The 22, Red Rover, Red Rover Episode 4

The 22.

Red Rover, Red Rover

Episode 4

 



I’ve survived Covid 19, then the real killer, Covid 22; January 1st 2022 that’s when it all fell apart. I had loaded my little house down with supplies; water, fuel, pretty much anything and everything I could think of that I might need. I was ready to sit this whole damn thing out regardless of how long it would take to get things back to normal. Folly; it’s clear it’s never going to be normal again.

I’d never shot a person or even envisioned it in my whole life, never thought I’d have to shoot three; but saving a neighbor I didn’t even know was alive three houses down my street changed all that. Then came the hoard; an army of thugs kicking in doors, killing people and enslaving others. I made a run for it leaving everything behind but my rifle, bug out bag and the clothing on my back.



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Red Rover Red Rover



I made camp in a boulder field above the tree top just before dark last night. I could see smoke from a number of camp fires along with light dancing in the tree tops from a big encampment not more than a half mile from me.

4:30am; haunted by dreams of being caught, chained and dragged behind a truck made sleeping nearly impossible but I was sound asleep when the first explosion rocked the valley below. Peering over the rim of stone into the valley, I can see smoke raising up through the tree tops; had to be close to an area I’d nearly died via land mines yesterday. A second, third and then two explosions sounding nearly as one shook the rocks I was leaning against, little dust demons jump to life from the shock waves dancing in circles. Smoke is pouring through the trees tops in a straight line from the first detonation. Oh yeah, that was the land mines I’d nearly set off yesterday afternoon; turned out to be a large well planned killing field of multiple mines. Some group had just stumbled into the trap and by the number of mines they’d set off it was a large group.

Below my hide out I can see people moving through the short scrub brush and trees; a line of people as far as I can see to where the trees blocked my view; hundreds of people, ten to twenty deep being pushed forward by a couple hundred heavily armed men. They’re being used as human shields; the screams and cries reach me, I’m chilled me to the bone; this is why they had been rounding people up, it’s a full attack on the camp.

The screaming crying mass only made a few hundred feet beyond my hiding spot when automatic weapons opened up from the Camp’s defenders cutting rows of people to the ground. I watched in horror as the herders spread out hitting the ground just to pop up and fire into the backs of the people they’d been kicking forward; it was a slaughter.

I watched as the battle ebbed and flowed in front of me; finally, the Camp seemed to be getting the upper hand as they fought the herders back North and out of my direct line of sight. The roar of automatic weapons the whoomph of mortars never slowed for a minute over nearly an hour.

It was time for me to move.

I slowly crawled through the boulders keeping low or even down in the bottoms between them as I moved South skirting the camp and battle ground below. I found a spot I could see down into the killing fields as sporadic gun fire would break out occasionally. I could see a couple camo clad people searching through the brush looking for people that hadn’t been killed and were lying wounded; they were shooting them as they found them, the slaughter was complete.

Three hours of hard hiking brought me to end of the mountain range and the steep hill side with large rocks changed into rolling lava flows with lava mounds spaced every few hundred feet. I hurried from one to another pushing South away from the Metro Areas as fast as I thought was safe. I could no longer hear the fighting; I took a break and thought how many times in the last couple days I should have died; luck, just plain luck has kept me alive so far.

It was getting late and I was exhausted, I found a lava mound standing a good twenty feet above the surrounding sage brush with a few stunted trees clinging to life on top. A sunken area in the center looked like the crown had cooled and sunk in leaving a nice flat area pretty much smooth about twelve feet round. It was a perfect for an overnight camp hidden from anyone unless they walked up and stepped on you.

I dumped my pack; standing in the center of the mound I could see about a hundred yards in most directions and up to a couple hundred yards depending on how heavy the trees were in other directions; it was a perfect. I spread out my gear and decided it was a good time and place to have a hot meal. I broke open my jet boil and heated water for a couple hardy freeze dried meals.

Sitting on my bed roll fighting to stay awake until full dark I heard a twig snap. I carefully grabbed my rifle, pushed the safety off. Rolling to my aching knees, I inched my eyes over the top of the depression; a doe was standing twenty feet from me, she was as surprised as I was. I had been sleeping with my eyes mostly opened as a herd of ten deer fed up and on to the mound; surprised but not startled they slowly fed away giving some distance. I’m pretty sure I’m in a safe place.



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It’s now been two full weeks since I left the killing fields around the Metro area and I’m catching up on my journal in the down time; I won’t bore you with the details but after clearing the Castle Rock area heading South it’s been pretty easy going towards Colorado Springs. I plan on skirting that Metro area keeping a good distance up on the Pikes Peak Mountain side as I’d done getting away from the Denver area.



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Another week, I’ve just entered the Cripple Creek crossing Hwy 24 a few days ago. I’m moving through areas that have a number of houses or cabins but I haven’t seen a soul. I’m starting to think these areas must have been hit harder than others with the Covid 22. I’m not seeing anything that looks like trouble, nothing to make me think people have been herded up or forced to move out of the area, no signs of any battles here. I need to resupply and I think I’m going to carefully enter a house or two and see if I can find some canned food stuffs.

I’ve been watching a small house sitting all by its self-way out in the trees, no other houses or buildings around that I can see. It’s more like a cabin than a house but looks to be two bedrooms and then a great room. Lying flat in the pine needles it’s hard to keep from falling asleep; I’m tired from the miles being on guard every minute.

There’s no movement and no cars that I can see, no recent tire marks in the narrow two track coming through the woods; this is a pretty safe bet.

I left my pack and my rifle laying in the pines needles where I’d been watching the house, I didn’t want to look aggressive or dangerous; those kinds of people are getting shot first, talked to later. I did however pull out my shirt tails to cover my .45ACP that I was apex carrying, I’m not going unarmed.

Slowing walking up the last few feet of the two track onto the gravel of the garage apron I called out to the house. “Hey…. hello! Anyone home, I’m looking for water and a couple cans of food if you have any to spare.” Nothing. Very slowing I moved up to the front door standing just to the side, calling out again repeating what I’d been yelling. Nothing. I knocked on the front door fairly hard… still nothing. Moving out few feet from the house I walked around the right side keeping my distance from the windows, I couldn’t see anything moving inside. I stepped in to the little coved area protecting the back door from the weather and knocked on the back door… nothing.

One more side to cover then I’m going to try the front door, I’ll push my way in if I’m still sure no one’s home. I round the back corner and move along the left side of the cabin; large window on this side, sticks out about a foot or maybe eighteen inches, like a garden window in a kitchen but large, a full-sized window with little windows on the sides. I decide to go ahead and risk it and take a closer look in this window, it should allow me to see the full width and length of the great room.

Ugh… someone’s home alright; I see a man in his sixties or maybe seventies hanging from the upstairs railing, face black, neck kinked from the short rope, belly bloated way out. I just stand there looking, survive Covid 19 and probably the 22 just to hang yourself? “WTF” slips from my lips; what a waste.

The front door is unlocked but has that little security chain across the jam, I pull the door the two inches it opened back closed and push it hard, the little chain snaps like nothing. I swing the door all the way to until it hits the wall, I’m in no hurry to step inside; air rushes out making the hair on my arm stand up. It’s hot like an oven at 350, the scent isn’t anything like an oven should smell like; I clamp my sleeve over my mouth and nose but not before I get a little whiff, yuck you can taste it. I rush off the porch; “just let it breathe a little” my little voice says. I replied “Lets open the back door and let it breathe really good, how bout that?” Funny how little things will make you laugh; dead man hanging rotting on the vine and I’m talking and laughing with myself. God, I hope I’m not losing it.

The back door is locked so I shoulder it open; I pushed the door fully open and blocked it with a laundry basket I grabbed off the counter, quickly escaping back into the fresh air. “Time to let it breathe;” “Yep, thank you for reminding me.” Sometimes that little voice is a real ass.

I retrieved my pack and rifle and sit on the porch far enough away from the door to be out of the air flow. The faint breeze outdoors is coming from the back of the house to the front so the air should be fresher in the kitchen by the back door as the wind chases out the hot air. I wrap a bandana around my face; “Time to make the donuts.” I’m losing it for sure…

I step into the kitchen from the back door and peek into the refrigerator, yep powers been off for a while. Nice little pantry built into the cabinets just to the right of the refrigerator, fully stocked with all kinds of canned goods in perfect condition. I fill every open space in my pack to the rim; couple boxes of cracker that haven’t been opened jammed in also. Bottom shelf has a case of water; I fill my water bladders and bottles, squeeze a couple bottles in side pockets. This could be a life saver for me, I won’t have to go near town for quite a few days with this refill.

A door directly to the right as you enter the kitchen goes into a small one stall garage; family type sedan is setting there nice and clean, I’d bet it would start instantly; you’d be dead shortly as everyone would hear you coming, so that’s out of the question. Short hallway with two doors on the right, one as you enter and one just before entering great room, on the left is the stairway to the loft. The first door is open and is clearly a small sewing room and storage. Second door is closed. Okay this is a problem… there are only a couple things I’m going to find behind this second door; One, a 12ga pointed at my head or…

She’s lying in the queen-sized bed with the bedding pulled up to her chin, blankets and pillow are stained brown with decay, her face has caved in on its self; she’s been there much longer than the old guy hanging in the great room. The “why” is now perfectly clear to me; nothing is funny now.

I gently pull the bedroom door closed with barely a click; I wondered around the kitchen and little dining room looking at all the pictures of family. From left to right the pictures tell a story; two young people at a prom, two at a lake laughing, then wedding pictures, vacations, all laughing at the camera or making funny faces. Then a series of baby pictures; in the crib, sitting with Mom and Dad, school. Child number two, fewer pictures but all happy and each growing up. Farther over wedding pictures and babies. Finally, on the far-right, pictures of the whole family; all so happy. I want to scream; the only reason those kids didn’t run out to check on and help their mom and dad has to be because they’ve lost the battle to Covid or the gangs, nothing in this world would keep them away, the pictures of love prove that.

I shut the back door as tight as I can since I broke the frame getting in. I shut the front door and lock it. I sit on the porch thinking strange thoughts; should I cut the old guy down and try to make things right, better, or just move on? Is this any of my business, who’s going to know or care. I drink a bottle of hot water and decide I’d better just move on; the chances of things getting really messy are just too great, maybe a week or two ago I’d a given it a try, but now…

I’m some place close to halfway between Cripple Creek and Florence following Hwy 67 or Phantom Canyon Road. It’s a good name of this stretch of pavement, so curvy that I’m in the woods most of the time. I’m hugging the shoulder areas and cutting into the woods before walking around all the sharp curves so I can see what’s beyond before marching into a problem, it’s slow going but I’m not in much of a hurry since the weather has been holding. I’d like to be up on the side of the mountains but the terrain is just so steep and rough I have to risk being on the road.

There is no sign of human life on this winding road; deer and elk crap spot the areas where their trails cut across the narrow Highway. A small bridge announces the name of the creek as Eight Mile, I’ve been walking along it for a hell of a lot more than eight miles.

Little information sign on the side of the road says “Free Campground, one mile” Will that’s just what I need, some free camping lol.

I smell smoke; the winds blowing from the South and up the canyon in my face. I immediately disappear into the woods skirting the little highway. Goings easy on this side of the road with the creek being on the other side for at least a few hundred yards before crossing under the highway on a hundred crossings. Canyon is widening out some making enough room to build a small campground away from the road; I’m as far to the right as I can up against the Canyon wall here moving slowly watching as far ahead in the thick brush and fir trees. This will put the campground between me and the highway as I near.

Two things… Camp fire smoke and wood being chopped. Closer… I can hear children…

I’m finding little trails cut in the woods and thick brush; very close to the campground now I’m hearing but can’t make out words, people talking, children yelling and screaming during playing, happy sounds.

I slide into the cover of the thick brush as I hear running feet coming down one of the small trails. Two kids run by not five feet from me “Wait for me!” a third screams and bounds by my hide.

Clanging of a pot lid so close I have to be nearly standing on top of them. “Kids… dinner, come on now!”

These people aren’t hiding, they are making noise as if the world is normal; that’s what’s so weird… normal noise; kids playing, wood chopping, people talking in normal voices.

I slowly back into the woods not making a sound; time to make a plan.

Moving silently, I slide right of the camp having dinner and listen to conversations of a number of adults and the chatter of children. Sitting still for a half hour as dinner is finishing, I see what I’ve been waiting for.

A rather large fellow gets up from the table and heads a few yards into the woods out of sight and sound of the dinner table.

I wait until he’s fully into relieving himself and whisper in his ear.

A few minutes later we walk into camp and he introduces me to the group.



From the Ramblings

t

The 22 Hide and Seek; Episode 3

The 22

Hide and Seek

Episode 3



The Covid 19 pandemic turned out to be nothing to really worry about for most people, unless you had underlying conditions then it was bad… very bad. Then came the mutations, hundreds of mutations, that’s when people started to die.

The Covid shit hit the fan on January 1st 2022, Covid 22; I think we were all just waiting for the axe to fall; Covid 22 was a slate cleaner; get the 22 and your dead, no need to worry or take a bunch of expensive drugs, you’re just dead. 7 to 14 days, just enough time to kiss your ass good bye and hopefully make amends with your maker.

I’ve been sitting it out in my house just outside of Denver, CO. Until the gangs came.

I’m on day 2 having escaped a dragnet of gangs searching through the neighborhoods for people, not treasure just people, enslaving some, killing others. I only had time to grab my bug-out bag and run like hell. I missed being dead twice in one day; first missing getting snared in the search and then booby traps; nothing but pure luck and a phantom, ghost, or was it the thin-man that saved me the second time?

Not the thin-man, his name was Roger. I gaged on laughter when he told me his name late last night holed up in his secret cabin in the rock face of the mountain. I don’t think he ever got why I thought his name was so funny; he got a funny look on his face and looked at my wine glass. I totally lost it then. Roger is at least six foot seven and skinny as a rail; when I first saw him, I thought “Thin-man”. He just kind of laughed with me until I was finally finished; maybe it’s stress, maybe I’m just warped, but he saved my life for sure.

An old childhood rhyme sticks in my head this second morning “Step on a crack, break your mother’s back” it should be “Trip that cord, the blast will be your last.” It’s kind of a sick, I only missed the trip wire by two feet and never did actually see it, just a spider web stuck to it and blowing lightly in the breeze was the only clue. Roger spent half the night going over the kinds of traps he’s seen though out the woods I’m sneaking through today; it’s going to be a long day.

With a full stomach from Roger’s breakfast made in his hideout cabin, I continued South along the mountain moving slowly, I was looking for anything out of sync within or crossing the trail I was following. Roger had told me a short distance down the trail I’d see a trip wire that kind of stood out and could easily step over, but six feet further there was one that I wouldn’t see unless I was very careful; whoever was setting these mines knew exactly what they were doing. I thought about just bushwhacking away from established trails but the noise I’d make would announce me way before I could see anyone hiding, it was a risk I just couldn’t take.

I’d made about a mile or so and decided I’d better take a break, my eyes were straining to see things that just weren’t there and if they were, and I missed it, well you know. I moved about twenty feet off the trail and sat with my back against a tree. Ferns grew up in every direction standing a good three feet high around me, I was pretty well hidden. Crunching on a granola bar and getting some water down I couldn’t have heard an elephant stomping down the trail. I certainly didn’t hear three camo men until they had already passed me heading North on the trail. My eyes now wide open I was amazed they didn’t hear the granola bar wrapper or my crunching of the bar. The lead man would move maybe twenty feet, stop bring field glasses up to his eyes and scan the forest in front of them, then slowly move forward again just to stop in twenty feet repeating the scanning. Number three was covering the forest behind them with a belt fed gun, I think it was a SAR. If I’d moved an inch I’d been seen. They were looking for someone, I hoped it wasn’t me.

I watched them move down the trail, this was not they’re first rodeo. The movement was slow, steady and they moved at the exact same time without looking anywhere but into the trees. How I managed to sit down at just the right time I have no idea; these guys are professionals. What am I walking into?

Thirty minutes they were finally out of sight, time to go. The surface of the trail was dry and hard so l hadn’t made any tracks in this area that I could see, but I’d walked through a little marshy area not that far down the trail and it struck me hard that they would see my foot prints in the soft ground and know instantly that I was behind them.

I was now in a hurry; when they found my tracks, they’d rush back down the trail to pick up on me. I had to move quickly or risk them catching up to me before I could clear this forest area that they controlled. “Trip that cord, the blast will be your last.” Thanks, little voice I needed that.

Moving way to fast I just happened to see a small branch in the trail about ten feet in front of me; “now that’s out of place” my little voice said. I jerked to a halt; yes, that is out of place and really looked like a marker. I crept up very slowly checking ever inch of surface of the trail and carefully scanning for anything that looked like a trip wire crossing high or low against the leaves and brushy sides. Nothing; I stood still staring, again nothing I could pick out. I took one step forward and knelled down on one knee, still nothing. “Oh, it’s there” Thank you little voice… where? A falling leaf caught my eye, drifting down doing the floating on its back swirling back and forth motion as they do, it hit something four feet up making it spin hard and change directions, then six inches from the dry dirt on the trail it suddenly stopped hanging in mid-air by an invisible force. I inched closer; the trip wire wasn’t visible until my nose was less than a foot from it. So thin you’d think it would have broken with the leaf hanging on it; perfectly colored to blend in and not to reflect light, this was a cleaver killing trap. No one would see either wire.

Standing inches from the trip wire I looked down the trail in front of me; three very faint mole hills. You’ve seen thousands of them, these were clearly mole hills that the rain and wind had nearly cleared, just the little outline was left. I wasn’t buying it…

Back on my knees again I followed the trip wire to the left until I saw where it was tied to a stalk of a bush; going right I traced the thin wire to where it went into what looked like a small box maybe four inches high and eight wide. “Claymore” thank you little voice, I knew that.

I back tracked a few feet and slowly moved through the brush on the claymore side, I was worried that they’d set more traps to the sides but I made it without tripping anything, more luck? Coming back to the trail just past the trip wire and the claymore mine I knelt before the first old mole hill. Yep, three little spikes sat in the middle of where the mole hole use to be, more mines, this was a killing field and I was standing right in the center of it.

It’d been close to an hour; I knew the three shadows had to be closing on me. Let’s see, if I move off the trail here to hide, they’d have to fan out to go around this trap also, that would have them stepping on me if they came to the same side I picked. I had to get moving or get caught standing flat footed unable to go forward, backward or to either side, I had to move fast.

As I inched forward checking everything down to spiders’ webs, I started to think, how would I set up this trap if I had an invisible trip wire and then three or more ground mines? I’d place traps out from the sides of the trail. Any group that tripped the first mine and any of the mole hill mines would surely leave the trail and bushwhack for a distance to keep off the trail. I think the trail is clear and the sides are all mined; only one way to find out…

Five minutes later I think I’m out of the mined area; time to make a hide out. I very carefully stepped off the trail in an area that wasn’t exactly brushy. The trees were further apart then the killing zone, no one in their right mind would pick this area to hole up to hide in a search. I’d have to make the best of it. Finding a narrow tree with ferns around it I pushed tree litter and leaves in a little raised hill and formed the ridge around my body and dug down as far as I could without disturbing the natural flat surrounding area. I’d be pretty hard to see unless they stepped on me. My bug-out bag would be the hardest to hide; it was a good foot thick or more and the edges were sharp making it easy to be out of place on the forest floor. I reached way out and picked a few fern brows sticking them in the webbing of the bag as best I could. Pushing it below my feet so my body made a slight rise in the ground before it got to the big bag; hopefully it would look like an old stump under the leaves.

I was just trying to get comfortable when I heard a crack of a tree limb breaking, one of them had stepped on a dry branch as they must be going around the trip wire area. Two minutes and the three shadows were slow walking down the center of the trail looking in every direction at once. I buried my face in the dirt. Complete silence.

I’m going to sneeze.

Oh, so slowly but as fast I could, I moved my left arm from my side and laid my index finger between my eyes pressing hard. I was seeing stars………. Five minutes, ten minutes, I think I have to be okay. Slowly I raised my head just clearing my eyes above the leaf pile I’d made. Twenty yards in front of me standing in the center of the trail is number three with the SAR staring into the forest not moving an inch, just staring. Lucky for me he was looking away from where I was hiding. I lowered my head back into the ground.

I slight breeze was starting rustling the ferns making enough background noise if my stomach growled it might be covered. Ten minutes went by; this is not a game I’m good at. Ask me to sit still for five minutes I can’t do it. Now I’ve been as still as possible for nearly a half hour, this is killing me, I ache and itch everywhere, I’m starting to cramp up, I’ve got to move; I could hear my mom’s voice barking at me “You couldn’t sit still if your life depended on it.” Yep Mom your right.

As slowly as possible but not smoothly I raised my head, it kind of came up in little jerks clearing the leaves. Working hard to only move my eyes I couldn’t see any of the three hunters. Coming up further resting on my arms under my chest I could see down the trail at good 50 to 75 yards the trees were getting thinner that direction. I held my position for maybe a minute, nothing that I could see. I rolled over on my back stretching out my arms and legs.

Checking my watch, it was just a couple minutes after two; dark is about five hours away. This trail has taken me away from the side of the mountain someplace around a quarter mile or so. If I was them, I’d be sitting at the end of this thinner treed area and watch the trail until dark. I think it’s time to bushwhack straight to the side of the mountain and just hole up until tomorrow morning. Roger said yesterday when he saved me from tripping the mine wire that there was a camp up that trail a way; I wonder if most of these trails lead to that camp? I might just be walking right into trouble staying on these trails very much longer and I’d been damn lucky so far today.

Getting up on my knees I couldn’t see anyone, after a few minutes to my feet keeping the small tree, I’d been hiding next to between me and the direction the trail led; not much to hide behind but anything was better than nothing. Surveying the ground in the direction I wanted to go I could see that if I backtracked a little there was a wide depression in the ground, if I got in the bottom of it and kept low, I might be below eye level for a long way across this sparsely wooded area. I moved keeping low, not quite on hands and knees but damn close. Reaching the depression, the ground was soft and moist. I was happy to find the ferns and low under bush was much taller here than up on the drier area I’d just come from. I could move quickly, hunched over was enough that I couldn’t see more than a few yards in either direction except the way I wanted to go. I made ground as fast as I could keeping the noise of pushing through the ferns and light brush quiet.

The mountain was closer than I thought; walking slowly on the trail looking at your feet for traps you lose any track of where in the woods you are. In this section the steep sides of the mountain came down into huge boulder piles then thinning out to piles of mixed medium and small rocks with brush growing up between them; medium being five or six feet round with jagged edges. No way could anyone place traps in these boulder fields, they’d have to have people watching this area to catch anyone moving through.

I pulled my rifle off my pack and checked to make sure it was ready; pulled my pack straps down tight and started jumping from rock to rock; I was terrible at sitting still, but boulder jumping I was really good at. The trees and brush between boulder fields concealed any movement to under twenty yards. You could move across a large open area and into the next group of trees and brush quickly; if you ran into someone it would be a point-blank range before you’d see them; I was keeping my eyes up looking forward.

It’s almost six and the sun is low in the ski; time to find a safe place to overnight, I’ve moved along really fast and covered a good distance. I think it would be better to move up into the really huge rocks farther up the mountain. I just have to be extra careful as I move out of the cover of the brush and trees to get up where I think no one is going to go in the dark.

God really does protect fools; I was just above the trees in the big heavy rocks and found a nice spot about ten feet square between boulders, bonus, nearly flat and level. Perfect; light gravel filled the bottom and standing my head was about a foot under the top of the rocks. This would make a perfect place to overnight.

I rolled a small rock over to the lower edge of my hide, standing on it I could just see over the edge of the bounder on the downhill side, I couldn’t see down the through the boulder field but I had a nice view over the forest and beyond. A different time I would mark this place on my Garmin and maybe come back again to camp. What surprised me was seeing smoke coming up through the tree canopy; enough volume it had to be the camp Roger told me to avoid at all costs. Must be about a half mile South and a half mile from the side of the mountain where it starts to get steep. I could only hope to slip along the mountain side and get past into the open tomorrow.

I sat in the bottom of my hole and unloaded my entire bug-out bag. I made a careful list of everything I had, it was a pretty impressive list, I’d done rather well filling it with what I thought I might need if the time every came. Those YouTube videos helped a lot, there wasn’t much missing that I could see.

I made a MRE dinner of spaghetti and rolled out my pad and sleeping bag. The light dropped and yawning I took one more look over the top of my hide and could see smoke and light from the fires of the camp. Tomorrow I had to get past it and hopefully into some area that I could move through without getting blown into a red spray.

Good night; tomorrow’s going to be another big day. I wonder if I’ll see tomorrow evening.

The Ramblings

t

The 22 Escape; Episode 2

 

The 22.

Escape; Episode 2

 

Trying to catch my breath from my run to safety, not really safety but distance.  I watched as somewhere around 50 makeshift soldiers fanned out splitting up half on each side of the street. Three or four would kick down a front door and search the house as the rest would leap frog to the next one.  The searches weren’t taking long, only two to five minutes per house, then they’d hurry to the front of the group and go to the next house and kick that door down.  It came to mind that they weren’t looking for treasure they were looking for people.

I looked past the coming swarm and watched breathlessly the parade up on SW 25^th.  Vehicles continued to pass (it was a horror show) I wondered just how many from the city had joined this army, how many had been forced, were those being dragged ones that put up a fight or refused to join?

Time to bug out; not far, just far enough that I’d be concealed in the woods away from my house. I grabbed my rifle and my bug out bag, threw the shotgun under the couch and locked the back door on my way out.  If they looked around much, they’d see someone had been living here; no time to hide that.

I took a hard right on the cement patio and walked carefully in the flower beds now hardened from lack of water leaving no tracks to follow into the woods.  Taking a seat in a thick area I could just make out the back of the house and down the backs of about three houses to my left.  If needed I could run straight away keeping the thick bushy area between me and anyone that came out the back door or around the sides of the houses. 

Listening hard I could just make out the faint screams and engine noises of the parade slowly moving along 25^th. 

The crack of a gunfire, once, twice and a third nearly gave me a heart attack I was listening so hard to the parade.  That had to be the rifle I’d given the neighbor; a little carbine firing .223 ammo.  The back door three houses down exploded in flying glass as my neighbor tried to escape into the woods.  He only made a dozen steps when he was cut down by automatic weapons firing from inside the house, muted but still rattled my ears; three men stepped out into the afternoon shadows and riddled the body with bullets at point blank range. 

I flattened myself out becoming one with the forest floor as two men stepped out my back door carefully looking around the small back yard for tracks leading into the woods.  Bringing a radio up to his lips he was answered by one of the men three houses down, they both walked far enough out into the yards to be able to see each other down the rear of the houses.  He made a “0ne” gesture and pointed to my house.

They made a pretty good show of leaving; I wasn’t born yesterday.  They’d sweep the woods as soon as they had enough man power.  My plan fell into place immediately; I’d slowly circle around the to the other side of our street leaving the woods for them to search and hole up along SW 25^th back towards town.  If they started to search those thickets, I could try to cross 25^th and hideout in the neighborhoods they’d already searched. 

The sound of engines stopped; the search was on.

I had just made it to the far side of our street moving slowing in the woods a good 150 yards out from the houses when the search began; From the sounds of it someone had watched a few to many African movies where they drove lions to the waiting guns.  Yelling back and forth separated by fifty to sixty yards between each driver, they were walking fast covering a lot of ground quickly.  If I hadn’t moved, they would have already found me.  This part of SW 25th street was on fill dirt and sat about three feet higher than the woods and brush along the street.  I low crawled into a thicket just a few feet from the stopped parade.  I slid up under a bush with branches that nearly touched the ground all around me.  The noise from the captives covered any chance of anyone hearing my approach and crawling into what I hoped was a safe place.

Thirty minutes and engines began starting up; my luck was holding.  The trucks above me started and I could hear yelling over the engine noise, they were getting ready to move on.  Any thought of returning to my house for additional gear was gone; the likely hood of them leaving someone to watch or some kind of electronic gear to alert them of my return was just too high to risk, I’d have to make due with what I had in my bug out bag.

The end of the parade was about twenty-five or so more trucks and pickup trucks that idled past, a few soldiers walked slowly along behind the last pickup keeping an eye for any escapees. 

I need a plan.

Thinking of the future…  This was June; by the end of September, it would start cooling down and race head long into winter.  Without a house and wood heat I’d be at the mercy of the weather; but smoke would bring trouble; Colorado is not a friendly place to be in the winter.  Food for the next few months shouldn’t be a problem, canned food should stay good for nearly a year and bottled water and freeze-dried foods maybe longer, twinkies forever, or so the story goes.  It only makes sense to me to head South towards Colorado Springs and if I can into New Mexico and warmer weather year around giving metro and large towns a wide margin for safety; the thoughts just give me a head ache, baby steps, just baby steps, nice slow ones or risk getting caught or very much dead.

In the short term it was time to move; I’d need shelter for the night some place that had already been searched.  I’ll stay on this side of SW 25^th and in the wooded zone.  I knew the forested areas would take me a few miles South away from town before I’d have to make a hard turn up into the hills to stay in forest land and cover.

I’d made about five miles staying inside of the tree lines moving slowly keeping an eye out for any movement.  It was getting later in the afternoon and I’d have to come out of the trees and move into the outer parts of the rural area to find a house or some kind of building for the night. 

“I’d be careful going any further down that trail.” A voice said in my right ear.  I jumped like I was shot and froze.  “It’s not safe; booby trapped.”  I slowly turned my head and not four feet over my right shoulder stood a man; a man skinny as a rail and had to be six foot seven.  Thin-man is what my first thought was.  He wasn’t in camo just light-colored clothing but I’d bet if I took my eyes off of him for a second, he’d disappear.  He had a peculiar tattoo on his left cheek running from his hairline all the way down below his chin.   It was jet black but some how blended into his deep dark tan. 

“I, I didn’t see you standing there.”  I mostly croaked on a dry throat.

“Lots of people don’t see me.”  He said in a dry raspy voice.

“Dusty, rusty dry voice” my little voice in my head said.

I decided to go a head and look away, expecting him to vanish in a split second.  “I don’t see a trip wire?”

“Two feet in front of you crossing the path; six inches off the ground.”  The voice whispered.

“I don’t see it.” I wasn’t exactly surprised since I’d just walked past a skinny old man and didn’t see him either.

“Oh… you can’t see the wire, look for what’s not suppose to be there.  What’s out of place.”

“OH shit.  I see a spider web, a web dancing in the light breeze, but not blowing away.”  I said in amazement. 

“Now you are seeing…”  He said from my left shoulder.  Close, under four feet to my left; I hadn’t heard him move at all.

“You saved my life; why?”  I whispered matching his silenced voice staring at the invisible trip wire.

“Well, if you’d a tripped it, we’d both be having dinner with Jesus’ tonight; we’re that close to the bomb.”  “There’s a fairly big camp a spell up this trail and they have traps all over these woods now.” 

“The group collecting people I saw earlier today?”  In a whisper.

“No not those ones, these ones worse by far.”  Again, in his deep dry rusty voice.  “You follow me up this little trail to our right, bout two miles, I have a little cabin up against the mountain side, we can talk there overnight.”  “I’ll see you there.”

I turned to thank him again for saving my life, but he was gone.  Looking up a very small trail to the right I saw a slight blur moving through the woods but not a figure of a man; he’d disappeared not making a sound.

That little voice you have in your head that kind of occasionally speaks up and tells you you’re about to die was screaming; but what choice do I really have I said over the screams.  Die in these woods in a few minutes or die in the Thin-mans cabin later tonight?  Besides I should be dead right now, why would he save me and then kill me later…  Dinner screamed my little voice. 

My watch said 7pm, I had maybe a half hour before it was dark; I was moving as fast I could, the trail was hard to follow in the fading light.  The mountain was just a hundred yards straight a head and I couldn’t see anything that looked like a cabin.  The trail had been fairly flat most of the two miles or so I’d walked since he disappeared but the last couple hundred yards it’s taken a steeper and steeper incline.  I stopped, the trail had vanished and I had no idea which way to go, looking nearly straight up huge rocks, nearly a cliff. 

Slightly to my right not more than sixty feet a figure stepped out from the rock face holding a dull lantern, waved it once and was gone.   I headed in that direction; a narrow gap in the rocks showed a yellow light, falling almost like a stain on the rocks.  Stepping in between the rocks there was a narrow old grey weathered door standing wide open.

I stepped through the door and found a fully finished wood cabin. Twenty feet or so deep and at least ten feet to the wood ceiling, had to be twelve feet wide.  I’d done a little wood work before and the joints holding the heavy beams had not one nail, held together by the joints only, master class work.  It was gorgeous and well outfitted.  Hansel and Gretel couldn’t have found a nicer cabin in the woods.

“Go ahead, make yourself comfortable.”  His voice directly behind me… he’d done it again.  I was starting to get really tired of it, I didn’t even bother to turn and look, just took a few steps inside.

I could smell stew coming from an old wood burning cast iron stove against the left back wall; “Now that smells good” I said as he pulled the grey door closed with a scraping of light gravel.

“Take a seat, I’ll grab us both a bowl, I think the bread is still mold free.”  He moved past me close and I could smell a faint breath of what I’d say had to be Old Spice just like my grandpa wore.  Hansel and Gretel again came to mind.

“I sure appreciate you keeping me from blowing us both up and now feeding me dinner; I’m not sure I have anyway of repaying you.”  I said moving to the kitchen table set center just out side of the prep area but leaving a great room behind it.

The chair groaned under my weight but held. “This is a great cabin; not exactly what I was expecting.”

Placing a good-sized bowl in front of me and a matching one on his side of the table he pulled his chair out and sat down.  He ripped a big chunk of bread off a loaf and slid it across the table to me; non sliced bread, when was the last time I saw bread that wasn’t sliced?

“It’s been in the family for generations; we own a small parcel of land along the face of the mountain.  Not many folks venture up this way.  Nothing to see.”  He said around a spoon full of stew.  “You want something to drink?  I’ve got some blackberry wine I like to drink.”  Getting up he poured me a big glass made from a mason jar.

“OH, this just keeps getting better; I’ll never be able to pay you back, thank you so much!”  I was really starting to believe in fairy tales. 

“Well, if you going to make New Mexico by winter you’re going to have to hit the trail hard.”  He said and actually winked.

“Are you my guardian angel?  I’d be dead and spread over an acre of brush right now if it wasn’t for you.”  I felt like a little kid thanking an adult for saving my puppy…

“No. Nothing like that; you seem to be a smart guy and other than that big rifle looked to me to be a decent human caught in a bad time.  If I, was you, I’d be heading for nicer weather and away from the big cities.  It’s a long way to New Mexico and warmer weather this coming winter, I’d be heading that way my self if I was on the run.”  A small smile crossed his face.  “I have to say I’d bet against you making it, the worlds gone crazy and the craziest are running things now.”

“How have they not found you?  If I started a fire, they’d be on me in an hour.  That wood stove would give you away in a day.”  I said sounding pretty suspicious.

“The chimney goes into a large crack in the rocks, takes it half way up the mountain before it comes out.  I was a little worried when everything went bad, so far so good.  I only start it up now to cook.”  He picked up our dishes and placed the them in the sink.  “You ready for a refill?  I am.” Pouring my glass full before I could say anything.  I walked along the walls looking at pictures in frames from another era.  I wondered when they first started taking photos; 1870’s?  These showed frowning people before they made you smile for pictures.

We talked for a few hours, him explaining that the cabin was built in this cave back in the teens by his great grandfather.  The family used if for short vacations over the years so he knew every inch of the woods.  He’d moved in full time a couple decades ago after his folks had passed.  Now it was his hide out and he intended to sit it out right here.

I finally got up enough nerve to ask about the tattoo running from hairline to under his chin.

“I got a big scar during the war and my mother had me get it tattooed to cover it up.  She was worried any gals would shy away from that scar.”  He said shaking his head slightly.

“You were in Vietnam?”  I asked.

“That was one of them.”  It was clear I’d asked enough on the subject.

“One of them” Begged for more questions, but I held off out of respect.

I went over my plans in as much detail as I’d come up with so far.  He drew me a map of the area covering about ten miles to the South showing where the camps were and how far he’d found traps.

“Here let me show you something.”  He got up and walked to the back wall.  He slid a cabinet to the side exposing a black hole in the cabin wall.  That goes into the cave and winds around for a while and comes out a few hundred feet down the mountain wall; gives me an escape route just in case they find my hide out.  Now it was my time to smile and give a wink.

My first day on the run had come to an end and I was asleep on my feet.  I placed my roll out pad on the wood planked couch and fell asleep in an instant.   Morning would be here in just a few hours and I’d need to head South early before the camps woke up for the day and started checking traps.

Breakfast was fast and filling.  We shook hands and I thanked him again for everything.  He gave my shoulder a squeeze and I was on my way.  From Thin-man to grandpa; that was quite a first day on the run.

Out the old grey door and turning right I kept tight against the mountain walls.  His map showed the camps and where they’d placed traps he’d found so far, on nearly every trail from the lower highways all the way to the steep mountain slopes.  I’d have to find the trip wires and land mines on my own, I hoped I was up to the task. 

Wish me luck.

From the Ramblings

t

The 22, A Series, Episode 1

 

The 22 series, Episode 1

Covid-19, December of 2019 to August 2021; estimated deaths 2,652,000. It was just the beginning…. and way off.

The Covid-19 Virus came in strong and then just slowly petered out; hundreds of thousands of deaths in nearly every Nation worldwide, then into the millions; vaccines, vitamins, herd immunity; finally, the mutations.

It all started in China’s Wuhan metro’s wet market and then overwhelmed the health care of China and spread like wildfire throughout the provinces of China and then the world; or was it from a lab? It’s all history now, no need to waste time going over the details. You either lived through it or your dead.

Covid-19 started as two distinct forms the “L” and the “S” strains. Unlucky to get the “L” you were dead period. Those with the “S” struggled to stay alive and most did with a kill rate of just 2% to 5% overall, now it’s mutating into all kinds of different strains, we’re fucked has flashed more than once in my head. I thought myself rather lucky and survived the first and second wave. I learned my lesson and had a huge stock pile of food, water and all other things I’d need to hide out for months………. Yep full bunker mentality…. I want to live.

January 1^st, 2022 a date that will live in infamy as they say; the second new round of Wuhan Covid now the 22 the deadliest disease in the history of man; say hello to the world of virus mutations.  The 22, most mutated virus known, 50 plus mutations and only second to smallpox infective rate.

This is my story and I intend to live and write it.

January 1st 2022. The new year started off with huge fanfare having millions gathering in New York to watch the ball drop and tens of millions worldwide packed tightly together bringing in the New Year; it was nearly hysterical all these idiots thinking a mask would save them; the Covid was over, we’d won.

January 5th to the 15th was the darkest days in the history of man; the news flash was that in India some new form of respiratory disease had just sickened over seven hundred thousand people across the Country and appeared to be spreading rapidly in the general public. Here, New York’s hospitals were suddenly overrun with sick people.

January 16th brought headlines that suddenly there was a new illness effecting tens + millions all over the World; this was the beginning of the end.

Mass hysteria broke out within hours of the news……… Covid-22 was a killer, a slate cleaner, it had an incubation period 5 to 14 days give or take. This was serious business and I went underground immediately; a kill ratio percentage of between 98% and 100%. I was shitting bricks.

I have a small two-bedroom house on the out skirts of Denver, CO. I don’t know my neighbors and they don’t know a damn thing about me. I keep my distance and my windows closed. My two-car garage is a warehouse of MRI’s and dry frozen packs. I have several hundred gallons of water in storage, two generators and a wood stove; wood shed full of wood, should keep me going through the winter. I don’t need a damn thing and owe no one anything; my small fortress should keep me safe.

This last December now just a two months ago I had a company come out and install film on all my windows that makes it hard to break them and all my doors have been reinforced to withstand a good kicking……. I’m as ready as I can be; I knew it was going to come back and I’ve gotten ready since I was sick and managed to live, my personal armory is well stocked. Let it come…

The worlds gone crazy; I haven’t been outside in six days; sitting in the dark no lights on to give away that someone is home, I watch the news channels as the world falls apart; hundreds of thousands were dying, now it’s millions. Videos of bodies lying in the streets; now new video of people walking and dropping-dead mid-step; I’m numbed by the pictures.

New talking heads on the TV as the old known ones drop dead and are replaced. The Government has gone silent in the last 12 hours as the President and cabinet have all come down with the disease. A news flash says the Senate majority leader will address the Nation at six p.m. tonight. Well see…….

Nothing to do now but wait. I haven’t’ seen any movement outside the small neighborhood my house sits in. I’m the last house on the short street and it turns into forest from my house; so, I can sit and watch for anyone moving around down the street about a quarter of a mile with my binoculars. I have heavy curtains on my front window; need comes to bugout…. seventy feet from my back door and you’re in the woods; invisible.

I was just looking through my binoculars at one of my neighbor’s houses three down from me. The car in the driveway has the driver’s side door standing open; I hadn’t noticed that until now. The house is on the right so the driver’s door is facing away from me towards the front of the street; the late afternoon sun is casting a heavy shadow and I can see the outline of a body laying next to the open car door, just a shadow under the car but I’m sure that’s a body making the shadow outline. I wonder how long it’s been there? It’s been in the high seventies for the last couple days……. You know what I’m thinking, ewwww…….

10pm and the power just went out…… again. That’s twice today; I wonder if they have enough crews available to keep the outages under control. I guess time will tell. The TV’s just been playing old reruns and the Senate majority leader was a no show, not a surprise but it’s shocking how fast things are stopping.

March 12th about quarter of seven in the morning, it’s been really quiet for the last week, the weather has switched back to full winter mode, four inches of snow on the ground and the powers out, freakin cold in the house but I don’t want to start the woodstove and let everyone know I’m alive here.

I’ve been sitting in my front room with two blankets over me looking down the street towards where it T’s into S.W. 25th, about a quarter of a mile from my front window. I saw movement along one of the houses on the right side of the street; four down from the “T” so that makes it eight up the street from my house. Could have been an animal maybe a deer, just saw something of good size move along the side of the garage. My eyes are watering straining staying on the binoculars; whatever it was is either gone or I didn’t really see anything after all, another five minutes and I’m going for something for breakfast.

I’m not seeing things…….. not one but three somethings, burglars, wearing all black, carrying sacks to put things in. One has a rifle strung over his back; all are moving really slow, must be worried that someone might be alive and put up a struggle. I slowly open the right front window glass slider and pull the window screen off the outside of the house; I move the curtain a little towards the center of the pane from the edge giving me about five inches of clear open space; a nice narrow slot to shoot through without damaging the screen or the windows. Grabbing my chair and bi-pod I get lined up so I can see the street as the sun comes up higher brightening the long deep shadows along the houses; snow turning to water pores off the roofs and falls in clumps from tree limbs.

I didn’t have to go far to get my guns, I’d already pulled out my rifles and shotguns from the gun locker since the city had gone berserk and people are really going crazy; everything’s been laid out ready for action if it came this way.

Forty-five minutes and I haven’t seen them again, they must really be checking every inch of the house I saw them working or they are moving down the backside of the homes keeping away from the street.

Ahhh…. There they are five houses down; sacks are light, I wonder what they are stealing? They must have been moving down the back of the houses but have come up to a fence that is too hard to go over or through. Coming around the houses garage and turning towards the front door the first burglar kicks the front door hard; they are getting bold; once, twice and it must blow open on the third kick, he turns and nods to number two behind him. They go inside, but number three spins around and is facing the house across the street. He’s moving fast crossing the street and heading up the driveway leaving my field of view. I slide my chair and bi-pod to the right up against the wall just picking him up as he’s heading for the front door of that house. Pulling the chair forward along the wall getting the angle I see him deck the home owner with a over hand right, he’s down; I bring up my .308 and spin the scope power setting to 12 and find him standing over the homeowner yelling in his face; the scope is rock solid, I’m holding my breathe. Out comes a pistol; he’s bringing it up. Scope centered on number three’s head; the explosion is deafening; I see red mist as the scope bounces up and away from the ass holes head. Finding the front porch again in the scope, the homeowner is crab crawling backwards into the safety of the house, the full-length small window to the left of the door explodes and I hear the bang from down the street. Sliding my chair to the left I find number one or two using the truck mirror in the driveway as support for his pistol as he fires a second round at the homeowner across the street. Scope cross hairs planted firmly on his left temple I squeeze slowly, again my hearing screams at the explosion as the round runs down range and 3200 feet per second nearly taking his head off as my field of view fly’s upward with the recoil. Coming back on target I see he’s laying next to the truck and number three is running ass hole and elbows down the sidewalk towards the end of the street; a pretty hard thing to do with melting slick snow flying with every boot hitting the concrete. Placing the scope cross hairs on the back of his head I knew with the expanding yardage the round would end up going high in the back or as low as center mass; I’m already cringing at the pain that’s going to hit my ears. Number three arms shoot straight up in the air as the round takes him mid back just above center mass, two long steps and a partial third lands him face down sliding along the sidewalks concrete, he rolls over and that’s that. I’ve got some cleaning up to do; this is a whole new world, I think I’m gonna puke.

I’ve sat most of the day looking down the street for any movement or for the police to show up, nothing, two bodies on the right, one on the left, eerie quiet. An hour before sunset it’s time to clean up, I move slowly along the left side of the street towards the house with the huge mess that needs to be worked. I pulled the body behind the house and rolled it down the short hill into the high brush. From my front window I knew there was some scrubbing that needed to be done so I brought my push broom with me. Using the garage spigot and melting snow I scrubbed the red now gone brown stains and splattering’s off the garage and front porch walls; I leaned a spare rifle against the door jam and laid a pistol next to it at the front door. I yelled through the broken window “get the hell out here and pick up these guns, your gonna need them.”

I crossed the street and dragged the other two bodies behind the houses so they couldn’t be seen from the street and washed the driveway and the sidewalk down with water, pretty easy with the snow melt.

Clean up job done I made the mistake of walking down the sidewalk on the right side coming home; yep, sure enough the open car door in the driveway had a full-blown maggot covered decaying body lying next to the open car door; I puked way past being empty, dry heaved half the way home. Just three houses down you’d think I’d be able to smell it from home……

I pulled my mask and gloves off, washed my hands until they were bright red; face and neck were next. I’ll hole up for a couple days and hope those pieces of shit didn’t have the 22.

It’s been totally quiet now for nearly two weeks; I’m so stir crazy; I’ve got to get out of this house even for a few minutes. I’m trying to figure out how many people should be left alive if the kill off rate was a full 98% as one of the last radio broadcasts I heard was spouting, along with some crazy Jesus’ stuff, doesn’t exactly make you believe the rantings. No way to really tell for sure just how many are out there but with a population of just over 705 thousand that would leave someplace around 14 thousand survivors, holly shit…….

Oh……… waters gone; not a drop as you open the spigots; forgot to even mention the powers been out for a week also……… I seem to be getting lax in my writings; I’m just so bored.

Got up this morning and had six deer eating in my front yard; watched them until they fed between houses and out of sight. I think that’s a good sign……. I’m going for a walk.

Since I don’t want to see what’s remaining of the body a few houses down, I’ll walk down the left side of the street and give my one neighbor a shout as I go past, I hope he/they made it.

Well, the rifle and the pistol I left for them at the door is gone and the side door window has been boarded up. “Hey neighbor, you still alive!” I yell not quite at the top of my lungs……… again……. nothing. Oh well, not like I’m going to go up to the door and knock. It’d be my luck to get shot with one of my own guns for being a fool.

I walk all the way to the T intersection with my street, nothing but birds and squirrels; nice weather now that it’s about the first of June. No engine sounds, no airplanes, nothing. Looking both ways down SW 25th nothing seems out of place. No cars parked in the middle of the road, nothing along the sides of the road that are out of the ordinary, pretty damn empty.

Somethings just not right; I can’t put my finger on it but the hair on the back of my neck is standing straight up….. I run and duck around a corner of a fence and flatten out on the grass. I can see down the South side of SW 25th and if I look between the boards, I can see most of the North side, probably about three hundred yards, flat and straight. Ahhh… there it is, an engine noise, so faint I can just barley hear it, just a soft deep purr in the distance.

Now I see truck head lights……. way down the street, just shimmering over the pavement. I’m hearing other sounds; high pitched, mixed with low guttural sounds. That little voice you have in your head wakes up, mines screaming now, deafening klaxon horns going off in my head.

Time to run……..

Quarter mile give or take to get to my front door and safety; I run straight down the middle of the street adrenaline drive, arms flapping in frenzied terror. I run knowing but not knowing, primordial deep amygdala brain just pushes a full sprint to safety, I have no thoughts, my deep primal brain is in charge.

I hit the door full force wrestling with the handle; I collapse on the flood; how long has it taken me to run the distance? Two, five minutes……. I can hear the screams over my heavy breath, the quarter mile doesn’t soften the dim of voices.

I stand in full view in my picture window as a huge flatbed truck rumbles by the opening of the street in clear view. I have telephoto vision, I can see the carnage, the cages full of half dead people, bodies strung by rope dragging along the sides of the truck, some staggering some dragged. Raggedy monsters lash those still staggering on dead feet. Another truck; then scores of soldiers pouring down the sides of my street ant like in their numbers, it’s a horde spreading out both sides of the street kicking doors like a flash flood.

I have maybe five minutes before they reach my front door; fight or flight? Either way I know I’m a dead man.

Bug out bag and rifle over my shoulder I clear my back fence and into the woods.

The end is here…. Flight.

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