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

by G. Michael Hopf

  Stepping away from Pelsom, Barone began to search the desk drawers for a pad of paper and pen.

  “There’s nothing in this desk,” he said, frustrated.

  “This is my ceremonial office; nothing is kept in here,” Pelsom answered, still rubbing his neck.

  “Lance Corporal, get in here!” Barone hollered.

  The heavy door opened and a young Marine came into the room.

  “Go get me a pad of paper and a pen. Make it fast!” Barone barked.

  The Marine turned and left the room.

  “Colonel, I don’t know how you think you’ll get away with this. There’s a Marine detachment coming soon.”

  “Tell me about this other Marine unit,” Barone queried.

  “Whatever you have planned won’t work. Every active military unit is heading this way.”

  “Tell me, why would they be coming here?” Barone was truly interested in what was happening. Since hearing about another Marine unit on its way, he had ordered Captain White to take the sub out as soon as they were able. If they were truly coming, he wanted to know more about them.

  Pelsom, fearful for his life, told Barone about the president’s plan to establish the new U.S. capital in Portland. He hoped the revelation would strike fear in the colonel and force him to abandon Salem.

  Barone listened intently to everything that Pelsom had to say. Intelligence was always valuable to a mission; this time it was critical. The new capital’s location concerned him. He also knew that Pelsom was probably overstating the president’s resources. His immediate internal reaction was to get what he could and flee Coos Bay in search of a new place. Then Pelsom gave him the biggest gift.

  “Colonel, like I said before. You should just go. Go before they come. Go before the president comes.”

  “Wait a minute. The president is coming here?”

  “Yes, ah, no. He’s coming to Portland.”

  “President Conner is going to Portland?” said Barone, his interest really piqued.

  “Yes, he will be arriving within days. He’s personally going to oversee the recovery and establishment of the new capital. Don’t you see? You can’t win, Colonel. Just leave us. If you leave I won’t say anything to the president.”

  “Now that is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “I promise. Just leave us,” Pelsom was begging.

  “You know why it’s dumb? Because we just attacked your capital. How do you plan on keeping everyone quiet?”

  “Only two people ever talk to the president or his people. That’s me and my lieutenant governor.”

  Barone stared at Pelsom, covered in sweat and groveling. Nothing was more pathetic than a groveling man. He thought of the lance corporal he had executed days before; now that man had honor. Barone knew Pelsom was lying; the minute his men left he’d contact the president. Leverage was what he needed, and without his people there he didn’t have it. But then an idea flashed across Barone’s mind. It excited him so much that he stood again and walked to the door.

  “Where the hell is that paper and pen?”

  “Sorry, sir, coming now,” said another Marine who was standing guard outside.

  Barone closed the door and thought about what he should do with this new information.

  A knock at the door disturbed his thoughts.

  The lance corporal stepped in and handed the paper and pen to Barone.

  Still full of excitement about his new idea, Barone hurried back to Pelsom.

  “Here, write down every location of stockpiled food, water, and supplies.”

  The governor looked at Barone uneasily. His having been forthright with so much information didn’t seem to have dissuaded his old foe. Not wanting to get strangled again, he began to write.

  Barone took the time to pace and think. He knew that one day they’d encounter more U.S. forces. However, he and his men had come far, too far to turn tail and run. Maybe this was what they needed: a fight. And if he was going to have one, he’d better be ready for it.

  40 miles east of Barstow, California

  Haley enjoyed watching the ants climb all over the piece of bread she had tossed on the ground. What had started out as only a few had turned into dozens. Their tiny bodies were picking apart bits three times their size and carrying them away. She decided she’d create obstacles for them, so she put rocks in the path the ants were taking. Adjusting quickly, the ants made their way around each rock. She picked up a stick and carved out a groove in the dirt. Again, the ants figured out a detour and kept going. Growing impatient with her inability to stop the ants, Haley started hitting them with the stick. She then took the tip of the stick and jammed it in the centers of some of the ants, separating their bodies. She marveled at how each part still moved. Laughter erupted from her when she began to smash each ant. She now turned hitting the scrambling ants into a game.

  “Haley, stop that,” Samantha ordered after seeing what she was doing.

  Samantha was having a hard time focusing on the map. She at first blamed it on Haley, but her lack of sleep probably also played a part. Beth Holloway’s crying had kept many up last night.

  “Mommy, are Daddy and Hunter not coming back?” Haley asked, leaning up against Samantha.

  “Of course they are, they’re just lost,” Samantha quickly answered. She felt bad having to hide the truth.

  “Joey said they aren’t coming back,” Haley said sadly.

  “Joey said that to you?”

  “Yes, he said Daddy is probably dead,” Haley answered, now upset.

  “What? When did he say that?” asked Samantha, her attention now focused on Haley. Holding her daughter tightly, she looked around for any member of the Thompson family. Seeing , Joey’s father, she called out, “Mike, you got a minute?”

  “Ah yeah, of course. What else do I have going on?”

  Mike Thompson was very tall and very lean, almost six feet seven inches. His hair was black except for the gray coming in on the sides. He had a pleasant personality and was smart. It was hard to get to know him, because he didn’t talk much. Many had complained that getting him to talk was like pulling teeth. Gordon had selected Mike and his family to come for two reasons. Mike was a structural engineer, and his family was big in the prepping community. The entire back courtyard of their house in Rancho Valentino had been a hydroponics system.

  Haley held to Samantha’s arm tightly as she walked over to talk with Mike.

  “Good morning, Samantha. What can I help you with?” he asked.

  “I’m troubled by something Joey said to Haley.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Apparently, Joey told Haley that Gordon and Hunter were probably dead. Where would he get that kind of notion?”

  “Samantha, I’m sorry. He must have heard Sandy and me talking.”

  “So is that what you believe?” asked Samantha, hurt.

  “Hey, listen, it’s not what you think,” Mike said, attempting to backpedal.

  “We’re going to stay here and keep looking for them. No matter how long it takes. My husband and son are out there; they aren’t dead. I would appreciate it if you kept any other thoughts to yourself!” barked Samantha.

  When Samantha’s voice rose, Haley clung tighter to her leg.

  “We didn’t mean for him to repeat what we said to Haley. Sorry.”

  A voice in the distance bellowed something unintelligible, causing Samantha and Mike to look.

  The zipper on Mike’s tent opened, and out came his wife, Sandy. They were an odd couple proportionally; while he was very tall, she was very short. She stood at five feet four inches with a stocky frame. Her light brown hair was cut just long enough to pull back into a small ponytail. As she came toward them, Samantha could tell where this was going by the sour look on her face.

  “No way, Samantha. You don’t stand here and berate my husband for speaking the truth,” said Sandy.

  The tension among them caused Haley to whimper and cling even tighter to her
mother’s leg.

  “How can you say that Gordon and Hunter are dead? If it were Mike and Joey, we’d be out there every day like we are now looking and we wouldn’t give up!”

  “I don’t think so. I’ve gotten a chance to know Gordon, and I think he’d forget about us if he could.”

  “That’s not true. He’d be out there looking, unlike your husband, who just sits around,” Samantha said, pointing at Mike, who stood, hands in pockets, silent.

  “Mike stays busy here keeping the cars working so when the day comes and you finally realize that Gordon is not coming back, we can move on!”

  Fury began to rise in Samantha. “Sandy, you’re unbelievable. Have you forgotten everything that Gordon did for everyone here? If you remember, he approached Mike about coming with us. He didn’t have to do that!”

  The women’s yelling caught everyone’s attention. All eyes were now on them.

  “We would have been fine.”

  “How’s that possible? You didn’t have a car; Gordon let you take the second Jeep after Fowler was killed! You know something, Sandy, this is bullshit. If you want to go, then go. I don’t know where you’ll go, but don’t bother going to Idaho. We don’t want you there!” Samantha screamed and walked off with Haley still clinging to her tightly.

  “Mike, we don’t need them,” said Sandy loud enough for everyone to hear.

  The heated exchange with Sandy and Mike started to sink in for Samantha. Coupled with the stress of Gordon and Hunter’s disappearance, it made her feel like she was the verge of a breakdown. She reached her trailer but couldn’t steady her hand to open the door. She quickly sat in the chair next to the door and put Haley on her lap.

  Haley too was feeling the bad energy from the argument. Sandy’s accusations filled her preschooler’s mind with images of her dad and brother dead, their eyes staring out of lifeless skulls.

  Not wanting to let Samantha be, Sandy fired off another cutting barrage, which she finished by saying, “Everyone here but Nelson and you thinks they’re dead. You’re delusional, Samantha, completely delusional!”

  Unknown military installation

  Gordon held Hunter close. By his smell and the condition of his clothes he could tell that his son had been getting washed and his clothes cleaned. Gordon wanted so much to be able to tell Hunter everything, but they were under a watchful eye.

  “Dad, remember when I shot that man?”

  Looking at Hunter oddly, Gordon said, “Yes, I remember.”

  “Brother Jeremy agreed with you. He said it was a good thing I did that,” Hunter said, his eyes now on the man in the room with them.

  “Did he now?” Gordon replied. He too glanced at the man in the room.

  “Yes, he said I was doing God’s work by cleansing him.”

  “Excuse me for a second, Hunter,” Gordon said, then stood up and approached the man. “Hi, I’m Gordon,” he said. “Who are you?”

  “I’m Brother Jeremy. I have the honor of watching over the children.”

  Brother Jeremy was the man Gordon had noticed the other day. Looking into his eyes, he could see the same insanity that plagued Rahab.

  “Hey, sorry to ask. Are you related to Brother Rahab?”

  “Yes, he is my father, but most important, he is my light to God’s truth,” Jeremy said. He was just as tall as his father, with the same dark hair and dark eyes. There was no mistaking they were related.

  “I thought so. Um, so tell me. What goes on every day with the kids?”

  “Why, we look after their entire well-being. We feed, clothe, and give them their spiritual nutrition through daily readings and exercises.”

  “Exercises?” Gordon asked.

  “We challenge the children to tap into the true meaning of sacrifice by doing role playing.”

  “Role playing? Like what?” Gordon’s tone had shifted. He was getting upset as he had a dark vision of child abuse or molestation, but he wanted to hear Jeremy say it.

  “We don’t divulge our ritualistic exercises to those who haven’t been baptized,” said Jeremy directly.

  The blood was rushing to Gordon’s face. He could feel the anger building up, but he knew exploding at Jeremy wouldn’t work out for him. Quickly he was processing how he could kill Jeremy, snatch Hunter, and make a run for it. He couldn’t leave his son with these people anymore; he had to do something. The touch at his hand brought him back from the brink.

  Hunter grabbed his hand and said, “It’s okay, Dad, I promise you. I’m a young man now, remember?”

  Gordon knelt down and looked at him. “Of course I remember, but thanks for reminding me. Have I told you about the time you were born?”

  “Only a hundred times,” Hunter said, rolling his eyes.

  “Please indulge me,” said Gordon as he took his son to the chair and replayed his birth with him in detail. Gordon was thankful for Hunter’s ability to sense the situation was going out of control. He had proven he was a young man by interjecting himself.

  After a few minutes of going down memory lane, Hunter’s laughter reappeared. It was so good for Gordon’s soul to hear him laugh. It had been too long since he had that experience.

  “Dad, you remember when Haley and I colored your face with the markers?” Hunter asked with a slight giggle.

  “Ah, yeah, I do. What I remember the most was that Haley used permanent markers. The worst part was I had to meet a client that afternoon,” said Gordon, playfully giving Hunter a stern look.

  “That was so funny,” his son replied.

  “I’m glad I’ve always been the one who gets laughed at or gets hurt by you kids.”

  “Of course. You’re our dad.”

  “Why does Haley think that hurting me is so funny?”

  “Because it is. Remember when she threw the golf ball and hit you in the face? I’ve never seen her laugh so hard.”

  “Yeah, that was soooo funny,” Gordon said sarcastically.

  “Dad, I miss Mommy and Haley,” said Hunter as he took Gordon’s hand.

  “I miss them too,” said Gordon, reaching out with his other hand and caressing his son’s face.

  “Time is up.” Jeremy interrupted Gordon and Hunter’s moment.

  “We’ve only had about twenty minutes. I want more time with him!” exclaimed Gordon.

  “That is all the time you’ll get,” Jeremy shot back sternly. He knew he held the advantage.

  Gordon stood up, his face flushed with anger. Before he could take his first step, Hunter grabbed his arm.

  “No, Dad.”

  As if a bus had hit him, Gordon stopped in his tracks. He looked down at his ever-maturing son, staring into his blue eyes. The strength that emanated out of them inspired him to keep his cool.

  “Fine, let me say good-bye for now.”

  Jeremy looked at Gordon, then focused on Hunter, then back on Gordon again. “Sure, one more minute. Then you need to go back to work.”

  Gordon knelt and hugged Hunter. “I love you, Son. You definitely didn’t get your old man’s patience or lack of. You’re smart like your mom, thank God for that.”

  “Here, Dad,” Hunter said in a whisper. He poked Gordon in the stomach with something hard.

  Gordon glanced down to see his Spyderco folding knife. Shocked, he whispered back, “You’ve had it hidden?”

  Aware that Jeremy was looking and might notice something, he whispered back to Hunter, “Slip it into my front pocket when I hug you.”

  Hunter gave a slight nod.

  They embraced again. Hunter slyly slipped the four-inch knife into Gordon’s front pocket and whispered in his ear, “I love you, Dad.”

  San Diego, California

  Watching Annaliese wash and prepare Sorenson’s body for burial was something Sebastian had never experienced before. He remembered reading in history books about how the family took care of the corpse and then displayed it in their home. One amenity that modern society had long taken for granted was the coroner and funeral home syst
em. Without them, the family of the deceased had to become the mortician and undertaker.

  Annaliese’s eyes were red and swollen from the heavy tears that had flowed following Sorenson’s death.

  The strike to his head with the vase had been fatal, causing massive brain injury, hemorrhaging, then death.

  Sebastian almost felt like a voyeur watching her perform her daughterly tasks.

  She took the warm washcloth and, as if she were caring for an infant, slowly and gently washed her father’s entire body. She then took his favorite cologne and applied it modestly. When she began dressing him in his favorite suit, she looked to Sebastian for help.

  With much care and respect, he turned and lifted the fallen man’s lifeless body while she put on his clothes.

  Sebastian knew that what had happened today was going to be the norm until the bloodletting stopped. He knew eventually it would come to an end, but before an equilibrium was established, millions more would die.

  He excused himself when they were done and proceeded to the porch. His leg was hurting, and weariness was weighing heavily on him. He found the large rocker on the far end of the porch welcoming.

  As he closed his eyes, a voice jolted him from his slumber.

  “I heard what Brandon did,” said Luke, who towered over him.

  “Ah. Yeah. Is he okay?”

  “I think so. He’s in the guesthouse sleeping.”

  “So can I help you? Not to be rude, but I’m really tired.”

  “Sorry, I, ah, just wanted to ask you a question,” said Luke sheepishly.

  Sebastian waited for the question, but when he noticed Luke wasn’t going to ask right away he said, “Spit it out, boy, I’m tired.”

  “Ah, sorry. When are we leaving for Zion?”

  “I don’t know if we’re going to Zion now. With the bishop and two others killed today, our plans might have changed. Plus, why are you asking me?”

  “Because you seem like the most logical one to be in charge now.”

  “Do I? Well, until someone pins that rank on me, I’ll just help out,” Sebastian said. He really didn’t want to have this conversation. Then an idea came to mind: If he could be in charge he’d take the spot, but he wasn’t going to force his way on the others. “Of course, I’d step up if they wanted me to.”