The Lone Man On The Ridge - Episode Ten: Change Of Plans

One radio message can turn a “safe” stop into a hunt. Jack tries to get through the night inside an abandoned Dunkin’ Donuts near Johnson City with his supplies, his chickens, and Mr. Rogers at his side, but something feels off about Matt and Lisa from the start. He keeps moving gear, hiding rifles, and doing that quiet survival math we all dread: who’s watching, who’s armed, and what’s the fastest way out if the room turns on you. 

If you like post-apocalyptic survival fiction with realistic gear, hard choices, and escalating consequences tied to a militia threat, “Change of Plans” delivers. Subscribe, share the show with a friend, and leave a review so more listeners can find the series.

Transcript

SPEAKER_00 0:01

This is the Lone Man on the Ridge. Episode ten. Change of Plans. Lisa's voice broke the silence from across the room. Hey, is everything okay over there? Jack stood frozen for a split second, then turned around. Yeah, he answered, trying to sound casual. I'm just trying to figure out what I need to bring in and what I can leave in the truck tonight. Matt watched him carefully but didn't say anything. Jack stepped outside with mister Rogers close behind. The second the door closed, his face changed. The image of those tactical boots on Matt's feet kept flashing through his mind. He knew he had a serious problem. I have no idea if they're armed, they could easily have had handguns tucked in their waistbands the whole time, or worse, with all those trips I took back and forth to the truck, one of them easily could have gone to the SUV to grab more weapons. Jack opened the back of the truck and began wrapping the four rifles in an old moving blanket. He stacked two large plastic totes on top of the blanket wrapped rifles to help conceal them. Then he carried the heavy bundle back towards the building. Jack opened the door and nearly walked straight in to Matt, who was standing just inside the doorway. That looks pretty heavy, Matt said, eyeing the bundle in Jack's arms. You need a hand with that? No, Jack quickly replied, his voice tighter than he wanted. I got it. He brushed past Matt and carried the bundle into the old Dunkin' Donut storeroom, keeping his body between Matt and the rifles. After setting everything down, he turned back towards the main room and said I get everything I need out of the truck. I think I'm gonna get this stuff situated and try to get some sleep. Matt stared at him for a long time. Yeah, I think we're gonna try to grab some shut eye too. He gave a thin smile that did not reach his eyes. Tomorrow's gonna be a very busy day for all of us. Jack took care of the chickens first, making sure they had food and water for the night. He then got mister Rogers settled down beside him. Once everything was in place, he finally laid down on the cold tile floor. He rolled up his jacket to use as a pillow and quietly slid the glock underneath it. He then slipped the earpiece into his right ear and turned on one of his hand held ham radios. He slowly started scanning through the frequencies. He was hoping to pick up any traffic from the Iron Hands, that group that had taken the Walmart up the road. If they were using ham or GMRS radios to communicate, he wanted to know. Jack laid still in the darkness, the low static of the radio in his ear. Every so often he could hear the faint whispering coming from the back room where Matt and Lisa were staying. He could not make out any of the words, just the hushed tone of their voices. Eventually, exhaustion pulled him under for a few minutes. Jack was jolted awake by a clear male voice coming through his earpiece. Checkpoint three, this is bass. You guys need any relief up there? A different voice responded. Negative bass, we're good for now. But checkpoint six is asking if anyone can bring them an extra battery charger, and apparently their generator is running low on gas. Copy that. I'll get someone up there with a charger and some fuel in the next little bit. Then the voice continued. Hey Matt, you got a copy? What's your status? There was a short pause. Then Matt's voice came through, noticeably lower and more hushed than before. We're good here, bass, but we do have a visitor. Mail, traving alone with the canine. He's got supplies, quite a bit of them. Including fuel and livestock. Matt paused briefly then continued in the same low tone. I think it would be prudent if you sent two people down here to assist us with this situation. Base responded almost immediately. Copy that, Matt. We can have two people to you within the hour. Report back if anything changes. Jack's heart hammered in his chest as the radio went silent. Less than an hour. At least two people were coming, and that changed everything. He lay perfectly still, mind racing. There was no way he was getting out of this quietly. He had too much gear inside now, the chickens, the rifles, the totes. Trying to sneak everything out without making noise was impossible. And after what Matt had just reported, there was no chance that Matt and Lisa were going to let their guard down. They knew reinforcements were coming. They'd be alert, and they would be waiting. Jack slowly reached under his jacket and wrapped his hand around the grip of the Glock. His mind was made up. Waiting was no longer an option. He wasn't going to sit there and let them trap him like an animal. He looked over at Mr. Rogers, who was already staring at him, tense, alert, and ready. It was time to move. Jack silently sat up and gave Mr. Rogers a hand signal. The dog rose to his feet instantly, tense and alert. Jack moved quietly the short distance to the bundle of rifles. He reached in and pulled out one of the rifles. Even in the dark he immediately recognized the green knot sight and the mounted flashlight. It was an AR styled rifle. He quietly pressed the magazine release and slid the thirty round magazine out. By the weight of it in his hand he could tell it was about half full, roughly fifteen rounds. He carefully slid the magazine back into the rifle and flipped the safety off. Jack wanted to pull the charging handle to confirm a round was in the chamber, but he knew that sound would carry far in a quiet building. He would just have to assume there was one in the chamber. Jack moved silently out of the Duncan Donut storeroom, rifle up and at the ready. mister Rogers stayed glued to his left leg, moving with him like a shadow. Then he heard it. The faint click of mister Rogers' nails on the title as the dog shifted his weight. It was barely anything, a sound that would have disappeared into the background noise of a normal day. But there was no background noise anymore, and Matt had been listening. When Jack turned the corner, Matt was already standing, pistol raised and pointed directly at Jack. Lisa stood slightly behind Matt, her pistol also drawn. A bright flashlight mounted underneath the barrel lighting up Jack's chest. So they were armed the entire time. Either they had the pistols tucked away from the start or they slipped out to the SUV while he was making trips back and forth. To Jack it really didn't matter which. What matters was that this was the worst case scenario now staring him in the face. For a long, deadly second, no one spoke. Jack kept the rifle shouldered, barrel pointed at Matt's chest. Mr Rogers let out a deep, menacing growl. I don't think so, Jack replied, his voice very calm. Mr Rogers' growl grew louder, his body tensed and coiled beside Jack. Lisa's flashlight beam suddenly dropped from Jack's chest down to Mr. Rogers as the dog let out a deep, menacing growl. Lisa took an involuntary step back, clearly unnerved by the sound. Matt, however, remained cold and focused. His pistol never wavered from Jack's chest. He didn't flinch at Mr. Rogers' growl. The silence was thick and heavy. No one moved. Jack could see the fear in Lisa's eyes even in the dim light. The way her flashlight had dropped to point at Mr. Rogers told him everything. She was genuinely afraid of the dog. Matt, on the other hand, remained cold and focused. His pistol never wavered from Jack's chest. Suddenly, without warning, Matt fired. The gunshot was deafening in the small store. The round slammed into Jack's chest, knocking him backwards. He crashed hard into the wall and slid down to the floor. The moment Jack was hit, Mr. Rogers exploded forward with a savage snarl, launching himself directly at Matt. Lisa let out a terrified scream and fired, five wild shots in rapid succession, the muzzle flash lighting up the room like a strobe. Every round missed. The last pull of the trigger produced nothing but a dead click. She kept squeezing anyway, the empty gun clicking uselessly in her shaking hands. Jack remained slumped against the wall, gasping desperately for air. His chest felt like it had been crushed. He couldn't breathe. A brutal crushing pain radiated across his entire chest. He clutched at his shirt with one hand, waiting for the warm, wet feeling of blood to soak through. But it never came. He thought to himself, what the hell? The crushing pain in his chest was intense, but there was no blood, no hole, no fatal wound. Then it hit him. The body armor. He put on his old body armor underneath a t shirt right before leaving Asheville. He was alive. The shock of being shot hit Jack like a sledgehammer. The impact had completely knocked the wind out of him and left him momentarily disoriented and stunned. As his senses came back into focus, Jack's eyes widened. Matt was on his knees screaming in pain, Mr. Rogers' jaws locked onto his forearm. Matt was desperately trying to swing his pistol towards the dog with his free hand, but the angle was impossible with seventy five pounds of muscle dragging his arm to the ground. The rifle had fallen several feet away from Jack when he was shot. There was no time to reach for it. Jack drew his Glock and fired three rapid shots, all three rounds slammed into Matt's chest. Matt collapsed sideways, the pistol clattering out of his hands. Jack crawled over, kicked the pistol across the room, then grabbed Mr. Rogers by the collar and used the dog's solid frame to pull himself to his feet. He was unsteady. His chest was still throbbing from the impact, but he managed to get upright. As soon as he was standing he saw Lisa. She had already baited out of the front door and was running towards the SUV. She was just a few steps away from reaching the driver's door. Jack instantly knew he wasn't going to be able to reach her in time. He stood there for a split second, watching as Lisa reached the SUV and yanked the door open. There was no point in chasing her. The gunshots had been very loud. If the Iron Hands had people anywhere nearby, they would have heard the gunshots. And once Lisa reached the Walmart, she would tell them everything. Jack figured he had maybe ten minutes fifteen tops. Jack looked down at mister Rogers, then back towards the store. Change of plans, buddy. We're getting the hell out of Dodge right now. Jack moved as fast as he could. He threw all the gear, the rifle, and the chickens back into the truck with zero organization. The chickens were flapping and squawking loudly, clearly terrified from all the chaos. He didn't care. He slammed the tailgate shut, climbed into the driver's seat, and fired up the engine. The truck roared to life. That's when Jack noticed headlights coming from the exact direction he needed to go. A single vehicle moving down Twin Oaks, slowing as it approached to turn into the lot. The reinforcements have arrived. Jack killed the engine. He was parked behind the Duncan out of their line of sight. They'd be pulling in from the front on the Twin Oak side. That meant the building was between him and them. They wouldn't see his truck until they came around the back. That gave Jack maybe thirty seconds. Jack grabbed the AR from where he tossed it onto the passenger seat. He stepped out of the truck quietly, leaving the door open. mister Rogers dropped out behind him, silent and low. He moved to the corner of the building and pressed his back against the brick. From here he could see the edge of the lot where the vehicle would come around. He heard tires on gravel, doors opening, two voices talking low and urgent. They must have already known that something was wrong. Maybe Lisa had a chance to radio them, or maybe they heard the gunshots as they were coming in. Jack steadied his breathing. Footsteps on pavement, getting closer, moving towards the front door. One of them spoke just above a whisper. Matt, Lisa, we're here. No answer. The footsteps stopped. Something's wrong, the other voice said. Front door's open. Jack heard the unmistakable sound of a rifle charging handle being racked. They were moving inside. Both of them. The second they crossed the threshold, Jack moved. He came around the corner fast, rifle up and hit the flashlight. The beam cut through the darkness and lit up the parking lot, and their vehicle. An older model SUV, doors still open, engine still running. No one outside. They were both in the building now, with Matt's body. Jack didn't hesitate. He sprinted to the truck, yanked the door shut, and fired up the engine. He threw it in the drive and swung around the building toward Twin Oaks. He was past their SUV and pulling out onto the road before he heard shouting and screaming from inside the store. By the time they made it back outside, they were staring at Jack's taillights. Jack did not look back. Jack drove hard for ten minutes before he finally eased off the accelerator. No headlights behind him, no pursuit. Yet. He checked his mirrors again. Nothing. His chest was still throbbing, a deep, ugly ache that pulsed with every heartbeat. He reached under his shirt and pressed his fingers against the body armor. The round hit him center mass just below the sternum. There would be a bruise the size of a softball by morning. But he was alive. He still had his truck, his dog, his gear, and his chickens. And the Iron Hands now knew his face, his truck description, and a dead member to answer for. Jet gripped the wheel and stared into the darkness ahead. He needed to get away from Johnson City and that Walmart as quickly as possible. After that he'd have to find somewhere to lay low and figure out his next move. He looked over at Mr. Rogers. The dog was watching him, calm now, tongue out, ears forward. Good boy, Jack said quietly. Real good boy. mister Rogers' tail thumped twice against the seat. Behind them in the bed of the truck a chicken let out a single indignant squawk. Despite everything, Jack almost smiled. This has been the Lone Man on the Ridge, Episode ten Change of Plans.