299 Days: The Preparation

by Tate, Glen

  “Wrap it up, I’ll take it,” Grant said to Chip with a huge smile. It was liberating. Grant would own an “assault rifle” of his very own.

  Owning an AR-15 was the definition of liberty. As flawed as America was, at least a citizen could own something like that. He looked at the gun, which looked exactly like a military rifle (because it was), and thought, “This is freedom.” Grant also thought that it would be much harder for the government to impose a dictatorship on the country when regular people like him had these.

  Grant never wanted to use it like that; he hoped that the only thing he ever pointed it at would be a paper target. Grant fervently hoped that. He recalled the figures of the Revolutionary War who constantly talked about not wanting to fight a war. They weren’t cowards; they ended up being the bravest heroes. They were decent human beings who just wanted liberty and a good life for themselves and their families. They worked hard to achieve that without guns. But they all had guns and knew how to use them. None of them were murderers who enjoyed it, but many of them ended up killing. They deeply regretted it the rest of their lives, although they’d had no choice.

  Grant couldn’t wait to field-strip that beautiful thing and put it back together again. He watched YouTube videos on how to do it. One day when Lisa was gone, he field-stripped the gun and put it back together. It took a long time the first time. The brand new gun was really tight; he thought he couldn’t get some parts out at first, but eventually he did. It felt awesome to be working on an AR-15. He was no longer a helpless sheeple.

  Shooting it was amazing. It was just plain fun to shoot. Little to no recoil. Accurate as can be. He was in love.

  He shot it almost every weekend. He had a membership at the local rifle range, which had a covered area that was a must in rainy Washington State. Grant was getting very good with the AR. He was operating it smoothly, like a pro. He surprised himself at how good he was getting.

  What a contrast. Grant was getting excellent on an AR out on the shooting range, but when he came home he had to hide it. He kept his AR in a gun case in the garage. It was high up on a shelf. Lisa never saw it or knew that he had an AR. He didn’t show it to the kids. In fact, he didn’t show it to anyone. Grant didn’t want people knowing that he had such a “machine gun,” although it was a perfectly legal rifle. In a crisis, they might try to steal it or insist that Grant protect them. Other people who had them, and who could be trusted, could know.

  Grant bought a few books on ARs and learned a lot about them on the Survival Podcast forum. He went to Capitol City Guns and hung out; he learned even more about them there.

  Grant was becoming a regular at Capitol City. It was like a barbershop where guys went even when they didn’t need haircuts. He was forming strong friendships there. There were many people from different backgrounds there. He was the only lawyer, but among the “regulars” there were a manager of large retail store, an airline pilot, a general contractor, and a computer guy. Grant would bring donuts. Others brought chicken and pizza. It was a great place. An oasis of “normal” people in liberal, government-loving Olympia.

  The guys at Capitol City were Chip’s family. He had been married earlier in life and divorced. His daughter came to the store once in a while. She was a beautiful young lady. Chip lived alone and his parents had recently died.

  One day, Chip, who was having a rough day, said, “You know, Grant, you guys are my family. Thanks for being my family.” He seemed like he was going to cry.

  Grant didn’t know what to say. He just shook Chip’s hand and said, “My pleasure, man. I feel the same.”

  One of the most interesting people who hung out at Capitol City was “Special Forces Ted.” He was a Green Beret at Ft. Lewis. He was in his mid-forties, had black hair, and was always tanned from all the deployments in sunny parts of the world. It was hard to miss him when he walked into the store in uniform. He literally had a green beret on his head. His name was Ted Malloy, or, as Chip called him, “Special Forces Ted.” He got that name because there were two Teds: him and Ted the UPS delivery guy who came in every morning with packages. To distinguish the two, Chip started calling one “UPS Ted” and the other one “Special Forces Ted.”

  Special Forces Ted came into the store because Chip took care of him. Chip would get customized rifles and accessories for Ted, usually at cost or sometimes below cost. Ted started to get customized rifles and gear for his team and other Special Forces soldiers. The teams were in Afghanistan then. Chip would hook them up with the good gear that they couldn’t get from the Army. Ted was very appreciative.

  Special Forces Ted became a regular at Capitol City. He would be retiring soon. He just went through a nasty divorce. Now that he was leaving the unit, his Army buddies wouldn’t be around like they were in the past. Ted’s “family” of his wife and his soldiers had instantly vanished. His whole world had changed in a matter of a week.

  Capitol City Guns became Special Forces Ted’s extended family. He and Chip were particularly close because they were similar; they didn’t have a family anymore so the guys at the gun store became the family.

  Special Forces Ted got a kick out of Grant. He thought most lawyers were worms. (Grant agreed.) Ted liked Grant’s attitude. It was so refreshing to see a lawyer in a suit taking apart an AR. Ted especially liked that Grant knew his own limitations; Grant wasn’t a mall ninja. A “mall ninja” was a military wannabe. It’s a person who buys cool tactical gear and walks around a mall to show off to people but has no clue how to actually do anything tactical. Ted liked that Grant was trying to learn tactical things and knew that he started off not knowing crap about it.

  Grant had enormous respect for Ted, which was easy to have once he learned about the things that Special Forces do. Most people think Special Forces are commandos who parachute behind enemy lines and blow up bridges like in the movies. They can do that, and sometimes do. However, Special Forces mainly send in a small team of usually twelve soldiers into an enemy-held area and link up with indigenous fighters who are on the same side as the Americans. The twelve-man Special Forces team trains, supplies, motivates, and leads the indigenous fighters to attack the enemy and gather intelligence for regular American forces.

  Special Forces soldiers need to be more than just excellent gun fighters. They must be part salesmen and part diplomat to get indigenous fighters to join the American side and stay loyal. They must know how to effectively govern the areas they’re in. They need to know how to keep the indigenous fighters happy by, for example, making sure their villages have food, water, and security. This is actually much harder than blowing up a bridge.

  Besides the lack of a family, the other connection Chip and Special Forces Ted shared was that Chip was a former solider. Not a Green Beret, but a supply guy who had combat experience in Vietnam. People who think the Green Berets do all the important stuff, while the supply guys don’t, obviously have no idea how it works. It’s pretty hard to win a firefight with no ammunition. Where does that come from? The supply guys. Ask George Washington and Mao how important supplies and logistics are. Supply guys had saved more than one Green Beret’s ass. Ted respected Chip. They were becoming like long lost brothers.

  One day at Capitol City, Ted and Chip were looking at a gun when Grant walked in. The gun was beautiful. It was the most recognizable gun in the world and the international symbol of terror and rebellion. It was an AK-47.

  “Uh oh, hide it,” Chip said to Ted when Grant walked in. “Roger that,” Ted said and clumsily tried to hide it.

  Grant wondered if he had stumbled into the sale of an illegal fully automatic machine gun. That didn’t seem like the kind of thing Chip would do.

  “Sorry you had to see that, Grant,” Chip said very seriously. “Because now you’ll want one and then another, then another.” Chip was grinning.

  Ted picked up the AK and demonstrated how to hold and shoot it. He took it apart in a few seconds and put it back together. It was so simple to do. It was designed to
be used by uneducated peasants throughout the world.

  Ted explained to Grant, “This thing is so rugged that you can leave it in mud for a while, shake off the excess mud, clear out the barrel of course, and it’ll fire. That happened to me once in the Philippines.” Ted explained that the AK shot a different cartridge than the AR, which Grant already knew, but he also knew not to interrupt a Green Beret and say, “Yeah, I know.”

  Ted continued, “The AK uses the 7.62 x 39 cartridge, which has more knock-down power than the AR’s 5.56 x 45, but drops a lot past a hundred yards. So, for short to medium range work, that is, shots inside a hundred yards, the 7.62 x 39 is a really great cartridge. I love an AK for that range. Besides, these things look terrifying. That’s a plus. People will surrender because of that. It’s nice to not have to shoot people.”

  Chip added, “There are probably several million AKs, and their cousins the SKS, in circulation, so there is lots of AK ammo out there. We sell almost as much 7.62 x 39 as 5.56. We always have cases of 7.62 x 39 here.” Grant thought that in a crisis it would be good, when he couldn’t just go to the store to get more ammo, to have a gun in both of the common calibers, 7.62 x 39 and 5.56. If one were hard to get, he could use the other rifle.

  Grant had done his homework on the Survival Podcast forum and knew that quality varied enormously with makers of AKs. Chip’s was a good brand.

  “Can I see that?” Grant said with a smile because he knew he would be buying it, and then another, someday.

  “Oh, you’d like to see this?” Chip said with the devious grin he often flashed.

  This particular AK was even more badass than a normal one. It was an “under folder,” which meant it had a stock that folds under the gun so it’s much shorter, but the stock can still unfold and be used like a regular rifle. With the stock folded up, it just had a pistol grip. It looked like a terrorist gun. Grant thought it would be good to have a short rifle that could easily fit into a car or even under a jacket.

  “Wrap it up, I’ll take it,” Grant said, just like when he had bought the AR. Grant had enough cash in the expense-check envelope, so he went out to the car and got it. He had enough left over for some magazines and a case of ammo. He was set.

  The AK was a fantastic gun. Grant shot it frequently and got as good on the AK as he was on the AR. He operated the AK so smoothly he could have passed for a trained professional. He could consistently hit a target at fifty yards, switch over to one at a hundred yards (and hit most of the time), come back to one at twenty-five yards, and then get a few more at fifty yards. It felt great. He felt absolutely safe with an AK in his hands. Nothing could harm him. Nothing.

  Chapter 18

  We won. Now what do we do?

  Things were also going great at work. WAB was getting famous for fighting the power. It felt fabulous.

  It was an election year. That meant that the pathetic Republicans would come to WAB groveling for money and promising to fight for small businesses. Yawn. Grant and the other WAB guys had heard this before.

  A new face appeared. He was Rick Menlow; a young and slightly nerdy guy in his late thirties. He was a Republican county commissioner from Snohomish County, which was part of the Seattle suburbs. His district was gerrymandered to include the rural areas of that county so the Republicans could have at least one seat. That was “fairness” in the one-party state of Washington. The Ds would throw the Rs a bone now and again.

  Menlow was running for State Auditor. Washington had a very strong auditor’s office. The auditor could basically investigate anything that involved state or local government spending of public funds. That was a huge part of the Washington state economy, unfortunately.

  The current auditor was a Democrat hack. She used her office to cover things up. “The State Auditor did not find any wrongdoing,” is what the government would say when someone found something out like when Sellarman, the Real Estate Board guy, was doing something corrupt. That was exactly what happened in the Ed Oleo case; the State Auditor found no wrongdoing. Move along, nothing to see. Only crazy people thought there was anything wrong with government.

  WAB interviewed candidates to decide whether to endorse them. A WAB endorsement was sought after by Republicans. It meant lots of votes from small businesses and quite a bit of money. WAB’s PAC was brimming with money thanks to all the court victories they were having. It seemed like WAB was the only counterweight to the government in the state. That would end up being dangerous for the WAB staff and their families.

  The WAB interview was conducted by Tom Foster, Ben Trenton, Brian Jenkins, and Grant. Candidate interviews were one of Grant’s least favorite things. The politicians coming before them were such lying shitbags. And pathetic. Why would any Republican run in Washington State? There must be something wrong with them to go through that.

  When it was Grant’s turn to ask the candidate a question he asked Menlow, “What would you do differently than the incumbent if you were to be the State Auditor?”

  “My job,” Menlow said flatly.

  Good answer.

  “How so?” Ben asked.

  Menlow smiled like he’d been waiting to tell someone his plan. “I would fire most of the people there and use the resulting money to hire outside auditors to actually audit state and local governments. You guys know all the stuff I’d find. I would tell the Legislature that if they try to defund my investigations, then they’re trying to prevent me from uncovering what they’re doing.”

  OK, this Menlow guy was saying all the right things. But he was a Republican running statewide. There hadn’t been a statewide Republican officeholder in almost three decades.

  WAB decided to endorse Menlow, put the endorsement in their magazine, which went out to about 20,000 small businesses in the state, and donate the maximum contribution of $2,000. Menlow would lose, but WAB would do what they could. They never really thought about it much more.

  A few weeks later, Eric came running into Grant’s office very excited.

  “Did you hear the news about the State Auditor?”

  “No. Is it good?” Grant asked.

  “Oh yeah. Wait till you see this.” Eric was practically running to Tom’s office where there was a TV.

  A small crowd had gathered around the TV. The local news was playing a grainy video of a police dash camera. It showed a drunken woman in a business suit doing a sobriety test. Then she shoves the cop, jumps in her car, and takes off — only to hit a little kid in a cross walk! Then the camera catches her screaming, “Do you know who I am! Don’t fuck with me, pig!” Finally, the police tackled her and then tried to give first aid to the kid, who was a little girl.

  The room of WAB staff was silent. Stunned. No one could believe it.

  “She’s done,” Tom finally said. “Call Menlow. We’ve got a campaign to run.” There was blood in the water. The WAB staff was charged up and running on adrenaline.

  The Democrat State Auditor tried to resign the next day. This would give the Governor time to appoint another friendly person to make sure things kept getting covered up at the State Auditor’s Office. But it was right before the election so the Auditor’s name was already on the ballot. There was only one other name on the ballot: Rick Menlow.

  In the next few days, WAB raised a ton of money for Menlow. It wasn’t too hard. WAB was the 900 pound gorilla of the “right wing” in Washington State. The media constantly replaying the drunken State Auditor screaming “Do you know who I am!” didn’t exactly hurt Menlow’s campaign. WAB polling showed Menlow would win so there wasn’t much drama for election night. It would be a rare celebration instead.

  The WAB staff, including Grant, went to the Republican election night “victory party.” Grant had gone to one a few years earlier but quit going. They were like funerals. There never were any “victories” on election night.

  The first returns came in a little after 8:00 p.m. Menlow was winning but it was surprisingly close, though, 52% to 48%. A drunken lunatic running over
a child still got almost enough votes to win with a “D” after her name. Grant hoped that those voters simply didn’t know what had happened. But, with the constant repeating of the video of her on TV, most of the people in the state must have seen her running over that little girl. That meant a sizable portion were still voting for the State Auditor because she had that all-important “D” after her name on the ballot.

  WAB staff were invited to Menlow’s hotel room at the party. At this joyous moment, they were all silent. They still couldn’t believe that a Republican—and one who promised reforms, no less— might actually win an election in ultra-leftist Washington State.

  Then Menlow’s cell phone rang. Everyone knew what that meant. The concession call from the other side.

  Menlow was very polite and respectful. When he hung up he wasn’t smiling. He looked scared.

  “Well, that was the concession call.” Menlow said, still very disturbed. “Oh crap. We won. Now what do we do?”

  Menlow’s campaign manager, an attractive and savvy-looking young woman named Jeanie Thompson, blurted out, “Dunno. Maybe a transition team?” Everyone in the room laughed. No one had any plan whatsoever for actually winning. This was the first time it had actually crossed their minds.

  Menlow pointed at Tom and said, “We need to talk.” It was pretty obvious that the people in the hotel room would be the transition team. It was an electric feeling. Finally! The good guys had won. We can do some good things, Grant thought. Finally. It was their turn to fix things.

  Not surprisingly, WAB essentially ran the transition. There was no one in the Washington State Republican Party who remembered how to do one since they hadn’t won any statewide elections in over thirty years.

  So WAB just made it up as they went along. Grant, Ben, and Brian were the main WAB people working the transition team. They were Olympia insiders and knew all the things necessary to come into a state agency and transform it.