by Akart, Bobby
O’Reilly kicked sheepishly at the gravel beneath his feet. He rolled his head on his neck to relieve some of the tension built up during his long drive. Then he explained, “Nope, that’s all I’ve got. I mean, sir, um, Ryan, I don’t want to be presumptuous, but in a way, I guess I am. I’m here to stay. I’ve sold my condo in St. Louis. I’ve packed up everything I want or need. Your wife indicated that you have a box truck that I could use to pick up some furniture in Hickory, or even Charlotte, if necessary. Most importantly, I’ve come with two forms of payment—gold or junk silver.”
Ryan chuckled and looked back at O’Reilly’s vehicles. They were like new and most likely filled with the man’s earthly possessions. He and Blair had verbally agreed to accept him into the Haven if he passed Ryan’s sniff test. Not that Ryan was gonna sniff the man’s armpits, or his butt, like the girls were prone to do. Ryan just needed to get a feel for O’Reilly to make sure he was going to be a good fit and, most importantly, trustworthy. Once a new arrival became a resident of the Haven, the lives of their neighbors would be just as important as their own.
“Walter,” started Ryan as he motioned for the man to join him in the Ranger, “or should I call you Gene?”
“Actually, I go by the nickname given to me by my grandfather, Walter O’Reilly Sr. I’m technically the third.”
“Yeah, I remember that from your paperwork,” interjected Ryan.
O’Reilly was about to continue when a pickup truck approached containing Alpha and Echo. They pulled to an abrupt stop. Alpha and Echo jumped out of the truck and joined them.
Alpha addressed Ryan without looking at the visitor. “We’re about to run to the back forty and feed the cattle. Blair said you wanted to see me?”
Ryan replied, “Yeah, just for a minute. I want you to meet Walter O’Reilly. He’s come to see us from St. Louis.”
Alpha and O’Reilly shook hands.
Then Echo stepped forward to shake and began to laugh. “Did you say your name was Walter O’Reilly? As in Radar?”
“Um, yeah,” replied the shy young man. “I was about to explain to Ryan about my nickname. You see, a bit of trivia here, but my name is the same as the character on the old television show MASH. In fact, my grandfather was stationed at Joint Base Charleston in the 628th Mission Support Group as part of the communications squadron.”
“Nice pedigree,” Alpha added.
“Yes. Well, anyway, his nickname became Radar. My father was a professor, and because he didn’t go into the military, gramps didn’t give him a nickname. When I was a kid, he nicknamed me X-Ray because I was into the X-Men comic books. Long story short, nobody calls me Walter or Gene. I’ve always been known as X-Ray.”
“Well, alrighty then,” said Ryan, his favorite response to a long-winded explanation. “Whadya think, boys? We’ve got a communications whiz with a comparable name to a famous television military guy, and his chosen name is already part of the military phonetic alphabet.”
Alpha was still unconvinced. “Can you shoot a gun?”
“I can hit the mark,” X-Ray replied confidently. Then he pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the trailer. “I’ve got a Hornady progressive press plus dies, powder, etcetera. Everything you need for multiple calibers.”
“I didn’t know this,” said Ryan.
“I was saving it. You know, just in case you didn’t think I was a good fit.”
Ryan shrugged and glanced at Alpha. His eyelids lowered like he was a wolf stalking his prey. Ryan knew his friend of two years very well. They had become, for all intents and purposes, brothers.
Alpha began to pepper X-Ray with questions. “Defense weapon of choice?”
“Mossberg 590.”
“Sidearm?”
“S & W, forty cal.”
“Battle rifle?”
“AR-15, full auto.”
“How?”
“I bought an eighty percent lower and milled it myself.”
Alpha stopped and smiled at Ryan. “Come on, Echo, we’ve got mouths to feed.”
The two men nodded to X-Ray and left without another word. Ryan patted the young man on the back, who was somewhat taken aback by Alpha’s approach during the conversation.
As the two piled into the Ranger, X-Ray spoke first. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“No, you’re wrong about that. Alpha never wants new people to know what he thinks. It’s just his way. He’s very guarded. He was that way with me at first.”
Ryan drove up the gravel road and turned onto a trail that led downhill through a tree-canopied stretch of woods. “You two will get along fine.”
“Does that mean I’m in?”
Ryan hesitated before responding, allowing him time to enter the clearing overlooking the Henry River. A lone cabin stood on the banks of the swiftly moving water. The location of the old mill was clearly defined to their right, as the ruins following the fire of forty-plus years ago had never been removed.
“That’s why we’ve come here first, X-Ray. Welcome home.”
Chapter Seven
Early Afternoon
New Year’s Eve
Haven House
“Come on in and take a load off!” shouted Ryan from the dining room. He was setting out pitchers of sweet tea and lemonade for lunch. He’d already put out bowls, spoons, and a variety of toppings for the chili, ranging from shredded cheddar cheese to onions.
“I brought dessert, if we have room for it,” said Echo’s wife, Charlotte. She allowed her husband to hold the Reese’s peanut butter pie while she removed her wool coat and matching gloves. Charlotte and Echo had married straight out of high school and were still very much in love. They had one child, a daughter who was killed in the line of duty. She had been a sheriff’s deputy for St. Louis County. During a routine traffic stop on Interstate 270, on the southside of Florissant, she was shot in the chest by the driver and ultimately died during surgery.
It broke her parents’ hearts, as this occurred about the time they were having difficulty making ends meet on their tobacco farm. The culmination of events led them to choose a new direction for their life, and that led them to the Haven.
“Why don’t you set it on the table in here, Charlotte?” asked Ryan. “I’m about to bring out the chili, and the corn bread will be right behind it.”
Blair emerged from the kitchen with two baskets covered with white cloth napkins. Steam emerged from the hot corn bread, filling the room with a scrumptious aroma as she walked past the group.
“Hi, guys,” greeted Blair cheerfully. “Grab a seat and get prepared to be stuffed. I’ve made two crocks full!”
“Great!” exclaimed Alpha, who was single and a man known for speaking in single-word sentences.
Within minutes, the table was full of food and everyone was passing it around before digging in. After their mouths were full with a taste of chili, corn bread, and hot peppers from the garden, Blair started the conversation, talking about X-Ray.
“Alpha, whadya think about the new guy?”
He quickly chewed down an oversized spoonful of chili and nodded. “Seems okay to me. We didn’t talk about his communications capabilities, but I guess you guys covered that before he got here.”
Ryan chimed in. “We did, but I also made him open up his trailer before I accepted his payment. The back of the thing looked like a mobile command center of some type. Frankly, his whole rig appeared to be designed for surviving on the road. The conversion van gave him ample sleeping and cooking capabilities. The trailer was tricked out with ham radio equipment, CB radios, and portable satellite dishes enabling him to access the internet from anywhere.”
“Impressive,” added Echo.
“Yeah, and there’s more,” continued Ryan. “He’d created a sealing system that made the trailer into a rolling Faraday cage. Once the doors are closed, an airlock-type device seals the edges so radio waves can’t enter.”
“Like a microwave oven?” asked Echo.
“Exactly
. I was skeptical at first, so he had me get inside the trailer while he locked me in. It kinda gave me the heebie-jeebies, you know? Anyway, once sealed inside, my cell phone couldn’t receive a signal. He’d given me a crank emergency radio to turn on. I tried to find a station. Nothing but static.”
“He’s a geek,” mumbled Alpha between bites.
Ryan took a sip of tea and decided to tease his number one. “True, but geeks can fit in here, too. There can only be one alpha, right?”
Alpha sat a little taller in his chair and grinned. He lifted his glass and lowered his voice to his deepest baritone level. “Damn straight!”
“Plus, his gun capabilities help, too,” added Blair. “I can’t believe I missed that part.”
Ryan wiped his mouth and took a long drink of his Arnold Palmer, a fifty-fifty mixture of sweet tea and lemonade that had been his favorite drink since he played golf in high school in the seventies. “He explained that oversight, as I’ll call it. First, he never talked about his guns or interest in gunsmithing on social media. He simply has a belief that the government is always watching.”
“Paranoid much?” asked Charlotte jokingly.
“Can’t say as I blame him, honey,” Echo responded. “During those congressional hearings, they’ve practically admitted that they’re in cahoots with the feds.”
Ryan continued. “He also said he’d never purchased a weapon through a licensed firearms dealer.”
“That explains why I couldn’t find any purchase information on him when I used my license to access the ATF database,” added Blair.
“Right,” continued Ryan. “He bought everything he has from private sellers either through Armslist or at gun shows.”
“What about the powder for his ammunition?”
“Black market,” Ryan replied. “He told me it’s easier than you’d think if you accessed the right 4chan boards or subreddits.” Ryan referred to the chat boards frequented by anti-government users and many conspiracy theorists.
“Wow,” said Charlotte. “I think I’ll stick to canning and sorting heirloom seeds. I’ll leave 4chan and subreddits to the youngsters.”
The group laughed and made small talk as they finished up their meals. Alpha and Echo were going down to the recently completed schoolhouse to finish up a few things that afternoon, and then everyone was going to settle in for the New Year’s Eve festivities on television.
After Ryan and Blair cleared the table and brought in fresh plates for Charlotte’s peanut butter pie, the conversation turned philosophical.
Charlotte asked, “Ryan, do you have any predictions for the new year?”
“You know, I’d love to say something profound like I’m praying for world peace, a cure for cancer, and I’d like everyone to hold hands while they sing ‘Kumbaya.’ That’s not gonna happen.”
Blair reached over and touched her husband’s hand. “You’re the eternal pessimist.” This drew a laugh from the group because in most every aspect of his life, Ryan tended to be overly optimistic. Over the years, he’d become soured on the course of the country he loved so much.
“I’m sorry, y’all, but I can’t help it. I’ve tried to block out the signs of a society descending into the abyss. Most of it is cultural, and you have no idea how many times I look in the mirror to say ‘you’re just old-fashioned.’ A relic. A dinosaur who doesn’t understand young people.”
“Boss, you’re not ancient, like me,” said Echo jokingly, who was only four years older, but appeared to be a decade apart.
Ryan lifted his forkful of pie in Echo’s direction and nodded his appreciation. “I guess I consider myself a throwback. It’s just that I have a genuine concern for the direction of our country and the events following the election.” Ryan’s voice trailed off as his voice got somewhat emotional. Blair squeezed his hand, offering him encouragement to continue, which he did.
“Let’s just say that my doomsday clock has ticked a little closer toward the apocalypse. I honestly believe that we’re one bad news story away from societal collapse. It could be a catastrophic event that triggers mayhem. Or, as we’ve seen, it could be political unrest that pits one side of the nation against the other.”
“Like a civil war?” asked Charlotte, whose family had roots dating back to the war between the states.
“That’s the thing, Charlotte,” replied Ryan. “And it’s complicated. Back in the 1800s, the two sides of the war could be clearly defined by geographic boundaries that necessarily made it easier to determine who was a Southerner and who was from the north. Today, it’s different. Despite certain states voting either red or blue during an election cycle, we’re really a nation full of purple.”
“With no specific boundaries to contain one side or the other?” added Alpha inquisitively.
“Right,” Ryan replied. “A civil war in the sense of what happened a hundred sixty years ago couldn’t happen today. Now it would be more brutal because weapons are more powerful, and there would be more innocent people caught in the crossfire.”
“A lot of innocent people,” added Blair. “Think about it. I consider everyone at the Haven politically astute and knowledgeable. You have to remember, however, that half of Americans don’t give a crap about politics. Less than sixty percent vote in presidential elections and even fewer during midterms. Those apathetic voters are the innocents that Ryan refers to.”
“Exactly, darling,” said Ryan. “When you watch the news and see people lying down in the middle of the highway or occupying Wall Street or some such, they’re not representative of America. They are only a rabble-rousing few. Likewise, when everyone screams about white supremacy as taking a foothold just because once in a while a group of idiots with white hoods over their heads run around a town square in Pulaski, Tennessee, doesn’t mean all of us are racists. Painting folks with a broad brush is unfair.”
“Yet here we are,” interjected Alpha.
Echo agreed. “That’s true.”
Ryan looked to Charlotte. “Going back to your question. Despite the apathy, as Blair put it, there is sufficient anger on both sides that eventually the trains are gonna collide head-on in a tunnel. In my opinion, the actions taken by the vice president and the other members of the president’s cabinet were the functional equivalent of a bus accelerating to run over the man while he wasn’t looking.
“Listen, I get that a lot of people don’t like our president. I didn’t like the last one, but he was duly elected. But elections have consequences, and he’s won twice. Do I wish he’d stay off Twitter? Absolutely. At first, I thought it was entertaining because he constantly tweaked the media. Now every tweet is used against him, and it makes his already difficult job of governing even more so.
“However, I never imagined his own people turning on him like this. For two years, he endured a never-ending supply of subpoenas and congressional investigations after he lost the House in the last midterm.”
Ryan paused and shook his head. Then he added, “He managed to get reelected only to be attacked from within.”
The table had grown solemn as Ryan had said aloud what all of them had been thinking since November.
Finally, Blair broke the silence. “The question is, where does it end?”
Ryan leaned back in his chair and set his napkin on the table. He fiddled with it until it was folded neatly. His response was prophetic.
“I’m afraid a storm is coming.”
Chapter Eight
Afternoon
New Year’s Eve
The Haven
By later that afternoon, the overcast skies took over, and any hope of warmer temperatures was dashed. The second interview of the day, a family of four from Trenton, New Jersey, was an interesting bunch. The father was a holistic healer who had co-authored a book with a well-known sustainable-living expert on how to produce their own food and medicine.
As the preparedness movement gained steam in the early part of the century following the Y2K scare, homesteaders and surviva
lists combined into a new segment of society known as preppers. Living a preparedness lifestyle was predicated on principles of self-reliance and an honest belief that the potential for catastrophic events was real.
A catastrophic event, to families like the Smarts and the others who lived at the Haven, generally included some type of collapse event that caused a long-term loss of electricity, a deadly pandemic, a collapse of the global financial system, or the societal collapse that necessarily followed.
The worst-case scenario envisioned by most preppers was a total collapse of the power grid. The world was wired, interconnected through technology, and completely reliant on the use of electricity. Gone were the days of the nineteenth century when a family could hunt, fish, and grow their own food. Today, most American cupboards barely had enough food for a week. They relied upon just-in-time inventories at grocery stores to keep them supplied, not realizing that in a catastrophic event, those grocery store shelves would be emptied in days, if not hours.
This new potential addition to the Haven filled two key holes for Ryan—holistic healing methods and a trauma nurse. The diametrically opposed careers of the husband and wife were intriguing to Ryan.
How could a couple, one who made a career of modern medicine and the other who focused on natural healing agents, coexist? In Ryan’s mind, it was akin to a leftist being married to a far-right conservative. He was certain the conversations about their respective days over dinner were interesting to say the least.
Alpha escorted the family up the gravel driveway to where Ryan customarily met his prospective residents, the circle drive around the water feature lined with stone, built in the 1800s. In a throwback to the Old South, the three-tiered fountain pumped water up through the center, and then it trickled out of a pineapple, only to be recirculated again. The pineapple was symbolic of Southern hospitality, which was generally the Smarts’ approach to every visitor. At least, thus far.
