Next World Series | Vol. 5 | Families First [Homecoming]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  He talked to a few people casually, asking when they were moving on again. It was clear they didn’t know or care as long as they were fed, showered, protected, and preached to daily at 10 a.m. sharp. Mike wondered about the men who lost their wives and girlfriends to Baker and most of his higher-ups. So far, he hadn’t heard any rumblings about it. And after what he had witnessed at the lake, it didn’t seem too out of the ordinary, at least for these times.

  “Spineless converts,” he said out loud to no one. “I should start my own community. You can keep your wives and girlfriends, keep your kids and your dog,” he continued.

  “Yeah, but you can’t preach for crap,” said Max, tapping him on the shoulder and getting a rare twitch out of him.

  “That doesn’t happen often,” Mike admitted, “but you’re probably right. I wouldn’t want to talk for an hour every day to a group of strangers.”

  * * * *

  It had only been a few days, but Mike was eating regularly and getting his strength back. Today he walked unassisted outside the infirmary tents to his usual perch on the outside of the bustling main drag through camp.

  “Mike, we have to go,” said Sergio. “Baker wants to talk. I’ll get some guys to help.”

  “No, I’m good. Just walk with me, and I’ll get there on my own.”

  “Okay, but you know what this meeting is, right?” continued Sergio.

  “Yep. It’s the one I’ve been waiting for since I left my real group.”

  “One misstep is all it takes,” said Sergio.

  “I know. Trust me, I have a lot more to lose than you.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Sergio replied. “I know everything you do and a lot more that would scare the hell out of most men.”

  “I’m not most men,” replied Mike.

  “I know. That’s why you’re here. We make our move in one week.”

  * * * *

  “Mike,” said Baker on introduction. “Are you clean?”

  “He is,” said one of his guards, after patting him down.

  “Good to hear. Situational awareness is half the battle; I’m convinced of that. Anyway, have you been enjoying the sermons?”

  “Yes, Colonel,” Mike replied. “I haven’t heard that pitch before.”

  “It’s no pitch, Mike.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that as it sounded. I mean, I haven’t heard…” that angle, he almost said, catching himself mid-sentence and changing to “I haven’t heard the Word spoken in such a way before.”

  “So, you like it?”

  “Yes, it’s refreshing, and it makes me wonder why any other man of God would keep that to himself.”

  Mike paused, certain he was laying the story on, two layers over the top.

  Baker paused as well, rubbing his chin.

  “They are selfish,” he finally spoke…“all that have come before me. But God spoke to me on the very day the lights went out, telling me to give my knowledge to the suffering, the sick, and weak-spirited. Give to the poor, the starving, and to the women who have not known a godly relationship their entire lives. I am the Chosen One; there is no other. I am to settle in a lush valley four miles long and a mile wide with my people, vanquishing all opposition in the name of my Father, who sent me down from heaven to gather the sheep for the final reckoning. Tell me what you know.”

  Mike weaved a tale with some truths he felt authenticated the story, without giving up something not already glaringly obvious.

  “I was hoping you had better information,” said Baker. “But you are a fighter, and I need more of those. Plus, you’re out for revenge, and that can’t be underestimated. Don’t disappoint me.”

  “Can I ask you one question, Colonel?”

  “Maybe. What is it?”

  “I already heard you were headed for Fort Collins, but you held up here in between. Why is that?”

  “That’s what you heard?”

  “Yes, from your lead guys up on Raton Pass.”

  “It figures. They were idiots, not worthy of information, but I will grant you an answer just this time. Our compound in Fort Collins is not ready yet. It seems there has been a small setback, a minor inconvenience, really. It is to be our last stop before the valley and seems to be common knowledge now. We likely leave in a week or less, but that can change either way. I hold in my hand,” he continued, reaching down to a locked box he opened with a key on a chain around his neck. “I hold in my hand,” he said again, holding up a leather-bound notebook, “the plans for our future. Every detail mapped out, every victory foreshadowed, every soul to be redeemed in the name of my God.”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” is all Mike said, having to remind himself why he shouldn’t just grab him by the throat and be done with it.

  Half his mind said he could have grabbed the book and made a regime change in an hour and saved the Valley, and the other half—the more rational half maybe—kept him from doing so. He walked back to the medical tent, refusing help of any kind, and was resolved to at least be able to ride the bike and meet Lance at the rendezvous spot—if it killed him.

  * * * *

  Sirens woke Mike up after midnight, sounding like the tornado sirens at the FEMA camp but somehow different.

  “Everybody out that can walk unassisted,” came the call throughout the infirmary.

  Mike was up and out, followed by Max, who bunked in the back next to a pretty young doctor named Sally.

  Max vaguely remembered Sergio’s instructions about not talking to any woman, but in fairness, he thought, She talked to me first.

  “You are in my world now,” she told him the very first day, like any new medical staff man or woman, so I will call you New Max.”

  “Okay, but can I ask you something?” he finally got up the courage to say.

  “One thing,” she replied.

  “How does a pretty woman such as yourself bypass the Colonel and his men? I mean, don’t they take the pretty ones for themselves?”

  “You’re asking a question, New Max, that you shouldn’t be concerned with. But I will give you an answer, true to my word. My name is Sally. ‘Dr. Baker’ to non-medical residents. My mother is/was his daughter and I never knew my father, so the maiden name stuck. Does that answer your question?”

  “Uh, yes, ma’am…I mean ‘Dr. Baker.’ Sorry to ask, I guess.”

  * * * *

  “Steer right clear of that one,” said Sergio to him later. “She sure is something to look at, but she’s a fast track to your demise—I guarantee it.”

  “Has anyone tried to get close to her?”

  “A couple of guys that I know of, and they’re not around to tell you the tragic story. Don’t be number three.”

  The sirens were a warning, Mike learned. A test of bad things that may come. The one thing he saw that maybe nobody else in camp did was that the Colonel and his men were outside amongst the others for a full five minutes before the sirens stopped.

  “How often do these things go off?” Mike asked Sergio.

  “Twice a week, like clockwork, only it’s a different day and time with each one.”

  “And he always comes out?”

  “That may be his downfall, but I’ve never seen him miss one,” replied Sergio.

  Mike’s purpose changed that night, and he focused solely on getting hold of the book. After all, it could change the entire playing field.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Saddle Ranch

  Loveland, Colorado

  Sarah called out instructions to the other doctors.

  “We have an 18-year-old male with two gunshot wounds—left elbow and right upper thigh, as well as a posterior head contusion. He’s semi-conscious, so all hands on deck.”

  Mac and Cory arrived at the West Hospital, only to be turned away by one of the new doctors.

  “I’m not even sure why we come down here anymore, at least not at the start,” said Mac. “It was like that before too. Unless it was a cut or
broken bone—something simple like that—they would make everyone wait outside in the lobby.”

  “This is our lobby, only outside,” replied Cory.

  “Doc,” said Mac, before one of the other doctors disappeared back inside. “Just tell Sar...I mean, Dr. Melton, and Drake when he wakes up, that Cory and I…we’re here.”

  “Sure. Will do. Now I need to get back to work.”

  * * * *

  Mac got the call late in the afternoon from Sarah that he was hoping to receive, or maybe dreading. It felt like every call from the hospital was bad news. This one was good news, at least so far.

  “He’s conscious and talking, and the swelling on his head has reduced significantly. He’s not out of the woods, though, like I always tell you, Mac.”

  “I know,” he replied, “I won’t be counting any chickens until he’s up and around for at least a week, just in case. I’m sorry you had to miss the funeral, honey.”

  “Me too, and the other doctors here, as well. We didn’t think it should be postponed on our account. Our new mother needs to concentrate on her daughter now. How was it?”

  “I don’t know,” Mac replied. “Okay, I guess. I’d never been to one before…for a child, I mean. It’s different for sure from a 90-year-old who lived their whole life and got to experience everything. Little Alex didn’t even get a single day. It sucks.”

  “I know, and I’ve been to my fair share of both over the years,” Sarah replied. “All I can tell you is that God has a way of bringing little guys like Alex back up quickly. I don’t know why, but He must have other plans for him. As hard as it is, I trust that He does.”

  “Yeah, I see your point. It still sucks, though. John said some nice words, so that helped… Hey, can we meet for dinner tonight?”

  “Not tonight, Mac. I’m pulling an overnight shift to keep an eye on Drake. You could bring me dinner here to the hospital, though, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  “No trouble at all,” he said excitedly, like every other time he got to see her. “Plus, I can check on Drake.”

  “We’ll see how he’s doing then,” she replied.

  “Okay. See you at 6:30 sharp. Oh, wait…have you told Samuel about our little?...”

  “Yes, and I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Is he upset?”

  “No, Mac. He’s fine, so tell your people and let’s be done with it. Now, can I get back to work?”

  “Ah…sure, honey.”

  “Love you, Mac.”

  “Love you.”

  * * * *

  Mac spent the last hour of the afternoon talking with the MacDonalds and Whitney, telling them Drake was improving.

  “We’ll have you back home in a day or two,” said Mac. “My guys are getting your home cleaned up, and the window should already be replaced.”

  “How can we thank you?” asked Mrs. MacDonald.

  “None needed. It’s what good neighbors do.”

  “Come up and check on us every now and then, will you?” asked Willie.

  Mac smiled as Whitney blushed.

  “You may be seeing more of some of us than you bargained for,” he replied. “But yes, I’ll personally check on you, probably a few times a month.”

  * * * *

  Mac shuffled over to the Pavilion at 5 p.m. and found Chef Rico observing his crew, with the occasional hand gesture and every once in a while his hand over his face.

  “Hey, Rico. Can I talk to you for a minute in private?”

  “Sure, Mac. I always have a minute for you. Follow me,” he said, leading Mac into a private office.

  “Oh, hello Patty,” said Mac. “I didn’t know you were up here tonight.”

  “Yes, it’s my day off, and I brought Joshua up to learn some skills from a famous chef,” she said, elbowing Rico lightly in the ribs. “He’s quite famous, I’ll have you know.”

  “Oh, I’ve heard!” Mac replied.

  “I’ll let you two talk,” she said, turning to leave.

  “Oh no, Patty. Please stay. I want you to hear this as well. I’m only telling a few people, including you two, John, Sharon, Bill and Cory about it… Sarah is pregnant!”

  It sounded strange coming from his own mouth, but he couldn’t hide the smile that accompanied the statement.

  Chef Rico only smiled.

  “Is something wrong?” asked Mac.

  “No, no. I was just thinking is all. Everything is just perfect. Congratulations to you both, and I guess no more wine pairing for a while!”

  “I’m taking her dinner tonight,” said Mac. “What’s on the menu?”

  “Excuse me, Mac, for just a minute. I have an idea,” said Rico, pulling Patty aside.

  “Will you trust us with the menu for you and Sarah?” asked Patty.

  “Sure! I always do, but I did tell her I would have it to her by 6:30. She’s at the hospital with Drake.”

  “Meet us back here in one hour,” said Rico.

  “Okay. Sounds good.”

  * * * *

  Mac spent the next hour telling the rest the good news. He knew John would need to tell the Council, and that would just save him time.

  Everyone was told, and John and Bill already knew anyway when Sarah got sick talking with them. Cory was happy to be included, not having known Mac all that long.

  An hour later, Mac was back in the kitchen, being handed a covered tray by a giggly Patty and Rico.

  “If I didn’t know you two better, I would be worried you messed with the food.”

  “One should never mess, as you say, with food,” said Rico. “Don’t look until you get to the hospital, and read the card to her first. Promise?”

  “Yeah, okay. I promise. Thank you both.”

  * * * *

  Mac headed down the road with a surprise in the truck’s passenger seat, being careful not to spill the large tray of food.

  He always had a knack for guessing a meal his mom would cook just as soon as he walked in the front door. It got to be a game of sorts, and she would try to trick him, she would say. But really, she just wanted him to come home for dinner!

  This night Mac rattled off a litany of smells, starting with Pasta Alfredo and jumping over to what would be Patty’s “almost famous” smothered burritos he had only heard about from John.

  Curry filled his nostrils and sweet meat. Wait a minute…one more second. Yes, something Indian maybe—curry chicken and Korean barbecue beef. “They better be South Korean is all I’m saying,” he said aloud.

  He smiled as he smelled what could only be some of his fish, no doubt saved from the other day, and something sour he couldn’t put his finger on.

  Sarah greeted him at the door, hearing his truck pull up.

  “How’s Drake?” he asked straightaway.

  “Good—better than good so far. Oh, I didn’t see you there,” said Sarah, looking past Mac. “Please come in.”

  “Can I see him?” she asked.

  “Sure, let me just check first… Of course, you can come back,” she said a moment later.

  “Whitney!” said an upbeat Drake. “You came to see me.”

  “Of course, silly. You had me sick with worry all day.”

  “Guess I’m not as good of a tree climber as I thought, huh?”

  “The way I see it,” Whitney replied, “is you got shot twice before you fell. That’s pretty hard to beat.”

  “At least I broke my fall,” Drake said, putting his good arm over his head.

  “That just means you have a thick skull, like all men,” said Mac, coming in behind Dr. Melton.

  “What’s that smell?” asked Drake.

  “That’s the question of the hour,” said Whitney. “The chefs whipped it up for Mac and Dr. Melton. And he’s been guessing the whole ride down here.”

  “We’ll leave you two alone for a few,” Mac told the kids.

  * * * *

  “What’s for dinner?” Sarah asked Mac. “I’m starved!”

  “A bunch of diff
erent things, I think. I’m supposed to read you a note from Rico and Patty first—who say ‘Congratulations,’ by the way.”

  Mac and Sarah,

  Congratulations on your growing family. We appreciate your friendship more than you can know.

  All our best, Rico and Patty

  “There’s more,” said Mac, turning the note over.

  Please enjoy a sampling of our collective work, just in case you are having cravings already.

  Dishes include Patty’s famous Smothered Burritos, the best cut of Mac’s last trout…

  “Check and check,” said Mac, working his way down his list.

  South Korean Barbecue…

  “Wait, it says that?” asked Sarah.

  “Okay, it just says ‘Korean,’” he joked. “Anyway…and that’s another check, by the way. Three so far.”

  “Continuing,” Sarah interjected, acting playfully annoyed.

  Curried Beef… “Okay, I was close. Got the curry right, though.”

  “Will you just finish already?” she said, trying to grab the note.

  “Too slow!” he said, holding it in the air. “But seriously, the last ones are:

  Pasta with White Truffle Sauce, Vinegar Vegetable Medley, and Strawberry Ice Cream.

  “Why do they always make us so much food?” she asked. “Not that I’m complaining!”

  “They’re chefs. It’s what they do.”

  “Drake and Whitney, I hope you’re hungry,” she called out.

  They pulled up chairs around Drake’s bed and set up TV dinner trays.

  “Will I be home tomorrow, Dr. Melton? My dogs are okay tonight, but they’ll be out of food by this time tomorrow.”

  “I think so,” she replied. “If not, I’ll have Mac check on them. All right?”

  “Yes, ma’am. I’d be happy to,” replied Mac.

  “Don’t forget these,” she said, pulling out two airplane-sized bottles off Dewar’s Scotch with “Mac” written on them in black Sharpie. “Look, they even put a glass with ice in there.”

  “Oh no, that wouldn’t be fair to you. Thanks, though.”

  “I don’t even like Scotch,” she said, smiling.