Families First: A Post Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 4 Hard Roads

by Lance K Ewing

  “How so?” asked Joy.

  “Most of these guys around here wouldn’t last two days watching out for their children if something happened to you.”

  I felt that I had a good handle on my children. I’d not been given a choice, with three all being born in the span of 14 months. I’d pitched in from the start and changed my fair share of diapers, but I saw his point. My kids were momma’s boys, just like the rest of the kids here.

  “He’s right,” I said aloud. “The children are all that really matter right now, and we can’t risk them being orphans in the next week.”

  Joy nodded her head in agreement, as did Sheila.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Raton Pass, New Mexico

  We all met for supper, where Nate’s group was introduced, and we helped to set up their tents.

  David was unsuccessful at getting James VanFleet on the radio, but Joy and I were able to reach our old friends briefly.

  We discussed the conversation with our group. There was concern regarding food rations.

  “Did you bring the freeze-dried pails we all talked about last year?” I asked.

  “We’re good on that,” said Aden. “Got enough for us and twenty more to get all the way across the country, and the ammo to keep it.”

  “That’s what I thought,” I told him. “Hang tight, and we will talk to the group again, hopefully tonight.”

  “Let them know we will pitch in and carry our weight,” added Kris. “Right, Shane?”

  “Yeah, buddy. We’re going to be the best thing that ever happened to you guys!”

  “Well, I hope you’re right, Shane,” I continued, “because we have hundreds or more people with bad intentions passing close to here in a day or two. Stay well behind them, at least a day or more if you can.”

  “Hi, Uncle Lance!” chimed in Joshua.

  “Hey, little man,” I replied, not actually being his uncle, but in our friends’ group lots of the kids called the adults aunts or uncles. “Are you having a good trip?” I asked, forgetting for a minute that they had lost two friends already. “I mean, are you listening to your parents?”

  Joy gave me a look as I dug a deeper hole.

  “Yes, sir. Well, bye,” and Joshua was off the air.

  “I don’t know what to say to the kids anymore,” I said. “They have all witnessed things they should never see at their age.”

  “We know,” replied both Kat and Kris.

  “Hey, girls,” chimed in Joy, breaking up the awkward conversation.

  “Tell them we will try again today,” I whispered to Joy, and left to give her some time to talk.

  I found our boys with plates held out, waiting for hot dogs and cowboy beans, with potato chips on the side.

  I knew we would need to have a talk with them tonight about what may come in the next day or two, but I paused, just watching them not having spotted me yet.

  I envisioned their lives, not now as they would be moving forward but as they used to be, but fast forward 10-12 years. “Drop us off at the mall, Dad,” I could hear. “He is trying to steal my girlfriend, and I found her first...” “When can I get my own cellphone?” “Why do we have to share a car?” I felt a moment of genuine sadness for the things they may never experience in their lifetimes.

  I met back up with the group and made small talk about the meal.

  Joy ran up and hugged me from behind, knocking me off balance.

  “Girl, if we were in the hood you could get shanked for doing that,” I told her—joking of course.

  “Ooh, you’re in trouble for sure!” said Jake, laughing.

  “Oh, we’re going there again, are we?” asked Joy loudly.

  “Going where?” asked Tina.

  “Nowhere. It’s just an inside joke,” I told her.

  “Nope, buddy. Nothing is inside anymore,” said Mel, “especially jokes, so let’s hear it. “

  “Let’s hear it; let’s hear it,” more people chimed in, egging me on with a little chant.

  “All right, Joy and I had recently discussed the dangers, both old and new, agreeing that, for the most part, you had to be in the wrong area in the old world to get into some real trouble. The inside joke is referring to the two times I unintentionally ended up in the middle of Compton, a suburb of Los Angeles with a reputation for being a tough place for a guy like me.

  “The two main gangs at the time were known as the Crips, signified by dressing in blue with the acronym standing for ‘Community and Revolution in Progress,’ who outnumbered the Bloods, in red, with the acronym of ‘Brotherly Love Overrides Oppression and Destruction,’ by a ratio of five to one—at least on the West Coast.

  “Both acronyms sound like a positive at the outset. Anyway, the first time I was with a friend, returning to our hotel for a convention, we were working as employees of a snow ski company. I was driving late at night with my friend. This was in the early 1990s before cell phones, and even pagers. We got off at the wrong exit, and at a light we were surrounded by men wearing red hats and bandanas.

  “No other cars were in view, and I counted more than 50 people around us. We froze, and for a split second I contemplated gunning the engine in a last-ditch effort to escape.

  “Time stood still as the lead man and three of his group stood silently in front of my small car, pointing at me. Neither my friend nor I spoke as we awaited the fate we both expected was coming.

  “Thirty seconds—or two hours later in panic time—the lead man made a gun gesture with his right hand, pulling the trigger at each of us, and called his men to move without expression of any kind.

  “I watched them leave in slow motion, not thinking to drive away. ‘It’s green,’ my friend finally said as I drove slowly back down the road.

  “The second time would be a year later with a girlfriend, when we took the wrong exit and ended up in the middle of a suburb. I stopped at a grocery store secured by a full-time armed security guard with an AR-15 clearly visible. He asked us, ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  “I explained we were lost, and he made a couple of calls on his radio before giving us written directions on a napkin.

  “‘Follow these directions exactly. Don’t talk to anybody or look another man in the eye. Lastly, but most importantly, don’t stop for anything—no stops signs, lights…nothin’.’

  “What if I get pulled over?” I asked nervously.

  “What if you get pulled over?” he asked, laughing deeply.

  “Hey, Theresa, listen to this,” he called out loudly. Many people in the crowded store looked our way. “This here white boy and his lady friend got lost and ended up here. I’m trying to save their asses, and he’s worried about getting a ticket!”

  “Now that’s the funniest shit I’ve heard all day,” she yelled back. “Now you all go on about your business,” she said to the growing crowd around her.

  She approached quietly, lightly touching my girlfriend’s shoulder. “You holding up all right, Sweetie?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” she replied. “We didn’t mean to just barge in here.”

  “Don’t you two worry; it’s a free country. But make no mistake, you’re in a different country right now. Just go 25 miles up that direction,” she continued, pointing northwest, “and you would be smack dab in the middle of Beverly Hills, where you would probably get a ticket for taking one step off a curb. But you might as well be a thousand miles from there where you’re standing right now.”

  “The police don’t come down here, not ever. Well, only unofficially,” joked the guard.

  “Knock it off, Ray,” she said, waving her hand at him. “I’m trying to make a point here.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he quickly replied.

  “So, Ray and his radio here will get you back to where you need to be, and don’t stop for nothing.” I dug into my pocket and pulled out my wallet.

  “Put that back now,” she said in a low but firm voice.

  “I just w
anted to tip or something for the help,” I said.

  “I own this here store,” she said, waving around to all her customers. “I damn sure don’t need no money, and Ray here is overpaid as it is. The only action he’s seen lately was a clogged toilet last week,” she added, trying to keep a straight face, but eventually smiling and getting a “Hey, that’s a low blow,” reply from him.

  “You two get now, and don’t look back,” she continued.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” we both said, “and sir.”

  “The last man you will see when you’re close to the on-ramp will be wearing a Raiders hat. Head exactly where he points to, and it will spit you back on to the freeway.”

  “Will he know what car we’re in?” I asked.

  “Yeah,” the man said, laughing. “Everybody here does. Now get on down the road.”

  “I followed the instructions to a T. A few scary-looking men waved me on in what I hoped was the right direction toward the next freeway on-ramp.

  “The last man wore all blue, minus the black Oakland Raiders cap, and pointed me to the ramp of freedom and right back on to the same highway as the other business people and soccer moms used, having no idea what they were driving over day in and day out.”

  “That happened twice in one year, huh?” asked Jake, “and you didn’t learn your lesson?”

  “I did learn my lesson,” I argued. “It only happened twice.”

  I had apparently brought it up more than once to Joy, like it was a badge of courage being in contact with both notorious gangs within a year. But honestly, maybe it was just stupidity on my part.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Eleven

  Raton Pass, New Mexico

  “Anyway,” Joy told me, “let’s gather the group again, and this time I want a vote on our friends.” I gathered our group for a quick vote. I gave them the new information about the group’s food and ammo.

  All agreed to let them stay, with only two people choosing not to vote.

  “You and Joy started this whole thing anyway,” said Jake. “If your friends were around at the very beginning, some of us may not have gotten a spot in the group.”

  “Thanks, everyone,” I said, as Joy hobbled back on her crutches. She smiled before meeting Jim and Mark for another call.

  “Don’t tell them where we are at over the radio,” I called out to her. She gave me a thumbs-up over her head.

  * * * *

  Beatrice kept Veronica and Suzie at her home for the night, so the wedding couple could have the night to themselves.

  It is not the honeymoon most newlyweds would agree to in the old world, but it is still better than most folks now have it, thought David.

  * * * *

  It took more than an hour, but Joy got hold of our old friends, giving them instructions to call from atop Raton Pass when they arrived.

  Joy and I took some time. She and I explained to our boys what the next few days may look like. We tried not to scare them but wanted them to realize things could change quickly, and they needed to do what we or any other adult here says, and quickly.

  The camp was quiet tonight, even with the new addition of Nate’s group.

  Coyotes howled in the distance, still perking the ears of Mini and Ringo, even though they had heard them nearly every night of the trip.

  “You’re lucky,” I told Mini, patting her head, “that Jax spotted you on the road or you would have been those coyotes’ dinner!” She sighed, laying her head on Ringo’s outstretched paws.

  “I love you, Joy,” I said.

  “Ditto,” she replied, reminding me of that old movie with Demi Moore and the guy from those two classics, Roadhouse and Red Dawn. I think it was called Ghost.

  * * * *

  The morning was bustling with people, even before sunup. Today was the last day for final plans.

  The first group, led by Baker, camped south of Raton last night, according to Jim.

  “They will probably get bogged down a little going through town, looking for supplies and adding members,” I said.

  “Nothing to report this morning,” said Mark. “Jim and I took shifts with Steve, so we could monitor the radio 24/7 these past few days. They are packing up now, we hear, so they should head out in about an hour.”

  The last day, I thought. Should I take my family for a nice hike in the woods or maybe just take the afternoon to hang out by the lake, telling stories of old vacations gone by? I wished it were that easy and secretly prayed it would all work out somehow in the end.

  “It’s the last day, Joy,” I said. “What should we do?”

  “We prepare for the worst and hope for the best,” she said.

  “It will take a few hours, at least, to get the gear and provisions set in each defense location,” I responded. “But after that, I want a few hours with just us, our family, even if it’s right here in the tent.”

  “Me too, Honey. I’m scared for us…all of us.”

  “We have our faith, determination, and lastly, the man with the big-ass helicopter,” I joked inappropriately for the situation at hand. “We can do this. We must do this,” I added.

  * * * *

  David tasked Mark with getting hold of whoever was in charge of the town of Weston, since he was unable to locate James VanFleet.

  “Let me do the talking if you get anyone on the line,” he added, not wanting to divulge too much about this location.

  Lonnie gathered the adults from all three groups.

  “It looks like we have 18 men who will defend this land, starting sometime tomorrow,” he started. “Each foxhole along the river will be supplied with weapons and ammo, a radio, food, water, rain gear, binoculars, flashlights, and tactical gear. We may be there for a day, or even a few days. Each location will have a urine jar so we can hunker down if needed.”

  “What if we have to go number two?” asked one of Nate’s guys.

  “This is it,” said Lonnie, anticipating the question apparently, as he held up a garden trowel and a box of mechanic shop rags.

  “Mel will set up the fireworks at strategic locations, with only a few men to set them off if needed. Mel has three M60 machine guns with 3,000 belt rounds for each. These guns can fire over 500 rounds per minute and will require a feeder, so those foxholes will house two men. These are only to be used if all hell breaks loose. Once all of the rounds are fired, there are no more. The hand grenades will be kept by myself, Mel and Jake, since there are only six of them.”

  “What about the anti-tank rockets?” asked Tom.

  “Forget he mentioned them,” said Lonnie. “If it comes to that, we’ve already lost the battle.”

  “In case you’re wondering why it is so important that we keep that group away at any cost,” added Jake, “you can ask any one of these men here,” pointing to Nate’s group, “what those guys do to the women.”

  The silence was awkward. Everyone had already heard the horror stories, and most of Nate’s men had seen it firsthand with their wives and girlfriends.

  “The most important thing,” I said, looking for a quick change of subject… Let me rephrase that… The only thing that matters for us all will be the women and children up at Beatrice’s house. They will be stepping over my body to get beyond the river.”

  “Mine, too,” said Jake. Everyone agreed.

  “Mike, where will you be during all this?” I asked.

  “Me?” he replied with a shrug… “I’ll just be a floater, I guess.”

  “What does that mean?” asked one of Nate’s men sarcastically. “He’s not going to help?”

  I looked at Mike, hoping he wouldn’t kill this man in front of the rest of us for questioning his contribution.

  “I can assure you,” I told the man, “that Mike here will alone be a better weapon than all of ours combined.”

  “Don’t kill him, okay Mike?” asked Lonnie, half joking.

  “Yes, sir. But that’s ONE!” he responded gruffly, looking right through the now-un
easy man.

  “Okay, boys,” interrupted Vlad. “I’m going to try the Colonel again on the radio and let him know where we are, so that if they need to come in on this we don’t get incinerated by friendly fire. And before you ask, he assured me we are on a private line. I have to believe it’s true. Any problems with this?” We all said no.