Get Out of Denver (Denver Burning Book 1)

by Algor X. Dennison

  “Where are those other two men?” she asked herself angrily as she stumbled along. “Stupid, worthless radio.” She knew that even if she found the horses and managed to corner them somehow, it would be a miracle if she somehow managed to drag them by herself back to DJ’s location. But she also knew that if she didn’t, DJ would be in serious trouble. She had no idea how long it would take McLean and JD to come back and find them. She hoped the thin emergency blanket would be enough to keep DJ from going hypothermic. It was all they had at the moment; their tents were with the horses.

  Near the cliff she spotted a broad hoofprint in the mud and knew she was on the right track. But she still couldn’t see the horses anywhere. “How did they get so far so fast?” she muttered. “I wish they could have been this speedy when it mattered.”

  The animals weren’t anywhere in the vicinity of the cliff. She looked around, wiping a stream of freezing rain from her face, and saw a deer trail where they might have picked their way down from the cliff base to a draw downhill from it. The draw led into another patch of trees where the horses might have gone to shelter. She couldn’t see any more likely route, so she followed the deer trail.

  When she made it into the trees, she finally saw the horses. Both of them were standing under a large fir tree, rubbing against each other’s sides for warmth. One of them saw her and whinnied.

  “Gotcha,” she said, and started toward them with her rope in hand. She only got within three yards before they both left the trees, plunging out into the rain to avoid her.

  “Hey! No!” Carrie shouted. “I don’t have time for this.”

  She ran after them, and saw that they were moving to another more dense group of trees. Between the stands of timber, however, a large creek had formed from all the runoff. The horses cantered across it with only a splash or two, and climbed the opposite bank to get into the trees. The creek formed a more difficult obstacle for Carrie. She didn’t have a good way across, and soaked feet would not mix well with the cold weather.

  She fought back tears and tried to push the fear and distress away with rage. “I’m not going to let those animals get away from me, and I’m not going to let DJ or the others down.” She took a running leap and landed mostly on the far side of the creek, getting only one foot wet. Then she rushed up the bank, hooking her coiled rope around an exposed rock to haul herself upward.

  When she gained the top of the bank, she spotted the horses again. This time they were backed up against a thicket of dense brambles. She sidled up to them, and when DJ’s mare tried to move she blocked it in. “No you don’t. Do NOT mess with me again,” Carrie yelled. She raised the coil of rope up to smack the horses in the face if they tried to rush her. “You’re coming with me, back out in that storm, whether you want to or not!”

  She got hold of her own horse’s reins and then grabbed the other one. Quickly looping the rope through its reins, she tied it to the pommel of her own saddle. She did this without letting go of her own horse, and then hoisted herself up into the saddle. “Now, get!” she shouted, kicking the horse into action. “And don’t give me any more trouble or it will be the end of you!”

  Chapter 13 : A Hot Fire

  On the other side of the mountain slope, half a mile away, McLean arrived at the trail that led up the mountain and knew something was wrong when he couldn’t see the two riders. The blinding sleet limited visibility, but he didn’t dare leave the trail to either side, so he started up. He was almost on top of DJ when his radio crackled and he heard DJ’s “McLean, JD, anybody there?”

  McLean spotted him just up the slope and answered into the radio. “Here, DJ. I’m just below you on the mountain. I’m coming up. Where’s Carrie?”

  DJ expressed his relief through numb lips as McLean charged up the trail on his powerful horse. When he got to DJ he got the injured man up onto his horse and began to lead it back down while DJ told how they’d lost the horses.

  “But Carrie’s all right? You think she’ll be able to get the horses?” McLean asked.

  “I don’t know, man,” DJ replied. “She headed off to the western side of the slope, by that cliff up there. She seemed pretty nervous, but we didn’t want to let the horses go. We might never have found them again.”

  “Well, let’s hope she can round them up and doesn’t lose her way. I’m going to get you down to a flatter part of the trail, and you’ll need to ride on your own power the rest of the way to where JD’s waiting, while I go back to look for Carrie and the horses.”

  They reached the wash and had just forded the icy stream when they heard a gunshot nearby, then two more in quick succession.

  “That’s my Beretta!” McLean said, instantly recognizing the sound. “I’m going after her.” He let go of the horse and slapped its flank, sending it trotting down the draw with its injured rider in the direction of the campsite JD was setting up. “Just follow the trail until either you see JD’s fire, or you get within radio range of him. If you get to another creek, you’ve gone too far and you’ll have to turn around!”

  McLean ran up the side of the wash and spotted Carrie astride her own horse, with DJ’s mare in tow. They were on the far side of a rocky slot where more rainwater was running down the mountain. The steep sides of the slot barred Carrie and the horses from getting back to the trail, and the incline was too steep above them to get back up the slope at that point.

  “Ha! I knew I was getting close,” Carrie called out, relief lighting up her face as she put her gun back in its holster. “McLean, how do I get past this gorge?”

  “You don’t,” he shouted back. “Just keep going down the mountain, you’ll come to a place where it all flattens out. I think you’ll be able to cross there. I’ll follow over here on this side.”

  Carrie nodded and directed the horses downhill while McLean walked along the ridge of his side of the little gorge, glissading on the steep parts with both hands in the mud to keep from sliding back down into the wash or falling into the slot’s stream.

  Finally Carrie was able to cross the creek and they joined up twenty yards from the trail.

  “Oh, I guess I didn’t need to fire my pistol,” Carrie said. “I would have found the trail again pretty easily once I got down here.”

  “Good work,” McLean said. “I’m impressed. Did the horses give you trouble?”

  “They tried.” Carrie smiled proudly. “Did you find DJ? Is he okay?”

  “Yep. And JD’s got a fire waiting for us. Let’s go.” McLean swung onto the mare’s saddle now that they were on more level terrain, and the two of them rode to the camp together.

  DJ was warming himself by the fire while JD took care of McLean’s horse. When they got the other two horses’ saddles off and tied the animals up under some trees near a rocky overhang, they gathered around the fire and rested, eating and drinking to get their energy back up.

  Carrie looked at DJ’s ankle again and splinted it. The she collected some of the icy slush that was collecting on the ground for a cold pack to get the swelling down. McLean made a rudimentary crutch from one of the pine branches.

  “Just stay off of it for a few weeks,” Carrie told DJ. “I think it’ll heal just fine. There’s no sign of a break. We’ll need to keep you on your horse the rest of the way.”

  “And that means we need to follow easy routes and stay off the steep mountain trails,” McLean added. “We have to stay away from roads, but if we stay in the valleys and follow the larger creeks, we ought to avoid the rougher terrain. That will slow us down some, since we’ll meander more instead of cutting over high ridges and passes. Combine the slower pace with our detour to the highway and the lost time today… we need to rethink our plan for getting to the ranch.”

  DJ looked glum.

  “Hey, don’t worry about it, man,” JD told him. “We promise not to leave you behind, even if it takes us a few extra days. We might have to eat you if we run out of beef jerky, but that’s just another reason to keep you nearby.”

>   “That’s not funny!” DJ spluttered, but everyone laughed.

  They discussed distances, routes, days of travel, and counted their supplies. They were pleased to find that they still had plenty of feed for the horses, as grazing conditions had been good everywhere they’d camped. Their gear was in good shape since since they hadn’t skimped on quality. But they were going to run low on food.

  “We ought to eat a little less now, while we’re on the horses all day and don’t need quite as much energy,” JD suggested. “Save it for the last few days in case we can’t take it as easy then.”

  “Yeah, and keep an eye out for wild foods we could forage,” McLean replied. “There ought to be some berries this time of year, although I haven’t seen many yet. I know a few other plants we could chew on while we ride, or stew up at night. That ought to get us there without having to stop and shoot something, then take all the time to prepare and cook it. But I guess if you see a grouse just sitting there asking for it, we might as well take it.”

  “Yeah, DJ gets to sit around all evening while we make camp,” JD added, elbowing his friend with a grin. “I bet he’s really good at plucking birds.”

  “You shoot it and I’ll pluck it,” DJ offered. “I’ll dig the latrine, too, and keep watch at night. It’s the least I can do, since I’m the one dragging you all down.”

  “Nah,” McLean said, “you just ran out of luck. And your horse can share part of the blame. But we all know you bring some very important skills to the team, even if you haven’t gotten a chance to use them much yet. We want you, and we need you, sprained ankle or no.”

  Carrie cleared her throat. “What exactly is your skillset, DJ? You said you taught biology, but I’m sure that’s not your only expertise.”

  DJ demurred, but JD answered for him. “Professor Shinseki is our resident authority on the little bugs in the water that might make us sick, the big bugs in our livestock that we hope we’ll find alive at the ranch, and, uh, radioactive fallout. Which hopefully doesn’t become a problem. He also is the man that will keep our solar panels in good shape so we can watch TV all day for the duration of the apocalypse. And I believe he also has a degree in medieval stuff.”

  “Medieval and Renaissance Studies,” DJ corrected, “but what it comes down to in practical terms is that I’m familiar with the day-to-day details of how people lived before the industrial age. How their politics worked, their money systems, their agriculture, and their military tactics. Even how they made soap and charcoal. Things that may or may not prove useful at some point now that we find ourselves closer to that era, in some ways, than to the Information Age.”

  “Like I said,” McLean agreed, “DJ may not be Rambo, but his knowledge is going to make all the difference in the world to getting us back on our feet long-term. And I don’t mean just us, but those we connect with later on as well.”

  There was a moment of silence as the group considered the possibility of months or years without infrastructure and government as they had known it. They had been so consumed with their immediate journey they hadn’t put much thought into the future yet.

  “Man, I hope Jim and the others get there okay,” JD said. “We’re going to want all the resources we can get, human and otherwise.”

  “McLean told me you guys have a well-rounded group,” Carrie said. “A doctor, a farmer, a communications guy. What don’t you have?”

  JD sniggered. “Well, we don’t have any lawyers or bankers. We’re entirely lacking in the politician department.”

  “And no marketers or salesmen,” DJ added gleefully. “Or teen pop stars.”

  “We could use a movie producer, an artist, and a novelist or two,” McLean said. The others raised their eyebrows. “In about thirty years, I mean. When we’re ready for someone to tell the tale of our epic journey.”

  DJ mused, “It is pretty epic, isn’t it? Four years ago I would never have considered the possibility of something like this coming to pass. But you actually make a real point, McLean. We shouldn’t discount the effect art and stories can have on us, even in trying times. Especially in trying times. I wish I’d brought a few books. We’re going to need inspiration and love just as much as bullets and food if we’re going to last more than a few months.”

  They took a moment to digest that deep thought, and then JD interrupted. “Yeah, love. Which brings me to an important announcement, everybody: I have decided to finally settle down and marry.” He turned to Carrie and raised his eyebrows. “Carrie, will you be my wife? I promise to treat you right, and I am way hotter than these two nitwits.”

  McLean and Carrie bellowed with laughter while DJ threw a pinecone at his buddy.

  “Hey, you brought up the subject!” JD protested, dodging the missile.

  “You are out of control, man,” DJ said, shaking his head. “If any woman married you, she’d have to be even more loco in the cabeza. Which is a scary thought!”

  “I thought you were in love with McLean’s widowed neighbor,” Carrie asked, chortling. “What happened to her?”

  “Look, I’m thinking of the here and now,” JD replied. “You spent the whole afternoon with DJ and McLean while I set up camp alone. I thought I’d take a shot while I had the chance. Neither of them has proposed to you yet, have they?”

  “Well, no.”

  “Good! Just remember that I asked first, all right?”

  “All right, JD,” Carrie said, still chuckling. “I’ll refuse you before anyone else.”

  “But that’s not what I...” JD finally gave up and just grinned while the other laughed at him.

  Warm fire and high-energy food worked wonders, even on wayfarers in extreme conditions. By nightfall the weather had cleared considerably. It was cold, but they were able to dry out and stay comfortable in their sleeping bags. Morning brought glorious sunshine and a much easier trail.

  Chapter 14 : Hunting for Home

  Day seven of their journey was long. They were exhausted by the time they stopped for a short rest at noon, but McLean still wanted to get farther on before camping to eliminate any chance of contact with the people they’d left behind. They saw no one as they left the resort region and traveled deeper into mountain wilderness.

  They slept that night in the mouth of a shallow cave JD had spotted, sheltered from view by a stand of trees. It allowed them to sleep more securely, as they were less likely to be seen and there was only one avenue of approach.

  Day eight wasn’t so bad, now that they’d had some rest. They made good time and camped again near a small lake. Carrie fashioned a stiff wrapping for DJ’s ankle from one of their tent tarps, and with a pine-bough crutch he was able to hobble around camp himself.

  On day nine they decided they were far enough out from any vestige of civilization to do a little hunting along the trail. JD shot two fat quail and McLean got a squirrel. DJ, not wanting to miss out, carried his rifle at the ready for five miles. He finally spotted a wild turkey on the trail ahead and fired, but missed it. McLean tracked it with his shotgun and brought it down. On closer inspection, however, they found that DJ’s bullet had passed right through it, so he claimed the kill even though it took McLean’s buckshot to keep the bird from getting away.

  Each time they shot, they quickly collected the game and moved on, not wanting to linger in the area where someone else might have heard the noise. The weather was cool and they kept the animals out of the sun so they wouldn’t spoil before they had a chance to prep and cook them. That night they ate well, sheltering in a stand of heavy timber. The taste of the fresh roasted meat was sublime after so many days of freeze-dried backpacking meals.

  The tenth day out from Morgan’s place brought them into country that McLean recognized. He had explored the mountains around his ranch thoroughly over the last few years, hunting and hiking when he could, and this saved them several hours. The map routes McLean had considered gentle enough for DJ to ride led far out of their way. But seeing the terrain brought to his mind a canyon he�
��d hiked once that would be easy on the horses, and which cut directly over to a dirt road that would take them all the way down from the high mountains toward the ranch.

  They hit this road at dinner time and pushed onward at a brisker pace to get to the ranch that evening. The sun went out of sight for half an hour as they descended a winding part of the road, but then they emerged onto the side of the last big mountain and saw McLean’s valley opening out in front of them. In the distance the sun was still visible, lighting up some ragged clouds with a vivid pink glow and casting a serene light over the ranchland below. The entrancing beauty of the view was only exceeded by the relief that welled up in the hearts of the travelers.

  The valley was mostly open pasture, with some wooded patches and a dirt road cutting through. A small creek paralleled the road on the other side of some fields. There were no buildings in sight, but some old barbed-wire fence bordered the road to the south.

  McLean pointed north, up the valley. “My ranch is up there, another four miles or so. This is it, you guys. We’re finally home!” The others smiled and followed McLean down the rough jeep trail to the smoother dirt road below.

  Once they hit the road, the horses got a second wind, greeting the easier grade and signs of civilization with almost as much enthusiasm as their riders. They ate up the miles in minutes, and soon the group came within sight of a ranch house.

  “That’s not mine,” McLean explained to Carrie. “It’s my widowed neighbor’s. If she’s here, I want to talk to her about the state of things in these parts.” He rode ahead of the others and arrived in the ranch house’s yard several minutes before his companions, announcing his presence in a loud and friendly voice so his neighbor would know he wasn’t a threat.