The End

by G. Michael Hopf

  Gordon could see Jerrod was still in the car. He started to make his way to the car, but bullets rained down around him. Determined, Gordon pressed forward in an attempt to reach Jerrod. As he marched toward Jerrod he emptied his pistol. Gordon thrust the pistol under his armpit and pressed the magazine release. The empty magazine dropped to the ground with a clang. As he reached for another magazine, the third and final impact did its job. The force of the shot took him to the ground. It struck him just below the collar bone.

  As he laid on the hard pavement the trauma from the three shots was taking a toll. His vision began to get blurry and vertigo set in. Looking to his left he saw Jerrod; his now dead body was crushed under the weight of the car. Gordon could not see Eric through the heavy black smoke coming from Jerrod’s burning car. The gunfire now seemed distant as his thoughts drifted to his wife Samantha and then to his two children. He thought about how he would miss them, their little laughs, and their sweet and gentle hugs. Gordon tried to move, but the weakness from the blood loss prevented it. Feeling what he called the darkness, he struggled to stay awake. Now the sounds around him seemed to go away. All he could hear was his shallow breathing. More thoughts came of his children. He loved them so much; he longed to be in his family’s arms. He longed to kiss and hold his wife. As his breathing became shallower; the tears began to fall down the sides of his face. Visions of his family without him took over and he knew the darkness was coming. If he could just keep thinking about them, the darkness wouldn’t come. Gordon managed to bring his right arm to his neck. Grabbing the chain he had around it, he pulled the necklace out from underneath his shirt. Attached to the chain was a sterling silver compass. Samantha had given this to him years ago when they were dating. When she gave it to him, she told him that it would always show him the way home. Holding it tightly, he openly cried. Transporting himself there, he could see her like she was then, her long blond hair and pouty lips, the doe eyes and sweet smell. Tears ran down his cheeks as he felt the darkness coming over him. As he slipped away he muttered softly, “I love you.”

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  Conner was covered in dripping sweat as he fumbled with his keys to his room. His new routine of running at the gym was paying off; he was leaning up and relieving some stress. While the office of president came with huge responsibilities it offered many luxuries that most did not have anymore. So before each daily run, Conner would say a small prayer acknowledging his gratefulness for his and Julia’s safety.

  Passing his bedroom, he saw Julia sitting on the edge of the bed. Her seclusion had become commonplace since the death of their son, but something seemed different. He stopped what he was doing and went into room.

  “Hi sweetie, is everything okay?”

  She turned to him and said, “Brad, please sit next to me.”

  She had a gentleness in her voice that he had not heard in a long time. He missed her and did not hesitate when he heard that long missed tone.

  “Of course.”

  She grabbed his hand, turned, and faced him.

  “Brad, I know we have been through a lot together, I know you personally have a huge responsibility. I love you and respect you. You didn’t choose this but you have stood up and taken charge like the man I know you are. I’m so proud of you. You are a good man, a good husband, and a good father. I know that over the past couple of weeks I’ve been very distant. I hope you forgive me for that. I know that it must have been hard for you, too, and that you haven’t had the chance to truly mourn because you’ve been called upon to lead our country.”

  Conner just held his wife’s hand tight and looked at her. The more she talked the more tears started to well up in her eyes. He had wanted to interject his thoughts, but this was the most she had talked to him since Bobby’s death. He let her continue uninterrupted.

  “Brad, I know you love me and I know you want the best for me.”

  Conner nodded.

  “Brad, we are good people, we are good, decent people; we are loving parents, or I should say we were. With everything that has happened, from Bobby’s death to the attacks. We have to start over.”

  Julia paused. Tears flowed down her cheeks; she looked down and wiped her cheeks. Conner reached over and placed his hand on her cheek and raised her head so he could look at her.

  “I love you too. I have missed you so much. I am so sorry that I couldn’t save our son.”

  “Stop, please. I don’t want to revisit that. Bobby’s death wasn’t your fault. Others are to blame and I know you will deal with them in time.”

  “I will, I promise you.”

  “Brad,” Julia said softly, breaking her gaze again and looking down.

  “Yes, sweetheart. What is it?”

  “I want us to have another baby,” she said, lifting her head and looking at him.

  Conner was shocked; he would have never guessed this is what she had been thinking about. He did not answer. She kept looking at him for an answer, but he kept silent.

  “Brad, did you hear me? I want us to try to have another baby.”

  “I heard you, Julia. Don’t you think it might be a bit early?”

  “No, I don’t. I have thought about this for almost two weeks. Our country has suffered a horrible attack, millions will die, our son is dead, and we must rebuild our country. We, more than anyone, should be having babies. We have all the resources to ensure a baby will survive.”

  “Julia, sorry to interrupt, but shouldn’t we take some time before we contemplate this?”

  “No, Brad. I want to have another baby.” Julia was now getting upset.

  Conner decided to be cautious about the next thing he said. He knew how fragile she was and the last thing he wanted was for her to relapse. He thought about the idea. He did love babies and children and they did have the resources.

  Julia kept staring at Conner, her eyes red from crying. Looking into her begging eyes, he could not resist her. All he wanted was to make her happy.

  “Julia, I agree; let’s have a baby.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  She quickly hugged him tightly. She kissed him on the cheek, then the lips. She pulled away from the kiss to look at him and say, “I love you Brad, thank you.”

  “I love you too, Julia.”

  She kissed him, again this time more passionately. She stopped only to say, “There’s no better time to start trying then right now.” She reached over and brought him closer to her, they both laid back on the bed.

  After saying yes to Julia, Brad felt better about his answer. Having another child would give them a family again. The new baby could never replace Bobby, but Julia deserved to be happy and he would do anything to make her so.

  San Diego, California

  Nelson ran to the door as fast as his legs could take him. The banging and yelling at the front door portended something of great concern.

  He unlocked the door and flung it open to find Jimmy and two people he did not know wearing uniforms carrying a bloodied stretcher. They proceeded into the house without a word and headed straight for the dining table. Nelson thought to himself how convenient no one else was home at the time to witness this.

  As he followed the men, he peppered them with questions. No one would answer him. He could not see who was on the stretcher but the fact that Gordon was not carrying it and wasn’t in the room gave him enough info to guess that the bloodied person on the stretcher was his good friend.

  “Jimmy, what happened?” he asked.

  “We were ambushed.”

  Once the three made it to the dining room, they pushed everything off the table onto the floor and placed the stretcher on the table.

  Nelson rushed to Gordon’s side and immediately placed his hand on his neck to confirm if he was still alive. Finding a faint pulse, he began to do what came normal for h
im as an EMT.

  “Does anyone know how many times he was shot?” Nelson asked.

  “No, it was so loud and so many bullets were whizzing by. I wasn’t focused on him. I’m sorry,” Jimmy said. The other two did not say a word; they just stood there staring at Nelson.

  Nelson saw the wound in Gordon’s left arm. He then ripped open Gordon’s shirt and saw the wound in his upper chest.

  “Go get me some fresh bandages!” Nelson commanded.

  “Where?” Jimmy asked.

  “Just go into the kitchen and get me a clean towel. Don’t grab the ones on the counter.”

  Jimmy rushed off.

  “It’s going to be okay, my friend,” Nelson said to Gordon.

  Nelson rolled Gordon over onto his side to see if the bullet had exited. He was pleased to find that it had.

  Needing to thoroughly examine Gordon, Nelson ordered the two men to help him strip Gordon of his boots and other clothing.

  Fortunately, Nelson located all the wounds. The wound in his chest looked bad but the main issue was the blood loss and potential infection. They could handle the infection with antibiotics, but if he needed blood he would have to find out if someone had Gordon’s blood type.

  “Jimmy, do you know Gordon’s blood type?”

  “No,” Jimmy answered.

  “Here’s the situation. I think these wounds can be mended but Gordon needs blood. We obviously don’t have any in our supplies but we can give him some when we find someone who is a match. We need to do this quickly.”

  “What do you want us to do?” Jimmy asked.

  “I need you to go find Samantha.”

  “Okay, I’m gone,” Jimmy said and raced off.

  “You two are like sticks in the mud. I need one of you to go to the clinic and get some antibiotics, bandages, tape, gloves—just bring me a trauma kit.”

  “I’d go but I don’t know where the clinic is located,” one of the men answered.

  “Who are you, anyway?”

  “I’m Sergeant Holloway and this is Lance Corporal Fowler. We rescued your men.”

  “I’m Nelson. Now whoever is going to make the run, here is how you get to our clinic. Exit the front door, turn right, and go to Calle Cristo. Turn left, and on the right is our large clubhouse—or was our clubhouse. The house two doors down is our clinic. Just tell the guard that I sent you and that the meds and bandages are for Gordon.”

  “Okay,” Sergeant Holloway answered. “Lance Corporal Fowler, stay here and do whatever the man asks.” Fowler nodded and replied, “Yes, sergeant.”

  Holloway took off at top speed.

  “What can I do?” Fowler asked.

  “You can help by telling me what happened,” Nelson said.

  “We were on patrol to the west when we heard the gunfire. We have been in the area doing reconnaissance on the Villista Cartel.”

  “Cartel?” Nelson asked.

  “Yes, sir, that is what we’re calling them. They are an offshoot of the Tijuana Cartel that has now crossed over and is operating in San Diego County. We believe they are using the name Villista to help draw support from the local Hispanic community.”

  “What’s up with the name ‘Villista,’ by the way?” Nelson asked while he wiped the blood off of Gordon.

  “Sir, it—”

  Looking up, Nelson said, “Hey, Marine, no need to call me ‘sir,’ okay?”

  “Ah, okay. Sorry, just trying to be respectful, Doctor.”

  “By the way, I’m not a doctor; I’m a paramedic; that’s all.”

  “Ah, okay.”

  “So, Villista?”

  “Yes, the Villista name comes from the early twentieth century, when Pancho Villa and his revolutionary guard were at war with the United States. We believe that the Tijuana Cartel is taking advantage of the situation and attempting to secure a foothold here.”

  “So how did you happen upon Gordon and Jimmy?”

  “We heard the gunfight from about a click away. When we arrived, we saw your friend here get shot in the chest and fall. We opened fire on the Villistas with our .50 cal. We took most of them out. Then out of nowhere came the man who was just here and he told us we needed to help his friend here.”

  “So you saw no one else?”

  “We saw another one of your guys and he was dead, I don’t know who he was.”

  Just then, Gordon started to move his head back and forth. Gordon briefly opened his eyes but just as quick as he opened them they were closed.

  “Hey, buddy. You’re going to be okay,” Nelson calmly said to him.

  Gordon just nodded slowly and attempted to say something but his voice was unintelligible.

  “You have nothing to worry about, I haven’t started drinking yet,” Nelson said with a grin. Nelson’s humor and cool temperament were always available, no matter the situation.

  The front door burst open, Samantha came running in. Seeing Nelson in the dining room standing over Gordon, she wasted no time and ran to him.

  “Oh my God!” she said, grabbing Gordon’s hand.

  Gordon opened his eyes and looked at her.

  She leaned over and kissed him several times on his face.

  “Oh, baby, what happened?” she said caressing his face.

  He kept looking at her but the fatigue from the loss of blood made it difficult to stay conscious. His eyes closed again as he slipped back into the darkness.

  Nelson interrupted and asked, “Samantha, what is Gordon’s blood type?”

  “Ah, what?” she responded with a question. Her focus was on Gordon.

  “What is Gordon’s blood type?” he asked again.

  “Oh, ah; he’s B positive.”

  “Great, thank you.”

  Pulling Jimmy aside, he explained the situation. Nelson needed Jimmy to literally go door to door to find someone who had either B positive or O negative blood. There was no time to waste, as the blood loss would eventually kill Gordon.

  Jimmy took off.

  “Will he make it?” Samantha asked, turning to Nelson.

  “Samantha, you’ve known me for a long time and you know I don’t bullshit around when it come to things like this. I feel that he will make it but our window is closing. He’s lost a lot of blood and if we don’t get him some, he will die. Jimmy is out finding someone who is a compatible donor now.”

  Samantha was a very emotional woman, and typically something like this would have caused her to start crying, but she needed to be strong. She looked Nelson right in the eyes and told him, “Do what you have to, do not let my husband die. Do you hear me? Do whatever you need to.”

  “I will, Samantha, I promise you. I will.”

  December 25, 2014

  Man is the cruelest animal.

  —Friedrich Nietzsche

  USS Makin Island, Pacific Ocean

  “Call General Quarters!” Barone yelled as he heard the news that the USS New Orleans was no longer under his control.

  “What do we know? I need information, people!” he barked on the bridge of the ship.

  He grabbed a set of binoculars and looked at the USS New Orleans. The ship had slowed down and started to pull away from them, headed in a southerly direction.

  “Get whoever is in charge over there on the radio now!” Barone yelled.

  “Sir, we have someone,” the communications petty officer said.

  Barone walked over to a handheld and picked it up.

  “This is Lieutenant Colonel Barone, commander of the Second Battalion Fourth Marine Regiment, who is this?”

  “Colonel Barone, this is Captain Newsom, the commanding officer of the USS New Orleans. I have retaken my ship.”

  Barone’s anger welled up inside him. He wanted to yell at the captain but he needed to remain calm and think critically.


  “Captain, what have you done with my men?”

  “Sir, your men are all being held in their berthing areas under arrest for treason and mutiny.”

  “I don’t want trouble, Captain Newsom; all I want are my men.”

  “Colonel Barone, that is not going to happen. We are heading toward Hawaii, there your men will be dropped off and be held accountable for the acts they have committed against the United States. I only wish that you could be brought to justice with them.”

  “Captain Newsom, all we wish to do is go home and protect our families. So I am asking you as an officer and a gentleman, let my men go. We can have them transported over to the Makin Island or other ships under my command in exchange for men we have.”

  “That will not happen, Colonel.”

  “Listen, Captain, I don’t have time for your bullshit hero stuff. If my men are not turned over to me, we will attack your ship.”

  “What will that get you, Colonel? If you destroy the New Orleans your men will die.”

  “Do I look like a man that will bluff, Captain? You are talking to someone who has seized a United States naval amphib group and attacked a U.S. military installation. I mean what I say. Now you have fifteen minutes to get back to me or I will launch my Harriers.” Barone slammed the receiver down.

  Barone looked around; all eyes were fixed on him with anticipation of his next command.

  “Mr. Montgomery!” Barone barked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Prepare our jump jets for an attack on the USS New Orleans.”

  • • •

  “What I hate the most is being locked up during GQ. I mean, what if the ship gets hit with a missile or something? We’ll drown down here,” Tomlinson said, lying in his bunk.

  “I have to agree with you. It always makes me a bit nervous, too,” Sebastian replied.

  “What do you think is going on now?” Tomlinson asked.

  “God knows, the whole fucking world is turned upside down. This doesn’t surprise me.”