“Okay, I guess,” Rory moaned.
Fifteen minutes later they met McLean, JD, and Ron coming down the dirt road, decked out with rifles and headlamps and rucksacks full of gear. While Carrie and McLean shared a brief but passionate embrace, the others examined Carrie’s blindfolded prisoner.
“You should have tied his hands,” Ron said, patting the man down to make sure he didn’t have any weapons, explosives, or bugs.
“Yeah, and hobbled his legs so he couldn’t run,” JD added.
Carrie snorted. “Come on, you guys. He’s been walking since Los Angeles, and he seems like a pretty nice guy.”
“Seems!” Ron spat. “Lots of people seem nice, until their backs are against the wall.”
“Well, hey, I’ve had my gun on him the whole time,” Carrie said. “I didn’t take any chances.”
“Yeah, really,” Rory confirmed. “This lady’s tougher than a mule.”
McLean objected strongly to that remark and was about to teach Rory a lesson in civility, but Carrie wouldn’t let go of him.
JD poked the prisoner in the ribs. “From L.A., huh? I’ll bet you’ve got a story or two in you.”
Rory doubled over in pain, even though JD’s prodding wasn’t hard.
“Hey, is he hurt?” JD asked Carrie.
Rory stood up again. “I’m fine! I’m fine. I just… I was treated roughly by some thugs I ran into a couple hundred miles back, and I may have come away with a cracked rib. But I’m sure you gentlemen won’t take advantage of that fact.”
Carrie frowned. “You should have told me, Rory. I wouldn’t have pushed you so hard.”
“I didn’t know what your plans were for me,” he said, “only that you had a gun you didn’t seem afraid to use. Honestly, I’m still not sure.”
“We’ll get him patched up once we’re back at the ranch,” McLean said. “If he proves a decent sort, that is.”
“We owe him at least that much,” Carrie said. “I have held him at gunpoint for the last couple hours. And I think he has some intel for us that will come in very handy.”
They walked back to the ranch in the dark, but with spirits lifted all around. The others were glad to see Carrie safe and sound, and curious about the man she’d brought home.
Soon they were all gathered in the main room of the ranchhouse with food, drink, and couches to flop down on. Carrie pulled off the blindfold and Rory sat blinking against the sudden brightness.
“Welcome to HQ,” Ron said, patting the revolver he always kept at his side. “Eat hearty, but don’t get too comfortable. Around here, we shoot thieves.”
Carrie rolled her eyes and handed Rory a glass of water and a bowl of potato soup.
Chapter 6 : Taking in an Ally
Rory spent the next two days with them. He was grateful for the medical attention of Maria, the meals and hospitality, and the safe place to rest. And he was more than willing to share everything he knew in return.
Tracing his route for them on a map, he spoke of his journey out of the disaster zone that was L.A. and up I-15. The tide of refugees trailed off until he reached the Nevada border, but then he ran into the refugees fleeing Las Vegas. With no water and just as much violence, that city had emptied after one week, with only a few barbarous scavengers left to fight over the ruins. Some fled north into Utah, some east toward Flagstaff, and some south. Rory opted for the northern route since he knew it best, but he was almost killed several times trying to get past Las Vegas, and someone told him there were gangs preying on the refugees along the roads to the north.
Having some experience in backpacking and white-water rafting, he left the roads and followed the Colorado River east past the Grand Canyon. This allowed him to avoid Flagstaff, which he knew couldn’t sustain itself without outside water.
East of the Indian reservations he followed the lonely highways between small towns, getting a handout here and there and sleeping in cattle sheds and empty gas stations. He fell in with some friendly Navajo travelers that were heading for Albuquerque, figuring that there was safety in numbers and he’d rather not die of thirst out in the desert on his own. Albuquerque, as he’d mentioned to Carrie, was in better shape than the other cities in the Southwest, and he stayed there for several days.
Then he headed north through Santa Fe and up to Alamosa, where he was forced back to the west by some marauding gunmen that operated out of Pueblo using a few working motorcycles. He ended up in Gunnison, which he reported to be stable but not very welcoming, and went north to try to intersect I-70. He got lost in the mountains before reaching Aspen and had been wandering various trails for a day and a half with no map when Carrie found him.
All together, Rory had traveled some 1,300 miles. He was on his third pair of shoes, and when Maria examined his cracked rib (with an infected gash on his shin to complicate things further) she also declared him officially malnourished and gave him only four more weeks to live unless he got some rest and food.
This required a decision from the group. Rory was proving himself as a courteous, sincere fellow, but aside from his demonstrated ability to travel cross-country, the only professional skillset he claimed was data analytics-- hardly useful in the current environment. They could send him on his way with a thank-you and a bag of food (blind-folded until he was ten miles away, of course). Or they could let him stay on temporarily, but with winter coming and his poor condition it didn’t seem very charitable to kick him out onto the road in cold weather with only a ruined city ahead.
“What can he do to pull his own weight?” Ron asked the others as they were assembled in the living room after lunch. Rory had been sent out to harvest pinyon pine nuts while the others spoke. “He’s a decent guy and I’m all for him staying if he wants to, but he’s got to pull his load. We’re not operating a charity here.”
The others agreed. DJ suggested that he would be helpful as a scout once he recovered fully. He could be sent out as a runner to outlying towns and ranches to help gather information, spread messages, and carry small trade items back and forth. Carrie agreed, but the others weren’t sure how far Rory could be trusted yet and worried that he might betray their location to people they didn’t want knocking on their door.
“I’m sure he could be taught to help with the gardening, livestock, and construction work soon enough,” Carrie pointed out. “I know that chores and odd jobs are barely a replacement for the additional mouth to feed, and I understand the strain it puts on the group to bring in unplanned additions like myself. But I think there are benefits to letting in a few more good people.”
“Hey, don’t be hard on yourself,” JD told her. “You’ve contributed plenty, even if McLean hadn’t vouched for you to begin with. Heck, you’re half the reason we made it to the ranch together, and you did it again the other day. You even took a prisoner! That makes you a full-blooded Indian brave, Carrie.”
“Well, then I vouch for Rory,” Carrie said. “If it’s not too presumptuous of me. I have a good feeling about the guy, and there’s strength in numbers. We’re still short several members of the group, right?”
McLean nodded. “The Baileys have four in their family. And either way, we can use good people-- if we’re ever attacked, heaven forbid, we’ll need every man we can get. It’s settled, then.”
That evening when Rory was back, they all gathered and invited him to stay with them as a permanent member of the group. “It is a commitment on your part, too,” McLean explained. “We all think you’re a good guy and you’ll work hard. But if you willfully slack off, betray the group, or harm someone else, you’re gone. The same rule goes for all of us.”
Rory nodded. “I’m very grateful. That’s generous of you all. But I have to tell you, I still need to get to Denver and find Tiffany. We’ve been divorced for three years, but I have to see if she’s all right. I owe her that. And if I do find her, she might need extended help. I couldn’t ask you to take her in as well, so I’m not sure I can accept your offer in good conscienc
e knowing what I may have to do.”
McLean clapped him on the shoulder. “Honorable words. Stay as long as you need to, and when you’re ready to go to Denver, we’ll escort you at least part of the way.”
Rory stayed for another couple of weeks before he was ready to attempt the journey to Denver. In that time Carrie’s hunch about him was confirmed several times, and each time the group members mentioned to each other how serendipitous Carrie’s chance meeting with Rory had been.
It turned out that he was a fair self-taught cobbler. He’d re-soled his own shoes with leather and tire rubber, and he did the same for several pairs of old boots the others had laying around the ranch. He used some left-over scraps of leather from an old saddle repair job to make Stephanie a pair of Navajo-style moccasins. She loved them and wore nothing else from then on, claiming they made her twice as silent in the woods when she was scouting around or stalking small game.
He also knew a few things about electronics, and helped DJ repair and refurbish some of the radio equipment that had malfunctioned after the EMP. While soddering wires with a makeshift iron heated in the fireplace, he admitted to being a fellow nerd for medieval history and had even crafted his own chainmail shirt. This led to the creation of a small forge on the back stoop where he and Jim fashioned various bits of metal-working that came in handy to replace broken parts and tools. He joked that if it came to it, he would make them each a suit of armor when all the ammunition was gone and the world had gone back to swords and spears.
Rory also knew some martial arts, and combined with Ron’s army training they got the whole group practicing a mix of aikido, jiu-jitsu, and judo.
“I don’t know how you got that cracked rib,” Brad said after getting thrown particularly hard with a judo move.
“I gave as good as I got, believe me,” Rory replied with a smile. “But they had golf clubs.”
Carrie was as good as her word and organized a follow-up trip to Crested Butte. She took Maria to help with the illness there, and McLean and Gordo went along to help. They left early in the morning and got back that same night, but scoped out some good campsites along the way for future journeys.
Tess welcomed Carrie back and was extremely grateful for the medical help with her son. The people of Crested Butte were quickly won over after McLean gave them a bag of heirloom seeds and an offer of seven trained men in the event of any violent incursions from the south. They agreed to communicate regularly, either in person at Crested Butte or by leaving a message concealed under a rock at the trail intersection where Carrie had found Rory.
DJ finally made contact with another ham radio operator. He lived in Gunnison and claimed to have spoken with several others scattered around the region despite the difficult conditions. They began to link up radio operators one by one, establishing new antenna sites as needed. Carrie, JD, and Rory came in handy to go out and set up these antennae or deliver needed parts to additional operators.
Little by little they were getting a foothold against the apocalypse that befallen their country. They were laying up quantities of food against the cold weather, and were linking up with other good people that could work together. Their morale grew like a campfire burning up through the kindling to the logs, and while some of them lost a few pounds, the whole group felt healthier and stronger than they ever had while living in the city.
Carrie’s resolve to act as DJ’s field agent in intelligence-gathering increased, and her dreams of some day taking back the dying nation began to infect the others one by one. She had never given up on the city fully, despite the horrific events during their exodus. The darkness that had begun to grow within her in the beginning was conquered through decisive action, and now she was determined to fight it wherever she found it outside herself as well.
Chapter 7 : Turning Around
McLean held a finger to his lips, urging Carrie to remain quiet. Lying on his belly in the leaves and moss that covered the low ridge they had climbed, he motioned her forward. Carrie crawled up next to him and looked over, pulling back the green watch cap that had begun to slip down over her eyes.
In a small valley below, not forty yards away, two mule deer were drinking from a stream that trickled down from the mountains. They were presented perfectly for a clean shot, the first prey the two hunters had spotted that morning. Excitement surged in Carrie’s chest at the realization that she was about to get her chance.
They had left together before dawn to get some meat for the pot. Gordo and JD had built a smoking shed so they could preserve meat for longer, and they wanted to fill it. Carrie hadn’t hunted since she was a girl and expressed an interest in trying, since she’d had good luck on her small-game forays with Stephanie.
Now she had the perfect shot. The six-point buck down below raised his regal head and sniffed the air, then dipped for another drink. The smaller doe by him nuzzled at some watercress growing along the stream’s edge.
“Go for the buck,” McLean whispered in Carrie’s ear. “Right where I showed you, just behind the shoulder-blade.”
“Are you going to shoot the other one?” she asked.
“Nope. Too small. We’ll let her go for now.”
Carrie brought her rifle up, a Ruger borrowed from Gordo, and sighted on the buck, which hadn’t moved. She pushed down her excitement so she could concentrate. Checking that her safety was off and mentally running through the other steps they had talked about on the way out, she began to squeeze the trigger slowly and evenly.
A sudden reluctance assailed her. She’d killed several birds and rabbits, but this was the first time she had sighted on Bambi, and her resolve wavered for an instant as she imagined the blood and carnage she was about to wreak on the innocent animal. But she was hungry, and the thought of the venison that would come from it was too tempting to back down. She found the hard edge that had developed in her soul since the world came crashing down, turning a tender-hearted girl into a pistol-toting survivalist.
The shot echoed across the hills and reverberated back in the time it took the buck to leap crookedly and land its hooves back on the soft turf. The doe was off like a lightning bolt, disappearing quickly into the trees. The buck made it several yards away, then went down as its knees buckled under it. It got up and struggled forward, then collapsed again at the side of the stream.
“I nailed it!” Carrie shouted in triumph. She safetied her rifle and put it down, then got to her knees to watch the deer in its death throes. “Did you see that, McLean?”
McLean was laughing, watching the excitement on her face and sharing in it. “Yeah, I saw it. That was a beautiful shot! Are you sure this is the first time you’ve hunted deer?”
“Yep!” Carrie pumped her fist. “It went right down. We don’t even have to track it through the hills. I just nailed it, and it went right down!”
McLean high-fived her and then leaned in and kissed her on the lips. Carrie’s eyes flashed with the thrill of the moment, then grew suddenly thoughtful. “Hey, that was our first kiss,” she said, studying the face of the man in front of her.
“Uh, yeah, it was,” McLean replied. “I guess I could have waited for a romantic sunset. But I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, Carrie, and you look so pretty when you’re excited. I hope you don’t mind.”
She looked at him for a moment, shaking her head. “Not one bit. I like hunting. And I like you.” She took McLean by the shoulders and kissed him back, this time longer and slower, with more heat behind it. After all the waiting, the time was finally right-- emergencies were past, they had plenty of breathing room, and they’d gotten to know each other very well over the past couple months. It felt good.
They broke off and gazed at each other again. Then McLean jumped up.
“We’ve got a deer to field-dress, and it won’t wait! Come on, this is the funnest part. You’ll love it!”
Carrie grinned. She was not looking forward to the dirty job, but if she had to do it she’d rather McLean show her tha
n anybody else in the world.
They returned to the ranchhouse an hour and a half later with enough venison for several good meals. The men all congratulated Carrie on her kill, and Gordo immediately began smoking large portions of the meat.
Later that week Rory announced to the group that he wanted to move on to Denver in search of his ex-wife. Maria advised him to stay on another week or two, but he said he couldn’t wait. So they planned an expedition to the northeast that would take them in the direction Rory wanted to go while also putting the others in a position to gain some intelligence on conditions in the region.
“We’ll have to blindfold you again, I’m afraid,” Ron told him. He and Rory had become good friends, bonded by a love of martial arts and a knack for horrible puns. “Just for the first ten miles or so. It’s not that we don’t trust you, but if you don’t actually know the way here, you can’t be forced into revealing it. Old partisan trick.”
Rory submitted, and they were packing and making plans when a young woman arrived at the ranch. Stephanie was feeding the animals and missed her, but her father Jim was enjoying a cup of hot tea on the porch while he kept an eye on things, and spotted the new arrival coming up the road. He alerted the others, who ambled out to see for themselves.
No one was worried; it was just a lone girl, and they had arranged for the Hendricksons to fire a few shots in warning if they noticed anyone alarming in the area. But Ron grumbled anyway. “We need to get a dog up here,” he suggested.
“Hey, wait. That’s Jamie Bailey!” Maria told the others, staring at the approaching girl.
“You’re right,” her husband said. They both ran out to meet Jamie, the older daughter of the last family still missing from the group.
Jamie, a solidly built eighteen-year-old with dirty blonde hair, broke down when Maria greeted her with a hug. Bringing her into the house, the others gathered around and offered her the comfort she needed at the moment, but she needed several minutes before she would speak.
Take Back Denver Page 4