The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4)

by G. Michael Hopf

  “I’m okay now, Mommy.”

  “Bad dream?” Samantha asked as she embraced Haley.

  “No.”

  “Well, everything will be okay, I’m here now,” Samantha said, rocking her.

  Samantha sang a lullaby, and as she laid Haley’s head back down on the pillow she asked, “Who were you talking to?”

  “What?”

  “When I came in your room, you were sitting up. It looked like you were talking to someone.”

  Haley turned away from her.

  “Haley, it’s all right. What’s wrong?”

  She rolled back over and asked, “Promise me you won’t get mad?”

  “Oh, honey, I promise. What is it?”

  “It’s Uncle Sebastian.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I was talking to Uncle Sebastian. He came to me and told me that he was fine and to be a good girl.”

  Samantha didn’t know how to deal with Haley’s stories but decided to just play along. But deep down, she was a bit freaked out.

  “I had a nightmare that he died and then he was sitting on my bed. He talked to me,” Haley explained.

  “Okay, we’ll talk more in the morning. Time to go back to bed,” Samantha said as she lowered the brightness of the lantern. When she stood up to leave, the phone began ringing in her bedroom; she jumped when she heard it. Chills spread through her body and the hairs on her neck stood. She knew who was calling and why.

  JULY 11, 2015

  “Only the dead have seen the end of the war.”

  —George Santayana

  Smith’s Ferry, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  The image of Sebastian being murdered was burned into Gordon’s memory. The temptation to mourn Sebastian was strong, but he knew doing so now was not smart, nor would his brother approve. So to fight the urge, he kept himself busy after the battle. Along with the others, he surveyed the battlefield and took inventory of what spoils in equipment and hardware they had seized.

  The battle to south of Rainbow Bridge, just east of Smith’s Ferry, was the main engagement. Schmidt had sent his main force across the river and into the hills through small unimproved roads with the hopes they’d reach Round Valley. Once there they’d be able to envelop Gordon.

  What Schmidt didn’t know and the reason he also failed at the Rainbow Bridge was he assumed Gordon didn’t have an organized and armed force of his own. Schmidt’s hubris cost him the battle and his small army. The men Gunny’s company didn’t kill ran off and dispersed into the countryside. Fugitive number one was Major Schmidt himself. Gordon wanted him like nothing else.

  With the battle won and the spoils counted, the men from McCall all gathered around Gordon, Charles, Gunny, and Michael. They had been chatting near the wreckage of a smoldering tank. Gordon noticed the men gathering first, their eyes focused on the men they considered their leaders. He stared back and saw in them pride and fear, but not hope. Then an idea came rushing to him like a freight train at high speed. This was his moment. This was the time for him to rise and take a position of strength. Very few times in history do moments like this come along, and he wasn’t about to let it slip past. Then thoughts of Sebastian came to him, followed by anger. Some would rejoice in their victory then settle back into a haze of complacency. He had seen it before and knew the natural instinct for many was to avoid conflict. But he knew he could prevent that mind-set from setting in. He not only wanted revenge for Sebastian, he needed it. If he was going to get it, he had to be the one calling the shots.

  He looked over at a man he knew from McCall, a friend of Michael’s and an ardent Cascadian. In his hands, he held a Doug flag that was duct-taped to a large stick. He walked over, took the flag, and jumped on the tank.

  Standing tall on the charred tank, Gordon held the flag high and began to speak. “Some of you know me and some don’t. My name is Gordon Van Zandt. I’m a simple man who wants to live in peace. I’m like you, all of you, no better. I want to live in a place where I know my family will be safe from the types of thugs who sought to harm us. Together we all stood and fought back against the tyranny that our government has resorted to, just to retain power. Together we all, citizens of Cascadia, defended our new land. Together we came and took a stand against tyranny and for liberty! Today we proclaimed to the powers in Cheyenne that we won’t be silenced, our voice will be heard until it’s so loud that all will hear the name Cascadia. Today, we made history, for today we gave birth to our new country, the Republic of Cascadia. Years from now men will talk about this day and wish they could have been here among us as we declared our independence and formed a true republic!” Gordon thrust the flag high above his head and hollered, “Long live the Republic of Cascadia!”

  Cheyenne, Wyoming, United States

  Conner knew his luck would eventually run out. Too many great things had been happening; he just didn’t think the end of that record would be so devastating.

  Schmidt had survived the Battle of Rainbow Bridge and fled into the mountains. There he had found a safe place to call from his sat phone, in the hopes that Conner could rescue him. If it had been just any commander, Conner would have left him to his own devices, but Schmidt was no ordinary man. He was Conner’s hammer, and a builder needs his hammer.

  Conner picked up the phone and dialed out. “Get General Baxter in here, ASAP.”

  Fortunately for Conner, Baxter was just downstairs. Within minutes he was sitting before Conner.

  “I need a SAR team to be deployed to Idaho immediately,” Conner ordered.

  “A SAR team to Idaho? Who the hell is in Idaho who needs rescuing so bad?” Baxter asked.

  Almost embarrassed to tell him, Conner opened up about the mission there and what had happened. He detailed exactly what Schmidt had told him.

  If Baxter were not a disciplined man, he would have laughed out loud upon hearing the story. He didn’t like knowing that a major U.S. military force had been beaten by a ragtag group in Idaho, but deep down he was happy that Schmidt was humbled. He also hoped that this event humbled the president too, to the point that he and the others would be included in the planning and implementation of all military exercises. Knowing that the timing wasn’t right to gloat and demand a new way, he kept his opinion to himself.

  “Did the major give coordinates?” Baxter asked.

  “Yes, it’s all here,” Conner said, handing Baxter a piece of paper.

  “I’ll get right on this, sir,” Baxter said as he stood up to leave.

  “This goes nowhere.”

  “Yes, sir, I wouldn’t want to embarrass the major.”

  “It’s not about embarrassing the major, it’s about not advertising that we can be beaten. This type of thing will only embolden others!” Conner scolded.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “General, this was a serious loss for us. We have lost a sizeable force, approximately five thousand men, along with tanks and other equipment.”

  “Yes, sir,” Baxter acknowledged.

  Conner could sense the slight joy in Baxter. He knew Schmidt wasn’t liked by the others but to rejoice in your allies’ losses was disgusting to Conner.

  “General, are we good?”

  “Sir?”

  “You know what I mean. Are we good, between you and me?”

  What pleasure that had just been displayed on Baxter’s face vanished.

  “Yes, sir, we are good.”

  “Glad to hear it. Go get the major and leave me.”

  Baxter turned and exited.

  Conner knew this wasn’t over with the Cascadians. If they had enough of a force to stop Schmidt, they were more of a serious threat than they had anticipated. He swiveled in his chair till he was facing the large window; he leaned back, closed his eyes, and let it all sink in.

  A knock on his door jolted him out of his though
ts. “Come in.”

  Heather walked in and placed a message on his desk from Cruz in Cheyenne Mountain. Before he read it, he had the sinking suspicion that more bad news was coming. So as to not add to what was a bad day, he pushed it aside, swung around, leaned back, and pondered his next step. He had achieved much in the past weeks, so a few missteps were bound to happen. Like the chess master plots his move with an eye for his opponent’s countermove, he would now wait to see what the Cascadians did next. He had many other pieces in play on the table, but he wouldn’t rest until he checkmated Gordon Van Zandt.

  McCall, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  The first thing Gordon saw when he parked the Humvee at his garage was the small brown hummingbird. He stared at the little bird, mesmerized by the blur of its wings. Moving in jarring and rapid motions the bird moved close to the shattered windshield before darting away. He quickly looked to see where it had flown but it was gone. He’d seen the bird before; it was one that he and Haley had watched weeks ago in the garden. It had found a home close by and was just going about its day unaware of the tragedy that had occurred hours ago. Its life was going on peacefully, unlike his, which had taken another radical turn. But maybe the little bird had its own troubles and he just wasn’t aware. Maybe in its short existence it was fighting to cling to life like he was.

  Once again, Gordon’s life had been hammered at the hands of men with murder and power in their hearts. The battle last night was decisive; they had dealt a severe blow to Schmidt and Conner. However, this was only the first battle in the war—a war he never asked for, a war that he knew would be bloody and horrific. Gordon was a man familiar with history, and never in history had civil wars been conventional. Civil wars brought out the worst in people; it showcased bitter and personal rivalries that made it a type of warfare that knew little boundaries.

  Even though Cascadia had won, Gordon had lost. He had already lost his son and with him went his soul, but now he had lost his only brother and with him went his heart. Gordon refused to lose anyone else close to him. He would do whatever was necessary and utilize whatever means were at his disposal to ensure his family was safe. The only way he knew to do that was to take the fight to them. He would not rest until everyone who had been involved in Sebastian’s death had fallen. Even if it meant killing thousands, he would not stop until he and Cascadia were free.

  His meditative state was broken when the sound of wood and metal drew his attention to the front door. He looked and saw Samantha, then Haley came from behind her and grasped her leg. Finally Luke appeared and stood next to Samantha. All were staring at him as he sat in the bullet-riddled and smashed-up Humvee.

  So much had been lost since that fateful day over seven months ago. When their old lives came to an end in San Diego, he did everything he could to make it work, but it failed. As they drove down the long road he came face-to-face with the horrific consequences of making a wrong decision. The purpose of bringing Samantha and Haley to McCall was to find a sanctuary from what the world had become, but even there he had failed. He failed to see things or failed to anticipate the evil that lived in the hearts of others. Now he had crossed the line of departure and there was no going back. He was at war with the very country he had sworn to defend so many years ago.

  He looked at his family, what remained of it, anxiously waiting for him to come to them. The new world was harsh, unforgiving, and cruel, but he would never surrender or give up. He knew that in order for him and his family to survive he would have to embrace the new world, let it envelop him like a warm blanket.

  He opened the door and painfully stepped out. He looked down at his clothes; they were torn, bloodied, and stained. He’d remove them later, but what he could never remove was the torn person he’d become.

  EPILOGUE

  OCTOBER 19, 2066

  • • •

  McCall, Idaho, Republic of Cascadia

  “Oh my God, that is one of the craziest—no, it’s the craziest—story I’ve ever heard,” Sebastian exclaimed.

  “Don’t be so rude,” Hunter reprimanded him.

  “I wasn’t being rude.”

  “It is a crazy story, Hunter. I’d feel the same way if someone told me my life too,” Gordon said.

  “It’s not a story, Granddad,” Hunter said, trying to explain his outburst.

  “Good to see you both have the hot Van Zandt blood,” Gordon joked.

  “Mom never let us forget,” Hunter replied.

  “Oh, your mother, she’s a firebrand. Did she ever tell you what she did to the man who tried to assassinate me during the ’22 election?”

  Hunter and Sebastian looked at each other then back to Gordon.

  “Ah, no, what happened?”

  “That’s for another time, but I’ll let you know, and soon.”

  “Please tell us, c’mon,” Sebastian begged.

  “I want to know why you faked your own death,” Hunter said.

  “I will, I will, be patient.”

  “I really need to be writing all of this down. I’m hearing stuff that no one knows about,” Sebastian said excitedly.

  “I better do it, little brother; I seem to remember you flunked English.”

  “But I aced sign language,” Sebastian remarked, holding up his middle finger.

  “While you boys scrounge around for something to write on, I need to get up and stretch these old bones.”

  Gordon slowly walked around the house, but like so often, the back deck called him. There he had many memories of his friends, Hunter, Haley, and most importantly, Samantha, the love of his life. He walked out and sat in the same spot they’d sit. For a man who was so practical and pragmatic, he was equally sentimental. What the boys didn’t know was the house hadn’t changed a bit; it was exactly like it was when he bought it almost sixty years ago.

  After the great civil war, they left McCall and moved to Olympia, the new capital of the republic. There they stayed for many years, but he never thought of it as home. When time came for him to “retire” from politics, he came back to McCall and the old cabin. Its walls held a collection of memories, many of them happy ones from before the war and even before the lights went out. Many objects throughout were a trigger to that happier time. When he looked at the carpet, he didn’t see worn-out and stained fabric, he saw the place where Hunter crawled when he was a baby or where Haley would play with her dolls. When he looked at the dusty and faded drapes, he saw the kids’ favorite hiding spots. Whenever he’d see the cracked mirror that hung above the vanity in the master bath, Samantha’s youthful and beautiful reflection would be cast. This place held memories that could not be replaced. He longed for his life before; so many times he would press his eyes closed tight, pray, and imagine that when he opened them, he’d be there, but as a young man again and free of all the physical and emotional scars. In his vision, he would hear laughter and turn to find Samantha playing with Hunter and Haley. They’d see him and smile and beckon for him to come and join in on the fun. No matter how real every dream and vision he had, he’d wake to the truth, to the now, a place where he was alone.

  A loud banging on the door startled Hunter and Sebastian. They looked at each other then looked outside to see if it was Gordon, but he was still sitting.

  “Didn’t you lock the gate?” Hunter asked.

  “Of course I did.”

  Hunter walked to the front door, turned the handle, and almost jumped when he saw who it was. “Mom!”

  “Can you believe that he hasn’t changed the lock on the gate?” she said, holding up a key.

  “What are you doing here? How did you know?”

  Haley walked right in and looked down the hall then into the kitchen; she looked at them and asked, “Where is he?”

  Sebastian pointed to the back.

  Haley put her hand on her chest as if catching her breath when she caught a gli
mpse of him.

  “Why didn’t you tell us? Why did you lie to us?” Hunter asked, a tinge of irritation in his voice.

  She turned to him, and with a motherly tone of admonishment she answered him. “Sometimes parents lie to protect their children.”

  Sebastian looked on as he watched what had been a familiar battle his whole life, the two alpha personalities, his mother and brother.

  “I just don’t understand the whole cover-up! This is huge!” Hunter barked.

  Haley walked up to him and placed her hand on his face; she gently patted his cheek and said, “Sweetheart, we did it all for you and your brother. I know you’re having a hard time with this but trust me when I tell you that your grandfather had no choice but to surrender to the political forces that spawned within the republic. Building a nation is different than governing one. I”—she looked outside, then faced Hunter again—“we will tell you everything. We will tell you and your brother how it all came to be. Just know that he did it for family. Everything that man has ever done has been for family.”

  Hunter saw the raw emotion in his mother, which softened his attitude. He trusted her and would wait for the answers to be revealed.

  She hugged her two sons before rushing to the sliding door. She paused for a moment to calm her nerves then walked onto the sun-bleached deck.

  Her shadow cast long across Gordon as he sat with his eyes closed. She looked down on the man who had done so much for her.

  He breathed deeply through his nose and captured a scent of a woman. With his eyes still closed, he smiled and said, “It must have worked this time.” Thinking it was Samantha, he put out his hand and asked, “Is that you, my love?”

  Haley smiled as a tear quickly ran down her face. She took his shaking and wrinkled hand. “It’s me, Daddy.”

  Gordon opened his eyes, smiled broadly, and said, “Haley, my little baby girl, you came home.”