2020: Emergency Exit (39 page)

Eddie, in turn, told his younger brother they had each lost their ranks and were being assigned to a troop down in Buena Vista. He and Lazzo also had to say their farewells to their good friends, Omar and Cabo, who were to go to the nearest airbase that night to be flown out in the morning. Eddie told them both before they left, “Stay alive, men. We’ll meet again someday. Insha’Allah (God willing).” Though he was pretty sure even God couldn’t keep them alive.

He and Lazzo were leaving early the next morning for their new post. They used their last night in the Intelligence Division to collect maps, as much strategic Qi Jia information as they could find—including the NORAD bunker info and a map of all Qi Jia bases—and lastly to check in one more time on Estes Park. Eddie had Lazzo pack his officer badges and medals instead of leaving them on his desk. One never knew when they might come in handy.

Eddie and Lazzo took the two men from the Endovalley base to their new post in Colorado Springs and introduced them to their new commanding officer, Captain Kubar. He hadn’t been informed of Eddie’s demotion, and Eddie neither told him nor allowed him to see the lack of stripes on his uniform, keeping his jacket on the entire time. Eddie’s office radio had been shut down, but Captain Kubar saw no problem in letting him check in with Estes Park from his office. Captain Kubar took his two new men to meet the other soldiers, and Eddie got on the radio to the Alpine Visitor Center.

As expected, Eddie was told all the troops were being pulled out of Estes Park first thing tomorrow morning. There was no reason left to contain that site, as there was no way in, no way out, and no signs of life at this point. If anyone were still there they’d surely be dead by spring.

Some of the Estes Park troops would join the eighty men currently up at the alpine base, while the rest would be sent to the other end of Trail Ridge Road in Granby or Grand Lake until spring. That was all Eddie needed to know.

He thanked Captain Kubar for his help and told him he and his men were being reassigned to Buena Vista. If anyone asked the captain what he knew of Eddie’s whereabouts, Captain Kubar would tell them what the commanders already knew. There would be no surprises on any end, and Kubar would never be the wiser about being used. Perhaps he would even remain someone who Eddie could count on, if needed, in the future.

Cabo and Omar were never reassigned. They were killed in their sleep that same night.

SIXTY-FIVE: (Ryan) “Bitter Cold”

Tuesday, December 1, 2020.

Estes Park, Colorado.

The troops were gone by noon. Dozens of helicopters flew in, and all the base camps were abandoned. A couple of helicopters flew up to the Alpine Visitor Center, but most of them headed in the general direction of Denver. It didn’t matter to us anymore. We were safe where we were and could hold out here for the duration of winter, no problem. We had plenty of food, plenty of water, plenty of shelter, and enough distance between us and the soldiers who had been down here that, paired with the freezing conditions outdoors, we never had to worry about anyone walking up to our cave and knocking on the door.

We held a service for Cameron and for Vice President (or President) Moore later that same afternoon. They were both military men and were honored accordingly. We didn’t have sufficient silencers for the appropriate gun salute, but we improvised and allowed Danny to run the service as he wanted.

His conversation with Reagan had gone easier than expected. I guess the daughter of a politician, especially one in higher office, must have to prepare herself differently than the rest of us. Sure, she hurt. Sure, she cried. But she seemed to accept what had happened as a gift her father had given to keep the rest of us alive. She had devoted herself from that point on to getting her little sister through it. That had been the difficult conversation. Abbey had so many questions. Danny and Reagan were careful to word their answers so she wouldn’t feel the least bit responsible for her father’s death—or for Cameron’s.

Danny recognized the vice president at the service as an honorable man, though I couldn’t help but notice Reagan didn’t seem to share those sentiments. Danny remained haunted by some of the vice president’s final words to him. When Danny had praised him in the tent, the VP had told him not to, suggesting there was a great deal Danny didn’t know. It seemed Reagan was aware of what her father had been referencing.

Danny didn’t say much about Cameron. He dug the grave himself, and he had written some words on a piece of paper. He buried those thoughts with his best friend, but held onto the American flag he had originally intended to cover his body with. It was our last American flag, and clearly Danny had some other purpose for it.

After the ceremony, we gathered inside and shared memories of our time with our friends and family who had passed. I even shared some memories of Sophie. It seemed so much easier to talk about her now, especially with Tara at my side. Emily and Abbey had become fast friends, and Hayley had more time now to hang out with the rest of us.

At one point I noticed Danny excuse himself and walk up the tunnel to the ledge, with Hayley right behind him. Unsure whether I’d be wanted, I held back until Tara nudged me. “You need to go up there too,” she said.

I didn’t argue. I met them out on the ledge. It was still light out but rapidly darkening. Danny was sitting on the ledge when I stepped out, his arm around his little sister. Hayley patted the ground beside her, and I sat down next to them.

“This sucks,” Danny said, and Hayley laughed. Danny even smiled. Then he looked at us. “We’ve gotta make it there. All the way. We need to do it for Mom. And now we’ve got to do it for Cameron.”
Exactly the resolve I was hoping for in my son
.

“We will, Dan,” Hayley replied, patting his knee and then turning to look at me. “Right Dad?”

I nodded. “Yeppers.”
What else could I say?

Hayley laughed again. “Idiot.” She smiled.

Yeppers, indeed
.

After most of us had gone to bed, I watched Danny get up and put his heavy black jacket on. He walked over to the table by the tunnel and grabbed a ski pole and the American flag. He put the flag in his backpack, walked up the tunnel, and stepped out onto the ledge.

I waited a minute before sliding out from under Tara’s arm, grabbing my own jacket, and following him. When I reached the ledge, he was already on the other side of it, scaling the far wall. With the soldiers gone, Blake had left the rope up. Danny climbed it with ease and continued up the mountain’s face behind us. I stepped back inside and grabbed my gloves and a rifle, then returned to the ledge. I cautiously sidestepped my way across to the far wall. I was trying not to look down or slip. A fall meant probable death, but I had to know what Danny was doing.

I slung the rifle over my shoulder and was halfway up the far wall when one of the stakes came loose. The rope swung outward and I lost my footing. I frantically grabbed onto the only rock near me and tried to find a foothold somewhere but without luck. I looked up, desperately seeking another handhold for a better grip as a hand suddenly reached down.

I grabbed the hand, and Danny helped me up.
Talk about strength
. “You could’ve just asked to come along, you know. It’s not like you’re all that quiet,” he chided, as I tried to regain my composure and catch my breath. “Man, you can be stupid sometimes.”

I deserved that
.

“Listen…Dad,” he said softly.
I listened
. “This isn’t the time to talk about this, but I’ve been really hard on you for a long time. And you deserved a lot of it, but you were better to Mom in the end than I ever gave you credit for. I should have believed you a long time ago. It just took a while.”

I understood. He looked like he wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. “Look. I’m proud of you,” Danny continued. “Mom would be too. Tara is great for you. I like her a lot. But now…I don’t mind if you sit here and watch me, but I need to do this on my own.” He pointed up the mountain, indicating he was going to climb to the top.

I nodded. I understood again. “Got it. Thanks, Danny.”

He thumped me in the chest with a gloved hand. “Don’t fall off the cliff, okay?” he said with a trace of a smile, and then he turned his back on me and began climbing up Bighorn Mountain.

I followed him as far as I needed in order to see the top clearly, and then watched Danny through the scope as he finished the climb. When he reached the summit, he took the American flag from his backpack and tied it to the ski pole. He embedded the makeshift flagpole in the ground and looked down at the valley below him.

We had a full moon that night, a huge white snowball hanging over Horseshoe Park, turning the snowfields into shimmering crystal blankets. I could only imagine what it looked like from where Danny stood, but to be honest, he probably didn’t notice. He had one thing on his mind.

“Wish you were still here, Cam,” Danny whispered hoarsely. “I miss you, man.” He looked up at the stars, blinking back tears—shaking his head—as the flag began waving gently in the breeze.

“I’m really gonna miss you.”

PART III

SIXTY-SIX: (Ryan) “Spring Forward”

Tuesday, May 18, 2021.

Estes Park, Colorado.

Trail Ridge Road typically opens the last week or so of May. It usually takes the plows almost an entire month to clear the road all the way out. I always used to think that was crazy. Now I wished it took longer. The road opened the first week of May this year. That complicated things for us—greatly. On May 5, there were already troops in the valley, and they were everywhere. We had been trying to pool our “wishful thinking” into hoping they permanently went away.

It didn’t work. There was no magical rebirth of America. We were still only halfway to our goal, and we knew we’d be facing an army of energized soldiers who hadn’t had many, if any, Americans to kill in months. They’d be starving for action. It was going to get that much harder to move, that much harder to hide…that much harder to survive.

We hadn’t put Christmas lights up for Christmas. There was no Mannheim Steamroller, no Carrie Underwood, no synchronized “Carol of the Bells.” But we did have a makeshift tree, plenty of snow, and a sky full of stars. The presence of children made it mandatory for the rest of us to follow through with a few traditions, and honestly, it did bring a little joy to our world. As we sat around on Christmas Eve listening to Dad read the Christmas story from the Bible, I couldn’t help but feel like we could all somehow relate better to it now. Ours wasn’t quite as primitive as the original Christmas—car travel sure beat camels—and no angel had appeared to any of us in a dream with a safe way out.
Yet.
But I could imagine how frightened Mary and Joseph must have been, and how hard it had to have been to have faith.

We were a shaken group at that point.
Still are.
We were putting on a good face for the kids, but not one of us was confident about our chances from here on. We weren’t going to let that ruin Christmas though. Danny, Blake, and I had snuck into town one day and picked up a few presents for everyone, hid them in the woods, and then surprised everyone on Christmas morning. It was well worth the effort.

Danny gave Jenna the ring Cameron had been intending to propose to her with. She cried. A lot of us did.
Did I say us?
She put it on her necklace and wore it proudly around her neck now. We definitely missed the kid, but we all coped okay. Even Jenna managed to move on.

We cooked our first meat meal on Christmas Day. We even had wild turkey. It was the best meal we’d had in months. Danny killed another mountain lion in late January. Who knows what that stupid cat was thinking coming anywhere near him? Groundhog Day came and went on February 2 and we actually missed hearing about the Pennsylvania rodent.

If Punxsutawney Phil had any common sense, he’d stay in his hole this year.

We found and “borrowed” the Bill Murray movie on another Estes Park excursion. It provided a few more needed laughs, and we couldn’t help but be collectively thankful we wouldn’t have to live this experience over again. And again. And again. And…never mind.

The second week of March Danny, Blake, and Sam went out to the base of Old Fall River Road and dug it out. They planted explosives under the road and caved it in. As a result, the plows stayed off the road below us, even when they did start coming into the valley. It bought us extra time, and we knew they wouldn’t be able to fix it until they had a streak of good weather.

Right now they seemed to view the cave-in as a natural occurrence and weren’t worried about using the road. As an added bonus, it also kept them from re-opening, and repopulating, the Endovalley campsite. We hoped to be gone before they could fix the road, so when we did move out we wouldn’t have to be looking over our shoulder all the way to the Alpine Visitor Center. It was going to be enough of a slick and treacherous ten-mile climb as it was. Even American plow drivers never cleared that road all the way up. The enemy wouldn’t think of attempting it. There’s no rail. No safety. Way too much risk.

April Fools’ Day came and went without pranks. No one dared joke about the troops all being gone, or anything along those lines, since that was clearly what we all were wishing for.

Easter passed a few days later, and the snow cleared out pretty well the next week. We were actually worried the roads would completely clear and the troops would come in before mid-April, but they didn’t—in either case—and we did get snow again. I usually hate it when it snows in May. I celebrated it this year.

A couple warm days after the first, and all the snow was suddenly gone in the valley. The elk began their slow but steady transition up the mountain. As went the prey, so went the predators. The plows came through, and the troops poured in. We needed to be making our own preparations to move.