . . .”

  “I see it, sir!” yelled a Marine on the bridge looking through binoculars.

  “Where?” Barone asked. He hurried over to the Marine holding the binoculars.

  “Approximately three thousand meters out on our starboard side, sir!” the Marine said, pointing to where he saw the submarine floating on the surface.

  Barone grabbed the binoculars, focused them, and saw the submarine.

  “Use all channels and hail the sub!” Barone commanded.

  Moments passed as the communication’s petty officer attempted to contact the submarine. The ships kept getting closer and closer. Barone had ordered that all ships not engage the sub but to stay vigilant in case the sub took aggressive action. As the ARG moved closer they saw the top hatch of the sub open and a couple of men come out and stand on the sail. Barone stayed glued and curious as to what was happening. He was not sure himself what flag the submarine flew or why it was on the surface of the water.

  “Anything yet?” he asked the communications petty officer.

  “Nothing, sir.”

  The two men on the sail started to wave.

  “How close can we pull the Makin Island up to the submarine?”

  “Sir, we can get close, but I would recommend not doing so,” the first officer on the bridge said.

  “Tell the rest of the ARG to move away from our position and to slow down. I want to pull alongside the submarine and see what’s going on.”

  “Yes, sir,” the first officer said.

  The USS Makin Island pulled alongside the port side of the floating submarine. By the time they had gotten within a couple hundred meters, the submarine struck colors. Fear and apprehension filled the men on the bridge of the Makin Island when they saw it was a U.S. flag.

  Barone was alone in not being fearful. If the sub had meant them harm it would not have surfaced. He stood along the railing with a bullhorn in hand, ready to communicate with the men on the sub’s sail.

  “I am Lieutenant Colonel Barone of the USS Makin Island and Commanding Officer of the Second Battalion Fourth Marine Regiment. Are you in need of any assistance?” Barone said, his voice amplified from the bullhorn.

  One of the men on the ship looked at the other and said something that no one could hear. He left and went back inside the submarine. The other man raised his hand to gesture for more time.

  “What’s he trying to say?” the first officer asked out loud. He was standing next to Barone.

  “I think they want us to hold on for a minute,” Barone responded.

  A moment passed and the man who had left reappeared and handed the other a bullhorn.

  The first man took the bullhorn and said, “Colonel Barone, what was the name of that blonde from Fremantle back in 1999?”

  “What?” the first officer asked out loud. He put down his binoculars and looked at Barone.

  Barone was stunned by the question; he kept looking through the binoculars to see if he knew who just asked him the question.

  “Who are you?” Barone asked.

  “Maybe this will help,” the man said. “A half pint for a half pint?”

  Barone’s eyes lit up. He knew who it was.

  “Captain White! What the hell are you doing bobbing in the water?” Barone asked.

 
; “We’re waiting for you.”

  Barone was shocked to hear that. He looked around and saw other puzzled looks on the faces around him.

  “Get your ass over here,” Barone said.

  Captain White gave a thumbs up.

  “Sir, who is that?” the first officer asked.

  “Why, Lieutenant, that is Captain David White of the USS Topeka and an old dear friend of mine. We go way back. Now get the captain over here without delay,” Barone told the first officer.

  • • •

  Barone poured White another drink and sat down. He looked at his old friend, whom he had not seen in five years. The years had not been good to David. His black hair had been replaced with thick white, his eyes sagged, and his skin was blotchy. There was sadness in his eyes that was not present before. Barone did not know where the years had gone since they had last spent time together. How easy it had become to move on from friends and colleagues. How could you spend each day with someone, then one day say goodbye and not see them for five years?

  “I appreciate all the bourbon,” White said before taking another sip.

  “You’re welcome, old friend.”

  “Let’s talk about the eight-hundred-pound gorilla in the room.”

  “Eight hundred pounds? More like an eight-hundred-million-pound gorilla to me,” Barone joked.

  White took another drink and put his glass down. “A few days ago we received word from the secretary of defense that we were to patrol the waters out here looking for a rogue colonel and his band of mutinous Marines.” White chuckled and continued. “Our orders were to track you down and destroy the ships, take no prisoners, do not negotiate, just sink your ships.”

  “I guess the president wasn’t joking when he said he wanted to stop me.”

  “I’ve known you for a long time; we had the pleasure of working together years back on that Wes-Pac. You’re a gung ho Marine. I know your wife, I know your children. You’re a good man.” White paused for a moment to collect his thoughts, then continued. “When they told me it was you, I knew you wouldn’t just do something like this without a damn good reason. I couldn’t just destroy these ships and kill you and those Marines and sailors without hearing from you what’s going on.”