Families First: A Post Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 4 Hard Roads

by Lance K Ewing

  “That was a bust,” he said, sitting back down.

  “No, it’s just like priming a pump, my dear.”

  “That’s what she said,” he remarked, realizing quickly how juvenile it sounded.

  “That’s not at all what I meant,” she continued. “Anyway, it will take a few times but the fish are watching, I can assure you, and we are training them. In exactly four minutes, you will need to catch another one. You’ll have 30 seconds to do so. Throw it in the same spot.”

  “That works,” he replied. “I can finish this whole sandwich in three.”

  “Don’t forget to vote,” she added, handing him a pen and piece of paper.

  “Okay, I’ve got it,” he mumbled, with his mouth full of one square.

  The next grasshopper wasn’t so easy to catch, and Sarah laughed as Mac jumped around in a last-minute panic to get it done. She counted out the last ten seconds, one at a time: “five…four…” as he tossed it in and watched it float away uneaten.

  “How many does it take?” he asked.

  “Three to five usually sets the pattern, but it’s different every time.”

  They voted on the sandwiches, picking different favorites.

  The fourth grasshopper was hit as soon as it touched the water.

  “That’s it!” she told him. “Put the next one on your hook.”

  Mac had been saving a big fat slow one in his turned-over drink cup.

  “I’ve got just the guy for the job,” he told her. “Do I still have to wait?”

  “Nope, you’re good. They’re trained, at least for a little bit.”

  He cast his new pole for the very first time and was impressed with the quality of the smooth reel.

  Wham! The fish hit his bait, taking the line with it.

  “Better tighten my drag,” he said, fighting the large fish for several minutes.

  There were no chains on this end to get caught up in, and he pulled the monster rainbow trout up the side of the canal.

  “This has to be a record for sure!” he said, smiling broadly.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Saddle Ranch

  Loveland, Colorado

  “Dr. Melton!” came a call from behind her. It was one of the Ranch nurses. “Dr. Melton, come quick! There’s something wrong.”

  She ran back with the nurse to find her patient expecting twins holding her stomach and crying.

  “Are you in pain?” she asked.

  “No!” she cried, “but something is not right.”

  Dr. Melton listened with her stethoscope, hoping to hear the two heartbeats she had just heard a few hours ago.

  After several attempts, she called to a waiting Mac to get the truck and transport her patient to the hospital immediately.

  He ran off, leaving his fish and gear on the floor as she radioed the doctors on staff at the hospital to prepare for an emergency C-section.

  As carefully as they could, they loaded her into the back of the pickup truck, with Mac at the wheel racing the 3/4 mile down to the West hospital.

  Sarah held her hand as she sobbed, asking what was wrong over and over.

  Dr. Melton tried to keep her calm, but couldn’t answer her questions. She alone knew there was only one heartbeat, and it was elevated.

  Samuel was waiting at the hospital, and he helped Mac transport the woman inside before they were told to go back to work.

  Mac radioed Bill and John, informing them of what he knew so far, and headed back up to the Ranch to drop the truck off.

  They thanked him, asking for timely updates on her condition.

  * * * *

  Dr. Melton and her two trainees sedated the mother and performed the emergency surgery.

  The cord on the perfect-looking little boy was compressed, and he was not breathing.

  Quickly cutting the cord, one of the other doctors worked to resuscitate him in another room. After 30 minutes, he solemnly called it. Time of death: 2:48 p.m.

  Dr. Melton delivered the little girl, closely monitoring her over the next hour. She was aware of the lost boy but she would inform the mother at a later time.

  The third doctor, a former general surgeon, sewed the mother back up with the help of the two Ranch nurses.

  The new mother was handed her baby girl by one of the nurses, not answering the one question she wanted to know. The rest of the providers discussed the outcome in another room. All agreed nothing could have been done to prevent it.

  “It happens,” said the surgeon, “and did even in the old world. That doesn’t make it any easier, I know, but it’s the truth. You do know that—right, Dr. Melton?”

  “Yes, I do, and you’re right; it doesn’t make it any easier.”

  Dr. Melton and the surgeon informed the woman about her lost boy and asked if she wanted to hold him. She did, as they stepped out of the room.

  * * * *

  Mac retrieved his pole and heard his fish was in a cooler at the Pavilion.

  Rico greeted him, having heard about the emergency.

  “How is she?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Mac. “They are caring for her now.”

  “Okay. I have your fish. It was a big one, for sure.”

  “Yeah, about six pounds, I think,” said Mac.

  “Try 7.2 pounds!”

  “You’re joking!”

  “I never joke about food… Well, I take that back—I do. But I never joke about the size of a fish, that’s true. Should I have one of my understudies prepare it for you?”

  “No thanks. I don’t have much of an appetite. Maybe we can just add it to the communal dinner tonight for whoever wants to try some.”

  “Sure, of course. We can do that. By the way, did you get a chance to try lunch?”

  “Yes, we both did. I picked number 2, and Sarah went with number 5.”

  “Ah, she has taste,” he replied.

  “So, it was number five?” asked Mac.

  He pulled Mac aside, lowering his voice. “It wasn’t even close. My number five trainee killed it with the substitution of alfalfa sprouts for the greens, and the fried egg, sunny-side-up.”

  “The egg was pretty good,” Mac admitted.

  * * * *

  Mac got the call from Sarah, who wasn’t coming up for dinner tonight.

  The funeral would be in two days’ time, and the mother would need to be transported to the gravesite while recovering from her C-section. With her agreement, an announcement was made at dinner.

  John made the announcement, followed by a prayer.

  O Lord, we thank you for watching over our Valley and keeping us close. We return your sweet baby boy Alex to your open arms, to care for as you see fit. Thank you for our bounty before us this night and for the coming days. It is in your name we pray. Amen.

  * * * *

  Mac rested for a few hours before his midnight security check. Cory picked him up at 11:45.

  “I’m glad to be finally getting this done,” Mac said. “After my experience last time, I’m hoping for a better outcome.”

  “I think you will get exactly that,” replied Cory.

  * * * *

  They walked in silence without flashlights, using hand signals to communicate.

  The first stop was the machine shop, right next to where the old woodshop had stood.

  The guard was one of Cory’s old officers. She was not sitting, like all Mac’s previous ones had done, but was up and walking her area, shining her flashlight every so often. Mac smiled in the darkness as she said, “That’s close enough.” She shone a flashlight into his eyes.

  “Good job,” he told her. Cory said the same, thanking her for doing her job well.

  “No heads up,” Mac told her, pointing to the radio on her belt. News traveled fast when the boss was around, especially by radio.

  They walked down the canal road, still careful not to draw any attention. “There,” said Mac, pointing to the guard on a four-wheeler, riding up and
down the half-mile road between the Ranch and The West’s property.

  They walked the last half mile to the northern border and got the jump on the two guards in that area. They observed them for several minutes talking but doing their job.

  Headed back, Cory said, “They didn’t see us coming, but then again, you don’t expect an attack from the inside, either.”

  “Exactly,” said Mac, adding, “overall, the attention to detail is night and day from before, and thank you for that.”

  The last check of the two guards on the far side of the property revealed that they had the same work ethic as the others.

  “Let’s get some sleep,” Mac said, as he and Cory returned to their homes.

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Thirty-five

  Saddle Ranch

  Loveland, Colorado

  Mac didn’t see Sarah the next morning and thought it might be after the funeral before he would again.

  Drake radioed early in the afternoon for a sit-down with Mac and Cory.

  “Well, Drake, what do you have for us?” said Mac, as the three sat outside the machine shop around 4 p.m.

  “I’ve got a few things from watching the group up the hill the last couple of days.

  “First, they are scouting out the area around the house, looking for something specific or just anything of value. I don’t know. So far, they haven’t found the cellar, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time.

  “Second, there is a time at 11 a.m., where for the last two days all the children are sent out of the house for an hour. I can’t see what the adults are doing inside, but it could be an opportunity for an advantage if we need it.”

  “What are the kids doing for the hour?” asked Cory.

  “Some sit quietly, while others read, but most kids played tag.

  “Lastly, there is a girl about my age that I’ve done seen a couple of times now, but she’s never in the house and stays hidden from the others in the woods. I first thought maybe I was seeing things, but it keeps happening. I don’t think she is part of their group, but I can’t figure where she would have come from and why she’s hangin’ around. There are no other houses for miles besides here and, of course, mine.”

  “Okay, that’s interesting,” said Mac, adding “good work. We’ll ask Mr. MacDonald about the girl. Maybe he has seen her before. As far as the rest of them, I hope we don’t have to use tear gas, but if we do it’s going to be at 11:30!”

  * * * *

  Mac and Cory met with John, Bill, Samuel and the council about the possible use of force if it came to that.

  They presented their case from the most extreme—firepower and tear gas—down to a more reasonable scenario of smoke bombs and negotiations, including offers of provisions and, lastly, leaving them alone.

  “Can we just let them have the property?” asked one of the council members.

  “It’s possible,” replied Mac.

  “I’ve been in law enforcement for a long time, as most of you know,” interjected Cory. “Most men like Ralph don’t go away on their own, and they don’t stay quiet for long. They have a group they will need to feed soon, and from what I could tell, they are consuming the last of their food quickly. They have another one to three days before it’s gone and another few before they consider extreme measures.”

  “The MacDonalds have a stash underground that could give them another six months, if they find it,” added Mac. “The problem is that they will be armed to the teeth, and we can’t have a man that hostile close to our property when he’s got firepower. Our kids would not be safe playing outside, and what happened to John on the road could happen again without warning.

  “A bribe of provisions only lasts so long and keeps them coming back for more when they run out. Tear gas is violent but effective and non-lethal. Finally, forcing them out with firepower should only be an option in defense of our members, and not used in aggression.

  “Ralph has been back two times since being ousted from Samuel’s group. Both times with firearms. They kidnapped a young boy and committed a hostile takeover of the MacDonalds’ property, even before Ralph showed up hours later on a stretcher. They’re a bad lot. Maybe not all of them, or the kids of course, but we’re not separating families here.”

  The council took a full 30 minutes to meet with John, Bill and Samuel while Mac and Cory gladly waited outside.

  John spoke for them all, voicing the collective decision.

  “None of us like this, and we all wish it could be different. With that being said, hard decisions have to be made. We simply cannot allow a hostile group who would forcefully take over property that does not belong to them to remain within only a few miles of this Valley. We have all agreed, with the exception of Samuel, of course, that the least amount of force to convince them to move on and not return is required. We don’t put it past them to use the children as bargaining tools, so we will leave the final details to you, Mac.

  “The tear gas is approved only as a last resort and as long as all children are out of the house. We will leave that to you two to figure out. Any questions for us?”

  “No, sir. We will get it done,” said Mac. “Let’s go, Cory.”

  “You’re always out of those meetings quick,” said Cory once they were outside.

  “Yep. They make the big decisions, and I don’t stick around for a how-to-get-it-done debate. I’m not interested in doing their job or having them do mine. It seems to work well for all of us.”

  “It makes sense,” said Cory. “I’m just used to being on the other side is all.”

  Mac called Drake for an update and wanted to observe the 11 a.m. ritual tomorrow himself with Cory.

  He didn’t like them being in the same place at the same time, as he rarely saw the President and Vice President in the same place without insane security before the day. He did feel it was necessary, though, especially with what they were about to have to do.

  They would head up at 9:30, picking four men and a woman to help with security if things went badly. “We need to be back down the mountain by 2 p.m. at the latest to make the funeral at 3.”

  Sarah radioed him late in the afternoon, promising to meet him for dinner tomorrow.

  Mac took dinner to go and spent a quiet night with his dog Bo, reflecting on how precious life was, especially now.

  * * * *

  Security met before breakfast to finalize the plan.

  “We will be armed, but we are there only for gathering information. The 72-hour deadline ends tomorrow at 8:30 a.m. If they are not gone by then, we will have no choice but to drive them out. Meet back here at 9, and we will head out at 9:30,” Mac told everyone.

  The small group took the truck up to the main campground, leaving one man to watch out for it and to be the driver if they needed to get away quickly.

  Quietly, they made their way again to the vantage spot on the cliff. Drake had his favorite spot now, having spent so much time lately observing. He whispered to Mac and Cory to keep an eye out for the mystery girl.

  Mac’s watch read 10:15, and adults and children alike were randomly passing in and out of the house. He kept count as best he could of men, women and children, trying to remember what they were wearing and not double count.

  Everyone was staring down through binoculars when Drake felt something hit him in the back.

  “What?” he said, turning around fast. The mystery girl smiled.

  Mac caught a glimpse of her running into the trees. “What was that?” he asked.

  “That was her,” said Drake, “the one I was telling you about.”

  “Did she hit you with something?” asked Cory.

  “Yeah, a small rock, I think. Just to get my attention.”

  It was 10:35, according to Cory, and the scene hadn’t changed.

  Again, the girl threw a rock, this time missing her target. She motioned to Drake to come down.

  “Should I see what she wants?” Drake asked.

  “Okay, bu
t be back here in ten and take one of the guys with you,” said Mac, pointing for one to go with him.

  They headed down the backside of the cliff.

  “Keep your gun down,” said Drake. “I don’t want to scare her. Wait here,” he added, walking alone into the trees.