G Hopf - The End

The store manager looked left and right then whispered, “You aren’t an Albertson’s employee or something are you?”

“Nope,” Gordon replied.

“What do you need?”

“Canned food, batteries, a few propane tanks and whatever else I see. I have plenty of cash to go around,” Gordon said waving the stack of bills.

“Listen, put the cash down and step inside,” The manager said after looking left and right again.

“Can I bring my bike and trailer in? It will help to load up everything directly,” Gordon asked pointing toward the rack to which his bike was chained.

Looking over Gordon’s shoulder, the manager said, “Sure, but hurry.”

Gordon didn’t hesitate; he turned around, unlocked the bike and trailer and walked them into the store. He put on his headlamp, knowing he’d need it as they got further into the store. He was familiar with its layout and went right for the canned food isle. He started to fill the trailer up with canned vegetables, tuna, chicken and fruit. The manager showed back up with a notepad and was writing everything down. Gordon didn’t say a thing to him. He took every battery he could get his hands on. He found the nuts and grabbed all the dry roasted almonds, peanuts and cashews they had. He then proceeded to the pharmacy area. Most of the over-the-counter drugs were locked up, but he was able to grab bandages, band aids, antiseptic ointments, painkillers and antihistamines. He essentially grabbed anything he thought they could need to last them for years.

“Looks like you’re stocking up for the end of the world,” The manager quipped.

“Well you never know, I like to be prepared,” Gordon replied back, without slowing down. He darted over to another aisle and grabbed every box of powdered milk and powdered Gatorade in stock. He finally paused for a moment, just to pull his checklist from his pocket. He then inspected the trailer and all the contents he had so far. He needed a bit more room for some propane tanks but then decided it would be better to have more food than fuel for cooking. He returned to the canned food aisle to grab more and more. He cleaned off the shelves of tuna, meat, sardines and salmon.

After a solid 40 minutes of “shopping,” the trailer, basket, and backpack were full. The tires on the trailer stressed under the weight.

“What do I owe you?” he asked the manager.

“Let’s go to the customer service desk and I’ll grab a pad.”

Gordon followed him toward the counter where he saw a display of Albertson’s baked goods. He paused and looked at the doughnuts and ginger snap cookies. He had always had a sweet tooth and any sort of treat would be scarce soon. He grabbed as many doughnuts and packages of cookies as he could squeeze into the limited space of the trailer.

While the manager scribbled numbers on his pad, Gordon checked and double-checked his trailer and the store shelves around the customer service area. He noticed a few pegs filled with lighters and tossed the whole lot onto his pile of goods.

“Sir, your total is $1,875.00,” the manager said looking down at his notepad and writing the amount down.

“Will $3,000 work? The rest is a tip,” Gordon asked handing the man over a small stack of $100 bills.

“Yes it will,” the manager said, excited and surprised.

As the money changed hands, a loud knocking from the store’s front doors startled them both. The manager quickly pocketed the cash and made his way toward the front. “Stay here,” he instructed as he walked away.

Gordon took a few steps away from the counter so he could see the front doors, he saw the manager doing exactly what he had done when Gordon knocked. He didn’t say a word, he just pointed at the sign. The person on the other side shrugged his shoulders and walked off. The manager came back and said, “Listen, I don’t need any trouble so follow me to the back and go out that way.”

“I can do that,” Gordon agreed and followed the manager to the back of the store, through the warehouse, and to an emergency exit. The alarm didn’t sound when the manager opened the door, and Gordon quietly navigated his load through the opening.

Gordon shook the manager’s hand, jumped on his bike and pedaled off. The bike was very heavy now, which meant the ride home would be slower than the ride to the store. As he rode, he felt proud of himself for his quick thinking under pressure. He might have just given his family a longer lease on life. The regret he had earlier for his overall lack of preparedness was eased now.

Oklahoma City, OK

The atmosphere of the hotel parking lot was similar to that of the hospital. Scattered throughout, cars sat still with their hoods raised and people meandered, confused. Conner turned into the lot, hastily parked the truck, pulled the keys from the ignition, and jumped out of the cabin. He locked the truck, hoping to provide some security for one of the only operational vehicles around. He noticed everyone in the lot was staring at him and his operational truck.

He ran to the emergency stairs and up to the second floor. He went directly to Dylan’s room. Once he reached the room, he furiously rapped on the door until his trusted aide answered.

“I’ve been trying to reach you,” Dylan said, feeling relieved to be face-to-face with the Speaker.

“Grab what you can, get the two Capitol Police officers and meet me down in the parking lot in five minutes. Please hurry,” Conner ordered then turned away leaving Dylan standing there bewildered.

Conner darted down the hallway toward his room. He pulled out his key-card, hoping it would work despite the power outage. He slid the key into the card-slot above the doorknob, but nothing happened. Unsurprised, he took a step backward and kicked the door as hard as he could. The door hardly budged. He gave it another shot; this time, it buckled under the force of his kick and flew open. He bolted inside, grabbed his briefcase and a small piece of luggage, and immediately left.

“Mr. Speaker!” a voice yelled down the darkened hallway.

Conner turned around. He couldn’t see anything down the near-black corridor, but he heard footsteps approaching.

“Mr. Speaker!” the voice said again.

“Agent Davis, is that you?” he asked.

“Yes sir, it’s me and Jackson.”

From the darkness, two large-statured men wearing suits approached Conner.

“Have you been able to communicate with anyone in Washington?” Conner asked.

“No,” Davis responded

“Nothing sir,” Jackson answered shaking his head. “None of our equipment will even power on. We went down to the front desk and everything is down.”

“Listen, go back to your rooms and grab what you will need and meet me out front, I have a working vehicle.”

Both men acknowledged Conner and ran back to their rooms. Conner headed for the stairwell quickly made it back to the truck. Seeing the truck as he exited the lobby, he breathed a sigh of relief. He tossed his bags in the back in got in. So much had happened in a day. Just yesterday he and Julia were at a charity luncheon in DC when they received word that Bobby had been a near-fatal car accident.

“Mr. Speaker?” Dylan asked, puzzled by the fact that his boss was sitting behind the wheel of an old beat-up pickup truck.

Conner opened his eyes, “Throw your stuff in the back and get in the cab, but don’t get blood on you.”

Dylan obeyed and climbed into the passenger seat nervously after taking notice of the blood on the inside door panel and side of the seat.

“Where did you get the truck?” Dylan asked, looking around inside.

“That is a long story and it doesn’t matter. As soon as Davis and Jackson get down here we are heading straight for Tinker Air Force Base.”