G Hopf - Sanctuary

“Lucy, that man just walked in the house. He didn’t break in, he walked in because Nelson left the door unlocked!” Samantha exclaimed.

“Samantha, I’m sorry. I swear I locked it when I left,” Nelson defended himself.

“Well, it wasn’t Haley, and no one else is in our house, so it had to be you, because it wasn’t me!” Samantha now screamed.

“Well, no shit it wasn’t you because you don’t leave the house, not to mention your room, anymore!” Nelson volleyed her intensity. He had enough of being chastised. He knew he locked it and wasn’t going to be lectured. Did he feel bad about what happened? Yes. However, there was a better way to handle the situation.

“What did you say?” Samantha yelled back.

“Samantha, please!” Beth begged.

Samantha turned her attention to Beth and shouted, “This isn’t your business, Beth, stay out!”

“You two need to stop, now!” Lucy said, raising her voice.

Nelson and Samantha continued at each other. Neither heard her over their own voices as both exchanged insults.

“How dare you say that about me!” Samantha exclaimed. She brushed off Lucy and stood up. She marched over to Nelson and attempted to grab Haley.

Haley clung onto Nelson and wouldn’t let go.

“Come here, Haley. Come to Mommy.”

“No. Leave me alone. I want Nelson!” Haley said.

“You come here now!” Samantha yelled at her.

“Leave her alone, Sam, she’s upset,” Nelson reprimanded her.

“You’re not her parent, I am!”

“Then act like one!” Nelson yelled.

“Damn it! Haley, come here now!”

“That’s enough; I’m not having this in my house!” Lucy proclaimed loudly. “There’s a terrified little girl here and you both are acting like the babies. Did something go wrong? Yes, but you’re alive!” Lucy barked.

“I left the door unlocked,” Haley murmured.

“What was that?” Nelson asked her.

“I left it open, I’m sorry. It was my fault. I went down to check on Macintosh. I’m sorry. It’s my fault,” she said, beginning to cry.

“Oh, honey,” Nelson said and gave her a kiss on the head after she buried it in his chest.

Samantha didn’t know what to say or do. Deep down, she knew Nelson was right: She hadn’t been a parent to Haley in the past few weeks. During the search for her son and husband, she had drifted apart from Haley, consumed by the thoughts of the worst-case scenario. After Hunter’s body was brought back, she completely isolated herself. Nelson had filled that void and been supportive to Haley, but she was having a hard time admitting what was so evident to everyone else. Feeling uncomfortable, she walked briskly out of the room and headed for the door.

“Samantha! Don’t leave!” Lucy called out to her.

Samantha’s eyes were filling with tears as she slammed the door behind her. The frigid air felt good against her flushed skin. She started to walk toward her house but stopped when she remembered the man’s body was still there. She turned around and started for the barn. The tears began to come freely as she got farther away from the house. Her body began to tremble and she slipped on a patch of ice, collapsing into the fresh snow. She sobbed and cried. When she rolled onto her back she screamed out, “Where are you? Why did you leave us?”

Gordon couldn’t believe the gift that Gunny had given him—a fully loaded, armored Hummer mounted with an M240 machine gun and a team of Marines to assist him. The road to Crescent was bad in some spots, but the warmer temps that day had helped with opening up large swaths of it. The ninety-one-mile trip took them only five hours, so when they drove into Crescent there was enough daylight to take in the layout of the tiny lumber town. Gordon hoped this girl was still here and could provide him with some critical information.

“Any idea where she might be?” Gordon asked the three Marines in the vehicle.

Lance Corporal Jones answered him. “I talked with her myself, sir. She was staying in a storeroom in the back of a bar.”

“What’s her deal? Why was she staying there?”

“She’s a piece of work. A little rough around the edges. She had walked most of the way from somewhere in California, then managed to find a motorcycle. She was healing up after she laid the bike down just south of Crescent. We found her along the road. At first she didn’t want anything to do with us, but she eventually allowed us to help. We brought her into town and the bar owner gave her a place to shack up till she healed.”

“So how far till we reach the bar?” Gordon asked.

“Actually… we’re right here,” Jones said as he turned left into a gravel parking lot.

“Great. Let’s hope she’s still here,” Gordon said as he exited the Hummer. From the looks of it, the bar might have been a house at one time. According to the Marines, the patron, John Wilkes, had plenty of alcohol and saw no reason to shutter the place. The Mohawk had now become a central meeting place and refuge for the townspeople of Crescent.

Two of the Marines joined him, Jones and Corporal Rubio. The third Marine, Private First Class McCamey, stayed with the vehicle. Gordon, Jones, and Rubio walked up to the front door. A handwritten sign hung on the door read Open for the Apocalypse . Gordon chuckled and walked into the bar. A strong skunky smell mixed with stale smoke filled his nostrils as he entered. Scattered throughout the bar were small dining tables, and in the back, an old wooden bar stretched for twenty feet along the wall with a large mirror above it. Several beer signs and TVs were hung along the walls, their screens dark. To his right were several video games and pinball machines standing just as quiet. Everything in the bar that had hummed, chimed, rang, beeped, or been illuminated was now just a reminder of a day gone by.

The bar was exclusively lit by candles. It reminded Gordon of a restaurant he and Samantha would frequent in San Diego. The memories of his old life that would pop into his head were so odd sometimes. A melancholy feeling crept up in his chest, but was erased when the lance corporal spoke up.

“Right there, sir,” he said, pointing to the bar.

Gordon weaved his way through the small dinette tables to a small brunette woman sitting at the bar with a line of shot glasses in front of her. He strolled up to her and sat down in the chair next to her.

Before he could say a word she blurted out, “What do you fucking want?”

“Ha, that’s a nice greeting,” Gordon answered her.

She picked up a shot glass filled with whiskey and drank it down. Plunking the glass on the bar she said, “Are you here to hit on me or do you want something? I see you brought friends.” She turned and acknowledged the Marines in the room.

“My name is Gordon and—”

“I know you!” she shouted at the lance corporal. “You’re that jarhead that helped me out. Get over here; I’ll buy you a drink.” Her voice showed the telltale signs of being tipsy.

The lance corporal nodded but kept silent.

She then turned and faced Gordon again. “What did you say your name was again?”

“My name is Gordon Van Zandt. I hear you have—”

She again interrupted Gordon. “Wait a minute, I’ve heard of you,” she said, motioning to John to give her another drink.

Gordon leaned forward and put his hand over her shot glass and said, “Before you get too drunk, I have a few questions for you. When I’m done, you can get trashed.”

She looked at Gordon defiantly, then at the two Marines. She was assessing the situation and decided it wasn’t going to work out for her if she struck out at Gordon. “What do you want to know there, stud?”