A loud knock at the door was followed by Simpson calling out, “Sir, I need to speak to you!”
Barone walked out from behind his desk and opened the door. “I’m going on the raids tonight,” Barone said, with a proud look on his face.
“Sir, I really have to protest. We can’t risk losing you.”
“Julius Caesar didn’t sit on the sidelines. He rode into battle with his men and so will I.”
“Can I recommend that you draft a chain of succession in case you die?”
“Top, since when did you become such a worrywart?” he asked, patting him on the shoulder.
Knowing he’d never win the debate, Simpson pivoted the conversation to another urgent topic: Gordon Van Zandt.
“Sir, you’re supposed to meet with Van Zandt. Don’t you remember?”
“That can wait till tomorrow. Tonight I’m going to have fun,” Barone said as he gathered more gear.
“Sir, he has information about President Conner. He says it’s very important.”
Barone looked at his watch then said, “Two hours till we go green, not going to happen. I’ll meet him first thing in the morning.”
“I’ll set the meeting for zero nine hundred,” Simpson said, a tinge of defeat in his voice.
“Sounds good. On your way out, tell my guards to go get some chow. I want their bellies full for tonight’s raid.”
“Roger that, sir,” Simpson said and exited.
Barone was tempted to take a drink, but resisted the impulse. He wanted his mind and senses clear for this battle. On his way out of his office, he stopped and examined his reflection in the mirror. “Looking good, Devil Dog! We’re going to kill some fucking rebels tonight!”
Cheyenne, Wyoming
With Schmidt as his new weapon, Conner felt confident that success was around the corner. All the obstacles and distractions that prevented them from getting on top of reconstruction would soon be resolved. Equipped with the knowledge that Pablo Juarez planned to use a nuclear bomb against them in Cheyenne made the decision to use one himself much easier. The internal debate that had been raging was over.
Ever the realist, he knew that unpredictable events would still occur, and today was no exception. Conner’s mid-morning briefing was interrupted with the news that a pandemic of what appeared to be a MERS-type coronavirus had hit Idaho. The virus had broken out in Mountain Home Air Force base, which was operating as the temporary state capital for Idaho. To date, they had no deaths but hundreds had become sick. Wilbur reported to Conner that it had spread up to McCall, where a smaller outbreak was under way. Conner was disturbed by the news, but he also saw it as an opportunity to remove another threat: the eastern Cascadians.
“Excuse me, Dylan.”
“Yes, Mr. President?”
“I need you to do something. It’s important.”
“What can I do for you, sir?”
“Please find Major Schmidt. I’ve tried to contact him, but he’s been unresponsive.”
“I’ll get right on that, sir.”
Conner walked to the window and looked out on the city below. The town was alive with activity. With his approval, he had allowed more and more people to come into the green zone. It was a slow process but the quicker he could integrate the refugees, the more vibrant the city would become. The growth was explosive but necessary. He began to call Cheyenne the Shining City—a beacon of hope to the many who had no home. It would be a symbol of a new America, a new republic. The one thing he needed to do was stop those hell-bent on dividing and destroying it. He knew that if he pulled it off, he could be that leader in history books who had a truly transformative effect.
He spotted a young woman pushing a stroller, her dark hair pulled back with a blue bow. Every few feet he could see the baby’s hands grab at the toys that dangled from the mobile over him. How innocent and sweet, he thought. If he could accomplish his goals, that child would never know the horrors that he and so many had seen. Seeing the baby made him think of his son and the child he would never meet, the little baby that had never been given a chance to live. It pained him even more to think of Julia, his wife and trusted partner for so many years. If she had only held on for a few more days, she’d be alive.
Schmidt finding the loose nuclear weapon brought the entire conspiracy into stark view. He now had the name of the man who caused him and his family—as well as the rest of the nation—unfathomable pain. Conner’s urge to capture the brutal dictator was unlike anything he had ever felt. Violence coursed through his veins. He fantasized about standing before the man who was directly responsible for murdering his family and taking his life personally. But the sensible side of Conner knew that such an operation could jeopardize the plan of destroying the entire PAE army. Conner would be victorious and see Pablo and his army vanquished, but he would have to let his selfish desires go. The plan was in motion and soon it would be realized. The old saying came to mind: “Live by the sword, die by the sword.” This is exactly what would happen to Pablo Juarez, the self-appointed emperor of his mercenary army. Conner would ensure he died by his sword.
A grin crossed his face as he continued to watch the mother and baby. She stopped the stroller and was cradling the baby in her arms. Right there in front of him was his purpose, he thought to himself. He must win for that little baby, for all of the youth out there. For the future. He had to be victorious over all that threatened them.
A tap at his door pulled him away. He spun around and hollered out, “Come in!”
The door opened to reveal Schmidt in his customary faded uniform.
“Take a seat, Major. I have an idea, a good one. You’ll be jealous that you didn’t think of it yourself.” Schmidt nodded and sat across from him.
“Let’s get to business. Major, we might have an opening in Idaho that wasn’t there before. There’s some type of pandemic that has broken out in Mountain Home and has spread as far north as McCall.” Conner briefed him on the pandemic and his idea for using it as a way to roll a military unit into McCall to deal with the Cascadians.
“I’ll have a plan by tomorrow or the next day,” Schmidt said, standing up.
“Good man. How’s the other op going?”
“It’s in motion now, sir. The package will be delivered in a few days.”
“Excellent, excellent. That’s it, Major. Have a good night. In fact go get a drink on me at Pat’s. Put it on my tab.”
Schmidt nodded and exited.
Conner walked back to the window and looked out. The woman and baby were now gone, but what was not gone was his passion for making sure they would have a life and a country.
Warren Air Force Base, Cheyenne, Wyoming
“Oh my God, all this time together and you never told me,” Sebastian cried out with laughter.
“I didn’t want to. I don’t know, it doesn’t bother me too much. I just roll you over and you stop once you’re on your side,” Annaliese said, a smile gracing her tender face. Her recovery had progressed much faster than the doctors had projected. Soon she and Sebastian would be able to go home.
“No one ever told me I snored! I figured I did now and then, but you make it out like I’m registering on the Richter scale.”
“Um, yeah, it can be bad, especially after you’ve had a few drinks. But I don’t mind, really. You’re easy to push over.”
“What, now you’re calling me a pushover?” he teased her.
“You know what I meant,” she said, pinching his arm.
“Ouch! God, you’re always hurting me—now you’re beating me up emotionally too!”
“Stop! Me, hurt you? I can’t, you’re a big strong man. I wouldn’t have married you otherwise.”
Sebastian was lying next to her on the bed and went in for a kiss. As he pulled away, he realized he couldn’t imagine a life without her. She truly was his soul mate. If anything p
ositive could have come from the horrible events, it was his finding her.
“I love you so much. You’re so beautiful,” he said as he placed his lips gently upon hers.
She returned his kiss with a bit more passion.
“I love you too, Sebastian Van Zandt. I know this is corny but you’re my prince charming. I dare any woman dispute that when they were growing up they didn’t want a handsome prince to come and sweep them off their feet. You were that man; although you didn’t come in on a white stallion.”
“Actually it was a stallion, a sea stallion.”
“Huh?”
“The helicopter, the one I crashed in, it was a sea stallion.”
“Well, I guess I stand corrected, my prince did come in on a stallion, but I kinda swept you up with your broken leg.”
“I’m not a stickler to following all the societal rules anyway. I liked that you swept me up,” he said, then laughed. “Thank God you did sweep me up.”
“You have to thank my father for that.”
“He was a good man. I didn’t know him long but I could feel the goodness in him. He was a special person.”
Annaliese grew quiet as she thought of her father. After a long pause, she said, “He was a great man. . . . I miss him.”
Sebastian leaned in and kissed her again. This time she didn’t return his kiss. The expression on her face told him that her mind and heart were now with her father.
“Do you think my mother’s okay?” she asked.
“I’m sure she’s fine. One of your uncle’s positive traits is that he’s prepared. She’s not in need of anything, that’s for sure.”
“You’re right. I’m sure she’s keeping busy with my brother and sister.”
“Knowing your little brother, he’s probably already taken over control of the place. He’s a character, that one.”
“Do you suppose I’ll ever see them again?”
“Yes, I do. I do think you’ll see them again one day,” he said as he caressed her face.
A moment passed. They embraced, then she broke the silence with a question. “How is Gordon?”
“I spoke to Secretary Wilbur yesterday and she told me everything appears to be going well. They don’t have a timeline on when they’ll leave, but he’s fine. I worry about my brother, but then I remember that he’s my brother, and he’s as tough as nails. I swear nothing will kill him. Even if he did die, God would take one look at his crusty ass and send him back.”
“Don’t say such things.”
“I’m not saying anything Gordon wouldn’t agree with.”
“Gordon’s a good guy. I really like him and Samantha. . . . Actually I love them both, they’re family.”
“Yeah, Gordo’s a good guy. He’s always been there to help me, no matter what. He always looked out for the little guy or the underdog. He’s never been afraid of a fight. When we were younger, if he saw a smaller kid being bullied by older kids, he’d step right in and defend the smaller one even if it meant throwing punches,” Sebastian recalled, a slight grin creasing his face. “I never told you this story, but there was this one kid, I think his name was Samuel, or maybe it was . . . either way doesn’t matter. Well, the kid was in special ed in Gordon’s freshman class. These boys, seniors, were picking on him. Gordon saw this and immediately stepped in. Of course the three seniors thought they could bully Gordon too because he was a freshman, and, well, they bargained wrong. One thing my old man always told us growing up was don’t start a fight unless you have to. If there is no way out and a fight goes down, be the first to strike. Gordon was a good listener for sure. He struck first, hitting the first boy straight in the nose. From what I heard, Gordon just started whaling on them, one punch after another until the three seniors were down. Then like nothing had happened and as cool as ice, he picked up Samuel’s stuff and escorted him to the bus. Needless to say, those boys never messed with Samuel again.”
“Your brother strikes me as a defender, a sheepdog type.”
“He definitely is the sheepdog keeping the wolves at bay.”
Annaliese reached and turned his face toward hers. She touched his eyebrows, cheeks, and then leaned in for a kiss. After the kiss she scratched his beard and asked, “How long do I have to be tortured with this?”
He scrunched his face and asked, “What, you don’t like the look?”
“Ahh, I do, but if given a choice I think I want baby-butt smooth face over prickly, hairy face.”
“What will you give in exchange for one baby-butt smooth face?” Sebastian joked.
“Umm, how about a big wet kiss?” She giggled.
They kissed and laughed.
“You must be needing to go out and stretch your legs. I know you have to be curious as to what’s happening here,” she said.
“I’m fine, don’t worry about me.”
Sebastian was curious; he did have a desire to see Cheyenne.
“Honey, please go ahead, go out, take a look around,” she pressed.
He looked at her and answered, “Okay, since it’s so important to you.”
“It is important to me. I’m fine here, go out and see the sights.”
“Fine, fine, I’ll go out tomorrow, okay?”
“Good. Now let’s get back to you shaving that face,” she teased.
JUNE 29, 2015
“Everyone has a plan till they get punched in the mouth.”
—Mike Tyson
Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific States of America
It was early but Gordon was awake and pacing the berthing space, nervous about his upcoming meeting. After Barone sent word last night that he wasn’t meeting with Gordon until this morning, his men took them back to the ship. He and Finley were under house arrest. They weren’t allowed to go anywhere except the mess hall, and even that had to be under the watchful eye of two guards.
Finley groaned as he stretched. “My body aches. Christ, these beds fucking suck.”
“Stop the whining. That’s all you do. Suck it up, would you?”
“Fuck off, Van Zandt. God, you’re such a stress case. By the way, who is this woman?”
“She’s a friend.”
“Bullshit, no one is willing to go as far as you have for a friend. You must have been sticking your dick in her,” Finely chided.
“Go fuck yourself!” Gordon snapped.
“Fuck you!”
Gordon’s temper flared and he stormed over to Finley. He put his face in his and said, “Say something else, go ahead, motherfucker, say something stupid. I’ll fucking ruin you.”
Finley stepped back; a surprised look gripped his face.
Gordon’s anger had reached a point that he was truly willing to beat Finley to a pulp. He was tired of people accusing him of having relations with Brittany; he was tired of the comments and innuendos. Fortunately for Finley a knock on the berthing hatch saved him from getting pummeled.
Gordon walked away from him toward the hatch, his fists clenched. He opened it up to see two Marines.
“Colonel Barone can see you now,” a Marine lance corporal said.
“Let me get my gear,” Gordon said.
Finley quickly put on his trousers and grabbed a few things while Gordon was gathering a couple of items. They both met at the hatch at the same time.
“I don’t think he asked for you,” Gordon said snidely.
“Incorrect, the colonel wants to meet him too,” the Marine said.
Finley shot Gordon a look.
“You won’t need those,” the Marine said, pointing at the men’s pistols that were nestled in their shoulder holsters.
Gordon and Finley looked at each other and reluctantly removed their holsters.
“Let’s go. The colonel is waiting.”
McCall, Idaho
Samantha defied Nelson’s reco
mmendation of embracing the children. She couldn’t stop herself from holding Haley. She went along with his instructions as far as wearing her mask and gloves, but Haley’s cries and pleas were too much for her to say no to hugging her child. She rocked her little limp body and sang her lullabies—anything to ease the pain, even just a little.
Nelson had paid a visit late last night with the news he had learned from Rainey. Because there wasn’t a cure, the kids would have to suffer through the symptoms until it passed. He had been honest with her about the probable prognosis from other coronaviruses like MERS. When she heard that thirty percent of those who contracted MERS died from complications, it frightened her to action. She immediately called the number Gordon had given her. However, no one answered. Again, she was left alone to fight for Haley’s life, and like before, she was determined to prevail.
“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, Momma’s gonna buy you a mockingbird,” she softly sang as she rocked Haley. Haley’s movements were slow, as fatigue was a large part of her symptoms too. Just the effort of lifting her arm took everything she had.
The temptation to take Haley and Luke to the hospital crossed Haley’s mind, but without a real treatment she didn’t see a reason to do so. She could do just as much good by monitoring and providing comfort at her house than at a hospital surrounded by other sick people.
Like usual, Nelson arrived on time. If he was ever accused of anything, being prompt was something that all could agree on.
She laid Haley gently back into the pillows and brought the blankets and sheets up to her chin. Brushing her sweaty head, she said, “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.” The only sound that Haley emitted was a series of loud coughs.
Samantha stepped into the hallway to see Nelson dressed head to toe in blue hospital scrubs, booties, latex gloves, and a mask.
“Look at you,” she joked.
“I can’t take any chances.”
“I know, you’re smart. I, on the other hand, can’t help but hold them.”
The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) Page 19
