Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series)

by G. Michael Hopf

  Two of the Marines joined him, Jones and Corporal Rubio. The third Marine, Private First Class McCamey, stayed with the vehicle. Gordon, Jones, and Rubio walked up to the front door. A handwritten sign hung on the door read Open for the Apocalypse. Gordon chuckled and walked into the bar. A strong skunky smell mixed with stale smoke filled his nostrils as he entered. Scattered throughout the bar were small dining tables, and in the back, an old wooden bar stretched for twenty feet along the wall with a large mirror above it. Several beer signs and TVs were hung along the walls, their screens dark. To his right were several video games and pinball machines standing just as quiet. Everything in the bar that had hummed, chimed, rang, beeped, or been illuminated was now just a reminder of a day gone by.

  The bar was exclusively lit by candles. It reminded Gordon of a restaurant he and Samantha would frequent in San Diego. The memories of his old life that would pop into his head were so odd sometimes. A melancholy feeling crept up in his chest, but was erased when the lance corporal spoke up.

  “Right there, sir,” he said, pointing to the bar.

  Gordon weaved his way through the small dinette tables to a small brunette woman sitting at the bar with a line of shot glasses in front of her. He strolled up to her and sat down in the chair next to her.

  Before he could say a word she blurted out, “What do you fucking want?”

  “Ha, that’s a nice greeting,” Gordon answered her.

  She picked up a shot glass filled with whiskey and drank it down. Plunking the glass on the bar she said, “Are you here to hit on me or do you want something? I see you brought friends.” She turned and acknowledged the Marines in the room.

  “My name is Gordon and—”

  “I know you!” she shouted at the lance corporal. “You’re that jarhead that helped me out. Get over here; I’ll buy you a drink.” Her voice showed the telltale signs of being tipsy.

  The lance corporal nodded but kept silent.

  She then turned and faced Gordon again. “What did you say your name was again?”

  “My name is Gordon Van Zandt. I hear you have—”

  She again interrupted Gordon. “Wait a minute, I’ve heard of you,” she said, motioning to John to give her another drink.

  Gordon leaned forward and put his hand over her shot glass and said, “Before you get too drunk, I have a few questions for you. When I’m done, you can get trashed.”

  She looked at Gordon defiantly, then at the two Marines. She was assessing the situation and decided it wasn’t going to work out for her if she struck out at Gordon. “What do you want to know there, stud?”

  “How do you know me?”

  “My mother told me to be polite. Isn’t that funny coming from a woman who was the rudest bitch you’d ever meet,” she laughed. “Gordon Van Zandt, I’m Lexi Tolanus. Nice to meet you.”

  FEBRUARY 24, 2015

  • • •

  “Revenge is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged.”

  —Samuel Johnson

  Crescent, Oregon

  Gordon woke for the second day in a row with a pounding headache, but this time it was the result of a hangover. He had spent most of the evening talking and drinking with Lexi. While Gordon’s first impression of Lexi was that she was rude, by the end of the evening he found her sincere and likeable. They shared their stories of the road, a few laughs, but most of the time their conversation was serious. Her sister had been executed at the hands of Rahab, in the same cruel way that Hunter was. She too was on the hunt for Rahab to avenge her sister’s murder.

  In another twist of fate that struck him as spookily ironic, Lexi connected that she had met Samantha and Haley after she had left Rahab’s camp. She told him about the day Hunter was brought back, and how Samantha broke down. That was very difficult to hear. She also divulged details about their group—how many were left, the arrival of Nelson’s ex-fiancée, the tensions that existed. So much had happened to his group after he had been taken prisoner. By the end of the evening, his head was swimming with all of the new information.

  Gordon heard someone snoring in the corner. He stood and walked over to discover one of the Marines. John, the owner of the bar, had allowed them to stay in exchange for a case of MREs—a not-so-cheap price in this modern world.

  Gordon shook the Marine. “Hey, wake up, devil dog, reveille.”

  The Marine corporal opened his eyes and said, “Shit, what time is it?”

  “I have no idea, but let’s get some chow, talk some more with Lexi, and head out. We have a long day ahead of us.”

  During the previous night’s discussion, he and Lexi shared with each other what they knew about Rahab’s possible location. John knew Rajneeshpuram referred to an old religious compound used in the 1980s, which helped to add context to the location. The map that Gordon had discovered at Rahab’s compound in California also proved helpful. With those facts, along with Lexi’s memory of overheard conversations, they pinpointed Rahab’s probable location: a small farm in north central Oregon, approximately 140 miles away.

  Both he and Lexi joked how they were going to be the one to deal the final blow to Rahab. In some ways, their jest was serious. They were collaborating, but there was definitely a sense of competition between the two.

  Gordon walked back to the men’s bathroom. When he opened it he found Lexi brushing her teeth.

  She cocked her head and mumbled, “Mornin’, sunshine.”

  She spit and said, “If all you have to do is piss, go ahead, you don’t have anything I’ve not seen before. By the way, you look how I feel. Like shit.”

  “Uh, I’ll just wait till you’re done,” Gordon said, closing the door.

  “Your choice,” she said as she began to brush her teeth again.

  After relieving himself outside he came back into the bar to find Lexi laughing with Jones.

  “Where’s Corporal Rubio?” Gordon asked Jones.

  “He went to give McCamey a break on keeping guard,” Jones answered.

  “Want some chow?” John asked from behind the bar. He held up a spatula. “I have some fresh eggs and some cans of corned beef hash.”

  “Hell yeah!” Lexi chimed.

  “Consider this a going-away present for you, little lady, but you guys . . . got any ammo you can spare?” John said, now pointing at Gordon and Jones.

  “Really? You’re going to charge us?” Gordon asked.

  “There ain’t handouts in this world!” Lexi laughed.

  “Sorry, guys, that’s the price for some fresh eggs. Did I mention they’re organic, California boy?” John teased.

  “Oh, come on, really?!” Gordon asked. “We can’t spare any ammo.”

  Jones shot a look toward Gordon. “How much do you want, John?”

  “A box of 9-millimeters gets you three hot meals. Hell, I’ll even toss in a Bloody Mary on the house. By the looks of it you could use it,” John chuckled.

  “We’ve got plenty of rounds, Gordon. Trust me,” Jones said, patting him on the shoulder. He then looked at John and said, “Make mine over medium.”

  ...

  Gordon gazed out the windows as they drove. The snow-covered hills were beautiful against the light gray sky. Gordon took advantage of his time as a passenger to dream about the day he’d see Samantha and Haley. He missed them so much, and hearing Lexi describe their ordeal was heart-wrenching. Over and over, he thought about an ideal reunion scenario: he’d pull up to their cabin in McCall, and simultaneously the door would fly open, and Haley and Samantha would run out. They’d all embrace and laugh, and maybe shed some tears, but all would be forgiven. But he knew that’s not what would happen. Haley might come running out, but there was no doubt in his mind that Samantha was upset with him, and understandably so. He just hoped that time would heal the wounds that had been caused by his absen
ce.

  “Corporal Rubio, up ahead. We have a victor in the middle of the road and two people,” Jones called out. He was riding in the hatch, manning the M240 machine gun.

  “Roger that, I see ’em,” Rubio responded. “Go ahead and stop, McCamey. Let’s get some eyes on this before we proceed.” He pulled out a pair of binoculars, scanning the scene, as McCamey brought the Hummer to a stop.

  Gordon peeked over Rubio’s shoulder from the backseat. Next to him, Lexi was asleep, her head nestled in a crumpled-up jacket.

  “Looks like a man and a woman. A couple, maybe?” Rubio handed the binos to Gordon to take a look. Gordon peered through and saw what looked like a couple having car trouble.

  “Jonesy, you see anyone else up there?” Rubio called out.

  “Corporal, I just see a young woman, she can’t be older than thirty, and a man, who looks about the same age. The hood of the car is up.”

  “Corporal Rubio, where do you think we are?” Gordon asked.

  “We’re about here,” he said, taking out a map and pointing at a county road just south of the state highway.

  “That puts us how far from Rahab’s possible location?”

  “My guess is about twenty miles along this road right here,” Rubio said, running his finger along a yellow highlighted line that led to a red circle.

  “Hmm. You know what I’m thinking, right?” Gordon commented.

  “Yeah, that this might be an ambush? I feel you. I tell you what. I’ll walk up to them and see what their story is. You and Jones cover me.”

  Gordon thought for a second and said, “Roger that.”

  Rubio exited the Hummer and began to walk down the muddy gravel road.

  Gordon took up a position behind the open door with an M4. He watched what looked like a friendly conversation. Finally, Rubio waved and headed back to the vehicles.

  “They’re cool, they ran out of fuel,” Rubio said as he walked up.

  “Really? What’s up with the hood?” McCamey questioned.

  “Don’t you know it’s an international distress signal?” Rubio shot back. “Boot.” He snickered. While Rubio and Jones were combat veterans of Afghanistan, McCamey hadn’t seen combat before. He was on his first deployment when the lights went out, and so he often encountered these types of comments.

  “You sure everything looked okay?” Gordon queried.

  “Yes, yes. Listen, not my first rodeo here, Mr. Van Zandt. These folks just need some fuel. We can spare enough for them to get them where they’re going,” Rubio answered. “McCamey, take us down there,” he ordered.

  Gordon was uneasy but didn’t question the decision.

  The Hummer rumbled its way slowly down the road and parked just behind the old Crown Victoria. From the condition of the vehicle, Gordon was surprised it was even drivable.

  Rubio slammed the rear hatch, waking Lexi up. She yawned and looked around. “We here yet?”

  “No, we came across some people who need help,” Gordon said, stepping out of the vehicle.

  Lexi rubbed her eyes and looked through the windshield. Her expression changed instantly when she saw the man, but Gordon was already too far away for her to signal him.

  Gordon waved hello and starting chatting. “So, why are you folks out here?”

  The young woman smiled. “Oh, we have a ranch down the road.”

  “Nice,” Rubio said.

  Gordon took a closer look at the vehicle, taking note of an empty car seat inside. “You have children?”

  “Yeah, a daughter. She’s back with her uncle,” the woman answered.

  Gordon looked at them. They were dressed normally. Slightly dirty jeans, thick jackets, and beanie hats.

  “So, Marines? Where are the rest of your guys?” she asked curiously.

  “Most are back in Coos Bay; we’re out on a patrol.” Rubio motioned with his hand to the vehicle.

  “Coos Bay?” she asked.

  Gordon looked at her oddly, then eyed Rubio.

  “It’s a small town along the coast, a few hundred miles away,” Rubio answered.

  “So it’s just you?” the man asked referring to Rubio and the group.

  “Just us out here,” Rubio answered.

  Gordon shot back, “There are others not too far away though, just a short radio call away.”

  “Sorry, fellas, if you don’t mind me ducking out for a second, I’m going to try and start this up again,” he said quickly, looking at the woman. Then he stepped away and got back inside the car.

  Rubio and Gordon watched him quizzically. Gordon took a few steps so he could see him clearly sitting in the seat.

  The woman, appearing nervous, started to ramble on about the weather. Rubio was peering through the rear window at the man, looking for anything unusual. The woman reached over and touched Rubio gently and said, “Ah, I’m Laura.”

  Her touch distracted Rubio, who looked at her and said, “Oh, I’m Corporal Rubio, nice to meet you.”

  These people looked innocent but Gordon was very skeptical. He kept scanning the area for a sign of anyone else. His instincts kept taking him back to a large grove of trees.

  The slam of a door on the Humvee startled Gordon. He turned to see Lexi stomping over to them. She seemed focused and intent. He looked at her face. Her gaze was past him, toward the car. He followed it to see if she was seeing something he didn’t.

  Lexi brushed by Gordon, moving quickly toward the front of the car with her pistol drawn at her side. She walked up to the driver’s door, opened it, and put her gun to the man’s head. “Remember me?”

  Not saying another word, she pulled the trigger.

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  “Mr. President, the chopper is ready to take you,” Baxter said.

  Conner finished loading his belongings into a few boxes. He was finally ready to leave the bunker fortress of Cheyenne Mountain. The place held nothing for him anymore. While the bunker did have luxuries others didn’t have on the outside, every time he walked the hallways, he was only reminded of Julia.

  Those first few days after his return had changed him. At his lowest moment, he found himself holding a gun to his head. But something stopped him from pulling the trigger. He couldn’t explain, but he figured God had some other plan for him. He needed to return to his duties. That’s what Julia would have wanted. That moment was when he decided to come out of his self-imposed isolation. Being back on the outside would offer challenges, but he was ready for them. It was freeing, in a way.

  “I’ll be right there. General, please make sure these boxes get on the next bird out,” he said to Baxter. Baxter had personally made all the arrangements with Governor Richard Laney of Wyoming.

  Baxter proved himself trustworthy during his absence. He could have taken the presidency then and Conner probably would have welcomed it. Knowing that Baxter was a man loyal to his country and capable meant a lot to him. He kept note of those he could trust, specifically after the ordeal with Griswald.

  Governor Laney was excited to hear that his state would house the new capital. He promised to give President Conner and the federal authorities all the support they could muster. Like most of the country, everything was down in Cheyenne and around Wyoming. The local power grid was still down, and not having electrical power had a cascading effect across the state. With no power, there was no flowing water, operational sewage, or communications. This power disruption, coupled with the fact that a vast number of the area’s vehicles were inoperable, left Cheyenne a dead city. However, Laney’s staff immediately made contact with Lieutenant General Wasserman, commander of F. E. Warren Air Force Base in Cheyenne, to establish control of the city. The Air Force provided critical support to Wyoming’s Department of Homeland Security, and even though they had limited working vehicles and equipment, they fortunately didn’t experience a total
collapse as other cities had. Through this quick response and coordination, Cheyenne had a functioning government.

  The fact that Cheyenne was a stable city made it easier for Conner to establish the capital he needed. It wasn’t his first choice, and getting supplies and equipment there would be a challenge, but for now, stability won out over easy access. Plus, F. E. Warren Air Force Base headquartered the Air Force’s Ninetieth Missile Wing and the Twentieth Air Force. They essentially commanded an arsenal of over 150 Minuteman ICBMs, a resource that was valuable to him. All of them were hardened against EMP, so were still operational.

  Conner sat down at his desk and started opening up drawers to check for anything of importance that he might have forgotten. When he pulled the right top drawer a small notepad slid forward. On the front page there was a list entitled “Baby Names.” The pain he felt upon reading that was enormous. Angrily, he ripped the paper off the pad and crumpled it up, tossing it in the trash.

  He left the room, and left a time in his life that forever changed his outlook on the world. When he had tossed away the crumpled paper, he had also tossed away the old Conner. Gone was the Conner that operated from impassioned beliefs. He hadn’t mentioned it to them, but if he could take back his order to nuke all of those cities, he would. He now regretted that decision, but he’d been operating out of fear. He left that fear behind too when he closed that door. He was still prepared to make the tough calls, but he next time he would try to see the long-term effects of a decision he made. His loss of fear transformed him.

  Many at the base had commented about how different he was since his surprise return. He was now a more levelheaded and even-tempered man. In private conversations some had even gone as far as to express their happiness in his changed behavior. He was aware of some of the new sentiments about him and he welcomed them. His desire to be a new kind of leader was strong. He had a purpose greater than himself, and he was going to do what it took to see his country survive.