The 22, Hopscotch. Episode 5

I’ve been on the run for nearly a year now and the weather is starting to turn; time to find a safe place to hole up for the winter.  The snow flurries have started in South Central Colorado and will turn to deep piles shortly; I can’t get caught out in the open in this weather.

 

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

Hello, It's me.

 

Hello, it’s me.

 

Saturday 9/16/23 5:30am

Phone ringing:

Me: Hello?

Unknown caller: Why are you still home?  You were supposed to go down for an early breakfast!

Me: Who is this?  Wait, how are you calling me on my own phone number?  What the fuck is this!

Unknown caller: Look… I don’t have time to explain this. Get in the car and get out of there now; we’re running out of time.

Me: Fuck whoever you are, I’m not going anywhere. Explain what’s going on or I’m hanging up.

Unknown caller: Don’t you hang up on me or we’re both dead; Why are you home?!  We/you should have left five minutes ago.  WHY are you still home?!!!

Me: I’ve caught a cold and I’m not going anywhere.

Unknown caller: FUCK…. Oh my god, they’ve done it… They’ve changed time; they’ve changed our history…

Me: Look this has been fun, I have no idea who you are or what you want, I’ll try to laugh this off later, so really great but I’m hanging up now.

Unknown caller: Wait… wait, let me prove I’m real.  Sixth grade, Awbrey Park Elementary School, Mom and Dad wouldn’t buy the wood airplane we wanted, so we snuck back into the class room at recess and took money from the desks.  No one ever found out who stole the money, only you and I know we did it.

Me: What?!  How’d you find that out?  No.

Unknown caller:  Look we’re out of time… two years later in the barn… want me to tell you what we did?

Me: No… no, I’m on board here.  Just tell…….

Unknown caller: Look we’re dead in under two minutes here……. Grab the bug out bag we made and the extra cash from the lock box and get the hell out now……

Me: Jesus Christ what don’t you know?!

Unknown caller: I’m you, you moron, if you stall any longer, we’re both dead. Hang up the phone and move… it’s on the way… RUN!

I hit the end button and ran to the back bedroom threw open the closet door and grabbed the bug out bag I’d made about six months ago when everything started to look bad.   The cash box was bolted into the wall and I missed hitting the four number combo twice in my rush.  The door finally popped open and I grabbed the cash.  Car keys on the counter along with my wallet and sunglasses. 

Scraped the roof of the car on the garage door as it was going up, I was moving so fast to get out of the house and gone.  My mind was spinning out of control; how could I be talking to myself?  It even sounded like my voice; he knows things no one could possibly know but me.

The explosion rocked the car and the rear window cracked in the concussion wave.  I stopped and jumped out the driver’s door.  The house was gone in a huge mushroom cloud; the neighbors houses were all smoking from the explosion flash.  Debris falling from the sky…

Phone ringing.

Me: WHAT THE FUCK!!! At the top of my lungs.

Me #2: We weren’t suppose to see this, we were suppose to be down having breakfast before packing and going camping over the weekend.  They’ve changed all that now. 

We now have different history’s…… I have no idea how long it’s going to take for them to figure out they missed you.

Look it’s 5:36, nothings going to be open this early.  You’re going to have to go hide until the stores open and ditch this phone and get a ghost phone.

Me: A ghost phone?

Me #2: I really don’t remember being so fucking stupid as we seem to be…  get a sprint phone that doesn’t take any I.D. to buy and activate.  Geeezzzz…

Me: Fuck take it easy; I’ve just woke up to a phone call from myself and lived to talk about it.  Why, NO, who’s trying to kill me?

Me #2: A Government, I have no idea if it’s ours or someone else’s, but when they find out they missed they’ll be coming back.

Look shut down the phone so they can’t track you and I’ll call you back at 9:30 and you can give me the new phone number.  Don’t use this phone again until I call, just turn it off and leave it off until five minutes before the time.  Bye.

The phone clicked off in my ear.

I turned the phone off and stuffed it in my pocket.  My head ached from the cold he said I wasn’t supposed to have.  I decided I’d better get someplace where there were lots of other people so hopefully, I wouldn’t be bombed, killed in a public place.  I pulled into Burger King and the shitty sausage something I ordered actually tasted pretty good since it was my first meal of my new life.  What am I saying…?

9:25am.

I turned the phone on and it rang instantly in my hand.

Me #2: Fuck, give me the new number quick; they’re tracking you on this fucking thing…

Me: 971 807-1545

Me #2: TURN THE FUCKING THING OFF… NOW!

I jammed my finger on the off button.

New phone ringing.

Me #2: Hello it’s me… throw the old phone in the nearest garbage can and get out of there; don’t stop for at least fifty miles… Go.

The phone clicked in my ear. 

I had no idea where to go… “be random” popped in my head.

I drove East for twenty-five miles and then took a small highway heading North for another thirty miles and found a good spot to pull over.

Phone ringing.

Me: Hello

Me #2: You ready to hear what was suppose to happen in our life?

Me: Can you start by explaining how you are talking to me now? I’m really stressed out right now.

Me #2:  I’m 25 years in the future… I’ve been working on a new program; you know how we’ve always loved numbers? You/me figured out a number string that opens the door to untold possibilities in nearly every aspect of the world/universe. Someone stole the code; it’s been turned into a weapon. 

Me: We figured out a what?  A number code?  I, or we?  I like numbers but I can’t even get the check book to balance and that’s all numbers, but we figured out a special code?

Me #2: It was a hidden talent.  We got a job with a small tech company and it was discovered that we were nearly at genius level at programing, running/making/writing code.  That’s my history, yours is different now.

I found out they, I don’t know who, but they were trying to go back in time and change history so in our time the knowledge, disaster never happens.  Like in the movie terminator remember that movie?

Me: That’s crazy; My timeline is now different than yours, then history, our history has to be different.  How are you not following the new timeline?

Me #2: Ummmm… you’ve got a point?  We’re not the same person now?  Had they killed you, you and I’d be gone from history, but they missed and we are still here but with two very different histories being made every second?

I’m not exactly coming up with any ideas; only thing that I can come up with is maybe two parallel histories, I now have mine and you have yours?

Me: What I’m I suppose to do?  I have no home, only the clothing on my back and maybe $500 bucks to my name with someone trying to kill me to stop future events?  They missed and now even if they kill me the disasters of the future will still happen!  I’m not on the right timeline to change anything now!

Me #2: Look you now know you have a gift, a great gift for all things numbers.  You can go and develop that as I did by accident.  I, I could tell you who won the 2023 super bowl and you could put a modest bet on the outcome in Vegas to get a nest egg built… That wouldn’t change history at all…  I could give you what businesses went big and you could get in just before they take off.

Me: Okay I’m all in… with your help I can get some money up and disappear, with enough money I can get new I.D. and start a new life somewhere.  I’ve got enough to ditch this car and pickup a cheap one; you google a small lottery that no one won and I’ll put the right numbers down and have enough money to get started.

Me #2:  Okay you head to Vegas and I’ll do some quick research and find a money maker for you.  I think we can make this work and keep both of us safe.

It’s all history.

From the Ramblings

t

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.



___________________________________________________________________________________



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.



___________________________________________________________________________________



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

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