“I will do what needs to be done to keep you, our baby, and those in this Valley safe—nothing more, nothing less. It is all one and the same now: all for one and one for all. I will be the sacrifice if it comes down to it, but I’m praying it won’t.”
“Me too, Mac. I…we, I mean, pray every day: ‘Protect these people, all of us, every last person in this Valley.’”
* * * *
Mac dug the Rimrock trench himself. They were short on heavy-equipment operators, and it brought him back to easy days in his mind. He learned to use this equipment as a teenager and skipped more than a few school days to earn extra money—paying for his car, insurance, gas, an occasional date, and mostly helping his mother out with monthly expenses. She never knew he skipped school and would have had his hide for it, but she was grateful for the extra help and it meant more to him than she would ever know. Minutes blurred into hours, and half days slipped away from him.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Twenty-five
Saddle Ranch
Loveland, Colorado
Sharon and Karl made their way to Mabel’s house with homemade mint tea. Sharon knocked on the front door, not seeing her on the front porch, like always.
“Mabel,” she called. “Are you in there? We have mint tea. It’s not Starbucks but Karl thinks it tastes like it.”
With no answer, Karl tried the front porch door, finding it opened a crack, and pointed to a half-covered meal on the front-porch table, ravaged by one or more critters.
“Mabel, I’m here with Karl. I’ll have him wait out here. I’m coming in.”
Sharon reached the door of the back bedroom, past the open bathroom, with no sign of her friend.
“Mabel,” she said, knocking on the bedroom door. “It’s me—Sharon. I’m coming in.”
She slowly turned the handle, hearing a faint voice from inside.
“Oh, Mabel,” Sharon said, seeing her under heavy covers, sweating and frail. “Mabel, how long have you been in here like this?”
“A day…maybe two. It’s hard to tell,” Mabel replied.
“Someone is supposed to check on you when they deliver each meal. It looks like you never even touched anything.”
“Oh, sweetie, I feed half my dinners to the animals anyway. Everybody is always checking on me, but you’re the only one who brings me mint tea…. I’m dying, you know—headed up to the Pearly Gates,” she said, with a deep cough.
“I’m sure we can get one of the doctors from the West to come take a look at you. You will be feeling better in no time. I’ll be back in just a few with one of them.”
“Wait,” said Mabel, with a firm grip on Sharon’s arm. “I have dreams,” she said softly but clear as day, “but not in the night.”
“Daydreams?” asked Sharon.
“Yes, I suppose so…or visions maybe. But they are straight from on high—that, I know.”
“Let me just get the doctor up here,” said Sharon, “and we can finish this talk later. Or I can get Karl to go.”
“This is no talk, sweetie; this is a confession. I won’t be here when you get back. My body will, but my Spirit is headed up, and sooner than you think. So, sit with me and listen closely to what I have to tell you. I told you before that I have a deal of sorts with God, always have. He was going to take me yesterday right out on my front porch, but I wouldn’t go without talking to you first. Stubborn as all get out, I suppose,” she added, laughing—the slow deep kind that ends up in a coughing fit.
“Now listen, child, and hear every word. You have taken care of my earthly body and been a better friend to me than anybody I can remember,” she added, not taking her hand off Sharon’s wrist.
“They’re coming...”
“Who’s coming, Mabel?”
“Those who don’t believe in our God. There is a man who goes by the name of Baker. I see him clear as day. He wants what you have.”
“You mean what we have?”
“No, sweetie. He and his bad men want what you all have here in this beautiful Valley. The women and children are just along on the ride but will flood the Valley like locusts on a farmer’s last crop. He aims to put an air strip—like used to be here many years ago—right out in the fields. They are not coming as you think—through one of the borders already guarded.”
Mabel paused, coughing hoarsely.
“You can take a minute,” offered Sharon, “or we can discuss this later.”
“There is no later for this,” said Mabel, looking her in the eyes.
“They will pour over the Rimrock like locusts, from one end to the other—in vehicles, helicopters, horses and on foot. A thousand or more zombies of sorts looking to devour the land and everything on it.”
“When will they come?” asked Sharon, knowing Mabel couldn’t know about the man called Baker.
“At first light, when the birds stop singing. When the deer are agitated and the rabbit runs for its hole. It starts with a rumble, like a thunderstorm echoing across the Valley. Lightning will fill a cloudless sky until you aren’t even able to hear your own thoughts.”
Sharon sat speechless, not questioning what she was hearing but simply frozen, unable to process a response.
“Don’t be afraid, for God is with you. He will tell you when it’s time and send others to help. This is His Valley, and He will make sure it stays that way.”
“How do we protect it? How do we defeat them?” asked Sharon.
“Burn it!”
Mabel took one shallow breath, closed her eyes, and her hand fell from Sharon’s, resting gently on the bed.
“Mabel, Mabel…are you still with me?” asked Sharon, watching a faint glow rise towards the ceiling and beyond.
“Mom, is everything okay?” asked Karl,
