The End (35 page)

Olympia, Washington, Republic of Cascadia

Haley rubbed her thumb repeatedly across the smooth surface of the compass. Touching it soothed her. She needed it after having just spent almost an hour talking about her parents and life in San Diego after the lights went out. The compass brought her such comfort and gave her a connection to her now-distant family.

She knew John was not a fool and had picked up on her not answering his direct question about Hunter earlier. She was hesitating to go back into the living room; she didn't want to face the question, she didn't want to have to relive that time on the road. Even though she'd told him she wanted to talk about it, she now regretted her decision. The road to Idaho had been tough and had become one of those moments her father told her occurs in a life where your course changes.

Deciding she had stalled long enough, she put the compass back in the box on the shelf and walked into the hallway. She could hear John and the camera crew laughing. Their laughter echoed off of the bare wood floors and the walls of the sparsely furnished home. She thought that these men knew nothing of true hardship. To her, their laughter displayed an innocence and ignorance of years before. She didn't blame them; it wasn't their fault when they were born. However, she did hold a grudge in some ways against those many who now enjoyed the fruits of her and her family's labor but disregarded the cost.

The Great Civil War was not unlike many civil wars in history. It was brutal and hard. It did have one distinction that separated it from those before it: The rules that governed war were gone. The divisions that had been fostered over the most recent generations in America became more pronounced and deadly. Once the last bits of fabric that had held the country together vanished in that instant fifty-two years ago, it took only days for Americans to rip and tear at other Americans.

Haley was only five years old when it happened; she never got to enjoy the typical twentieth-century invention of a child's life. Gone were the birthday parties with abundant cakes and ice cream. Gone were the Christmases with dozens of beautifully wrapped toys. Gone was the innocence. She was forced to grow up quickly and act like an adult. Even though her father did all he could to protect her from the horrors while they were living at Rancho Valentino, he could not shield her from the depravity of life once they made their way to Idaho.

She walked into the living room and just stood there looking at the men. None of them noticed her; they were absorbed in the typical conversations that young single men have.

After clearing her throat loudly, she said, “I'm ready if you are.”

“Great!” John said, jumping up. He was surprised to see her. He felt a bit foolish, as he hadn't known how long she had been there and the topic the men had been enjoying was not entirely appropriate.

Haley walked back to her chair and sat down. She smoothed out the creases in her skirt and sat pensively waiting.

John shuffled around and quickly grabbed the pad he had been taking notes on. Taking the seat across from her, he said, “Sorry, one second.”

“Take your time,” Haley responded.

“I'd like to start with the trip to Idaho. From the sounds of it, a lot happened on the way there, and I think that's a good starting point.”

“Very well,” Haley answered. She clasped her hands tightly to keep them from nervously fiddling with her skirt or sleeve.

“There is one item I'd like to ask before, though.”

“Go ahead.”

“Before today I never knew you had a brother. I apologize if I didn't do my research, but like your father and mother, you have been very reserved in sharing details of your past life,” John stated, twirling his pen.

“The thing is, my brother is all around us. How many places in Olympia are named Hunter?” Haley asked.

After pausing to think, John blurted out, “You're right; I never thought anything about it before. So what happened to him, your brother?”

“My brother was not unlike my father in his passion to protect his family. He took it quite seriously.” Haley stopped talking and looked down. The pitch of her voice changed. She unclasped her hands and again started to pat down the creases in her skirt.

John, noticing her discomfort, chose to move on to something else. “Haley, if you want, let's talk about the trip to Idaho.”

“He was a good boy,” Haley said just above a whisper. She was still looking down, fidgeting with her clothes.

“What's that?” John asked, leaning in toward Haley.

“Nothing, sorry, nothing,” she said loudly, looking up.

“Okay, so let's begin with the trip to Idaho.”

“Sure, let's do that. So as to not bore you, let's start on our third day into the drive. That day revisits me in my thoughts often. Let's begin there.”

We must travel in the direction of our own fear.

—John Berryman

Barstow, California

“Run, Haley, run!” Gordon screamed.

Haley stood frozen in fear. She had never seen a person burn to death before, and now she was watching flames dance off of Candace Pomeroy's back as she slowly crawled away from her car.

“Hunter, grab your sister and run over there!” Gordon yelled out, pointing to a dropoff in the road that led to a culvert large enough only to provide protection for the kids.

Hunter ran over to Haley and grabbed her with force, causing her to drop the small teddy bear she held.

“No, my bear!” she yelled out.

“No, Haley, we gotta run!” Hunter screamed.

Gunfire was raining down on the vehicles from a few covered positions up the road. There wasn't much cover for Gordon and his convoy. To either side of the road lay flat, open desert dotted with creosote plants. Even their vehicles didn't provide the protection needed, as was the case with the Pomeroys' car. The initial rain of bullets had hit their fuel tank just right, causing their car to explode into a ball of flames.

Hunter pulled Haley to the small culvert. Gordon and Nelson had hidden behind Gordon's truck. The banging of bullets rattled the truck and their ears. Gordon attempted to look over the truck but was met by a hail of gunfire.

“Fuck!” he screamed in frustration. He looked for Samantha but didn't see her.

“What do we do, Gordo?” Nelson asked. Each bullet that struck the truck caused him to flinch.

The Pomeroys' burning car was draping them in thick black smoke. Sensing an advantage, Gordon ran for the jeep. Holloway had been driving it but was nowhere to be seen. He jumped in the back and grabbed the handles of the .50-caliber machine gun mounted there. Not wasting any more time, he pressed the butterfly trigger and started to fire on the positions the gunfire was coming from. Dirt and debris were flying in the air as the .50 did its work. He transitioned from one position to the next. He remembered seeing three areas from which they were taking fire. Gordon was in a rage as he screamed out while firing the heavy gun. It took only moments on each position to destroy whomever had ambushed them, but he kept firing until the gun ran out of ammunition. Looking over the top of the smoking barrel, Gordon could not see anyone up ahead, but he needed to be sure. He jumped into the driver's seat and put the jeep in gear. As he began to pull away, Holloway came running toward him.

“Where the fuck were you?” Gordon asked, clearly angered.

“I went to my family and made sure they were okay,” Holloway answered directly, not intimidated by Gordon's gruffness.

“Jump in, we need to make sure these fuckers are dead,” Gordon said.

Holloway jumped in, and both men proceeded cautiously. When they came upon the first position, Holloway jumped out and ran over to discover two dead men; both had been ripped apart by the machine gun. He continued on by foot and discovered a similar scene at the second, but at the third one a man was alive.

“We've got a live one here!” Holloway yelled.

Gordon drove the jeep over to Holloway's position and got out. He stepped over to the wounded man, pulled his handgun out, and put it to the wounded man's head.

“Are there any more of you?”

The man didn't respond but coughed up blood.

“Answer me, you piece of shit!” Gordon screamed, pressing the barrel against the man's sweaty forehead.

Gordon began to slowly squeeze the trigger but stopped when screaming rang out from behind him. He stood and looked; the screams gave way to gunfire. He could tell people were moving, but the dark smoke was making it impossible to see what was really happening. He took a step, then remembered the wounded man. He turned, took aim, and shot the man.

 • • • 

“I'm scared. Where's Mommy? Where's Daddy?” Haley cried.

Not answering his little sister, Hunter could see a few men marching toward them and the convoy from the eastern desert.

Haley began to cry loudly.

“Ssshh! Haley, be quiet!” Hunter commanded.

“I can't, I can't, I'm scared!” Haley whimpered, her body trembling uncontrollably.

“Mommy and Daddy will come soon, I promise.”

“What if they're dead, what if Mommy and Daddy are dead?”

“Haley, you have to be quiet.”

More gunfire rang out from the men approaching. Haley screamed.

Hunter reached over and put his hand on top of her mouth. She attempted to pull away, but he forced his hand with pressure equal to her resistance. “Stop, just stop!” Hunter demanded.

Looking into her brother's eyes, she calmed down, but tears were still flowing and she was having a hard time controlling her breathing.

He could no longer see the men in the distance, but he could hear gunfire coming from them and from the convoy. He wanted to know where the men were, so he pulled away from Haley and started to crawl toward the entrance of the culvert.

“No, stop, where are you going?” Haley cried out.

“I'm checking to see where those guys went.”

“Stop, don't leave me.”

“I'm just going to poke my head out.”

Haley began to cry loudly, making Hunter stop and go back to her. He held her close and told her things would be okay. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a silver compass and gave it to her.

“Here, take this. Dad gave it to me. He said it would keep me safe, and if I give it to you, it will keep you safe.”

Taking the compass in her trembling hands, she looked up at her brother.

He smiled and said, “I'll be right back.” Hunter crawled away to the opening of the culvert and peered out. He looked left and then right. Seeing one of the men not two feet away, he attempted to duck back inside, but the man grabbed him and pulled him out. Hunter kicked, but he wasn't a match for the man, who punched him once in the face, knocking him out.

Haley began to scream, knowing that something bad had happened to her brother.

The man peered into the culvert and said, “Come here, little girl.”

USS
Makin Island
off the coast of Southern California

Sebastian's patience was at its breaking point. As each day passed without notice of his departure from the cold gray walls of his cell, he grew more agitated and restless. Knowing that his brother's house was only twenty miles away made the wait worse. After having traveled thousands of miles and enduring hardships, not to be able to just leave was unbearable. Since Gunny had taken him topside three days before, he hadn't seen the light of day. His treatment was fair, but this now was feeling like torture. One advantage the wait gave him was the ability to establish a plan. Gunny had allowed him to have a map, paper, and a pencil. He mapped several routes and identified waypoints. Knowing that traveling the highways could be bad, he plotted surface streets and natural trails to lead him to Carmel Valley.

It had been six weeks since the attacks, and the last intelligence he had on San Diego was days old. In a nutshell, the city had collapsed into chaos. The Villista Army was now occupying large parts of the city. Some Marine squads who had gone ashore to gather family had encountered them. Barone had no intention of securing San Diego but at the same time was not about to allow an organized mob to harass his Marines. He attacked many of the Villista strongholds and encampments, destroying resources and killing many of their people. Sebastian supported this approach and appreciated anything Barone did that would increase his chances for survival.

The welcome sound of keys unlocking his door echoed off the walls of cell.

Sebastian stopped what he was doing and stared at the door; he knew it was too early for chow, so someone was coming to pay a visit.

The large metal door opened, and Gunny stepped inside.

Sebastian stood up, excited to see Gunny because his appearance might portend his release.

“Van Zandt, how ya holdin' up?”

“Good, Gunny.”

“I have some good news and some bad news. What ya want first?” Gunny said, standing tall with his arms crossed.

Sebastian's eyes widened with anticipation. He was nervous about what the bad news was, but he wanted to save the good news for last.

“Bad news.”

“Well, Corporal, San Diego is a total clusterfuck. It's worse than Fallujah back in '04.”

“I kinda figured it would be bad,” Sebastian answered.

“Not sure if this is good news based upon the bad news, but we're leaving early and so are you. The colonel wants all the prisoners dropped off by sixteen hundred hours. So, you finally get what you want, Corporal. Your precious California awaits. Now grab your shit, you're coming with me.”

“Ah, now!” Sebastian exclaimed, not quite prepared. Just moments before he'd been grumbling to himself about the wait; now the reality of navigating in the chaos of what was San Diego took him off guard.

“Yes, Corporal. Get your trash, a bird is waiting for you and the other scumbags,” Gunny barked.

Nervously grabbing what few items he had been allowed, Sebastian followed Gunny out of the cell and down the narrow passageways toward the flight deck.

“Are you giving me everything you mentioned before?” Sebastian asked.

“Don't worry, Corporal, we're not cruel. We will give you enough to get by.”

“Thank you.”

Stepping out on the flight deck, Sebastian thought that he'd never see this ship or Gunny again. He had a flash of nostalgia. He really wished that things had gone differently, but the path Barone was on was not one he could follow. Gunny escorted him to the ramp and patted him on the back.

“This is it, Van Zandt. I brought you up first; there's another handful of Marines joining you on this one-way trip. I wanted you to get first dibs on the gear on board,” Gunny said, pointing inside the helicopter.

“Thank you, Gunny,” Sebastian said, putting out his hand.

Gunny looked at his hand, hesitated, then grabbed it firmly, “God damn you, Van Zandt, I really wanted you to come with us; but no, you had to go renegade. Listen, I couldn't let you go without some goodies and a surprise. Grab the pack with the black strap tied on the top.”

“Roger that,” Sebastian said; he still had Gunny's hand.

“If you find your brother, and I hope you do, tell him Smitty says hello, okay?”

“Will do, Gunny.”

They stared at each other for another brief moment before Sebastian turned and walked onto the helicopter. Packs with rifles were lined up on the webbing on both sides of the chopper. By a rough count, he totaled a dozen. This gave Sebastian some encouragement; he hoped he could convince some of them to come with him. He located the pack Gunny had mentioned and sat down next to it. Picking it up was not easy; the pack had to weigh sixty pounds. He wanted to see what surprise Gunny had for him, so he opened the pack up and started digging around. Inside he found the familiar tools of the Marine trade. MREs, a tent, can opener, matches, tarp, poncho, extra bootlaces, extra set of clothes, rope, compass, two flashlights with spare batteries, a Ka-Bar knife, extra boxes of 5.56-mm ammunition, two boxes of 9-mm ammo, and four grenades, two high explosive and two smoke. He just assumed that the grenades were the surprise, but then he felt something in the bottom of the pack. He pulled it out and knew that these would come in handy: night-vision goggles with spare batteries. Hearing others coming on board, Sebastian repacked everything and sat back. He checked his rifle and put on his shoulder holster for the 9-mm while the others boarded.

As each one boarded and sat down, he tried to see if he recognized them. No luck, he didn't know one of these men; not that it mattered, he just wanted in some strange way to have a familiar face with him. Once everyone was aboard, the crew chief came on and raised the ramp. As the turbines of CH-53 chopper began to spin, Sebastian thought back to his time in the Marines. He loved the Corps, and the way he was leaving it made him sad. When the chopper lifted off the flight deck, he said his typical prayer, this time with meaning. Finishing, he looked over his shoulder at the ship below. He wished the best for the Marines of his battalion and hoped that wherever they ended up they could find peace. Settling into his seat for the short ride, he thought about what he might encounter on the ground in San Diego. He couldn't lie to himself; he was anxious, but knowing he'd be able to complete his long journey gave him solace. He just hoped that Gordon and his family were still alive.

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

“Nothing? Nothing is not an answer! It's an excuse! It's a cop-out!” Julia screamed at Cruz and Dylan.

“Mrs. Conner, please understand that until we can get some more intelligence, there's nothing we can do,” Cruz tried to explain with a cautious tone.

“You listen here, Andrew, you're my husband's best friend and his vice president. You need to have men out there every second of the day looking for him,”

“We don't even know if he's alive, Julia; you have to understand,” Cruz said, defending himself.

“All you have are excuses. I want results!”

“Mrs. Conner, if you would just listen to the vice president,” Dylan attempted to interject.

Waving a finger, Julia scolded him. “Don't even tell me what I should do. I've listened long enough. It's been three days and nothing has been done. You all just sit here and talk. This is exactly what Brad hated about this group. You just sit around and talk all the time.”

“Julia, we have limited manpower, we can't have them going door to door,” Cruz said.

“Yes, you could. I'm not asking for you to search every building from here to where he went missing, but you should have teams going door to door there.”

“We tried, but we were repelled by a superior force,” Cruz exclaimed. “We even sent two-man teams; neither team has come back.”