The End (32 page)

“It wasn't me, Gordon, it was Dan. I overheard them talking about capturing Dan weeks ago. He apparently spilled the beans and promised to take them to us because we had stockpiled tons of food and water.”

“So that son of a bitch led us into an ambush. He wanted us out of the way to make way for them.” Gordon grew angry.

“Gordon, you're right; we need to leave as fast as we can,” Eric said as he reached over and grabbed Gordon's arm. “We have to go, they're coming and they have an army of people.”

“Melissa, please start packing all food, water, medicines, batteries, gear, equipment, et cetera that we will need,” Gordon said in a commanding voice to Melissa. He then looked at Eric and said, “I'm taking everyone to Idaho. We have a place there, we can live off the land and start over.”

Eric just nodded.

“We leave at seven a.m. tomorrow. If you need any help packing, let me know. We'll be over in a few hours to pick up your stuff.”

“Okay Gordon, we'll be ready,” Melissa said.

 • • • 

Gordon's day would be full of surprises. When he turned the corner onto his street he saw that the small crowd of people outside gawking had grown into a large unruly crowd. Nelson was standing his ground with a shotgun trained on them. As he got closer, he saw Dan and Mindy at the front of the crowd.

Gordon reached the crowd and pushed his way through till he reached Dan, who was yelling at Nelson. Grabbing Dan's shoulder he pivoted him and struck him in the face. For Gordon, the look on Dan's face was priceless. Dan fell to the ground with Gordon following by jumping on him. Gasps came from the crowd as they backed away from the two men fighting. Seeing what had happened, Mindy started yelling. Gordon heard her, but chose to ignore her. He gave all of his attention and rage to Dan. After a series of punches Gordon saw blood. This encouraged him to hit more. Feeling his own wounds reminded him that Dan was the cause. The street justice he was serving to Dan made his pain worth it. Finally, a few in the crowd took action and grabbed Gordon. Resisting vigorously he kept swinging but eventually his resistance was not enough. It took four men to pull Gordon off of Dan, who lay on the sidewalk covered in his own blood. Gordon took pleasure knowing he had broken Dan's nose, which lay flat against his face.

“You son of a bitch!” Dan said, shaking his head back and forth.

“Fuck you, you're lucky. If these people hadn't stopped me I would have killed you! You fucking piece of shit!” Gordon yelled back.

“You son of a bitch, I will get you! I promise I will get you!” Dan yelled slowly sitting up. He brought his hand to his face to touch his broken nose.

“You won't be doing anything. I am leaving with my family and others; we're done here. You wanted this community, you can have it,” Gordon screamed, still struggling to break free from those who had grabbed him.

“You can leave, Gordon, but not until you give us what you stole,” Mindy said.

Gordon turned and looked at her. “What are you talking about?”

“All the food and medical supplies you have stockpiled are not yours, they belong to the community. We intend on taking them so we can redistribute to your neighbors.”

“You're not taking shit, Mindy. This is my food. I got all of this before any of this happened.”

“That's not true!” yelled James from the middle of the crowd.

Everyone turned and looked at James.

“I was here the day of the attack and saw you and your friend come back and forth with food; hell, I even saw you the day after unloading stuff,” James said loudly.

James's comments brought on lots of side conversations with many in the group.

“I got some of this food the day of the attacks and even more the morning after, plus I always kept a decent pantry full of food before the attacks. I can tell you that none of it came from our scavenger missions. Whatever you all are thinking is wrong. You have been misguided by Mindy and Dan,” Gordon cried out in his defense.

“Gordon, we believe you came by this food illegally and kept it when it should have been disclosed and shared with the rest of us,” Mindy shouted at Gordon.

“I don't give a shit what you think, Mindy, you're not taking anything.” Gordon finally shrugged off the last person holding him and stood facing the crowd and Mindy. “James is right that I went out the day of the attack and found food, I was smart, I thought ahead. I didn't stand around like most of you attempting to get your stupid phones to work and complain that you were missing the next
American Idol
. I knew something was wrong and I went out to take care of my family. It's not my responsibility to take care of you, you, or you!” Gordon said pointing at Mindy and others in the crowd. “If you didn't think and react appropriately, that's not my fault. Mindy, you can talk a big game but you're not taking anything from me or my friends, period!”

“Well, Gordon, I disagree; you're not leaving nor are your friends till you give us our share of the food you have taken,” Mindy said defiantly. “We have met with many in the neighborhood and we have their support. Everyone must open their homes for inspection. Anyone who has more than they need will have that taken and spread out.” Mindy was not just talking to Gordon; she had turned around and was speaking to the crowd which continued to grow larger.

“You will not enter this house or any of my friends' homes. This is my food; I secured it before we came together as a community. If you plan taking it, then you better bring an army.”

Mindy turned around and walked up to within a few feet of Gordon. “Gordon, you and your friends will not be allowed to leave through any of these gates till you have surrendered the food you took from us all. I mean what I say, so please be here, ready to open your house for us to inspect and yes, we will have an army; look around me,” Mindy said, staring at Gordon intently and holding up her arms to acknowledge the large crowd behind her.

“If you or any of you out there plan on coming into my house, plan on dying!” Gordon yelled out to the crowd.

Mindy began instructing the crowd to back off. She announced that the situation with Gordon would be handled in the morning. Slowly, one by one or in small groups, the crowd dispersed. Dan was helped up and walked off without saying a word.

Gordon watched and turned to look at Nelson, who still held the shotgun.

“Are you ready for this?” Gordon asked Nelson.

With his typical shit-eating grin Nelson laid the shotgun barrel on his shoulder and said, “Son, I was born ready.”

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Sitting on her toilet, crying, Julia was expressing not tears of pain but joy. In her hands she held the physical proof that supported the feelings she had been having for a couple of days. She was pregnant. Overjoyed, she could not wait to speak to Brad. If only he were here, she thought; seeing the look on this face would have been special for her. Wiping the tears from her eyes she placed the testing strip carefully on the counter. Washing her hands, she looked down at the “positive” sign on the strip to make sure she wasn't mistaken. It all didn't seem real in some way. Looking in the mirror, she saw a different Julia; she saw a youthful woman who would soon bless the world with a new baby. Her mind had already started the process of nesting as she went through everything she would have to do for the pregnancy. Then thoughts of what they would name the new baby came to mind, too. There was so much to plan, she thought.

Leaving the bathroom, she heard a knock at the front door.

Dylan was at the door. She was not expecting him, but didn't take notice of the somberness in his face.

“Hi Dylan, how are you?” she asked. “Come on in.” She turned around and walked back into the room. Walking into the kitchen, she asked, “Can I get you anything?”

“No thank you, ma'am,” Dylan replied, stepping into the room and not moving far from the door after he had closed it behind him.

“Mrs. Conner, can I speak with you?”

“Sure, one second,” Julia said as she grabbed a glass of water and walked back into the living room. She was startled when she finally noticed the look on Dylan's face. “Dylan, is everything okay?”

“Mrs. Conner, I am sorry, but can you sit down?” Dylan asked, pointing to the couch.

“Dylan, what is it?” she asked, the joy of moments ago now gone.

“Please sit down, Mrs. Conner,” he said, this time not asking but making a point about it.

“Dylan, I'm old enough to know that when someone says to ‘please sit down,' it's not good news.”

“Mrs. Conner, I am sorry to be the one and believe me, I don't want to be here.”

“Just spit it out, Dylan!” she said as tears began well up in her eyes.

“Ma'am about forty-five minutes ago the president and his convoy went off course on their way to the air base. They diverted to address an urgent situation when they came under attack. When we received word of the attack, we immediately dispatched reinforcements.”

“Is Brad alive?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Ma'am, when the reinforcements arrived . . .”

She stopped him again and asked, “Is Brad alive or not?”

“Ma'am, when they arrived . . .”

“Answer the damn question, Dylan!” she yelled at him.

“We don't know, Mrs. Conner.”

“What do you mean you don't know? How can you not know?” Her entire body was now trembling. She braced herself against a table.

“When the reinforcements arrived they found all of the convoy dead, and the president was not located. We believe this to be a good sign that he may be alive, but we do not know for sure.”

Julia's body became weak and she fell to her knees next to the couch. Dylan rushed to help her up.

“Please rest, I'll go get a doctor.”

Julia stopped Dylan by grabbing his arm. She pulled him close and said, “I don't need a doctor, I need my husband. Go find him, do what you have to do. I don't want to hear from you until you find him, do you understand me?” She let go of Dylan's arm and her body gave way as she fell into the couch.

Looking down at her he declared, “Mrs. Conner; I will find him; I promise you. I will do what I can.”

She didn't look at him or respond. She just lay on the couch and sobbed uncontrollably. Dylan stared at her for another moment before he turned and left the room. When he closed the door he heard her wail in grief. A tear came to his eye, but he quickly swept it away and briskly walked down the dimly lit hallway toward the command center and his new mission.

This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

—Winston Churchill

San Diego, California

Tossing and turning in his sleep, Gordon's dreams had taken him back to his final tour in Iraq. He was reliving the brutal horrors of war. He couldn't escape the bodies no matter how fast he ran. Each time he took sanctuary in a bullet-ridden building he would find more bodies. Bullets were raining down on him but he was not getting hit. The cries, he heard cries. These were the cries of a baby. With every door he opened, the cries would grow louder but he was never closer to finding the baby, just more bodies. In the distance, he heard his name being called out “Gordon, Gordon!” The cries soon morphed into sounds of a different kind of gunfire. The sound of his name being called grew louder and louder.

“Gordon, Gordon!” Nelson yelled, coming into Gordon's bedroom.

Gordon sat up sweating from the dream. The room was pitch black.

“Gordon, Gordon, wake up!” Nelson yelled urgently.

Gordon looked over in the direction of Nelson's voice, then he heard the crack of gunfire through the window. Grabbing his rifle, which lay next to him, he sprang out of bed and past Nelson.

“Gather the family and have them stay in the master bedroom. I'm going to find out what's going on.”

“Are you sure you don't need me?” Nelson asked, following Gordon down the stairs.

“I'm sorry I keep leaving you at home, but there isn't anyone else I would trust with my family's safety.”

Holloway and his family had spent the night at Gordon's house. He came out of a lower bedroom with his rifle and asked, “What's going on?”

“I don't know, but come with me,” Gordon said.

Gordon took note that the gunfire was coming from the vicinity of Jimmy's and Eric's houses. Grabbing a handful of loaded magazines for his rifle and pistol, he opened the front door to leave.

“No one comes into this house unless you properly identify them, got it?” Gordon exclaimed.

“You got it, boss,” Nelson acknowledged.

Before the door shut, Gordon was stopped by Samantha's voice. “What's going on? Gordon, what's going on?” She ran down the stairs and to the front door.

“I think that Mindy and Dan are attacking Jimmy or Eric.”

“Don't you think you should stay here?”

“Nelson is here and so is his dad. I need to go help.”

Reaching out to him, Samantha hugged Gordon tightly and kissed him. “Be safe, I love you.”

 • • • 

His injuries were still slowing him down, but the pain was numbed by the medications and the adrenaline pumping through his veins. The gunfire grew louder with each step he and Holloway took. Rounding the street corner, he could faintly see the front of Jimmy's house thanks to a half moon in the sky. The garage door was fully open with shadowy figures running in and out. Gunfire erupted from the second floor, followed by screaming.

Not bothering to identify who was running away from Jimmy's house, he opened fire on them. His assumptions were if you were running away then you must be a bad guy. Holloway followed suit, and was also engaging those in the street ahead of them.

Gordon made a mental note that they had shot four people before they began to move on Jimmy's house. Screams still echoed out of the second floor of the house.

“Cover me, I'm going in,” Gordon commanded.

“Roger that,” Holloway replied, taking a knee and scanning the street.

He was not able to take five steps before gunfire rained down on him, followed by a familiar stinging pain in his upper left arm.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he cried out in pain.

Holloway took aim and engaged whoever had fired the shot. The sparsely lit night made it almost impossible to identify and know if you had hit someone.

“You okay?” Holloway asked Gordon.

“Yeah, I just can't stop getting fucking shot!”

Feeling that the wound was only a graze, he kept moving toward the open garage door. Loose debris and boxes littered the sidewalk leading up to the garage. Entering the garage, he stepped on someone. Whoever it was let out a grunt, then pleaded. “Help me please,” he whispered in pain.

Gordon pulled his light out and flashed it in the man's face. It was Gerald, Mindy's husband.

“Please help me,” Gerald pleaded.

Not showing mercy, Gordon leveled his rifle at Gerald's face and pulled the trigger.

Flashing the light around the garage he saw that Mindy and her people had ransacked Jimmy's supplies. How they gained access was not important; they had been successful. Jimmy did defend his house, as was evident with Gerald and another lifeless body near the door to the house. Panning quickly over the garage, Gordon also saw the small pit bull that Jimmy had rescued lying dead in a pool of blood.

The screams were still coming from the second floor. It sounded like Simone. Gordon couldn't stall any longer; he needed to make it to Simone as soon as he could. A loud crash came from the doorway to the house. Two men appeared out of the darkness and into the garage. Not wasting time, Gordon pointed his rifle and let the semi-auto do its job. Both men fell to the ground with a thud. Moving with purpose, Gordon stepped over them and into the house. What little light he had outside was now gone. The house was totally dark. Gordon took two steps and tripped over what felt like another body. When he tried to get up, he slipped and fell down again. The tile floor was covered in blood, making it extremely slippery, and with zero light he didn't know where to step.

After he fell the second time, someone shot at him from inside the house. The bullets hit the hallway wall above him. If it hadn't been for him falling down, he would have been hit. Gordon sprayed bullets into the part of the room where he'd seen a muzzle flash. The only sound that followed was a loud crash of what sounded like a body falling over.

Sweat was pouring off of Gordon's brow and his new wound stung. Simone's wailing continued; the stairs seemed like a million miles away, with someone shooting at him each few steps he took. Not knowing what he would be walking into, he stood up and made his way into the living room. Reaching out with his left arm, he felt the wall and followed it to the bottom of the stairs. Gordon took the brief moment at the base of the stairs to transition to his pistol. He slung the rifle and pulled out his Sig 240. The stairs went up halfway, then hit a landing. There he'd have to turn left and go up the remaining set of stairs to the top. With his pistol out in front of him, he began his march upstairs.

Reaching the landing without incident he called out, “Simone, it's Gordon!”

“Gordon, hurry quickly, it's Jimmy—he's been shot. Please hurry.”

Gordon raced up the remaining stairs and toward Simone, who was kneeling with Jimmy in her arms. They both were bathed in the light of a lantern. He re-holstered his pistol and began to examine a blood-covered Jimmy.

“Simone, where's he shot?”

“They shot him in the chest; those bastards came in and shot him in the chest,” Simone cried.

“Let me see, Simone,” Gordon said softly to her. He handed her the flashlight so he could see.

Gordon reached out to Jimmy and took him out of her arms and laid him on the floor. The motion caused Jimmy to moan and cough. Gordon ripped open Jimmy's blood-soaked shirt and saw something he had not seen since his time in Iraq. Jimmy had a small-diameter hole in the center of his chest that sputtered blood with every breath that he took.

“Simone, go get me some clean towels, something to wipe up the blood.”

“Simone, don't go,” Jimmy said. As he spoke he coughed up blood.

“What, baby? I'm not going anywhere,” Simone said, crying.

“Simone, please go,” Gordon pleaded.

“No, Gordon, please have her stay,” Jimmy said with difficulty.

Gordon looked at Jimmy. His friend's face was pale from the loss of blood. Knowing the wound was bad, he couldn't give up on his friend.

“Please, Simone, I can help but I need to get something to clean this up,” Gordon said, looking at Simone.

Simone kept her attention on Jimmy, who coughed up blood again.

“Gordon, just sit here with me please,” Jimmy said with almost a whisper.

Simone pulled Jimmy into her lap as she cried aloud, “No! No, God, please!”

Jimmy reached out and took Gordon's hand and held it with as much strength as he could muster.

“G, you've been a good friend to me and my family. You've always been there for us and I hope you feel the same way,” Jimmy said with ever-increasing difficulty. Gordon could hear the blood bubbling in his chest as he breathed.

Knowing that this was it for his friend, Gordon said, “I feel the same way. You're a good man and good friend.”

“Take care of Simone for me,” Jimmy said, looking over at Simone.

“Baby, please don't leave me, please,” Simone cried.

Jimmy's grip on Gordon's hand grew weaker; Gordon knew the time was getting close.

“G, come close, I need to tell you something.” Jimmy's voice had become very faint. Leaning over he placed his face next to Jimmy's. “There's a hiding place behind the water heater. Look for the wooden box.” Jimmy coughed and finished his time with Gordon by saying, “Now go, let me have a moment.”

Gordon honored his friend's wish and left. Simone was crying uncontrollably, she held on to Jimmy and just cried. Gordon took each step down the stairs with heavy sorrow at the loss of his friend.

When he reached the last step, Simone screamed out, “No, oh my God, no!” Gordon knew Jimmy was dead. A cascade of emotions ran through him. Sitting on the last step, he put his head in his hands and grieved. Gordon's grief would be short-lived, as the night's action still was not over. The faint sound of gunfire in the distance penetrated the walls of the house.

“Gordon, something's going on; it sounds like it's near your house!” Holloway yelled from outside the house.

Gordon was running on pure adrenaline now. His left side was aching as the pain meds were wearing off. The gunfire was short lived, no screaming or other noise could be heard except his and Holloway's heavy breathing. Reaching the front of his house, Gordon and Holloway ran up on a body lying outside of his front door. Pulling out his flashlight, Holloway flashed the light on the body. To Gordon's surprise, it was Dan, and he was still alive.

Gordon grabbed the light out of Holloway's hands and pointed it directly in Dan's face. “What are you doing here?”

Dan's eyes expressed the fear that gripped him. Knowing that Gordon was hovering above him, he knew that he was close to death's door.

Gordon examined his body and flashed the light across it. It appeared that Dan had suffered a single shot from a shotgun to the chest.

“What do we do with him?” Holloway asked.

“Nothing, let him bleed out,” Gordon said, handing the flashlight back to Holloway, then proceeding to the front door. Banging on it he called out, “Open up, it's Gordon. We're all clear out here!”

Moments later the door opened and Gordon was greeted by Nelson.

“Get your ass in here,” Nelson said.

Gordon and Holloway stepped inside and closed the door.

“Is everyone okay?” Gordon asked concerned.

“We're fine. Dan and about a dozen of his cronies attempted to get in. My ol' man and me greeted them with Mr. Remington and Mr. Glock,” Nelson said, holding up his Remington 870 shotgun.

“Where's Samantha and the kids?”

“Here, Gordon,” Samantha said from the top of the stairs.

Gordon ran up the stairs and into Samantha's arms. Haley was standing next to Samantha crying. He reached down grabbed her and pulled her close.

“You all right?” Gordon asked.

“As good as we can be, considering.”

Then Gordon noticed Hunter wasn't there. “Where's Hunter?”

“He's in his room,” Samantha answered.

“Is he okay? I want to see him.”

“Gordon, he's having a tough time dealing with what just happened,” Samantha said, holding Gordon back from going to Hunter.

“What do you mean?”

“Nelson and his father were at the back of the house in the patio stopping some of them from coming in when the front door was kicked open and—”

“And what?”

“I tried to stop him but Hunter ran downstairs to help Nelson. I told him not to go but he took off. When the front door was kicked open he stopped them.”

“Who stopped them? You're confusing me.”

“He had run downstairs with your old double barrel shotgun and when the door was kicked open he turned and shot.”

“Hunter shot Dan?”

“I don't know who it was he shot but I was coming after him when I saw it happen. I heard the door get kicked in and I saw Hunter turn around and then the gun went off. I'm sorry,” Samantha said, still shaking from the incident.

Reaching over and touching Samantha's face gently he said, “Honey, you don't need to apologize; it's no one's fault but Dan and his horde. Let me go to him.”

As Gordon attempted to pull away, Samantha stopped him again and said, “Your arm, you're bleeding.”

Gordon looked quickly at his bloody left arm. “It's just a flesh wound, no concern.”

“What happened? How's Jimmy and Eric?”

Gordon paused for a moment, then answered, “Jimmy is dead. I was there with him just before. I don't know about Eric. I ran here as soon as I heard the shooting.”

“How's Simone?”

“She's not good; we really should go back and check on her. Listen, let me go and check on Hunter, please,” Gordon pleaded.

“Okay, go,” Samantha said, letting go of Gordon's arm.

He went to Hunter's bedroom door, gently knocked, then opened the door. The room was lit by an electric lantern which gave off a yellowish glow. Scanning the room, he didn't see him, he looked to the far side and still nothing. Whimpering from the closet told Gordon where he was. He slowly walked over and knocked on the closet door.