The Long Road

JANUARY 10, 2014

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.

“Hunter? Hunter?” Gordon called out. He had drawn his pistol and held it out but didn’t shoot because he couldn’t identify anyone.

Then gunshots rang out. He didn’t know who was shooting, and he still had no idea where his son was.

“Hunter? Where are you?”

From what he could see, there were at least a dozen people around him and the truck. They probably had the same limitations as he did, and from the sounds of only one rifle, Gordon assumed it was Holloway.

“Hunter? Where are you?”

Gordon stepped toward the truck and saw a figure too big to be Holloway. He shot it. He turned and shot another one and another. The next thing he knew he was on the ground again. He couldn’t remember how long he’d been down, but the back of his head hurt badly. The sound of gunfire had ceased. He started to grasp around him for his gun, but all he touched was sand.

“Search him for the keys,” a man’s voice said, hovering above him.

Gordon tried to scramble away but was stopped when he was hit in the head again. He could still make out some noises, but he couldn’t do anything.

“We found the keys on this one,” another unknown voice said after going through Gordon’s pants pockets.

“Toss him and the boy in the back of the truck,” the first voice said.

“What about the other one?”

“He’s dead. Samson bashed his head in,” a third voice said.

“Two will be fine, Brother Rahab will want to see them.”

The men tied up Gordon and Hunter and placed them in the bed of the truck. The last thing Gordon saw before he passed out was his son’s bloodied face. With all of his strength, he inched close to Hunter. He placed his forehead against Hunter’s head. Just being able to touch his son made him feel a bit better. He kept struggling to stay conscious, but the effort was too much and he passed out again.

USS Makin Island off the coast of Southern California

Barone had thought his plan was working up until they began sending in teams of Marines to gather their families. The number who weren’t returning was staggering to him. When he’d executed his mutiny, he believed that he could convince many to come with thoughts of treasure and land. On the surface it appeared to have worked, but what was happening now showed that a good number of Marines and sailors were just saying one thing to their commanders and senior NCOs and doing another when they had the chance. All along he knew it would be difficult to convince 100 percent to join him, but now his ranks were decreasing. They had been able to make up for some of the loss by finding Marines at Camp Pendleton and convincing them to join. His men hadn’t really known what life was like but would find out; those who had been stateside did and now were eager to come with him.

The thing that troubled him the most was the attempt on his life two days before. When he’d decided to go against all that he had promised to uphold and protect, he knew there were bound to be those who would try to stop him. Taking an entire ARG and then attacking a U.S. military installation was a lot for some of the men to stomach, but this new world they were in was different. His military training and experience went deep, and when he was first briefed on the EMP strikes and the nuclear attack on Washington, D.C., he knew without a doubt his country was gone. Those who kept the faith were like those who believed in awakening a corpse that had been dead for days. It was easy to think that their government could tackle the situation, but only a few understood the enormity of the problem. He understood and knew that to survive he would have to shift his priorities quickly, so he did. The plan was quickly laid out and executed. He felt sorry for those who had decided not to come back; their ignorance would be their undoing. Only when they were face-to-face with the realities on the ground would they know why he’d done what he’d done.

Today would be another new experience for him. The Marine who had attempted to kill him had been taken alive. His court-martial had been swift, and so would the execution of the sentence. The tribunal had found him guilty, and his sentence was death by firing squad. Barone would do something different: Instead of gathering a group of Marines to carry out the act, he himself would do it. If the sentence was to be carried out, he felt the one in command should be the one to do it.

He looked down at his watch; the hour was getting close. His thoughts had been all-consuming; so much had been happening. His stateroom was his sanctuary, and he took advantage of it more now than in the past. Even though he had found his wife and daughter safe, he still could not get over the loss of his son. Guilt racked him. There were moments he regretted his decision, knowing that if he had gone back east, Billy would still be alive. His pragmatic side, though, would not let him sit in this guilt because the conditions in which he’d found his wife and daughter were perilous. It was as if God had made it one or the other. Had he gone back east like a good Marine, he had no doubt his wife and daughter would have starved to death.

He wiped the last bit of oil from his nickel-plated Model 1911 and placed it in his holster. He stood and walked to the mirror to make sure everything was in place on his uniform. He grabbed his belt and holster, put it on snugly, and left the stateroom. Each person he came upon in the passageways of the ship quickly stood next to the bulkhead and acknowledged him. Everyone knew where he was going and what was about to happen on the flight deck.

When he exited the last hatch and stepped onto the black deck, the sun’s rays warmed his face. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness, but when they did, he saw everyone gathered already. He approached Master Sergeant Simpson and returned his salute. Simpson handed him a piece of paper. He glanced down to see it was the Marine’s execution order, and at the bottom of the page it was signed by him. Barone looked around at the group that had been gathered for the execution; every senior NCO and officer had been commanded to attend. Barone did this for two reasons, to show them how violating their laws ended in real consequences and to strike fear into his men. He approached the convicted Marine.

“Lance Corporal Cartwell, you have been found guilty by a military tribunal of attempting to kill a superior officer. The sentence for this is death by firing squad,” Barone bellowed.

The young Marine stood firmly at attention with his hands bound behind his back and his legs tied together. The expression on his face did showed not a man afraid of death but one defiant as he stared at Barone squarely, not even allowing a blink to interrupt his stare.

“This sentence will be carried out now, but the firing squad is not needed.” Barone looked around at all his senior staff and continued, “I will be the one to carry out this sentence. I am the one sentencing this man to die, so it is only right that I be the one to do it. Before I carry out this order, do you have anything to say, Lance Corporal Cartwell?”

“Yes, sir, I do,” the man said defiantly.

“Go ahead,” Barone responded. He lowered the paper so he could look the man in the eyes.

“I’m not sorry for what I did, no way! This man is a traitor and murderer! You hear me out there, you are following a traitor! Our country needed us and we let them down, we abandoned our people! We are Marines and we have not fulfilled our oath! I only wish I could have been successful. You can kill me today, but I’m not the only one! You will pay for what you did to our country!” the man screamed out.

“Is that it?” Barone asked. He didn’t show an ounce of emotion and didn’t change his expression the entire time the man shouted at him.

“Just do it, get it over with! Today, I die a patriot!”

Barone rolled up the paper and placed it in his side cargo pocket. He signaled to a couple of men to his right with a nod. They came running over and began to blindfold Cartwell.

“I want to see. I want to see you do it,” he said.

Both men stopped and looked at Barone. He didn’t respond right away, then signaled for them to leave with another nod. Once the men had taken position back in formation, Barone began. He unholstered his pistol and took aim at Cartwell. He wasn’t more than ten feet away, but for him it felt like he was a hundred feet away. Barone took a breath, held it, and began to slowly squeeze the trigger. The natural arc of movement felt exacerbated, and for an instant Barone was nervous that he might miss the man. The pressure he kept applying seemed not to be enough. He continued to squeeze, but then the man yelled out, “God bless the United States!” This startled Barone and forced him to apply the final amount of pressure to the trigger. The pistol went off with the bullet ripping through the man’s skull, throwing his head back. The man’s body then went limp and he fell to the ground lifeless. Barone lowered the pistol and just stared at Cartwell’s body. He stood for twenty seconds, then reholstered the pistol.

“Corpsman, over here now!” Barone commanded.

A man in his twenties ran over and examined the body of Cartwell. He looked up at Barone and said, “He’s dead, sir.”

“Good,” Barone answered with a subdued voice.

Barone took a few steps back and stood at attention. He ordered the formation to attention. Simpson walked over and stood in front of him.

“Master Sergeant, dump this man’s body overboard, then prepare the ARG, we’re done here.”

“What about the chopper that’s missing, sir?”

“We have to assume they went UA too; time to cut our losses and move on.”

“Where to, sir?”

“Set sail for Oregon, our next stop will be Coos Bay.”

San Diego, California

Sebastian had never used crutches before, but he was getting the hang of them quickly. He paced back and forth in his room; it was close to lunchtime, and Annaliese would be bringing him his food. After meeting with her father the day before, he had many more questions, especially about Zion.

Right on time, he heard the typical three-tap knock and then the door opened slightly. Her gentle face peered in to see him standing there with a slight smile.

“I have your lunch. Is now a good time?” she asked.

“Sure, come on in. I’m starving. Smells great. What is it, chili?” Sebastian replied. He looked happy to see her as he hopped over to the end of the bed and sat down.

She quickly walked in, placed the tray next to him, and turned to leave, not responding to him.

“Stop, don’t leave so quickly,” he pleaded.

“I have things to do.”

“Just ten minutes, please. I’m stuck in here all day. It’s lonely.”

She hesitated a bit, then gave in.

“Here, sit down,” Sebastian said, pointing to the same chair that Bishop Sorenson had sat in the day before.

She hadn’t sat down for a second before Sebastian started peppering her with questions.

“Where’s Zion? When are you leaving? Who are you people?”

“I’m surprised my father didn’t answer these questions.”

“Nope.”

“Well, let’s see. We are members of the Church of Latter-day Saints.”

“Okay,” Sebastian replied with a smile on his face.

“I don’t know if I can tell you when we’re leaving, but where we are going I can.”

“Zion?”

“Yes, Zion.”

“Where is Zion?”

“It’s the Holy Land in Missouri,” she replied.

“There’s holy land in Missouri?”

“I don’t expect you to understand, but yes, there is. We are going home.”

Sebastian smirked a bit because the sound of a “Promised Land” in the middle of the Midwest sounded funny. Annaliese caught this smirk and immediately stopped talking. She looked down and shook her head, then stood abruptly.

“Where are you going?” Sebastian asked, now concerned that his inappropriate behavior was the cause of her irritation.

“Mr. Van Zandt, I don’t need to sit here and tell you about my beliefs only to have you mock me. You’re in my house, and I expect some type of respect. You need to eat so you can get your strength back. I believe you have somewhere to go yourself.”

“Listen, I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do… that,” he said while motioning to his face.

“Excuse me. I’ll be back later for your tray.” She nodded to him and walked out of the room.

“Please stay, I’m sorry, truly, I’m sorry,” he pleaded, but it was too late. “Damn it, Sebastian, you’re such an idiot!” he said out loud. His appetite now gone, he stood and hopped over to the window. His room looked down on a side walkway where crates and large trash cans were stored. He leaned closer to see if he could see anything, but it was useless. The walkway went for yards in either direction. Feeling frustrated with himself and with not knowing what was going on, he hopped back to the bed, grabbed his crutches, and walked to the door. He felt a little hesitation about opening the door, but he asked himself what harm it would do if he went for a short walk.

He entered the brightly sunlit hallway and walked toward what appeared to be a large loft. On the walls hung portraits. He assumed they were her family, and by the looks of it, it was a large one. Each step he took, he felt more like a child sneaking out of his room; the thought flashed and he dismissed it as stupid. The loft was large, fully furnished, and had the appearance of a heavily utilized room. A sectional took up most of the space, a large TV was mounted on the wall, and what must have been dozens of toys were in the far corner.

At the end of the loft was a staircase. He hurried over and stopped. He could hear voices down below. One sounded like Annaliese; the other he wasn’t familiar with, but it was another woman. It sounded like they were talking about him, but just as he started to make out what they were saying, a voice from behind startled him.

“Does it hurt?”

“What? Ahh… jeez, you scared me,” Sebastian said. He looked around to see a young boy. He recognized him from the day before.

“Your leg. Does it hurt?”

“Uhh… yeah, kinda. In fact, it’s hurting more than usual,” Sebastian said, then walked past the boy to the sectional and sat down.

“Where are you from?”

“Now aren’t you full of questions?”

The boy walked over to the sectional and sat down next to him. “My sister said you survived a helicopter crash. Was it scary?”

“I’ll tell you what, let’s play a game. I’ll answer a question and then you’ll answer a question, okay?”

The boy thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

“So your first question was ‘Does it hurt’? Yes, it does. So, my question is. What city are we in?”

“Encinitas. Where are you from?”

“I’m originally from Maryland, but I now live or used to live at Camp Pendleton. I guess you could say I’m homeless. I was heading to see my brother when the helicopter crashed.” Sebastian looked at the boy. He thought about how well mannered and mature he seemed for his age. He guessed that he was about eight years old. His sandy blond hair was cut short, and his clothes showed a boy who seemed sheltered, a solid-colored blue polo-type shirt, jeans, and white socks. Sebastian smiled and continued. “When are you leaving for Zion?”

The boy looked a bit shocked by this question. “You know about Zion?”

“No way, my turn. When are you leaving?”

“My father wants to leave next week.”

“How many in your family?”

The boy waved his finger at Sebastian. “No, way, my turn.”

Sebastian chuckled and replied, “Go ahead.”

“My sister said you’re a Marine. Ever kill anyone?”

Now Sebastian looked shocked. “How old are you?”

“Answer the question.”

“Listen, I think we’ve played this game long enough, okay?”

“I think you have too,” Annaliese said. She was standing at the top of the stairs.

Sebastian was surprised he hadn’t heard her walking up. He wondered how long she had been listening to his back-and-forth with her little brother.

“Sorry, I wanted to stretch my legs or leg, and I ran into him. What’s your name anyway?”

“Away with you. Now go, you have things to do. Go see Uncle James in the garage,” Annaliese commanded her little brother.

Jumping up without a word, he walked for the stairs, but before he started down, he turned and answered Sebastian. “My name’s Zachary, but you can call me Zach,” He smiled, then hurried down the stairs past his sister.

“Nice boy. So, were you spying on us?” Sebastian asked Annaliese.

“No, I heard voices up here so I came to see what was going on,” she said, walking farther into the room.

“Listen, I’m really sorry about earlier.”

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t be so sensitive.” Annaliese approached the sectional and sat down a few feet away from him. “I know this is all strange to you and that all you know is one minute you were in a helicopter and now you’re here. I’m sorry about your friends and comrades. What questions do you have? I’ll do my best to answer them.”

Being mindful of his previous gaffe, he chose to be as polite and conscious of his facial expressions as possible. He openly asked questions, and she answered as straightforwardly as possible. She told him about Zion, about how their prophet John Smith claimed it to be the place for their people to go at the end of days. She further explained that the Mormons have always been a prepared people, always stockpiling food, water, and essential supplies. When the lights went out, their church was ready. They communicated with old ham radios they had stored in Faraday boxes; some had older vehicles that worked, and all had all the other tools necessary to protect and defend themselves.

She went into detail about what had happened locally after the attack. The reports she’d heard were horrible; she herself had not witnessed the initial atrocities, but some in her group had ventured out to plan a route for their trek away from San Diego. Of course many San Diegans were not prepared for this type of event, and within only a few days many had taken to the streets to look for food. Civil unrest had exploded quickly, followed by a total breakdown in civility. People attacked each other for the slightest bit of food. Rumors that a militia was killing and kidnapping people were being heard a few weeks after the attack. This news caused panic within her group, leading her father to start preparations for an evacuation.

When she finally was allowed outside of her ranch, the things she’d seen and now described to Sebastian were horrific. She paused now and then when she described what she’d seen. The bloated and mutilated bodies were not just commonplace; they were everywhere. She was shocked by the death and carnage. She had only been let outside with her uncle when someone had radioed that ships were off the coast. Rumors then began that the government was here to help, but reality proved otherwise. She told him that she had heard the distant gunfire that hit his helicopter and had seen it go down not far from where they sat.

Sebastian took all the information in. At times he had to remind himself to blink. He was transfixed by every word she said. Even though he’d known things would go to shit, it was still shocking to hear the specific details from an eyewitness. As she went on, his concern for Gordon grew. His brother wasn’t the prepper type. The first four weeks had been a violent and bloody fight for the limited resources in the area. After Annaliese had explained everything she knew, he expressed his concern for his brother and his family.

“I need to go check on my brother.”

“You still need to heal, maybe next week.”

“No, I need to go. You’re leaving next week, and by the way it sounds out there, I have to go. He might need me now.”

“I understand. Let me talk to my father,” she said and placed her hand on his back and rubbed him gently.

“Can you go now?” Sebastian asked.

“Sure,” she said. She stood and walked away.

A queasy feeling overcame him as he thought about Gordon, but more specifically about Hunter and Haley. The thoughts of the horrors befalling them made Sebastian sick. He had to find his brother and he had to do it now.

40 miles east of Barstow, California

The sun’s rays cascaded across Samantha’s face. She twitched for a minute, then rolled over and attempted to go back into the deep sleep she had been enjoying. She then thought about Gordon. She hadn’t seen him off when he left last night. As a couple they worked hard at their relationship, but this time they’d both broken a vow of not going to bed mad. After the group’s meeting, she fed the kids, got them ready for bed, and went to bed herself, all without uttering a word to him. Their silence was mutual, as Gordon didn’t attempt to smooth things over either. Now, though, she regretted her behavior.

She rolled back on her back and placed her hand on the empty part of the bed he usually occupied. She wondered where he was. Slight concern grew, but she dismissed it quickly because knowing Gordon he was probably outside, “getting something done.” Her thoughts were then directed to the little footsteps she could hear coming toward her. Haley was tiptoeing, taking each step gently so as to not wake her mother, whom she thought was still asleep.

“Come here, baby,” Samantha whispered.

Seeing her mother was awake, Haley hurried over and jumped into the bed next to her. They both cuddled, and Samantha kissed her daughter on the head.

“Where’s Daddy?” Haley asked.

“I don’t know…” Samantha yawned.

Both of them continued with small talk. Haley had started to role-play more since the lights went out. She would tell her mother that she was Princess Celestia from My Little Pony and that Samantha was her sister. She assigned everyone in the family a role. Samantha didn’t mind this innocence. She would play along with her daughter, creating new worlds and exploring them together.

“Where’s Hunter?” Haley asked in the middle of the make-believe.

“He’s not in the back?” Samantha sat up a bit to try to see him.

“No,” Haley replied.

Samantha again soothed her instinctual concern and imagined her son was out with Gordon.

After another ten minutes of play, Samantha knew she needed to get up and get ready; the group would be heading out soon.

When she stepped out of the trailer, the smells of desert sage and campfire smoke mixed and filled her nostrils. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun felt good. People in her group were packing their vehicles, and she could see Nelson talking to his father.

She made her way over to him and said, “Morning, Nelson. Seen Gordon?”

“Nope.”

Placing her hand on her brow to shield her eyes, she scanned the encircled vehicles. She didn’t see his truck. A deep feeling of dread overcame her.

“Who was on watch last night?” she asked.

“It was Eric,” Nelson answered, then continued. “You all right?”

“Um, I don’t know. I’m a bit worried.” She quickly walked toward Eric and Melissa’s trailer. After a solid minute of banging, Melissa opened the door.

“Eric is sleeping. What is it?”

“I need to know if Eric saw Gordon return.”

“He’s not here?” Melissa asked, sticking her head out and looking around.

“Please wake him up,” Samantha begged.

Melissa could see the worry on Samantha’s face. “Sure, one second.”

Eric rose quickly and came to the door. “Melissa just told me that Gordon’s still not back. They didn’t come back on my watch.”

“Don’t you think that’s odd? Why didn’t you wake me or tell anyone?” Samantha snapped.

“No, I didn’t think anything of it, really. Gordon takes care of himself, and I thought they would be back anytime.”

Samantha then turned away quickly. Total fear gripped her as she realized that she hadn’t seen Hunter either.

Turning back around, she asked, “Did you see Hunter, have you seen him?”

Eric glanced at Melissa, then answered, “No, I haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Samantha didn’t say another word to them. She jogged off quickly and went to each person in their group. She asked them all the same question. The responses were all the same. No one had seen him. She then began to scream for her son. “Hunter! Hunter!”

All in the group just stared at her. Nelson approached and said, “Samantha, we’ll find him. He probably just walked off to…”

“To what, Nelson? Look around. We’re in the fucking desert. Where is he?”

“We’re going to organize a quick search party, okay?” Nelson said in an attempt to reassure her.

She ignored him and took off running toward her trailer. She flung open the door and grabbed Haley. She took her to Melissa and Eric’s and dropped her off with instructions to watch over her. She then went back to her trailer and grabbed a backpack with some water. Just before she stepped out, she saw the Sig Sauer pistol that Gordon had given her weeks ago. She placed it in her waistband.

Nelson had put together a couple of people to help. They met her just outside her trailer.

Stepping down, she turned to Nelson and said, “Let’s go find my boy.”

Unknown military installation

Gordon’s body was racked with pain from his head to his legs. He was confused about how long he’d been out and even where he was. The only light he saw was coming from the cracks along one of the edges of the room. The odors of mold and dust were intense. Not being able to see, he stood up to walk the perimeter of the room. The first thing he noticed was that the walls were a corrugated metal; the second was that the room was long and narrow. When he reached the end where the light was peeking through, he knew. It wasn’t about where he was but about what he was in—a Conex box. He continued walking the narrow interior to locate anything or anyone that might be in there with him. Nothing.

His thoughts raced to the night before, the running, the fighting, Hunter. Where was Hunter? He vaguely remembered being hit, then tied up. The memory of the drive didn’t exist for him. The last thing he recalled was being placed in the bed of the truck with his son. He felt his wrists; the pain of the tight bands being tied around them was still present. He slowly walked back to the door and began to bang. The metal door gave a deep thud with each impact of his closed fist.

“Open the door!” he yelled. He repeated it over and over.

Finally after what must have been an hour he heard someone on the other side. The sound of a padlock being unlocked was followed by the heavy sound of the latch moving. Soon he’d be face-to-face with whoever took him and Hunter.

“Before we open up, step back! Don’t think about doing anything, you understand?” the voice yelled from the other side.

Gordon’s initial instinct was to fight, but not knowing where Hunter was, he had to snuff out his flame of resistance. He stepped away from the door. “I stepped back! I just want to speak to someone!”

The anticipation of seeing this person or people gripped him. He took a few more steps back. He didn’t know what would be coming in and what they meant to do to him.

A loud clang and bang preceded the door creaking open. The bright light from the outside flooded in, blinding him. Squinting, he tried to see, but his eyes were having a difficult time adjusting. All he could see were two shadowy figures. Feeling even more nervous, he moved back farther. The two figures stepped inside. Gordon’s heart raced. Again the instinct to fight was there, but he resisted it. He blinked rapidly until his eyes adjusted and both men came into focus. They were average height, had long hair, and their clothes were soiled. Gordon quickly noticed they were armed with pistols holstered in standard green military side holsters.

“Where am I?” Gordon asked.

“You’ll have all of your questions answered soon enough,” one of the men responded. They both approached Gordon, one holding some rope, the other what looked like a sack.

“What are you going to do?” Gordon asked, stepping back as far as he could. His back was now against the far wall.

“We’re not going to hurt you. We just need to take you with us,” one of the men said. Both had now stopped their advance and stood a few feet from Gordon.

“If you want your questions answered, you’ll need to come with us, and this is the only way,” the other man said, holding up the sack.

Gordon quickly analyzed the situation, sizing the men up. They were both lean and of average build. He had fought more than one man before and won, but these two had an advantage. He finally held up his hands. If he could get in front of whoever was in charge, maybe he could find Hunter and then find a way out of this situation.

Both men stepped forward, tied his hands behind his back, and covered his head with the sack. They turned him around and escorted him out of the Conex box.

Gordon felt the sun’s warmth the instant he exited. He could hear some people talking in the distance, but their words were unintelligible. The thick canvas sack made it impossible to get his bearings. He tried counting his steps, but he didn’t know if that would be of any benefit. Soon they came to a door, and he went through with his escorts. A couple of turns, one last door, and he was taken into a room. They pushed him down into a chair and forcibly removed the sack and tape. The smell in the air was sweet, like incense was burning somewhere. The room was devoid of anything distinguishable. It was small, just space enough for a table and four chairs. Nothing hung on the garish white walls, and there was no window.

He blinked repeatedly and saw a nicely dressed man across a table from him. The man appeared to be in his early fifties, with long black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a thin beard that covered his face. Gordon again looked at the men who had taken him there; they too had long hair.

“What’s up with the long hair?” he asked with a smirk.

The man who sat across from him started to tap his finger on the table.

“Where am I? Where’s my son? Why have you taken us?”

“Calm down. I’ll answer everything in due time. I have a few questions of my own,” the man said. His voice was soft with a slight eastern European accent.

“Where is my son?”

“Your boy is fine, no harm has come to him. He is being looked after.”

“Let me and my son go, please.”

Ignoring Gordon, the man began to talk. “My name is Rahab, and I want to share a story with you. I came to this country over twenty years ago from the Ukraine. A beautiful country, Ukraine, but nothing like the United States. I was amazed by everything I saw here. You have to remember that I was a child of the Soviet era. We didn’t have all the things you Americans take for granted. Just the stores alone were magical. The first time I walked into a Walmart I was in disbelief. I felt like I had died and gone to heaven. So much to buy, so many options, so many luxuries. Aah, I took it all in.

“I immersed myself in the American dream. I worked hard and played hard. I drank from the hedonistic cup that is America and loved it. I let go of all my inhibitions. Nothing was too much for me, you see; I looked at it this way. If America won the Cold War, then they must be doing something right. I can’t tell you how much I believed that then as a young man. My gluttony knew no end until I woke up one day and looked around me. I had surrounded myself with people, so-called friends, girls, but they weren’t real people, they were shells of people. The excess that is America rotted them out and was rotting me out too. I then found the truth to it all, and that was God.”

He paused, thought for a moment, then continued. “I need to clarify something. My journey to righteousness didn’t come over time, it was thrust on me one day. I still remember that day as if it was yesterday. I got into my car, high on cocaine and alcohol, and drove it right into a group of children on their way to school. I maimed three children. Do you want to know the irony? I walked away with zero injuries. God came to me when I was in prison. He came down from heaven and wrapped his arms around me. He told me that I had a mission to fulfill for him, that I would be his prophet in this world. He needed me to be his instrument who would cleanse the world of all the debauchery and greed.

“When I was released from prison I immediately began working on God’s plan. I found the faithful and started my ministry. Then God sent a new sign, and that was when everything stopped working. I knew then that the beginning of the cleanse needed to happen in earnest. My ministry needed to grow from the few dozen worshiping in a strip mall to a vast movement.”

Gordon listened in disbelief. The man he saw across the table was insane. He could see it in his eyes. Gordon wanted to interject but knew it was best to stay quiet. He knew he needed to watch what he said, because anything might set this guy off. Gordon finally took notice of the room he was in. He kept looking for some type of clue as to where he was. Then he saw a stack of folders on the floor behind the man. On the corner of the top binder he saw “U.S. Army.” This didn’t make sense; was he at Fort Irwin? Were the men he’d seen walking the perimeter these men or men from this group? As Gordon thought about all the scenarios that would have him here, Rahab kept rambling.

“So now all of this brings us here. With you sitting there and me sitting here.” The man pointed at Gordon.

“Who are you?”

“No, the question is who are you?”

“My name is Gordon Van Zandt, and you have my son, Hunter. We were in the desert scavenging, that is all. Your men attacked us.”

“The devil has many agents. His desire is to stop God’s work.”

“Just please let us go,” Gordon begged again.

“How many are in your group?” Rahab asked.

Gordon hesitated before answering. If these were the same men guarding this expansive base, then Rahab had a small army. Letting him know about the others could put them all in jeopardy.

“It’s just us, plus my friend; whom I think you killed.”

The man didn’t say anything; he just stared at Gordon with his dark brown eyes.

“I swear, it’s just us; we were scavenging. We saw the base and thought that maybe we could get something, but we left.”

Still the man said nothing.

“Just let me and my son go. We will never come back here and never tell anyone.” Gordon said this knowing it sounded cliché, but he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t have much to offer or leverage.

“I don’t believe you. I think there are more in your group. We will find them. As for you, that is it for now.” Rahab stood up and walked toward the door but stopped when Gordon spoke.

“Can I see my son?”

Looking at the other two men before answering, Rahab turned and said, “You’ll see your son very soon. I promise. Now take him back to his cell,” he commanded the men, then left the room.

“What about the others from the other day?” one of the men asked him.

“Ah, yes, prepare them for the ceremony tonight,” Rahab commanded.

Both men acknowledged their leader’s command, then grabbed Gordon and took him away.