My old shelter retained its skeleton. I told them she lost her guts.
“Ooh, she lost her guts!” said Hendrix, never missing an opportunity to be the funny kid.
Joy sat quietly, smiling as if she had been meditating up here for hours on end. A traumatic experience like we just had with Hudson and me would have spoiled the moment in the old-world. Frantically, we would search for the best doctor or hospital, wondering how much the health insurance covered and how I would fit the likely physical therapy into my work schedule. Now I looked down at my arm, securely taped across my chest, and deeply inhaled the cool mountain air…
Before we left I called Hendrix over, asking him to blindly reach into my daypack.
“What will I find, Daddy?” he asked.
“You will know it when you feel it,” I replied.
“It feels like a rock,” he guessed as he pulled it out, recognizing the treasure immediately from where Mike and I had rescued him in the canyon on the dusty Texas plains.
“We, son, will add it to this pile that signifies my favorite place on God’s Earth—and now hopefully yours too.”
The Saddle was my favorite spot in the world, and one of my old friend David’s too. The kind of spot where you could leave a single worry on the rocks or an entire backpack full. We went up there often, he and I, over the years, talking about archery, fishing, and girls. He moved to the Pacific Northwest and we lost track of each other, as friends sometimes do, but I continued to spend time on the Saddle, just me alone with my thoughts and the profound stillness of a perfectly balanced dreamworld…
* * * *
“Son of a...” we heard Mac say, as he slid the last way down the mountain. “I’m getting too old for this!”
Drake floated down behind him, like he was walking straight down a flat paved highway, like a mountain goat on the side of a cliff, I thought.
“Listen,” I told them once they were down. “Just listen…this is a million-dollar stereo.”
They did, and to my amazement we all listened for another few minutes—before any adults spoke, at least.
“Do you want to hear it now or back at the MacDonalds’ place—what we saw, I mean?” asked Mac.
“If it’s everything, then at their place, I guess, so you don’t have to tell it twice.”
“All right, let’s pack up then, if everyone is ready,” replied Mac.
I could have stayed another four hours or four days, but I had a visit to the hospital and Dr. Melton before the day’s end, and I didn’t want to keep her late at the office.
* * * *
Willie MacDonald was hot, and I mean livid—not that the fire was visible and likely heading this way, threatening his homestead. It turns out Ralph and his dysfunctional merry group of misfits were alive and well on Willie’s hunting property. His wife got on him—nodding towards the little ones, mine and Joy’s to be exact—about his colorful language.
Mac couldn’t see faces from the mountain, he told them, even with the binoculars, but was pretty sure he saw Ralph and was confident he saw the rest of the group. They had two deer strung up in front of the main house and looked to be harvesting them both.
“I don’t even have one deer here,” complained Willie. “I told you that was the best hunting camp on the mountain, and you still gave it to them,” he spat to his wife.
“Oh, hush up, Willie,” she said. “You haven’t even been out of the house in a week. How are you going to kill a deer from your lounge chair anyway?”
“Oh, burn,” said Jax, quietly getting a look from both Joy and me.
I loved hearing Mrs. MacDonald talk. She was just like Joy—confident, no-nonsense, and usually right.
* * * *
Mac towed me straight down the mountain and right to the hospital parking lot.
“Wait here just a minute,” he told me, disappearing inside the lobby doors.
“I’ve got a live one for you, honey,” he said to Sarah.
“It’s ‘Dr. Melton’ here, and maybe you could bring me tea sometime, or a cup of coffee? I do remember your bringing me flowers once.”
“Sorry about that,” he replied, embarrassed. “This is a hospital, though, am I right?” he joked. “It’s Lance with a dislocated shoulder, is all.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes, I pretty much fixed it anyway, so maybe just put a Band-Aid on it,” he called back, heading out the door. “Don’t forget dinner tonight,” he hollered, blowing her a kiss.
* * * *
“Drake,” Mac called on the radio, “can you meet me at the spot?”
“Sure thing,” he replied, “but which one?”
“The one we both should be heading to today.”
“Oh yes, that one,” replied Drake. “Good thinking. Meet you there in 30…”
Mac and Drake each picked a full bouquet of wildflowers.
“Mr. MacDonald may not be too happy when you bring those by,” said Mac, laughing.
“I thought about that, but I’ve got a secret weapon,” replied Drake, with a grin.
“Yeah, what’s that?” asked Mac.
“Two bouquets!”
They parted ways at the fork in the road, one heading up and the other back down.
* * * *
Drake presented one bouquet to Whitney and the other to Mrs. MacDonald, who in turn invited him to stay for supper. Willie even let him take Whitney for a short walk around the property after dinner.
“You like that boy now, don’t you?” his wife asked him.
“He’s not all bad, I guess, and they say it’s better to know something about a guy who likes your granddaughter than nothing about another one. I will be keeping an eye on him, though—count on that.”
* * * *
Mac had planned his proposal for weeks, trying to find just the right spot. He even bought a ring off one of The West members who made jewelry. It was nearly a month ago now and he carried it everywhere he went. Today he found the perfect spot up on the mountain and vowed to take her up there sometime soon. It was his mother’s voice he heard on the way down the mountain today.
“Son, it’s time. Not tomorrow or weeks down the road, but today. How long will you carry that ring around? Ask her to marry you, and I just know she will say yes.”
* * * *
Returning straight to the hospital, he couldn’t wait until dinner, with nerves possibly getting the best of him.
“Can I see you for a minute?” he asked her, as she finished looking at my arm.
“Excuse me, Lance, for a minute, please.”
I overheard an always outwardly confident man fumble his way through a tradition every engaged couple knows well. I heard the ring drop on the smooth hospital floor but only bouncing once.
“Good catch,” I whispered.
“Notice something different about Dr. Melton?” Mac asked me minutes later, as they walked in.
“Congratulations to you both!” I replied, pointing to the ring on her finger.
They would be married by week’s end in the first wedding most in the Valley had attended in this New-World. The timing was perfect, and all seemed right with the world for a few more months…before the change…
* * * * * * *
The next eight months were hard, maybe not harder than the beginning but different and unexpected. It is a story, however, that must be told.
The first summer on the now-combined Saddle Ranch and The West was easy—carefree, some may say, but all knew something was off.
The pieces of the puzzle were slightly warped at first, turning jagged slightly around the edges, and by the following spring they turned ugly and nothing fit where it used to.
The once pristine Valley had a dividing line once again. Not like the one that used to separate the Ranch from The West, where even though the group’s beliefs differed they still had respect for one another. No, not like that at all. This division started not on the first day but certainly the first few weeks, like a grain of sand i
nside an oyster. First, as it rubs, it’s annoying but tolerable; then it becomes irritating as it starts to grow; and eventually, when it’s hard enough, the host is ripped out of the water and pried open with a hammer to reveal the irritant inside.
Only this was no pearl. This was the “others,” and it could mean war.
James and David had their hands full in Weston with the same problem, and the Colonel had it times two hundred across the country!
The “others” were once hardworking men, women, and families in the old-world—maybe a neighbor, coworker, or even once a friend. They lost it somewhere along the way. The desire to work for their daily bread, to ensure the seeds were planted for the season’s harvest and the livestock were not missing, all now taken care of by FEMA. They lost it all and became known as outsiders in Chapters all across the country that everyone knew as “The Others.”
The Colonel kept close tabs on Sergio and Mike, tasking them with heroin missions to get Government personnel safely off the mainland.
Mike came back for an unexpected visit in early spring, amidst the chaos, with grand tales of his last eight months abroad and ending with a soberingly clear message from the highest power in the land.
I sat down on the floor; we all did, not believing our ears. Mike repeated the message, and we knew it was true…
To be continued….
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lance K. Ewing lives with his wife, three boys (Hudson, Jax and Hendrix), Ringo, Mini and Bobo (dogs and a cat) in McKinney, Texas. When he is not at work, he can always be found with his family, preferably outdoors. Lance grew up in the foothills of the Colorado Rocky Mountains, with the Rockies quite literally in his backyard. Families First is his debut novel. Volume seven is being written now.
Lance is a Chiropractor in Dallas, Texas. His Chronic Pain quick-read series of books is now available for sale on Amazon Kindle. Lance’s first illustrated children’s book is titled The Super Great Adventures of Rico, the Monkey-Tailed Skink, available in paperback. He has released another children’s picture book, titled The Great Toy Revolt, reminding kids that their classic toys can still be more fun than the glitzy electronic ones. It is available on Kindle, KU and in paperback.
From the author: “As a young man, I was fascinated by the writing of Stephen King. I can still remember getting a used, or sometimes brand-new, copy of classics, such as The Shining, Firestarter, Christine, Cujo, and The Dark Tower series. One book, however, topped them all: The Stand. To this day, that is the book I measure all other Post-Apocalyptic work against, including my own. As I grew older, I never left for a vacation or camping trip without a book by James Patterson stowed away in my backpack.”
If you enjoyed this volume, please leave an honest review. In this new age of publishing, reviews are heavily tied to the success of Indie authors who don’t have the backing of a large publishing house. Contact Lance at [email protected].
For those interested in this series, please consider keeping in touch by visiting my website at lancekewingauthor.com for upcoming books and projects, as well as updates on what I am up to. Join our e-mail list for news about upcoming volumes and sneak peeks. I will not distribute your e-mail anywhere. In return for your e- mail, I will forward you my Quick Guide e-book (free of charge and not available for sale) with more on the characters of Families First, including their backstories, much of which you will not find in any of the volumes.
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Next World Series | Vol. 6 | Families First [Battle Grounds] Page 28