Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (17 page)

Eventually, John quit worrying about expiration dates. If he found expired food in his pantry, he’d pack it up and donate it to the nearest food kitchen. But he became very proficient at avoiding waste.

Some of the two-year foods in his pantry included canned fish, meat, fruit, vegetables, and soups. Then there was food such as peanut butter, jelly, crackers, pasta, and other “comfort” foods the entire family enjoyed. Some of those items lasted several years, like the pasta, but most not more than six months of a year. Eventually, food with less than a six-month shelf-life was hard to find in their pantry.

Not counting the year’s supply of long-range food, John figured his pantry alone stocked enough food to feed his family for three, or four months.

John kept a few long-range food storage items in his pantry, like rice and pinto beans, but he rarely tapped into his long-range supply. He also kept a few pounds of wheat in the pantry, though it wasn’t used for baking. Jenna sprouted the wheat for salads, or let it grow until it could be used for juicing.

A body really could live on wheat alone, but that would make for a very tiresome pallet; even with a comfortable spice rack. To John, a wheat only diet was out of the question, which is why he maintained a very diverse food storage and pantry.

John cleared his plate with a final bite and was considering whether or not to take seconds, when Jenna reached over and touched his hand lightly. He looked up and met her eyes with a smile.

“Earth to John,” she said.

“Sorry . . . been deep in thought. I’m going to buy more food tomorrow.”

“I figured you would. Go ahead and go. The kids and I will clean up.”

“You sure?” asked John.

“Positive . . . now go. You’re putting me to sleep.”

John chuckled and rose with his plate in hand. He kissed Jenna on the forehead, and after putting his plate in the sink, made his way to the den.

The den was his refuge, of sorts. It was a place where the kids, and even Jenna, usually didn’t bother him while he was working. When the French doors were closed, it meant, “Dad working.” He sat behind his desk and looked at the half empty water bottle sitting by the stapler.

He had eight, fifty-five gallon water barrels in his garage, but he couldn’t remember when he last checked them. Untreated, he knew the water would be safe for at least six-months, but only if not in direct sunlight or excessive heat.

John added a tablespoon of standard bleach to each barrel when he filled them, but that wasn’t a guarantee the water would stay potable, especially in the Texas summer heat of his garage. Still, it was the only fresh water he had that was ready to drink.

Once, after leaving water stored in barrels for about two years, John took a sample down and had it tested. The lab told him the water was safe to drink, so he started pushing out his rotation dates to sixteen-months, rather than six. John added “Check water storage,” on his tablet, and considered other possible sources of water for his family.

The swimming pool was another source of water, but the falling ash would quickly contaminate it. He wondered if he could somehow cover the pool.

John remembered reading somewhere that volcanic ash weighed about ten times more than snow, so one inch of ash would weigh about the same as ten inches of snow. John knew their current pool cover would never hold up to an inch of ash, let alone several inches, and he wondered if he could reinforce it. John added, “Pool cover,” to his list on the tablet.

The house had a rain collection system. It was installed shortly after they moved in, and it proved to be a reliable and handy source of irrigation water, when and if the cistern was full. The cistern was a large, green, three-hundred-gallon plastic tank that John semi-buried in the back yard. “
Definitely another storage option
,” thought John. “
I wonder if it’s full
.”

Their last remaining source of water, and the one most appreciated by John more than anyone, was their well. And it was a deep one too, about 550 feet, and tapped into a large underground aquifer that covered a large portion of their little corner of Texas. The water had a low mineral content, which meant it needed very little treatment. When it came to Texas ground water, it was very palatable. Still, the family preferred drinking bottled water. John had five cases of twenty-four ounce bottles in the pantry.

John considered the well to be a reliable source of water, but it was also vulnerable. It needed power to run. The solar collectors didn’t produce enough power to run the well pump and the other important appliances, so without electricity their well was little more than a deep hole in the ground.

At one point, John actually considered adding a wind-mill, but the HOA by-laws prevented it. He also considered a hand pump, but he was told his well was too deep for one, that sufficient vacuum could not be achieved to draw water with a hand pump of any size. The only way to draw water from the well was with electrical power.

John scribbled, “Generator,” on his tablet without interrupting his thoughts.

The challenge of using the well, when the electrical power was out, was not something he spent a lot of time thinking about. Between the barrels, the pool, and the cistern, John figured he had enough water to survive any short-term power outage or disaster, so he wasn’t worried about losing the well. But once again, the disaster changed his perspective.

He was just glad he had access to water, and the ability to store it. He knew most people were not as lucky. With the threat of falling ash, the well seemed much more important than ever before.

John realized that the well might be their only source of clean drinking water after the disaster, so a generator was the only way to make that happen. He added “fuel,” to his growing to-do list.

Generators needed fuel, but buying and storing fuel was not something he was excited about. Fuel was dangerous to store, and it needed to be used before it spoiled. He knew he could extend the life of his fuel by adding additives like “PRI-G,” but it was more a problem of where to store it, than how to store it. “
No,”
thought John, “
quantity is also a problem.”
He realized he’d need a lot of fuel if he planned to run a generator long enough to survive the disaster.

He had four, five-gallon Jerry cans, and four, five-gallon red-plastic gas cans in the shop. But storing gas in all those containers increased his concern about vapor release and fire. The army got around the danger of storing fuel in the field by digging fuel pits, but he wondered if he’d have enough time to make one for himself. He also wondered how much fuel he would need to run the well pump for an extended period of time.

John rubbed his temples as he felt the on-set of a headache. “
So much to do . . . so little time,
” he said to himself.

Then there’s the issue of a generator itself. They also needed special consideration. It wasn’t a simple matter of just starting it up and letting it run, especially during a disaster. Generators required maintenance. And it would have to run outside, far enough away from the house to prevent carbon-monoxide poisoning. There was also the issue of noise. Generators were loud, and everyone in the area would know he was running one. That sound would attract attention. He thought about also digging a pit for the generator, and inwardly groaned.

Next to sound, lights also attracted people. He knew how easy it was to locate people in the dark, by listening for sound and looking for light. John would have to cover his windows, but that was something he was prepared for.

A
fter a brief search on an external storage device, John located the digital copy of his food storage inventory list and hit the print button. Because it was an excel spreadsheet with several adjoining pages, John took the time to literally cut and paste the sheets together to form one large inventory page. The color-coded spreadsheet listed a all his stored food by category, and it offered him a quick look at what he had, and what he needed.

John spent the next thirty minutes reviewing receipts of recent purchases, and then made the necessary changes on the spreadsheet to reflect a more accurate inventory. He considered updating the digital copy, but decided against it. Once the power went out, or for that matter, once the disaster started, he doubted he’d have the time, interest, or ability to work on his computer.

The loss of power would certainly be an inconvenience, especially when it came to accessing and printing information from his computer, so he quickly scanned his files for documents he wanted to have on paper. Whenever he found something useful or important, John hit the print button with the mouse, and continued his search.

After a while, he began to amass a healthy collection of personal records, journal entries, recipes, photographs of family and friends for identification purposes, and a compilation of other documents that ranged from survival e-books, to blog-post survival instructions. Everything went into yellow envelopes for quick and easy access.

While he was studying the inventory spreadsheet, Jenna knocked lightly on the door and walked in. When John didn’t look up, she said, “I’m worried about you. You were very withdrawn at dinner. And now you’ve sequestered yourself in here. What are you printing?”

“Nothing . . . everything. I started working on the inventory spreadsheet, but realized I had other stuff to print out. I don’t want to have to mess with the computer when the power’s out. I don’t think the solar panels will work under the ash . . . so we’ll need to get a generator,” replied John, with a sigh.

Jenna nodded and sat in a leather chair next to the desk. She put her hand on John’s and said, “Are you OK?”

“I’m fine. I’ve just got a lot on my mind. I don’t think we’re as prepared as we should be.”

“I disagree,” said Jenna. “I think we’re very prepared. At least better prepared than anyone we know,” she added with conviction.

“I hope not,” said John. “I would hate to think we’re the only ones in our neighborhood prepared. It would be nice to have a few others. I mean, this is a unique area. Not everyone likes living this far from the city. Maybe it attracted a few other like-minded people. Maybe there’s a few other families like us . . . families prepared for a disaster. It sure would make a big difference.”

“Do you really think so?” asked Jenna.

“About other families being prepared, or it making a difference?” asked John.

“Both,” replied Jenna, as she gestured for the inventory sheet under John’s hands. He handed it to her and she studied it while he talked.

“I do,” said John, “But I’ve also learned not to underestimate people’s complacency. We can hope there are other preppers in our neighborhood, but hope doesn’t always translate into fact. However, smart preppers don’t advertise . . . they don’t go around telling people they’re preppers. They practice OPSEC.”

“OPSEC?” asked Jenna.

“Yeah. Operational Security. Remember, ‘Loose lips sink ships,’ and all that?”

“Okay,” replied Jenna. “I’ll add that to my list of army sayings.”

John smiled and said, “The point being, if you don’t want the enemy to know what you’re doing, you don’t talk about it. And from a prepper standpoint, anyone that’s unprepared
is
a potential enemy.”

“Sounds harsh to me,” said Jenna.

“It is . . . survival is harsh.”

“Well, if there are preppers in our neighborhood, then the ladies I know are very good at their OPSEC, or there’s nothing to talk about,” replied Jenna.

“Yes, the gossip circle. So you’ve heard nothing? Not even ‘so-and-so adding a garage water storage tank,’ or something like that?” asked John.

“Not a thing,” replied Jenna, as she looked over the top of the inventory sheet at John.

“I find that hard to believe,” said John.

“What?”

“That you ladies had nothing to talk about,” quipped John.

Jenna punched John lightly on the shoulder and said, “Better watch it smart guy. I’ll tell the ladies you’re a sexist. Besides, you said yourself that women are better at keeping secrets than men.”

“True, but that was in reference to intelligence work, not neighborhood gossip.”

She handed him the inventory spreadsheet and said, “So, what’s first on our agenda?”

“Sleep,” said John. “I’m exhausted. But I’ll make a to-do list before I go to bed. I’ll let you look at it because I’m sure I’ll forget something.”

She leaned over to kiss him on the forehead and said, “I’ll finish up a few more things in the kitchen, and then meet you in the bedroom.”

“Okay,” replied John, and he resumed his task of organizing the printer output before Jenna even reached the door.

Once John was satisfied with his work, he grabbed a pen, and a yellow legal pad, and took his work into the family room. He fell heavily onto his recliner and closed his eyes.

A strange gurgling sound filled the room and he sat up, alert. He realized he had fallen asleep, and that it was the sound of his own snoring that woke him. Grudgingly, he got up from the recliner and went to sit at the dining room table.

John’s list of things to do was short and to the point.