Rohan Nation: Reinventing America after the 2020 Collapse, 3rd Ed

By Drew Miller

ROHAN NATION tells the compelling story of how survivors of biological and electro-magnetic pulse warfare fight to defend and reinvent America. The disasters that lead to the collapse of America in 2020, and billions of deaths worldwide, are based on sound research and analysis, the predictable results of on-going mistakes. ACE, the teenage daug

• Language: English
• Publisher: Responsibility Press
• Release date: Nov 14, 2017
• ISBN: 9780984370931

Drew Miller

Dr. Drew Miller is a USAF Academy graduate, with a Masters Degree and PhD from Harvard University. He served as an active duty intelligence officer in the Air Force, retiring as a Colonel in the USAF Reserve. Drew has also served in the Senior Executive Service at the Pentagon, in many business management positions, and as an elected official. He is now CEO of Fortitude Ranch, a recreational and survival community.

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Praise for

Rohan Nation: Reinventing America after the 2020 Collapse

"Drew Miller weaves a cautionary tale about what we must do now if we are to prevent the utterly preventable—the destruction of our country, our constitutional form of government, and our way of life.  Rohan Nation’s gripping portrayal of the consequences of such a disaster should concentrate all of our minds, providing a roadmap for corrective action and a basis for holding accountable any who fail to take it."

—Frank J. Gaffney, Jr., President, Center for Security Policy

This book is right on the mark.  The perils of the current drift towards Socialism and the results of ignoring the threats to our personal liberty become vivid.  This fine book should be required reading for Congressmen, Senators, and Presidential incumbents & candidates.  They need to visualize the potential effects on life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness when we deviate from the Constitution.

—Mike Harper, former CEO RJR Nabisco and ConAgra Inc

"Despite the convincingly scary details of the bioengineered virus threat and how our collapse is likely to play out, Rohan Nation is not just entertaining but uplifting as you read about Americans surviving and rebuilding the country.  A very well written, moving, exciting, action adventure book."

—Mark Cross, Amazon.com book review of first edition

If you to want to survive a societal collapse, whether it is brought on by EMP, pandemic disease, natural catastrophe, or a collapse of the American economy, it’s not that difficult to prepare ahead of time, but it can go very hard on you if you are caught unprepared.

—Dave Duffy, Editor, Backwoods Home Magazine

Dr. Drew Miller has written a great book on the aftermath of America after a collapse.  The character development and exceptional knowledge of the situation set forth is convincing and inspiring.  Dr. Miller has truly given America something to think about.

—Glenn Freeman, author of A Republic . . . if you can keep it

Rohan Nation is a wake up call for each of us to prepare for disasters. If people become members of survival communities like Fortitude Ranch they can not only increase their odds of surviving any type of collapse, but avoid many of the horrors and mental anguish that people without this protection will certainly face.  This is a thrilling and convincing story, one that will help you understand the benefits of preparing as a group!

—Rick Cox, Chief Operating Officer, Fortitude Ranch

RH edition 2 inner title page.JPG

Rohan Nation:  Reinventing America after the 2020 Collapse

Third Edition, October 2017

Copyright 2017 by Drew Miller

© Drew Miller, Certificate of Copyright Registration:  Txu 1-606-737, Dec 18, 2007

All rights reserved under International Copyright Conventions.

ISBN: 978-0-9843709-8-6

Printed in the United States of America 

Responsibility Press, www.responsibilitypress.org

Dr. Drew Miller can be contacted at [e-mail]

Cover design by George Foster, Illustrations by Albert R. Drelicharz

Dedication

––––––––

To the Founding Fathers and Ayn Rand for getting it 95% right.

To Anti-Federalists George Mason and Robert Yates, who rightly warned that the federal government would ignore limits to its power and trample individual liberties. 

To citizens who take responsibility for their actions and work to ensure that government is also responsible: focusing on defense, obeying Constitutional limits, and staying out of areas that are the proper responsibility of families and individuals. 

To military servicemen and women, law enforcement, and first responders who risk their lives to protect us.

To Annabeth, Annaclarice, and others who will shelter at Fortitude Ranch and hopefully survive the coming collapse.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Chapter 1:  ACE and Prismatic

Chapter 2:  The Ways of the Sangre de Cristo Rohan

Chapter 3:  Front Range Patrol

Chapter 4:  Alea Iacta Est (The Die is Cast)

Chapter 5:  The Gathering Alliance

Chapter 6:  Walsenburg Ghetto

Chapter 7:  Battle of Pueblo

Chapter 8:  Thermopylae, 2023

Chapter 9:  Nuclear Shell Game

Chapter 10:  Great Plains Nation

Chapter 11:  Campfire Culture

Chapter 12:  Death on a Pale Horse

Chapter 13:  Tactical Nuclear Cavalry Combat

Chapter 14:  Veni, Vidi, Vici  (Came, Saw, Conquered)

Chapter 15:  A Nation as Good as the Horse?

Chapter 16:  Traversing Texas

Chapter 17:  For Want of Great Missions

Chapter 18:  The Joys of Formlessness

Chapter 19:  Responsibility

Chapter 20:  The Categorical Imperative

Chapter 21:  Horse Nations Rebellion

Chapter 22:  Black Friday

Chapter 23:  Spirit of the Heartland

Chapter 24:  Reinvention

Chapter 25:  Reconstitution

Chapter 1:  ACE and Prismatic

ACE continued her slow, careful sweep of the valley with the night vision scope of her rifle. The first rays were oozing over Cuchara Pass, starting to reach the western, upper mountains of Forbes Park. Dark or light, anyone foolish enough to walk out in the open meadow valley would be easily spotted. But most foolish folks had already been killed. Marauders maneuvering in for an assault on the compound, or refugees trying to sneak through en route to another hiding spot, would likely be walking inside the darkness of the forest.

ACE didn’t keep the AR-15 under the blanket, but heat rising off the two of them kept the rifle from freezing. She lifted the assault rifle, the civilian version of the old military M-16, up to his left ear and gazed through the scope at the dull green images. The low light scope was on maximum magnification. A soda straw view, but since ACE knew exactly where the threats would be, the narrow field of vision worked.

She held tight to him, rising slowly on top of him as he inhaled, then settling gently down for a few seconds before cycling through another breath. She loved holding him, feeling his powerful muscles, sharing his reactions to a change in sound or smell, trying to guess his thoughts. Sometimes she’d try to synchronize her breathing with him, but his rate was too slow for her.

While tempting to keep her hands inside the blanket on his warm body, it was time to slip her hands back out into the cold to scan one last time before her shift ended. After thousands of such sweeps, she quickly found her post’s far right marker and slowly started sweeping left, looking for any movement or human-like shape along the forest edge. One normally could see people ten to thirty yards into the trees. In the dark of night, they’d walk closer to the edge, wanting to get more moonlight, mistakenly thinking they could not be seen, forgetting the hundreds of thousands of night vision binoculars and rifle scopes sold in the U.S. before the collapse. Two deer, but as ACE completed the sweep of her sector and reached Meadow Lake, she saw no signs of danger.

Her unique positioning, hanging on the side of Prismatic while performing sentry duty, worked very well. Sitting on the ground, or even in the saddle, there was a chance she might fall asleep. But standing on a stump, leaning over his withers in an embrace, ACE could relax and enjoy the warmth of his body and spirit while responsibly scanning across the meadow and accomplishing her duty.

ACE modified Guard Post Southwest so Prismatic could stand perpendicular to her field of watch and at a lower height above the ground. At 17 hands, Prismatic was too tall for ACE to see over. The trench for Prismatic lowered him and also provided good egress for a quick dash out of the watch post. With sentry duty three times a week, her work to modify the post had been well worth the effort. And though the joy of holding him might have been her primary motivation, feeling his slightest muscle movements and instantly sharing his alerts to strange sounds, smells, or motions was clearly beneficial. A few Rohirrim, as they called themselves, scoffed at this admittedly silly-looking stance for guard duty, but other horse lovers soon copied the practice and more guard posts were modified. Hector, the Chief of Security for the Rohan, was supportive since many guards had fallen asleep, despite hourly checks by Mary, the blind night sentry checker. Hector also accepted the argument that the close physical connection between sentry and steed enhanced the transmission of the horse’s senses and detection of activity to the guard. ACE didn’t tell him that Prismatic clearly enjoyed the closeness too. 

Three years earlier, before the collapse, ACE would have protested and schemed to avoid serving a two-hour sentry watch in freezing weather. But like other survivors of the nuclear strikes, fighting, and multiple waves of bioengineered viral pandemics, you either worked hard and lived responsibly or you died. Serving as a sentry to warn of the Pueblo gang or other marauders looking to rob or kill, was a responsibility no one in the Rohan capable of serving declined. ACE’s mom, Louise, boasted that at 17 years old her daughter was more responsible and trustworthy than adults were before the economy and almost every organized group activity ceased in 2020. ACE was proud of the small and relatively safe community they had established, and her role in making it work. But she still found herself longing for computer games, movies, and silly girlfriend chatter from the old days before the virus and break down.

An electric blanket to wrap around her feet would be a particularly welcome luxury from the modern times. Though late April, there was still snow on the ground at 9,000 feet in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains of southern Colorado. Keeping your feet warm on guard duty was the biggest problem. It was time again to pull tighter up on Prismatic’s back and lift her feet off the ground. The sun would start warming things up soon, but the temperature now was well below freezing. ACE liked this time of day when vanguards of sunlight started to miraculously bring things into view. Not the artificial green of the night vision scope, but the full range of colors and sharp details of the Colorado mountains. She’d seen the curtains rise like this on hundreds of sunrises, but it was still an amazing awakening. There was enough light now to see Prismatic’s breath, steaming out like someone smoking two pipes.

ACE had always loved horses, and done well in riding competitions back when she could enjoy such frivolities. But her bond with Prismatic and the riding abilities she developed over the past three years were an order of magnitude beyond her 2020 equestrian skills. Her life was busy then with school, cello lessons, playing, and whenever she could get there, riding at the stable a few miles from their suburban house. But that life was gone. Most of the people she knew dead. ACE was lucky that her mom and Prismatic survived—many in the Rohan had absolutely no living relatives. Most who made it through the initial calamities tried to hold out in cities and small towns, then fled to the mountains when they ran out of food or water, or could not protect themselves from marauders or the next wave of virus mutations. Her dad sent them fleeing to their well-prepared mountain log home a day before the first virus wave hit. ACE followed her mom’s advice and refused to waste time and squander peace of mind worrying about what might have happened to him. She told her to count her blessings instead, having Prismatic and a life that now revolved around working with her beloved animal partner. ACE and Prismatic were indeed inseparable companions now, together most hours of the day, 365 days a year.

Sometimes Prismatic would detect an intruder first, but ACE saw their motion in the trees before he did. She drew her binoculars and focused in. It looked like a small family band, at least two adults and a teen. ACE could tell they were people with good discipline and survival skills. They were not crashing through the valley in the open or announcing their coming with careless talk. They were traveling at night, in the woods, only rarely exposing themselves to view. They should have quit before sunrise.

She took another minute to size them up and made her plan. Prismatic still had not seen them, but knew what was happening and tensed with excitement. Last year, he would have neighed or snorted, but he had learned not to make a sound in times of trouble. ACE grabbed her bow and a signal arrow. She had a 45-pound pull, manufactured bow. Many Rohirrim carried composite or wood bows as well as a bullet shooting weapon. The bow was not just better for quiet signaling, but a sustainable weapon. ACE wrote a brief message on the arrow, took careful aim, and sent the signal arrow through the correct gap in the trees towards the south Praetor’s signal clearing. There was no wind and she knew the shot was true, so a second signal arrow wasn’t needed. The Praetor would get the message and gather the response group.

ACE abandoned the bow, and slipped onto her small English saddle on Prismatic’s back in a graceful merger. Not a leap into the air and plop onto the horse, but a smooth, flowing motion, sliding into place as if gravity had suddenly reversed or a powerful magnet drew her on top of him. Prismatic darted out of the trench and they trotted briskly in the trees, staying in the forest, not entering the open meadow. There was no fancy posting, but their motion as one was clearly top equestrian art. After they passed a slight rise in the meadow to block the intruder’s view, ACE turned Prismatic left and they charged into the meadow, accelerating to full gallop.

In the politically correct, irresponsible years before 2020, sending a teen age girl galloping to intercept a band of armed intruders would have brought charges of child abuse. In the Rohan, such unquestioned service was the norm. And for ACE, though she appreciated the danger, it was a duty of pleasure. Any opportunity to ride Prismatic was fun, but charging with Prismatic to stop an enemy was a fantasy dream come true. The computer riding games and sensey booths were good for giggles, but the rush of steed and adrenalin from a cavalry dash could not be matched with electrons or the latest nanotech stimulations.

In the high-tech, information revolution, net centric warfare era that defined the first two decades of the 21st century, few noticed that the population of horses in the U.S. was exploding as well as computer inventories, robots, nanodevices, and synthetic life forms. Horse enthusiasts were not anti-technology, but they certainly had much greater appreciation for nature than the typical American of 2020 who rarely did anything outside but walk, golf or drive. Indeed, the increase in virtual living and technological convenience just fueled the horse fanatic’s desire for real horseflesh. Some rode horses because their career success enabled them to afford a very expensive hobby for city and suburb dwelling folks. Others abandoned their serious careers to work at stables or live in poverty in an area where they could afford a small house and stable.

After the war in 2020 and three devastating waves of viruses that killed off at least 90% of the human population, horses were transformed from an expensive hobby to a life necessity. Most of the ten million horses in the U.S. survived the nuclear and bioengineered virus attacks. Many ended up being eaten by starving human survivors, others now served as man’s primary means of transportation and horsepower. While a revolutionary change for modern people with poor knowledge of history, it was more accurately a return to a role for horses and their relationship with man that had existed for thousands of years.

Most of the surviving population was thrust back into conditions close to the Middle Ages, but with several disadvantages. First, there were still areas of radioactive fallout to avoid and virus contaminations far worse than the Middle Age’s black plague that killed a third of Europe’s population, or the 1918 Spanish Flu that killed 100 million. Second, Middle Age populations were skilled to deal with Middle Age technologies and resources. Most citizens in developed countries had no clue how to milk a cow, skin a deer, or raise crops. Third, some of the population still had advanced weapons and ammo they could use to rob and kill. ACE used to love the movies about time travelers who went back to refight old battles armed with modern technology and weapons. She was now living this, and it was not simple, glamorous, or anything like what the films portrayed.

ACE’s mind was focused on this ride, this real mission, and their survival. She not only had to leave her sentry post and the safety of the Compound, but abandon sight of the intruders while she terrain masked to maneuver around and get ahead of them. Galloping along the meadow paths she knew well was not risky since sunlight was now illuminating the valley, but if the West Guard Post had failed to warn of other intruders moving in she might stumble into them. She and Prismatic once ran over a cub and past a big bear on a maneuver like this. The other danger was the possibility there were others in the intruder party ahead of the ones she spotted, and she might run headlong into gunfire.

ACE and Prismatic rounded the east side of Meadow Lake and stopped inside the forest edge on the east side of Lost Solar Creek. She estimated the intruders would be there in five minutes. Her instructions on the signal arrow directed the Rohan intercept party to come across the valley from the north towards her in security posture 4. It would be ACE’s job to size up the intruders and make the call as to whether they would be killed or queried. She dismounted and took up a concealed position, signaling Prismatic to go on guard.

ACE and Prismatic heard the intruders nearing the forest edge across the creek from them about the same time as the Rohan band appeared at the edge of the trees on the north side of the valley. The sun’s angle was good and the intruders were still in the forest, so ACE flashed a hold signal with a mirror, behind a large tree that blocked the intruder’s view. The Rohan riders waited at the forest edge while ACE searched for the intruders with her binoculars. She saw a handsome young teenage boy, unarmed, and a young woman, also unarmed. Both had heavy backpacks. The man was better camouflaged, with an AR-15 slung on his backpack and two other bags in his hands. ACE’s heart jumped when she saw the night vision goggles around his neck. The Rohan had but one pair of these invaluable tools. They would be a great acquisition.

She waited until they left the forest edge and started moving slowly out of the forest to cross the open area. ACE took a few more seconds to decide, then flashed 3 I Ex 4 and seven Rohan riders, two holding up white flags on long poles, started a slow trot across the valley, about a mile from the intruders. ACE rested her AR-15 on a boulder, trained on the man. The positioning and timing was perfect. The armed intruder was focused on crossing the opening and Lost Solar Creek, looking ahead at ACE’s well concealed position in the forest, not looking behind him at the valley as the riders silently moved forward. The intruders continued moving slowly towards ACE.

As they stopped at the creek’s edge, the teenage boy looked back and saw the approaching riders. He yelled a warning and all three dropped down and took cover. The man started reaching for his rifle.

ACE yelled out: It’s OK, don’t draw your weapon, we won’t shoot!

They had never seen ACE, and the shock of discovering approaching riders behind and a hidden person in front settled the decision for the man. They were out in the open, outnumbered, and clearly caught.

ACE knew his thoughts and yelled out again; You’ll be OK, we just want to talk with you and be sure you’re not a threat. Leave your rifle on the ground. Raise your hands and slowly stand up. They’re posting white flags, they won’t shoot you.

There was no choice. The man whispered something, then stood up with his hands raised as directed. He told the two others to stand as well.

Heinz was leading the party, as ACE expected, and he brought several of the Rohan’s best warriors. Hector Juarez, the former Chief of Police in Trinidad, Colorado served as head of security for the Sangre de Cristo Rohan. Chris Suddeth was Hector’s chief deputy, a former U.S. Army Special Operations warrior, the Rohan’s chief weapons expert and one of its best fighters. Willie Marshall was a poor horseman, but a very strong and capable fighter. Manuel Romero, Daiki Masako and Shelly Mapes rounded out the party.

As they approached the standard 50-foot virus safe distance, the group stopped and repositioned. The two end horsemen faced out, and another wheeled about to face to the rear. ACE stood up to reveal herself, and Prismatic let out a long-muffled snort to announce that he too was standing by, ready for action.

I’m Heinz, leader of the Sangre de Cristo Rohan. We mean you no harm, but we patrol our borders and check all folks passing by. Is anyone else with you?

No, we’re alone, the Intruder answered.

Please state your affiliation, your business, and your group’s state of health.

ACE could see the man relax a little. Heinz conveyed honesty and responsibility, and the man was clearly relieved that they were probably not going to be killed. We’re on our own. This is my son Justin, and this is Teresa Betts. We’ve been lucky, we don’t have any viruses. We’re just trying to find a safer place and hopefully some deer we can hunt.

He’s got night vision goggles, ACE called out.

Chris Suddeth almost leapt from his horse with this news. Holy shit, I get the vision goggles!

Heinz raised his hand to signal displeasure with this interjection and the intruder tensed up at what was starting to look like a polite robbery.

No, we won’t take your goggles, Heinz assured him. But I would like to talk with you for a few minutes and see if you might want to join our group. We can offer you some food, but of course, we need to keep a safe distance.

ACE had already come to the conclusion that the man was trustworthy and would be a valuable addition to the Rohan. She had not eaten her watch snack, and without direction from Heinz, ACE took her meal, plus some deer jerky and, since she was up wind, walked to Lost Solar Creek, placing the food on a boulder 20 feet from the intruders. Her assault rifle was slung over her shoulder. The intruders were clearly shocked to see that ACE was a girl, and a young girl at that. They were also clearly famished. The boy, ACE guessed about a year older than her, changed his look from contempt at their embarrassing capture, to anxious longing for the food left for them.

Prismatic followed ACE a few paces behind. They had worked out this on guard command where Prismatic would follow a few steps behind her. He seemed to understand danger perfectly, and held his head, ears and eyes in his most menacing repose, brandishing his teeth occasionally. ACE showed her teeth in a slight smile to the intruders and then, with one hand steadying the AR-15 on her shoulder and the other on the saddle, did an especially physical leap up on to Prismatic to show off her strength and equestrian skills—a show of force and flair for the intruders Heinz would now try to recruit to the Rohan.

Heinz began to talk with the intruders while ACE rode over to check in with Hector. She gave a crisp report on her observations. The negotiations seemed to be going well. The intruders inhaled the food ACE left for them. Hector ordered Daiki, an unusually tall Japanese-American, to return to ACE’s sentry post and dispatched Shelly to return to the Lodge to report on the intercept.

The lady in the group, Teresa Betts, looked like Anja, ACE’s German girl friend. Anja must surely be dead. Even in Bavaria, with relatively less overcrowding and some mountains, there were simply too many people. Last they heard was that viruses had ravaged Europe just as bad as the U.S. Nature had finally corrected the gross Homo Sapiens overpopulation, aided by biotechnology, Islamic terrorists, the Caliphate, China, or whatever party had spread the first virus. They probably had a vaccine for the virus they released. But hopefully the group at fault had not survived the viral mutations that yielded the second and third waves of epidemics, and perished from the offspring of the pestilence they planted.

Heinz completed the talks quickly and returned to the group. It was dangerous to be out in the meadows in daylight or around people who might be carriers. Heinz shared ACE’s favorable assessment of them, and they did want to join the Rohan. 

His name is Pete Williams, Heinz reported. He’s a former Army Ranger. He has working night vision goggles and over 200 rounds of ammo. They had two others with them, but they were killed in an ambush, probably a Pueblo Gang patrol. Killed all eight of the gang members that attacked them, but used up half their ammo. He’s a great add. 

Heinz turned to ACE. You did good, Kid. Lead ‘em to Quarantine Hut 1 and give ‘em the standard briefing. You know the drill.

Yes, sir.  ACE trotted off and instructed Mr. Williams and his group to follow her in.

ACE looked different from the typical pre-2020 girls in many ways. She was thin, increasingly rare as Americans continued to balloon despite decades of warnings about the huge health problems from being overweight. But what really made her appearance different were her muscles and look of dead seriousness. A young man would be proud to display biceps as large and well toned. Her powerful thigh muscles and stern look of discipline clearly marked ACE as a somber, capable horsewoman. She posted on Prismatic with ease and grace. Her dark blonde hair was hidden by a large black riding helmet. She had learned to hold her face still and emotionless, with an iron look of determination from her dad, a reserve military officer. But it was the horrible things she had experienced over the past three years that gave her a demeanor more like a combat veteran than teenage girl. Unless you heard her voice or had the angle to see her breasts, ACE could pass as a strong young male warrior riding a horse.

Prismatic was equally strong and fit. He was treated soft, but rode hard most days. While millions of survivors were still starving, Prismatic would not want for food—ACE made sure of that. He ate well, even if that meant giving up some of her own meager portions that were suitable for a horse. Prismatic was an eleven-year-old gelding, a solid liver chestnut colored American Saddlebred, not a speck of white or any other color. In addition to near perfect conformation for a Saddlebred, with the classic sharp downward slope from his croup, this equus caballus boasted Olympic caliber musculature, honed by daily mountain climbs and hours of patrols with ACE.

As a team, ACE and Prismatic were not only graceful, they were a perfect fighting machine for this new era. The stiff, formal posting of English riding had evolved into a smooth, effortless adjustment to Prismatic’s powerful muscles and gait. Prismatic and ACE were completely accommodated to each other, a magnificent, two-headed beast. ACE practiced her skills as a mounted scout with the discipline, responsibility and hard work taught and demanded in the Rohan. Prismatic was completely devoted to serving ACE. Armed with far better hearing and side mounted eyes that provided over 300 degrees of vision, Prismatic paired with ACE were a premier scouting force. They had proven their combat abilities in repulsing a Pueblo Gang attack, ACE’s first real battle and the second time she had killed people.

The Pueblo Gang would come back, this time with more warriors and knowledge of the Rohan’s defenses. There were new reports of Chinese soldiers slipping into the United States, confirming rumors from earlier refugees. Despite surviving three horrible years, the dangers weren’t dissipating.

Rather than riding Prismatic at a walk to the Quarantine Hut, ACE set the direction for the new recruits to head, then circled and herded them forward, trotting circles around them, keeping a safe distance away. Prismatic held his head up proudly and lifted his front hooves high. Heinz and Hector whispered and chuckled, well aware that ACE had ordered Prismatic to prance and show off for the Williams group. ACE was also in show mode, holding the reins high and sitting up perfectly straight, posting like she was enjoying a formal fox hunt. The teenage boy could not take his eyes off her.

While she appeared to be riding with indifference to them, her eyes blazing straight ahead, she was watching the boy closely and could feel his eyes on her. She could read his mind. Half an hour ago a starving fugitive, then a scared to death captive, and now a typical teenage boy thinking of sex. She would teach him better priorities. Reshape his weltanschauung. He would learn how to handle a horse, stand a watch, fight and work harder than he ever dreamed possible. Yes, she would break him. And if he didn’t rise to their standards he’d be banished from the Rohan.

Heinz was right. Americans had become lazy, irresponsible, focused on the pursuit of sex, money, and pleasures, unwilling to sacrifice and prepare for obvious threats all around them. What fools to think that Guns, Germs and Steel would no longer shape human history. For decades they partied at the Coliseum, enjoying the games and government handouts, the illusion of a protected empire. Sedated with unconstitutional entitlements. Freed from responsibility by a pandering political system, a corrupt culture, and professional soldiers who kept the wolves at bay, but were powerless against agents spreading viruses or nuclear weapons hidden on civilian airliners. 

In a firm, business-like tone, she started the introductory briefings for the newcomers on the strict code of conduct and discipline of the Sangre de Cristo Rohan. If they were going to join them and bolster their defenses they would have to abandon the irresponsible culture they had grown up with, learn the ways of the Rohan, and practice the Maxims that were key to rebuilding a responsible community here and eventually a reborn United States of America.

Chapter 2:  The Ways of the Sangre de Cristo Rohan

Justin awoke in Quarantine Hut One with the usual alarm of wondering where in the hell he was, what in the hell threat loomed now, and when in the hell they might eat again. The odor of cooked grain and grease signaled that things had taken a dramatic turn for the better.

In their first week of quarantine, Pete Williams, his son Justin, and Teresa Betts, were briefed on Rohan rules, questioned and tested on their skills, and given work they could perform in isolation such as gathering firewood. They ate well for the first time in over a year, rested, and adjusted to the thin air of the Sangre de Cristos.

Promptly at 0700 hours on Day Eight they moved into Quarantine Hut Two and were authorized to be near other Rohirrim, but not have any physical contact. They would not be allowed into the secure compound until passing the second week of quarantine with no signs of viral infection. 

During this last quarantine period they started more intensive training on combat and equine skills, and studied the philosophy of the Sangre de Cristo Rohan. The Rohan code of conduct was very demanding. Responsible behavior was not just desirable for survival, it was mandatory to stay in the Rohan. While some regarded it as pretentious vanity, the Rohan Council designed the code both to teach behaviors to maximize security and lay a foundation for rebuilding the United States without the irresponsibility that culminated in the 2020 disasters.

Mr. Williams was assigned to the Rohan military, sentinel and construction teams; Teresa Betts to crop tending and fuel recovery work. Justin was disgusted with his assignment to wood cutting and leather processing, but overjoyed with selection to receive training as a mounted scout. He had mixed feelings about ACE serving as his trainer. He was physically attracted to her, but found it humiliating to have a girl teaching him, particularly a younger girl. The fact that she had captured them also appalled, but there was no doubt that her horse skills were first rate. Justin had been dreaming of galloping through the woods shooting bad guys ever since seeing ACE and Prismatic.

Horses were the primary means of transportation, the main source of non-human work power, and the basis of Rohan military might. ACE would add best source of fun and companionship to this list. For most of the United States in this new, low-tech era, horses were again key to survival. Horses were also used to teach responsibility, teamwork, discipline, and attention to duty via the Maxims for Young Men and Women that formed the foundation of the Rohan code of conduct. These values had eroded away in the U.S. over the past century of entitlements, Big Government social policy, and irresponsibility. The Rohan’s goal was not just to survive—they wanted to live the right kind of life. Not by accident, but design, Louise, Heinz and other Rohan leaders had crafted a philosophy and way of life that centered on responsibility. Daily life and teaching the Maxims centered on horses.

With horses playing such a dominant role in their lives, a Lord of the Rings fan came up with the name Rohan meaning Land of Horses.  Heinz at first opposed the name as degrading to their vision, but it was popular and it stuck. A board resolution formally naming the Sangre de Cristo Rohan passed unanimously in 2022. Once that name was adopted, the Tolkien term Rohirrim, the people of the Rohan, quickly spread. Heinz threatened bodily harm to anyone who dared to use Orks, Shire, or any other Lord of the Rings names and appeared to have stemmed the adoption of more silly storybook names.

As the Rohan developed in 2021 and 2022, wild and domesticated horses of excellent quality and variety were readily available. The EMP (Electro Magnetic Pulse) attacks caused no harm to the horses, and the bioengineered viruses that ravaged people rarely felled horses. When fields could not be harvested by farm machinery with inoperative computer chips, people starved while horses and deer got fat. Grasses and wild crops that grew in 2021 and 2022 did little to satisfy scavenging humans, but continued to happily feed the horses and deer. Venison became the predominant meat, but the deer population was rapidly depleted. Some foolishly hunted horses as well, but most were returned to their historic role as man’s most important animal partner.

Prismatic was probably the finest horse in the Rohan, though others fancying their breed would never agree. ACE enjoyed giving equestrian training, and would have hated giving the Rohan political and cultural instruction if she had not been able to do it on horseback.

On April 24, 2023, ACE began tutoring Justin and Pete Williams on horsemanship, mountain survival, combat skills, and Rohan values. Her first lesson focused on basic animal husbandry and riding. Mr. Williams would receive only basic riding lessons since his military duty was infantry and dragoon—a soldier who moved by horse, but did not fight mounted. If Justin proved able, he would continue on to learn advanced horsemanship skills needed to fight from horseback and serve, like ACE, as a mounted scout. ACE showed them how to muck out the stalls and get fresh bedding from wood chopping debris. Justin had led a typically spoiled life, and greatly resented shoveling horse shit.

ACE quickly taught basics of horse care, grooming and tack, and moved to riding. She had taught new riders before, most impatient and reluctant to put the same care and concern into the horses’ preparation as they did with their own comfort. She read Justin as especially impatient and resentful.

Your horse’s care and well-being comes first. Never mount up, barring an emergency call to arms, unless your horse is fully prepped. When you dismount, care for your horse before you tend to your needs.

She acknowledged Mr. William’s nod of agreement and ignored Justin’s scowl. Horse’s left, always, when you mount and dismount. Stand at her shoulder, facing rear. Left toe into the stirrup. Rest your left hand here on her neck, or the saddle horn if it’s a western saddle, and jump up and on.  ACE took special pleasure in demonstrating the maneuver perfectly and easily several times while Justin floundered. She helped hoist him up rudely. By the end of the second hour they were off, heading into the mountains.

The lesson expanded to cover mountain navigation and hunting skills, and daily work tasks. It was a torrent of information. Pete sometimes took notes on a slip of paper while they rode. Justin frequently bitched about yet another item of work he had to do.

After a few hours in the San Isabel National Forest north of Forbes Park, the Williams’ legs had worn out and their brains were saturated. ACE started the ride back and let them ask questions. Mr. Williams again expressed gratitude for what the Rohan had accomplished and their invitation to join, but Justin had not moved beyond the spoiled brat attitude and mouth so dominant in pre-collapse America.

For Mr. Williams, joining the alliance lifted a tremendous burden and worry off him. For the first time in years he had confidence in food and safety. Just as important to him, the Rohan offered a community of people like ACE who could set a good example for his son. I understand your mother, Louise, Mrs. Mills, is a member of the Council that runs the Rohan? Mr. Williams asked.

Yes, we owned a log home here before the collapse and were one of the first here, other than Mr. Johnson and a few others who lived here year-round. Mom and Heinz were two of the co-founders of the Rohan.

We heard how your dad built your home as a survival place in case there was some disaster like a virus outbreak or bad war. I’m sorry he didn’t make it.

Most everyone I know lost their parents, so I’m lucky. And I never really knew my dad. He was a workaholic.

Justin was tired of hearing about how important ACE and her family were. We were told we’d be given a horse. When do we get it and where do we keep it?

I’ll be talking with our head horse trainer, Ryan, and Shelly, our stable manager, later about your riding, ACE replied. They’ll check your work assignments, then make the call as to whether or not you’ll be assigned a horse.

Justin was sick of hearing about work. Work we’re assigned to?  I didn’t volunteer to—

Justin! Mr. Williams interrupted. Keep it shut!

ACE continued. I’m guessing you’ll be assigned to a barracks rather than a cabin. 

Dad, are you going to make sure we don’t get some old mares and a shitty bunk room?

You’ll be grateful for whatever you get, Mr. Williams answered.

ACE halted Prismatic. The two horses following him on the trail stopped. She’d put up with enough of his mouth, and had already decided what she was going to do if he did not change his tune. She wheeled Prismatic about and walked him up alongside Justin’s horse, halting with her leg and Prismatic’s side pressed tight against Justin and his horse. If looks could kill, Justin would have died.

If you don’t want to work and meet our standards that’s fine—we won’t want to feed you. No one is a prisoner here. If you want to leave, I’ll be happy to show you a path out.

ACE stopped speaking but continued to stare at him, with a look of utter contempt. Prismatic was also locked in an unmoving pose; magnificent, powerful, and dangerous. Perhaps by some command or triggered by ACE’s rage, Prismatic also seemed to be glaring defiantly at Justin. Justin was speechless, totally humiliated. In front of his dad, this young, little girl, had ripped him. And worse, he knew she was right. He was acting like a spoiled, complaining little shit. There was nothing he could say and for once he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.

After what seemed like an eternity, ACE gave some invisible signal to Prismatic and he shifted left, turned around, and moved back to the front line of horses.

The column moved off at a leisurely walk, with no conversation. Mr. Williams did not turn around to look at his son, and Justin rode in silent shock, totally humiliated. After a few minutes, Mr. Williams resumed pleasant questions about the Rohan with ACE. In half an hour Justin’s misery subsided as they returned to Quarantine Hut 2 and ACE dropped them off and led their horses back to the compound’s south stable.

The next day ACE was assigned to train Justin alone. She rode Prismatic down from the Compound towards Quarantine Hut 2 with a beautiful horse in tow. Mr. Williams was walking off to work on cutting logs for a new barracks project. ACE politely stepped Prismatic off the trail to let him enjoy the path. She tipped her riding crop to her helmet as he neared.

Williams paused and said, Miss ACE, I’ve had a long talk with Justin and you’ll find his attitude much better today. I really appreciate your help.

ACE smiled and nodded. She knew she should probably say something, but when she was on Prismatic for some reason she preferred to communicate without words, be as much like Prismatic as she could. Mr. Williams continued on. ACE knew he’d have a very tough day of hard labor.

Justin, on the other hand, would probably have a great day, which didn’t seem fair given the difference in their attitudes and conduct to date. Justin would meet Shadowstone, the new horse assigned to him. Shadowstone was a beautiful, dapple gray mare Quarter Horse. She had small spots of black, many with what looked like gray rings or shadows next to them, all on a background of light gray. ACE would have loved to have her as a backup mount and pack horse, but she was too perfect and valuable a horse not to be the primary mount of a scout. ACE was at first displeased that this snotty kid was getting such a fine horse, but at least she’d get to spend a week or more with Shadowstone while she trained Justin.

ACE, I need to apologize for spouting off yesterday, all the shit I said. I promise to pay attention, quit dicking around, and work as hard as you do.

I hope that’s not just your dad speaking for you.

ACE waited to see if he’d shoot back with some insulting retort, but he showed admirable restraint. Yesterday you were on a trainer, but today you’ll be on Shadowstone—your new horse.

Justin was elated, and started to say something but then remembered his vow of seriousness and hard work. Great, thank you—ma’am.

ACE chuckled, There’s no need for that, ‘ACE’ is fine.  She slipped off Prismatic and led Shadowstone forward. Prismatic had not yet had the opportunity to meet Shadowstone, so ACE let the two horses approach each other and sniff noses in greeting. She then showed Justin how to join noses with his new horse and share breath to establish friendship, a practice she had learned from Ryan.

With the introductions done, ACE got down to business. Tie her up to this tree using the slip knot I taught you yesterday. The saddle’s on, but I want you to take it off and then go through the proper preparation sequence and saddle her up, adjust all the belts properly.

Justin did fine until he got the bridle disoriented.

Snaffle to the front, ACE said.

Snapple?

The snaffle.

Are you making these words up?

No Justin, it’s the real term. It’s a type of bit that’s got a joint in the center. It rests on the space between the front and back teeth and acts on the horse’s tongue and edges of the mouth. That’s right, now slide it on. 

With a few more corrections, Justin successfully re-saddled Shadowstone. ACE recognized every expression of joy and excitement as he experienced his new partner. He was indeed lucky to receive such a fine Equus caballus. Shadowstone was a young seven-year-old, with a friendly demeanor and urge to please like Prismatic. The two horses got along well, both prime specimens of their breed.

ACE took Justin on a training ride along the northwest quadrant outside the Compound, crossing paths to cabins outside the Compound. Many chose to live outside because a nice log home or vacation cabin had been built earlier that was off the main road and relatively safe. The Rohan had a loud signaling bell to warn of attacks and call people into the Compound for safety.

They passed by a group of Rohirrim gathering firewood and ACE chatted briefly with Horst and Uschi Schuler, a German couple who owned a lot and were camping in the park when the collapse hit. Folks from across the U.S. and many European countries owned lots, but few lived here full-time before the collapse.

ACE considered riding through the mountains atop a horse in some of the most beautiful mountains and scenery on earth the highest form of pleasure. The aspen leaves were budding out, adding a lighter hue of green to the mountain forest palette. Patches of snow showed higher up in the mountains, but the grass in the valley was a bright, healthy green. While ACE took a few minutes to revel in the splendor, Justin was captivated with new horse ecstasy. He could not take his eyes off Shadowstone. ACE suspected he would be hugging Shadowstone if she weren’t there to see him, telling her what a great horse she was. ACE still did this daily with Prismatic when no one was around.

ACE continued with riding, scouting, mountain navigation, and survival instructions while they rode by one of the most interesting Rohan assets—the Tech Graveyard.  Fairly well hidden in a depression was an acre of every imaginable type of machine, generator, or device that might yield a useful part. John Borsi, the Rohan’s chief scientist and engineer, regularly scavenged parts and made requests to Rohan patrols to keep an eye out for certain items he needed. The Rohan’s only mechanic, Chevy, occasionally came here to scavenge, but he had his own auto graveyard on the other side of the compound. Like ACE’s outgrown helmet, modified to retain usefulness, almost nothing was discarded as waste in the Rohan.

ACE did not show Justin the secret path to the Data Room. That would be revealed later if he had a need to know. Here Borsi operated a few computers and some radio equipment. As Internet and virtual storage of data continued to mushroom in the 21st Century, fewer and fewer manuals and information were recorded on paper. In the long-run the high altitude EMP (HEMP) attacks would probably not yield a permanent loss like the burning of the Library of Alexandria. But since organized, close contact work was reduced to a very small trickle during the virus plague years, Internet 4 could not be brought back online. Some of the reconstituted federal government (called NewFed2 by the Rohirrim) bases and labs were linked with older radio and land-line communication, but there was still no Internet of multiple users and data centers.

The biggest problem blocking high-tech recovery was that modern societies were so specialized in their labor, with machines and equipment so replacement part dependent, that many critical items of infrastructure simply could not be repaired or operated. There were no UPS deliveries. Almost all chips came from East Asia, now controlled by China, separated by an ocean controlled more by pirates than the U.S. Navy. Most people couldn’t change their oil, let alone diagnose a problem with high-tech equipment and affect a repair. Gearheads like Chevy had also largely vanished. Most equipment in America was inoperable due to fried chips and largely minor repair problems.

Oil and electricity were other big problems. Due to gas scarcity, machines were rarely operated in the Rohan. The most important were motors that ran some power equipment and the large lumber mill saw. The Rohan had plenty of generators, but little fuel. During the daily electric hour they ran a small, carefully planned assortment of electric machinery, a few computers, and battery chargers. Borsi was expanding the Rohan’s solar and battery network. Solar panels were the highest priority item on the scrounge list, especially the older models that did not have embedded chips that were fried and ruined by EMP.

Morale was very high despite the isolation, back-breaking long hours of work, lack of most modern comforts or entertainment, and constant threat of hunger and attack. They had survived when most had perished. They lived now with clear purpose. There was strong pride in their responsible hard work and the achievements of the Rohan. While not everyone lived the Maxims as fully as Heinz and the Council members, all accepted the need for the responsibility, hard work and sacrifice the nation had been founded upon and the Rohan rediscovered.

While few would admit it, probably the major cause of good morale was simply food. Once you’d experienced severe hunger, you finally understood the real meaning of survival and Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. The Rohan had deer and elk and a small herd of domestic animals. The high altitude made farming difficult, but there were enough grasses for the horses and livestock, with rapidly increasing fenced acreage planted in Triticale grain and vegetables that could stand the thin air and cold temperatures. By drying and smoking the meat and building granaries, the Rohirrim now experienced only a minor degree of hunger in late winter. They had plenty of water, a deficit that had killed tens of millions of Americans, or led to their deaths when they were forced to expose themselves to viruses or ruthless humans in their search for drinkable water.

With defenses in good shape and their basic food needs established, the Rohan was now expanding, improving their housing and military defenses. The Rohan Council decided to raise the cavalry force from 75 to 125 and increase their area of patrol and control to better identify and stop threats before they reached Forbes Park. New scouts like Justin needed to be trained and equipped.

By the time the sun cleared Spanish Peaks to the east, ACE had already taught Justin two dozen items on her long list. He reacted much better, listened responsibly, and worked hard. How much of this was due to Shadowstone, ACE’s lecture from yesterday, or his dad’s admonitions, she couldn’t know. Today Justin was an eager sponge, soaking up all the knowledge raining down on him.

It was not all academic training and riding. When they stopped to rest the horses, ACE worked them both physically. Holding the largest boulder Justin could handle with both hands, ACE made him leap up onto a stump. Then push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups on a tree branch. ACE expected that this would bring back the snotty mouth, but he executed the tasks without complaints until his muscles could do no more. ACE humiliated him a few times by outperforming him on some physical feats, and this too he took in stride.

By noon, Justin was ready to collapse so ACE allowed a relatively relaxing lunch break.  ACE had two small lunches with her:  dried deer jerky, pine nuts, and some rather unappealing cabbage leaves. Two cigar-shaped rolled cabbage leaves were horse treats, which ACE handed to Justin. Here, I’ll let you be the popular one and give these to the horses. Just hold your hand flat, but don’t drop ‘em.

What is it? Justin asked.

Wild grains and Yucca molasses wrapped in cabbage leaves. We make ‘em for the horses, but most of us would be happy to eat them when supplies are short.

Justin was already thinking that he’d like to eat it in addition to his meager lunch, but he knew better. Prismatic had moved up and was nudging Justin for his treat. He gave a treat to Prismatic, then Shadowstone. She was not used to this kind of special treatment, but eagerly chomped down the homemade treat. Justin jumped when Prismatic tried to reach into his pocket to check for more.

Prism—no! ACE shouted. Go on Boy, go!  Prismatic shuffled back and got to grazing, joined soon by Shadowstone.

ACE sat down against a tree and pointed to another for Justin. Grab a seat there and enjoy your lunch. You’ll find better chow in the barracks, or a little more variety anyway. But when we’re riding this is the normal fare.

Justin collapsed against the tree and for a minute felt too tired and sore to eat. Muscles he had never noticed before ached.

ACE quickly ate her pine nuts and then bit off a piece of jerky, positioning it on the side of her mouth like chewing tobacco. I usually eat my jerky while I’m riding and suck on it a long time while it gets soft. Kind of like gum. Makes you feel like you’re eating a long time.

We ate rats, Justin said, almost like a confession. Never ate any people, though we met folks who did. But snakes, rats, just about any creature we could catch we cooked and ate.

ACE didn’t know what to say. She often forgot that compared to most survivors, her mom and she had it relatively easy.

Justin’s thoughts were back in those bad times. We spent almost all of the last years underground, usually just my dad and me. I’ve never heard a complete explanation of what the hell happened, how we got into this stinking mess.

ACE was now feeling sorry for him and a little guilty about her harsh judgments and treatment of him. They had weeks of training to do, but he probably deserved a briefing on what had transpired.

She whistled for Prismatic and stood up as he trotted over to them. I’ll tell you what. We’ve got a 30 minute ride left. I need to point out a few things along the way, but I’ll tell you a pretty complete story of what happened.  They started saddling the horses. We still don’t know a lot, but we’ve had some ham radio news, a steady stream of outside people, some from the military or government with information. Let’s mount up and I’ll fill you in while we start heading back towards the Compound.

ACE proceeded to tell the story, interrupted periodically by quick instruction on tracks or useful plants.

While someday the full truth of what happened may be known and the disinformation corrected, the disaster in 2020 was primarily China’s doing, exploiting America’s mistakes. The War with Islamic Extremists (they finally stopped using the stupid name War on Terror) that began unannounced in the 1990s raged hot and cold through 2020. As the U.S. cut military spending, its ability to fight a nuclear war or a large-scale conventional conflict continued to erode. The relentless growth in entitlement spending, government regulations, and federal pork projects, fueled by politicians buying elections, caused devastating budgetary and economic harm. The love affair with high-tech weapons, pushed by politicians whose priorities were avoid high casualties and reward local defense industries, led to big declines in the number of conventional weapons and combat-ready soldiers. The U.S. was yearly more vulnerable to nuclear attack, setting itself up for disaster. U.S. high-tech conventional weapons superiority, reliance on computers and electronics, with relatively small numbers of troops, virtually demanded that a determined enemy attack with nuclear weapons and EMP to exploit the obvious vulnerabilities.

By 2020, the U.S. had fewer aircraft and tanks than not just the Russians and Chinese, but even Indian and Caliphate armies. These countries also enjoyed far more economic wealth than decades past, and huge population advantages. But the real Achilles’ heel for the U.S. military was its dependence on technology and computer chips. Many analysts warned that the U.S. military posture guaranteed that a serious aggressor would start the fight with a HEMP attack—a nuclear detonation that generates Electro Magnetic Pulse, bursts of energy that destroy computer chips and electronic components. But politicians tolerated no talk about nuclear war-fighting and nothing was done.

China started its attack on the U.S. with 3 HEMP detonations. All warheads were launched by a single commercial airliner with complete surprise. The U.S. figured out China was behind the attacks, but could not prove it or effectively retaliate. China apparently had allied with the Islamic Caliphate, a coalition of Islamic nations that evolved over a decade of increasingly united opposition to America. Both China and the Caliphate demanded that the U.S. abandon its imperialist role and stay in North America, leaving China to control Asia, Russia to control East Europe, and the Caliphate to continue its war to bring what they called Islamic lands, the Middle East and North Africa, back under its tutelage. West Europeans stayed neutral to avoid a fight. With Muslim voters wielding tremendous electoral power in European countries, some governments were blatantly anti-U.S., pro-China/Caliphate. 

The HEMP attacks over the U.S. were followed by a few days of nuclear combat in Southeast Asia that quickly depleted U.S. forces and left America the clear loser. The President finally mustered the nerve for a small strike with nuclear weapons on Chinese soil, focused on military targets. Their response was nuclear strikes on several U.S. cities. That ended the nuclear war, with the U.S. backing down, even more on the losing side. There was no surrender, no cease-fire. The U.S. simply agreed via actions not to fire any more nuclear weapons on China. China proceeded to consolidate their gains and enjoy their victory.

The nuclear weapons casualties were small compared to the deaths caused by the bioengineered virus the Caliphate or Islamic terrorists released days after the HEMP attacks. The HEMP attacks killed people when airliners and other key systems malfunctioned, but there were less than a hundred thousand casualties. The nuclear combat in Southeast Asia killed about half a million, the strategic nuclear exchanges between China and the U.S. less than five million. It was the viruses, three horrible rounds of deadly infectious waves, plus starvation and marauder attacks from the collapse, which killed billions. The viruses killed in a manner that made its victims envy the relatively quick, less painful death of dying from nuclear blast or even radiation sickness.

Every single nation on the globe was exposed to a highly virulent, 90-95% lethal plague. The viral, biological warfare attack put everyone into a state of hell on earth. The virus forced people to stay home and away from other humans, bringing economic activity