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

by G. Michael Hopf

Schmidt promptly took a seat at the far end of the table.

  “Major, you look well considering the incident last night.”

  “Yes, sir, all good.”

  “You are probably wondering why I have the major here. Well, it’s because of his extraordinary experiences. He has a perspective that is missing from our discussions. I know some of you here have heard the stories about him, but I don’t believe you’ve heard them from the man himself. Major, would you do us the honor and share how you and whom you affectionately call ‘your people’ arrived here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  All eyes in the room were sharply focused on Schmidt in curiosity.

  Schmidt looked at each and nodded slightly. A slight nervousness was apparent in his tense stature, even seated.

  “I was with the First Battalion of the Thirty-second Regiment, Tenth Mountain Division out of Fort Drum, New York. Um, the story is too long, but I’ll give you a short history of how I happen to be sitting here.”

  Schmidt then detailed how the 32nd Regiment along with other functional assets at Fort Drum were called up to mobilize. Like all other military installations across the county, most of their equipment wasn’t working and a large number of soldiers didn’t show up when mustered. He described utter chaos on the base and even greater turmoil across the state of New York. From small towns to major metropolitan areas, the pursuit of resources quickly turned violent and bloody. He described how the command elements at Fort Drum attempted to work along with the civilian leadership in Albany, but that ended abruptly when the governor and his staff were killed in a mob attack. He became somber when he described how demoralized many soldiers were after the news of New York City being destroyed with a nuclear weapon. Each day saw fewer and fewer soldiers left on base as they escaped with what they could make off with; this prompted the command to take harsh measures that spiraled into bitter fighting on the base. He and what remained of his company left with their families once the base disintegrated into bedlam. With only two vehicles and what they could carry, they made out for their journey west.

  “We didn’t really have a plan for where we were going. We just kept walking. Along the way we picked up more and more people along with equipment, building upon what we started with. What you describe as ‘my army’ is nothing more than a ragtag group of active and retired military with a large dash of hardy civilians. We heard about the new capital when we hit St. Louis. By then we had grown to around five thousand. We picked up even more after skirting around St. Louis. I estimate our numbers to be around fifteen thousand.”

  “Major, tell them about the tanks,” General Baxter prodded.

  “We came upon an old military depot outside of St. Charles, Missouri, and lo and behold they had dozens of old M60 tanks. Along the way we picked up some old-timers who knew tankers and we were able to get them back up and running.”

  “I heard about the tanks. How many are there, exactly?” Baxter asked.

  “Nineteen, sir. The only thing is we don’t have any tank rounds. We came upon fifty-caliber ammunition but nothing for the tank’s main gun.”

  “I’m proud of you, Major. You have done a damn good job. I know it’s not easy. You’ve been resourceful and you’re an example of a damn good American. As for the tank rounds, we’ve taken care of that,” Conner stated.

  “Do you have a family?” Wilbur asked.

  “No, ma’am, not anymore.”

  “Sorry to hear that,” she replied.

  “Sir, can I ask a question? And forgive me beforehand for my directness, but you said you wanted my perspective, so I wanted to ask something that might help clear things up on my end,” Schmidt said.

  “Sure, go ahead,” Conner answered, a grin gracing his face.

  “Are the rumors you abandoned the east true?”

  Conner’s grin faded quickly and a tension gripped his face. He leaned forward from his comfortable position. He cleared his throat, and then said, “Major, we never abandoned the east.”

  “Sir, to be frank, that’s what everyone heard. The word trickled down quickly. Whether it was true or not, we never saw an active response or any communication from NORAD or any federal command element. The rumor and the lack of any type of response emboldened those who took advantage of the situation. The east is a mess, total disarray, massive death . . . so much death, I’ve never seen so much in my life. People had given up hope and resorted to things I would’ve only seen in horror movies. Such barbarism and butchery. People killing for a can of beans, people resorting to cannibalism. Society is lost back there.”

  “We never gave up on the east,” Conner repeated again, the wrinkles on his face now more pronounced as he strained to convey sincerity.

  “General Baxter, anyone, please tell the major that we never gave up on the east. We just, well, to be frank, we had limited resources and abilities. The east is awash in radioactivity due to so many nuclear plant failures. The first thing a president or any leader must do is prioritize and you do this by being honest with what you can and can’t do. We have plans for elevating our recovery efforts to the east but right now we are dealing with issues that could destroy our entire nation. Does my answer satisfy you, Major?”

  “Sir, yes, it does. Let me be clear. I wasn’t making an accusation. I have a duty to my people in addition to my duty to you and the United States. I promised them I’d get the word straight from you. Many believed the rumors were true and were holding an animosity toward the government. I told them it wasn’t fair, that all of you were doing your best. Now that I’ve gotten the answer I was looking for, I’ll present it to them. We are here now to help in any way, Mr. President, that I can assure you.”

  “I’m glad to hear that, because you have proven to be valuable to our cause. After the incident last night, I wanted to announce we are moving in a new direction as it pertains to the various separatist groups,” Conner said, then turned his attention to the other staff. “I am starting a new division to tackle this problem, and Major Schmidt will head it.”

  Schmidt was clearly shocked to hear this surprise announcement; his thick eyebrows shot up, though the rest of his face stayed stony and reserved.

  Conner glanced at Wilbur; he could see the disappointment in her eyes. She had been working on this project from the beginning and had her own ideas on how to approach it.

  “Secretary Wilbur, if you could find time later today to meet with the major and brief him on what information you’ve gathered, that would be great,” Conner commanded.

  “Mr. President, can I ask what the new direction is, exactly?” Wilbur asked.

  Conner thought for a bit, looked at the clock on the wall, and said, “Good question. As you know we haven’t given too much attention to these groups until lately, when they’ve been thrust upon us. That will change because these groups represent a clear and present danger, not unlike the PAE. These are Americans but their selfish desires threaten the sovereignty of the country, and I have no desire to talk with them. We will inform them to disband and if they don’t we will eliminate them. It will be that clear cut.”

  Wilbur looked shocked to hear this new directive. “Mr. President, that is a blanket approach. This is not a one-size-fits-all situation.”

  “Yes, it is. If we allow, say, Arizona to vote and they choose to secede, what do we do? We’re not exactly operating under the Constitution right now. There isn’t a Congress to vote them down, and we gave them precedents with Hawaii, Texas, and Alaska. No more. If we keep doing this we’ll be out of a job. We won’t even have a country. So, there won’t be any more negotiations. We won’t allow them to leave even if they vote on it.”

  “What if they won’t disband and resist?” Wilbur asked.

  Conner turned to Schmidt and said, “Major, we haven’t talked about my expectations with this new responsibility of yours, but why don’t you answer Secretary Wilbur’s
question.”

  A bit uneasy to be put on the spot, Schmidt rose to the occasion. “Ma’am, if they won’t comply, we will force them.” He then looked at Conner to see if his answer met with his approval. Conner smiled.

  “But what exactly does that mean?” she asked, brow furrowed.

  “We can’t allow these groups to flourish; we need to tamp down on them, we—”

  “We need to crush them, just like I did in Montana,” Schmidt interjected forcefully.

  “What happened there was a travesty and can’t be repeated. The force used against them was disproportionate to . . .”

  “They tried to kidnap you!” Baxter chimed in.

  “But the major and his men killed them all!”

  Schmidt sat taller in his seat when she made the last comment, clearly proud of his actions in Montana.

  “And that solution didn’t work. I told you there are still rumblings of the MIP. They haven’t gone away because of Major Schmidt’s actions,” Wilbur contended.

  “They’ll rumble and talk but we won’t hear from them for a long time, if at all. Their strength is diminished,” Conner challenged her.

  “Mr. President, I just think this approach is wrongheaded. Some of these groups are peaceful and seek peaceful separation. Doing what you’re proposing could cause open rebellion.”

  “I’m sure Major Schmidt will be more prudent than to go in guns blazing. The groups will be warned and if they don’t comply, we’ll then arrest them. We will hold them until we can get a handle on things, then we can discuss their needs at a later time.”

  Wilbur was clearly disturbed by the comments; she also noticed that Cruz was noticeably quiet. “Mr. Vice President, any thoughts on this?”

  Cruz spoke via conference call. “I agree with the president, we have to get the country under control and the only way to do that is by eliminating the distraction caused by these groups.”

  Wilbur, defeated, sat, shaking her head.

  Conner asked, “Anyone else have something to add?”

  The room was quiet.

  He looked at the clock again. “Good. Major, we will meet soon to discuss this further. Let’s dive into the plan we’re attempting to make with Mr. Van Zandt.” He pivoted to Baxter. “General, thank you for finding Mr. Van Zandt’s service record. We’ve all had a chance to look it over. Let me get your thoughts on it before we have our talk with him.”

  “What do you make of it, General?” Conner asked.

  “It’s hard to fault the man for what happened in the mosque in Fallujah.”

  “Other than the shooting in the mosque, his record was exemplary,” Cruz added.

  “I have to agree with the vice president. He obtained the rank of sergeant in less than four years. Very impressive,” Baxter commented.

  “Have you read the transcript from the court martial? He was belligerent and demeaning to the Marine Corps and the United States,” Wilbur said.

  “I can forgive the man for how he conducted himself. He felt like he was being charged for doing the right thing. I remember when this incident happened. It was all over the news,” Baxter said.

  “His behavior during the court martial was appalling and disgraceful,” Wilbur fired back.

  “Try putting yourself in that mosque, put yourself in his shoes,” Baxter countered.

  “General, I spent days with the man, and he is callous and ruthless. I’ll add this one positive note: I respect him for his abilities. But I wouldn’t trust him completely.” Wilbur turned to Conner. “Sir, his disdain for the country is well documented. He openly displayed this to me, and after reading this transcript from the court martial, I can see the man hasn’t changed. I just don’t know if this is the best man for the job.”

  “Andrew, you want to add anything?” Conner asked.

  “Yes, I agree with Wilbur to a point. Mr. Van Zandt did come across as hard and callous, but he risked his life for us. He didn’t falter—”

  “He did go off course though,” Conner interjected as he interrupted Cruz.

  “Yes, he did, but I understand why he did and thank God he did. His actions saved his wife and others in his group from bandits,” Cruz said.

  “I think I know where you all stand. I believe that Mr. Van Zandt was a man loyal to his country. Why else join the Marine Corps? He volunteered to serve during war, he suffered wounds, and then he ended up a political casualty of the war. I can see where that would jade a man. It soured him and I can understand that. Do I completely trust the man? No. But men can be bought and we have a lot of offer. I trust him to complete the task because he’ll want to receive his payment. I don’t care if he loves me or not, I just need him to do a simple job. Now, let’s see if he is prompt.”

  As if by magic, the phone rang.

  Baxter touched the receiver button and said, “Hello, this is General Baxter.”

  “Hi, General, this is Gordon Van Zandt.”

  “Mr. Van Zandt, thank you for calling back. Now, before you tell me—” Conner began to say, but Gordon interrupted him.

  “Sir, I don’t want to waste your time, but I can’t do what you’re asking. I can’t leave my family again. I’ve promised them and I just can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Conner grinned uneasily, then said, “Gordon—can I call you Gordon?”

  “That’s fine,” Gordon replied.

  “Gordon, I know how hard it is to leave your family under the current circumstances, but let me first present you my offer.”

  “No need, sir. I can’t do it.”

  “Please, just hear me out,” Conner beseeched.

  Gordon exhaled deeply, then said, “Go ahead, but nothing, I mean nothing, will convince me.”

  “Gordon, we will not only offer you every resource you need but I can also promise that the trip will be quick. We’ll come grab you in McCall, fly you to Mountain Home, then onto Coos Bay. You will simply go in, look around, and try to meet with the colonel. You know, get a feel for what’s going on there. It’s really very simple. You’re in and out.”

  “Sir, this is wasting your time and mine. I can’t do it.”

  Wilbur’s eyes squinted in disgust as she shook her head at what she perceived was Gordon’s disrespect toward the president.

  “Gordon, I’d really appreciate it if you’d let me finish my thought,” Conner snapped.

  “I told you, I can’t. If you’ll excuse me . . .”

  Conner’s temper flared. “Mr. Van Zandt, I have your service record here and apparently your old company commander was correct in his assessment of you. He says here in your last fitness report that you ‘routinely questioned authority’ and ‘showed a lack of tact toward superiors.’ I can see that displayed here.”

  “Does my service record also say that I was injured and scarred from your misadventure overseas? Does it mention that I had been nominated for a Silver Star until the kangaroo court?”

  Conner didn’t answer Gordon’s questions and instead changed his tack. “Mr. Van Zandt, why were you even in Oregon? Apparently you didn’t have a problem leaving your family before.”

  “And now you’re trying to guilt me into the task? I’m done with this phone call.”

  “You’re making a huge mistake.”

  “Maybe so. Good-bye, Mr. President,” Gordon said, then hung up.

  Baxter, Wilbur, and Conner all exchanged looks.

  “What’s the term the Brits say? Cheeky? Well, Mr. Van Zandt is definitely that!” Conner said.

  “I told you, sir,” Wilbur said, vindicated.

  Cruz, speaking from Cheyenne Mountain, followed up by saying, “The man has gone rogue, that’s for sure, but, Brad, I don’t think it was a smart move to try and use his past service as a way to leverage him.”

  “Andrew, once I saw he was committed to not helping us, it was appropriate to
call him out for his past indiscretions,” Conner said defensively. He leaned on the table and placed his head in his hands.

  “Any other ideas on getting human intel on Barone?” Cruz asked.

  “Not sure,” Baxter answered.

  “No idea,” Wilbur chimed in.

  Conner raised his head and exhaled loudly. “Let’s go back to the drawing board.”

  McCall, Idaho

  Gordon placed the phone back in his pocket and looked out toward the rolling foothills of Jug Handle Mountain. The tall grasses melted into an alpine setting of thick pine trees. His eyes followed the trees upward toward the exposed granite peak still covered in snow. The sheer beauty of the area always left him in awe. He swore that the sky here was a deeper blue than what the sky was in San Diego. He wasn’t sure why, but the colors seemed softer, more muted in San Diego. Maybe it had to do with the air quality, but whatever it was, when he came to Idaho he would always comment on just how blue the sky was and how green the trees were. Before the lights went out, he often referred to McCall as “God’s country,” and it was living up to that name, especially now.

  The beauty of the vista gave way to ugly thoughts about his recent conversation. He didn’t like saying no to supplies, but his family was the most important thing to him. All he could do now was call Barone directly. He knew it was a long shot, but he might be able to convince him to forgive Brittany and not harm her. Then the thought that she could be dead crossed his mind. It wasn’t inconceivable that she had perished in the fighting. He vanquished those dark thoughts and told himself that he’d only think of her in terms of being alive.

  The large sliding door that led from the great room to the deck opened up behind him. He turned to see Gunny walking out.

  “Whatcha doin’, Van Zandt?” Gunny asked.

  “Just thinking.”

  “How did that call go?” Gunny asked after walking up to Gordon.

  “Not good. I think I pissed off the president.”

  “Good!”

  “Good?”

  “Yeah, nice to see you that you still have the talent for pissing people off,” Gunny joked.