Next World Series | Vol. 6 | Families First [Battle Grounds] Ewing, K. (free ebooks for android .txt) 📖

He looked across at his very first tattoo and vowed to make Baker pay.

“You’re number 16, Mike, with the brand,” said Baker. “Topeka Kansas Prophets and only the second man not to scream. It seems you and Sergio have more in common than you think. Now the reason I have called you all here is simple and straightforward, at least to start. I received a message from God Himself, like a lightning bolt piercing my chest, only an hour ago. He told me to pack up like Noah and prepare for a great flood.

“I don’t believe He meant the water kind, but likely the flood of his followers, my followers, spilling across the countryside, purifying the wicked step-by-step and mile-by-mile. I’ve prayed on it day and night, and I’m being told to forego our pre-set location of Horsetooth Reservoir and head straight for the Valley. We leave the day after tomorrow. Pack the vehicles, horses, and any other transportation we may have. Get my people ready to travel. Sergio, you and Mike will accompany me, along with four or five other soldiers, and we will head due east fifty or so miles and check on our fleet. We leave in fifteen.”

“What fleet?” Mike asked Sergio, still smelling the bacon scent his arm gave off.

Sergio waved his head back and forth and answered, “The air fleet.”

Mike’s stomach would have dropped right then and there, if he felt that sort of thing. Of course, he didn’t but saw the opportunity to gain intel that could harm his family and friends.

“Do you want to see the medic?” Baker asked, “or are you good to come along, Mike?”

“I’m good for now,” he replied. “In fact, I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

* * * *

They headed east, eight men total, through the wheat fields, looking more like Nebraska than Colorado.

“What’s out there?” Mike asked Baker, who did not respond.

“Don’t speak to him unless spoken to first,” said one of his closest guards. “But I can tell you, it’s our ace in the hole, our guarantee of a swift and total victory over our enemy.”

“Who’s that?” Mike asked.

“The occupiers of the Valley, of course.”

“How are they the enemy if you don’t know anything about them?” asked Mike, getting a look from Sergio.

“We know all about the group. It pays to have someone on the inside, don’t you think, Mike?”

“Sure, I guess you’re right.”

* * * *

“What’s this?” asked Mike, as they headed towards large buildings with planes and helicopters flying and landing, only to do it again.

They pulled up to what looked like an old airport but full of men running around like they had seen a ghost.

“They are like dogs when their owner returns from work,” Baker said, uttering this trip’s only words. “They will greet you at the door, wagging their tail, while at the same time waiting for punishment for diddling on the carpet.”

Mike saw two black helicopters, not the Blackhawks the real Colonel had shown up in the first time they met, but older clunkier versions that could still fly at the end of the day and were more than Saddle Ranch had.

He counted four planes in all, practicing the takeoffs and landings.

“What are all these for?” he asked Sergio quietly.

“The Great Battle,” he responded, “and the air power to keep it.”

“How can we defend against that with only rifles?” Mike asked.

“You can’t,” replied Sergio.

“If we have any chance, I need to get that book,” said Mike.

“Tonight,” replied Sergio. “There will surely be a test alarm before heading out again. You will have exactly five minutes and no more. If you are caught, you will be shot on sight and will be of no help to your friends.”

Mike considered his options of finding out the battle plans and risking everything, or taking what he already knew and striking out on his own to warn them.

“It’s impossible,” said Mike. “He has the key around his neck at all times, and I can’t just take the box without him noticing.”

“There is one more key,” said Sergio, rubbing his stubbled chin.

“Where?” asked Mike.

“Dr. Baker, his granddaughter, has it. But whenever anyone tried to get close to her before, they failed, disappearing without a trace.”

“Max—he’s been close to her, really close,” said Mike. “I bet he can borrow it, so to speak, and have it back ten minutes later.”

“I’m not sure it’s even possible, but if it can be done, it has to be tonight,” replied Sergio.

* * * *

The airport check took an hour, with every man saluting Baker as the real deal. Planes and helicopters were to be loaded on truck trailers, saving precious jet fuel.

Mike overheard Baker on his ham radio, instructing the men and women already at the Horsetooth Lake location to be ready to move tomorrow morning and settle in the next valley over from Saddle Ranch, just behind the Rimrock.

“Make an airstrip 2,000 feet long, cut into the field,” he said. “Secure both entrances as much as you can and then await further instructions.”

“I thought we had more time,” Mike told Sergio—“at least two or three weeks; now we’re lucky if it’s half that.”

* * * *

Rumors flew around the Baker camp faster than the two months prior to a presidential election before the day. Everyone knew there was to be a big announcement tomorrow, and most in the camp were nervous about it. They had been promised safety in a fertile valley but knew they would have to fight for it. There’s always some truth to a “in the hand” saying, and most residents, if ever asked, would say they would rather stay right here. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough and directly in front of them.

Mike found Max working in the infirmary and