“Did he ever say where they were headed or what would happen in the future?” I continued.
“Said they were headed north to a place with a lake and a rock-like kind of tooth.”
“Horsetooth Reservoir?” I asked, already knowing.
“Yes, that’s the one, I think.”
“Then what? They’re just going to stay put?” I asked, hoping I was right.
“No, not exactly. He talked about the ‘Promised Land.’ A lush valley not far from there where they would finally settle, with large gardens and livestock. It supposedly is protected on all sides by mountains and a river.”
My stomach tightened.
“What else?” I asked.
“They wanted loyal followers to prepare for the great battle,” he said.
“What battle?” I asked, my head spinning.
“Well, for the valley, of course… Are you okay?” he asked. “You look like you saw a ghost.”
“I did!”
We gave the old man a lift in the back trailer and promised to drop him off at or as close to Trinidad as possible. And we gave him one of the maps to the FEMA Camp there.
* * * *
I sat quietly on the front trailer, deep in thought. I already knew they were going to end up close to Saddle Ranch, and maybe even pass right by. There’s a big difference, though, in being nearby and planning to run over it.
I sat, feeling conflicted. Should I tell everyone what I knew and that the very place we worked so hard to get to was on the chopping block? Or should I keep the information to myself, and nobody would ever have to know…well, at least for now?
We could be back on Raton Pass in a couple of hours if everyone voted to turn around, and we would probably be safe. The problem was that we almost outstayed our welcome the first time, and we would surely tax David and his group in the food department if we stayed all winter.
I went back and forth in my mind about the right thing to do.
I was good at keeping secrets, but this one was eating me up inside already, and it had only been a matter of 20 minutes since I had learned of it.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-one
North of Raton Pass, New Mexico
“Vlad, Jake,” I called across the trailer. “Come on over for a minute.”
They gathered around.
“You don’t look so good,” said Vlad.
“Yeah, I keep hearing that,” I replied.
“You look like Vlad did before you guys took him to the FEMA Camp,” said Jake.
“Yeah…well, you will join me soon, I’m sure.”
“What’s going on?” asked Jake.
I paused, not sure how to continue with the bad news.
“A lot of things are better if you just get them off your chest,” said Jake. “Come on now.”
“All right, all right.” I relayed the limited information I had to them, wanting to gauge the reaction of both a single and a family man.
They listened without saying a word and, in the end, I felt better.
“I literally wish I hadn’t heard that just now,” said Jake.
“Sorry, brother. I’m torn on what to do here, and I need some help. Plus, you asked,” I replied.
“You did insist,” Vlad pointed out. “It is hard, yes? We have many people leaving a place we just defended with blood, now headed to another place that was supposed to be safer. We do not know what will happen, but it could be bad…very bad.”
“What do you think, Jake?” I asked.
“Well, it’s hard. I’m not big on marching my family straight into the lion’s den, but we also can’t just show back up on David’s door, asking to spend a year or longer. Do we find our own place in between and start over? I just don’t know.”
“If it comes out, and it will, that we had this information and sat on it, I’m not sure what will happen,” I said.
“That’s the tricky part,” replied Jake. “Let’s get it done.”
I called Lonnie to stop for a quick meeting, thinking he might be annoyed by all the delays.
“Again?” he called back. “We just stopped!”
“I need to talk to you first,” I told him.
“Right now?”
“Yes. Right now!”
He pulled the caravan over with precision, like he had done it a hundred times before.
Jake, Vlad and I spoke with Lonnie outside the truck, away from the chatter of what may be going on.
We told him everything we knew.
“Well, that sounds about right. I was just about to pop in a cassette tape of the Allman Brothers and cruise. ‘Lord, I was born a ramblin’ man,’” he hummed nervously.
“Mike, come on up here,” Lonnie called out over the radio.
We waited a minute, not speaking before he called again.
“Mike! Are you coming?”
The radio cracked. “Hey Lonnie, it’s Sheila. Mike stepped out a few minutes ago to talk to the old man. I’ve got his radio.”
“I’ll get him,” I said. My leg felt much better now, but I was still not jumping off the trailer yet.
“Mike,” I called when I got close. “Can we talk to you up front?”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute,” he said, waving one arm.
“He’s coming in a minute,” I announced, not sure how much he would know when he did.
A few minutes later, Mike came up front.
“Hey guys. Nice day, don’t you think?” He pointed three fingers at us, saying, “We’ve got some decisions to make, and quick.”
Then he pointed only one finger straight at me. “Lance, you didn’t tell me about Javi’s mom.”
“Mike,” I said, looking the stone-cold killer in the eyes and trying to remain calm. “I just now found out about it, like you.”
He paused, staring a hole through me.
I wanted to say something, anything, to break the tension, and my other friends weren’t helping me out any. Had I just lost every bit of trust I had built with him in two seconds?
I opened my mouth, and nothing came out.
His face finally changed, as if he snapped back into focus. “Of course, you just found out… Sorry I said that. I think I know everything you guys do,” he added, moving on as I took deep, calming breaths.
“Okay, take a look,” said Mike, using the back of one of the kids’ fliers to write. “We’re here,” he pointed. “Ronna’s over here, and the Baker guy is here with a few hundred or a thousand people. I’ll go around Ronna’s guys and get close tonight on the four-wheeler. Then I go in on foot, take care of the Baker guy, and tomorrow the rest of them all go on their merry way, back home or wherever.”
I saw several holes in the plan, but hung back from saying anything for now.
“You can’t just sneak into a camp of hundreds of people loyal to one man, with 10-15 literally guarding him at all times, and take him out,” said Lonnie. “Governments don’t even do that.”
“Let me know if you have another idea,” replied Mike.
The paper map he had drawn flew from his hand and stuck to my shirt. We all looked down and saw the upside-down FEMA map with “Drawn by Jax” at the bottom.
“We’re right here,” I said, looking at Vlad and Mike, initially pointing two fingers towards them before rethinking it. “Listen, guys, it’s a Hail Mary, I know, but maybe the Colonel can help, or at least confirm it’s a suicide mission to continue on.”
“Agreed,” said Vlad quickly, and Mike nodded.
We got the rest of the group on board with the idea. There was only one question from Lonnie’s wife.
“If we pull right up to the front gates of the FEMA Camp, won’t they just force us to go in?”
“That’s a good question,” I responded, “and certainly valid. However, the answer is a resounding no. We’re free thinkers, and that’s the last thing they want inside their walls. I’ll bet the Colonel would be right here with us if he were a civilian. Understand?”
“Okay, it’s like this. Who here has seen a hypnotist show? Please raise your hands.”
I felt like I was back at my Chiropractic office, giving a similar speech on the very first day everything changed.
“All right, I see most of you have seen one. Raise your hand if you think the hypnotist will ask for volunteers?”
Most hands raised.
“Okay, now why is that?”
“They want to be hypnotized, I guess,” said Lucy.
“Exactly,” I told her. “They want to be controlled. That’s why they never pick somebody who doesn’t raise their hand. If you’re running a FEMA Camp, would you rather get someone like our new friend back there who is out of luck, tired, and looking for a safe place to lay his head? He’s a yes-man who will toe the line and be grateful for a full stomach. Or would you rather have somebody like Nancy or Joy, who would be dragged in kicking and hollering, only to raise hell once inside? No, you would not, so the short answer is we will wait outside while a few of us hopefully get to speak with the Colonel.”
“Good news,” Nancy told the old man. “You will get a ride right up to the gates.”
We dropped maps along the way, picking up a small number of people, including some with small children and others with serious medical needs.
All would be dropped off, and they understood they would be separated from their families if they chose to go.
One, in particular, told me, “I’ll forgo seeing my family for however long it takes for things to go back to normal versus watching them starve out here right in front of me.”
I understood the logic, and initially was surprised nobody asked to stay on with us. I later realized they were tired and broken from the road. All they wanted was a routine to follow that they could count on. They will surely find that there, I thought.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-two
FEMA Camp
Trinidad, New Mexico
We parked single file at the gates. Lonnie called over the radio, telling everyone to stay inside the vehicles.
Several minutes passed without instructions, and I saw guards pointing towards us and walking back and forth through the gate. Finally, the call came over the megaphone.
“Mike and Lance, present at the gate!”
Had they seen me? Surely not on the trailer, and Mike was all the way in the back.
I waited for Mike to come forward and join me.
“Did they see us?” asked Mike.
“I don’t see how,” I responded.
Even with our names being called, we walked slowly up front, hands to our sides and weapons left behind.
“How did you know it was us?” I asked.
“We loaded this same truck on the Chinook before,” one of the guards replied.
“Ah,” I said to Mike. “That makes sense.”
“Are you asking to speak with the Colonel?” the soldier asked.
“Yes, sir,” I affirmed. “And we have about ten people to drop off—men, women and children. Is he here?”
“Wait here,” commanded the soldier, without answering my question.
Fifteen minutes went by without an answer, and I could hear the kids getting restless behind me.
* * * *
The soldier finally returned. “Follow this road,” he said, pointing towards the north, “for exactly ten miles and no more. We control the road, so you won’t have any problems.
“Have your drop-offs line up over there,” he commanded and pointed to the far wall closest to the next gate. They will be processed shortly, and Medical will be right out to attend to the sick.”
We made the quick drive to the middle of nowhere, exactly 10 miles out, according to the odometer.
Stopping once again in single file, there was nothing to be seen or heard once the engines were cut.
I hoped we hadn’t become so much of a pain in the butt for the Colonel that he would decide to just fire a rocket or two on us and be done with it.
I scanned the sky for the helicopter I hoped would come.
* * * *
Ten minutes turned to twenty, and then thirty, before I heard the trucks.
Three army jeeps, all in a row, took up both of the highway lanes, with two spilling on to the edges on each side. I couldn’t see anything behind them until the last minute.
I exited our vehicle with Mike and stood in front of Lonnie’s truck.
Slowly, a large black Harley Davidson motorcycle, with two riders, came around the jeeps.
Taking off his glasses and bandana, the Colonel greeted us with a handshake.
“You remember my lady friend?”
“How is your mouth doing, Lance?” she asked.
“Good so far, ma’am,” I replied. “Thanks for asking.”
“Where’s Vlad?” asked the Colonel.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” Vlad called out, heading up on his crutches.
They shook hands, and it was clear they were friends.
He took the time to show Vlad his bike and the weapons on the jeeps.
“Okay, gentlemen,” the Colonel said. “Let’s talk.”
We followed him 30 feet or so away from our group and his men.
“I see you’re all on the road again and looks like you added a trailer or two,” began the Colonel.
“Yes, sir,” I responded.
Vlad took the lead and explained what we had learned from the old man. He asked me to explain about Saddle Ranch.
“It’s a four-mile stretch across a valley set into the mountains on the west side of Loveland, Colorado. It’s shared by two groups, one called Saddle Ranch and the others are known as...”
“The West,” the Colonel said, finishing my sentence.
Mike and I looked at Vlad.
“As I said before,” remarked the Colonel, “I don’t get my information from him.”
“Do you know Samuel?” he asked me.
“Yes, of course,” I replied. “He’s the leader of The West.”
“That’s right,” the Colonel continued. “Did you know that he was a good friend of President Reagan?”
“I hadn’t heard that,” I admitted.
“I served under him in his second term. He was one hell of a man and President.”
“So, how do you know Samuel, sir?” I asked.
“Well, I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and had gotten into some trouble as a kid. My parents signed me up for the Big Brother program, and I got paired up with him. He taught me to fish and later helped me to get accepted to West Point Academy. He’s also responsible for getting me hooked on bikes, like that one over there. He gave me my first Harley as a college graduation gift. So, the short answer is yes, I know about the Valley, and I’ve been there several times, although only on The West’s property.”
The next question was on the tip of my tongue and needed to be asked, but I wasn’t sure how it would go over.
“So,” said Vlad, “you’re not going to just let that crazy Baker guy take the Valley, are you, sir?”
The Colonel paused, rubbing his chin, and I was glad it was Vlad who had asked it.
“No, Vlad, I’m not. But it’s complicated, and there are a lot of things at play right now.”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Mike. “Can’t you just take them out before they get there? Or better yet, drop me in and I’ll take care of the Baker guy.”
The Colonel laughed. “I bet you would!”
“Come take a look, gentlemen,” he said, walking back to the jeep and pulling out a map of Colorado.
“I’m guessing you’re headed up this way as the path of least resistance,” he said, drawing a line straight up Interstate 25 with his finger.
“That was the plan,” I replied. “Not too close and not too far behind.”
“The plan…it’s good, no?” asked Vlad.
Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads] Page 21
