“I’ll get a heads-up to Doc Walters, in case we have incoming,” said Jason, running for the truck.
“How are you holding up, David?” asked James.
“Well, I’ve never shot an AR with two broken ribs,” he groaned. “I don’t recommend it, but if we saved a life, I would do it again. Will God forgive us?”
“He has directed us to be the protectors of the innocent,” said James. “He put us here to fight evil, which would surely have headed for the town next. I see two balloons in the air, so the other two are down, and we need to find them.”
Before helping James into the truck, Jason said he told Janice and Lauren to be extra careful and lock up the house tight.
“Help me scan the land,” said James. “We have a better chance of spotting the downed baskets from up here.”
“Over there!” called out David, pointing north. “It’s the green and yellow one.”
“Take one more minute,” said James. “Let’s look for anything red.”
With nothing showing up in the scans, they headed for the green balloon, first checking the intruders’ trucks. Nearly all were deceased. Gone up or down, depending upon their actions and beliefs.
Both trucks were within 200 feet of each other. Six men, all injured—from grave to recoverable—remained with weapons down and begging to live. David used his rifle to cover two minimally injured men, moving them from one truck to the other and grouping up with the rest. Once he had their attention, he spoke.
“There was a man in my camp only days ago that would have taken all of you out and not missed his next meal. You preying on the innocent for sport is wrong, and he wouldn’t stand for it. I don’t either, but it’s not up to me to decide your fate. You are in the town of Weston, and it’s not my call. So, do your best to help your friends worse off, especially him,” he pointed to a man in the back truck bed. “Reach for a weapon, and it will be my call.”
David held the men he knew were bad until help arrived. It was a truck with one doctor and two of the Sheriff’s deputies.
“Should we tell the Sheriff about the new guests?” asked one deputy.
“No, let him fish. He will find out soon enough that we have a jail full,” replied another.
* * * *
James and Jason left and found the two downed balloons. Four casualties, all gunshot wounds, with another two injured and the rest frightened but unharmed. Both were able to land safely, having the gunfire diverted by James and his men. They loaded the survivors into the truck, headed for town. We will have the rest picked up and brought to the cemetery before day’s end, James promised the grieving family and friends. He arranged for a few more deputies to come and transport the deceased ballooners to town, and he met them there.
“Been a busy week,” the funeral home director said to James. “It doesn’t pay anything anymore, and you all are taking up my dirt.”
“I’ll see what we can do,” said James, handing him two silver coins. “We can’t have our undertaker quitting on us. The funeral is tomorrow?”
“Yes, Mayor. No sense in waiting longer than that. And thank you,” he added, holding up the silvers.
“All right, then. We have some more coming; they’re the ones who are responsible for killing these fine folks here. Understand?”
“We’ll keep them separate, just like we kept those two guys from the gladiator fight away from the townsfolk on the bleachers. And they don’t take up valuable ground space next to any good citizens of this town.”
James nodded his head, asking what time tomorrow.
“Let’s say 2 p.m. Enough time to get the word out?” asked the funeral director.
“Yes. We’ll see you then,” said James, meeting back up with Jason and David.
* * * *
“I’ve got Janice on the walkie-talkie for you,” said Jason. He had filled her and Lauren in on the details of the day.
“When are you boys coming home?” she asked James.
“A couple of hours, I guess. We have to make a quick stop or two first. You, Lauren, and the kiddos get dressed. We’re eating out tonight. Pick you up when we’re done.”
They stopped by his old friend and longtime customer’s farm, inquiring about the trucks for sale.
“Got some beauties still running good,” he said, greeting James like an old friend he hadn’t seen in a while.
“That red one over there…well, used to be red…now maybe a little pink—she’s a ’63 Ford F-100 and a workhorse. A new coat of paint and she’ll be ready to roll. That other one, the Chevy C10 over there, is a ’71. I restored her myself. What do you all think?”
“They look good from here,” said David. “Dr. Walters said you had three. Where is the other one?”
“Sold two days back. Got some other folks comin’ by later to look at these two. I ain’t yankin’ your chain, James. Just sayin’ is all.”
“Can you give us a minute?” asked James.
“Sure, I’ll be in the barn. Keys are in both trucks, so give ’em a look over if you want.”
“Do you know what you want for them?” asked David.
“I’ll know it when I hear it,” said the farmer as he walked away.
James, Jason and David checked out the options, starting both up, inspecting the tire tread and under the hood.
“These trucks may be gone later if he really has somebody else interested or they could sit for months. What do you think, David?” asked James.
“I don’t think they will sit long,” he replied. “Mel and I have a budget of five thousand pre-EMP US dollars between us in silver and gold, but that’s for both trucks.”
“That’s about what I figured,” said James. “You want to make the offer now or sit on it a while?”
“I want those vehicles if we can reach a deal. The more I think about it, the more I think
