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.

t