Ever Hayes - Emergency Exit

We found an intact home in the hills above the old YMCA camp, and everyone cleaned up, dried off, and ate. Danny and Cameron gave us all the details on their encounter with Eddie and his men. It wasn’t lost on anyone that Danny’s questionable decision in Wyoming seemed to have a remarkably positive effect on the captain. Even if he was still planning to kill us later . For now, he’d saved Hayley, and it was hard for me not to appreciate him at least a little for that.

Danny didn’t say so, but I could tell he was relieved. He’d saved a lot of people today. The rest of us had been kind of hard on him yesterday, and now we weren’t about to let him forget the redeeming value of his decisions. Emily spent several hours “taking care” of Hayley—an amusing reversal—and I learned a great deal about Tara in a lengthy casual chat. Passionate “New Kids on the Block” fan. She didn’t bring Sophie up, and I wasn’t asked to spill my life story. It was great. We sat close to each other, laughed, teased each other, and even touched from time to time. We were beginning our relationship as friends. If that progressed, as we both seemed to think it could, the time for deeper conversations would come.

Before we all wrapped up the night with what we needed most—sleep—we spent some personal time with Sam and Isaac and held a brief open-forum, prayer memorial for Wes and Nathan. Everyone had a lot to say about a lot of different things, but in the end we wrapped our arms around each other and looked to Sam as he read the words to one of his dad’s favorite songs, “Be Still” by The Fray. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. Sam’s voice broke before he could finish, but Isaac whispered the rest for him. There was a long pause when they finished, as the words sank in, and then I heard myself say “Amen,” and a half dozen other voices echoed it. Dad closed in prayer and together we bid thank you and goodbye to a wonderful father and lost friend.

We’d been in Estes Park for a month. A lot had changed. A lot hadn’t.

There were still thirteen of us, thanks to Jenna’s excellent care of Mom and Isaac. The conditions hadn’t exactly been ideal, but we woke up every day with the mantra, “It could be worse.”

We ended up being wrong about the Lake Estes dam. It didn’t give out that night. It gave out the next afternoon. It washed down Highways 34 and 36 and caused more damage than could be repaired in any short amount of time, and the snow wasn’t too far behind. Danny and Cameron went down Highway 36 with explosives to “make the water damage worse.” Together with the water, they rendered it impossible for anyone to get to Estes Park by that avenue.

There were now only three remaining ways into Estes Park, all to the west, and they all converged on Trail Ridge Road. Ute Trail went up from the south and peaked about halfway up Trail Ridge, but it could barely be considered an option as it was nothing more than a one-lane dirt path barely wide enough for a tricycle. And we weren’t too worried about these soldiers having tricycles .

Old Fall River Road cut up the mountains from the northeast side, meeting Trail Ridge Road at its summit in the Alpine Visitor Center parking lot. Old Fall River Road always closed at first snow because it was bordered by “avalanche alley.” Anyone foolish enough to go up or down that road from November to March usually died, either by avalanche or getting stuck. Once the first snow came, we weren’t worried about that road.

Our only remaining worry had been the main Trail Ridge Road. It typically was closed by December, but all the equipment to keep it open was kept at the top of the mountain, where helicopters would fly in with the road crews. It was also the ideal site for a military base. Similar to Hitler’s Eagle’s Nest in Germany .

We knew we were stuck here until spring, and even then, no matter which way we tried to go we’d have to pass the Alpine Visitor Center. If we were correct in our assumptions, and that was a base site, we had no idea how we’d pull off our exit, but that was at least five months from now. We had to survive winter first.

Fortunately, we received about ten feet of snow over a three-day period the last few days of October. Both the Old Fall River and Trail Ridge roads were completely shut by the fifth of November. No one was getting here by land. Not until spring.

The only way in now was by air and, as it turned out, the enemy forces used that method many times. It seemed every day we had a drone fly over and back, mostly in the afternoon, and helicopters descended into Estes Park regularly. Heckuva lot attention paid to one small town! Sam confirmed the drones were the same FOTROS ones they’d seen back in their bunker by Devil’s Lake.

Danny knew they were Iranian, one of the few types of drones that could do both recon and bombing. The American military had similar drones that Special Ops used. Danny described them as “nasty suckers.” We took his word for it. They were likely being monitored from Denver or Colorado Springs.

The helicopters, on the other hand, all seemed to come from the top of Trail Ridge Road. None of them ever headed the other direction. That confirmed our fears that there was a permanent patrol or two stationed up by the Alpine Visitor Center for the winter. The troops they flew in never seemed to search much beyond town. The first day they flew in was the last day we stayed in town. We couldn’t compete with their technology, dogs, and numbers for long.

We hadn’t seen a lot of other Americans ourselves. Maybe a dozen, at most. It’s possible some of them saw us while we were collecting supplies, but we had yet to speak to any of them, and we were convinced their numbers would dwindle with each subsequent troop visit. We knew we needed to get out of town.

Northwest of Estes Park, several trails ran near the Alluvial Fan at the base of Bighorn Mountain, one of the area’s longest chains of natural waterfalls. The aptly named Roaring River came down the fan out of the mountains and staircased into a low-lying basin, generally known as Horseshoe Park, which also contained the Sheep Lakes. The area was a popular feeding ground for elk and bighorn sheep and, as a result, mountain lions. The popular Lawn Lake Trail ascended the right side of the chain of falls. We knew that trail well.

We knew the fan’s ever-flowing river and falls would provide constant fresh water and have plenty of wildlife nearby. The area also had several large, bighorn-inhabited caves. We were intent on negotiating a lease with them for a few months. For better or worse, the fan sat right at the foot of Old Fall River Road, almost exactly a ten-mile drive down from the Alpine Visitor Center.

We found our cave on the right side of the falls, surrounded by thick woods and carved right into Bighorn Mountain. The sheep were reluctant to leave, but we arguably needed it more than they did. We worked it out. With two relatively obscure entrances, it was the perfect place to hide out for a few months.

The main entrance opened to the west, facing the Alluvial Fan and the summit of Old Fall River Road. We knew we’d have to conceal that entry more. It was pretty exposed to the passing trail. The “back” entry emerged onto a wraparound porch-like ledge, which could only be accessed by the Spiderman-like sheep or mountain lions. That ledge provided a nearly 180-degree view of Horseshoe Park, but it was only about five feet wide with a steep twenty-foot drop to the rocks below. It would be treacherous in winter, but it was a design feature hundreds of my Pinterest architecture “friends” would have enjoyed a few years ago.