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

sir.”
    Gordon could hear the man talking to someone. He tried to understand what they were saying but it was unintelligible.
    “Mr. Van Zandt, do you have something to write with?” the man asked.
    Gordon ran back up to Michael. “Do you have a pen and paper?
    Michael quickly rummaged through the glove box and pulled out an old pencil and registration papers and handed them to Gordon.
    “Yes, I do,” Gordon said to the man on the phone.
    “Call this number back in five minutes,” the man said, then proceeded to give Gordon a different nine-digit number.
    Gordon hung up and looked at his watch.
    “Who was that?” Michael asked, stunned by what he had heard.
    “Um, I’ll explain later, over those drinks,” Gordon responded as he paced back and forth with excitement.
    “I can’t wait to hear.”
    Gordon stopped his pacing and looked at Michael. “Let’s just say a lot happened on the way to McCall.”
    Cheyenne, Wyoming
    Dylan, the chief of staff, came into the conference room with the same exuberant look on his face as the day he had confirmed Cruz’s location.
    “Take a seat, we’re about to begin,” Conner instructed him.
    “Sir, before we begin, I have some interesting news,” Dylan said with a grin.
    “Go ahead,” Conner remarked, waving him to proceed.
    “Mr. Vice President, are you on the conference call?” Dylan asked first.
    “Yes, I’m here,” Cruz replied over the speaker.
    Dylan then turned and looked at Conner. “Sir, remember you were asking about the man who had taken the vice president and madam secretary?”
    “Yes, I remember,” Conner said. “We were going to ask you about him later. I have a job for him.”
    “I remember him too, a Gordon—”
    “Van Zandt,” Dylan interrupted and then continued. “Gentlemen, he called us, looking for you, Mr. Vice President, and . . .”
    The phone in the center of the conference table rang.
    “That should be him right there,” Dylan blurted out as he leaned over and hit the button for the phone line.
    Silence fell over the room as they waited to hear the man on the other end.
    “Hello?” Gordon asked.
    “Mr. Van Zandt, hello, this is President Conner.”
    “President Conner?” Gordon asked, clearly surprised to be hearing the voice of the President of the United States.
    “Yes, this is President Conner, and be advised you’re on speaker phone.”
    “Mr. Van Zandt, hi, this is Vice President Cruz.”
    “Mr. Vice President, hi, how are you?” Gordon asked.
    “I’m good, very good, thank you. I understand you were trying to reach me?”
    Gordon felt foolish now. He had imagined a simple call to Cruz, not a conference call with the president and his entire staff.
    “Yes, sir, I, um . . . Sorry for calling, but you said that if I ever needed anything to call you and, well, you see, I need something.”
    “Mr. Van Zandt, sorry to jump in, but your call is, to say the least, very ironic. You see, you need something from us, and your country needs something from you.”
    Gordon paused, not knowing what to say. He knew that the only way for him to verify if Brittany was okay was with the help of Cruz, but apparently this request could now cost him a return favor.
    Conner waited patiently for a response to his last comment, but when one wasn’t given he proceeded. “Mr. Van Zandt, what is it that you need from us? We’re in gratitude to you for what you did, so please tell us how we can be of service.”
    Gordon looked around to see if Michael was listening. He wasn’t; he was back to unloading the truck. Just to be safe, he took a few more steps away and answered, “Mr. President, I hope my request doesn’t come off as silly, but I understand there’s been some upheaval in Coos Bay. I have a friend there I’m concerned about. I was hoping you could find out if she was okay.”
    Conner raised his eyebrows and looked at Baxter, sitting next to him. “You want us to contact someone in Coos Bay for you? Why don’t