Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (31 page)

John made his way to the rear of the shop and walked to the twin LP tanks. They sat side-by-side on a thick concrete pad, a bit far from the house, but out of sight from the road, which is what John preferred. He didn’t know how much fuel the tanks held, but he would learn soon enough.

The sun had just dipped below the horizon, and the sky was calmly settling into the deep azure blue of EENT, or Early Evening Nautical Twilight. John looked around the sky and saw that the moon had not yet made an appearance, but the brightest of stars were already twinkling brightly overhead.

The darkness behind the shop was deeper, but it didn’t bother him. In fact, John actually liked the darkness, and how it served to protect him, and his soldiers while deployed. He enjoyed its embrace, and would often sit in the yard to look up at the stars and meditate on important personal and family matters.

John opened the metal, meter box lid, and with his phone in hand, he activated the flashlight to read the gauge. As he suspected, the tanks were about half full. That left him with enough fuel to last a month or more, but he would rather have them filled before the disaster happened.

While John worked his way across the yard, the back door opened and Jenna stepped out. He couldn’t see her face in the backlight, but her silhouette was unmistakable. He waved to her and she waved back, and then she disappeared into the house. John knew she was waiting for him, and he quickened his pace to satisfy her desire. He loved Jenna more than anything in the world, and hated disappointing her, as she did him. Theirs was a unique relationship of love and support. They weren’t perfect, but they were supportive and understanding, especially with each other.

John knew they would make it. Every time he saw Jenna and the kids stand up to the disaster, he knew they would survive. He didn’t know how he knew, he just knew.

J
ohn was in the kitchen helping Jenna clean up after dinner when his mobile phone rang. He dropped the dishtowel on the counter and saw that it was Pete calling. “Mind if I take this, babe?” asked John, as he picked up the phone.

“Of course not,” replied Jenna. “I can finish here.”

John pressed the accept-call window on the screen and put the phone to his ear while walking into the family room. “Hey Pete,” he said, “It’s great to hear from you. How you doing?”

Pete’s baritone voice, complete with a mildly reserved Texan twang, filled John’s ear with, “Hey John, I just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to bash you about that email you sent me last night.”

John waited a moment before responding, curious to see if Pete would add anything more to his opening statement. When he didn’t, John answered with an unintentional edge to his voice, “Well, I don’t know what else to say. You know I wouldn’t have sent it if I wasn’t absolutely convinced something was going to happen.”

“Now calm down . . . I wasn’t calling to give you a hard time. But I do want to hear it straight from the horse’s mouth . . . you being the horse that is. So, do you really think that thing’s gonna blow?”

“I do,” replied John. “I’m absolutely convinced of it . . . and soon.”

Silence filled the phone for several seconds, and John was about to speak when Pete said, “Well, that’s troubling news my friend. A part of me wants to laugh, and another wants to run to the grocery store and buy up food like a mad man.”

John and Pete were close, about as close as two friends could be, but the awkward opening seemed to quell their normal jovial greetings to a trickle. John knew he was being overly sensitive to the email warning, but Pete’s apparent inability to take it seriously bothered him. As for Pete, he never knew John to take something like an email so seriously before. It was an unfamiliar gulf between them, and John didn’t know how to move forward.

One thing was certain, John wasn’t ashamed of the email message. He sighed and said, “I apologize if I offended or upset you. I was compelled to share how I felt, that’s all. You’re more than capable of deciding for yourself. As for me and my family, well, we’ve been preparing all day, and we’ll be preparing every day until we’re at the level we need to be, or something happens.”

“Uh huh,” said Pete.

“But I want you to know something . . . I’m absolutely convinced it will happen . . . that the eruption will occur,” said John.

“Okay, that’s good enough for me, brother. You’re not one to exaggerate, which is why I called. Though I admit . . . I was hoping you were pulling my leg. Despite the fact that I picked up on the serious tone of your message. But I needed to hear it from you . . . hear it in your voice,” finished Pete.

“You have no idea how hard it was to send that out. I gave it a lot of thought, Pete. I came to the conclusion that if I did nothing . . . said nothing to no one, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I couldn’t live with that on my conscience. I felt I owed it to my family and friends, at a minimum,” said John.

“Easy friend, easy,” replied Pete, in an attempt to calm John’s defensiveness. “I’m not judging you. I can tell you’re taking this very seriously, but I have just one question for you.”

“Yeah. What’s that?” asked John.

“How’d you get so darn ugly?”

They laughed together for a moment. The ridiculously juvenile question had roots to their deployment time together. It was the last
and silent question. The one never asked at the end of countless mission briefs or command and staff meetings, except of course between John and Pete.

The two men resumed their familiar brotherly tone of years spent together in uniform, and then got down to business. John asked the first question, “Are you ready?” which initiated a long discussion from Pete about how he was and wasn’t ready.

John was surprised to learn that Pete actually started doing some disaster preparedness several months ago, but he was motivated more on a belief that the economy was about to collapse than on the fear of a big natural disaster. As such, his preparedness efforts were planned and deliberate, and based on economic indicators and the market. He currently had about a month’s supply of food and water, and was content with it.

Pete admitted he never considered the threat of such a large scale natural disaster before, especially one that warranted more long-term preparedness. But after researching the Caldera’s history before calling, he said he appreciated John’s concern, and his warning. “So you really think an eruption will bring our country to its knees?” asked Pete.

“I do,” replied John. “For one, all air travel will be grounded. And that’s to say nothing of conditions on the ground. Food and fuel will stop moving. Electricity will stop, water will be dirty . . . I say we’ll be at each other’s throats within three weeks’ time. Probably sooner if the rule of law collapses immediately.”

“You think the government will go to ground?” asked Pete.

“I do,” replied John. “You know as well as I do that they’re barely prepared to handle regional disasters. A national disaster . . . like the one on the scale of the Yellowstone Caldera?” John snorted and added, “Yeah, they’ll hunker down somewhere . . . wait for things to settle, at least the ash anyway.”

“Do you think they know it’s going to erupt?” asked Pete.

“I do,” answered John. “I think that’s why the news has been so quiet about it. They know there’s nothing they can do to mitigate the effects.
And if they announced it . . . well, that will cause a panic. And I’m willing to bet the President doesn’t want that responsibility, especially during an election year,” finished John.

“You mean if he’s wrong?” asked Pete.

“If he’s wrong . . . it will matter more that he didn’t cause a panic. And if he’s wrong for not warning people, then he can say he didn’t know. Besides, it won’t matter once the ash starts falling,” said John.

“I see what you mean,” replied Pete. “But that also means no one can prepare for it.”

“You got that right,” said John. “But really . . . even if they did offer a warning, how much preparedness would really happen? Even if everyone calmly drove to the store to buy food, there wouldn’t be enough for everyone. Besides, Americans aren’t disciplined enough to remain calm. Do you remember the news from Japan following the 2011 earthquake and tsunami?”

“The one that messed up the nuclear reactors?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” answered John. “The Japanese were lining up to buy food. Stores couldn’t keep up with the demand, so the Japanese government asked everyone to stop hoarding, to consider the welfare of all Japanese citizens, or something like that. And just like that . . . the food panic stopped.”

“They called it hoarding?” asked Pete.

“No. I don’t think that’s the exact word they used. It was probably something in Japanese,” quipped John.

“You’re a funny guy,” snorted Pete.

“The point is, they asked their people to purchase only the food they needed to feed their family each day, and nothing more. And they listened. But what amazes me even more is that in such a natural disaster prone area as Japan, the government doesn’t encourage family emergency preparedness. Yet they somehow managed to avoid civil disobedience and chaos by simply asking their citizens to remain calm. Something like that would never work in America,” said John.

“You got that right,” replied Pete with another snort.

“Americans can’t control themselves during a disaster, and there’s plenty of evidence to support my claim. When American’s realize they’re on their own, that the government isn’t going to help them . . . when food and water are no longer readily available . . . we’ll see unprecedented chaos,” concluded John.

“You’re not painting a very rosy picture for me here,” said Pete. “But mainly because I’m nowhere near as ready as you are.”

“I understand your concern, but some preparedness is better than none. Besides, you can always come up here and join us. I’d love to have you here . . . could even use your help,” said John.

“You really mean that?” asked Pete.

“Come on, Pete. You know I do. So when you hear about the disaster, you and Bonnie get your butts up here ASAP.”

John heard Pete sigh through the phone, and was about to reiterate the offer when Pete said, “I may just take you up on that offer. But wouldn’t it be smarter for us to head south? Maybe join up with Mark, and move away from the ash?”

“I can’t move my supplies. Besides, everyone will be moving away from the ash. And I don’t think it will stick around for long. A week . . . maybe a little more, but definitely before the food runs out. As for Mark, I extended an invitation to him as well.”

“You think he’ll come?” asked Pete.

“Don’t know. He’s . . . well, you know Mark. He’s his own man, but very capable.”

“You’re right about that,” said Pete. “Plus he’s flying solo. Has he called you lately?”

“Nope. But he knows where I live,” answered John.

“I think I’ll stay put for now,” said Pete. “But if anything changes, I’ll be the first one knocking on your door.”

“The ash will be difficult at first, but after a storm or two it will pretty much disappear. I think if we were to go anywhere, it would
probably be to link up with Jenna’s folks and then make for their property near Branson.”

“I thought that was just a small summer cabin in the woods,” said Pete.

“It is, but it’s remote. And we could sit out the worst of the disaster there . . . if we could make it.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to leave,” said Pete with surprise.

“I don’t. I prefer staying here,” said John. “We’ve got everything we need here, but we’ve also got unprepared neighbors. I just don’t know what’s going to happen when everything changes. But if we have to leave, I’ll leave you coordinates.”

“Uh huh,” said Pete.

After several moments of silence, John asked, “You still there?”

“Yup, just thinking,” said Pete. “I don’t know how this will play out, but I might try Hood first.”

“Fort Hood?” asked John, surprised in his turn.

“Yeah. I mean, it’s a military installation. But if I do decide to head your way, what’s the best way to contact you?”

“You don’t have to contact me,” said John. “Just come when you want, however you can.”

“Thanks, brother,” replied Pete. “I picked up a few extra things at the store today, and I’m planning on doing the same tomorrow.”

“Same here, but I won’t tell you how much I’ve been spending.”

“I know what you mean. Bonnie is ready to skin me over the Costco purchase I made today.”

“Well, don’t let her talk to Jenna then. Besides, she’ll come around when the ash starts falling.”

“I really hope you’re wrong about all this, John. I really do.”

“So do I,” answered John.

“Well, I really appreciate the heads up.”

“No problem. I know you would have done the same,” said John.

“You’re right about that. And if you talk to Mark . . . tell him to stop by my place on the way up. I don’t know where I’ll be, but I’ll stash him some food, or something,” said Pete.

“He may need it, but then again, he’s better trained than we are.”

“The only thing he’s prepared to do is start a war,” added Pete.

John chuckled and said, “You’re right about that.” Of the three of them, Mark was the gun enthusiast. John didn’t know how many guns Mark had, but he knew it was a lot. “If he could convert his weapons to food, he’d be set for life.”