“Hey, guys!” Ron bellowed. He was a lean man with a perpetual beard-ballcap-sunglasses ensemble, and had been a military man for most of his life. The dune buggy was his. “So the place hasn’t burned down yet, huh?”
McLean shook his hand, and JD patted him on the back. “Everything’s been quiet here, Ron. Good to see you, Brad. We can put you to work right away!”
Brad was a hefty man who wore tan coveralls. He grinned and pointed to a large toolbag in the back of the vehicle. “Just point me to whatever needs fixing.” Brad was a mechanic with a variety of useful skills who had joined the group relatively recently.
“What took you guys so long?” DJ asked after everybody had greeted the newcomers and introduced them to Carrie.
Ron shrugged. “Well, I got into a little fight. And then I got involved with some National Guard guys that were trying to go toe to toe with the terrorists. They got into a pissing match and ended up retreating to the highway and just cordoning off the valley. So after a couple weeks of that I finally decided to load up and get out. Halfway here I found this dude hiking along the road.”
Brad nodded. “I actually left the day after it all went down, but I decided to go by my brother’s place in Parker to see how he and his family were faring. I stayed with them for several days and then lit out for the forest, but alone and on foot it was slow going. I had to circle wide around the city to avoid the army, and I actually had to backtrack for three miles at one point to avoid a roadblock on the highway. Finally Ron found me and I was grateful for the ride, let me tell ya.”
Ron got a sober look on his face. “Things are ugly down there, you guys. I don’t know how long you all have been up here, but this is way worse than we ever planned for. The city’s still in chaos, and the army was at a dead standstill when we left.
“I don’t know where those badguys came from or what they think they’re going to accomplish. Seems like nobody knows. But with the grid down and the government cut off, there’s no telling when the military is going to be able to get into the city. It’s like the terrorists have recruited every thug and lowlife in Denver. The civilians are living in fear, and it only takes one of those guys in black with a rifle to come by and everybody cowers. They just shoot anybody that stands up to them, and even the biggest neighborhood groups are falling apart now that water and ammunition are running low.”
He walked over to the back of the dune buggy and opened up a large wooden chest. “Tell you what, though. If they come our way, we’ll be all right. Check this out.”
The others gathered around and peered into the chest. It was full of 5.56mm ammunition boxes, and two bundles of M-16 rifles were wrapped in canvas near it. There was even a small case of hand grenades.
“Whoa. Where did this come from?” JD asked.
“The armory. What was left of it when I got there, anyway.”
McLean whistled. “These aren’t going to be traced back to us, are they?”
Ron shook his head. “Nobody left to trace ‘em. And for another thing, the entire building they were in burned down. Not my doing; I just rescued ‘em before they got cooked. There was a lot of other good stuff in there that I didn’t have time to get. But no, nobody’s going to trace them. They’re ours now.”
The two recent arrivals were welcomed inside to rest while the others put away the dune buggy and gear they had brought. Ron assured everyone that they hadn’t been followed. A few people had tried to stop him en route, but he’d blown past them in the dune buggy without any pursuers. Nevertheless, he wanted to get right to work setting up a sturdier perimeter with observation posts and concentric rings of defenses around the ranch.
The group’s ranks were finally filling out, and their capabilities increased to the levels needed to support long-term survival in the mountains. With ten people and a skillset that ranged from medical to farming to machinery and tactics, they were now a force to be reckoned with. The morale of the group began to rise with their prospects, and their thoughts began to turn outward toward the people and places they’d left behind.
Chapter 3 : Taking Off
The men were all hard at work on the house extension, the garden (which was now more of a tiny farm, with multiple fields spanning an acre and a half), and the security features Ron had master-minded. DJ, now off his crutches but still in a splint-stiffened boot, was helping Ron with some barbed wire. Maria was weeding, Stephanie was spraying the goats for flies.
Carrie finished a few chores around the house and yard, helped Maria for a while, and stood around looking for a way to be useful in the construction work. But after a while she got impatient.
She knew by experience that if she wasn’t busy when lunchtime rolled around, someone would ask her to fix the meal for the group. Not because she was good at it (she wasn’t) or because she was expected to be everyone’s mom (the men took turns too), but it just made more sense for those that were hard at work on important projects to keep going. Carrie didn’t mind at first, but after several weeks of picking up the slack here and there, she was starting to feel like a cabin boy. She knew she was welcome, of course, and well-liked. But she wasn’t part of their pre-arranged plans and roles, and it was frustrating to watch the others happily going about their business when she didn’t have any real business she could own.
So she went inside and dressed in a heavier pair of pants, a jacket, and buckled on her Beretta. She put water and dried fruit in a backpack along with some matches, some extra clothing, a large pocket knife, and one of the hand-held radios. She spent a few minutes studying a map of the area and then stuffed it in the pack as well. Then she went back out to the construction site on the side of the house.
“I’m going to Crested Butte,” she remarked loudly. DJ was the only one who heard her over the noise of JD’s hammering and singing, so she shouted it louder. “I’m going to Crested Butte. I’ll be back by nightfall.”
That got everyone’s attention, and the singing stopped. McLean stared back at her, saw in hand. “Why? What do you need to go there for?”
“We still haven’t been able to raise a soul on the radio,” Carrie said. “I want to know what other people are doing. DJ and I have been planning ways to get some information, and Crested Butte is the nearest place where news might have spread. Even if nobody there knows anything, it will still be important for us to find out who’s living there and what they’re up to. In case we need to trade or help each other out.”
McLean put down his saw and stepped over a pile of lumber. “That’s true. But it could be dangerous, you can’t just go traipsing into town. We aren’t ready--”
“I’m ready,” Carrie explained, “and I’ve thought it through. I’ll stick to the back woods until I get near, then crawl up to a lookout point where I can hide and observe the town for a while. If all’s clear and there are no overt threats, I’ll pick out an outlying home or business where I can talk to somebody one-on-one and get the lowdown. Then I’ll come back, and we can decide to go down as a group later on to trade or talk.”
“Okay, that’s a pretty good plan,” McLean admitted, “but any number of things could go wrong and you’d have no backup. We’ve got to get this add-on built before snow comes, and--”
“I’m not asking for backup. I don’t need a babysitter. I’ve done this a couple times, and I’ll be fine.”
“Not as far as Crested Butte,” McLean pointed out. “Not into a populated area.”
“I’m not scared of people. And we can’t go on in total ignorance of what’s going on outside this valley.”
Carrie was putting her foot down, and McLean could see the determination in her eyes. No one else was dissenting, and he didn’t want to be the authoritarian. He put up his hands. “Look, you’re a free woman. Free to take risks. But there’s strength in numbers, which you won’t have if you run into trouble. It might be better to wait until a group of us can go.”
Carrie shook her head. “A group would be slower and easier to spot. I
marked a route on my map that doesn’t go near any other cabins or roads until just outside of Crested Butte. I’ll be unseen until I choose to talk to someone, and I’ll make sure I’m not followed back.”
McLean shrugged. “Okay. Copy the route onto the map on the kitchen wall, will you? So we know where to come looking for you?”
Carrie nodded. “Sure thing. But I promise you won’t have to.”
When Carrie got back from marking the other map, the others were all back at work. McLean came over and hefted her pack.
“You have everything you need?” he asked.
“Yes, I do. Like I said, I’ll be back before nightfall. Or not long after.”
“Unless you break a leg.”
“I’m not going to be rock-climbing,” Carrie complained. “Remember, it was me that got DJ patched up when he sprained his ankle. I can take care of myself, McLean.”
McLean hugged her fiercely, and Carrie hugged him back after getting over her surprise.
“I know you can,” he said. “I just… I want you to come back safe. Promise me you’ll turn back if you see any danger.”
Carrie looked up at the tall man, now sporting the cowboy hat he always wore around the ranch. “If there’s anything I can’t handle, I will,” she said, making it clear in her tone that she couldn’t imagine anything of the kind.
“Carrie!” McLean warned, raising his eyebrows. “Listen to me. This is not a recreational day-hike. There are dangerous people out there, and there aren’t any forest rangers or helicopters any more. If you get lost, injured, attacked--”
Carrie cut off the diatribe. “How about a little slack in the chain, McLean? Okay? I’m tired of feeling useless around here. There’s nothing tying me down like there is for the rest of you. I can do this, so let me.”
McLean frowned. “It’s not that I want some kind of hold over you. I just… it’s more that you have a hold over me, I guess.” He started to move toward her again, but then thought better of it. “Just come back safe.” he added.
Carrie tightened the straps on her pack and nodded. Then she turned and walked off down the dirt road, past the Hendricksons’ place, and out of sight.
McLean watched her go for a moment, then got back to work. But for the next few hours he was quieter than usual, and the others left him alone. Even JD refrained from making any inane comments. If they’d been able to see Carrie’s face as she left the ranch, they’d have seen that she too had grown very thoughtful.
Chapter 4 : Solo Journey
The first six miles were uneventful. It was a clear day, a few degrees cooler than when Carrie had traveled overland to the ranch with the others. She saw a hawk circling overhead, and it seemed to follow her for some time. She imagined it curiously gazing down at her from its birds-eye view, wondering where she was headed and whether she’d scare up anything for it to kill and eat.
That reminded her of the drone they’d spotted in the skies over Breckenridge, and she kept an eye and an ear out for any other aircraft. But there was nothing, and she soon got into thick brush that kept her focused on the ground at her feet so she wouldn’t trip or tear her clothes on the blackberry whips, which were beginning to lose their leaves but not their thorns.
She came to an extensive blackberry patch with some berries left, and stopped to eat a few. Then she heard a grunt.
Her first thought was, bizarrely, that it sounded like a rhinoceros. The dark, fuzzy shape that rose out of the brambles several yards away was not quite as big as a rhino, but it was just as alarming. It was a young black bear also enjoying a snack, and it had reared up on its hind legs to get a good look at her. The added height made it twice as intimidating, and Carrie froze, physically unable to go for her gun.
The bear whoofed and grunted again, then dropped to all fours, where it was out of site again behind the thicket. Carrie had to decide instantly whether she ought to run for it and put some distance between her and the bear, or slowly back away and prepare herself for a possible fight. She opted for the latter, thinking clearly enough to realize that running wouldn’t do any good and might just attract the bear’s interest.
She moved slowly and cautiously backward, facing the bear’s blackberry patch and keeping her senses on high alert. With her right hand she pulled her gun out and took the safety off, and with the other she picked up a large stick that was underfoot. It wouldn’t do any damage, but she thought it might help dissuade the creature from attacking if it came to that.
But it didn’t come to that. She never saw the bear again. It went its way and Carrie went hers. After twenty more minutes of hiking around the area, she relaxed and even chuckled to herself. She put her gun away and dropped the stick in favor of a longer, heftier one that would actually be useful whether or not she encountered more wildlife.
As she went on her way she felt lucky, but also a tiny bit disappointed that the encounter had ended so anticlimactically. “I ran into a bear, but I just walked around him” wouldn’t make as good a story as if she’d had to run or fight for her life. That made her wonder what she was trying to prove with this solo excursion.
Hadn’t she come through the mountains, and even been the one to save the horses when it really counted? She didn’t need to become Rambo just so McLean and the others would accept her-- they had accepted her from the start. But whether they did or not didn’t affect her personally. She was Carrie; wasn’t that good enough?
“I’m Carrie!” she said, with belligerent inflection. It came out louder than she had intended, and
she stopped, afraid someone would hear. Then the absurdity of that fear made her laugh. Who was out here to notice, except for the bear? She let loose, bellowing with laughter and figuring the bear would steer well away from a crazy laughing woman.
She trudged on, stopping to rest only once in ten miles. She was in good shape, better now than the previous month, and she’d paid attention to the terrain when setting her route. She kept off roads but didn’t try to climb steep slopes or cut across difficult ravines. By the time the sun was halfway on its descent to the horizon, she arrived at an overlook that gave her a view of the small valley that Crested Butte occupied.
The little town’s heart lay below in a neat grid, with streets and homes and a few stores clustered in the center with additional homes sprawling around the edges. Carrie lay on her stomach taking it all in, watching for movement.
Cars would have been easy to spot moving around the town, but at this distance she had to work to pick out the people standing, sitting, and walking below. Some were in their yards, gardening or repairing something, or just playing. Two kids on bikes rolled up and down the street freely, a good sign. A cluster of women had gathered in one backyard to wash clothes together, and were obviously deep in conversation. Carrie suddenly felt a pang of envy and longed for such social connection. She nearly jumped up to join them.
Then she saw a man in a uniform patrolling the street one block over. He carried a shotgun and had a dog with him. Now that her eyes were keyed in on guns, she spotted another man with a deer rifle standing near an intersection, and a woman walking out of a building in the heart of town with a pistol strapped to the hip of her jeans.
A roadblock had been set up on the south side of the town where a road came in. Two teenagers were sitting behind it. Carrie traced the streets with her eyes until she spotted another similar barricade on the opposite side of the town. As she watched, a man with an AR-model rifle approached to speak to them for a moment, nodded, and left.
It seemed that not all was as idyllic in this mountain village as she’d first assumed. She wondered what the town’s residents had seen, what they’d faced so far that made them lock down the streets and break out the guns. She didn’t relish the idea of being on the business end of one of those barricades, with all the gun-toting men in town rushing toward her full of suspicion. But did want to get down there and find someone to talk to.
She scanned the edges, looking for a house she cou
ld approach without alerting the armed patrolmen to her presence. There were plenty of houses outside the guarded perimeter, but they appeared mostly empty. One was even burned out, with blackened walls and a section of roof missing. An old man sat in the yard of one run-down home, spitting wads of tobacco and kicking at a dog that was chained to his chair. Carrie decided against that one.
That left one cottage that had smoke coming from its chimney. She couldn’t see who was inside, which made it very risky. But she was getting restless and couldn’t afford to stay on the ridge until the sun went down.
She got up and moved down the hillside through the trees, circling toward the house she’d picked out, hoping to get close enough to see who was inside before knocking. She had to cross an open road to get into more trees, which she accomplished without being seen after waiting to make sure no one was coming.
Slinking along a quiet dirt road on which several houses sat empty, Carrie approached the house with the smoking chimney. From the cover of a few trees she peered into a side window that didn’t have shades drawn, but could see only the foot of a bed. She reached up to grasp a thick branch and pulled herself up into the tree she was using for cover. From this height she could see someone lying in the bed. It looked like a teenaged boy reading a book. Nothing else in the house seemed to be moving.
Something wasn’t right. Carrie sensed that she was missing something. Why would a boy be lying alone in an unprotected house in the middle of the day? Was he some kind of outcast? Had the townspeople banished him?
Then it hit her: he was in quarantine. He must have had a contagious disease, and a very serious one if the townspeople wouldn’t even let him stay within their defensive perimeter. Of course, without access to a working hospital or a constantly-restocked pharmacy even a flu could turn deadly now.
Carrie waited and watched, figuring that the boy couldn’t be left alone forever. Sooner or later someone would come to check on him, and she’d be able to speak with that person safely.
Take Back Denver Page 2
