The Ranch

by Sean Liscom

  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry about everything,” she said quietly.

  “You did what you could. That’s all I could ever ask. I’m just glad you made it back in one piece, well, more or less.”

  “Where’s Kari?”

  “Things got a little complicated after you left. She took Specter and Wolf and went to Ambrose. They left yesterday and we don’t expect to hear from them until Sunday or Monday,” I put my hand on her good shoulder in an attempt to console her a little. “Why don’t you go see Doc and get checked out. I’ll come see you shortly and we can do a full de-brief. Okay?”

  “Yeah,” she muttered and walked past me.

  “Marcus…… I’ll tell ya buddy; I thought I’d never see you again,” I said to the man standing in front of me.

  “Miss me?” he smiled and jutted out his huge hand.

  “Every damn day! Please, tell me you’re staying.”

  “If you’ll have me, I’ll stay.”

  “You don’t even need to ask! C’mon, let’s get you inside! I know several people who are gonna faint when they see you!”

  It was around noon when I finally heard from my brother. He and Tyler had made it safely to the Ambrose ranch around 10 that morning. I guess some weather had hung them up a little in Montana. I had so much to tell him, but the conversation had to be kept short because they were working off reserve battery power. He told me that all of the solar panels had been kept covered to protect them from the elements and the backup generators had been drained of fuel. They were in the process of getting the power back as we spoke.

  He was shocked when I told him about the launch of the missiles, but relief flooded his voice when I added that the vaccine was on its way. Megan had asked me to tell him about Kalin staying behind. He didn’t take that too well. When he was done filling the airwaves with expletives, he accepted it for what it was. He also accepted my solemn pledge to keep his oldest daughter safe. The news of Jacks death didn’t seem to faze him one way or the other.

  After that call, I spent the rest of my day in various meetings. Jill’s other brother, Mark, was the first and Doc was the last. In one day, we’d managed to start putting a plan in place. It covered everything from edged weapons training with Mark to what plants we needed to harvest for their medicinal properties. There was so much for all of us to learn, it was almost incomprehensible.

  Winter made its first appearance in early October and it didn’t let up until the end of February. By that time, our lives had changed drastically. The first thing was the food rationing. While we still had plenty stored, we didn’t want to rely on it. Hunting parties were sent out on weeklong forays to hunt for big game. At first, they were quite successful but by February, they were coming back with less and less. They were also having to travel farther before they could get on the hunt. All of the experienced hunters attributed the lack of game to the harsh winter. The animals had hunkered down as we had.

  Before the Plague, as it was being called, we had a couple hundred contacts on the HAM radio. By the beginning of 2018, that number had dwindled to 63, worldwide. Of those 63, three were outposts that had locked down their populations. Of those three, the biggest group was 12 family members holding up in the mountains of western Canada. Somedays we’d lose contact with one outpost, other days three or four had gone off the air. The ones that had gone silent all reported the same conditions beforehand.

  From what we could tell, our efforts were very successful when it came to the spread of the vaccine. There was a clear path of immune survivors from Las Vegas all the way up to the Canadian border with North Dakota. Much to our surprise, there was also a corridor that led from the LA basin to Northern Oregon. The only thing we could attribute that to was Captain Nate Boones men. They had distributed as much of the vaccine as they could, as quickly as they could.

  Speaking of Captain Boone; I finally heard from him in early December. He had tied in with the remainder of Dana Wesson’s men and they all called Vegas home now. With their mild winters, they were able to grow food almost year-round. When Adolpha passed away in January, she’d passed control of her kingdom to him. We’d joked that he was the fighter turned farmer. More importantly, we were in the beginning stages of working out a deal with him to grow some of our crops in his territory.

  That’s really what everything had boiled down to by the summer of ’18. Each outpost had a territory that it controlled and almost everything outside of that had become no-mans land. As far as any of us knew, Las Vegas was the biggest territory anywhere in the country and they were busy farming and ranching like there was no tomorrow.

  Beside the immune communities, we knew that there were other survivors. Our scouting parties had observed them on multiple occasions. Their missions had been strictly to observe because any attempt to contact them could end very badly for both sides. What I found most curious was just how quickly these communities had reverted back to a simpler time. Agriculture was huge while the majority of trade had ceased completely.

  The other pleasant surprise we had was the lack of conflict. I attributed that to the fear of the plague. In the first few months, there were reports of attacks, but they diminished quickly. Many times, the attackers would be found dead in their camps because they had contracted the plague. I think many found it was easier to hunt and farm rather than risk the horrible death. It was the only thing that made sense. Hell, we were immune, and we did everything we could to avoid contact with those we didn’t know. Granted, we had a little more leeway but for those who hadn’t gotten the vaccine, it was almost a certain death sentence.

  On May 30th, 2018, Jill and I welcomed not one child into the world, but two. We named our son William Alexander; our daughter Olivia Irene. Both William and Olivia were born healthy and strong. It was also on that day Jill and I officially adopted Luke and Tara. It was at their request and it was one we were happy to honor. Did I mention that our lives changed drastically over the course of the first winter?

  The one thing that puzzled me for the longest time was Major Jackson and his crew. Nobody had heard from them since just before the launch of the missiles, all calls went unanswered. It wasn’t for a lack of trying either. Every day at noon and again at midnight, we would put the call out over the airwaves, and it was always silence that answered. I worried about them, all of us did. The question of his whereabouts would go unanswered for almost a half-decade but that’s a story in and of itself. I’ll have to save its telling for a later time

  Jane Dixon, the former President of the United States, had refused to come to the ranch from the onset of the plague. She had insisted on staying in Elko where she could help the most people. When the territories began to stake their claims over the lands, she and Jim Calvert were the ones to work out all of the details. They were also the ones who had the final say in any treaties that were formed between those territories. I’d have to say, their new government was the most stable and productive in all of the Americas. I’d also go as far as saying; it was probably the most stable government we’d ever seen.

  Over the course of time, we adapted to our new way of life. By the end of the first five years, about the only technology we used was the HAM radio and that was only for a small window of time each day. We still had treated fuel and running vehicles, but they were reserved for dire emergencies only. It was the same with our guns. We still had plenty of firearms and ammunition, but we relied on our archaic weapons. Knives, bows, axes and yes, even swords. Everyone still had a gun within reach, but it was considered a weapon of last resort. I guess you could say; we’d gone medieval!

  I intentionally saved this piece for last. When Melissa returned to the ranch with Marcus, she had given me the notebook my father had been working on before his death. I’ll be honest, it was nearly a year before I opened it. It just sat on the desk in the study collecting dust. Part of it was, I was afraid to open it. Eventually, curiosity got the best of me though. In the ragged pages of that little notebook, he attempted t
o hold himself accountable for what he did. For everything he’d done throughout his sordid past.

  He recounted events that had led him down the dark, evil path. He also left plenty of warning signs to keep me and my brother from following him. By the time I was done reading it, I think I finally understood the man. That’s in no way an endorsement of him or his actions, but I finally understood. I also realized how close I’d come to falling into the abyss. I was glad to finally put an end to his legacy. He may have left us holding the bag in the darkness that followed, but his legacy had ended. As with all things, eventually the darkness would give way too.

  EPILOGUE:

  January 12th, 2023.

  .... I remember the day the gates closed and stayed closed. I remember it like it was only yesterday. Standing on the sidewalk in front of the medical building, the American flag gently flapping in the breeze behind us, my father’s hand on my shoulder. I’ll never forget the way he apologized to me, the sadness in his eyes. He said he wished he could have done more to prevent what happened, he felt a horrible guilt about the way things turned out.

  I knew he had done everything right. Deep down, I also knew that this was one of those times when evil had prevailed over good. The Darkness had won out over the light. No, I couldn’t blame my father for the terrible state of things. He’d gone above and beyond what most mere men would have done. When it was all said and done though, he’d kept the one promise that he held most dear. We were alive when so many others were doomed.

  That beautiful, warm September afternoon will be forever seared into my memory. The weather had been mild. Basking in the warm glow of the sun in the afternoons after wearing long sleeves for the brisk mornings. The sky had been breathtakingly beautiful shades of blues and the night sky seemed as if you could reach out and touch the stars. Life at the ranch had been the best thing that had ever happened to me and my brother. It was a busy yet rewarding life.

  While the ranch had been a virtual beehive of activity, when that front gate closed with a metallic clang, everyone froze. There was a silence casting a pall over the entire ranch. No one spoke nor did they dare move. Even the livestock were unusually quiet. It was as if they too had sensed what had happened. The dire consequences of human actions had stunned every living thing at the ranch into silence.

  It would be months before the cloak would begin to lift. It was an unusually harsh and early winter that followed the mellow days of September. Over the course of the winter, we finally began to understand the magnitude of the devastation outside of our walls. One by one, our contacts on the HAM radio fell silent as the plague took its hefty toll on humanity. Before they went dark, the HAM stations all reported the same frightful conditions.

  The plague, as it had been dubbed, had become this dreaded, autonomous demon. It spared very few who came in contact with it. Those who were spared were left wishing for death to come. By the time January rolled around, the only contacts left on the airwaves were other immune outposts.

  When it was finally time to plant the spring crops, the farmers were only allowed through the gate under heavy guard. It was the same when the cowboys went out to bring in the cattle or the wild horses. Hunting parties, scavenging parties, they were all heavily guarded. You see, to have the blood of an immune meant you had a target on your back. There were groups of survivors who held the belief that our blood could bring them the same immunity from the plague. However false their beliefs, it was the last shred of hope they had, and they clung to it ferociously.

  My father told you of the Legacy that was left to him. I shall tell you the tale of the Darkness that followed. After all, this is the only way to make sure the historical account is accurate. My name is Tara Sterling and I will tell you about life after the Legacy……

  I closed the handmade journal my Aunt Isabella had given me as a Christmas present a couple of weeks prior. Its dark leather binding still creaked a little. I rubbed the tips of my fingers across the T.S. that had been stitched on the front of it and slipped it into my backpack.

  My plan was in place, my supplies were ready, and I was more than a little worried about beginning this adventure. I was sure I could do it but there is always that little voice that whispers in the back of your mind. It was all I could do to shut it out.

  This was the night I would leave the ranch. My mother and father had forbidden it but there was a story that needed telling. Life here for the past five years had been quiet, dull even. I wanted to see what happened outside of our compound. I’d heard the stories, but I wanted to see for myself....

  THE END

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  When I put out the first book in this series on September 3rd of 2017, I had no idea of the adventure I was embarking upon. Between me and you, I never really expected much. I hardly expected the first book to gain any traction at all! When I sold the first 20 or copies, I kinda figured that it was friends and family. I mean, hell, I know that many people. When the counter ticked past 100, I was totally beside myself.

  When I started having people ask me if I was going to write a second book, my initial answer was a shrug of the shoulders. I had the material; I just didn’t know if I had the gas in the tank to pull it off. It took a couple of months and a LOT of badgering from my friends, but I sat down with the laptop and started typing away. That ended with the second volume at the end of January 2019.

  It felt good to be back behind the screen and pecking my way across the keyboard! At the same time, there were a ton of things happening in the background. The company I worked for had been bought out and the new owners were going to shutter the plant. My wife and I made the leap and moved to our dream property and began to set up our little homestead. It was an extremely busy time for us and starting the third book, this one, seemed like a goal that was just out of reach.

  With the support and urging of my wife and good friends, I sat down in what little spare time I had and began writing again. Unknown to me, I was being observed by a small publishing company. They were headhunting new talent and I was in their sights. When I got that first, fateful email from Creative Texts, I nearly fell out of my chair. It took a few weeks, but we came to an agreement and I couldn’t be happier with the work they have done for me! A huge shout-out to Dan and the gang!

  Here’s the thing though; that would have never happened if it weren’t for YOU, my readers. Your readership, your reviews, all of that played a part of the equation. YOU are the reason for the success my books have enjoyed, that I have enjoyed. Without any of you, without your support and kind words, this probably would have ended with the first book! I can’t thank you guys enough for urging me forward!