“I got my job done, as well,” replied Mike. “We have a meeting here at 3 this afternoon with Nate. I’m sure David will want to see what they know.”
“You got about 30 minutes?” asked Jake, with a grin.
“I just might,” said Mike.
Jake reached down under a log and pulled a string, end over end, until six shiny cans floated to the surface of the river.
“Lance’s idea,” he said, tossing the first beer to Mike without asking.
“So, he thought you and I should have a beer together at 5:30 a.m.?”
“Or six!” Jake replied, getting a laugh out of both of them.
The conversation over the next half hour started out awkward and slow but morphed into something positive and mutually respectful that would run through the camp like wildfire over the next few days.
It would be a while before it happened again, but an unlikely alliance of sorts was forged this day, which would set the groundwork for more talks between the two toughest men in camp.
Walking back to camp, most of the greeters had dispersed, with the exception of Joy and me, Mel and Tammy, Sheila with Javi, Nancy, as well as Katie, who hung back from the crowd.
I stood, with Joy’s help, and called them both over.
“It’s not even 6 a.m. and I can smell cheap beer on both of you!” I said, keeping a straight face.
“He did it!” they both replied simultaneously, pointing at each other.
Joy looked at me like I had parted the Red Sea, watching the two men shake hands and give a guy hug without prompting. The rest of the group was just as shocked.
Mike then embraced Sheila and Javi, who were elated that the operation had gone well, with the safe return of Hudson and Jax.
Mike made his way to Katie. Dropping his small pack on the ground, he unzipped it, whispering, “I couldn’t bring you his head, but I do have his hat,” pulling it out and handing it to her.
“Is he...? I mean…is he dead?” she asked hesitantly.
“He just drank too much river water,” said Mike, with a wink… “He’s gone and never coming back.”
Katie cried. Not the angry cry of a hardened young woman who lost almost everything she cared about but the soft cry of an innocent young girl who had her demons slain, never again to haunt her dreams.
“Thank you, Uncle Mike,” she whispered. “I’ll never forget you, as long as I live,” she added, embracing him tightly for the second time in only a week.
This time he held her close, stroking her head and saying that everything would be OK now.
Beatrice went all out for lunch at noon, with many adults sleeping until 10 a.m.
Joy and I had a chance to talk with Jax and Hudson about their ordeal, believing that the only real mental trauma was the initial abduction. Once they were in camp, they were kept together and in the company of other kids, with one older woman watching out for them all.
Hendrix was so happy to have his brothers back and presented them each with a handmade card that Beatrice had helped him create.
* * * *
Nate used the morning to talk with his people and plan the next step.
He was aware that more than a few families were wanting to move out of the area and deep into the mountains on their own, believing more soldiers were headed this way.
He understood their pain, having watched the abuse go on for far too long.
* * * * * * *
To be continued…
Next World Series (Vol. 3): Families First [Second Wind] Page 30