The End

by G. Michael Hopf

  Haley began to cry loudly.

  “Ssshh! Haley, be quiet!” Hunter commanded.

  “I can’t, I can’t, I’m scared!” Haley whimpered, her body trembling uncontrollably.

  “Mommy and Daddy will come soon, I promise.”

  “What if they’re dead, what if Mommy and Daddy are dead?”

  “Haley, you have to be quiet.”

  More gunfire rang out from the men approaching. Haley screamed.

  Hunter reached over and put his hand on top of her mouth. She attempted to pull away, but he forced his hand with pressure equal to her resistance. “Stop, just stop!” Hunter demanded.

  Looking into her brother’s eyes, she calmed down, but tears were still flowing and she was having a hard time controlling her breathing.

  He could no longer see the men in the distance, but he could hear gunfire coming from them and from the convoy. He wanted to know where the men were, so he pulled away from Haley and started to crawl toward the entrance of the culvert.

  “No, stop, where are you going?” Haley cried out.

  “I’m checking to see where those guys went.”

  “Stop, don’t leave me.”

  “I’m just going to poke my head out.”

  Haley began to cry loudly, making Hunter stop and go back to her. He held her close and told her things would be okay. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver compass and gave it to her.

  “Here, take this. Dad gave it to me. He said it would keep me safe, and if I give it to you, it will keep you safe.”

  Taking the compass in her trembling hands, she looked up at her brother.

  He smiled and said, “I’ll be right back.” Hunter crawled away to the opening of the culvert and peered out. He looked left and then right. Seeing one of the men not two feet away, he attempted to duck back inside, but the man grabbed him and pulled him out. Hunter kicked, but he wasn’t a match for the man, who punched him once in the face, knocking him out.

  Haley began to scream, knowing that something bad had happened to her brother.

  The man peered into the culvert and said, “Come here, little girl.”

  USS Makin Island off the coast of Southern California

  Sebastian’s patience was at its breaking point. As each day passed without notice of his departure from the cold gray walls of his cell, he grew more agitated and restless. Knowing that his brother’s house was only twenty miles away made the wait worse. After having traveled thousands of miles and enduring hardships, not to be able to just leave was unbearable. Since Gunny had taken him topside three days before, he hadn’t seen the light of day. His treatment was fair, but this now was feeling like torture. One advantage the wait gave him was the ability to establish a plan. Gunny had allowed him to have a map, paper, and a pencil. He mapped several routes and identified waypoints. Knowing that traveling the highways could be bad, he plotted surface streets and natural trails to lead him to Carmel Valley.

  It had been six weeks since the attacks, and the last intelligence he had on San Diego was days old. In a nutshell, the city had collapsed into chaos. The Villista Army was now occupying large parts of the city. Some Marine squads who had gone ashore to gather family had encountered them. Barone had no intention of securing San Diego but at the same time was not about to allow an organized mob to harass his Marines. He attacked many of the Villista strongholds and encampments, destroying resources and killing many of their people. Sebastian supported this approach and appreciated anything Barone did that would increase his chances for survival.

  The welcome sound of keys unlocking his door echoed off the walls of cell.

  Sebastian stopped what he was doing and stared at the door; he knew it was too early for chow, so someone was coming to pay a visit.

  The large metal door opened, and Gunny stepped inside.

  Sebastian stood up, excited to see Gunny because his appearance might portend his release.

  “Van Zandt, how ya holdin’ up?”

  “Good, Gunny.”

  “I have some good news and some bad news. What ya want first?” Gunny said, standing tall with his arms crossed.

  Sebastian’s eyes widened with anticipation. He was nervous about what the bad news was, but he wanted to save the good news for last.

  “Bad news.”

  “Well, Corporal, San Diego is a total clusterfuck. It’s worse than Fallujah back in ’04.”

  “I kinda figured it would be bad,” Sebastian answered.

  “Not sure if this is good news based upon the bad news, but we’re leaving early and so are you. The colonel wants all the prisoners dropped off by sixteen hundred hours. So, you finally get what you want, Corporal. Your precious California awaits. Now grab your shit, you’re coming with me.”

  “Ah, now!” Sebastian exclaimed, not quite prepared. Just moments before he’d been grumbling to himself about the wait; now the reality of navigating in the chaos of what was San Diego took him off guard.

  “Yes, Corporal. Get your trash, a bird is waiting for you and the other scumbags,” Gunny barked.

  Nervously grabbing what few items he had been allowed, Sebastian followed Gunny out of the cell and down the narrow passageways toward the flight deck.

  “Are you giving me everything you mentioned before?” Sebastian asked.

  “Don’t worry, Corporal, we’re not cruel. We will give you enough to get by.”

  “Thank you.”

  Stepping out on the flight deck, Sebastian thought that he’d never see this ship or Gunny again. He had a flash of nostalgia. He really wished that things had gone differently, but the path Barone was on was not one he could follow. Gunny escorted him to the ramp and patted him on the back.

  “This is it, Van Zandt. I brought you up first; there’s another handful of Marines joining you on this one-way trip. I wanted you to get first dibs on the gear on board,” Gunny said, pointing inside the helicopter.

  “Thank you, Gunny,” Sebastian said, putting out his hand.

  Gunny looked at his hand, hesitated, then grabbed it firmly, “God damn you, Van Zandt, I really wanted you to come with us; but no, you had to go renegade. Listen, I couldn’t let you go without some goodies and a surprise. Grab the pack with the black strap tied on the top.”

  “Roger that,” Sebastian said; he still had Gunny’s hand.

  “If you find your brother, and I hope you do, tell him Smitty says hello, okay?”

  “Will do, Gunny.”

  They stared at each other for another brief moment before Sebastian turned and walked onto the helicopter. Packs with rifles were lined up on the webbing on both sides of the chopper. By a rough count, he totaled a dozen. This gave Sebastian some encouragement; he hoped he could convince some of them to come with him. He located the pack Gunny had mentioned and sat down next to it. Picking it up was not easy; the pack had to weigh sixty pounds. He wanted to see what surprise Gunny had for him, so he opened the pack up and started digging around. Inside he found the familiar tools of the Marine trade. MREs, a tent, can opener, matches, tarp, poncho, extra bootlaces, extra set of clothes, rope, compass, two flashlights with spare batteries, a Ka-Bar knife, extra boxes of 5.56-mm ammunition, two boxes of 9-mm ammo, and four grenades, two high explosive and two smoke. He just assumed that the grenades were the surprise, but then he felt something in the bottom of the pack. He pulled it out and knew that these would come in handy: night-vision goggles with spare batteries. Hearing others coming on board, Sebastian repacked everything and sat back. He checked his rifle and put on his shoulder holster for the 9-mm while the others boarded.

  As each one boarded and sat down, he tried to see if he recognized them. No luck, he didn’t know one of these men; not that it mattered, he just wanted in some strange way to have a familiar face with him. Once everyone was aboard, the crew chief came on and raised the ramp. As th
e turbines of CH-53 chopper began to spin, Sebastian thought back to his time in the Marines. He loved the Corps, and the way he was leaving it made him sad. When the chopper lifted off the flight deck, he said his typical prayer, this time with meaning. Finishing, he looked over his shoulder at the ship below. He wished the best for the Marines of his battalion and hoped that wherever they ended up they could find peace. Settling into his seat for the short ride, he thought about what he might encounter on the ground in San Diego. He couldn’t lie to himself; he was anxious, but knowing he’d be able to complete his long journey gave him solace. He just hoped that Gordon and his family were still alive.

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  “Nothing? Nothing is not an answer! It’s an excuse! It’s a cop-out!” Julia screamed at Cruz and Dylan.

  “Mrs. Conner, please understand that until we can get some more intelligence, there’s nothing we can do,” Cruz tried to explain with a cautious tone.

  “You listen here, Andrew, you’re my husband’s best friend and his vice president. You need to have men out there every second of the day looking for him,”

  “We don’t even know if he’s alive, Julia; you have to understand,” Cruz said, defending himself.

  “All you have are excuses. I want results!”

  “Mrs. Conner, if you would just listen to the vice president,” Dylan attempted to interject.

  Waving a finger, Julia scolded him. “Don’t even tell me what I should do. I’ve listened long enough. It’s been three days and nothing has been done. You all just sit here and talk. This is exactly what Brad hated about this group. You just sit around and talk all the time.”

  “Julia, we have limited manpower, we can’t have them going door to door,” Cruz said.

  “Yes, you could. I’m not asking for you to search every building from here to where he went missing, but you should have teams going door to door there.”

  “We tried, but we were repelled by a superior force,” Cruz exclaimed. “We even sent two-man teams; neither team has come back.”

  “Don’t we have any resources here to do something? Are we that helpless?” Julia asked. She was getting increasingly frustrated by this back-and-forth.

  “We have more men coming soon, and when they arrive, we will have a plan.”

  Julia looked tired and frustrated. She finally sat down at the table. The waiting was wearing on her physically and emotionally. It had been three days since Conner had disappeared. Cruz had sent a team to find him, but when they attempted to conduct a search, they were fired upon by the locals. Cruz had requested support from the handful of military installations that still had operations. But with only two aircraft, it would take some time before they could have those men on the ground.

  “Julia, believe me when I say that if I could go get Brad I would, but we are vulnerable now. I’m making my decisions based upon what I think Brad would do,” Cruz said. He sat down next to her.

  Lifting her weary head, Julia responded, “Thank you for saying that; you’re right. Brad would look at the big picture, and if searching for someone would jeopardize the greater good, he would not do it.” She reached over and touched his hand. Cruz responded by placing his hand on top of hers.

  Gripping her hand a bit tighter, he said, “I will not rest until we find him, please trust me; I will find him.”