The Long Road

JANUARY 8, 2014

Barstow, CA

“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 drop off 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!” she yelled out after dropping her teddy bear.

“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.”

“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 regard 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 who 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.

“Lieutenant Wasserman, we’re being shot at, go higher!” Sebastian yelled again.

No response again, but Wasserman did what Sebastian said. Still looking down, Sebastian could see what appeared to be more men and more flashes, followed by loud panging on the upper fuselage. They kept going higher and higher until the chopper shuddered and dropped, causing a feeling of weightlessness. Sebastian was pushed into the ceiling and hit his head. The chopper regained power and stopped its fall for only a moment before he heard the engine winding down.

Lying on his back, Sebastian had an uneasy feeling, which grew worse when black smoke entered the chopper from outside. He got to his knees but was thrown down again when the chopper banked hard to the left. He rolled across the floor and slammed into the webbing. He reached out and grabbed it to hold himself; the chopper was now on its side and falling out of the sky. He could see the ground through the open window.

More shuddering and the engine fired up again; he could hear the blades start to spin. The chopper stabilized but was not far off the ground. He crawled up onto the webbing and looked out the window. They couldn’t be more than two hundred feet from the ground. Fear had gripped Sebastian. He thought that after all the fighting to get home, this was how he would die, and only a few miles from Gordon’s house. He looked outside but did not know where they were.

“Sir, what’s our game plan?” Sebastian asked.

“No time to chat, Corporal. We need to try to get this bird back to the Makin Island.”

“What about me?”

“Sorry, Corporal. I need to get back if I can.”

Just then the chopper banked to the left and started to head north.

Sebastian tore the headset off and tossed it in anger. He lay back against the wall and yelled, “Damn it!”

They hadn’t flown for two minutes before the same violent shuddering returned. Again, black smoke poured in and the props stopped. Gravity took over, and the chopper dropped. Sebastian held on to his seat and looked at the crew chief, who was busily strapping himself down. Sebastian knew the ground was coming fast, and the anticipation of impact was intense. He wondered how it would feel. He wondered if he would die. Of course, he thought. How many people fall out of the sky in a huge helicopter and walk away?

The first impact stopped his thoughts. Whatever they hit forced the chopper to turn 120 degrees and jarred Sebastian. He lost his grip and flew to the other side of the chopper. The second impact tipped the rear end up. Sebastian slid across the deck and slammed into the front wall. All he could think they were hitting was large trees; that meant the ground and final impact were close. Dazed, he scrambled to find something stable to hold on to, but his search was futile. The helicopter slammed nose-first into the ground, tipping over onto its back before settling on its side. Remarkably, the chopper was almost intact; the propellers had been sheared off and the fuselage crushed, but it didn’t break in two despite the multiple collisions.

Sebastian awoke to an unfamiliar face. His vision was blurry, so making out clearly who it was was impossible. A sharp pain shot up from his right leg. He knew he was not okay, but at least he was alive. He blinked repeatedly in the hope that his vision would clear, but it didn’t work.

“This one is alive!” the person yelled.

Sebastian tried to speak but couldn’t. He then attempted to move but was met with severe pain. He winced and stopped his attempts at talking and moving.

“Over here, he needs help, now!” the person said, squatting down next to him.

Opening his eyes again, Sebastian noticed it was a young woman, her light blond hair pulled back into a long ponytail. He reached toward her face, but she grabbed his hand and brought it back down.

“Just rest, we’ll take care of you,” she reassured him.

Sebastian felt safe, but then again, there wasn’t much he could do. He closed his eyes and passed out.

Barstow, California

“You can’t be the one who always runs off and does everything! We needed you here. Hunter and Haley needed you!” Samantha screamed at Gordon.

They were in their trailer; the kids were both lying in bed resting from the earlier ordeal. Gordon had led the convoy farther up the road, then headed across the desert away from the town of Barstow. Adhering to their plan, they circled the vehicles at night. Moving under the cover of darkness might be beneficial, but Gordon felt it was too risky. Even though the attack today had been conducted during daylight hours, traveling during the day allowed them at least the chance to see an ambush or questionable situation. The darkness provided too much cover for those who wished to do harm.

“Sam, we were being shot at. I saw the machine gun and did what needed to be done. We needed to confirm they were dead.”

“I understand. But this time, we needed you and you weren’t there. Plus, why did you have them hide in the culvert? Why not take shelter in the trailer with me?”

“The trailer didn’t provide real protection. In case you didn’t notice, they were showering bullets down on us. I felt the culvert was safe. I obviously didn’t know this group had people hiding in the desert to our right,” Gordon said defensively.

“All I am saying is that you don’t always have to be the one. What if one of them was killed?”

“You’re being ridiculous, Sam. If I didn’t do something, more of us might have died. We lost an entire family today, burned alive in their car. I’ll tell you this, I won’t let Hunter go unprotected again,” Gordon said, pacing the short distance in the trailer.

“What does that mean?”

“It means from now on he will have the tools necessary to defend himself and whoever.”

“He’s a boy, Gordon!”

“Not anymore! That is a twentieth-century invention. He’s now a young man and needs to step up!”

Putting her hand up in a motion to indicate she was done hearing from Gordon, Samantha opened the door and left.

Gordon just watched her as she slammed the door. He shook his head and tossed the water bottle he had in his hand.

“Dada?” Haley whispered from her bed.

Hearing her sweet little voice brought Gordon back from his thoughts. He quickly walked to the rear of trailer and sat on the edge of the bed. Haley sat up, rubbed her eyes, and hugged him.

“Hi, honey,” he said softly, kissing the top of her head.

“Can you cuddle me, Dada?”

“Sure, sweetie” He looked over at Hunter, who was still sleeping. Gordon lay next to Haley and cradled her small body. He kissed her head and rubbed her arms till he could hear the heavier breathing indicating she had fallen back asleep. He then thought about the events of the day. He replayed them over and over. It haunted him that the kids had been directly attacked. He tried to convince himself that he was right, but Samantha’s voice kept echoing in his head. Maybe she was right, he thought. Then again, maybe she was being too impractical. One thing he didn’t want to do was ponder what to do when the shit was hitting the fan. His instincts had gotten them this far. Many conflicting thoughts battled in his mind, but one was constant and nagged him more than anything… the thought that he alone couldn’t keep his children safe anymore.