G Hopf: The Long Road

“I know why you’re here. I’m okay. I needed this closure. I can now plan my life knowing he’s gone,” she said, looking down quickly to fight back any emotion. Regaining her composure, she continued. “Andrew, you have been Brad’s friend for a long time. I know how this works. Take the oath and do what you need to do. Don’t worry about me. Go to Portland. Lead this country out of this.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Cruz asked.

“Yes, now go. I overheard your conversation outside my door. Go, sit down with the general and get your differences worked out.”

Cruz looked at Baxter.

Julia was confident and acting as if nothing had happened.

“Please call me if you need anything,” Cruz said, then stood.

Baxter followed his lead. Keeping quiet seemed like the thing to do. There wasn’t anything he could add.

“Thank you for coming down,” Julia said. “I’ll be fine. If I don’t see you before you leave, be safe.” She walked over and hugged Cruz.

Cruz embraced her and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Julia.”

“No, it’s okay. Thank you,” she replied softly.

“Take care, Julia. I hope I’ll see you in Portland soon.”

“You take care, okay? Thank you for everything you did, you’re a good friend.”

Baxter opened the door for Cruz. Both men left and walked toward the briefing room, not saying a word about the odd meeting with the first lady.

Julia closed the door and locked it behind them. She went into the bedroom and lay back down. Beside her on the bed were a shirt and jacket of Brad’s. She brought them to her nose and breathed in deeply. Holding the breath, she hugged the shirt and rolled onto her side. She looked at the prescription bottle on the nightstand. Tears formed in her eyes and dripped onto the bedspread. Reaching out, she grabbed the bottle and opened it.

Salem, Oregon

Barone loved his Marines. They were adaptive and courageous. But today they made him happy with the hot coffee. He stood overlooking the large courtyard where his men had had a confrontation with some civilians the day before. The early morning sun’s rays were just penetrating through the thick clouds, illuminating the congealed pools of blood left on the concrete sidewalks. He was also pleased by the way his plan was coming together. He had ordered his XO to begin training civilians in Coos Bay. The local leadership was more than helpful in supporting their needs, and to reward them for their loyalty and obedience, Barone started to give more and more responsibility to them. He knew they’d eventually find out about his mutiny, but if he had made them dependent enough on him, they’d have no choice but to deepen their relationship.

Governor Pelsom had proven to be very helpful. With the threat of his own people suffering any consequences for not supporting Barone locally with information, Pelsom answered every question the colonel asked.

The Salem population had created some problems, but the Marines had been able to quell the one riot that had formed outside the Capitol.

Not one to play games, Barone gave a single warning to the group of two-hundred-plus civilians. He first offered them positions within his army. Some took advantage of this offer; the majority didn’t. When they refused to comply, Barone had his Marines shoot the leaders. The clash was bloody but lasted only a few minutes before the rebellious civilians dispersed, leaderless.

Barone didn’t want to have clashes; he actually hated having to be harsh. The reality was that he didn’t have the resources to help these people. He was willing to incorporate them into his new army and give them jobs, but he wasn’t about to feed millions. There wasn’t enough food. It saddened him to watch those people, many hungry and desperate. He could have been one of them. He didn’t blame them for being not having the tools and food to keep themselves alive, but at the same time he didn’t have sympathy for them. For too many years local or regional incidents had given warnings that something could happen. Most people, he thought, just lived in a state of denial, thinking it would never happen to them and that their government would protect them. It was true that their government had plans to help, but not on this magnitude. This was why he did what he did. When he heard that it had been a super-EMP and that D.C. had been nuked, he knew it was over. He had been in the military long enough to know that the government’s only strategy for such an event was government continuity. Hunker down and come out after the bloodletting.

Those people who had rioted today were innocent, but they were also culpable in their demise. To trust their government was their first mistake, to trust him was their second.

Barone was proud of his Marines and his civilian allies in Coos Bay. Soon he’d have a much larger army to deal with what the United States was about to throw at him.

One thing he now thought he needed was a rallying cry. Survival was one element to motivate people, but if they knew they were fighting for a greater cause, , then he could recruit a dedicated army.

He knew the day was coming when he’d have to face his new civilian friends and tell them that the United States was gone and was not coming back. He needed to make the national government the bad guy and himself the savior, these people’s liberator.

He didn’t know how to do that just yet. One thing he did know was that he had the upper hand against the United States because he knew their moves. What he needed next was leverage.

Putting out his cigar on the railing, the colonel walked back into the Capitol. He proceeded to the room where the governor was being held.

Not wanting Pelsom to coordinate any escape, Barone kept him sequestered from his staff.

Pelsom looked disheveled. His hair was greasy and unkempt. His face had grown a thick stubble. The dark circles under his eyes indicated sleep deprivation.

Barone had been making sure he was being provided food, but Pelsom wasn’t eating.

Opening the door, Barone found the governor sitting on the edge of the cot with his head in his hands.

“Senator! How are you today?” Barone asked. He kept hearkening back to their congressional days so that Pelsom was constantly reminded of the clash they’d had.

Pelsom didn’t look up.

Barone grabbed a chair in the small room and sat down.

“Senator, I’m here to see if you have anything else you’d like to tell me before I let you go.”

Pelsom lifted his head and looked at the colonel. “You’re going to let me go?”

“Senator, I don’t need you anymore. The president is coming to bless us with his arrival early, so we will need to depart. You’ve given me everything but…”

“You’re letting me go?” Pelsom repeated and looked at him strangely.

Barone leaned in closer. “Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Anything at all?”

“I’ve told you everything; I’m not withholding anything. I promise,” Pelsom said, his eyes begging Barone.

Barone returned the governor’s stare, but his gaze was to see if he was lying.

“So you have told me everything you want to tell me? There is nothing else you’d like to say before I say good-bye to you?”

“Aaah, no. I’ve been very open. You know everything.”

Barone stood, grabbed his chair by the top, and moved it back to the spot he had found it.

“Corporal!” Barone yelled.

The door opened and two Marines came in.

“Take the senator to the main entrance. Hold him there. Then go get his staff and the entire legislature. I want them all there. I’ll be with you shortly.”

The two Marines walked in and grabbed Pelsom, whose face showed his uncertainty and anxiety about what would happen next.