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

by Lance K Ewing

  His eyes misted over, like when you get hit in the nose.

  “What are you going to do—cry now, Deputy Mayor?”

  “No, and I don’t know anything,” he blurted out, forgetting all about Ken’s girlfriend’s advice to stay quiet.

  “You know what happened to Sheriff Johnson,” added Judge Lowry, before being shooshed by Kate.

  “I’ll ask the questions,” she reminded him. “After all, if it wasn’t for me, you would still be hiding out like a thief down by the lake.”

  He mumbled something inaudible, but it was clear to Jason that she was calling the shots—not just with respect to him but also everyone in the room. He decided at that moment to focus only on her and try to get out of this nightmare.

  “Ma’am, I was...”

  “It’s Sheriff to you!” she spat.

  “Okay, Sheriff. It’s clear to me that what happened down by the lake was maybe a tragic mistake...”

  * * * *

  “Here he is!” shouted the lead deputy and James’ friend only a few knew about, coming in the door behind James in his chair.

  “Good afternoon, Mayor,” she greeted. “All done buttering up my citizens, are you?”

  “For what?” replied James, his confidence giving Jason some new hope.

  “Oh, you know, maybe what happened down... You can go wait outside, deputies,” she announced without going further into the story.

  “Yes, ma’am...I mean Sheriff,” they both said.

  She continued after she was sure they had stepped outside. “Where was I? Yes, you may have been telling people what you think you know about the lake tragedy.”

  “We just ran into some folks who...” started Jason.

  “I’ve got it, Jason,” said James, now wondering what else he had told them.

  “Oh, sure,” said Jason, relieved.

  “I used to hang around with your old boyfriend, or fiancé if I remember right, and of course the Judge here,” James began, pointing to him—“sometimes right here in this office. I remember when Sheriff Johnson shot that buck hanging right over your head. It was a few years back. Shot him down by the lake—not a great shot but enough to wound him.

  “Do you know what he did? That buck,” he continued, not waiting for an invitation or answer to his question... “That buck, the one right here in this room, headed straight for the lake and into the water. Now even a non-hunter such as yourself, Judge, should know it’s a whole lot easier to pull a shot duck from a lake than a 250-pound deer. Why, they even have dogs for it—Labrador Retrievers, like our Chance. This one right there,” he pointed to the mounted head again, “weighed a near-record for a mule deer—around here, at least—at 242 pounds. Now you can imagine, I’m sure, that a hunter out alone like he was, and a buck that size, we’re going to have an interesting story, no matter how it went. Am I right?”

  He got no response from either of them, and for the first time a typically nervous Jason realized he couldn’t just run out of the jailhouse if he got sick.

  “Well,” continued James, “even if you two never heard the story, this guy’s head is now on your wall. How good of a swimmer do you think a man in hunting clothes, and probably cowboy boots, would have to be to overpower a more than 200-pound deer struggling to get away in the lake? We’re talking about the very same man who had been out in his fishing tube a hundred times before without fear of drowning.”

  “All right, that’s enough,” said Kate. “We can go down memory lane another time. We found the girl, and she sang like a canary.”

  “You didn’t hurt her, did you?” asked James.

  “No, not yet. But now we’re all on the same page with this, and really there’s nothing you can do about it, either of you.”

  “So, we just do this little dance?” asked James, already knowing the answer. “I’ve been around long enough to know only one man walked from this jail.”

  “And now you have his girlfriend locked up in back!” blurted out Jason.

  “Do I?” she asked, staring a hole straight through Jason.

  “Yes. I mean, that’s what she told me.”

  “Now, why would you have the girlfriend locked up of the only man who walked out of this jailhouse alive?” asked James. “Maybe some history there?”

  She didn’t respond; she only looked at Judge Lowry.

  “When he crashed his bike,” James continued, “jumping over your Courthouse, buddy, you Kate…I mean Sheriff-elect Kate, if there is such a title, were the first one to check on him after running full out. Why, even the Sheriff, the other one, dead now, couldn’t keep up.”

  “Where are you headed with this, James? I mean Mayor-elect, if there is such a title,” she responded.

  He smiled, thinking at least they were still talking. “I think you, too, have a history, and I can see it on the Judge’s face. Don’t ever play poker, Judge Lowry; you don’t have the face for it.”

  The Judge turned red, and he recalled telling Sheriff Johnson that anger was near as crying as an emotion. He smiled, looking at James, and said, “I call.”

  “Okay, what about you, Kate? Do you call?” asked James casually.

  “What the hell is he talking about?” she asked.

  “The future of the town, I suspect,” said the Judge, feeling good he still saw two steps ahead of the sitting Sheriff. “Isn’t that right, James?”

  “You’re spot on, Judge. I once had a chicken problem on my ranch, or let’s call it a fox problem. My chickens were inside the coop. They couldn’t leave until daylight but were protected by the very walls that held them captive. The fox came by most nights, waiting for just the right time or an opening, maybe an open gate or a soft spot of dirt to dig under the wire. But the fox made a mistake. He thought it was just a game between him and the chickens. He ignored the possibility that others could also be at play. On a cold Saturday night, I gave him the last chicken. Not the last one I had but the last one he would. He was again hungry two nights later, and I didn’t make it easy, but he found his way in. My fattest juiciest chicken was all the way in the back. Hard to get to, and he passed several others to have a shot. When he did, the kill shot was a hallucination, a clean piece of glass. Once he realized it and turned, it was too late; he was caught. The captor had become the captive in a matter of seconds. He struggled, of course, but it was no use; he had eaten his last chicken on my ranch and all others. You, Kate, and you too, Judge, are the fox. The citizens of this great town are the chickens, but I am the ranch owner, and I don’t stand alone.”

  “What is he saying?” asked Kate. “Is he threatening us from a wheelchair?” she asked, snorting with laughter.

  “I think,” responded the Judge with a sober face, “he is telling us there are more players in the story—even more than him.”

  “I have half a mind to hang them both tomorrow in front of the whole town,” said the Sheriff.

  Jason buckled with the thought and attempted a full run out of the jailhouse, with hands still bound. He made it out of the office, tripping over the trash can in his haste and landing facedown before being brought back by a deputy.

  “Your turn, James. Are you going to roll on out of here?” she asked sarcastically.

  “Now, why would I?” he replied. “Sure, Jason and I will spend the night behind bars but so will you both; you two are in my office now!”

  Kate looked at Judge Lowry with a confused but still confident face.

  “How do you figure?” she asked.

  “We’re a test town—part location and part a who-you-know scenario. In a week, you won’t recognize the town of Weston or this jailhouse. The only question remaining is, will you leave or be the ones locked inside? It pays to have friends in high places,” he added—“don’t you think, Sheriff?”

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-seven

  Weston, Colorado

  “Hey! Hey, what’s going on here?” came the loud voice she recognized at once.

  “Ken!�
� she said, excusing herself from the room.

  James could hear talking back and forth but couldn’t make out the words.

  “Why exactly do you have my girlfriend in your jail?” was the only question he could hear from Ken, repeated over and over as the Sheriff tried to calm him down.

  “It was me,” said Judge Lowry, staring at the man who used to work for him years ago, the same man who set him free only a week before. “She was drunk and disorderly—like you were, if you recall.”

  “She doesn’t drink,” said Ken flatly.

  “Well, then, let’s just call it disorderly conduct and leave it at that. Either way, she’s staying for a bit.”

  “I want to talk to her right now!” Ken screamed.

  “Ken, is that you?!” all could hear from the back of the building. “Ken, get me out of here! I didn’t do anything!”

  “Let her out now, Kate. You have to let her out,” he pleaded.

  “We’ll see if we can strike some sort of deal,” she replied, motioning for two deputies to show him outside.

  “A deal! What kind of deal?” he called out, as they dragged him towards the door like a bouncer at a club may throw out a rowdy customer.

  “One where everyone wins,” she called back. “We’ll talk later. Sorry about that, gentlemen. Or were we done here anyway?”

  James shrugged, and nobody spoke.

  “Just for conversation’s sake,” she said, crouching down to James at eye level, “what’s my town going to look like in a week?”

  “A FEMA camp with Military control,” he said with a smile.

  “Get them out of here!” she said. “Not only is he a traitor but a liar as well. I want them in separate cells, as far from each other as possible,” she snarled.

  “Yes, ma’am, Sheriff,” said the lead deputy, winking at James when nobody was looking.

  “Right this way, Mr. Mayor,” he said, pushing the chair down the hall, with Jason walking in front. “Hang tight,” the deputy whispered to James. “I’ll be back tonight for supper, and we’ll make a plan. I put some snacks under your mattress; just please be discreet.”

  “Thanks, old friend,” replied James. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too, man. Me too.”

  * * * *

  Jason was across the hall and couldn’t see James’ cell. He hollered out a few times, being warned by Kate what would happen if he didn’t shut up.

  Ten minutes later, he slipped into the corner of his cell and traded crying for praying and praying for crying. He just wanted to be home and wondered if it would ever be safe again for him and his family. James heard him but stayed quiet until both the Sheriff and Judge Lowry left for the day around 4 p.m.

  “Jason!” he called out when he was sure they had left. “Jason, I need you to be strong; your family needs you to be strong. So far, everything that has happened is what we expected.”

  He didn’t say anything about the deputies or the Colonel, thinking they were likely being videoed, or at least recorded. “The Sheriff and Judge Lowry are just doing their job, that’s all,” James said, just in case he was right.

  “When can we go home?” asked Jason through his tears.

  “Soon, I hope… You too, ma’am,” he said to Ken’s girlfriend, who he could see from the right corner of his cell.

  “Sounds like you guys have some friends in high places,” she replied.

  “I have God,” replied James, giving both an accurate statement and not wanting to get her going on the what or who. “Just hang tight, both of you.”

  The jailhouse front door swung open with a bang, sending both Jason and Ken’s girlfriend into a panic.

  “It’s just me,” came the call from up front. James couldn’t see from his cell—none of them could—but he recognized his friend’s voice.

  “Sorry about all the banging, folks, but I had to swing the door open with my foot, so I didn’t spill the dinner trays. Let’s see. We have meatloaf, potatoes au gratin, and coleslaw. I ate mine just before coming over, so I can tell you firsthand it’s good. Now let me see, raise your hands if you would like ketchup?”

  He kept talking loudly about the food, his wife’s cooking skills, and even the weather while slipping James a note on top of the tray but under his plate.

  James took the tray, thanking him, and vowed to have his cleaned plate ready for pickup in 20 minutes. Carefully slipping the note out, he hunched over, concealing it from any possible cameras as he read.

  “Hey, buddy. I hope you’re holding up well. I talked to your friend on the mountain this afternoon. He got hold of…well, you know who… Anyway, all is good. Hang tight, and you’ll be out in a day or two. Watch what you say in here if you’re not already. Wait for my sign and slip this note back under your plate with the dishes. I’m looking forward to working for you—I surely am. I checked on Janice and the family. All is good at the ranch.”

  James read the note twice before slipping it under the plate and starting his meal. He smiled, knowing loyal friends were hard to find, and especially those who would risk their jobs and very lives to do the right thing.

  “All good, James?” called out the deputy.

  “Yes, sir, Your wife is a mighty fine cook, that’s for sure. I’m done with everything, and thank you.”

  “Oh sure. Just some food is all,” he replied, coming around to pick up plates. “Y’all sleep tight,” said the deputy, locking the front door behind him.

  “That wasn’t half bad,” said Jason.

  “What’s that?” called out James.

  “The dinner. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I ate it all. Didn’t want to offend the chef.”

  “Yes, it was good,” chimed in Ken’s girlfriend.

  “It’s going be dark in another couple of hours,” said James. “Let’s all get a good night’s rest; we need to be sharp tomorrow.”

  * * * *

  Janice and Lauren tucked in Billy and the girls while Chance checked each room, as he had since supper, looking for James and Jason.

  “They won’t be home tonight, my big boy,” said Janice. “Hopefully tomorrow, though.” She seethed about the new Sheriff and Judge Lowry but didn’t let it show.

  Lauren was already more upset and nervous than Janice had ever seen her, even that first day in front of the trailer.

  “They are going to be just fine, Lauren. I know it to be so, and so it is. Get some sleep tonight. Chance will keep an eye out—right, buddy?”

  Woof! was the reply, as he plopped down at the bottom of the stairs.

  * * * *

  Sheriff Kate wasn’t sure of her next move and resisted the urge to go to Ken’s place. As it turned out, it wouldn’t matter. Ken was at hers around 8 p.m., banging on the front door.

  “You know,” she said, looking through the peephole, “it’s not smart to bang on the Sheriff’s door near dark.”

  “I’m not banging on the Sheriff’s door; I’m banging on Kate’s door,” he said. “The woman I used to know. An honest woman who cared more for other people than herself. What happened to you?!”

  She listened but didn’t respond.

  “Why is she still locked up?” he asked.

  “As I said, she was disorderly.”

  “No, you said she was drunk and disorderly. That’s my MO, not hers.”

  Ken heard Kate slide down the back of the door and sit on the floor.

  “Do you remember, Ken?” she started, not shouting but loud enough to be heard. “Do you remember when we used to date, and neither of us had a care in the world?”

  He did the same, sitting back-to-back with his former girlfriend, only an inch of wood separating them.

  “Yes, I do. I would ride my motorcycle out to your dad’s place, and he would curse and throw things at us as we rode away. Got me good once with an old baseball!”

  “I remember!” she snorted—“almost wrecked the bike that time. Don’t you miss the rides out in the country?” she added. “Just u
s, the wind, and roads for miles. You were talking crap about your boss back then—Judge Lowry. Can you even believe he now works for me?”

  “No, I didn’t see that coming,” Ken replied. “What really happened to Sheriff Johnson?” he asked.

  “Simple,” she replied. “He wasn’t you… It’s the same reason she’s in the jailhouse, I guess.” The statement came out so quick she couldn’t take it back.

  “What I mean is…” she backtracked. “She’s nice; I’m sure she is. But she can’t have you, not anymore.”