Ever Hayes - Emergency Exit

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.”

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.

The first few weeks of May were pretty tense. Leaving the cave for anything more than a bathroom break wasn’t an option, considering the amount of traffic around and over us. The drones were back out in force. We didn’t know how long they would keep this up, but we felt pretty confident they would do so until there was absolutely no resistance.

A construction crew was sent in to check out and rebuild the entry to our road. We kept a close eye on their progress. Tension was peaking again. We had to get to Hawaii as soon as possible, because as every day passed the enemy was likely to be focusing more and more of their presence on the last remaining piece of the puzzle. Eventually there would be no way to get there. It would normally go without saying we had to be there before that day came, but to double emphasize that point, I’m saying it anyway.

We’d come to know each other pretty well throughout the past five months. That tends to happen when there are fourteen of you trapped in a cave barely larger than the size of your average living room. Given the tight quarters, Tara and I didn’t want to serve as a constant reminder to Jenna of Cameron’s absence, so we cooled things off a bit physically, which was probably for the best. Extenuating circumstances are known to cause some pretty volatile relationships. We wanted to do this right, so if we survived we could take the relationship somewhere. We sat and talked for hours every day, and we still slept beside each other, but there was no more hand holding and very little kissing, even in private. We didn’t want to be disrespectful to anyone. We’d come to know nearly everything about each other. She was more than I ever dreamed I’d find…again.

When Tara wasn’t with me, she was with Reagan. They’d spent hundreds of hours in conversation as well, and I could tell how much Tara’s personal experiences were helping Reagan battle her own emotional demons. Reagan turned twenty-five in February, and she said it was the most friends she’d ever had at a birthday party. Daughter of the vice president had to have been some kind of life. And clearly not all positive.

Jenna had been spending a lot of time with Blake. There was nothing romantic there—yet—but Blake was there when Cameron died, and Jenna knew how much Cameron thought of him. For her, it was probably best there was no room for romance either.