This We Will Defend

by C. A. Rudolph

  Lauren had grown fond of her father’s sincerity ever since he’d resolved to become her friend years ago. He’d always preferred honesty and openness, and he’d exposed her to it so many times that it had become sacrosanct. It made her feel secure and safe. It helped make the unfamiliar noises emanating from the surrounding woods a little less daunting.

  Lauren stared hard at the fire. “Something really bad…like one of the things in your book.”

  “Exactly,” Alan said.

  There were a few moments of comfortable silence that allowed Lauren to gather her thoughts before she decided to speak again. The fire crackled happily during the intermission.

  “Dad, what’s the worst-case scenario?” she asked, her voice full of anticipation as she watched her father’s expression. She was eager to hear, see, and understand his response.

  Alan glanced at his daughter with a contemplative smirk. His eyebrows lifted. “Worst-case scenario?”

  “Yeah. Of all the circumstances outlined in your book, what’s the worst one?” Lauren asked. “In other words—what would cause the excrement to hit the rotating oscillator…with the most lateral force?”

  Alan chuckled. “That’s easy,” he replied. “If the intention is to completely screw everyone and everything, now and for years to come…I’ll take EMP for a thousand, Alex.”

  Lauren sat up. “Yeah?”

  “Without a doubt,” Alan confirmed. “Without one single doubt.”

  “Even more so than a biological or nuclear attack?”

  “In this day and age, an EMP or coronal mass ejection of the appropriate scale is way worse,” Alan said. “A bio attack can be messy and kill millions, but it doesn’t damage infrastructure. A nuke just wipes out everything all at once. All life within the blast radius, the whole enchilada—gone in a split second. No one even knows what hit them. The aftereffects are the most dreadful thing to deal with and vary, depending on the size of the payload. They kill slowly over time. Fallout and radiation poisoning isn’t anything to laugh about. The air itself can become poisonous. So can the dirt, rain, and anything organic. We could see exclusion zones like the areas surrounding Chernobyl or even something way worse like nuclear winter. But all things considered, weapons that destroy everything, hard and fast, in my opinion, are more humane.”

  Alan paused and tossed a stick lying beside him into the fire while Lauren watched closely. “Now, an EMP? That’s a completely different animal. We’re talking about a weapon with the ability to annihilate infrastructure—namely, electrical and electronic infrastructure. And we are a society that has become hopelessly dependent on that very thing. Electricity and electronics drive technology—and it progresses every day as the world becomes more automated. It provides us with all sorts of things we depend on—food, clean water, sanitation, transportation, communication, you name it. And to top it off, most people depend on virtual currency to pay bills and buy things they want or need.

  “Take all that stuff away—all of it, gone—in a single second after an EMP and POOF. It leaves people without their security blankets…having to fend for themselves, something the human race hasn’t had to do in many, many generations, even in third-world countries. These days, people go crazy because the battery dies or they lose service on their smartphone, or their credit cards stop working temporarily, or if the power goes out after a thunderstorm. Can you imagine what would happen if something that insipid lasted more than a few days? People would lose their shit, L, and they would lose it fast. Now, imagine…if it became permanent.”

  Alan took another pause and sipped from his flask as Lauren turned her stare into the fire. “No electricity, no equilibrium. In less than a week, cities would be burning, and people would be killing each other over the last morsels of food in their pantries. In general, we’re not a society equipped to live without the technology we’ve grown to need. Getting hit with a big nuke is—humanitarian compared to an EMP. Metaphorically, it’s the difference between executing someone with a bullet to the back of the head, or torturing him to death over the course of years with a dull pair of kindergarten scissors. The right EMP could put us all back in the Stone Age, and leave us to figure things out for years after the dust settles. It is, in my opinion, without question the worst-case scenario…especially for the society we live in now.”

  Lauren stared blankly into the fire. She didn’t say anything for a moment. “And that’s why we do the prepper thing,” she calculated.

  “Admittedly, yes. I am one of those fanatical survivalist prepper folks. But, I wear my tinfoil hat proudly.”

  “So what do we—I mean you, prepare us for?”

  Alan smiled and gazed into his daughter’s eyes which now appeared as little mirrors, reflecting the flames of the campfire. “The worst-case scenario, L. By doing that, we’re ready for anything else. At least, I hope we are.”

  Lauren nodded and smiled. “That’s good to know—I think.”

  “Preparations are only one way to manage the risk,” Alan said. “All that stuff being stashed somewhere is useless unless we can utilize it, and that means we have to be able to protect it. That’s why learning how to protect ourselves and our possessions is just as essential as prepping itself.”

  “Hence the classes,” said Lauren.

  “I believe you’re catching on.”

  “The classes that…as of this day, you’re now telling me aren’t enough.”

  Alan nodded. He pursed his lips but didn’t offer a worded response. Lauren cracked her knuckles and held her hands palms open toward the fire.

  “I’ve learned so much already, Dad. Between karate and learning defensive and tactical shooting, what else do I need to know?”

  Alan smiled. He considered Lauren’s eyes and she returned the gaze. “You can defend yourself—there’s no doubt in my mind. But the skills you still need to learn go way beyond that of self-defense. You need to learn how to do what’s necessary to preserve your way of life. I’m talking about self-preservation.”

  Lauren worriedly tilted her head. “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s okay,” Alan said. “Self-defense and self-preservation are both visceral traits that we’re all born with. Self-defense is based on a reaction to something—you react with force to defend yourself against an attack. Not everyone knows how to defend themselves, and sometimes, they have to be taught. I’ve always believed that learning a martial art was the best option for that...the problem is, reaction is slower, and always falls prey to action.” He paused. “Self-preservation is a primal instinct. It’s not just about survival—it’s about doing whatever’s necessary to continue life, and prolong it. It entails action—and occasionally necessitates actions that are preemptive, and often violent, and even brutal in nature. It can be nasty stuff.”

  Lauren batted her eyelashes and nodded, a grave expression coating her face. “I think I get it,” she said. “It doesn’t paint a pretty picture, but I get it.”

  “You’ve always been able to understand things most kids—excuse me—young adults can’t or otherwise refuse to. I know for a fact that if something bad were to happen, even today, that you’d somehow know what to do. The solution may not come to you at first, but you’d ultimately grasp it.” Alan paused. “You were born with an amazing mind and good instincts, L, and I’m glad you were blessed with them. But for me as your father, I want you to have more at your disposal.”

  “So the next step is training with Dave and his hooligans,” said Lauren.

  “Logically I think it’s our best move right now,” Alan said. “But I only want you to do it if you want to. I don’t want you feeling like you’re being forced into anything.”

  “Of course I’ll do it,” Lauren said. “You haven’t steered me wrong a single time in my life, Dad. I trust you.”

  Alan went to pass his flask to his daughter, but she held up a hand.

  “You know, something about this worst-case scenario conversation has conjured up some things…tha
t I need to get out,” Alan said. “I need you to listen to me, L, and never forget the things I tell you tonight.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “I just have a feeling in my gut that we’re running out of time.”

  Lauren repositioned herself to get more comfortable. “I’m listening,” she said and turned her full attention to her father.

  Alan took a deep breath and then exhaled it slowly, taking a moment to gather his thoughts as he stared into the fire.

  “If the day that we’re preparing for comes, no matter what scenario it is, there’s going to be a lot of people in need. And what’s the one thing we always want to do when we see someone who’s upset, hurt, or disadvantaged?”

  “Help them,” Lauren replied.

  Alan nodded. “Exactly. We want to help them. That’s what makes us who we are. It’s human nature to be altruistic and to want to help people in need. When someone’s house burns down or when disaster strikes, people come together and pool their resources to help the indigent and deprived. And there’s not one damn thing wrong with it—unless our family—those directly in our care and those we directly care about—are affected by the same circumstances. Then it becomes a matter of self-preservation.” He paused. “To preserve our way of life, we must refuse the notion to help those we cross paths with. We have to come to grips with the fact that, regrettably, people are going to die. It’s an absolute inevitability. And some will die for simple, even stupid reasons that we may think we can postpone or prevent by helping—but no matter what we do, it won’t be enough. Nothing can postpone what’s inevitable. You can’t power a home oxygen concentrator or a dialysis machine without electricity, and fuel is a finite resource. People with empty pantries, used to eating at Panera every day, are going to get very hungry, very soon. It won’t take long for them to get desperate and end up hurting someone or even killing someone over food. Parents desperate to feed their starving children won’t hesitate for a second to kill you to feed them. No matter what we do…no matter what…as unfortunate as it sounds, people are going to end up starving to death. Nothing can change that.”

  Alan paused and turned his gaze to the fire. “As fellow human beings, it’s in our nature to help others, L. But we cannot allow ourselves to do that involuntarily. Every effort we make to help another person will be done to spite ourselves. If we open our supplies to the unprepared community, we’re endangering everything we’ve planned and saved for, and we put ourselves in jeopardy. I know it sounds horrible. But it’s reality. It’s a brutal reality, and something that we, as people who want to survive and continue our way of life as best we can, have to remain steadfast about.”

  Alan paused and took another drink from his flask. He picked up a piece of wood and tossed it into the fire pit. Lauren took shallow breaths and said nothing. She was gripped by his every word. They were the words of a prepper and a seasoned doomsdayer, but they were also the words of a loving father—her loving father. A man she trusted emphatically. A man whose words she held beyond reproach.

  “Perhaps the biggest problem with choosing to help is that it puts us and our supplies on the radar. If someone sees that we have something they don’t have, they’ll want it. If they don’t get it, they’ll get angry. They’ll take steps…and probably get violent…or get even with us by telling as many other people as they can. Before you know it, we’ll have a hundred or more folks all begging us for help. The begging will turn into demands, and the demands will ultimately turn violent. So the only recourse is to never allow that to happen. Our objective from the word go is being invisible—staying off the radar, keeping to ourselves, and only acting if we are provoked. Because in the end, it will keep us alive. Because…in the end, when the chips are down, whose lives matter more? Ours? Or theirs?”

  “Ours,” Lauren blurted out matter-of-factly. “Of course our lives matter more, Dad.”

  Alan nodded. “Damn right they do,” he said with finality. “I’ve worked hard my whole life, L. I’ve sacrificed my time, blood, sweat, and tears to fortify us and secure our home with supplies and preparations. Thousands—perhaps millions of others out there have refused to do anything, despite the writing on the wall in huge, bold crimson letters. They’ll be the ones begging for help, wondering what happened to all their free crap when the shit hits the fan…not us. I will not let them take what we have. And I won’t give it to them either. Their desperation will not become our dilemma. The ones begging for help because they spent all their money on vacations, lattes, and virtual junk had just as much opportunity as we did—and chose to do nothing. We did something about it. We made conscious decisions to plan for the future in an uncertain world.”

  Alan took another drink from his now nearly empty flask. A lump had formed in his throat over the course of his speech that he swallowed over. He stared deeply into the fire as Lauren rose to her knees and carefully stacked a few more logs on it.

  “We live in such a strange world,” said Lauren. She pulled the elastic hair tie off that had confined her hair in a ponytail, pulling it over her wrist, where it joined several others. “Even now in normal times, people are literally only a second away from becoming barbaric.”

  “Some are born that way,” Alan said. “It’s in their blood. Others…well, desperate situations cause people to do desperate things. It can turn a sane person insane, and it can turn a pacifist into a killer.”

  “And violence is the best remedy.”

  “Sometimes it’s the only one,” Alan said. “I mean…let’s go back to that day we were being chased up the trail. If I hadn’t done what I did, where would we be now?” Alan paused and swallowed over the lump in his throat again. He rubbed the scar on his forearm where the machete had landed after being thrown at him that day. “I know where you’d be. And I know where your mother would be. I’m sorry, Lauren, but those thoughts don’t sit well with me. It was and still is my job to protect you and your mom. I did my job that day.” Alan paused and took a few breaths through his nose. “I’ve had nightmares about it going the other way. I’ve woken up in a cold sweat on more than one occasion and ran into your room like some idiot—just to make sure that you’re still with me—that you’re still alive and well.”

  Lauren stood up, walked to where Alan was sitting, and hugged him tightly around his neck. Alan reached up and put his hand on the top of her head.

  “I love you, Dad,” Lauren said. “I’m alive and well…because of you.” Lauren turned away after a moment and began moving her things closer to where Alan was sitting. Soon after, she plopped down beside him.

  “I want you to promise me something, L,” Alan began. “If you’re ever backed into a corner or if you ever find yourself in a situation where you’re outmatched, outclassed, or you can’t fight your way out of, that you won’t let your fear decide your fate. Use that fear as a weapon. You keep your head and you find a solution. Don’t ever limit yourself—use everything available to you as a weapon. No matter what, you fight…until you can’t fight anymore. Do…not…ever…quit.”

  “I thought you said to always pick my battles.”

  “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try to avoid it, the battle picks you,” Alan said. “And if that happens, we have to improvise.”

  “Okay.”

  “Part of the whole prepper discipline is trying to be prepared for anything,” Alan said, “and that means carrying things on our persons at all times that we can use to give us the upper hand in most circumstances—such as a knife, flashlight, fire-starting gear—”

  “Guns,” Lauren inserted.

  “Exactly,” Alan said proudly. “That way, if the battle does pick us, we have something we can use to gain the advantage. We live in a world of limitless possibilities…and humanity is the most unpredictable species on the planet. Deprivation can easily send anyone on the path to depravity. Our job is to rise above the thought process of the typical everyday person—to lead and choose alternate paths, to not follow or do something j
ust because it’s popular or status quo. We need to think about things that the standardized and normalized don’t think about, and prepare ourselves for things they couldn’t care less about. Because the day will come when it will matter—mark my words.”

  “I believe you, Dad.”

  “Just promise me one thing, L. If you know you’re going to lose the fight, you take a piece of them with you. Don’t you dare just let them win.”

  Lauren nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

  “As a father, I always want to be your first line of defense,” Alan said. “But that’s not realistic. As much as I don’t want to admit it, there may come a day when I won’t be there to protect you. There’s always that chance, and that’s why I do these things, L. That’s why I started you in karate when you were younger. It’s why I teach you outdoor skills…take you to classes, and it’s even why I felt it necessary to keep you out of school for a week to train with Dave Graham’s version of SEAL Team Six.” Alan paused and chuckled to himself. “I pray every day…that you end up going through life not needing any of this stuff. I can’t wait to see you go to prom, graduate school, and go on to enjoy the amazing, fulfilling life that you deserve. But if you end up needing these things someday, you’ll have them.”

  Alan smiled, but turned his head when he noticed Lauren’s eyes fixated on something diagonally behind where they both were sitting. He looked up to see the old man who’d shown up earlier with his companion, standing just feet from him.

  “Sir, can I help you with something?” asked Alan. His voice was slurred but still managed to convey authority.

  The old man held up his hands in surrender. “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he said in a surprisingly young voice. His words escaped his mouth briskly without hesitation, almost as if he had just popped a handful of stimulants. “Couldn’t help but overhear your conversation with your daughter. Hope you don’t mind.” He turned his head away to glance at his companion, who smiled and waved. “We’re not eavesdropping by any means…but it’s so quiet out here, it was hard for us to ignore. Didn’t mean to intrude.”