Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series)

by G. Michael Hopf

  “Open up on him!” Gordon commanded Jonesy. When there was no response, he turned and looked up in the hatch and saw Jones’s body bouncing around. One of the bullets had hit him. Gordon didn’t know how badly he was hit, but there was no time to do anything about it.

  As they closed in on the man, he dove out of the way and rolled down an embankment.

  Lexi slammed on the brakes. The force of the Humvee stopping caused Jones to fall into the vehicle.

  Gordon took the opportunity to jump out of the vehicle and pursue the man on foot. He spotted him about fifty feet away, sprinting through an open field. There was no way he’d catch him now, but a well-placed shot could do the job. He ran over to one of the boulders and rested his rifle on top. Planting the rifle firmly on his shoulder, he took aim. He steadied his breathing and began to squeeze. The rifle went off, the round hitting the man squarely in the middle of his back. The man tumbled and disappeared into the tall grasses.

  Lexi drove up to the spot where the man had landed and exited the vehicle. He was still alive, breathing shallowly, but Lexi would seal the deal.

  She kicked him over onto his back. Another familiar face. Pulling out her pistol she yelled, “You recognize me? Huh?” She slammed her shoe into his ribs.

  The man coughed and grunted each time she kicked his side, blood pooling around him.

  “Please don’t, please,” he begged her.

  “Those words sound familiar. That’s what my sister would say to you before you’d rape her, you fucking scumbag,” she screamed as she continued to at kick him.

  The man screamed out, “Fuck you, bitch! You fucking whore!”

  “That’s it! That sounds more like you!” she snarled as she kicked him several more times.

  With each kick, Lexi could see her sister pleading with the men as he was pleading with her. Her sister’s pleas were mocked and sometimes intensified the men’s desire to harm her. Lexi would often tell her sister to just let it happen, but those words fell on deaf ears. Her sister’s resistance to men like him ultimately led to her own death. She started to break out in a sweat and her leg was getting tired from the repeated kicks to the man’s side.

  He was now resigned to his fate and yelled out one expletive after another.

  “Yeah, you got a dirty mouth, don’t you? You’re a dirty, nasty motherfucker!” She was in a full rage now. She stopped kicking him, aimed her pistol, and shot him in the crotch.

  The man squealed out in pain and tried inching away from her.

  “You’re not going anywhere. Come here,” she said as she straddled him and with her pistol and began to beat him.

  Gordon had no plans of interfering with Lexi; he understood the need to deal directly with those who had harmed you. Instead he took to attending to Jones’s wounds. He had taken two rounds, one to his side and the other to his left arm. There was a lot of blood, but Gordon felt confident he’d survive. As he swiftly cleaned the wound he could hear Lexi beating the man with this pistol. The sound of skin being slapped gave way to crunching as the man’s skull caved in.

  Lexi didn’t know how many times she hit him in the face but when she finally stopped there was no way of ever knowing what the man had looked like. A large, bloody crater now replaced where his face had been. She was exhausted, emotionally and physically drained. She looked up to the sky and let out a guttural scream.

  Gordon walked over to her. “How did that feel?”

  “Good . . . no, not good, that was fucking great!” she said. “Now, let’s go kill the rest of them.”

  Eagle, Idaho

  Samantha was very sore. Her body resembled how she felt inside, black and blue. She had never experienced anything like what she had gone through yesterday, and she barely slept all night, replaying it over and over. If there was one benefit to the situation, it was that the circumstances had opened her eyes to how she had been treating her daughter and her neighbors in the past few months. She had allowed her depression to almost kill her and possibly her daughter. She needed to do right by her, and by Nelson. Remembering the old saying, Fake it till you make it, she told herself that despite her physical and emotional pain, today would be the day that she changed her attitude.

  Putting on her coat, she walked to a mirror. Examining her bruised face, she took a deep breath, then smiled. “Samantha, your little girl needs her mother. Now go.” She exited the warm house and walked into the chilly, dry air.

  She opened the barn door and walked in. The musty smell was intense. She looked around, but could only hear them. “Hey, guys, where are you?” she called out hesitantly.

  “Shh!” Haley blurted out.

  “Back here with Big Mac,” Nelson answered.

  She walked with her arms crossed, feeling nervous, like she was a stranger. She came to the last stall and saw Nelson brushing Macintosh, but no Haley.

  “Hi,” she said shyly. “Um, I want to say I’m sorry for how I acted yesterday.”

  He reached out and touched her arm. “Sam, there’s no need. I know you’ve been through a lot, we all have. I said some things to you that I’m sorry for too.”

  “God no, I deserved it.”

  “No one deserves anything. We need to stick together.”

  They looked at each other, their eyes communicating an understanding that neither could voice.

  “Where’s Haley?”

  Nelson tilted his head toward a large pile of hay in the corner of the stall.

  Samantha pointed and mouthed, “She’s in there?”

  Nelson smiled and nodded.

  Samantha said in a loud, theatrical tone, “I wonder where Haley is?” She entered the stall and walked around Macintosh till she reached the large pile of hay. “Hmm, well, since I can’t find her, maybe I’ll rest, ’cause I’m really tired. This pile of hay looks comfortable.” She flopped down.

  Haley giggled from beneath the hay.

  Sensing she could relax a bit, Samantha reached into the hay till she felt Haley’s little body. “Oh, no, there’s a monster in the hay. Nelson! Save me!”

  Haley played along by growling. She rose out of the hay and jumped on her mother.

  “Nelson, help me,” Samantha said, giggling.

  Nelson watched as the two embraced each other and rolled in the hay. He smiled. This was the old Samantha he used to know.

  “Um, guys, you might want to . . . oops, never mind. Too late,” Nelson said.

  “What?” Samantha asked, hay sticking out of her hair and clothes.

  “How do I say this. . . . You just rolled in horse poop.”

  “Ahh, oh, no!” Samantha squealed, looking down at her jacket.

  “Ha, ha, Mommy rolled in horse poopy!” Haley laughed. “Mommy, you stink!”

  Samantha laughed out loud, then grabbed Haley. “Come here, time for you to get stinky too!”

  Nelson was so happy to see Haley and Samantha connecting. It had been a long time since he’d seen Samantha smile.

  This moment of happiness was interrupted when a cold blast of air shot through the barn as the main door opened up. Scott walked up to Nelson, concern in his eyes.

  “Hey, Scott, what’s up?”

  “Nelson, I need your help. There’s a group of men outside. They’re looking for someone.”

  “Who are they looking for?”

  “A guy named Raymond. From their description, it sounds like our visitor from yesterday.”

  Nelson’s eyes widened. “What did you tell them?”

  “Nothing, don’t worry. I’m not an idiot,” Scott remarked.

  “Where are they now?”

  Hearing Nelson and Scott’s urgent low tones, Samantha stuck her head out of the stall. “What’s going on?”

  Scott looked uncomfortable and deferred to Nelson.

  “There are some men outside and they’re
looking for a guy that fits the description of you-know-who.”

  “What did you tell them?” Samantha asked, clearly startled.

  “Nothing, nothing at all. I know how sensitive this is and these guys look scary. I don’t want to know what they’ll do if they knew you killed the guy.”

  “Nelson, what are we going to do?” Samantha asked, fear creeping into her voice.

  “I’ve got this. You and Haley just stay in here, okay?” Nelson instructed. He grabbed his coat and started for the door.

  Scott stopped Nelson before they exited. “There are four guys out here and I meant what I said about them looking scary. They look like bad news.”

  “How did they get past the gate?”

  “I don’t know. Mack was supposed to be manning it.”

  “You carrying?”

  “Always,” Scott said, opening up his jacket to reveal his holstered pistol.

  Scott’s description of the men wasn’t an exaggeration. All four were in their thirties, with average builds. Three of them looked especially dirty, with greasy shoulder-length hair sticking out underneath beanie hats. The fourth man, who stood in front of the others, appeared to be the leader, by his swagger and bearing. His appearance set him apart from the others. His hair was cut short and his beard was trimmed, and he wore a large brown cowboy hat with two gold tassels.

  Nelson stepped out with Scott and walked up to within a few feet of the group.

  “Afternoon, gentlemen. Scott told me you’re looking for someone.”

  The man with the hat answered. “Yes, maybe you can help us. I’m looking for my baby brother, Raymond.” Though he was clean cut, his mouth revealed stained yellow teeth.

  “We haven’t had anyone here recently,” Nelson answered.

  “Like I said,” Scott followed.

  The man looked at both of them and asked, “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I’m sure,” Nelson said, trying to hide his nervousness.

  “You mind if we look in the barn?”

  “Yeah, I do. Listen, we haven’t seen a person named Raymond here. By the way, how did you get in here?” Nelson said.

  Ignoring his question, the man leaned forward. “What’s your name?”

  “I’m Nelson. And you are?”

  “Nelson, I’m Truman Biggs.”

  “Truman, I’m sorry you can’t find your brother, but like I said, he’s not here.”

  Truman took a few steps forward and was now standing only a foot away from Nelson. “Nelson, I really need your help. You see, my brother, he can’t hold his liquor well. He’s been going on and on about this place. Specifically that a couple a lovely ladies lived here.” He paused, grinning. “Raymond has a bit of a problem when dealing with the ladies and he tends to drink too much. Oh, how do I put this, he doesn’t know the word no.”

  Nelson began to size the men up. The tense exchange was heading in a direction that he feared would end in bloodshed. “Truman, I can appreciate that you’re looking for your brother, but he’s not here. I can tell you that. If we can help in any way . . .”

  “You can help by not lying to me,” Truman said bluntly.

  “How did you get in here?” Nelson asked.

  “You guys have a nice little neighborhood here, but you have to watch the back door too,” Truman quipped. The other men laughed.

  Nelson looked to Scott and returned his look with a raised eyebrow.

  “Nelson, I assume you’re not from around here, are you? I don’t know if you know about snow like we have here in Idaho. How when it freezes over, you can see a person’s tracks for days. Well, we tracked my brother to this neighborhood, to that house,” Truman said, pointing to Nelson and Samantha’s house. “We have a place like this over the hill. My little brother was watching you guys. He would drone on and on about some little blonde here. Well, yesterday he got drunk and left my house saying he was going to get laid. That’s the last time I saw him. We tracked his footprints in the snow to that hill there, but then we noticed somethin’ a little suspicious. We can’t find his tracks back.”

  Not knowing how to respond, Nelson nervously shot back, “You need to leave now, this is private property!”

  The barn door opened and Haley ran out and grabbed Nelson’s hand.

  “Haley, come back here!” Samantha commanded from inside the barn.

  Nelson looked down at her and whispered, “You need to go back inside. Mind your mother and go, now.”

  Haley had seen enough already to know that something bad was about to happen. “Leave us alone!” she yelled at the men.

  Truman and his men looked at each other and laughed at Haley’s command.

  “Oh my God, you’re so precious. What’s your name?”

  Samantha marched out of the barn and grabbed Haley by the arm.

  Truman laughed out loud and commented, “Is this my brother’s little blonde beauty?”

  Samantha shot Truman a look and pulled Haley back inside the barn against her will.

  “By the looks of her face, I’d say she likes it rough. Or did she get those bruises somewhere else?” Truman asked as he pulled back his coat to expose his holstered pistol. His men adjusted themselves and spread their stances.

  Nelson swallowed hard. His vision narrowed and his palms began to sweat. His pistol was tucked in the small of his back and he tried to anticipate the best way to react. A fight was coming and the odds were not in his favor.

  “Listen . . .” Nelson said, his voice cracking.

  Then suddenly, like the Seventh Cavalry, a truck rumbled down the small street and pulled down the driveway just behind Truman and his men.

  Both doors on the old pickup opened up and out came Mack and Eric. Nelson’s father, Frank, and another man who lived in the neighborhood jumped out of the bed.

  “Nelson, is everything all right?” Eric asked, looking at the men. He had a shotgun in his hand.

  “Eric, Mack, Dad, good to see you,” Nelson said.

  “Where’s my brother? I’m not going to keep asking!” Truman exclaimed.

  “These guys came here looking for someone, and we told them that no one has been here in weeks. They were just leaving,” Nelson said to Eric, answering his previous question.

  Mack and Frank had spread apart and chosen their targets.

  “Truman, I don’t know your brother nor have I seen him. Now please leave; this will not end up how you hoped it might,” Eric said.

  Truman looked at Eric, then back to Nelson. He paused and said, “Guys, let’s keep looking for him.” He then walked up to Nelson and stood inches away. “I know he was here. If I find out he never left, there’ll be hell to pay.”

  Nelson stared into Truman’s dark brown eyes and said, “If your brother was how you described him, maybe you should be looking in the closest ditch. Now, get out of here.”

  Truman grimaced and motioned for his men to follow him.

  “We’ll escort you gentlemen out the front,” Nelson quipped.

  Eric nodded and said, “This way.”

  Following Eric, Truman turned around one last time and winked at Nelson. It sent a chill up his spine.

  FEBRUARY 25, 2015

  • • •

  “Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man’s character, give him power.”

  —Abraham Lincoln

  Coos Bay, Oregon

  Roger was an adaptable politician. He knew that in the old conventional world, what Barone had done would not go unpunished. But in this new world, Barone promised his small town a chance to survive and flourish. Yet Roger’s coalition with the other town leaders was fracturing quickly. In their attempt to convince the three dissenters to acquiesce to Barone’s plan, they had lost two others. The five leaders who had rallied against Barone could not see the consequences of expelling Bar
one. A call for a return to civilian control of the military was on the rise.

  He was not looking forward to telling Barone the latest development. Sitting outside Barone’s office in the old finance department of city hall, he anxiously awaited the meeting.

  The door opened and Simpson came out. “Come on in.”

  Roger stood, wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, and walked into the office.

  Barone stood over a small table looking at a map of southern Oregon and Northern California. His brow was furrowed and he appeared to be lost in thought.

  Roger cleared his throat.

  “Ah, go ahead and sit, Mr. Timms. Sorry, I just had a briefing on some activity to the south,” Barone said without looking at him.

  Roger sat down like a nervous student awaiting the principal. Barone pulled himself away from the map and walked to his desk. “Can I get you a drink?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “Well, I’m not,” Barone said as he reached to the bookcase behind the desk and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

  “Colonel, we have a problem.”

  Barone took a large swig of whiskey. He turned and sat down in the worn leather chair. “Doesn’t every day pose a problem?”

  “We now have five council members that are opposed to you staying here,” Roger said.

  Barone laughed and said, “Really? Can you remind me who wants me and my Marines to leave?”

  “The original dissenters were Mayor Brownstein, Milford, Franklin, and now they’ve convinced Peloni and Harper. They have told me they are not willing to change their minds and are actively courting the others. They plan to announce their decision tomorrow.”

  “How nice of them,” Barone joked. “Well, how can we convince them otherwise?”

  “It’s not that easy, Colonel.”

  Barone poured himself another drink. With drink in hand, he walked to the bank of windows that overlooked the street below his second-story office.

  Below he saw a perfect blending of townspeople and his troops, living in harmony. The coordination had gone seamlessly. He couldn’t have these few people causing a disturbance.