G Hopf: Sanctuary

He then saw a sign for Mountain Home and an idea came to mind.

“Christopher, get on the radio and use this frequency,” he said.

“Who am I calling?” Christopher asked.

“Mountain Home Air Force base.”

“Gordon, what are you thinking?” Wilbur asked.

“I’m curious if the base is still functioning,” he said. It was a half truth. Though Gordon had promised to take them all the way to Cheyenne, if Mountain Home Air Force Base was still operational and had communications with Cheyenne, he’d just drop them there.

“Okay, so how do I change the frequency?” Christopher asked, looking confused.

Gordon didn’t answer; he quickly took the exit for Eagle Road and accelerated.

“What are you doing? Is everything okay?” Wilbur asked.

“No, it’s not okay,” he replied.

“Is someone chasing us? What is it?” Wilbur asked, concerned that a situation like what had happened in Hines was happening again.

“No, that’s not it!” he said excitedly as he made a hard left onto Eagle Road.

“What’s wrong?” Cruz asked, worry written all over his face.

“I don’t know, but when I see a sign that has my name on it with an arrow, I tend to follow it!”

“Emperor, please. He’s my cousin’s son. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Pasqual begged. He was bound to a chair in one of the storage rooms in the damp basement of the capitol.

The small concrete-walled room at one time held supplies. Now it would be Pablo’s torture chamber. On a small table next to Pasqual sat an assortment of instruments—knives, an axe, screwdrivers, hammer, pliers.

“I’d have him speak but he can’t now,” Pablo laughed when pointed to the other man in the room. The other man was Pasqual’s cousin’s son, Jorge Ortiz. He was the man identified the other day at the house in Folsom. During his arrest, he resisted and was beaten severely. His cheekbones and jaw were shattered and he drifted in and out of consciousness.

Pablo took pleasure in torturing people. He specifically enjoyed it when they begged. Asking for mercy made him torture them more.

This is what Pablo was able to ascertain so far: Pasqual’s cousin, Maria Ortiz, the woman seen with Jorge, had emigrated from Venezuela twelve years before and had been living in Sacramento since arriving in the United States. After Sacramento fell to the PAE, Pasqual went to her to see if she needed anything. Her son was a specialist in the California National Guard and had left his post weeks before.

“Emperor, he no longer fights for the Americans. He left his ranks weeks ago. I was recruiting him for the Villistas, that is all. I was taking them food and bringing them to our side,” he begged.

Pablo had beaten him already. Sweat mixed with fresh blood on his face. His lips and nose were bleeding and a small cut to his face oozing.

“I have to say, Maria said the same thing, so your stories are identical. Even after she was raped, she kept her story straight. I was impressed. I’m planning on having Alpha Company fuck her next unless you tell me what you were doing there.”

“No, not Maria, she did nothing wrong,” Pasqual cried out.

“What are your plans? Kill me and take the throne? You insisted I ride in the convoy this morning moments before it was attacked and destroyed.”

“Sir, we intercepted a communication that an attack was imminent. We found an old frequency that the insurgents use to communicate. There’s been someone using it to communicate with the United States government. They know intimate details on movements and plans. We overheard the plans for an attack against you not ten minutes before it happened. They have someone on the inside.”

“Of course you would say that,” Pablo said, then walked over to Jorge with a knife and sliced his face.

Jorge woke up from the pain and cried out.

“Emperor, please. The communications we’ve received are coming from someone close to you. I know it sounds like it could be from me, but they’re not from me, I swear. I’m a loyal follower. I swore an allegiance to you.”

“Who else can it be, then?” Pablo asked. “Who else knows all my plans intimately?”

“The lieutenant governor’s daughter,” he blurted out.

Pablo raced across the room and slapped Pasqual in the face.

“If you knew an attack was imminent on me, why would you suggest I use the convoy?”

“I didn’t, sir. I told the captain that you needed to stay!”

Pablo didn’t know what to believe. The plot against him ran deep, if what Pasqual was saying was true. The only way to be sure he purged these traitors was to cleanse his army. The best place to start was with Pasqual.

“General, you might be correct, but I can’t take that chance. I have to speed this along, now that you’ve given me some other names.”

Pablo walked back to Jorge, grabbed him by the hair, and slit his throat. Thick, red blood poured from his neck and ran down his shirt.

Pasqual cried out but Pablo silenced his cries by taking the axe and planting it in his head.

When they passed the airport signs, memories rushed into Sebastian’s mind. The last time he had been to Boise was a few years ago. He had taken leave over Christmas and flew to meet Gordon and his family in McCall. That was one of the best times he had with his brother. They spent their days snowboarding at Brundage Mountain and their nights drinking cold beer and smoking cigars around the large fire pit. The mountains had always calmed him and disconnected him from the stresses in his life. He hoped that they still held that magical influence, because he needed it badly after the past few months.

The last twelve hours had been tense. Luke killing Brandon was a shock to both him and Annaliese. Following the shooting they promptly buried Brandon but left Jed and Flynn covered with a tarp in the back of Jed’s truck.

Sebastian had been tempted to take the vehicle but his conscience told him that the truck might be the only thing Jed’s family had for transportation. That could mean the difference between life and death, so he wanted to them to have it if they found them. He and Annaliese had discussed traveling to the ranch to tell them the news, but he thought that would be too risky. He didn’t want to roll into a firefight if Jed’s family reacted hostilely to their deaths, which was a distinct possibility.

Luke appeared calm and at peace with what he had done. Annaliese attempted to discuss the shooting with Luke. He would repeat the same thing he said right after he shot Brandon. “He was going to kill you. I couldn’t have him do that.”

Brandon was going to die yesterday regardless of who squeezed the trigger, that much was sure. Sebastian was just concerned about Luke’s mental state. The act of killing was easy, but the hard part was processing it internally. He and Annaliese finally agreed to leave him alone, and when the time was right they’d try to talk to him about it again.

“The best route is to go straight up Highway 55. I want to stay away from downtown so let’s take Eagle Road,” Sebastian said.

“However you think is best,” Annaliese responded, staring out the window. “You know, what about the mountain passes? Do you think they’ll be open?”

“I don’t know. I hope so, but we’ll go as far as we can.”

“Can you teach me to ski, Sebastian?” Luke asked.

Sebastian looked into the rearview mirror. “Sure, but I don’t ski, I snowboard.”

“That would be even cooler,” Luke said with a grin. It was the first time he had spoken in the past few hours.

“Sebastian, your brother’s name is Gordon, right?” Annaliese asked.