“No, we faced a small part of them,” Mike said. I see them in my dreams, I guess, but they are not just the group who headed past us, giving us a small skirmish. They are growing and his radio show or announcements...”
“More like rants,” said Joy.
“Okay, rants, misguided revelations, or whatever we want to call them,” continued Mike. “They’re working on drawing people from all directions to Horsetooth Lake. By the time we see the Great Battle, I’m not sure even the Colonel’s men can save us.”
“So, what are you saying?” I asked.
“You’ve seen the movie The Stand, right?”
“By Stephen King. Of course,” I replied.
“I haven’t seen it,” said Joy.
“What?!” we both asked, overdramatizing our concern of her missing a truly classic story.
“There are two groups after an apocalyptic event,” I said. “One good and one bad. Both had dreams guiding them to either side, and this is what I’m guessing we’re going to talk about with Mike. But the good group sent spies to the other side, hoping to gain valuable information before an attack. Am I close?” I asked.
“Like a shot between the eyes,” Mike responded. “We are far enough up the mountain to make it to the other side, but once we do we’re sitting ducks—no eyes in the air until maybe the last minute and none on the ground... I’m going in as a spy,” he added, pausing for a response.
“Wait, what?” asked Joy. “Why aren’t you shocked by this?” she asked me.
“I’ve seen the movie and read the book twice, that’s why. You don’t have a bicycle, Mike, and it’s a long way to walk.”
“But you do have an Indian,” we both said together.
“Can’t someone else go?” asked Joy, realizing she was trying to keep the guy around she nearly pushed away only days ago.
“Sure, someone else could go, but if they get wind of it or suspect anything, who else do you want to take the punishment and still not talk? Plus, I’ll be riding alone all the way to their camp.”
“Okay, I see your position,” she agreed. “What does Sheila have to say about it?”
“Nothing yet,” Mike replied, “and that brings me to my next point, Lance. If I don’t make it back, I need your word you will make sure she and Javi have a safe place to call home. Always welcome, no matter what.”
“Of course! I mean yes, you have my word,” I added, not wanting to sound like I took the responsibility lightly.
“I’ll talk to Lonnie next and then Sheila. If we are a go, I’ll be gone tomorrow, and we will work out the plans tonight. I think it goes without saying to keep this under wraps until I make an announcement.”
“Sure,” I replied. “We always do.”
* * * *
We watched him head back to the truck and briefly speak with Lonnie, pointing at us. Ten minutes later, he was back in his vehicle, and the yelling could be heard outside the closed windows, followed by sobbing, as he opened one for air.
Joy and I made our way over to outside the Vet’s office, awaiting any news. We could clearly see the children playing on the swing from there. “Listen,” I told Joy. “All I hear is the wind in the trees and the creek as the loudest sounds beyond their happy screams.” It was peaceful, almost like home.
* * * *
A full 45 minutes went by before we saw Mike again.
“I have an announcement,” is all he said, gathering every adult and not worrying about the kids overhearing. “I’ll make this quick,” he said, with Sheila crying softly and Joy hugging her. “I’m leaving the group for a while but hope to return when you reach Saddle Ranch. I won’t go into the details of why or where, but rest assured it’s for your own safety. Each of you has treated us like family, which means something to me, Sheila and Javi. They will stay on with all of you until it’s safe for me to return. Any questions can be brought to Lonnie or Lance as they come up. I will head out in the morning.”
“Which way will you be headed?” asked Steve.
“Towards the sun. Thanks, everyone, and enjoy your afternoon.”
I was surprised not to get a litany of questions straightaway but knew they would eventually come.
“I have news,” said Nancy, putting her hand on my shoulder.
“Is he going to be okay?” I asked, jumping up. Most people don’t put a hand on your shoulder when they are delivering good news.
“I think so. I mean, the Doc seems to.”
“Can we see him?” asked Joy.
“Just you two; no kids yet. Follow me.”
* * * *
We walked back inside through the house that smelled like beef ribs and candy canes.
“I’ll be out in just a minute to say hi,” said a pretty middle-aged woman. “Just need to turn this roast.” She looked like a cross between Jennifer Aniston and Martha Stewart, and had I seen her in New York City or L.A., I would have thought she had lived there her whole life. We all waved and smiled.
“It’s a good thing you got him up here as fast as you did. Another night on the road and I don’t think he would have made it,” said the doctor.
“Will he be okay, Doc?” asked Joy.
“Just call me Carl—all of you, please. He lost a fair amount of blood,” he started out, as he described in detail Ringo’s injuries without answering the simple question.
I was interested in hearing what exactly he did to help my friend and understood the majority of it from my Chiropractic background. I knew halfway through that he would heal up with time and antibiotics, and I squeezed Joy’s hand lightly, giving her an all-okay nod. It turned out mostly as we had expected. Deep puncture wounds were made by teeth that only three weeks ago housed a pink tongue used to kiss babies and chew table scraps before sleeping the rest of the day or night away. There was some concern about blood loss, but the glue Nancy applied quickly changed the diagnosis from life-threatening to concerning.
“Give him these pills, just as I wrote on the bottle. No running, chasing, or anything else strenuous for at least a week—better if it’s two.”
“Thank you, Carl,” I said, shaking his hand. “I was worried we were going to lose him.”
“This one wouldn’t let us,” he replied, pointing down to Mini, who laid under the operating table the entire time, not making a sound.
We all laughed, petting her, and of course Ringo.
“What do I owe you?” I asked, wanting to get it out of the way before we moved on to something else.
“All of you are our guests and are welcome for the night—unless you’re planning on leaving in the dark. You will owe, but not to me.”
“I don’t understand,” I told him.
“The boys back in town collect a ‘pass tax,’ they call it. Everyone pays unless you sneak around, which won’t happen with those trailers you have. We have an agreement of sorts up in these parts, so your pass, once stamped, will get you through the next towns of Fairplay, Alma, and Blue River—a town, not just a river. After that, you will hit Breckenridge. They’re, how should I say it, a little hoity-toity up there and have their own rules, I hear. But I do know the Mayor, so it might be worth a name drop.”
“So, what’s the toll?” I asked.
“Different for everybody. It is used to be $50 per vehicle or $10 per walker, but it’s changed since cash money doesn’t seem worth the paper it’s printed on anymore. I’ll help you all out with negotiations tomorrow. We’ll figure it out. Now, as promised, my wife is cooking a feast for a small town. I killed a good-sized buck early this morning, so we’ve got fresh venison. I hope you all are meat-eaters!”
“I would say we’re anything-edible eaters, at this point. We’ve got provisions in the freezers we can use to make up the difference if you need it,” I offered.
“Nah, we’re good,” Carl said. “We have a nice garden down by the water and more deer than we can kill.”
“I figured you would have enough city people walking up here, hoping to hunt game,”
I replied.
“They either don’t make it this far up or don’t want to pay the tax and head back down to the lake.”
“That’s where we came from,” I noted.
“Really? Then you were lucky to get out of there alive. Some bad things are happening down there, from what we’ve heard.”
“It’s different now—under new ownership, you could say,” I replied. “Thanks again for your help.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirteen
Cañon City, Colorado
I let Ringo rest and grabbed the boys to wash up for dinner. Carl and his wife filled our bellies. We returned the favor as best we could, with the ladies giving his lonely wife some girl time and a night of talking about last season’s “The Bachelor” or “The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills,” and of course “American Idol.” Lucy stayed behind, citing a migraine she couldn’t shake, and the children were playing board games inside the house. Once the wine started to flow, I overheard the ladies speaking something about “Fifty Shades of...” The men broke off with Scotch and vodka until the ladies borrowed the clear stuff. Vlad and his new lady friend, Anna, sat on the back porch talking, and a few of us went off to look at the map and talk strategy.
* * * *
Mike wanted a small group, and it was just Lonnie, Jake and me in front of Lonnie’s truck. using the hood to spread the map over and a flashlight to see in the dark. Mike would head straight back from where we came, bypassing the lake altogether, and find the Baker group. We contemplated telling the Colonel, just in case he was spotted by Ronna, who would surely never forget his face from their tent encounter that seemed like years ago now. We eventually agreed to keep it between us, since he planned to bypass Ronna’s group anyway.
“That’s why Vlad is not here right now,” said Mike. “I don’t want him to have information he’s kept from the Colonel.”
“I’ll talk to him,” I offered.
.
“Let’s get on the same page here,” said Lonnie.
The story to be told by Mike was simple: “He was a bad man and didn’t fit with our group. He stole—no, wait a minute; we don’t want a thief going there,” I pointed out. “The bike was his all along, complete with a Texas plate.”
Mike would show up, looking to join the group, taking revenge for us stealing his girlfriend and his child sounded better, before we kicked him out of the group. We didn’t want it any more complicated than that, hoping he could figure the rest out on the fly if he had to. He would join them, listen and run up the ranks, only reporting back when he could safely by radio or when he returned to Saddle Ranch sometime before the Battle.
“This intel, if I can get it,” said Mike, “might make the end result different. If we don’t do this right and wipe them out, we will never be at peace again.”
“Agreed,” I said, with all of us shaking our heads in agreement. “We should be there in a week or less, I’m hoping.”
“We need a rendezvous spot,” Mike continued. “Since I’ll only be fifteen miles or so away, I could meet you—if they let me keep the bike, that is.”
“I have an idea,” I said. “Hold on. I’ll be right back.”
* * * *
I headed over to the makeshift camp.
“Lucy, it’s Lance,” I called out. “Are you feeling any better?”
I heard her respond with “Mmm, hmm.”
“Can you tell me when we’ll have the next full moon?” I asked.
There was a pause and a frightened voice from inside the tent said, “I don’t know anything about the weather.”
Now I paused, straining to hear the other voice whispering to her.
“Okay,” I told her. “I’m just going to check on my dog, Ricky, and I’ll be back later.”
“Thank you,” she said in a shaky voice.
I walked away, accenting my steps, and broke into a full run when I got around the trailer. I was out of breath when I reached Lonnie, Jake and Mike, only 50 yards away.
“It’s…” I said, holding my side. “It’s Lucy. She’s in the tent, and I think someone is in there with her. I asked about a full moon, and she said she doesn’t know anything about the weather.”
“She’s the queen of weather,” said Jake, grabbing his rifle.
“Exactly. I gave her a clue back that I knew she was in trouble.”
“What about the dogs?” asked Lonnie.
“They’re both still in the house,” I said.
“Okay, let’s get this done,” he replied. “I want us positioned, so we’re shooting away from the house if we have to.”
We quickly headed back, covering the tent from the front and one side.
“Come out of the tent now,” said Lonnie in his booming cop voice.
There was the sound of a struggle inside and a low male voice accusing her of telling on him.
“You have ten seconds to come out before this goes bad,” Mike said, looking flushed.
We all stayed crouched down behind the Bronco, only ten feet from the tent’s front, waiting for the gunfire we knew was coming.
“Nine!” Mike started counting, moving around the truck. “Eight…seven…six...”
I would have asked for cover, but I guess he just assumed we would.
The tent door slowly unzipped from the front, with a long-haired man poking his head out.
“Do you boys know who I am?”
Mike grabbed him by his greasy hair, replying, “I don’t care!”
“My dad runs things around here,” the man said, maybe feeling cocky, Mike thought.
“I’m not from around here,” Mike replied. “Now stop talking. Did he hurt you, Lucy?” he asked, poking his head into the tent.
“I don’t know,” she cried, in a fetal position, her clothes obviously torn.
“Are you going to tell my dad? You’re not going to tell my dad, are you?”
“Nope,” said Mike, asking me to get Joy. “Your dad won’t know a thing about this; that’s a promise.”
* * * *
I ran to get Joy, as Mike led the man into the woods, down towards the creek. We returned no more than ten minutes later, with Joy crawling into Lucy’s tent and zipping the front door closed.
“Where’s Mike?” I asked Lonnie.
He put up his hands in a classic “Beats me!” gesture. Jake’s old friend, our host, ran over, wanting to know every detail. We explained what we knew and his face was growing more concerned with each word.
“He’s right. His dad does run things around here. Where is he now?”
“Down by the creek with Mike, last we saw,” said Lonnie.
“What kind of Colorado man doesn’t know how to swim?” asked Mike, emerging from the trees.
“Where is he?” asked our host. “You didn’t hurt him, did you?”
“He took advantage of one of our ladies and, as I said, he couldn’t swim.”
“Jake, I need to talk to you,” his friend Carl said, pulling him aside. “I’m not sure what happened here, and yeah that guy is trouble but he’s the only son of a ruthless man who controls who goes where around here, including past the barricade. Did your guy kill him? Please tell me the answer is no.”
“If I know Mike like I think I do, your guy isn’t coming back, ever,” Jake replied.
“Well, I’m going to need to know for sure, one way or another, and it has to be tonight.”
“Mike?” asked Jake. “Is the guy still alive?”
“Nope,” he replied casually, like he’d been asked if he had a lighter.
“Can you show me where he is, so my friend here can figure out what to do next?”
“Follow me,” Mike said, heading to the creek.
* * * *
We all walked up the bank, next to a large pool that I would have loved to fish, to see the intruder facedown in the water, with his torso on land, as an anchor, I guessed. Our host rolled him over, shining a flashlight into his face, with no response. He checked for a p
ulse and found the same.
“Okay,” Carl sighed. “Man… This is not good, Jake. You guys are just passing through, but we live here. Let me think for a minute. I’m guessing he came out here alone—doesn’t have any friends I know of. Let’s fan out by the road behind your trailers. We’re looking for an old truck or four-wheeler that shouldn’t be hard to spot. Mike, can you reach into his front pants pocket for a key?”
“Sure thing,” he responded, pulling out two on the same ring.
* * * *
Finding his truck was the easy part. Carrying the nearly 300-pound man up to it took all four of us, minus Jake’s old friend, who didn’t want his prints anywhere near the man.
“Sorry, guys, about this, but I don’t want his truck tracks across my property for obvious reasons.”
“Hold on. I’ll grab his hat,” I said. “I’m so poor I can’t even pay attention,” it read. “Oh, that’s classy,” I said, reading out loud the saying written across his baseball cap.
“A real ladies’ man,” said Lonnie.
“Just to clarify, Mike, when they find him are they going to see any gunshot or knife wounds?” asked Carl.
“None of those, but he might be missing a tooth.”
“That’s all right. It happens when you end up in a river up here. The one you all crossed coming up here is the Arkansas. At least a few fishermen end up floating in it facedown every summer. Most are tourists, though, and don’t know any better. This one here knows better, but he drinks his breakfast so I don’t think anyone will find it impossible that he drowned chasing down a snagged line or monster trout. He’s got to go in up above the gorge, though.”
“You mean the Royal Gorge?” I asked. “With the bridge and like a thousand-foot drop to the river below?”
“That’s the one,” replied Carl, “and it just up the road.”
“I went there as a kid.” I added. “An incredible place”—only now wondering how I could have a casual conversation over a body, even that of a bad man.
“Okay. If you all can follow me in his truck?” asked Carl.
Next World Series | Vol. 5 | Families First [Homecoming] Page 12
