Next World Series (Vol. 4): Families First [Hard Roads]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “See those men fishing on that far bank?” he asked, pointing east. “I know some of them, and they all took the deal. The single men, well, they didn’t have anything to trade and the others who refused headed back to town or are starving.”

  “We can drink the water, but that’s it. No fishing or bathing allowed.”

  “Just so I hear you right,” said Joy, clearly upset. “These men you know, who traded their wives and girlfriends like some kind of property, are sitting on the bank fat and happy. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Now ma’am,” he backpedaled. “I didn’t mean to cause any problems. It’s just that…well...”

  “What do they do with the women?” asked Kat, joining in.

  “Well, some they keep, I guess. But the others… Well, uh…”

  “They sell them!” called out his lady friend. “They sell them to the highest bidder in a slave auction every Saturday. I’ve got these here binoculars, and I saw five sold just this past week,” she added. “They’ve got fights too.”

  “Like boxing?” asked Mike.

  “No, like pit fights,” she replied.

  “What’s that?” asked Jake.

  “Pretty basic, really. Two men in a pit and only one comes out alive. They bet on them, like chicken fights.”

  “I thought they didn’t take any money?” asked Joy.

  “They don’t,” replied Mitch. “Just silver coins, and maybe gold if they can find it. Some guns, ammo, food, and other things they find valuable.”

  “Now, what man would volunteer for that?” asked Kat.

  “The ones that fish without asking. They fight, and their women are taken anyway.”

  “Have you seen it firsthand?” continued Kat.

  “Yes, we saw the first one,” replied Mitch. “They make everyone watch who’s around, even the kids. After that, we moved away, over to this part, but we can still hear the screams most nights as men fight for their lives, only to be killed on the spot if they refuse.”

  “What if they win the fight?” asked a curious Mike.

  “Then, they fight again the next night.”

  “So, there’s a fight every night?” Kat asked.

  “Well, not every night,” replied Mitch, “but most nights there are one or two fights. I guess I got lucky and figured it out before putting my pole in the water.”

  “These guys, the Gatlin Brothers…” Lonnie said, coming around the front truck.

  “I think that’s from a Kenny Rogers song,” I said. It was a bad attempt at a joke.

  “Gradlen brothers, yes,” remarked Mitch.

  “The brothers, how do they control everyone?” asked Lonnie.

  “Well, more than ninety percent of people coming out from Pueblo come from the east, straight up Highway 96. The brothers got a dozen or so men taking weapons and anything valuable if you want to pass,” replied Mitch.

  “But you get to keep your fishing pole?”

  “Only if you’ve got a lady with you or something else they want. I’m not sure how it all works, but it cost me a good hunting rifle and my 9mm pistol.”

  “Why would you agree to that? Why not just turn around and go somewhere else?” I asked, trying not to sound disrespectful but not understanding why a man would voluntarily give up his guns.

  “That’s a fair question. I’ve been fishing this lake forever. My pops took me out here nearly every weekend as a kid, and I’ve been coming up here ever since. I can out-fish anyone on this lake, boat or not. Sure, we could have turned around and kept our guns, but then what? There’s not another lake like this for more miles than we can walk. They let me keep my fishing gear and this here water filter,” he added, starting to pull it out of his pack.

  His girlfriend looked concerned.

  “It’s okay, Babe. They’re not going to take it from us. You’re not, are you?” Mitch asked.

  “No, we’re not,” I said. “We’re the other kind of people—different, I guess. We only make fair trades and help out when we can.”

  “Okay. Anyway, we made the decision to give up our weapons in return for keeping our tent, sleeping bags, filter, and fishing gear. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I knew we could survive.

  “You’ll need more than fish eventually,” chimed in Aiden.

  “I know. We’ve got 20 pounds of alfalfa sprout seeds and a few Mason jars,” Mitch continued. “With water and sunlight, we can make a few pounds every few days for a long time. With protein and vegetables, we’re good. Just started our first two jars this morning.” He held up two quart-sized Mason jars for all to see.

  I was happy to see I wasn’t the only one growing them. I had tried nearly everything I could think of to put over the top: cheesecloth, T-shirts, new socks, and even a piece of window screen. Finally, I settled on a piece of Joy’s pantyhose and never looked back.

  “What’s on the cover of those jars?” I asked. It was bright red and looked like a swimsuit or towel.

  “This here is the secret part that makes it all possible,” Mitch replied. “You see, there’s a delicate balance to keeping the seeds in but changing the water every day. I got these right off a pair of my boxers.”

  “Ooooh,” came the reply from more than one on our side.

  “No, it’s not like that. I rinsed them good in the lake first, when nobody was looking. Y’all want to try some when they’re done?”

  “No, no, not me.” “I’m good.” “No thanks.”

  “I don’t mean to call you out on that…well, I guess I do,” I said, trying hard not to laugh, “but that’s pretty gross.”

  “You’re okay with this?” I asked his girlfriend.

  “I already told him I’d starve before I eat that!” she quickly answered.

  “Mitch, you should use a piece of panty hose. I’ve been doing it for years and call them Pantyhose Sprouts. Would you eat those sprouts?” I asked, looking at her.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

  “Hold on. I’ll grab you a couple. I’ve got more than a few spares.”

  I handed her four squares of pantyhose. “These will last a long time if you don’t rip them. Now back to your plan. It sounded reasonable, at least when you first started.”

  “It was, until I found out we couldn’t fish,” said Mitch. “By then, it was too late.”

  I looked at Mike without speaking. He gave me a shrug.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-nine

  Lake Pueblo State Park

  Pueblo, Colorado

  “We should camp over here,” said Mike, pointing close to the lakeshore.

  “That’s a good idea,” replied Lonnie. “Let’s go up a half-mile or so and circle the wagons.”

  “Come on over,” Mike told them. “You can eat a meal with us and tell us what you know.”

  I looked at Joy, wondering if we were about to get involved in something that had nothing to do with our getting to our final destination. On the other hand, I didn’t want to walk away from pure evil.

  “I know,” she said, before I could speak. “Once you know something bad is happening, it’s hard to turn a blind eye.”

  “Were these people, all of them, so messed up before?” I asked. “Were they just silently waiting for something like this to happen so they could bring out their true evil selves?”

  “No, it’s not like that,” said Joy. “Take all of these people here. There are probably a lot of them who are really good, and a few really bad.”

  “The Gradlen brothers owned a few car dealerships only a month ago,” said Mitch. “Are you saying they were always like this?”

  “Not exactly,” replied Joy, “but nobody changes overnight from a regular guy to a man who traffics women and makes their men fight to the death because they threw one fishing pole into a massive lake. What about the other brother, the married one? I mean, is he bad too?”

  “No,” replied Mitch, “that’s just it. My dad bought every car he owned from their father over the
last thirty years. And I bought my last two from the youngest brother. I had his personal cell number stored in my phone. He’s been trying to stop his brothers from doing some of this bad stuff, from what I’ve seen, but they just push him aside like he’s some kind of stranger. These good folks out there need some kind of leadership, ’cause they don’t want to go to the FEMA Camps, but now they don’t even have that choice.”

  “So why are you two sticking around here?” I asked, not getting it.

  “Well, I got a chance to talk to the good brother, and he said he would try to get me a pass to fish. The only thing is, I haven’t heard back, and we’ve been here for more than a week.”

  “Would he be a good leader, the brother you know?” asked Mike, getting more than a few looks from our group.

  “Yeah, I guess so. He was always a straight shooter like his dad. Man, if their dad were still on this earth, he would never have let this happen.”

  “Where do they sleep? How many guards are there? Do they have night-vision goggles?” asked Mike, like he was running down a grocery list.

  “Michael!” called Sheila. “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing. Just talking is all.”

  “Well, the last time you asked so many questions, you went all John Rambo on the guys across the river,” Sheila reminded him.

  “And my new daddy saved me from the bad men!” Javi spoke up.

  “That’s right, son,” said Mike loudly. “We got you away from the bad guys, and later we freed a lot of men, women and children and got their rightful leader back in place.”

  “Mike, I see where you are headed here, and I’m not saying no this time,” said Lonnie, “but can we please discuss it first?”

  “The if or the how, old friend?”

  “Both,” replied Lonnie.

  “Sure, but I want to pick who all discuss it. Okay?”

  “All right,” Lonnie agreed.

  Mike picked most of the core group, including Lonnie, Vlad, Joy, Nancy, Jake and me. He also asked both Aiden and Shane to join. Maybe to size them up, I thought.

  “I’ll be joining as well,” said Sheila, not asking permission.

  “Mitch, can you and your lady friend give us about 30?” I asked. “But don’t go far; we may have some questions for you.”

  “Sure, and thanks for dinner,” he added.

  * * * *

  Our small group gathered away from the others, all watching our children closely.

  “Okay, Lance, you start,” said Mike.

  “Me? I’m not sure what to say.” I hadn’t called this meeting, and I had just believed Lonnie or Mike would speak first.

  “Yeah, go ahead,” others were telling me.

  I wanted to make sure I didn’t say any more about Mike than what was already common knowledge.

  “Okay, I guess I’ll start with what I know. We have an injustice here, as best we can tell, assuming Mitch is telling the truth about everything. From what I’ve seen over the past few weeks, his story doesn’t seem so far-fetched as I would have thought, had I read the headline on my newsfeed before the day. So, I, for one, believe he and his girlfriend are telling the truth. For the entirety of our journey this far, we have helped those we could, sometimes easily and without risking our safety, and at other times putting our very lives at significant risk. That brings me to Mike.”

  He smiled…well, kind of…and I paused, not wanting to say the wrong thing.

  I continued: “We all know Mike in different ways, but I think we can all agree that he is willing to do what most men would not, in order to help someone who is preyed upon by another.”

  Most nodded their heads yes.

  “He’s not the kind of man who can just turn a blind eye to something bad happening around him, even if we are just passing through. He has been instrumental in the safe return of numerous children, including all three of Joy’s and mine. Does that sound about right?” I asked him.

  “So far,” he replied without expression.

  “Okay,” I continued. “If we assume the truth as told, we all know what’s going on here is pure evil, and we have two choices. We can ignore it and move on down the road or see if there is a way we can help. The first is easy physically, and we can head out of here tomorrow without a second thought, but it could weigh heavily on our consciousness later. The second is staying put for another day or more to see if we can rewrite this story happening here. And even then, there’s no guarantee of victory. Have I left anything out, Mike?”

  “Only one thing I can think of,” he replied

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “Your opinion on what we should do.”

  “Yep, that’s where I thought you were going,” I responded, pursing my lips together. “I don’t like it, not any of it. My first thought would be to contact the Colonel, with Vlad’s help of course, and see if he wants some more Camp members. I don’t think the brothers are going to fight soldiers trying to pave the way to a FEMA Camp.

  “If that didn’t work, then maybe there could be a way to take the power from the bad guys and give it back to the people. That’s a big maybe, though, and could cost us everything we’ve worked for so far. Am I okay with doing nothing? No. No, I’m not.”

  “Thank you, Lance,” said Lonnie. “I think that’s a good start unless anyone has questions for him directly.”

  Nobody spoke up, so I was off the hot seat.

  “We could spend the next day or two discussing this,” said Lonnie. “Who’s in favor of Vlad trying to contact the Colonel, with Jim’s help?”

  Most people raised their hands, including Vlad.

  “Let’s start with that, and hope it’s that easy,” he added.

  Jim kept Vlad close, as well as Mitch and his girlfriend, in case there were specific questions from the Colonel.

  At 9 p.m., according to my watch, the drums started across the lake. Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!

  At first, it was one…and then another…and soon it sounded like many.

  Torches were lit in a circle around the pit at the far end of the lake.

  “What the hell is that?” asked Vlad.

  “It’s them!” said Mitch. “The fights are about to start.”

  I was sitting with Joy and our boys outside. Our tent was still inside the circle of vehicles.

  I stood, steadying myself on one leg while putting more pressure on my other than I had been able to do before. It wasn’t hard to see the fires, maybe two or three miles across the lake.

  “Yay, drums and lights,” called out our boys.

  I only hoped the screams Mitch had described would not be heard at this distance.

  We have to be too far away, I thought. Thankfully we were, and thirty minutes later the flames went out.

  * * * *

  “He’s on with the Colonel,” said Jake, coming by our tent.

  “That’s good. What did he say?” asked Joy.

  “I’m not sure, but he’s talking with Vlad and Mitch now. Lonnie and Mike are listening in. I’ll be back when I hear.”

  “Nah, I’ll come with you. My leg is feeling better anyway; just have to use the crutches still. Plus, I’m not going to be able to sleep without hearing it,” I said. “I’ll come back as soon as I know something,” I told Joy, kissing her on the forehead.

  The conversation part I heard was towards the end, and it didn’t sound promising.

  “Thanks, Vlad, for checking in, and I’m sorry I can’t help out on this one,” said the Colonel.

  Jake and I overheard the Colonel’s last statement. Mike winked, having also heard the final verdict.

  “Did he just wink?” asked Jake in a whisper.

  “Yep,” I replied. “I think it means he’s going rogue sometime soon.”

  Mike had Mitch and his girlfriend off to one side, and Mitch was drawing something into a notebook for him.

  “These brothers are right up Mike’s alley, aren’t they?” asked Jake.

  “They are the same a
s the last bunch, you’re right,” I responded. “I’m not sure about the children, but they are hurting women for sure, and the odds don’t really matter to him. Plus, I think he’s bored.”

  “Bored?” asked Nancy, overhearing our conversation. “Do you think he likes what he’s about to do?”

  “Yes,” I responded, “and I think he has to do it—first to help the victims and secondly to quiet his restless mind. It wouldn’t surprise me if he was also trying to somehow square up with God, if that’s even possible now. It’s just who he is, and I would bet the farm he’s not leaving here without at least trying to liberate this camp.”