The last couple years I’d
managed to survive Covid 19 and then the slate cleaner Covid 22. I was comfortable in my little house ready to
make a good run at continued survival; But I was forced to run for my life by
the gangs coming out of the Denver area rounding up people.
Less than a couple weeks later
I found out why.
The gangs had decided to not
only control the Metro area of Denver but to branch out and overrun any and all
remaining pockets of survivors in the rural areas. I thought I had made it to a relative safe
area only to find a large Camp of what looked to be military personnel and other
survivors. To my horror I watched as the
gangs used those captured people as human shields to attack the Camp. I had to run for my life again.
I carefully moved South
skirting the Metro areas and small towns staying well up on the sides of
mountains and deep forested areas. I’d
had to break into some houses along the way to find canned goods and anything I
could use; the risk of even small towns was too much to chance after what I’d
seen since being forced from my home.
I’d been walking for months when I found a settlement of people along a
deserted highway in the mountains. I was
lucky they invited me into their company and I was glad to spend sometime with
happy survivors that seemed to be flourishing.
I’d spent a whole week with
them and listened to nearly everyone of their stories on how they’d survived
and how they ended up here in the isolated Campground. The one key fact to every story was the kill
rate in Central Colorado with the Covid 22.
As far as I can tell only one in a thousand survived and half of those
either died or took their own lives because they just couldn’t cope with the
new world. They all told of driving or
walking around the towns they lived in and couldn’t find anyone alive or
willing to show themselves or being chased by crazy people. They talked of stumbling into one another and
then picking a remote spot to call home.
They felt safe together and could only look a day or so ahead in the
future.
They had nearly everything they
needed but lacked any plan to resupply their camp or how to cope with the
coming winter. The story of the Donner
party would not leave my mind. I’m going
to be haunted forever as I leave them and resume heading South. It pained me to look into the eyes of the
women and those small children knowing that within a month at the best they’d
be locked in by snow and without the small highway being plowed and kept clear as
in better times, they’d never get out.
I’ve done everything I can to convince them they had to leave but I was
voted down each time.
It's been a long two weeks and
my supplies are gone; I’m sitting just outside of Florence Colorado hidden in
brush along the fence of a High School.
Only a football field divides me from what I hope is a pantry full of
canned goods in the school’s kitchen. My
only fear is that it will be huge cans like gallon sized not 12 to 16oz cans
that fit easily in my back pack. I’ve
decided to wait until dark before trying to cross the field, there’s absolutely
no cover between the fenced area of the school’s boundaries and the
buildings. This is going to be a
wide-open run to the buildings.
Next problem is going to be
getting inside unless I can find an unlocked door. With people coming down sick early on with
the Covid 19 schools weren’t even open and when the 22 came everyone went home
and hid from the disease and died. I can’t put in too much effort getting in
the school or take the chance of being heard or seen; an injury is a death
sentence.
Time to go, not completely dark
but snow is beginning to fall and the temperature is dropping fast, if I have
to go up on the roof to get in, I don’t want to have to fight slippery snow,
let alone leaving tracks all over. This
is a one-shot deal; much snow and I’ll be overnighting out in the cold rather
than being in the school.
Over the six-foot fence and a
quick dash across the open field to the flower beds outside of what looks to be
the gym building. I step into the landscaping
bushes so I won’t leave footprints in the snow near the building until I can hop
to the covered breezeways; landing the snow my shoes leave an exact outline of
my shoes on the concrete, my mind jumps to ancient cave art of hand prints on
walls. I use my jacket to sweep the snow
my shoes left and hopscotch from one clear patch to another around the side of
the big building keeping to the snowless areas.
Next building is clearly the lunch room and kitchen; outdoor seating is
spread out between the two buildings and I can see the lunch counter in the
gloom through the windows. Time to check
the doors and hope for the best.
No such luck as I figured; no
telling how long since these breezeways had seen kids. Around back at the loading zone every door
sealed up tight with the exception of the trash door ten feet up above a huge
empty garbage bin the size of a small truck.
I can see the flap is hanging open about an inch. This is going to be tricky with snow covering
the cold metal of the bin. Dropping my
backpack in the bottom of the bin and pulling out a length of cord from my pack,
it’s quick work to tie my backpack with rifle and scurry up the side of the bin
to the open flap. Lifting the flap, I
can see dim light about four feet inside the compartment. Tough scramble getting the flap open enough
to fit through and finding hand holds so I can pull up into the garbage
shoot. Bingo……. Nothing is locked here;
the inside expanded metal garbage shoot door is standing half open and I’m
inside with ease. Sliding back down
about half way I yard my backpack up with the rope and I’m in with all my gear. This has been very lucky; my little voice
whispers…. “It’s a trap.” Oh please, not
now…
The dry panty is full to the
ceiling with everything and anything you could possibly need to feed an
army. Canned goods of all sizes from
12oz to gallon and bigger in the hundreds.
I move along row after row of canned food grabbing a few and sitting
them on the floor. I can only carry so
much and there is no need to just grab many of one thing and then have to
unload my pack, so a careful inventory will be made and then filling the pack
can begin.
Finishing filling every nook
and cranny in my pack I replace any leftover cans into their proper place so I
don’t leave any sign I’ve been here. Thoughts
run through my mind of baking a cake or having a big dinner at one of the
hundred tables in the dinning hall. The
gas stoves and ovens should work if the gas is still on…
Shaking my head, I weave
through the chairs to one of the exit doors; the snow is four inches deep and
coming down in a white out. If I go out,
I’ll leave a perfect trail to follow even if it keeps snowing hard as it looks
like it’s going to. Just opening the
door would push the snow into a clump letting anyone that sees it know someone is
inside of the school. It is a trap…
I back away from the door and
take a seat at the nearest table; time to think.
The snows stacking up by inches
every hour; I’ve got all the food I could eat for months; I’ve got perfect
shelter and there is no sign anyone has been in or around the school; water…….
oh crap, is there any water. I can only
go a few days without replenishing my water.
Quick search of the kitchen
area and I find they have a few hundred galloons of water all stacked away with
all the other food supplies…. this is a mother load of food and water.
It’s pitch-black outside, time
to find a nice safe area with exits to make camp for the night and fix a fast
dinner. I pull out my little one burner
stove and set it on the huge counter in the prep area of the kitchen. My little stove with a small pot and one
spoon looks crazy sitting on the fifteen-foot counter where they use to prep
food for a three or four hundred kids at lunch.
I have no worry of the burner’s light casting to any opening; the prep
area is walled in and you could fully light it and have no worry of leaking
light outside the building.
5am and I’m wide awake; not a
sound. It’s weird overnighting in a
building, it’s been a long time and it’s so quiet it’s unnerving. The snow is two feet deep and still pilling
up fast. I’m going to search the whole
building and see what I can find; it’s a big building and one side is two
stories so I if the snow lightens up, I’ll be able to see some of the
surrounding area and start to make some kind of plan.
Not much to find; meeting
rooms, Offices for the management of the kitchen staff. But a surprising find, a couple small panties
with MRI’s and other supplies of long-term food rations; about ten pallets all
together along with pallets of water bottles.
I’m up on the second floor
looking out the windows as the snow lightens up and I think the sun might
actually shine as the clouds break up to the South. The school grounds take up at least twenty or
thirty acres and is fenced with four to six-foot chain-link fencing on the back
and sides. The front parking lot would
hold at least a hundred cars. As the
snow lessens and the sun starts to break through the clouds, I can see that the
school is part of a large complex of Government buildings. The next building in the complex is clearly
the school bus barn and has about twenty school buses parked in nice neat rows
two deep along the boundary fencing. It
has one large building that is the bus garage and maintenance building for the
buses.
Next building over is the
County Maintenance yard and I can see road graders, dump trucks and snow plows
along with all kinds of other equipment needed to service a community.
The snow storm closes in again
and the ground gains a couple inches of snow in twenty minutes, it’s now
stacking up to over four feet; my head aches with thoughts… it’s going to be a
long night.
School buses… Dump trucks… Snow
plows… I might just as well shoot
myself. Thoughts of a crazy rescue are
filling my head. If I have four feet of
snow here, they must have six maybe seven feet of snow at the camp ground. Five men, eight women and twelve kids from
babies to about eleven are finding that without a plan they are going to die in
the winter snow storms… there is no escape with the only road in or out filled
with feet of snow. I spend the rest of
the evening wondering hallways of a building that use to be filled with our
young. My heads hurt’s thinking that the
group I spend a week with are now stuck in this blinding snow storm without
anyway to escape.
I have to try a rescue; what
type of human would I be if I turned my back on them. I haven’t seen any sign of another human
since I left them in the woods now nearly three weeks.
I can’t sleep so I sit thinking
what would be the best vehicle to attempt to break through the snow to make a
rescue attempt. School buses have auto
chains in this region and would carry everyone with room to spare, but might
not be able to push through the heavy snow and snow drifts. A dump truck would push through the snow but
there is no way to carry people. A snow
plow would be perfect since it’s made to work in the heavy snow but how would I
make room for passengers? It’s a forty-mile
trip or better one way and slow going, quicker coming back since the road would
be plowed once going in.
Okay… here’s the plan. Snow plow; able to fight through nearly any
depth of snow while pushing the snow to the side of the road making the return
trip easier and fast. Now how to hold 25
people with shelter in a snow plow.
If I can find some tarps, they
could ride in the dump truck like rear where the sand goes covered up from most
of the snow and cold. It would be around
a two- or three-hour trip back to the school and should be do-able as long as I
can keep the truck on the road and we don’t get attacked going or returning. Tomorrow morning, I’ll push through the snow
to the County yard.
Up early with the first light;
quick breakfast, I’m in a hurry.
Hour fight for maybe three
hundred yards to the County Maintenance yard.
I’m beat, wet and cold. Main door
locked of course, kicking around in the snow I find the paver that’s used to
block the door open in the summer heat.
Stealth is now a thing of the past, so I just throw it through the door
window and I’m in. Front Office has a
nice key locker and I just have to pick which of the three snow plows I want to
use. Easy enough since only one has full
chains already in place. Now if the
batteries are still good, they’ve been sitting a long time.
I run the glow plug of the big
diesel three times before hitting the starter… slow crank, but it catches and
bellowing white cold diesel smoke it rumbles to life. Gas tank is full… love these guys. I brought my full pack of supplies and a
large bag of MRI’s, water and I found three nice new 12’ X 14’ green tarps in
the supply room. My rifle is laying on
the wide dash just in case.
Time to go.
Engine all warmed up; plow down
to about four inches from the ground, four-wheel drive set, wheel lockers
engaged I grind towards the locked eight-foot chain linked gate. I can see the huge pad lock on the gate with
a heavy chain. The snow plow doesn’t
even lurch as it plows through the gate pushing snow to the right of the heavy
plow.
I take a left and head up
Highway 67 from the North side of Florence pushing about four feet of snow or
so. The plow pushes the snow out of the
road with little effort and I cross over interstate 50 in less than twenty
minutes. I’m clear of any chance of armed
resistance now, I’ve been through this area and didn’t see a soul or any sign
of anyone as I headed South earlier. It
will be the return trip that if trouble comes it will be then; I’m making a
huge amount of noise and the plowed road will show the whole winter and will be
a beacon that we came through.
It’s nearly 2pm and I’m still a
few miles from the camp ground. The snow
is about seven feet deep and deeper in wind blown areas. The plow grinds to nearly a stop in places
and I have to back up and hit the deep drifts a couple times to break
through. The going is so slow now I can
only hope to make the camp by dark.
Snow drifts to the hood of the
big plow, it bucks and complains with the work.
I’m making hardly any head way.
I’ve lost complete track of how far I have to go. Everything looks the same in the deep snow,
I worry I might drive past the camp ground.
I have to charge into the drifts and then back up, charge again and push
the piles of snow to the side of the road to make just a few feet. It’ll be dark in less than a hour and I have
no idea how far I have to push to the camp ground.
The plow is starting to over
heat with the hard pushing, backing up and hitting the snow again and again.
I have to take a break, I’m
numb with the constant fight inching forward after rushing the snow banks
stalling and backing to hit them again.
I stand on the foot rung at the
driver’s door peeing into the snow just a foot down from the high cab.
I can smell wood smoke.
I jump into the cab checking
the gauges, temp back to normal, charging normal… I turned off the lights and
killed the engine. Quiet…
Standing on the foot rung I listen
in the blowing snow… nothing. I reach
inside and pull the cord to the gas driven horns… long horn blow… nothing that
I can hear… another long horn blow… Whoop’s and screams… I’m there.
I fire up the snow plow and
push forward slowly; I see figures in the snow.
Rose plowed me over into a snow
bank covering me in kisses… “I knew you’d come for us!” I guess I have some explaining to do…
Rose was a survivor of a
small-town South of Florence. She was
saved from gang rape by one of the married men in camp. She wouldn’t tell me the whole story just the
end when he killed the men trying to rape her.
She spent hours during the week I was with the group talking me through
my growing PTSD calming the effect. She’d
found two small children orphaned by Covid as she made her way from her home
until she was saved and then to the camp.
She took Joseph 3 and Lilly 5 as her own since then.
The group had tunneled towards
the little highway after hearing the snow plow fighting its way up the
highway. I turned the plow around so it
was facing back towards the South ready for leaving the next morning. We were all nearly frozen to death by the
time we marched in the blowing snow back to the camp. The tents were sagging under the heavy snow
and it was clear they were nearly useless under the load. We had a quick dinner then worked to lessen
the snow load on the tents before heading to bed for the night. Rose demanded that I share her bed since I
didn’t have one and I slept the best nights sleep in a year. Warm with a warm
body next to yours is a gift that I will never take for granted again in this
life.
The next morning nearly never
came; heavy snow clouds filled the skies and darkened the growing morning light
to just twilight. We made a heavy
breakfast as I explained to the group that I had ample supplies so there was no
need to hold back. Our tracks back to
the snow plow were filled with eighteen inches of new snow and each person
could only bring one large parcel of belongings. As a group we dug the snow out of the rear
area of the plow that would normally hold sand and lined the bottom with tarps
and then wove tarps I had to cover everyone sitting in the bed of the truck.
The truck had just two seats; I
wanted Rose and the children up front with me but I had to pick one of the men
that had firearms expertise in case we ran into trouble on the return trip.
As a group we had just three
firearms, my AR15 and two side arms… we’d have to make due with what we had if
trouble came.
The heavy snow came in sheets,
blocking out the light and forcing the use of the bright lights of the truck to
keep on the road as we fought our way out of the mountains. Noon found us twenty miles North of crossing
highway 50 and I could only keep on the road by following the plow marks I’d
made just less than 24 hours before.
We crossed Highway 50 at dusk
and it was pitch black in minutes. I had
to decide whether I’d drive right up to the school marking it as where we where
as a group or force the survivors to hike a quarter mile in the snow in the
dark to the safety of buildings. I
drove straight to the school…
We bailed out of the plow and
two trips later all was unloaded. The
women make fast work of the kitchen and dinner was served by eight.
I finally met up with Rose as
things were quieting down, both kids were glued to her side and I found a small
side Office to make as a bedroom for the three. We both agreed that the kids
needed quiet and slow adjustments as we moved forward.
I stood guard with my rifle
until about 3am, I was relieved by one of the groups men. I slept under a cabinet in the great room
until light.
If it was even possible the
snow storm grew heavier and we had three feet of fresh snow by ten am. I decided to move the plow back to the
maintenance yard with the hopes the snow would cover the tracks leading to the
school if lucky. I took my friend Jim
with me, the one I’d surprised in the forest as I hoped to meet the group weeks
before.
We returned and warmed up with
coffee and biscuits the women had made.
I was scared to death and happier than a clam at the same time. How could we secure the safety of our people
with so few firearms and limited people?
At this point I’d have to be happy with a successful rescue… and I was.
Three days of getting
everything tied down and people into rooms and the kids calmed down. Our shortcoming if anything would be
water. We dug snow by the feet into all
kinds of pots and pans filling the kitchen area with everything that would hold
water.
I searched the Kitchen’s
administration floor and found keys to all the buildings in a lock box. This gave us access to the gym so we had a
huge area for the kids to play safely.
What a god’s sent.
I spoke in private with the men
of our camp; three of us would make a sneak run into Florence. We needed firearms and ammunition if we were
going to make a stand over winter and beyond here at the school and County
Buildings. There was no sign that anyone
had come the couple miles out from the small city to the County works
buildings. The gates were locked until I
broke them down and the school was locked tight and no tracks were showing in
the snow.
We had a community meeting while
the kids ran around yelling in the back ground playing having a great time. It was decided that I, Jim and John would make
the trip into town finding out how many people were left in the area if we
could and grab weapons to bolster our armory if any were still left.
I guessed we’d need at least
four days with the snow conditions, if we went over seven days, we weren’t’
coming back and no one was to try to find us.
We left just before 4am on a
Friday, not that the day had any meaning any more but it just seemed noteworthy
for some reason; I guess when time has no meaning and you put a time date on
something it’s a big deal now.
We moved slowly fighting our
way pushing through the drifts keeping to the side of buildings and areas
protected by trees and bushes. Moving
forward we found no indications of anyone moving through the snow banks; we
found no tracks at all. We made camp
without fire just outside of the old town area in a small shop selling coins
and trinkets. We wrapped our blankets
and sleeping bags tight as the temperature dropped to -12 overnight.
No sign of any life, no wood
burning smoke, nothing. It was so eerier
and quiet.
The next morning the three of
us pushed our way to the only sporting’s goods store in the area; locks still
intact we broke the door open to access the business. We found just four AR15’s and took a couple
other weapons in the same caliber. Ammunition
and carriers filled out what we thought we’d need. We made a quick exit and moved back towards
our encampment as fast as we could.
Day two finished at the edge of
Florence in a small building used as bead shop as the sun dipped in the South
West. Our loads were heavy slowing us
down, sore muscles from the weight made hurrying impossible. A quick meal of thawed chicken and rice
filled each stomach from freeze dried stock.
We figured we’d make the County buildings by early evening Sunday with
luck.
Sunday morning broke with heavy
clouds to the South West; we were in for a heavy storm. Before breakfast the winds picked up to
gale-force raddling the windows and pushing through the doors and windows seals
leaving frost trails from the weather stripping in a neat line. It was clear we were not leaving the buildings
we were hiding in. The business had no
heating other than electric so we were forced to shelter in our sleeping bags
and anything we could find for insulation.
The windows and doors rattled with the wind, gusts screamed and pulled at
the corners of the building. We could hear
roofing snap and rip away as the wind found places to catch. Near noon the building shook with near
70mph’s gusts, dust demons swirled in the dusty air as weather stripping gave
way leaving tiny vortices dancing across the tiny room. We pulled sleeping bags close as the
temperature dropped to record colds. We were in a polar vortex; sub zero
temperatures in the -40’s or below; siding crackled and snapping as walls contracted
with the numbing cold.
I woke to slanted late
afternoon sunlight bringing sundown. The
winds had fallen leaving just faint rustling of roofing torn loose. Numb hands, feet frozen, nose caked with
frozen snot; body shaking with cold.
Knees stiff, painful to straighten, elbows crackling awake. Jim and John nothing but frost covered lumps;
shaken to awake.
We pilled broken boards and
paper together starting a small fire in the front show room of the
business. Smoke filled the room quickly
but cracking a door and opening an upper story window pulled the majority of
the smoke up and out of the lower floor.
We warmed by the spluttering fire and heated the last of our food
shaking from the cold, we hoped to survive the night as we wrapped ourselves again
in our sleeping bags for the frigid night to come.
Monday morning came with
brilliant sunshine and calm winds.
We loaded our packs then kicked
the front door open against the piled snow.
Heading East a few streets then turning due North along Hwy 67 we had
open residential neighborhoods to push through.
We made fairly good time until hitting drifts. The winds had plowed most of the two-lane
highway of snow but any wind obstruction built huge drifts that we either
climbed over or tried to busted out our way though. The extreme cold had solidified most of the
snow drifts into steep walled solid ice we could not fight through making us
ice climb over.
Nearing the end of the small
houses on both sides of the road the highway was mostly open from the high
winds and lack of obstacles making drifts, just a few more yards and we’d be in
the open clearing the out skirts of Florence.
One of the last houses on the
right we could see a small amount of smoke from the chimney. After a quick meeting we decided to give it a
wide berth, so we hung far to the left of the two-lane highway keeping nearly
150 yards between us and the house.
I was close to 80 yards past
the house when I tripped on something under the snow, I spun up and I landed on
my back, I realized there was a huge boom in my ears, then echoing off the
hills. The pain was immense in my neck,
shoulder area as I realized I’d been shot.
15 seconds and another huge explosion of a heavy rifle shook the snow
and a raised a cloud just a foot from my face.
I was in nearly five feet of snow so he was shooting blind into the snow
hoping to get a hit. I fought my way
back to my knees and plowed my way into the snow forward a good ten feet. The next round must have hit between me and
John who couldn’t have been more than twenty feet behind me when we’d been
pushing through the snow.
I dumped my heavy pack and
cleaned the snow from my rifle. I hadn’t
fired a round in months, no idea if all the dirt, snow and dust would allow the
rifle to fire.
Another huge explosion as and
the heavy rifle hunted for another hit.
Every fifteen seconds another shot searching for a hit on bone and
flesh.
I pushed through the snow heading
direct to the house wanting to close the distance keeping well under the height
of the snow. I tripped again and fell
face down in the snow. I was face to
face with a frozen corpse, face white twisted in agony in the frozen ice.
I pushed around to the left and
found two more bodies frozen in the snow; how many had he killed as they tried
to pass his house?
The rifle boomed hunting
targets…
I knew I’d covered enough area
so I’d be roughly under a hundred yards to the house. My rifle was sighted in at exactly one
hundred yards and I’d practiced shooting at that range at out local rifle range
now seeming like a decade before.
I cleared a small area around
me, the snow was just at four feet deep here.
I carefully pulled the scope covers off my rifle and cleaned the snow
from the lenses. Turning the
magnification of the scope up to six, that would give me a close in view but
leaving plenty of field of view. I cycled
the rifle dumping two rounds of 30 into my waiting hands. I dropped the magazine and reloaded the two
rounds and pushed the magazine into the rifle weld and made sure it was
properly seated.
Boom… Every fifteen seconds… boom… hunting for
another hit of the two targets left alive in the snow.
I waited… counting, one, two,
three; twelve, thirteen… boom…
I raised up clearing the snow
by maybe ten inches standing full height; I brought the rifle carefully up making
sure I didn’t plow the scope through the snow.
I could see a man standing on the front porch of a maybe two room house;
“that’s a tiny house” my little voice said in my ears. He was looking down at his rifle as he jacked
another round into the rifle. I raised
the scope to my eye and he came into close view, I leveled the cross hairs on
his chest as he came up with his rifle ready for another shot into the
snow. I saw his eyes turn towards me, I
must have appeared as a ghost in the white snow no more that 90 yards to the
left of where he’s been dumping round after round into the snow field hoping to
hit John or Jim.
He twisted right to bring his
heavy rifle in line to where I’d just appeared.
The .556 rounds landed squarely
on his chest pushing him back and through the open door of the small house. I lowered the out bound rounds as he
disappeared into the shadows dumping all thirty rounds from chest to floor
level as he fell tearing the front of the house to pieces.
As the smoke and pieces of shattered
wood landed two animals rushed from the house into the snow banks disappearing
in an instant. I jammed another 30-round
magazine into my rifle waiting for the attack dogs to show them shelves.
Two Labradors, one black the
other yellow greeted me with unbridled happiness………. their tags said they were
Jack and Jill; Jill was about to pop with puppies. Addresses on the tags didn’t match this
house, they must have been with the people he killed.
From getting shot in the heavy
pack to two Labradors kissing you to death, the last ten minutes was seriously
crazy.
I covered John as he pushed
through the snow to the front porch of the little house. “He’s done.” John
yelled back. “The house is on fire; you
must have knocked something down, it’s gonna go up in just a minute. The smoke began to roll out of the open door
and curtains in the room to the left of the front door burst into flames.
We all met at a little detached
garage on the right of the house, dogs jumping wanting to be petted. “That dog isn’t going to make a half mile
she’s so close to having those puppies.”
John said with a smile “We are going to have some happy kids.”
“Hey there’s a little boat over
here.” Jim yelled. “We could dump our packs in and let Jill ride
as we pull it, shouldn’t be too hard in all this snow.”
Side door was unlocked and a
big bag of dog food was just inside. We
grabbed a couple moving blankets and found a short length of rope.
Huge WHOOSH as
the window blew out of the house and ammunition started to cook off with rapid
fire bangs. “Let’s get out of here
before something big goes off.”
The small boat was aluminum and
only about ten feet long, super light.
With two of us on the rope and boat all loaded it was remarkably easy to
pull in the snow.
We’d made about a quart of a
mile when a huge explosion flattened the house and knocked the side garage
down. We all looked at each other and
kept moving.
We had less than ten miles to
reach the High School and figured we’d make it by dark if we hurried and
switched off pulling giving rest breaks.
They saw us coming from manning
the top floor of the cafeteria as a look out a good half mile out. The roads here had been blown clear by the
heavy winds and most of our group met us a quarter of a mile South of the
school. The kids went crazy over the
dogs and trying to keep Jill in the boat was a full-time job which we finally
just had three of the kids jump in and pet her to near death; Jack jumped on
everyone in his excitement.
In the warmth of the building
after telling our story Rose carefully pealed off my layers of clothing and
found a nasty bruise but nothing serious.
We had a huge dinner with
fantastic desert and settled back into our routine.
Two nights later we had a community
meeting again with the kids screaming and playing in the background and decided
as a group we’d stay and build a community here. We had many ideas of enclosing all the fields
and see if we could find animals to raise.
A huge garden area could be worked using all the equipment available at
the County yard. We’d have to drill a
well or try to find a good water supply before totally committing to this
area.
Epilogue: Jill had eight puppies, all in good health. Three boys and the rest girls. We found that the bus barn had a well and yards of hoses so that problem took care of itself. Spring came late but we managed to fill in the fence open areas and found eight head of cattle less than a half mile away that had wintered over in a heavy barn; as luck would have it 15 chickens had wintered over also. We also had an announcement that our community would be adding a member in early fall putting a smile on everyone’s faces. Things were quickly coming together and about mid-June we had a new couple find our community after over 18 months of hiding and traveling as we had.
August had a surprise; a lone fighter jet flew over and dipped its wings as a hello, a telling sign that the military people had won the war in the Denver area making us all feel safer.
Rose and I were married in late September and our small family of four is very happy.
We are fully ready for the coming winter and this story is at its end. We still have hay to bring in and I’ve spent the most of the last three weeks getting it all on paper so our story will live on.
From the Ramblings.
t
