Families First: A Post-Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 6 Battle Grounds

by Lance K Ewing

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Raton Pass ~ New Mexico

  The Raton Pass Militia got a rare visit. The only one since the last time the Colonel landed his Chinook right in the center of camp. Members knew better than to shoot at anything flying overhead.

  David and Mel met the Colonel and several of his men, plus a familiar face.

  “Colonel!” said David, reaching out his hand. “And Mike! I’m surprised to see you both here.”

  “Let’s sit for a chat,” offered the Colonel, as they walked towards the only place to have one this important.

  “Hello Colonel,” said Beatrice. “And Mike, it’s so good to see you too,” she added, pinching his cheek as an aunt might do to a little boy. He didn’t mind. She reminded him of his own mother, and he was happy to see her.

  “Sheila passed a few days back,” he whispered to her.

  “I’m so sorry… And Javi?” she asked.

  “He’s with Vlad and Anna in a permanent home. I’m working with the Colonel and others now.”

  “Katie and Jonah are doing just fine since you rescued them,” Beatrice said. “You always have a home here—for a day or a year. Remember that,” she whispered, kissing him on the cheek, as his mom used to do.

  “Thank you, Beatrice,” he said, snapping back to focus.

  * * * *

  The Colonel spent the next forty minutes laying out the plan for his FEMA guests in Trinidad.

  “Your place is remote—too hard to get people up and down the mountain road. Weston will be the main hub, and I need people I can trust to run the operation.”

  “Do we have a choice?” asked Mel.

  “Of course,” replied the Colonel. “The choices are step up for your country or get stepped on by a foreign one.”

  Even David was surprised by how it came out of his mouth. It was not a threat, condescending, or even cocky, but just the facts—like “Would you prefer pretzels or peanuts?” that was asked on most plane flights before the world suddenly came down with overwhelming peanut allergies.

  “Here’s how it has to work,” the Colonel continued. “James will be the Sheriff, and you, David, Mayor of Weston. You, Mel, will be on the City Council, and Beatrice, if you can, could be Treasurer.”

  “If I can? If I can?!” Beatrice questioned.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replied respectfully.

  “I cannot only do it, but I’ll also be the best Treasurer you are likely to see in all of your communities. Inside of a year, you will be asking me to train all the rest!”

  “I don’t doubt that, ma’am, after all the good things I’ve heard about you. How’s your swimming coming, by the way?”

  “Would you like to race, sir?”

  The Colonel laughed. “No, ma’am, I guess not. You’re a firecracker, and God loves you for it, I’m sure.”

  “David, I would like for you and me to go talk to James VanFleet. My people tell me there is some volatility in town and I need accurate information before moving forward.”

  “Sure thing, sir. Should I meet you there?”

  “No. Let’s take a quick flight down and bring Mel and your mom, if she’s up to it, of course.”

  “Okay, but just to be clear,” said David, “both Mel and I have families, and our significant others need to have a say, as well as the entire community.”

  David and Mel both told their wives only the bare bones and that they would return soon. They would no doubt have quite a lot of explaining to do.

  * * * *

  The two helicopters took off before noon for the short flight down the mountain.

  When in range, David radioed James, asking the best place to land and not wanting any trouble due to accidental identification.

  * * * *

  James welcomed them all on the front porch with Janice, Lauren and Jason.

  “James, this is the Colonel I was telling you about,” began David. “He helped us defeat Baker’s group.”

  “It’s a pleasure, sir,” said James, shaking his hand. He introduced the rest of the welcoming party. “How can we help you?”

  “Well, that’s just it; I’m not asking for a little favor here. We are looking for patriots like you. We heard how you ended up in that chair, defending your fellow citizens, and I’ve met David, Beatrice, and Mel here before. What I am asking of them and you is nothing less than everything you’ve got in order to fight for your town and country, knowing there are those who seek to take it right out from under you. I’ll go through the specifics in a moment, but the bottom line is either we all work together and give up some comforts on the way, or all the kids in this fair town and every other one will be learning Chinese in less than two years.”

  “I thought it was safe—that all this mess was behind us,” said Lauren.

  “This mess, as you put it, ma’am, is far from over, regretfully. In fact, the whole reason the power is out is that it’s the first step in the softening of our country before they invade, like locusts on a ripe field. The choice is really no choice at all. I was offered a position in the U.S. Virgin Islands shortly after the lights went out. And trust me, my lady friend was all for it! I will take it, mark my words, but not before this country I love and swore to protect is back on her feet and kicking ass. To do this here, I need you to be Sheriff, James, and David as Mayor of Weston, with you, Jason, continuing in your current position. I’ve been informed that the previous Sheriff—Jensen, I think—passed suddenly while fishing, leaving an open position. Is that right?”

  “Sheriff Johnson, sir,” replied James. “And we believe it was no accident. Plus, the position was filled quickly with his former girlfriend, Kate Shields.”

  “No accident, you say? Who did it?”

  “We believe, sir, that it was Kate and the Judge—Judge Lowry, who had been banished from town by Sheriff Johnson only a week before it happened.”

  “Hmm, some kind of love triangle, it sounds like,” replied the Colonel.

  “Well, we’re pretty sure she and the Judge are not that kind of close, but both love the power,” stated James.

  “Okay, we still have some time, as I’m sure you all have plenty to discuss, so we will leave you to it and be back in a few days to revisit everything.”

  With that, the Colonel thanked them for their hospitality and flew east, heading to yet another meeting.

  * * * *

  Jason offered to give his three friends a ride home if they wanted to stay and discuss it more. All were adamant about it, including Beatrice.

  “Well, David,” asked James, “what’s your take on it?”

  “I’ll only speak for myself at the moment, but I love this country; I love our land and the families we have been living with in harmony. It’s not something I’m just willing to give up. My mom here has been up there for most of her adult life on the property. She cooks everyone breakfast most mornings, and we all look out for each other. It’s a simpler life, for sure, and one I wouldn’t trade for almost anything. James, did you ever eat at that sandwich place called Jimmy John’s?”

  “Oh, yes. I loved that place,” replied James. “I would get the Hunter’s Club, medium-rare roast beef with all the fixings!”

  “That’s right. Did you ever read the poster on the wall about the fisherman who lived a simple life, saying ‘How Much Is Enough?’”

  “No, I don’t believe I have,” replied James.

  “Well, I took the liberty of writing it down—for an occasion such as this.”

  David pulled a half-folded, half-crumpled piece of paper from his back jeans pocket, unfolding it carefully, as if it were the very last copy on the planet.

  “It’s not long, so I’ll read it aloud,” he said, not asking permission.

  How Much Is Enough?

  The American investment banker was at the pier of a small coastal Mexican village when a small boat with just one fisherman docked. Inside the small boat were several large fin tuna. The American complime
nted the Mexican on the quality of his fish and asked how long it took to catch them.

  The Mexican replied, “Only a little while.”

  The American then asked why he didn’t stay out longer and catch more fish.

  The Mexican said he had enough to support his family’s immediate needs.

  The American then asked, “But what do you do with the rest of your time?”

  The Mexican fisherman said, “I sleep late, fish a little, play with my children, take siesta with my wife, Maria, and stroll into the village each evening where I sip wine and play guitar with my amigos. I have a full and busy life.”

  The American scoffed, “I am a Harvard MBA and could help you. You should spend more time fishing and, with the proceeds, buy a bigger boat; and with the proceeds from the bigger boat you could buy several boats. Eventually, you would have a fleet of fishing boats. Instead of selling your catch to a middleman, you would sell directly to the processor, eventually opening your own cannery. You would control the product, processing and distribution. You would need to leave this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

  The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this take?”

  To which the American replied, “About 15-20 years.”

  “But what then?”

  The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part! When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions!”

  “Millions?” asked the fisherman. “Then what?”

  The American said, “Then you would retire—move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evening, sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos!”

  (Author Unknown)

  “Bravo!” announced Beatrice, clapping and surprised she had never heard it before.

  James smiled and shook his head in agreement. “Yes, I get your point. We make a choice to go through all this, just to hope to get back what we have right now—years down the road, if ever.”

  “Precisely,” said David. “But the fisherman in this story was a free man. Free to make a choice for himself without it being made for him. That’s where this is different,” he added, waving his right arm in a large circle. “What we have here, what you have here, James, is no longer a simple choice of wanting more or getting rich. This homestead you have is only as good as it can be protected. When they come like locusts to a farmer’s field, they will take it or burn it—ours too. But how long until we have to be concerned about it—20 years, 10, 5, 1? How many?”

  David had everyone’s attention, like a suddenly silent magician performing a Vegas show.

  All were in silent contemplation for another minute.

  “And what about our kids?” added James. “What will we leave for them? Memories of a good year, or maybe even five, or a chance at real and lasting freedom because we chose to sacrifice now?”

  “It’s what they used to call a ‘no-brainer,’” chimed in Beatrice. “We can’t live free if we can’t live free. I’ve lived a good long life, free and unafraid. These children deserve the same. We almost had it. We surely did, but it was just an illusion—the kind of peace a person has just before they step on a rattlesnake and everything changes in a split second! Wishing it were different doesn’t make it so… I still want to be Head Chef, no matter where we end up,” she added. “Any house can be a home if you let it, but I’m going to need some help if we’re going to feed a lot more mouths.”

  “I’m sure we can make that happen, Mom,” said David. “And James, Mel and I still need to run it by our better halves, and the others camped up there as well.”

  “Well, we still need to discuss it more here too,” replied James.

  “Can you stay for lunch?” asked Janice.

  “Oh, that would be wonderful!” replied Beatrice.

  “We’ve got this,” offered Lauren. “Relax, Beatrice. You’ve earned it.”

  “Oh no. You tell me what to do, and we’ll get this done together. The more I sit, the closer I get to dying—and I’ll do that on my feet, so help me, God!”

  Both Janice and Lauren laughed at that. “Me too, Beatrice,” replied Janice. “Me too.”

  * * * *

  They left the men on the porch, where the conversation turned from “if” to “how.”

  “You know they are not going easy,” said James.

  “You mean the new Sheriff, right?” asked Mel.

  “Yes, her and Judge Lowry. I’m not sure exactly how they are connected, only that they are. One thing is for sure—neither one can stay.”

  “Well, I’m sure the Colonel would take care of it,” said Jason.

  “I’m sure he would,” said David, seeing where James was headed and jumping in. “The question is,” he continued, “do we want him to?”

  “I’m not following,” said Jason.

  “What I mean is, do we want the Colonel handling our business like a boss, or would we rather have him as more of a consultant, carrying a heavy stick only when we have no choice—like up at our place on the mountain?”

  “I see your point,” conceded Jason, getting a nervous look on his face that James knew all too well.

  “We’re just talking here, Jason,” James said, calming him down. “There’s a long way to go between here and there, so don’t worry about it yet.”

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed. “I just wonder when it’s all going to be over, is all.”

  Nobody spoke… Nobody had an answer.

  “Suppertime, boys!” called Janice from inside.

  “To be continued…” said James, as they all headed in for the meal.

  “Beef ravioli in homegrown tomato sauce,” Janice proudly announced, “and a garden salad—Beatrice-style, with all the fixings.”

  “Sounds great,” they all agreed, reserving the conversation at hand to another time.

  * * * *

  Jason got the truck ready, tidying up the cab before Beatrice climbed in.

  “Are you okay coming back down by yourself, Jason?” asked David.

  “Sure, the town is already patrolling the road up there once a day, for better or worse,” replied Jason.

  “Worse probably!” replied Mel.

  “We need to talk soon, like maybe tomorrow,” said James. “Before the Colonel comes back, at least.”

  * * * *

  It was a restless night in both camps, and David had vowed to stop by after dropping Mark off for his doctor’s appointment the next day.

  “Long doctor’s appointment, I guess,” said James, when David and Mel came back late the following morning.

  “Long enough to drop him off first, have his appointment, and then a lunch date with a certain girl,” said David. “I’ll pick him up this afternoon. How much trouble can he really get into? He can barely get around anyway.”

  “Calleigh’s a good kid,” interjected Janice. “He’ll be in good hands until you get back.”

  “Young love, sweet young love,” called out Mel in a song he apparently just made up on the fly.

  “Can we at least get a steady pitch?” asked David, laughing along with Janice and James.

  “I only guarantee catchy lyrics,” replied Mel, “and that is all.”

  “Okay, gentlemen. It’s business time,” announced James. “How did it go with the ladies and the rest of the group?” he asked, looking at David and Mel.

  “As good as can be expected,” they both said, talking over each other.

  “You go first,” David told Mel, having already heard most of his story on the ride down and swearing his son, Mark, to secrecy about anything he overheard.

  “Well, my Tammy, she’s a New Yorker, a city girl through and through. She loves it up on the mountain like most city women I know of love a lake house. Great for a week
end and maybe even occasionally a few days longer, but not somewhere to live full time—given a choice, of course—and it’s not even winter yet!”

  “We’re looking at the same on my end with Tina,” said David. “She’s a city girl as well and doesn’t see the mountain the same as I do, but that’s all right. On the other hand, my mom would rather sleep in a tent on the hard ground than move into the city. However, she does understand where things are headed, and as you heard yesterday from her, ‘It’s all about the future generations.’ So, she is onboard 110 percent with whatever we decide. And don’t even get me started about Mark!”