Blood, Sweat & Tears: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 5)

by G. Michael Hopf

  “What about the others?” another man asked.

  “First things first, take Warren’s body, strip it naked and post it at the entrance to the base with a sign tied around his neck that says ‘Child Killer’.”

  “You’re horrible!” an officer yelled.

  Gordon pulled a rag from his pocket and started wiping the fresh blood from his aching hands. “Kill them, kill them all.”

  “What? No. That’s not us,” Jones interrupted upon hearing Gordon’s order.

  “You have a problem with taking out the trash, Jones?” Gordon asked.

  “I don’t have a problem killing, but this is murder. They’ve surrendered to us. There are rules.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “Gordon, you’re angry after what they did to your brother. This isn’t right.”

  Gordon rubbed the blood from his knuckles onto his shirt and breathed deeply. Battering Warren had winded him. “You’re right, I’m angry at what they did to my brother. I don’t know what happened to my sister-in-law, she’s missing, could be dead for all I know. Then we come here and what do I see, them essentially executing little kids. These people here are animals, but you’re telling me I shouldn’t just take them out because we’re better than they are. What’s up with this insane moral equivalence? We’re not the same, we don’t murder little children. We don’t just execute people for no reason.”

  “Not true, you’re about to kill them just like Major Schmidt killed your brother,” Jones reminded him.

  Gordon grunted and replied, “Would you like it if I had a trial? If we found them guilty, could I then kill them?”

  Jones thought for a moment and decided that was the best compromise. “Yes, that would work.”

  “Well, when we have time and the resources to spare, we’ll do that for the next group, but not these guys. They allowed the people in those camps over there to suffer at the hands of thugs, and they did nothing when their commander ordered little kids shot down. They’re just as guilty as if they did it. They turned away fully knowing what was happening and chose to do zero, squat. I know the story that they were just following orders. I’m here to tell you now, Jones, that’s bullshit and a cop-out.”

  “Please don’t kill them. There has to be a better way,” Jones pleaded.

  Gordon turned to find everyone was watching the back and forth he was having with Jones.

  “Gordon, don’t do this, find a better way, please. I lived through Colonel Barone; I saw what happens to men when they believe they’re judge, jury and executioner.”

  The mention of Barone hit home and made him pause. “And what about what I did to the general there?”

  “I understand that; you’re sending a clear message. There was purpose in that, but executing the others doesn’t make sense.”

  Gordon lowered his voice, leaned closer and asked, “So what do we do with them?”

  “We hold them, maybe use them to barter later with the president.”

  “Hmm, interesting,” Gordon replied. He folded his arms and pondered for only a few seconds. “You know, Jones, I’ll take what you suggest into consideration.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “But in the meantime I’m going to have these officers shot. The enlisted prisoners I’ll find something for them to do,” Gordon said and turned back towards his men, who still stood frozen waiting anxiously for their orders. “Kill them!”

  Jones shook his head and exhaled heavily. He knew this was sending a message, but it was the wrong message.

  The officers all began to beg and whimper.

  Gordon’s soldiers stepped back, took aim and fired in unison.

  The officers fell to the ground dead, each one shot through the head.

  Gordon stepped over to the firing squad and said, “Good job.”

  They all nodded.

  “You know, come to think of it, this entire place was just a fucking hellhole brought to you by the United States government,” Gordon said and hesitated. He looked at his hand and could see it was swelling slightly. “John, get over here.”

  John ran over and asked, “What’s up?”

  “How many prisoners do we have?”

  “Um, right now we have collected about sixty.”

  “Hold a court for these people, have the refugees preside over it, and let them choose who lives or dies,” Gordon said, then turned to look at Jones. “How does that sound?”

  Jones shook his head but didn’t respond.

  “I take that as a yes,” Gordon said smartly. “Go make it happen.”

  John took off.

  Satisfied with the outcome, Gordon looked back at Jones and asked, “Any other criticism for me today?”

  “No,” Jones said. He was disgusted. He looked at the men lying dead and wished it could have gone a different way. He didn’t have any problems with killing the enemy, but just executing people without a trial didn’t feel right. His phone began to ring. He pulled it from his trouser side pocket and turned it on. “Jones here.” It was Charles again and this time he was in a panic.

  “Gordon, it’s Charles again. He needs to speak with you.”

  “I’m too busy to give him an update and too busy to chat about policy. Tell him I’ll call back.”

  “Gordon, you need to take his call, it’s critical,” Jones urged.

  “What could be so urgent?”

  “Olympia is under attack,” Jones conveyed.

  Gordon stopped and turned. “By who?”

  “By a brigade of Marines.”

  McCall, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  “Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?” Haley softly said, walking into the kitchen.

  Samantha was busy preparing dinner and paused for a brief moment to reply, “I’m not sure, sweetie, but he won’t be gone for too long.” Of course, this was a lie and Samantha hated having to say it, but one of her jobs as a parent was to make Haley feel safe.

  The rich smell of meat and vegetables stewing filled the kitchen.

  Haley took a sniff and asked, “Are we having deer stew again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Yuck? I thought you enjoyed my venison stew,” Samantha said, astonished by Haley’s comment.

  “I love it,” Luke hollered from down the hall.

  “Thank you, deserving child,” Samantha hollered back.

  “We just have it so much, I’m tired of it,” Haley whined.

  “You’ll get what you get and you won’t get upset,” Samantha joked, quoting from one of Haley’s favorite children’s books.

  “Are there any more cookies left?” Haley asked.

  Samantha completely stopped what she was doing, wiped off her hands and took Haley by the hand. She led her to the large couch in the great room and took a seat, placing Haley on her lap. “I know you’re missing Daddy, I am too, but he’ll be fine, and soon this whole thing will be over and he’ll be back here.”

  “I miss him so much,” Haley whimpered.

  Samantha saw Haley’s lip quiver. She embraced her tightly, kissing her on top of the head. “Oh, sweetie, your heart is so big.”

  “I just don’t want him to die like Uncle Sebastian.”

  Hearing Haley say that made her cringe. “He won’t, honey. Your daddy is big and strong; he’ll be fine.” Again Samantha peppered her with lies.

  “Luke told me they were fighting a war, is that true?”

  Samantha bit her tongue as she thought about how she’d answer the question. “Um, it is true that Daddy is off fighting, but he’s only doing so to keep us safe. He will be fine, you’ll see.”

  “I heard a lot of people die in war.”

  Haley’s questions were like punches to her gut. “It’s true, people do die in wars, but your daddy won’t.”

  “Mommy?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t have to lie to me.”

  Samantha opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out.

  “I
know you’re scared, and I hear you talking to Uncle Nelson. I’m scared too. I just want Daddy to come home.”

  Samantha petted her head and squeezed her. “I want him home too.”

  A loud banging on the door caused Samantha to jump. “I wonder who that might be.”

  “I’ll get it!” Luke hollered as he ran down the hall towards the front door.

  “Luke, where’s your gun?”

  Luke stopped just shy of opening the door. He opened a drawer of a small table next to the front door and pulled out a small revolver. “Sorry, forgot.” He held it and remembered the brief time Sebastian had tried to train him with a firearm. That was months ago and since he hadn’t handled a gun all that often. He had a general understanding of how to use one but really wanted to learn more. He looked to the door and called out, “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Nelson.”

  Luke unlocked several deadbolts and opened the door. He shoved the small framed pistol into his trousers and greeted Nelson, "Hi."

  “Hi,” Nelson replied. He looked past Luke and saw Samantha sitting on the couch with Haley. “Oh good, you’re here.”

  “Come in,” Samantha said.

  Nelson stepped across the threshold and into the foyer.

  Luke slyly put the revolver back and stood just to the side of Nelson.

  Nelson removed his frayed ball cap and combed his long hair back with his fingers. “I came over as soon as I got the word.”

  Samantha’s heart dropped when he uttered those words.

  Seeing her expression change, he immediately corrected his tone and said, “It’s nothing to do with Gordon, he’s fine. Um, can we speak in private?”

  “Sure. Ah, Haley, go with Luke back to his bedroom and read a book.”

  “But I want to hear what Uncle Nelson has to say,” Haley insisted.

  “No, now go. I’ll be in shortly to read one too with you,” Samantha said, pushing Haley off her lap.

  “Fine, but it’s not fair.” Haley scrunched her nose and stomped off with Luke just behind her.

  “How about we go out back?” Nelson suggested.

  The two stepped onto the deck.

  Samantha motioned for him to sit, but he pointed to an open space further back behind the large garden.

  “Really private,” Samantha said.

  Quietly he said, “I just don’t want the kids eavesdropping.”

  They cut through the garden and took a seat on a large granite boulder near a grove of aspens.

  “So what is so urgent and private?” Samantha asked.

  “I apologize for acting weird, but Gordon gave me specific instructions not to alarm the kids or make them worry.”

  “Like telling me it’s so urgent we have to hide to tell me? That won’t make them worried at all,” Samantha joked, rubbing her arms against the cool air.

  “You know your man, he’s a stickler, and I don’t want to be the guy that upsets the kids.”

  “Oh, he wouldn’t get too mad.”

  “Are you kidding me? He’s changed somewhat, he’s…” Nelson said then stopped. He looked out towards the east.

  “He’s what?”

  “Ever since Sebastian was killed, he’s been withdrawn, bitter, angry, more than he was after Hunter’s death.”

  Samantha sighed because she knew he was right.

  “He’s a bit unhinged is the word I’m hearing from the field,” Nelson said.

  “Who’s saying he’s unhinged?”

  “People.”

  “Who?”

  Nelson cocked his head and said, “People, I don’t want to get into this.”

  “Nelson Wagner, you’re one of his oldest and dearest friends. You don’t want to tell me because you’re protecting others? Is it because you believe it too?”

  Nelson grunted and replied, “I believe it a little. Heck, I’ve seen how he’s been since poor Sebastian was murdered.”

  Needing to defend Gordon, Samantha said, “He has a right to be angry. He’s lost friends, a son and now a brother. I say he has every right to be pissed off.”

  “I’m not saying that, it’s just that he’s done some things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Listen, I didn’t come here to argue much less discuss this. I wanted to tell you something else.”

  “What has Gordon done that’s so bad? Answer.”

  “There was a battle today…Gordon and the army were successful. They took Mountain Home Air Force Base, but he did something that upset some.”

  “What? Dammit, stop beating around the bush!”

  “He executed some American officers who had surrendered peacefully.”

  Samantha thought for a moment. She shrugged and said, “So what, it’s war.”

  “You can’t say so what. Actions have consequences, and he has to look at this politically now. I hate to say it, but he really has to,” Nelson stressed.

  “No, he doesn’t, all he needs to do is win,” Samantha said and stood up. She walked over and looked towards the eastern mountain range.

  “Sam, it is important. Gordon shouldn’t be executing people for no reason. He needs to show he can be a leader that has compassion and will administer justice. He also killed an unarmed man with his bare hands; he beat him to death.”

  “I’m not listening anymore. He had a good reason, I’m sure of it. Whoever that man was probably did something wrong.”

  Nelson stood and approached her. “He did, but there should have been some sort of trial. We can’t have a new country if the leader of our military is acting like the tyrants we’re trying to free ourselves from.”

  Samantha turned around quickly and barked, “Don’t you dare compare Gordon to Conner and especially not to that animal Schmidt!”

  Nelson looked down. He hated conflict, and here he was, right in the middle of it. He couldn’t be surprised by Samantha’s response; after all, she was Gordon’s wife. “I’m not saying they’re the same, but those who dislike Gordon—and you know the politics began the day he stood on that tank and he had already created political enemies—will use this as a wedge issue. All I am saying is when you speak to him next, ask him to think more before acting out.”

  “You really piss me off; I thought you were his friend.”

  Nelson stepped around and stood in front of her. “I am, his best friend, and I’m being a friend by looking out for his interests here and in Olympia.”

  “Then show it.”

  He shook his head, frustrated that she refused to listen. Knowing he wasn’t getting anywhere, he went to the next major topic. “Samantha, I know you don’t want to hear what I have to say about Gordon, but we need to be prepared for some dustups especially after what happened today in Olympia.”

  “Now what?”

  “Olympia was attacked today; it’s been taken over by US forces. The council and committee were able to escape. They’re headed here, but the grumblings are already beginning, and like anything political, they want to blame someone, and it’s Gordon they’re laying this on.”

  Samantha rubbed her temples to soothe the migraine that was coming on. “Of course they will, that’s what politicians do. They point fingers and blame someone else from the seats they never leave; hence why their asses are so wide.”

  “We need to prepare ourselves and rally support for Gordon. Michael is already taking heat and is disregarding the calls from Charles to divert Smith’s forces from Yakima and attack Olympia.”

  Confused by it all, Samantha found herself back on the granite boulder. “And no word from Gordon?”

  “No, Gordon has ordered Smith’s forces to return to McCall and defend it just in case Conner’s army moves east.”

  In disbelief from the endless bad news, Samantha chuckled and said, “Do you know what Haley told me today?”

  “What?”

  “She told me to stop lying to her. I keep telling her everything will be okay, but she sees right through the bullshit. She’s so young but so wise beyon
d her years.”

  “She doesn’t need to know the gritty details, but maybe it’s becoming time to tell her it’s not so safe.”

  “I can’t do that. You see, it’s my job as a parent to make sure my children feel safe. That’s not to say I can’t warn them of dangers, but telling her everything won’t help her understand better or prepare her.”

  Nelson nodded.

  “For a while I was beginning to believe my own bullshit.”

  “And now?”

  “I’m not so sure everything will be okay; I’m not so sure we’ll survive this.”

  Cheyenne, Wyoming, United States

  “So today you’re telling me we’re batting five hundred?” Conner asked, looking through the memo concerning Mountain Home.

  “Yes, sir,” Baxter replied.

  “Let them have Mountain Home; we have his capital,” Conner said and stood up from his desk, clearly excited about the news from Olympia. He spun around and looked out the window but hesitated when he saw his own reflection. The stress of the endless fighting had gotten to him. His once pudgy face was replaced with a lean and weathered one. Deep wrinkles now resided across his skin, and the dark circles he had always had were deeper and darker than ever before. Gone was the soft and chubby man who had been the Speaker of the House of Representatives. Not wanting to get lost in why his complexion had transformed, he turned and faced Baxter. “It’s a day to celebrate. We have their capital, and soon we’ll move on McCall and end this.”

  “Sir, when can we begin bombing operations?” Schmidt asked. He too looked like a different man since his encounter with Gordon. The muscular frame had been reduced and replaced with a lean and almost frail body. His appearance had changed so drastically that Conner began to wonder if he was sick.

  “Major, I know you want nothing more but to bomb McCall back to the Stone Age, but I don’t want that. We can defeat these rebels without collateral damage and killing innocents. The approach you had before did nothing but enrage the civilian population, which then led to them rising up against you.”

  “Why aren’t we hammering his forces in Mountain Home, then?” Schmidt asked.

  “Major, do I have to repeat myself? There are thousands of refugees there; the risk of collateral damage is too high. I can’t risk another public relations scandal. Plus he doesn’t have a lot of armor. He has trucks, old cars and only a few thousand men. Not enough to worry about just yet, and believe me, if he gets close to us, we’ll light him up,” Conner said.