G Hopf - The Long Road

He peered around the corner but saw no one; however, his ears picked up sounds near the front of the house they were using for cover.

“Damn, I think someone is there,” he whispered.

The boy and woman clung to each other, both shaking.

“I wish we had a car; this on-foot stuff is bullshit.”

“We have a car,” the boy said quietly.

Gordon’s eyes lit up. “You do? Does it work?”

The woman answered, “Yeah, that’s what they first came for.”

Excited by this news, Gordon said, “Our plans have changed. Do you know how to shoot a gun?” he asked the woman.

She shook her head no.

“It’s easy. Just keep pulling the trigger at anyone trying to kill you,” he said as he handed her a Glock 9-mm. “Where’s the car?”

“Our garage,” the woman said as she stared at the pistol in her hand.

“Let’s go,” Gordon said, moving to a crouch position. “Stay right behind me. And whatever you do, don’t shoot me,” he said to her.

She gave no response. Her eyes were wide open with fear.

With his rifle back at the ready, they turned back toward where he had killed the man who’d grabbed the boy.

Sounds of breaking glass, voices, and more tossed furniture came from the second house.

“Stay here,” Gordon commanded, then went to look inside. He saw one man walking through the house grumbling to himself.

Seeing only the one inside, he made his plan.

He entered the house through the unlocked back sliding door that opened to the kitchen. He slung his rifle and took his knife back out. Tiptoeing, he made it to the edge of the kitchen and hallway.

The man was walking back toward him from one of the bedrooms.

When the man cleared the corner, Gordon jumped him. He slit his throat and gently laid him on the floor.

Gordon walked in the direction the man had been going, the front of the house. The hallway opened up into a living room with a large bay window that looked out onto the edge of the cul-de-sac. From there, he had a view of most of the street and the three men out front.

With two dead and a guess of six or seven total, that left Gordon four or five.

He needed a way to draw them out, and he now thought he had the plan.

Making it back to the woman and the boy, he explained his idea.

She at first refused. But with a lot of pressure she agreed.

Gordon went back into the house and set up a sniper’s position at the bay window.

“C’mon,” he whispered loudly. He had the rifle firmly against his shoulder, but he kept peering out of the corner of his eye to see her.

Suddenly one of the men in front of the third home yelled out. “Her and the boy are here!”

The three men made their way toward her but stopped when she brandished the pistol.

“That’s a girl,” Gordon said to himself.

“Stop right there. I have the keys, but after I give them to you, you have to leave!”

“Hey, boss, she has the keys!” one of the men called out.

“Toss the keys to us now, bitch!” another man yelled at her.

“C’mon,” Gordon said again. The situation was tense, but it escalated when one of the men drew his pistol and pointed it at her son.

“I’ll kill your fucking boy, now toss me the keys!”

“C’mon!” Gordon said louder.

Like God had answered his prayer, two other men came onto the street with guns drawn. They were walking quickly toward the woman.

Gordon didn’t know if this was all of them, but he couldn’t wait any longer. He aimed and squeezed off the first round, hitting the first man with the gun in the head. The man instantly dropped to the ground. Gordon slightly turned and took another shot, hit; another, hit. The last two men didn’t know where the shots were coming from, but that didn’t stop them from shooting in all directions.

Gordon took aim on the fourth man and shot him in the chest; the force of the round pushed him back, and he fell down dead. Gordon had taken aim on the last man when a shot rang out, this time from the woman.

She shot at the man, missed him at first, but kept shooting. The second and third rounds hit him squarely.

He turned to face her, but she kept pulling the trigger. Three more rounds burst forth from the pistol and hit him in the torso.

He dropped to his knees and fell face first into the pavement.

The woman stopped firing after he fell. Her son was standing behind her with his hands covering his face.

Gordon’s ears were ringing after the shoot-out. He shook his head thinking that would clear his ears, but like every time before, it didn’t. He stood and left the house.

The woman looked at him, still standing in the exact spot from which she had fired.

Gordon walked over, took the pistol out of her hand, and said, “Good job, very good.”

The boy came around to the front of his mother, and she held him close. His long, brown, curly hair was tucked into a black beanie.

Gordon looked at her; she was a young woman. He guessed she couldn’t have been older than twenty-eight. Her copper hair was partially hanging out of a scrunchie that was holding the rest back. Dirt, grime, and dried tears were smeared across her freckled face.

“You two are all alone, right?” he asked.

“Yeah, my husband died a couple weeks ago. These guys had been his friends.”

“I’ll make you a deal. Let me borrow your car and I’ll take you both with me to Idaho. I have a safe place to stay up there.”

“Okay, but what’s your name?”

“I’m Gordon, Gordon Van Zandt. Come on, let’s go to Idaho.”

Olympia, Washington, Republic of Cascadia

“That’s it? You’re ending there. What happened?” John exclaimed. Her stories were so dramatic and intriguing he didn’t want them to end.

Haley exhaled heavily, then said, “I’m tired, John. It’s been a long day. Remembering and talking about all of these things take a lot out of me. Let’s resume tomorrow.”

“But tomorrow is a holiday!” he barked out.

“So it is. Let’s resume Monday, then,” she said, standing up and walking toward the kitchen.

The other two men began to tear down the equipment and pack it away.

John wasn’t satisfied with that answer, so he followed her into the kitchen.

Haley stood at the sink. A window gave her a view of a large green park. She was bracing herself against the counter. Physical and emotional fatigue were weighing her down.

“Haley, I’m sorry, but I can’t wait to know. What happened? Did they make it to Idaho safely? You never mentioned what was in the letter from Gordon. What about Gordon, I’m sorry, your father? I’ve heard these stories before,” John said desperately.

She again exhaled deeply and turned to face him. “John, these aren’t stories like you read in a book. These things happened. People died. My brother died. So, please don’t treat them like stories.”

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. I promise you. Please don’t take what I said in any way—”

“They made it to Idaho safely, without my father. But when they arrived, well, let’s just say that Lexi was right. First off, they couldn’t reach McCall. The mountain roads were snowed in. With no equipment operational, there was no way to clear the roads. They were stuck in Eagle for the rest of the winter.”

The two photographers walked past the kitchen, said their farewells, and left.

John was standing like a dog waiting for a treat.

“That’s it? They were stuck? What happened?”

“I can talk about that on Monday. Okay?”

“Did that girl Lexi go to Idaho with your group?”

“No, she left,” Haley said. She had moved away from the counter and was walking toward him.