by Steven Bird
Denver’s population had been decimated by a bioterrorism attack with a weaponized strain of Marburg hemorrhagic fever and the entire city and surrounding areas were now considered to be dead zones by most. Although, with the fractured state of the nation, there was no way to get a reliable report of the city’s true status, especially considering the secluded nature of the Townsend’s self-sufficient, mountain hideaway.
As she gazed out the window, Stephanie heard young Sasha ask, “Mommy, are you okay?”
Snapping back to her present reality, Stephanie realized that a tear was rolling down her cheek, as she was lost in her nightmares of the recent past. Wiping the tear from her cheek with her hand, she said, “Yes, dear. I just had something in my eye.” Pausing for a moment, she continued, “You two have been working very hard. Why don’t you take a break? Run outside and see if your father needs a hand. You could use some fresh air.”
The children’s eyes lit up with their mother’s suggestion and they both ran straight for the door. “Don’t stay out there all day! We’ve got to go over your work while it’s still fresh in your minds,” she shouted as they quickly disappeared outside, the front door slamming shut behind them.
Stephanie walked into the kitchen and poured herself a cup of piping hot herbal tea that she had been keeping warm on the old-fashioned wood stove. She then walked over to the old antique upholstered chair that Jessie had placed in the corner of the room by her favorite window. As she sat down on the chair, she gazed out the window and lost herself to her emotions, breaking down into tears. “Oh, God, why? Why did you leave our children this world to grow up in? Why couldn’t things have just stayed the same?”
Putting her hands over her face, she heard the door open softly, followed by Jessie’s voice, “Steph, are you okay?”
Attempting to regain her composure, she replied, “Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine,” as she wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to continue her gaze out the window at the beautiful and serene mountains.
“When the kids came out and said you sent them... well, I figured you might have been having a moment. I just wanted to make sure you were okay and see if there was anything I could do.”
“You can turn back time,” she replied tersely, intensifying her stare through the old pane of glass that separated her from the outside world.
Jessie walked softly over to her, knelt down, reached up and gently nudged her chin toward him. As he looked into her deep blue eyes and brushed her long brunette hair aside, he smiled at her and said, “I know. I know how bad things seem. We’ve all lost a lot. Humanity and the entire world has lost a lot. But we... our whole family, you, me and the kids, made it through it all. Most people weren’t that lucky. We’ve got a lot to be thankful for, and I for one am grateful that God has blessed me with you. Things will get better. The world will move on. If history has taught us anything, the entire story of human history has been filled with struggle, wars, sickness, suffering, and tragedy, but even with all of that we’ve always managed to persevere. Think of how bleak things must have looked to the Europeans during the plague of the Middle Ages. To them, it truly was the apocalypse. And just look at how humanity persevered through the horrors of it all. We will make it through this as well, and someday our kids, our grandkids, and our great-grandkids will be rebuilding this world into a much better place than we left it for them.”
Taking his hand and holding it against her cheek, Stephanie looked into Jessie’s dark brown eyes, and said, “You always know what to say. You always have. You are my world, Mr. Townsend. And I thank God every day that you are in my life.”
As he rose to his feet, he kissed her on the forehead, and said, “I’d better get back out to the kids. I think Jeremy was about to try his hand as a butcher before I stepped away. I’d better go try and rescue the meat.”
With a laugh and a smile, she said, “Yes. You’d better go and supervise that boy. He and his fascination with knives are going to give me gray hair. That boy is attracted to sharp things.”
“He’s a smart kid. He knows a good blade is man’s second-best friend on a homestead.”
“And what’s the first? Duke?” she asked.
“A rifle,” he replied with a smile. “But then again, Duke is in a category all his own. That dog really earns his keep.”
“Speaking of Duke, I get worried about him being out there with the flock by himself, with all of the wolves that are starting to come around. He’s no match for a pack of hungry wolves.”
Putting his hands on his hips as he searched for words, Jessie said, “Yeah. Me, too. The flock has to stay out on that grass just a little longer, though. We can’t bring them in and start them on our winter hay supply too soon. We’ll never make it through the winter. No, I’ll get our flock size down and our meat stores up, and then when the weather turns, I’ll pull the sheep in closer to the cabin so I can watch them myself. But for now, Duke is gonna have to hold his own out there.”
“I wish we would have gotten Duke a mate while we still could, back before all of this,” she said as she walked over to the front door of the cabin. “I worry about what we’re going to do when he is gone. I mean, he is a dog. He’s only got so much time.”
“Yeah,” Jessie replied. “I think about that all the time. Right now I just couldn’t get by without him. Maybe when the time comes, if we are lucky enough for Duke to make it to a ripe old age, the kids will be old enough to help guard the flock and he can enjoy his well-earned retirement.”
“Our little shepherds,” she replied with a smile. She turned and opened the door, shouting with her hands cupped around her mouth, “Sasha! Jeremy! Break time is over! Come on back!”
Kissing her on the cheek as he walked by, Jessie said, “I’ll send them if they don’t come running. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said with a smile as he walked back toward the cellar where he processed his animal harvests.
Before the door could even close behind him, Sasha and Jeremy came bounding in from the outside, full of energy. “Okay, you two hellions,” Stephanie said, getting their attention. “Let’s put all that energy to good use and go over what you’ve learned today.”
Chapter Three
Later that evening, just before the sun retreated over the mountains to the west, Jessie walked over the ridge to see his sheep grazing on the grassy hillside down below. From a distance, Duke spotted him with his keen eyesight and snapped to attention, his tail wagging anxiously.
Jessie lowered his binoculars and whistled through his fingers, bringing Duke running in his direction eagerly answering his master’s call. “Hey, there, boy,” Jessie said as he aggressively scratched Duke’s black and white splotchy fur behind his ears. “You won’t be alone tonight, boy. I’m gonna stay with you and help you keep an eye out for your fellow canines. Let’s head back down the hill and set up camp with the sheep.”
As Jessie walked down the hill, his rifle on his pack and Duke by his side, he scanned the area and tried to commit it to memory as best he could. He knew that once the sun went down, the lay of the land would be hidden until the next morning, and knowing he was probably in for some excitement that night, he wanted to be as mentally prepared as possible.
Reaching the flock, Jessie found a dry, level spot, leaned his rifle against a rock, and tossed his pack on the ground. “This looks like it’ll do fine, boy.” Kneeling down to his camouflaged hunting pack, Jessie detached the small tent he had secured to the bottom of the pack with bungee cords. After just a few moments, the tent was erect with the opening facing a majority of the flock.
Next, he gathered some kindling and some old dead tree limbs to use for firewood and ignited a fire with his magnesium fire-starter and some homemade char-cloth he kept in a small tin container. After tending to the fire for a few moments to ensure that it would continue to build on its own, Jessie looked at Duke and said, “Stay, boy. I’ll be right back,” as he gave him the hand signal to stay put.
&nb
sp; Walking off into the trees in search of more firewood for the night, before the evening’s failing light was completely gone, Jessie searched through the dead tree branches scattered across the forest floor. He looked for just the right mixture of age and lack of moisture, in order to ensure an efficient burn. It hadn’t rained for what seemed like a few weeks, so there was plenty of adequately seasoned dry wood to be found. As he reached down to pick up a fallen branch that fit nicely into his desired criteria, he paused, taking notice of a large paw print. Immediately recognizing it as a wolf print, and a fresh one at that, Jessie’s senses perked up as he began to scan the nearby woods for a potential threat.
“I know you mongrels are watching me,” he said calmly. “You’re lying back waiting for nightfall to make your move. You think you’re in for an easy meal. Well, bring it on,” he said as he placed his hand on the revolver he nearly always had on his side in an old brown leather holster.
Handed down to him from his now-deceased father, his cherished handgun was a six-shot, first-generation Colt Single Action Army revolver, chambered in .357 Magnum.
Though the pistol was originally chambered in the old .38-40 cowboy-era cartridge, his father, having put considerable wear on the old gun that had been manufactured way back in 1908, opted to have it rechambered by a local gunsmith for the more modern and available .357 Magnum cartridge, fitting it with a new barrel and cylinder. Although his father mostly carried the pistol with the lower powered .38 Special during his own tenure as a sheriff’s deputy, the more powerful .357 Magnum cartridge was available with a simple reload if it were ever needed.
With a well-worn blue finish and wood grips that also showed their age, his father’s pistol was more than just a tool to him. It was a link to his own past and was an heirloom that he refused to simply allow to collect dust in a closet or safe. By carrying it daily, Jessie was always reminded of his connection with his father, who had raised him to be the man he was today.
With his thumb resting on the old spur hammer and three of his fingers around the grip, Jessie listened as the woods seemed eerily silent. Not even the birds were chirping. Jessie could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his chest as if it were a drum beating in preparation for war. Being one-half Native American, descended from the Ute tribe of central and western Colorado, Jessie had always felt as if his ancestors were with him, watching over him when he was in the mountains alone. Although he hadn’t had the blessing of growing up in an environment where he could learn and be immersed in the Ute culture, Jessie had kept his heritage close to his heart all his life, reading, and visiting the ancient sites of the Ute people whenever he had the chance. With nightfall rapidly approaching and a hungry pack of wolves stalking his flock, he hoped the instincts of his native side would be with him tonight.
Despite the trouble they caused, Jessie found himself conflicted as to his outlook on the wolves. As a shepherd, he saw them in the view of his flock—as a predator. As a descendent of the Ute tribe, however, he was torn. The Ute saw the wolf as a cultural hero of the Ute people, in the form of a man, only taking the literal form of a wolf when necessary.
In Jessie’s previous life as a sheriff, he remembered ranchers complaining about the government’s reintroduction of wolves into the Rockies and how with them being on the endangered list, they weren’t legally allowed to defend their herds and flocks from them. As a homesteading shepherd, he understood their plight completely. Only now, he faced a much greater threat than the ranchers had. The reduction of the human population all throughout the American West, due to the collapse, had left the wolf population to grow exponentially, making them a clear and present threat to his family’s livelihood.
Taking a deep breath and looking up into the trees, Jessie could once again hear the chirp of the birds, as well as the other sounds of nature, return to the forest. Nodding as if he was communicating with the wolves, he turned and walked back into the grassy clearing, rejoining his flock with an armload of firewood.
As Duke dutifully watched over the flock, Jessie finished setting up camp by stacking the wood neatly near the fire for easy tending throughout the night. “Come here, boy,” Jessie said, calling out to Duke.
Running over to Jessie, Duke licked him on the face and curled up on the ground beside him while keeping his head pointed in the direction of his flock, always on guard.
“Good boy,” Jessie said, handing Duke a piece of venison jerky, then patting him on the back. “We may be in for a long night, boy. I have a feeling we aren’t gonna get a lot of sleep.”
~~~~
Running through the woods, Jessie could hear the pack of wolves gaining on him. Facing exhaustion, he knew he needed to stand his ground and fight, or die like a deer isolated from the herd. Turning to face the threat, Jessie reached down to his holster to draw his Colt, as he could see the light in the eyes of the wolves rapidly approaching. To his horror, his holster was empty. His gun must have fallen out of the loose fitting, cowboy-style brown leather holster during the pursuit.
Jessie looked back up just in time to see a large Canadian gray wolf leap into the air, its fangs exposed as it came at him for the kill. Just before the hungry wolf’s teeth clamped onto his neck, he felt the paws of another tear down his back as one attacked simultaneously from behind.
Jessie twisted to avert the attack when Duke yelped and jumped up on all fours, nearly knocking the tent over from the inside and waking Jessie from his terrible nightmare.
“Holy crap, Duke! Oh, my God!” Jessie exclaimed as he realized Duke had awakened him by pawing him on the back. “Whew. That seemed way too real.” With a smile, now that he realized none of it was really happening and that it was only a dream, he rubbed Duke on the head and said, “I’m sorry, boy. I guess I scared you half to death.” Looking at his watch, he then said, “Two in the morning, already? I had no idea I would fall asleep so quickly, all things considered. Well, I’m up now,” he said with a yawn. “I might as well make my rounds and check on the sheep.”
Pushing the tent flap to the side, Jessie climbed out of the tent, stood up, stretched, and picked up his rifle. As he always did, he double-checked the condition of the action and made sure the safety was engaged with a round in the chamber. Reaching down to his side, ensuring that his Colt was really there this time, he smiled and began to walk into the darkness, away from the relative safety and security of his campfire.
Several of the sheep jumped to their feet, startled by Jessie as he approached. They initially scattered, but quickly rejoined the flock once they realized it was only him and Duke. Although sheep generally don’t take to humans for companionship, they do learn over time to see their shepherd as a protector and food source, making somewhat of an uneasy alliance between man and animal. One thing that’s embedded in a sheep’s mind is that nearly everything on earth that doesn’t eat plants—eats sheep. They’d gladly seek protection from wherever it may come, even from their shepherd, whose own intentions might be suspect.
As Jessie reached the outer edges of his flock, just one hundred feet shy of the treeline, he looked up at the bright, nearly full moon. Once again, the eerie feeling he had felt early in the day came over him, sending chills throughout his body. Thankful for the moonlight helping to illuminate his surroundings, Jessie stared into the woods intently, hoping to catch a glimpse of movement if a threat lingered in the shadows. Jessie could sense a nervousness among the flock. Over the years, he had learned to trust the instincts of animals above his own, which on this occasion, served to reassure him that his own feelings of unease were well warranted.
Feeling a cool breeze blow across the back of his neck, goosebumps came over him as he saw movement in the trees ahead. A dark figure moved silently from right to left in front of him as if it merely floated through the trees without touching the ground. Thinking he saw the silhouette of a man, Jessie’s heart skipped a beat as he heard a howl in the distance behind him. Turning around instantly, he heard rustling in the woods in the d
irection that was now directly behind him. Swinging his rifle around wildly in the direction of the noise, he became disoriented as he once again heard rustling off in another direction, this time to his immediate right. His heart pounded in his chest as he realized he and his entire flock were surrounded by an ominous threat that loomed in the darkness.
He clicked his rifle’s safety off as he heard a ferocious bark and growl in the darkness toward his tent. Unable to focus his eyes in the darkness due to the flickering campfire in the distance, Jessie began jogging toward the growl. Having made only a few steps in that direction, he heard a vicious fight break out in the darkness between what he assumed was Duke and one of the invading wolves. Initially on the offensive, Duke’s aggressive voice quickly turned to yelps of pain as he suddenly appeared to be outnumbered.
“Get the hell away from him, you filthy beasts!” yelled Jessie as he fired a shot from his rifle into the air, quickly chambering another round while running to Duke’s aid. As he approached the vicious struggle, he pulled a flare from his jacket pocket, ignited it, and threw it high into the air while letting out a fearsome scream. “Get out of here! Get the hell out of here, you filthy beasts! I’ll kill every last one of you!”
As the flare fell back to earth, it illuminated the nightmarish scene, revealing four wolves on top of Duke. As the flare bounced once and then came to rest on the ground, it provided Jessie with the necessary light he needed to fight off the invading animals. Knowing that follow-up shots with his bolt-action rifle would be too slow given the desperate, close-range situation, he took a quick aim, fired a shot at one of the wolves, and dropped his rifle to the ground. Still running in the direction of the struggle, he blinked several times in an attempt to regain his night vision from the bright muzzle flash of his rifle as he drew his revolver and fired three more shots at the wolves. The repeated shots caused the wolves to release Duke as they scattered in all directions.
