“Nine…eight…seven…”
“Now, wait a minute. I’m just here to talk with Carl is all.”
“Not in my town,” the Mayor replied. “Where was I? Seven…six…five...”
“All right,” said the trooper, now standing away from his vehicle. That’s quite enough. Just give me Carl, and we’ll leave peacefully.”
“His daddy and I were good friends, as you no doubt have heard, and I’m not sending him out. You keep interrupting me,” said the Mayor. “I should already be at one, but I’ll start back at five! Five…four…three...”
“All right…I…all right,” said the trooper. “But if we find my boy anything but alive and well, I’ll be back. That there is a promise,” he spat, gesturing to his men to turn around.
“That there is why it’s good to have a Bert,” the Mayor said aloud.
“He will be back,” said Jake, “at least that is what he said. What then?”
“Well, we either have two tanks, or one and all of the firearms we got in trade from you folks, to help them make a better choice. Don’t matter much either way to me. Make sense?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Jake.
“How would we trailer one of these?” I asked.
“Not on one of yours,” he replied. “But if we strike a fair deal, I’ll throw one in that will carry the weight.”
“Why the name ‘Bert’?” I asked.
“That’s a good question. All I know is the guy who sold it to me said the soldiers named this one Bert. Even carved the name into the big gun. I figured if it was good enough for them, by God, who was I to go changing it?”
“That makes sense to me. Hello, Bert,” I said, patting the big guy on the track.
Lonnie, Jake, Joy and I made the final deal we were hoping for, with both sides deeming they got the best deal they could have made.
The Mayor scouted out a trailer to carry the metal monster down the mountain and threw in an old hulk of a truck he named “The Beast.” He cautioned that it might not make it much past the destination. “It’s strictly a get-to-where-you’re-going truck,” he added, “and nothing more.”
* * * *
Vlad and Sheila spent the rest of the day learning the mechanics and basic maintenance of the machine.
“The key with these things,” said the mechanic, “is not to put too many miles on them.”
“I think we’re good on that,” replied Vlad. “I’m guessing it will be an effective deterrent or close-quarter fighting machine.”
“So, no joy rides?” asked the Mayor.
“Unfortunately not,” replied Vlad, laughing. “Well, maybe one or two for the kiddos.”
“Can you imagine the day we roll up to Saddle Ranch with this tank?!” I said to Joy, not even trying to hide my excitement. “I was worried about bringing everyone with us and showing up without a big contribution. Now we have weapons and what some might call an ‘attitude corrector.’”
We spent the night inside the protected town in typical fashion. Vlad and Sheila had a few final questions for the mechanic, and we planned to move on by noon the following day.
* * * *
With Shane driving the truck and Airstream trailer, Aiden volunteered to command The Beast. Saying our good-byes, we headed north towards Silverthorne. There weren’t more free passes from here, as far as the Mayor knew. “Just lead with the tank at each crossing, and I’ll bet you will sail right through,” he suggested. We all thought that was good advice, agreeing it would be unlikely to be overpowered, at least before reaching Saddle Ranch.
It felt good to be on the road again. I never imagined it would take this long to travel what used to take us 16 hours on a family trip. I, and most of us, took that for granted—not only the speed of travel but the level of safety we had all become accustomed to in this country. Sure, there were wars going on every year. Still, they were “over there” somewhere…anywhere but here. Yes, there was famine. Still, it was somewhere else; of course, there were people afraid to walk down their own street in the daylight, but that was “over there” somewhere…anywhere but here. I had lived in rough parts of town as a young adult, but no matter how bad it seemed, there were no rockets exploding near my apartment or soldiers looking to take me away to God knows where. Now there was all that, and my children, everyone’s children, would bear witness.
“They, the children, are going to age more in one year than we have in a lifetime,” I told Jake and Vlad, as we pulled out for another stint on the road.
“I think they already have,” replied Jake. “Our only hope is to hide them away in a protected place to grow up, maybe not like before but without the daily fear of what’s next, like we have now.”
“Obviously, I don’t have any children yet,” said Vlad, with a who-knows hand gesture and nod to his new, maybe girlfriend in the Airstream trailer. “But if, or when, I do I will give them the best life to be had. Mark my words, comrades. Their best life was not before the day; it is yet to come. A simple life with family and friends at the forefront, not just weekends and a week or two each year for a vacation that costs too much and ends up too short. Tell me I’m wrong about your children now, Lance. It’s okay. Tell me.”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking?”
“Tell me you don’t know them better now over the past few weeks, even though you spend most of your time up on this trailer with Jake and me. Tell me you knew them better before than for all the days they were here.”
“I guess I
