Salem, Oregon
Barone loved his Marines. They were adaptive and courageous. But today they made him happy with the hot coffee. He stood overlooking the large courtyard where his men had had a confrontation with some civilians the day before. The early morning sun’s rays were just penetrating through the thick clouds, illuminating the congealed pools of blood left on the concrete sidewalks. He was also pleased by the way his plan was coming together. He had ordered his XO to begin training civilians in Coos Bay. The local leadership was more than helpful in supporting their needs, and to reward them for their loyalty and obedience, Barone started to give more and more responsibility to them. He knew they’d eventually find out about his mutiny, but if he had made them dependent enough on him, they’d have no choice but to deepen their relationship.
Governor Pelsom had proven to be very helpful. With the threat of his own people suffering any consequences for not supporting Barone locally with information, Pelsom answered every question the colonel asked.
The Salem population had created some problems, but the Marines had been able to quell the one riot that had formed outside the Capitol.
Not one to play games, Barone gave a single warning to the group of two-hundred-plus civilians. He first offered them positions within his army. Some took advantage of this offer; the majority didn’t. When they refused to comply, Barone had his Marines shoot the leaders. The clash was bloody but lasted only a few minutes before the rebellious civilians dispersed, leaderless.
Barone didn’t want to have clashes; he actually hated having to be harsh. The reality was that he didn’t have the resources to help these people. He was willing to incorporate them into his new army and give them jobs, but he wasn’t about to feed millions. There wasn’t enough food. It saddened him to watch those people, many hungry and desperate. He could have been one of them. He didn’t blame them for being not having the tools and food to keep themselves alive, but at the same time he didn’t have sympathy for them. For too many years local or regional incidents had given warnings that something could happen. Most people, he thought, just lived in a state of denial, thinking it would never happen to them and that their government would protect them. It was true that their government had plans to help, but not on this magnitude. This was why he did what he did. When he heard that it had been a super-EMP and that D.C. had been nuked, he knew it was over. He had been in the military long enough to know that the government’s only strategy for such an event was government continuity. Hunker down and come out after the bloodletting.
Those people who had rioted today were innocent, but they were also culpable in their demise. To trust their government was their first mistake, to trust him was their second.
Barone was proud of his Marines and his civilian allies in Coos Bay. Soon he’d have a much larger army to deal with what the United States was about to throw at him.
One thing he now thought he needed was a rallying cry. Survival was one element to motivate people, but if they knew they were fighting for a greater cause, , then he could recruit a dedicated army.
He knew the day was coming when he’d have to face his new civilian friends and tell them that the United States was gone and was not coming back. He needed to make the national government the bad guy and himself the savior, these people’s liberator.
He didn’t know how to do that just yet. One thing he did know was that he had the upper hand against the United States because he knew their moves. What he needed next was leverage.
Putting out his cigar on the railing, the colonel walked back into the Capitol. He proceeded to the room where the governor was being held.
Not wanting Pelsom to coordinate any escape, Barone kept him sequestered from his staff.
Pelsom looked disheveled. His hair was greasy and unkempt. His face had grown a thick stubble. The dark circles under his eyes indicated sleep deprivation.
Barone had been making sure he was being provided food, but Pelsom wasn’t eating.
Opening the door, Barone found the governor sitting on the edge of the cot with his head in his hands.
“Senator! How are you today?” Barone asked. He kept hearkening back to their congressional days so that Pelsom was constantly reminded of the clash they’d had.
Pelsom didn’t look up.
Barone grabbed a chair in the small room and sat down.
“Senator, I’m here to see if you have anything else you’d like to tell me before I let you go.”
Pelsom lifted his head and looked at the colonel. “You’re going to let me go?”
“Senator, I don’t need you anymore. The president is coming to bless us with his arrival early, so we will need to depart. You’ve given me everything but . . .”
“You’re letting me go?” Pelsom repeated and looked at him strangely.
Barone leaned in closer. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Anything at all?”
“I’ve told you everything; I’m not withholding anything. I promise,” Pelsom said, his eyes begging Barone.
Barone returned the governor’s stare, but his gaze was to see if he was lying.
“So you have told me everything you want to tell me? There is nothing else you’d like to say before I say good-bye to you?”
“Aaah, no. I’ve been very open. You know everything.”
Barone stood, grabbed his chair by the top, and moved it back to the spot he had found it.
“Corporal!” Barone yelled.
The door opened and two Marines came in.
“Take the senator to the main entrance. Hold him there. Then go get his staff and the entire legislature. I want them all there. I’ll be with you shortly.”
The two Marines walked in and grabbed Pelsom, whose face showed his uncertainty and anxiety about what would happen next.
Barone watched from a distance as his captives were assembled. He found a mirror and looked at himself. He straightened his cover and ensured his uniform looked good. Once he was ready he marched over to Pelsom, who stood at the top of the marble stairs that led into the rotunda.
“Colonel Barone, what is this?” Pelsom demanded.
“Senator . . .”
“I’m the governor. I’m not a senator anymore!”
“Senator Pelsom, I asked you one simple question and you didn’t answer it. You could say I’m being petty, but weren’t you being petty years ago?” Barone said loudly.
All in attendance were staring in amazement at the spectacle they were witnessing.
“I have been forthright with you. I’ve given you everything! What do you want?” Pelsom screamed. He could sense that his life was in the balance.
“A fucking apology! Something! You know what you did years ago to that young Marine in my command. He was doing his job when he shot that terrorist in the mosque. But what did you and your political allies do? You persecuted him. You had your friends in the media drag him through the mud. Then, when that wasn’t enough, you and came after me because I was his commanding officer!”
“We were conducting an investigation! We were doing our job!” Pelsom fired back.
“So what the fuck is your job? What was your job then? You didn’t like the war, so you found a useful incident to politicize it. I don’t know where that Marine is today, but he left the Corps after that. Then you set your sights on me. You wanted to make political points. Have you ever been in combat? No! But you can judge those who have been from your comfortable and protected world. Well, Senator, that protection is gone! The rough men who stood ready and gave you your cushy life are here now asking for a fucking apology!” Barone screamed.
“I represented a constituency that was against that war. I did my job!” Pelsom responded with equal vigor.
Barone looked at everyone and yelled, “We loved this country, but you took it all for granted. Now it’s gone. Even in its collapse you expect us to protect you while you look down on us. Well, the sheepdogs are tired of being kicked.”
“Colonel Ba
rone, if you want an apology—”
“Shut up!” Barone yelled then pulled out his pistol. The rage built in him. His speech had brought out years of repressed anger.
Many in the group gasped upon seeing Barone brandish the pistol.
“Colonel Barone, I’m sorry. We must now come together as a country. We can’t look to the injustices of the past. I made a mistake back then. I’m sorry, I was wrong,” Pelsom begged.
“Senator, now realizing your life is truly near its end, you beg like a bitch. You don’t even have the fortitude to stand by your beliefs. You are pathetic, and your kind is not welcome in this new frontier,” Barone said as he walked up to the governor and placed the pistol against his head.
“Please, Colonel, I’m so sorry. I was wrong then. It was all political. We just wanted to embarrass the president. We didn’t mean to harm you. I swear. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
“Fucking typical politician. You’re pathetic,” Barone said, then squeezed the trigger.
40 miles east of Barstow, California
“Do you know how to handle that?” Samantha asked Eric, who stood behind the .50-caliber.
“You bet. I’m good,” Eric answered her, rubbing his hand across the feed tray cover, almost caressing it.
“Frank! Let’s go!” Samantha yelled.
Frank was saying good-bye to his wife, Gretchen. Shaken by Nelson not having returned, she feared for her son’s life.
The group had waited until first light to search for Nelson. Not wanting to walk into an ambush in the darkness, they chose to wait.
They knew he must have been taken by those people. Lexi had been very open about her experiences with Rahab’s group.
Insisting on helping out, Lexi had armed herself with two pistols holstered in shoulder harnesses and was carrying a Ruger Mini-14 rifle. She hadn’t ever been around guns before, but she insisted on taking the rifle, so Mack quickly explained how to use it. He was impressed with her eagerness to go into the fight. He also didn’t mind looking at her.
Samantha was going and taking Frank, Lexi, and Eric. Mack, Seneca, Melissa, and Beth would stay behind with the kids. Samantha was ready to face the people in the base and to see if Gordon and Hunter were there.
They started the Jeep and Nelson’s truck and were pulling away when to the north they spotted a dust trail coming toward them.
Frank called out, “It’s Mack’s car! It’s Nelson!”
Samantha felt like a weight had been removed from her shoulders. She turned off the truck and got out.
The little Gremlin was traveling at high speed; the dust trail followed it for a hundred yards, drifting slowly in the air.
“Thank God he’s okay,” Frank said.
Nelson pulled the small Gremlin beside the Jeep and got out of the car.
He had a blank expression on his face.
“What happened? Where were you?” Samantha asked as she walked up to him and touched his shoulder.
Nelson didn’t answer. He looked around the much smaller group but didn’t ask about the others. He then turned and faced Samantha.
“Nelson, what’s wrong?” she asked, seeing how strangely he was acting.
Not saying anything to her, he looked at each person in the group.
All had their eyes locked on him.
“Son, what is it?” Frank asked, walking up to Nelson.
“Sam,” Nelson said, now looking at her again.
The uneasy way Nelson was conducting himself finally sank in for her. The pit of her stomach tightened, and she knew he was about to disclose something horrible.
“Sam, I, ah, I found them.”
“Where are they? What do you mean?” Samantha asked, her voice trembling. She turned and looked in the car.
She placed her hand on her mouth when she saw what looked like a body wrapped in sheets in the backseat.
“Oh no. No. Please. No,” she said quietly and almost unintelligibly.
Nelson stepped forward and embraced her.
“No. No. Who is that?” she asked.
“Sam, let’s go sit down and I’ll explain.”
Pushing him away angrily, she yelled, “Who is that, Nelson?”
Choking back tears, he answered, “It’s Hunter.”
“Noooo! Oh my God, noooo!” she cried out as her legs failed her. Her breathing became labored as her cries ebbed and flowed.
Nelson didn’t know what to do. He, like the others, just stood and watched her grief.
She reached over and opened the car door. Fumbling with the seat adjustment, she screamed again, “Nooo!” She brought the front seat forward and crawled into the car.
Her cries paralyzed the group. No one knew what to do.
She cradled Hunter’s body in her lap and unwrapped the top of the sheets to expose his face. Her tears splashed onto his cold, pale face. She gently wiped the tears away and petted his head.
The group watched Samantha hug, talk to, and kiss Hunter.
This went on for an uncomfortably long time, until Haley’s sweet voice shattered the paralysis.
“Momma? Where are you, Momma?”
Samantha snapped out of her state and hastily crawled out of the car and closed the door.
“Here, honey. Mommy’s over here,” she said, wiping her cheeks. But not having wiped her hands off, she inadvertently smeared Hunter’s blood on her face.
Haley ran up but stopped just short of hugging Samantha. “Mommy, what’s on your face?”
Samantha quickly wiped, but her wet hands only made it worse.
“Mommy, is that blood?”
Beth Holloway ran over to Haley and directed her away from Samantha.
Samantha didn’t know how to talk to her daughter right now. She looked at her reflection in the window and wiped the blood off her face.
Nelson walked up and said, “Samantha, it’s about Gordon.”
She stopped wiping her face and braced herself against the car.
Nelson handed her a dirty, crumpled white envelope.
“What’s this?” she said, lifting herself up.
“Gordon gave it to me.”
“What?” she asked, snatching it out of his hands.
“He’s not coming back, he . . .”
“What do you mean, he’s not coming back?” she asked, looking at the envelope, then put her attention on Nelson. “He gives you an envelope? That’s it?” she asked, again looking at the envelope.
“He told me to tell you to go. Go to Idaho. He will catch up with us there.”
“I don’t understand. What do you mean? Why? Why is he not coming back?” Concern was quickly replaced by anger. She took the crumpled envelope and shoved it in her pocket. “What could he possibly be doing that’s more important than being here taking care of his family?”
“He’s going to go find the man who killed Hunter.”
Salton Sea, California
Sebastian waved good-bye to the bulk of Bishop Sorenson’s group. He and his group had driven with them as far as they could. Their route took them along smaller highways and through small towns. All had agreed, the more they could stay away from heavily populated areas, the better.
Sebastian and his small band of survivors would head north now and eventually get on Interstate 15. They’d take it directly into Sandy, Utah. He estimated that driving with only stops to refuel, they could be there in twenty-four hours.
Sebastian was an optimist but also a realist, so he had communicated with Annaliese’s uncle. They would link up near St. George. From there they would follow him to the compound.
As the last glimmer from the last car died over the horizon, Sebastian felt loneliness grip him. Yes, he had eight others with him, but not being part of the larger group made him feel more vulnerable.
He walked back to his car and sat on the hood. Ahead of them was the expansive Salton Sea.
“It’s beautiful,” Luke said, walking up next to him.
“It reeks. What the fuck!” Br
andon followed up.
“I swear you two are yin and yang,” Sebastian said, pointing at each boy.
“Sebastian, we should go,” Annaliese said. She walked up to him and put one arm around his shoulder.
“One sec, I’m taking in this view. I don’t know why this is mesmerizing me. Heck, I’ve never seen it up close. I always remember flying over it. Plus, my old man told me about a trip he had out here years ago. It reminded me of him.”
“You haven’t mentioned your parents before. Where are they?” she asked, looking at him closely.
Sebastian just kept gazing out across the flat sea.
“They’re dead.”
“I’m sorry,” she quickly said as she tightened her embrace.
“Nothing to be sorry about; it happened years ago. My older brother, Gordon, kinda took on the job of being my parent and brother.”
“Where do you think he is?”
“I don’t know. Out there somewhere,” he said, pointing north. “He’s out there somewhere.”
40 miles east of Barstow, California
“Hey, psst, Nelson?” Lexi was trying to get his attention.
Nelson was busy tying down gear on the top of the Gremlin. Talking was not something he wanted to do, especially to someone he didn’t know.
“Nelson, you got a minute?” she asked.
“What? What do you want?” he snapped back.
“Chill out.”
“Hey, my best friend’s son is dead and he just up and took off on me, on us!”
“I’m sorry, but this is not the last death you’re going to experience. I lost my sister recently. That’s why I want to ask you a couple of questions.”
Nelson stopped what he was doing and looked at her scornfully. Catching movement over her shoulder, he then saw Samantha sitting in the open desert next to Hunter’s grave.
The group had buried him over an hour ago. Once they finished with the ceremony, everyone had begun preparations for the continued trip to Idaho. All of them had heard what Gordon was doing, but no one said anything about it. After Hunter’s death, no one dared bring up Gordon.
The Long Road - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The New World) Page 24