23 march 2025, @mariannewest's Freewrite Writing Prompt Day 2684: not a trace

Image by Albrecht Fietz from Pixabay

“I don't know how you did this, but I'm going to get you for this, Lee!”

Col. H.F. Lee was at Big Discounts for Your Loft, buying groceries in bulk for himself and his Ludlow cousins when a particular county supervisor found him and started yelling while the colonel, supremely unbothered, kept filling up his basket and biding his time, because he was the one who had the supervisor tipped off to where he would be at 11:00am … but not 4:00am, or midnight.

Said county supervisor needed to be arranging how a whole neighborhood in his district was going to be evacuated from an unnatural disaster 68 years in the making, and mostly by 30 years of his bad decisions. Nonetheless, his failure had not stopped the neighborhood from being evacuated. That had taken place between 6:00 and 9:00 that morning.

A goodly bunch of veterans had swarmed that neighborhood at 4:00am, night vision goggles, scopes, and all … house to house and door to door with literature designed by Mrs. Melissa Trent on behalf of Operation Safe Sunrise, which would be connecting anyone willing to voluntarily evacuate to both the Lofton Trust and QuaranHomes for all-expense paid accommodations for as much as three months if necessary.

But also street to street, dropping speakers and amplifiers in key areas of the neighborhood because, at reveille, there was going to be an experience …

“I'm not even religious, but I heard what must have been the voice of God, telling me I needed to get my family out of here,” one man said about it to the Lofton County Free Voice. “I mean, it was so deep, and resonant, and majestic – I mean, we all heard it – it was coming from literally every direction at the same time!”

Col H.F. Lee had a cousin who ran a hot air balloon service in the Blue Ridge … that and Melvin Trent and basso profondo Capt. R.E. Ludlow Sr., living their best microphone rig lives while Sgt. Vincent Trent was the pilot accounted for all that while the colonel and his cousin made sure they got off and got back safely on the ground. Meanwhile, the veterans on the ground, under the command of Major Ironwood Hamilton, cleared all the sound gear Melvin had hunted up for them from the neighborhood in ten minutes after Capt. Ludlow had solemnly warned the residents of the danger they were in, and ordered them to voluntarily evacuate.

The Lees had staged all this out of their house, including briefing, orders, debriefing, snacks, and a huge breakfast Col. and Mrs. Lee had gotten up extra early to prepare for everyone after the mission was complete. Everyone got back to eat, get paid, and get gone before 7:00 – then, the colonel and his wife cleaned up and hiked back up to where he had his truck and headed back to Tinyville where he dropped her off just as the 9:00 news started reporting … so he made it to Big Discounts for Your Loft, leisurely filling up his car with things he and the nine Ludlows needed, while news that the residents of the neighborhood in danger had evacuated was racing through the county.

The county supervisor, thinking correctly that he had been end run, but not comprehending how, nonetheless knew who had done him in. There was not a trace of evidence that he could have known to look for, so he just looked absolutely crazy, screaming on the unbothered colonel while Tom Stepforth III from the Lofton County Free Voice, live-streamed his behavior to the world until Col. Lee had him where he wanted him.

“Does it hurt?” the colonel finally interrupted and asked.

“What?” the county supervisor said.

“Does it hurt to be that loud and still be that small and powerless a man?”

The supervisor took the bait and swung, only for Col. Lee to sidestep so he could fall headlong into a grocery cart perfectly positioned, and careen straight into the one bare wall that would not have caused him injury from falling items.

“Yep, that definitely has to hurt,” the colonel mused quietly as security finally wrestled the half-dazed, half-mad supervisor out like he was some crazy drunk, and Tom Stepforth just followed it all on camera right out the door.

“Got 'em!” Capt. Ludlow cried while watching the live feed.

“Mission complete!” Sgt. Trent said.

“We can't get them booked into QuaranHomes and the associated hotels fast enough – Dad,” Melissa Trent said as she turned to her father, billionaire Thomas Stepforth Sr., we're about to be at full primary and auxillary occupancy!”

“I have more houses that will be done being renovated in Shortport next week, and then there's backup capacity in Roanoke County and Pittsylvania County if we need it.”

“OK!”

Col. Lee came home to the house he was staying in after his own voluntary evacuation with a car full of things that needed to be unloaded for his home and the Ludlows – but eleven hands made for light work, with even littlest five-year-old Lil' Robert and six-year-old Grayson Ludlow bringing their little red wagons out and having them filled with things to take to their house. There was not a trace there of the drama going on in the world around the little Ludlows and their Trent and Stepforth friends … and that was exactly how it was supposed to be.