Hudson carefully pulled the tarp back.
“It’s okay, son,” I told him. “It’s not a puppy. You can pull hard.”
Hudson’s face lit up, eyeing the blue Yamaha PW-50 that he had a picture of on his wall since he was two.
“What did this run you?” I asked Lonnie.
“My watch.”
“It didn’t even run,” I said.
“I know. The guy swore he could fix it when the power came back on.”
“That could be a while,” I replied.
“That’s what I told him, but he swore he was getting the better end of the deal.”
“Okay then. What do you say, Hudson?”
“Thank you, Mr. Lonnie!”
“It runs too. The man started it right up and it comes with a kid’s helmet—not sure of the size, though.”
“What do you think, Hud?” I asked him. “Should we let all the kids use it?”
I knew the answer before asking the question. No kid I had ever met shared their toys more than him.
“Sure, Daddy-o! I love to share.”
The children all gathered around for basic instructions. As many would argue, the beginner bike was the best and easy to operate, once they had their balance. There is no gear shifter or clutch—just the throttle, front and back brakes, and a kickstart facing backward that an adult, and most kids over age seven, could kick. A few low-speed crashes later, they were all racing around inside the circle.
Lonnie insisted on grilling tonight. It would have to be propane, not as classic as charcoal or a wood smoker, but it was still a formidable fine dining machine in the right hands.
“We have steak on the menu—the very best fillets!” he announced to everyone.
“Is that deer meat?” asked one of the kids.
“No. It’s all cow, and the best-tasting part of it. We’re also grilling vegetables and have a fresh killer salad, so there should be something for everyone’s taste,” he added.
I took my guard shift, watching the lake party from atop Bert. Jax sat with me, just for some Dad time, I guess, or maybe it was just cool for a young boy to sit on top of a tank. Either way, it was moments like this I would always cherish. He wanted to ask Lonnie a question but was too embarrassed.
“Hey, Lonnie,” I called out, not giving him a chance to back out. “Jax here has a question for you.”
“Sure, little man. I’ll be over in a few minutes. I don’t want to overcook these fine steaks.”
Minutes later, he had them pulled off the grill.
“I’ve got to rest these cuts,” he said. “How do you like your steak, Jax?”
“Medium-rare, with a shake of salt and nothing else,” he called back.
“Really? Is he joking?” Lonnie asked me.
“Nope, that’s how he likes it, and it’s his favorite thing to eat,” I replied.
“It’s my favorite supper ever!” Jax added, barely containing his excitement.
“That boy knows his meat,” he said, walking over.
“Uh, Mr. Lonnie…I was just…if we had any extras could we maybe give a little to those people over there?” he said, pointing across the shoreline to the group of maybe twenty we saw coming in.
“Maybe,” he replied. “We do have extra, I know. But I’m not sure how much.”
“I understand, but I would like to give them mine at least, if it’s okay. It’s not much, but it might help a little bit.”
I put my hand on Jax’s shoulder. “You’re a generous boy. I’ll give up mine too,” I called out to Lonnie. Besides, I swallowed a big June bug when we were driving—I’m not really hungry,” I joked. “But seriously, me too.”
“All right. All right. Don’t go getting crazy on me,” replied Lonnie. “There’s enough to feed them also, I suppose—just don’t ask me for steak and eggs for breakfast.”
“I won’t,” I told him, laughing.
“Can I go tell them, Daddy?” asked Jax.
“I think I should be the one. My shift is over in fifteen minutes, and then I will go.”
“Please, Daddy. Can I be the one to go?”
“They seem harmless,” said Jake, walking up. “I’ll tag along if you’re okay with it, Lance.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s go at shift change. You’ll do the talking,” I told Jax.
“Yes, sir. I’ll try,” he replied.
* * * *
Shane took over on shift, and Jake and I walked over with Jax to the campers.
“Do you have to bring your rifle, Daddy?”
“Yes, son, I do…always now. Right, Jake?”
“That’s how it works, Jax,” he replied. “We hope everyone is good, but if they are bad we’re going to be okay. Look at Shane up on the tank,” he added. A hardly visible Shane could be seen covering us, watching every move through his scope.
“Hello,” I said as disarmingly as I could to the group huddled around a fire, with no food to be seen. “This is Jax, and he has a question for you all. Okay?”
“Yes, okay. Sure,” several replied.
He started: “Mr. Lonnie is cooking some meat steaks, and I wondered if you would like some?”
“It does smell awful good. If it’s not too much trouble,” said one man with blonde hair and a three-week beard. “We haven’t eaten much lately.”
“Are you fishing?” I asked. “This lake should be full of them.”
“No,” responded a woman, who I assumed was his wife. “We came up from Pueblo but didn’t think to bring any fishing tackle…or whatever you call it.”
“So, what do you eat?” I asked. “Surely, there is some game around here to shoot.”
“We gave up our guns down at the lake. Or one gun, I should say. But once we saw what was happening there, we just took off up here. We couldn’t go back to the city, so I guess we’re stuck,” she added.
“How did you get through the barricades?” asked Jake.
“It’s not so hard,” said the man, “when we don’t have trailers like you. We just go around them at night and get back on the road. We didn’t think it through is all.”
“Can I borrow two of your guys?” I asked the woman. “Only for maybe 30 minutes.”
“I
