“So,” said Vlad, “you’re not going to just let that crazy Baker guy take the Valley, are you, sir?”
The Colonel paused, rubbing his chin, and I was glad it was Vlad who had asked it.
“No, Vlad, I’m not. But it’s complicated, and there are a lot of things at play right now.”
“What do you mean, sir?” asked Mike. “Can’t you just take them out before they get there? Or better yet, drop me in and I’ll take care of the Baker guy.”
The Colonel laughed. “I bet you would!”
“Come take a look, gentlemen,” he said, walking back to the jeep and pulling out a map of Colorado.
“I’m guessing you’re headed up this way as the path of least resistance,” he said, drawing a line straight up Interstate 25 with his finger.
“That was the plan,” I replied. “Not too close and not too far behind.”
“The plan…it’s good, no?” asked Vlad.
“It’s solid in theory,” said the Colonel, “but it won’t work. You need to go around this way,” he continued, drawing a line west of Denver—“up through Blackhawk, Nederland, Ward right here. Then up to Allenspark, dropping down into Estes Park, and finally back here,” he pointed to the bottom of Big Thompson Canyon. Baker and his whatever you want to call them...”
“Pseudo soldiers,” I blurted out, not thinking.
“All right, I like that,” he continued. “He and his pseudo soldiers are going to get bogged down right about here.” The Colonel pointed on the map.
I didn’t say it out loud, but I knew exactly where he was pointing. There were several fishing ponds there that we used to fish at when I was young.
“How long they stay bogged down depends on all of you,” said the Colonel.
“And Ronna’s group?” I asked.
“He will be a day behind them, no matter what happens.”
“So, what is this?” asked Vlad, “with the bike and the trucks.”
“It’s my day off…well, half a day at least. We’re just out for a ride and a picnic lunch. It hasn’t all gone to hell yet. But I need to get back now. I’ll be in touch,” he said, walking back to the bike.
In a minute he was gone, and all was quiet again.
* * * *
“New travel plans,” I told Lonnie and Jake, opening up our map.
I spent a few minutes talking with Joy to make sure we were on the same page. Everyone wanted to know what we heard and to vote on a plan.
“I’m not putting David in a bad spot by returning there with all of us,” I stated flatly. “So, there are two choices, as I see it. We stop somewhere along the way and start new, or we follow the Colonel’s direction and trust he will be there for us when the time comes to defend the Valley. Joy and I are moving on to finish the journey we started. That may not be the best decision for everyone here, and that’s okay.”
“Can we have a few minutes to talk it over?” asked Kat.
“Sure,” I replied.
“Let’s take 15 and meet back up here,” said Lonnie.
* * * *
Everyone broke up into small groups for discussion, and I walked back to see my boys.
I passed Vlad talking with Kris’s sister, smiling and laughing, and I gave him a high five just to mess with him.
I used to do that to my boys, even though they thought girls had cooties.
Fifteen minutes later, we met at Lonnie’s truck. Most people wanted to push ahead, but a few reserved the right to stay put if they found a suitable place along the way.
I wasn’t sure how we would divide up provisions if that happened, but I knew, in the end, it would be fair by all parties.
“It’s 200 miles to Denver and will take Baker’s group about seven more days to get there,” I said, looking at the map.
“That’s too slow,” said Lonnie. “Let me take a look. Here’s where the Colonel told us to get off the highway in Denver. But look over here. We can cut off at Pueblo, where they should be in a day or two, and head up through Canyon City. We’ll move on to Blackhawk right back over here.”
“Makes sense to me,” I said, and most everyone agreed it would save time.
We were back on the Interstate in 45 minutes, with Jim still throwing a few fliers to those walking from the opposite direction.
Driving slowly, we passed a few more bodies on the road who appeared to have died from the elements.
“We’ve got some time to kill,” called Lonnie over the radio, “so we’ll take it slow.”
Following close behind two major groups of people heading straight up the center of the state had its advantages. There were no barricades or hostile parties to be seen anywhere.
We used our time wisely, refueling the generators and gas cans with gasoline siphoned from abandoned cars up and down the Interstate.
“I was kind of hoping to see Colorado Springs, with its Cheyenne Mountain NORAD base literally dug inside a mountain. After the White House and Pentagon, it is rumored to be the next highest priority location in the country,” I said over the radio.
“Yeah, I remember reading about that place when I was in the Academy,” responded Lonnie. “Did you know that area is also home to a Supermax prison?”
“Yeah, but I’m not sure who’s in there.”
“The worst of the worst,” replied Lonnie. “You can count on that.”
“I wonder what happened to all of the prisoners across the country,” I said, “since there must be tens, or even hundreds, of thousands of them, ranging from bad-check writers and embezzlement criminals all the way up to rapists and murderers? I imagine the Supermax has backup generators, but what about the other ones?
