Roger then came up with an idea to negotiate with the others for her release. This could alleviate ratcheting tensions. The tribunal’s verdict had a predestined outcome and Barone had instructed them to ask for the death penalty if a guilty charge came back. This threat of death was given so he could put fear into her and make her change her tune.
After much deliberation he went with Roger’s idea. A meeting with those leaders who opposed him would be conducted immediately in city hall.
...
Barone typically liked to arrive very early to important meetings, but with this one he did the opposite. He wanted the people to wait for him.
Before he left his office, he placed his pistol in its holster. After what happened, he wasn’t about to walk into a room with a group of people who hated him and not have the means to protect himself.
As he strode in, feeling confident, he glared at each and every person there. The local leaders who opposed him had now grown to seven, including Brownstein.
Brownstein was sitting front and center. She too looked confident.
Taking his place at the head of the room, he began, “Thank you for coming on such short notice. I’m not going to rehash what just happened. That’s a waste of time.”
“You’re right; this is also a waste of time. Whatever little clever idea you think you have here, it won’t work,” Brownstein said, lashing out at him.
“Just wait a minute, Mayor. I want us all to make this work. Here are the facts: I have a treaty with the United States. They have allowed us to move forward with our own country, the Pacific States of America. In exchange, we will join forces against the Pan-American Empire.”
“The only country we belong to is the United States of America. I don’t believe a thing that comes out of your mouth anymore,” she berated him.
“Mayor, can we have a civil conversation?” Barone asked. He genuinely wanted to make it work, but her tone was beginning to annoy him, making it hard to control his temper.
“Colonel Barone, we don’t negotiate with terrorists and that is what you are to us. We will never make a deal with you, we will never obey you, we will never stop resisting you. These are the facts!”
Barone’s temper began to flare, but he again controlled it. “Mayor, what I am proposing is this: I cancel the tribunal and release you in exchange for you stopping these protests. The progress we have made in town here is now in jeopardy. We need to come back together as a people to make this work. We can’t be divided anymore.”
“We will never be united with the likes of you, you traitor!”
“Now, that is enough!” Barone yelled, his voice full of anger.
Brownstein now stood and yelled back, “We will never rest. We will fight you until we die. You have to kill us all if you want us to stop!” The other six nodded in agreement.
“Very well, this conversation has ended, I guess. If you’ll excuse me,” Barone said, and walked off. His face was flush with anger and a couple beads of sweat had formed on his forehead from his raised blood pressure as he strode toward the exit. His focus was singular. All he could think of now was finishing this for good.
The six councilors congratulated Brownstein on her steadfastness. They hadn’t taken notice of the intense look that had gripped Barone’s face as walked past them.
“We’re so proud of you,” one said.
Another said, “You’re the bravest person I know.”
Brownstein enjoyed the positive feedback. She exchanged some bravado talk with the others when the door opened. Barone was standing there again.
She looked up at him but the brave, confident face turned to one of terror.
Barone walked back in with an M-16 rifle. “You don’t want to talk, that’s fine. You told me what has to be done, and so you’ll get your wish. You all have to die!” That urge, that burning urge that he had managed to keep suppressed, was now too much for him to keep inside.
Brownstein looked at him but didn’t move, as she was frozen with fear. Three of them ran for other doors and the other three ducked behind chairs.
He took aim on her and pulled the trigger. The rifle roared to life with a three-round burst. The first bullet hit her in the abdomen, the second in the chest, and the third in neck. She fell backward and crashed into some chairs. By the time her body hit the floor, she was dead.
He rained bullets in the directions of the ones who had run for the exits. When the bolt locked back he had killed them. He didn’t have another magazine so he dropped the rifle and pulled out his pistol. The remaining three hadn’t moved since the gunfire began. He calmly approached each one.
Regardless of their pleading for mercy, he showed none. He put a bullet into each of their heads.
When he finished with them he exited the council chamber.
Simpson was waiting for him in the hall, a look of shock and terror on his face.
“Now what?” Simpson asked, not knowing what else to say. Fear of saying something filled him as he chose his words carefully.
“We’re going to end this little rebellion today. She said that it wouldn’t end unless we killed them, so kill them. Kill them all!”
“There’s no turning back from that, sir. You do know that?” Simpson cautioned.
“I’m fully aware. Make it happen! Get Timms on the horn. Let him know I’m disbanding the city governments. Everything falls under our military control as of now!”
“Copy that,” Simpson replied to Barone. He stepped away from Barone and keyed the mike on his radio handset. “All commanders, this is Charlie Actual. You are weapons free. I say again, you are weapons free. Disburse the crowd with all means necessary, to include deadly force, over.”
Nothing happened. The radio crackled and a voice came over, “Charlie Actual, the is Charlie Two, over.”
“Go, Charlie Two,” Simpson barked into the handset.
“We need a clarification of last command, over!”
Simpson gave Barone an uneasy stare.
Barone marched over to him, grabbed the handset, and yelled, “All units, this is Colonel Barone. Open fire on all the protestors, take no prisoners. I say again, kill all the protestors!”
There was a brief and uncomfortable pause but soon the roar of machine guns erupted outside, followed by screams.
Barone walked over to the large window and looked down on the street out front. The protestors were running in every direction in the hopes of escape. Some Marines were not firing, but others were. Clearly his commands were not universally being heeded. However, enough were obeying to ensure that not a soul would be left standing.
Barone was done with talking, done with politicians, done with democracy. He was now a dictator and would rule with an iron fist.
Eagle, Idaho
So many different scenarios had run through Samantha’s mind when Eric told her that Truman’s group had returned. Many of the scenarios had fighting breaking out between the groups. It was a probable outcome and this time she wasn’t going to have Haley anywhere close by. On their way to the front gate, she dropped Haley off at Eric’s house.
Pulling up to the gate, the first person Samantha saw was Nelson; he was badly beaten but alive. She closed her eyes and thanked God for answering her prayers.
If he was still alive, Truman and his group saw value in him and were here to negotiate for something.
When she took a rough count of the group she counted ten, seven men and three women. The one person missing in her count was Truman.
On her side of the gate, they had Eric, Mack, Frank, and Scott.
“Nelson! How are you?” Samantha asked.
He smiled and cracked a joke. “Oh my God, I’ve had the best time. I get a massage every morning, followed by filet mignon and lobster for dinner every night.”
She smiled. “Where’s Truman?” she asked.
<
br /> A man she had never seen before stepped forward and spoke. “Truman’s dead. I killed him.”
Samantha was shocked to hear that.
“It’s true. They killed him last night,” Nelson confirmed.
“Truman was a smart guy, but he was too sentimental. We need someone in charge who thinks clearly. Your friend here is valuable. He’s not valuable to us dead so we’re here to bargain for his life,” the man said.
“What do you want?” Eric asked.
“We want a couple vehicles and food.”
Samantha was ready to take the deal without a second’s thought when Nelson blurted out, “Don’t do it, Sam. You need the food and the vehicles. If you give them two vehicles that will damage our ability to survive.”
“He’s right,” Eric agreed.
“This is a life. This is about Nelson’s life,” Samantha chided Eric.
“I’m talking about life too—yours, Haley’s, mine!” Eric snapped back.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” the man chimed in. “We can give you your friend and you give us what we ask for or we will just take it.”
“Don’t give in to them. If you fight then you at least have a chance!” Nelson said.
The man walked over to Nelson and hit him with a closed fist.
“We’ll do it!” Samantha shouted.
“No, we won’t!” Eric countered.
The rumbling sound of a vehicle caught all of their attention. Truman’s group looked in the direction of the sound and they all began to spread apart in anticipation of fighting who was coming.
“Are you expecting someone?” the man asked.
Samantha and the others exchanged looks before she answered him. “No, everyone in our group is here.”
“Jesus Christ, Samantha, is there anything else you want to give away?” Eric lambasted her.
The sound of the engine rumbling grew louder. Truman’s group grew tenser when the vehicle came into their view. A few lifted their weapons and took aim.
“Shoot the vehicle!” the man ordered.
With their entire group focused on the vehicle, Eric took action. He aimed and shot the man who was speaking for the group.
Nelson, with his hands tied behind his back, ran toward the gate. Samantha sprinted toward him.
Eric aimed at a second person and shot him.
In an instant, some in Truman’s group turned their guns on Eric and the others.
Mack managed to get off a few shots before he was hit three times, once in the stomach, once in the hip, and a round in his left leg. He fell to the ground and grunted in pain.
Eric was calm and steady as he aimed at the woman who had just shot Mack. He was squeezing the trigger when he was hit in the shoulder.
Samantha opened the gate for Nelson but not in time.
Several bullets struck him in the back and he fell into her arms. The force caused her to fall backward with him on top of her.
Scott had a shotgun and was blasting away. He hit one of the men, but then several of them targeted him and let loose a volley of fire. One of the shots was fatal; he fell to the ground with a gasp.
Frank ran over to help Nelson but a barrage of bullets rained down on him. He too was hit several times, with one fatal shot to the head.
Mack yelled out in pain, and from a kneeling position he shot and killed the man who had delivered the fatal shot to Frank.
The group trained all of their guns on Mack and fired. He yelled out before falling over dead.
There were still six people from Truman’s group alive and unhurt. Seeing everyone on the other side down they stopped shooting.
“We got them all!” one of the women cheered.
A man in the group walked inside the gate and up to Samantha, who was struggling under an unconscious Nelson. He raised his rifle at her.
She tried to reach for her pistol but couldn’t. Resigned to what was about to happen, she closed her eyes.
A shot rang out.
She opened her eyes and the man fell over backward.
The shot had come from behind her; she looked back and saw Seneca. Having more time, she wiggled out from underneath Nelson and pulled out her pistol.
Truman’s group targeted Seneca but she ran away, disappearing as quickly as she had appeared. She ran from the gate toward a large boulder about fifteen feet away.
Samantha sat up and fatally shot two of them.
The ferocity of the gun battle had caused everyone to forget about the mysterious vehicle.
Without notice, a Humvee plowed into the remaining three, the force of the impact tossing their bodies like rag dolls.
Nelson had come to and was coughing. He cried out in pain and rolled onto his back, his hands still tied.
Seneca ran to him as Samantha tried to stop the bleeding from his wounds.
Eric stood up and yelled, “Who is that?” pointing to the truck.
The driver’s door opened, and out stepped Gordon.
Sacramento, California
When Pablo had finally called it a night, his bloodlust had taken the lives of thirteen people. With each new person he tortured, more information and names were divulged. The insurgency had managed to penetrate his ranks by buying some of his men. He had never given it any thought, but if he was able to buy an army, it only proved that his army could also be bought. A mercenary army is only as loyal as the highest bidder. These men weren’t fighting for their country, they weren’t fighting for honor, or for something they believed in. It was all about money. This new insight made him realize that going forward, he wouldn’t be able to demand loyalty; he had to pay for it.
When he walked into the dining room he expected to see Isabelle but she wasn’t there. He grabbed the decanter of wine and a glass and took his seat at the head of the table.
After pouring the cabernet, he followed his wine-swilling ritual. He swirled it, then stuck his nose in the glass. After that, he examined the legs, impressed with what he saw. The final part of his ritual was taking the first sip. When the first taste of wine entered his mouth he swished it around, then swallowed.
“Sublime!” he said to no one in particular.
He looked at his watch. She was running about ten minutes late.
A small dining bell sat on the table. He picked it up and rang it. A servant quickly came in and asked, “Yes, Emperor?”
“Is the special treat ready to bring in?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good, I’ll ring again when I want you to bring it in.”
“Yes, sir,” the servant said, then left the room.
At the same time the main dining room door opened and Isabelle came in. “So sorry I’m late. You know us ladies.”
“I understand, beauty takes time,” he softly said.
“Oh, is that the Paso Robles wine?” she remarked when she saw the decanter.
“Yes, it is, but I have something else I want you to try; it’s a surprise. I’ve also had the chef prepare something special for dinner too.”
“What’s the occasion?” she asked after kissing him and taking her seat.
“Today was a magical day!”
“Oh my God, I heard what happened to your car. I was worried sick until I heard you were safe and sound,” she said, reaching over and grabbing his hand.
“Are you hungry? I’m famished,” he said as he picked up the bell and rang it.
The servant came in with a large covered tray and placed it on the table in front of her. “Madam, would you care for some wine?”
“Yes, that would be fabulous.”
The servant grabbed a second decanter from a buffet table behind her and poured her a glass.
She had adopted his passion for wine and had even started her own ritual similar to his.
“S
alud,” he said as he raised his glass.
They touched glasses and each took a sip.
“Oh my, that’s so good. It’s really rich, with a hint of . . . ah, I don’t know. Here, you try it,” she said, handing him the glass.
“No, thank you, my dear. I’m more than happy with this glass.”
“So you want to hear about my day?”
“Sure, I love knowing what you do! It really connects me to you.”
“Yes, I know how you love to know the ins and outs of what I do or who I talk to.” His tone had shifted a bit. Gone was the sweet demeanor.
“Ha, what does mean?” she asked, picking up on his more aggressive tone.
“Today, I started with torturing General Pasqual and two of his family members, a lovely lady by the name of Maria and her son, Jorge. After the general told me what I needed to know, I killed him, Jorge, and little Maria. Oh, little Maria. What’s the most accurate way to say it? Let’s just say she was fucked to death.”
The smile on her face vanished and fear gripped her.
“I then had the pleasure of torturing the captain who oversees the command post operations. He had so much to say, he really was the most vocal. He gave me so many names, and when I felt confident he was done, I split his head in two. Then it got really interesting! The names he gave me led to this wonderful young man by the name of Jordan.” Pablo stood up and removed the cover from the tray, exposing the head of a young man.
Isabelle shrieked when she saw the head.
“I understand you and him know each other very well. Look at how I decorated his head.”
She covered her eyes with her hands. She couldn’t bear to look at the head of her lover and leader of the local insurgency, Jordan DeMint. The intelligence that he and Isabelle provided to Conner and the United States had been valuable.
“Look at it!” he screamed at her.
She began to wail and shake.
“Now Jordan here, he was very tough, and I didn’t get too much out of him. Even after I cut off his cock and stuffed it in his mouth he wouldn’t give any information up. Fortunately for me, your father was the most forthright,” Pablo said as he rang the bell again.
Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) Page 25