The End

JANUARY 4, 2015

USS Makin Island, Pacific Ocean

Barone had called an emergency meeting with all of his commanders to discuss the landing in California. The ships were close, and based upon the intelligence from their reconnaissance forces he had a better idea about how the entire operation should proceed.

He had not been himself since his son’s death. What little sense of humor and kindness he had was now shut down. He had become hard and unforgiving. He poured himself into ensuring nothing else could go wrong, he became hyper focused on getting his men to California. The preparations for the landing consumed most of his waking hours. The only other thing that frequented his thoughts was how he would tell his wife about Billy’s death. He dreaded that future date when he would stand in front of her. The promise he had made to her years ago was now broken. He had promised that he would do what he could to ensure Billy was always safe. While it was an unrealistic promise, he had made it. It was the reality of his death that made the promise feel truly broken. Billy had been under his command, so he could have prevented it. The guilt he felt ran deep inside him, and what came out of him wasn’t depression anymore but anger. He was angry at himself for not monitoring the flight plan more carefully and he was angry that the battle between them and the USS New Orleans even had to take place.

The vibe and feel on the ship had changed; everyone was careful about what they said and no one made any mistakes. The word given to them from their unit commanders was that the colonel would not accept mediocrity. If anyone wished to change their mind, then they would be arrested and locked up. No more excuses, no more complaining, each and every Marine and sailor had a job to do and it was expected they do it.

As unit commanders walked into the briefing room, Barone looked at each one. No one said a word to each other, very few looked directly at Barone; there was no small talk. Everyone took a seat quickly in the small room. The seats were set in a series of six rows all facing forward toward a map and screen.

Barone looked down at his watch and then looked at the men assembled before him. By his count, all were present.

“Gentlemen, I called this emergency briefing to cover our plan for landing in California. We have had reconnaissance teams going into Southern California for three days now. The intel they have brought back has given critical information for us to draft the plan I am about to detail. However, before I go into this plan I want to set rules for this briefing. I will not take questions as I go, once I have explained everything I will then open the floor for any questions you may have. Is that understood?”

In a chorus, all the men responded by saying, “Yes, sir.”

“Great, let me start by covering the ground truth of what is happening in Southern California. Our teams went to these locations,” Barone turned around and pointed to a map that showed Southern California. “Coronado, 32^nd Street Naval Base, Point Loma and Camp Pendleton. They reached them safely. They were able to make liaison with the base commanders except for Camp Pendleton. I’m not going to break down what each base commander told us but will jumble it all together as a lot of the information is similar. They report that all electronics were down, no vehicles except older vehicles were operating, aircraft, ships and the entire power grid is down. Each commander has been feeding their personnel on stockpiled MRE’s after they had consumed what food rations they had left in their specific mess halls. They also expressed that they have had trouble with some of their personnel going UA. They have been operating at a lockdown and not allowing civilians onto the base unless they were family members of personnel. They have been monitoring the situation on the outside and report that mass deaths are starting to occur from dehydration, starvation and civil unrest. They have reported roving gangs taking advantage of the situation. The city has descended into chaos gentlemen, there is no law enforcement and there are rumors that the mayor of San Diego has fled the city. They did tell us that they have been receiving communication from the US government now headquartered in an undisclosed location via the SIPRNet, or in layman’s terms the government’s own secret Internet. The Federal government has promised that they soon will be sending supplies, but to date they have received nothing. There are two pieces of confirmed intel that we received that changed our plans from what I had first detailed a few weeks ago. We will not be staying in Southern California. We will only be landing to go retrieve our families and can only stay for a week. After that, we must depart and head north. The reason for this change in plan is because the San Onofre nuclear plant is in full meltdown and radiation has contaminated an area about 10 square miles. Most personnel at Camp Pendleton have evacuated and moved east to 29 Palms. Our teams there met with a few Marines who were remaining from the I MEF command element. The other situation we have is a former Mexican drug cartel has moved into the area. They are expanding quickly across the county. According to reports from Coronado and the few elements left at Camp Pendleton, the cartel’s numbers are growing and they are well-armed. So here is what we are going to be doing: We will conduct an amphibious landing on the beaches of Camp Del Mar here. We will set up a presence at the camp and will operate out of there for a week’s time. We will also conduct a simultaneous operation a day later on Coronado Island. There, those sailors who have families in and around San Diego can go get them. By now you have compiled a list of which Marines or sailors will be going onshore to find their families. We will set up a rotation so that everyone has a 24-hour period to go locate and bring back those family members. We want them to bring back what resources they may have. Those resources are on the list that Simpson is handing out now. We will not be allowing personal possessions such as furniture, trinkets etc. Understood?” Barone looked around and seeing nods of assent finished his briefing, “Gentlemen, this mission will be tough, as not all those looking for loved ones will find them, I fully expect to lose some people to possible fighting and to those who will decide to go UA and not return. I want a full count of your men now and upon departure a week later. Where we have openings, I will fill with them with Marines and sailors who wish to join us from Camp Pendleton and the other bases I mentioned earlier. I do understand that the amount of time we are now giving is not a lot, but with the realities on the ground specifically from San Onofre we cannot stay here. Those going ashore at Camp Del Mar will do so in full MOP gear. We will begin operations at 0530 January 6^th. Please have those lists updated so we know who needs to go ashore. We do not want anyone going ashore who wants a joy ride; this is not a liberty port. Tell your men this is now hostile territory and to expect hostile contact. The ROE’s for this mission are every Marine and sailor going ashore will have weapons and ammo, they will return fire if fired upon and if they see an incident where they can defend innocents then they can engage the hostiles. Now I can take questions.”

A dozen men sitting in front of Barone threw up their arms.

“Go ahead, major,” Barone said to an officer in the room.

Standing up the, major asked, “Colonel, you didn’t mention the civilian population. We will be encountering them and they will look to us for food, water etc. What do we do with them? What are the SOPs?” The major sat down after asking his question.

“Good question, major. We will avoid the local civilian population, we cannot help them; we do not have the surplus resources to give them anything. Your mission, and it cannot deviate, is that we are here to secure those family members and bring them back. Just family members, not friends, not random people; I need you to make this clear to the men. Those caught bringing back stragglers will find the stragglers left adrift at sea, and they may join them if they wish to not follow orders,” Barone said sternly, he then pointed to a captain in the back.

Standing up, the captain asked, “Can you cover in more detail the rules of engagement?”

“Captain, the ROE’s for this mission are simple. Every Marine and sailor going ashore will have weapons and ammo, they will return fire if fired upon and if they see an incident where they can defend innocents then they can engage the hostiles. I do not want our men going out looking for a fight; we have a short window here and we must have them get to their family and return directly. I want to stress that this mission is to just go directly to residences or locations of their family members, pick them up and come directly back. I do not want our troops out on a joy ride or fucking off. We don’t have time for that.”

One by one he went through and picked each and every officer and senior NCO who had their hand up. He would not let anyone leave this room until they were all clear about the mission ahead. He was now down to the last two Marines.

“Go ahead master sergeant,” Barone said pointing toward the center of the room to a tall and bald older man.

“Colonel, what are we going to do with the prisoners? They are using up resources and there are a lot of them,” the master sergeant said.

“Master sergeant let me just be blunt, those Marines and sailors who are in the brig now will not be joining us after we depart. We are going to dump their asses on the beach with some MRE’s and water. We will provide them with them means to defend themselves because in the end they are still our brothers, but we will not be taking them with us. We will wish them well and that will be it. I think that answered your question.”

The master sergeant nodded and said, “Yes sir, it did. It was crystal clear.”

Looking around the room there was one last hand raised and Barone called on him, “You there, Captain..Ah…Smiley,” Barone said hesitating then grinning when he read the captain’s name.

“Thank you, colonel. Where are we going after we depart San Diego?”

“Another good question. Captain once we complete Operation Homestead we will be departing San Diego and heading north toward Oregon. We have spotted a good location to conduct an amphibious landing in Coos Bay. After we secure the beach head we will march toward Salem, the capital, and take it.”

Captain Smiley looked stunned when Barone finished what he said. He then asked, “Take it, sir?”

“Yes, captain, take it. We will need a new place to call home. We will need a new country to start. We have the means, we have the resources, hell, captain we have an army! What we don’t need are sniveling politicians telling us what they’re going to do with what we have. We don’t answer to them anymore; we only answer to ourselves. No longer will we be second-class citizens. We will go to Oregon to set up a new country where it’s not the politicians or the celebrities who are at the top of the food chain. We will build a country where the warrior is appreciated and where the warrior class is above everyone else. There is plenty of land in Oregon, good land. This is where we will settle down. I chose Oregon because there are no nuclear plants within 500 miles. The area is easily defended due to the mountains, there is plenty of wild game, and they have four seasons and get plenty of rain so agriculturally we can be self-sufficient. This will be our new home, gentlemen, and we won’t ask permission to come there. We will take what we need and not be sorry for it. We, all of us, have sacrificed a lot. Many of our brothers made the ultimate sacrifice and for what? For a country where half of the people don’t even care for them or respect them? We are no longer sacrificing for a lazy people. Does that answer your question?” Barone finished, his face flush.

“Yes, sir,” the captain said starting to sit down. He stopped, stood straight up again and asked another quick question. “Sir, what do we tell our men this new mission is called?”

“Rubicon, Operation Rubicon.”

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

Conner stood staring at Julia sleeping; a range of emotions ran through him. Last night had finished better than it had started. She had finally given in and told him that she understood. Realizing that he had a tough job, she decided to support him. She made him promise that he wouldn’t do anything foolish and he agreed that he wouldn’t.

Before he tore his gaze away and left, he bent down and gave her one more kiss. Pressing his lips against her warm cheek, he held it there for a few seconds while taking a breath through his nose so he could capture and remember her smell. He gently touched her hair and whispered in her ear, “I love you, Julia.” It took a lot of inner strength to pull away. While he had made her that promise, he really couldn’t guarantee his safety. Standing at the door, he grabbed the knob but couldn’t turn it. He turned around and looked at the room. He wanted to create a mental image of everything in there. The trip would only take two weeks, but not knowing what he would encounter he wanted to remember this moment. .

An anxious curiosity gripped him as the gates first cracked open. The more they opened the more he became excited and nervous. He could see the deep blue mountain sky and the dark green of the trees. As the convoy slowly moved out into the warmth and comfort of the sun’s rays, it also exposed the harsh realities of life on the surface.

The main gate was riddled with debris, garbage and signs. By the looks of it, locals had gone to the base to find sanctuary, but obviously those requests were denied. What tore at Conner’s heartstrings was seeing a small child’s teddy bear lying among the debris and garbage. He wondered where that child might be and if they were safe. As their six-vehicle convoy of Humvees drove down the mountain, Conner sat thinking about that stuffed animal and the child who had once cherished it. He thought about all the people scattered across the country. How alone, desperate, disappointed and scared they must feel.

The route to Peterson Air Force Base took them carefully across major roads; his security detail wanted to ensure they avoided residential areas. With starvation now taking hold of the civilian population, there was greater risk traveling across the residential surface streets.

As they carefully drove, weaving around abandoned cars and wandering people, Conner could see that the city itself looked dead. He saw no lights, no movement except for the occasional person looking up as they drove by quickly. Conner could see those weary people scavenging through abandoned vehicles; he noticed many of the storefronts had their windows smashed; the streets were covered with debris and garbage. There was an occasional car or truck driving but the freeways were now a graveyard for most cars.

Seeing a large group to his right he thought it odd. Looking closer, he saw they were chasing two women. The mob was sizeable, about 20-plus people. He knew the situation was grave and that they should do something about it. When his convoy passed he saw the mob finally close in and catch them.

“I need you to get off at the next exit and go back,” he said, pointing back toward the mob of people.

“Sir, we are not to get off the highway for any reason. We must go directly to the base,” the young Air Force tech sergeant said.

“I’m the President of the United States, get off now!” Conner yelled at the young man.

“Yes, sir,” the tech sergeant replied, looking startled.

He veered quickly off the highway and away from convoy. It was mere seconds before the radio inside Conner’s vehicle came alive.

“Sooner 1, Sooner 1, this is Sooner Command over.”

“What should I say, sir?” the tech sergeant asked.

“Turn right, then straight,” Conner said, ignoring his driver and giving directions as best he could.

“Sooner 1, this is Sooner Command vehicle, come in over,” the voice over the radio repeated.

“Sir?”

“Hand me the radio,” Conner ordered.

Conner took the handset, “This is Conner. I ordered our vehicle off the highway. There are civilians that need our assistance.”

“What is your location, Sooner 1?”

“We are on Cody and Bradley heading south.”

“Roger that, we are en route to provide support. Sooner Command out.”

Conner tossed the handset down and went back to directing the tech sergeant, “Somewhere over there!”

Too busy looking to see where they needed to go, he hadn’t seen the corpse hung from a telephone pole at the entrance of the community. Before the attacks, this neighborhood was a haven for middle-class families, now it looked like a war zone.

“Turn there!” Conner yelled.

The tech sergeant turned to the right abruptly, the tires on his Hummer squealed under the stress of the turn. After making the turn, Conner could see the mob of people ahead. They were ripping and tearing at the two women on the ground.

“Do you have another gun, sergeant?” Conner asked.

“Yes sir,” the tech sergeant said, handing Conner a, M-9 Berretta 9MM pistol.

“Stop here,” Conner ordered.

They stopped a comfortable 30 feet away from the crazed mob. Jumping out, Conner wasted no time; he held the pistol above his head and pulled the trigger. Seeing the mob rip and tear at the two was one thing, but when they stepped out of the Hummer the added dimension of hearing the women scream created a macabre scene.

The sound of the shot made everyone stop and turn around. The mob had been so focused on attacking and brutalizing the women they hadn’t heard them pull up. With the mob silent and their attention now on Conner, the only sound was the moaning of the two women.

“Back away from them now!” Conner commanded, pointing the pistol at the mob.

No one moved, they just stared at Conner.

He shot again in the air and yelled, “Move away from them, now!”

Finally obeying his command, they slowly moved away from the women. Conner cautiously moved toward the two victims as the mob moved further away. At first all he could see were two lifeless bodies on the ground. He could hear them moaning, but saw no movement. With each step the reality of the women’s fate came into focus. They were lying in a large pool of blood with their clothes stripped from them. A few more steps closer he could see that the bloodthirsty mob hadn’t just beaten them; they had literally ripped them apart. One woman’s arm was severed from her body. The other had her abdomen torn open and parts of her intestines were strewn over the both of them. Seeing this shocked Conner to the point he had to turn his gaze away. It took every ounce of control for him not to throw up.

Conner knew there was nothing he could do for these women. He reclaimed his composure and without hesitation walked over and mercifully shot each woman in the head. He took a moment to look at them. He wondered who they were. Just 5 weeks ago their lives were so different.

He turned his attention to the mob and yelled, “What is wrong with you?” No response came from them, they just stared at him. “Why would you do this?” he asked.

“They stole food,” someone from the back of the group finally responded.

“They stole food? That was it, so you brutally beat them and tore them apart?” Conner screamed at them.

A shot cracked loudly behind him. Conner turned and saw the tech sergeant fall to the ground. Conner’s initial shock was soon replaced with fear as he began to feel that he had made a big mistake by deviating from the plan to go play hero.

“Who are you to come here and so righteously condemn our laws!” a man said from a distance holding a hunting rifle. Working the bolt, he cleared an old casing and loaded a new bullet.

Conner squinted so he could see better. As the man came into focus, he saw what he was up against. The man was large in stature, bald and there was something ominous about him. The man took long strides down the street toward him. Others armed with guns, bats, machetes and other various weapons came out of the other homes. Conner saw movement in the corner of his eye and turned to look. The mob he had subdued now started to move toward him. Conner was in an impossible position and ran to his vehicle. His running prompted the mob to do the same as they rushed the vehicle. Making it just in time he was able to close and lock the door. He looked down to start the Hummer then realized he didn’t know how to. The mob began to climb all over the vehicle. Fumbling at the controls, he was turning knobs and pushing buttons. Hummers were not like normal cars. There was no key or ignition switch on the steering column or anywhere on the console. Seeing a lever that said “On” to the left of the steering wheel, he turned it till a light appeared. The mob started to hit the vehicle with sticks, bats and metal rods. Suddenly, in the chaos, he heard gunfire; the mob quickly leapt off the vehicle and ran. More automatic gunfire came as he saw many in the mob fall to the ground. The heaviness of the situation started to lift as he heard his convoy come to his rescue. He could not see what was happening, as the vehicle faced the wrong way. The battle outside sounded fierce, like things he’d only heard on television. Hundreds of bullets were being fired but as the seconds ticked away the gunfire lessened till there was only silence. He sat there waiting and listening.

“You’re an idiot, Brad, what were you thinking?” he said to himself.

Closing his eyes and lowering his head, he prayed that everything was going to be okay. Never again would he go on a fool’s errand, he promised himself. It had only taken him 30 minutes to break the promise he had made to Julia. A knock on the window startled him.

Feeling relieved that he’d be on his way out of this sad situation, he started to speak as he looked up, “I really need to learn how to start one of—” He stopped talking as soon as his eyes gazed upon who was standing there. Covered in blood and sweat, the large bald man with the rifle stood towering over the window. Conner’s reaction was of absolute fear; he jumped out of the driver’s seat and crawled over to the passenger side door. A blast from the man’s rifle blew off the driver’s side door handle. The man threw open the door and stopped Conner’s attempt to escape. The man grabbed his ankle and with brute force pulled him from the vehicle.

“I am the President of the United States, I am the president!” Conner yelled as he was dragged out of the vehicle and onto the ground. Dozens gathered around him like locusts. He knew his fate would be that of the two women. “Wait, I am the President of the United States!”

“Do you think that means anything here?” replied the bald man with a deep and raspy voice as he leveled his rifle at Conner’s face and pulled the trigger.

San Diego, CA

Gordon, Samantha, Nelson and Nelson’s parents who had arrived while Gordon had been out had been packing the truck and trailer since the night before. Wishing they could have more privacy was impossible. Under the watchful eye of every neighbor they loaded box after box of supplies, food, water, medicines and gear. The next morning they would finally leave Rancho Valentino and head east to get as far away from major urban centers as possible. Knowing they could encounter “road agents” or bandits, they planned on traveling during the day.

They couldn’t pack quick enough, neighbors kept walking by and looking. The word had spread quickly that they were leaving with Jimmy, Simone and four other families, the Pomeroy’s, Thompson’s, Behrens’ and Jerrod’s wife and child. Gordon was also happy to have the two Marines, Sgt. Holloway and Lance Corporal Fowler, join their group. They had provided a lot of good information and had managed to secure two operational Jeeps with trailers. Holloway also had a wife and little girl. One family notably missing was Eric’s. They all had tried to convince her to come but she was staying, she believed Eric would return. The prospect of Eric returning was slim, as it had been a long time since his disappearance.

James, the elderly neighbor who lived a couple doors down, kept watching them. Others would walk by, whisper to each other and point. Gordon didn’t like it and made his displeasure known by asking them rhetorically, “What are you looking at?”

Gordon was back inside the house loading a box of canned food when the door opened and Nelson rushed in.

“Gordon, come outside quick!”

Stopping what he was doing he followed Nelson out into the garage, there he ran into a sweating and exhausted Jimmy.

“Jimmy, you okay? What’s up?” Gordon asked concerned.

He put his finger up to indicate he needed a second to catch his breath then managed to say, “Eric’s back.”

“What?”

“Damn, I thought losing a few pounds would make running easier. Yeah, he’s back. Speaking of losing a few pounds, he lost some weight and he’s tortured but he’s home.”

“Nelson, sorry to leave you with this but I want to go see Eric.”

“No problem, you go. I got this.” Nelson said looking around at all the boxes in the garage.

Gordon started running toward Eric’s house. His injuries prevented him from keeping a good pace and a heavy feeling started to creep up on him. Not wanting to overdo it, he slowed down to a quick walk. He thought back to the day of the attack, he had been out for a run that day. That was the last day the neighborhood looked manicured. Most of the houses now looked like something out of an impoverished third-world country; the hanging tarps and clothes, the strong smell of feces, the dead plants and grass, cars covered in a thick layer of dust. The clean and manicured feel of the community was gone. It had turned from a cute, beautiful family neighborhood to an unkempt, worn survival camp. Houses were no longer “homes,” they were shelters.

Gordon arrived at Eric’s house and banged on the door for what seemed like minutes. Melissa finally answered and didn’t look happy to see him.

“Gordon, hi.”

“Hi, Melissa; I just heard. Can I come in and see him?”

She didn’t answer right away; she turned around and looked back into her house. Gordon could hear Eric say something but he couldn’t make it out.

“Yes, come on in. He’s in the kitchen.”

Gordon walked directly back to the kitchen. First seeing Eric was shocking. He had lost a lot of weight and his face and arms were covered in a mix of fresh and older wounds.

“Eric, I can’t say how good it is to see you. I have to say when I woke up and heard you hadn’t made it back, I feared the worst,” Gordon said.

“It’s good to see you, too. I feared the worst, too,” Eric said slowly.

“Listen, I don’t want to put pressure on you but I have to. We have to leave tomorrow. Everything has gone to shit here. It’s too much to explain now, but we want you to go with us.”

“Okay, we can do that,” he said, looking at Gordon with his sunken eyes.

“You can ride with us, we have a camper trailer. I need you to pack up everything that is useful. We’re never coming back.”

“Okay.”

“Gordon, can we wait a day or two? He needs to rest and get back on his feet, look at him,” Melissa said, concerned for her husband. She walked over to Eric and put her arm around him.

“Melissa, we don’t have time, we—,” Gordon was saying when Eric interrupted him.

“Mel he’s right, we have to leave. Gordon I have some bad news. It’s a big problem. The guys who attacked us, well they captured me. I managed to escape a few days ago but had to live in the shadows to make it home,” Eric paused to take a drink of water and a breath. “Gordon, they know about our community and plan on coming here for our resources soon. I overheard someone when I was there. I think he’s their leader, his name Pablo. They weren’t happy about that day. They lost a lot of people.”

“How do they know where we are?” Gordon asked.

Eric looked at Gordon again with those dark sunken eyes.

“You don’t have to say anything, really don’t worry about it,” Gordon said, anticipating Eric’s answer.

“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 etcetera 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 7 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’ 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 was 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 45 minutes ago the president and his convoy went off course on their way to the airbase. 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 just 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.