“I’ll let you get back to resting, you need it,” Sorenson said, standing up and putting the chair back.
“Wait, um. Can someone go see if my brother is okay? Can you send someone to get them, maybe? He’s a good man, he has the same skills I have, and if I know my brother, he’ll have supplies and his family will be an asset,” Sebastian hurriedly said.
“We have enough supplies and more than enough people at the moment, but I will consider it. Right now you need to rest and we need to continue our preparations.”
“Preparations for what?”
“We’re leaving, Sebastian. San Diego is not a safe place and it’s now time to go home.”
“Where’s that?” Sebastian asked curiously.
“Zion.”
40 miles east of Barstow, California
Per Nelson’s request, the group had gathered to discuss Gordon’s plan to scavenge near Fort Irwin. Nelson felt the plan was shortsighted and unnecessary. Huddled in a circle, minus Holloway, who was on lookout, the group discussed the new plan. For protection they had tucked the convoy behind a small mountain a couple miles off of Interstate 15. Each person in the group showed the weariness of the previous seven weeks. The weight of the struggle had affected them all in similar ways. Collectively they wanted to get to Idaho, but they also trusted Gordon.
When Gordon had heard about the meeting, his initial reaction was frustration. He hated having to explain himself to everyone. Not really having a choice in the matter, he would do his best to convince them. But in the end, even if they decided against it, he was going.
“By now you know why we’ve been sitting in the desert for hours,” Nelson stated as he started the discussion. “I thought everyone should have a voice in Gordon’s plans as they affect us all.” Nelson turned to Gordon, who was not sitting; he stood with his arms crossed. “Gordon, I’m sorry, but I disagree with this plan. It’s important for us to keep heading north. I think we have enough supplies, and the more time we’re on the open road the greater the chance we have of being attacked. Yesterday was an example.”
Unfolding his arms and pointing at Nelson, Gordon answered, “I appreciate a good debate, so thank you, Nelson, for bringing everyone together. Before I get started on why I think it’s important for me and Holloway to go scavenge the nearby base, I wanted to remind everyone of something.” Gordon paused and looked around. “We have gotten this far because we have the resources and the skills. Yes, while it seems we have a lot of supplies now, they will eventually dry up. The troubles we encountered on the road yesterday are something we may well encounter again. Plus, think about this. Once we arrive in Idaho and settle down, we will most likely have to defend ourselves from raiding parties. We will need not just food but lots of ammunition and heavier firepower. Yesterday that .fifty-cal saved us. We need more weapons like that and more ammunition for them. This base might have those things.” Gordon paused again and pointed in the direction of Fort Irwin.
Melissa, who was normally quiet, spoke up. “Gordon, I trust you, but I have to agree with Nelson here. Let’s just get going. I feel very vulnerable on the road. I want to get to Idaho so we can get our life going.”
Following on Melissa’s comment was Eric. “Sorry, Gordon, but I agree. You know I always have your back, but let’s not stop, let’s keep going.”
More in the group spoke up, and all agreed with Nelson.
“Okay, I hear you!” Gordon exclaimed, clearly flabbergasted by the opposition to his plan. “Does anyone agree with me?” he asked, looking around. What surprised him most was that Samantha didn’t raise her hand; in fact no one did.
“Honey, sorry. Yesterday proved to me that we need to keep driving,” Samantha replied to Gordon’s hard stare.
Everyone in the group felt the awkwardness, and all fell silent.
Gordon just looked at each person; even Holloway’s wife was opposed. He couldn’t believe it. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation. Everyone’s comments were against the plan, but no one told him he couldn’t do it. He struggled with how to respond. His thoughts were conflicted because he felt the need to go but knew the importance of having a connected and cohesive group. The seconds passed like hours as everyone remained quiet, waiting for Gordon to respond.
“Dad’s right,” Hunter spoke up.
All in the group turned to see Hunter standing on the edge of the group near his trailer. He looked different now; it wasn’t his clothes, but his demeanor was different.
He took a step forward into the circle and repeated his comment. “Dad’s right, we will need bigger guns to defend ourselves.”
Gordon was taken aback by his son’s forcefulness. He was proud and shaken. He had never seem Hunter act like this; it was if he had morphed into a small man.
“Thank you, Son,” Gordon said, looking at Hunter proudly.
Hunter just nodded and stepped over to Gordon’s side.
“Everyone, I heard you and I agree, we need to keep pressing forward, but we also have to get those things we’ll need to protect us. Here is what we will do. Holloway and I will set out in a few hours to recon the base. We will return in the morning. Upon our return we will head north again. It’s starting to get dark, and you know we don’t move in the darkness. I hope this satisfies everyone; look at it as a win-win.”
There was some slight cross chatter, and then everyone agreed to the plan. One by one they all got up and went back to their vehicles until only Samantha, Hunter, and Gordon were left.
Samantha walked over to Hunter; she looked at him, then looked at Gordon. “What is this?” she asked, pointing at the revolver holstered on Hunter’s hip.
“I gave it to him this morning, he needs it. If he’d had it yesterday, things would have been different,” Gordon responded.
“He’s a boy, Gordon! Have you even showed him how to shoot it?”
“I know how to shoot it, Mom. I’m a man now,” Hunter interjected.
“No you’re not, you’re still a boy, you only just turned eight and your father is crazy for giving this to you!” Samantha replied.
“Now I’m crazy! The world is crazy, Sam, and you better get used to this because he needs to protect himself and Haley. You know better than me, this isn’t the world of birthday parties and Disney Junior. He knows how to use it and knows not to treat it like a toy,” Gordon answered her defensively.
“If you weren’t constantly going off leaving us, maybe he wouldn’t need it! I can’t believe you’re taking off to go to that base. What if something happens to you? We need you here!”
Gordon didn’t answer because he didn’t know how to without upsetting her. He just stood there staring at her.
“Never mind; you’re too stubborn and always have been!” Samantha exclaimed. She stormed off.
“Dad, can I go with you and Mr. Holloway?”
“Absolutely not. I need you here in my place while I’m gone,” Gordon said, looking down on his son.
“Please, I can help,” Hunter pleaded.
“No way, I need you here; plus your mother would skin me alive,” Gordon said lightheartedly. He tussled his son’s hair and finished by saying, “Let’s go eat, we all have a big night ahead of us.”
Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado
Julia’s heart was pounding hard in her chest. She felt almost faint after hearing the news that one of the search teams had returned and had information about Brad.
When she awoke that morning she’d been greeted with her first bout of morning sickness. She had laughed to herself earlier that all the discomforts of pregnancy are wiped from your memory after you have a baby. The nausea she was experiencing was not unlike her first time, almost twenty years before. After spending most of her morning lying down, she remembered how much she disliked the pregnancy part. She recalled the conversations with her mommy friends then and how she’d said, “Never again.” Her pregnancy with Bobby had been tough for her; the first trimester had been one day after another of horrible
nausea and a total feeling of malaise. The second trimester gave her some reprieve, but it soon was replaced with constant back pain and overall discomfort.
One other thing she lost during pregnancy was the concern for what others thought of her. She quickly put on a robe, pulled her hair back, slipped on her slippers, and exited her room. The vacant hallways would soon welcome more men and women from bases around the country, and she looked forward to it. The base itself could handle thousands more. It was currently understaffed at less than a thousand, which was only 5 percent of capacity. Brad had often told her how wasteful the government was with its money, but now she was happy they spent lavishly. She was now the beneficiary of that government spending.
She didn’t know what to expect when she reached the briefing room door. When she touched the door handle, she said a little prayer and took a deep breath, then opened the door. Sitting around a small table in this stale gray room were Cruz, Dylan, Baxter, and two men she’d never seen before. They were young men; stubble and dirt covered their faces.
It was apparent to her that these men had just arrived. They hadn’t even been given the chance to take a shower. The one man she was hoping to see when she opened the door was not sitting there. The expression on each person’s face told her the answer to a question she had been asking since she first heard of Brad’s disappearance.
“Hi, Julia, please sit down,” Cruz said in a relaxed tone. He stood and pulled out a chair next to his.
She just stared at them all and said, “No, no. This is how you do it? This is how you tell me? You bring me down here? I thought that you wouldn’t be so cruel. I thought that when you wanted me to come down here it was good news because no one with a heart would bring someone down to a dark, small room to be told her husband is dead.”
“Please sit,” Cruz said again. He stepped toward her, but she recoiled.
“How dare you, Andrew? If you wanted to tell me my husband was dead, you should have come to my room!” Julia said loudly, tears starting to well up in her eyes.
“Mrs. Conner, we don’t know if the president is dead,” Baxter blurted out.
Cruz snapped his head in the general’s direction in surprise.
“What do you mean, General?” Julia said. Her hands were shaking as she dabbed the tears around her eyes.
“These two men here found what they think was his body, but they didn’t bring anything back with them to verify it was his.”
“Yes, ma’am, we found several charred bodies,” one of the special operations men said, but Julia interrupted him.
“So why do you think he was one of them?” she asked, then slowly walked to the chair and sat down. The combination of the pregnancy and the stressful news made her feel weak.
“Ma’am, we discovered a pile of clothes in the same room, and this was in the jacket pocket,” the man said, tossing a wallet on the table.
Julia recognized it as Brad’s. She grabbed it and opened it just to make sure.
“We examined the corpses, but it was impossible to ID any of them. That was all we could get before we were forced to vacate the area under threat of force,” one of the men said, pointing to the wallet in Julia’s hands.
Taking a series of deep breaths to calm herself, Julia felt relieved by the news in some way. The wallet only proved he had been there, it didn’t prove that one of the bodies was his.
“So what happens next, gentlemen? We send more teams back in?”
“This is something else we needed to talk with you about,” Cruz said as he sat back down.
Not letting Cruz finish, Baxter interjected, “Yes, we send more teams.”
Cruz again craned his head in Baxter’s direction; this was the second time he’d just blurted out something.
“Actually . . .”
“Actually, what, Andrew?” Julia asked.
“What I’m going to say is that we are beefing up the searches while simultaneously we will start executing the president’s plan of setting up the government in Portland.”
“And we’ll have the manpower to do both?” Julia asked, looking a bit concerned that the search for Brad could be jeopardized by going to Portland.
“Julia, Brad would want it this way. We need to start executing his plan for Portland. We have the manpower and will continue looking for him while I go to Portland and get the government established there for his return.”
Julia looked deeply into Cruz’s eyes, then brought her attention to Baxter. She was seeking to be reassured. She understood what Cruz was doing and knew that what he said about Brad wanting him to move forward with the Portland plan was correct.
“Who will be in charge of Brad’s search party?”
“Mrs. Conner, I will be in charge here and in overseeing the operation for the president,” Baxter said.
“Good. I’m glad to hear that the search will continue and that Brad’s plans are still going forward. You are right, Andrew, he would want that. Now, if there is nothing more, I will excuse myself. I don’t feel all that well,” she said. She then slowly lifted herself from her chair. Cruz stood quickly and assisted her.
After the door closed behind her, she felt the tears coming. She dabbed her eyes again and began her walk back to her room. She walked slowly and deliberately through the hallways, stopping frequently to take breaks. She started to experience cramping in her lower abdomen, so painful that it took her breath away. Grimacing in pain, she felt a sensation of vertigo. She attempted to steady herself by placing both hands on the wall, but the vertigo and the light-headedness that followed were too much to bear. She looked down the hall hoping to see someone, but, as usual, the hall was vacant. The vertigo intensified in tandem with the pain. She tried to take a step, but her legs gave out and she collapsed to the floor with a thud, unconscious.
Tijuana, Mexico
The exhaust from the trucks was too much for Pablo. He handed the clipboard to a man next to him and left the warehouse. The cool night air felt good. He looked up at the stars and was impressed how bright they were now that the city lights were not there to mask them. He thought of the days his father would take him to Loreto Bay. They’d lie on the beach at night and his father would show him all the constellations. Those years were innocent for him; he knew nothing about what his father or family did.
His father hadn’t always been a cartel boss, but he had been involved in crime from a young age. His father grew up like many in Mexico, in a poor but proud family. His grandfather worked one labor job after another. Lacking a real education or any connections, which are important in Mexico, he never could get a job that could elevate him or his family. Alfredo was smart and wise at even a young age and saw his father’s failings. He swore to himself that he would never be poor; he would rise out of the squalor of poverty. This opportunity presented itself when a thug not much older than Alfredo at the time needed someone to “run” something. Alfredo never looked back, and within two years he had his own runners. Heroin was the drug of choice, and the buyers were mainly American. Alfredo’s operation grew beyond drugs and into smuggling anything that could make money. He soon became the go-to person for anything in Tijuana.
He leveraged this distinction to connect with the right people. He found that the politicians, celebrities, and big business types were not unlike anyone else. They had their fetishes, desires, and needs. Alfredo built his business by being the man who could get it for them. Within six years, he ran the largest cartel in Baja California. This level of success didn’t come without incident, but he proved to be resilient. By the time he was lying on the beach with his young son, Pablo, in Loreto Bay, he had grown to be one of the top cartel heads in all of Mexico. Within twenty years he was one of the richest and most powerful men in the country.
He did what he could to keep his children out of the business, but Pablo was persistent, so Alfredo made him a deal. Finish college, and then, if you want to go into the “business,” it’s yours. Pablo graduated from Harvard with honors, and w
hile his father was celebrating his son’s achievement, Pablo pulled him aside and told him that he wanted in. Alfredo’s cartel ran like a multinational corporation, with Pablo his chief operating officer. Pablo oversaw a lot of the operations from the ground and reported directly to Alfredo. When the lights went out, everything changed. No longer were cocaine and marijuana the cash crops. Food, water, and energy were now prized possessions and commodities.
Mexico City had been untouched by the North American EMP; however, the northern half of Mexico was not so lucky. The Mexican government was doing all it could to support the north, but getting needed supplies to the people was impossible. Convoys of food, water, and equipment heading north along the western coast soon found their way into Alfredo’s warehouses in Baja. Alfredo saw the new marketplace, but Pablo’s plans were bigger, much bigger.
Pablo spun around, finding every constellation he knew. He then wondered if his heroes throughout history had stared into the starry sky like he did. His thoughts then shifted quickly to visions of empire. Schooling had taught him about the greatest leaders in history. Alexander, Caesar, Peter the Great, Napoleon, Charlemagne, these men had become his heroes. They had created true legacies, and he wanted that kind of power the way his father had wanted to achieve wealth. Pablo longed for a place alongside those men. This desire had been dreams and fantasies, but now the world had been shaken like a large snow globe and all the flakes were still floating in the air. If he executed his plan correctly, he could be among those revered names in history. The only thing that stood in his way was his father.
He pulled a small cigar out of his jacket pocket and lit it. The glow of the flame lit his face, showing a serious expression. As he watched the flame dance off of the tip of the cigar, he thought of his next steps in this game. He needed to get back north again and regroup his men. This time, though, he would do things differently; he needed some support. As he took a long drag, the cigar’s tip illuminated his smiling face. He knew who he’d call. His father’s influence had reached across countries and continents. His next call would be to a family friend in Caracas. This friend could get him what he needed: an army.
The Long Road - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The New World) Page 5
