The side of Brandon’s head opened up as the bullet from Luke’s little Colt Detective exited. Brandon dropped the gun and collapsed to the ground, dead.
Sebastian, startled by Luke’s shot, turned toward him. He then trained the pistol on Luke, not sure if he too was going to go renegade.
Luke dropped the pistol and said, “He was going to kill Annaliese. I couldn’t have him do that. I couldn’t!”
Annaliese ran up to Luke and hugged him. Sebastian ran his hands through his hair. He couldn’t believe the way that this day was going.
MARCH 18, 2015
• • •
“Victory at all costs, victory in spite of all terror, victory however long and hard the road may be; for without victory, there is no survival.”
—Winston Churchill
Sacramento, California
“Wake up,” Pablo said softly to Isabelle as he stroked her arm.
She opened her eyes to see Pablo’s face hovering over hers. “What time is it?”
“It’s early. I wanted to say I was sorry for yelling at you last night. I have to leave today for a while. I’ll be back for dinner tonight. If you need anything, just call—”
“I know, call General Pasqual.”
“No. Don’t call him, contact Major Alejandro.”
“What’s wrong? You seem tense,” she asked, sitting up in the bed.
“I’m fine. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Is there something wrong with General Pasqual?”
Pablo really disliked her constant prying into his official affairs but this time he wanted to tell her, only because her intuition seemed to be correct about him.
“You might have been right about him. I think I found some information that might prove he’s doing something behind my back.”
His comment piqued her interest; she sat up and leaned in.
“He’s been meeting with what looks like some insurgents.”
“What? Why?” she asked, genuinely curious.
“I hope to find out soon.”
“Oh, I wish I could be there to see the look on his face. Where are you doing it?”
“In the basement of the capitol building,” Pablo answered. “It’s secure and private.”
“You rarely venture out, so please be careful out there,” she said, then planted a kiss on his lips. “When are you leaving?”
“Now. Have a good day. I’ll see you later.”
...
The old Victorian mansion hadn’t been lived in for years but Pablo chose to take up residence there because of its rich legacy. As a student of history, he couldn’t resist living in such a storied place. As he left for the state capitol building, he admired his new living space. It was exactly the type of residence a world leader would have.
The few times Pablo had left the premises, he had never walked, but today would be different. His army had created a safe zone around the capitol that covered twenty city blocks wide and fourteen blocks long. All access points were heavily guarded and any residential homes and apartments were vacated, with the residents relocated.
Pablo exited the back door of the mansion and walked up to several men standing next to his convoy.
“You three come with me, we’re walking over,” Pablo ordered.
The men obeyed and took up positions around him.
“Have the convoy head there now, so it can be available if I want to use it when I’m done. I have a feeling I’ll be very tired after today.”
An officer came out of the mansion and called out, “Emperor!”
Pablo stopped. “Yes, captain.”
“General Pasqual called to inform you he’s just arrived at the capitol. I told him you were walking over but he insisted you drive.”
“I don’t take orders from him,” Pablo stated, and walked out the gate with his men.
The convoy pulled out just behind them and accelerated past them; it turned left on Fifteenth Street and sped off toward the capitol.
The empty streets seemed surreal. The only sounds that could be heard were from his convoy a few blocks away. So when the whoosh of a rocket hit his ears Pablo was more than surprised. Before he could even see where it came from, another whoosh and explosion followed. Soon rockets slammed into his convoy and exploded.
Pablo crouched down when the first explosion rocked the city, and ran for cover when the second one exploded. His men followed as he ran for cover behind the wall of a building.
A third rocket hit the last vehicle and exploded into a fireball.
Pablo watched the flames bounce and dance off the vehicles. He couldn’t believe what had just happened, but most of all he couldn’t believe that he was alive. A feeling of divine fate came over him. He stepped out into the street with a feeling of invincibility and saw the burning vehicles as yet another sign that he was on the right path.
Eagle, Idaho
“Mommy! Mommy!” Haley cried out.
Samantha ran as fast as her legs would take her down the hall and into Haley’s bedroom.
“I’m here, honey, Momma’s here,” she softly said as she embraced Haley and began to rock her.
“I had a nightmare. I saw Nelson and he was dead,” she whimpered.
“It was just a bad dream, honey, it was only a dream.”
“But it seemed real!”
“It was just a dream,” Samantha said in a whisper.
“Is he ever coming back?”
Haley had been asking Samantha that every day since Nelson was taken away. Telling your children the truth about sensitive topics was a tough decision for parents. She and Gordon believed that it was okay to fudge the truth so as to keep the children’s innocence intact for as long as possible.
“He’ll come back one day. He’s just doing something with that man, then he’ll come back.”
“That man was mean, Mommy.”
“I know.”
“He said mean things to me and told me he wanted to kill me and kill you.”
Hearing Haley say this broke Samantha’s heart. The innocence she was attempting to protect was very difficult to maintain in this new world.
They both talked until Haley fell back to sleep in her arms.
Samantha tried to sleep too, but she couldn’t. She quietly snuck out her room and went downstairs to make some tea. At the bottom of the stairs the dark stain stood as a grim reminder of everything that had recently happened.
She walked into the kitchen, then went to the window and looked outside. The sun was coming up and a new day had begun. She looked for anything unusual and made sure the door was locked. She pledged that she’d never again be caught unaware. Without Gordon or Nelson to help, she was on her own.
The kerosene heaters that helped keep the house warm from the frigid air outdoors were a temporary luxury. Soon they’d run out of fuel and when that happened, they’d have to go to using wood exclusively to heat the house. Their food stores were good and medicines weren’t a problem. Gordon’s quick thinking months ago really had kept them alive.
A loud banging at the front door made her jump. She rushed out of the kitchen, pistol in hand.
She looked through the peephole to see Eric standing there.
“What’s wrong?” she asked after she opened the door.
“They’re back!” Eric said urgently.
South of Boise, Idaho
Cruz’s condition had greatly improved, so much so that he requested they leave earlier than planned.
Taking advantage of the situation, Gordon got everyone on the road as quickly as possible and headed east. When they crossed into Idaho, he couldn’t help but think about turning the vehicle north and driving straight to McCall. That desire grew tougher to resist when he started to see familiar signage for roads that he knew.
When he saw the sign
for Eagle Road, his heart skipped a beat. He was only two hours away from McCall. All he had to do was make a left from the off-ramp and drive directly north and in two hours he’d be at his cabin and in Samantha’s arms.
He then saw a sign for Mountain Home and an idea came to mind.
“Christopher, get on the radio and use this frequency,” he said.
“Who am I calling?” Christopher asked.
“Mountain Home Air Force base.”
“Gordon, what are you thinking?” Wilbur asked.
“I’m curious if the base is still functioning,” he said. It was a half truth. Though Gordon had promised to take them all the way to Cheyenne, if Mountain Home Air Force Base was still operational and had communications with Cheyenne, he’d just drop them there.
“Okay, so how do I change the frequency?” Christopher asked, looking confused.
Gordon didn’t answer; he quickly took the exit for Eagle Road and accelerated.
“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” Wilbur asked.
“No, it’s not okay,” he replied.
“Is someone chasing us? What is it?” Wilbur asked, concerned that a situation like what had happened in Hines was happening again.
“No, that’s not it!” he said excitedly as he made a hard left onto Eagle Road.
“What’s wrong?” Cruz asked, worry written all over his face.
“I don’t know, but when I see a sign that has my name on it with an arrow, I tend to follow it!”
Sacramento, California
“Emperor, please. He’s my cousin’s son. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Pasqual begged. He was bound to a chair in one of the storage rooms in the damp basement of the capitol.
The small concrete-walled room at one time held supplies. Now it would be Pablo’s torture chamber. On a small table next to Pasqual sat an assortment of instruments—knives, an axe, screwdrivers, hammer, pliers.
“I’d have him speak but he can’t now,” Pablo laughed when pointed to the other man in the room. The other man was Pasqual’s cousin’s son, Jorge Ortiz. He was the man identified the other day at the house in Folsom. During his arrest, he resisted and was beaten severely. His cheekbones and jaw were shattered and he drifted in and out of consciousness.
Pablo took pleasure in torturing people. He specifically enjoyed it when they begged. Asking for mercy made him torture them more.
This is what Pablo was able to ascertain so far: Pasqual’s cousin, Maria Ortiz, the woman seen with Jorge, had emigrated from Venezuela twelve years before and had been living in Sacramento since arriving in the United States. After Sacramento fell to the PAE, Pasqual went to her to see if she needed anything. Her son was a specialist in the California National Guard and had left his post weeks before.
“Emperor, he no longer fights for the Americans. He left his ranks weeks ago. I was recruiting him for the Villistas, that is all. I was taking them food and bringing them to our side,” he begged.
Pablo had beaten him already. Sweat mixed with fresh blood on his face. His lips and nose were bleeding and a small cut to his face oozing.
“I have to say, Maria said the same thing, so your stories are identical. Even after she was raped, she kept her story straight. I was impressed. I’m planning on having Alpha Company fuck her next unless you tell me what you were doing there.”
“No, not Maria, she did nothing wrong,” Pasqual cried out.
“What are your plans? Kill me and take the throne? You insisted I ride in the convoy this morning moments before it was attacked and destroyed.”
“Sir, we intercepted a communication that an attack was imminent. We found an old frequency that the insurgents use to communicate. There’s been someone using it to communicate with the United States government. They know intimate details on movements and plans. We overheard the plans for an attack against you not ten minutes before it happened. They have someone on the inside.”
“Of course you would say that,” Pablo said, then walked over to Jorge with a knife and sliced his face.
Jorge woke up from the pain and cried out.
“Emperor, please. The communications we’ve received are coming from someone close to you. I know it sounds like it could be from me, but they’re not from me, I swear. I’m a loyal follower. I swore an allegiance to you.”
“Who else can it be, then?” Pablo asked. “Who else knows all my plans intimately?”
“The lieutenant governor’s daughter,” he blurted out.
Pablo raced across the room and slapped Pasqual in the face.
“If you knew an attack was imminent on me, why would you suggest I use the convoy?”
“I didn’t, sir. I told the captain that you needed to stay!”
Pablo didn’t know what to believe. The plot against him ran deep, if what Pasqual was saying was true. The only way to be sure he purged these traitors was to cleanse his army. The best place to start was with Pasqual.
“General, you might be correct, but I can’t take that chance. I have to speed this along, now that you’ve given me some other names.”
Pablo walked back to Jorge, grabbed him by the hair, and slit his throat. Thick, red blood poured from his neck and ran down his shirt.
Pasqual cried out but Pablo silenced his cries by taking the axe and planting it in his head.
South of Boise, Idaho
When they passed the airport signs, memories rushed into Sebastian’s mind. The last time he had been to Boise was a few years ago. He had taken leave over Christmas and flew to meet Gordon and his family in McCall. That was one of the best times he had with his brother. They spent their days snowboarding at Brundage Mountain and their nights drinking cold beer and smoking cigars around the large fire pit. The mountains had always calmed him and disconnected him from the stresses in his life. He hoped that they still held that magical influence, because he needed it badly after the past few months.
The last twelve hours had been tense. Luke killing Brandon was a shock to both him and Annaliese. Following the shooting they promptly buried Brandon but left Jed and Flynn covered with a tarp in the back of Jed’s truck.
Sebastian had been tempted to take the vehicle but his conscience told him that the truck might be the only thing Jed’s family had for transportation. That could mean the difference between life and death, so he wanted to them to have it if they found them. He and Annaliese had discussed traveling to the ranch to tell them the news, but he thought that would be too risky. He didn’t want to roll into a firefight if Jed’s family reacted hostilely to their deaths, which was a distinct possibility.
Luke appeared calm and at peace with what he had done. Annaliese attempted to discuss the shooting with Luke. He would repeat the same thing he said right after he shot Brandon. “He was going to kill you. I couldn’t have him do that.”
Brandon was going to die yesterday regardless of who squeezed the trigger, that much was sure. Sebastian was just concerned about Luke’s mental state. The act of killing was easy, but the hard part was processing it internally. He and Annaliese finally agreed to leave him alone, and when the time was right they’d try to talk to him about it again.
“The best route is to go straight up Highway 55. I want to stay away from downtown so let’s take Eagle Road,” Sebastian said.
“However you think is best,” Annaliese responded, staring out the window. “You know, what about the mountain passes? Do you think they’ll be open?”
“I don’t know. I hope so, but we’ll go as far as we can.”
“Can you teach me to ski, Sebastian?” Luke asked.
Sebastian looked into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but I don’t ski, I snowboard.”
“That would be even cooler,” Luke said with a grin. It was the first time he had spoken in the past few hours.
“Sebastian, your brother’s name is Gordon, ri
ght?” Annaliese asked.
“Yeah, why?”
She pointed out the window. “Look.”
He looked where she was pointing and was dumbfounded. A wood sign with the name Gordon was plastered below a sign that read EAGLE ROAD.
“Is that for your brother?”
“I don’t know, but I’m going to follow it.”
He turned off on Eagle Road and headed north.
All he could think was how strange that someone would post that. Questions filled his mind. Was that for his brother or someone else? If it was for him, what did they mean?
Coos Bay, Oregon
Barone had called for a tribunal to try Mayor Brownstein in the death of the Marine.
His hope was to show he could be judicious and wanted to play by the rules that Americans were accustomed to. The protestors had returned to the front of city hall and outside the ships within hours of Brownstein’s arrest. The size of the demonstrations was large. Not as big as the last one, but significant. The message coming from the group was that she should be released, and that though the Marine’s death was a tragedy, she didn’t pull the trigger. Conspiracy theories had even surfaced saying that Barone had planted the shooters to justify arresting her. Barone was beginning to feel like he couldn’t do anything to satisfy the people who opposed him.
Simpson and Roger Timms had reminded him that at least 80 percent of the town’s populations supported him and didn’t want him to leave or be tried. They didn’t agree with what he had done, but many were ready to forgive him.
He had joked with Simpson that if he could just get rid of the 20 percent, everything would be fine. That joke then turned to an actual idea. What if he could just arrest them all, take them to the edge of town, and drop them off? Problem solved. That, of course, was his sledgehammer fix, but if he wanted to stay put in Coos Bay, he’d have to be more diplomatic. The problem for him was that he thought diplomacy was for politicians. Barone liked to fashion himself the anti-politician. The urge to use his military might to take over was burning inside. It took most of his discipline to fight it. If Brownstein’s resistance continued past the tribunal he didn’t know if he could control his natural tendencies.
Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) Page 24