The Razor's Edge: A Postapocalytic Novel (The New World Book 6) (20 page)

“The others are not our priority, which includes the president’s mother. He is number one; everyone else is expendable,” Franklin said.

“Any attempt we make will include getting the president’s mother. He won’t leave without her,” Baxter said.

“He doesn’t have a choice,” Franklin countered.

“You also need to get President Van Zandt and his wife,” Megyn said.

“Absolutely not, he and his wife are traitors. We can’t risk American blood on a traitor,” Franklin blasted.

Megyn didn’t know how to explain it, as she hadn’t, but now was the time to tell the entire truth as she knew it. “Cruz and Van Zandt were captured together.”

“Impossible.” Franklin gasped.

“What?” Baxter asked, confused by what Megyn had just said.

“Both men were meeting; they were holding a private summit of sorts to discuss a peaceful resolution between both groups. This is something Canada supports.”

“Canada’s official position backs the United States and all its legitimate territorial claims,” Baxter asserted.

“That is true, but unofficially and off the record they want to see the conflicts come to an end. President Van Zandt and the Cascadians are not seeking additional land outside those three states.”

“How can you sit there and presume to tell us what we should fight for or not. I do believe Canada wishes to have our continued support in dealing with Jacques, or do you believe that to be the same as Cascadia?” Franklin barked.

“It is not the same; Western Canada seeks to expand further and further. Jacques believes in conquest and, as of right now, doesn’t seem to want to stop. He won’t stop if he gets Cascadia and parts of the United States. If he’s successful there, he’ll only press further into the US and north into the Yukon and into Alaska. Both situations are not the same. Cascadia is not seeking to dominate other land; they only wish that those three states have independence.”

“This is preposterous!” Franklin roared.

Baxter stood up and raised his arms and his voice. “Everyone needs to be quiet. Our president is a prisoner and we need to get him. All this other talk is nonsense.”

“But, General, our teams need to have a plan, and I refuse to have them go in and risk President Cruz’s life just so they can get two traitors,” Franklin said, defending his position.

“I’ve heard your concerns. Our priority will be the president, then work down to his mother and then Van Zandt and his wife. However, we will extract the president first. We will put additional choppers in there to get the others if it’s possible. Megyn has given me very specific locations of the packages. Let’s hope they’re in their rooms.”

Everyone nodded.

“Let’s get to it,” Baxter said.

Franklin came over to Baxter and said, “Sir, we are putting American lives at risk to get those traitors.”

“I heard what you had to say; we’re doing it my way. If you can’t follow my orders, let me know. I will accept your resignation immediately, but I need to know right now, not an hour from now, but right now if you’re willing to do what I’m ordering be done.”

Franklin bit his lip and grumbled.

“Are you going to follow my orders to a tee or not? Answer me now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then go. I want birds in the air in an hour,” Baxter snapped.

Banff, Alberta, Western Canada

Gordon found it impossible to sleep. He kept waiting for the door to open and guards to come in. He wasn’t so sure now if telling Autry was a smart move, as he couldn’t guarantee where his loyalties lay.

Samantha had stayed up with him, but eventually the fatigue won out, and she had fallen asleep leaving Gordon to pace back and forth.

After making an endless number of laps around the room, Gordon settled into a chair and stared into the darkness. His mind raced through a multitude of scenarios. He had come to the conclusion he couldn’t leave Samantha; together they would have to escape. To him the situation resembled a Mexican standoff. Surely if he lowered his weapon, the person could just kill him; only when he had a weapon did he still pose a threat. And so it was with Samantha, by leaving her there, he lost all leverage. There was no guarantee Jacques would keep his word. And no guarantee that if he convinced the council to sign the treaty, Jacques wouldn’t kill him then. Jacques needed him alive; he was no good dead. So if Gordon attempted a daring escape, there was a solid chance that Jacques would have his men try to capture him. With these suspected rules of engagement, Gordon had a chance. What he needed now was the right time, a weapon and a means of transportation.

Gordon sat on the edge of the bed and rubbed Samantha’s arm. “Sam, wake up.”

The steady rubbing roused Samantha. She rolled onto her side and purred, “Yeah, baby.”

“Get up. It’s time to go,” he whispered.

“Huh?” she asked and sat up.

“It’s time to go. We have to make a run for it.”

She leaned in and whispered directly into his ear, “You sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure. This is our only chance. If they separate us, there’s a high probability I’ll never see you again. Jacques needs us alive. I’m no good to him dead, and he knows if he kills you, I’ll never agree to do anything.”

“Are you really sure?”

“Yes, get your clothes on.”

Samantha got out of bed and quickly dressed.

Gordon needed something he could use, something simple. On the desk he found it, a ballpoint pen.

“I’m nervous,” Samantha said under her breath.

He walked over to her and put his arm around her. “Me too.”

“Now what?” she asked.

“Let’s see how good your acting is,” Gordon said.

***

“Help!” Gordon yelled and opened the door.

Two guards were posted at the door. Both ran in, their weapons at the ready.

“It’s my wife; she’s having a seizure. Something is wrong.”

Both guards went to the bed.

Samantha flopped up and down.

With their backs to him, Gordon didn’t hesitate. He thrust the pen into the throat of the first guard he came to.

The guard clutched his throat and gasped.

Samantha opened her eyes and smashed a glass she had been holding against the other guard’s head.

Gordon finished him off by jamming the pen into his eye.

The guard fell to his knees, blood flowing from both his head wound and the puncture in his eye.

With an open palm, Gordon pushed the pen all the way into the man’s skull.

The guard groaned and fell backwards.

Samantha jumped out of the bed and took one of the M16 rifles and a Beretta pistol.

Gordon took the other rifle and pistol. He also grabbed the spare magazines and the radios. “Here, these will come in handy.”

Samantha took the radio and clipped it on the pocket of her jeans. “Where to now?”

“Home, time to go home,” Gordon said and gave her a kiss.

***

They raced down the darkened hallway lit by sporadic lights placed along the floor.

Jacques had much of the main areas on generator power but kept the hotel room tower lit by sparingly.

Gordon suspected that at any moment his radio would crackle to life with an alert informing everyone that they had escaped.

They reached the stairs and stopped.

Gordon grasped the handle and opened it slowly.

Like the halls, the stairwells were lit but not generously.

Not seeing anyone, he led the way and entered the space with the rifle at the ready.

“Clear,” he said.

Samantha stepped in behind him.

He peeked over the railing and looked down; from his perspective it appeared the stairs were empty. “Let’s go,” he said and raced down one flight.

“Aren’t we going to help Andrew?” Samantha asked as they passed the floor Gordon was told he was on.

“No, I can’t trust him.”

“We have to,” Samantha insisted.

Gordon stopped and said, “Sam, time is of the essence. Now c’mon.”

“I can’t in good conscience leave him and his mother behind,” Samantha said and cracked the door to that floor open.

“Sam,” Gordon whispered loudly.

Samantha saw a hallway identical to theirs. To the left it was empty, but when she looked right she saw two guards and they saw her.

“Damn,” Samantha said, ducking back into the stairwell.

“Don’t say it. Please tell me you didn’t get spotted,” Gordon griped.

“Sorry,” Samantha cried.

“Go, now, down the stairs,” Gordon said, grabbing her arm and pulling her past him.

Samantha ran down one flight with Gordon right behind her.

The door opened above them and heavy footsteps followed. “Who is that?”

Gordon raised his index finger and placed it to his lips, signaling for Samantha to be quiet.

“Hey, Rob, which way do you think she went?” a guard said.

“You go up and I’ll go down,” Rob replied.

Heavy footfalls on the stairs told Gordon one guard was heading up; that meant the other was coming their way.

Without notice Gordon and Samantha’s radio crackled to life.

“Command post, this is Foxtrot Seven…” Rob said into the radio then paused when he heard his voice echoing beneath him. He looked over the railing and saw the muzzle of Gordon’s rifle.

Gordon squeezed off one single shot.

The round struck Rob in the face and blew out the back of his head. He fell onto the railing, dropping his radio.

“Run, Sam, run!” Gordon yelled.

Together they sprinted down the stairs.

A rapid succession of gunfire from the one guard still alive ricocheted off the concrete steps and metal railings.

Samantha tripped making a turn. Headfirst she fell, striking the third step with her left shoulder and rolling down the remaining eight stairs on her side until she collided with the wall.

“Sam,” Gordon called out. He knelt down and asked, “You hurt?”

Planting her hands down on the floor, she pushed up and got to her feet. “I’m fine.”

He took her hand and said, “We’re almost at the bottom.”

A pause in the shooting indicated the guard was reloading.

They reached the bottom.

Without looking, Gordon kicked the door open and stepped out with Samantha behind him.

A volley of gunfire rained down, striking above and to either side of the door jamb.

Samantha screamed in fear.

Gordon turned and, using his body as a shield, pushed Samantha back into the stairwell. He slammed the door behind them.

Heavy footfalls came from above and it sounded like a small army was headed their way.

“What are we going to do?” Samantha asked.

“We’re not giving up, Sam. Get up. Let’s go,” Gordon said.

“Where to?” Samantha asked.

“Up, we’re going up,” he replied and raced up to the first floor and stopped at the door.

A wheezing sound came from Samantha.

“Time for you to hit the treadmill when we get back,” Gordon joked.

Samantha elbowed him and said, “Shut up.”

Gordon cracked the door and peeked to the right and saw an empty hall. He looked left and there at the end standing in front of a door were two guards.

The guards were bantering back and forth. The topic was Gordon and Samantha.

Seeing they weren’t paying attention, Gordon took advantage. He put his rifle in his shoulder and took aim. With his thumb he placed the selector of the M16 on semi and squeezed off two rounds into one guard and another two into the other. Gordon’s aim was true.

The men dropped to the floor dead.

Gordon walked into the hallway, his rifle still in his shoulder. He tactically moved down the hall to where the guards were. He picked up their rifles, slung them on his back and grabbed the spare magazines and their pistols. Gordon never believed too much was a bad thing.

“Now where do we go?” Samantha asked.

“Who do you suppose is in this room?” Gordon asked.

Samantha didn’t reply. She breathed heavily and waited for Gordon to act.

Gordon stepped back and lifted his leg.

The door opened.

Gordon found himself face-to-face with the muzzle of a pistol.

“Just stop right there.”

“Autry?” Gordon asked. He couldn’t quite make out the man with the pistol, but his voice was familiar.

Autry stepped out of the shadows and replied, “Van Zandt?”

“Do you mind if we come in?” Gordon asked.

Autry looked at the dead guards and said, “You killed my fucking men.”

Gordon looked down and then noticed the guards were wearing plain clothes. “I thought they were Jacques’ men.”