THE COLLAPSE: Swantown Road

by Frank Kaminski

  As the two were loading up the bed of Stephen’s truck (thank god it wasn’t raining) with the groceries, Fish’s cell phone went off. Before pulling his phone out of his pocket, he tossed Stephen an, ‘Oh my god it’s probably Connie!’ look.

  Stephen said, “Hurry up and get that! You already know who it is!”

  Fish reluctantly and somewhat fearfully pulled his phone out of his pocket, but his face quickly shifted to disappointment as he read the phone’s display. He declared to Stephen, “It’s just the damn squadron.” Stephen shrugged at him with disappointment.

  Fish paced as he spoke with his cell pressed to his ear.

  “Yup, I understand. What’s going on? Why can’t you say? Okay. When do I need to report? Roger that.” Fish spoke.

  Stephen said as soon as Fish hung up, “I’m guessing that they are recalling everybody, and you need to go in to work.”

  “Yup. How’d you guess that?” Fish said and barked a sarcastic laugh.

  “That sucks. Well, just remember you have a place to go when you need it. If you want, you can bring some of your clothes over and just stay at our place for a while until all this crap blows over.” Stephen told him. He still had it in the back of his head that the chaos was only temporary.

  “Thanks man, will do.” Fish replied. He was serious. And he was also glad to have great friends like Stephen and Tarra at a time like that.

  They drove away with the groceries, and were met by Tarra in the driveway, dancing around in the gravel and cheering at her two heroes as they emerged from the truck and hastily carried bag after bag into the house. Once finished, Fish departed with his monster truck, and Stephen couldn’t shake the odd feeling that he might never see his best friend again.

  Chapter 13 – The Shit Starts Hitting the Fan

  Fish hurried home to change into his uniform, and wondered what the hell was so important that the squadron would need to call him in on a Saturday. Yes, everyone was out buying groceries and stocking up, for something, but why did that matter to the military? Fish was, admittedly, a little bit thankful as well. Connie would be forced to come into work as well, and he would be able to have his chat with her as to what was wrong with her for taking her husband back. He secretly hoped that her shitty little hubby had a gun the whole time, and he forced her to have sex with him, and that was also why she told him to leave her apartment. She had no choice, he had a gun! Right?

  Wishful thinking?

  Maybe it was, but no matter what, Fish was going to get to the bottom of it. He also had not given up on the possibility of being with Connie, even though Stephen pretty much told him flat out that he was a dipshit for thinking along those lines. Stephen was convinced that she was never going to truly dump the guy. Permanently, anyway. He’d hang out with her for awhile, then find an excuse to leave. He’d be gone for a few months, and eventually she’d start to get over him. Then once the slippery little turd ran out of money or was all partied out, he’d magically reappear, and she’d take him in again. The cycle continues over and over. Wash, rinse, and repeat - as Stephen had called it. Fish had shuddered when Stephen said those words to him. Wash, rinse, and repeat. It sounded so harsh and inhuman. But Fish wasn’t entirely oblivious, he had seen the same thing in the past, even close to home; his own mother did it. Daddy had disappeared over a dozen times, that he could remember, and mommy always took his worthless ass back. He really didn’t want to acknowledge that it was actually happening in his own life scenario.

  Once Fish had his uniform on, he looked at himself in the mirror. Damn, look at you! You are one little handsome devil, you know that? He thought to himself and chuckled. Putting the uniform on always helped him feel better. He gathered himself up and departed for the base.

  *****

  Tarra did not put all the groceries away immediately after they were brought into the house as she normally did. She wanted to inventory them first, to see what Stephen had picked up and to make mental notes of what they would have available. Stephen was OK with that, of course. He was positive that she would concur with the food and supplies he had brought home. He would stand by, indeed, as she went through the bags. Some of the things he had listed were in short supply or completely non-existent at the commissary. Stephen would need to inform Tarra of the deficiencies before she brought them up. He also figured he would likely make another trip into town after Tarra had completed her inventory and made some of her own recommendations. Besides, he still needed containers to store fresh water in. It would be tap water, of course, but Whidbey Island boasted clean, great-tasting water straight out of the faucet, so no problem there.

  The Kays were very interested in what both their parents were up to, and curiously stood together as they watched from the living room. At their age and with their natural curiousity for things, everything was an exciting learning experience.

  All of the bags were piled up on the dining room table where Tarra was removing items from the bags, stacking neatly and organizing as she went. Normally during this type of routine there would be an urgency to get the frozen stuff into the freezer, but in this case, there wasn’t anything going in there. Stephen had created his list based upon a total loss of power and refrigeration. Tarra was nodding and smiling as she carried out her inventory, and that pleased Stephen greatly.

  *****

  Fish arrived at the base and observed several armed sailors patrolling in groups throughout the base as he drove to the hangar that headquartered his squadron. The patrols were new. Normally, security was maintained by the base police in their marked SUVs, but these patrols consisted of normal sailors walking about in their blue camoflauge wearing body armor and carrying M-4 automatic rifles. A few of the younger ones appeared as though they had no clue what they were supposed to be doing. No surprise there!

  Fish was very familiar with the M-4 (which is just a modified version of the M-16) due to his two volunteer augmentee tours to Afghanistan. Yes, Fish was a multiple-tour ground combat sailor. A very rare breed in the regular navy. He originally volunteered for his first Afghanistan tour as a means to wipe out (or at least drastically reduce) his excessive debt. Stephen had argued against it at the time, saying that he didn’t need to resort to such a reckless channel in order to resolve his financial predicament. Just quit buying dumb shit, dumbass! Is what he had told him. Fish went to Afghanistan anyway, and was able to knock out a good portion of the debt. Immediately following the tour, he had spent and spent and spent once again, insisting that ‘he owed it to himself’ for surviving through the ‘shit’ over there. And in less than a year he found himself volunteering for another augmentee tour in Afghanistan in order to pay off what he had racked up again.

  Supply experts like Fish are always in demand during a contingency, and it wasn’t long before Fish had orders back to the middle east. Stephen didn’t bother attempting to talk him out of it the second time, and let him go with his blessing. As it turned out, a very close call during his second tour ended his crazy cycle of combat zone tours to pay off debt. A vehicle-borne explosive device had detonated next to his supply tent while he was assigned to the NATO base in Kandahar. He was very lucky to have been taking an enormous dump in a port-a-potty at the time; had he been in his normal work tent going about his usual daily routine, he would likely have been blown apart. Afterwards, he joked about it from time to time, saying that the extremely loud explosion had ‘literally scared the shit out of him’. Which was, in fact, actually a true statement.

  Once Fish had entered his hangar (through another set of armed sailors standing sentry at the hangar access point) he bolstered himself up and made mental preparations in order to face Constantine. He figured she would already be in the office, assuming that she was still at home when the personnel recall phone calls were being made.

  Fish was met by Chief Worts as he strode into the office.

  “Hooker, it’s about damn time you got here.” The chief scowled. Fish practically ignored him as he looked around the
office, checking for Connie. She wasn’t there. Maybe she was held up by all the strange traffic or something.

  The chief glared at Fish, frowned, and then said, “Gather up all your people and muster up in the hangar in five minutes. I am going to put out the word.”

  “Wait, chief, it looks like everyone is here except Petty Officer Constantine.” Fish said.

  “That’s right. I gave her a pass on this one. Her husband came home. Did you know that?”

  Fish didn’t want Chief Worts to be suspicious of their recently terminated relationship, so he lied, “No, I sure didn’t, chief. That’s good though, I think.”

  “You think? What the hell is wrong with you, numbnuts? Of course it’s a good thing, family is always a good thing.” The chief paused, thinking, then said, “You really have no fucking clue what’s going on with your people, do you?” He laughed and threw up his hands as he disappeared into his own office, shaking his head. The chief said those last words rather loudly, and some of Fish’s subordinates snickered and whispered to each other for a few moments afterwards. Fish was embarrassed. Anger towards the chief swelled up in his craw once again, for the umpteenth time, and he resisted the urge to take out his frustration on the sailors that were laughing at him. Just because his chief was an asshole didn’t mean that he had to be one, too.

  “Well, you all heard the chief.” Fish said, with authority. “Let’s get out to the hangar bay and form up.”

  Once the supply department had assembled properly, and waited an additional ten minutes, of course (the chief liked to do that, a lot), Chief Worts appeared with a clipboard and addressed his crew.

  “As most of you already know, unless you have been hiding under a rock somewhere for the last few days, that the shit is hitting the proverbial fan all over the country. The Washington National Guard has requested augmentation from surrounding military activities to support operations in Seattle, Tacoma, Bellevue, Everett and Bellingham. Of course, the army has already stepped up and provided troops from Lewis-McChord to Tacoma and Seattle, but they are counting on the Naval Air Station up here in Oak Harbor to provide additional security forces to the Bellingham area of responsibility.” The chief looked down at his clipboard and then continued, “Since we are on non-deployable shore duty, the commanding officer of the base is leaning upon our squadron heavily to provide a majority of the volunteers.”

  As the chief said ‘volunteers’, the nervous sailors in formation began whispering to each other, some chuckling, some still in shock at the news. At least he said ‘volunteers’, Fish thought.

  “Quiet down!” Chief Worts shouted. “Like I said, volunteers. Of course, if there isn’t a positive enough response to the call for volunteers, some of you will be ‘voluntold’ to participate.”

  After ‘voluntold’ was thrown out there, an all out chatter broke out again in the formation. Fish yelled this time, “Hey! Listen up people, he’s not finished yet.”

  The chief cleared his throat and continued, “I need a show of hands of those of you who would like to volunteer at this time.” A few hands went up, and the chief wrote down the names on his clipboard. Fish’s hand went up along with the others, but the chief scolded him, “Put your damn hand down, Hooker, you’re my Leading Petty Officer, you ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

  Fish was surprised that Chief Worts had said that, but wasn’t delighted. He would have done anything to get away from that relentless sonofabitch.

  After the volunteers had been accounted for, the chief asked if there were any questions.

  One of the sailors spoke up, “Can we talk to our spouses about this? I mean, is this a secret op or anything like that?”

  “That’s a good question, shipmate.” The chief stated, pointing at the sailor. “You are all more than welcome to discuss this with your families. In fact, it is recommended that you inform all your family and friends that the military will be actively involved to quell the civil disruptions taking place around the country.”

  Another sailor raised his hand and said, “Chief, is it true that we’re not getting paid on the fifteenth? I saw some stuff on the news and, uh,”

  The chief cut him off and said, “That’s just a rumor. Keep doing your jobs and everything will be fine. That will be all.” The chief ordered them to attention, and then dismissed the formation. The sailors spoke amongst themselves, and many of them looked at Fish as though he should say something. He thought about putting their minds at ease with a few words, going along with the party line bullshit, but he elected not to and simply walked away instead.

  Chapter 14 – Everyone Panics

  Stephen decided to wait until the next day to do his water container shopping. He thought that maybe the crowds wouldn’t be so bad if he got up early and made the trip to Walmart before most people would be up. Since it would be Monday, he also assumed that most folks would be at work. He had the advantage of retirement on his side. Tarra was a bit leary about that decision to wait another day, but supported him anyway. She knew that he was still flustered from the earlier shopping experience.

  Fish had called Stephen immediately after his meeting in the hangar bay, and filled him in on what was going on. Stephen asked if he was going to come over, but Fish declined, saying that he just wanted to be alone in his apartment for a little while, and then he was going to the bar to get ‘annihilated’. Sunday or not. He didn’t care. He did mention, however, that he would get his bags packed with some clothes and personal items and that he would be over the following day after work. Most likely in the early evening.

  Stephen walked out to his truck on the chilly morning of Monday, February 11th and started driving down Swantown Road towards Walmart. He flipped on his radio, which was permanently adjusted to his favorite AM talk radio station (which drove Tarra absolutely bananas) and was instantly met with the eerily familiar AAEGH…AAEGH…AAEGH of an Emergency Alert System broadcast message.

  *****

  A very hungover Fish slogged into his office on Monday morning, not particularly interested in whether or not Connie had showed up for work. In fact, he felt somewhat hopeful that she wasn’t there, so he wouldn’t have to deal with the drama. He felt terrible. It took a lot of drinks to get Fish hurting that bad, and he figured that he might in fact still be drunk. He had ran a tab at Off the Hook, as a dependable regular the owner let him get away with a tab from time to time. Most of the patrons, even other regulars, were without that privilege.

  He went directly to his bottom drawer, where he stashed his aspirin and ibuprofen. Most of his staff was absent, including Constantine. Only one sailor sat quietly at his desk that morning; Petty Officer Gilson. Fish knew that a majority of his people were on loan to the National Guard, but there was no way that Connie would have been one of them. Gilson was married with three kiddos, so he had refrained from volunteering with the Guard.

  The chief had not arrived yet, thankfully, so Fish dug his cellphone out of his cargo pocket and tapped her name from his recently called list and swiped it quickly to make the call, but his phone was without signal. Huh? That’s just wonderful. Fish thought it might have been the base, because cellphone signals could be sketchy at times due to all the Prowler and Growler flights overhead. He needed to get ahold of her before the chief arrived, or else he would receive another verbal flogging for ‘not knowing his people’ so Fish tried the office landline instead. The landline worked.

  “Yo, are you coming to work today?” Fish asked.

  “No.” Connie said. And that was all she said. Fish wanted more information than that.

  “Annnnd, why not?” He asked, frustrated.

  “Just talk to chief.” She replied, quietly.

  “I don’t want to talk to chief, I want to talk to you. Why aren’t you coming in today?”

  “Just talk to chief, Fish. Please.” She informed him, without much emotion. His frustration was too much for his hungover brain, and it overwhelmed him. He got angry. Fish absolutely did NOT want to talk to Ch
ief Worts about Constantine. He did not want to talk to Chief Worts about anything!

  Fish sat up, inhaled deeply and barked into the phone, “First of all, you need to address me properly. Second of all, I am your leading petty officer and you are required to keep me updated on your personal situation, especially if it is going to effect my workcenter. So, why are you not coming in today.”

  “I already talked to chief this morning, and the last time I checked, he outranks you, Petty Officer Hooker. Goodbye.” She said, and the phone beeped, signaling him that she had hung up.

  “What in the fuck!” Fish shouted as he slammed the phone’s receiver back onto its base, extra hard, maybe even too hard. He thought for a second that he might have broken it. Petty Officer Gilson jumped in his chair, startled from the shockwave of Fish’s actions. Fish had seen him recoil, and knew that he was a sensitive guy. He felt bad about scaring him and apologized.

  “Sorry about that, man. My bad.” Fish consoled.

  “It’s okay, boss. I’m just a little bit on edge. I caught a guy going through the stuff in my garage last night, and it kinda scared the shit out of me.”

  “Wait, what?” Fish was caught off-guard by that.

  “Yeah. I usually don’t close my garage door at night because my wife and I go out there to smoke cigarettes. I don’t do it in the house, ya know, because of the kids and stuff.” He said.

  “That’s good. You’re a good family man.” Fish added.

  “Oh, thank you.” Gilson said, sheepishly. “Anyway, I went out there for my last smoke of the night, probably close to midnight, I think, and some punk was digging around in one of my toolboxes. Luckily, when I opened the door, he took off running across the street and through the neighbor’s yard. I tried to call the police a few times, but all I got was a busy signal, so I said ‘to hell with it’ and closed the garage door and locked everything else up in my house.”