G Hopf: Sanctuary

“Put your gun down and get the fuck out of the car!” the woman yelled.

Gordon looked down at the bag of Doritos in his hand, his mouth watering in anticipation of the cheesy, crunchy taste of the tortilla chip. He couldn’t remember the last time he had one. As he gathered an armful of candy bars and bags of chips, Gordon reflected on his time with his travel partners. Looking back, he was glad he decided to go against his nature and help Brittany and Tyler. If he hadn’t, they would have died, and he wouldn’t have found a trusted partner to come along during his search for Rahab—even if they didn’t know exactly what they were in for.

Gordon was having his doubts now about his new mission. He was missing Samantha and Haley deeply and with each passing day he was growing less and less certain that this plan was the right one. He also felt guilty that he hadn’t told Brittany where he was actually taking them. He didn’t exactly lie to Brittany, but he didn’t exactly tell the truth—they were heading to Idaho, to safety, but first he was going to find and kill Rahab. While Brittany was forthright and opinionated, she didn’t ask too many questions, inherently trusting Gordon. But she was a smart woman, and he knew the moment was coming soon when she would want to know why they were heading west, rather than north toward Idaho. He had replayed his excuses in his head, but now they sounded empty. He knew it wasn’t fair to drag them into his plans for revenge, but he didn’t know any other way around it.

When he stepped out of the building, he was greeted with larger snowflakes and a colder wind. He chuckled to himself as he walked back toward the car, thinking of the many conversations and debates he had over the years concerning what-if scenarios about the apocalypse. Who would guess that he’d be willing to take on a former waitress and her young son in his path for survival? So often, he would lament those desk jockeys or paper pushers as the future victims of a world that he now lived in. He took rightful pride in his abilities, but he now knew that surviving was about more than just a skill set or how many resources you had. There was a mental element to survival that was often overlooked, and that’s because it was too hard to train or prepare for. It was what distinguished the survivors from the victims. Brittany was one of those mentally strong types—a cool, level-headed person in any situation.

Before the lights went out, Brittany was a stay-at-home mother and before that, her only professional experience was waitressing. Her deceased husband had been a truck driver. They had lived paycheck to paycheck, and when they did have extra money, he put it into the car they were now driving. Without training and without resources, Brittany had survived so far. Of course her luck was about to run out when those men had come for the car and for her those many weeks ago, but in the past few weeks Gordon had been continually impressed by her survival skills. When she was given the opportunity to “show up,” she delivered time after time, proving that she was capable and smart. She balanced him, not unlike Samantha did. Brittany was deliberate, intuitive, and when trouble presented itself, she acted.

In Gordon’s eyes, there were three different types of people in the world: the helpers, the freezers, and the runners. Whenever something traumatic happened, the helpers would run toward the danger, the freezers just stood, and the runners would sprint in the opposite direction as fast as they could. Brittany had proven to be a helper. Even though she lacked training, she was not afraid to put herself into harm’s way. He respected that, and after spending weeks with her, he could now say he trusted her with his life.

Brittany also proved to be an adept nurse. The cut on his face that Rahab had given him was still healing, and Brittany took care to make sure it healed as best as it could. Nelson’s stitching had been good but the wound had gotten infected. She had cleaned the wound and replaced the stitches. When it finally healed there would be a large, thick scar, a constant reminder of that traumatic event. To Brittany’s credit, she didn’t even ask about the source of it. And Gordon didn’t volunteer the information, trying to avoid reliving that terrible time.

The wind was now gusting so hard that Gordon had to point his head toward the ground as he walked. He lifted his head when he thought he heard a scream mixed in with the sounds of the wind. He paused. A second scream confirmed his suspicions.

Gordon dropped the armful of candy and chips and ran toward the car. When he cleared the tractor trailer he could make out a truck, the car, and four people. He charged toward them with his pistol drawn.

The man and woman didn’t notice Gordon until he was ten feet away. The man looked stunned when Gordon ran up. He pulled Tyler closer to him and placed a revolver against his temple. The woman leveled the shotgun at Brittany’s back.

Gordon quickly measured up the scene and came to the conclusion that these two people weren’t part of a gang and probably didn’t have backup on the way. He looked at Tyler, whose green eyes were full of fear.

If these people wanted Tyler and Brittany dead, they would have killed them by that point. He determined that they likely weren’t killers by nature, but they would kill if they had to. In these desperate times, the need for food, shelter, or a vehicle could turn someone into a murderer.

Gordon didn’t have many choices. His instinct told him to shoot the man first, and if his guess was right, the woman would hesitate, giving him time to shoot her too. Doubt filled him—an unfamiliar feeling for someone who was decisive to a fault. What if he shot the man, but the woman was committed and pulled the trigger on Brittany?

“Put the guns down! I won’t kill you if you just put your guns down. We both can go our way,” Gordon yelled out.

“You put your gun down!” the man yelled back.

“Yeah! There’s two of us. I’ll kill this bitch!” the woman yelled.

Taking a slight risk, Gordon moved a couple of steps closer to gauge their behavior.

The man reacted by tightening his grasp on Tyler. The woman’s eyes widened when Gordon took those few steps. She wasn’t sure of what to expect from him.

Those reactions told Gordon what he needed to know. He took his final risk and began to squeeze the trigger.

The crack of the pistol sounded almost muffled against the heavy snow and wind that engulfed them. Gordon placed one well-aimed shot at the man, the bullet hitting him directly below the nose. The man dropped quickly, blood pouring out of the back of his head, darkening the pristine white snow.

The woman let out a loud yelp, as if she herself had been shot. “You bastard!” she yelled at Gordon.

Brittany sensed her opportunity. She quickly stepped away from the woman and pivoted around, simultaneously grabbing the barrel of the shotgun, a trick that Gordon had taught her.

Gordon took aim on the woman and squeezed a shot off, missing her.

The woman lunged, wrestling with Brittany for the shotgun.

Gordon ran toward the two women. “If you drop the shotgun, we’ll let you go!” he yelled.

The woman pulled hard and broke Brittany’s grasp on the barrel.

Gordon took aim again, quickly pulling the trigger twice. This time the bullets hit her, one in the chest and the other in her stomach. She groaned and fell backward from the impact, hitting the truck. The force of the blows caused her to pull the trigger on the shotgun, which was pointed directly at Brittany.

Brittany yelled out in pain and fell to the ground. Gordon ran to her and knelt by her side, his face twisted in anguish. Tyler stood where he had been, frozen in shock.