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

by G. Michael Hopf

  Samantha sat next to her son’s grave singing old nursery rhymes and songs while the desert winds kicked up dirt and whipped her hair.

  Refocusing on Lexi, Nelson asked, “What do you want?”

  “You’re a dick, you know that,” she shot back.

  “Are you going to ask me what you want or not?”

  “Your friend, Gordon. Did I hear correctly, is he going after Rahab?”

  “I don’t know who Rahab is, but if he’s the guy who murdered Hunter, then, yes. He’s going after him.”

  “Do you know where Rahab and his people went?”

  “All I know is I saw them head north. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Why? What does it matter?” Nelson asked, now curious about her questions.

  “Because.”

  “Because, what?”

  “I want to hunt that fucker down and kill him too!” Lexi said with a determined look on her face.

  “You do whatever you want. You can stay or you can go. But don’t think you’re taking any of our shit. Do you understand me?”

  Laughing, Lexi walked away from Nelson.

  He watched her as she left. He didn’t know her, but there was something alluring about her.

  Shaking his head to clear the inappropriate thoughts he was having about her, he went back to packing. If they could get on the road in an hour, they’d have a good three or four hours of drive time.

  So much had happened in the eleven days they’d been camped out there. Their group was now broken. His best friend’s son was murdered, and that best friend had abandoned them in search of vengeance. Ahead of them were still days and days of rough, dangerous road.

  He was now the leader of this group and more important, the guardian of Haley while Samantha dealt with her grief.

  JANUARY 17, 2014

  “A person often meets his destiny on the road he took to avoid it.”

  – Jean de la Fontaine

  West of Tijuana, Mexico

  Pablo coughed out some of the thick dust that was floating in the cab of his SUV. For him it was important that his father got the best perspective on what their future looked like.

  Today was the day he’d be able to prove to his father that he now was the true leader of the Juarez family. Years of planning would finally be revealed, and he hoped his father would respect him for it.

  “The view of the ocean from where we’re going is superb. You can see for miles up and down the coast!” Pablo said excitedly.

  Alfredo sat unresponsive in the backseat. His gaze out the side window hadn’t changed since they’d left the compound over an hour ago.

  Finally Pablo gave up trying to talk to his father. “Forget it,” he said. “You’re just a grumpy old man.”

  He turned back around and watched the road as it changed from highway to surface street to isolated paved road to remote dirt road.

  Pablo’s takeover of the cartel had gone very smoothly. The last remnants of his father’s old guard had been swept away in what many were calling the Night of the Bambino.

  “Right there!” Pablo pointed to a spot high on the hill. “Park right there.”

  The large Yukon came to a stop near the crest of the hill.

  “Okay, Father. Let’s go,” Pablo said.

  Pablo, Alfredo, and two guards got out of the SUV. Pablo led them the final distance to the crest of the large hill.

  When Pablo reached the top, he threw his arms in the air and shouted. “Aha, they’re here!” He spun and took a few steps to bring his father all the way to the top.

  At first Alfredo resisted his touch, but he gave in when Pablo grabbed him forcefully.

  “Come on, Pops! Aha, should I call you that from now on? It’s a gringo term. Would you like it better if I referred to you as that instead of the old stuffy Father bit?”

  Alfredo still remained silent.

  Dragging him the last distance to the top, Pablo said, “There! Feast your eyes! That there is one piece of my puzzle to conquer parts of the United States and Mexico.”

  “Mexico?” Alfredo now spoke.

  “Yes, I couldn’t be completely honest about what I was up to. You see, the new dawn happened the day those beautiful bombs blew up there,” Pablo said, pointing up in the air. “The sun has been rising in our favor since then, until I saw that my small, amateur army wouldn’t be able to complete the task. You know something, Father? You bringing me back here was the break I needed. I was able to clear my head and see what I had to do.”

  “My son, do you really think you can be successful?”

  Shooting him a hurt look, Pablo answered, “Yes, I do, Father. Everything is going the way I wanted it to; there were just a few corrections needed. Some fine tuning. Today marks another step toward my new empire.” Pablo finished, then spread his arms out in front of his father.

  “I never thought I’d say this, but you’re crazy.”

  “People who didn’t have the depth of understanding said the same thing about all the great leaders. From Alexander to Caesar and Napoleon; now me, Pablo Juarez.”

  Alfredo shook his head. Disappointment was etched along every deep wrinkle on his face.

  “Father, I brought you out here so that you could see with your own eyes. Today is the first day of my new empire,” Pablo said and again held out his arms. “Tomorrow, along with the Villistas, my guerrilla army, we will begin the invasion of the United States!”

  Lifting his weary head, Alfredo looked over his son’s outstretched arms. What he saw did amaze him. In his entire life he had never seen an armada as large. Stretching for over two miles, naval warships numbering in the dozens were sailing up the coast. As his gaze followed them toward the Friendship Park along the U.S.-Mexican border, some ships were off-loading hundreds of ground troops.

  “Father, I present to you the army of the Pan-American Empire!” Pablo declared.

  Portland, Oregon

  Cruz looked with awe through the small window of the plane at the skyline of the city. Decay had already begun to take hold of the area. Abandoned cars had riddled every road and highway he saw on his approach to the airport. Now on the ground, he could see the decay in closer detail. Weeds were already growing out of cracks in the runway. Garbage lay discarded. Luggage sat on conveyor belts just outside planes, not touched for weeks. Some of the windows of the main terminal were smashed. Reports from his advance team were that most of the damage was cosmetic. Still, it would take a long time to get all electrical equipment back online.

  So much to do, he thought.

  The door to the command center opened, and Bethanny Wilbur stepped in.

  “Mr. Vice President. Sorry. Mr. President.”

  “It’s alright. What is it? You have that look,” Cruz said, swiveling away from the window to face Wilbur, who stood there holding a piece of paper.

  She walked over and fell into a chair.

  “Really, more bad news?” Cruz asked.

  “Your pick for VP has declined. She’s staying in Texas,” Wilbur said, tossing the sheet of paper on the table.

  “Shit. Well, back to square one.”

  “When I talked to her, she told me it’s really no better there than here. They are dealing with starvation, murder, and rioting en masse. These are her words, mind you, but she said large herds of people were coming into Texas from the East.”

  “Large herds, huh? Well, that’s not surprising. People thought that since they went independent they must be surviving okay, when all along this breaking away from us was more bravado politics than anything else.”

  “Maybe so, but it doesn’t look like we’ll get much from them since they’re knee-deep in it. Have you thought about the former governor of Alaska?”

  “Yes, I have. I need someone who’s willing to work hard. He just seems, I don’t know, lazy. I mean, he’s a good guy. I just don’t know if he’d be a good part of our team.”

  “The only reason I mention him i
s that he was a successful governor, popular. We could use Alaska’s support. I think they’ll come on board, but if one of their own were in the administration, then that would kinda marry them to us.”

  “Ha, we sound like some medieval chancellor whose job it is to find the appropriate bride for the king.”

  “We sorta are now. The days of politics are gone; it’s about getting things accomplished.”

  “I wish things were that easy; politics is such a pervasive thing. It would find a way to penetrate and pollute anything. That’s why it’s important to find the right match,” Cruz stated. He swung his chair around, stood, and began to stretch.

  “Where the hell is the advance team to take us to the secure location?” he asked, bending down and looking at the window.

  As if fate had heard him, a small parade of Humvees appeared from around one of the Jetways at the end of the taxiway.

  “Good, finally,” Cruz said. He began to gather his belongings and pack them up.

  The Humvees pulled up next to the plane. Moments later gunshots ring out.

  “Get down!” Cruz yelled as he ducked under the table, his preferred hiding spot for instances such as these.

  The sound of gunfire moved like a snake from outside to inside.

  Loud voices and yelling reverberated off the thin interior walls of the plane and made their way to just outside his door.

  Wilbur pulled out a pistol and held it to defend herself. She had taken up a position behind a chair.

  A loud banging on the door was followed by a gruff voice. “President Conner, come on out. We won’t hurt you.”

  Cruz looked puzzled.

  Wilbur shot the door several times.

  Cruz jumped, not expecting her gunfire, and covered his ears with anticipation of more shooting.

  Wilbur was terrified. She held the pistol straight out with her shaking arm.

  Nothing happened after her shooting. Then voices began to talk. But it was too difficult to understand them.

  Cruz didn’t know what to do. It was a mistake for Wilbur to think that she could defend them. Whoever had come in those Humvees had men and arms, enough to take out his security team.

  “Wilbur, put it down,” he ordered.

  “What? No, sir,” she replied defiantly.

  “Wilbur, we can’t win this!” he yelled at her.

  Just then automatic gunfire ripped through the door. Papers, pieces of wood, plastic, metal all were flying through the air as the bullets tore in, hitting the table, chairs, and cabinets in the small room.

  Cruz flinched again and ducked his head.

  Wilbur fell to the floor and held her hands over her head. Her desire to resist now gone, she dropped the gun.

  The gunfire stopped as quickly as it had started, and a voice filled the empty air. “President Conner, we’re coming in. Don’t shoot. We don’t wish to harm you.”

  “Then stop shooting!” Cruz yelled back.

  A moment passed before the door was kicked open.

  Cruz saw three men in camouflage uniforms enter and take up positions on either side of the table. One walked over to Wilbur, kicked the gun away from her, and commanded her to stay put.

  “I’m coming out!” Cruz said as he began to crawl out from under the table.

  He heard someone else enter the room as he was getting up. He looked and saw a tall, burly man wearing a desert camouflage uniform.

  “You’re not Conner?” the man said.

  “No. He’s dead. I’m President Cruz, his replacement.”

  The man looked at Cruz with his head cocked in curiosity, then said, “President Cruz, I’m Colonel Barone. Welcome to the Pacific States of America. You’re now my prisoner.”

  Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

  “General Baxter, we have a situation,” a tech sergeant reported.

  “What do you have, Sergeant?” he asked.

  “Here,” the tech sergeant, said, then pointed to the main screen. He had been monitoring the outside perimeter cameras when something caught his attention.

  “Looks like we have visitors. Nothing new,” Baxter replied, shrugging off the people on camera.

  At least once a week since the attacks, people would gather at the base entrance. Of course everyone at the base would ignore them, and eventually they’d leave.

  “No, sir, look here,” the tech sergeant said, zooming in the camera on a tall bald man holding a sign that read, open up or we kill him.

  “Okay, so what?” Baxter asked. He looked at the video feed, and all he saw was a man holding a sign above a hooded person.

  “Just that we’ve never had this happen. It’s strange.”

  “Sergeant, everything is strange now. Get used to it.”

  Baxter returned his attention to the logbook and walked off.

  Moments later the tech sergeant yelled out, “General Baxter, look!”

  Startled, Baxter turned, and what he saw on the screen shocked him. “Send a tac team topside with me ASAP!”

  Baxter followed closely behind his six-man tactical team as they stepped beyond the large blast doors of Cheyenne Mountain.

  The bright sun and brilliant blue sky seemed more intense since they had not seen the literal light of day for weeks.

  His tactical team members spread out and waited at the ready.

  Baxter walked past them and stopped a few feet short of the bald man.

  “We want to make a deal,” the bald man said with a deep baritone voice. “This man for food, water, and a vehicle.”

  “I don’t know who you are, but we don’t make deals with people like you. Now just hand over our man and we will let you go without any trouble,” the general replied.

  “Hmm. You don’t seem to know who we have here. This isn’t one of your soldiers who you keep sending in on a regular basis.” The bald man chuckled. “Why don’t I have him tell you himself who he is?” The man ripped off the hood.

  Baxter’s eyes widened, and the blood , drained out of his face when he saw who was kneeling just feet away from him.

  The bald man roughly tore off the duct tape that sealed the man’s mouth shut. He then smacked him in the back of the head and said, “Tell him.”

  The man squinted and blinked rapidly, trying to adjust his eyes to the bright sunlight. He looked around at everyone in front of him, focused his attention on Baxter, and said, “General, I’m Brad Conner, the President of the United States. Please do whatever this man says.”

  East of Austin, Nevada

  Nelson was tired after a long drive. They had covered more than four hundred miles since yesterday. He was happy, but he wouldn’t feel secure until they reached Idaho.

  He wondered what was in the envelope Gordon had had him give to Samantha. He assumed it was a letter, but what did it say? What could it possibly say to ease her mind? He just didn’t understand his friend. He knew the loss of Hunter was weighing heavy on both of them, but Samantha didn’t quit.

  She hadn’t left her trailer since they departed yesterday.

  Haley was the only proof of life to have come from the trailer when they had stopped during the long drive.

  Nelson knew time healed all things, but how long would it take for Samantha to heal from this?

  He would never forget the look in Gordon’s eyes as he told him what he was doing. Different scenarios ran through his mind now that it had all passed. Each one resulted in the same outcome.

  Samantha hadn’t asked him further questions about Gordon since he gave her the news. He was afraid that one day he’d have to answer those questions. But until then he would save those moments. That last night with Gordon was between him and his old friend, wherever he was now.

  The tap on his truck window startled him. He sat up and tried to see who it was, but the darkness outside made it impossible.

  “Yeah,” he called out.

  “It’s Lexi, you awake?”

  Exhaling deeply, he opened his truck door.

  “What’s up?”


  “Do you have a minute?”

  Remembering how short he’d been with her the day before, he decided he wouldn’t be now. “Sure. You want to sit in here?”

  “If you don’t mind; it’s chilly out,” she said and stepped inside the truck, closing the door behind her.

  Nelson took out his lighter and lit a small candle he had in a tin can on the dash. The soft light illuminated both of them.

  “So what’s—” he tried to ask before she interrupted him.

  Lexi looked at the tin can and the orange glow that emanated from it. Next to it sat the key she’d seen him use yesterday to unlock the supply trailer.

  Making a mental note, she said, “Hey, I never really got a chance to thank you. I now realize how bitchy I was. You guys have helped me a lot, and I can never repay you for that.”

  “Of course. No worries.”

  “That’s why I think I owe it to ya’ll to tell you.” She paused for a moment, then continued. “To tell you that I’m gonna take off in the morning.”

  “What? Where? Why would you do that?” Nelson asked. He was truly concerned for her.

  “You don’t know me. The thing is, I have something to do.”

  “What could you possibly have to do?” he asked as he watched her nervously scratching her arms.

  “Where you found me wasn’t just a labor camp; it was more like a concentration camp. The man who ran it is a cruel, sadistic fuck. He murdered my sister in cold blood. My baby sister, who did nothing wrong but fight back after refusing to be raped for the hundredth time by them. They beat her, took her out to a cross, and stabbed her in the heart. He’s a sick fuck, and I’m going to hunt him down. I’m gonna kill him.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss, but how are you going to find him, and even if you do, how will you kill him? This all sounds like suicide. Look, you have a chance with us. A new chance at life in Idaho.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.”

  “No, really? Do you think you can hide from these types of people? They’re probably everywhere now, feeding off the anarchy. If you think you’ll go to Idaho and live this peaceful life with unicorns and rainbows, you’re kidding yourself.” Lexi paused to catch her breath. “I may not survive this whole thing, but I will kill as many of those types as I can along my way.”