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

by G. Michael Hopf

  “I know you have a lot of questions, but let me give you a bit of sound advice first. Watch yourself here; these people are bad and will kill you without thinking twice. You saw those two large Xs over there, didn’t you? That’s where they execute people. So when I tell you to shut up, shut up.”

  “I heard some screams the other night. Was that an execution?”

  “Yeah, it was.”

  “So what exactly is going on here?” Gordon asked with a pleading tone.

  “The first thing you need to realize is that Rahab is a psychopath and his followers are a bunch of Kool-Aid drinkers who will kill for him. Be careful what you say or do, okay?”

  “I will. How long have you been here?”

  “Almost four weeks now. I came with a group from San Diego. We saw the signs for the main base. While we were driving there they attacked our cars. They killed two people in my group and took the rest of us prisoner.”

  “You came from San Diego? Where abouts?” Gordon asked.

  “Near downtown, but none of that matters now. What is important is that if you’re looking to get out of here, I want to go too but we have to play the game.”

  “Here’s a problem I have. My son is here too. He’s being—”

  “Yes, I know, Rahab has him. That complicates things a lot,” Derek said, interrupting Gordon.

  “How many men does Rahab have? He told me over a hundred.”

  “Oh, I would estimate almost fifty loyal followers. The rest he counts are people like us. He has about fifteen in his inner core; they are the same bunch of whack jobs that followed him before.”

  “What do you mean by followed him before?”

  “Rahab has been around preaching his insanity since before everything went to shit. He had a church or a better word would be a cult in San Diego. I first ran into him when he came before the city council to seek rezoning for a building in Claremont Mesa. We shot him down right after several abuse cases came to our attention.”

  “Wait a minute, now I know where I know you from,” Gordon spoke up.

  Derek didn’t respond, he just looked at Gordon, waiting for the answer to spew forth.

  “You’re that gay guy who ran for mayor a couple years ago, aren’t you?”

  “Why is it I’m the gay guy? I don’t say, ‘Oh wait, you’re the straight guy who did xyz.’” Derek shot back, clearly irritated.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s not every day you see a gay Republican run for mayor of San Diego. it’s kinda like seeing bigfoot,” Gordon said, attempting a bit of humor.

  “Do you want to know more about Rahab and this place or do you want to keep going with this?”

  “I’m sorry, I really am.”

  The sun finally dipped below the mountains to the west, creating an eerie orange glow in the sky.

  Derek pulled out two headlamps and handed one to Gordon. “Here, put this on; we’re required to wear them at night.”

  “What happens if we don’t?”

  “Just put it on.”

  “How do we get out of here?”

  Derek turned on his headlamp. The light splashed across Gordon’s face.

  “I don’t know. If it were you and me, I would say we make a run for it on a night like this. The guards usually keep themselves busy with the women, so we can pretty much do what we want. With your kid being here, I don’t know how we get him and then get out without being noticed.”

  “Do you know anything about where they keep the kids?”

  “As much as you. They sleep in the same building as Rahab and his council.”

  “Who is this guy? Where did he come from?” Gordon asked.

  “I’ll tell you more of what I know as we finish,” Derek said.

  As both men walked, Derek explained what he knew about Rahab.

  Rahab’s view of Christianity didn’t fit with any of the churches he attended in San Diego. One by one they asked him not to return. His deeply held views on the end of days turned many away from him. However, they did attract a few, and those few were as fanatical as he was. He eventually started his own ministry, and his church grew.

  When Derek ran into Rahab that day before the city council, Rahab had already created a solid core of followers. The city council was set to vote to allow his rezoning when the stories of Rahab’s legal troubles were brought to light. Several people were suing him, and the local police were investigating him and his church for possible kidnapping and fraud. The council immediately changed course and denied his application. Rahab was able to avoid the legal trouble based on a few technicalities.

  Knowing that he was now a target in San Diego, Rahab took his followers into the desert, just a few miles from where they were now. He set up a compound and kept his head down. His flock grew, but not by much. He took to the Internet like many did to preach his word of the end and the coming purge, as Rahab called it.

  As Derek kept detailing what he knew, it triggered a memory for Gordon.

  “I now remember reading about this guy. A few men sued him because they claimed their wives had been coerced into giving him their life savings,” Gordon said excitedly.

  “That’s him,” Derek replied.

  On their final return to the latrines, Gordon abruptly stopped at the X structures. His light illuminated the bloodstained wood.

  “What happens here?”

  “I’ve only seen it once. One of my staffers who had come with me was wearing a pink triangle necklace . . .”

  “A what?”

  “It’s a symbol for gay pride. Anyway, they found it. They asked him what it meant and he stupidly told them. Without hesitation they brought him here.” Derek pointed to the large X. He just stared at the ominous wood structure, its shadow long against the tarmac.

  “Never mind, I get the picture,” Gordon quietly replied.

  “No, you don’t. They tied him up and then Rahab came out. He said a few things out of his book and then plunged a large knife into Chad’s chest. It was awful.”

  “Come on, let’s go,” Gordon said and stepped away from the X and Derek.

  After a few steps he noticed Derek wasn’t coming. Gordon turned; he was holding the empty drum in one hand.

  Derek was now touching the center of the X. His fingers were shaking as he ran them across the rough wood surface. Looking up at Gordon, he said, “You know what they call this place? They call it the ‘cleansing cross.’” He paused, his hand still touching the cross. “We can’t allow this to be our fate. We will find a way to get your son and get out of here.”

  JANUARY 13, 2014

  “Courage doesn’t always roar, sometimes it’s the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering, ‘I will try again tomorrow’”

  -Mary Anne Radmacher

  40 miles east of Barstow, CA

  Nelson tapped on his watch to make sure it was working. He even brought it to his ear. It was ticking. He looked over at the door of Samantha’s trailer. Any moment she’d come out and be ready for another day of searching. The past two days had been unfruitful. They had driven morning to night. Slowly they were marking off the grids on her map. Today they were planning to go near Fort Irwin. Because of the discontent and the disagreement the group had with Gordon and Holloway, Gordon hadn’t felt the need to leave a clue about where they were actually going. All everyone knew was he was going to the base.

  Nelson looked at his watch again. Samantha was running ten minutes late. Assumptions ran through his mind—she must have overslept. He knew how important this was to her, so he walked to the door and tapped twice on the glass window.

  Movement inside let him know she was there. The door creaked open, and out stepped Samantha. Her eyes were puffy from crying.

  “Just give me a minute to get Haley ready,” she said, softly wiping tears off of her cheeks.

  “Sure, take your time,” Nelson answered. He thought about asking her if she was okay but stopped short. He knew why she was crying; he already knew she wasn’t okay.


  Samantha stepped back in and closed the door. Inside he could hear movement and murmuring. Moments later the door opened again and Samantha stepped out holding a tired and clingy Haley. She was wrapped in her blanket and was resisting Samantha’s requests to wake up.

  “Just give me a minute to drop her off,” Samantha said, walking toward another trailer.

  Nelson watched her. He couldn’t imagine what she was feeling. He didn’t have children, much less a spouse. Gordon had opened his home to him and his parents, and for that he was eternally grateful. It had been only three days, but a couple of people were already asking him how long they were going to sit around. He knew the grumbling would grow the longer they sat. Without a single sign of what had happened and knowing Gordon’s prowess, Nelson himself was coming to the regretful conclusion that his friend might be dead. He hoped today was the day they’d find them or find a clue as to where they might be. That way he could keep the search going.

  “I suggest we go near the south gate of the base and work our way around to the east, then north along the perimeter,” Samantha said, focused on the map in her lap. She traced her suggested route with her right index finger while she held a lensatic compass in her left hand.

  “Okay, so which way do I go?” Nelson asked, peering out through the bug-covered windshield.

  “Just keep heading straight.”

  They drove without a word save for Samantha’s directions. Nelson had attempted to start a conversation, but Samantha’s monosyllabic responses told him she didn’t want to talk.

  “At the top of the rise, stop,” she said.

  Nelson followed her instructions and stopped just short of the skyline. They both got out and crouched until they reached a spot to lie down and survey the valley that stretched out before them to the north. With binoculars, they looked for any sign that might help. Two to three miles away, they could see the southern fence line of the base. Nelson panned his field of view to his right. There he saw a circling flock of birds.

  “Samantha, hey, I think I might have something. Look that way,” he said, pointing east.

  She trained her binoculars on the birds, then strained to see what they were circling: something large—large enough to be a person.

  She jumped up without concern for skylining herself and ran to the truck. Nelson was right behind her. She had gotten behind the wheel and started the engine. Nelson could see the determination on her face.

  Her forehead wrinkled, and the crow’s-feet around her eyes became more prominent as she focused on the task. She put the truck into gear before Nelson had a chance to close the passenger door. The truck spun out and threw dirt and rocks as she accelerated east along the ridgeline.

  The silence between them continued, now brought on by the fact that both of them thought the worst.

  She turned the wheel to the right and went down a dirt road. The road crested the hill and doglegged down the opposite side to the valley floor. The truck whined with each abrupt turn. Samantha barely slowed to compensate for the turns. Nelson’s body was tense, and he gripped the armrest tightly with each anticipated turn. The desert dust was filling the cab with a brown haze.

  Samantha prayed: Please, God, don’t let it be Hunter or Gordon, please.

  They both knew they’d find a body; whose it was, was the question.

  Samantha slammed down on the accelerator once they cleared the dogleg and entered the straight, flat valley floor. Both were bouncing up and down in the truck as they raced over each mound and hole.

  She slammed on the brakes just short of the body. The turkey vultures that were picking at it flew off with haste, their loose feathers floating through the air.

  Samantha opened the door, stepped out, then paused.

  The body that lay before them was that of an adult. This gave her some conciliation that it wasn’t Hunter. The horrible condition of the body—from the severe bloating to the dry, bloodied tissues left hanging by the scavengers—made it impossible to identify from their perspective.

  Nelson climbed out of the cab and carefully approached the body, acting as if might explode. With each reluctant step he too prayed that it wasn’t Gordon.

  “Is it him?” Samantha yelled from behind the truck door, as if the door shielded her from the reality of what was lying dead out there.

  Nelson drew closer. The body was that of a man, left to rot on his stomach. The clothes he was wearing were ripped and torn from claws and teeth.

  Nelson knew Gordon had similar clothes, so they didn’t rule him out. He stepped over the body. Judging by the degree of decomposition, the man had been dead for a few days. Nelson went to grab the body and turn it over when he saw a sign he had wanted to see. Above the right rear pocket on the pants was a name tag—it read “Holloway.”

  “Sam, Sam it’s not Gordon! It’s Holloway!”

  Not able to answer, she fell to her knees and began to sob. Looking up to the sky, she quietly said, “Thank you, God.”

  Nelson did a quick examination of the body to see if he could find the cause of death. But the vultures and Mother Nature had made it impossible.

  “I don’t know how he died, but I think this might be a good sign for Gordon and Hunter.”

  Pulling herself together, Samantha stood up and sat back in the truck.

  Nelson walked over and said, “Let’s put his body in the truck and continue to look.”

  “One sec,” she said. The tears had stopped flowing, but her nose was congested by the crying.

  “Take your time.”

  “Sorry, as soon as you told me it wasn’t Gordon I felt such relief but I also felt helpless. Where is he? Something bad has happened to them. Look! Holloway is dead and Gordon and Hunter are missing. Hell, I don’t even know if Hunter was with them. We’ve been looking for days, and the first sign is a dead body. Where are they, Nelson?”

  “I don’t know, but today we know we are on their trail. I don’t know what happened here, but not finding Gordon alongside Holloway tells me that he just might be alive somewhere. I think the next place we need to go is right there.” Nelson pointed in the direction of the base.

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  Julia kept touching the stitches on her belly. The nurse had already told her not to do it, but she couldn’t help it. The little one-inch incision was all it took to remove her baby. How sad, she thought. When Brad returned, she hoped he’d understand. It wasn’t her choice; for whatever reason they weren’t meant to have the baby. She did intend on trying again after he came back. But when would that be? She felt so lost without him. She needed something to take her mind off of what had happened. The doctor had told her she’d have to stay under their care for another day or two. Typically after laparoscopic surgery she would have been able to go home within two to four hours, but not having anyone to care for her, she’d have to stay there.

  She decided she would take this time to reflect on everything. So often in her life she had tried so hard to control every little aspect of things. Her focus so often in the early part of Brad’s career as a congressman was ensuring that everything looked “just right.” This tight control put her at odds with her son, Bobby. She felt it important to be a member of any number of charitable groups. The salary Brad made along with the benefits gave her the ability not to work, but she felt she couldn’t just sit at home. It was the job of the wife of an up-and-coming congressman to be active, so she set to it. Even with the cries of her toddler son to stay at home and play with him, she had places to go. She now wished she could go back and change it all. “The things we think are important truly aren’t,” she thought and laughed to herself. All her baby Bobby wanted was her time, but she couldn’t give that to him.

  Regrets, so many regrets. Why does it take the loss of someone you love to awaken you to what is important in life? Again, she laughed to herself, thinking that it was a cruel joke by God. She didn’t have the courage to tell Brad her regrets about Bobby. Now Bobby was dead and Brad was missin
g, possibly dead.

  She put that out of her mind. Every time the thought that he’d never return came creeping in, she quickly vanquished it.

  Maybe God killed my baby because I’m not a good mother, she thought. Again, she rid her mind of those negative ruminations. How can there be a God? she then asked herself. How can God allow what happened seven weeks ago to happen? So many thoughts passed across her mind. She now didn’t feel alone; she knew many others were having the same doubts and questioning it all. To what purpose? Why? Who did it?

  Not being able to stop the thoughts, she hit the call button. She needed a distraction.

  A moment later the door opened and a young nurse came in. “Yes, Mrs. Conner? Is everything alright?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Actually, I’m bored. Do you have anything to read?”

  “Aah, let me go see.”

  “Wait a minute. Come sit down for a moment,” Julia beckoned.

  The nurse looked apprehensive but obliged her. She pulled the chair from against the wall and sat down.

  “So tell me your name,” Julia asked.

  “I’m Nurse Belicheck,” she said. Her hands were clasped in her lap.

  “No, what’s your first name?”

  “Oh, my name is Stacy.”

  “Where are you from, Stacy?”

  “I’m from Sioux Falls, South Dakota, ma’am.”

  “Don’t call me ma’am, my name is Julia. Please call me Julia.”

  “Okay,” Stacy answered, clearly feeling uncomfortable.

  “Is that where your family is?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Have you heard from them since the attack?”

  Stacy looked down at her hands. She began to fidget with the waist string that hung from her pants.

  “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you that,” Julia said. She now felt foolish asking this young nurse these questions.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” Stacy stood up quickly, placed the chair back, and left the room.

  When the large, heavy door closed, Julia let out a huge sigh.

  The door opened again, but this time it was the surgeon.