by Glen Tate
Nick was trying to avoid this topic, but the judge had asked a question, so he answered. “Lots of bad stuff,” Nick said, darting his eyes to Rita.
“I’m so glad we’re out of there,” Rita said. “It was horrible. The base was like a prison. And people thought we were hoarding food. I felt like they were going to turn on us.”
Good. Rita was not exactly suffering from normalcy bias.
“So you left?” Grant asked to get them to tell the story. They gave Grant the short version. Things were bad at Nick’s unit. Soldiers were taking off. They were trying to get back to their families all over the U.S. Crime was out of control and they were needed back home. Pretty soon, half the unit was gone. The commanding officer left, too. The first sergeant was holding things together until the Southern and mountain West states were talking about “opting out” of the union. Then the remaining soldiers knew something bad was coming. Most took off. That’s when Nick realized it was time to go.
Nick and Rita got in their car and headed to a family in Frederickson suggested by someone at their church. The trip took four days with many roadblocks and hassles to get gas. They spent all the money they had on gas. They ran out of money and got hungry, but had plenty of food for the babies
When they got to Frederickson, the family they were supposed to stay with had already left. They weren’t sure why. They went to their backup plan, which was to meet the Mintons in Pierce Point. Their GPS unit wasn’t working so they couldn’t find Pierce Point. Their car broke down and they thought they were doomed.
“I’ll never forget when we told that Al guy that we were looking for the Mintons,” Rita said, “and he goes, ‘Oh, yeah, they live here.’ I will never forget that.”
“It’s almost like you’re supposed to be here,” Grant said, shameless appealing to their faith. Grant needed a medic and he truly believed that it was a miracle that the Folsoms got out to Pierce Point.
“Yes,” Nick said, slowly nodding his head. “Yes, sir, it is.”
Grant felt like this was the moment to make The Ask. “Nick, could I talk to you for a moment?” Nick looked surprised. Rita nodded and Nick got up from the table. They went into the living room.
“Nick,” Grant said in a soft voice, “I need your help. We need your help. Your country—the real one—needs your help.” Grant had decided to not even use the “rental team” story. He didn’t want to deceive Nick. Either the real Patriot story would motivate Nick or he wasn’t right for this job.
Nick realized what was coming. “Yes, sir,” he said, waiting to hear more.
“Nick, do you want to fix this place so you can go to medical school?” Grant asked. He was using Nick’s dreams to motivate him. It was for a good cause.
“Yes, sir,” Nick said. He looked toward the room where his son and daughter were asleep. “I want to fix this country for them.”
“You know how to do that, don’t you?” Grant asked Nick. Grant knew that Nick had been thinking about joining the Patriots. That was probably a hot topic of discussion at his unit as it was disintegrating.
Nick nodded. He didn’t want to say it out loud. He didn’t want to admit that joining the Patriots is what it would take.
“Have you heard of Oath Keepers?” Grant asked. He started to explain what that was.
“I’m in, sir. I’m in,” Nick blurted out. “I know why you’re here and what you’re asking of me. I will do it. My wife and I have already talked about it. She and I believe this is what God sent me to do. She is OK with me not being around for a while. We have the Mintons to help us with the babies.” Nick straightened his posture, looked Grant in the eye, and said, “I’m in.”
That was easier than Grant expected. He was stunned.
Grant started to think of what Nick would need. “You can have some days off during training and come back here to be with your family, but you can’t tell them what you’re doing or where we’re at. Understand?” Grant said that last part with a slight grit in his teeth. He wanted Nick to appreciate—with body language, not just words—how important secrecy was.
“Yes, sir,” Nick said. “Absolutely. Last thing I want is for the Limas to find us.”
Limas? Grant smiled that Nick was using the lingo.
“How soon can you start?” Grant asked.
“Now,” Nick said. “This is meant to be and I’m going to give it my all.”
“OK,” Grant said. He paused to think. He hadn’t planned on this happening so quickly. “I’ll take you to our base. You’ll go blindfolded until we check you out further. No offense.”
“None taken, sir,” Nick said. “I’d do the same.” Then Nick looked puzzled.
“What kind of unit is it?” Nick asked. “I mean, I owe my wife the assurance that I’m not joining up with five guys with shotguns.” Nick realized that he might be offending Grant because the unit might actually be five guys with shotguns.
Grant smiled. “Let’s just say that we have plenty of your former colleagues from Ft. Lewis.” Grant grinned and said. “Plenty.”
“Roger that,” Nick said. He was getting back in the swing of the military.
“Let’s go finish lunch and then you can tell your wife,” Grant said. “I’ll be back an hour later to take you out there. Bring all your stuff. You’ll be living in a covered building. We have water and electricity. It’s not roughing it, but it’s not luxury.”
Nick nodded. He was starting to realize the enormity of what he just agreed to do.
Grant put his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We’re going to get our country back. I’ll be calling you ‘Doctor’ someday.”
Nick forced a smile. It was the kind of smile when you’re having a bad day and someone makes you laugh. Nick was forcing a smile because, while he appreciated the positive thought about being a doctor, he knew how dangerous this would be. He knew he’d be away from his babies and wife for months or maybe years. Or maybe forever. But he knew he had to do it.
Nick’s daughter started crying. Nick instinctively started to go toward her.
“That’s why you’re doing this,” Grant said as he pointed toward the room with the crying baby.
“Yep,” Nick said. “I’ll have a great story to tell them when they’re older.”
Nick walked out of the living room and said to Rita, “Got it, honey. Eat your lunch.”
Chapter 213
Just Like Normal
(August 1)
Grant went back and finished lunch like nothing happened. So did Nick, after he took care of the baby. A real man, Grant thought. Taking care of the baby like that. Letting his wife rest a little.
Manda and Jordan were catching up Jay Minton and his wife, Grace, on what it was like being a teen out at Pierce Point. The social scene and how their pre-Collapse lives had been changed. For the better in some aspects, worse in others.
Lunch was over and it was time to go.
“Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Grant said. Grant wanted Nick to break the news of his pending departure to Rita himself so Grant didn’t say, “Be back in an hour.” Grant, Manda, and Jordan left and, by habit, Grant went toward the driver’s seat. Then he remembered someone else was driving.
“You can drive, Jordan,” Grant said. Jordan smiled and held his hands out for the keys to be thrown to him. Which Grant did. They drove back to the Sparks’ house and dropped him off. Jordan gave Manda a goodbye kiss in front of Grant. Good for him. He’s not a wimp, Grant thought.
Grant drove back to the cabin. John waved them through at the guard shack. He was surprised to see Grant driving the Tacura.
“Just turning the engine over every couple of months,” Grant said. Actually, he would shortly be using the Tacura to go to Marion Farm, but John didn’t know about Marion Farm. Yet another person Grant wasn’t being honest with.
It was getting hard to keep track of who knew which story and who didn’t. Especially when some people, like John, knew some of the true things, but not others. Grant knew h
e would slip up soon.
Grant dropped off Manda. “Her” kids were already there. They were glad to see her. So was Cole. She resumed her role as the CEO of the babysitters.
Grant had a little time to kill before he had to be back at the Minton’s to get Nick. He wanted to give Nick a sufficient amount of time to say goodbye to Rita, at least for a while until he could visit her and the kids again.
Grant couldn’t stand to waste time; he had to do something productive at all times. He went to the shed at his cabin and looked at all of the plastic tubs of food, stacked almost to the ceiling. He had the inventory list out, with the contents of each numbered tub. This way, they didn’t need to move a bunch of heavy tubs to find the ones with some oatmeal if oatmeal was what they were looking for. And the inventory had the expiration dates for the various items so they could eat the soonest expiring ones first.
Grant looked at the inventory list. The date of the list caught his eye, which was almost two years ago, and remembered how crazy it seemed to most people back then to buy up and store food. There was lots of food in the stores. Why go to all this trouble? This is why Grant did this in secret. So he wouldn’t get “caught” by Lisa and have to answer these questions. So his wife wouldn’t think he was crazy.
But she enjoyed oatmeal for breakfast now. Many others didn’t have any breakfast. Grant had long ago gotten over the “I told you so” feeling. He didn’t look at all the food in that shed as an “I told you so.” He looked at it as a “Thank God I can take care of my family.”
Besides, there was no upside to saying “I told you so.” Grant knew how Lisa worked: She couldn’t admit being wrong. Once she realized she was wrong, she would just be nice to Grant and act like she had never been wrong.
That’s what she was doing now. In fact, she was adapting incredibly well—better than he thought—to her new life as a doctor living out in the sticks and getting paid in cans of tuna. Grant had underestimated her. He was glad to have been wrong.
Grant looked at the date again. He swelled up with pride that he had done all this prepping. “Pride” maybe wasn’t the best word. “Thankful” and “at peace” was more like it. He might pat himself on the back for something wise he did that was less important. If, for example, he would have bought a snow shovel in the summer and it snowed a lot that winter and the stores were out of snow shovels. That was pat-on-the-back material. But having food for his family when few others could count on feeding their kids—that was way too important for a pat on the back. That was just pure thankfulness and peace.Grant looked at the inventory list. He saw all the can openers from the Dollar Store. He got about a dozen and had given most of them away. People were so thankful to have a can opener. Many didn’t have them because they always ate drive-through or microwave food. For a one-dollar can opener, Grant had made some lifelong friends who would now literally die for him. Not a bad deal. All it took was the self-confidence to buy a bunch of can openers when times were good and not worry that the cashier thought you were crazy. Once you get over that, saving your family’s life gets much easier. Not a bad deal at all.
Grant looked at his watch. He had slowly gotten used to wearing one. In peacetime, he never did. He was around a clock all the time. His cell phone, his car clock, his computer screen. Not anymore. And now that he was doing things that sometimes involved armed men being at the same place at the precisely the same time to counter other armed men, being on time was critical.
Half an hour had gone by. Grant had a stop to make at the Grange so it was time to leave and then go get Nick and take him to the farm. He wasn’t looking forward to tearing Nick away from Rita. He wasn’t looking forward to that at all. Grant got back in the Tacura and took off. John waved him by.
On the way to the Grange, Grant noticed that there were no other cars. Lots and lots of bikes, though. Most people, especially those with kids, had bikes but rarely used them in peacetime. That had changed. Now it was the primary mode of transportation in Pierce Point. And, Grant suspected, elsewhere in America.
Grant pulled into the Grange to the strange looks of everyone who saw a new car they hadn’t seen before. They were surprised when Grant got out of it. They’d never seen him drive it.
Grant went in and found Drew. “I need a meal card for Rita Folsom and her two kids,” Grant said. He whispered, “Make up something that she’s donating. Trust me.” Drew nodded and a few minutes later came back with an official Pierce Point card for Rita “and two infant children.” Grant thanked him and left.
Grant pulled into the Minton house and rang the doorbell. He could hear a woman crying. Jay Minton answered the door and, without saying a word, waved Grant into the living room. Jay’s wife, Grace, was crying. Rita wasn’t. Rita just kept hugging Nick. She gave him each baby to hold one last time. For a while, at least. He would be back to visit. Grant was amazed at how understanding Rita was. Amazed.
Grant felt like he was the mean sheriff taking someone away from their family to go to prison. He was trying to avoid eye contact with Rita, but she wasn’t avoiding him.
“I understand,” Rita said to Grant. “I understand,” she repeated.
She paused and got teary. “Take good care of him, OK?” She didn’t want to cry because she knew that would make this even harder on Nick. She needed him to have a positive attitude and go do his job safely. And come home. She knew that crying or telling him he couldn’t go wouldn’t work and would just make things worse. Besides, back at Ft. Lewis and on the trip out to Pierce Point, they had talked about the fact that Nick would probably join up with the Patriots if an opportunity came up. They had prayed about it. They both knew it was what Nick was supposed to do. That made it easier. But it was still hard. Really hard.
Grant handed Rita the meal card and said, “It’s the least we can do for you, Rita.” She had never seen a Pierce Point meal card so he explained what it meant.
“I got you a temporary card because, in a little while, Nick will be back and your contribution to the community will officially end. Then you’re off the gravy train, ma’am,” Grant said, hoping she would laugh. She did. It was a tension-breaking laugh.
Grant felt awkward watching the final goodbye hug. “I’ll be in the car,” he said. Jay motioned for Grace to come with him into the kitchen. It was just Nick, Rita, and the two babies in the living room.
Grant went out to the car. He expected to be there a few minutes. Instead, Nick came out after a few seconds. Apparently they didn’t like long goodbyes.
Nick got into the car and was all business. He wasn’t going to let this affect him. Sure, Grant thought, maybe not now, but tonight Nick will be a mess. Grant knew. He’d been there. Except when he had to leave his family, it was against their wishes and he thought they didn’t want him back.
Grant handed Nick a tiger-stripe camouflage handkerchief. “Sorry, dude, OPSEC,” Grant said, using the acronym for “operational security” that an Army guy like Nick would know. Nick nodded and put the handkerchief over his eyes.
Grant had never driven a car with a blindfolded passenger. It was a very weird experience. Grant felt like he was in a movie or something.
Grant drove to the farm. He had never been there from the road; he’d always come by water. He knew from a map how to get there and wondered what kind of guard they had at the road entrance.
Duh. Better call ahead so he didn’t get shot.
Grant pulled over and grabbed the handheld ham radio in the pouch on his kit. He kept it on the Team frequency, but they didn’t talk much on it. About all Grant did with the radio, other than using it a handful of times to talk to the Team or to dispatch at the Grange, was to check the battery each night and occasionally charge it.
Just because he didn’t use it often didn’t mean it wasn’t important. Having ham radios, which had lots of frequencies and much longer ranges than CBs, was critical. Today was a perfect example of how that little radio could save his life. Friendly fire sucks, as Ted used to say.
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“Green 1, Giraffe 7, over,” Grant said. “Green 1” was obviously Ted. Sap, who was from Wisconsin, got “Cheese 2.”
But “Giraffe 7”? Grant never understood why he got the lame call sign of an animal with an absurdly long neck. And “7”? Was he the seventh most badass out of…seven? Oh well. Grant cared more about not getting shot by the Marion Farm guards than about what his call sign was.
A few seconds later—remarkably fast considering that Ted was probably in the middle of something—Grant heard Ted’s voice. “Giraffe 7, Green 1, copy.”
“Tacura with two friendlies at the front door,” Grant said. Ted would remember the reference to the “Tacura” from when Grant went out shooting with Ted in that car and they mocked him for having a car instead of a truck.
“Roger that, Giraffe 7,” Ted said. “Flash us when you get up near the gate.”
“Roger that, Green 1,” Grant said. “Giraffe 7 out.”
“Green 1 out,” Ted said. Nick was impressed. He couldn’t see anything because he was blindfolded. These guys weren’t hillbillies. Radios. And call signs. Nick’s amazement at the sophistication of the unit was just starting.
Grant drove slowly and turned off down the dirt road to the farm. He looked first to make sure no one saw him. The dirt road was long. He went very slowly and came up to the gate where he slowed down to a stop. He flashed his head lights.
“You can take your blindfold off now, Nick,” Grant said. They were already on the dirt road so Nick would have no idea what roads it took to get there. Besides, if Grant showed up to the gate with a blindfolded passenger, the guards would assume the blindfolded man was a prisoner and might shoot him if he made a sudden move.
Nick took off his blindfold and Grant rolled down his window. Grant put both hands out the window to show the guard, or guards, that he was not going to ram the gate. It was hard to do with his hands off the steering wheel. Nick, seeing Grant put both hands out the window, did the same.