Take Back Denver

by Algor X. Dennison

  “Some guy came up this way with a booklet he’d gotten from them,” the man replied. “It was full of reasons why America needs to be reformed, why the Constitution and all our former rights and laws can’t be depended on anymore. Bunch of trash, if you ask me. There are those of us that are willing to fight for our rights to our dying breath.” There was a dangerous glint in his eye as he said this. “How about you folks? I see guns, horses, and a cowboy hat. Are you the type to stand up for America?”

  McLean and his friends glanced at each other again, unsure how to take the man’s bold words. “Absolutely,” McLean replied. “I can’t agree with much of what the government has done, or not done, over the past several years. But I believe in every line of the Constitution.”

  The others nodded, and the old man grunted his approval. “Well, there’s a militia movement making preparations to repel any invasion from the south or east. It’s loosely organized and I couldn’t give any details about it, but you may find yourselves in the middle of it if you stick around these parts for long.”

  They took their leave of the man, thanking him for the information and exiting his land as quickly as possible. As they rode straight north, they pondered what they’d heard.

  “If any of that’s legit, it could explain a lot,” Brad said.

  “And it could spell an awful lot of trouble brewing,” McLean said. “Maybe whoever brought the country to its knees had more in mind than just a reboot. Maybe they wanted to be the new kings.”

  “Bring it on,” Ron retorted. “If they want a fight, they’ll find a big one here in the West.”

  “It could just be an upstart group,” Rory said. “Somebody filling the power vacuum. Happens all the time in the Middle East and Africa. And throughout history.”

  “I dunno, he said they have trucks and communications,” Brad argued. “Like they knew how and when to shield it so they could bring it out after everyone else went dark.”

  “Somebody somewhere did it on purpose,” McLean said. “We know that much. This was no solar flare, and those gunmen in the city were either organized or at least tipped off by someone. Could be these anti-Constitutionalists were behind it, could be they’re being used by whoever was behind it. Or, like Rory says, maybe they’re just acting alone. But no matter what, I don’t like the sound of them. I don’t want an oppressive, un-American regime to come in here and fill the vacuum.”

  Ron spat on the ground. “Maybe we should take a detour to the south. Find out who those bastards are, and see if we need to teach them a lesson.”

  McLean shook his head. “I know you’re spoiling for a fight, Ron. But four men just aren’t going to take on an organized force with trucks and radios. Not out here, anyway, in their home court. Besides, Rory still has to get into Denver, and the city is a lot bigger of a problem than Colorado Springs is, and a lot more important to regional stability.

  “Here’s what I’m thinking. You two go on with Rory, get into Denver and see what you can find. I’ll go south from here, get the lay of the land around Colorado Springs, and we’ll meet up on the way back to the ranch in a week or so.”

  Brad and Rory liked the sound of this, but Ron grumbled. “I should come with you, McLean. You might need a backup gun.”

  “Nope. That’s part of why it makes sense for you to go to Denver,” McLean explained. “No offense, but if I take you south, the chances of getting into a firefight triple. I can go unnoticed a lot more easily if it’s just me, and you know Denver better than Brad or Rory. You need to keep them on track and out of the danger areas. And obviously if it comes to it, they’re more likely to get through a tight spot with you at the trigger. If I get into a tight spot down south, it will be an all-out run for it, not a shoot-out. I have no intention of going up against soldiers.”

  Ron finally agreed, and they split the group again, McLean turning south on his solitary journey to Colorado Springs and sticking to the foothills of the Rampart Range. Ron and the others left their two horses hobbled near a small lake in Roxborough State Park, and after making sure no one was in the area they crept into the southern suburbs of the city on foot.

  What they found was not at all encouraging.

  The outer neighborhoods were either empty, barren ruins with a few grimy-faced kids and dogs picking through the rubble, or they were hostile. When they stumbled onto one street that had skulls spray-painted all over, the three intruders were told in no uncertain terms by a punk in a leather jacket to keep moving.

  No one seemed to want to talk to them, so their questions went unanswered as the three men made their way past a subdivision that was almost entirely burned down and got deeper into the city. There was a roadblock with razorwire stretching the width of one major street, but no one was manning it. In one empty corner lot that a gas station used to occupy, several buzzards were feeding on something mangled and unrecognizable. Two lean men were hungrily eyeing the birds and talking in hushed tones, but didn’t seem eager to go after them.

  The three interlopers moved into some looted buildings and got several more blocks northeast without being challenged. Here they finally they began to encounter some people and dwellings that looked like they had weathered the storm a little better. There was one house that even had a sign out front saying “Welcome, take what you need-- PEACE!”. A variety of items were arranged in the yard, from garden hoses and buckets to blankets and a mattress or two. No one was around, though, and the items looked well picked-over.

  Three hours after they had left McLean, they penetrated eastward into Centennial. There they found mostly peaceful but guarded neighborhoods. Few people were out on the streets, and those that were eyed the three newcomers suspiciously. A skinny kid approached them to beg, but Ron told him to get lost.

  “We’re not here to build good will or give out charity,” he told the others. “Give one kid a shiny gum wrapper and we’ll be surrounded by a crowd of them in minutes.”

  Brad expressed interest in going out to Parker to see his brother, but agreed to stick to Rory’s quest for the moment. They would see the people they knew if they had time later on. At the moment they had to find their way along Cherry Creek to the home Rory knew his ex-wife had been living in.

  Finally they turned onto the street Rory said would take them to their destination. But it wasn’t going to be as simple as walking through the neighborhoods to the right house. They faced a newly erected wall made from packing crates and reinforced with a sheet metal and cinderblocks. It stretched all the way across the street between two homes that looked abandoned. One section, too small to fit a car through, had a wrought-iron gate attached, obviously procured from elsewhere and fastened into place with wire. There were several armed men standing inside, and Ron noticed at least one AR-15 rifle.

  “Who goes there?” one of them shouted through the bars while Ron, Rory, and Brad were still half a block away.

  “Just a few good men heading northeast of here,” Brad called back.

  “Well, if you plan on going through here you’ll have to surrender those guns and keep your hands in the air,” the guard called back. “We won’t stand for any more tricks from anybody. I mean it! We’re shooting to kill now, so don’t make any sudden moves.”

  Ron shook his head, grimacing at Rory’s stricken expression. “Can you believe these guys?”

  “Hey, we’re not trying to mess with anybody. We’re trying to find his ex-wife,” Brad shouted back, pointed at Rory. “Can we get through to twelve-eleven Eastborn from here?”

  There was some private talk at the gate and then the guard called back, “Send one guy over here, unarmed, and we’ll chat. The other two just stay where you are, please.”

  Rory put down his weapon and walked to the gate, showing his empty hands. After a few minutes he came back and told Ron and Brad what he’d learned. “They said they have most of this area locked down and will only allow us through unarmed. But the block where Tiffany lives is inside of the no man’s land sandwich
ed between these guys and their rivals to the north, who have been raiding their gardens and eating their dogs and whatnot. It’s not going to be easy getting through.”

  Ron spat on the pavement. “Especially without any way to defend ourselves. No way am I going in there gun-naked.”

  Brad agreed. “I’m sorry, man. Isn’t there any other way in?”

  “Not from what they said,” Rory replied. “They have patrolled walls and fences up between here and Gem Street, over to Paisley Avenue. And the territory beyond that is run by these rivals, who they say are really rough customers and won’t ask nicely for our guns.” He paused and then added, “None of them have heard of Tiffany. They said there aren’t many women of her age and description in this part of town, either, and they think it’s unlikely she’s even around any more.”

  Brad and Ron were silent.

  “Look, guys, I have to do this,” Rory finally said. “I have to go in there and see what’s left, if there’s any trail of Tiffany’s whereabouts. I don’t expect you to go any farther with me. You’ve both been more than generous, and good friends. But this is where we’ll have to part ways.”

  Ron nodded. “If that’s the way you want it.”

  Brad and Ron shook hands with Rory, and Rory handed Ron his weapons.

  “If you make it back our way, check in at Crested Butte,” Brad told Rory. “They can put you in contact with one of us, and we can come guide you in to the ranch.”

  “Yeah, we’d love to have you any time,” Ron added.

  “Okay. Thanks for everything, guys,” Rory told them. “Until then!”

  He sauntered over to the gate, feeling strangely unencumbered after so long carrying a gun. The guards let him through and soon he was out of sight. Ron and Brad turned to go, wondering what Rory’s fate might be.

  Chapter 10 : Gloves Off

  At the ranch, DJ was starting to get quite a lot out of the radio. He was now plugged in to a fledgling ham network that was growing more robust by the day, thanks to his efforts to coordinate the installation of new stations in towns all along the Intermountain West. Most of the existing radio communications infrastructure had been lost to the EMP, but now it was starting to come back bit by bit in the towns around the region including Crested Butte.

  After one particularly productive conversation he came rushing into the dining room where those that remained at the ranch were eating lunch. “You guys, this is huge. Are you ready for this? Two old geezers I’m talking to in La Junta are saying that an army rolled through there a couple weeks back. They’ve only just managed to get a radio pole up again after the army made them take it down. They disguised it this time with some trees, running their wires within a grove that hides it all visually but doesn’t block the signal. I think we might need to do the same at some point, except all we have up here is these pines. I wonder if--”

  JD stopped him. “Wait, wait. DJ, we don’t care about the radio trees. Did you just say an army is in La Junta?”

  “No, it passed La Junta. It’s in Colorado Springs now. They’ve set up a permanent camp there, with a prison and a fuel depot and everything. They have generators, working trucks, radios, the works!”

  “Well, are they here to help?” Gordo wanted to know. “Are they getting things running again?”

  DJ shook his head. “Apparently not. Keep in mind that these La Junta guys are just as much into UFO conspiracies as real intel, but they’re saying that this army has nothing to do with the United States. It’s some group of newcomers that want to get everybody on their political bandwagon. And they’re doing it by force of arms. Supposedly if you don’t sign their census, you’re an outlaw and you’re fair game for target practice.”

  “Oh, crap,” Jim muttered. “And they’re moving west?”

  “So it seems.” DJ relished the attention he was getting. “But they said there’s already a resistance fight going on, some local guerrilla soldiers harassing them with hit-and-run tactics. They know a guy from Pueblo that’s involved in it. Apparently he’s had enough success that the army hasn’t been able to advance north into Denver yet.”

  “I wish we had a way to get word of this to McLean and the others,” Carrie said. “They might run into the middle of it. Can you get us some details?”

  “The La Junta guys will be back on this evening,” DJ replied. “And until then, there are a few other people in that area I could try to contact. Guys I haven’t actually spoken to before, but who are on the list I’m building.”

  “Do it,” Carrie said. “Try to find out specifics, and get the name and whereabouts of that guerrilla fighter. At some point we may want to get in contact with him.”

  “Yeah, but do it carefully,” Gordo suggested. “If this army has radio capabilities, they may be listening to all the chatter going back and forth between you guys.”

  DJ got on it, and by that night he had useful information about how big the army was thought to be, where they were, and what they were up to. He had substantiated most of what his La Junta contacts had said about the intentions of the army and the guerrillas that were resisting its advance. He couldn’t find out specifics about the resistance effort due to the need for secrecy, but he got an address in Pueblo where someone could pass along discreet inquiries to the right people.

  The next day, as they were still digesting the ominous news and trying to form a plan of action, even more urgent news came in from Crested Butte. The newly trained and equipped radio operator for the little town told DJ that the previous night they had been attacked by a troop of marauders that marched into town from the direction of Gunnison, which had gone radio silent the day before. There were about thirty of the bad guys, and they had guns. Several townspeople were killed before they finally drove the attackers off with an extended firefight. They expected another assault that night and wanted any assistance their allies at the ranch could send.

  DJ told them they were shorthanded due to the expedition to the east, but they would send a couple men if they could spare them. JD volunteered, and Gordo and Jim drew straws to see who would go. Gordo got the short one, which left Jim and DJ at the ranch with the Baileys, Maria, and Carrie.

  JD and Gordo left right away, loaded for bear but promising not to try to be heroes and to return as soon as the conflict had been resolved. The others carried on with their assigned work, preparing the ranch for winter. Carrie took over a fence repair job for Jim so that he could focus on hardening the ranches defenses ahead of any trouble that might come their way.

  That night Carrie didn’t sleep much. The shootout at Crested Butte was close to home and troubling indeed, but the prospect of the larger conflict rising up in the east threatened everything they had managed to hold on to. And somewhere out there McLean was moving into the thick of it alone, with no way of knowing what he would face.

  By morning she had decided to go. If they were to set themselves up to succeed in the battles that were surely to come, it was critical that someone make contact with the resistance fighters in Pueblo and learn the truth about the military threat.

  She advised the others of her intentions at breakfast. “I’m sorry I keep running out like this instead of holding down a job here, but I feel like this is the way I can be most useful. I’ll leave the horse here in case you need to get a message somewhere fast.”

  “Are you gonna be okay on your own out there, and on foot?” Jim asked.

  “I can go faster alone,” Carrie replied. “I’ve done this before. I’ll make it. I have to. If I lie low, take backcountry routes, and camp without fires, I think I’m just sneaky enough to avoid running into anything undesirable.”

  “God speed,” Maria told her. “But use caution and don’t let up for a moment. McLean would be completely undone if something happened to you out there. He’s very much in love with you; you know that, right?”

  Carrie blushed. “I… don’t think he’s said that.”

  “He wants to. And I think you do too. So don’t let him d
own by getting yourself lost or hurt. Who knows, maybe you’ll run into him at some point.” Maria was echoing what Carrie had laid awake thinking the night before. It was a chance in a thousand, but she would definitely be keeping an eye out for him.

  DJ gave Carrie a list of trustworthy radio contacts that would give her a friendly welcome and let her use their gear to contact the ranch with any news. There weren’t many in the region she was headed toward, but several lay along her route coming and going. Her plan was to stay farther south than any of them had been in the past.

  With an extra box of ammunition for her Beretta, which she had been practicing with, and a full pack on her back, she took off into the hills and headed east.

  The next few days passed very slowly at the ranch. It was quiet with JD and most of the other men gone. DJ occupied his time on the radio, passing information back and forth and trying to learn more about what people were doing to the south and east. Jim and his daughter kept the ranch running with the help of Maria, Mrs. Bailey, and her children, but it was all maintenance-level chores. They were no longer strengthening the ranch or its ability to produce food for wintertime.

  The only good news to come in was from Crested Butte. DJ received reports of success with the security situation there. The attackers did indeed return for another try at the little town, but with help from the ranch and from several other men in the area that flocked to their aid, Crested Butte fought them to a standstill. The band of marauders that had been thirty-strong was whittled down to ten overnight, and in the morning a posse pursued the survivors into the hills.

  JD and Gordo returned with war stories and boosted confidence in their ability to hold the territory against all threats.

  “When that many of us band together to defend our area,” Gordo explained, “you’d have to have an entire army to get past us. I’m no general, but we learned first-hand that there is real strength in numbers. I think the key to pushing back danger and maybe even re-taking Denver will be in simply getting together enough people to make it happen.”