Buck Out

by Ken Benton

  “Thank God. You did destroy them when you went back to clean out your desk, though, right?”

  No answer.

  “Hannah…”

  “Yes.” Hannah laughed. “I shredded them.”

  Malcolm slowed as they approached The Wild and Wonderful Saloon, stretching his neck towards it as they passed. Hannah hit him on the shoulder with her fist. They drove the rest of the way home in comfortable silence.

  The burgeoning framework of Malcolm and Hannah’s new house could be seen long before they reached their gravel driveway. So could their trailer, which was twice as big as the small one Ryan and his entire family were still living in. Malcolm and Hannah’s construction project was farther behind than Ryan and Jean’s, but it was nice to see progress.

  Malcolm reached the end of the driveway and pulled the Jeep up behind their trailer. Seymour and Tina waved at them from their porch next door. Malcolm unbuckled his seatbelt and opened the car door, but something prevented him from getting out. It was Hannah’s hand on his arm. Her grip was strong.

  “Malcolm, a marriage is a two-way street.”

  Malcolm closed the door again. “I know that, honey—”

  “I genuinely appreciate you wanting to become a better man. But it’s not just you. I need to be a better wife, too.”

  “Honey, you’ve always been—”

  “Listen to me, Malcolm. It wasn’t your fault. I was obsessed with my career. Also, I was constantly afraid you were going to lose all our money.”

  “I get that.”

  “But what you don’t know is the service didn’t want me to quit. I need to be honest with you now. You think the sheriff deputies admire me? You should have seen the parade they threw me back in New York. I probably could have had any assignment I wanted, even guarding the President.”

  Malcolm stared back. “I don’t understand.”

  “I quit, Malcolm. Had enough of ambition and gunfights. I quit to …come be a country yokel with you.”

  “I love you.”

  “I know. I love you, too. But we need to make sure we’re both going to be happy in our new life. That includes you. Remember, I know you. What’s our financial situation look like?”

  Malcolm thought for a second. “Well, after the currency adjustment, paying taxes, financing Ryan’s construction and then paying for our own, we’re not exactly sitting on the same mountain of cash we once were. But it should still be enough not to have to worry about money for a while. Plus we have a small income from the New York apartment sublease.”

  “Can we afford to remove an extra $50,000?”

  “I suppose. What for?”

  “A trading account for you. You’ll never be content sidelined from the markets. A man needs something to do, and this is what you know. The thing is, you have to agree that this is the only bankroll you ever get to play with again. So manage it well, honey.”

  “Hannah, I don’t need it. There are plenty of projects for me to do getting our homestead going. I want us to be able to live self-sufficiently—like Spence did, and like Ryan’s going to be doing. I’m ready for a whole new life.”

  “You can work on all that stuff when you’re not trading. I want you to stay active in the markets, okay? It would bother me if I thought I took that away from you.”

  Malcolm looked his beautiful wife in the eyes and smiled. “Well, there is an option trading strategy I came up with that I always kind of wanted to mess around with. It’s only really workable with a small account, as it finds value plays in the niches that aren’t liquid enough for the big players. It’s a swing trading strategy, so only takes a couple hours per day. Basically, I’d be making smart bets on underpriced weekly options that have a good risk/reward—”

  “Great, honey. So, it’s settled. You do that. Remember, you get $50,000 and that’s it.”

  “What about you?” Malcolm asked. “Marriage is a two-way street, right? How are you going to stay happy?”

  “I love flowers.” Hannah made a wide sweeping motion with her arm. “I want to grow giant fields of them. Who knows? Maybe we can sell them commercially. In any case, I’ll be busy. And I promise you, absolutely happy.”

  “You sure that’s enough?”

  Hannah pointed to the far side of the property. “Well, I was thinking that’s a good spot for a shooting range.”

  * * *

  Pastor Robert Green held the strange-looking bill he found in his early-service collection plate. He turned it back and forth under his desk lamp, studying it. Twenty American Gold Dollars. This was the first one he’d seen. It was flashy, almost as if it had actual gold laced into the printing. Definitely a stark contrast to the appearance of traditional U.S. currency.

  Traditional. Traditional was out the window. Times were changing. Never in a million years did Robert think he would have the need for two Sunday services. Somehow word had gotten around about the “shotgun pastor” at the little church in Carlisle, and people from all over began cramming his sanctuary. A small crowd stood behind full pews during both services these days.

  At first it was mostly military types, but the aisles were soon stuffed with a cultural melting pot wonderful to behold. The Ninety-nine Sheep Baptist Church wasn’t just for Baptists any more.

  Could Robert’s preaching be credited for the sudden growth? No. He wasn’t that good. Half the time he couldn’t remember his sermon and ad-libbed it. At least that aspect of the church was still Baptist. But he could rarely remember what he said afterwards. What came forth from his mouth was often simply a result of being caught up in the moment with fervent worshippers. It tended to flee from him as quickly as it came. For that reason, the second-service sermon usually bore little resemblance to that of the early-service. Perhaps Robert and the choir were the only ones who realized this.

  The door to his office opened. Jordan, Robert’s favorite new second-service usher, came in. It didn’t even bother Robert that he never knocked.

  “Pastor Green, there are some people with cameras staking out a place in the back of the sanctuary. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes, Jordan. They’re from Christianity Today Magazine, and I’ve given them permission. I’ll admit it makes me a tad nervous to have them there, especially since I don’t clearly remember what I preached about in first service. Kind of groggy today. Hope they’re not disappointed. Looks like I’ll be winging it again.”

  “I’ll pray for God to put words in your mouth, like He always does.”

  Robert stood and came around to the front of the desk, still holding the bill.

  “Ever seen one of these, Jordan?”

  “No. Is that the new money?”

  “It appears so. Worth twenty dollars in U.S. Gold. Would you like it?”

  Jordan tilted his head. “What, that bill?”

  “Yes. Do you want it?”

  “Isn’t that God’s money?”

  “It is, but God rewards his servants.”

  “Um …no thanks, Pastor Green. It wouldn’t feel right.”

  “Two months ago you wouldn’t have refused an offer of money.”

  Jordan looked embarrassed. “I was homeless and desperate until you—I mean God—rescued me. Now I have a job, and sleep indoors. So I want to give back, not take more.”

  “That’s awesome.” Robert reached out and patted him on the back. “If you truly wish to serve, God will find you a place, even as He already has here in my church. We’re all proud of you, Jordan. God isn’t looking for the capable so much as He’s looking for the willing. Well, it’s about time. You better get out front.”

  “Yes, Pastor.”

  Robert tried not to think about the magazine people as the second service started. They were kind of squished in the back anyway. But the choir seemed to know they were there. Several of the more talented singers belted out choruses noticeably stronger than they had during the early service.

  Then it was time for the message. Robert began with his planned topic about the Ch
ristian home and marriage. But it didn’t feel quite right. He stopped for a moment and looked at the photographers in the corner.

  Then Jordan caught his eye.

  “Money,” he found himself saying. The response was unusually silent, probably because he so abruptly changed the subject.

  He raised his voice. “Is it right for a child of God to ever be worried over financial matters?”

  Unsure mumbling in places.

  “On one hand, the Bible does teach us to work hard and conduct our affairs with diligence. Slothfulness is a sin! And foolish behavior that risks separating you from your hard-earned wages is condemned.”

  A small eruption of amens.

  “Even Paul continued to make tents for a living after he became the great apostle, so as not to become a financial burden on the churches he so lovingly planted, and to serve as an example for all of us. We are likewise instructed to perform all our work as though we are doing it for the Lord, whether we flip burgers or design skyscrapers, regardless of our personal opinion of our boss. We know who the real boss is. And the Bible tells us the worker is deserving of his wages!”

  Hallelujahs and shouts of joy.

  “So we see that there is nothing wrong with honestly earning money, whether a little or a lot. There is nothing wrong with having possessions, so long as your possessions do not possess you. I’m reminded of a famous Greek philosopher who lived in the time of Alexander the Great, named Diogenes. This man had a problem with possessions. He found they possessed him. So, he got rid of everything except the clothes on his back and a small bowl, and went to live next to a river, alone. After a while he decided he didn’t need the bowl, either. Diogenes is famous for saying, ‘In a rich man's house there is no place to spit but his face.’

  “But what Diogenes failed to understand is that material possessions are not evil in and of themselves. It is the love and worship of material possessions which is evil. Man has been making this mistake for thousands of years, worshiping the creation instead of the creator. The Bible tells us not to set our heart on riches when they increase, because wealth has a tendency to make itself wings and fly away.”

  Lots of jubilance in the sanctuary, especially from the black women up front. Flash bulbs went off in the back.

  Robert lowered his voice and continued.

  “Allow me to let you all in on a secret. Money has no actual value. You know why? Because it doesn’t last! Jesus told the story of the man who experienced a great year financially, ending up with a tremendous excess of goods. So he built barns to store everything up, and bathed himself in a false sense of security. God called him a fool, because his time to die was the very night the construction of the barns was complete—and all his goods would be squandered by those less diligent than himself.

  “This man’s sin was loving his bless-ings more than the bless-or. Don’t do that. Let none of us ever do that. It’s a wise man who trades his possessions for a reliable income source, and a fool who sells an income source for a pile of money. A pile of money is not valuable. An income source is.

  “God is our income source! He wants to be our provider! Scripture tells us those who trust in the Lord will be like Mount Zion, which can never be shaken. Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and all these other things—everything else you need—will be added onto you!”

  Wild cheering. Singing in places.

  “Love the bless-or! Do not become overly-attached to the bless-ings! Keep your eyes on the income source. Always be willing to leave all your blessings on a moment’s notice to follow Him who blesses you. This is why Jesus told us not to store up treasure on the earth, where moths and rust destroy and thieves break in to steal—but to store our treasure in heaven, where moths and rust do not destroy, where thieves do not break in to steal. Because where our treasure is, there will our hearts be also.”

  Somehow the organist knew this was the right moment to begin playing. She always seemed to be tuned into Robert’s improvisations, God bless her. Or maybe the Spirit was actually leading them both.

  More than two hundred miles away, a mushroom picked this moment to pop up from the soil under the shade of a large tree. The mushroom didn’t know whether it was poisonous or edible. Neither did it have any knowledge that three feet directly below it a large pile of gold bars lay buried, where they would likely stay.

  The End…

  …unless you’d like your free short story about what happened the next time someone attempted to hijack Morris’s refrigerated food truck. Read the outcome in Cold Reception, a 25-page escapade available in Kindle, PDF, or web browser format. It’s my gift to you for signing up to my mailing list, which you can do at my author website, here:

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  SurviRal: A Denver couple tries to escape the chaos of the city after a killer manmade virus crashes western society. Available in Kindle, paperback, and audio here:

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  http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B00R4VD7PS

  Prepping for the day the SHTF: A complete bug-out and survival plan for life after doomsday. This is my non-fiction prepping book for all you Ryans out there. Learn how to become much better prepared than even Ryan was! Available in Kindle and paperback here:

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  A Word from the Author

  I’m probably a lot like you. I look around at the world we’re living in and shake my head. The situation is unsustainable. But hey – we had a good run, right? Strong societies typically last about 200 years, and that’s right where we are. Maybe we’ll keep it together a while longer.

  Even if the nukes don’t fly and the viruses don’t mutate, I cannot see our great grandchildren sitting complacently while we dump an unfathomable mountain of debt on their shoulders. At some point, the new generation will say nuts to that and refuse to accept being born into bondage to pay the bills for all the fun their recent ancestors had. This is exactly how revolutions start.

  Going off the grid and getting out of the system is not just for crazy people any more. It’s also for very sane people. When you see an unsustainable situation and remain a willing part of it, hoping it holds together a while longer, what is it you are really hoping for? Don’t psychologists call this living in denial? The type of economic collapse that looms on the horizon will make your bank accounts worthless. Hoarding gold is a viable option, but how much of it can you practically store in your city home and hope to use for money one day? Where will the food and clothing come from that you hope to trade it for?

  Rural land and homesteading knowledge may be the only valuable things in the near future. This is what prepping is all about. Nobody says you have to wait until the SHTF to bug out. You can start building everything now and get out of Dodge well in advance. That way, you can get all set up with chickens and goats as well. When you have goats, you have milk – and when you have milk, you have all the dairy products you will ever need.

  Having the ability to prepare now, you have no excuse when the day comes upon you like a thief in the night. The modern-day city life becomes le
ss fulfilling once you see how you can be living an off-grid, self-sustained life on your own mini-farm. Instead of saving money in a soon-to-be worthless bank account, you can stock up on the things that really count. You can be making new friends with like-minded neighbors. You can be building a real future.

  If you are like me, this knowledge will eat away at you until you actually start to do something about it. Listen to your nagging inner self. Shift your focus. Become passionate about establishing the only form of security left to us.

  I lift my glass of homemade wine and wish you the best of fortune. Maybe I’ll see you out in the country someday. Cheers.

  Ken Benton

  Table of Contents

  March 10

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Chapter Twenty Five

  Chapter Twenty Six

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  A Word from the Author