Families First: A Post-Apocalyptic Next-World Series Volume 6 Battle Grounds by Lance Ewing (ereader for comics .txt) 📕

had heard hundreds of times over the years and wondered where he was tonight. “Take care of your family, Tom,” I whispered. “They are coming here and there.”

Sitting in silence, I clutched my AR and thought about stories I had heard about Military guards falling asleep at their posts.

“Not me,” I said aloud, standing and realizing I had the advantage of moving around and getting my blood moving to stay awake.

It didn’t hurt that I was scared. Not like last time exactly, where we faced a small number of them, but now realizing there were many more coming over the hill for a final battle…and honestly, how many times can one man escape death in a hostile world?

By 2:30 a.m. I realized I wasn’t the only one wandering around outside. The crew of Lonnie, Jake, Vlad, Aiden and Shane made their presence known with our new friend. The veterinarian asked to join Sarah at the hospital. More than a few women walked the property with confidence, armed to the teeth, but thankfully no children under the age of 17 that I saw. I felt a pit in my stomach, like I had ten times before after the day, but this time it was not the same. All those before were trying to survive to get to this Valley. Now we were here, and if we were victorious we could at least have a chance of starting over, a clean slate wiped of road tears, blood and sacrifice, a chance to start anew and farm the fertile soil, focused on family and friends for the foreseeable future. I took this chance, as did all the others, and had traveled more than 800 miles for a better life. I wouldn’t trade it now, couldn’t trade it now. Gathering my travel companions, who had all become family together, I snuck a look at my watch, reading 3:37 a.m.

Someone went to find Jim minutes before, but at the agreed upon time we all were there, even Mike.

Grabbing an empty white five-gallon bucket, I filled it with small rocks of various sizes and held it by its handle.

“You have stood by my family and me,” I started, “since the very beginning. Any of you could have denounced us, run away from us, deceived us, or been indifferent to us, but none of you chose that path. You instead chose to support us, praise us, defend us, and put your lives in the same bucket as ours.”

I swirled the bucket as I spoke, with the rocks occasionally clanging together but rotating smoothly around in a circle. “We are in this bucket, all of us who once had different hopes and dreams for our future and that of our families.” I intentionally swirled the bucket faster, as the rocks of all sizes stopped clanking and swirled in harmony.

“Though there are some among us who are single thus far—no matter, we are all family now. When one falls, we all fall,” I said, slinging the contents of the bucket into a nearby wall. Each rock slammed the wall with varying intensity, but all fell to the ground in a uniform pile.

“This is my home!” I stated loudly. “It has always been my home. It is home to more than 200 God-fearing people, all a family now, and I, for one, will die a happy man protecting this Valley from all who would seek to destroy it. If you are with me, say ‘I!’ If you are with me, say ‘Us!’ If you are with me!” I said in a near-primal scream, say, “Families First!!”

“Families First” was broadcast so loudly, I was sure Baker had heard it in the next valley over. I smiled for just a minute, forgetting about all in the bunkers we were fighting for—scared to death, no doubt, about what they could not see.

“Lock and load!” I called out, with everyone following suit and heading silently to the machine shop.

“What was that all about?” asked Mac when we arrived. “Baker himself may have heard it!” he added.

“I hope so,” I responded unapologetically.

* * * *

Front-line fighters trickled in over the next 45 minutes. Some were ready to go, some were visibly sick, and most fell somewhere in between.

“With the exception of Mike and Sergio,” I whispered to Jake, “the rest of us just want this to be over. A quick victory leading right into the farmer’s family life and homeschooling the kids.”

“I know, brother. It’s great to think about, but we have a river of blood to cross before we ever see that happen.”

“With all that you know now, do you wish you had never met me?” I asked.

“Truth be told,” he replied, “you aren’t the first one to ask me that. In fact, you’re the third adult to do so since we left our home in Plano.”

I wracked my brain to think of who else—besides his wife, obviously, who would have a valid point—would ask such a question.

I didn’t ask but waited for his answer.

“I lived in Plano,” he responded after almost a minute of silence. “The same city Vlad’s gun shop was in, about to be run over by thugs and thieves. In the same city, a true rancher named Jessup staked his family’s claim for generations. Vlad knew his time was short, as did Jessup. I’ll bet you silver to worthless dollars it’s a leveled city of burned-out buildings and ranches, from one town border to another. So, the quick answer is no. I’m not wishing that we never met you and your family. You saved our lives, and now I have a chance to pay back that debt. Mark my words, I will pay it or die trying.”

* * * *

“Okay, everyone! Gather over here!” called Mac several times, until most were within normal talking distance. “We are told they will strike at dawn. I have