“Stay alive, my friend,” said Mike from just behind me. “We will check on you in a few days.”
* * * *
“You boys are welcome to stay a night,” said the Colonel as we exited the hospital. “We’ve got some room over at the men’s barracks.”
“Thank you for the offer and your hospitality, sir, but we had better be getting back to our families,” I responded. That’s absolutely the last thing I would want to do, I thought.
“I can understand that,” he replied. “Now that you’ve seen our facilities, give it some thought. We’ve always got room for your little group.”
“Yes, sir,” we both replied in an obligatory response.
We found Mike’s truck just as we had left it, only filled with gas. I asked the soldier about it, and he just said, “Colonel’s orders. There’s a cooler too,” he remarked, pointing into the bed of the truck.
“Thank you!” Mike replied.
“What are you guys doing with these four-wheelers?” I asked, pointing to three next to the truck and hoping I didn’t overstep my boundaries.
“Not sure,” came the soldier’s reply, as he got on the radio.
Five minutes later, after a chat with the Colonel, he said, “You guys can take two if you can carry them, according to the Colonel.”
“No shit!” Mike said, with a grin and excitement of a boy with his first bike. “Let’s load ’em up!”
His truck bed was only going to hold one ATV.
“How do you feel about riding?” he asked me.
“I’m not leaving an extra machine here,” I told him, “and I’ll lead.”
Passing the parade of the walkers, all wondering why we were headed the opposite way, we stopped to look at the map.
Now late afternoon, it looked like a few hours’ ride to meet our group.
“You up for it tonight?” Mike asked me.
“Let’s do it!” I shot back, as Mike opened the cooler.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” said Mike, looking at all the food in the cooler.
Reaching for the note on top, he read it aloud. “Thank you, Mike, for talking with me today. I hope you come back soon to see me…” he trailed off, leaving out the “Love, Bernie.” He turned a shade of red that was rare, especially for a cop.
I decided to give him a pass on this one, asking him to repeat himself, like I couldn’t hear him, as I turned off the engine.
“Nothing,” he said. “Just a bunch of food from the Colonel,” he called out, quickly stuffing the note into his front pocket. “Looks like he was sweet on you,” he added.
“Ha,” I said. “Maybe so.”
I rode in front at a steady 50 mph, dodging vehicles when needed.
Saying a quick prayer for Vlad, I wondered if God was watching over us every step of the way. Was it a coincidence that Vlad would be headed the same direction as us?
I felt good today. We dropped off a fellow comrade alive to the best facility in the area, snagged a couple of four-wheelers, and have a large cooler full of old-school food.
“I’m coming, Joy!” I called out as loud as I could over the dusty road.
At this speed, we could meet up with them before dark, and I would get to sleep in my own bed, or at least sleeping bag, tonight.
Lonnie was spot-on with his camp calculations, and two hours later we approached cautiously.
Mike, with the truck, took the lead as he radioed that we were close.
My boys were jumping up and down when they saw me. It made me proud that we had raised such good boys, even though I knew they were just getting excited about the new four-wheelers.
“Wait until they see the burgers and mac and cheese!” Mike told me, as we lifted the cooler out from the back of the truck.
Luckily, they hadn’t eaten yet, just arriving at camp about 30 minutes earlier.
Mike did the honors of unloading the large cooler, calling out the food as he went.
“Who likes hotdogs?” he asked, holding up a package of 20. “What about hamburgers? Mac and cheese, lasagna, spaghetti, I think with red sauce?”
The hands in the group kept raising as Mike announced more items. “Anyone like Chinese?” he called out, pulling out eight large containers of various dishes.
I knew he was having fun being the guy with the goods. “I only hope you have broccoli beef!” I called out, only half kidding.
“Two right here!” he said, raising large Tupperware containers over his head.
“All is right with the world,” I said aloud, winking to Joy.
I secretly wondered when we would get some time alone. Probably not for a while, I thought.
Glancing back at the trailer, I saw Sheila hop up and give Mike a hug and kiss. She has officially moved on, I thought. “Good for you,” I said, giving Mike a nod.
We all settled in for a well-deserved dinner of real food. We shared that Vlad was being flown to Trinidad, where he would receive care at an excellent hospital.
Everyone was asking what the FEMA camp was like and how many people were there. I kept it to the basics, not wanting anyone to equate camp life with hot showers and hamburgers.
“They separate the men from the women and children,” I told the adults as the kids played games. “The women’s showers are anything but private, and I can’t imagine what happens when the lights go off at night.”
I wasn’t looking to scare anyone, but now everybody seemed to look at our new meal as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and not something they would seek out long-term. I, of course, was wrong using the term everybody.
At dawn, Ringo let out a low growl, standing and facing south. A group of 12 to 15 people were heading north, just 100 yards from our camp.
Looking through my binoculars, they appeared harmless. I observed a few families strewn together, searching for something better.
A woman from our camp, whose name I couldn’t remember, ran towards them, arms raised in the air and yelling, “Take me with you” over and over.
Her husband chased after her, calling her back.
Joy stood next to me, watching the commotion. “What’s that all about?” I asked her, keeping a close eye on the passing group.
“I don’t know, honey. I think they have been having some problems, but I didn’t realize it was this bad.”
“If he doesn’t go with her, he’ll never see her again,” I told her.
“You told them both last night what to expect, and that’s all you can do,” she replied to me.
Minutes later, both the husband and wife fell in with the traveling nomads. “I hope the food is worth it,” said Jake, from just behind mem, as I jumped.
“Man, you scared the hell out of me!” I told him.
“Always be aware of your surroundings,” he replied. “Even in a safety zone like this,” he pointed out, gesturing around our camp.
“Point taken,” I agreed.
We packed the camp quickly. It seemed to get easier every morning as we all pitched in and knew our roles.
“Good luck, my friend,” I said aloud, hoping Vlad was still alive. “We will be back for you.”
Following the Hendrix Headcount, we were back on the road. The two four-wheelers snuggly fitting on the trailers would no doubt come in handy on our still-long journey.
“Amarillo, here we come!” said Jake aloud as we pulled out.
Heading north, we settled in at 20 miles per hour. What’s next, I thought, reminding me of the old days when Joy could ask me about my day and I couldn’t think of anything interesting that happened; this sometimes went on for weeks. Now, in this next-world, every day seemed crazier than the last. I wondered when I would get another boring day, and thought it not likely anytime soon.
“So, what’s up with Mike?” asked Jake. “I mean, you two have spent a lot of time together over the past couple days, and he hasn’t killed you.”
“Ha, I responded,” wanting to be careful about what I said. “All I know is that he’s a
complicated guy with a lot of baggage. Not a bad guy necessarily, but one to certainly keep an eye on. The more I get to know him, the more I think we need someone like him in our group.”
“I wouldn’t have expected you to say that,” replied Jake.
“I think you two should keep your distance,” I continued, “but I’m slightly less worried about you two having a conflict now, if that makes any sense.”
“Not really, buddy, but I’ll take your word on it for now,” replied Jake.
The miles passed, with the wind in my hair reminding me of days now gone by, riding my motorcycle down a country road or running a boat around a lake. There were small groups of people still meandering about, but they seemed less each day. Perhaps they made it to one of the shelters or starved along the way, I thought.
I felt genuinely thankful today, like I should be wearing one of those T-shirts that say “Blessed” on it. I never really understood it until now. I was blessed with my family, new friends, all the food we could ask for, and the firepower to keep it.
I relaxed just a bit, hoping the rest of the trip to David’s parents’ house would be smooth sailing.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-three ~ Northwest of Amarillo, Texas
Driving for nearly two hours, I radioed Lonnie to take a break and let the kids stretch their legs.
“Sure thing, buddy. Let’s find a spot where we can get off the main road just a bit.”
A few miles ahead was a side road that cut across an open pasture. We could see the fence line 30 yards off the road, with posts every 20 feet.
“What is that?” asked Jake, pointing to the fence line.
I looked and saw something hanging from nearly every pole for the next 200 yards. Looking through my binoculars, I could see the carcass of a dog on each pole.
“Those are coyotes,” I said aloud, “and it’s a message.”
“To the coyotes or us?” asked Jake.
“Both, I assume,” I replied.
Before I could even radio Lonnie, he was turning us all around. “We’ll stop soon, everyone,” he called on the radio. “Just not here.”
Twenty minutes later, the kids were begging to stop, as most had to go to the bathroom.
We pulled off into the middle of a large field, with knee-high grass in most places.
I was a bit nervous about the hot vehicle engines catching the dry grass on fire. Thankfully the road was open to a small circle in the middle, mostly clear of tall grass.
We circled and let the kids run off to a little steam inside the protected area. I sat up on the trailer, watching the wind sway the tall grass around us. It was peaceful, and I tuned out everything but the wind and the sound of our children laughing and playing tag.
“Stay inside the circle!” I called out to them, feeling overprotective, like Joy always accused me of being.
Lonnie, Steve and Mike were on the trailer now, with Jake and me. Mike and Jake kept their distance, and it was a little awkward.
“You boys friends yet?” Lonnie asked them. Neither man answered.
“Well,” he continued, “we’re a group here, and a family really.”
“Remember, it’s Families First,” I said jokingly, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work.
“Hudson! Get back here right now!” yelled Joy from behind us. I looked to my right and saw a head 15 yards off in the tall grass, and then another. I counted four in all, as I smelled the cigarette smoke.
I was pretty sure I knew the only two who smoked were Vlad and Sheila.
I had a flashback of a young me, maybe 16, on the very top of a mountain in the Colorado Rockies, smoking cigarettes with my buddy and cooking lunch over a campfire. Even though we had cleared a three-foot perimeter around the fire, as we always did, today something was different. The wind picked up quickly and took my lit cigarette straight out of my hand and into the dry grass ten feet away.
The fire was immediate, and we had only seconds to respond, as the grass caught fire and bellowed a thick cloud of dark black smoke into the clear summer air.
I quickly grabbed a large tarp and all our water. The fire was now expanded to ten feet and growing every second as the wind kept steady. I said a quick prayer, realizing that another minute would send the fire careening down the mountain towards the nearly two dozen houses only a mile away.
In a panic, we frantically threw the tarp out over the middle and poured water wildly across the expanding flames, breathing in the heavy smoke and coughing loudly.
“It’s not working!” I yelled to my friend over the crackle of small twigs and leaves burning.
“We need to get help!” he shouted back.
There was a pause, like the parting the Red Sea, I imagined, and all was quiet. The wind was no more, and the fire was low and contained within itself. We both stood in amazement at this miracle before us.
Without a word, we buried the small flames left under six inches of dirt, using only a tiny garden trowel from my backpack.
We stayed nearly two more hours to make sure they wouldn’t spark again.
To this very day, I don’t know how we stopped that fire, but I have had a healthy respect for it ever since and I felt it was the hand of God.
“Daddy, where’s Hudson and Danny?” came a voice from my left, off the trailer.
Jax and Hendrix were there, as well as the other kids, minus Hudson, Danny, and Lonnie’s two kids.
“What going on, boys?” said Sheila, as she approached the right of our trailer.
Lonnie, Jake and I looked on in horror as she put her thumb and index finger on her nearly finished cigarette and flicked it into the grass, towards our kids.
I could see the bright red cherry on the end of her cigarette as she took her last drag and yelled “No!…...” as she sent the fire starter flipping end over end towards my boy.
It all was in slow motion, like a car crash, and I watched it land in the grass. There was a pause, and nothing happened. I held my breath for what seemed like an hour, but was only a split second, and saw the first flame. We stood up on the trailer and saw Joy jumping the nearly five feet off the trailer towards the kids. She landed on her right foot and let out a scream, falling hard on the ground.
She managed to get to her feet as Jake, Lonnie and I jumped from the trailer.
“Stay here, Mike,” Lonnie called out. “You’re our spotter for the kids.”
I called Joy to stay back, as she was in the grass, limping towards the kids and straight towards the expanding flames.
Mike had the megaphone and called out instructions to both the adults and children. He had a clear view of the situation from his vantage point.
“Everyone back in the vehicles and ready to move out,” he told the others.
I had landed hard, but on both feet, off the trailer. I could see Joy, but no one else.
“Where are they?” I thought, trying to remain calm.
“Get your wife,” said Jake, with a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll get your boy.”
My panic all but disappeared as I believed him, and I concentrated on Joy.
Moving close, I could see her using both hands and one leg while dragging the other.
I grabbed her from behind, and she screamed for me to let her go.
“I’m sorry,” I told her. “I’m not trying to hurt your leg.”
“Let me go!” she screamed again, grabbing at my hands. “I need to get the children!”
I could feel the heat from the expanding flames, now moving closer to us.
Joy fought me for the first time, as I dragged her back towards the caravan. I told her over and over that Jake and Lonnie would get Hudson. Nancy met me halfway back and distracted Joy just a bit by asking about her leg.
I looked down at her right foot, and the angle was all wrong. Her heel was at a 90-degree angle in relation to her leg. It just looked odd with her neon pink tennis shoe still on.
Dragging her slowly backward towards the trailer, I
could see the adults’ heads over the grass, running right to left and zig-zagging. They called out three names but not Hudson’s.
My mind was racing. Was he okay? Why didn’t they call his name too?
My thoughts flashed back to the very beginning, in the Kroger grocery store parking lot, when I had to give myself that little pep talk. Get your shit together, Lance, I could hear myself saying. Do your job here and get your wife back safe. Your friends will take care of the rest.
Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road] Page 23