The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6)

by G. Michael Hopf

  Gordon pulled Hunter aside and let everyone else board the aircraft. He put his hand on his shoulder and said, “Son, a man is nothing more than a collection of his experiences. If he does enough good ones, he’s known for that. If he’s done enough bad ones, well, he gets known for that. One tragedy of the human experience is a good man can do a thousand good things, but if he does one very bad thing, it wipes the slate of every bit of good he’s done. People who don’t know him will judge him just on that one single thing. They will define that man by that one action and then, like he was nothing, can discard his life as if he was worthless. Now God is fair and he did give good men something to balance that. And that one thing is friends. A good friend will know you; they’ll be by your side through all the good times, bad times and dark times, and it’s the dark times where the good man fails. A friend will see them through it, never discarding them, never judging for judging’s sake but holding them accountable so that they can stand tall again.”

  Hunter nodded. Gordon didn’t quite answer his question. “And a good friend lets you borrow brand-new jets too.”

  “Exactly.” Gordon laughed.

  “I get what you’re saying, I think.”

  “I hear you don’t have friends really.”

  “That’s not true,” Hunter said defensively.

  “Like I said, I’ve been watching over you since the day you were born. I know.”

  “I find it hard to get close to people, but there are a couple guys I go out and drink with.”

  “Would you fight for them? If they contacted you in the middle of the night and asked you to help them bury a body, would your answer be where?”

  “I guess not.”

  “I did a lot in my life. I accomplished much, I did. You know how I did it?”

  “How?”

  “By being determined, hardworking, focused. I wouldn’t quit and I wasn’t afraid to fight if I had to, but I also succeeded because of the support of my family and my friends. John in there is one of those friends and you’ve heard about the others—Jimmy, Nelson, Gunny, Brittany—they were all there for me and I wouldn’t have been able to be who I was without them. Autry is another one of those friends. I know the bullshit story, I heard it, but you know something, if you fuck with another man’s woman, I think you’re fair game.”

  “But he gutted the man on the floor of the Texas legislature while he was the president,” Hunter said, flabbergasted by the story he’d heard.

  “God, I wish I’d seen that. You know he took Skinner with him wherever he went. He even showered with that damn knife. You know what, he warned that son of a bitch to stop seducing his friend’s wife. He warned him, but that dumb ass didn’t listen.”

  “That barbaric act almost cost him the presidency, and if he wasn’t who he was, he would have been in jail.”

  “He didn’t kill the guy.”

  “He cut him from here to here,” Hunter said, motioning his hand from his lower abdomen to his stomach.

  “Autry like to use that line, ‘I'll gut you from your balls to your sternum like a mule deer,’ all the time, but I’m not sure if you actually ever really cut someone like that.”

  A bit disgusted by Gordon, Hunter sighed. “I understand you all did what you had to do during the war, but civilized society doesn’t conduct themselves that way.”

  “Yeah, maybe not. Sometimes I think people like me and Autry are only good for fighting.”

  “You two, c’mon, we need to be wheels up,” John said, his head sticking out the door.

  “Let’s go. We’ll chat more on the way there,” Gordon said, patting Hunter on the back.

  Hunter paused and said, “Don’t get me wrong, Granddad, I appreciate everything you did for us.”

  “I know you do.”

  “I just don’t want you to hold back.”

  “I’ll tell you everything. In fact I’ll tell you about something that happened to me that only a handful of people know about.”

  DECEMBER 25, 2015

  “Often the difference between a successful man and a failure is not one's better abilities or ideas, but the courage that one has to bet on his ideas, to take a calculated risk, and to act.” – Maxwell Maltz

  Old United States Post Office, Geneva, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  “I swear you relish taking chances and living on the edge, but this is going too far,” John Steele said to Gordon, who stoically stood on the frozen street, facing east towards the snowcapped mountains.

  Gordon didn’t respond, he kept his unflinching gaze on the rolling terrain. “Do you suppose those mountains are in Wyoming?” Gordon asked.

  “Huh?” John asked. A deep frustration was building in him.

  “Right there, directly due east, those mountains, that must be Wyoming,” Gordon said, his tone calm.

  John stepped in front of him and said, “This is a bad idea. How do you know he can be trusted?”

  With John blocking his view, Gordon replied, “There aren’t guarantees in life, you know that.”

  “This meeting is foolish. Let’s get back in the truck and turn back now before it’s too late,” John pleaded.

  “No.”

  “Gordon, please.”

  “No.”

  In the far distance a single Humvee turned and began rumbling towards them.

  “He’s coming,” Gordon said. He put his attention back on John and ordered, “Time for you to leave…go.”

  “Gordon, please reconsider.”

  Gordon unzipped his coat, reached in, and pulled out two white envelopes. He gave them to John and said, “There’s one for you. Open it after you leave.”

  “Do not do this,” John pleaded.

  “Your nose is looking good, I mean with all the issues you had with it,” Gordon said remembering John’s broken nose following the fight with Charles and his people. “And your lip, I don’t think there’s any way to escape scars in this world,” Gordon continued, this time referring to the thick white scar that had developed on John’s lower lip, another wound from the battle with Charles. His comment made him think of the scar on his face and where he got it.

  “Are you listening to me? You’re rambling about nonsense. What’s coming in that Humvee might be your end, your demise.”

  Gordon looked at John squarely and said, “I’m not afraid to die, I’m truly not. I only don’t want to die because I’d be leaving my family in this world without me. Every day we take risks, and this isn’t any different. If I don’t figure something out, we will all lose and I’ll end up in some prison or executed for treason.”

  “And just what are you going to say?”

  Having had enough of his conversation with John, Gordon said, “Go. It was the deal I struck with him.” Seeing that John wasn’t listening, he snapped, “Now.”

  “Fool,” John said, snatching the envelopes from Gordon’s hand and marching off to his vehicle.

  Gordon wasn’t sure how everything would turn out, but this was the deal he made, and this single moment could seal the fate of his fledgling country.

  John sped off and disappeared over the horizon.

  A cold wind swept in from the north, giving Gordon a chill down his spine. He shrugged it off, adjusting the beanie on his head. If he had to guess, he’d say the outside temperature was in the teens. The cold temperature wasn’t unusual for Idaho, but the lack of snow cover was. A few storms had come in, but for the most part they were having a drought of sorts. Many in McCall and those in Central Idaho didn’t mind having less snow, considering snow removal was difficult at best.

  A glint in the distance caught Gordon’s eye. He squinted to see if he could get a better look but couldn’t see anything, although he had a good idea what and who it was.

  The Humvee approached slowly.

  A glare bounced off the windshield, making it impossible for Gordon to see who was inside. Suddenly, he became nervous. Self-doubt began to creep into his mind. Is this a good idea?

  The
Humvee lurched to a stop. The driver’s door opened, but no one stepped out.

  The doubt Gordon was feeling escalated. He had honored his pledge and came to this meeting with no weapons; now he wish he had something. Gordon scanned the area. The old post office was twenty yards to his left. If he had to, he could race there.

  A leg swung out of the Humvee and planted on the pavement.

  The rising sun in the east began to hinder Gordon. He cocked his head and squinted in anticipation of who was exiting the vehicle.

  Two hands appeared followed by a voice. “I’m unarmed as agreed.”

  “Me too,” Gordon replied, raising his open hands. “Come on out, Mr. President. It’s just you and me.”

  Cruz emerged apprehensively from the Humvee, his hands still raised.

  Gordon could see by his tense posture that he too was nervous. He looked him up and down and again put his attention to the surrounding area. Gordon wasn’t as foolish as John made him out to be. With an abundance of caution, Gordon had set this meeting and the location and made sure he had eyes on the small unincorporated area for two weeks. His team had spotted Cruz’s men coming and going, but like him, they were performing security checks and doing their due diligence. Of course, Gordon knew nothing was guaranteed, as he told John. He could be walking into a trap; however, if his plan worked, it would be worth the risk.

  Cruz stepped around the open door and approached Gordon with his right hand outstretched. “Mr. President, good to see you again. I only wish we could be meeting under different circumstances,” Cruz said.

  “Mr. President, I couldn’t agree more,” Gordon replied. It was odd for him to hear the title president when pertaining to himself. He wasn’t the president of the country officially; he was more the president of the council, which was the governing body of the young republic. The thought was once they were able, they’d hold free elections, and Gordon wasn’t sure if he’d be running or not for the office he now had a title for.

  “I have to say, when you called me two weeks ago and proposed this unorthodox meeting I brushed it off as folly, but the more I thought about it, I came to realize the wisdom in it. We are the leaders of our opposing factions, why not just sit down and talk. Find a solution to our disagreements.”

  “Again, I couldn’t agree more,” Gordon said. He pointed towards the post office and continued, “How about we get out of the cold, sit down, and chat.”

  Cruz glanced over at the building, its brick façade faded from years of direct sunlight. He faced Gordon again and asked, “I can trust you?”

  “I think that goes both ways, Mr. President.”

  “Just call me Andrew,” Cruz happily said.

  “First-name basis, I like that.” Gordon smiled. He held out his arm and said, “This way…Andrew.”

  Both men walked side by side and entered the dimly lit post office, with Gordon going in first.

  Cruz hesitated before stepping across the threshold.

  “I promise you, I’m not here to harm you, I just want to talk. In fact you’re going to appreciate what I have to tell you.”

  Cruz sheepishly grinned then stepped fully inside.

  “My guys scouted this location out weeks ago, and I know yours did too. I had my guys put this table here,” Gordon said, pointing to a small four-foot-square folding card table that sat in the open lobby.

  Cruz walked past Gordon and took a seat in one of the two chairs.

  “I would have had them put a heater in here, but I know that would have caused a stink with your men who are providing over watch,” Gordon said, acknowledging that he knew Cruz had tactical teams to the east.

  Cruz shivered and replied, “Maybe we could have come to some arrangement.”

  “But I figured the fewer people who knew would be best.”

  “Agreed.”

  Not waiting to get to the meat of the conversation, Cruz asked, “You said in our initial call you had a gift for me?”

  “I do, but first I’d like to thank you for trusting in me to even have this sit-down.”

  “I know we’ve had our problems, but I found you to be a likeable and trustworthy man since we first met.”

  “Likeable?” Gordon laughed. “If only my wife could hear that.”

  “You’re a bit rough around the edges, but you’re an honorable man. I know you’re doing what you feel is best for your people. These have been troubling times for our nation, and only if we unite, stay together, can we weather them. Divided we face a possibility of collapse that none of us can recover from.”

  “Andrew, we’ve already collapsed.”

  “I refuse to believe that. We have challenges, but only if we quit does it all collapse.”

  Gordon nodded.

  “How can we make things right? How can we bring your people back into the fold of the United States?” Cruz asked.

  “I’m not here to discuss that. In fact that’s not even on the table.”

  “Why, just answer me that?”

  “Our people were feeling disenfranchised by the power brokers back in DC long before the lights went out. It just took that single event to break off what was already fractured.”

  “That’s not true. We’re all Americans.”

  “I used to be idealistic; then I came face-to-face with politics and political correctness in a war that my country never intended on winning. I was used as a political pawn by corrupt politicians and their special interest groups, and when I wasn’t needed, I was tossed aside like garbage. The United States betrayed me and it betrayed the Cascadian people too. I’m sorry but I’m resolute. We are now a free and independent republic.”

  Cruz leaned in and sighed. “Gordon, half of your army is destroyed and half of your beloved republic is occupied. We have your capital, and if I wanted to, I could crush you, I could bomb you out of existence, but you see, I don’t believe in doing that. I know deep down we can find a resolution.”

  Gordon grimaced; he liked Cruz and respected him for his conviction. He spoke truth to some extent. Cascadia was on the ropes and Cruz had the leverage; however, Gordon had a trump card and was about to show him a few cards.

  Again, Cruz sighed. “Why am I here? Why did you call this meeting if there isn’t anything to discuss? I can’t let those states go. I’ve made a promise to the people of the United States. I’ve sworn an oath and I will do what I have to, including forcing you to eventually bring the nation back together. I’ve been more than fair and patient, but now you’re wasting my time. I risked a lot to leave the confines and protection of Cheyenne to come meet you. I’ve lied and misled my cabinet so that I could be here and for what? I was hoping I could return with something, but it appears you’re just going to sit there and keep pushing the tired arguments.”

  Gordon leaned across the table and asked, “If I were to help you with something…something critical, would you help me?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about helping you by providing information that is valuable; in fact it’s priceless.”

  Cruz furrowed his brow and a grin began to crease his face. “The only way you can help me is by working with me and having Cascadia rejoin the United States.”

  Gordon leaned over the table and asked, “Are you carrying any form of communication?”

  Cruz’s eyes widened; he was unsure how to answer.

  Gordon shrugged. “Of course you are; I am.”

  “Why?”

  Gordon glanced at his watch. “I’m guessing that in five minutes your phone or radio will alert you to an emergency situation in Cheyenne.”

  A tense look gripped Cruz’s face. “Does this have something to do with that threat you warned me about?”

  “Yes, if my intel is correct, there will be an attempt on your life today in Cheyenne.”

  “There are threats against me all the time.”

  “But I think the source I have is telling me the truth.”

  “When you called last week an
d warned me, I first thought why should I take a warning from you seriously, but not one to just let things go, I had the threat level raised. We investigated it, but nothing came back.”

  “We shall see,” Gordon said.

  A surge of paranoia took hold of Cruz; he unzipped a deep pocket on the front of his coat and pulled out a satellite phone. He looked at the display to see if he had missed any calls only to see a blank screen. “What kind of game are you playing here?”

  “I’m not playing a game,” Gordon insisted.

  “If what you’re saying is true, why would you help me? We’re opponents,” Cruz asked.

  “Because I’ve always found you to be a reasonable man. You’re neither naïve nor an ideologue, you’re a pragmatist, and right now I need someone in your position leading the US. I can work with you; I can strike a deal with you. Conner, I couldn’t. He was hell-bent on having his way or the highway. I couldn’t trust him, but you, you I can trust. If we make a deal, I believe in my heart you’ll honor it.”

  Cruz looked at his phone and pressed a button to ensure it was still powered on.

  Five minutes had passed and no call.

  “I know this must seem strange, but I am desperately seeking a resolution to our mutual problem,” Gordon stressed.

  “That is?” Cruz asked.

  “You and I aren’t much different; we both want a safe and secure place for our family and children to grow up in. We want to stop wasting our resources on fighting and put our energies towards reconstruction. I know you want that, but you also feel obligated to put the country back together. The thing is you can’t. You can’t see the forest for the trees. The country was already fractured before the lights went out; all it needed to break apart was that one single event. Almost in an instant people and regions that had their own unique culture or way of life gelled together to survive. It was a noble effort, but there is nothing you or Conner or whoever replaces you can do. You abandoned the east, leaving it to rot, cut that away; you then bunkered down and stopped resupplying, effectively leaving the rest of the country to fend for itself, and that sealed the deal. Everything in life needs attention and nurturing. When you closed the door on providing aide, you helped to sever the last parts that connected the country.”