Trader Bob even had the rechargeable batteries Kelly had requested. In the same area as the batteries was an expensive, combination charger. It could be plugged into a wall socket, but also could be hand-cranked or use the included solar panel. Max decided to buy an assortment of battery sizes.
While Trader Bob was gathering his order, Max continued to wander around the shop. He saw some battery powered, two-way radios that advertised a range of five miles. He carried five of them to the counter, thinking one for each member of the family and one to leave with the O’Donnell’s.
Trader Bob, spent fifteen minutes on the phone with the president of his local bank, convincing him to process the debit immediately. An hour after entering the shop, and a nineteen-thousand dollar swipe of his debit card, Trader Bob helped Max load his purchases into the cab of the truck.
On his way home, Max turned onto the well-maintained gravel drive to the O’Donnell farm and drove to the main house on the hill. A rail-thin, elderly black woman answered the doorbell.
“Yes sir. Can I help you?”
“Yes. I’m Max Henderson your new neighbor. Is King Magnus busy? I’d like to speak to him if possible.”
“Lawd, honey, you come on in and have a set. I’ll fetch King.” She continued speaking as she led Max into their living room and motioned for him to sit on the couch. “I’m Hattie, King’s wife. I done met your pretty wife and now I’m meeting you. Set down boy. I’ll see iffen I can pry King loose from his toy.”
Max sat as instructed and pondered about from what sort of toy she had to free King. Hattie returned with King in tow, fussing at him for leaving a trail of woodchips in his wake. Max watched them enter the room. King did indeed have wood chips on his clothing and in his short-cropped hair. He rose to shake King’s hand and found a few wood chips on his palm afterwards.
“I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”
“No, no. I was workin’ a bowl on the new lathe my boy Otis bought me for Christmas. Didn’t think I’d like it, but it’s a downright addict machine. Been turnin’ green wood and it sho’nuff throws the chips”
Hattie laughed aloud at his statement. “The man’s done made a hundred bowls, an’ I done swept up a ton o’ his droppin’s from one end of this house ta the other. It does keep him from underfoot all day tryin ta boss me at my own work. Would you like something Max? If not, I’ll fetch my broom and pan an’ sweep up his mess.”
“Thank you Miss Hattie, but I’m fine.”
As Hattie passed by King, he reached out and smacked her butt. She turned and gave him a look, but continued out of the room. King watched her until she turned the corner at the door and passed from view. He turned his attention to Max.
“My Hattie’s still got a firm rear. Ain’t nothin’ better’n that. What brings ya out? The news got ya all riled up like it’s got my boys.”
“Well, it does have me concerned. My daughter convinced me that there’s a chance the people from the city will get desperate and start raiding farms in the rural areas.”
“My boys say the same. I reckon there is cause ta worry. There’s cause ta worry about some’a the trash already living out here too. There’s some what will want ta take advantage if things get messy and confused.
“The Dobbs family, they’s the third mailbox on past your place. They’s nothin but trouble. The Simpson bunch, about five miles further still, ain’t no better. They be the worst of the worse nearby, but there’s a plenty more in the county what ya can’t trust within pissing distance of ya.”
Max nodded agreement, “Yeah that has me worried too. I came to see if you had any ideas about how to guard my place and my family. King, straight talking, I’m scared.”
“Ain’t nothin ta be ashamed of. Straight talkin’, I’m right fearful myself, maybe more’n you. Ain’t that many of us black folk in the county, an’ my family done got the reputation of being uppity. Ain’t nothin some of these rednecks hate worse than an uppity nigger, if you’ll pardon my use of that word, but that’s the way of it. Far’s how to go about guardin’ your place, Jacob and Otis is the ones ya needs ta talk to. They’re out on the back acres attending ta setting traps. Ya leave the house out the kitchen door and walk straight downhill an’ you’ll see ‘em down in the flats.”
King led him from the living room to a door at the end of a hall. On one side of the door was a wide opening leading to a huge kitchen. An opening on the other side exposed a dining room that was bigger than King’s living room. It was bigger than any dining room Max has ever seen inside a private home. There were two, wide, long dining tables made from polished slabs of timber, either of them capable of sitting twenty people.
“I see what Otis meant when he said this place would be better for a party,” Max said, pointing to the room.
“Yep, nigh on thirty years ago my Hattie made me tear up and re-range the house just for that blasted eating room. Ain’t nothin’ but an excuse for a bunch of people to mess up and cut up.” King opened the door and stepped out onto the huge, roofed, back porch. “There they are,” he said, pointing to a line of trees growing three hundred feet past a short downslope from the back steps.
Max saw the two men far out at the edge of a field by the forest where their property ended. They were squatting, working on some project.
King cautioned. “Stick to the path. The hill’s a mite steep to the field. I’ll call the boys on the radio an’ let them know you’re comin’.”
The path, King directed him to, was a series of laboriously dug and formed steps carved into the hillside, more like platforms than normal steps. The native, Georgia red clay, mixed with gravel as a stabilizer.
Jacob and Otis, alerted by King calling them on the radio, looked towards Max as he descended the rough-hewn stairs to the field below. They waved and went back to what they were doing.
As Max drew near, Jacob stood from where he knelt. Max saw they had plastic buckets filled with water and several bags of concrete on a cart with large rubber tires. Otis, still kneeling, was shaping a mound of concrete with his hands.
“Those steps are something else,” Max said. “Looks like it was a major project.”
Jacob agreed. “You got that right. Two years, off and on, chopping into Georgia with a pick. What brings you out? Hope it’s not more bad news.”
“No, I went into town to buy ammunition and batteries, and decided to stop by and talk to you.”
“That so. Heard tell the stores in town sold out of ammo.”
“Yeah, I heard that too.” Max told them about his dealing with Trader Bob.”
Otis finished shaping the mound of concrete and stood, removed his gloves and slapped them against the walls of the cart to rid them of concrete.
“You paid a pretty penny. Trader Bob’s a rough one to dicker with.”
Max shrugged. “It didn’t matter. At least he let me use a debit card, but he had a hard time with his bank accepting it. I stopped at a service station on the way back, and all they would take was cash. They charged me twenty-five a gallon.”
“Cash’ll be worthless soon enough too,” Otis said.
“What are you making?” Max asked, pointing to the concrete mound.
“Hollow rocks. We’re making thirty of them spaced out around the perimeter of our property. After the concrete sets, we’ll paint them to look like real rocks and put remote listening devices inside to protect them from rain. Our place is too big and we’ve too few adults to post guards everywhere. We figure anyone sneaking around won’t be worrying about being quiet this far from the house.”
“That’s a good idea, but how will you be able to know which device is activated?” Max asked.
Otis spoke as he lifted the Tee-bar handle of the cart. “Jacob’s oldest girl is a whiz with computers and electronics. King cut a section of plywood to the shape of our property and she’s going to put LEDs on it in the locations of our sensors and wire it from her computer. We’ll be able to hear noise or talking, a
nd know the location of an incursion.”
Max nodded. “You people are well organized. Our property is small and shouldn’t need many sensors to cover the borders. Where did you buy the devices?”
“Electronics supply house in Cornelia. We go near there on the way to pick up the feed tomorrow. I’d say you need at least ten listening posts. Ada, Jacob’s daughter can rig you a light board too. You might want to offer her some pay though.”
“I will.”
“You want to watch us make the next rock so you’ll know how it’s done? The trick is to shape the outer wall thin so it doesn’t block the signal. We use straw baskets for forms because wire might weaken the signal. You have to make a platform inside the rock to lift the listening device off the ground so it doesn’t get wet if it rains.”
Max followed the two brothers to the next site they’d chosen as a listening point. He continued speaking with them as they worked.
“Guy’s, I’m worried about the mess that’s happening in Atlanta. Kelly seems sure the people are going to get desperate for food and start raiding places.”
“That’s a given,” Jacob said. He removed a wicker basket in set it on the ground. Otis, poured concrete-gravel mix from a bag into a bucket, added water and began stirring the mixture with a garden trowel.
Max waited a moment for Jacob to continue talking, but he didn’t. Max decided to ask more questions.
“What other plans are you making to protect your property?”
“Not much we can do, other than try to keep alert. We’ve got the dogs. They’ll bark if they hear something close to the house. Counting me and Otis, we only have eight people old enough to stay awake and stand guard, and one of them is my daughter, Ada. King’s too old for night duty.”
Max said, “Counting my daughter, Kelly, we have three. I guess we can divide the nights between us.”
“You can do that. My Ada’s in her twenties, but your daughter handled herself on the firing range. While we’re out tomorrow, we’ll see about getting you a dog or two. A friend of ours this side of Toccoa was trying to rid himself of some Lab-Chow mixed. If he’s still got ‘em, he’ll give them to you just to not have to feed them anymore. Have to see if the dogs take to a white man though. If they do, they’ll need chaining until they get used to belonging to you.”
Max agreed dogs would be a good idea. “Kelly will like that. She loves animals. Fellows, I have to ask. Are you frightened? I’m scared shitless.”
Otis moved the bucket of mixed concrete near to the basket and looked up to speak to Max. “Hell yeah we’re scared.” He began molding the stiff mix over the outer shell of the basket.
Jacob said, “The thing is, the houses around here are so far apart there’s no way we can assist each other without leaving our own places vulnerable. Another thing is, our property and yours, backs up to WMA land. There’s nothing but forests for miles back that way,” Indicating with a head tilt, the tree line.
“Besides that, our closest neighbors, other than you, are racist rednecks,” Otis added.
“Yeah, your dad mentioned that.”
Jacob said, “Just thinking, but you could keep your wife’s car parked across the entrance to your drive. The trees at the front of the property and the deep drainage ditch would keep anything but a four-wheel drive from coming onto your place.”
“Good idea,” Max said. “I guess the main thing is to keep our weapons near us and be ready for trouble.”
“A piece of advice, Max, if you do have to fire a weapon in self-defense, don’t hesitate. Another thing to take into account, this isn’t a TV program we’re watching. Among the good people fleeing the city there will be some real crazies. If you’re in a situation where you have to fire a weapon, shoot to kill.”
Max was in a somber mood when he arrived back at his home. Bobby was in the front yard, playing with a homemade bow and arrow. He found Dorrie and Kelly in the living room watching CNN on the screen. The news did not improve his mood. Dorrie reduced the volume so they could bring him up to date.
“Dad, there’s been a second wave of attacks on refineries around the world including the US. Not as many as the first time, but the targets were the largest of the remaining facilities with several planes attacking at once.”
“Christ! You’d think they would have been prepared this time.”
“That’s not all. There were attacks on dams, specifically dams upriver from nuclear power plants. Full sized boats, rigged for remote control and loaded with explosives, rammed the bases of the dams. Thirteen dams were attacked, but they only succeeded with breaching three of them.”
“What about the reactors, weren’t they supposed to be in safe mode.”
“They were scheduled to be, but the attack came too soon. The Jocassee dam above the Oconee Nuclear Station in South Carolina failed. One of the three reactors at that station is already in meltdown and the other two are in danger of failing. The experts say it could be worse than the Fukushima disaster over in Japan.”
Dorrie said, “The other two dams that failed are in Texas and Arkansas. The plants below them are in trouble. Two more dams will fail soon. The one in New York State could collapse at any moment. FEMA expects another plant, one in Nebraska, to collapse tonight or tomorrow. There were nuclear plants attacked in other countries as well.
Max shook his head to clear his thoughts. “What about nuclear fallout? We’re not far from South Carolina.”
Kelly answered the question. “We’re in the zone for possible fallout, but it depends on wind direction. CNN showed a map and right now, what wind there is, is blowing North-West, away from us.”
Max asked Dorrie to turn the screen back on. She pressed the remote and all the lights in the house went black.
“What the hell!” Dorrie shouted.
It’s okay. Everybody stay calm. Kelly, would you get me a flashlight. It could just be a breaker tripped.” Deep down, Max did not believe his own words.
The breakers in the basement proved not tripped. Max phoned Jacob and learned their power was out too. He returned from the basement to find that Dorrie and Kelly had lit a kerosene lamp. It was still daylight, but sunlight only dimly shone into the living room through the windows. Dorrie was kneeling by the coffee table attempting to adjust the wick of the lantern so it didn’t smoke.
Max sat in his armchair. “The powers down. I spoke to the O’Donnell’s and their lights went out too.”
Dorrie asked, “Your cell still works?”
“For now. I don’t know for how much longer.”
“I don’t think the power will come back,” Kelly said. “The cellphones, our wireless internet too, will work a while longer because the companies were forced to provide battery backup after hurricane Sandy. I think most of the towers have solar rechargers. Were you able to get rechargeable batteries while you were in town?”
“Never made it to town, but I did get the batteries, lots of batteries and a three way charger for them. I’ll start the generator in a bit. How much food do we have in the way of perishables?”
“Not a lot. We do have about forty pounds of beef in a freezer. Other than that, some chicken and fish in the freezer compartment in the kitchen. We could try our hand at making jerky with the beef. If we can learn to preserve most of our food, maybe we can get by without running the generator all the time.”
“Well, until we are a bit more adept in that area, I think we’ll run one. The way the lamp smokes, we need a better alternative source of lighting. Speaking of the batteries, we need to unload the truck. I bought close to twenty-thousand dollars worth of ammunition.”
“Twenty-thousand dollars,” Dorrie said, disbelievingly.
“Every place in town’s sold out. I had to pay premium prices at a pawnshop. I used the debit card though. I think it’s going to be nothing but useless plastic tomorrow.”
Dorrie stopped fiddling with the lamp and rose from the floor to sit on the couch with her daughter. “How much was left on the
card?” Dorrie asked.
“A little over ten-thousand…, but what if you and Kelly hadn’t scared me into cashing out my IRA. We would have lost it all.”
Dorrie was still upset about the loss of the funds. “This is happening too fast. Faster than I thought it would. I wish we’d started even two months sooner.”
“Mom, we were expecting the financial system to fail and it looked like we had time. We didn’t plan for a terrorist attack. Dad, did you listen to the radio while you were out?”
“No I didn’t,” he replied, with a feeling of guilt.
Kelly was upset. “Dad, are you in some sort of rejection about what’s happening. I can’t believe you. You have to—. No, I’m sorry dad, I’m not going to be disrespectful, but please be more aware, cautious... I don’t know what I want to say exactly, but we have to be able to depend on each other to keep informed about what’s happening. Something could be broadcast that could save our lives if we hear it.”
Max didn’t like feeling he wasn’t doing all he should. “You’re right Kelly. Maybe I am in denial or disbelief. I don’t know. Sometimes it feels like I’m an actor in a play, a horror show. Kelly, Dorrie, somehow, you are more mentally prepared for this than I am. I’m not a tough guy, never have been, wasn’t into sports in high school, never interested in camping, fishing, or hunting. I’m just an average Joe who went to an office every day. Hell, I’ve got the handlebars around my waist to prove it.”
Kelly frowned. “You need to snap out of denial or whatever and start being different. I love you dad, and you’ve always been my hero, someone to look up to.”
“Kelly, give your father time. He’s kind and gentle and it’s hard for him to be otherwise.”
“Mom, we don’t have time for him to be the kind man. He has to be a different person. School’s out for the duration. It’s graduation time.”
Max was getting pissed. “Hey, talk to me, not around me! I mean it! Yes, I’m having some problems adapting to this, but I haven’t been sitting on my ass twiddling my thumbs either. No, Kelly, I didn’t listen to the radio. I will in the future.
DISASTER: Too Late to Prep Page 8