Next World Series (Vol. 2): Families First [The Road]

by Ewing, Lance K.

  “I owe you a date night,” I told her, kissing her in front of our kids.

  “Ewww, that’s gross!” said Hudson.

  “Smoochy-smooch,” added a tired Jax, and Hendrix just covered his eyes, peeking through his open fingers.

  “That’s right, boys,” I laughed. “You will understand soon enough.”

  Nancy, satisfied with Jax’s stability, looked at my hands.

  “The first knuckle here looks broken,” she said, touching my right hand. I winced but didn’t flinch.

  “I’m going to wrap this for now,” she said, “and we will take a closer look later, probably at the midway stop.”

  “Thank you, Nancy,” I told her.

  “I think it will heal up just fine,” she replied.

  “No. Thank you, Nancy, for what you did for Joy and both of our boys,” I continued. “You went above and beyond expectations, and we as a family are truly thankful for you and Jake.”

  “If you make her cry,” said Jake, “I’m going to shoot you with this nerf gun,” he chuckled, holding up an impressive nerf gun rifle belonging to his boy.

  “No such luck,” added Nancy. “But seriously, I’m just glad I could help.”

  Hendrix quietly handed me his nerf pistol, and I cocked it quickly, catching Jake in the left shoulder with the first shot.

  “Oh, it’s on now!” he retorted, peppering me with all eight nerf rounds from his rifle.

  Everyone was laughing at this, even Joy and Jax.

  Miles past quickly, and everyone was tired from the road.

  There was nothing, I mean literally nothing, between Amarillo and Raton, New Mexico, besides the two billboards.

  “Now leaving Texas, The Lone Star State, and Welcome to New Mexico, The Land of Enchantment.”

  The rest was God’s country, pure and unspoiled.

  Arriving at our destination late in the day meant we were only 40 miles from Raton Pass.

  Lonnie asked me if we should push through tonight or wait until morning.

  I made the call to wait until morning, wanting to radio ahead and not show up in complete darkness.

  Capulin, being a national monument, had a Visitors’ Center in the front that appeared abandoned.

  There were no campsites available, but a few tents were scattered across the area.

  Forming a circle around the Visitors’ Center, we agreed that the ladies and children, with Mini, would stay inside, except for Sheila, who refused to leave Mike’s side, and the rest of us, including Ringo, keeping a close eye this last night.

  Jake, Lonnie, Steve, Jim and I all opted to sleep on the trailer with Ringo.

  Staring up at the sky, I had forgotten what it was like to see the stars so bright.

  I had Jim set up the radio and had a quick conversation with David, informing him we would be there tomorrow morning.

  He informed me that they would be waiting for us just across the main bridge, separating the now old territory with the new land that the Raton Pass Militia now claimed.

  “Take it slow up here,” said David. “We’ve got you covered on our side, but you’ve got ten miles of dirt road before you get to our bridge, and we’re not sure what’s out there.”

  “We will do just that,” I told him.

  There were no streetlamps or houses to pierce the pitch-black night sky, only bright white stars as big as Texas, and a few scattered campfires. I fell fast asleep, looking for constellations, with Ringo by my side.

  Waking up to stiff backs, both Lonnie and Jake asked me for an adjustment.

  Pulling out the makeshift therapy table we found at the Urgent Care Center, I adjusted each of them, with audible cracks that all on the trailer could hear.

  “Good as new,” announced Lonnie.

  “Yep, me too,” added Jake. “Thanks, buddy.”

  “No worries,” I told them, thinking it would be good to have one more chiro around, so I could get adjusted too.

  Those inside the Visitors’ Center poured out early, with my boy Jax looking good as new.

  “How are you feeling, son?” I asked.

  “Great, Daddy! I don’t feel sick anymore, but I wish you could have stayed with us last night.”

  “Me too, buddy,” I told him, “but somebody had to keep Ringo company,” I responded, with a smile.

  The group took our time this morning, cooking a hearty breakfast of powdered eggs with the choice of chopped venison or fish. Most opted for the meat, with a few sticking only to the eggs.

  Today was a milestone for our group, and I wanted to say something.

  Tina allotted me four large cans of corned beef hash that I cooked over the Coleman stove, to most everyone’s delight. We ate as a group slowly and unafraid for the first time since we left our homes.

  With everyone gathered, I offered a breakfast prayer.

  Dear Lord, thank you for watching over our children on this great trip West. You are with us at each triumph and every tribulation, never leaving our sides.

  Please watch over Vlad, and all of us, as we near our halfway point to our destination. We are families first, and it’s in your name we pray. Amen.

  All said “Amen” and Mini barked, sitting just under the corned beef hash pot.

  “Don’t worry, Mini,” said Jax, who had taken a shine to her. “I’ll make sure Daddy saves you some.”

  With everything packed up this morning, Jake’s watch read 9:23 a.m.

  “Ok, everyone,” Lonnie called out. “We’re about 40 miles from our destination in Raton Pass. The road on Highway 64 runs into Interstate 25, which goes straight up through Colorado, south to north.

  “We will be on that highway most of the rest of our journey to Loveland. The only problem is that it runs right through some major cities, including Trinidad, Pueblo, Colorado Springs, and even Denver, as well as smaller towns, including Raton, New Mexico, about 30 miles from here. Every one of these towns and cities will require planning and foresight to maneuver safely around.

  “I anticipate making it to our next stop by early to midafternoon today, God willing. Once there, we can rest up and plan the next stage of the journey west.”

  Heading northwest on Highway 64, the terrain was changing, desert giving way to foothills, with views of the mountains beyond.

  The air, crisper and cleaner, preceded the coming storm Lucy had warned us about a day earlier. Long bands of rain far in the distance fell like shooting stars, streaking down.

  “Do you smell that, Jax?” I asked.

  “Smell what, Daddy?”

  “The rain, son. Take a good long smell.”

  Jax laughed as he did, saying, “It smells like a wet dog!”

  “Ha! That’s funny, buddy. Maybe it does,” I considered. “It happens to be one of my favorite smells in the world,” I added, “right after coffee!”

  “Good day?” asked Jake, patting me on the shoulder.

  “Absolutely. I knew it would be. I was just off by 24 hours,” I replied, holding up my bandaged hand and shaking my head.

  Lonnie slowed to a stop, as the radio crackled. “It looks like we’re about to get wet,” he announced. “The storm is headed our way, and we can’t outrun it. Let’s get anything covered with the tarps that can’t get wet. It looks like we have about 15-30 minutes before it’s on top of us.”

  Everyone pitched in, securing the tarps over both trailers and cinching them down tight.

  “We’ll be pulling off in a safe place if we can find one ahead,” announced Lonnie.

  Getting the children and dogs off the trailer and inside the vehicles, we headed straight for the coming storm.

  Lightning streaked the darkening sky, followed by booms of thunder. I counted the seconds between lightning bursts and explosions of thunder rattling the caravan. One one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand, and then a “Boom!”

  “That’s what I always heard,” Jake agreed. “A couple weeks ago I would have Googled it and we would know for sure in a few minut
es. Now our best guess is all we’ve got.”

  “I wonder if we will be starting over as a country once again, putting a high value on libraries full of books?” I asked Jake.

  “Even if the power is restored, that doesn’t necessarily mean we’ll get our Internet back. And even then, I can’t afford a $600 iPhone anymore,” he replied.

  “No worries, buddy,” I replied. “I kept a few in my faraday cage, just in case.”

  Lonnie stopped as the rain began to fall. “Off the trailer, boys!” he shouted.

  Jake and I squeezed into the SUV with our wives and kids, with Steve and Jim jumping in with Mike and Sheila.

  Slowing to under 10 miles per hour, the rain beat down on the vehicles and trailers. Two miles up, we huddled beneath an overpass, each vehicle side-by-side, taking up both the east- and westbound lanes of Highway 64.

  The passing storm gave way to the most incredible double rainbow most of us had ever seen. The children begged Lonnie to drive fast to the very end, “to find the money,” as Hudson put it.

  “What would you do with all that money, Hudson?” asked Lonnie, genuinely curious.

  “I would buy a bright red dirt bike motorcycle that runs on gas!” he blurted out.

  “Is that so?” replied Lonnie. “Then I guess we will have to keep an eye out for just such a prize,” he added, with a wink.

  Back on the trailer, after removing the heavy blue tarps, Jake and I assessed the provisions. All checked out, except for some clothes from the strip mall.

  “They will surely dry out eventually,” I suggested.

  “The next stop is I-25 North,” Lonnie called over the radio.

  “We have two choices here. Either stay on the Interstate, which largely bypasses most of the city of Raton, or cut through Climax Canyon Park. And no, that is not a joke but the actual name, for a reason I don’t know. This route is longer, and partially unmapped. but may be safer.

  “Either way, we end up back on I-25 for the only way up the steep climb to Raton Pass at the top of the mountain. What say you?” he asked those with radios.

  Most votes steered towards the Interstate route, as it seemed the fastest way to a much-needed rest.

  “Okay,” said Lonnie. “We will settle on the Interstate,” he stated, “stopping briefly.

  “All children inside the vehicles and all able-bodied men on the trailers, locked and loaded.”

  Lonnie switched driver’s seats with his wife, and Mike did the same with Sheila, as both men stood watch from the trailers.

  “Slow and steady, with eyes open all around!” called Lonnie.

  Interstate 25 made navigation easier, with both sides of the road passable for the caravan.

  “Raton city limits, three miles,” called out Jake.

  I-25 ran across the east side of Raton, south to north, cutting across the northern fifth of Raton City from east to west.

  “Not too bad,” Lonnie called over the radio from our trailer.

  “We’re headed for Raton Pass,” I told Jake, asking him if he had been through it before.

  “Yes,” he replied. “Nancy, Danny and I came through here with our moving truck, headed to Texas.”

  “It’s one way up,” I told him, “and probably no way around with the trailers.”

  “I know,” Jake replied, “and I’ll be surprised if we don’t encounter an obstacle or two.”

  * * * * * * *

  Chapter Twenty-eight ~ Raton, New Mexico

  Fifteen minutes later, quickly navigating the city of Raton, Jake spoke again.

  “I was wrong,” he said, pointing ahead as he looked through his binoculars. “There are no obstacles, but there’s a full-on barricade!”

  Lonnie called to his wife to stop the caravan, still a mile out from the blockade.

  Every man in the trailer looked through binoculars; also Joy and Nancy.

  “It’s not too late to take the Climax Canyon route,” announced Lonnie.

  Both Jake and I informed him that the trailers would never make it up the steep grade of fire roads to the top.

  “We’ve got two choices,” I called on the radio. “We take the alternate route and likely lose the trailers, or we negotiate a deal at the roadblock.”

  Joy, Nancy and Tina replied on their radio, saying, “We’ve got this. We will negotiate the terms of crossing the barricade.”

  Jake and I were uneasy about it, as Lonnie announced, “You will go with one of us guys as a backup.”

  “I’ll go,” I asserted.

  “No, buddy. I’ve got this,” interjected Jake.

  “I was thinking Mike would be the right choice,” said Lonnie.

  “Really?” I asked, with Jake agreeing.

  With his radio deliberately turned off, he said, “He’s violent and unpredictable, but he takes care of this group, especially the women and children.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Mike, overhearing the conversation from the side of the trailer.

  “Mike, I’m sorry,” said Lonnie. “I didn’t mean…”

  “It’s okay, brother,” Mike replied. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to the ladies. You can count on that.”

  Jake reluctantly agreed to the proposal. I, having faith in both Joy and Mike’s ability to negotiate a situation, agreed as well.

  “Ladies lead,” I called to Mike, who smiled and nodded yes without uttering a word.

  Lonnie took over the wheel of the lead truck, pulling slowly toward the barricade. “Real easy,” he announced. “This is hopefully the last barrier to a much-deserved rest.”

  Thirty yards from the barricade, Lonnie stopped the lead vehicle, cutting the engine.

  “I count four shooters behind the barricade,” I announced, looking through my binoculars.

  The ladies walked, with both Nancy and Tina supporting Joy’s shoulders and protecting her hurt ankle, towards the barrier. Their pistols were hidden beneath their clothing.

  Mike followed three paces behind, his AR rifle pointed to the ground.

  Jake and I walked ten paces behind Mike, our rifles also pointed down.

  A few of the men on the barricade whistled and hollered as the ladies approached. A look from Mike quieted the juvenile behavior.

  “I’m not sure about this,” Jake said in a low voice.

  “It’s not my first option,” I replied, “but the ladies are top-notch negotiators, and not a lot of people are going to mess with Mike.”

  “Except for me. I guess that’s what you’re worried about, right?” Jake asked.

  “Yes,” I replied. “For a short time, when he and I were looking for Hendrix, I thought it wasn’t a big deal, you and him, but I’m not so sure anymore,” I said quietly.

  Approaching the barricade, Joy asked who was in charge.

  The catcalls started again from a few of the younger men on the barricade.

  “You’re limpy gimpy,” said one loudly, an overweight man with grubby clothes and a long beard, “but I can work with it.”

  “I do,” I said aloud, as I envisioned training my AK on his mid-chest.

  “Don’t do it,” said Jake. “Not yet, I mean,” with his hand on my left shoulder.

  I held my rifle down, stomping down my adrenaline and vowing to take him out first if it came down to it.

  “Who is in charge here?” Joy repeated loudly, with conviction.

  “I am,” said an older man with graying hair and a commanding voice, coming forward from the side of the barricade.

  “One more word out of your little boys up there,” said Joy, pointing to the barricade, “and we’ll see who has the superior firepower. Are we agreed?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said, smiling.

  “Stand down, boys,” he called out.

  “My guys are young and sometimes stupid. Sorry about that,” the man in charge continued.

  “This is our road, and we control it up and over Raton Pass.”

  “Why didn’t you just block the road into town?” asked Tina.
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  “Too many ways around the Interstate,” he replied.

  “Like Climax Park?” asked Nancy, teasing just a bit.