“Granddad?”
“Hi, Hunter.”
“Granddad, it can’t be you. You’re supposed to be dead!” Hunter exclaimed in disbelief.
“You can’t always believe what you read,” Gordon said.
Hunter was in shock, but he extended his hand to his grandfather’s and shook it. Gordon gripped it tightly.
“Let’s go sit in my office,” Gordon recommended. He led them down the hallway to a set of large double doors that opened to a dimly lit space. The smell of cigar smoke wafted over Hunter. In the room were two large leather chairs with matching leather ottomans. Both were positioned in front of another fireplace, this one made of river rock. Against the wall across from the chairs was a leather love seat. It looked like a museum. As Hunter’s eyes scanned the space, he saw pictures of his family and relics of days gone by; men in uniform, flags and medals now encased in shadow boxes. Above the fireplace hung an M4 rifle. Hunter remembered seeing the many pictures of his grandfather during the Great Civil War, always with a rifle in his grip.
“Take a seat,” Gordon said, motioning to a chair. “Sebastian, come in here and turn these around to face the love seat.”
Sebastian jumped at his command and turned the chairs around.
Gordon plopped himself in one of the chairs and Hunter took the other. Sebastian sat across from them. At first an unnerving silence separated them all.
Sebastian finally broke it by saying, “Granddad, I told you he’d come.”
Gordon nodded at Sebastian and turned his attention to Hunter. “Hunter, I’m sorry this is how you had to meet me. And I’m even more sorry that you had to go through your life so far thinking I was dead.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“I will answer everything in time. I will tell you everything, like I told your mother many years ago.”
Hunter was dizzy from this revelation. His mind couldn’t grasp the enormity of it all.
“Why would everyone think you’re dead? Even Mom thinks you’re dead.”
“Everyone thinks I’m dead, except for a few chosen individuals who know the truth. Your mother is one of them,” Gordon said.
“Why would she lie to us?”
“Because I asked her to. We had to . . .”
“Had to?” Hunter replied, anger rising in his voice.
“I learned a long time ago that life is full of choices. I made the choice to do it this way, and for good reason. You shouldn’t be angry with your mother,” Gordon said.
“Why, what happened that made you do such a thing?” Hunter asked.
“It’s not a short or easy story, but let me first share with you that I’ve been watching and looking out for you all of your life. I never intended for us to ever meet because . . . well, it could be dangerous for you to know the truth, but two weeks ago a knock at my door led to this meeting. Your brother found me. He’s a good detective, I must say,” Gordon said with a smile.
Sebastian returned the smile; a sense of pride filled him to have his famous grandfather give him praise. “I’ll say it wasn’t easy but it kind of fell into my lap, the knowledge that you were even alive.”
“There’s an old saying: ‘Three can keep a secret if two of them are dead.’” Gordon grinned.
Hunter looked at Sebastian intently and asked, “Who was it? The woman in New Zealand?”
“Yes, a woman named Brittany. I was working this shitty landscaping job at a nursery home to make a few dollars and she asked me if I was Sebastian Rutledge. Just like that, she came up to me out of the blue. I don’t know how she knew who I was. It really doesn’t matter to me. But the conversation went from there; she eventually told me that Granddad was still alive.”
“Who’s Brittany?” Hunter asked, his focus now back on Gordon.
Gordon, lost in thought, didn’t answer.
“Granddad?” Hunter pressed. “Who was she?”
“Someone I knew many years ago. But she’s not important to the fact that you’re here. I’m so happy that Sebastian found me and that you’re now here. We have much to catch up on.”
“To say that we have some catching up to do is an understatement.”
“Come with me,” Gordon said, slowly standing up.
The brothers followed him out into the cold chill of the early afternoon. Hunter watched his grandfather take labored steps toward the small graveyard behind the house. Nine gravestones stood like monuments behind the wrought iron fence.
“This is why I had to fake my death those many years ago.” Gordon pointed toward the largest gravestone.
Hunter leaned in and read name on the gravestone. Samantha Van Zandt.
“I don’t understand this at all. Grandma died years after your supposed death. Unless—is she alive too?” Hunter exclaimed.
Gordon’s eyes grew hazy for a moment. “Unfortunately, she is not. Not a minute goes by that she doesn’t cross my mind. I loved her deeply. She was a fine woman. I hope you boys find a good woman like your grandmother.”
“But I don’t understand—how does our grandmother’s death relate to why you faked your own?”
“I made her a promise right there almost fifty-one years ago,” Gordon said, now pointing to an old paver stone patio just off the main deck of the house. “I’m happy that you boys are here for many reasons but one is to impart some knowledge and wisdom that I have had to learn the hard way. So often history tends to repeat itself because people forget the lessons of what happened before.”
“Then please tell us, please explain to us. Many out there praise you, but others curse you,” Hunter said.
“I’ve never worried about those who criticize. I learned a long time ago that some people just need to do that. But I do owe it to you to explain why I had to make that choice to exit the world. However, I need to start with the promise I made to your grandmother those many years ago so that it will give my decision context.”
“I’m all ears,” Hunter said.
Gordon shivered from the cold. His gray, thin hair was waving in the cool breeze. He looked at Hunter. Gordon saw his blood and his legacy in those green eyes. Ready to explain his side of his life, he said, “Let’s go back inside, grab a drink, and I’ll tell you both how it all went down.”
JUNE 24, 2015
“The promises of this world are, for the most part, vain phantoms . . .”
—Michelangelo
McCall, Idaho, United States
Both Gordon and Samantha smiled as they looked upon a hard day’s work. Just off the back of their house now stood freshly tilled earth—the beginnings of their garden. Close by, their daughter, Haley, was playing in a sandpit that Gordon had made her after they had settled into their new life in McCall. The deep and rich smell of the upturned dirt filled the air as they shared this moment of contentment and pride.
The roads had cleared enough by early May that the group set out from Eagle to complete their journey from San Diego. Almost five months to the date they had set out to make the trip, they had arrived. When they left San Diego, their group was comprised of six families, but the harshness of the trip and rash decisions of some members reduced that number to three by the time they reached McCall. They had lost many along the way, including those near and dear, but also gained some, including Gordon’s brother, Sebastian, Annaliese, and Luke. When they arrived at the first checkpoint in McCall, the celebration was bittersweet. The loss of their son, Hunter, Frank, Mack, and Holloway hung heavily on the group, but they were determined to make something out of their new home.
So much horror and loss had occurred on the long road, but now the hope was that McCall would be their sanctuary from the new world. There they could rebuild and reconnect with each other, and for Gordon and Samantha, that was of greatest interest to them. The traumas they both experienced had taken a severe toll on them personally, and their r
elationship had taken some hits. They both recognized the importance of mending those differences, not just for their own sake, but for Haley’s. Deep down their relationship had a solid foundation built on love, but it was cracked.
Samantha wanted to immediately forgive Gordon for leaving them after Hunter’s death, but she couldn’t. Gordon had painstakingly explained his position and she could understand why he would want to avenge Hunter, but she still felt deeply that his departure jeopardized her and Haley. Finally he broke down one night, his tough veneer melting away to show her a man ashamed of putting his son in the position to get captured and killed. He acknowledged that some of his reasoning for not being able to come back right away was due to his utter inability to face her. He felt he had let her down, that his decisions had cost them their only son. He explained what little peace of mind they could ever have would come knowing that Rahab was dead and could never harm anyone else again.
Even with his impassioned explanation, Samantha still felt hurt. She didn’t look at the world the way Gordon did, but then again she knew that was why their relationship worked. They shared similar values, but their approach to things was different. After his breakdown and tear-ridden confession, she decided that she had to forgive him completely if they were going to move on with their lives. Someone had once told her that no one can heal if the wound is left to bleed, and with that in mind, she decided that they couldn’t dwell on the past any longer.
“I forgot to tell you, Michael Rutledge has enough wood for us to build that smokehouse you wanted. He should be stopping by tomorrow sometime,” Gordon said.
“That’s great news. I like the Rutledges,” Samantha replied with a smile.
“Yeah, they’re good people. I’ve noticed that you and Tiffany are BFFs,” Gordon joked.
Samantha shot him a look, “BFF? I haven’t heard that phrase in a long time. Gosh, seems like yesterday that was so important.”
“Friends are important.”
“I know friends are important, it’s just that I was so focused on having quote-unquote friends and doing the mommy stuff with the ladies back in San Diego that I kinda lost sight of what a real friend is. You know, play dates, dinner dates, and mommy nights out, blah, blah, blah. Keeping up with everyone else distracts you from the important things.”
“I wonder what happened to all of them.”
“Well, I’m sure Marilyn and Irene didn’t make it out alive.”
“Irene, maybe—she’d eat her own young to stay alive! Actually the best thing she could have done was knock off her drunk loser of a husband first; that probably would have given her and her pack of wild children a fighting chance.” Samantha laughed.
“Oh, and Marilyn, that snob and her ‘look at me and how nice all my stuff is.’ I just loved her ‘brand name this or that’ attitude. I hope that Versace bag kept the Villistas away because her husband, ‘the man who hated guns,’ wasn’t about to do anything,” Gordon said.
“Anyway, enough about them. I am just grateful for the good friends we’ve had and the new ones we’ve met.”
“I like Michael a lot, but he drones on about politics all the time,” Gordon said.
“Don’t kid yourself, I know you love to talk politics.”
“What? I hate politics!”
“Yeah, right. You hate politicians but you’ve never walked away from a good old political debate.”
Gordon cracked a large smiled and said, “You’re right, but can he talk about anything other than Casadonia?”
“Cascadia, not Casadonia.”
“Whatever. I’m not the biggest fan of how the U.S. was run before, but at least I know some of the people who run it now. Trying to secede and break away will only bring bad things.”
“Wait a minute, didn’t you tell me other states had seceded without issue?” Samantha asked.
“Yes, but I can’t believe President Conner’s going to let it keep happening. Also, what do Michael or the other Cascadians know about governing?”
“Michael must have some sway—he’s convinced Sebastian to join his cause.”
“Don’t remind me,” Gordon lamented. He had been to a couple Cascadian Independence meetings. He listened to what they had to say and liked most of it, but he just couldn’t get his mind around pushing for secession, especially since he had allies in Cheyenne. For him it didn’t make practical sense, but Sebastian was a convert, and a proud one at that.
“Whatever you do, don’t be an ass to Michael. I like him and Tiffany.”
“What you’re asking me is to not piss him off by saying something like, ‘Michael, please shut the fuck up about the Republic of Casadonia’?”
Samantha leaned over and kissed him and then said, “You’re a pretty smart guy—that’s exactly what I’m asking you to do.”
“Hey, look how happy she is,” Gordon commented to Samantha while nodding over to Haley. A grin stretched across his face.
“Yeah, she’s adjusted well. It helps being here. I know things aren’t perfect, but I wouldn’t have guessed it would have gone so well.”
“Right, with everything that has happened, I would have bet that even McCall would have been a soup sandwich,” Gordon said, still grinning. He continued, “They’ve done such a great job, holding it together up here. These are good people.”
“It’s also a matter of timing; you heard the stories about weeks after. They had their issues too.”
“I know, but they dealt with them swiftly. Mayor Waits and Chief Rainey have been a godsend to this area.”
“When is your next shift?” Samantha asked.
“Not till tomorrow. I appreciate you letting me get out there and help. It means a lot to me.”
McCall police chief Rainey had asked Gordon if he’d volunteer to be a part-time police officer. At first Gordon jumped at the chance to help, but Samantha resisted. But after spending a few weeks settling in, she saw the importance of Gordon having an active role in their community. She knew he had much to offer, and this was something he was good at; but she now had her eyes on something different.
“I know I was resistant at first but this town has been good to us, and we need to give back, just as long as it doesn’t take you away from me too much.”
Gordon grabbed Samantha’s hand firmly. “Hey, I love you. I won’t do anything without first running it by you and getting your input.”
“I’ve wanted to suggest something to you but I think I keep talking myself out of it.” She paused. “There’s an opening coming up on the McCall City Council. I thought that . . .”
“You want me to run for city council?” Gordon asked, a bit of shock in his voice.
“Yes, I think the best way to keep us safe is to have you in place to make decisions.”
Gordon sat back and thought about it. He hated politics, and nothing in life came without the politics of the position attached to it.
“It will also keep you home more often. When you do your night shifts, it’s lonely in bed.”
“Sam, I don’t know what to say. Let me think about it.”
“Well, hurry up, there’s a special election in August.”
“You are definitely full of surprises, I will say that,” he said, grinning.
She looked at his rugged and scarred face. “I know there isn’t a guarantee what tomorrow will bring, I just want you here when the unknown comes.”
“I will be.”
• • •
When they had arrived in McCall, they were interviewed by Chief Brent Rainey. New people were welcome, but under certain criteria. Fortunately for them, they passed the first test; they owned property within the city limits. After much back and forth with Rainey, Nelson, Gretchen, Melissa, Eric, Seneca, and Beth were allowed to stay too. Sebastian, Annaliese, and Luke were considered Gordon’s family and allowed in without question. The agreemen
t to let the others come in required that they actively participate in the police patrols and other community-based endeavors created by the McCall leadership, including teaching responsibilities at the school, harvesting of community farms, and road maintenance. Gordon and his group were happy to pitch in in exchange for a safe place to call home.
For the first few weeks, the entire group had to stay with Gordon and his family, but eventually they found housing elsewhere. Gordon loved his group, but when the last of them left for their own home, he was happy for them. The abundance of homes came from the fact that McCall had been a town built around recreation. Payette Lake and Brundage Mountain had provided a recreational industry that helped the town economically after the logging mill closed down in the 1980s. With an emphasis on world-class recreation, the town blossomed and many people from out of town built and purchased homes. After the lights went out, many of these homes were vacant. Some of those owners made their way to McCall, but many would never again lay eyes on their second homes. The surplus of homes was a blessing for Gordon’s group. Of course if the owners ever arrived, they’d be asked to leave, but so far this had never happened. Rainey’s department was in charge of this placement program and so far it had worked out successfully and without incident.
While Rainey had allowed Gordon’s group to stay, he was not open to every person or group that came along. Brent Rainey was a no-nonsense man, a former cop and transplant from New York. Upon his early retirement from the New York Police department, he moved to McCall and settled down. He had never stepped foot in Idaho, much less out west, but he was a man in search of a new life. His wife had died from cancer years earlier, and McCall provided him a respite from those painful memories and a place to start fresh. Every time he looked into the face of a newcomer he approached with an open mind, hoping that they might be sincere—he had his own life to use as an example. However, he also knew the realities of the current world, and the town couldn’t allow anyone who would disrupt the peace, or those who had to be taken care of constantly. It wasn’t that McCall was without generosity, it just couldn’t be everything to all people.
The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) Page 2