G Hopf - Sanctuary

He carefully and quietly walked down the hall to the kitchen. Each step produced slight creaks as his feet touched the old wooden floors. The last thing he wanted to do was wake anyone up. He also wasn’t in a social mood and just wanted to get his water, coffee, and to relax. When he turned the corner he saw a light emanating from the bottom of the kitchen door.

“Aw, Van Zandt,” Gunny said. He was sitting at the table in the middle of the room. The flickering light from a kerosene lamp bounced dark shadows off of the white cabinets and floral-wallpapered room.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who can’t sleep,” Gordon quipped as he stepped into the room.

The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled his nostrils as he walked in.

“Just what I was looking for,” Gordon said, excited.

“Pour yourself a cup and give me another shot of the ol’ life juice,” Gunny said, holding up his mug.

Gordon and Gunny shared old war stories and a few laughs before more sensitive topics emerged in their conversation.

“Van Zandt, you never told me what you’re doing here. Who are the two you’re running with?”

“To say that it’s a long story would be an understatement. Where do I begin?”

“Listen, Van Zandt, you don’t have to pour out your soul to me. I’m not a therapist, but if you do have something to say, I won’t judge. By the condition I found you in and by the looks of your face I can tell you’ve had a rough go.”

“I’m looking for the man who killed my son,” Gordon said bluntly.

“Sorry to hear about your son.”

Gordon nodded. “I think he’s here in Oregon, but I’m not sure. Have you run across a man named Rahab?”

Gunny’s eyes widened when he heard the name. “No, we haven’t encountered him… but you’re not the only person looking for him.”

“What?”

“Yeah, we picked up this girl a week ago outside of a tiny logging town. She mentioned the same name.”

“Where, what town was it?” Gordon asked urgently.

“Shit, calm down. Let me think,” Gunny said, pausing. “Crescent. That’s it. A little shithole a few hours from here.”

With this new information, Gordon brightened. He could possibly have an opportunity to find Rahab. Plus, he could leave Brittany and Tyler here in good conscience.

“Gunny, can you do me a favor?”

“How is it that I’m always doing favors for you Van Zandts?” Gunny joked, taking a long sip of his coffee.

“Can you spare fuel, ammo, and food?”

“I’m assuming you want this to continue your hunt for this… Rahab guy?” Gunny asked.

“I simply can’t rest knowing this guy’s out there. I need to find him and—”

Gunny interrupted by finishing what Gordon was about to say. “And kill him.”

“Yes!”

Gunny smiled and said, “I can do better than just giving you some ammo and food. I think you’ll like what I can offer.”

“I’m all ears,” Gordon said, leaning in.

“How about all of that plus some muscle to get the job done right? I’ll give you a team of Marines to go with you.”

Gordon liked what he heard.

“When do you want to go?” Gunny asked.

“Yesterday! How soon can your team be ready?” Gordon asked.

“I can get a group assembled once everyone’s awake,” Gunny said. “What about your lady friend and the boy?”

“Could—”

Gunny raised his hand, gesturing Gordon to stop talking. “We’ll take care of them.”

“Thanks.”

“Wait a minute.” Gunny unbuckled his belt and handed Gordon a knife, a Randall Model 1.

“I can’t take that,” Gordon exclaimed when he looked at it.

“First thing, it’s not a gift. I expect to get it back when you come back. You do plan on coming back?”

Gordon took the knife and removed it from its weathered leather sheath. He gripped it and admired the weight and grip. “Your dad gave this to you when you joined the Corps, right?”

“Yeah, my old man was a jarhead too. He said every man needs a great fighting knife. He gave it to me right after I graduated boot camp.” Gunny smiled as he reminisced.

“I can’t take this,” Gordon said, starting to hand the knife back.

“What happened to your boy is tragic, it’s fucking downright horrible. I want you to take that knife and carve out that fucker’s eyes with it.”

Gordon thought for a moment, then accepted the gift. “Thank you.”

“Just bring it back. My old man would roll in his grave if I lost that,” Gunny joked.

“Smitty, my intentions are to come back, I’m not into the suicide-type thing. But I can’t guarantee anything anymore.”

Sleep had become impossible for Samantha. Nightmares greeted her every time she closed her eyes. The horror show that had become her life occupied her mind day and night, but in her dreams she couldn’t control it. Her nightmares were so disturbing that she resisted the urge to fall asleep when it came. The toll from a lack of proper rest was wearing on her health, both physically and mentally.

When they had first arrived in Idaho she attempted to find purpose in her daily tasks. She had found a friend in Scott’s wife, Lucy. Lucy would invite her and Haley over to their house often. There she taught Samantha, Haley, Beth Holloway, Melissa, and the other women in the community numerous homesteading skills. At first, Samantha was engaged, but eventually the dark shadow of depression overcame her and she stopped coming by altogether. She didn’t want to be around anyone, or make small talk, or pretend to be okay.

She knew the other women talked about how none of them could understand the pain she was feeling. How could any of them know how it felt to lose a child? She would not be lectured by anyone on the fact that she needed to be “strong.”

It was the stinging pain of hunger that forced her out of her room and down to the kitchen. The sun was already making its presence known outside. Samantha glanced outside and noticed a fresh layer of powdery snow on the porch.

“God, how I miss San Diego,” she murmured out loud.

As she rummaged through the pantry she heard the sliding door open behind her. Assuming it was Nelson, she kept looking for a bite to eat.

She grabbed a can of sardines and turned around to find a strange man looking at her from the other side of the kitchen island. He was tall with long brown hair pulled back and tucked under a badly stained ball cap. His face was covered with a thick, graying beard. An intense smell of alcohol came from him. Acting on instincts, she hurled the can of sardines at the man, hitting him in the face, then ran for the stairs. Nelson slept downstairs but she wasn’t sure if he was in the house. What she knew was Haley was upstairs in her room.

The man brushed off the hit and ran after her.

“Nelson! Nelson!” she screamed as she ran out of the kitchen.

The man was faster than her and tackled her at the base of the stairs.

She attempted to scramble up the stairs but he dragged her back down. She kicked and elbowed him in the face. This angered him; he drew back and punched her in the back of the head. The force of the punch drove her head into the wood stairs. She could taste blood in her mouth.

“Nelson!” she cried out.

The man began to pummel her with punches to the back of her head. She tried to crawl up the stairs but the force of his blows were too much to take.

“Nelson, help!” she again cried out. Where was he? Fear of dying was now coming into her thoughts as she kept getting clobbered with one punch after another. She looked up and saw Haley standing at the top of the stairs. The sight of her daughter prompted her to resist even more. The man turned her around and drew back to deliver another punch to her face when she kicked him in the crotch. He flinched and buckled over in pain at the kick. She kicked him again but this time in his stomach, forcing him to lose his balance and fall backward. Seizing the opportunity of not having his weight on top of her, she turned around and began to run up the stairs. As she climbed the stairs she didn’t see Haley anymore. She assumed she had gone back to her room. When she reached the top of the stairs, she hesitated for a split second. If she went left, she’d be able to go back to her room and get a gun. If she went right, she’d go to Haley’s room, where she’d be able to bunker down with her, but without any weapon to defend them. Time was running out for her, as the man had gotten back up and was barreling up the stairs after her. Samantha decided on turning left, hoping he’d follow after her. She ran into her room, where she encountered Haley, holding a pistol.