The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4)

by G. Michael Hopf

  “I don’t think waiting five days is life or death. She probably has some type of virus or something. She’ll be fine,” Gordon said. He walked over and dropped to a knee next to her. Taking her hand he continued, “You’re such a sweet sister-in-law to be so worried, but I really don’t think we should get too upset just yet.”

  Samantha gripped his hand and smiled. “Argh, you’re right. I’m sure she’ll be fine. I just worry. What used to be little things can be big now, that’s all.”

  “I know. So, can I make you something to eat?”

  “I’m not hungry, you go ahead.”

  “Okay,” Gordon said, then stood and left her. He closed the door behind him so she could get some privacy.

  Outside the door, Gordon’s calm demeanor was shaken. His mind again was swimming with worry. He laughed to himself when he thought about all the “worries and concerns” he had before the lights went out. Those distant worries now seemed so petty. When someone was sick, you went to the doctor, got checked out, they did some tests, prescribed some medicine, and you were usually fine within days. Getting sick then was more of an inconvenience, but now it truly was a matter of life and death. He shuddered at the thought and continued his way to the kitchen.

  Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific States of America

  The intense fighting the previous night had invigorated Barone. It had been a very long time since he had “hooked and jabbed.” At moments it felt as if his men were losing but the tide was turned when reinforcements from the Makin Island showed up. Together with his security forces they destroyed the assault and captured dozens of resistance fighters.

  He stood in front of the mirror and looked at his bloodied and bruised face. In all his years as a Marine, he hadn’t fought so hard. So often, commanders never actually fought, they sat back and led their forces; but last night, he was done with sitting back. He wanted to fight man-to-man even if it meant his life.

  He picked up the washcloth from the sink and began the slow and painful process of washing off the blood and grime. With each swipe, his face reappeared, but it wasn’t the same face that he saw yesterday. Something was different about him; his men saw it too. Those that remained loyal knew he was capable of action, but they had never seen a commander get into the middle of the action before. He stood toe-to-toe with the enemy last night and fought alongside his junior enlisted men. After their victory, he had gathered his men and gave a roaring speech. He had now become a true leader like those leaders of old.

  Not one to miss an opportunity to prove a point, he planned on a public trial for those captured, but not until he could get what intelligence he could from them.

  A tap on the closed bathroom door was followed by Simpson stating, “Sir, Mr. Timms is here. He’s in the waiting room outside your office.”

  Barone dried his hands and opened the door to see Simpson standing there, still filthy from the battle. “What’s he doing here? We haven’t seen him in weeks,” Barone commented. “How’re you holding up?”

  “Good, sir, a bit sore. It’s been a long time since I’ve been in a fight like that,” Simpson responded with a grin.

  “Good man. You were fierce last night, a true warrior,” Barone said, a smile across his face.

  “Thank you, sir. We’re working hard to get defenses back up. We’re also moving quickly on what intel we’ve gathered so far from the prisoners. We’re moving in on some rebel strongholds now.”

  “Good, very good. When you have the time, go get cleaned up.”

  “Will do, sir. By the way, I thought you’d like to know that one of the rebel prisoners was Major Ashley,” Simpson informed.

  Barone’s eyebrows rose when he heard the news. “You don’t say? So we finally got that traitor. Good. Anything from him?”

  Major Ashley was the highest ranking officer to turn his back on Barone following the massacre. He had become the leader of the resistance. Having him in captivity was a blow to their efforts.

  “No, sir, his lips are sealed.”

  “You know what to do,” Barone said.

  “That I do. I’ll get back to work,” Simpson answered, then turned and left.

  • • •

  Barone walked into the waiting room to find Timms sitting nervously, tapping his fingers on his leg.

  “Mr. Timms, you look like someone whose doctor just told them they have ass cancer. You all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you for meeting with me,” Timms said, standing up and stretching his arm out to shake Barone’s hand.

  Barone ignored Timms’s greeting and walked right past him into his office.

  “Come in here!” Barone commanded.

  Timms followed and quickly sat in a chair positioned in front of the desk. His eyes widened when he saw the broken glass on the desk and some of the furniture in disarray.

  “Close the door, please!” Barone ordered.

  Timms shot up from the chair and went back to the door and closed it. “That was something last night.”

  “Yes, it was, but we were victorious and that’s all that matters,” Barone said as he swept glass from his chair and sat down.

  “I heard that—”

  “Mr. Timms, I’m busy. I don’t have time for idle chitchat. What can I help you with?” Barone interrupted.

  Sweat began to bead on Timms’s forehead. “Sorry, Colonel. Things have gotten really crazy around here. I know you want this to end, and I think I have a plan.”

  Barone relaxed in his chair. It felt good to take a seat after being up all night. “I’m all ears, unless it has anything to do with me leaving Coos Bay.”

  “It’s sort of a grand compromise. You don’t have to leave but you do need to step down. You can live here, but you’ll have to relinquish control of your forces.”

  “Not going to happen, so if that’s all you have, then let yourself out.”

  “Please, Colonel, listen. The rebellion is not going to stop. You might have won the battle last night but this is far from over,” Timms pleaded.

  “Don’t be so confident in your predictions. Our victory last night was an important one, and we captured their leader,” Barone replied.

  “You have Major Ashley?” Timms asked, shocked.

  “Yes, we’re interrogating him now. We captured dozens and they’re all being processed now, so don’t think that I don’t have an advantage here.”

  “Colonel, I don’t think the resistance will end just because you’ve taken Major Ashley prisoner. You must understand that there are now thousands that are against you and your military rule. You must understand that the only way for this to end is for you to step down, cede control to a newly elected civilian authority—”

  “Enough. I’m not listening to this. Please show yourself out,” Barone scolded as he pointed to the door.

  “Please, Colonel. I’m not against you, but I know my plan will work,” Timms again pleaded.

  “Why are you so confident?” Barone asked, irritation in his voice. The long night and large quantities of alcohol were being felt. He head was beginning to ache and his body was sore.

  Timms sat pensively, not knowing how to respond without angering Barone.

  Barone stood up from his chair and made his way toward the office door. “Mr. Timms, if you can’t answer that question then I need you to leave. I’m tired and have a lot going on today.” Barone opened the door and gave instructions to a Marine guard to get him some coffee. When he turned Timms was still sitting in the same spot.

  “Colonel, I have been meeting with the resistance and they expressed a call for a cease-fire . . .”

  “You’ve been secretly meeting with the rebels?” Barone thundered.

  “Colonel, someone has to find a diplomatic end to this situation. It’s gotten out of hand. There’s been too much bloodshed. I know deep in your heart all you want
is to have a place to call home. That’s all that any of us want, a safe place where we don’t have to live in fear.”

  “That peace ended with the mayor!”

  “No, Colonel, that ended with you! I have been on your side from day one. I had my reservations but I overlooked your past issues because we needed you and you needed us. Look around you, Colonel. This can’t go on forever!” Timms shouted.

  Barone cocked his head in amazement. He had never seen Timms so passionate. He let it sink in for a minute and strolled back to his chair and sat down. “At the moment we have the head of the resistance imprisoned. We killed over a hundred rebels, and took dozens more prisoners last night. And you think this is over? We are winning this and I’m not about to surrender.”

  Timms exhaled deeply, his frustration front and center. “I’m sorry to hear that you’re not willing to talk.”

  “The talking ended when the mayor told me she wouldn’t relent until I was gone. She proclaimed they would fight to the death. I gave her what she asked for and will give her followers the same outcome.”

  “Colonel, we can end this without your leaving. All you need to do is step down, have your second in command take over, call for elections, and let it go back to what we had before,” Timms said.

  A knock on the door drew Barone’s attention away from Timms. “Come in!”

  One of the Marine lance corporals who was standing guard came in with two cups of coffee. He strode over and sat them on the desk.

  Timms reached for the cup just as Barone said, “No need for the second cup. Mr. Timms was just leaving.”

  Timms stood up. “Please consider this plan, Colonel.”

  The Marine guard followed him out and closed the door.

  Barone grabbed his coffee and took a large gulp. He leaned back in his chair and began to process the offer presented by Timms. Deep down, he was tired of the fighting, and he did want a safe place to live out the rest of his life. When he first arrived in Coos Bay, he thought this was the place, but it had turned into a fierce battle for control. His thoughts then went to where he could settle down if he took their offer. He began to visualize a place, a cabin somewhere remote, where he could spend the rest of his days. This vision was then trampled by his need to win. Two competing desires resided inside of him. To accept this plan would leave him with the feeling that he had failed, that he had surrendered. He sat up quickly, pushing the thoughts of retreating out of his mind. He wasn’t done fighting and if last night’s battle told him anything, it was that he could be close to winning this outright.

  Elko, Nevada

  Pablo sipped his steaming hot espresso and studied the most recent diagram of Cheyenne. His conquest of the United States ended there. Everything after that would be simply a cleanup of ragtag elements and civilian resistance groups. When he took Cheyenne and wiped out the remaining elements of the United States government, he could officially tell the world that he alone had conquered the once great superpower. With this declaration he’d be able to etch in history the beginnings of a new world power—the Pan-American Empire.

  He marveled at his own ingenuity. If someone else had put forth this plan, he might have scoffed at them. Along the way, he had lined up the players and the logistics, all the while keeping the United States distracted with an endless parade of small attacks. He remembered the days that followed September 11, 2001, and questioned why those who had orchestrated that attack hadn’t gone further. They had missed out on an opportunity to bring the United States to its knees economically with small attack after attack. Terrorism was an effective way to create chaos, and he knew it could be used as foreplay to an attack that would utterly destroy the country and pave the way for his conquest.

  He laughed at how the Russians were so stupid to think they could sell him nuclear weapons without thinking that they wouldn’t be tracked back to them or the North Koreans whom he had worked with to design the super-EMPs. Those very EMPs that they had designed would eventually bring down their regime. The price of domination was one worth paying.

  He was close to accomplishing what had taken him almost three years to plan. Just 669 miles until it was over. He knew this was just the first of many phases in building the Pan-American Empire, but it would be the most critical. Once the United States fell, he would then turn his attention toward taking down the Mexican government. The EMP’s effects, while devastating for the United States, hadn’t impacted the southern half of Mexico to include Mexico City. The detonation of the EMP over Kansas meant its effective radius was limited to mostly the United States, Canada, and northern Mexico.

  Thoughts of the Mexican government reminded him of his parents, uncomfortably so. He hadn’t spoken to them in months and he knew that if he even tried to call, they wouldn’t speak to him. That disappointed him, as well as motivated him to be bigger and greater. If anything, he knew his father would eventually respect him for what he had been able to accomplish. Hearing his father chastise him for what he was planning that day outside of Tijuana was laughable to him, considering his father had murdered his way to the top of his cartel. It was his mother who he feared would never speak to him again, and that knowledge did pull at him. Before he executed his plan, he had tried to talk to her, but she was the ever-loyal wife to his father. His parents were now living, protected by his forces, in Mexico. Pablo left them in luxurious accommodations minus the ability to contact the outside world—he couldn’t risk it. If he could usurp his father, what would prevent his father from returning the favor?

  Pablo glanced at his watch and saw that he was late to a meeting with his commanders. He put down his cup of espresso, wiped his mouth with a linen napkin, and left the house that was serving as his quarters during the occupation of Elko.

  During the short drive to his temporary military headquarters, he took the time to look at his handiwork. Every street was littered with garbage, abandoned cars, and an occasional body. Periodically a series of gunshots could be heard echoing in the sky. His men were now going to every home they suspected of having resistance fighters. His command element kept the records they had found in Sacramento of active and former military as well as gun registrants and gun permit applications from the sheriff’s records. In order for his Villistas to operate unopposed, one of the first laws passed was a total gun ban. No one, for any reason, was allowed to own or possess firearms. If you were found to possess a firearm, you were killed on sight, no questions asked.

  After passing through two checkpoints, he arrived at the old city hall. Walking into the briefing room, he was surprised to see one of his junior officers in a heated argument with General Alejandro. Both men were red-faced and yelling at each other, the other dozen men in the room looking on in amazement at the intense exchange.

  “What is going on here?” Pablo boomed.

  Hearing his voice, both men stopped and snapped to attention. The remaining men followed by standing quickly.

  “At ease! General Alejandro, what is going on here?” Pablo asked.

  None of the men in the room sat down; they stood erect and silent.

  “At ease!” Pablo yelled again. “Sit down!”

  The officers obediently listened and sat down in their chairs, except General Alejandro.

  “Sir, forgive me for what you just walked into. Colonel Ramos and I were—”

  “Not acting like officers, that’s what. Now, what could be so disagreeable between you two?”

  Colonel Ramos stood and said, “Emperor, I apologize . . .”

  “Shut up, I wasn’t talking to you!” Pablo snapped.

  Colonel Ramos sat down quickly.

  “Emperor, the Colonel and I disagree on how we, the army, should proceed. He thinks we should use our ace in the hole, to excuse the American vernacular.”

  Pablo smiled and answered, “I like that turn of phrase, I have to admit. So, Colonel Ramos, you think we should just e
liminate the remnants of the American government with our ace in the hole, then what?”

  Ramos looked at Pablo nervously. He and everyone else were well aware of Pablo’s ruthless behavior. “Emperor, with each city or town we take, we lose men and valuable equipment. The replacements aren’t compatible. What I’m saying is that if we continue all the way to Cheyenne, we won’t have the army we have now. We have to know that the American government won’t roll over, so we must prepare for a fierce fight.”

  “Exactly, a fierce fight is what we need!” Pablo exclaimed.

  “Emperor, all due respect, by using—”

  “No, we will crush the Americans. I want to look President Conner in the eyes as I take his life. I want him to know he has been defeated. Any other way is cowardly,” Pablo declared.

  “But, sir, was dropping the atomic bombs on Hiroshima cowardly? That won the war. Was using the EMPs to bring them to their knees cowardly?” Ramos challenged.

  The room grew eerily quiet at Ramos’s bold statements.

  Pablo didn’t answer Ramos; he smiled for a moment then stood up. He walked around the desk and stopped behind Ramos’s chair. “Colonel Ramos, I appreciate your candid thoughts. I realize my overall strategy may not be what you would do, but I’m in charge here. I do want my officers to openly discuss tactics and strategy, but the use of what you call our ‘ace in the hole’ has been decided. The device is there, a team is there, and if we have to, I will use it. If it looks like we cannot defeat the Americans on the ground, only then will I deploy the weapon.”

  The blood had drained from Ramos’s face as he looked over his shoulder at Pablo. His anxiety was running high. He knew at any moment Pablo could deal a deadly blow to him.

  “There will be no more talk about this. Do I make myself clear, Colonel Ramos?” Pablo asked Ramos directly.

  Ramos gulped and answered, “Yes, Emperor.”

  “Good. And this goes for the rest of you. Once we have closed debate, it’s closed. Today, we need to discuss the deployment of our Villistas and timeframes,” Pablo said sternly.