So, You Want to Live Past Next Tuesday

by Billy Bob Richardson

  Laughing, Roy told him even more about the names the cousins had.

  “For whatever reason, the kids that were close to Madd and the others in age delighted in giving or taking nicknames. Tinker, or Tink is called that because he loved to ‘tinker’ with anything mechanical. Real got his name because he said things like ‘are you guys for real?’ one too many times, so the group hung the name Real on him. Hey got his for a similar reason, one too many times of saying ‘Hey, Hey, hold up’, etc.

  Al was laughing at the antics of kids and enjoying the pure joy kids could get from simple things.

  “So Ivan is his real name I suppose, but what about Madd?”

  “Actually, Ivan isn’t his real name. One of their older instructors liked silly poems or sayings. On some camping trip when they were eight or so he entertained them one night around the campfire with an old poem:

  ‘The sons of the Prophet are hardy and bold,

  And quite unaccustomed to fear,

  but of all the most reckless of life or of limb

  was Abdullah Bulbul Amir.

  When they wanted a man to encourage the van

  Or harass a foe from the rear,

  Storm fort or redoubt, they had only to shout

  For Abdullah Bulbul Amir.

  This son of the desert in battle aroused

  Could spit twenty men on his spear.

  A terrible creature when sober or soused

  Was Abdullah Bulbul Amir.

  The heroes were plenty and well known to fame

  That fought in the ranks of the Czar.

  But the greatest of these was a man by the name

  Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  He could imitate Irving, play euchre or pool

  And strum on the Spanish guitar.

  In fact quite the cream of the Muscovite team

  Was Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  The ladies all loved him, his rivals were few

  He could drink them all under the bar.

  Come gallant or tank, there was no one to rank

  With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  One day this bold Russian had shouldered his gun

  And donned his most truculent sneer.

  He went into town, and straightway ran down

  Abdullah Bulbul Amir.

  “Young man”, quoth the Bulbul, “Is existence so dull

  That you’re eager to end your career?

  For infidel, know, you have trod on the toe

  Of Abdullah Bulbul Amir.”

  “So take your last look at the sunshine and brook

  And send your regrets to the Czar.

  By this I imply you are going to die,

  Mr. Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.”

  Said Ivan, “My friend, your remarks in the end

  Will avail you but little, I fear.

  For you ne’er will survive to repeat them alive,

  Mr. Abdullah Bulbul Amir.”

  Then this bold Mamalouk drew his trusty skibouk

  With a cry of “Allah Akbar.”

  With murderous intent he ferociously went

  For Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  They parried and thrust, they sidestepped and cussed

  Of blood they spilled a great lot.

  The philologist blokes, who seldom crack jokes,

  Say that hash was first made on that spot.

  They fought all that night ‘neath the pale yellow moon,

  The din it was heard from afar.

  And multitudes came, so great was the fame,

  Of Abdul and Ivan Skivar.

  As Abdul’s long knife was extracting the life,

  In fact he had shouted, “Huzzah!”

  He felt himself struck by that wily Calmuck,

  Count Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  The Sultan drove by in his red-crested fly,

  Expecting the victor to cheer.

  But he only drew nigh just to hear the last sigh

  Of Abdullah Bulbul Amir.

  Czar Petrovich too, in his spectacles blue

  Drove up in his new crested car.

  He arrived just in time to exchange a last line

  With Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  There’s a grave by the wave where the Blue Danube rolls,

  And ‘graved there in characters clear,

  Is “Stranger, when passing, oh pray for the soul

  Of Abdullah Bulbul Amir.”

  A splash in the Black Sea one dark moonless night,

  Caused ripples to spread near and far.

  It was made by a sack fitting close to the back

  Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.

  A Muscovite maiden her lone vigil keeps,

  ‘Neath the light of the pale polar star.

  And the name that she murmurs so oft as she weeps

  Is Ivan Skavinsky Skivar.’

  “The instructor of course laughed along with the kids at a funny sounding poem, but he went on to explain what the poem was really saying. The way the instructor recited the poem then pointed out the foolishness of too much misplaced personal pride along with the necessity to defend oneself affected all of them, or so I heard. Apparently eight year olds could understand the tragedy of that poem and had misty eyes. Ivan was two years older than the others and took Ivan as his nickname so that he would never forget the lesson he learned that night.

  “As for Madd, his nickname came for the Noël Coward song:

  ‘Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.

  The Japanese don’t care to, the Chinese wouldn’t dare to,

  Hindus and Argentinians sleep firmly from twelve to one,

  But Englishmen detest a siesta,

  In the Philippines there are lovely screens,

  to protect you from the glare,

  In the Malay states there are hats like plates,

  which the Britishers won’t wear,

  At twelve noon the natives swoon, and

  no further work is done -

  But Mad Dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun.’

  “The sun or heat never seemed to phase Madd, so one of the older instructors kept saying Madd could out-mad the Mad Englishmen. The name stuck and so he is known as Madd nowadays.”

  Not for the first time and certainly not for the last time Al found himself thinking, what kind of men had he stumbled onto; who were these people?

  “Al, I know this all seems wacky to you, but why not meet the girls? It might make it all a little easier to get your head around. Itsy and her girls are right over there, you should meet them and see how they get along.”

  Catching Itsy’s eye, Roy motioned her and her friends over and told Itsy, “Check with Madd, see if it’s OK for you and the girls to take Al with your group when we go to eat. Might not hurt him to be around some ‘good girls’.”

  When she got back Roy indicated that they should sit down and wait.

  “What about this War Council thing?” Al asked him.

  “This should be easier to grasp than our relationships. Since we are a large family there are men in the older generations who help guide the family; I am the head of that group. We make suggestions about how the ranches and farms are managed and OK business ventures, all the things a large, close-knit family might need to do to maintain the family. We don’t much care for the name, but the younger generation calls us The Inner Circle. We aren’t comfortable with that view. Makes us sound like some type of fanatical monks or something. We are armchair warriors these days. Only 50% of us have had combat experience and for some it was a long time ago. We stay active and in shape but everyone loses a step as they get older.

  “We need an action arm. Men who have been in combat recently and are still in shape and sharp. It’s easy to send people to war to die if you have no idea what you are sending them into. We make sure that there are those with combat experience on the council. It’s harder to make frivolous decisions if you’ve been in the kill zone yourself. Once you have been on the receiving end of bullets and bombs
you are not quite so quick to send your young men into harm’s way. Think of it as being a little like what some Native American tribes did. They had a chief that had a council to give him advice, but in time of war there was a war leader who took command of violent conflicts.

  “Madd will lead recent combat vets like Ivan and the others. They will be that action arm, that war party if you will, under Madd’s direction. We needed a way to define it from the regular council so the family started calling it the War Council.”

  “You starting some private war, Roy?”

  “No, we believe that trouble is coming and there is nothing we can do to stop it, but we are determined to protect ourselves so the family can survive.”

  “Why Madd and the others? They’re great guys, but why them?”

  “Because they are as well trained as we can make them. Once they are done with their current contracts they will be ready to lead.”

  “OK, but again, why them, what makes them better fighters or strategists?”

  “We have uncles, cousins and friends that were instructors for any military branch you could name. All our young boys start their training at six years old. However, at six, those five got special, and to some degree, intensive training. They did PT with a Marine DI. Tailored to their age and size of course. They also got close combat training. Most of them had already been out to shoot 22cals with relatives but we like to have our young people learn gun safety as early as possible. They were trained to shoot 22cal rifles and pistols. Learned about paintball and Airsoft weapons. They threw Airsoft grenades, learned to place Airsoft claymore mines. By eight they had learned enough to be safe and how to use various weapons. Due to something Madd brought up they got some heavy duty training starting at eight.

  “At eight they added hunting rifles and assault weapons. Plus they trained with other former special forces members in street fighting and practical martial arts fighting. Then fighting techniques with a Navy Seal. Other disciplines with a Ranger. Every four to six months they would step up the PT and learn something new.

  “Before ten they were using ghillie suits and sneaking through the woods on missions, the same as grown men would. From twelve to fourteen their day started at 0545 and ended at 1600. Before fourteen they had learned to fire and maintain the AR, AK and M2010 enhanced sniper rifle weapons platforms. How to survive in hostile conditions, escape and evade. One uncle has a class three firearms license so they learned to use fully automatic weapons. Even got time on a M2 Browning 50cal.

  “They low-crawled under live fire and set explosive charges on stumps and old junk cars. From fourteen until they were sixteen, four days one week and three days the next week, their day started at 0430 and ended at 1800. From the beginning they learned from military manuals and instructors how to maintain weapons. By sixteen that intensified and they basically had learned all the leadership classes and skills a career soldier or an officer would have learned. In addition, they got the training you would get in Special Forces. They had tutors in all their school subjects and they learned to speed read. Every one of them skipped at least three grades of schooling compared to those in public school.

  “Madd had enough credits before he was fifteen to get his high school diploma and the equivalent of at least one college degree. He was prepared in a wide variety of subjects to attend any college he might choose. Even before fifteen, professors and instructors threw college classes at all of them, Madd especially. By this point he has the equivalent of several college degrees. They are still studying various subjects, and to be frank those boys left most of us behind by the time they were fourteen. By fourteen they were combat capable and had been part of well-formed and well-trained rifle squads and larger units, for several years.

  “Weekends they worked the ranch/farm. At various ages, two weekends a month they camped out in the high mountains and did some hunting and fishing. They had expert hunters, trackers and survival instructors for their time in the woods. Friday nights and the weekends when they were not in the mountains they read anything they could get their hands on that was entertaining or educational. They spent some of their down time with their uncles, aunts, cousins, brothers and sisters, getting a feel for what the family thought and needed.

  “One weekend camping trip per month they took younger family members with them, including the girls. Just about every woman in our family can shoot, ride and work the ranch/farm to varying degrees. Itsy can shoot a standard paper target at thirty feet from horseback at a trot. She is maybe five one, one hundred and six pounds. She can handle a small frame nine mil like a trick shooter at the fair. You may have heard that there are no dangerous weapons, only dangerous men. Well, that counts for the women in our family as well.”

  “Holly jumping mackerel, Roy! If I didn’t know what those guys can do from our time together in Afghanistan I would have thought that was the biggest fish story I ever heard. I can see the truth of it though; I’ve seen plenty of evidence to support it.”

  Al had been given a lot of information. While it seemed a strange way to grow up, it wasn’t all that bizarre. After all, he had worked with guys whose parents were wealthy and had sent their sons off to military school as soon as they could. No matter how he turned it though, he could tell he was still missing something important.

  “Come on, it’s time for our dinner reservations. Itsy, grab Rose as well, that way Al won’t have to keep swiveling his head around trying watch her.”

  “Sheesh Roy, you sure know how to embarrass a guy.”

  On his way to bed that night Al couldn’t stop thinking about Rose; she was a delight. Her family members were the friendliest and warmest people he had ever met, in addition to being the most extraordinary people he had ever known. They made him feel like he fit in, and that was pretty rare for him.

  Chapter 3

  Fort Wilderness Resort

  Trail’s End Restaurant

  “Morning, Roy.”

  “Morning, Al; you look bright eyed and bushy tailed today.”

  “I slept better than I have in quite a while and I had a great time with you folks last night. I am feeling good. I had forgotten what it’s like to be with friendly folks, somewhere I don’t need to worry about stepping on an IED.”

  “We can sit somewhere else if you want, but Madd had them seat us at tables where he can see the main foyer out there,” Roy informed him.

  “Hey Al, come sit with us,” Real called to him.

  “Sure thing. There some reason we have to sit facing out into the main building lobby?”

  That caused a round of laughter from those sitting close by.

  “Well we don’t have to, but Madd is going to sit here no matter what, so just to be sociable we are going to sit here too,” said Tink.

  “What’s up with that?”

  “You tell him Real, you know the most about it since you share his mania,” Tink joked him.

  “Mania? I will manfully ignore that slight on my character.” That caused even more laughter.

  “Hey guys, take it easy, you’re going to make the man think I am half crazy.” Madd was laughing and waving his fist at the cousins.

  Real came back with, “What do you mean, half?”

  Madd started waving a fist in his direction.

  “OK, I take back the half part.”

  Real ruined the supposed retraction by giving Al a big slow-motion wink.

  “You see, Madd fell in love with this place when we were like twelve and wants to build the family a structure that has some of the same architectural features.” That statement was accompanied by Real pointing around at the fireplaces and explaining the architectural features that were reminiscent of the Great Lodges of the Pacific Northwest.

  “For sure it’s a very interesting building, but what would you do with something like this?”

  “Actually Al, I can’t do justice to the reasons. Madd, you better take it from here.”

  “Gee thanks, Real, just leave me holding the bag! We
have some land that would be perfectly suited to something along these lines, Al. It was the original site for the family ranch, and almost all the buildings are gone now. You can still see where the old barns and corrals were, but they are mostly gone now as well. It sat on a flat elevated area that was sitting above the surrounding landscape. Think mini mesa. It has giant trees growing all around the area that were planted two hundred years ago by our family. As the land slopes away there are hundreds of acres of meadows and former fields. There are thousands of acres surrounding all that. They used to run hundreds of head of cattle and horses there years ago. The fields used to be planted with hay, corn, and oats, about anything you can think of, actually.

  “If the house were oriented properly there would be a fantastic view down the valley. There is a stream that is less than 1 1/2 miles away that would be perfect for damming and making ponds. There are several artesian wells on the property as well, plus lots of room behind and off to the side of the main house for barns, corrals, all types of outbuildings.”

  Al felt the enthusiasm radiating off of Madd; it was infectious. Every new sentence made him feel as if he could almost see that old farm.

  “Sounds intriguing, so why isn’t it still the farm?” Al asked.

  “It’s a long way from even a small town. When electricity and modern conveniences came around a lot of the family felt the ranch/farm was too remote and wanted to move closer to town. It was fifteen hours by horse and wagon across their land to get to a road to town. About three miles wandered across rocky terrain that made it hard to navigate a wagon with wooden wheels on it. The family owned land much closer to town so it was decided that they would move.”

  “If it was too remote, then why isn’t it too remote now? You guys build a road?” Al asked.

  “No, no road. There are some faint tracks that are a kind of road, but the part that crosses rocks is invisible.” Madd made it sound like a plus, not a detriment, not to have a road.

  “The way you describe it makes it sound beautiful and the remoteness has a certain attraction. Why would you want to build a house there, though?”

  Madd had a feeling it might be a little too early to tell Al that it was a good place to weather an end-of-the-world event.