Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (19 page)

Some of the combat John was involved in was so one-sided that he still felt guilty about how easy it was to kill the unsuspecting enemy. But in other instances, it was to the enemy’s advantage, and a simple drive down a city or rural road could turn into a bloody ambush.

So, for the time being, John preferred to keep his combat experiences tucked safely away in his mind. He reasoned he would talk to Adam when he was older, but for now John was perfectly fine letting Adam think he was a better warrior than his old man, even if it was a digital one.

“Okay. I’ll meet you there,” said John, “but please don’t make me wait all night,” and he headed off to the garage through the kitchen. On the way there, he paused to grab his keys off the hook. Once he checked the water, he decided to also check his weapons. He was confident they were clean and serviceable, but he hadn’t opened the gun safe in several weeks, and he wanted to give them a quick check for rust.

John flipped on the garage lights and stepped into the three-car garage, or what Jenna liked to call, “John’s man-cave.”

He wasn’t much for traditional man-caves, like the ones that had large screen television sets and other such toys. John preferred personal quiet space where he could work without worrying about making a mess. He didn’t consider the den a man-cave because everyone in the family used it. Besides, the den was too small for his taste, so that pretty much left him the garage. It also helped that they rarely used it to park their cars in.

John threw back the blanket that covered his recent purchases at Cabela’s and examined the ammo and night-sight with eagerness. The ammo didn’t exactly thrill him, but he loved the purpose of it. Mostly, he was thrilled with the night-sight, and wanted to play with it right away. But first things first, his primary mission was to check the water, not play with the night-sight.

After grabbing a flashlight, John kneeled and lifted the canvas curtain that hung to the floor from the top edge of the workbench. The custom workbench ran the entire length of the garage’s back wall save for one corner where a large, plywood utility closet stood. Hidden behind the utility closet’s plywood walls and door sat John’s rather large Liberty gun safe. Like the water barrels under the workbench, John’s gun safe was also hidden from casual view.

Though the workbench hid eight, blue, fifty-five gallon water barrels from sight, it also served as a very useful workspace and storage arrangement for his equipment. All the carpentry tools and supplies John used were neatly stacked and organized on the workbench, or on the shelves above it. With everything in its place, John knew exactly where to look to find the tool or supply he needed to handle any job around the house.

As for his mechanical tools, and the big pieces of equipment like his air compressor, power washer, and such, those he stored in the shop out back. There were instances of cross-over, like when his carpentry tools made their way to the shop, and the shop tools to the garage, but for the most part, he managed to keep everything very neat and organized.

John shined his light on the first water barrel and saw that it was marked, “Jan, 2015.” Five more water barrels were marked with the same date, but the remaining three were marked with an older date of, “Aug, 2014.” For John, that meant at least those three barrels would need to be changed. Changing the water was not something he wanted to do tonight, so he dropped the curtain and flipped off his flashlight.

Sitting on the floor near the far wall were John’s two Tuffboxes. He first used the heavy, black plastic boxes to ship clothing and equipment to and from Iraq, but now they served as lockable storage boxes. Near the boxes, sitting in the middle of the space for a third car they didn’t own, sat John’s sturdy work table. On it were two vices, and a small anvil.

John used the table mostly to smith his guns, but it served him well with a number of other work projects. Like the workbench on the far wall, the table was also built very solidly, and could be used as a formidable door barrier if the need ever arose. For John, everything he built, he built with survival in mind.

The space along the side wall was arrayed with shelves, but the lowest shelf was just high enough for John to open the Tuffboxes without having to pull them out. In fact, pulling out the boxes required a great deal of effort, which is why John hung the shelves the way he did. With ammo nearly filling both, he figured the boxes weighed close to three-hundred pounds each.

John went to the Tuffbox marked with a big, green letter “A” and unlocked the two padlocks. His “A” box contained a mixture of ammo with an assortment of pistol and rifle magazines, fixed-blade knives, and a variety of rifle slings and optics. He removed the top layer of equipment aside and studied the ammunition below.

Like his food storage, John also quit tracking his ammo inventory. He also quickly realized that he could fit no more ammo into his “A” box, so he returned the knives and other equipment and was about to turn his attention to the “B” box when he spotted his favorite knife.

John picked up the knife and pulled it from the sheath to inspect the blade. Long ago he lost a good handgun to rust. Since then, he’s
been fanatic about keeping his steel weapons cleaned and well-oiled. His Gerber LHR was no exception. It wasn’t a fancy blade, but it was rugged and could hold a deadly sharp edge with minimal care.

The feel of the knife in his hand was hard to describe. It seemed to call to him from some long distant past, like an old and long-lost friend. He never used the Gerber in combat, but he was ready for the challenge, having sparred with friends with training blades. Instead, it stayed tucked away in its sheath, attached to the front of his tactical vest, for the entire deployment. It was never used for anything as careless as cutting rope or a zit-tie. For that, he had countless other options. His Gerber was meant and ready for one thing, and one thing only, to defend his life. When the time came, he would carry it once again.

The thought of carrying such a knife before the disaster was intriguing. It would most likely attract a lot of unnecessary attention, and John was not about attracting attention. He knew, from experience, that there was a stark differences between civilian and military life, namely in the difference of perspective. Civilians seemed to fear what Soldiers saw as essential tools.

John stepped under the garage light and examined the Gerber blade more carefully. It was spotless, and still very sharp. He twirled the knife in his palm, and ran through a few attack drills in the privacy of the garage. He was in the middle of one such drill when the door opened and Adam walked in. “Dad, didn’t mom tell you not to play with knives?” said Adam, with a teasing tone of voice.

“No, that’s what she told you,” said John. “She knows rules like that don’t apply to me.”

Adam was silent as he watched his dad slice the air with the knife. The low-luster coating didn’t reflect the light, and the blade looked like a shadow as it passed quickly through the air.

John stopped and was about to sheath the knife when Adam said, “That’s a nice knife. Can I hold it?”

John slid the knife into the Kydex sheath and handed it to Adam. He let Adam examine the knife as he closed and locked the “A” box, and
opened the “B” box. Like the first, the “B” box was also nearly filled with ammo. “Adam, hand me the ammo on the table, please.”

Adam began passing ammo to John, and John stacked it in the box as well as he could. “I didn’t realize you had so much ammo,” said Adam, as he continued to pass ammo to John. “How much do you have, dad?”

John sighed and said, “I don’t exactly know, but I reckon we’ve got somewhere around three-thousand rounds of 5.56, fifteen-hundred of .308, eight-hundred of .45, about twelve-hundred in 9mm, four-fifty in twelve-gauge double-ought, and some eight-thousand in .22 Long Rifle. We’ve also got a comfortable supply of .38, .357, and .45 long, for the Colt revolver. Oh, and some .380 for mom’s Walther. Then there’s the assortment of twelve-gauge game and target loads. All told, not counting the .22, I’d say somewhere in the ballpark of seven thousand rounds,” finished John.

Adam whistled and said, “Do you think we’ll need that much when the . . . you know, when the zombies attack?”

“Yes I do,” said John.

“Really?” replied Adam, with a hint of distress in his voice.

“You’re the one who mentioned zombies,” replied John.

“Well . . . I was just kidding.”

“When the ash starts to fall, and the power goes out . . . when there’s no more food to be had . . . you’ll see zombies,” added John.

“You’re kidding . . . right, dad?” asked Adam, with all humor gone out of him.

“Desperate people will do desperate things. It’s why I spent so much time preparing you. I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen, but I’m pretty sure it won’t be fun, or funny. It will be deadly serious. Life and death is serious business, Adam. This ammo is our life . . . our survival. I hope we don’t use any of it, but we have it if we need it.

“I didn’t think it would be that serious. I just thought you were trying to scare us.”

“I would never try to scare you, but sometimes the truth is scary.” John moved to the work table and opened the box for the night-vision
scope. He looked at Adam and said, “This is not going to be your ordinary, run of the mill, regional disaster. It won’t be like Hurricane Katrina, or Hurricane Sandy, which were both bad in their own right. This disaster, is going to be much bigger, and uglier than anything we’ve ever experienced. There will be no one to come to our rescue, Adam. We’re going to be on our own for quite some time, I think,” finished John, as he flipped through the instruction manual for the night-sight.

“Trucks won’t be moving, so that means fuel and food will also stop moving. Gas stations and grocery stores will dry up. As for water . . . well, water pumps need electricity, so when the electricity stops flowing, so will the water. And then there’s the matter of air quality, all the aircraft will be grounded. Pretty much everything will come to a stop except for us . . . living on the ground,” said John.

“How many people will die?” asked Adam.

“I don’t know, but a lot,” replied John. He looked at Adam and said, “People will go on living, they always have, and they always will. We’ll just have to learn to live without all the things we’ve come to enjoy. It will be harder, but it won’t be impossible,” said John.

Adam nodded and picked up the small instruction manual. Without looking up, he asked, “Is that why you bought this cool night-sight?”

“Yeah,” replied John. “I figured we could use it in low-light settings. I don’t know how long it will be ash dark, but I thought it would come in handy.”

“Do you think we’ll have to shoot people, dad?”

John looked at his son, gauging his resolve, his strength and fortitude, and wondered how he’d fare in a world turned upside down. “Adam, I have faith in you. I know what you can do. I’ve prepared you in ways that kids your age just aren’t prepared. Whatever happens, I’ll be with you.”

“Dad . . . I’ve had . . . I’ve . . .” stammered Adam.

John said, “What is it, son?” as he approached Adam. John didn’t know what was bothering Adam, but he knew it was important.

“It’s just that . . . well . . . it’s nothing really. I’m just glad you prepared me is all,” finished Adam.

John nodded. He knew Adam decided against telling him what was really bothering him, but he also knew better than to try and coax it out of him. If Adam wanted to talk, he would talk. John would never try to coax words from his son without good cause, and he could imaging no good cause. “I’m pretty sure we’ll have to defend ourselves,” said John, more to change the subject than anything. He liked having this dialogue with Adam, and he didn’t want it to stall on unspoken words.

It was Adam’s turn to nod. “It won’t be like the games on Xbox, or even in the movies,” continued John.

“I know, dad.”

“I just want you to be mentally prepared as well. There might even come a time when my life will rest in your hands. One day, you may have to make a split-second decision to take someone’s life, or lose me. That will be an important decision for you, so I need you to think about it.”

Adam’s eyes grew big and John added, “But we’ll work out a few scenarios, and then practice them together. I’ll keep preparing you . . . even up to the day you decide to leave and go out on your own,” said John.

He rested a hand on his son’s shoulder and said, “I’m very proud of you. A father couldn’t be prouder of a son, than I am of you.”

“I don’t expect you to understand everything that’s about to happen,” said John, “but the rules as we know them are about to change. When people realize the police are gone, that the rule of law no longer applies, that the military can’t help . . . well, then that’s when you’ll see all sorts of crazy and desperate people.

“That’s when you’ll have to be tough, like a soldier, if you want to survive. Your desire to live, to survive, will have to be strong. And whatever happens to me . . . well, you can’t quit! You can’t give up! You will have to be meaner and nastier than the enemy, because if anything happens to me, then you’ll have to carry on. You’ll have to take care of your mom and sister. Do you understand what I’m saying, son?” asked John.

A tear spilled from Adam’s eye as he nodded. John watched the tear travel down Adam’s cheek and settle at the corner of his mouth. Adam, to his credit, refused to respond to it. He held his posture firm, and John loved him all the more for it. John reached out and took Adam in his arms, and then hugged him fiercely.

Adam managed to control his breathing enough to say, “You know I’ll do what I can, dad. I won’t let you down.”

“Don’t do it for me, Adam,” said John, as he extended Adam to arm’s length. “Do it for yourself, for your mom and your sister. I won’t live forever, but you have your entire life ahead of you. I’ve trained you how to fight with your hands, and with a knife. You’re an excellent shot. You know how to hunt and move silently through the woods, and you know how to use every weapon I have. So, you ready to test the night-vision scope?”