The End (22 page)

San Diego, California

Gordon returned home safe but not happy. The journey into Mira Mesa to gather arms proved to be a partial success. They had made it in and out without any confrontation, but the gun store had been sacked already. His team had managed to get some items that could come in handy like body armor, clothing, boots, slings, holsters, and other accessories, but no guns or ammo. They did stop by another Home Depot and pulled more seed and some fertilizer but the food was gone. Gordon was shocked by how quickly the resources were drying up.

On their return, they had made a grisly discovery at a Von's grocery store. Dozens or more people had been executed outside of the store. Whoever it was had left their mark. The word “Villistas” was spray painted on the wall behind them. He did not know what it meant, but he knew it wasn't good. It appeared that gangs or armed groups were already coalescing together. Things were clearly getting more violent and desperate.

Gordon walked into the house tired and ready to eat. When he walked into the candle-lit foyer he could hear his kids playing and giggling down the hall and Samantha scolding them to clean up their mess. Gordon smiled. The sounds of normal family life were still there, even though the house itself was starting to go through a transformation too. The toilets had overflowed a few days before. Even though they had cleaned up the mess, taped the toilet lids shut and secured the doors, a slight smell of raw sewage remained in the air. Samantha tried her best to cover up the smell with scented candles but a faint aroma remained.

“Gordon, when you're done settling in, can you help clean Haley up?” Samantha yelled from the play room.

“What happened?” Gordon yelled back bent over taking off his boots.

“She thought it was more fun to paint herself instead of the paper.”

“Okay, babe; I'll get right on it,” Gordon said after taking off his last boot and sitting back in the chair. He let out a sigh of exhaustion and rubbed his face.

Hunter ran up to him. “Daddy, you're home!”

“Hey, big guy!” Gordon exclaimed. He picked up Hunter and hugged him. “How were things today, anything to report?”

“No, sir, all good,” Hunter answered as he saluted Gordon.

“Thank you for watching over the ladies of the house, I appreciate that,” Gordon warmly told his son.

They began to walk down the hall when banging on the front door disrupted their family bliss. Gordon quickly put Hunter down and told him to go into the playroom immediately. Hunter listened and ran off. Gordon pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and approached the door. All of his exhaustion had been replaced by adrenaline. Whoever was banging would not stop. Gordon slowly approached the door when a familiar voice cried out.

“Gordon, open up!” Jimmy cried.

Gordon quickly opened the door to see Jimmy before him with Mason in his arms.

“Jimmy! What's going on?”

“Gordon, it's Mason; he's having an asthma attack and we can't find his inhaler. I stopped by the clinic and we don't have any in inventory. I don't know what to do. Please help me!” Jimmy said with fear in his voice.

Gordon acted without thinking and asked Jimmy, “Is your rig out front?” Gordon thought that they had two choices, go door to door to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had an inhaler or take their chances outside the gate. He decided that they'd have better luck going outside the gate to a hospital or pharmacy.

“Yes, yes!” Jimmy said.

Hunter and Haley were peering from behind the door of the playroom. Samantha ran down the hall and stopped just behind Gordon. She could see Jimmy was on the verge of breaking down. Mason was pale and limp in his arms, almost lifeless.

“Come on, let's go!” Gordon said to Jimmy after just sliding his boots back on. He pointed outside and then followed up by saying, “We need to go out the gate to find an inhaler!”

Jimmy didn't say a thing; he just looked down at his son, whose arms dangled as he walked briskly behind Gordon to his truck.

When Jimmy reached the truck, Gordon held the door open. He lay Mason down across the bench seat and sat next to him. Jimmy put Mason's head on his lap and stroked his hair. Mason's breathing was very shallow. Gordon jumped behind the wheel and turned on the truck. He sped off toward the closest gate. When he reached the gate he yelled out the window to the gate guards to open the gate immediately. Gordon started to accelerate when he heard someone yell. He looked and saw Dan Bradford in the side mirror.

“One second, stop!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stuck his head out the window and replied, “Dan, we don't have time. We have to go; it's an emergency.”

“Can I help in any way?” he said, after jogging up to the driver's side window.

“Do you have an inhaler?”

“No.”

“Then the answer's no. I need to go find one for Jimmy's son ASAP.”

“Let me go to help as backup for you.”

“Sure, jump in the bed,” Gordon told him.

Dan jumped in the bed and immediately slapped the side of the truck telling Gordon he was ready to go. Gordon sped off and headed north.

Gordon drove as fast as he could. All of the abandoned vehicles on the road made it difficult as they had to swerve to avoid them, causing him to slow down and speed up. Gordon focused on driving and Jimmy comforted his son and whispered to him that everything would be okay.

Gordon knew exactly where he was going and after twelve minutes of driving they pulled up to Sharp Hospital's ER entrance.

“I'll find an inhaler as quickly as I can, I promise,” Gordon assured Jimmy. He then placed his hand on Mason's head and said softer, “I will find one, I promise you.” He slammed the truck door and ran for the ER entrance.

Jimmy looked up at Gordon as he slammed the truck door. the lights of the dash cast a somber shadow across his face. “Please hurry. I don't know how long he can make it, he's barely breathing now.”

Pulling his pistol out in anticipation that they might run into others, he approached the doors to the ER main entrance apprehensively. The doors were closed tight. Dan ran up and started to try to peel the doors apart. Gordon didn't want to waste time so he looked around for something to smash the glass and found a large paver brick; he picked it up and told Dan to step aside. He threw it as hard as he could, shattering the glass. Dan and Gordon cleared the remaining glass and entered the dark hallway. Immediately upon entering the hallway the smell of death wafted over them.

“Oh my God!” Dan said placing his hand over his nose and mouth.

Gordon turned on his small Surefire flashlight and quickly proceeded down the hallway. The farther he moved into the darkness the stronger the smell. It appeared that no one had ransacked this part of the hospital yet. It looked in disarray but that was due to the chaos created after the attacks. Gordon guessed that the hospital employees probably abandoned the hospital days after the attacks. Gordon's light illuminated the hallway and brought light to darkened spaces. He peered into each room to see what was there. The smell grew greater; he knew he would soon locate the source.

Gordon reached the end of the hallway. Casting his light inside the last room he finally found the origin of the rotten smell that filled his nostrils. Lying naked and now bloated was an old man who had been in his sixties or seventies.

Dan walked up just behind Gordon and said, “Nasty!”

“Well, I'm sure that's not how he wanted to go or be remembered,” Gordon said. He then turned his attention away from the dead man and opened the swinging doors that led into a main corridor.

The doors hadn't closed for a few moments before Dan and Gordon heard a crash at the end of the corridor. They both flashed their lights and bathed the entire hallway in light. Another crash echoed, followed by angry yelling. They were able to pinpoint the noise from a room around the corner. With pistols drawn they proceeded down the hall. Gordon had no doubt it was someone scavenging like them. Gordon looked on the wall and saw a sign with an arrow pointing in the direction they were headed that said
PHARMACY
. He peeked around the corner of the corridor and heard the noise again. The sound came from the direction of the pharmacy. Gordon turned back to Dan and said, “Sounds like whoever is making that noise is in the pharmacy. We need to get down there and get what we need. This could turn ugly, so be ready.”

“Okay,” Dan said looking a bit nervous.

They both turned the corner with their pistols raised and slowly made their way down the dark hall toward the sound. After only a few steps, they saw a light bouncing around a room on the left. Without notice, someone appeared from the room carrying a box. He turned away from Dan and Gordon and walked down the hall and exited on the right. Once the door closed behind the stranger Gordon stepped up to the room and saw no other lights. He turned on his flashlight and entered the room while Dan remained in the hall providing cover. The pharmacy had been almost stripped. Gordon immediately started to dig through the open boxes on the counters. Not finding what he was looking for made Gordon frustrated. He quickly began to look at each shelf and went through every drawer. After an exhaustive search he still could not find an inhaler.

“Damn it!” Gordon said aloud, pushing one of the boxes onto the floor.

“Just hold it right there,” Dan ordered.

Gordon stopped his search and headed for the door.

“Don't make a move!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stepped out of the pharmacy and saw the man. Dan had the flashlight on him.

The man stood there with his empty hands up.

Gordon put his light on the man's face and said, “I need an inhaler, where are the rest of your boxes?”

The man did not say a word; he just stood there blocking the lights from his eyes.

“Where are your boxes?” Gordon again asked. “If you can't see let me just tell you that we are both armed.”

Still the man just stood there.

“Fuck it!” Gordon said. He walked over to the man and pistol whipped him in the face. The man fell to the ground.

“Stop!” the man screamed finally.

“Where are the rest of your boxes?”

“Out in my truck.”

“Take us there now!” Gordon demanded. He pulled the guy up by the back of his shirt and pushed him through the door.

They walked through the hallway and came to an exterior exit door.

“My truck is out there,” the man said.

Gordon kicked the door open and flashed his light outside. He could see what looked like an old farm truck. He pushed the man through the open door, causing him to stumble and fall.

Walking over Gordon grabbed him again but this time was met with resistance. The man elbowed him in the crotch.

“Shit!” Gordon cried out in pain.

The man took off running toward his truck.

“Freeze!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stood up clearly hurting but ran after the man. Managing only to make it around to the driver's door, he stopped when Gordon fired a shot in his direction.

“Listen, I don't know what you're going to do to me, that's why I hit you. I don't know who you are; I'm getting this medicine for my family.”

Gordon was seething with anger. Looking at the man, he yelled. “Step away from the truck!”

Dan came up alongside Gordon and ordered the man to get on the ground.

“Step away from the truck! I need to see if you have something we need!” Gordon barked.

“I don't want any trouble; I'm just getting this for my family. Please let me go,” the man begged, then took a step closer to his truck door.

“This is a fucking waste of time!” Gordon screamed as he squeezed the trigger and shot the man in the chest.

The bullet hit the man with a dull thud. He instantly dropped to the ground, dead.

“Why did you shoot him?” Dan asked.

“We don't have time for this shit anymore. Mason needs the meds.” Gordon re-holstered his pistol and started to rummage through the boxes in the bed of the truck.

Dan just stood there looking at Gordon in amazement.

After going through several boxes, Gordon exclaimed, “Here they are!” He pulled an inhaler out of a box and held it high. Not wasting another moment, he then took off running back to Jimmy and Mason.

When Gordon reached Jimmy's truck he could hear Jimmy wailing with grief. He could not see Jimmy but the cries told him of a fate that should not have been. Gordon just stood in the darkness listening to his friend and wanting for the outcome to be different.

When men yield up the privilege of thinking, the last shadow of liberty quits the horizon.

—Thomas Paine

USS
Makin Island
, Indian Ocean

Barone was abruptly awakened by banging on his stateroom door. He sprang from his rack and opened the door. Wiping sleep from his eyes, he said, “What is it?”

“Sorry to disturb you, sir,” a nervous lance corporal said.

“Well, what is it?”

“Sir, there is an important call for you.”

“A call?” Barone asked, looking confused. He stepped away from the door and walked over to a chair in the room. “Come on in, Lance Corporal.”

The lance corporal nervously stepped in.

“Since it required you to come down here and wake me up, who may I ask is on the call?” Barone asked, with a hint of sarcasm.

“Sir, it's the president.”

Barone stopped tying his boots and looked at the lance corporal. A myriad of emotions came over him—shock, fear, anxiety. He went back to tying his boots and cleared his mind. Not wanting this young man to see him nervous he abruptly finished the conversation by saying, “Lance Corporal, you may leave. I will be there shortly.”

Barone sat up and exhaled deeply. It was obvious that the call was prompted by the raid on Diego Garcia. He never expected he'd received a call from the president. He would have expected to hear from some general. If the president was calling then he assumed that they wanted to come to some type of settlement. Now curious to find out what the president wanted, he quickly grabbed his blouse and headed toward the CIC. The usual short walk seemed to take forever; his anxiety was at an all-time high. In his entire career he had never spoken to a president. Now he would, but the circumstances were extraordinary. When he entered the darkened command center all eyes were on him. Major Ashley stood up and said, “Sir, we have a secure line in the back room.”

Barone just nodded to Ashley and walked briskly to the back room and closed the door. He looked down at the receiver on the desk. He paused for a moment to get his bearings. On his walk he had run through how the conversation would go. With anticipation that the new president would toss around words like “traitor” and “mutiny,” he promised himself to remain calm and keep his composure.

He cleared the onslaught of thoughts, sat down, and picked up the receiver. Swallowing hard, he spoke: “Lieutenant Colonel Barone here.”

Silence.

“Lieutenant Colonel Barone here.”

Still silence.

“Is anyone there?”

“Colonel Barone?” a voice asked, breaking the silence.

“Yes, Colonel Barone here.”

“One moment,” the voice said.

Barone was tapping his foot with nervous energy. The anticipation was excruciating.

Seconds felt like minutes. Then a familiar voice filled his ears and brought back memories of a congressional hearing he was subjected to years ago. He now remembered he had met the president during a hearing about the shooting of an unarmed Iraqi in 2004. Barone had volunteered to testify on behalf of a Marine who had been indicted from his unit. He recalled that the president was fair in his cross-examination and only wanted to get to the truth.

“Colonel Barone?” Conner asked.

“Yes, this is him.”

“Colonel Barone, hello; this is President Conner.”

“Hello, sir.”

“Colonel, I don't know where to begin, so let's begin with what the hell are you doing?” Conner asked.

“Sir, first let me say that what I am doing is in the best interests of my men and their—”

Cutting him off, Conner asked him with a scolding tone, “What about the best interests of your country?”

“Sir, sending us back to the East Coast to dig up dead bodies is a fool's errand. You know the magnitude of what has happened. I voiced my thoughts before we made our decision but no one would listen. I therefore deemed it necessary to act in the best interests of Americans that are alive in the hopes of keeping them alive.”

“So you thought that it more important to defy a presidential order and mutiny?”

“Sir, I—”

“So you thought you would seize U.S. naval vessels and then lead those ships in an attack against a U.S. military installation stealing even more U.S. ships and property?” Conner asked, his tone becoming more aggressive and angry.

“I thought—”

“You thought what, Colonel? You are now an enemy of the American people; you have committed mutiny and treason!” Conner yelled.

Barone paused for a moment before he attempted to respond. His assumptions about the accusations he'd hear were correct.

“What am I to do with you, Colonel?”

Barone did not answer; he wanted to make sure he could answer without being interrupted.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“Well, Colonel?”

“Can I answer without being interrupted?”

“Go ahead, Colonel.”

“I looked at the entire situation and felt that”—Barone paused and then completed his thought—“No; I knew that going back to the East Coast to assist in a recovery effort was futile. What about our families back in California? Who is taking care of them? I feel it is more important to keep as many people alive instead of digging up dead bodies. I did voice my concerns but the plan was in place and so I did what I knew was the right thing.”

After Barone had said his piece, there was silence.

After thinking about what Barone said, Conner continued, “Colonel Barone, I have heard your excuse, I am giving you one chance to correct your errors and turn your ships around and go back to your original mission. As your Commander in Chief, I order you to do this. We will deal with you later. I need good men in the field and I need you to follow what is in the best interests of our country. Do you understand?”

Barone sat and thought about what the new president had ordered. He then felt in his heart that he was doing the right thing and told Conner, “Mr. President, I cannot. I have committed myself to my men and their families. I am sorry, but your orders to go back east are foolish. I cannot in good conscience follow those orders. I accept full responsibility for this and my men are doing this because of me.”

“Colonel Barone, I am sorry to hear that. Here is what will happen. We cannot allow you to openly defy the government. We will be compelled to use force to stop you,” Conner said coolly.

“Mr. President, I would ask that you let us go peacefully. Engaging in open conflict is not advisable.”

“Colonel, you have done this, not us. We cannot allow this mutiny to go unchecked. We will stop you before you ever reach California.”

“Mr. President, I'm pleading, don't take it to that level. We only mean to go home and take care of our families. We did not mean to get into a fight on Diego Garcia. We came under attack so we defended ourselves and will do so if we are attacked again. Sir, there does not need to be bloodshed. Please let us go freely.”

“Colonel, you have twenty-four hours to accept my offer. If after twenty-four hours you have not turned the ships around, we will consider you a hostile to the United States and an enemy of the people. We will use whatever means necessary to ensure you do not land in California.”

“Sir, I will not change my mind and again ask you for leniency. However; if attacked we will defend to the death.”

“You have twenty-four hours. We will await your reply. Goodbye, Colonel Barone,” Conner finished, then the line went silent.

Barone put the receiver down and sighed loudly. He needed to meet with his staff and work out a plan to avoid contact with any U.S. military ships. He stood up, opened the door, and before he left he looked back at the receiver. He had finally talked to a sitting president but not under the circumstances he would have wanted over the eighteen years of his career. He chuckled to himself and closed the door.

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Conner slammed the phone down. “Goddamn it!”

He looked around at the staff that surrounded him. No one said a word, they all just stared. They knew by hearing just his side of the conversation that Barone was not backing down.

“As you heard, I am giving him twenty-four hours to change his mind and change course. If not, we must stop him. General Griswald, if he continues, what are our options?”

“Sir, we have a carrier group located in Hawaii that we can use and we have three attack submarines in the Western Pacific.”

“General, contact our command in Hawaii and move some ships out of port and have them prepared to engage Barone and his ARG. Also contact those subs and get them in position as well.”

“Yes, sir,” Griswald said.

Conner looked at each person in the room. He then said, “We cannot allow this to stand, we must stop him. If we do not, this will encourage others to defy us. God damn him. We have enough to worry about, now we have to dedicate resources to stopping him.”

“Mr. President, this is a wise decision,” Griswald said.

“General, do we have any more information about the attacks? Our time frame to do something is running short.”

“Sorry, sir, we are no closer than we were a day after the attacks. This will take time.”

Everyone was getting accustomed to seeing Conner act out in anger. So seeing him again display his anger by slamming his fist on the table was not shocking.

Conner scolded Griswald. “We don't have much more time. Every minute that goes by without a response emboldens our enemies and makes them think we don't have the means or the guts to do something about this. I am only being patient for you, General; I need some answers and I need them soon.”

“We will continue to keep working on it, sir,” Griswald responded.

Griswald was not being completely honest with the president. He did not want to give him what he had found out from his counterpart in Australia. From his conversations over the past week, the Australians had managed to secure information from one of the prisoners. The prisoner told them that he had been trained in Iran. He did not know where the bomb had come from as it was already there when they arrived. While this information was valuable he did not want to give Conner the excuse to nuke Iran just yet. He felt Conner had an itchy trigger finger. Griswald wanted to see if he could build a coalition amongst the new presidential staff to his mostly diplomatic and limited military option versus the president's nuclear-only option. Griswald realized what he was doing could be considered a violation of his duty to the president but he felt that going along with the president's option would leave half the world a nuclear wasteland. He knew he didn't have much time, so he needed to act soon.