“Hell, I wouldn’t take a billion dollars cash for it now,” he continued. “Paper money is worthless around here, and everywhere else, from what I hear.”
“Out of curiosity,” I said, with a sliver of hope still, “what would you take in trade for one?”
“Guns…or maybe a thousand lobster tails—the big ones from Australia!”
We all laughed at that, with the realization we may never have another one.
“What kinds of guns and how many?” I pressed, still not sure if we really needed one, how to operate it, or if we could get it transported to Saddle Ranch.
“That’s a good question and the answer I don’t rightly know. I can tell you that I haven’t met any man or outfit that could make a deal like that so far. Are you that sort of man, Lance?”
“I might be…we might be…but I would need to talk with our group to see if it’s even a possibility.”
“Why on God’s earth would you ever need a tank anyway, son?”
“The Great Battle for the Valley, where I grew up,” I responded with a robotic delivery. “It’s coming, whether we are prepared or not.”
“Well, okay then,” replied the Mayor. “Make me an offer for this one here I call Bert.”
I was suddenly regretting, or maybe just questioning, my motive for such a weapon of destruction. Was there some childhood need to return home a hero with a piece of machinery that may save the Valley, or something else entirely? Truth be told, I didn’t ever look at the official inventory Lucy and Tina had taken of the firearms. I guessed Vlad may have a pretty good idea, but thus far our weapons had been the gateway to safe passage that had gotten us this far.
“What do you think?” I asked Jake, as we headed back to our group to talk. “Am I crazy for even asking about it?”
“You are crazy, but not about this,” he joked. “I don’t think they will go for it, but no, I don’t think you’re nuts to want something like that. Working properly, it could be a game-changer in the right scenario.”
“Yeah, okay,” I responded. “Let’s see what they say.”
* * * *
I initially thought of just getting a few people together with Lonnie, Vlad, Joy and Nancy—then figured it would be a monumental decision that all adults should vote for or against. Lucy volunteered to watch the kids run up and back down the hillside just beyond our caravan, giving the rest of us time to discuss our options. I told them what I knew of the tank, asking Carl to give his input about how rugged it was when his dad ran it through the woods.
“It’s good, that one,” said Vlad. “Russian-made and still running almost 75 years later—with some newer parts, of course.”
I retold the story of the Great Battle we knew was coming, which was a complete surprise for Carl and his wife, as well as a few others who had blocked it out of their minds.
“The first thing to discuss,” I began, “is if this option is even one worth considering. If not, we move on now. And if so, we get a relief for Lucy to agree on what we could offer in trade without depleting our inventory completely.”
Kat and her sister, Anna, offered to watch the kids after a preliminary vote to see what we had to spare. Lucy gave me the inventory sheet but did not want to address the group. Joy wouldn’t let me ask any questions about what happened to her, only telling me she and the other ladies would help Lucy work through it, and she would never leave her pistol inside the vehicle again.
The inventory was a wide range of makes and models, not including what we all carry on our persons. The count was roughly 170 pistols, 135 hunting rifles of varying calibers, 78 ARs, about 100 .22s, and 80 or so shotguns in 20- and 12-gauge. I was surprised by the count coming out of only one gun shop. The ones I had been to before seemed to have less than 100 total all combined.
“So, before we get too far down the road, I need a raise of hands for anyone who thinks we could use a machine like that,” I said.
Roughly half of the adults present raised their hands. There was small chatter amongst the others before Steve spoke up.
“How do we know it even works?”
“It did last time I saw it,” said Carl. “The Mayor and my dad used to race around the woods on them, but the last time was a few years back.”
More chatter ensued.
“Does it shoot?” Steve asked.
“I think so,” I said. “But it’s something we need to find out for sure.”
“I want to see it in action,” Joy replied, standing up. She was a part of the first group in support of it, but I saw where she was headed.
“Yes, me too! Let’s see it,” echoed most of the rest.
“Okay, assuming it’s what we hope it is and we can safely transport it across the mountains, I vote we offer 10% of our weapons, with ammo for each, in exchange for a fully functional machine, fueled and armed.”
“That doesn’t sound like much,” said Steve, adding it up in his head. “What’s the cost on that thing—dollar-wise, I mean?”
“Zero now,” I replied, but about $100,000 a month ago, according to the Mayor. You can take that with a grain of salt.”
“So, ten percent gets roughly a 50% value—dollars to dollars, I mean.”
“Sure, that sounds about right,” I agreed, “but a town like this probably doesn’t need two, and I doubt there’s a seller’s market for these things now. There are still a lot of ifs, so I’ll give everyone a few minutes to discuss before we decide on the next step.”
Minutes later, most were on board to at least see what it could do without committing to an offer.
“Let me talk to him,” offered Carl. “I’ll be back.”
* * * *
“Good news,” he said, returning after a few minutes. “He’s going to give us a preview. He wants us to all drive across the barricade to the inside first. He said he could have his mechanic demonstrate for any three. Any takers?” I wanted to go but was willing to give someone else the opportunity of a lifetime. “No, takers?” asked Carl. “Going once…going twice...”
“I’ll go,” said Joy, squeezing my hand.
“Second that,” I called out.
“Me too,” said Jake—unless you want to?” he asked his wife. “No?”
“Okay,” said Carl. “Then you three follow me.”
I felt like a kid getting his first boat ride—or maybe bumper cars was more like it.
“My mechanic will take you for a ride, and only if you like it will we talk,” said the Mayor. “Sound fair?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Mayor,” I said for all of us. “But, you’re not coming along?"
“As I said, the past few weeks have caught up to my midsection; I’m not sure I could get in or out of one. We won’t get ahead of ourselves, so my guy will just show you the basics of operation for now.”
* * * *
“What year is this?” I asked, as we walked up to the front side.
“1940—look here,” the mechanic said. “Every one of these has a code. The first two numbers are the year made, the next two the month, followed by the date, and finally which number produced out of the factory.”
“Is that last number per week, month, or ever?” I asked.
“I’m not sure about that. It’s a good question, though.”
Inside wasn’t what I was expecting, feeling more like a cramped submarine hull than the H1 Hummer feel I had imagined.
“Is this cool or what?” said Jake, once inside. “I bet this thing burns a lot of fuel.”
“Sure does,” said the mechanic, sliding inside. “Five hundred horsepower and goes maybe 200 kilometers on a tank. But it’s a game-changer, even when you don’t use the big gun—if you get in a bad scrape, that is. You folks planning on one of those?”
“Yes, unfortunately we are,” I said, not caring to sugarcoat or avoid the question. It was the truth, and not talking about it didn’t change anything.
“Well, unless you’re an army, one is all you need; that’s why I’m keeping one here, either
way,” said the Mayor, climbing back down a ladder put on the side of Bert.
“For that reason alone,” he said, pointing to the men outside the security barrier that we couldn’t see. “That man and his goons run Carl’s…well, his old town now, I guess. And I’m sure they have questions about his son gone missing. Maybe even found him by now, floating in the river.”
The men were not politely told to hold on until the Mayor was ready to speak to them.
“So, you all aren’t that friendly, I hear,” I said, gauging myself.
“I’m okay with most towns north of us, and even west, but those on the south never had anything good come out of them except for Carl’s family. His beautiful wife used to be a resident right here, went to our high school. Her mother still has those same good looks to this very day, if you can believe that. And his dad, of course, who taught me truly how to fish. Her momma, working breakfast at the diner, makes a man want to get up early and get his fill, and I do. Anyway, you all get going before I have a mortar round put into that state trooper’s front grill—the one who just showed up over there.”
“Fine by me,” I said, with Joy and Jake remaining uncharacteristically quiet.
* * * *
Working our way down from the top of the turret, we got seated and ready for instructions. The ride was bumpy and the tracks mechanical, but it was honestly one of the best experiences I had ever had. Our boys were going to give us grief for going without them, that was a fact. We were taken on a dirt road in the woods and through a shallow stream before ending up back at the inside barrier.
Heading back to the barricade, the Mayor could be seen arguing with the trooper and not giving up an inch. We pulled up to the front, as he was pointing his finger and shouting, motioning to his tank operator to swivel the turret to face the trooper’s car and made a loud gesture of counting down from ten.
“Nine…eight…seven…”
“Now, wait a minute. I’m just here to talk with Carl is all.”
“Not in my town,” the Mayor replied. “Where was I? Seven…six…five...”
“All right,” said the trooper, now standing away from his vehicle. That’s quite enough. Just give me Carl, and we’ll leave peacefully.”
“His daddy and I were good friends, as you no doubt have heard, and I’m not sending him out. You keep interrupting me,” said the Mayor. “I should already be at one, but I’ll start back at five! Five…four…three...”
“All right…I…all right,” said the trooper. “But if we find my boy anything but alive and well, I’ll be back. That there is a promise,” he spat, gesturing to his men to turn around.
“That there is why it’s good to have a Bert,” the Mayor said aloud.
“He will be back,” said Jake, “at least that is what he said. What then?”
“Well, we either have two tanks, or one and all of the firearms we got in trade from you folks, to help them make a better choice. Don’t matter much either way to me. Make sense?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jake.
“How would we trailer one of these?” I asked.
“Not on one of yours,” he replied. “But if we strike a fair deal, I’ll throw one in that will carry the weight.”
“Why the name ‘Bert’?” I asked.
“That’s a good question. All I know is the guy who sold it to me said the soldiers named this one Bert. Even carved the name into the big gun. I figured if it was good enough for them, by God, who was I to go changing it?”
“That makes sense to me. Hello, Bert,” I said, patting the big guy on the track.
Lonnie, Jake, Joy and I made the final deal we were hoping for, with both sides deeming they got the best deal they could have made.
The Mayor scouted out a trailer to carry the metal monster down the mountain and threw in an old hulk of a truck he named “The Beast.” He cautioned that it might not make it much past the destination. “It’s strictly a get-to-where-you’re-going truck,” he added, “and nothing more.”
* * * *
Vlad and Sheila spent the rest of the day learning the mechanics and basic maintenance of the machine.
“The key with these things,” said the mechanic, “is not to put too many miles on them.”
“I think we’re good on that,” replied Vlad. “I’m guessing it will be an effective deterrent or close-quarter fighting machine.”
“So, no joy rides?” asked the Mayor.
“Unfortunately not,” replied Vlad, laughing. “Well, maybe one or two for the kiddos.”
“Can you imagine the day we roll up to Saddle Ranch with this tank?!” I said to Joy, not even trying to hide my excitement. “I was worried about bringing everyone with us and showing up without a big contribution. Now we have weapons and what some might call an ‘attitude corrector.’”
We spent the night inside the protected town in typical fashion. Vlad and Sheila had a few final questions for the mechanic, and we planned to move on by noon the following day.
* * * *
With Shane driving the truck and Airstream trailer, Aiden volunteered to command The Beast. Saying our good-byes, we headed north towards Silverthorne. There weren’t more free passes from here, as far as the Mayor knew. “Just lead with the tank at each crossing, and I’ll bet you will sail right through,” he suggested. We all thought that was good advice, agreeing it would be unlikely to be overpowered, at least before reaching Saddle Ranch.
It felt good to be on the road again. I never imagined it would take this long to travel what used to take us 16 hours on a family trip. I, and most of us, took that for granted—not only the speed of travel but the level of safety we had all become accustomed to in this country. Sure, there were wars going on every year. Still, they were “over there” somewhere…anywhere but here. Yes, there was famine. Still, it was somewhere else; of course, there were people afraid to walk down their own street in the daylight, but that was “over there” somewhere…anywhere but here. I had lived in rough parts of town as a young adult, but no matter how bad it seemed, there were no rockets exploding near my apartment or soldiers looking to take me away to God knows where. Now there was all that, and my children, everyone’s children, would bear witness.
“They, the children, are going to age more in one year than we have in a lifetime,” I told Jake and Vlad, as we pulled out for another stint on the road.
“I think they already have,” replied Jake. “Our only hope is to hide them away in a protected place to grow up, maybe not like before but without the daily fear of what’s next, like we have now.”
“Obviously, I don’t have any children yet,” said Vlad, with a who-knows hand gesture and nod to his new, maybe girlfriend in the Airstream trailer. “But if, or when, I do I will give them the best life to be had. Mark my words, comrades. Their best life was not before the day; it is yet to come. A simple life with family and friends at the forefront, not just weekends and a week or two each year for a vacation that costs too much and ends up too short. Tell me I’m wrong about your children now, Lance. It’s okay. Tell me.”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking?”
“Tell me you don’t know them better now over the past few weeks, even though you spend most of your time up on this trailer with Jake and me. Tell me you knew them better before than for all the days they were here.”
“I guess I can’t,” I said. “I know them better now, but it’s raw, primal—even getting down to the core through physical and emotional pain and triumphs a gladiator could be proud of. It’s a full circle. We’re coming full circle, and it stings, it bites. It is heavenly and exciting all at once.”
“Ah, yes, that’s it! We are alive! Feel it, taste it, bleed it, live it! We are alive!” Vlad called out, bouncing off the mountaintops. “We are alive!”
* * * * * * *
Chapter Sixteen
Headed to Silverthorne, Colorado
“Silverthorne is about 15 miles up,” said Lonnie over the radio. “We got a l
ate start today, and there is a lake just southeast of town, called Dillon Reservoir. Hopefully, we can catch some fish and filter water, plus wash up a bit if all are agreed.”
“Good for us on the trailer,” I called out, with both Jake and Vlad nodding in agreement.
Others called the same over the radio, and in only one hour we were at the south end of the lake. Lonnie called for a quick meeting at a bluff overlooking the beautiful mountain lake.
“The town of Silverthorne shares this body of water with Dillon to the east and Frisco to the southwest. There is an inlet to the east that appears to be our best bet for some privacy—right down there for those who can see it,” he said.
Those of us on the trailer scanned the inlet, with only a few small campsites to be seen. “They look harmless to me,” I said aloud, counting six clustered near each other.
“I’m sure they will mind their own business,” I added fifteen minutes later as we pulled slowly past them.
“I would say you’re right; they look spooked,” pointed out Vlad as men and women ran around, scooping up their children and supplies. Most stumbled, nearly tripping over each other to gather their belongings and move down the road.
“That’s not what I was expecting…” said Jake, trailing off when I pointed to the children.
“It’s The Beast they are pointing to—I mean Bert,” I said. “Hold up, Lonnie. I want to talk to these folks for a minute.”
“Are you sure?” he replied. “Bad things tend to happen when we stop.”
“Yeah, just a minute. I’ll be quick.”
We slowed to a stop, and all could hear the squeaking brakes of the old truck in the back.
“Excuse me,” I called out to a woman gathering her children in a panic. “Excuse me, ma’am. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“We’ve got this,” said Joy over the radio, opening the door of their vehicle and stepping out with Nancy and Lucy.
I couldn’t hear what they told the woman, but minutes later she seemed no longer frightened, and the small groups returned to reset their camps.
* * * *
The men got together, deciding to give the ladies a break for the day. Not just a “we-will-watch-the-kids day but a full-on Next-World pampered afternoon. We guys got together with a plan and presented it to them around 2 p.m.
Next World Series | Vol. 5 | Families First [Homecoming] Page 14