The End

by G. Michael Hopf

  Sebastian’s mind just went blank listening to Gunny bloviate. He thought many times that Gunny liked to hear himself talk. He wondered if now might be a good time to be honest with him and tell him to fuck himself. He decided against being honest. If he wanted to get some kind of advantage from Gunny, then he should take his advice and keep his mouth shut.

  “Thank you for the words of advice, Gunny.”

  “You’re welcome, Corporal, now let’s get your ass back down below.”

  “One second, why did you take me up here?”

  “I thought I’d show you something but the fog isn’t cooperating.”

  “What’s out there?”

  “San Diego, San Diego is right there,” Gunny said, pointing over the railing into the fog.

  Sebastian leaned forward in hopes of getting a glimpse, but nothing.

  “Let’s go,” Gunny ordered.

  Sebastian kept staring, hoping to see something.

  “Let’s go, Corporal,” Gunny said, sounding impatient.

  Giving up, Sebastian turned and started to walk back to the hatch. Right before he stepped in he saw something out of the corner of his right eye. He stopped and looked; a break in the fog exposed the hidden city behind it. He kept staring until a landmark that was unmistakable appeared: the Hyatt Towers stood darkened in the distance. The fog continued to clear and more of the city became visible. Sebastian could make out the outline of the buildings but not a single light was visible. The city was completely dark.

  “We made it, we’re in San Diego!” Sebastian exclaimed.

  “That’s correct, Corporal, that’s San Diego; we made it home.”

  Sebastian stood looking at the skyline of the darkened city. His journey had taken thousands of miles and had forever changed his position within the Marine Corps. When the ships pulled away in a few days, he would no longer be a Marine, he would be a survivor left alone to fend for himself in this new wilderness.

  Anza, California (Eighty-nine miles outside of San Diego)

  As the sun began its descent on what had been a long day, Gordon was happy that he and his convoy of five vehicles had driven the distance they had. Taking the smaller state highways they had been able to avoid the congestion of abandoned vehicles and the droves of wandering people. He also had pushed his convoy as far east as he thought was safe, but now he was at a crossroads. He and Nelson had been discussing which way to go. Their convoy sat at the intersection of Highway 371 and Highway 74. Right would lead them into Palm Desert, and left would lead them into the mountains. The mountain pass was risky because they could find themselves snowed in. But the route into Palm Desert provided risks, too. It took them through a populated urban area, something he wanted to avoid. Nelson thought it best to go through Palm Desert, as he felt the chance of wintry weather could cost them a vehicle.

  Gordon finally let his instincts reveal the direction, and that was toward the desert. Nelson was happy with the decision and away they went down the long, car-less highway. As they headed east, Gordon looked in the side mirror and saw the sun just above the mountains. He thought of his brother, Sebastian; they had taken short trips to Palm Springs in the past. He hoped his brother was okay. He wondered if they had been victims of the same fate and were now stuck in Afghanistan. He wondered if he’d ever see his brother again. Just before he departed his house, he had left a note for Sebastian on his desk. He figured the odds of him finding it were slim, but if by chance he made it back to the States, Gordon knew Sebastian would go looking for him, and going to the house would be a good place to start.

  Looking again in his side mirror, he noticed the sun had disappeared. It was now hidden by a dark set of clouds over the mountains. Gordon now felt good about his decision to head east, as the clouds to the west portended bad weather in the mountains.

  “Look what I found in Jimmy’s stuff,” Nelson said, pulling out an old cassette player.

  “Does it work?” Gordon asked. He looked amused at the sight of the old player.

  “Shit, man, I never checked. I just grabbed it when I saw it. There was also a case with old cassettes,” Nelson said, picking out a cassette tape. He put it in the player and hit play. The player sprang to life with the soft, subtle strumming sounds of a banjo.

  “What is this?” Gordon asked. At first he thought it was some type of bluegrass music, but there was something Irish in the sound.

  “Flogging Molly is the name of the band. The song’s called, ‘The Sun Never Shines on Closed Doors.’ You want me to change it?”

  “No, I kinda like it. It’s soothing and almost fitting for our journey,” Gordon said.

  Both men sat and listened to the music, neither saying a word.

  With the clouds to their backs and clear skies ahead, Gordon thought again of everything that had taken place over the past five weeks. In that short time, the city he called home had collapsed into chaos after suffering an attack that destroyed its power grid and made useless all electrical devices. Misery, suffering, and death caused by starvation, disease, and murder had now become the norm for the survivors left in San Diego. For those able to leave, now was the time. For those who stayed, their lives or what days they had left would be marked by horrors not seen in centuries. Reflecting on all of this, Gordon drove into the darkness and the unknown with hopes that a brighter and more hopeful day existed at the end of the long road.

  October 15, 2066

  Olympia, Washington, Republic of Cascadia

  “We have definitely covered a lot so far,” John said, looking at his pad. He had been taking diligent notes the entire time.

  “I’d like to take a break, if you don’t mind?” Haley asked.

  “Of course.”

  “Can I get you and your people a cup of tea or coffee?” Haley asked as she stood up.

  The two photographers declined her offer, but John asked for tea.

  While Haley was preparing the tea in the kitchen, John walked around her house. He slowly took his time looking at the myriad of framed photographs she had hung along the wall in the hallway. As he examined each one to see if there was anyone of note in them, one caught his eye. It was a photo of Gordon dressed in an old camouflage uniform surrounded by others in similar dress. They were all holding up a worn “Doug” flag. The blue, white, and green striped flag had the words, “First Idaho Infantry, Republic of Cascadia” hand-sewn across the white field that stretched from one end to the other. The Douglas fir emblazoned in the center was faded and showed wear that can only come from war.

  He pulled the photo off the wall and walked into the kitchen to get more information on it. The kitchen was empty. He walked into the adjacent room and there he found Haley holding what looked like a necklace.

  His abrupt entry into the room startled her, causing her to drop the necklace.

  John was curious about what she had, so he stepped forward and picked it up for her. He looked at it and saw that it was a silver compass attached to a silver chain.

  “Here,” he said as he handed it to her.

  “Thank you,” Haley responded. She took it quickly and placed it back in a small chest located on a bookshelf. She looked disturbed that John had touched it.

  “May I ask what that was?” John asked.

  “My brother gave it to me,” Haley said, not looking at him. She still had her hand on the chest.

  “I didn’t know you had a brother until you mentioned him today,” John stated, looking confused.

  Ignoring John’s comment, she asked, “So what do you want to discuss in our next session?”

  Taking note that she deliberately didn’t comment about her brother, he said, “I want to talk about your time in Idaho.”

  Haley turned around and faced him.

  “Our years in Idaho were some of the best I can remember. Even though the war started not long after the lights went out, I
was inoculated from what was happening. We were safe in Idaho. Although the same cannot be said about the journey there, or as Daddy referred to it, ‘the long road.’ Something happened that changed us all.” Haley paused and looked back toward the necklace on the shelf. She reached over and touched it. She then looked back at John and said, “I would like to talk about that next.”

  October 15, 2066

  Olympia, Washington, Republic of Cascadia

  Haley rubbed her thumb repeatedly across the smooth surface of the compass. Touching it soothed her. She needed it after having just spent almost an hour talking about her parents and life in San Diego after the lights went out. The compass brought her such comfort and gave her a connection to her now-distant family.

  She knew John was not a fool and had picked up on her not answering his direct question about Hunter earlier. She was hesitating to go back into the living room; she didn’t want to face the question, she didn’t want to have to relive that time on the road. Even though she’d told him she wanted to talk about it, she now regretted her decision. The road to Idaho had been tough and had become one of those moments her father told her occurs in a life where your course changes.

  Deciding she had stalled long enough, she put the compass back in the box on the shelf and walked into the hallway. She could hear John and the camera crew laughing. Their laughter echoed off of the bare wood floors and the walls of the sparsely furnished home. She thought that these men knew nothing of true hardship. To her, their laughter displayed an innocence and ignorance of years before. She didn’t blame them; it wasn’t their fault when they were born. However, she did hold a grudge in some ways against those many who now enjoyed the fruits of her and her family’s labor but disregarded the cost.

  The Great Civil War was not unlike many civil wars in history. It was brutal and hard. It did have one distinction that separated it from those before it: The rules that governed war were gone. The divisions that had been fostered over the most recent generations in America became more pronounced and deadly. Once the last bits of fabric that had held the country together vanished in that instant fifty-two years ago, it took only days for Americans to rip and tear at other Americans.

  Haley was only five years old when it happened; she never got to enjoy the typical twentieth-century invention of a child’s life. Gone were the birthday parties with abundant cakes and ice cream. Gone were the Christmases with dozens of beautifully wrapped toys. Gone was the innocence. She was forced to grow up quickly and act like an adult. Even though her father did all he could to protect her from the horrors while they were living at Rancho Valentino, he could not shield her from the depravity of life once they made their way to Idaho.

  She walked into the living room and just stood there looking at the men. None of them noticed her; they were absorbed in the typical conversations that young single men have.

  After clearing her throat loudly, she said, “I’m ready if you are.”

  “Great!” John said, jumping up. He was surprised to see her. He felt a bit foolish, as he hadn’t known how long she had been there and the topic the men had been enjoying was not entirely appropriate.

  Haley walked back to her chair and sat down. She smoothed out the creases in her skirt and sat pensively waiting.

  John shuffled around and quickly grabbed the pad he had been taking notes on. Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Sorry, one second.”

  “Take your time,” Haley responded.

  “I’d like to start with the trip to Idaho. From the sounds of it, a lot happened on the way there, and I think that’s a good starting point.”

  “Very well,” Haley answered. She clasped her hands tightly to keep them from nervously fiddling with her skirt or sleeve.

  “There is one item I’d like to ask before, though.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Before today I never knew you had a brother. I apologize if I didn’t do my research, but like your father and mother, you have been very reserved in sharing details of your past life,” John stated, twirling his pen.

  “The thing is, my brother is all around us. How many places in Olympia are named Hunter?” Haley asked.

  After pausing to think, John blurted out, “You’re right; I never thought anything about it before. So what happened to him, your brother?”

  “My brother was not unlike my father in his passion to protect his family. He took it quite seriously.” Haley stopped talking and looked down. The pitch of her voice changed. She unclasped her hands and again started to pat down the creases in her skirt.

  John, noticing her discomfort, chose to move on to something else. “Haley, if you want, let’s talk about the trip to Idaho.”

  “He was a good boy,” Haley said just above a whisper. She was still looking down, fidgeting with her clothes.

  “What’s that?” John asked, leaning in toward Haley.

  “Nothing, sorry, nothing,” she said loudly, looking up.

  “Okay, so let’s begin with the trip to Idaho.”

  “Sure, let’s do that. So as to not bore you, let’s start on our third day into the drive. That day revisits me in my thoughts often. Let’s begin there.”

  January 8, 2014

  We must travel in the direction of our own fear.

  —John Berryman

  Barstow, California

  “Run, Haley, run!” Gordon screamed.

  Haley stood frozen in fear. She had never seen a person burn to death before, and now she was watching flames dance off of Candace Pomeroy’s back as she slowly crawled away from her car.

  “Hunter, grab your sister and run over there!” Gordon yelled out, pointing to a dropoff in the road that led to a culvert large enough only to provide protection for the kids.

  Hunter ran over to Haley and grabbed her with force, causing her to drop the small teddy bear she held.

  “No, my bear!” she yelled out.

  “No, Haley, we gotta run!” Hunter screamed.

  Gunfire was raining down on the vehicles from a few covered positions up the road. There wasn’t much cover for Gordon and his convoy. To either side of the road lay flat, open desert dotted with creosote plants. Even their vehicles didn’t provide the protection needed, as was the case with the Pomeroys’ car. The initial rain of bullets had hit their fuel tank just right, causing their car to explode into a ball of flames.

  Hunter pulled Haley to the small culvert. Gordon and Nelson had hidden behind Gordon’s truck. The banging of bullets rattled the truck and their ears. Gordon attempted to look over the truck but was met by a hail of gunfire.

  “Fuck!” he screamed in frustration. He looked for Samantha but didn’t see her.

  “What do we do, Gordo?” Nelson asked. Each bullet that struck the truck caused him to flinch.

  The Pomeroys’ burning car was draping them in thick black smoke. Sensing an advantage, Gordon ran for the jeep. Holloway had been driving it but was nowhere to be seen. He jumped in the back and grabbed the handles of the .50-caliber machine gun mounted there. Not wasting any more time, he pressed the butterfly trigger and started to fire on the positions the gunfire was coming from. Dirt and debris were flying in the air as the .50 did its work. He transitioned from one position to the next. He remembered seeing three areas from which they were taking fire. Gordon was in a rage as he screamed out while firing the heavy gun. It took only moments on each position to destroy whomever had ambushed them, but he kept firing until the gun ran out of ammunition. Looking over the top of the smoking barrel, Gordon could not see anyone up ahead, but he needed to be sure. He jumped into the driver’s seat and put the jeep in gear. As he began to pull away, Holloway came running toward him.

  “Where the fuck were you?” Gordon asked, clearly angered.

  “I went to my family and made sure they were okay,” Holloway answered directly, not intimidated by Gordon’s gruffnes
s.

  “Jump in, we need to make sure these fuckers are dead,” Gordon said.

  Holloway jumped in, and both men proceeded cautiously. When they came upon the first position, Holloway jumped out and ran over to discover two dead men; both had been ripped apart by the machine gun. He continued on by foot and discovered a similar scene at the second, but at the third one a man was alive.

  “We’ve got a live one here!” Holloway yelled.

  Gordon drove the jeep over to Holloway’s position and got out. He stepped over to the wounded man, pulled his handgun out, and put it to the wounded man’s head.

  “Are there any more of you?”

  The man didn’t respond but coughed up blood.

  “Answer me, you piece of shit!” Gordon screamed, pressing the barrel against the man’s sweaty forehead.

  Gordon began to slowly squeeze the trigger but stopped when screaming rang out from behind him. He stood and looked; the screams gave way to gunfire. He could tell people were moving, but the dark smoke was making it impossible to see what was really happening. He took a step, then remembered the wounded man. He turned, took aim, and shot the man.

  • • •

  “I’m scared. Where’s Mommy? Where’s Daddy?” Haley cried.

  Not answering his little sister, Hunter could see a few men marching toward them and the convoy from the eastern desert.