G Hopf - Sanctuary

“I’m so sorry. I’m so very sorry, Gordon,” Brittany said compassionately.

“My friend found me not long after. I was all set to go back with him but I couldn’t. I couldn’t face my wife. I had let my son down and I had failed her as a husband. I did stupid and foolish things that ended in getting people killed.” Gordon paused again. It was hard for him to express himself this way. “You see, I can’t go back until I have avenged the death of my son. I can’t go back to my family knowing that I’m a failure. It must sound crazy, but I need to go find and kill this man. Only then can I go back and look my wife in the eyes and ask for forgiveness.”

Brittany nodded. “Okay. So who is this man and how do you know he’s in Oregon?”

“Is that important for you to know?”

“Gordon, we’ve been together for weeks. Don’t you trust me? You even said I had a good sense about things. I just want to know what your plan is. I want to help if I can.”

Gordon smiled at her. He was relieved that she sounded supportive of his plan to go find Rahab. He assumed she’d be wary.

“You’re right about you having a good sense about things—up until the rest area, that is. Your sixth sense didn’t see that coming?” he joked.

They both discussed the plan he had for going to speak with the woman in Crescent to see what she knew about Rahab. They went back and forth on contingencies and possible scenarios. She lectured him on his tendency to make hasty decisions, and asked if he’d promise to be more thoughtful. He agreed.

As he got up to leave she grabbed his hand and held it.

“You know, I have something to confess too,” she said with a nervous grin.

“Oh, no, do I want to know?” he joked.

“This is serious, kinda.”

“Sorry, go ahead.”

“I noticed you had a wedding band on the first day we set off on our trip. Being that you never mentioned a wife, I assumed she must have died. I didn’t want to ask because, you know, who wants to talk about that stuff? Life is hard enough without having to relive it all the time in conversation. You see, when you mentioned that you did have a wife and a daughter and they’re alive, I was a bit disappointed.”

Gordon knew where this was going and it made him feel uncomfortable.

“I’ve really grown to like you, Gordon, and I, you know, thought that maybe, we…”

“I’m sorry. I should have been honest with you from the beginning.”

“No, no, it’s okay,” she said like a nervous schoolgirl. “I just think a lot of you and will miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’ll miss you too, you’re a good partner on the road. You are in good hands here and I will be back. I promised you and Tyler I’d take you to Idaho and that’s just what I’ll do.”

“Okay. Well, you better go.”

“You get well and I’ll see you later,” Gordon said, standing up and walking toward the door. He fought the urge to hug her, knowing it might be painful for her.

As he was opening the door, she blurted out, “Hey, Gordon.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re a good man. You really are. You’re not perfect, that’s for sure, but deep down you’re a solid guy. Thank you for everything.”

Gordon nodded and left. As the door closed, he wondered if he’d ever see her again.

Pablo looked through the T-72’s scope. The 125-millimeter cannon was pointed directly at the front of the California State Capitol. He was now only feet away from securing the capitol of California. From where his tank sat on Tenth Street and Capitol Mall, he had a clear shot of the front doors. Thick, black smoke billowed and poured out of broken windows and holes that punctured the building. Parts of the dome had collapsed and large craters dotted the grounds all around the building. The heavy artillery and mortar bombardment had been effective, but as most army textbooks teach, the only way to truly take something is to have boots on the ground.

“Is this loaded?” he asked the gunner sitting behind him.

“Yes, sir,” the young tank gunner answered.

“So, I just push this here and it will fire, correct?”

“Yes, sir.”

He placed his eye back on the scope and, using the handles, turned the turret so that the gun was pointed directly at the front of the building.

“What do you say when you set this off?”

“We say, ‘on the way,’ sir, when we fire the round.”

Pablo placed the crosshairs on the front. His excitement grew knowing he’d get a chance to fire the main gun. He’d seen his tanks in action, but being a part of the action made it more exhilarating. His heart rate had increased with the anticipation of firing the large round. He held the power to destroy and that was exactly what he was going to do.

As he was about to pull the trigger, several people came out of the building. They were coughing and seemed fatigued.

“Ahh, look at them, they look worn out,” he said sarcastically.

He placed the crosshairs on the person, an older woman, who stood closet to his original target and pulled the trigger.

“On the way!” Pablo yelled out.

The 125-millimeter cannon roared and the high explosive round exploded out of the barrel. Almost instantly it hit the woman. Her body was vaporized as the round passed through her to the primary target, the front doors of the building.

“Oh my God, did you see that? It’s like she vanished!” he laughed.

Pablo’s round initiated a volley of fire from the other tanks in the company he was commanding. In unison, the dozen tanks opened fire on the capitol with their main guns. After three volleys, Pablo ordered cease-fire. He looked through the scope and saw nothing but smoke.

The tank rounds had utterly destroyed the front of the building. When the smoke cleared, huge, jagged holes covered the facade.

“Look at that,” Pablo said.

He surveyed the damage and determined that it was a good time to move in and put the boots on the ground he needed to “take it.”

“Colonel Alvarez, move your troops in. You know the rules of engagement—no prisoners,” Pablo said into the radio handset.

A crackle was followed by “Yes, sir.”

Pablo wanted to get out of the tank and see the assault with his own eyes. He unlocked the hatch and climbed out. Dark smoke wafted over him, burning his eyes and filling his lungs.

A feeling of invincibility came over him as he jumped off the tank and began walking toward the capitol. As he marched toward the gaping hole of the building, belching smoke enveloped the area.

The rumble of the BTR-80 armored personnel carriers heightened his feeling of being godlike. For Pablo, it was a chorus in his concerto of destruction.

He thought of all those men he idolized from the past. He was now a conqueror too; his name would now be etched in history as the man who took California.

When the APCs reached the front steps, the side doors opened and men began to pour out. The soldiers advanced toward the opening of the building and disappeared into the darkness.

Pablo cleared the steps and made his way to the rotunda. When his eyes adjusted, the damage his attack had made became apparent. Large chunks of granite, glass, tile, marble, and paper were scattered and strewn all around. In the center of the rotunda, sunlight from a massive hole in the dome illuminated a large marble statue of Columbus appealing to Queen Isabella.

This intrigued Pablo. While he was a logical man, he believed in divine signs. The entire rotunda showed the ravages of war, but this statue was immaculate. He took a moment to read the plaque.

“Columbus. I know who you are,” he said. Pablo had learned about Christopher Columbus and his achievements, but had not spent much time in his childhood focused on the man. Now, for whatever reason, here was a statue of him, the explorer, or as some now believed, the conqueror. Despite different opinions on the man, one was universal: His epic adventure ushered in a new age of the Americas. Knowing this history of Columbus, Pablo now felt that his being there wasn’t an accident. He knew that he was meant to stand there.