Mark received sympathy from all and thanked them, but he couldn’t shake the girl from his mind. Her smile, the way she walked and talked, the smell of her hair. He was confused, a fifteen-year-old with his whole life ahead of him, living with his dad and new family miles from anywhere. What if she doesn’t like me? he worried, or is seeing someone else? He would see her again in three days’ time and vowed not to leave until he had his answers.
David ended the riveting story with James’ proposal. “Be a part of Weston now or wait until another town sweeps you in, without a choice.”
The vote was nearly unanimous, with David surprised at the enthusiasm.
“We could lose some residents, maybe,” he told Mel later, “if they can live in town.”
“Maybe so, but not me and my family,” he replied. “I’m good to trade on Saturdays and would like to take my family to church on Sunday, but we will be here working for the common good for the rest of the week. We need a safe road down the mountain, though. Both times—with James and Janice, plus you and Mark going down it—someone almost got killed. I don’t want that risk for my family every time we head down the mountain.”
“That’s a fair point,” said David, “and I’ll bring that up to James. It would be nice, though, to trade wares once a week.”
David settled into a routine of sorts, mostly directing the greenhouse plantings with his ribs on the mend. Mark resumed radio duty, being the least physical job in the camp. They planned the follow-up doctor visit and hoped for a safe trip.
* * * * * * *
Chapter Thirty-two
Rocky Mountains, Colorado
Lonnie pulled up the map, pointing out the route.
“It’s about 80 miles to Grand Lake,” he said. “From there, we go up the mountain and then back down Trail Ridge Road. We have a heavy load that’s going to be a struggle both ways. The chances of having to unload Bert and drive over before loading him back on the trailer is probable. We keep that trailer in the last spot of our caravan, either way. Grand Lake is not far from Estes Park, and then it’s a straight shot down the canyon to Saddle Ranch.”
“This is going to be a tough last leg of the trip,” I said, “but we need to make time. I’m hoping to be at Saddle Ranch in two days’ time. We will only stop for bathroom breaks, any danger or maintenance issues, and a quick lunch today. We will shoot for Grand Lake by tonight and try a shot all the way in tomorrow. Any questions or concerns?”
Nobody raised a hand or had any objections. They are probably as tired as I am and just want to be done with the traveling, I thought.
* * * *
The day was long, with only a few stops. Bert sailed us through the occasional barricades without paying a toll and only answering a few questions about our group. Grand Lake was beautiful, even now littered with tents lining its shores. The caravan pulled in late afternoon, making great time through the mountains with mostly clear roads. Lonnie gathered everyone to discuss the plan.
“We have a big day tomorrow,” he said, “and I’m proud of everyone today pitching in to get us this far. One more tough day, and we will be home. Let’s only unpack what we absolutely need, and nothing more. I’m going to bed early after dinner and will be sleeping except for my guard shift. I recommend you consider doing the same. We leave tomorrow morning at first light.”
“Good speech,” I told Lonnie, with Jake agreeing.
“I didn’t want to come off like I was telling everybody what to do, but every day we are out on the road is another chance of bad things happening,” Lonnie replied. “Besides, we need every extra day we can to help them get ready for the Great Battle at Saddle Ranch.”
“That’s the irony,” said Jake. “Us hurrying to get out of the mountains, only to quickly arrive at a battleground.
“We’ll try to get the tank up the hill tomorrow,” said Lonnie. “But if we can’t—Vlad, we need you, Sheila, and you too Jake, to drive it over the hill. Once off the Divide, we should be able to load it back on the trailer and head down in low gear. It will be all downhill from there, so we all need to be careful not to burn out our brakes. There’s a reason they have ‘Runaway Ramps’ up here for the big trucks.”
“I’ve seen it,” I interjected. “One came right by us once, honking its horn, and went a good couple hundred feet up the gravel-filled ramp right before a corner in the road that would have flipped it for sure. Let’s not try that this time.”
The night was calm, peaceful almost, and felt more like a lake campground on any weekend before the day and not the temporary refugee camp it actually was now. There was no gunfire, no apparent danger, only quiet campers who somehow found a way to get along, and hopefully even help each other out.
* * * *
We got an early start. And Lonnie, true to his word, had us pulling out a few minutes past sunrise.
It wasn’t long to get to the bottom of the steep hill heading up over the mountain. The old truck carrying Bert struggled to inch up the winding hill in low gear. Steve was driving and stayed at the rear of the caravan. Everyone agreed they did not want to be on the downside of him if something happened.
“It’s like that movie,” he said—Final Destination, where the logs come off the truck up ahead and hit the vehicle behind it. This time it would be a tank and not a log!”
Steve made it halfway up before Vlad called it. “That’s enough!” he called over the radio.
