“Yes, sir,” they all agreed.
“I believe you are all doing a fine job and I will be sure to pass this along to John,” Bill added. “We should meet once a week and go over the harvest and plans for the upcoming season. Please get with me right away if there are any changes to our stock.”
Mac met Sarah at the hospital, with a picnic basket on the back of his four-wheeler. “I know you wanted to go for a walk,” he said, “and we will, but we have to take a little ride first.”
“Lead the way,” she agreed, as she climbed onto the back. Mac rode the nearly two miles up the road leading to the campground. “This is called Conrad’s Road,” shouted Mac over the noise of the engine as they headed up the hill.
“Conrad O’Brien-ffrench used to live at the top of this hill,” he said, pointing to the area. “He was a British spy in his younger days, a good friend of Ian Fleming, and was always loved by the ladies. It is said he was the inspiration for the James Bond series.”
“I’ve never heard that,” said Sarah. “I’ll have to Google it!” she snorted with a laugh.
Mac pulled into the campground a few minutes later, shut off the engine and said, “Listen…just listen.” After a minute he asked, “What do you hear?”
“The wind in the trees, some birds, and apparently a lovers’ quarrel with some squirrels over there,” she concluded.
“Ha!” laughed Mac. “I always wondered what they were talking about.”
He spread a large blanket on the ground in the middle of the camp. He opened the picnic basket for the first time, having trusted Rico with the contents. He was surprised to see the detail of the lunch, from the various meats and cheeses to the grapes and other fruits, and of course a bottle of 2000 Chardonnay.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” asked Sarah.
“No. I’m sorry. Our head chef, Rico, helped me out a bit and I didn’t think this would be in there. Funny, though. It was made the year I graduated high school!” he added.
“I was 2002,” said Sarah, “and I could go for a glass after the week I’ve had.”
After lunch they went for a walk, with Mac showing her the teepee rings and Moon Rock.
“I never knew this was here,” she admitted, commenting on the nearly one-acre rock next to the campground. “Are we safe right now?” Sarah asked.
“We are,” replied Mac. “I have a couple of my guys near here, keeping an eye out.” He continued: “I’m sorry. I assure you they can keep our business to themselves. I just wanted you to be safe.”
“No apology needed,” she replied.
“I just don’t want you to get in any trouble with Samuel,” said Mac.
“He already knows I’m here,” she told him. “And he knows where I am with the other Dr. Melton. We consulted him when we split and he understands what I want and he knows I am valuable to his group.
“I told you why we split, Mac, at the very beginning. I’m not sure where you and I are headed, but you know where I stand and what I want.”
“That I do, and so do I,” he insisted, and kissed her on the forehead. “Can I see you again?”
“I’d like that,” she replied, smiling.
They took the long way home, with Mac pointing out some other landmarks along the way.
Mac dropped off Sarah in front of the hospital. He paused awkwardly. “Well,” she said. “Are you going to kiss me or not?” Mac blushed and kissed Sarah for the first time.
“I guess I need to talk to Bill,” he said. “And John,” she added.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-seven ~ McKinney Texas
The morning came with several of the ladies asking for Tylenol. “Hangovers aren’t near as much fun as the drinking part,” announced Lucy.
It was decided that we would do firearms training on the golf course, just down the street from the house. “We will set up targets in the sand trap,” I suggested, “so we don’t run the risk of any bullets getting away from us and hitting any other targets.”
We got all the men and women together who had never fired a weapon or just wanted a refresher course.
Lonnie asked to lead the shooting practice, with Mike’s assistance. “Sure,” I said, “but keep a close eye on Mike,” I told Lonnie.
“Will do,” he assured me. “He’s good at teaching this stuff…did so in the academy.”
Most of the adults opted for the training, shooting approximately 300 rounds over an hour.
“I don’t think the neighbors are coming out anytime soon,” concluded Jake. They wrapped up the shooting lessons just before lunch.
Today’s feast was all canned. Hormel beef chili with beans, complete with saltine crackers, and canned corn for a side. Some in the group didn’t like the menu. “It gets much worse from here,” I suggested to Jake.
“Yeah, brother. They have no idea what’s coming,” he replied.
After lunch I was able to reach Greta on the radio. She and her girls were doing much better, having grouped up with her close neighbors.
“I feel safe now for me and my daughters. I understand that I may not see my husband again, but thank you for your advice,” she offered.
“I wish you and your girls all the best, and I’ll check in down the road. We are headed out tomorrow on a cross-country trip to Colorado.”
“Bless you and your family,” finished Greta, “and safe travels.”
I got with Lonnie, Jake, Mike, Vlad, Jim, and a couple of the other guys to go over our maps. Luckily I still had a Rand McNally old-school US road map. It was probably ten years old but showed enough of the major highways.
Every year since then, I would go to the gas station here in Texas, and in Colorado when on vacation, and buy a laminated state map. I was missing New Mexico, but it was a small section and I had been through there by car many times over the years.
There was some debate about whether we should stay on the major highways or try smaller, less populated roads. We took a vote, with most of us choosing the major highways, with room to maneuver around stalled vehicles and the visual distance to see any upcoming barricades or potential hazards.
Jake gave the final push with his speech about how bad it could have been if Jessup and his men were wanting to do them harm.
We agreed to travel in the daylight and do a sort of circling the wagons, like the settlers used to, each night.
Everyone was busy packing and the men were loading the trailers. We would have a two-man, round-the-clock watch on our trailers and property until we left in the morning.
I was both excited to be leaving and nervous about the trip. “You know,” I pointed out to Jake, “we only went 20 miles round trip to Plano, and men died. Now we have over 800 miles to go, and half of our group are children.”
“I know,” replied Jake. “Nancy and I were discussing that last night.”
“I wish we could just stay here and buckle down, but we can’t protect our families from the thousands of starving people who will be here, right here on this street, in a week or sooner,” I added. “We will get the adults together tonight after the children have gone to sleep and get a game plan for the trip.”
“Slow and steady wins the race,” added Lonnie, overhearing our conversation. “No sudden moves and no mistakes.”
“I know you have family in Boulder, but I have to go to the Ranch,” I told him.
“I know, buddy. I think we would like to head there as well to start, and maybe make our way towards Boulder in the coming months, once things calm down a bit.”
“Don’t worry, Lonnie. They make their own homemade donuts,” I joked.
“Ha! That’s funny,” he objected. “You should take that comedy shit on the road. Just don’t quit your day job!”
“OK, OK,” I conceded. But seriously, we need to have all of the adults on the same page, especially as it relates to the safety of our children.”
“Agreed,” said both Lonnie and Jake.
“Let’s make sure all of
the vehicles are gassed up and fill the gas cans from the cars out on the road close to the house,” I suggested.
“We can get plenty of gas from cars as we go, but we are vulnerable every time we have to stop,” replied Jake.
The smoke, looking out from the back patio towards Dallas, was increasing hourly. It was now clear that there were fires burning in Plano.
“Look at that!” I said to Vlad, pointing towards Plano. “I see they are moving, coming this way,” he noted.
“Watch your back!” called Jake out loud. “They are coming.”
Ringo whimpered. “I know, buddy,” I said, patting his head. “We will be gone tomorrow and I’m counting on you to keep a close eye on the kids during our trip.” Ringo stood and barked, wagging his tail.
I took an hour to just spend time with Joy and our boys. I didn’t know what would happen tomorrow or the next day, but I just wanted to feel normal and safety for Joy and the boys for one more night.
We all held hands in a circle and I offered a prayer.
Dear Lord, thank you for this family and our friends, both old and new. Please lead us and keep us safe on our journey that begins tomorrow.
Let us be brave and steadfast always, asking for your grace and guidance. In your name we pray. Amen.
The ladies were on dinner duty tonight. A hearty beef and vegetable soup, thanks to more than a few Progresso cans, with buttered bread. One of my favorite meals in college, and still to this day.
We put the kids to bed early, as we would have an early start in the morning. We gathered the adults together for some rules of the trip.
“The number one thing,” proposed Lonnie to the group, “is to protect the children at all costs. Each and every child is worth far more than the entire trailer of firearms. I can’t promise we will all make it to Colorado, but we will pray to God and fight like hell all the way, every single mile.”
“Number two,” added Jim. “We take things slow and watch out on all sides. No daydreaming, no laziness or boredom. Our lives all depend on this.”
“Number three,” said Jake. “Don’t split up. Nobody wanders off from the group.”
I added, “We will hopefully be at the halfway point of Raton, New Mexico, in 4-6 days. There, we will rest up for a few days before pushing onward to the Ranch. We are hoping to be there in about two weeks or less and need to have our maps ready if we need to detour from the main highways for any reason. Get some sleep tonight. We will be up at dawn and on the road soon after.”
Tonight each child spent the last night in this house with their family. Veronica and Suzie opted to stay with Tina. It was a crowded house but everyone had a place.
“Last night, big boy,” I said, petting Ringo. “Your one job is to help us protect the kids, and I know you will do a good job.”
Mike and Steve volunteered to watch the trailers tonight.
Joy and I had a talk with the boys, telling them we would protect them and their friends, some old and new. “It’s important,” I told them, “to do exactly what we or another adult says, even if they have to talk loud or tell you to hurry up.”
“OK, Mommy and Daddy,” they agreed. “We will be good, I promise,” said Hudson.
Dawn came too early and I slept like crap. Most everyone was up about the same time.
“Coffee,” mumbled Jake. “That’s what I need.” “Me too,” added Nancy.
We used the last of the fresh eggs for breakfast, and I made a mental note to look for laying hens to trade for. I had read somewhere that a hen could lay over 500 eggs in their prime, about 250 per year for two years. That’s a lot of food, I remember thinking.
With everything packed and loaded on to the trailers and in the trunks of the cars, we were ready to head out about 8 a.m., according to Jake’s pocket watch.
We all gathered outside. It was going to be a beautiful day. The temperatures during the day were in the mid-80s, and about 65 at night for the lows, according to Lucy, who fancied herself as a sort of an amateur meteorologist. Lonnie had grabbed a Farmers’ Almanac from the hardware store. I had forgotten how accurate that book seems to be each year with weather and planting dates. With the use of the Internet it seems most people had forgotten about this old-school book.
We gathered all the kids and went over the same rules Joy and I had gone over with the boys last night.
Mike and Steve told me they had a surprise for me and took me around the side of the house, to the front. “Close your eyes,” they said, laughing. “And we hope you’re not mad about it,” added Steve. “OK. Open your eyes,” announced Mike.
I laughed out loud as I looked at the front of the house with five-foot-tall neon green letters spray-painted across the entire front of my house, reading “Gone Fishing.”
“Joy is not going to be so happy,” I insisted, “but it’s not like we’re going to sell it anytime soon.”
Jake and Lonnie loved it, and Vlad yelled, “That’s the fucking spirit! That is the spirit of our group.” Most of the ladies, including Joy, were not so impressed with the “graffiti,” as they called it.
Lonnie and Mike wanted to plan who would be driving each vehicle and who would ride where. Lonnie would drive the lead truck, with one of the trailers. Mike would take the rear, with the second trailer being pulled by one of the Broncos. They both felt the women and children would be safest is the middle.
Jake, Jim and I would ride on the front trailer with Ringo and Vlad, and Steve on the back one. We would all five be loaded to the teeth with AR-15s, shotguns and a hodgepodge of handguns, with nearly unlimited rounds of ammunition.
Between Lonnie, Mike, Jake and me, we came up with seven bulletproof vests and both the trailers’ sides were half-inch-thick metal and three feet tall. There would be about five people in each vehicle, including the driver. It would have been harder leaving my house if everyone else wasn’t doing the same thing.
Lonnie went over the last rules, citing stay in a straight line and use the walkie-talkie if you need to stop or anything looks out of place. We have a walkie-talkie in each vehicle and one for every man on the trailers. We will be going about 10 miles per hour, 20 if we are lucky.
For the first time in a few days the neighbors were out in the street and watching our now loaded-up group with interest. A few asked me where we were headed and if they could come. My answer was, “West. And sorry, we’re all full.”
I knew it would be a matter of hours before they were rummaging through my house, looking for anything of value. “I didn’t even lock the front door,” I told Jake.
Lonnie put Nancy, Joy, the boys and Danny in the Bronco, right behind us, with Nancy driving. I could actually see my kids from where I was on the trailer. Climbing into the truck bed I knocked on the back cab window, and both Jake and I gave Lonnie a thumbs-up and a nod that guys do to say thanks.
Lonnie gave two honks on the truck and we were off, for better or worse, headed for the unknown.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-eight ~ Raton, New Mexico
David and Mel spent the afternoon mapping out the surrounding area and made a plan for contacting their neighbors.
That night Beatrice had a supper fit for royalty. Everyone was there, including Mark and his friends. Mel commented on the pork loins and ribs, saying he wasn’t sure when he would have it again. Everyone agreed that Beatrice should be the official cook for the newly formed group.
“We will be known as the Raton Pass Militia,” announced David’s father, Dean. “Always doing good, the best for our community, but defending our homesteads to the very end. All agreed, say ‘Ay.’” Everyone present agreed and the group was now formed.
The next morning David and Mel headed east to start the interviews of their neighbors.
The first house was a few hundred yards from where they started. David knocked on the door, with Mel covering him from the tree line.
After a few minutes a portly man with glasses answered the door, with a shotgun at
the ready. “What do you want?” asked the man in pajamas, pointing his shotgun at the ground towards David’s feet.
“Name’s David,” he offered, “and I mean you and your family no harm.”
“Who said I have a family?” the man replied in an aggressive tone.
“Listen Mr…” “Jones,” he said, without another word.
“I just wanted to make sure and meet you, seeing as though we live so close together. We are called the Raton Pass Militia and we are looking for skilled like-minded people to add to our group.”
Next World Series (Vol. 1): Families First Page 26