Next World Series (Vol. 1): Families First

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “Does that mean they’re orphans?” asked Hudson.

  “No, not anymore. They are now part of our family forever.”

  “Yay!” declared all the boys.

  An hour later there was a knock at the door. It was Tina with news about a great steak dinner about to be served. I was starved, and the boys were excited too.

  The entire group ate as one family this night, and it felt like it had always been this way. I led the prayer at the start of the meal:

  Dear Lord, thank you for bringing all of our families together in this house and community. Thank you for this meal and those we will partake of in the coming days. You have seen fit to bind us together in your holy name, as our world is rapidly changing.

  We ask for your protection for us all and your guidance to keep us safe and healthy in our travels to carry your message forward as we encounter those in need of your love. In your name we pray. Amen.

  The steak, mashed potatoes, and creamed corn out of a can were enough to give everyone pause for an early bedtime.

  Joy and I pulled Veronica and Suzie aside. We talked about the note we left for their mom. We asked about their dad. Veronica said, “He’s been gone…been gone a while now.” We promised to make them a part of our family until their mom returned. This was a promise I knew we could keep.

  Most of our group was now sleeping in our house in makeshift beds and sleeping bags. They would be bringing their personal effects here in the next day or two. By 9 p.m. most everyone was asleep. I kept Ringo downstairs and let him wander as he pleased. He was now familiar with everyone here and didn’t give anyone a questioning look or growl.

  Ringo woke me up around 1 or 2 a.m. with loud barking in the far side of the house, by the door to the garage.

  I grabbed the pistol by my bedside table and ran towards him. Jake met me by the door and Ringo was barking loudly and scratching at it. “Let’s go around back,” I whispered to Jake. “I don’t want to get caught opening this door and have nowhere to go.”

  We went out the back patio door and around the house to the side of the garage.

  “Son of a bitch,” I exclaimed, as we saw four or five people in my garage with flashlights. The door was pried open and they were loading carts with our goods. We both raised our weapons and yelled “Stop!” Everyone froze. The garage door to my house opened abruptly and Ringo tore out, grabbing one of the intruders by the leg, knocking him to the ground.

  Lonnie and Mike came through the garage door, guns raised. There was yelling all around and screaming from the one Ringo had in his jaws. A man ran away from us and turned down the driveway, pushing a full cart.

  I put my gun back in my side holster and took off at a full sprint after him. I caught up to him thirty yards down the street and hit him from the right side in a full tackle. He let out a gasp and we both flew to the ground, knocking over the cart and spilling its contents all over the ground.

  I aimed my flashlight into the man’s face and saw it was my neighbor Jeff. “What are you going to do?” he yelled. “Shoot me down like you did my friend the other day?”

  “When you put it that way, I guess I have no choice,” I declared. I was bluffing him but needed him to know I was deadly serious about stealing food.

  “I’ll try to make it quick,” I told him, as I pulled my pistol and chambered a round. “No! No, wait!” he gasped, now in a clear panic. “Please don’t do this. I was just trying to see what you had in your garage.”

  “You and everyone else,” I explained, as I made an obvious gesture of clicking off the safety. Jeff was now begging and pleading—not the same man from two days ago.

  “Maybe you can give me some information about what you guys are up to tonight,” I inquired. “Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ll tell you everything. Just please put down the gun.”

  I put the safety back in, just as I was hit from behind, knocking me over onto Jeff. I swung the gun around, expecting to fire at whoever had hit me, when I saw it was Ringo. His tail was wagging and he licked my face. At 150 pounds, he hit like a man if you weren’t expecting it. When he saw Jeff, he growled and snarled.

  I called him off the only way I knew how, by telling him to sit. I had never seen him act like this, and in his four years of life he had never bit anyone before the man in the garage. I guessed he had just never been tested in an environment where he was truly defending his family.

  I praised him and told Jeff to put everything back in the cart and push it back to the garage. Jake, Lonnie and Mike had everything under control there. “You guys are going soft,” I joked. “Everyone is still alive and kicking.”

  The man Ringo had hold of was mumbling and cursing. “Speak up,” I told him. “What do you have to say?”

  “I’m going to kill that fucking dog,” he groaned. “You sure about that, son?” Lonnie chimed in. “I don’t like his tone,” added Mike. “I think he needs some time to think on it. You got somewhere a man like him can go to think?” he asked me.

  “I’ve got a closet in the garage, there behind you. I guess that might do.”

  “I’ve already got my cuffs on him and something tells me he won’t need a gag tonight. Am I right, Twinkle Toes?” he asked, not expecting an answer. None was given.

  “The rest of you go home,” Lonnie commanded. “Next time the first thing you hear will be my shotgun round. No second chances, boys.”

  Mike put his new friend in the closet and latched the bolt from the outside. We got the garage door secured and I volunteered to take the first two-hour watch, followed by Mike until sunrise. We would have to arrange a 24-hour security detail from now on.

  I put a leash on Ringo and grabbed Lonnie’s extra riot shotgun. We patrolled the house and a half block in both directions of my now-unpredictable neighborhood. Ringo was on high alert but we saw no one in two hours.

  I returned to the house for Mike’s shift and could smell coffee brewing. There was no better smell in the world than post-apocalyptic coffee. We would have to make it a priority to find or trade for more in the next few days. Coffee, like bullets, was bound to run out at some point.

  Mike took over the patrol but opted to leave Ringo inside. I guessed he would be having a little chat with his guy in the closet and didn’t want Ringo around for it.

  Tina had a full pot of coffee inside. About half of our group was up and talking. “No point in going back to sleep now,” I told Jake, as we drank our coffee. We grabbed Lonnie and went out on the back patio to make a plan for the day.

  Let’s discuss our top priorities and needs for today and give everyone here a job.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Ten ~ Loveland, Colorado

  John and the rest of the group agreed with Bill and set the first priorities of working on the generators, taking inventories of all working vehicles and mapping out a security plan.

  John and Bill agreed they would go up and down Green Valley and talk to the Church of the West (known locally simply as “The West”) as well as the various neighbors.

  The majestic Valley was about four miles long from end to end and surrounded by foothills on the west, called Green Ridge, and a sandstone ridge on the east, known as the Rimrock. There were two choke points, one at each end, that could be blocked before too many people got in. The only other way into Green Valley was over foothills or mountains. “Most people will take the path of least resistance and move on after encountering a roadblock,” John pointed out.

  They walked the three-quarter mile down to the Church of the West property and were welcomed with a smile and a handshake. The two communities had existed side-by-side for years and, though their beliefs differed, they would always help each other in times of need.

  Each had lent a hand with fires and poor crop yields, and both kept a keen eye out for those up to mischief. Thankfully it was usually just teenagers looking to party down by the lake on a Saturday night or an occasional deer hunter who mistakenly thought they were on public land.

&nb
sp; Samuel was The West’s appointed leader for this community. His age of more than 60 years was not apparent to most. His dark gray hair and steadfast gaze made him appear trustworthy, and that he surely was. He was a hard worker every day but Saturday, their Sabbath. He gathered a few of his leaders to discuss the situation with John and Bill. They too saw a need for concern but were unaware of exactly what had happened.

  After Bill filled them in, Samuel committed himself and their sixty residents to work alongside the Ranch to ensure the safety of the Valley. They were not going to take up arms. Samuel was clear on that point, but they would provide surveillance and any other noncombative help for the Valley.

  They had a formidable rural hospital and mechanics shop on the property, both of which would be a great help in the coming months. They had stockpiled enough food to take care of their members for the next two years.

  John and Bill needed The West, and Samuel needed the Ranch. They all agreed to meet the next day, after they had informed their members of the initial talks.

  John and Bill walked to the other end of the Valley, talking to the six families on the way to the southern choke point. The Jackson family, closest to the cutoff, was out of state, according to their closest neighbor. All the other families were happy to work with both the Ranch and The West after being told what happened and being offered both protection and food for the duration of the crisis.

  With the Valley now secure in theory, John and Bill returned to the Ranch to check on the progress of the generators and vehicles.

  One of the three generators was brought back up, with a huge fanfare from Mac, known as MacGyver for his ability to fix things most others would write off as dead. Mac was a tough but fair man with sandy red hair and a medium build. The generator was powering one of the trailer freezers, which would soon be loaded to capacity with anything that absolutely had to be frozen. The other trailer had about a day or two left to come back online or have its food stored another way if it were to last.

  Gasoline for the generators would be the next issue. The two thousand-gallon tanks would last a while once they were stabilized. One being unleaded gas and the other diesel.

  A couple of the Ranch mechanics had all of the working vehicles lined up in a row in front of the woodshop. All told, there were four tractors, three trucks, plus the fire truck and two cars that had started. The mechanics were optimistic about four more trucks and three four-wheelers in the next few days.

  John and Bill were surprised at the amount of vehicles up and running. “This is a good start,” announced Bill. “Let’s check on the well pumps and see if we can maintain them long-term.”

  “I hope so,” said John. “It will take a lot of water to get both of our groups through this.”

  They found Mac working on one of the two large generators still down. If they could get both up and running, they could not only restore power to the second freezer trailer but also to many of the houses to run at least lights and some low-power appliances.

  They asked him to take a look sometime tomorrow at the smaller generator that backed up the water-treatment pumps and filters. He was happy to do so and didn’t mind being a key player now in the recovery effort.

  It was nearly dark at this point, and both John and Bill agreed to put some more thought into their meeting with the Ranch members tomorrow. They would meet at the Pavilion at 8 or 9 a.m., as best as they could determine by the location of the sun.

  Bill met Sharon and Karl at home and had a quiet dinner of hamburgers on the grill. It dawned on Bill that with all his running around today he didn’t even know if the rest of the community had met in the Pavilion for dinner or fended for themselves. This would have to be addressed for the coming days and months as well. Everything and everyone craves order, he thought. “We need to let everyone know what we expect of them, what their role is, and what our goals as a group will look like,” he told Sharon.

  “Honey,” she replied, “we have been doing that very thing for the past forty years here. The only difference now is that some of the rules have changed. We all work hard and care for each other, and I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

  Bill slept better that night than he had in a long time. He was up early and made a pot of coffee on the grill with his camping pot. After some eggs and grilled canned ham, Bill and Sharon headed down the path to the Pavilion. They loved that, even though there were roads all over the Ranch, you could still get to most places on a walking path.

  The Pavilion was busy this morning, with many of the Ranch members talking about the lunch speech John had given yesterday. There was the smell of marijuana in the air. Colorado had legalized recreational marijuana in January of 2014 but it was not permitted here. Bill guessed it would be hard to enforce that rule now. He hoped they could use what was here only for pain management in the next weeks and months. He needed all the members to be sharp and alert for the coming crisis that would eventually impact this pristine Valley in a violent way.

  They met with John, who also noticed the smell in the air. “This will need to be addressed,” stated John. “We need to stay sharp.”

  A large green John Deere tractor was rolling up the drive and they could see it was Samuel. “I know we agreed to meet later today, after addressing our own groups,” said Samuel, “but we have had a few neighbors from outside of the Valley asking about our food and water supplies.”

  “The north or south?” asked John. “Both, I’m afraid,” replied Samuel. “Our neighbors on both ends didn’t say much, but I think it’s going to be an issue sooner than later.”

  “OK, thank you, Samuel,” noted John. “I will designate twenty of our group, ten each, for the north and south choke points to secure the borders, if you will do the same.”

  “I can do that,” Samuel reported, “but please keep in mind our numbers are smaller than yours and we can’t match you man-for-man on every project.”

  “It’s fine,” Bill chimed in. “They should only be needed for several days to a week to secure the borders. After that, we can rotate a security schedule of maybe four to six men total at each end for a week at a time.”

  “We can do that,” Samuel agreed. “I will bring my first twenty men back around 3 today. I’ll need to give them a chance to pack a few things after our lunch meeting.”

  “Agreed,” said John. “We can go up to the North 40 then and see what we can use.”

  The North 40 was a field on the Ranch but close to The West’s property. It held what city people would call junk, but country folks would call it future supplies yet to be used. There would be a large selection of fencing, including chicken wire, chain-link like the fences at elementary schools, and various types of barbed wire. On the east side were hundreds of cinder blocks and a pile of sand that could fill two semi-trailers.

  This pile was used over the years for making sandbags during the rainy season. Towards the west end were all types of old solid wood doors and large scraps of wood.

  “Those things will surely come in handy,” agreed Samuel. “We have something of our own North 40 but with old cars and parts. We may be able to get some more vehicles running and the old junkers can help to block the road on each end of the Valley.”

  “See you soon, old friend,” John told Samuel, with a smile and a handshake only a farmer could appreciate.

  Lunch today was leftovers. Once a week the lunch and dinner would be leftovers from the week before. This was not only popular, due to the variety of dishes available, but everyone was also aware that they were doing their part to conserve and use what God had given them.

  Even the leftovers from there would be made into compost, to be used in the garden to grow more food. It was a system that had been utilized by many other communities after having been observed here by their members.

  At lunch time there was a lot of nervous talking. Some were speculating as to what John would say and others were afraid for their safety from outsiders. It was by no surprise a full hous
e. John and Bill went over some last-minute agendas, sitting outside on the patio surrounding the upper deck of the Pavilion.

  “This is truly a million-dollar view,” exclaimed John, pointing up and down the Valley. “I hope it stays that way,” added Bill.

  After most had finished their leftover lunch, including hamburgers, veggie patties, green salad, chicken salad, various pastas and desserts, they waited nervously for John to speak.

  “Thank you for all being here today,” he started, in a booming voice that needed no microphone. “For those of you who were not here yesterday, I’m sure you have been filled in by now.

  “These are trying times for our community and our country. We now know that the power interruption is long-term and we are coordinating with our neighbors to the north and south, including The Church of the West, led by Samuel, to ensure that we as a community and Green Valley as a whole will endure what is surely to come. We are going to see the best of humanity, and the worst as well.