Cory Lerner, Chief of Police, Loveland, Colorado.
Piggybacking down the mountain, they got all the four-wheelers back to the Ranch.
Mac informed Sarah first about Jimmy, and she readied the hospital, gathering the other doctors and nurses, awaiting the arrival of their newest patient.
Mac briefed John, Bill and Samuel as he headed to the hospital. Helping to get a now-unconscious Jimmy on to the gurney, he was politely asked by Sarah to stay outside.
“We can’t have any distractions inside,” she told him.
Mac paced nervously, now regretting the entire plan Jimmy had engineered. This is my issue, he thought, and people I care about are getting hurt over it.
Mac had never prayed much throughout his life, but he did today. He prayed for Jimmy’s recovery and thanked God for bringing Sarah back to him.
Cory met Mac outside the front of the hospital, filling him in on the Miller boy’s death and his offer for a meeting.
“We can do that,” said Mac. “But remember we’re a team here, and we discuss things like this before executing the plan.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t think about that. I’m used to giving orders, and I realize things are different now,” replied Cory.
“We need to stake out the meet spot early tomorrow morning, in case he shows,” added Mac.
“And one last thing. I want to talk to him face-to-face if he comes.”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Three
Weston, Colorado
James and Jason each rode a four-wheeler, with Jason’s leg nearly healed up, the 30 miles to the Raton Pass Militia’s property.
The machines easily navigated the fire roads bypassing the former Keepers group, dropping down the back of the mountain.
* * * *
Arrival was approximately 9 a.m., just as the groups were finishing the morning chores.
Lance had the promised weapons already set aside for James, so the transfer was merely a formality.
James informed David about his new position as Mayor of Weston and spoke openly to his old friend about Sheriff Johnson and Judge Lowry, leaving few details out.
Mel was excited to meet James, as he had heard of James’ greenhouses that kept producing through all four seasons, including the dead of winter.
After a nearly three-hour training, David and Mel felt confident in executing a plan for three greenhouses to be built over the next two months, with execution being near the top of priorities for the group.
Each would house different types of producing plants and small trees that complemented each other. When complete, the three inside gardens would produce enough food to feed 50 people year-round, with heirloom seeds being reused season after season.
Protein would now be high priority, including deer, elk, fish, and small game such as rabbits, squirrels and muskrats. Thanks to Tom Jones shooting three turkeys just days before, the group had been eating well, at least for a couple of days.
Adding Mel’s provisions, including enough freeze-dried foods for a small army, canned goods that could fill a corner market, and enough pasta to last years, they were well set to wait out the next-world.
There was only one problem, as James pointed out. Could they secure it?
Two shots rang out in the distance towards the former Keepers group and their claimed property.
“What’s going on over there?” Mel asked David.
“Well, they are either just hunting for food, or they have another new leader,” he replied.
“I’m just glad Jason and I are headed the opposite way back home,” said James, “and it’s about time to head back.”
James pulled his old friend David aside and told him of his growing family. “We may end up out on the road at some point if things get bad in town,” he added.
“Can we look you up if it comes down to it?” asked James directly. “I have a growing family now and need a backup plan or two.”
“Yes, I understand, as my own family officially doubled only one day ago,” replied David. “And if your partners decide to expand the town another 30 miles, please let us know so we can be ready.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” replied James.
“Crack! Crack! Crack” came five shots in succession, each four seconds apart, from the old Keeper’s side of the mountain.
Everyone ducked, including David and James, with no bullets coming their direction.
“That’s not a hunter!” said David, “and I sure hope it’s not what I think it is!”
“What are you thinking?” asked Mel.
“New leaders of violent groups have been known to show their power right away by killing multiple people who don’t agree with them, execution-style. I think they have a new leader over there now, and they’re not the kind of neighbors we want on our border,” replied David solemnly.
“You want us to stick around for a few hours?” asked James.
“No,” replied David. “I think this is going to be a slow build over days, or even weeks. The plans to get our guests back out to the highway safely may have to be changed, though.”
“All right,” replied James,” but get us on the radio if you need help down the road.”
“We will do that,” said David, seeing them off.
* * * *
I met with Lonnie, Jake, Steve, Jim, and even Mike came out for a rare visit.
We had all heard the shots and agreed something had changed in the direction we would need to head through to get back to the highway in the next couple of days.
There was an old man in the valley that David and Mel had spoken to before, wanting nothing to do with the group. No one had seen a visitor at his place in years. However, he was known to nearly everyone in the area as a true mountain man.
The old man approached the camp cautiously and caught David’s eye. “What’s with all these people and the shooting?” he asked. “I like peace and quiet around my homestead.”
“These are our friends from Texas, heading to Northern Colorado,” David told him, gesturing with a sweeping right arm. “The shots, though, came from across those trees,” he told the old man.
“Well, who’s going over there to see what’s going on?” the old man asked.
“That’s a good question,” answered David. “I don’t know.”
“Well, hell,” said the old man. “I guess I ought to do it. I know damn near everyone on this mountain, and it looks like you all have little ones running around that you need to protect. I’m just one old fart headed to the other side of the sky, if it goes bad,” he added. “I’ll check it out, and if I don’t come back, look after my dog, will ya? She’s getting on in years, but she’s a sweet old pug named Daisy. I’m sure the little ones would like her, at least. Anything you all want to know? You may only get one chance at this, and if I don’t come back, then you will surely know what you are in for.”
“Thank you for doing this. And yes, there are a few things we would like to know,” replied David.
“1. What were the seven shots we heard earlier today?
“2. Who is the current leader of the group?
“3. Do our friends here still have safe passage out to the highway in a couple of days?
“4. How will we interact as neighbors moving forward?
“5. Will they respect our property line, starting just this side of the bridge, for the foreseeable future?”
“I’ll do my best to get answers,” the old man replied. “But in the end, we’re all up here together, trying to weather the storm.”
The old man headed toward the trees and the bridge. Walking cautiously, he took a rabbit with one shot on David’s property. Stringing the nearly 4-pounder on his left hip, he not only had dinner but a believable guise of a rabbit hunter out for some food.
He was stopped near the end of the bridge by five men armed with semi-automatic weapons of varying makes and calibers, as near as he could tell.
“State your business, old-timer,
” announced the lead man.
“I’m just an old man, and I’ve lived just yonder for more than 40 years. I know just about everybody up here, so how is it I don’t know you?” he asked.
The man laughed, saying, “You have no idea who we are? If you have been anywhere close to a radio, you would know we’re from Topeka, Kansas, and this is the halfway point on our journey north into Colorado.”
“What’s in Colorado?” asked the old-timer.
“Our founder’s hometown in Fort Col…” His radio chirped with instructions to leave the old man and return to base.
They told him to stay while they summoned their leader. Calling on a ham radio, they got hold of their superiors after several attempts.
“It’s the Northern Scouts,” he said. “Soldier number 459 reporting from Raton Pass, New Mexico. We have secured a post and 23 loyal followers, with seven deciding to go another way.
We also have an old man coming from the direction of land controlled by an outfit locally known as the Raton Pass Militia, and final numbers are unknown at this time.”
After an interrogation of the old man, he was of no help gathering more information on David and his group.
“Back the way you came, old-timer,” he commanded.
We all had questions for him as he returned.
“It’s as bad as you are thinking,” started the old man. “They kill all those who don’t join them…well, except for me!” he laughed. “They probably thought I would slow them down.
You folks ever hear of an outfit out of Kansas?”
“I’m guessing you mean Topeka?” I asked.
“Yep, that’s the one. Said they were headed to some fort in Colorado.”
“What fort?” asked Jake.
“Something with a k or c. He started to say but got interrupted. Said their founder was from there.”
“I hope it’s Fort Carson, in Colorado Springs, and not Fort Collins, right past Loveland,” I interjected.
Jim and Mark both got on the radios, hoping to learn more about the group from Topeka.
“They got here quicker than I thought,” said Jim, remembering when we listened to the program back in McKinney.
“Well, it’s about the same distance from Topeka to here as it is from McKinney,” I pointed out. “I don’t think their whole group is here yet…just some scouts, I bet.”
“We need a plan,” said David, “before they get here and we’re outnumbered 100 to one.”
“Where are they at now?” I asked the old man.
“About a mile and a half beyond the bridge. They’ve got some sort of camp set up, looks like.”
I called a meeting of the adults, with serious questions for David and Mel.
“I know of three ways into this property,” I started. “First, the fire road at the back that James and Jason came in on today. Second, the across-the-river route. And third, the bridge. One is easy to navigate, and the other two are not.”
“No, no, no. Not so fast,” said David, jumping up from a sitting position.
“It may be the only way,” chimed in Joy.
“She is right, and we don’t have a choice,” added Tina.
“Hold on a second,” called Mark, confused. “What are we talking about here, Dad?”
“They think we should blow the bridge,” he replied, shaking his head back and forth.
“I don’t see a way around it,” said Jake. “If it’s open, there may be a thousand Topeka city-folk-turned-fanatic-soldiers on this property in the next week. There are still two ways in and out, but the path of least resistance will be gone,” he added.
“I’m not saying I’m in yet, but if we decided to, do you have any experience in demo?” David asked a smiling Mel.
“It just happens to be one of my specialties. I’ve literally been doing it for 20 years,” Mel responded.
“I’ll need a night to sleep on it,” said David. “Once it’s done, there’s no going back. In the meantime, we need security on our side of the bridge tonight.”
“I’ll head that up,” said Lonnie. “Can you help me, Mike?” he asked.
“Sure thing,” Mike replied. “I’ve been bored lately and could use a change of pace.”
“Take a couple of our guys and trade off shifts,” said David.
Jake, David, Mel and I met briefly before dinner was served.
“I’m not all in on this yet,” said David, “but I can see the point of it. Their group is headed somewhere else past here is all we know.
“I’m guessing they send scouting groups ahead to see what they are in for and to pillage supplies for their growing group. They will hopefully take the path of least resistance and move on towards their destination if we let them. Do you have a plan, Mel, if we decide to do it?”
“Yes, my friend. I still haven’t shown you everything I have. I’m pretty sure we could take out our end of the bridge, and that’s really all we need.”
With Lonnie, Mike, and a couple more security on the bridge, they called it a night.
David stayed with Tina and the girls in their tent, not wanting to be indoors if he were needed quickly. Their first night together was anything but perfect. He worried about the group and dreamt of dark things.
All was quiet on the bridge, as men swapped shifts at four-hour intervals.
Mel was up for most of the night, with Tammy asking him to come to bed every hour.
“I’m sorry, honey, but I have to do this. He doesn’t know it yet, but David is counting on me to figure out how to protect our group and provisions.”
Mel had two ideas for a bridge collapse.
One of the cables had already snapped on Jake’s trailer when crossing and had done damage to the bridge. There were five more securing this side and, once compromised, would drop the rest of the bridge into the river below, making a crossing impossible.
The other option was dynamite. Fast and effective, but far more dangerous than cutting wires.
Mel vowed to present both plans to David and the rest of both groups in the morning.
At 3 a.m., Mike and Tom Jones took a shift watching the bridge.
With Lonnie gone until morning, Mike told Tom to cover him as he slowly crossed the bridge.
One step at a time, Mike made the crossing.
He told Tom he was only going to do some recon on the bridge but, at the other end, he kept going.
Carrying his AR-15 and Glock 17 pistol and walking a little more than a mile, he was ready for a fight.
Around 3:40, he found the group camping haphazardly across an open field on the side of the road. Most had tents, but a few slept on the open ground. Two old military jeeps were parked towards the back.
Mike counted 23 tents, with another 8 people sleeping on the ground. The tents were a jumble of shapes and sizes. Three were army green and appeared to be canvas, all lined in a row at the front.
They all looked gray in Mike’s night-vision goggles, but the shapes identified the new leader’s quarters. His night goggles were worth their weight in gold this night.
Slowly creeping to the three soldiers’ tents, Mike quietly dug into the small daypack he nearly always carried.
Next to the pistols, ammo, toilet paper, and Imodium was a roll of 12-lb. fishing line. Cutting ten small pieces with his Buck cadet pocket knife that he had carried every day since his eighth birthday, he snuck up on the lead tents.
Tying the pull tabs on the tent zippers in front and back of each tent, he froze, seeing the young girl of maybe 13 years staring at him in the dark.
She walked slowly towards him, careful to not make a sound. He could see she was unarmed, and against his better judgment froze while she advanced the ten yards towards him. Putting her mouth to his left ear, she whispered “Take us with you.”
“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” Mike whispered back.
“You’re a coward,” she said, shaking her head side to side, “just like the rest of them.” With that, she walked back toward he
r tent without looking back.
Mike had been called a lot of things in his life, but never a coward.
He slipped away quietly and could hear the faint barking of Ringo and Mini back towards the compound.
Mike observed the sleeping outfit for another 20 minutes and was surprised they had no night security.
Next World Series (Vol. 3): Families First [Second Wind] Page 4
