by Alex Gunwick
When the couple bowed their heads to pray, he added a silent prayer to keep his family safe. After finishing the prayer, Bob used a lemon-yellow potholder to pick up the green beans. He spooned some onto Luke’s plate.
“I hope you don’t mind me dishing everything out for you,” Bob said. “But if you drop Mary’s dishes, she might smother you in your sleep.”
Luke laughed while Mary scowled at her husband.
“I wouldn’t smother him, honey,” she said indignantly. “I’d get the shotgun. No point in making him suffer.”
Bob roared with laughter. Luke checked to make sure she was kidding and was greeted with a sassy smile.
“That’s my girl,” Bob said.
“How long have you been married?” Luke asked.
“Twenty-eight years and going strong.” Bob puffed out his chest. “I married the prettiest woman in the world.”
“Oh, honey.” Mary blushed.
“I say that about Liz all the time,” Luke said. “We’ve been married almost twenty years. We were supposed to go to Fiji next year to celebrate.”
“We renewed our vows on our twenty-fifth anniversary in Hawaii,” Mary said. “Paradise.”
As she and her husband gazed into each other’s eyes, Luke averted his. He’d have given anything to be able to look at Liz and get confirmation she was okay. He just hoped Kyle and Sierra were with her.
“Do you have kids?” Luke asked.
“Three. We haven’t had anyone join us for dinner in a long time,” Mary said wistfully. “They’re all grown with their own lives now. They come back for holidays and birthdays, but it’s not enough.”
“Our youngest son moved to Sacramento for school,” Bob said. “He’s studying economics. Thinks it’ll help him run the farm. I don’t know. I think I’ve done a damn good job running it without a fancy education.”
“You run it as good as your daddy did,” Mary said.
“Thanks, honey.”
As Bob leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek, Luke took a bite out of the dinner roll. It melted in his mouth. He eyed the basket.
“Eat as much as you want,” she said. “We’ve got a hundred pounds of flour stored up. We won’t be running out of biscuits anytime soon.”
“You made them from scratch?” Luke asked.
“I make everything from scratch,” she said. “You can’t trust all the processed junk they try to pass off as food these days. Mono-un-glycolated-crap.”
“Don’t get her started,” Bob said.
“Do you want to get Alzheimer’s?” she demanded. “They haven’t proved it yet, but all those chemicals and pesticides can’t be good for your brain.”
“Our farm’s organic,” Bob said.
“Yep. They should outlaw the stuff that’s killing all the bees and destroying our farmland. We keep poisoning the soil expecting it to recover, but one day it won’t. One day this will be a nuclear dust bowl.”
Everyone at the table went still.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she whispered.
“Oversalinization’s going to get us first,” Bob said.
“I read an article about that last year. The plants suck up all the irrigation water, leaving the salt behind.”
“It happens through evaporation too. We pour millions of gallons onto fields and over time the extra water evaporates and we’re left with fields full of salt. It’s been accumulating for decades. The whole central valley is going to turn into a huge salt flat if we’re not careful,” Bob said.
“Farmers can use better drainage systems to drain the excess salt,” Mary said. “There are other ways of doing it too, but a good drainage system is the easiest to implement quickly.”
“Bet you never thought you’d get a lecture on soil conditions today, did you?” Bob asked.
“Nope. Can’t say that I did,” Luke said.
“There’s a lot more to farming than throwing some seeds in the ground and dumping water on them,” Mary said.
“Sure is,” Bob said. “Luke, I’ve been thinking…”
Luke looked up and set his fork down.
“You know that pickup those guys left out in the grove?” Bob asked.
“Yeah.”
“I want you to have it,” Bob said.
“I couldn’t take that from you,” Luke said. “The fuel alone will become a valuable commodity if they start rationing.”
“We insist,” Mary said. “You saved our lives. We don’t need another vehicle. We’re not going anywhere anyway.”
Luke’s heart soared. He’d be able to drive the rest of the way home. His transportation problem would be solved.
“I should leave tonight,” he said.
“Stay the night,” Bob said. “Let Mary change your dressing in the morning. Give it a full twenty-four hours before you head out.”
“Please stay,” she said, a wobble in her tone.
Luke nodded slowly. They didn’t just want to check on him, they wanted another person around to protect the house. A valid concern. And at this point Liz and the kids would already be at the cabin, so another few hours wouldn’t make much of a difference.
“Okay,” he said.
“Great,” Bob said.
After dinner, they sat around the television in the living room. The emergency broadcast message appeared on every channel and they didn’t have cable. Bob switched off the TV.
“I’m going out to check the flares,” Bob said.
“Mind if I come with you?” Luke asked.
“I don’t want you straining your arm,” Mary said.
“I won’t let him lift anything,” Bob said.
“Okay. But hurry back. My peach cobbler’s about to come out of the oven,” she said.
“Cobbler?” Although Luke had already stuffed himself fuller than a chubby kid at a buffet, he always had room for dessert.
“She spoils me.” Bob grinned.
“I might not want to leave after all,” Luke joked.
“You’re welcome to stay,” Bob said.
“Thanks, but I do need to get on the road tomorrow.”
Outside, darkness pressed in from the fields. Shadowy pockets around bushes seemed to twist and move as Luke followed Bob toward the barn. After the events of last night, his imagination had run wild at every squeak in the house.
They passed a freshly dug pile of dirt. Probably the graves.
“Why did you bury them instead of call the police?” Luke asked.
“No phones.”
“You could have gone into town to get them.”
“Honestly? I didn’t want to deal with the questions and paperwork. A few years ago we caught someone stealing almonds. They’d backed a truck up to the edge of our property, cut the fence line, and they were gathering up our nuts. I held them at gunpoint until the sheriff arrived. Wish I’d shot them. Would have been less paperwork.”
Luke raised a brow.
“You probably think I’m heartless, killing in cold blood,” Bob said.
“It’s…a bit extreme.”
“They were trespassing.” Bob spit on the ground. “This is my land. My family’s livelihood. And if those punks thought they could steal from me, they had another thing coming.”
In a lawful world, Luke would have had more qualms about his story. But now that everything was changing, he wondered if he wouldn’t do the same thing. When lawlessness took over, did it change a man’s moral compass? Did the rules of society still apply when there was no one around to enforce them? Did anarchy give him every right to defend both his life and his property? Could he kill if it wasn’t in self-defense? He hoped he’d never have to find out.
10
Liz found Kyle in the office sitting in his dad’s chair. The red binder lay open on the desk, but he wasn’t reading it. His hunched shoulders and vacant stare stopped her mid-stride.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“I used to make fun of Dad’s safety meetings,” Kyle said, his voice
cracking. “But now I wish I’d paid attention.”
“Don’t worry, Dad left us a list of what to do in case of a nuclear attack.” She could hardly get the last two words out. Even in her worst nightmares, she’d never imagined a nuclear attack on US soil.
“What should we do first?” Kyle asked.
“Go upstairs and get your Bug Out Bag. It’s in the back of your closet. Don’t bring anything else. If we lose the car, we’re going to have to hike up the mountain.”
“Why would we lose the car?”
“We won’t lose the car. Forget I said that.”
“Is someone going to take it from us?” he asked.
“No. No one’s taking anything. I’m a good shot.”
“I need my rifle.”
“No,” she said. “I’ll be able to protect us. I don’t want you to worry.”
“I know how to shoot. Dad took me hunting last summer,” Kyle said, a hint of indignation in his tone.
“Shooting an animal and shooting a human aren’t the same. I need you to help me get everything piled up so we’ll be ready if we need to leave.”
“Fine,” he grumbled.
“Don’t pout.”
“I’m not pouting…Can I bring Rocky?” Kyle asked, referring to the stuffed animal monkey he’d had since he was a baby.
“Of course.”
“What about Justice?”
Upon hearing his name, their golden retriever bounded into the room. The massive ball of shiny fur skidded to a halt at her feet. He wagged his tail and sat back on his haunches to beg for another treat.
“Of course we can bring the fur beast.” She leaned down to scratch behind Justice’s ears. “Sorry, buddy. No more treats until we get to the Bug Out Location. Come on, bring it in, group hug,” she said as she drew him into a tight hug with the dog. She told herself she was doing it to reassure them, but truthfully, she needed a hug.
“Mooom!”
When she released him, he made a face. She sighed. The teenage years were going to suck. Hopefully they’d live long enough to see them.
As Kyle headed upstairs to get his bag, she grabbed the red folder off the desk. She opened it to the first laminated page and checked the table of contents. Luke had listed the possible disasters in order of likelihood. Nuclear attack was dead last.
She flipped to that section and began reading the steps he’d outlined. For the last year, they’d held a monthly family meeting to review the safety procedures list. They’d spent most of their time focused on what to do in the event of an earthquake, but had briefly touched on other possibilities. They all knew how to handle everything from a gas leak to a house fire, but she’d never expected to need to use any of it. Now she was glad they were prepared.
Step 1: Grab the Bug Out Bags
Already in motion.
Step 2: Unload the gun safe. Take all of the guns with you.
Okay.
Step 3: Grab all of the gas cans in the garage and load the car.
Yep.
Step 4: Check traffic maps if still able.
She tried to load a realtime map on her phone but the connection failed.
Step 5: Bug Out. Do not wait for anyone else. Everyone knows the plan.
The last step had kept her up all night. Luke and Sierra could already be at the cabin waiting for her. Although she had no way of knowing where they were, every instinct in her body screamed stay and wait for them. Luke had warned her this would happen. A mother’s instinct to protect her children would override any rational thought. Even knowing this, she couldn’t make herself leave the house. Not yet. Not until the situation became too dire to stay.
Kyle returned with his backpack on. Justice followed him into the office.
“Now what?”
“I’ll back the car into the garage so we can load up. I need your help with the gas cans. They’re heavy.”
“Pfft,” he said. “I’ve been pumping iron with Dad. I got this.”
To prove his point, he flexed his bicep. She smiled as he beamed with pride. He was his father’s son and took every opportunity to present himself as a younger version of his dad. She loved them both beyond words. Her throat constricted. She cleared it as she headed out to move the truck.
After backing in, she shut the garage door. No point in broadcasting her plan to the neighbors. She wanted everything packed and ready to move as soon as possible.
Near the back of the garage, a large steel gun safe was bolted to the concrete. She entered the numeric combination and waited. It didn’t open. She punched in the number again.
Nothing.
She checked the electrical outlet to make sure it was plugged in. It was. Strange. The number should have worked.
The safe had a backup dial lock which didn’t require a power supply. She tried the combination, but the door wouldn’t budge.
She frowned. Had Luke changed the code?
As she started to try the number again, she remembered a conversation they’d had the previous week. Luke had been concerned about Kyle getting into the safe, so he’d reset the door so that it would require a key in addition to the code.
At first she couldn’t remember where he’d said he put the key, but then she spotted a rusted coffee can on the top shelf of his work bench. Bingo!
She opened the safe and started pulling out guns. As she slowly packed them into their cases, she checked to make sure they were clear. She didn’t want a bag full of loaded guns sitting out where Kyle could get to them. Although they’d drilled the principles of gun safety into their son, he was only thirteen years old. Trusting a kid to follow rules at that age was asking for trouble.
After packing all of the rifles, she pulled the handguns out starting with the Ruger GP100. If she had to shoot her way out of the cul-de-sac, she’d need something she could reload fast. A revolver wasn’t the best gun for the job. She packed a Smith & Wesson Model 686, followed by an M&P22 Compact. Technically a .22 would work in a pinch, but it wasn’t her preferred firearm.
For self-defense, she’d typically want the Mossberg 500. But trying to maneuver a shotgun while driving up a mountain wasn’t a good plan. She couldn’t find a case for it, so she grabbed a duffel bag and placed the shotgun in the bottom. She added a Glock 34 and a Sig Sauer P229.
Finally, she took out her favorite handgun, an HK P2000. After shooting thousands of practice rounds with this gun, it felt like an extension of her own hand. She could hit a moving target at twenty-five yards. At first she’d been afraid to learn how to shoot, but after finding out about shooting competitions, her competitive spirit had taken over. It hadn’t taken long for her to become adept at taking down targets.
The door from the garage to the house opened. Kyle stepped out with Justice on his heels.
“I packed the guns. Let’s load the truck. We’ll start with the full gas cans, then the water jugs, then the empty cans. The ammo crates are next.”
“What about the guns?”
“I’ll put them in the back seat. Where is your Bug Out Bag?” she asked.
“In the hall. I grabbed yours and Dad’s too.”
“Great! Get those and put them on the floor in the back seat.”
As he followed her instructions, the seriousness of his expression filled her with a mixture of pride and fear. They were all alone in the world. She didn’t know if Luke had made it out of San Jose. She hadn’t heard from Sierra either. For all she knew, they could be dead already.
As darkness fell, Liz closed all of the blinds in the house. The distinct feeling of being watched followed her as she moved from room to room. Probably paranoia, but who could blame her? After listening to the radio all day, reports of widespread power outages and looting had her on edge. Jennifer and Frank had tried to go to several other grocery stores across town, but they’d returned empty-handed. The looters had taken everything.
When she returned to the living room, Kyle turned on the TV.
“Can we watch a movie or somethin
g?”
“Let’s see if there’s any more news,” she said.
He flipped from channel to channel. They all displayed the same red emergency broadcast screen.
“Red screen of death,” Kyle said.
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Before she could get into an argument with him, the doorbell rang. Kyle launched himself off the couch and ran toward the door.
“Maybe Dad’s home,” he yelled.
“Stop!”
She raced forward and grabbed his hand as he reached for the doorknob.
“We don’t know who’s out there,” she whispered.
The doorbell rang again. Justice’s claws clattered across the tile floor as he scampered toward them. After sniffing the bottom of the door, he barked and snarled. She gestured for Kyle to come closer.
“Who’s out there?” he asked.
“Shh! I don’t know.”
“Hey, Liz,” Kent yelled. “Open the damn door.” The paranoid neighbor punched the doorbell repeatedly. “I need to tell you something.”
Something about his tone raised the hairs on the back of her neck. There was no way in hell she would open the door for him at night. Maybe during the day in full view of the neighbors, but not right now.
“Come back in the morning,” she yelled.
“Dammit, Liz. Open this door right now.”
“NO!”
Through the peephole, she watched him back up. He kicked the door.
Kyle ran upstairs.
“I’ve got my shotgun,” she lied. “Go away or I’ll be forced to use it.”
“You’re not gonna shoot an unarmed man,” Kent said.
“You’ve got a 9mm in your waistband.”
“It’s not loaded.”
“I’m not an idiot.”
Kyle ran down the stairs with the Mossberg 500.
“I told you not to touch the guns,” she hissed.
“Seriously? He’s about to kick down the door.”
He had a point.
She grabbed the shotgun and switched the safety off. As she held the gun up to the window over the door, she pumped a shell into the barrel.