The End (18 page)

As Gordon was walking into his house, he heard a voice he had not heard in a long time. Looking down the candle-lit hall he saw Nelson.

“Nelson?”

“Yep, it's me, good buddy!” Nelson yelled.

“Oh my God, am I glad to see you!” Gordon exclaimed.

Nelson greeted him with the same upbeat and humorous attitude that was his trademark. “Hey man. Great to see you! How about paying the electric bill?”

Gordon smiled and said, “Nelson, my man, it's going to take more than a check to get the lights back on.”

Nelson was tall with an athletic build. His hair was a light brown with natural highlights of blond from spending so much time outside. He was a very active person; if he wasn't working at the firehouse, he could be found on his board in the ocean, surfing. He was generous of spirit and with anything he had. He felt it important to give to his hometown; this is why he became a fireman and EMT. Gordon liked Nelson for his fun-loving and carefree attitude as well as his strong family values and principled beliefs. Nelson had resented how San Diego had changed since his childhood; gone in many ways were the days of flip-flops and beach shorts. He felt San Diego had become just a mini-L.A., or, as Nelson put it, Hell A. Nelson and Gordon got along from day one, they appreciated many of the same things like good beer, great whiskey, and a lifestyle that was about working and playing hard.

While the events of the day could be measured as positive, the sight of Nelson made the day perfect. Gordon hoped Nelson wasn't just passing through. He needed quality people on his team, and Nelson had the skills needed and the right attitude to see any job done.

“Can I get you a drink?” Gordon asked.

“I can never say no to you.”

“Not until you eat some dinner,” Samantha said from the kitchen.

Gordon turned his attention to Samantha, who was busy making dinner on a Coleman stove that sat on top of the old burners of their electric range. Four lanterns provided adequate light for her to work.

“How long before dinner?” Gordon asked, walking into the kitchen and kissing Samantha on the head.

“Almost done. Can you please put the paper plates and plastic utensils out?”

Looking over at Nelson, who winked, Gordon replied, “Sure.”

“Samantha, I'm amazed by what you can do with only candlelight and a propane stove. The stew was great,” Nelson said, relaxing into his chair.

“Thank you, I'm glad you liked it. I have to say I miss my salads but hopefully in a few months we'll have some fresh veggies.”

“Hey, sweetie, I was going to take Nelson to my office to discuss some things, okay?”

“Sure.”

“Follow me; let's go to my office so we can chat.”

Gordon grabbed a lit candle and escorted Nelson across the house to his office. Along the way Gordon grabbed two glasses and a bottle of Maker's Mark.

As Gordon poured a glass of bourbon for Nelson, he said, “I have to say, my friend, seeing you is really good.”

“Same here, buddy. I'm glad you all are okay,” Nelson said, now settled into his chair.

Gordon sat down and asked, “So I know you're not here just for the whiskey. What's up?”

“Remember all those conversations we had over a glass of good bourbon like this? Well, as soon as the lights went out I knew some shit had gone down so I decided to check on you.”

“You made the right call. What are your plans?”

“First, I'd like to know what you make of all this.”

“To make a long story very short, I think we've been attacked by an EMP and this is all the calm before the shit storm begins,” Gordon said, then took a big drink of whiskey.

“I figured something like that happened, so let me ask you the same question: What are your plans?”

“Well, right now I'm hunkering down with my family; we have stocked up on food and water. Now I'm trying to get the neighborhood organized. Things are going to get real bad and we need to be ready for when it does.”

Nelson took a drink and said, “Damn, I love Maker's.” He looked at the glass and then asked with a slight grin, “I suppose offering someone a little ice would be out of the question.”

Knowing Nelson's sense of humor Gordon played along. “I only serve ice to my upstanding and reputable guests.”

Nelson smiled and said, “So what do you think is going to happen?”

“Before I answer that, what's up with your firehouse? What have you heard?”

“Nothing, just rumor; the station is completely down, no power, trucks don't work. I stopped by and only the chief and another guy were there. Their replacement shift never made it in. The chief asked me to stay, but I told him I had things to do and that I'd swing back around to see what I could do for them. I have to admit, it kinda seems useless now, based on what you're guessing happened. If we don't have operable trucks and such, what's the use of a fire department? I'm tellin' ya, Gordon, this is some crazy shit. I knew you'd have a good feel for what was happening since you were Special Forces and all.”

“I wasn't Special Forces, just a grunt, buddy.”

“So tell me, what do you think is going to happen now?”

“Well, that would have to be the golden question; you remember what happened after Katrina and Sandy, don't you? Well it will be a thousand times worse but there will be no National Guard or police to come help. This thing has paralyzed everyone. I guess for now the local and county governments are scrambling but they will soon break down under the stress of it all. I guess after only a few days all government will be gone.”

“Really, that soon?”

“Yeah, let's face it; we are humans and for one, how do people get to work? How do they do anything even if they make it to the offices? If local government lasts a few days, that would be a generous. Now, some of the military locally might have been hardened against the attack but they will first take care of their own. That leaves all two-point-whatever million out there fending for themselves with enough food to last three days at most. The wheels of this bus will come off fast. It's very simple, Nelson. We need to move on this fast and get as much as we can. That then leaves me with asking you, what are your plans? We could use you around here.”

“Well, now that you've left me with a warm and fuzzy feeling, I don't know.”

“We could really use someone of your talents here. You can stay here, and to be honest we could also use your vehicle. What we can provide is a secure area with food and water. You can help with our community clinic or hospital. I understand that you may want to go stay with your family, but what if I sweeten the pot and offer them all sanctuary here behind our gates?”

“Well, your gates aren't all that,” Nelson said with a chuckle.

“What?”

“I made it in here now, didn't I? And I'm not Special Forces like you.”

“That will end soon. The gates were left open right after the attack. My plan is to lock this place down and create a mini-city state. My plan calls for all services that a town has from hospital to militia.”

“Damn, man, you don't waste time,” Nelson said as he leaned forward and poured each of them another glass full of Maker's.

“This is life and death, Nelson, truly life and death. Please say yes and let's get your family here ASAP. We could use good people like you here.”

“I'm tempted, let me sleep on it. By the way, is it cool if I crash here tonight?”

“Of course you can stay. Even though you haven't given me an answer, let me show you my detailed plan and get your thoughts.”

Gordon spent the next hour covering in great detail his plan for Rancho Valentino while also dropping hints to Nelson to stay on board. He needed more people he could trust, and people with strong skills like Nelson. The world was different now; the skills needed to survive were in only a few hands. The skills of yesterday were now worthless. The skills needed in a cubicle were of no value, a degree in human resources or marketing wasn't going to cut it in this new economy. In one flash; the world had gone back to the eighteenth century, but without the knowledge of those foregone years. Once the war over resources began, things would be violent and bloody and Gordon not only needed food and water, he needed all the able-bodied people he could get to protect what they had.

Decisions determine destiny.

—Frederick Speakman

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Conner sat in his quarters staring at the stark gray walls. The air was stale and cold and the lights gave off an eerie luminescence that fit his mood. He had just come back from burying his son. His wife was able to keep a sense of composure during the ceremony, but now she sat in the other room sobbing. Her sobs echoed off the concrete and steel walls of what would be his home for a long time. He had attempted to console her but his attempts failed. He knew it would take time for her to get over the death of their only son.

While she did not find fault with him, she was angry that he did not show more emotion. If only she could read his mind, he thought; the sense of loss, anger, and sadness filled him up, but he also needed to suppress it so he could be effective as the new president.

His mind then started to focus on the task at hand. He needed to lead his country through this catastrophe and hoped that on the other end there would still be a country. He did not want to leave her during this time, but he knew he must go meet with Griswald and Vice President Cruz to discuss their next move. During the flight to Colorado, Griswald was able to report that all military in Afghanistan had made it out safely and that they were heading directly for the eastern seaboard.

Conner had also been able to speak with the Australian prime minister again. He had pledged their full support to assist the United States. The prime minister still was unsuccessful in garnering more information on the attacks. Conner felt anxious; he felt he needed to act quickly to show those responsible that while they had hit the United States hard the country was not out. Conner and Griswald had gotten into another back and forth over the use of their nuclear arsenal against those enemies. What Conner did not expect is that his new VP sided with Griswald. Cruz's support of what they called a more “diligent and cautious” approach had taken Conner by surprise; he had just assumed that his old friend would agree with him. Conner had decided not to make any decisions until he could process Griswald's and especially Cruz's objections. When he stood up to leave his quarters he thought of going to his wife, but stopped himself short and just left. He walked down the dimly lit passageways of the bunker toward the command post. He had called another meeting to give his thoughts on what type of response should be given and when.

When he approached the door to the command post, he heard someone call his name. He turned and saw Cruz coming from the opposite way. They both greeted one another and Cruz asked to speak with him privately.

Without knowing another place to go, they both decided to just find the closest closet and chat. After checking several doors they found a small storage closet that would suffice.

“Brad, I've thought a lot about our meeting last night and while I have reservations I'm with you on whatever decision you make; however, I am concerned about General Griswald.”

“In what way are you concerned?” Conner asked, crossing his arms and looking curious.

“I can't peg it, but I think I overheard him say something like
‘I won't let this happen'
in relation to your proposal.”

“Really? Hmm. Well, let's not jump to any conclusions. The general seems like a good man and I understand his concerns; I have them, too, but I have a responsibility to take care of this country and to ensure we can rebuild without the threat of further attacks. Now, if that's it, let's go to the meeting.”

Both men left the closet and went to the command post. It was a large room staffed by over a dozen Air Force and Army personnel who sat behind computer consoles. All along the wall were large monitors, many of them were dark. No one in the room seemed to take notice of Conner or Cruz. It might be that they did not know who they were. They both walked past everyone and into the briefing room that looked over the command post. Inside the room was a large table like any board room would have. There sat Griswald and his staff. When both Conner and Cruz walked in, the general and his staff stood up. After a few pleasantries everyone sat down.

Griswald started the meeting by saying, “Mr. President, I have compiled everything you asked for yesterday concerning a nuclear strike plan.”

Leaning forward on this table Conner said, “Great, General. Please proceed.”

“Mr. President, we have available to us the weapons to strike multiple targets in each of the following countries: Iran, Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, North Korea, Yemen, Somalia, Libya, and Syria.”

“Once ordered, how long for the strikes to be over?”

“From start to finish, about thirty minutes, sir.”

“Okay, good; let's move on. Have we been able to reach the prime ministers in Turkey and Israel?”

“Yes sir, we have. They are pledging whatever support they can. Israel has expressed their concern for their own safety, of course, and cannot at this time devote any military assets to us.”

“What about our neighbors to the south?”

“Sir, you mean Mexico or South America?”

“Both.”

“We have been able to contact the military in Mexico and they are dealing with the same situation we are; Mexico City was not affected, but easily half of the country was. I haven't been able to reach the Mexican president. We have reached out to your counterparts in Central and South America and they wish to express sorrow for the attacks and want to give us as much support as possible.

“Please set up conference calls with all the leaders you can get and patch them through to my office directly after this meeting. I want to talk to each one and attempt to get what support we can get.”

“Sir, can I be frank?” Griswald asked.

“Sure.”

“If you go through with these nuclear strikes, I am not sure how much support we will get from the rest of the world.”

“I understand your concerns and you might be correct, but what are we to do, nothing?”

“Of course not, sir, but we should make sure we know who did this before—”

Stopping Griswald mid-sentence, Conner started yelling, “General, how many times do I have to hear you make this same concern? I have heard you! We do not have the luxury of time or the assets at our disposal now to conduct a full investigation. What we do know is that in order for someone to carry out this attack, they had to have substantial resources; and while this might have been a terrorist group they were financed and provided direct support by a nation-state. We know who our enemies are; they are on that list. Our enemies are laughing at us right now and who knows, they are probably plotting further attacks!” Conner finished yelling and then slammed his fist against the table.

Everyone in the room and around the table just stared. They were all a bit taken aback. Conner sat there fuming and looked at each person in the room. Griswald sat motionless at the opposite end of the table.

Conner started to speak again, this time loud and determined: “General, your concerns have been noted; I appreciate you and respect those thoughts but you stress the need for more information; what you don't offer is a plan. While it is easy to give critique and criticism of my potential plan, you offer none of your own. I alone hold the responsibility for this country's safety.” Conner finished and turned and looked directly at Cruz, who sat next to him.

Cruz returned the look and said, “Mr. President, I have expressed similar views myself, but whatever decision you make, I will support.”

Nodding his approval, Conner turned to Griswald and asked, “What about you, General?”

Still sitting in awe of the lambasting he had just taken, Griswald did not respond right away. The silence in the room made many feel uncomfortable. Finally he answered, “Mr. President, I am sworn to follow and obey the Commander in Chief and I will do so; whatever you decide I will follow.”

“General, please put our nuclear forces on standby for now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If there is nothing else, I think this meeting is over. Please put me through to all of my counterparts, starting first with any NATO allies we have and then with those leaders in Central and South America.”

“Yes, sir,” Griswald answered.

Conner stood up and left the room. After closing the door, he stood just outside the room for a moment. Some of the military personnel behind their monitors looked at him; he wondered if they had heard his tirade. He ran through the events that had just transpired in the briefing room. He did not want to kill millions of people, but he didn't know what else to do. He thought of those dictators and mullahs in Iran and how they were probably celebrating the fact that the United States had finally fallen. That thought alone made Conner angry; he could not escape taking the attack personally. His thoughts then went to Griswald and what Cruz had mentioned. He did not want to consume himself with Griswald's supposed comment, but he was a bit nervous. These were unprecedented times and right now anything could happen. He planned on keeping an eye on Griswald.

San Diego, California

Gordon yawned and stretched his tired and achy body. The sun's initial rays were pushing their way through the eastern clouds. Gordon and Jimmy were staged at the central park waiting for his scavenger party to show up. Gordon had stayed up into the night working on a plan that would ensure their survival. Three two-man teams would scavenge daily for food, water, fuel, medicines, vehicles, and weapons.

He assigned each team a specific task: one was to go get food and medicines, the second water, and the third to find vehicles and weapons. The hours would be long, but what else did they have to do now? Beyond the scavenger teams his plan called for a hospital, a team of gardeners that could start to work on converting one of the parks into a garden, perimeter security, and school and community maintenance teams. The community would meet daily to get their rations delivered to them based upon what they found the day before.

He was concerned about Mindy and the board's cooperation. Not everyone had shown up yesterday to be added to the list, so he wasn't sure if everyone would be in agreement with his plan or if he would have a divided neighborhood, something he desperately did not want.

He and another team convoyed to the Carmel Mountain mall, a large series of strip malls about five miles away from his neighborhood. There they split up so they could adequately cover more territory. He sent Nelson with another man to recon a potable water reservoir close by. If his hunch was correct, there could be water in the tank. If there was, they would seize it, isolate it, and conduct daily water runs.

During the drive, Jimmy just chatted about nothing and Gordon took the time to relax. It wasn't long before his relaxation turned into sleep.

Gordon was jolted awake by Jimmy punching him in the arm and yelling at him to wake up.

The first store, a grocery store, was teeming with people. Mobs were carrying out armfuls of food and supplies.

“What should we do?” Jimmy asked, leaning against the steering wheel looking at the people running around.

“Ahh, let's see,” Gordon said, sounding a bit foggy from his short nap.

“Bro, that looks like a cluster fuck.”

“I think you're right, but I need to go in and see what I can get. Keep the truck back,” Gordon said.

Pulling his pistol out of his shoulder holster he press-checked it to confirm it was loaded. After ensuring Jimmy was armed and prepared, he left for the store. Gordon counted dozens of people coming in and out. All along the front of the store and into the parking lot, debris and crushed food items were strewn. Gordon wore a large backpack and made sure he kept his jacket unzipped so he could get his gun if needed. To Gordon the mob was proof positive the word had gotten out. Knowing his odds of securing a large cache of food and supplies was limited, he still had to go get what he could.

Upon entering the darkened store, his assumptions proved correct. Walking briskly down the empty aisles, he grabbed what lone can or packet of food he could find or pick up off the floor. Seeing the pharmacy right away, he proceeded toward it. The pharmacy shelves were stripped bare too. Jumping over the counter and into the pharmacy was easy since someone had smashed the windows. He picked up what he could and stuffed it into his pack. Feeling frustrated after spending twenty minutes with not much to show for it, he left the store.

He exited the dimly lit chaos of the ransacked store to witness what would soon become the new normal. Jimmy and the truck were surrounded by three men. They were rocking the truck back and forth, all the while taunting and yelling. Jimmy returned the taunts and screams. He also was threatening them with his gun, but the threats didn't stop them.

Gordon began to run toward Jimmy. He unholstered his Sig, held it above his head, and pulled the trigger. The sound of the gun made the men stop. They turned and looked at Gordon, who pointed the gun at the closest one and yelled, “Back the fuck off! Step away from the truck!”

“Hey, bro, chill!” yelled the man whom Gordon had the gun trained on.

Gordon's situational awareness was still there. While he kept his gun on the one man, he was also tracking the other two. He noticed the other two took a few steps back but the one man did the opposite. He took a step toward Gordon.

“Get the fuck out of here now!” Gordon yelled at him.

“Hey, bro. This your truck? Let us borrow it.”

“Get the fuck out of here NOW!” Gordon yelled again.

Taking another step closer to Gordon, the man yelled something in Spanish to his two friends. Gordon didn't understand what he said, but whatever it was made the other two start to advance again.

“If you don't listen and back away from the truck, I'll shoot you!” Gordon commanded.

Gordon was feeling a way he hadn't felt in a long time: fear coupled with anticipation. Time started to slow for him. His eyes shifted from the man to his front to the other two and back again. His hands were firmly grasping his pistol. He then noticed the man was looking over his shoulder at something behind him. Sensing that he needed to look, he glanced back quickly to see three other men running toward him. They were forty feet away but closing fast. Gordon instinctively looked back to confront the original three just in time. The first man had closed the distance and was feet from him. Without hesitation Gordon shot the first man in the face. The back of his head exploded then he fell to the ground with a thud. Gordon advanced, stepping over him, and took aim on the next man. He squeezed the trigger, unleashing another 9 millimeter round. The bullet ripped through his chest and the man fell back. The third man turned and ran. Showing no mercy, Gordon aimed and shot him between the shoulder blades. Knowing that a threat still existed, he swung around to address the other three, but they had stopped their advance and were running away. The distance was too great for the capabilities of his pistol, so he didn't waste the bullets. The shooting had slowed the looting and ransacking of the store. People were standing in the parking lot staring at him. The voyeurism lasted only moments before everyone went back to looting.