The Long Road - A Post Apocalyptic Novel (The New World) Read online

  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.”

  “Don’t we have any resources here to do something? Are we that helpless?” Julia asked. She was getting increasingly frustrated by this back-and-forth.

  “We have more men coming soon, and when they arrive, we will have a plan.”

  Julia looked tired and frustrated. She finally sat down at the table. The waiting was wearing on her physically and emotionally. It had been three days since Conner had disappeared. Cruz had sent a team to find him, but when they attempted to conduct a search, they were fired upon by the locals. Cruz had requested support from the handful of military installations that still had operations. But with only two aircraft, it would take some time before they could have those men on the ground.

  “Julia, believe me when I say that if I could go get Brad I would, but we are vulnerable now. I’m making my decisions based upon what I think Brad would do,” Cruz said. He sat down next to her.

  Lifting her weary head, Julia responded, “Thank you for saying that; you’re right. Brad would look at the big picture, and if searching for someone would jeopardize the greater good, he would not do it.” She reached over and touched his hand. Cruz responded by placing his hand on top of hers.

  Gripping her hand a bit tighter, he said, “I will not rest until we find him, please trust me; I will find him.”

  Barstow, California

  Haley screamed; she didn’t move but was stiff with fear. Each swipe and lunge the man made caused her to scream even more.

  “Come here,” the man barked again.

  When his hand touched her shoes, she finally reacted by kicking at him. She looked into his dark eyes; his unshaven face was smeared with grease and dirt. Sweat poured off of his brow, and the smell of the many weeks he’d gone unwashed wafted over her. Knowing he was only inches away, he forced himself farther into the small opening.

  “Come here, damn it!” the man ordered. His voice echoed off the walls of the culvert.

  Haley continued to kick and moved away from his grasp. The man stuffed himself farther into the culvert and made another lunge for her; this time he was successful. He grabbed her ankle and pulled her toward him. Haley fought back by kicking him, but his grip was too firm. Tears of utter fear ran down her face as she drew closer and closer to him.

  Suddenly his grip loosened, and without notice he was forcibly pulled out of the culvert. The absence of his hulking body allowed the sunlight to cascade across Haley. She scurried away from the opening and watched as Nelson plunged his knife into the man’s chest.

  Nelson stabbed the man over and over. As he pulled the knife out and swung his arm up, blood sprayed over the man and Nelson. He thrust the blade again and again.

  “Die, you son of a bitch!” Nelson screamed.

  Haley just stared at Nelson, clearly in shock. Her trembling had become uncontrollable.

  Someone then appeared at the entrance of the culvert. Haley couldn’t make out who it was. Her eyes were trying to adjust when the sound of a familiar and comforting voice bounced off the sides of the culvert.

  “Come here, baby. It’s Mommy; come here, honey.”

  Haley hesitated briefly, then crawled toward Samantha, who grabbed her and yanked her out and into her warm arms.

  Samantha held her tight and whispered, “It’s okay now, honey, it’s okay.”

  Haley buried her face in Samantha’s shoulder and cried. She lifted her head for a second to see Eric hovering over Hunter, who was still unconscious. Then another welcoming and secure voice bellowed over everyone else’s.

  “Hunter, Haley!” Gordon yelled.

  “Here!” Samantha responded.

  Gordon tore over to them in a sprint and hugged them both. Then he saw Hunter lying motionless on the ground. He pulled away from Samantha and Haley and went to his son’s side.

  “How is he?” Gordon asked Eric.

  “I’m not sure. We just got here and he was lying there.”

  Gordon bent over and placed his ear against his son’s mouth. The faint warmth of his breath tickled his cheek. He then looked over Hunter, first noticing a dark bruise on his forehead. From there he examined his arms and chest. He couldn’t find anything. When Gordon carefully rolled him onto his side to look at his back, Hunter moved.

  “Son,” Gordon said.

  Hunter’s eyes flickered, then opened. “Dad,” he said in a groggy voice.

  “Yes, I’m here. You okay?”

  “My head hurts,” Hunter said, raising his hand to where the bruise was.

  “Anywhere else?”

  “No.” Hunter paused then continued. “Haley, where’s Haley?”

  “She okay, she’s fine,” Gordon reassured him.

  “I tried to protect her, but the guy was too strong. I’m sorry.”

  “Son, no, don’t say that; it’s my fault. I should have been here,” Gordon said, cradling Hunter in his arms and lifting him off the ground.

  Samantha and Gordon walked their shocked and injured children to the trailer. Gordon had tried to protect his children from the horrors of this new world, but without notice it had been thrust upon them. He vowed that he would never allow Hunter to go unprotected again; this was a lesson for him. Now was time to treat Hunter like the young man he was becoming.

  Tijuana, Mexico

  Pablo Juarez sat in the cushioned leather chair in his father’s beautifully decorated office. He leaned back and looked up at the coffered ceiling. His eyes followed the hand-hewn beams until they intersected with the ornately decorated upholstered walls. If you took away the security cameras, computers, and other signs of technology, you would think you were in a room in Versailles. His father, Alfredo, loved the finer things and without regar
d for money ensured he had the best in furniture and decorations. Being one of the largest drug lords in Mexico helped Alfredo adorn his homes from wall to wall with the best.

  Pablo did not have his father’s taste for these things. What he wanted more than anything was power. His father had summoned him back from San Diego to discuss his son’s long-term goals. He allowed Pablo to do whatever he wanted, but now he wanted his son to know who was really in charge.

  Pablo looked at his watch; his father was thirty minutes late. Growing impatient, he stood up and walked to the window. He couldn’t make anything out through the thick bulletproof glass, just distorted shades of green and blue.

  “This is bullshit,” Pablo said after looking at his watch again. He exhaled deeply and started for the door.

  When he reached for the golden brass handle, the door opened. He stepped back to see his father there.

  “Ah, Pablo, my son,” Alfredo said, putting his arms in the air, then leaning in to hug him.

  “Good to see you, Father,” Pablo responded, returning the hug.

  “Where were you going? We have a meeting, right?” Alfredo asked, looking at Pablo. He then nodded and walked past him toward his desk.

  “You were over thirty minutes late, and I have to get back to San Diego,” Pablo answered, his tone showing a tinge of frustration.

  “No, I wasn’t late, you were early, I said three-thirty, didn’t I?”

  “No, Father, you said, three p.m.” Pablo snapped.

  Alfredo grinned and sat down in his chair, “Whatever. I am here now. Please, please sit down,” he said, motioning to the chair Pablo had been sitting in earlier.

  Looking agitated but understanding the hierarchy, Pablo sat back down.

  Alfredo leaned forward, opened a humidor on his desk, and pulled out a large cigar. As he prepped the cigar for smoking he asked, “Son, tell me, what are your plans up north?”

  Pablo watched his father precisely cut the butt off the cigar. Alfredo was very meticulous about his cigars and how he smoked them.

  “Sorry, do you want one?” Alfredo asked.

  “No thank you.”

  Taking his butane lighter, Alfredo lit the cigar, carefully spinning it in the blue flame. He puffed and puffed, the orange flames of the tobacco dancing with each puff. He exhaled, took another puff, then blew the smoke on the lit end of his cigar. Pablo knew not to start talking to his father until his full attention was on him, hence his hesitation in answering the question.

  Leaning back in his chair, Alfredo asked again, “Son, what are your plans up north?”

  “We have a chance to do something we never could before. We have a chance to have real power and control. We can now take back what was once ours.”

  “Whose?”

  Looking at his father oddly, Pablo answered, “Mexico’s.”

  “Really, you’re doing what you’re doing for Mexico? Since when were you a patriot?”

  “Father, we have a real chance now to expand outside of drugs to have real power,” Pablo said, the tempo of his speech increasing.

  “So you are playing around up north with hopes of glory for Mexico?” Alfredo said with a chuckle.

  “Why am I here? Why did you call for me?”

  Leaning forward and placing his elbows on his desk, Alfredo exhaled a large cloud in Pablo’s direction. “Son, I called you here to see exactly what your plans are, and you tell me for the greater glory of Mexico!”

  “The glory can be ours too.”

  “Pablo, my boy, we have everything we need. What we should be doing is getting as many things as possible to make our lives easier. If you were here it wouldn’t have taken me four weeks to get everything back up and running. Your place is here, not up north causing trouble. You’re starting something you can’t win, a war. I heard what happened. I heard that you lost many men and supplies when the Marines landed. We even had some losses here because they traced your origins back to us. I don’t like that. I think you’re in over your head, and I can’t support this reckless behavior anymore.”

  “Father, listen, please,”

  “No, you listen, Pablo. I need you here helping us get what supplies we need to outlast this. Do you honestly think you can fight the U.S. Army and win?”

  “Father, please, we have a real chance here,” Pablo pleaded.

  “I sent you to the best universities, you had the best tutors since you were a little boy. You’re a smart kid, but what you’re doing now is stupid. It ends now!”

  “Please, Father, just listen!”

  Slamming his fist down on his desk, Alfredo barked, “No, you listen, Pablo! It’s over! Your Villista game is over! Now leave me, go see your cousin José over at the distillery, and don’t forget to see your mother, she misses you.”

  Pablo’s face had turned ashen, and thoughts filled his mind. He wanted to press his father about the urgency of his crusade, but he knew the old man well enough to know he’d do a better job talking to the wall.

  “Yes, Father,” Pablo said, then quickly stood up and left. The short walk from the chair to the door seemed to take forever. His inner self kept telling him to stand up to his father; then his more pragmatic side would keep him quiet. He knew he was right; he knew what he was doing could grow into something large. He knew that, if left to his own devices, he could be bigger and more powerful than his father. If given the chance, he could be something much larger than a leader of a drug cartel; he could be the leader of a new empire.

  San Diego, California

  Grabbing their packs, the Marines stood up and slowly walked off the chopper. The drop-off point was the main beach in Oceanside. Sebastian was familiar with where he was and calculated that it would take him a few days on foot to get to Gordon’s house. When he reached the back of the chopper, the crew chief stopped him.

  “Stay here!” the chief yelled in his ear. The noise of the chopper blades and engine made it difficult to hear.

  “Why? What’s up?” Sebastian asked, looking confused. He saw the others were already heading off in their own directions. Sebastian hadn’t gotten a chance to talk to any of them to see if they could join up on a trek to the south. “Listen, I need to go, I need to talk to those guys.”

  “Sit down, over there,” the crew chief said, pointing to the webbing just behind Sebastian.

  Unsure of himself, he decided to listen to the crew chief and took a seat. Within moments of the ramp rising, the chopper slowly lifted.

  Reaching over and tugging on the crew chief’s sleeve, Sebastian asked, “Where are you taking me?”

  The crew chief held up his index finger to indicate that he needed a second.

  Sebastian looked over his shoulder and noticed they had banked and now were heading south. The crew chief finished what he was doing and approached him. To Sebastian’s surprise, he handed him a headset. Sebastian took it and put it on.

  “This is Corporal Van Zandt,” Sebastian said into mic.

  “Hello, Corporal. This is First Lieutenant Wasserman. Gunny Smith asked us to give you a ride to wherever you needed to go.”

  Sebastian’s eyes opened wide at what Gunny had done for him. He just looked at the crew chief with astonishment.

  “Corporal, you there?” Wasserman asked.

  “Ah, yes, sir. Um? Keep heading south. Do you know where Carmel Valley is?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Sir, the best route to where I need to go is take the coast till you can see Highway 56, then head east.”

  “Roger that, Corporal. I’ll ask for further directions once we start heading east,” Wasserman said.

  The headset went silent. Sebastian took it off and just held it. “What do ya know?” he said to himself with a grin on his face. Too excited to relax, he turned around so he could see out the small window. He looked down on the houses that spotted the shoreline. One thing he noticed was the absence of people. Even though it was starting to get dark, there was enough light out for those runners or walkers w
ho liked to take to the beach just after work or those who wanted to glimpse the setting sun. They passed familiar landmarks along the beach until he recognized one that meant he was close to heading east: the long strand called San Elijo State Beach. He put the headset back on and said, “Lieutenant Wasserman, I think we can head east sooner. I can guide us to where you need to go.”

  “Roger that, Corporal, let me know where,” Wasserman replied.

  “When we get to the end of the long beach, bank east-southeast.”

  “Roger that.”

  Sebastian was getting a bit concerned because the sun was now below the horizon and soon it would be dark. The pilot was on mark and banked the chopper east-southeast. Sebastian walked over to the other side of the chopper so he could see the landmarks. He saw the road he was looking for. Lomas Santa Fe would lead him east enough. Then all he had to do was turn south and he’d be right on top of Gordon’s neighborhood. Wasserman had lowered the chopper enough that Sebastian could see a small group of people clearly in a cul-de-sac; looking more intently, he thought they had rifles. Really focusing on them, he noticed two of them had the rifles on their shoulders.

  “Oh, shit; go higher, go higher!” Sebastian yelled into the mic.

  No response came from Wasserman. A few streaking flashes confirmed that they were being shot at.