The Line of Departure: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series Book 4) by G. Michael Hopf Read Free Book Online

images of Brittany and Tyler. He needed to see if he could contact them but he didn’t know how. Then, an idea came to mind. “Gunny, do you happen to have a sat phone?”
    “Of course. If I’m anything, it’s prepared,” Gunny answered with a broad smile.
    “Perfect, I need it.”
    “Who the hell are you thinking about calling? I don’t think Colonel Barone has the time to take calls,” Sebastian joked.
    “Not him, someone who won’t hesitate to help me,” Gordon replied.
    “Who’s that?” Sebastian asked, his arms crossed.
    “The Vice President of the United States.”
    Coos Bay, Oregon, Pacific States of America
    The infighting and armed resistance Barone had been experiencing since the day he ordered the civilian massacre had taken its toll on his forces and on him personally. The last count he had that morning was that one-third of his men had taken up arms against him. The fighting had been brutal: Marines fighting Marines, sailors fighting sailors. Not a day had gone by since the massacre that shooting wasn’t heard in the streets. Directly after the massacre, he locked the city down and implemented martial law. No one was allowed to leave or come in. He was determined to flesh out those who opposed him and finish them off. He had lost control of the town of North Bend, but Coos Bay was firmly under his will. After a few weeks of bitter fighting, he had proposed a cease-fire, but the resistance group refused to meet with him. Without the ability to quell the uprising diplomatically, the only course of action for him was to crush them militarily.
    The rebellion in Coos Bay had also forced him to break his treaty with Conner and the United States. He feared that if he told Conner, the United States would take advantage of his bad situation, so he had ceased all communication. He couldn’t worry about it now—he had to win this fight or die.
    Against his better judgment, he had taken to drinking heavily. What had been an occasional indulgence now happened almost every night. Tonight was one of those nights. As he paced his office in city hall, he mumbled loudly, railing against “the traitors.” The almost incoherent comments were directed at those Marines and sailors who he claimed had enjoyed the fruits of his decision to mutiny, but now had turned against him in open and armed rebellion. Clearly overlooking his own indiscretions, he held a deep-seated resentment toward them. His resentment manifested in the treatment these men received after they were captured. The rules of warfare he had lived under a lifetime were gone. Simpson couldn’t have been more right that day months ago when he told him that there was no turning back. Barone may have regretted his actions, but now he was committed to his cause, rightful or not.
    Exhausted and drunk, he plopped himself on the couch that sat against the far wall. The sofa now served as his bed most nights. Relations with his wife and daughter paralleled everything else in his life—they had soured and he wasn’t ready to face them. He sat staring at the wall covered in maps. His eyes followed the red lines that designated the secure boundaries of Coos Bay. As he traced the map lines, his eyes grew heavy and he slouched further into the comfort of the sofa. He turned his weary head and saw a framed picture of his son, Billy. Barone still hadn’t recovered from the death of Billy those many months ago. He directed his blame at his foes but on nights like this, he would lay it all at his feet. Only to himself did he regret the decision he made in Afghanistan. If he hadn’t mutinied, Billy would still be here.
    He drifted off into a fitful sleep, but what seemed like moments later, he was jolted awake by a loud explosion. He sprang up, glass still in his hand. Within seconds, the roar of machine gun fire erupted outside on the street in front of city hall. He bolted to the windows in his office that overlooked the fiery scene below. Large flood lights