Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads]

by Ewing, Lance K.

I was expecting a quick vote on our friends but didn’t get it. Several in our group had concerns about adding more mouths to feed. Only Jake, Nancy, Vlad and Mike agreed to the plan immediately.

  “Tell me about the single female,” said Vlad… “I mean the sister. Is she pretty? Does she like guns? I’m joking, of course…well, kind of,” he said, breaking the tension.

  “They all like guns,” I told him, “and I think she’s pretty. I mean, what do you think, Joy?” I asked, fumbling. “She’s pretty, right?”

  I got a look from Jake, telling me to shut up, and Mike was trying hard not to laugh.

  “Okay, I’m done for now,” I said, not being able to gauge the response from the others in our group.

  * * * *

  Tina and Beatrice planned the last details of the very first wedding of the apocalypse, at least as far as anyone here had heard.

  Everyone in camp was excited about the news and doing their best to put other thoughts, fearful thoughts, out of their minds—at least for the morning.

  Today was a good day. We were all back together again and planning the wedding of one of my best friends.

  I made a toast at dinner to David and Tina, with Mel’s wine and the Colonel’s steaks.

  After talking with Lonnie, we informed everyone that there would be a mandatory adult meeting following the ceremony tomorrow morning.

  “The timing sucks,” I told David, pulling him aside, “but we have to prepare for what’s headed our way.”

  “I know, brother, and we will. Marriage means nothing if you can’t keep the family.”

  * * * *

  We were up early, with the promised 7 a.m. meeting with Nate. David, Lonnie and Mike met him and his shrinking group of 10 across the river.

  David spoke with Nate, asking the obvious question: Did the former soldiers know of the road crossing the river?

  “I think so, since they brought your children across it when they took them,” Nate replied. “Did they relay that information to their commander? I just don’t know.”

  “I want you to leave a note at your camp that is easy to spot,” David told him. “Address it to Uncle Buck, or whoever, saying they can find you and your group in Trinidad. It may be enough to keep them moving past here, and it’s at least worth a try. We will meet you on our side of the river in a few hours—let’s say 10:30—and will have an all-hands-on-deck meeting at 11 for defense preparation.”

  * * * *

  David headed home immediately following the meeting to get ready for his big day.

  Tina opted to have Beatrice help her, Joy and Nancy with hair and makeup. Veronica and Suzie would be flower girls and ring bearers.

  I did my best to find something decent to wear. I hadn’t even thought to bring the only suit I owned on the road trip.

  “Jeans, crocodile-skin boots, and a nice shirt,” I told my boys, who were helping to dress me in our tent. “It will just have to do.”

  Mel picked me up on the four-wheeler. We followed all of the kids up to Beatrice’s house for the ceremony.

  Chairs of all types were set out behind her house in an orderly fashion, facing her back deck where the union would be witnessed. Bright red plastic chairs were mixed with dining room formal chairs, casual kitchen chairs, and a few bar stools that would seat the adults. Several blankets were spread out on the ground in front for the children.

  Beatrice commenced the service at exactly 9 a.m., and in 15 minutes David was kissing his new bride.

  All pitched in for a late breakfast before the meeting that we were all pushing to the back of our minds.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Eight

  Raton Pass, New Mexico

  Lonnie and Mike met Nate and his group at 10:30 on the river bank and escorted them to David’s side for the foreseeable next week or two. They came prepared with some food, sleeping gear, and the weapons Mike had won for them.

  The 11 a.m. meeting included every adult in camp, minus Beatrice, who watched after the kids corralled in her home.

  The update from Jim was sobering to most in attendance. The Baker group was making good time and would start the climb up Raton Pass in two days.

  “Unless they are somehow derailed, we have today and tomorrow to prepare for a mid- to late-afternoon arrival the next day, possibly sooner if their forward scouts come to look for their missing comrades,” he told us.

  “We have a lot of property up here, and we can’t protect all sides from a possible attack,” interjected David, “so we have to bet the farm on the most likely scenario, should they come this far off the road.

  “We have only two likely scenarios if they come over. First is the river crossing down where we brought over the trailers, and second is a higher river crossing with only foot soldiers and no heavy equipment. The likelihood of them coming over the ridge from behind, as James did, is unlikely, keeping in mind, of course, that anything is possible.”

  “We can’t cover everything,” I added, “so we might as well cover the river and give them a fight if it truly comes down to it.

  “What about Ronna’s group?” I asked Jim. “Any word on them?”

  “They are running about a day behind intentionally, keeping a distance between the two groups. One more thing,” added Jim. “We heard from the Colonel this morning. He is aware of the movement of both factions and is closely monitoring the situation.”

  “That’s good news,” replied Jake. “It never hurts to have the United States military in your back pocket.”

  “And Vlad, the Colonel wants you alone on the line in exactly 34 minutes from right now,” added Jim.

  We spent the next twenty minutes talking defense strategies along the river, all vowing not to let “pseudo soldiers,” as Mike called them, across the river. After hearing stories from Mike, Nate and Katie about the consequences the women in our group would likely face, it was easy to have everyone on the same page.

  It was agreed that every possible shooter, weapon, and ammunition can would be on hand near the river’s edge, in several locations if need be.

  “Joy,” announced Mel, “I have a confession of sorts.”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “We only used part of my fireworks stash getting your boys back. Now before you get mad at me, I provided more than enough to create two major disturbances in getting your boys home safe.”

  Joy stood and paused, with every adult nervously awaiting her response.

  “Mel,” she stated bluntly.

  “Yes, Joy?” he responded hesitantly.

  “Mel, do you have any more of those annoying Screaming Serpents?”

  “Three entire boxes,” he stated, starting to smile cautiously. “And more of the big ones also,” he added, hesitating just a bit.

  “I figured as much,” replied Joy, smiling. “We’ve risked too much to lose now. When I ask, you tell me how many, Mel. Okay?”

  “Uhhh…yeah, I guess if we really need to know.”

  “We do,” she replied, staring right in his eyes. “Big fireworks?”

  “Twenty-five, or maybe 30,” he replied quickly.

  “Drones?”

  “Two, ma’am.”

  “Sticks of dynamite?”

  “Well, that’s um…kind of....”

  “How many?!” she asked again.

  “Eight. There are eight left.”

  “Hand grenades? Just kidding,” she said, as he blurted out “Six!”

  “Really?” Jake asked.

  “Maybe,” replied Mel. “Who’s asking?”

  “We all are now!” I interjected.

  “Then, yes, there would be six of those.”

  I had never seen one up close, but I once shot a grenade launcher with a pretend grenade and was surprised at how accurate it was, just lobbing the object over the creek we were shooting across back in the day.

  “What else?” Joy asked.

  “That’s about it for firepower, besides the M60s.”

  Vl
ad’s eyes lit up. “Did you say M60s, as in more than one?!” he asked.

  “Yes,” Mel replied, not elaborating.

  “What’s that?” Joy asked me quietly.

  “It’s a big-ass machine gun that shoots like 600 rounds of ammo per minute,” I whispered back. “They call it the Pig because some say it sounds like a pig grunting when it’s fired. It’s a pretty big deal in defense, like having ten or more shooters at once, but it can take more than one person to handle.”

  “Is it that heavy?” she asked.

  “Well, no,” I answered, “but feeding it through the belt ammo can sometimes require another person. It could be a game-changer, though, in a real crisis.”

  “Anything else, Mel?” asked Joy.

  “In relation to defense, I have gear, including some bulletproof vests, depending on the caliber it’s trying to stop, of course. Also helmets and enough camo to blend us all into the forest.”

  “How about a tank? Mel, do you have a tank?” asked a joking Joy.

  “No. That would be awesome, but I do have two anti-tank weapons I bought five years ago. I can’t guarantee their viability. It’s a last resort, for sure, as they can just as easily eliminate the person firing them in a misfire. Let’s agree now—let’s not even consider them unless it’s a last resort.”

  “All agreed, say ‘Aye,’” he asked. All agreed.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Nine

  Raton Pass, New Mexico

  “How much did all this cost?” asked Jake, with the question we all wanted an answer to.

  “Since it doesn’t matter anymore, before the cost of my house I spent the majority of my nest egg, totaling 3.4 million.”

  “How did you have that kind of money?” asked Vlad, as nothing seemed too personal anymore.

  “Well, I lived in Raton, New Mexico, my entire life,” said Mel, “and only moved up to Raton Pass in recent years. I was a proud bachelor that didn’t have time for children or a wife. Having been in swimming pool construction with a national company and overseeing many of the job sites for more than 20 years, I got to know the ropes.

  “Always up for a good conspiracy theory, I first got curious about EMPs when a new customer had an odd request. I was asked if he could have a hole dug 30 feet deep, 100 feet long, and 60 feet wide. When asked what it was for, the customer replied, ‘Why, the end of the world, of course!’ Although it was out of the norm for the company I worked for, I oversaw the completed job and buried eight 20-foot shipping containers in the oversized hole.

  “The customer was thrilled with the work and had me as a guest several times on his popular conservative national podcast. The podcaster was forthcoming with his audience in regard to costs, plans and project completion time estimates, although he would not divulge the location of his own bunker.

  “I was hailed as the authority on bunker construction and was soon able to leverage myself as a consultant and middle man, working with multiple contractors at the same time, all building end-of-the-world shelters.

  “My claim to fame was known as the ‘Fiver.’ This was a five-story, entirely underground community of bunkers, housing 36 families. Every unit presold for $450,000 to over $1,000,000, and they were located near the small town of Farmington, New Mexico. It’s only about 380 miles from here.

  “Several more projects of varying design were commissioned over the next year, prompting me to take a closer look at EMPs, and not long after that I purchased land on Raton Pass and brought an out-of-state crew in to build my formidable compound.

  “Eventually moving to Raton Pass and working from home as a TEOTWAWKI (The end-of-the-world-as-we-know-it) construction consultant, I stockpiled my home with food, water, firearms, and of course raw coffee beans. I had everything I could ever want. Everything, that is, except someone to share it all with,” he concluded, squeezing Tammy’s hand and smiling.

  “Okay, Vlad,” said Mel. “My turn. How did a guy from Russia end up with a gun store in Texas?”

  “Mine is a short story,” Vlad replied. “It started at home in Mother Russia as a young boy. I grew up in the picturesque town of Sortavala in northern Russia, near the border of Finland. Known for its outdoor adventures, as a young man I helped my father with the family business.

  “We owned and rented rowboats and canoes to tour the numerous waterways around the town. When I was only 16, I met my wife-to-be, Rosa, when she arrived with her church mission group from Plano, Texas. Meeting her the second night when she rented a canoe, I was sure that she was the one. My brothers laughed at me and told me it could never be. With Rosa leaving for home two weeks later, we kept in touch, writing letters nearly every week.

  “At 19 years old, I had saved enough money to visit my Rosa and to meet her parents. Her father was concerned about her dating a boy from across the world, but they grew to like my tales of working with my father in the family business.

  “Rosa’s mother adored me; of course, how could she not?! And her father helped me get my visa, and finally citizenship.

  “Years later, Rosa’s parents would sign over their 20-year business, Plano Guns, to us both. The gun store changed its name to Beluga Guns following the passing of my sweet Rosa. I longed for the day I would return to country life. Eventually, I would get my chance when Lonnie, Lance, and these guys,” he said, pointing to Jake and Mike, “showed up at my shop, which was already surrounded by looters, and offered me a chance for a new life, but only if I gave up everything. That is why I am here today.

  “Now please excuse me,” Vlad said, “so I don’t miss the Colonel’s call.”

  * * * *

  Jim had the Colonel on the line ten minutes later.

  “How are you all holding up?” asked the Colonel.

  “Best as we can so far, sir. I’m concerned for our group—the women and children, I mean,” replied Vlad.

  “I can understand that, with the lead group headed your way,” continued the Colonel. “What’s your defense plan if they show up on your doorstep?”

  “With all due respect, sir, I’m not sure I want that out on the airwaves.”

  “No worries there. We’re secure, and you may be the only civilian left in this great country to have a backer like me,” commented the Colonel.

  “I’m sure you are correct, sir. We will defend them at the most likely breach points across the river and hope it’s enough.”

  “We’ve got them in your area in two days’ time,” added the Colonel. “I’m on the West Coast for the next day or two, but I’ll make a trip up to Trinidad right about that time, just in case you all get into any real trouble you can’t handle alone.”

  “I do appreciate that. We all do. How do I repay you, sir? I mean, I already gave you my leg!”

  “Now there’s the Vlad I was missing,” said the Colonel, laughing deeply. “I’ll have my people keep a close eye on the situation up there, and if it gets bad, just dig in and cover.”

  “Yes, sir, we will do just that, and thank you for the Beluga.”

  “He’s offline,” said Mark, feeling nervous about what lay ahead.

  * * * *

  Vlad relayed the Colonel’s call to the adults, calming a few nerves initially.

  “We will be digging foxholes by the river this afternoon and tomorrow morning,” called out David. “The ground is soft by the river, and each trench will hold one or two shooters, so it’s not too difficult of a task if we all pitch in. Each person will be equally supplied with ammo, and God willing, it will be enough to hold off the bad guys. The children and anyone not on the front lines will remain in my mother’s house until notified,” he added.

  “What’s coming could be the biggest challenge any of us has faced thus far, and possibly ever will. The possibility of them just passing by peacefully is unlikely,” I interjected.

  Most adults pitched in, digging foxholes at strategic points. Between all groups, we came up with six shovels, and four hours later the holes were complete. Vlad and I re
fused to stand aside, and we worked together while sitting, digging two holes without assistance.

  “It looks like we have our holes done,” Vlad said. He added in a low voice, “It’s us, you know, who need to be on the front line when they come.”

  “So, you don’t think us women can handle ourselves when defending our groups?” asked Sheila, overhearing the conversation with Joy.

  “It’s not that,” Vlad replied. “I am confident you can handle yourselves in the face of danger. It is the men I’m worried about.”