“Once they start,” said Mac, “we play offense and don’t let them on our side of the ridge. If we can’t hold them, we fall back and burn the ridge from our side, and over the top down into their valley. Understand, it’s the last resort, as it will likely end with a lot of casualties, including many who didn’t ask for this fight in the first place.”
* * * *
Without Sheila, Vlad offered to train a few Ranch volunteers on the basics of driving Bert.
“We have parked him up on the ridge. Drake and his crew can keep an eye on Bert, for now,” said Mac.
Mac lent Sergio a four-wheeler to get a message to Hanson.
The exchange was quick, less than thirty minutes, with Sergio telling him they had less time than they originally thought and to finish damming the river in the next day or two.
* * * *
Saddle Ranch and The West slowed, like an old clock in desperate need of being wound. All were updated on the timeline, and a few were scared off into the mountains, deciding to try their luck elsewhere. Smoke from the forest fire below Estes Park seeped over the hills and into the Valley, filling it top-to-bottom with a campfire haze and the smell a camper in the old-world would cherish before packing up and heading home in traffic to start another workweek grind. Many feared the end was near, quoting passages from the Bible of the end-time.
Mac, busier than he had ever been on Saddle Ranch, or anywhere else, made a point to see Sarah once a day, if even for a few minutes. He had no doubt she would have her hands full at the hospital in the coming days and wondered if she would be safe enough to set foot inside once the battle started. Mac was not much of a praying man, but he never had so much to pray for before. This was not a garden-variety ask of general health or happiness but a full-on miracle prayer for him, Sarah, their baby, and everyone else in the Valley. With hundreds or more people coming from the east, a fire to the west, and a pristine Valley between them, nothing less than a full ask would do.
“Never underestimate the power of prayer,” his mother would always tell him, “even if all you’re doing is asking.”
* * * *
Vlad made a call to his new old friend, the Colonel, with Steve’s help. He gave the information as he had heard it from Mike and Sergio about Baker’s movement, and air support now on trailers, headed to the next valley over, as well as the fire to the west.
“I am aware of both developments,” replied the Colonel. “We have planes and choppers up on the mountain as we speak, drawing water from Lake Estes and others farther up the mountain. It’s a monster, though—not like the one you all faced back on Raton Pass. It makes that one look like a campfire in an RV park. As for Baker, you’re right—he is on the move and headed straight for you. They decided apparently to skip the reservoir, and your timeline got cut to crap. My man, you know who is following close behind, and I’m here with the strength of your United States Military. As I said before, and this needs to be crystal clear, they need to engage first. They didn’t get their air support from random farmers—it’s Military. As long as you all are defending your territory, we can and will help. And what is that thing doing up on the ridge?”
“You mean Bert, the tank?” asked Vlad.
“Yes, what’s it doing up there?”
“It’s a show of force, sir,” replied Vlad, watching a drone plane fly over the Rimrock.
“Take it back down before anyone else sees it. I’m not saying to get rid of it, but don’t put it front and center. It looks like you’re the ones looking for a fight.”
“Yes, sir, Colonel. I’ll get it done,” Vlad replied. “Anything else?”
“Yes,” replied the Colonel. “You see that drone over the Valley right now? It’s going to drop a package in 3…2…1. There it goes!”
“I see it,” said Vlad.
“Good. There are three cans of spray paint. We’re switching up the friendly colors since our adversary is also some of us. Spray the areas housing your most valued possessions. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir, I do. I’ll get right on it.”
“Last…once they engage, fight like hell. We will have your back, that’s a promise.”
“He’s offline,” announced Steve, with Vlad getting most of the information he had hoped for.
* * * *
Vlad got with the group, including Mac and Cory, to tell them about Bert and the paint he retrieved from the field.
“The Colonel says Bert has to come down. He doesn’t want it to appear that we are the ones looking for a fight. Also, this needs to be sprayed on what houses our most valuable possessions, he said, so we’re talking about the cellar where our off front-line citizens will be.”
“It makes sense, I guess,” I replied—“about Bert, I mean.”
“Anyway, sorry, Lance. It was a good idea, though,” added Vlad.
“We could put him right in front of the underground shelter,” suggested a woman Vlad had not met yet.
“No,” replied Mac. “That will just draw attention that we are hiding something right behind it. We should put him just this side of the main road, should they get that far.”
“It makes sense to me,” I added, still believing we made a good trade back up on the mountain.
Vlad grabbed his crew and set out to bring Bert back down before anyone else got the wrong idea.
* * * *
The dinner this night was solemn, with most now hearing the people wishing to take this pristine Valley for their own would begin arriving only one valley over by morning, and within two days’ time they would all be there. Chef Rico kept the meal simple, with only meatloaf, potatoes, and salad. It was a meal anyone could derive energy from—unless, of course, they were already too nervous to eat! Mac and Cory had their last official meeting with John, Bill, Samuel, the Council, and a few from our group present as well, since nobody knew exactly when the attack would take place. Whether hours or days, it would be hard to meet amongst the uncertainty.
A Council member asked if it could possibly be weeks or months before it happened. “Maybe they will decide they like it over there and will leave us alone.”
Mac glanced at Mike and Sergio with the understanding that it would be sooner than later after Hanson finished choking off the river and their only water supply. Unless, of course, they went after him first. Either way, he wasn’t going to bring it up in the present company.
“They have a lot of people and likely won’t want to wait, only to have to set up camp all over again, should they...”
“Should they what?” she asked.
“Should they prevail,” Mac replied quietly, with a flood of thoughts about Sarah and their child on the way.
He had learned a few days ago from Mike how the Baker leaders treat women, and he vowed they would need to step over his body to get to his Sarah. Snapping back into focus, Mac was losing the group. Not me and our people—we had been here before—but the Council was petrified at the realization that this Valley could be lost, and each of us would be at the whims of a crazed leader and his enforcers.
“Do you mind, Mac, if I address the group?” asked Cory.
“The floor is yours,” replied Mac, happy for the break.
“My name is Cory Lerner,” he started, “for anyone who doesn’t already know me. I was the Chief of Police for the City of Loveland before this all started. My department has dealt with matters such as what we are facing, but arguably not at the same level. However, the tactics for defense and survival are universal. We will shelter our most vulnerable in two locations, both here on Saddle Ranch and down at The West property. Anyone not able to take up arms or aid in other defense jobs should report to one of those locations, located here and here,” he added, pointing to a map with both locations highlighted in green. “Both will be fully stocked for a week of shelter, although we are expecting a one- or two-day fight. Food, water, sleeping accommodations—and temporary toilets, before anyone asks—will be available on site. The more we have on the fro
nt lines, the better, but that decision is up to each of you to make for yourselves. To be clear, Mac and I will not make that decision for you.
“We will be asking for a show of hands, if that’s okay?” he asked Mac, half whispering to him and getting a head nod.
The three leaders—John, Bill and Samuel—all raised their hands.
“Anyone else?” asked Cory, with three Council members raising their hands.
“Thank you, Cory,” interjected Mac. “There is a place for each person who volunteered, but not on the front lines. John, Samuel, Bill and the Council, will you trust Cory and me to place you in positions to help the cause and still remain viable for our groups’ future leadership?”
Most answered yes, with a few relieved they would not be out front.
“We will have tasks for everyone, whether outside or in,” added Mac. “In the end, our victory or defeat will be decided by working together for a common goal.”
John, Bill and Samuel were all the get-it-done type leaders, and none were happy about taking a role behind the scenes, but they understood it. There is a reason the President, their cabinet, the Senate and House members, Governors, and Mayors don’t go to war on the front lines, and everyone knows why.
Mac and Cory were also fine with it, not needing to be concerned about those in leadership positions, with only a few who had served or had any security training at all.
“We don’t need more bodies out there,” said Mac, putting the issue to bed. “We won’t beat them with our numbers, but only with cunning and brute force.”
* * * *
Mac and Cory took it upon themselves to fill as many gasoline cans as they could find and put them inside trash receptacles, spanning the entirety of the Rimrock, every thousand feet.
“It won’t be enough,” Mac told Cory, who already knew. “We need an absolute miracle, or a good strong wind headed east at just the right time, and God help us if this gas goes up before we’re ready.”
“Mac!” came the call on the radio. “Mac, it’s Drake. Do you copy?”
“Sure, Drake, what do you know?”
There was a pause on the other end, as others around him whispered.
“What is it, son?” Mac asked again.
“Uh, sir…they’re here!”
* * * *
They met up with Drake and his small group on the top of the ridge, looking out over the valley with binoculars to every set of eyes. Trucks in a single file line drove up the next valley over, from the south. Mac and Cory watched intently, without speaking a word. One by one, they headed into the middle of the valley. Some were filled with gear, a few trailers carried what looked to be food supplies, and more pulled heavy machinery, tractors and backhoes.
“This isn’t good,” said Mac aloud, turning to shield the wind and get hold of John and Bill. He spoke with them for only a few minutes before being distracted by Cory waving him over.
“Can it wait a minute?” Mac called out.
“No. No, it can’t,” replied Cory.
Gazing down the valley, it didn’t take but a few seconds to understand. Ten trucks, maybe more, carried long trailers with large tarps over the top, like one might have seen heading into a boat store parking lot.
“Those aren’t boats,” said Mac, almost forgetting what Mike had told him about the airplanes and helicopters.
“No, they are not,” replied Cory, “and I’ve got money on them starting to carve a runway right down the center of the fields down there before day’s end.”
“What about the road?” asked one of Drake’s crew. “It’s pretty straight, I mean.”
“That it is,” replied Mac, “but it has power lines on both sides, and it’s only a two-way road. Even if they cut the lines, they still have the telephone poles to worry about. Of course, the helos don’t need anything special, just a basic clearing of the wheat and they are ready to go. Keep a close eye on them,” he told Drake, “and radio me every 30 minutes so that I’ll be up-to-date with any progress.”
* * * *
Mac and Cory returned to the Ranch and found Mike and Sergio talking in front of the Pavilion.
“The machines—they are here, right?” asked Mike casually.
“Yes, how did you know?” asked Mac.
“They are the intimidators and the most important part of their offense,” continued Mike. “I’m not at all surprised they would arrive first; besides, they need a runway to make everything but the helicopters effective.”
“All right, we’ll talk later,” said Mac. “I’ve got some meetings to take care of.”
Sergio looked at Mike, with a nod.
“What?” he asked.
“No big deal,” replied Sergio, adding, “it’s just our first training session for bigger things to come. Anyone—man, woman, or teen, for that matter—can fire a gun, but very few can take out weapons of destruction, essentially leveling the playing field. This will be your first test for our most important work. Take out the advantage and fight like hell to the end. Make sense?”
“Yes, it makes perfect sense,” replied Mike. “It’s right up my alley, in case you had second thoughts about me.”
Sergio laughed. “Mike, you’re a rare find, and everyone around you knows that. My job is to take you out of here after declaring victory and not overstay our welcome.”
“Okay, that makes sense, but this here is my family—at least since the day.”
“Mark my word,” continued Sergio. “What you will be doing with me will help your family, as you call them, a thousand-fold over staying here with them, and they will never know it, but you will. That’s the difference.”
“Yeah, okay. I understand. What’s next?”
Mike never was much of a planner, but Sergio was, down to the last details. He, of course, as the number four guy in Baker’s detail, knew about the flying machines and the plans for the Valley—at least as much as the other inner circle—barring, of course, Baker himself.
“What’s next,” said Sergio, “is you and me taking out as many things that can fly as possible and trying to level the playing field before Ronna or the Colonel need to get involved. In case you were wondering, this is your interview, and I don’t get the last say.”
“I understand,” replied Mike, not worried about making the right impression. “We will see what happens,” he added, like they were talking about the next Denver Broncos’ home football game.
As most would label them, the two “outcasts” pitched their own camp on the Rimrock, maybe a few hundred yards from Drake’s. Mac told his group they would be in the area and to ignore them completely.
Sergio and Mike kept a vantage point of the entire Valley on both sides, from the highest point they could find on the ridge. Most on the Ranch, or even in Lance’s group, didn’t know they were gone. He noticed, though, as did Joy, Lonnie, Vlad, Nancy and Jake—and, of course, little Javi.
* * * *
“Look at that,” Mike said to Sergio, as he pointed across the Valley.
“Let me get my binos,” he replied, after canvassing the area on top of the Rimrock for obvious breach locations.
“See them?” asked Mike. “They are showing each other the river and don’t look too happy about it.”
“Do you think Hanson already got it dammed?” asked Sergio.
“Looks like it to me,” replied Mike.
“The thing is,” Sergio continued, “how long before they head upriver looking for the problem?”
“Unfortunately for Hanson, not long at all,” replied Mike. “It is getting late in the afternoon, though, and I doubt these guys want to trample around in the dark.”
“That gives us a couple of hours to get over to his place, and tonight we can head downstream and get a closer look at the arsenal,” said Sergio. “By tomorrow or the next day, the valley will be flooded, with those who walked from the last camp pretty surprised!”
“What are you thinking for the equipment?” asked Mike.
�
�Well, I’m on the fence between burning it and taking out enough wires that would take them months to find replacements for. The burning option is more fun, for sure, but Ronna or the Colonel may want to save them for their own use down the road. I’ll get hold of Ronna in a few and see what he wants to do.”
“Do you need permission for everything?” asked Mike, not trying to sound disrespectful but not caring either way.
“No, not everything, or even most things, but with what we have coming up in the next year or so, we’re going to need all the transportation and firepower we can get our hands on. I’m guessing Ronna will feel the same; but then again, who knows? Let’s head over to Hanson’s place. I want to get there before dark.”
Families First: A Post-Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 6 Battle Grounds Page 13
