The Long Road - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The New World)

by G. Michael Hopf

  Willis and Jameson hadn’t talked to him since yesterday. The sight of such an atrocity haunted them.

  Sebastian’s stint in the Marines had exposed him to such cruel and inhumane acts. It wasn’t as if he was impervious to these sights though; he just knew how to compartmentalize them.

  He enjoyed the warm afternoon sun as he walked toward the guesthouse at the corner of the property. He hadn’t yet been able to explore the more than six-acre property, but he planned on becoming more acquainted with it now that he was getting around on crutches.

  The perimeter was surrounded by an eight-foot fence with large eucalyptus trees every dozen feet. This provided cover from any eyes that might be attempting to see what was happening inside. Bishop Sorenson had four armed men constantly patrolling the fence line and two at the fortified iron gate. Each day strangers approached the gate looking for food or aid. At first Sorenson had provided comfort to those starving souls who came seeking it. Soon, though, the reality of the situation made it impossible to do any more. It pained him, but they had to turn everyone away now. Survival of his own group became the priority when he realized that there would be no government response.

  Sorenson would make an exception if it were an abandoned child. After the discovery of the bodies, Sebastian and his companions had been successful in finding the two children.

  Sebastian was surprised the children had survived the attack and subsequent massacre. He didn’t know for sure what had happened because neither talked. Both showed signs of malnutrition, and their hygiene was nonexistent.

  Jameson had found them hiding in the pump house of the community swimming pool. At first they’d struggled, but Sebastian had been able to convince them they would not be hurt.

  Sebastian had two things he wanted to accomplish when he saw them today. First was to see how they were doing, and second was to find out what information they had about Gordon.

  As he hopped up the stairs of the guesthouse, the front door opened and Annaliese stepped out with the kids’ soiled clothes in her arms.

  “Sebastian? You should be resting,” she exclaimed.

  “I’m fine. I want to see the kids. How are they?”

  “I know you think you’re fine, but if you don’t rest more, especially after yesterday, you could do more harm than good.”

  “Whoa, that smell is horrible,” Sebastian said with a grimace.

  “I know,” she said, referencing the clothes. “Since you won’t listen to your nursemaid, don’t come crying to me if you hurt yourself again.” She stepped down, then turned. “The kids are fine, still not talking but doing much better than when they came in last night. Go ahead on in. I need to go toss these away,” she said and hurried past him.

  Sebastian grabbed the doorknob and paused. He reviewed how he would ask his questions. He knew the kids were in shock, and if he wanted to get the info he desired from them he would have to be gentle. Opening the door, he glanced in and said, “Hello?” No response.

  It was a quaint little single-level home. The front door opened into a living room and kitchen. The furniture was dated; he felt like he was stepping back into the 1980s. He made his way farther through the house until he found the boys sitting on a bed whispering to each other.

  When they saw him, they both fell silent.

  Sebastian stuck his head into the room and said, “Hi, guys. How are you? It’s Sebastian, remember me?”

  Both boys looked at him quickly but then turned their eyes away and didn’t answer.

  Sebastian could see how uncomfortable they were; their body language said everything. Their frail arms had become rigid and pressed against their bodies. Their now clean but uncut hair hung down and covered their tan faces. Since the grime and dirt had been wiped away, they looked even younger. He guessed that they were only eleven or twelve.

  “Can I come in? I have just a couple of questions and then I’ll leave you alone,” Sebastian softly said. He stepped into the room and leaned against a chest of drawers just inside the doorway. “I know you’re both scared and not sure what our motives are. I can only imagine what you must be thinking. I can assure you that these people are good and you are now in safe hands.”

  The boys just kept staring at the floor.

  “Hey, there was a family that lived in your community. I want to know if you know them and if you know what might have happened to them. The Van Zandts, do you know them?”

  One of the boys looked up at Sebastian, met his eyes briefly, then turned away.

  “Do you know them?” Sebastian asked that boy urgently. “Gordon Van Zandt is my brother. Have you heard of him? Do you know what happened to them?”

  The boy who’d looked at him looked up again. His mouth opened to say something but stopped when the other boy spoke up. “He left. He left us all.”

  “He’s alive? He left before . . . before the bad people came?”

  “Yeah, he and a few others left after the big fight,” the second boy said. He swept his long bangs out of his face and cocked his head.

  “What fight? What happened? Are they all okay, Samantha, Haley, Hunter?”

  “I don’t know a Samantha or the other two. Gordon was in charge of the neighborhood security until he was shot . . .”

  “Shot?” Sebastian asked; his voice grew louder with each question he asked.

  “Yeah, all I know is one day he was there and the next I heard he had been shot.”

  “But he didn’t die, right?”

  “No, he lived. He and his friends ended up fighting another group in our neighborhood. They killed a lot of people and then left. That’s the last I heard of him. I don’t know where he went.”

  “Oh my God, oh my God. He’s alive, they’re alive,” Sebastian blurted out.

  “My dad said he was an asshole,” the first boy said loudly.

  “Yeah, well, that’s my brother. He’s a bit of the shoot-from-the-hip-and-mouth kinda guy,” Sebastian cracked.

  “After he and his friends left, the Villistas came and killed everyone,” the first boy continued.

  “I’m really sorry about what happened. Why didn’t more people leave with my brother?”

  “My dad asked if he could go, but your asshole brother said no,” the first boy shot back.

  “Sorry. I can’t even begin to explain my brother, but I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever,” the first boy said. His tone had grown angry. He stood up and stormed out of the room.

  “Hey listen, I’m sorry,” Sebastian called out to him.

  “His parents were killed in front of his eyes. He doesn’t blame your brother, he’s just angry,” the second boy said. “I don’t blame your brother. He tried to help us, but everyone started to turn on each other. Nothing worked. No running water, no food, only a few cars. It didn’t take long before everyone tried to kill each other.”

  “What happened to your parents?”

  “Dead, I figure, like Brandon’s parents, but I didn’t see anything. When those men came, my mom and dad hid me in an attic space in the garage. I never saw them again. I heard a lot of guns shooting, screaming, and then nothing.

  “The men came into my house and tore it apart, and then they left. I was so scared. I didn’t leave the attic till the next day. When I did, I couldn’t find my parents. I looked everywhere, but didn’t find anyone except for Brandon. I’m guessing they killed everyone else and burned them in the park.”

  “I’m so, so sorry,” Sebastian said. “What’s your name?” he then asked as he stepped over and sat on the bed next to the boy.

  “My name is Luke,” he said. His eyes showed the pain of the events he had witnessed.

  “You don’t have to be afraid anymore, everything will be okay now.”

  “No it won’t. That’s the same thing your brother told all of us. That’s the same thing that my dad told me. You know what? It wasn’t okay. Your brother left us and my dad was killed by those monsters. So don’t tell me it will be okay. I might only be e
leven years old, but I know that none of us are safe anymore. It will never be safe again!” Brandon said loudly from the doorway. He had returned without either noticing and had overheard their conversation.

  “I can say this,” Sebastian told the boys Everything has changed, but I will do whatever I can to protect you both. I promise you that.”

  “I don’t believe you, you’re just like every other adult. You lie!” Brandon snapped back.

  Sebastian’s only experience with children had been his niece and nephew, but that too was limited. He wasn’t sure how to handle a child who had witnessed such horrors. His last attempt to soothe Brandon felt contrived. He wasn’t lying when he said he’d do whatever he could to protect them, but he knew he’d have to prove himself to these two boys. Words were not enough, he’d have to show them that not everyone in the world was bad.

  Unknown military installation

  Gordon’s first full day as a member of the Children of God had started early. His restless sleep ended with the loud bangs of a drum in the barracks. His agreement to join them gave him one benefit: He no longer was kept locked up. They had transferred him to the men’s barracks; the large room was similar to the squad bay–type barracks he was accustomed to in the Marine Corps. Each side of the long rectangular room was lined with bunk beds. He shared the barracks with other followers. While they readied themselves for what would be a long day filled with physical labor, he attempted to chat with his “roommates.” Everyone shied away from him, though; no one would even look him in the eye. Failing to get any particulars about his new home from them, he was determined to keep his eyes wide open once he left the barracks. Any detail could be the linchpin in his escape. But escaping with Hunter was complicated because Hunter was housed somewhere else.

  The unrecognizable mountain range to the west had a steep slope that almost touched the main entrance of the base. The mountains to the southeast were high and sloped gradually down, with the western part of them almost connecting to the western mountain. From the air it would have looked like an upside-down horseshoe with the base being positioned near the bottom. If he could get Hunter, Gordon knew he’d head south over the sloping hills. There he thought he’d run into the interstate.

  His first working party consisted of filling and stacking sandbags. As thoughts of escape processed through his mind, his pace slowed down.

  “Keep moving!” one of Rahab’s men yelled to him. The man was one of the guards he had met just after his capture.

  Gordon didn’t acknowledge him, he just focused on the task and picked up his tempo. The job he and his fellow workers had been given was to reinforce the base entry. This told Gordon that even Rahab felt vulnerable. Also, the fact that he and the others were being forced to work under the watchful eyes of several armed men told him that they weren’t truly part of Rahab’s following but slave labor.

  “Do you work like this every day?” Gordon whispered to the man next to him.

  The man didn’t look at Gordon; he kept right on grabbing the sandbags in the pile behind him and placing them like bricks.

  “What the hell? Is everyone here deaf and dumb?” Gordon rhetorically asked louder.

  “Please be quiet and just work,” the man whispered while still working. He kept his gaze away from Gordon.

  “Why? Why can’t we talk, if we’re part of their group?”

  The man ignored Gordon again.

  Now frustrated, Gordon spoke a bit louder. “Hey, buddy, unless you answer some of my questions, I’ll just keep talking to you and get us both in trouble.”

  “Fine, later tonight after dinner. Volunteer for the working party,” the man said, still not looking at Gordon.

  “Good, I will,” Gordon answered, then asked, “What’s your name?”

  “Derek. Now shut up and get back to work.”

  USS Makin Island, off the coast of Coos Bay, Oregon

  Barone stared at the map of Coos Bay that hung on the wall in the briefing room. Red circles populated the map showing target areas for the ships to moor and strategic locations for his group to set up. His recon teams had reported back that the port was abandoned save a few people who were camped out there. The port was large; it stretched fifteen miles around the city of North Bend and Coos Bay. The deepest mooring areas were all right next to residential areas and the city of Coos Bay. Bringing the ships in covertly would be impossible. Barone knew that he couldn’t start a new country without people, and so he would go in as a liberator. He kept a few teams back to lock down the port facilities they would need and to meet with what city elders they could locate. He wanted to limit his contact with the civilian population until he’d properly established a beachhead, so he wanted to recruit the local leaders to keep the civilians calm.

  One by one, his command team entered the situation room and sat down. By now his team had become accustomed to his style of briefing: blunt and direct.

  Turning around, he stared at each man as they sat waiting. All looked rested, as if they’d just come back from a long leave. The addition of the families and loved ones on the ship had helped with morale. The stress and concern about their whereabouts and condition had been put to rest upon the Marines’ landing in Southern California over a week ago. With the elimination of the group that had attempted to assassinate him, Barone felt more empowered to walk the passageways alone. He knew that some men might still hold misgivings about their new mission, but he aggressively moved to temper them. He pledged to retrieve the families of those men who lived elsewhere upon their landing in Coos Bay. His plan called for teams dedicated to their retrieval no matter where they were. Another item he had promised and knew he must deliver on was to reward them with gold. He hadn’t really planned on how he’d get that gold, but when they settled into their new home that would be a priority.

  He too felt more at ease in some ways. Of course, not a day went by without thoughts of his son, but having his wife and daughter with him brought great solace. The look on his wife’s face when he broke the word of Billy’s death was worse than he’d imagined. The aging lines that already etched her face seemed to grow deeper as the reality of never seeing her son again sank in. Maggie had hidden herself away in his stateroom for two days but then emerged with new purpose. She had many questions for him but never assigned blame for Billy’s death. After dutifully following and supporting him all these years while he served in the Marines, she had hardened herself and knew that this life brought great risk. She knew that Billy had died doing something he loved, and even though his death came during an upheaval in their country, she knew he died fighting for what he believed in.

  Still scanning the happy faces of his men, Barone decided he would take a more personal direction in this briefing. Today, he wanted to have a conversation about where they were, not physically but where the men’s hearts were in this new mission he had brought them on. He walked over to the side of the room, grabbed a metal folding chair, and placed it in the front of the room with the back facing them. He straddled the chair and sat down.

  Some of his men looked curiously at him as he did this. His signature briefings never had him sitting, and when they saw him sit, it was never this casually. Since his son’s death he had grown unpredictable, so seeing him do this made some of them a bit uncomfortable.

  “Good morning, gentlemen.” Barone’s tone was remarkably sanguine.

  In unison, all the men in the room replied, “Good morning, sir.”

  “We’ve come a long way. Not just in miles but in the transition from men fighting for our country to pioneers of a new land. I know now that on that day weeks ago when I assembled some of you and told you of my plan to come back to California instead of the East Coast, not all of you were one hundred percent behind me. I understood then as I do now how difficult it would be for you to voluntarily join me. Some of you, I’m sure, were against it but felt you had no choice. Most of you were concerned but didn’t know what else to do. Believe me, I get it. I don’t want
to beat a dead horse here, but for those of you who were reluctant because you felt we were abandoning our country, I would ask you this: What does country mean to you? I want you to process that question because I asked it of myself over and over.

  “At first when I heard about the attacks, I went into gung-ho mode and vowed revenge upon those who did it. However, when I finally, truly understood the devastation that had occurred and the foolish mission the new president was sending us on, I reflected. I met with some of you and started our plans for the recovery effort.

  “It was in that briefing that a young intel officer raised his hand like a schoolboy and asked this question: ‘Sir, if nothing is working at home, who is taking care of our families?’ That question alone struck me because I didn’t have a good answer. I retired to my tent after that first briefing and reflected. I thought about my own family and who was taking care of them. For years the Marines have been tasked with being the tip of the spear in protecting the United States from its enemies. I am a proud Marine who has served many years and risked my life for my country many times. What was different before was I knew my family was safe. I knew they were being taken care of. But now was different. Do you understand what I’m saying, gentlemen?” Barone asked, his tempo increasing slightly.

  “As I sat in my hooch after that first briefing I decided that my country is not my government. I knew then that we fight for the safety and freedom of our families and the people. Only twice in the country’s history have fighting men been away while their loved ones were under attack at home: the American Civil War and the Revolutionary War. What was different in those times was there were standing armies and you knew your enemy. Now the enemies at our doorsteps are starvation, pestilence, and the mob. I have been questioned and even attacked for my actions. I accept that, but what I’m not is a traitor.”