Read Online Founders by James Wesley Rawles - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: James Wesley Rawles
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Club cup (Ken’s left in Bronco)
$23.10 face value in pre-1965 silver dimes and quarters
3 bandoleers of 7.62 Ball (one is short 20 rounds)
40 rounds of .308 150 Gr. Spire Point soft nose
1 spare HK 20-round magazine, alloy (loaded with soft nose)
4 bandoleers of 5.56 Ball (one is short 60 rounds)
1 spare 30-round AR magazine, steel (loaded with tracers)
2 match safes with strike anywhere matches
2 spare 9-volt DC batteries
T’s Bible
Being thorough, she added another list below:
In pockets or carried:
LED minilight
1 tin of foot powder (half full?)
Headset radios
Gloves with liners
Tylenol (27 left)
Two bottles purification tablets (about 190 left)
DPM boonie hats
DPM jackets and raincoats
K’s wallet (mine left in car)
T’s sunglasses (Ken’s left in Bronco)
K’s key ring with Proto screwdriver & P-38 can opener (mine left in car)
Bench-made tanto pocketknife (K’s Cold Steel Voyager XL pocketknife left in Bronco)
Wish we had:
K’s study Bible (left in Bronco)
GPS (left in car)
Gerber Omnivore LED flashlights (both left in car and Bronco)
Fishing kit
Full-size tent
Fry pan
Tweezers
Hard candies
Granola bars
More food!
More ammo!
Sunscreen
Mosquito repellent
Gaiters
Better variety of plastic bags
Katadyn water filter (one left in Bronco, one left at Todd’s in Idaho)
Each time that Terry mentioned something that had been left behind in the Mustang and the Bronco, Ken groaned. But then, when she’d finished the list, Ken said resignedly, “We can’t worry about what we lost. We’re never getting any of that back. That’s just water under the bridge. I know it’s hard, but we even have to forgive the people that robbed us.”
Terry snorted. “I’ll let you know when I feel ready to do that. Don’t hold your breath.”
Ken gave Terry a hug and said, “I know it’s really hard, but we’ve got to let it go. It’s the Christian thing to do.”
“And shooting those guys?”
Ken answered, “That’s different. They were still in the act. That’s not revenge. And for those that lived, now it’s time for us to forgive.”
Terry gave Ken a kiss and said, “Okay. I’ll try. I’ll pray about it.Your turn to sleep, until it gets dark. I’ll wake you then—I figure that’ll be about four hours.”
Early in the afternoon, Terry first heard and then saw a group of people walking alongside the river, on the same bank that they were hidden. She woke Ken, pressing her index finger over his lips, to warn him to be quiet.
They lay still, watching the group as it passed by. They counted twenty-two people—fifteen adults and seven children. All of them were African American, carrying their belongings in backpacks. They moved downstream, oblivious to the Laytons’ presence. The adults were carrying guns, but only the man in the lead carried his gun at the ready. He was armed with a Saiga 12 shotgun. All the rest had their rifles slung on their shoulders. Some also had holstered pistols. They had an odd assortment that included two AKs, several scoped deer rifles, an AR-180, a SIG-556, and a couple of .22 rimfire rifles. As they passed, several of the people in the group were talking loudly, debating whether the water in the river was safe to drink. Several children were complaining about the weight of their loads.
Two minutes after the group was out of sight around a bend in the river, Terry whispered, “Amazing. Talk about an invitation to get ambushed.”
Ken nodded. “Yeah, notice how they were mostly clumped up? And the guy out front wasn’t acting like a real point man, either. Their spacing—er ‘intervals’—sucked.”
“Noise discipline was sucky, too.”
Ken sighed. “I hope they don’t have to learn those lessons the hard way. At least they had the sense to get out of Chicago.”
Terry gave a thumbs-up and said, “Yep, bonus points for that.”
“That’s the way I want to see everyone from here on,” Ken said. “From concealment, and
$23.10 face value in pre-1965 silver dimes and quarters
3 bandoleers of 7.62 Ball (one is short 20 rounds)
40 rounds of .308 150 Gr. Spire Point soft nose
1 spare HK 20-round magazine, alloy (loaded with soft nose)
4 bandoleers of 5.56 Ball (one is short 60 rounds)
1 spare 30-round AR magazine, steel (loaded with tracers)
2 match safes with strike anywhere matches
2 spare 9-volt DC batteries
T’s Bible
Being thorough, she added another list below:
In pockets or carried:
LED minilight
1 tin of foot powder (half full?)
Headset radios
Gloves with liners
Tylenol (27 left)
Two bottles purification tablets (about 190 left)
DPM boonie hats
DPM jackets and raincoats
K’s wallet (mine left in car)
T’s sunglasses (Ken’s left in Bronco)
K’s key ring with Proto screwdriver & P-38 can opener (mine left in car)
Bench-made tanto pocketknife (K’s Cold Steel Voyager XL pocketknife left in Bronco)
Wish we had:
K’s study Bible (left in Bronco)
GPS (left in car)
Gerber Omnivore LED flashlights (both left in car and Bronco)
Fishing kit
Full-size tent
Fry pan
Tweezers
Hard candies
Granola bars
More food!
More ammo!
Sunscreen
Mosquito repellent
Gaiters
Better variety of plastic bags
Katadyn water filter (one left in Bronco, one left at Todd’s in Idaho)
Each time that Terry mentioned something that had been left behind in the Mustang and the Bronco, Ken groaned. But then, when she’d finished the list, Ken said resignedly, “We can’t worry about what we lost. We’re never getting any of that back. That’s just water under the bridge. I know it’s hard, but we even have to forgive the people that robbed us.”
Terry snorted. “I’ll let you know when I feel ready to do that. Don’t hold your breath.”
Ken gave Terry a hug and said, “I know it’s really hard, but we’ve got to let it go. It’s the Christian thing to do.”
“And shooting those guys?”
Ken answered, “That’s different. They were still in the act. That’s not revenge. And for those that lived, now it’s time for us to forgive.”
Terry gave Ken a kiss and said, “Okay. I’ll try. I’ll pray about it.Your turn to sleep, until it gets dark. I’ll wake you then—I figure that’ll be about four hours.”
Early in the afternoon, Terry first heard and then saw a group of people walking alongside the river, on the same bank that they were hidden. She woke Ken, pressing her index finger over his lips, to warn him to be quiet.
They lay still, watching the group as it passed by. They counted twenty-two people—fifteen adults and seven children. All of them were African American, carrying their belongings in backpacks. They moved downstream, oblivious to the Laytons’ presence. The adults were carrying guns, but only the man in the lead carried his gun at the ready. He was armed with a Saiga 12 shotgun. All the rest had their rifles slung on their shoulders. Some also had holstered pistols. They had an odd assortment that included two AKs, several scoped deer rifles, an AR-180, a SIG-556, and a couple of .22 rimfire rifles. As they passed, several of the people in the group were talking loudly, debating whether the water in the river was safe to drink. Several children were complaining about the weight of their loads.
Two minutes after the group was out of sight around a bend in the river, Terry whispered, “Amazing. Talk about an invitation to get ambushed.”
Ken nodded. “Yeah, notice how they were mostly clumped up? And the guy out front wasn’t acting like a real point man, either. Their spacing—er ‘intervals’—sucked.”
“Noise discipline was sucky, too.”
Ken sighed. “I hope they don’t have to learn those lessons the hard way. At least they had the sense to get out of Chicago.”
Terry gave a thumbs-up and said, “Yep, bonus points for that.”
“That’s the way I want to see everyone from here on,” Ken said. “From concealment, and
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