American Reset (The Economic Collapse Chronicles)

by Mark Goodwin

  “There is something planned for Lt. Joe’s,” Michael said.

  “A raid?” Adam inquired.

  “Yes, a raid,” Michael said.

  “When?” Adam quizzed.

  “Friday,” Michael answered.

  “What’s done is done. You’ve been cooperative, I’ll see what I can do.” Adam got up to return to the bedroom.

  He walked into the room where Susan lay hog-tied on the floor and shut the door. “You ready to call your brother?”

  Susan asked, “Are you going to let us go?”

  Adam didn’t answer. He drew his knife and grabbed Susan’s big toe.

  “Alright!” she screamed. “I’ll call him! What do you want me to say?”

  Adam gave her the directions, “Tell him that two of the militiamen escaped the raid and you have information about where they’ll be and when, but you need to be paid for the information. Tell him the guy with the information wants five ounces of gold and tell him you want two ounces for yourself. Tell him he has to come by himself.”

  “Can I have another drink?” Susan begged.

  Adam cut her hands loose and left her feet restrained. He handed her the bottle and took her phone off the night stand. “That’s enough.” He took the bottle and handed her the phone.

  She dialed the number. “Milton.”

  Susan did exactly as she had been told. “But five ounces won’t leave anything for me. Make it six total and you’ve got a deal.”

  Adam shook his head. She was a good liar. Even her own brother didn’t suspect a thing.

  “He’ll be here tomorrow night around nine o’clock,” she said.

  “Good job,” Adam said.

  He put new restraints on her hands and went outside to get Justin and Gary. “Let’s throw these two in the bed of the truck. I’ll keep them in the barn for now. Her brother is coming back here tomorrow night. We’ll need her here for that operation. I want to grab him and see what else he knows.”

  Justin and Gary put the two turncoats in the bed of the truck and tossed a blanket over them so no one would see two prisoners being carted around. Adam went through Michael’s things looking for items of value. He cleaned out his gun cabinet and all of his ammo.

  They jumped in the cab of the truck and headed back to Gary’s to retrieve Adam’s truck. “My recommendation is to start a widow’s fund with this gold and silver we took off these crooks. I was thinking we should give a quarter of it of it to Shelly now. We’ll take a quarter to the other widows who lost husbands in the attack. I’ll keep the other quarter to the side, if Matt doesn’t make it home, we’ll give it to Karen.”

  The men agreed that it was a good plan. Adam retrieved his truck from Gary’s, then took the prisoners to his barn. He was still able to get Justin home just before dark, as promised.

  CHAPTER 11

  “A free people ought not only to be armed, but disciplined; to which end a uniform and well-digested plan is requisite.”

  -George Washington

  Justin shut the door of Adam’s truck and yelled, “See you in the morning,” as Adam drove away. When he walked in the house, no one was home. “Adam rushed me home and no one is even here,” he commented to himself.

  Miss Mae came in the room to greet Justin. “Hey, cat.” He crouched down to pet the small animal rubbing on his leg.

  “Meow,” Miss Mae was hungry.

  “I could use a snack myself,” Justin replied. He took a chunk of the venison roast from the fridge and some beans and rice. He pulled a few small pieces of venison to give to Miss Mae and stuck his in the microwave to warm up. “You better eat that before Karen comes home. I don’t want to get in trouble.” Justin had seen Matt catch it on more than one occasion for overfeeding the slightly overweight pet.

  Justin sat down at the table to eat his meal. Miss Mae was still asking for more. Just as he tore off another small piece for the cat, he heard the key hit the door. “Rats,” he said.

  “You’re home!” Rene said as she and Karen walked in the door.

  “Yeah, I didn’t know where you guys were, so I helped myself to dinner,” Justin said.

  “That’s fine, we ate a late lunch at Janice’s,” Karen said. “Did you feed Miss Mae?”

  “No, well, yes, I mean, she was begging, so I gave her a really small bite of my venison,” Justin said.

  Karen rolled her eyes and said, “That’s fine.”

  Justin asked, “Did you guys see Adam before you left Janice’s?”

  “No, we must’ve left right before he got home,” Karen said. “Why?”

  “Just wondering,” Justin kept eating. He was really fishing to see if they had seen any curious activities such as Adam loading two human-sized packages into the barn.

  Justin inquired, “Rene, did you finish with the garden this morning?”

  She answered, “No, two guys came by today who were offering handyman services. I told them we were fine, then one of them asked where my husband was. I said you were around back. Then he asked if I could go get you. I said you were too busy. He looked around, then he kind of looked me up and down. I told him that we handled everything ourselves and didn’t require their services. I had the garden hoe in my hand. I turned the blade side up, in case I had to swing it at him, ya know. I guess he got the hint. They finally got back in their van and drove away. It gave me the creeps. When Karen went over to Janice’s, I went with her. I didn’t want to stay here by myself.”

  “That was smart.” Justin was concerned. “Why didn’t you take the AR-15 when you went to Janice’s?”

  “I had the pistol,” Rene replied.

  Justin said, “If you ever have to defend yourself, the rifle is going to be so much more effective, Rene. A pistol is a great thing to have when you don’t expect trouble. We’re in the middle of a societal collapse and a civil war. It’s safe to say you should expect trouble in times like these. Karen, I’m a guest in your house, so I would never tell you what to do, but I’m sure Matt would want me to encourage you to carry a rifle as well.”

  “Thanks, Justin,” Karen said. “You’re right. I’ve not been thinking straight since Matt went missing. Speaking of rifles, did you get yours cleaned up?”

  “What do you mean?” Justin asked curiously.

  Karen said, “Didn’t you and Adam go to Gary’s to clean your rifles?”

  Justin slipped up. “Oh, yeah. We did, but something came up,” he covered.

  “I bet,” Karen said. “What came up?”

  Trapped like a fox in a snare, Justin said, “I’m not supposed to discuss it.”

  Rene jumped into the inquisition. “What happened, Justin?”

  There was no way out. Justin decided his best course of action was to negotiate for impunity. “You have to promise you won’t say anything to anybody; especially Adam.”

  “We promise,” Karen said.

  Justin added, “And Janice, you can’t say anything to her. It’ll get back to Adam that I said something.”

  Rene said, “Our lips are sealed. What happened?”

  Justin proceeded to give them a sterilized version of the events at Michael’s house. He left out Adam’s interrogation methods and the fact that Michael and Susan were being held hostage in Adam’s barn.

  The two girls listened intently. Karen asked, “Could this guy, Milton, know where Matt is?”

  Justin regretted saying anything already. “Karen, there is no way of knowing what the guy knows until Adam gets him alone.”

  “Make sure he asks him about Matt,” she demanded.

  “Of course,” Justin replied. “You know we’ll do everything we can.”

  Justin saw the glimmer of hope the news gave Karen. He had no idea if it was a false hope or possibly a real lead to finding Matt, so he didn’t know how he felt about spilling the beans.

  CHAPTER 12

  “The uniform, constant, and uninterrupted effort of every man to better his condition . . . is frequently powerful enough to maintain th
e natural progress of things toward improvement, in spite of the extravagance of government, and of the greatest errors of administration.”

  -Adam Smith

  Young Field was a 500-acre farm north of Boise, Idaho. Pastor John Robinson had set up a large scale community retreat at Young Field at the first signs of the collapse. Most of the people from the Liberty Chapel congregation who followed Pastor John to Young Field lived in campers, fifth wheels or RVs. The folks there survived the winter months by communal living. They continued to share the burdens and blessings to get the community established. Pastor John gave a short speech at a barn dance about two weeks ago. He encouraged the congregants to use their spare time to peruse their own individual talents and industry.

  After lunch, Pastor John walked through the make-shift bazar set up outside of the barn that was used for church services, meetings and barn dances. He approached a table constructed of two sawhorses and an old door. “Howdy fellas, what wares or service might you be offering today?”

  Oliver Stillwell and Harry Wilder had a disassembled AK-47 laying on the table and a couple of other guns leaning up against the wall of the barn behind them. Harry said, “We’re cleaning and repairing firearms, sir.”

  Oliver added, “You gave us the idea at the dance.”

  Pastor John said, “That’s a great trade. How much do you charge?”

  Harry replied, “We’re not charging anything, sir. Since we defected from the Federal States, the people of Liberty Chapel have made sure we’ve had everything we needed. This is only a small gesture of our appreciation for the hospitality we’ve received.”

  Oliver winked and said, “But we do accept tips.”

  Pastor John laughed and said, “You two are a welcome addition. We’re so glad to have you.”

  Harry said, “I think making Wednesday a half day was a great idea.”

  Pastor John replied, “Most of the planting is done, so the work load is lower than in the past few weeks. No sense wearing ourselves out when there’s nothing to do. We still have too many daily chores for everyone to be off both Saturday and Sunday. If we took the weekends off, several tasks would be piled up come Monday morning. It made more sense to break up the downtime. Everyone gets the whole day off on Sunday and a half day on Wednesday, they seem to like that.”

  Oliver said, “That gives us Wednesday afternoon for the bazar. I think it’s perfect.”

  Pastor John’s wife walked up behind him. “Hi, John.”

  The pastor hugged his wife. “What bring you to the bazar, my dear?”

  “Well,” she answered, “one of the ladies has set up a clothing swap table. Some of us are trading clothes that don’t fit any longer or for the sake of having something different to wear. There won’t be any Macy’s sales or Walmarts for buying new clothes for a while. Cindy set up a table right next to the exchange. She’s making alterations. That’s handy. A lot of us have lost weight since the meltdown. Most of us had a little to lose anyway. Well, I’m off to make a few deals.”

  Oliver and Harry both wished her good day as she trotted off with her clothes for swapping.

  Pastor John asked, “Now, about those tips. What types of tips have you boys received.”

  Oliver raised up a five-inch-long, unevenly-cut bar of a waxy looking substance. “We cleaned a couple of rifles for Gus and he gave us this.”

  “Alright,” the pastor said. “And what is it?”

  Harry answered, “Soap. He has a table down at the end of this row. He’s selling it.”

  “Ain’t that something,” Robinson replied. “He made it?”

  Oliver replied, “From scratch. He has a process to make lye. He burns hardwood and keeps the ash. He soaks it in water and somehow gets lye from that. He heats it up and mixes it with hot lard from the hogs and makes this soap.”

  Pastor John said, “God has certainly blessed us to have a great selection of skills. These are hard times, but I’m convinced I’m going through them with the best people on Earth. Fellas, I can see you have a few weapons to work on, so I’ll let you get back to work. Besides, I see that Isaac doesn’t have any one waiting and I need to get a quick haircut.”

  Oliver said, “Thanks for stopping by, Pastor.”

  Pastor John walked to Isaac’s spot at the bazar where he cut hair. There was no other sign of it being a barbershop. There was only a small table, one that might have been a night stand in another life, and a chair with a sheet draped over it. The small table held an assortment of scissors, combs and razors. “Good afternoon, Pastor,” Isaac greeted.

  “Hello, Isaac,” John replied. “Nice and short in the back and sides.”

  Isaac pinned the sheet around the pastor. “Absolutely.”

  The two men talked about the weather and the general state of affairs at Young Field. Now that they were dependent on the success of the crops, weather was the most important topic of the day. It was no longer the icebreaker, small talk of the world gone by.

  Two Idaho National Guardsmen in dress uniforms walked up to Pastor John as Isaac finished his haircut.

  “Are you Pastor John Robinson?” the first man asked.

  “Yes, how can I help you?” the pastor responded.

  The man answered, “Governor Goldwater is requesting your presence at the governor’s home next Monday. Coalition Commander-in-Chief Paul Randall would like to have your input in ironing out some safeguards to ensure the Constitution is never violated to the degree it has been in recent years. He wants to protect it from the left so future generations won’t have to endure another civil war. At least not in the Coalition States anyway.”

  Pastor John asked, “Paul Randall will be in Idaho?”

  The guardsmen replied, “We’re not at liberty to get into many details at the time, sir, but I do believe the meetings are via teleconference. They utilize an encrypted VOIP.”

  “I’d be honored,” Robinson said.

  “We’ll pick you up at eight o’clock in the morning, sir,” the man replied.

  Pastor John said, “It’s less than an hour to the governor’s house in Boise. I can get there on my own.”

  The man said, “Governor Goldwater insists that you have an armed escort, sir.”

  Pastor John said, “In that case, I’ll see you at eight o’clock Monday morning.”

  The men said farewell and Isaac finished the pastor’s haircut.

  “What do I owe you, Isaac?” the pastor asked.

  “Nothing,” Isaac responded.

  “Nonsense. First Timothy five says a worker is worth his wages.” Pastor John pulled out three rounds of .223 ammunition and laid them on Isaac’s small table.

  “Thank you very much, pastor,” Isaac said.

  Ammunition was the currency of choice in Young Field. Three rounds of .223 was the equivalent of around fifteen dollars in pre-collapse currency. Other flea markets around the country didn’t trade in ammunition anymore. Reports had circulated about folks who had been robbed and killed with the very bullets they used to barter with. That wouldn’t be a problem among the community here at Young Field. Ammunition made a perfect currency for trade among one’s own mutual assistance group.

  “You have a blessed day, Isaac,” Pastor John said. He had a lot of prayer and preparation to complete over the next few days. This opportunity to provide spiritual guidance to the Coalition deserved his full attention and all diligence.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed—in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet. For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed. For the perishable must clothe itself with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality. When the perishable has been clothed with the imperishable, and the mortal with immortality, then the saying that is written will come true: ‘Death has been swallowed up in victory.’ ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’”

  -1 Corinthians 15
:51-55

  The morning sun peaked through the curtains and Karen opened her eyes. She knew better than to look over to see if Matt was in the bed. She had looked the past four mornings and he wasn’t there. Each time, it solidified the fact that it was not all just a bad dream. She rolled over and looked anyway. The same sinking feeling she felt the previous mornings returned. Miss Mae was on Matt’s pillow. The cat looked at Karen as if to tell her that she shared her pain.

  There was a knock at the bedroom door. Rene poked her head in. “Karen, we have to get ready for the memorial service.”

  Karen said, “Okay, I’m awake.”

  Rene closed the door and Karen forced herself to get up. She put her clothes on and went to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

  Justin came in carrying several eggs. “Good morning, Karen.”

  Karen strained to smile, “Good morning, Justin.”

  Justin asked, “Can I make you an omelet? I’ve got some of Mr. Miller’s homemade goat cheese. There’s still a couple pieces of the bread Rene made. You can have some toast with your omelet.”

  Despite the depression, Karen’s stomach was complaining. “That would be very nice, Justin. Thank you.”

  Rene, Justin and Karen ate breakfast and headed over to Adam’s for the memorial service. Justin grabbed his full-auto Colt M4 captured in the raid at State Road 421 back in February. He handed his old AR-15 to Rene. “Are you going to bring your rifle, Karen?”

  Karen knew what Matt would say. She went back in the bedroom, opened the safe and took out Matt’s AR-15 and followed Justin and Rene out the door.

  Rene asked, “Adam is going to speak at the Memorial?”

  Karen answered, “Yes, he officiated Wesley’s wedding.” The memorial was a nagging reminder that Matt could be dead, but Karen knew this was going to be a tough day for everybody.