“We overheard what she said,” Mel spoke up, “so I guess that puts us out of the running, huh?”
“We don’t know anything yet,” said Lonnie. “Hang tight,” he added, as we went to meet with Mike and Sheila.
“Mike has something to say to you both,” said Sheila. “Go on, Michael,” she prodded.
“OK, guys. I’m sorry about that earlier. I just panicked. You two know me better than anybody else around here, and I think you both understand I would do anything to protect the children.
“It’s a long story, but back in Brooklyn, years ago, I made a vow to protect any woman or child in need, even if it cost me my own life. I can tell you honestly, I have never broken that vow.
“Now here we are, with two children in need of a place to call home. I’m sure Mel and Tammy would make an excellent home for those two, and I would be happy to see that. Sheila would also make a fine mother, I’m sure. And, well, I am willing to see it through with them both if that’s what needs to happen.”
“Maybe we should give it a few days, with each couple spending some time with the children, and see if the answer gets any clearer,” I suggested to Lonnie.
“It’s not a bad idea at all. Sort of a trial period,” he agreed.
The kids, happy to be anywhere this side of the bridge, agreed to spend the first two days with Mel and Tammy, and the next two with Mike and Sheila.
The four headed back to the tent to get the two small backpacks carrying everything the children owned.
Once feeling comfortable, they told Mike and his girlfriend everything about their old life. It sounded nice until the day the Keeper quickly secured the area, recruiting a few armed men to help with his agenda.
Every story, from the Keeper forward, was worse than the last, and most included little Javi.
“Where is he?” asked Mike, feeling flushed, like when Dan struck Sheila.
“He’s over there,” replied Jonah.
“What I mean is, what does he look like and where does he stay?” asked Mike. “What tent does he sleep in? Is he ever alone?”
“Slow down… What are you getting at?” asked a curious Sheila.
“I’m just asking in case we run into him on the way north,” replied Mike. He got the answers he was looking for from Katie. He played it off in front of Sheila and the kids, but his mind churned as he calculated a plan.
* * * *
“Let’s get you two up the road to Mel and Tammy’s place. They have a house you will like,” said Sheila. “Mike and I will have a house when we get to Colorado. This tent is just temporary.”
“We know,” said Katie, smiling for the very first time.
* * * *
Jim called out over the radios: “The President’s speech is in 30 minutes. All wanting to hear it, come on up.”
Nearly every adult was present, and the children were told to stay inside Beatrice’s house for a while. Her famous no-bake oatmeal cookies were enough to keep them occupied with Suzie and Veronica, both helping make a large batch.
“No-bakes,” as Hudson, Jax and Hendrix called them, were a staple in the Ewing house. The perfect blend of peanut butter, cocoa and rolled oats made them hard to pass up.
“Do you want to hear the speech?” David asked his mother.
“No, son. I have everything I need right here,” she replied, kissing both Veronica and Suzie on the forehead.
At exactly 5:30 p.m., according to Mel’s watch, the announcer came on.
“It is my great honor to give you the President of the United States.”
There was some crackling, followed by a pause.
“My fellow Americans, this is your President. By now, if you are hearing this message, you have either taken our advice and reported to the nearest FEMA shelter in your area or have dug in and found a way to gain this transmission.
“As previously mentioned, we recommend that any citizens of this great country who have not already taken advantage of the safety and convenience of our FEMA facilities, complete with food, electricity, and even hot showers, do so immediately following this broadcast. Everyone is welcome, with no exceptions, for a limited time.
“As far as the aggressor, North Korea, I have decided a regime change would be the most effective military response to such an act of war.
“We have united the countries of North and South Korea once again, with the help of our allies in the Pacific and beyond. South Korea’s President, Park Guen-hye, has been instrumental in the reunion of the north and south. She and I have been in contact daily, as events unfold in the region.
“As previously noted, our allies across the globe have already begun delivering aid by ship to our major ports of call on both the eastern and western coasts.
“Our government has assembled a team of people, both locally and abroad, to start the challenging process of restoring power to the states affected by the outage.
“Listen closely. We need to stay strong as a country now, and I want you to all know that your government is working hard to restore our great nation and return it to its proper status once again as a world leader.
“Progress will be updated as news becomes available. I will address you again using these and additional outlets, as needed.
“Stay vigilant; stay strong. May God bless you and the still United States of America.”
After a pause and static, the announcer returned. “That’s it, folks. Remember to stay tuned to this channel daily for breaking news. Now stay tuned for a note from our sponsors.”
I looked at Jake, and he had the same expression, wondering who could possibly be sponsoring a radio program now.
A semi-familiar jingle started to play, but I couldn’t remember the words.
“If you’re tired, if you’re down, FEMA will turn your life around. Hungry, sweaty, walking for hours, we’ve got both good food and showers. So, let’s hurry, and don’t be late. Get in now before we close the gate.”
The entire jingle was sung in a 1920s style by a woman sounding like Marilyn Monroe.
“Awe, crap,” said Jake. “The worse the song is, the more it gets stuck in my head. This one’s going to be there for a while.”
“Of course!” laughed Lonnie. “Who were we expecting the sponsor to be—some auto dealership or personal injury attorney? I would like to sue the United States government, along with 350 million other Americans, for the mental pain and suffering we have undergone so far,” he joked.
“The interesting thing is that both the President’s speech and the little jingle eluded to a timeline for the FEMA camp admissions,” I interjected.
“Sounds just like they are creating a sense of urgency to conduct a proper census for when the power is restored,” chimed in Mel.
“Bullshit! And pardon my language, ladies. They’re just rounding everyone up, so when China buys the country (if they haven’t already) they will know exactly where to find their new workers,” said Tom, now clearly in the America-has-been-sold camp.
“I guess we’ll find out soon enough, when we check on Vlad,” said Jake.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Ten
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Joy, Tina, Lucy and Lonnie’s wife had been working on a spaghetti dinner for everyone. Nancy had the venison ground with a hand-cranked grinder Beatrice had used for years.
Most of the tomato sauce had been canned by Beatrice and Dean more than a year ago. It was just enough to feed everyone—when stretched with ketchup. Nobody knew… Even Joy, who had come up with the idea, couldn’t taste the difference.
“That’s the last of the tomato sauce,” announced Beatrice.
“Only if you don’t like freeze-dried!” called out Mel.
All cheered, with most not aware of how many provisions Mel actually had tucked away.
* * * *
Mike volunteered himself and Tom for another security night shift.
David didn’t mind, knowing that it would all fall on his shoulders soon
enough.
* * * *
“I was kind of hoping to get some sleep tonight,” said Tom, as they began their shift at 9 p.m.
“Not tonight, buddy,” said Mike. “I’ve got something important to do, and I know I can trust you to keep it secret.”
“Are you going to go spy on those guys again?” Tom asked. “You do know the bridge is out.”
“Yes, and yes,” Mike replied. “There is a young boy named Javi over there, about your little girl’s age, whose mother was taken into slavery. He’s alone and scared and needs to be on this side with us.”
“How is that our responsibility?” asked Tom, yawning.
“It’s not,” replied Mike, pretending he didn’t see the yawn. “It’s just the right thing to do. If it was your little girl, would you want me to go over and see if I could help?”
“Of course,” he replied, “but that’s...” Tom paused for a moment, working something in his head… I guess you’re right, but aren’t you afraid of getting shot?”
“Nah. Everybody dies, but not everybody lives,” Mike said, grinning.
“You really like this danger stuff, don’t you, Mike?” Tom continued.
“I always have…well, at least since I was 14.”
“Fourteen?” replied Tom. “What’s that got to do with it?”
“Everything,” said Mike. “That’s the year I became a man, but that’s probably a story for another time.”
“I’d really like to hear it, unless you’re leaving right now,” Tom replied.
“Nah. I want it to get nice and dark first,” replied Mike. “This is between you and me, though, Tom. You didn’t say anything about me going across the bridge last time, so I’m going to trust you again to keep my business confidential.”
“Of course, Mike,” Tom replied, now excited to hear the story.
Mike relayed a story of his twin brother and how he became a man the summer of his 14th year on earth, sticking up for his brother and best friend, Arthur.
“It’s going to take me about an hour to get over there, since I have to cross the river now. If I’m not back by sun-up, don’t send anybody over looking for me. It would just be a waste of time and energy. Oh, and Tom, no more yawning. And don’t you dare fall asleep on me!”
That last statement from Mike was absolute and sent a chill down Tom’s spine. He wouldn’t be sleeping tonight, maybe not even tomorrow.
With a small daypack, night-vision goggles and his AR-15, Mike made his way down to the river. At the bank, he walked slowly down, looking for a suitable place to cross. He half expected to trip over his old foe, Soldier Number 449, lying somewhere in the thick brush.
His rifle and pack were raised above his head as he carefully traversed the rushing river. He counted four times he was pushed downstream several yards before regaining his footing, never getting a drop of water on his gear.
Mike grinned, getting a flashback of all the sayings he learned on first moving to Texas about not spilling your beer.
He guessed the camp would be in the same place as before, or at least close. Katie had given him a good idea of where Javi may be sleeping, but he knew it could have changed since their escape.
Staying just off the road, he could hear the camp guards bumbling around, shining flashlights in all directions. His first thought was that they had spotted him, but after observing for ten minutes it was obvious they were just trying to look like they knew what they were doing.
Their flashlight pattern appeared random at first but synced up the more he observed. It was a crude security detail, like in the movies when the bad guy times the automatic sweeps of the light perfectly and enters the building undetected.
It was 10 p.m., according to the wristwatch given to him by Mel while on security. He counted four men on security, with one stationed in each direction.
The camp was quieting down, with only a few people walking around and occasionally ducking into the trees near the back border, probably to use the bathroom, he thought.
Thirty minutes later, after all was quiet, the guards grouped up on the west side, passing around a bottle of something. It had to be strong, he thought, because they were daring each other to take more than one drink at a time.
“That’s it, boys,” said Mike in a whisper. “Get drunk and stupid.”
According to Katie’s recollection, there were approximately 20 people, with nearly half being children, and an additional five guards.
Javi was staying in the back tent, on the far east side of the camp, with a few older kids.
Mike slowly made his way over to the tent she had described, being the last one in the row and slightly off-center, due to a large rock stuck in the ground that nobody wanted to sleep on.
He overheard talking coming from several tents, as both adults and children were settling in for the night.
“Stop touching me, Javi,” he heard from the last tent. “But I have to go pee,” the boy replied.
“Just go then, and stop bothering me,” came the voice of clearly an older boy.
“I’m scared to go out by myself,” Javi cried.
“Then you’ll just have to hold it until morning,” came the reply.
The back tent zipper opened slowly, and out came a young boy, shaking as he walked.
“Make sure you go far enough away from the tent,” called the other boy loudly.
“You boys keep it down now,” came an angry voice from one of the drinking guards, “or you’ll get the switch.”
Mike knew all about the switch from his younger days, before his father left them. It was a thin tree branch used for swatting or spanking.
Little Javi walked right past Mike, concealed in a bush, and another ten feet to do his business. He was crying quietly, looking around quickly with every forest sound.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Eleven
Raton Pass, New Mexico
Mike knew he had only two choices, and the easier one would probably backfire.
He could stop the boy and tell him who he was and that he was there to help. It was the easiest of the two possibilities, unless the boy screamed out or ran back to camp. In this scenario, a second attempt tonight, or any other, would be many times more difficult.
Option number two was a hostile and swift abduction to remove him from the immediate area as fast as possible. This option would instill more fear, at least for the short term, and possibly traumatize him in the future.
Turning to head back, little Javi paused as if he felt something was different. Mike still had not decided on an option, with only seconds to make a final decision.
A guard yelled, “Boys, you better shut up!” although Mike heard no more talking from the tent. “That was your last chance!” the guard continued, throwing the bottle he held to the ground with an empty clang.
“Oh, no,” said Javi, as the soldier stormed in his direction.
Sorry, buddy, but option number two is the only way, Mike said to himself, grabbing the boy with one arm and covering his mouth with his other hand.
Javi struggled, kicking his arms and legs and trying to scream, as he was carried at a full run through the trees.
Mike slowed to a walk two hundred yards closer to home and in a low, calm voice said, “Your name is Javier, but you like to be called Javi. Katie and Jonah told me where to find you, and they are waiting to see you again. My name is Mike and I won’t hurt you, but you can’t scream when I take my hand away. OK?”
Javi answered yes by nodding his head.
Mike was prepared for a scream anyway, as he removed his hand slowly from the boy’s mouth.
There was no scream, no speech at all, just the rapid heartbeat and wide-eyed panic of a frightened child.
The river crossing had a typically confident Mike feeling anxious.
“Javi, do you know how to swim?” asked Mike.
The boy shook his head no without saying a word.
Mike briefly considered going the three miles down
stream to cross where they had with the trailers not long ago.
Looking down, he realized he was making tracks in the soft dirt that even a two-year-old could follow.
“Over here!” came shouting from the camp. “Over towards the river!” they called. Three gunshots rang out, with the last one hitting a pine tree just above Mike’s head.
“This is it,” Mike said aloud. “Sorry, kid, but we have no choice now,” jumping into the rushing water. Raising the boy and his rifle over his head, he didn’t worry about his pack getting wet.
Next World Series (Vol. 3): Families First [Second Wind] Page 13
