* * * *
“I want to check in on David before we head out,” I told Jim and Steve.
“Sure thing,” replied Jim. “I’ll let you know when he’s on the line.”
Vlad and I took the four-wheelers. Mike rode the Indian. We checked on the scene from last night. Six men were hit at just over 100 yards out, with four dead already.
“Not bad shooting in the dark,” said Mike casually, like he may be discussing a new coffee blend he just happened to find. “What are your names?” he asked the two still alive. “Let’s see here. Looks like you’re gut-shot,” he said, pointing to one. “And you, how did she hit you in the leg and the shoulder?” he asked.
“What do you mean ‘she’? I thought you did this.”
“Nope, wasn’t me. Not this time. It was your lady friends you all pimped out. Now they’re armed and pissed off, as I’m sure you can imagine. Where’s the rest of your group?”
“They took off and left us.”
“Smart. Now, do you remember what I told you would happen if I caught you here this morning? Do you?” asked Mike.
“Yes. We want to go, but we need help. We can’t just drag ourselves away, not like this.”
“No, I don’t suppose you can.”
“Here we go,” I said quietly to Vlad.
Mike pulled out his Ruger pistol, racked the slide, and took off the safety he only set with the children around.
“Who wants to be first?” he asked.
Both men begged for their lives, but Mike didn’t hear it. A memory from his childhood crept in. He was alone on the playground and couldn’t defend his brother, Arthur. He was helpless. It was the loneliest minutes of his life, worse than death ten times over. He holstered his pistol, clicking on the safety in the same motion without another word and rode away towards camp.
“Let’s go,” I told Vlad, as they yelled to us not to leave them there. “You just escaped certain death,” I yelled back over the engine.
* * * *
We returned to camp and I was surprised how many children didn’t even ask about the gunfire in the middle of the night. I asked mine and got blank stares as they asked, “What gunshots, Daddy?”
I felt a twinge of sadness as I realized it was familiar now, just part of their new little worlds, like when we used to watch war-torn countries on TV and kids are outside playing, with bombs exploding and gunfire in the distance. “Just another day, Daddy,” I could almost hear them say.
Truth be told, I was ready to leave. My lakeside overnight campout had turned into a Freddy Krueger nightmare movie, and Mike had been the rogue cop breaking all the rules to bring the madman or -men to street justice.
“Just another episode in the upcoming Netflix series Families First,” I said aloud.
“Season three, episode two,” said Joy, playing along. “I wish that’s all it was. I would be sitting in the recliner under my blanket with my cup of hot chocolate, a cozy fireplace, and kids around us whose only concern was getting to watch cartoons and eat donuts on Saturday morning.”
* * * *
“Lance, we have David on the line,” said Steve.
“Hey, David. Can you hear me?”
“Loud and clear, buddy. How’s your trip going?”
“Slower than I thought,” I replied. “We’ll be headed up into the mountains today,” I added, not wanting to be too specific about our location.
“Must have gotten sidetracked,” said David. “I figured you would be farther along by now.”
“We did get sidetracked, but we…well, mostly Mike…were able to help some people out of harm’s way and back on track.”
“I’m not surprised,” replied David. “Probably the same as what he helped with here.”
“Pretty much. Different people, same problems,” I said. “But, hey, we’re off again today.”
“How’s your mom, Tina, and the girls? Oh, and Mark?”
“Everyone is great! Veronica and Suzie made me promise to tell you they miss you, Joy and the boys, but they are having the best time here.”
“That’s great to hear; I knew they would be in good hands with you and Tina. They have been through more than all of us, losing their mother on the very first day.”
I paused, realizing I had forgotten about his dad for a second.
“Uh, David, I’m...”
“No need, my friend. I miss him every day, but it’s not the same as our girls. They still have nightmares about that day when they thought nobody would ever find them, crying out in the darkness, scared and alone. And you did—you and your friends found them and stopped to help. That is a true miracle. If that weren’t enough, you then brought me a family I can love and protect. I’ve never seen my mom or Mark happier. I know that sounds strange, but it’s true.
“Okay…moving on… We’re done with the greenhouses. Worked all day on them the past couple of days. Nate and what’s left of his group are sticking around, at least for a while. We planted the first seeds from James VanFleet. You remember him?”
“Sure, of course,” I said. “How’s he doing?”
“Mending, I guess. I haven’t talked to him since the pseudo soldiers came through. They had some trouble brewing in town, I heard—some power battle between the Sheriff and the Judge guy…can’t remember his name. Anyway, that’s the last I’ve heard. Guess I’ll check in on him soon. So…where was I?”
“Planting seeds, I think,” I interjected.
“Oh yeah. We got one greenhouse loaded up yesterday with dirt and seeds. We threw a few worms in there that the kids found down by the lake. Probably can’t hurt. Besides that, all has been quiet. It’s a nice change, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
“Yeah, buddy. Imagine is all I can do right now. I’m just hoping we will get a few days in a row, or even one, that’s normal, relaxing and not violent. I know it’s a lot to ask, but I’m praying for it. Okay, we’ve got to pack up. I’ll reach out in a few days and see what’s going on—can you dig it?”
“Yes, I can, brother. Talk to you soon.”
* * * *
I got with Lonnie, Jake and Vlad to look over the map that was always in Lonnie’s glove box.
“You guys see the map anywhere?” asked Lonnie.
“No, not me. Me neither,” we responded.
“The ladies took it,” his wife spoke up. Joy came around the front of the truck with Nancy, Lucy, Kat and her sister.
“We’ve got it,” she told Lonnie, “and here’s the path up the mountain.”
Each town had a number next to it, signifying the number of miles up the road from the last one. She pointed to the light-yellow highlighted path through all the previously agreed on towns, marking off rivers, lakes, and alternate routes around each town, if it came to that.
“This is impressive,” said Lonnie, studying it in earnest.
“Who would have thought an old-school map would end up one of our most prized possessions?” said Vlad, winking at Kat’s sister.
* * * *
We packed up and said our goodbyes. I felt good about what we had done. It was gritty and nasty, for sure, but our group held the line and let Mike do what he does best. Yes, there was bloodshed, but there was also liberation that no man or woman can put a price on.
“Let’s go! Let’s go!” called out Lonnie over the radio and honking the lead truck twice. He stopped a few miles out to discuss the final route with each driver. Jake and I tagged along and promised to fill Vlad in on the specifics.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Lake Pueblo State Park
Pueblo, Colorado
“Look! It’s doggies,” said Jax, pointing out the Blazer window to the east. All the children put their heads outside the window, hollering for them to come over.
“Here, puppy!” they clamored.
“They’re coming over,” said Hudson and Danny excitedly.
Joy was talking with the other ladies in the car when she saw it.
She laid on the horn as the twenty or more dogs closed the gap from nowhere to the convoy. Some had collars, and all varied in size from small to a big Saint Bernard, like in that kid’s movie, maybe called Beethoven.
Just one or two wouldn’t have been much of a concern, but these were not house dogs. They barked, yipped and snarled, many with dried blood streaking their fur. The mangy lot closed in at full speed, with Joy scrambling to put the windows up. Ringo and Mini knew something was wrong, with Mini barking and shivering with her tail between her legs and looking down over the trailer.
“Incoming at 3 o’clock,” announced Lonnie. “Everyone inside or on the trailers now!”
I jumped from the bed of his truck onto the back trailer and reached towards Ringo, standing on the trailer’s side with a low growl.
His collar slipped through my hand when his body launched the six feet off the trailer. He rolled at the bottom, and I was sure he had broken a leg when he popped up and ran towards the pack.
“No, Ringo!” I yelled. “Come back here!”
He couldn’t hear or maybe couldn’t stop, and in a moment they were on him. I could hear children’s screams from inside the vehicles as the pack surrounded one of my best friends in this world.
Without thinking, I jumped off the trailer with rifle in hand, only remembering to land on my good leg at the last second. It wasn’t the smartest thing I had ever done, but I rolled at the bottom and kept my rifle from touching the ground.
I hobbled towards the pack, firing rounds into the air above them. Some were scared off but not even half of them left.
The remaining ones were only agitated by the shots and closed in on Ringo. His barks were mixed with yelps and
I felt helpless, still twenty yards away, firing into the air without a clear shot.
The Boom! came from over my right shoulder and another two on my left.
One of the bigger dogs let go of mine and hobbled off, limping badly. Four more shots hit their marks, dropping two more where they stood. There were still seven or eight; I couldn’t be sure in the mix. One turned, running away, with no shots to be heard.
“Hold on, Ringo,” is all I could think to say.
I was now five yards from the pack as they ripped at his fur with their teeth. I steadied to fire from ground level, without a clear shot, in a Hail Mary attempt to save my friend.
“On the ground, Lance. Now!” yelled a familiar voice over the megaphone. It was Lonnie, I was sure, and in a last-ditch effort to save my brave guy I went facedown to the ground. Ten shots—maybe fifteen or more—flew over my head, most with a thud and yelp to match.
I looked up, expecting to try and fend off the last of them, but they were all either down or running away. Only Ringo lay on the ground, his white fur stained bright red. He tried to stand but could only get halfway up before collapsing again.
“Nancy!” I yelled. “Nancy! I need your help,” I called without taking my eyes off him. “Hey, big boy. It’s me,” I said, approaching him. He was breathing heavily but lifted his head slowly. I put my face to his, wanting to be the last thing he saw if he died right there on the hard ground.
I remembered reading an article once, written by a veterinarian, that said his biggest regret was not requiring a family member to be present when their beloved canine was put to sleep. The part I most remember him saying went something like, “The last thing they see on this earth should not be a stranger in a scary sterile room.” I had had the displeasure of attending one of these events, both at home with my boys and once at the veterinary office. As hard as it was, I agreed with his theory. Nobody wants to die alone, human or animal.
“You did good, Ringo. You’re a good boy, and you saved us from those dogs. Our family has been complete because of you and our boys count you as a best friend.”
I looked around to make sure we wouldn’t be part of a second attack and only saw people running towards us. They were calling out to each other—instructions maybe, but all I could hear was Ringo’s heavy breathing. Woosh in and almost a sigh on the exhale. Woosh sigh, woosh sigh. Everything was moving in slow motion.
“I’m with you right now,” I told him, looking into his fatigued eyes. “I’m right here, my good boy,” I said, hugging him. Blood stained my clothes, but I didn’t care. I looked deep into his eyes as never before and spoke to him.
“You can go right here, my friend. I am with you. Or fight and stay a while longer. I’m here for you, either way.”
I put my nose to his, awaiting a response or maybe a sign of his ultimate choice. He paused, not breathing for a few seconds, closing his eyes. I put my ear to his side, and there was no woosh or sigh—just stillness.
“Okay, my friend,” I told him, with tears running down my flushed cheeks. “We will give you a proper send-off, fit for a loyal companion.”
Adults around me were still yelling, but it fell on deaf ears. I latched on to the cry “Bingy! Bingy!” The voice was getting closer. It was Hendrix. I knew without turning around.
I turned to see him running full-on towards us, his little legs moving faster than the rest of him, like Fred Flintstone trying to get his Flintmobile going. He reached me, followed closely by Jake, who was apologizing for not catching him.
“Bingy, no!” he cried, hugging our friend and burying his head into Ringo’s fur. “Open your eyes!” he cried. “Open them, please!”
“I’m sorry, son. He’s had too much…he fought to protect us and...”
“Wait, Daddy! I hear him!” he called out, with his ear to Ringo’s chest. I rested my hand on him, and it was true. In, out, in and out. He was breathing quietly.
“Did you change your mind?” I asked him, putting a hand on his head, meeting him nose-to-nose. He opened one eye…and then the other…before licking me on the nose and laying his head on my knee.
“So, we fight?” I asked. He let out a bark—less than his former self but enough to know we were in this together, and he was not ready to lay down. Then in a split second, I could hear everything. The other dogs struggling to walk or drag themselves away, or unable to move but still alive.
* * * *
I heard the yells from far away. “We’re coming!” Nancy arrived first, then eight other people behind her.
“Stay back!” called Nancy. “Everyone just stay back! Lance, I need Ringo to focus on you so I can check him. If I tell you to hold him down, it’s for a good reason.”
“Okay,” I said, stroking his head and looking into his fatigued eyes.
“It’s okay, boy; she’s just going to check you out.” He was panting.
“Can someone get me some water?” she called out without turning around. “State your name, then go.”
“Uh, Aiden. I’ll be right back,” he added, running back towards the truck.
Mike walked slowly around the scene, with an eye on each dog still breathing. I caught his eye.
“Don’t worry, Lance. I won’t do anything to scare your dog, at least not yet.”
“Thank you,” I said, happy that at least this time he could read my mind.
Woosh sigh, woosh sigh, was the only sound, with occasional yips as Nancy felt a puncture wound.
“Wait, where’s Mini?” I said, not remembering seeing her.
“Vlad has her on the trailer,” said Jake. “She’s fine.” A full ten minutes later, Nancy whispered into my ear. “I have maybe good news and possibly bad news. The bad news first,” she said, without giving me a choice I was used to, although to be fair, I always pick the bad first.
“I’m not a veterinarian, but I was a medic. He’s going to need an expert, most likely. I can give him something for the pain and treat what I can see on the outside, but if there is internal bleeding, well, I just don’t know. I’ll get him sedated now, and we can get him on the trailer.”
“Is that the good or bad news or both?” I asked, not sure.
“Oh, I’m sorry. That’s the bad news. Jake and I know a country vet up the road, b
etween Cañon City and Fairplay. Jake used to play football with his son in high school outside Boulder. They were the star quarterback and receiver.
“To be transparent, we haven’t seen him in a few years, since before we moved out of Boulder. He was getting up in years, but he moved up here when his son went to college. He was known as the best country veterinarian in this whole area. He always traveled to his appointments, driving as far as 100 miles if the price was right.”
“I’ll make the price right!” I blurted out. “Let’s get him on the radio and have him meet us halfway.
“I need Steve!” I said. “Somebody get Steve!” I shouted.
“Hold on. Slow down,” she told me. “He’s not a radio kind of guy. We can try to get through to someone up there, but I think it’s a long shot.”
“Will you please just give Steve his name and location?” I asked.
“Sure, I can do that. Bring the trailer around, Lonnie,” she called out. “We need to lift him.”
“What do you think Ringo weighs?” she asked me.
“He was 154 at his last vet appointment,” I replied, without having to think about the answer.
“Okay, we’re going to need a few people,” she said, getting down the makeshift stretcher Vlad had used before.
“Easy now… On three, roll him this way,” she pointed. “Then back into the stretcher when I get it underneath.”
It was clumsy, as most of us were not professionals, but his meds were kicking in and he didn’t put up a struggle. “Lift on three,” she instructed. “Easy on both sides…and don’t drop him. One...two…and three we go. I’ll check him on the trailer so we can keep moving.”
* * * *
Mini whimpered quietly and put her head on Ringo’s paw. I heard the last shots before Mike returned to our outfit.
“Why did you shoot those dogs, Uncle Mike?” asked Hudson, opening his window.
“I didn’t shoot dogs, Hudson. I shot animals, predators, that only used to be dogs. Now they can’t hurt any other dogs or you.”
“Oh, okay. I think I understand,” Hudson replied, as Mike walked back towards his truck.
Next World Series | Vol. 5 | Families First [Homecoming] Page 10
