The End (16 page)

“Why didn't you come to us first before taking it upon yourself to circulate a community meeting?” Mindy asked, looking a bit put out.

Gordon looked at Mindy and said, “Mindy, please don't take offense, but I thought I needed to act. I feel this is a life-changing event and we must act now. I am not trying to step on anyone's toes here.”

“I am the HOA president and I feel it's important that I was informed before you decided to organize a community meeting. What if you're wrong? By having a meeting and announcing to our friends and neighbors your theory you could start a panic,” Mindy said in a scolding way.

“Mindy, please stop, just stop. This isn't necessary,” Gerald pleaded.

“No, Gerald, I won't. I am the head of this HOA and I feel it is important that we should have vetted his theory before we just jump to conclusions,” Mindy continued.

“Gordon, I appreciate your theory, but we should wait a few more days to make confirmation of it before we make any announcements and plans within our community,” Mindy said firmly.

“Sorry, Mindy, I will not stop my meeting, I have the right to talk to whomever; those who decide to come to my meeting, I will give them the truth. This is not some average situation. We do not have the luxury of waiting a few days. There are only a few days of food to go around in grocery stores as it is, and that counts the perishable foods. If this community is to survive till help comes, we must act now. I will not wait for you. I thought it prudent and respectful to come to you, but I can see that you still hold a grudge after the last incident. I'm not here to usurp what power position you think you have; I am here to ensure that as many people survive what is coming!” Gordon said. He was clearly disturbed by Mindy's attitude. He stood up and continued to speak. “You can join us at three p.m. in the central park. I'll announce to whoever shows up what I know is going on. Then I'll begin to organize efforts for our collective survival. You're more than welcome to come and participate but if you don't that's fine too.”

“Gordon, wait,” Gerald insisted. He looked at Mindy and shrugged his shoulders.

Mindy just sat; she was tapping her fingers on her crossed legs. Her anger was just hiding behind her pursed lips. She let out a deep sigh and said, “Gordon, I like you; I do. I just think that you approach things differently than most people. You're kind of a bull in a china shop. I prefer the way of careful and diligent thought versus shoot-from-the-hip decision making; however, I would agree that something is different with this particular situation and I will come to this meeting. I will trust your instincts on this one and only hope that you are not right for all of our sakes.”

“Thank you, your support will be helpful. With that said, then should we go over what I propose?”

“Sure,” Mindy said, nodding her approval.

Gordon sat back down and pulled a pad of paper out of his backpack.

“I have drawn up a plan for us to work from, and I made you a copy,” he said, handing her a second pad of paper.

She took the pad and reviewed them. “Well, based on what you have here, I would have to say this is a serious situation.” She handed the pad to Gerald, who looked it over and handed it back to Mindy.

“Look at page two, item seven.”

“Thank you, Gerald, yes I saw that. So Gordon, looking at this, it appears you are recommending we become, essentially, our own town?”

“Yes and no. We have three hundred and twenty-four homes in our neighborhood. Without most vehicles and specifically without support from anyone we have to tackle all the responsibilities that a town must. . . .”

“Like having a sheriff?”

“Yes, I just used that for lack of a better word, but we will need a sheriff, militia, or security force to protect what we have.”

“And who do you recommend for that position?” Mindy asked with a rhetorical tone.

“Without knowing everyone else in the community and their specific talents, I would volunteer myself for that position.”

With a slight grin, Mindy said, “Of course.”

“Mindy, if that's a problem then we can hold an election and see who our neighbors think would be best suited. Listen, I'm not here to gain position, all I want to do is survive this.”

“Gordon, let me contact the other board members; have a quick meeting. We will all be at the three p.m. gathering today. Okay?” Mindy stood up and Gordon followed. She walked up to Gordon and put out her hand. “Thank you for informing us of what you think is going on.”

Gordon took her hand. “You're welcome. I'll just show myself out.” He turned and left. After closing the door, he murmured, “What a bitch.” As he walked off, he thought to himself how clueless and insecure some people were. He looked around the neighborhood and everything looked normal per se, but it would change and change soon. He hoped he was wrong, he longed for his theory to be completely wrong, but knew he was right. He thought that for too long many Americans had taken everything for granted and assumed life would continue on uninterrupted. But history shows that it doesn't; all throughout time civilizations have risen and fallen, and now this could be the end of the American Dream.

USS
Makin Island

Sebastian stood on the railing of the USS
Makin Island
and looked at the white heads of the waves of the Indian Ocean. The cool breeze felt good on his face in contrast to the warmth of the waning sun. He looked across and saw the USS
New Orleans
just in the distance; the entire ARG was now heading in a southerly direction toward Diego Garcia. After the stunning announcement at the formation earlier, Gunny had collected his entire platoon in the berthing area to see what each Marine felt about their new mission. The decision was unanimous; all were in support of it and wanted nothing more than to get back to California. There were rumors of a few Marines and sailors being taken into custody because they disagreed. This was done as a procedural maneuver to prevent any type of conflict. Sebastian felt good that the decision-making of possibly leaving was taken away from him. No one knew what the future held, but when you're in the Marines there never is a guarantee of anything.

The hatch behind Sebastian opened and Tomlinson stepped out. He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his blouse pocket, lit one, and leaned on the railing next to Sebastian.

“This is all really somethin', isn't it?” he asked.

“Yes, it is. I agree with Barone, we have to get home. We have to take care of our own, period,” Sebastian said.

“I'm nervous about my family back east, but I guess there wasn't much I could have done even if we went to the East Coast.”

“At least your girl will be fine,” Sebastian said, turning to look at Tomlinson.

“How do you think we'll be able to get into Diego Garcia without causing a problem?”

“I don't know,” he said, looking up at the bridge of the ship. “But I bet they have a plan.”

 • • • 

“Major Ashley, how are things proceeding?” Barone asked his young executive officer. Major Ashley was a handsome man with light brown hair. He stood six feet tall and was chiseled. He graduated Quantico top of his class, and went through the ranks very fast due to his superior intelligence and political prowess.

“Sir, two-four's company commanders are reporting that we have seventeen Marines who are not in agreement with our new mission. Those Marines have been taken in custody.”

“Captain, what about one-one?” Barone asked, turning to Captain Tetter, who was 1st Battalion 1st Marines liaison on the
Makin Island
. He was as wide as he was tall. He was the kind of guy you'd find in the gym twice a day, but with his shaved head not one you'd want to meet in a dark alley.

“Sir, we have thirty-eight Marines. I believe that is because you are the one taking control.”

“Do you have any recommendations?” Barone asked

“Yes, sir. I do. You need to have a joint formation with Lieutenant Colonel Silver and show that there is solidarity between both battalion commanders.”

“Okay, let's do that immediately. I won't have a formation but a joint announcement and have us both speak about the new mission. Please make it happen when you get back to the
New Orleans
.”

“Yes, sir,” Tetter said.

Looking to the lone naval officer in the room, Barone asked, “How is the Navy looking?”

“Not good, sir, we've lost about twenty percent of our personnel across all ships. We've had some altercations and it might inhibit our abilities to operate the ARG effectively,” Navy Lieutenant Montgomery said. Montgomery was of average height with sandy blond hair. Not of impressive stature, he made up for it with his cockiness and straightforward style.

Barone had been pacing the room for the entire briefing. He finally walked to his chair and sat down. He turned to Montgomery and asked, “What are your suggestions?”

“Sir, I don't know. Many of the men feel like you have taken their ships. The talk is that these are Navy ships and the Marines have stolen them. We also have the issue that not everyone has family in California. Some actually had family back east.”

“I realize that not everyone has families in California, but many do. I can't make everyone happy. Going to California is the best plan. Like I said, once we land, if anyone wants to go on their own they can. We will give them a weapon and some supplies. I think we should also offer an incentive. All men in the end have something they want, everyone can be bought. In my announcement with Silver I will announce that all those who join us will receive bonuses.”

“Bonuses?” Montgomery asked.

“Yes, we need to incentivize them. At the moment we cannot offer pay. But soon we will have things of value.”

“What will that be, sir?”

“Gold and land,” Barone said.

“Really?”

“Yes, that will be our plan for payment for their loyalty. We will find gold and we have land back at Camp Pendleton that we will give to those who join our cause. We will give each a house and an acre of land.”

“How the hell can we do that?” Montgomery asked.

“Mr. Montgomery, we can do anything we want right now, we are Marines and we have three thousand plus well-armed fighting men who want to get home and want to know they will be taken care of. We will figure out the land issue later and the gold will come.”

All men at the table were looking at one another.

Ashley asked, “Sir, what is our objective in going to Diego Garcia? I have to assume it's more than just dropping off those who do not support us. It's a risky operation, you must know that.”

“Gentlemen, in order for any army or navy to operate we must have food, water, fuel, and supplies. Diego Garcia has all of them, plus the Second Squadron of MPS ships are there. We need those ships and we will take those ships.”

All the men in the room nodded.

“Smart move, sir,” Major Ashley said, still nodding.

“From there we'll head back north and cut through the Strait of Malacca toward the western Pacific.”

“Will we stop in Hawaii, sir?”

“Not a chance. That would be a bad move. By then the word will be out that we have mutinied. I don't want to engage in combat operations against fellow Americans. That's something I wish to avoid at all costs. All I want is to go back home, defend our families, and help rebuild.”

“So then the plan is after we hit Diego Garcia is to head nonstop for San Diego.”

“Correct. That is the plan, but as usual plans can change and we need to be flexible.” Barone looked around the table and asked, “Is that all, gentlemen?”

“Sir, what are we calling this mission?” asked Ashley.

Barone sat for a second, then responded, “We will call it Operation Homestead.”

Dade County, Florida

Conner could see why so many people moved and retired in Florida. The weather was perfect; it was December and the temperature was in the mid-seventies. The convoy of jeeps pulled up to the front gate of Governor Cruz's house. Conner jumped out of the jeep and walked up to the gate. He was met by two guards.

“May we help you, sir?” one of the guards asked.

“Yes you can, I need to speak to Governor Cruz immediately,” Conner said, standing there alone with his convoy behind him.

“Sir, may I ask who wishes to see him?” the guard asked, looking over Conner's shoulder at the small convoy of jeeps with armed soldiers and plainclothes men accompanying this stranger.

“Tell him it's Brad Conner and that it's a matter of national security.”

“One minute, sir,” the guard said. He backed away from the gate and approached his colleague. They whispered to each other before one of them started to walk briskly back toward the house.

Dylan stepped forward and handed Conner a binder and said, “Mr. President, what else should I bring with us for the meeting?”

“Nothing, Dylan, I won't need anything and I'll go by myself. This needs to be a private meeting. I've known Andrew since college and the best way to get through to him is to have us talk privately.”

“Yes, sir,” Dylan responded and walked away from Conner.

Conner walked back and forth in front of the gate, thinking about what he would say to Andrew. They had met each other in graduate school at the University of Iowa. They both were pursuing their master's degrees in American history. They both instantly clicked and spent a lot of time together. Not only did they share the same views on politics, they shared the same interest in sports and good beer. After grad school, they both found themselves successfully entering politics, with Andrew ascending to the governor's office for two terms in Florida. Andrew had been term-limited out of office and had since been spending his time writing his memoirs. If he could convince Andrew to become his VP, he would have a trusted ally and friend to help lead and rebuild the country.