“And one last thing,” Jake chimed in. “Barry stays here.”
“Deal on all counts,” said Jessup.
“Do you need to discuss it with your guys?” Jake asked. He laughed deeply. “No need,” he replied. “We’re wasting daylight,” he added.
In thirty minutes we had a plan together and headed out to Plano.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Fifteen ~ Loveland, Colorado
With the water pump back up and running, Mac was grinning from ear to ear. “With two freezers and the pump working again, we are off to a great start,” he said to his dog, Bo. “John is going to be really fuckin’ happy about this.” He headed back to the Pavilion to find John.
“Mac, you’re a genius!” stated John. “This is really going to help our community.”
Sharon overheard Mac and John’s conversation and waited until they were done. “John, can I get a minute?” she asked. “Sure, Sharon. Anytime.”
“Can we meet with the elders again tomorrow and see what the next steps need to be? Bill and I have been talking about where we all go from here.”
“How does around 9 a.m. sound?” asked John. “I’m sure I can get the group together if we promise them breakfast!”
“Ha,” said Sharon. “That’s perfect. Bill and I will do the cooking.”
It was getting dark and John headed down the road to home. It had been a long day. He was thinking about the group he was responsible for and how he would lead them in the coming days when he heard the first pop.
The sound came from the east, across the Rimrock. Then there were two more. “What the…” he started to say when he heard a thud. He fell to the ground with a burning in his side. “No, no, no!” he yelled. His left hand on his side was sticky and warm. “Help me!” he yelled. “Please…”
He realized he was halfway between his home and the Pavilion, about a quarter mile each way. He didn’t see or hear anyone. The only sound was his heavy breathing. “I have to go back,” he said out loud. He took off his shirt and pressed it hard against his side.
He was just able to get to his feet and began stumbling back toward the Ranch. What seemed like forever later, he could see the Pavilion just up ahead. “Help!” he yelled to two young men walking up ahead.
They ran over quickly. “What’s wrong, John?” they asked nervously. “I…I’ve been…” was all John could get out before collapsing onto the road, unconscious.
Bill was finishing dinner, Staggs chicken chili over tortillas—cooked on the grill, like most meals recently. There was a loud banging at the front door and shouting he couldn’t understand.
“Who’s at the door?” called Sharon. “Stay upstairs,” called Bill, as he picked up his Glock from the kitchen table. As an Army forward observer in Vietnam, he was comfortable around guns but saw them only as a last resort in any situation.
“Who’s there?” he yelled, standing just to the right side of the door. “It’s Steve and Jason. Somebody shot John!”
Bill opened the door and with the stern voice of a former military man said, “Tell me everything.” Steve and Jason quickly told the story and ended with John now being looked at by one of the two practicing nurses living on the Ranch. “He’s in the Pavilion, downstairs,” they followed up.
“Sharon,” Bill yelled. “John’s been shot! Lock the doors and take Karl upstairs with you. I’ll be back when I can.”
Bill ran most of the way to the Pavilion. At 70 years old, this was not an easy feat.
As he approached the Pavilion, he could see a few people running around with what looked like towels and pitchers of water. The scene inside was crazy and disorganized. The other nurse had arrived and they had John lying on a dining room table. There was blood everywhere and the nurses were calling out instructions to several other women.
“Steve!” called Bill. “Yes, Sir,” he replied.
“Run down to The West and find Samuel. They have a hospital and we need to get John down there right now. Go! Go! Go!” Steve took off at a full run down the road.
“What can I do?” asked Bill to Janice, one of the nurses. “You can find out who has A+ blood. He’s going to need a lot of it if he’s going to even have a chance at…I mean…that’s just what I need,” she said.
Bill, being B- himself, went outside to the growing number of residents and asked for anyone who is sure they are A+ to come forward. To his relief, there were five.
“John has been shot and needs blood. Will you five help him?” “Yes, of course,” they all agreed. Bill brought them into the Pavilion to wait for instruction.
Fifteen minutes had passed with no news when Bill heard a siren from down the Valley. “That has to be Samuel,” he said out loud. A car squealed around the corner, onto the Ranch, and Bill saw it was an ambulance.
Samuel jumped out as soon as it stopped, accompanied by a man and woman in scrubs. “This is Drs. Melton and Melton. They are here to help.”
The docs ran into the Pavilion and jumped right in. “What do we have?” Dr. Melton asked the nurses.
“A 62-year-old male, John, shot approximately 50 minutes ago in the left lower quadrant. There is no apparent exit wound. He’s lost a lot of blood and we have five eligible donors so far.”
“We will have to stabilize him quickly and transport him to our hospital. We can make the trip in ten minutes once he’s prepped. We have a staff waiting there now.”
Bill, along with the five blood donors, followed the ambulance carrying John about thirty minutes later in one of the official Ranch trucks.
He was impressed with the scene at the hospital and it reminded him of the big one in town, McKee Medical Center. I’ve lived in this Valley for more than 40 years and have never seen this hospital, he thought. I’m sure I will be here again.
He talked briefly with the lady at the front and asked her to send word up to the Ranch if there were any changes.
Bill headed back up the road and stopped off at the Pavilion. The scene had calmed down a little but there were now conversations of what happened and if they were safe.
He asked everyone to go home and promised he would address the entire group in the morning.
Sharon was still up when he got home. It was late and she was worried. He told her what happened and assured her that nothing could be done tonight to find out any details.
“I will address the group tomorrow, after checking on John.”
“Should we be at the hospital?” she asked. “No, Honey. We cannot do any good waiting there. Starting tomorrow, I will be responsible to lead the people of this Ranch until John recovers. We need to get some sleep.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Sixteen ~ Plano, Texas
We agreed that we would take the front with the truck and have Jessup follow right behind with four of his best tractors.
He drove the big one and he had three guys each driving smaller but still impressive versions. With six miles to go we could be there in an hour with no hangups.
Jessup flashed the lights on his tractor less than ten minutes later. We gathered in a circle to hear what he had to say.
“Our property ends a quarter mile up the road,” he announced. “I know where your buddy’s shop is located, though I’ve never been in. We have about five miles coming up of hard pavement to get there. We will pass stores, houses and apartments all along the way. I don’t know what we will encounter, but it ain’t going to be no joyride, mark my words. Let’s stay sharp and, come pavement time, tractors take the lead.”
I didn’t like it. Neither did Jake and Lonnie, but we needed their help and agreed to fall back.
We turned off Jessup’s property, on to Legacy Road. Cars were strewn about the streets and the tractors weaved their way around them, occasionally pushing one to the side. There were only a few people walking around.
“I expected a lot more people,” I yelled to Lonnie through the back window.
“Oh, they’re here,” he yelled back. “Look a
t the windows in the stores and houses.”
I looked and was surprised by the number of people peering out through the blinds and some just standing openly in the windows watching the tractor parade. I silently gave myself a kick in the ass for not paying more attention.
Fuck, that’s how you get killed, I told myself.
“Eyes open, guys,” yelled Jake. “Let’s keep it cool and just pass through.”
“Up on the right,” called Lonnie. “He’s got a rifle.”
We all trained our rifles on a man about 200 yards out and closing at a steady run.
His rifle was pointed in the air as he ran straight for the truck. “Don’t shoot, guys—not yet,” I stated.
The tractors stopped and they had their rifles trained as well.
“It’s just a boy,” yelled Lonnie. “Hold your fire.”
He ran right up to the truck, still holding his rifle in the air. Out of breath, he managed to get out “Where you guys going?”
Jessup started to laugh deeply. “You got some stone balls, boy. How old are you?”
“Almost 14,” he said. “Almost, huh?” said Jessup. “What’s yer name?” “Sam, sir. My name is Sam.”
“Well, Sam, who’s almost 14, what are you doing running up on a bunch of armed men?”
“I dunno. I just…well…my dad and mom were in Vermont for a funeral when it all went dark. They left me with my grandma since I’m still in school.” “OK,” said Jessup, “so what’s the problem?”
“Well, that’s just it,” replied Sam. “She up and died a few days back. She ran out of her oxygen in the tank and I couldn’t find her a new one in time I guess. I tried my hardest, mister, to save her. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
Tears were now welling up in his eyes but he fought them back. “Now it’s just me and I don’t know what to do. I don’t think my mom and dad are going to make it back anytime soon.”
“I’m sorry, son,” reported Lonnie. “We’ve got a big group we are already responsible for and there are only so many provisions to go around.”
“I understand, mister,” he replied politely. “I just figured I’d ask.”
I felt bad. We just told him no and he was still nice about it. I remembered sometimes saying no to a panhandler to see how they reacted. If they were sincere and still nice, I would help them out.
“We just can’t add another one to our group,” said Jake.
“Can you shoot that thing?” asked Jessup, pointing at what looked like a Remington 10/22 rifle.
“Yes, sir. My dad takes me deer and hog hunting every year. Been doing it since I was 9.”
Jessup pulled out a rifle from behind his tractor seat. “You know how to shoot a pellet gun?”
“Yes, sir.” “Then I want you to set up that coke can,” pointing to one on the ground about ten yards out.
“That’s 30 feet. Then come back here.”
“If I’m going to shoot, can I use my .22?” he asked.
“Nah,” said Jessup. “That will draw too much attention. Same reason I carry a pellet gun when I’m out in the fields. Even on my own damn property, the city don’t like any gun shooting. Shoot until you hit it.”
“OK,” said Sam, and hit the can with the first three shots.
“Well hell, boy, that’s enough. You got five minutes to grab one bag of your things. I could use a good shot around the ranch, at least till your ma and pa get back,” stated Jessup.
“Thank you, thank you, sir! You won’t regret it, I promise!” Sam yelled as he ran towards the house. “I’ll be right back.”
“That was a good thing you did, Jessup,” I told him.
“Well, we’ll see how he feels in a few months when it comes time for some real shooting. Can’t be no worse than my damn son-in-law, though.”
Sam was heading back at a full run four minutes later…like we were going to just leave him here.
“All right if he rides in the truck?” asked Jessup. “Fine by me,” I agreed.
“We’ll try to stop on our way back and give your grandma a proper burial,” offered Jessup when Sam got in.
“Thank you, sir,” he replied, “but I already took care of it. Took me two and a half days. Just finished this morning for a full six feet dug out, got her covered up and said good-bye.”
“That’s good, son,” added Jessup. “She would be real proud of you, I’m sure.”
“Where you headed, Sammy?” yelled an old lady from the house next door.
“Just leaving, Mabel,” he shouted. “I won’t be back. There’s some things might help you at Grandma’s house. Take whatever you need before someone else does.”
“Can we please go now?” Sam asked.
The tractors started up and we were back on our way. The next three miles were uneventful. We were taking it slow and keeping watch on all sides. We had made it to Preston Road and turned south.
“Just a couple miles to go!” yelled Lonnie.
Twenty minutes later we pulled into a parking lot. We drove slowly past a burned-out grocery store with just the sign remaining. Tom Thumb it said on the marque.
We moved slowly past the Radio Shack, most likely looted for the batteries. Up ahead, beyond two local hole-in-the-wall restaurants, was a small freestanding building with a sign reading Beluga Guns.
“Is that it?” I asked Lonnie, pointing to the building. “That’s funny,” I laughed out loud.
“What’s so funny?” asked Lonnie, looking confused.
“I’m guessing your Russian gun friend does not have the last name of Beluga.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
“It’s just funny because Beluga is a very high-end Russian Vodka.”
“Ah, fucking stereotypes,” declared Lonnie.” “Ha ha.”
Jessup stopped about 50 yards from the store and the tractors all cut their engines. “OK, what’s the play here?”
Jake had his binoculars and called out, “No sign of looting, but the windows are blacked out and I can’t see anything inside.”
“I’ll check it out,” announced Lonnie. “I want to go alone. If my buddy is there I’m sure he’s a bit spooked and could be trigger-happy if a bunch of guys with guns walk up unannounced.”
“You’re not going unarmed, are you?” asked Jake.
“Oh hell no. Now you all better cover my ass good. Just let me change real quick.” In two minutes he had his police uniform on.
“I thought you got rid of that thing,” I asserted.
“Nope. I just know when to use and when not to. Now is a good time to have it, ’cause my buddy has never seen me with it off and I don’t feel like getting shot again. Trust me,” he added, “getting shot is not near as fun as it sounds.” With that, he was walking slowly towards the building.
As he reached the front door he saw a flash of light in the front window. He knocked on the door. “Hey, Vlad. You in there? It’s me, Lonnie,” he yelled.
He could hear sounds from behind the door, like moving heavy furniture followed by swearing in a Russian accent. He smiled. It was his old friend Vlad. Lonnie gave a thumbs-up to the rest of us and held a hand up twice, signaling he needed ten minutes.
Lonnie waited patiently until the front door opened. “Hey, Lonnie. Fucking good to see you,” said Vlad. “Come in quick and help me move this dresser back in front of the door… What’s with all the guys with you?” he asked suspiciously.
“They’re friends of mine. No worries. What’s with the name Beluga?” asked Lonnie.
“It’s fucking just the best Russian vodka on the planet. Should I have called my shop Moscow Guns?”
“I guess not,” agreed Lonnie, laughing.
“It’s fucked up, yes?” asked Vladimir.
“Yeah. It’s a new world now… Listen, Vlad. I need your help. We go way back, right?”
“True. Maybe 15 or 18 years,” replied Vladimir. “You spread the word about my shop with your cop buddies and it helped me get started at the beginning. I d
on’t forget those things. How can I help you, my friend?”
Lonnie sighed. “Vlad, I need more guns and ammo. I’ve got a group I’m responsible for and we need to get to Colorado as quickly and safely as possible to wait this thing out.”
“I’m sure you can guess how it’s been here since the power went off,” sighed Vlad. “I’ve been able to protect my inventory so far, but it’s getting harder every day. They fucked up the rest of the shopping center already.”
Next World Series (Vol. 1): Families First Page 15
