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

by Lance K Ewing

“The plan…it’s good, no?” asked Vlad.

  “It’s solid in theory,” said the Colonel, “but it won’t work. You need to go around this way,” he continued, drawing a line west of Denver—“up through Blackhawk, Nederland, Ward right here. Then up to Allenspark, dropping down into Estes Park, and finally back here,” he pointed to the bottom of Big Thompson Canyon. Baker and his whatever you want to call them...”

  “Pseudo soldiers,” I blurted out, not thinking.

  “All right, I like that,” he continued. “He and his pseudo soldiers are going to get bogged down right about here.” The Colonel pointed on the map.

  I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew exactly where he was pointing. There were several fishing ponds there that we used to fish at when I was young.

  “How long they stay bogged down depends on all of you,” said the Colonel.

  “And Ronna’s group?” I asked.

  “He will be a day behind them, no matter what happens.”

  “So, what is this?” asked Vlad, “with the bike and the trucks.”

  “It’s my day off…well, half a day at least. We’re just out for a ride and a picnic lunch. It hasn’t all gone to hell yet. But I need to get back now. I’ll be in touch,” he said, walking back to the bike.

  In a minute he was gone, and all was quiet again.

  * * * *

  “New travel plans,” I told Lonnie and Jake, opening up our map.

  I spent a few minutes talking with Joy to make sure we were on the same page. Everyone wanted to know what we heard and to vote on a plan.

  “I’m not putting David in a bad spot by returning there with all of us,” I stated flatly. “So, there are two choices, as I see it. We stop somewhere along the way and start new, or we follow the Colonel’s direction and trust he will be there for us when the time comes to defend the Valley. Joy and I are moving on to finish the journey we started. That may not be the best decision for everyone here, and that’s okay.”

  “Can we have a few minutes to talk it over?” asked Kat.

  “Sure,” I replied.

  “Let’s take 15 and meet back up here,” said Lonnie.

  * * * *

  Everyone broke up into small groups for discussion, and I walked back to see my boys.

  I passed Vlad talking with Kris’s sister, smiling and laughing, and I gave him a high five just to mess with him.

  I used to do that to my boys, even though they thought girls had cooties.

  Fifteen minutes later, we met at Lonnie’s truck. Most people wanted to push ahead, but a few reserved the right to stay put if they found a suitable place along the way.

  I wasn’t sure how we would divide up provisions if that happened, but I knew, in the end, it would be fair by all parties.

  “It’s 200 miles to Denver and will take Baker’s group about seven more days to get there,” I said, looking at the map.

  “That’s too slow,” said Lonnie. “Let me take a look. Here’s where the Colonel told us to get off the highway in Denver. But look over here. We can cut off at Pueblo, where they should be in a day or two, and head up through Canyon City. We’ll move on to Blackhawk right back over here.”

  “Makes sense to me,” I said, and most everyone agreed it would save time.

  We were back on the Interstate in 45 minutes, with Jim still throwing a few fliers to those walking from the opposite direction.

  Driving slowly, we passed a few more bodies on the road who appeared to have died from the elements.

  “We’ve got some time to kill,” called Lonnie over the radio, “so we’ll take it slow.”

  Following close behind two major groups of people heading straight up the center of the state had its advantages. There were no barricades or hostile parties to be seen anywhere.

  We used our time wisely, refueling the generators and gas cans with gasoline siphoned from abandoned cars up and down the Interstate.

  “I was kind of hoping to see Colorado Springs, with its Cheyenne Mountain NORAD base literally dug inside a mountain. After the White House and Pentagon, it is rumored to be the next highest priority location in the country,” I said over the radio.

  “Yeah, I remember reading about that place when I was in the Academy,” responded Lonnie. “Did you know that area is also home to a Supermax prison?”

  “Yeah, but I’m not sure who’s in there.”

  “The worst of the worst,” replied Lonnie. “You can count on that.”

  “I wonder what happened to all of the prisoners across the country,” I said, “since there must be tens, or even hundreds, of thousands of them, ranging from bad-check writers and embezzlement criminals all the way up to rapists and murderers? I imagine the Supermax has backup generators, but what about the other ones? What about the nuclear facilities that need to be cooled continuously, so they don’t spill radioactive chemicals across this great land?”

  “All right. I get it,” said Lonnie. “Don’t go scaring the hell out of everyone. Let’s just take this one step at a time.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” I replied, feeling my heart beating faster. “One step at a time,” I whispered.

  Jim was on the radio, listening for updates about the groups ahead of us and when they would be moving on.

  “I’ve got some news!” he announced.

  “About Baker?” asked Lonnie.

  “No, not yet, but the President is delivering another message tomorrow morning at 10 a.m. Eastern Time, so 8 here. Anyone interested?”

  “Yes,” called out most everyone.

  “For future reference,” I told Jim, “I always want to hear updates of any kind—from Baker and Ronna’s group or the Colonel, to anything being broadcast publicly.”

  “You got it, buddy,” replied Jim.

  We were stuck for the moment, so Joy and I had a picnic with our boys. They missed Veronica and Suzie.

  We used to ride our bikes a half mile down the road from our house in McKinney and have picnics on nice days. Now it was inside the protected circle of vehicles, but the boys still enjoyed it.

  “Daddy, when can we do this for real?” asked Hendrix.

  “Soon, buddy. As soon as we get to where we’re going, we’ll do it like we used to, I promise.”

  “Okay, Rada,” Hendrix said, calling me by his made-up nickname.

  * * * *

  Guard duty was easy tonight. We pulled the caravan off the highway and only unpacked what we absolutely needed for the night.

  I was up early, with word from Jim that Baker’s group was leaving Pueblo in a few hours, and Ronna’s would likely be through there later this afternoon or early tomorrow.

  “We’ve got an easy travel day,” said Lonnie, “but I want to stay near Pueblo tonight, if possible.”

  All agreed, and we awaited the President’s address.

  At 7:52 a.m., according to the watch Mel let me keep, the radio announcer came on, reminding his audience that this was the official station for up-to-the-minute news and updates for the long process of rebuilding our once-great country.

  “Don’t be fooled by other broadcasts claiming to be authentic,” the announcer said. “Please stand by for the President of the United States.”

  Static continued for several minutes and then came the speech:

  “My fellow Americans, this is your President. I realize it has been some time since our last broadcast. Listen, our men and women, in both the Congress and Senate, have been working around the clock, as well as myself and Vice President Biden.

  “Our FEMA facilities are operating in all states on the mainland, with many states hosting two or more Camps to ensure every American has access to not only the basics of continued survival but other advantages as well.

  “For my fellow Americans listening from one of our state-of-the-art facilities, you are well aware of the hotel-like amenities, including hot food, hot showers, skilled labor re-training in farming and domestics and, of course, our second-to-none protection from the often-hostil
e areas outside of our facilities.

  “We have learned, however, that there are still those numbering in the tens of thousands across this great land who have not presented to be under the protection of their government. By our accounts, there is only 28 percent of our citizens currently checked in, as of one week ago. We are asking that all citizens report to the nearest facility in a timely manner. Your government cannot afford any citizen refusing to do so the protection we all seek.

  “We continue to work with our allies, who are providing aid by air and sea to our FEMA facilities. New transformers, replacing those damaged by the attack, are arriving by ship in the coming weeks. Power grids will be repaired, starting on the East Coast. This will take some time, but be assured we are with you during this trying time.

  “May God bless you and these still United States of America.”

  “What do you think?” asked Vlad.

  “Still the same pitch,” replied Jake, “but I do believe the stats about 70% of the population not showing up to be taken care of.”

  “That is why I come to this great country,” said Vlad. “You are ball busters and don’t wait to be told what to do by your government.”

  “As far as the transformers,” I said, “I do know a bit about that. They are expensive to start—millions each—but even with cost aside, it takes about two years to make one and 3-6 months to ship here. How many are already manufactured and ready to ship? Maybe hundreds or maybe none; it’s hard to say. Either way, when it does happen, they will apparently be starting on the East Coast, moving West. So, we will be on the back end of the recovery, but at least we beat Vegas and Los Angeles. The truth is, it will be months at best, and likely years, before it happens…and a lot can happen in between.”

  Most agreed, and none were reconsidering their freedom after the speech.

  “All right,” said Lonnie. “Let’s get back to it.”

  * * * *

  Back on the road, we headed for Pueblo. It was slow going now on purpose, but it let me bring Joy and the boys up on the trailer, and I showed them the map.

  “From Pueblo, we head straight up into the mountains,” I told them.

  “The big ones, Daddy, up there?” asked Hudson, pointing west.

  “Yeah, buddy, straight up in the middle of them, and then across the mountains that way,” I added, pointing north in the direction we were headed.

  I pointed out the towns on the map we would go through. Some I had been through and others I had not.

  “We first hit Canyon City. Then to Fairplay, Alma, Blue River and Breckenridge. Then Frisco, Silverthorne, Kremmling, Hot Sulphur Springs, Lake Granby, Grand Lake, and finally Estes Park, before heading down the canyon to the Valley below.”

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Saddle Ranch

  Loveland, Colorado

  Cory and the group returned from the MacDonald place, informing Mac on the happenings and the 72-hour window for Ralph and his followers.

  “The question is, how do we get them out without it ending up a mess?” asked Mac. “They have women and children up there.”

  They gathered the security team for suggestions.

  “Hopefully, he will do the right thing and keep ’em movin’ on up the mountain,” said Drake, after being praised for his rescue attempt of Patty’s son. “But just in case they don’t, I done borrowed these from Mr. MacDonald’s cellar,” he continued, holding up six cans of tear gas and four smoke bombs.

  “That’s the last resort for sure. Drake, I have a special project for you,” said Mac. “I want you to spend the next few days spying on them, as I’m hoping they are packing up to head out soon. Two things: I want a report twice a day—by radio is fine. And second, don’t get spotted.”

  “Yes, sir, that’s my specialty,” replied Drake.

  Mac pulled Cory aside, saying, “Let’s do a midnight run of security tonight.”

  “Sounds good, as long as you’re up to it.”

  “I’m feeling much better now,” replied Mac.

  * * * *

  He met Sarah for lunch up at the Ranch. She had been checking on her new mother, since the twins were coming this morning. The woman could go into labor at any time.

  It was butcher week on the farm, and although most of the meat would be frozen, they had fresh bacon today.

  Rico had Patty and Joshua up as well, since she had the rest of the day off.

  “I’m starving,” said Joshua. “I wasn’t hungry up on the mountain, but I am now.”

  “The mark of a truly great chef,” said Rico, “is to perfect the classics.”

  He had a contest of sorts among his chefs-in-training to see who could make the best BLT sandwich. Each would make 20 sandwiches all the same. Every sandwich would be cut into six equal parts and every lunch-goer would get a square from each of the contestants, as well as a voting card. Then they would vote for the winner.

  “This should be interesting,” said Patty, wondering about the outcome.

  * * * *

  Sarah met Mac at his house before heading up to lunch.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, holding out his new old Yellowjacket fishing pole, signed by a President.

  “I think I’ve had enough of the fishing competition for one week,” she replied.

  “No, I mean a picnic lunch, just you and me and some fishing. I’ve been dying to try your grasshopper theory, but don’t tell anyone.”

  “Okay, I’m game, but we fish the backside of the siphon only,” she said, “and I’m putting my foot down on this, my love,” she added. “That way, if you go for a swim, you will only get wet.”

  “Understood,” Mac replied.

  “And one more thing,” she said, smiling.

  “No more wine lunches for a while,” she said, as she put her hand on her stomach.

  “Wait a minute!” he said, jumping up. “Are you sure?”

  “I’ve taken two tests in the last two days, and yes, I’m pretty sure now.”

  “Oh my God,” he said. “Thank you, Lord!” he shouted, looking upward.

  “Oh my God,” he said again, grabbing her and dancing around the room.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t be twirling you around. Please sit down and rest.”

  “Mac, you do know I can dance without hurting anything, right?”

  “Sure, sure, of course, but we have to get ready. We need a crib and a bib and one of those rocking horse things. We need toy trucks and trains—if it’s a boy, of course—and dolls if she’s a girl. Unless they’re twins—then we may need both!” he exclaimed, nearly out of breath. “I can build it, all of it! Just give me a week!”

  “Mac,” she said, laughing excitedly, “slow down. This baby, or babies, as you say, won’t be here tomorrow or next week. We have a lot of time to plan everything out. You have already been shot, nearly drowned, framed for murder, and participated in a gun duel. I need to know you’re safe and are going to be around to help me grow our family.”

  “I understand,” he said, “but I am head of security, you know.”

  “All I’m asking is that you think about us,” she said again, lightly touching her stomach, “before you get involved in something that could take you away.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Do you promise?”

  “I do,” Mac replied. “Does Samuel know?”

  “Not yet,” replied Sarah, “but he will by the end of the day.”

  “Can I tell anyone?” he asked.

  “Pick a few people who will keep it close.”

  Mac had a permanent smile on his face as they headed up to the back side of the canal with their picnic lunch.

  He hadn’t asked for Rico’s help this time, and he agreed they would both put in their votes on the best BLT.

  “Okay,” he said, as they reached the fishing site. “What are my instructions?”

  “It’s simple,” she replied. “Just catch a few grasshoppers. The bigg
er, the better. Kick the tall grass to move them. Throw one in every five minutes or so, being mindful not to cast your shadow over the water. By the time we finish lunch, they should hit anything that touches the water.”

  Mac did as instructed and caught a big slow dark-brown grasshopper with two hands, tossing it into the water. “These are easier to catch than I thought they would be.”

  The grasshopper hit the water and was quickly taken downstream in the current.