The Long Road - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The New World)

by G. Michael Hopf

  The door opened. Gordon jerked and smacked his head as he pulled it out quickly from underneath the desk.

  “You won’t find anything there worth any value, Mr. Van Zandt,” Rahab said, standing in the open doorway.

  With a weak attempt at humor, Gordon quipped, “I saw a quarter on the floor.”

  Rahab just smiled. “Come with me.”

  Gordon was now very confused. Rahab didn’t appear to be concerned with him or remotely afraid that he’d do something. As he stepped out of the office, Gordon looked for Hunter but did not see him among the children.

  The children all appeared to be happy and healthy. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, and nowhere in their demeanor did he see any distress.

  The walls of the hall were adorned with hand-drawn pictures by the children. Rahab or a Christ-like figure appeared in many of them. Along the wall also hung what Gordon guessed were biblical quotations.

  Gordon and his brother, Sebastian, had not been raised in an actively religious home. His mother had been a Methodist and his father a Lutheran, but neither practiced their birth religion. During their childhood the family went to church but only on the big holidays like Christmas and Easter. Not having been raised with faith, neither Gordon nor Sebastian took it up. After his two tours in Iraq, Gordon had completely washed his hands of religion. He had encountered many people from different faiths and felt none had a corner on what was right.

  The way he was being treated today was so different from the way he’d been treated the day before. Rahab opened a door at the end of the hall and motioned for him to go inside.

  When he reached the open doorway, his eyes lit up. “Hunter!” Gordon raced into the room and grabbed his son. They embraced tightly. Being able to hold him and see that he was unharmed brought such relief to Gordon. “Are you okay? Let me look at you.”

  “I’m fine, Dad,” Hunter answered.

  “Oh my God, I was so scared for you,” Gordon said after looking him over.

  Hunter embraced him again and said, “I want to leave.”

  Gordon didn’t know how to answer him. He could see Rahab out of the corner of his eye.

  “You see, I told you. I am a man of my word. Now can you answer my question from yesterday?” Rahab walked in and sat down in the chair next to him.

  “I told you, we’re alone.”

  “I already know you have a group and that you have many supplies.” Rahab looked at Hunter as he spoke.

  Gordon paused; he now knew that Hunter had told Rahab about their group. The next time he opened his mouth could be critical.

  “You have to understand that our group is small; we have nothing you need. You have a military base. We mean you no harm. Just let us go.”

  “Your son, lovely boy by the way, told us your group was heading to Idaho. Why Idaho?”

  “What do you want? I don’t understand any of this. Do you want our supplies? What exactly do you want?” Gordon asked, now frustrated with Rahab’s line of questioning.

  “I will be honest with you, as I have nothing to fear. I didn’t blindfold you when I brought you here because I wanted you to see for yourself that we are a large group. We have more than a hundred and fifteen people in our ministry. It takes a lot to feed them. We have been going out to get supplies, but as you are well aware, things are scarce.”

  “So you want to take our supplies?”

  “No, I want you to come join our group, all of you.”

  Hearing this threw Gordon off; he’d never imagined Rahab would ask him to join his group.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Our faith requires us to go out and minister to those who will listen. Our flock needs to grow, and we need more able-bodied men and women of faith to take up our mission.”

  “Not to sound cliché, but what happens if I say no?”

  “If you say no? Then we will dispatch you.”

  “Dispatch me?”

  “We will send you to God. We will cleanse you and send you to our heavenly father,” Rahab said flatly. He approached Gordon and placed his hand gently on his shoulder.

  The words that fell from Rahab’s mouth struck fear in Gordon. He’d already feared the man, and now he knew the threat was genuine.

  “What do I have to do?” Gordon asked.

  “Just let go, be one with God, and pledge your life to us and to God.” Rahab pointed up as he spoke.

  Gordon looked at Hunter, who to his amazement was quite calm. Every step and decision he made had to be perfect, because one misstep could result in death. Knowing he didn’t have a choice, he did what he thought would give him more time. He just stared at Hunter. His sweet son, whom many said was his twin. Even though Hunter resembled him so much, he could see Samantha in the boy’s face and eyes. His blue eyes still had an innocence about them. One day those eyes would change and a jaded young man would stare out of them. Today, though, was not that day, and what Gordon said next would determine so much.

  Gordon took his attention away from his son and looked at Rahab. “I’m in. I’ll join your group.”

  San Diego, California

  Sebastian ran his hand over his tightly bandaged leg. He couldn’t stop touching it. Even after a dose of pain meds, the leg still ached. He was grateful that his plea to Bishop Sorenson had not gone unheard. While Sorenson was busy with preparing his group to leave, he was not a man without understanding. He took care to listen to Sebastian and pledged to help him find his brother. With the offer of a vehicle and two men, Sebastian finally felt that soon he’d be with his brother.

  A knock at the door told him that his ride was waiting. Annaliese helped him to the truck, an old Chevy pickup. There he met two men, Willis and Jameson. Both were cousins of Annaliese’s and had features similar to hers. Both men were lean, average height, and had striking blond hair.

  Jameson put his hand out and introduced himself, then promptly handed Sebastian the gear he had from the chopper. “You’ll need this.”

  “Yes, I will,” Sebastian said, putting on his tactical vest.

  All the men checked and double-checked their gear. Sebastian was not a big fan of his Beretta mm, but it was all he had besides his M4. He checked the pistol and holstered it in his side holster.

  “Find them and get back here before dark,” Sorenson said as he approached the truck.

  “Yes, sir, we will,” Jameson and Willis replied in unison.

  Sebastian turned and faced Sorenson with his hand outstretched. “Thank you again, Bishop. I have to admit, I wasn’t asking for all of this, but it helps.”

  “You’re welcome. It’s the least we can do for someone who risked his life for us in Afghanistan.”

  Afghanistan and the life before seemed oddly distant now. Sebastian sometimes felt like he was in a dream. He sometimes thought that he’d wake up on his cot in Afghanistan. But this was not a dream. He was living a nightmare.

  “The sun will set in a few hours, we gotta go,” Willis said as he sat behind the wheel of the old black truck.

  Jameson jumped into the back and sat down on the wood-paneled bed. “Go ahead, take the passenger seat. I like the fresh air.”

  Sebastian just smiled and got into the truck slowly, being mindful of his leg.

  Annaliese smiled and gave a timid wave to him as the truck pulled away and down the long dirt driveway.

  Not knowing what to expect, Sebastian pointed his rifle out the open window, not unlike what he’d do in Afghanistan.

  When they pulled out onto a small county road, he saw a few abandoned vehicles but no people. He gave very specific directions to Willis, who acknowledged that he knew where he was going. They shared small talk as they crept along the back roads of Encinitas into Rancho Santa Fe. Sebastian was surprised not to see more people, and the few he did see appeared to be wandering with one purpose: scavenging in each abandoned car they could find. It was difficult for him to see through the fragmented parts of the windshield on his side. The truck now bor
e the scars of the time.

  “What happened?” Sebastian asked, pointing to the window.

  “A group of kids attacked us with rocks a couple weeks ago. It’s not safe out there anymore.”

  “What have you seen?”

  Willis chuckled, then said, “I’ve seen people kill each other for a can of beans. I’ve seen children left alone to wander because someone killed their parents. Mr. Van Zandt, hell has come to this world.”

  When they crested the hill and overlooked Via de la Valle, the smoke plumes that Gordon’s own eyes were familiar with were now being witnessed by his brother. The plumes weren’t random or few but now dotted the skyline in more than a dozen locations.

  “What’s going on with all the smoke?” Sebastian asked.

  “The rumors are a drug cartel has come across the border. They have created an army and are killing and burning everything in their path.”

  “We heard about them on the ship; a recon team received intel on those guys,” Sebastian said. He noticed a few of the plumes were close, too close in fact. As he oriented himself, he now felt certain that some of the smoke was coming from Gordon’s area. He recalled Willis mentioning children left abandoned. The thought of little kids on their own in this harsh environment struck him hard. Thoughts of Hunter and Haley then came to mind. If everything worked out, he’d be hugging them soon. “I have to ask, you mentioned kids a bit ago. What happens to them? How do you just leave them alone?”

  “We don’t.”

  “You don’t?” Sebastian was startled by his response. All he’d seen since the attacks were self-centered and selfish acts. “Sorry if my tone was of doubt, I apologize. I just . . . I just haven’t seen much charity since I left Afghanistan.”

  “The bishop has us take the children in. It’s what God expects of us.”

  Sebastian just stared at Willis. He was amazed by how someone so young could be so grounded and mature. He felt bad about his tone. He thought, Of course they rescue the children; they rescued me, didn’t they?

  “I hope your brother and his family are okay,” Willis said.

  “Me too. With each mile and turn of the wheel, I get more nervous. I just don’t know what to expect.”

  The old truck slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill and idled. Willis carefully looked both ways, but as he was about to accelerate he heard another vehicle coming down Via de la Valle on his right.

  Sebastian guessed it was an old muscle car because of the rugged and throaty sound.

  Willis sat frozen; he gingerly touched the accelerator and moved forward a few feet, then stopped abruptly.

  Sebastian could see the car now; it was coming toward them at high speed. “Ugh, I hate to ask, but what are you going to do here?”

  Willis still sat clenching the steering wheel. His grip was an extension of the inner tension he was feeling.

  “Hey, buddy, you’re kinda sitting out in the road,” Sebastian stated, his eyes fixed on the car coming toward them.

  It made a last turn before a long straightaway that led to where they were sitting. Once it cleared the turn, the car sped up considerably.

  Sebastian tore his gaze from the car and shouted, “Do something, go forward or backwards, but get out of the road!”

  Sebastian’s voice broke Willis’s daze, and he stomped on the accelerator and lurched across.

  As they cleared the road, the car was close enough for Sebastian to see two men. One pointed at them and made a motion to the driver to stop, but the car didn’t slow down. It kept its pace and vanished around a turn.

  The truck sputtered then sped up, and they continued.

  “What happened?” Sebastian asked, concerned. He was familiar with seeing men freeze. This reaction to stress was not unusual, but it made Sebastian nervous now to know that one of the men he was going out with might be a liability.

  “I don’t know, I just didn’t know what to do,” Willis answered sheepishly.

  “How many times have you been out?”

  “Umm, a few . . . Listen, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Willis stated, attempting to sound confident.

  “Okay, but I have to tell ya, that made me nervous. Let’s not do it again.”

  “We won’t, I promise.”

  The smoke grew darker as they came closer to the source. Even the wealthier parts of San Diego hadn’t fared well. Every gate for a luxury community had been breached. One in particular was a neighborhood just a couple miles from Gordon’s. Fairbanks Ranch’s main gate and guardhouse had been destroyed by what looked like a fight. Black soot stained the exterior walls, the large panel windows on the front of the guardhouse were smashed, and the stucco exterior was riddled with bullets.

  “That cartel must have been here,” Willis commented. He had slowed the truck to a crawl as all examined the ruins.

  Sebastian didn’t say a word; he just stared at the once beautifully adorned gates and guardhouse.

  The large iron gates were bent and twisted from the center out. The right gate lay almost horizontal; only the lowest hinge prevented it from touching the ground. Fairbanks Ranch security vehicles, which had been used to fortify the entrance, were smashed and burned and looked as if they had been tossed aside.

  “Stop!” Sebastian yelled out.

  Willis, obeying Sebastian’s command, slammed on the brakes.

  Sebastian had seen something he found curious. As the truck idled, he opened the door and stepped out. He hopped on his good leg around to the front of the truck to get an unobstructed view. Lying against the side of the guardhouse were three bodies. Their blood splattered against the wall told Sebastian they had been executed.

  “What’s up?” Jameson asked, standing in the bed of the truck.

  “I just wanted to confirm what I thought I saw,” Sebastian answered. He hopped back to the truck and grabbed a pair of binoculars. Positioning himself against the front of the truck, he peered through the binos to get a clearer picture of the carnage. His count was right, three bodies lay dead. On the wall above their splattered blood was the word “Villista.”

  “Villista? Is that the cartel?” Sebastian asked.

  “Yes, sir, it is,” Jameson answered.

  Concern overcame Sebastian. He hopped back to the truck door, tossed in the binos, and jumped in. “Let’s go.”

  The truck cleared the last turn; his brother’s community was just ahead. They had found their way their unharmed and had also found the source of the nearest smoke plumes. The main entrance looked eerily similar to that of Fairbanks Ranch. The iron gates were burned and twisted and flung open to show a pile of charred and crushed cars. The once beautifully ornate sign that had told those visiting or passing, welcome to rancho valentino was spray-painted with the name Villista.

  “Keep your eyeballs peeled and stay frosty,” Sebastian said, his rifle securely tucked in his shoulder.

  “Stay what?” Willis asked, not knowing what stay frosty meant.

  “Stay alert, okay,” Sebastian answered, his eyes scanning the area intently.

  They drove slowly through the gate; all around he saw smoldering homes, deserted cars, trash and personal effects strewn on the main street, but no people.

  “Turn right, then drive up a few blocks,” Sebastian ordered. Fear gripped him as he realized that finding Gordon, Samantha, and the kids might not happen. The thought of finding their bodies flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

  Every single home had damage done to it. Some had been burned, but all had signs of forced entry. A large pile of debris was still smoldering in the central park; neither man in the cab could make out what it was as they passed. After they had driven several blocks and still not seen a single person, Sebastian’s fear deepened. Hope of finding Gordon was diminishing with each home they passed.

  “Last turn, right here.” He pointed.

  “This doesn’t look good,” Willis quietly said, his grip still firm on the steering wheel.

  The truck
made the turn onto Gordon’s street, and finally, after more than seven weeks since leaving Afghanistan, Sebastian could see his brother’s house. It was one of the fortunate homes that hadn’t been burned, but it had suffered substantial damage.

  The blood was coursing through Sebastian’s veins, and he felt flushed as the truck slowly came to a stop in front of the house.

  Jameson jumped out of the back and was looking in all directions. “Looks clear, not a soul around here.”

  Sebastian had the urge to tell him to shut up, but he decided to ignore him. “Stay with the truck,” he ordered.

  “Sure thing,” Willis responded; he looked at Sebastian and could see the dread and fear in his face.

  Sebastian took a deep breath and got out of the truck with his crutches in hand. The first thing that caught him off guard was the large bloodstain on the sidewalk leading to the front door. He stopped and looked at it; it was hard for him to determine how long it had been there, but from the size, there had been a lot of blood. His focus then shifted to the entire front of the house. The lawn was brown and dead; the flowers that Samantha prided herself on had suffered the same fate. Their petals were shriveled up. The front door was open slightly; the once-solid oak door was cracked at the handle, bullet holes punctured its rustic walnut finish. Dozens more bullet holes surrounded the door and the front windows. The windows themselves were smashed and the screens ripped.

  Sebastian stepped up to the front door, and before he pushed it open, he paused. His gut twisted, and he felt a flash of nausea come over him. He took a deep breath and pushed the door. It shrieked at the hinges and with each inch, gave him a view of more destruction inside. As if waiting to be invited in, he paused again. Finally knowing that he had to get this over with, he stepped inside.

  The house had been ransacked. Most of the furniture was turned upside down. Deep feelings of remorse and pain filled his chest; each breath he took was more difficult. He remembered how the house used to look, the squeals of the two kids, the happiness, the Christmases spent here, the many dinners and fun birthdays. All gone now. In a billionth of a second, it was all stripped away.