The Long Road

JANUARY 11, 2014

40 miles east of Barstow, CA

“You need to eat,” Nelson said, handing Samantha a tuna packet.

Samantha looked at the dark blue packet in Nelson’s hand, then went back to marking grids on an old map of the area. Using a red marker, she shaded the areas they had searched. Unfortunately for her, most of the map was not touched by the red marker.

“Please, Sam, take a bite. You need the energy,” Nelson pleaded.

“Every minute I’m not looking for him is a minute lost.”

“How about I feed you while you mark more search grids for us?”

“You think this is a joke? My son is out there somewhere; so is my husband. Something happened. I don’t know what, but I can’t leave my baby boy out there! He’s alone and scared! He needs me!” Samantha lambasted Nelson.

“I don’t think this a joke, Samantha. Not at all. I just know if you don’t keep your strength up, then you can’t keep going. Then you’re no good to anyone, especially Hunter.”

Samantha had stopped looking at Nelson and was intently making marks on the map. But his last comment caused her to stop what she was doing and put the map down. Grabbing the packet of tuna out of his hand, she exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Nelson, I didn’t mean to yell at you.”

“I know, Samantha, it’s okay. You eat that, and then we’ll head back out to the north to look for him.”

“You know, I’m also worried about Gordon, but he’d understand that I’m prioritizing the search for Hunter.”

“Of course he would,” Nelson said reassuringly.

“Where do you think Gordon is?” Samantha asked, tossing the empty tuna packet on the ground.

“I’m glad you asked. I wanted to talk to you without everyone else giving their opinion on the matter. I think we should send one team to go look for Gordon and Holloway. We know where they went. Plus, I have to say this: What if Hunter was with them?”

Samantha didn’t respond. She sat looking at the map on the ground. The light wind was blowing the edges up and shifting sand grains across the top. She had thought that could be the case but felt that Gordon wouldn’t have allowed it, no matter how much he wanted Hunter to be “a man.” He would never take their son with him.

“I have thought that, but Gordon wouldn’t have allowed it. I know him.”

“What if Gordon didn’t know?”

Shaking her head in amazement, Samantha said, “It’s possible. Oh my God.”

“Let’s send Eric and my dad.”

“Okay.”

Nelson left Samantha to finalize the search grid on the map while he instructed Eric and his father on their task. As he walked, he thought that Gordon had truly fucked up by going out to scavenge. He knew his friend, and knew that if he was still alive, he was cursing his decision with every ounce of his being.

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

The whispers were the first thing Julia heard. She couldn’t make out who it was, but they were in the other room. She opened her eyes to an unfamiliar place. Looking left and right, she didn’t see anyone. Judging by the room, she was in the base hospital. When she moved her arm she felt a tug. She looked down to see an IV hooked up to her elbow. The events of two days before were clear in her mind up until she’d blacked out.

She ran her hand across her belly and talked to herself. “How are you doing in there, huh?”

What had happened to her two days before was new for her. She hadn’t blacked out in her last pregnancy, and she couldn’t recall ever having such severe abdominal pain.

A nurse entered the room wearing the camouflage uniform of an Air Force tech sergeant. She was young and round with her hair pulled back in a bun.

“Mrs. Conner, you’re awake?”

“Yes, I just woke. How long have I been here?”

“You were brought in almost two full days ago.. You fainted in the hallway. Dylan McLatchy found you,” the nurse said as she walked around the bed checking on the monitors and attending to her duties.

“I’ve never done that before. Is everything okay?”

“The doctor will be in shortly to go over everything with you,” the nurse said as she took her pulse.

The door opened and a middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat entered. He stepped over to Julia’s bedside.

“How are you doing, Mrs. Conner?”

“I’m fine. I was just telling the nurse.”

“Everything’s normal, Doctor,” the nurse said directly to the doctor.

“Great.” He smiled back.

After the nurse left the room, the doctor pulled over a chair and sat next to Julia.

“Mrs. Conner, I’m Captain Weatherby, one of the doctors here.”

“Can I sit up?” Julia asked, looking for the button to operate the bed.

“Sure, here,” Weatherby said, pressing the button that raised the head of the bed.

“Thanks. Now I can talk with you and not feel so awkward.”

“Mrs. Conner, you came in severely dehydrated. Also, your blood pressure was incredibly high. When we undressed you, there was vaginal blood, so we…”

“What do you mean vaginal blood? Is the baby alright?” Julia asked, concerned. She sat up straight and tense.

“Mrs. Conner, when there is vaginal bleeding, it is a sign that something might be wrong with the pregnancy. We examined you with an ultrasound, and unfortunately found that the pregnancy is ectopic.”

Julia’s eyes gave away the emotions she was feeling deep inside. Tears ran down her face and dripped onto the clean white sheets. She tried to speak, but the words would not come out. Losing even the strength to remain sitting up, she fell back into the pillows and gazed past the doctor. She wasn’t looking at anything specifically. Her thoughts went to the dreams she had of a new baby. Brad’s disappearance was helped by the fact that she had his baby. She consoled herself with the knowledge that even if he was confirmed dead, she would have someone. She would still have a part of him.

The doctor started to talk again, but it sounded like he was in the other room with the door closed. His voice just faded into the background and was unintelligible to her. All she could think of was losing this baby. Ever since she had found out about the pregnancy she had had visions of actually holding the baby and looking into its eyes. Her fantasies even extended to being there every day as it grew up, the first birthday, first steps, first time it said Mama or Dada, all of those precious moments that parents get to experience. Now, without notice, this new life was being taken away. These thoughts were suddenly stopped when Weatherby touched her arm.

“Mrs. Conner. We need to get you prepped for the procedure.”

“Get out,” she said in a low voice.

“Mrs. Conner, we need to get this done.”

“Get out, get out, get out!” she screamed.

Weatherby flinched, but he wasn’t shocked. He had been a doctor long enough to know that her response was not unusual. He pushed his chair back, stood up, and promptly left the room.

All Julia could see in her mind’s eye was the little baby. She wanted this baby, and for whatever reason, she felt that God was taking it away.

Unknown military installation

Gordon paced his cell hundreds of times. He didn’t have much to go on. He had to get out of there and find Hunter. The dreadful noises and screams that had echoed across the area last night foretold a fate he had no intention of experiencing. He couldn’t for the life of him understand how Rahab and his men had been able to take this base. All he could imagine was that Rahab had gathered together a large force who were just as crazy as he was. He knew Rahab was an extremist in the purest sense. He was driven by a deeply held belief that his cause was just and divine.

Gordon had run into these types in Iraq, and now they had taken root here. History had dozens and dozens of examples of these kinds of zealots. During catastrophic events, some look to a god to help explain why or to give them hope. Rahab’s flock had probably grown tremendously after the lights went out. It took Gordon only minutes to see the charisma and eloquence seeping out of the man. The sheer confidence was intoxicating. Rahab was a natural leader who was hell-bent on further destruction. The vacuum of authority and lawfulness along with Rahab’s obvious abilities would have made his climb to power quick. Gordon wasn’t scared easily, but Rahab scared him.

The sound of the door unlocking paused him midstride. He looked at the door in anticipation.

Same as the day before. The clang, bang, and creak as the door opened. The same two men approached him; each grabbed an arm and marched him out. This time they didn’t tape his mouth or cover his head. They rushed him out of the box and into the sunlight.

What Gordon saw now confused him. This wasn’t Fort Irwin. Ahead of him was a small bermed area that held a fuel truck. To his left he saw a paved runway with H emblazoned on some of the areas. He recognized them as helicopter pads. The tarmac stretched for hundreds of feet, two shorter runways running perpendicular to the main one. As he was being paraded through the small base, he saw dozens of people. Some carried guns; all the men had long hair. The women were covered in long robe-like garments. All of the structures he saw were temporary. Two large metal hangars stood at the ends of the shorter runways. He looked over his shoulder to where he had come from and saw another dozen Conex boxes. He thought, Is that where Hunter is?

He was attempting to commit the base’s layout to memory. He counted each person he saw, how many guns, positions, buildings, what the buildings might be used for, vehicles, and any other useful item that could help him put together a plan to escape. To the far side of the hangars were ten large white structures laid out in two rows with five buildings in each row. Gordon assumed those were barracks. Smaller shacks and random gear were everywhere.

Surrounding the entire base was a dirt berm; beyond it was flat, open desert that ran into towering mountains to the south and west. Everything he saw spoke to it being a military base, but this wasn’t Fort Irwin, this was a training area outside the base. Then Gordon’s memory from his Marine Corps days kicked in. Although he had never been to the base before, he had heard how large it was. It was similar to 29 Palms in size, mostly vast desert and training areas. He remembered someone telling him Fort Irwin’s National Training Center was almost the size of Rhode Island. Gordon didn’t recognize the mountains; he had no idea where they were or where Samantha and the group was.

Walking past the closest hangar, he peered inside. It looked like it was housing a classic car collection. A dozen or more vehicles, one being his truck, were parked in there with some more of Rahab’s people working on them. Gordon had counted more than fifty of Rahab’s followers. How could this be? he wondered. How could one man put together such a sizable force so quickly? Gordon’s thoughts soon went to his own escape. A feeling of dread came over him as he realized he didn’t know how he and Hunter would be able to get out of this place.

His trek across the base ended with the two men taking him into another hangar-size building just to the west of the barracks. Gordon’s angst quickly turned to confusion as he saw a large group of children playing. He scanned each face hoping to see Hunter, but to his dismay his son wasn’t there. They hurried him past the children and into a small side room. Just as he stepped into the room, he heard a familiar voice coming from the group of children. It sounded like Hunter; he tried to step back, but the men forced him into the room.

“Sit down, we’ll be right back,” one of the men said to Gordon after they placed him on a sofa that was against the far wall.

Gordon didn’t answer the man; he adjusted himself and looked around. The room at one time had been an office. Besides the couch there were two chairs and a large desk. He could hear the children laughing in the other room. He didn’t know how to act now. He instinctively wanted to call out to his son, but he knew every move he made had to be calculated. He needed to ensure his and Hunter’s survival by making sure that he didn’t enflame the situation until he could execute an escape plan. The only reason he thought they’d bring him to this building and this room was to see Hunter. He obviously didn’t know Rahab, but maybe the man had been telling the truth about his being able to see Hunter. The walk across the small base had been helpful and informative. The office, though, didn’t provide any clues; it was much like the one from the day before.

“God, I got to get the fuck outta here,” Gordon said out loud. He knew the longer he stayed the greater the chances were that Samantha and Haley would end up here too. Just when his wife would come looking for them was the only unknown. He knew she would, but when would she find this place? He had given instructions to Nelson to pull up stakes and head north if anything ever happened to him, but he knew Samantha. With Hunter missing, that wasn’t going to happen.

Thoughts of regret now filled Gordon’s mind. He should have listened to everyone else, he should have listened to Nelson and Samantha. Leaning forward, he planted his head in his hands. A feeling of defeat replaced the regret. He’d tried so hard to keep things together in Rancho Valentino, but for what? Everyone eventually fought each other, and it had torn the community apart, resulting in the deaths of two good friends. He attempted to defend his own doubts by asking himself, How am I supposed to know and plan for each eventual outcome? Leading people was not easy, and he found it even tougher to lead when his family’s lives were at stake.

Samantha’s frustration with him had grown the moment they left the gates of Rancho Valentino. He knew she was upset about Simone, but there wasn’t anything he could’ve done about her suicide. Then had come the attack on the road days ago. In order to lead this group he would have to take risks. His inner self now knew this decision to go out scavenging was a mistake, a mistake that had caused the death of Holloway and now might even bring about his and Hunter’s untimely demise.

“You’re such a fool,” he muttered to himself.

The laughter of the children jolted him back to the present. He stood up and walked over to the desk to see if there was something on it that could help him identify his location.

The desk had been stripped bare. In each drawer he opened he found just miscellaneous items, like paper clips, pens, a penny, thumbtacks. Nothing gave him a location. He then remembered back to the Marine Corps and how they would mark each piece of equipment, including desks, with stickers stating it was government property. Maybe, just maybe, there would be such marking here. He looked under the desk for a sticker—nothing.

The door opened. Gordon jerked and smacked his head as he pulled it out quickly from underneath the desk.

“You won’t find anything there worth any value, Mr. Van Zandt,” Rahab said, standing in the open doorway.

With a weak attempt at humor, Gordon quipped, “I saw a quarter on the floor.”

Rahab just smiled. “Come with me.”

Gordon was now very confused. Rahab didn’t appear to be concerned with him or remotely afraid that he’d do something. As he stepped out of the office, Gordon looked for Hunter but did not see him among the children.

The children all appeared to be happy and healthy. They were laughing and enjoying themselves, and nowhere in their demeanor did he see any distress.

The walls of the hall were adorned with hand-drawn pictures by the children. Rahab or a Christ-like figure appeared in many of them. Along the wall also hung what Gordon guessed were biblical quotations.

Gordon and his brother, Sebastian, had not been raised in an actively religious home. His mother had been a Methodist and his father a Lutheran, but neither practiced their birth religion. During their childhood the family went to church but only on the big holidays like Christmas and Easter. Not having been raised with faith, neither Gordon nor Sebastian took it up. After his two tours in Iraq, Gordon had completely washed his hands of religion. He had encountered many people from different faiths and felt none had a corner on what was right.

The way he was being treated today was so different from the way he’d been treated the day before. Rahab opened a door at the end of the hall and motioned for him to go inside.

When he reached the open doorway, his eyes lit up. “Hunter!” Gordon raced into the room and grabbed his son. They embraced tightly. Being able to hold him and see that he was unharmed brought such relief to Gordon. “Are you okay? Let me look at you.”

“I’m fine, Dad,” Hunter answered.

“Oh my God, I was so scared for you,” Gordon said after looking him over.

Hunter embraced him again and said, “I want to leave.”

Gordon didn’t know how to answer him. He could see Rahab out of the corner of his eye.

“You see, I told you. I am a man of my word. Now can you answer my question from yesterday?” Rahab walked in and sat down in the chair next to him.

“I told you, we’re alone.”

“I already know you have a group and that you have many supplies.” Rahab looked at Hunter as he spoke.

Gordon paused; he now knew that Hunter had told Rahab about their group. The next time he opened his mouth could be critical.

“You have to understand that our group is small; we have nothing you need. You have a military base. We mean you no harm. Just let us go.”

“Your son, lovely boy by the way, told us your group was heading to Idaho. Why Idaho?”

“What do you want? I don’t understand any of this. Do you want our supplies? What exactly do you want?” Gordon asked, now frustrated with Rahab’s line of questioning.

“I will be honest with you, as I have nothing to fear. I didn’t blindfold you when I brought you here because I wanted you to see for yourself that we are a large group. We have more than a hundred and fifteen people in our ministry. It takes a lot to feed them. We have been going out to get supplies, but as you are well aware, things are scarce.”

“So you want to take our supplies?”

“No, I want you to come join our group, all of you.”

Hearing this threw Gordon off; he’d never imagined Rahab would ask him to join his group.

“Why would I do that?”

“Our faith requires us to go out and minister to those who will listen. Our flock needs to grow, and we need more able-bodied men and women of faith to take up our mission.”

“Not to sound cliché, but what happens if I say no?”

“If you say no? Then we will dispatch you.”

“Dispatch me?”

“We will send you to God. We will cleanse you and send you to our heavenly father,” Rahab said flatly. He approached Gordon and placed his hand gently on his shoulder.

The words that fell from Rahab’s mouth struck fear in Gordon. He’d already feared the man, and now he knew the threat was genuine.

“What do I have to do?” Gordon asked.

“Just let go, be one with God, and pledge your life to us and to God.” Rahab pointed up as he spoke.

Gordon looked at Hunter, who to his amazement was quite calm. Every step and decision he made had to be perfect, because one misstep could result in death. Knowing he didn’t have a choice, he did what he thought would give him more time. He just stared at Hunter. His sweet son, whom many said was his twin. Even though Hunter resembled him so much, he could see Samantha in the boy’s face and eyes. His blue eyes still had an innocence about them. One day those eyes would change and a jaded young man would stare out of them. Today, though, was not that day, and what Gordon said next would determine so much.

Gordon took his attention away from his son and looked at Rahab. “I’m in. I’ll join your group.”

San Diego, California

Sebastian ran his hand over his tightly bandaged leg. He couldn’t stop touching it. Even after a dose of pain meds, the leg still ached. He was grateful that his plea to Bishop Sorenson had not gone unheard. While Sorenson was busy with preparing his group to leave, he was not a man without understanding. He took care to listen to Sebastian and pledged to help him find his brother. With the offer of a vehicle and two men, Sebastian finally felt that soon he’d be with his brother.

A knock at the door told him that his ride was waiting. Annaliese helped him to the truck, an old Chevy pickup. There he met two men, Willis and Jameson. Both were cousins of Annaliese’s and had features similar to hers. Both men were lean, average height, and had striking blond hair.

Jameson put his hand out and introduced himself, then promptly handed Sebastian the gear he had from the chopper. “You’ll need this.”

“Yes, I will,” Sebastian said, putting on his tactical vest.

All the men checked and double-checked their gear. Sebastian was not a big fan of his Beretta mm, but it was all he had besides his M4. He checked the pistol and holstered it in his side holster.

“Find them and get back here before dark,” Sorenson said as he approached the truck.

“Yes, sir, we will,” Jameson and Willis replied in unison.

Sebastian turned and faced Sorenson with his hand outstretched. “Thank you again, Bishop. I have to admit, I wasn’t asking for all of this, but it helps.”

“You’re welcome. It’s the least we can do for someone who risked his life for us in Afghanistan.”

Afghanistan and the life before seemed oddly distant now. Sebastian sometimes felt like he was in a dream. He sometimes thought that he’d wake up on his cot in Afghanistan. But this was not a dream. He was living a nightmare.

“The sun will set in a few hours, we gotta go,” Willis said as he sat behind the wheel of the old black truck.

Jameson jumped into the back and sat down on the wood-paneled bed. “Go ahead, take the passenger seat. I like the fresh air.”

Sebastian just smiled and got into the truck slowly, being mindful of his leg.

Annaliese smiled and gave a timid wave to him as the truck pulled away and down the long dirt driveway.

Not knowing what to expect, Sebastian pointed his rifle out the open window, not unlike what he’d do in Afghanistan.

When they pulled out onto a small county road, he saw a few abandoned vehicles but no people. He gave very specific directions to Willis, who acknowledged that he knew where he was going. They shared small talk as they crept along the back roads of Encinitas into Rancho Santa Fe. Sebastian was surprised not to see more people, and the few he did see appeared to be wandering with one purpose: scavenging in each abandoned car they could find. It was difficult for him to see through the fragmented parts of the windshield on his side. The truck now bore the scars of the time.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked, pointing to the window.

“A group of kids attacked us with rocks a couple weeks ago. It’s not safe out there anymore.”

“What have you seen?”

Willis chuckled, then said, “I’ve seen people kill each other for a can of beans. I’ve seen children left alone to wander because someone killed their parents. Mr. Van Zandt, hell has come to this world.”

When they crested the hill and overlooked Via de la Valle, the smoke plumes that Gordon’s own eyes were familiar with were now being witnessed by his brother. The plumes weren’t random or few but now dotted the skyline in more than a dozen locations.

“What’s going on with all the smoke?” Sebastian asked.

“The rumors are a drug cartel has come across the border. They have created an army and are killing and burning everything in their path.”

“We heard about them on the ship; a recon team received intel on those guys,” Sebastian said. He noticed a few of the plumes were close, too close in fact. As he oriented himself, he now felt certain that some of the smoke was coming from Gordon’s area. He recalled Willis mentioning children left abandoned. The thought of little kids on their own in this harsh environment struck him hard. Thoughts of Hunter and Haley then came to mind. If everything worked out, he’d be hugging them soon. “I have to ask, you mentioned kids a bit ago. What happens to them? How do you just leave them alone?”

“We don’t.”

“You don’t?” Sebastian was startled by his response. All he’d seen since the attacks were self-centered and selfish acts. “Sorry if my tone was of doubt, I apologize. I just… I just haven’t seen much charity since I left Afghanistan.”

“The bishop has us take the children in. It’s what God expects of us.”

Sebastian just stared at Willis. He was amazed by how someone so young could be so grounded and mature. He felt bad about his tone. He thought, Of course they rescue the children; they rescued me, didn’t they?

“I hope your brother and his family are okay,” Willis said.

“Me too. With each mile and turn of the wheel, I get more nervous. I just don’t know what to expect.”

The old truck slowed to a stop at the bottom of the hill and idled. Willis carefully looked both ways, but as he was about to accelerate he heard another vehicle coming down Via de la Valle on his right.

Sebastian guessed it was an old muscle car because of the rugged and throaty sound.

Willis sat frozen; he gingerly touched the accelerator and moved forward a few feet, then stopped abruptly.

Sebastian could see the car now; it was coming toward them at high speed. “Ugh, I hate to ask, but what are you going to do here?”

Willis still sat clenching the steering wheel. His grip was an extension of the inner tension he was feeling.

“Hey, buddy, you’re kinda sitting out in the road,” Sebastian stated, his eyes fixed on the car coming toward them.

It made a last turn before a long straightaway that led to where they were sitting. Once it cleared the turn, the car sped up considerably.

Sebastian tore his gaze from the car and shouted, “Do something, go forward or backwards, but get out of the road!”

Sebastian’s voice broke Willis’s daze, and he stomped on the accelerator and lurched across.

As they cleared the road, the car was close enough for Sebastian to see two men. One pointed at them and made a motion to the driver to stop, but the car didn’t slow down. It kept its pace and vanished around a turn.

The truck sputtered then sped up, and they continued.

“What happened?” Sebastian asked, concerned. He was familiar with seeing men freeze. This reaction to stress was not unusual, but it made Sebastian nervous now to know that one of the men he was going out with might be a liability.

“I don’t know, I just didn’t know what to do,” Willis answered sheepishly.

“How many times have you been out?”

“Umm, a few… Listen, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again,” Willis stated, attempting to sound confident.

“Okay, but I have to tell ya, that made me nervous. Let’s not do it again.”

“We won’t, I promise.”

The smoke grew darker as they came closer to the source. Even the wealthier parts of San Diego hadn’t fared well. Every gate for a luxury community had been breached. One in particular was a neighborhood just a couple miles from Gordon’s. Fairbanks Ranch’s main gate and guardhouse had been destroyed by what looked like a fight. Black soot stained the exterior walls, the large panel windows on the front of the guardhouse were smashed, and the stucco exterior was riddled with bullets.

“That cartel must have been here,” Willis commented. He had slowed the truck to a crawl as all examined the ruins.

Sebastian didn’t say a word; he just stared at the once beautifully adorned gates and guardhouse.

The large iron gates were bent and twisted from the center out. The right gate lay almost horizontal; only the lowest hinge prevented it from touching the ground. Fairbanks Ranch security vehicles, which had been used to fortify the entrance, were smashed and burned and looked as if they had been tossed aside.

“Stop!” Sebastian yelled out.

Willis, obeying Sebastian’s command, slammed on the brakes.

Sebastian had seen something he found curious. As the truck idled, he opened the door and stepped out. He hopped on his good leg around to the front of the truck to get an unobstructed view. Lying against the side of the guardhouse were three bodies. Their blood splattered against the wall told Sebastian they had been executed.

“What’s up?” Jameson asked, standing in the bed of the truck.

“I just wanted to confirm what I thought I saw,” Sebastian answered. He hopped back to the truck and grabbed a pair of binoculars. Positioning himself against the front of the truck, he peered through the binos to get a clearer picture of the carnage. His count was right, three bodies lay dead. On the wall above their splattered blood was the word “Villista.”

“Villista? Is that the cartel?” Sebastian asked.

“Yes, sir, it is,” Jameson answered.

Concern overcame Sebastian. He hopped back to the truck door, tossed in the binos, and jumped in. “Let’s go.”

The truck cleared the last turn; his brother’s community was just ahead. They had found their way their unharmed and had also found the source of the nearest smoke plumes. The main entrance looked eerily similar to that of Fairbanks Ranch. The iron gates were burned and twisted and flung open to show a pile of charred and crushed cars. The once beautifully ornate sign that had told those visiting or passing, welcome to rancho valentino was spray-painted with the name Villista.

“Keep your eyeballs peeled and stay frosty,” Sebastian said, his rifle securely tucked in his shoulder.

“Stay what?” Willis asked, not knowing what stay frosty meant.

“Stay alert, okay,” Sebastian answered, his eyes scanning the area intently.

They drove slowly through the gate; all around he saw smoldering homes, deserted cars, trash and personal effects strewn on the main street, but no people.

“Turn right, then drive up a few blocks,” Sebastian ordered. Fear gripped him as he realized that finding Gordon, Samantha, and the kids might not happen. The thought of finding their bodies flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

Every single home had damage done to it. Some had been burned, but all had signs of forced entry. A large pile of debris was still smoldering in the central park; neither man in the cab could make out what it was as they passed. After they had driven several blocks and still not seen a single person, Sebastian’s fear deepened. Hope of finding Gordon was diminishing with each home they passed.

“Last turn, right here.” He pointed.

“This doesn’t look good,” Willis quietly said, his grip still firm on the steering wheel.

The truck made the turn onto Gordon’s street, and finally, after more than seven weeks since leaving Afghanistan, Sebastian could see his brother’s house. It was one of the fortunate homes that hadn’t been burned, but it had suffered substantial damage.

The blood was coursing through Sebastian’s veins, and he felt flushed as the truck slowly came to a stop in front of the house.

Jameson jumped out of the back and was looking in all directions. “Looks clear, not a soul around here.”

Sebastian had the urge to tell him to shut up, but he decided to ignore him. “Stay with the truck,” he ordered.

“Sure thing,” Willis responded; he looked at Sebastian and could see the dread and fear in his face.

Sebastian took a deep breath and got out of the truck with his crutches in hand. The first thing that caught him off guard was the large bloodstain on the sidewalk leading to the front door. He stopped and looked at it; it was hard for him to determine how long it had been there, but from the size, there had been a lot of blood. His focus then shifted to the entire front of the house. The lawn was brown and dead; the flowers that Samantha prided herself on had suffered the same fate. Their petals were shriveled up. The front door was open slightly; the once-solid oak door was cracked at the handle, bullet holes punctured its rustic walnut finish. Dozens more bullet holes surrounded the door and the front windows. The windows themselves were smashed and the screens ripped.

Sebastian stepped up to the front door, and before he pushed it open, he paused. His gut twisted, and he felt a flash of nausea come over him. He took a deep breath and pushed the door. It shrieked at the hinges and with each inch, gave him a view of more destruction inside. As if waiting to be invited in, he paused again. Finally knowing that he had to get this over with, he stepped inside.

The house had been ransacked. Most of the furniture was turned upside down. Deep feelings of remorse and pain filled his chest; each breath he took was more difficult. He remembered how the house used to look, the squeals of the two kids, the happiness, the Christmases spent here, the many dinners and fun birthdays. All gone now. In a billionth of a second, it was all stripped away.

Knowing there wouldn’t be a response, he called out anyway, “Gordon!”

Jameson came in behind him, stopped, and said, “I’ll head upstairs.”

Sebastian just nodded and continued to walk through the lower part of the house. The floor was covered with smashed decorative items; candles, toys, dishes, and glass was everywhere. One thing specifically caught his eye, and he hobbled over to it; seeing it upset him more than he’d been in a long time. He grunted as he bent down and picked up the paper. His eyes filled when he saw the handwriting was Haley’s. Tears ran down his face and dripped onto the coloring page when he read that it was “to uncle seebastan, from haley.”

He remembered she gave him this the last time he was there. She ran to him, like she always did, so happy, so full of life. He reflected on how he was proud of her, but he also remembered rushing off to say hello to Gordon. How foolish he felt now. If he could be there again, he would hold her and kiss her and tell her she was the best. He thought of how we take things for granted; just the pure gift of love from a child is amazing. Children want to give you the most precious thing that life has, and that is time. The tears kept coming, he couldn’t control them. He didn’t want to take another step; he was afraid of what he’d find.

“Sebastian!” Jameson called out from upstairs.

He turned and shook his head. “No, no, please, God, don’t do this,” he softly said to himself.

“Sebastian!”

“Yeah,” he answered, clearing his throat. He wiped the tears, folded the coloring page, and put it into his cargo pocket.

“Nothing up here, sorry.”

“Okay.”

Taking a moment to get his head straight, Sebastian headed farther into the home. Nothing but overturned furniture and debris. Finally he found himself in Gordon’s office. The room was a mess. Papers were all over; the drawers of the desk had been removed and emptied onto the floor. He took one of the ends of a crutch and attempted to sort through the inch-deep stack of papers and other items. Frustrated, he asked, Where are you?

Jameson’s loud footsteps caught his attention; Sebastian stepped out of the office and ran into him.

“Hey, I saw two people outside, down the street, looked like kids.”

Jameson rushed toward the front door. Sebastian was close behind him doing the best he could do on crutches.

“Did you see anyone?” Jameson asked Willis upon exiting the house.

“No.”

Sebastian came out and asked, “Where did you see them?”

“That way,” Jameson responded, pointing to their right. “They were running in the direction we came in.”

“Jump in,” Sebastian ordered.

They turned the truck around and headed toward the kids.

After spending almost twenty minutes looking for any signs of the kids or anyone else left in the community, the men were about to give up when Jameson yelled out, “Over there, to our right. I saw them. They’re running toward the large park.”

Willis sped up and took a hard right turn in front of the large central park.

“Straight ahead,” Jameson screamed.

From behind a row of parked cars two kids started running toward the park. Their clothes were tattered and hung from their lean bodies.

“Stop the truck!” Sebastian commanded.

“Why?” Willis asked.

“Stop the truck!” he yelled again.

Willis slammed on the brakes, causing Jameson to hit his head against the rear window.

“The kids are running because they’re obviously scared. Look around you, no one is here. Everyone left, and somehow they were left behind. They must have seen what happened here. They probably think we’re bad guys,” Sebastian explained.

“You’re right,” Willis admitted.

Sebastian opened the door and stepped out. He walked to the edge of the expansive park and hollered, “We won’t hurt you! I’m a Marine. Everything is fine now, we’re here to help.”

No response.

“My name is Corporal Van Zandt with the Marine Corps, and we’re here to help. Everything will be okay. I promise we won’t hurt you,” he pleaded. He scanned the area. It was hard to know where the children had gone. The park was the size of three football fields. Large eucalyptus trees shaded the edges; tucked in each corner were tables and barbecues, and a single playground lay silent in the corner closest to Sebastian.

Jameson came up alongside Sebastian rubbing his head. “We’re going to have to leave soon,” he said.

Looking up at the darkening sky, Sebastian responded, “I know, but we should try to help those kids. Go that way and I’ll go this way. I saw them last over there, so cut through the park and I’ll walk alongside the edge, near the road,” Sebastian said pointing.

Jameson acknowledged and started walking briskly across the dead grass in the direction of the large pile of debris.

Sebastian hobbled along on the edge and kept hollering out to the kids. His arms were beginning to feel the fatigue and pain of walking with crutches. The wind had changed, and the smell of the smoldering pile wafted over him. When it first hit him, he thought it was odd; his nostrils filled with the stench of burnt meat.

“Sebastian! Sebastian!” Jameson screamed.

Sebastian pivoted and looked at Jameson, who was standing near the pile. “What is it?”

“I think I found everybody!”

A look of utter shock washed over Sebastian as he realized that the fifteen-foot-high, thirty-foot-long pile was what was left of the residents of Rancho Valentino.

Tijuana, Mexico

“How do I know you’ll honor our arrangement?” Pablo asked the unknown voice on the satellite phone. He was pacing the large parlor of his father’s house. Beads of sweat rolled down his temples. He had conducted many deals in his life but not one this large. “I know we’ve known each other for a long time, but… Yes, I know. I will have the gold when you arrive. What would the time frame be for arrival?”

The heavy brass door handle on the main door always made a mechanical sound when turned. That sound now echoed into the room.

Pablo turned nervously to see who was coming.

In stepped an older but finely dressed woman. She was short, no more than five foot two, with black hair that was pulled back and pinned up. Long golden earrings dangled from her ears, and a large diamond ring adorned the index finger of her petite left hand.

“Excuse me,” she softly said to Pablo after noticing he was on the phone.

As she was retreating, he waved her to come back in. “Everything sounds in order. I’ll expect to see you in two weeks’ time then. Thank you.” He touched a button on the phone and placed it into his pocket. “Good evening, Mother, please come sit with me,” Pablo said, pointing to a large sofa in the center of the room. He walked over and sat down.

“Are you sure? You look busy,” she asked, hesitant.

“All done. Please, come sit with me. I don’t get to see you much,” he begged, tapping the seat on the sofa next to him.

“If you insist. I just know how busy you and your father can be,” she said as she walked over.

“How has Father been? He and I don’t talk much. What I mean is we don’t talk about personal things much. I’m worried about him, he looks stressed.”

“You know your father, all business. He’s been that way since the day I met him.”

“Yes, I know. Ever since I can remember he was always working and always on the phone.”

“Not unlike you, though, I would say,” she quipped. She reached over and patted his leg.

“Like father, like son, they say.” He smiled. “I just worry about him, all this stress and at his age. It can’t be good.”

“Ha, listen, Pablo. Your father will die with a phone in this hand, a glass of scotch in this hand, and a cigar in his mouth. If you’re insinuating that he should retire, it won’t happen. The only one he’ll listen to about retiring will be the good Lord,” she joked. “You know what’s funny? Even when he’s standing at the pearly gates with Saint Peter, he’ll ask for a phone.”

“What’s happened, all of this that has happened around the world. This is above Father’s head.” Pablo’s tone changed. He sat up and turned to face his mother. “I’m worried that he doesn’t understand the opportunity we have, the responsibility we have as a ruling family to change the course of events.”

His mother cocked her head and listened to him intently.

“I see this new world and our place in it. What Father sees is the old world. Instead of stepping out of the shadows and taking our place as a leader, he still operates behind the scenes, making backroom deals to have the electricity restored. There is more out there; now is the time to take control, real control.”

“Sweetheart, you have always been a dreamer. You are the passionate one who looked up in awe at the stars and asked why. Your father is not that man; it is because he was born with nothing. I will defend him by saying this: What you have around you is because of him. You had the privilege of looking up at the stars; you had no concerns as a boy growing up. He didn’t have that; he had to fight for everything.

“You might be right that this is a new world and things have changed, but I still trust that your father will know how to take care of this family. I’m sorry if what I’m telling you isn’t what you wanted to hear, but it’s true. Go, talk to him. Tell him what you see. He’s a smart man. If you can convince him that our place as a family is somewhere else, then he will do it. I have known him for thirty years; there is one thing your father is not, and that is a fool. He calculates everything and doesn’t make rash decisions. Take your time and present to him your plan,” she said pointedly. She reached over to touch his hand, but Pablo pulled it away.

This had been the second time in three days that he had presented his case, and both times it had been rejected. His mother didn’t even want to know what his plan was. Just knowing that Alfredo wasn’t interested was enough for her to side with him. Pablo stood up and walked toward the large window.

“I see that I’ve upset you, and for that, I’m sorry. It was not my intention to hurt you, but I have to agree with whatever your father says. He has given me so much. I lived a life of poverty not unlike his. I knew what it meant to be truly hungry. When he looked into my eyes and promised me that I’d never know poverty again, he kept that promise. I want you two to work together, but I won’t have you make me take sides against my husband,” she finished. She stood and walked up behind Pablo.

He didn’t turn around or respond to what she’d said. He just looked out the window.

She placed her hand gently on his shoulder and rubbed his back.

A moment of uncomfortable silence fell between them.

Finally realizing he was being immature and impatient with his mother, Pablo reached back and grabbed her hand with a gentle firmness. He turned toward her and said, “I know Father is a good and wise man. I will do my part as a dutiful son and support what he needs. I will be more patient, and if I have ideas, I will strive to ensure those plans don’t collide with the overall goal for our family. Thank you,” he said, then placed his hand on her face and kissed her forehead. “I now need to go, I have things to do.”

She embraced him and kissed his cheek. “Go about your day.”

After their embrace Pablo immediately marched toward the door and left the room. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and hit the redial button.

Moments later the unknown voice answered, “Hello.”

Pablo didn’t respond. He paused as his attention was drawn to a portrait of Porfirio Díaz, the Mexican president from 1876 to 1911.

During President Díaz’s tenure, Mexico had realized what some called its Golden Age. It prospered and was an economic superpower that rivaled European nations. His presidency didn’t go without criticism, as he is also known as a dictator who imprisoned his political foes and kept a tight noose on the electoral process. But Pablo respected him and saw in himself the same talents, abilities, and aspirations.

“Hello?” the voice on the phone asked again.

“Yes, sorry. I will increase the amount by twenty percent if you can deliver a week early. Can that be done?”

“We can do that.”

“Great, and I’ll make sure my father is there when you arrive. I want him to see the surprise I have for him,” Pablo said, then hung up the phone.