“Okay. Anyway, we made the decision to give up our weapons in return for keeping our tent, sleeping bags, filter, and fishing gear. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I knew we could survive.
“You’ll need more than fish eventually,” chimed in Aiden.
“I know. We’ve got 20 pounds of alfalfa sprout seeds and a few Mason jars,” Mitch continued. “With water and sunlight, we can make a few pounds every few days for a long time. With protein and vegetables, we’re good. Just started our first two jars this morning.” He held up two quart-sized Mason jars for all to see.
I was happy to see I wasn’t the only one growing them. I had tried nearly everything I could think of to put over the top: cheesecloth, T-shirts, new socks, and even a piece of window screen. Finally, I settled on a piece of Joy’s pantyhose and never looked back.
“What’s on the cover of those jars?” I asked. It was bright red and looked like a swimsuit or towel.
“This here is the secret part that makes it all possible,” Mitch replied. “You see, there’s a delicate balance to keeping the seeds in but changing the water every day. I got these right off a pair of my boxers.”
“Ooooh,” came the reply from more than one on our side.
“No, it’s not like that. I rinsed them good in the lake first, when nobody was looking. Y’all want to try some when they’re done?”
“No, no, not me.” “I’m good.” “No thanks.”
“I don’t mean to call you out on that…well, I guess I do,” I said, trying hard not to laugh, “but that’s pretty gross.”
“You’re okay with this?” I asked his girlfriend.
“I already told him I’d starve before I eat that!” she quickly answered.
“Mitch, you should use a piece of panty hose. I’ve been doing it for years and call them Pantyhose Sprouts. Would you eat those sprouts?” I asked, looking at her.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
“Hold on. I’ll grab you a couple. I’ve got more than a few spares.”
I handed her four squares of pantyhose. “These will last a long time if you don’t rip them. Now back to your plan. It sounded reasonable, at least when you first started.”
“It was, until I found out we couldn’t fish,” said Mitch. “By then, it was too late.”
I looked at Mike without speaking. He gave me a shrug.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-nine
Lake Pueblo State Park
Pueblo, Colorado
“We should camp over here,” said Mike, pointing close to the lakeshore.
“That’s a good idea,” replied Lonnie. “Let’s go up a half-mile or so and circle the wagons.”
“Come on over,” Mike told them. “You can eat a meal with us and tell us what you know.”
I looked at Joy, wondering if we were about to get involved in something that had nothing to do with our getting to our final destination. On the other hand, I didn’t want to walk away from pure evil.
“I know,” she said, before I could speak. “Once you know something bad is happening, it’s hard to turn a blind eye.”
“Were these people, all of them, so messed up before?” I asked. “Were they just silently waiting for something like this to happen so they could bring out their true evil selves?”
“No, it’s not like that,” said Joy. “Take all of these people here. There are probably a lot of them who are really good, and a few really bad.”
“The Gradlen brothers owned a few car dealerships only a month ago,” said Mitch. “Are you saying they were always like this?”
“Not exactly,” replied Joy, “but nobody changes overnight from a regular guy to a man who traffics women and makes their men fight to the death because they threw one fishing pole into a massive lake. What about the other brother, the married one? I mean, is he bad too?”
“No,” replied Mitch, “that’s just it. My dad bought every car he owned from their father over the last thirty years. And I bought my last two from the youngest brother. I had his personal cell number stored in my phone. He’s been trying to stop his brothers from doing some of this bad stuff, from what I’ve seen, but they just push him aside like he’s some kind of stranger. These good folks out there need some kind of leadership, ’cause they don’t want to go to the FEMA Camps, but now they don’t even have that choice.”
“So why are you two sticking around here?” I asked, not getting it.
“Well, I got a chance to talk to the good brother, and he said he would try to get me a pass to fish. The only thing is, I haven’t heard back, and we’ve been here for more than a week.”
“Would he be a good leader, the brother you know?” asked Mike, getting more than a few looks from our group.
“Yeah, I guess so. He was always a straight shooter like his dad. Man, if their dad were still on this earth, he would never have let this happen.”
“Where do they sleep? How many guards are there? Do they have night-vision goggles?” asked Mike, like he was running down a grocery list.
“Michael!” called Sheila. “What are you doing?”
“Nothing. Just talking is all.”
“Well, the last time you asked so many questions, you went all John Rambo on the guys across the river,” Sheila reminded him.
“And my new daddy saved me from the bad men!” Javi spoke up.
“That’s right, son,” said Mike loudly. “We got you away from the bad guys, and later we freed a lot of men, women and children and got their rightful leader back in place.”
“Mike, I see where you are headed here, and I’m
