As they stood there in the moonlight talking, a low sound rolled over the terrain that started as a low mutter and progressed into hum that couldn’t be ignored, then became a distant thud-thud-thud.
“Chopper!”
“Okay, that’s it,” Carl told the others. He waved the arm that wasn’t holding his gun in a circle. “Full retreat, all the way back home. Make yourselves scarce! I don’t know if that thing has a search light, but we need to get out of here as quickly as we can. Stick to the trees, and spread out. If it gets near, find some cover and hunker down.”
McLean and Carrie immediately started moving off with the others. The sharpshooters on the hilltop were already down and booking it along the trail.
“Wait, what about the people in the prison?” Carrie asked. “We have a friend in there.”
Carl shook his head. “Your boyfriend here seems to have really roiled the hornets’ nest. We’re nowhere near ready for an extended battle against a helicopter and troops with General Maughan at the head. He’s a canny bastard, selected for this region specifically to clamp down on our efforts. No ma’am, now is most definitely not the time.”
They hurried down the hill and into a patch of woodland. “So if not now, then when?” McLean asked Carl. “Bosin said this general will tighten security. Are we ever going to be able to break open this prison?”
Carl shook his head. “I don’t know. We don’t have the manpower to take General Maughan head on. We’ve just been harassing him, making sure they know we’re not going to bend over in this region. But with winter coming on, and Maughan staying close with a chopper and ground armor in the area… I honestly have no idea when we’ll be able to get in there.”
“What about Denver?” Carrie asked. “You told me these troops were heading toward Denver. Is there any hope of stopping them?”
“Slowing them down, maybe. Stopping them would take a lot more firepower than I have access to. But at this point, any pitched battle out in the open is going to end up with us being slaughtered.”
Bosin jogged beside them. “Denver’s a lost cause, lady. Your friend and I witnessed the city’s old mayor cozying up to the general. He’s sold the place out. They’ve beaten us to it.”
Carl grunted. “Come spring, maybe we can stage a counterattack. If we can get a lot of people behind us, coordinate it all somehow. For now, we melt away into the mountains and try not to die.”
The resistance fighters disappeared into the night one by one, taking different routes through the woods and grassland. The chopper never came close enough to spot any of them, instead hovering near the prison. The general didn’t want to risk his only working helicopter without knowing exactly which threats might be lurking in the hills.
When they came to Williams Creek, Carl and Marie split off. “You’re on your own now,” he told McLean and Carrie. “But I hope we’ll meet again. You seem like the type of people we need. Keep in touch-- I showed Carrie how to get a message through-- and if you can, get something going in your area. The more fires there are, the fewer Maughan will be able to put out, and the sooner his handlers will give up and tell him to pull out.”
McLean and Carrie headed southwest together, holding hands as they trudged through the night. Before dawn they hid in an out-of-the-way railroad underpass and fell asleep leaning against each other.
Chapter 14 : Returning
Their journey back to the ranch was long, but less eventful than the first time they had traveled west to the ranch together. Things had settled down somewhat in most of the small towns and ranching communities they passed by, and because they avoided the main highways they didn’t run into any serious threats. In Canon City they met one of DJ’s radio contacts and sent word to the ranch that they were coming.
With one rifle and one pack between them, they walked quickly. But the nights were very cold and they were hungry all the time, rationing what little food Carrie had left and constantly hunting for edible plants and small game. By the time they got to the ranch they had each lost several pounds.
They stopped early enough each night to set up a few deadfalls in hopes of trapping a rabbit or quail, and to build beds to sleep on. Carrie had a light backpacking mat and a blanket, but by laying down pine boughs and layering on bunches of grass they both slept comfortably.
The strain of their travels and the constant need to avoid starvation dampened most opportunities to advance their budding romance, but they talked about many things as they walked. When they got to the final stretch before coming within sight of the ranchhouse, McLean stopped and pulled Carrie close. They were each exhausted and dizzy with relief that they were finally nearing the ranch, but McLean stood still and stared into Carrie’s eyes for a moment.
“Carrie, I’m so glad we found each other out there,” he said. “I know I don’t look like much, or smell like much either after so many days’ travel. But with your permission, I’d like to kiss you now that we’re almost home. Before the others see us. I just want--”
Carrie gave an exasperated sigh and kissed him on the lips, holding it for several seconds. “I was starting to wonder if you were even attracted to me any more,” she said when she pulled away. “I enjoyed our long walks and talks, but every evening you seemed to get so distant.”
“I just didn’t want to… I thought you might…” McLean searched for words and finally gave up. “I’m an idiot,” he said. “The truth is, I’ve fallen in love with you, Carrie. Deeply in love, and I want to be with you as much as I can, and I’m really hoping you feel the same way.”
Carrie shook her head. “You are a stuffy, stern man, McLean. I’m not sure exactly what you’re waiting for, or where you got your idea of romance. But I think I’ve made my position clear.” She reached up and kissed him again, tenderly, and they stood there for a while.
When they finally sauntered into the ranch house, smiles hovered about both their lips. In the excitement to greet the pair and hear their news, no one noticed. But it became clear in the days that followed that they were now deeply committed to each other.
The Baileys were relieved to hear that their father and husband was alive and looked healthy despite being imprisoned. DJ and the others were interested in every detail about Carl Walsh’s resistance movement and the clouds on the horizon. They had a much better idea now where things stood and what they could expect from the future.
War was coming, if Walsh had any say in the matter, and it was up to the group at the ranch to not just survive now but to rise up and fight alongside other Americans in reclaiming their country. It was what they had all been waiting for, been hoping for in the backs of their minds ever since the day everything fell apart. But now that it was coming to a head, it was a frightening prospect. They would risk everything they had managed to preserve in their mountain hideaway.
With runners and radio link-ups, a grassroots network of free people was gaining its feet. McLean and DJ began to work with contacts in various outlying areas and small towns west of Colorado Springs to assemble of force of loosely connected but willing people that refused to stand idly by while the Correctionists consolidated their power over the region. After several weeks of good progress, DJ sent word to Walsh that he had supporters in the west and could expect a healthy response if they were called upon in the spring.
In late November Rory returned with bad news from Denver. After drifting into Crested Butte and being guided in from there, he and his brother-in-law arrived at the ranch with a sordid tale to tell. Rory’s ex-wife had fallen victim to disease in the months after the meltdown. They reported that Denver was not only fractured and desperate, as Ron and Brad had observed, but that the mayor had indeed sold the place out and brought in General Maughan’s forces without giving anyone a chance to dissemble. One day the residents of Denver were mostly on their own, and the next they awoke to find soldiers on the street corners confiscating food and rounding up troublemakers. Although some groups initially welcomed the soldiers and tried to i
ngratiate themselves, it soon became clear to everyone that they weren’t there to rescue anything. Everything they did was meant to consolidate their control of the area and prevent uprisings.
“Last we heard,” Rory said, “General Maughan was moving his regional nexus from Cheyenne Mountain up to the Denver International Airport. He forcibly disbanded the beleaguered remnants of the National Guard in Grand Junction, and he seized all their equipment. That guy is a real piece of work, let me tell you. You never see him walkin’ and talkin’ among the people, he always sends his grunts out to do the dirty work.
“The one time I did see him up close was at this improvised marketplace people were setting up in a plaza by the old Aurora city center. He comes by in his hummer, and of course everyone stops what they’re doing-- when you hear a motor running nowadays, it gets your attention real quick. Anyway, his hummer slowed down and I saw him in there, looking over the sort of black market these people had just gotten going. Then he drove away. Five minutes later several squads of soldiers converged on the place and without warning started knocking over stands, roughing people up, and destroying property. They even shot a guy that pushed back when they tore down his sign and smashed the lanterns he was selling. It was crazy.”
Rory and his brother in law, a former Marine, had finally escaped the city at night and crawled under a barbed wire fence to get into the foothills. They had worked their way around to the south and ended up in Crested Butte a full month later. Rory was now hardened and committed, ready to face the battles he expected in the near future. His brother in law was also ready for action and payback. McLean loaded them up with gear and supplies and sent them both on to Pueblo to meet with Carl Walsh and see what they could contribute to the cause.
Cold weather arrived in force two weeks later, but the ranch-dwellers were by then well prepared. There was more than enough firewood for the three wood-burning stoves, and they had enough food laid up to last until spring without rationing. With thirteen hard workers available, they were confident that they would be able to plant and harvest enough fresh food through the next growing season to replenish their supply.
The additions Jim and others had done on the house and the outbuildings made durable, cozy quarters for both humans and livestock. Snowstorms came and went without serious problems. JD and some of the other men who were used to a more active lifestyle chafed at being confined indoors during the cold days and nights. Fortunately, daily trapping expeditions up a nearby creek helped with that and brought in a few pelts with fresh meat as well.
There were also periodic trips over the mountain to Crested Butte. This was a difficult trek in the snow, but McLean had a few pairs of snowshoes and Jim made more by hand, and these made the hike possible. A reconnaissance trip out to the highway intersection by Poncha Springs revealed that the steady stream of travelers they had observed there in past months had now slowed to a trickle. DJ’s radio contacts reported general peace, aside from a few thefts of food by those that weren’t ready for winter.
Ron, the infantry expert, began teaching the others what he knew of small unit tactics. They drilled both in the snow and in the house so they would be prepared to fight together in the spring. Some of their allies in Crested Butte were doing the same thing and had formed a fledgling militia platoon. The two groups met up in the mountains a few times to train together, forming bonds that enhanced their former long-distance friendship into a true alliance.
One afternoon, as several group members were eating lunch, Jim remarked that he could barely remember what life was like prior to coming to the ranch. “It feels like we’ve been here forever, you know?”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” Carrie told him. “We’ve done a lot better than most people, but we can’t get complacent and forget that this isn’t how things are supposed to be. Soon we’re going to have to start pushing back the apocalypse.”
Chapter 15 : Proposals
A few weeks after the first major thaw, word came from Walsh to get ready. It came by runner; Walsh was notoriously distrustful of the radio network that spread rumors and semi-coherent bits of information around the area. His man came through Crested Butte on a mountain bike with a simple verbal message for McLean’s group and any others in the mountains that cared to respond.
“The weather is turning. And Denver is burning,” the man said with an ominous glare to emphasize the importance of his words. “When you next hear that phrase, it means the time has come to move on Denver. Got it? It’ll be an all-out effort to infiltrate, surround, and liberate the city. Come loaded for bear. We aim to have several hundred fighters there.”
McLean estimated they had a few weeks at least before the call would come. Such a large-scale offense would take time to coordinate and prepare. But with no way of knowing exactly when they would need to leave, he gathered everyone in the ranch’s living room that evening.
“Carrie and I trust Walsh and his partisans,” he told the others. “We’ve been in the field with them. But I know none of the rest of you have met him, and you may not be as eager to get involved in this fight. So I wanted to lay it all out and see who wants to go, and who’s more comfortable staying behind at the ranch.
“This is going to be a serious conflict, the biggest we’ve heard of since we escaped Denver. There might be a lot of ugly fighting, and people will definitely get killed. But I feel, and I know Carrie strongly agrees, that it’s our duty and our destiny to go back to Denver and take back the city. Make sure it’s free and as stable as its citizens-- our former neighbors-- are willing to make it. Right now, that freedom and stability is being denied them by a relatively small group of oppressive, illegal soldiers and the criminal elements that brought the city to its knees.
“I’m going there to fight and die, if I must, to free that city and deny this region to the Correctionists. Who’s coming with me?”
Carrie immediately went to McLean’s side and put an arm around him.
“I’m in,” JD said. “No doubt about that.”
“Me too,” DJ chimed in. “But I’ll probably be hanging back, manning the radios with some of the other comms guys. I won’t be a hero, but I’ll have your back.”
“Count me in,” Ron said.
“I’ll go, too,” Brad offered more slowly and thoughtfully. “Can’t say I like the prospect of killing Americans. But I like the alternatives even less.”
McLean nodded. “Okay, that’s six. Jim? Gordo? How are you guys feeling? No one will think less of you if you decide to stay; you’ve got family to take care of. And somebody’s got to stay and support the effort from here. We just need to know where you stand.”
Jim looked at Gordo and sighed. “I’m going to stay. I just don’t like the idea of leaving Stephanie like that.” His daughter hugged him.
“Gordo?”
Gordo leaned back in his seat. His wife stared at him. “Look, I wanted to go,” he said, eyeing Maria. “Not that I’m an action hero or anything. I just want to do my part to bring our country back. But Maria says she’ll--”
“Don’t blame this on me!” Maria protested. “You make your own decision and stand by it, Gordo. And let the chips fall where they may.”
Gordo grunted. “All right, then. I’m going!”
“Fine!,” Maria spat. “I’ll go with you.”
“No, you--”
“If you’re going, I’m going. I can play combat medic. I’d much rather be there to patch you up when you get shot in the butt.”
The others chuckled. “That’s it, then,” McLean said. “Jim and Mrs. Bailey will hold down the fort with their kids. The rest of us will head east when we get the call to arms. We’ll watch each other’s backs. We won’t take any unnecessary risks. And with God’s grace and a little luck, we may play an important part in retaking Denver.”
The next day, McLean called Carrie outside to see something. “Bring your coat. And a bucket,” he added, getting a coil of rope for himself from the rack by the back door.
Carrie followed McLean into the woods that bordered the fields between their ranch and the Hendricksons’. There was still a crust of snow covering the ground where shadows kept the sun from melting it off, but the air was warmer than it had been in months and water was starting to run in little rivulets down to the creek bed. Birds were out, and the bright sun felt good after so many months cooped up in the house.
“What are we doing?” Carrie asked.
“You’ll see!” McLean told her, taking her by the hand and leading her deeper into the woods. “It’s a surprise.” He was nearly humming with excitement.
“Gosh, my heart would be all aflutter in anticipation of something romantic,” Carrie joked, “if it weren’t for this bucket I’m carrying. Why do I get the feeling that I’m about to have a lesson in animal gutting or frog catching?”
“No, it’s much better than that,” McLean assured her. He led the way through a sunlit clearing to a tall aspen with a thick trunk. There was an audible buzz coming from it. “Look up there,” McLean said.
Halfway up the trunk a sizable beehive hung from a broken branch. The fuzzy insects flew to and from the hive through the neighboring trees.
“Wow,” Carrie said. “It’s a bunch of bees.”
“Yeah. They must have just swarmed recently. And you know what comes with bees…” McLean uncoiled his rope and tossed it up and through a large fork in the trunk twenty feet overhead.
“Wait, you aren’t going to rile them all up, are you?” Carrie asked, poising herself to run.
“Nah, it’ll be fine. Watch this,” he replied. He knelt and produced a handful of tinder from his pocket, an assortment of dry leaves and tiny twigs. He placed it in Carrie’s bucket and lit it with a single match. Then he fed it a few larger sticks and piled a clump of pine needles on to make thick smoke.
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