The End

DECEMBER 11, 2014

Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory.

Sebastian looked over his shoulder to see any sign of the ARG. Nothing. They were out there somewhere hiding in the darkness. Operations such as this, while new, were not something that made him nervous, but he couldn’t fight that feeling. He peered through his scope onto the decks of the two MPS ships that were docked. There wasn’t a lot of movement, but he didn’t expect to see much at 0215 in the morning.

Sebastian’s sniper team was assigned to provide over watch for the half-dozen twelve-man teams of Marines and sailors that were coming ashore at 0315 to seize the two MPS ships. Sebastian’s nervousness sprang from the fact that what they were doing was stealing two large cargo ships from an American base. The questions ran through his mind, What if it doesn’t go smoothly or they resist? It was one thing to shoot and kill a Taliban fighter, but to shoot an American Merchant Marine who would be doing nothing but defending his ship just did not sit well with him. Sebastian and his spotter, Tomlinson, were hidden in a grove of trees on the south side of the port. The sun would be rising within a few hours and they needed to have the ships under control and underway by 0445. The pre-raid briefing estimated that the six teams could have complete control of both ships within 45 minutes and underway shortly after that. The plan called for no air support, so it would be man against man.

Sebastian kept looking at his watch like a novice chef would watch water boil. He was growing impatient and more anxious as the minutes ticked away. He looked through his scope again. All was quiet and no movement around or on the ships. He could hear the hum of machines in the distance and the air was cool and smelled salty.

“Damn, I gotta piss,” whispered Tomlinson.

“Piss then,” Sebastian told him.

Tomlinson rolled a couple feet away and undid his trousers.

“Ahhh, nothing like taking a piss after you’ve held it forever,” sighed Tomlinson. “It just feels—”

“Ssshhh,” Sebastian snapped as he heard a truck coming. He peered through the scope ‘til he finally saw it. A gray pickup truck was speeding toward the MPS ship Bennett. When it reached the gangway of the ship it stopped and two men got out and ran up toward the quarter deck. Sebastian sensed something was wrong. He thought to himself, Had their mission been compromised? Only a few minutes went by before he heard the general quarters alarm sound on the ship.

“Shit!” Sebastian said out loud.

“What’s up?” Tomlinson said after rolling back over and grabbing his binoculars.

“We’ve been compromised, Tomlinson; contact the Makin Island and let them know.”

“Roger that,” Tomlinson said then pressed the mike of the radio. “Charlie Papa, Charlie Papa, this is Sierra Tango 1 over.”

Sebastian now saw the decks of the Bennett spring to life. The two men who had obviously sounded the alarm ran down the gangway and got back in their truck, they sped off toward the Stockham, which was moored next to the Bennett. Their trip was unnecessary, though, as Sebastian heard the general quarters alarm begin on the Stockham too.

“Charlie Papa, Charlie Papa, this is Sierra Tango 1 over,” Tomlinson said again into the mike of the radio.

Sebastian looked at his watch, it was now 0306; the raiding party would be hitting the shore any minute now.

“Charlie Papa, the two targets have been alerted to our intentions, over,” Tomlinson said to someone on board the Makin Island.

Sebastian could see the men onboard the Bennett preparing to defend the ship. Just what he had feared was coming true, American against American.

“Roger that, Sierra Tango 1 out,” Tomlinson said finishing his conversation with command on the Makin Island.

“So what’s up?” Sebastian asked. He didn’t take his eyes away from the scope.

“They want us to proceed with the raid and that the rules of engagement are the same.”

“Damn it,” Sebastian said with frustration in his voice.

In the distance, Sebastian then heard more vehicles coming. He turned his rifle toward the sound and looked through his scope. What he saw confirmed his fears. Three trucks of armed military police were coming toward the ships.

“This is going down very badly,” Sebastian said.

“Yep, sure is,” Tomlinson said agreeing with Sebastian.

“Van Zandt, I see our raiding party; they’re heading toward the Stockham now!” Tomlinson said peering through the binoculars. He wasn’t the only one who had seen them either. Within seconds, yelling started to come from the ship as spotlights splashed down on the advancing Marines and sailors.

“What do we do?” Tomlinson asked.

“First we need to slow down these reinforcements,” Sebastian said as he placed his finger on the trigger and started to squeeze. He thought to himself that as soon as he squeezed off this shot, there was no going back. The seconds it took to fire the first round off seemed like forever. Sebastian’s training had paid off, and with precision he hit the front tire of the first truck. He cycled the bolt of his rifle with speed and took aim on the second truck’s front tire, and within three seconds he fired his second shot, striking his target. He repeated this one more time and took out the third truck’s front tire. His accuracy had worked; the first truck lost control and almost crashed but the driver maintained control only to have the second truck ram him. Just after he had taken his third and final shot, the third truck swerved to miss the accident and lost control due to its flat front tire and turned over. The men violently flew out of the open back onto the road. Sebastian wasn’t sure if anyone was dead, but he had slowed them down and helped assure the success of their raiding teams.

Sebastian now turned his attention to the action happening over near the Stockham. When he looked through his scope he saw a couple of Marines lying on the ground. The crew of the Stockham had managed to bring enough gunfire to hold back the advancing Marines. He scanned the decks of the ship looking for the shooters. Finding one near the bridge with a rifle, he placed the cross hairs on the man’s chest and started to squeeze the trigger. He then paused. His previous thoughts came to him again. This is an American! He took his gaze away from the scope and looked down. Tomlinson could hear him exhale deeply and turned to him.

“Corporal, you okay?”

Sebastian did not respond, he just looked down.

“Corporal Van Zandt, you alright?” Tomlinson asked again.

Clearing his thoughts and getting back behind his rifle Sebastian replied, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

He soon found the man with the rifle on the bridge and took aim again. He placed his finger back on the trigger and squeezed, this time he aimed for the man’s head. His thoughts were that if he was going to kill him he’d make it a clean shot. He applied more steady pressure to the trigger till it went off. The round hit the man in the head. Sebastian could see his head explode and the man fall backwards.

“Good shot!” Tomlinson said.

Sebastian took the butt of the rifle out of his shoulder and took a deep breath.

Tomlinson was busy looking for more targets through his binoculars, “I have another shooter, three o’clock to the last guy; distance is the same, wind-age is the same. Take the shot.”

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Sebastian said exacerbated.

“What?” Tomlinson asked. He put the binoculars down and turned to Sebastian.

Sebastian was not feeling right about any of this, “Tomlinson, what are we doing? We’re killing Americans now. All I wanted to do was go home; now we’re in Diego Garcia killing Americans.”

“Listen corporal; I hear ya’ but it’s on now. We are committed and now it’s us or them.”

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Sebastian said again.

“Can you at least spot for me?” Tomlinson asked.

Sebastian handed the rifle to Tomlinson, who didn’t waste time. He took aim on the last target he had spotted for Sebastian. It took him only seconds before he squeezed off a round, killing the man.

Sebastian and Tomlinson’s accurate shooting had provided enough support for the raiding party to make ground and advance toward their objective.

Tomlinson was not waiting for Sebastian; he was identifying his own targets and taking the shots. Sebastian was watching it all happen before him through the lenses of his binoculars.

Then he heard what sounded like helicopters. Sebastian lowered the binos and looked into the darkness beyond the ships and the gun battle before him. Moments later, two Cobra attack helicopters came racing above the two MPS ships and took position hovering over the bay. It appeared the call to have no air support had been changed. Sebastian knew the targets they were going after. Seconds later, the Cobra gunships opened up their 20MM mini guns and blasted the reinforcements that were in the trucks. The mini-guns laid waste to the vehicles and what men were still in the area.

“Fuckin-A, get some!” Tomlinson said loudly with excitement.

Now Sebastian knew that his whole world had officially changed; he now was a rebel, a traitor, a mutineer. If Barone was wrong and the world they went back to came back to normal, they all would be arrested and possibly hanged for treason. As these thoughts raced through his mind, he asked himself if he should go through with it or just stop now. He couldn’t turn back now; he had already killed one American if not more in the trucks. Following Barone was the only direct way back to Gordon and his family. He finally decided to be committed to this for now; but he didn’t know if he would do it past landing back in California.

He turned to Tomlinson and said, “Okay, T; I’m good now; let me get some.”

“That’s music to my ears.” Tomlinson said, handing him back the rifle.

Sebastian took the rifle, cycled the bolt and placed his face against the stock and looked through the scope. Tomlinson said, “Look aft on the Bennett, we have a guy up there with a rifle.

Sebastian searched for the man ‘til he saw the muzzle flash of his rifle. He took aim on his head, squeezed the trigger and shot him dead.

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

“Mr. President, thank you for coming so quickly. We have an incident that needs your attention, sir,” Griswald said.

Conner took a seat at the table in the command post briefing room.

“No problem. What do we have?” Conner asked. The lack of sleep was taking a toll on Conner. He had large black circles under his eyes and he was losing weight; not from lack of food but from his lack of eating.

“Sir, we just received word that two Maritime Prepositioned Ships were just seized in Diego Garcia.”

“By whom?”

Griswald looked at his colleagues before he answered Conner. “Sir, by U.S. Marines.”

“What?”

“Yes sir; I’m surprised by this too, but what we have heard is that a Lt. Col Barone with support of his officer corps have taken control of an Amphibious Ready Group. They sailed the ships to Diego Garcia, refueled, resupplied and then after they left; they attacked the island and seized two MPS ships.”

Conner just sat looking stunned, he shook his head and asked, “Where are they now, where are they headed?”

“Sir, I do not know. Their orders were to head to the East Coast to help support the recovery effort in Washington, D.C. Where they are heading is unknown for now.”

“Do we have any satellite support at all?”

“Yes sir, we do, most of those survived the EMP’s due to their Medium Earth Orbit; but it appears that Barone has disabled us from tracking the ships.”

“Okay, let me make sure I understand what has happened. A rogue Marine colonel has taken an entire ARG, then sailed it to Diego Garcia where he stole two MPS ships. He is now sailing for God knows where.”

“Sir, that is correct. It appeared to the U.S. command element on the island that they were just stopping by to get refueled and resupplied before heading east. After the ARG had departed the island, the command on DG had been notified by someone on the ships that Colonel Barone had mutinied and taken the USS Makin Island, the USS New Orleans and the USS Pearl Harbor and had plans for seizing the MV Bennett and USNS Stockham. DG command attempted to thwart the seizures but overwhelming force by Barone’s men stopped any resistance and both ships were taken. DG command reports 42 personnel KIA and 23 WIA. They also reported that Barone lost six Marines.”

“Where is Barone based out of?” Conner asked.

“Sir, he commands the 2^nd battalion, 4^th Marine Regiment out of Camp Pendleton, California.”

“Then, general, I would guess California is where he’s headed. What assets do we have in the area?”

“For what, sir?” Griswald asked, not sure of how to answer the question.

“I’ll just cut the bullshit right here, general. We cannot let this stand, we cannot have Marine colonels or anybody just stealing our ships and resources. This man and his men must be dealt with. Find me some planes or a goddamn carrier group to go after this man and his pack of traitors. They must be stopped.”

Griswald looked around the table and then back to the president. “Sir, yes sir.”

“Let me know as soon as you find someone to intercept them—,” Conner said pausing mid-sentence. A new idea came to him. “General, do what you can to contact this colonel; I wish to speak to him.”

Raising his eyebrows curiously Griswald replied; “Yes, sir.”

“Thank you general. Now if that is all, I will retire back to my room,” Conner said then stood up, turned and left. As he walked back to his room, thoughts of how fast things were falling apart consumed him. He had never thought that military commanders would start to disobey orders and mutiny. It had not been a week since the attacks and things were deteriorating quickly. They still did not know who had attacked them and they still had not responded. He knew that his time to make a decision was running out; he knew in order to show his enemies he was serious he would have to act soon.

Entering his room, he could hear his wife sleeping. He wanted to wake her up and tell her about his day; he missed her so much. He needed her more than she needed him at this moment. She had closed herself off since the death of their son. Even though he was being ignored, he felt it important to just love her regardless of what she gave in return. He hoped that eventually she would come back to him, but until then he would have to love for two people.

Conner not only had to support his country in this dark hour, he had to take control of his marriage, too if it were going to survive.

San Diego, CA

Gordon loved his coffee. In fact, if he didn’t get his “fix” he would get headaches. The smell of fresh brewed coffee was one element of his past life he missed. So while he didn’t enjoy the cold, bitter coffee, he enjoyed it better than a headache.

The search for food was becoming more and more difficult every day. They had to keep going further and further only to find less and less. The community teams he had set up had been working. Their little community was functioning like a town. After each scavenger team returned, they would inventory and store their findings nightly. The following day it would be distributed evenly to each household. Rancho Valentino was fortunate because they had a diverse cross-section of people; from doctors and nurses to engineers and even a horticulturist. Gordon had taken direct control of the community’s security forces. He saw that they were trained, armed and given the support they needed to protect the community. He had set up guard positions at each gated entrance and on several roof tops that had commanding views of the area.

Gordon and the other scavenger teams started to see an increase in violence on the outside. They had been fortunate to have enough arms to give to all of his security forces but there was not enough to protect from an all-out assault if attacked by a well-armed enemy. He needed to find weapons and ammunition. He had conducted a meeting with his security force team leads comprised of Jimmy, Nelson and a cop named Dan Bradford. Gordon did not think highly of Dan. Maybe it was that he had the responsibility of protecting people but didn’t have the discipline to take care of himself. He was overweight and slovenly. Coming highly recommended from Mindy did not help. Whatever the reason, Gordon just didn’t quite trust Dan nor did he care for his arrogance; but Gordon had dealt with a lot of egos in his life and he would just have to deal with Dan.

All the team leads decided that they needed to create two new three-man teams, one headed by Gordon and the other by Dan; to find weapons and ammo. They had identified locations where they might find them; Dan would take his team to different police stations while Gordon would go to gun stores.

Each morning before Gordon left for the day, he went and kissed his kids and made sure he told them he loved them. Dan was taking his team south into Mira Mesa; the area was heavily populated and was sure to pose potential problems. Gordon stressed to Dan to get in and out as fast as possible, they had a clear objective, no detours or sightseeing. Gordon was taking his team north just a few miles to a sheriff’s depot then onto Solana Beach if they could fit it in.

Gordon walked back into his bedroom after visiting his children. As Samantha was getting dressed, he walked up behind her and put his arms around her. Embracing her tightly, he kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. He loved her so much; she had adapted quickly to the new reality and had volunteered to be a teacher in a school that they had put together. The idea of the school was Samantha’s; she thought it best to ensure the children were still educated. The school also gave the children something of structure and the comfort of routine.

Holding her tightly, Gordon said, “Love you babe.”

Samantha leaned against Gordon and replied, “I love you, too.”

“I just wanted to give you a kiss before I left.”

“Where are you going?” she asked.

“No-where special,” Gordon said, he never got into too much detail with her over his daily missions and he never told her about any incidents; the last thing he wanted to do was make her any more nervous than she was.

Samantha turned around and faced him, she looked up at him and asked, “Gordon, how long can we do this? How long can we keep this all together?”

Looking down at her, he stroked some hair away from her face, “As long as we have to.”

“That’s not an answer Gordon.”

“Sam, all I know is we don’t have a choice but to keep doing what we’re doing. Things seem to be working, and if we can keep finding food then we will be okay,” Gordon answered. He had a hard time keeping a straight face, as he didn’t believe the words that came spilling out of his mouth.

Looking more deeply into his eyes she asked, “Really?”

Putting his hand on her cheek and bringing her lips to his, he kissed her. He then looked at her green eyes and said, “Yes, we will be okay,” Gordon was unsure of what the future held. His nightly sleep was interrupted with nightmares of him losing his family to this new world. He struggled but had been successful at keeping those thoughts out of his mind. “Honey, I have to go; I’ll see you tonight,” he kissed her again and left.

Walking the neighborhood, he noticed a transformation in the community. Dozens of people were walking the streets coming and going, clothes lines now stretched in backyards, tarps were hung to capture the morning condensation, five-gallon buckets were positioned under rain gutters to gather run-off, smoke billowed out of chimneys. Gone were his neighbors exercising or mothers casually pushing their strollers while talking on their phones. Most people had pushed their unusable cars out into the street to open up more space in their garages.

As he walked he looked at everyone, they no longer seemed to care about appearances. Most of the women had their hair pulled back while men wore hats and were unshaven.

Each scavenger team brought back food, but it was never enough to feed the more than 700 people who lived in their community. The gardening might work but it would be slow, it would take months before the gardens would be producing any real amount of food. Water, too, would become an issue, they had secured the large tank but that would only last for a couple of months before it ran dry and then there was the issue of medicine; some in the community had ongoing medical issues that required daily medications. Jimmy’s own son had to have an inhaler due to his asthma. Fortunately, the teams had been very successful with securing large caches of medications but that too would eventually dry up.

Gordon had a lot on his plate, but he was committed to making it work; at the moment he had no other choice unless he was going to leave and risk it on the road.

Gordon’s thoughts were interrupted when Melissa hollered his name from a distance, “Gordon!”

He looked around and saw her waving, returning the wave he wondered what she might want as she jogged up to him.

“Hi Gordon, how are you and the family?”

“I’m good, thanks for asking; how are you doing?”

“Good, well as good as can be with the circumstances. As you know Eric finally made it home the next day. He had to walk all the way from downtown,” Melissa said, she appeared nervous; she crossed her arms when she wasn’t talking.

“I had heard, I knew he’d be fine,” Gordon tried to keep his answers short because he now was late to meet his team.

“I’m sorry; I know you’re busy Gordon; but I’m really here to ask a favor and not to have small talk.”

“Okay, so how can I help?”

“Eric has just been at home with the baby and not doing anything; I’ve been doing some volunteering at the school with Samantha, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Yes, I know,” Gordon said.

“You see, it’s about Eric; he’s kinda in a funk,” Melissa said, she was not really looking Gordon in the face when she talked and her nervous behavior increased when she mentioned her husband.

Sensing her nervousness, Gordon reached out and touched her arm and said, “What is it Melissa?”

Giving a sigh she said, “Can Eric join your teams? He’s really smart and he’s strong; he rowed in college and he’s athletic. I know he’s just an accountant and has no military experience but he can use the guy’ time and he needs to get out of the house and do something.”

“Why isn’t Eric here asking me?” Gordon asked.

“Because he was afraid you’d say no.”

“Oh my God, not at all; I need smart guys like Eric. I don’t care what he did before as long as he can handle himself outside the gate.”

Melissa’s face lit up and she said, “Great! I’ll let him know. When can he meet you to go over any details?”

“How about you come over for dinner tonight, I’ll pull him aside to chat. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, Gordon. Thank you so much,” Melissa said, now looking happy and relieved.

“Not a problem at all, but if you’ll excuse me I do need to go,” Gordon said, pointing to his team waiting on him.

Melissa turned in the direction he was pointing and then turned back and said, “No problem, thank you again and I’ll see you tonight.”

Gordon walked off and then stopped. He turned back and said, “Please let my wife know we’re having you all over for dinner tonight.”

“I’ll let her know at school,” Melissa said, she then waved and turned around.

Gordon started walking toward his team. He liked Eric; he didn’t know him that well but Eric impressed him as an educated and smart man. He was a second-generation Chinese immigrant. His parents came to the U.S. with nothing and opened up a small bakery. Pouring their heart and soul into it, the bakery became successful enough that they could afford to send Eric to Harvard. Eric followed his parents’ entrepreneurial spirit and opened his own accounting firm after getting an MBA. He was average height and very lean. He was 5 years older than Gordon and about 10 years senior to Melissa. Gordon would get a better feel for Eric’s spot on the teams tonight over a drink. Always needing good people, Gordon looked forward to sitting down with him.

Gordon finally reached the vehicle and tossed in his gear. Today he was going out with Max and Jerrod. Jerrod was a former Army Ranger and veteran of Iraq. He was tall and muscular, with thick brown hair and brown eyes. With the last name of Hernandez, Gordon laughed to himself that Jerrod was not a very Hispanic first name. Before the attacks, Gordon only knew him in passing when he’d see him out running in the neighborhood. Jerrod was married and had a two-year old son.

Max was short in build but made up for his height by having quite the “colorful” personality. Gordon thought he fit the perfect image of a suave Italian single guy. He kept his full head of short, black hair combed back. He was one of the few single people who lived in the neighborhood. Gordon had never met Max before the attacks but knew he was an attorney for a law firm downtown.

Both men had proven to be quite competent and capable. Max was a bit of a hot head and had a short temper, but he had proven he could fight and Gordon liked that.

“You gentlemen ready?” Gordon asked.

“Yes sir,” Jerrod said.

“Yep,” Max answered leaning against the Chevy Nova. The Nova was Max’s car. He loved old classic muscle cars and he let everyone know that his car was fast.

All three men got in the car with Gordon riding shotgun. After they cleared the main gate, Max asked, “Where to?”

Gordon looked both ways and said, “That way. Hopefully we’ll come back with a lot more guns. Keep your fingers crossed boys and stay alert, we’re going farther than we have before.”

Max slammed the gas pedal down, causing the Nova to spin out. They accelerated quickly and disappeared over the hill.

USS Makin Island, Indian Ocean

Sebastian sat outside getting some cool ocean air when the hatch opened, bathing him in the red light from the passageway. Tomlinson stepped out of the glow and approached Sebastian.

Tomlinson pulled out a pack of Camel Lights and offered one to Sebastian. “You look like you could use one of these.”

“No, but if you had a drink I would take that,” Sebastian answered. He stared out into the moonlit waters of the Indian Ocean. The saltiness of the air and the sounds of the waves soothed his troubled mind.

Tomlinson sat next to him and lit his cigarette. He took a drag and asked, “So tell me; what happened out there this morning?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Sebastian said, not looking at Tomlinson.

“Well, I’ll tell you this, if you ever want to chat, I’m here for ya’ bro as long as you’re not going to whine.”

“What do you think happens now?” Sebastian asked.

“Oh, I don’t know; what sucks is that we have to be underway for the next three weeks with not a single port call,” Tomlinson said, then took another drag.

“You do realize that if we get back to the States and everything is working fine or things go back to normal, we risk being arrested and possibly hung for what happened today.”

“Well, first they’d have to catch me and second I trust the colonel. I think everything is fucked and we have to carve out something for us now.”

“I hope you’re right, I really do.”

“Seriously, man, what’s your deal? I’ve never seen you like this before,” Tomlinson said, then took his last drag and flicked the butt of the cigarette over the railing.

“I told you, I don’t want to get into it right now. Let me process what happened today and then maybe we can talk about it, but please respect me and stop asking.” Sebastian said, with a tinge of irritation in his voice.

“Okay, bro. I’ll leave you be,” Tomlinson stood up, opened the hatch and walked back inside the ship.

Sebastian sat and plotted about what he’d do once they reached California. He just hoped that they could avoid anymore engagements against other Americans before then.

San Diego, CA

Gordon returned home safe but not happy. The journey into Mira Mesa to gather arms proved to be a partial success. They had made it in and out without any confrontation, but the gun store had been sacked already. His team had managed to get some items that could come in handy like body armor, clothing, boots, slings, holsters and other accessories but no guns or ammo. They did stop by another Home Depot and pulled more seed and some fertilizer but the food was gone. Gordon was shocked by how quickly the resources were drying up.

On their return, they had made a grisly discovery at a Von’s grocery store. Dozens or more people had been executed outside of the store. Whoever it was had left their mark. The word, “Villistas” was spray painted on the wall behind them. He did not know what it meant, but he knew it wasn’t good. It appeared that gangs or armed groups were already coalescing together. Things were clearly getting more violent and desperate.

Gordon walked into the house tired and ready to eat. When he walked into the candle-lit foyer he could hear his kids playing and giggling down the hall and Samantha scolding them to clean up their mess. Gordon smiled, the sounds of normal family life were still there even though the house itself was starting to go through a transformation too. The toilets had overflowed a few days before. Even though they had cleaned up the mess, taped the toilet lids shut and secured the doors a slight smell of raw sewage remained in the air. Samantha tried her best to cover up the smell with scented candles but a faint aroma remained.

“Gordon when you’re done settling in, can you help clean Haley up?” Samantha yelled from the play room.

“What happened?” Gordon yelled back bent over taking off his boots.

“She thought it was more fun to paint herself instead of the paper.”

“Okay, babe; I’ll get right on it,” Gordon said after taking off his last boot and sitting back in the chair. He let out a sigh of exhaustion and rubbed his face.

Hunter ran up to him, “Daddy, you’re home!”

“Hey, big guy!” Gordon exclaimed. He picked up Hunter and hugged him. “How were things today, anything to report?”

“No sir, all good,” Hunter answered as he saluted Gordon.

“Thank you for watching over the ladies of the house, I appreciate that,” Gordon warmly told his son.

They began to walk down the hall when banging on the front door disrupted their family bliss. Gordon quickly put Hunter down and told him to go into the playroom immediately. Hunter listened and ran off. Gordon pulled his pistol from his shoulder holster and approached the door. All of his exhaustion had been replaced by adrenaline. Whoever was banging would not stop. Gordon slowly approached the door when a familiar voice cried out.

“Gordon, open up!” Jimmy cried.

Gordon quickly opened the door to see Jimmy before him with Mason in his arms.

“Jimmy; what’s going on?”

“Gordon, it’s Mason; he’s having an asthma attack and we can’t find his inhaler. I stopped by the clinic and we don’t have any in inventory. I don’t know what to do. Please help me!” Jimmy said with fear in his voice.

Gordon acted without thinking and asked Jimmy, “Is your rig out front?” Gordon thought that they had two choices, go door to door to see if anyone else in the neighborhood had an inhaler or take their chances outside the gate. He decided that they’d have better luck going outside the gate to a hospital or pharmacy.

“Yes, yes!” Jimmy said.

Hunter and Haley were peering from behind the door of the playroom. Samantha ran down the hall and stopped just behind Gordon, she could see Jimmy was on the verge of breaking down. Mason was pale and limp in his arms, almost lifeless.

“Come on, let’s go!” Gordon said to Jimmy after just sliding his boots back on. He pointed outside and then followed up by saying, “We need to go out the gate to find an inhaler!”

Jimmy didn’t say a thing; he just looked down at his son, whose arms dangled as he walked briskly behind Gordon to his truck.

When Jimmy reached the truck, Gordon held the door open. He lay Mason down across the bench seat and sat next to him. Jimmy put Mason’s head on his lap and stroked his hair. Mason’s breathing was very shallow. Gordon jumped behind the wheel and turned on the truck. He sped off toward the closest gate. When he reached the gate he yelled out the window to the gate guards to open the gate immediately. Gordon started to accelerate when he heard someone yell. He looked and saw Dan Bradford in the side mirror.

“One second, stop!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stuck his head out the window and replied, “Dan, we don’t have time we have to go; it’s an emergency.”

“Can I help in any way?” he said, after jogging up to the driver’s side window.

“Do you have an inhaler?”

“No.”

“Then the answer’s no, I need to go find one for Jimmy’s son ASAP.”

“Let me go to help as backup for you.”

“Sure, jump in the bed,” Gordon told him.

Dan jumped in the bed and immediately slapped the side of the truck telling Gordon he was ready to go. Gordon sped off and headed north.

Gordon drove as fast as he could, all of the abandoned vehicles on the road made it difficult as they had to swerve to avoid them, causing him to slow down and speed up. Gordon focused on driving and Jimmy comforted his son and whispered to him that everything would be okay.

Gordon knew exactly where he was going and after 12 minutes of driving they pulled up to Sharp Hospital’s ER entrance.

“I’ll find an inhaler as quickly as I can, I promise,” Gordon assured Jimmy. He then placed his hand on Mason’s head and said softer, “I will find one, I promise you,” he slammed the truck door and ran for the ER entrance.

Jimmy looked up at Gordon as he slammed the truck door, the lights of the dash cast a somber shadow across his face, “Please hurry. I don’t know how long he can make it, he’s barely breathing now.”

Pulling his pistol out in anticipation that they might run into others he approached the doors to the ER main entrance apprehensively. The doors were closed tight. Dan ran up and started to try to peel the doors apart. Gordon didn’t want to waste time so he looked around for something to smash the glass and found a large paver brick; he picked it up and told Dan to step aside. He threw it as hard as he could, shattering the glass. Dan and Gordon cleared the remaining glass and entered the dark hallway. Immediately upon entering the hallway the smell of death wafted over them.

“Oh, my God!” Dan said placing his hand over his nose and mouth.

Gordon turned on his small Sure-fire flashlight and quickly proceeded down the hallway. The further he moved into the darkness the stronger the smell. It appeared that no one had ransacked this part of the hospital yet. It looked in disarray but that was due to the chaos created after the attacks. Gordon guessed that the hospital employees probably abandoned the hospital days after the attacks. Gordon’s light illuminated the hallway and brought light to darkened spaces. He peered into each room to see what was there. The smell grew greater; he knew he would soon locate the source.

Gordon reached the end of the hallway, casting his light inside the last room he finally found the origin of the rotten smell that filled his nostrils. Lying naked and now bloated was an old man who had been in his 60s or 70s.

Dan walked up just behind Gordon and said, “Nasty!”

“Well, I’m sure that’s not how he wanted to go or be remembered,” Gordon said. He then turned his attention away from the dead man and opened the swinging doors that led into a main corridor.

The doors hadn’t closed for a few moments before Dan and Gordon heard a crash at the end of the corridor. They both flashed their lights and bathed the entire hallway in light. Another crash echoed, followed by angry yelling. They were able to pinpoint the noise from a room around the corner. With pistols drawn they proceeded down the hall. Gordon had no doubt it was someone scavenging like them. Gordon looked on the wall and saw a sign with an arrow pointing in the direction they were headed that said, “Pharmacy.” He peeked around the corner of the corridor and heard the noise again. The sound came from the direction of the pharmacy. Gordon turned back to Dan and said, “Sounds like whoever is making that noise is in the pharmacy. We need to get down there and get what we need. This could turn ugly, so be ready.”

“Okay,” Dan said looking a bit nervous.

They both turned the corner with their pistols raised and slowly made their way down the dark hall toward the sound. After only a few steps, they saw a light bouncing around a room on the left. Without notice, someone appeared from the room carrying a box. He turned away from Dan and Gordon and walked down the hall and exited on the right. Once the door closed behind the stranger Gordon stepped up to the room and saw no other lights. He turned on his flashlight and entered the room while Dan remained in the hall providing cover. The pharmacy had been almost stripped. Gordon immediately started to dig through the open boxes on the counters. Not finding what he was looking for made Gordon frustrated. He quickly began to look at each shelf and went through every drawer. After an exhaustive search he still could not find an inhaler.

“Damn it!” Gordon said aloud pushing one of the boxes onto the floor.

“Just hold it right there,” Dan ordered.

Gordon stopped his search and headed for the door.

“Don’t make a move!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stepped out of the pharmacy and saw the man. Dan had the flashlight on him.

The man stood there with his empty hands up.

Gordon put his light on the man’s face and said, “I need an inhaler, where are the rest of your boxes?”

The man did not say a word; he just stood there blocking the lights from his eyes.

“Where are your boxes?” Gordon again asked. “If you can’t see let me just tell you that we are both armed.”

Still the man just stood there.

“Fuck it!” Gordon said. He walked over to the man and pistol whipped him in the face. The man fell to the ground.

“Stop!” the man screamed finally.

“Where are the rest of your boxes?”

“Out in my truck,”

“Take us there now!” Gordon demanded, he pulled the guy up by the back of his shirt and pushed him through the door.

They walked through the hallway and came to an exterior exit door.

“My truck is out there,” the man said.

Gordon kicked the door open and flashed his light outside. He could see what looked like an old farm truck. He pushed the man through the open door, causing him to stumble and fall.

Walking over Gordon grabbed him again but this time was met with resistance. The man elbowed him in the crotch.

“Shit!” Gordon cried out in pain.

The man took off running toward his truck.

“Freeze!” Dan yelled.

Gordon stood up clearly hurting but ran after the man. Managing only to make it around to the driver’s door, he stopped when Gordon fired a shot in his direction.

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re going to do to me, that’s why I hit you. I don’t know who you are; I’m getting this medicine for my family.”

Gordon was seething with anger. Looking at the man, he yelled. “Step away from the truck!”

Dan came up alongside Gordon and ordered the man to get on the ground.

“Step away from the truck! I need to see if you have something we need!” Gordon barked.

“I don’t want any trouble; I’m just getting this for my family. Please let me go,” the man begged then took a step closer to his truck door.

“This is a fucking waste of time!” Gordon screamed as he squeezed the trigger and shot the man in the chest.

The bullet hit the man with a dull thud. He instantly dropped to the ground, dead.

“Why did you shoot him?” Dan asked.

“We don’t have time for this shit anymore, Mason needs the meds,” Gordon re-holstered his pistol and started to rummage through the boxes in the bed of the truck.

Dan just stood there looking at Gordon in amazement.

After going through several boxes, Gordon exclaimed, “Here they are,” he pulled an inhaler out of a box and held it high. Not wasting another moment, he then took off running back to Jimmy and Mason.

When Gordon reached Jimmy’s truck he could hear Jimmy wailing with grief. He could not see Jimmy but the cries told him of a fate that should not have been. Gordon just stood in the darkness listening to his friend and wanting for the outcome to be different.