G Hopf - The Long Road

He leveraged this distinction to connect with the right people. He found that the politicians, celebrities, and big business types were not unlike anyone else. They had their fetishes, desires, and needs. Alfredo built his business by being the man who could get it for them. Within six years, he ran the largest cartel in Baja California. This level of success didn’t come without incident, but he proved to be resilient. By the time he was lying on the beach with his young son, Pablo, in Loreto Bay, he had grown to be one of the top cartel heads in all of Mexico. Within twenty years he was one of the richest and most powerful men in the country.

He did what he could to keep his children out of the business, but Pablo was persistent, so Alfredo made him a deal. Finish college, and then, if you want to go into the “business,” it’s yours. Pablo graduated from Harvard with honors, and while his father was celebrating his son’s achievement, Pablo pulled him aside and told him that he wanted in. Alfredo’s cartel ran like a multinational corporation, with Pablo his chief operating officer. Pablo oversaw a lot of the operations from the ground and reported directly to Alfredo. When the lights went out, everything changed. No longer were cocaine and marijuana the cash crops. Food, water, and energy were now prized possessions and commodities.

Mexico City had been untouched by the North American EMP; however, the northern half of Mexico was not so lucky. The Mexican government was doing all it could to support the north, but getting needed supplies to the people was impossible. Convoys of food, water, and equipment heading north along the western coast soon found their way into Alfredo’s warehouses in Baja. Alfredo saw the new marketplace, but Pablo’s plans were bigger, much bigger.

Pablo spun around, finding every constellation he knew. He then wondered if his heroes throughout history had stared into the starry sky like he did. His thoughts then shifted quickly to visions of empire. Schooling had taught him about the greatest leaders in history. Alexander, Caesar, Peter the Great, Napoleon, Charlemagne, these men had become his heroes. They had created true legacies, and he wanted that kind of power the way his father had wanted to achieve wealth. Pablo longed for a place alongside those men. This desire had been dreams and fantasies, but now the world had been shaken like a large snow globe and all the flakes were still floating in the air. If he executed his plan correctly, he could be among those revered names in history. The only thing that stood in his way was his father.

He pulled a small cigar out of his jacket pocket and lit it. The glow of the flame lit his face, showing a serious expression. As he watched the flame dance off of the tip of the cigar, he thought of his next steps in this game. He needed to get back north again and regroup his men. This time, though, he would do things differently; he needed some support. As he took a long drag, the cigar’s tip illuminated his smiling face. He knew who he’d call. His father’s influence had reached across countries and continents. His next call would be to a family friend in Caracas. This friend could get him what he needed: an army.

South of Fort Irwin, CA

Gordon liked the desert for different reasons; one was the contrast in temperatures between the day and the night. As he and Holloway walked back to his truck, unsuccessful in their mission, he took the time to appreciate the cool, crisp air.

Every area of the base appeared locked up tight, and armed security was everywhere. With the incident of a day and half ago still fresh in his mind, he wasn’t about to walk up to the gate and ask for help. He just didn’t trust anyone, nor could he risk it. The walk to the truck took about thirty minutes, and then the drive back would take another forty-five. He’d be able to get a few hours of sleep; then they’d get their day started on the road. He was disappointed that the base was locked down, but in some ways he’d kind of expected it.

Just after starting the truck he heard someone scream. “Sshh,” he said to Holloway.

“What?” Holloway responded.

“Listen, quiet.”

Both men sat in the glow of the dashboard listening. Nothing, just the truck engine.

“Let’s get back,” Holloway said as he stretched.

“There again, did you hear that?” Gordon said as he turned off the truck.

Again, both men just sat listening to the quiet desert.

“I swear, I heard someone scream twice in the distance,” Gordon said.

“Okay, but what are we going to do about it? It’s not our concern, is it?” Holloway asked.

“You’re right, let’s get outta here,” Gordon said as he turned the ignition key again and fired up the truck. Then as if on cue, the scream came again but closer, followed by a gunshot.

“Now I heard that!” Holloway exclaimed.

Just as Gordon turned off the engine again, the voice screamed a third time; this time it was audible and closer. “Dad, help!”

Gordon recognized the voice; it was Hunter. He flung open the door and grabbed his rifle. Holloway followed right behind him, armed and ready. They both ran in the direction from which they’d heard the scream.

“Hunter! Hunter! Where are you?” Gordon yelled, a bit of panic was in his voice.

“Dad, over here!” Hunter’s voice sounded fatigued and scared.

“I’m coming!”

Gordon ran hard across the desert floor. The uneven ground made him overextend his left leg and almost fall, but he recovered his balance and kept running toward his son.

“Dad!”

“I’m almost there! Holloway, scan the area with the NVGs!”

Holloway stopped, put on the night-vision goggles, and began looking in Hunter’s direction.

“I see what must be Hunter, you’re close!” Holloway yelled at Gordon.

The night was pitch black. Gordon could not see anything, but he was determined to get to his son.

“Hunter, yell out again!”

“Here, Dad!”

Gordon knew he was close; he pivoted, and in a dozen steps he ran into Hunter.

“What the hell? What are you doing out here?”

“Dad, I, uh, I…” Hunter was attempting to answer him but was out of breath.

“Let’s go! I need you to keep running!”

“Gordon,” Holloway said, “I have a lot of movement out there. I’m counting, one, two, four, at least eight bodies moving out there, and they’re heading toward us.”

“Get back to the truck, now!”

All three ran. Hunter kept falling down, but each time Gordon pulled him up quickly. No one said a word as each was breathing hard from the exertion.

“Where the fuck is the truck?” Gordon asked loudly.

“It should be around here somewhere!”

“Put the NVGs on, hurry!”

As Holloway put the goggles back on to help find the truck, Gordon held Hunter close. He listened as best he could for any sounds around him.

“Over there, but we have to hurry. Whoever was chasing Hunter is getting close to the truck.”

Not hesitating, they all took off in a hard sprint toward the truck.

Gordon was starting to feel panicked. He couldn’t see, but he knew people were coming toward him and his son was there.

“Where the hell is it?”

“Almost there,” Holloway stated, now running with the goggles on.

Out of the darkness the truck appeared, but so did whoever was in pursuit of Hunter. All Gordon could feel was something large hitting him in the face. The force of the hit was enough to lay him on his back. He could taste the blood from a large cut across his nose. He shook off the hit and rolled and got back on his feet. The visibility was only feet, but he could hear whoever it was all around him.