Free Sanctuary: A Postapocalyptic Novel (The New World Series) by G. Michael Hopf

‘on the way,’ sir, when we fire the round.”
    Pablo placed the crosshairs on the front. His excitement grew knowing he’d get a chance to fire the main gun. He’d seen his tanks in action, but being a part of the action made it more exhilarating. His heart rate had increased with the anticipation of firing the large round. He held the power to destroy and that was exactly what he was going to do.
    As he was about to pull the trigger, several people came out of the building. They were coughing and seemed fatigued.
    “Ahh, look at them, they look worn out,” he said sarcastically.
    He placed the crosshairs on the person, an older woman, who stood closet to his original target and pulled the trigger.
    “On the way!” Pablo yelled out.
    The 125-millimeter cannon roared and the high explosive round exploded out of the barrel. Almost instantly it hit the woman. Her body was vaporized as the round passed through her to the primary target, the front doors of the building.
    “Oh my God, did you see that? It’s like she vanished!” he laughed.
    Pablo’s round initiated a volley of fire from the other tanks in the company he was commanding. In unison, the dozen tanks opened fire on the capitol with their main guns. After three volleys, Pablo ordered cease-fire. He looked through the scope and saw nothing but smoke.
    The tank rounds had utterly destroyed the front of the building. When the smoke cleared, huge, jagged holes covered the facade.
    “Look at that,” Pablo said.
    He surveyed the damage and determined that it was a good time to move in and put the boots on the ground he needed to “take it.”
    “Colonel Alvarez, move your troops in. You know the rules of engagement—no prisoners,” Pablo said into the radio handset.
    A crackle was followed by “Yes, sir.”
    Pablo wanted to get out of the tank and see the assault with his own eyes. He unlocked the hatch and climbed out. Dark smoke wafted over him, burning his eyes and filling his lungs.
    A feeling of invincibility came over him as he jumped off the tank and began walking toward the capitol. As he marched toward the gaping hole of the building, belching smoke enveloped the area.
    The rumble of the BTR-80 armored personnel carriers heightened his feeling of being godlike. For Pablo, it was a chorus in his concerto of destruction.
    He thought of all those men he idolized from the past. He was now a conqueror too; his name would now be etched in history as the man who took California.
    When the APCs reached the front steps, the side doors opened and men began to pour out. The soldiers advanced toward the opening of the building and disappeared into the darkness.
    Pablo cleared the steps and made his way to the rotunda. When his eyes adjusted, the damage his attack had made became apparent. Large chunks of granite, glass, tile, marble, and paper were scattered and strewn all around. In the center of the rotunda, sunlight from a massive hole in the dome illuminated a large marble statue of Columbus appealing to Queen Isabella.
    This intrigued Pablo. While he was a logical man, he believed in divine signs. The entire rotunda showed the ravages of war, but this statue was immaculate. He took a moment to read the plaque.
    “Columbus. I know who you are,” he said. Pablo had learned about Christopher Columbus and his achievements, but had not spent much time in his childhood focused on the man. Now, for whatever reason, here was a statue of him, the explorer, or as some now believed, the conqueror. Despite different opinions on the man, one was universal: His epic adventure ushered in a new age of the Americas. Knowing this history of Columbus, Pablo now felt that his being there wasn’t an accident. He knew that he was meant to stand there.
    He stepped up to the statue and touched it, running his hands across the smooth marble. But his focus on the statue was shattered when gunfire rang out.
    He looked down the hallway that led to the senate chamber. More