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

this small coastal fishing village and move to Mexico City, then LA, and eventually NYC, where you will run your expanding enterprise.”

 

The Mexican fisherman asked, “But, how long will this take?”

 

To which the American replied, “About 15-20 years.”

 

“But what then?”

 

The American laughed and said, “That’s the best part! When the time is right, you would announce an IPO and sell your company stock to the public and become very rich. You would make millions!”

 

“Millions?” asked the fisherman. “Then what?”

 

The American said, “Then you would retire—move to a small coastal fishing village where you would sleep late, fish a little, play with your kids, take siesta with your wife, stroll to the village in the evening, sip wine and play your guitar with your amigos!”

                                                                                            (Author Unknown)

“Bravo!” announced Beatrice, clapping and surprised she had never heard it before.

James smiled and shook his head in agreement. “Yes, I get your point. We make a choice to go through all this, just to hope to get back what we have right now—years down the road, if ever.”

“Precisely,” said David. “But the fisherman in this story was a free man. Free to make a choice for himself without it being made for him. That’s where this is different,” he added, waving his right arm in a large circle. “What we have here, what you have here, James, is no longer a simple choice of wanting more or getting rich. This homestead you have is only as good as it can be protected. When they come like locusts to a farmer’s field, they will take it or burn it—ours too. But how long until we have to be concerned about it—20 years, 10, 5, 1? How many?”

David had everyone’s attention, like a suddenly silent magician performing a Vegas show.

All were in silent contemplation for another minute.

“And what about our kids?” added James. “What will we leave for them? Memories of a good year, or maybe even five, or a chance at real and lasting freedom because we chose to sacrifice now?”

“It’s what they used to call a ‘no-brainer,’” chimed in Beatrice. “We can’t live free if we can’t live free. I’ve lived a good long life, free and unafraid. These children deserve the same. We almost had it. We surely did, but it was just an illusion—the kind of peace a person has just before they step on a rattlesnake and everything changes in a split second! Wishing it were different doesn’t make it so… I still want to be Head Chef, no matter where we end up,” she added. “Any house can be a home if you let it, but I’m going to need some help if we’re going to feed a lot more mouths.”

“I’m sure we can make that happen, Mom,” said David. “And James, Mel and I still need to run it by our better halves, and the others camped up there as well.”

“Well, we still need to discuss it more here too,” replied James.

“Can you stay for lunch?” asked Janice.

“Oh, that would be wonderful!” replied Beatrice.

“We’ve got this,” offered Lauren. “Relax, Beatrice. You’ve earned it.”

“Oh no. You tell me what to do, and we’ll get this done together. The more I sit, the closer I get to dying—and I’ll do that on my feet, so help me, God!”

Both Janice and Lauren laughed at that. “Me too, Beatrice,” replied Janice. “Me too.”

* * * *

They left the men on the porch, where the conversation turned from “if” to “how.”

“You know they are not going easy,” said James.

“You mean the new Sheriff, right?” asked Mel.

“Yes, her and Judge Lowry. I’m not sure exactly how they are connected, only that they are. One thing is for sure—neither one can stay.”

“Well, I’m sure the Colonel would take care of it,” said Jason.

“I’m sure he would,” said David, seeing where James was headed and jumping in. “The question is,” he continued, “do we want him to?”

“I’m not following,” said Jason.

“What I mean is, do we want the Colonel handling our business like a boss, or would we rather have him as more of a consultant, carrying a heavy stick only when we have no choice—like up at our place on the mountain?”

“I see your point,” conceded Jason, getting a nervous look on his face that James knew all too well.

“We’re just talking here, Jason,” James said, calming him down. “There’s a long way to go between here and there, so don’t worry about it yet.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he sighed. “I just wonder when it’s all going to be over, is all.”

Nobody spoke… Nobody had an answer.

“Suppertime, boys!” called Janice from inside.

“To be continued…” said James, as they all headed in for the meal.

“Beef ravioli in homegrown tomato sauce,” Janice proudly announced, “and a garden salad—Beatrice-style, with all the fixings.”

“Sounds great,” they all agreed, reserving the conversation at hand to another time.

* * * *

Jason got the truck ready, tidying up the cab before Beatrice climbed in.

“Are you okay coming back down by yourself, Jason?” asked David.

“Sure, the town is already patrolling the road up there once a day, for better or worse,” replied Jason.

“Worse probably!” replied Mel.

“We need to talk soon, like maybe tomorrow,” said James. “Before the Colonel comes back, at least.”

* * * *

It was a restless night in both camps, and David had vowed to stop by after dropping Mark off for his doctor’s appointment the next day.

“Long doctor’s appointment, I guess,” said James, when David and Mel came back late the following morning.

“Long enough to drop him off first, have his appointment, and then a lunch date with a certain girl,” said David. “I’ll pick him up this afternoon. How much trouble can he really get into? He can