Pets were not allowed, with no exceptions. The deranged mutt cuts game commenced each night after dark, with most new residents only hearing the gunfire, and included shooting at any living thing someone could care enough to bring along.
Sergio pulled through the north gate ahead of a line of old cars, trucks, trailers and motorcycles on two, three and four wheels. He made a point to end up behind a few to give Mike and Max some final instructions.
“A few more things, gentlemen. Don’t even look at the women, single or not. They are all processed and evaluated on check-in. The first picks go to Baker and the next to his higher-ups.”
“Like you?” asked Mike.
“No, I don’t participate in that, and so far, Baker has never asked why. Next, always address him as ‘Colonel’ and ‘sir’ if it’s a long conversation. I don’t know where he came up with it, but he will have you killed if you forget it. Last for now—no fighting, no matter what. They don’t have a fighting pit here, but they do have a large hole dug a half-mile up the road for the bodies of all participants of disorderly conduct.”
“I thought the point was to get the most people they could in the group,” said Max. “Dominate with numbers, right?”
“Not exactly,” replied Sergio. “They have to feed everybody, so to him it’s about adding the right people. The ones who toe the line and don’t question anything—at least not out loud—are the ones who stay.”
“What if someone wants to leave on their own?” asked Max.
“Just like that song ‘Hotel California’—the one by the Eagles where he says you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave. The only ones walking out of here are the ones who never came in.”
“What about the kids?” asked Mike. “Are they abusing them?”
“Not that I’ve seen, but it’s a big camp and I can’t be sure. They are going to frisk you first and take your bike,” he whispered to Mike. “Once inside, I’ll give you this,” he added, jingling the key to the Indian before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Actually, better put this in my boot in case I have to talk to Baker today. You will need it later, and I topped it off with gas at Ronna’s camp. Okay—here we go, fellas. Stick to the story, no matter what, and wait until I find you in the next few days before we talk. Last thing, I’m going to be not so nice to you in just a few minutes; trust me, it’s part of the plan. Game faces! Let’s go!” he said, as he drove through the gate.
“Hey, Serg,” said the gate guard. “Where’s the rest of them?”
Two other guests walked around to look in the truck.
“We got ambushed—outnumbered five to one,” replied Sergio. “The guy, Mike in the back, wasn’t worth a crap, but I guess he’s got the worst of the injuries. And this guy,” he said, pointing to Max, hid under the truck and let the rest of us take fire. Good thing he’s competent at patching things up ’cause he can’t fight for crap,” he added, dragging him out of the truck with his good arm and pushing him to the ground.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-one
Baker’s Camp
St. Vrain State Park, Colorado
“They’re here,” said a guard on his walkie-talkie. “Colonel Baker wants to see you, all of you,” he clarified.
He turned around, talking into his radio for several more minutes. Two men were called over to help Mike off the truck, where he and Max were patted down, revealing no weapons.
“Open your bag,” they told Max, referring to his medical bag. “You have any needles in there or anything sharp?”
“Yes, it’s a medical kit. Of course, I have needles and scissors—even a scalpel.”
“All right. I’ll take it for now,” said a guard, adding to another guard, “Follow behind them.”
Sergio held on to Mike’s key, knowing full well they would be frisked again before talking with Baker.
* * * *
The leader’s main canvas tent, with three more attached, amassed a footprint of nearly 2,000 square feet in the center of the camp, complete with a top-of-the-line portable toilet and rain-fed shower. Armed guards and middle-level guys surrounded it on all sides, facing outwards and doing their best to hold still like Buckingham Palace guards.
Mike and Max were frisked again, even removing their footwear and socks while Sergio got a quick pat-down fully clothed.
“Welcome, gentlemen, to my little piece of the country,” came a booming voice from the other side of what could have passed for a nice house in any town before the day. Living room furniture matched perfectly with area rugs. Ceiling fans throughout the tops of each room kept an even, cool temperature.
Baker walked out in a long red robe, like the eccentric Hugh Hefner was famous for wearing. His stature was plump, one might say, standing no more than 5’3”, or maybe 5’4”, Mike thought. This wasn’t the man Mike was expecting to see after hearing all the stories; but to be honest, he had never really thought about it.
Max clenched his fists at the sight of this man so close he could touch him. Would he ever get this close again?
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Baker said. “You must be Max, ’cause you’re not gut shot.”
“Yes, Colonel. It’s good to meet you,” he heard himself say, instinctively reaching out his hand.
“We don’t do that here,” said Sergio.
“Oh…sorry,” said Max, now resigned to take his time and not do something stupid on his first day here.
“It’s fine. One can never be too careful,” said Baker. “Can
