by Glen Tate
He decided to check the secret email account one more time, just to ease his mind. To his surprise, an email from Vic had arrived. The subject was “Go Navy!” and the body of it said, “Hey, bros, I know things are a little complicated now, but I can’t wait to see you guys at an Army-Navy game sometime. A few years? Who knows. I’m thinking of you guys. Nothing can ever break up the Five Amigos.”
Travis cried. He knew the group could never get back together, but he appreciated Vic’s sentiment. The Five Amigos were like families and friends all over the country: they could never get back together like the old times, but they didn’t have to hate each other.
Travis didn’t reply to the email because that could have given away his position on a remote inlet on the Puget Sound. Then the alarm went off and he had to get into a boat and go out and intercept a FUSA Navy vessel. The photograph, and their innocence, still played in his mind.
Chapter 240
“Doctor” Greene
(December 1)
“No one is listening to me!” Randy Greene yelled to himself. He was sitting in his cabin, the really nice one a few down from Grant Matson’s. Grant “Mr. Wonderful” Matson. Randy hated Grant. Everyone looked to Grant as the leader when he was just a piece of shit lawyer, not some survival expert. And that wife of his, Lisa “Dr. Miss Perfect” Matson.
Randy was a doctor, too; a podiatrist. Podiatrists are not medical doctors, so no one oohed and aahed over him like they did for little miss perfect Lisa. “Dr. Foxy” they called her. What a bitch. She had it so easy.
Randy, or “Dr. Greene” as he preferred to be called, took another drink of vodka. He’d been hitting it pretty hard all day. It was December 1st. He didn’t know why, but the first day of a new month—another month of rain, dreariness, darkness, people realizing how hungry they would be all winter—meant he needed to do something different. Like drink and then show everyone that Mr. Wonderful and Dr. Bitchy weren’t so special.
Randy had been so glad when he first met Grant a few years ago. Randy was a prepper. He could instantly tell that Grant was, too. He thought they’d have a lot in common. As time went on, however, Randy realized they didn’t.
When they first met, Grant was always talking to Randy about “just do it.” That was how Grant described not reading about prepping on the internet, but rather going outside and doing things. Grant also always talked about testing things. He would get a piece of gear and go test it out. He would get the least expensive gear that still did the job; he wasn’t into brand names for the sake of showing his friends that he had a fancy name brand product. In fact, Grant took delight in saving money on prepping gear and putting that money back into more stored food or more ammunition.
Randy, though, liked buying things. He loved it, in fact. He worked hard and liked to go shopping. Prepping supplies were his thing. His wife—well, ex-wife—loved to shop for shoes and clothes. Randy loved to shop at Cabela’s, the giant outdoor store. He got camping gear, guns, hunting accessories, fishing gear, a nice boat, and a big pickup to haul his RV. He even had two ATVs, but he never got a chance to ride them. He later found out they required some special oil, but he never got any. So those shiny ATVs just sat in the garage of his cabin. A lot of Randy’s gear stayed in its original packaging in the basement of his cabin.
But Randy had it. He was ready for when the “shit hit the fan.” Randy loved to talk to Grant about how awesome it would be when people had to live on only what they had stored. He would be fine, he would tell Grant, because of all the gear he had. Grant would just say, “Uh huh, that’s cool,” and that was about it.
Grant never told Randy this, but he thought Randy was “living the Cabela’s dream” where people bought lots of gear and pretended to live the outdoor life, but they never actually went outdoors. It was like someone who had thousands of dollars of Harleys and all the clothing, but never rode their bike. They were living an image, not a real lifestyle.
It was bad enough that Grant wasn’t enthused about all of Randy’s gear, but it got worse when Randy finally got out to Pierce Point after the Collapse. Grant and that cop asshole, Rich, were running the show. Everyone loved them. The people out here weren’t even prepared, Randy thought. They didn’t have camping gear or water purifiers or even radiation detectors. They just had their hillbilly tools and skills. And “each other” which made Randy want to puke. Hillbillies helping hillbillies. That was a survival plan? Please.
What these yokels needed was Randy’s advice and guidance. His wisdom and gear. He had read a lot about survival. He knew his stuff, yet, they were ignoring him.
So it was the start of a new month, Randy thought to himself as he poured another shot of vodka. He pondered the fact that he’d have to get through another month out here.
Randy had been through so much. There was the “incident” with his wife. Then getting out to Pierce Point followed by months of being ignored. Dr. Bitchy wouldn’t let Randy be out at the clinic. Well, she welcomed him out there, but insisted that she, some big shot ER doctor, would be the lead trauma doctor. She didn’t realize how much podiatrists knew about medical things. He should be the lead doctor.
Randy had respect before the Collapse. People called him “Dr. Greene.” Now it was just “Randy.” Now no one had a use for him. He wished he would have stayed in Seattle. They probably needed podiatrists there.
Randy hadn’t eaten all day. It was noon and he was almost done with a fifth of vodka. He was feeling angrier and angrier. Like when his wife … just wouldn’t shut up. Now he could hear her yelling at him, which wasn’t actually possible.
Randy had an idea. The way he solved the problem with his wife would be the way to solve the problem with Mr. Wonderful and Dr. Bitchy. He had to do something. He couldn’t handle just sitting in his cabin all day. Not for another month. It was the first day of a new, shitty month. It was time to try something different.
Randy looked out at the water from the huge windows of his luxury cabin. The rain had stopped. He felt like going outside. He wanted to go talk to Grant. Randy took his brand new Ruger Blackhawk limited edition cowboy action revolver. There were only two thousand of these in production and he had one of them. It had never been fired. Randy laughed at that. He would put its first rounds through it today, though.
Randy took a last gulp of the vodka, which warmed him up. He was starting to feel invincible. It was time to change things up and get some respect.
He knew that John or Mary Anne or someone would probably be the day guard if he walked down Over Road. He had no beef with them. He didn’t want to hurt them. They probably hated Judge Dickhead and Dr. Wonder Woman, too. They would realize that he was a hero for doing what he was about to do. Finally, he would get the thanks he deserved. And without Dr. Little Miss Perfect out there, they would beg him to be the doctor. He smiled for the first time in months.
Randy went downstairs and out the back door of his cabin toward the water. He would go down the beach and then come up the Matsons’ stairs and go pay Grant a visit. If he was there. Randy didn’t know, but he had a plan for that. He would tuck his Blackhawk in his pants, put a coat over it, and ask to see if Grant and Lisa were home. If they weren’t, he’d ask when they were expected back. He would be patient. He’d been stewing for months in his cabin about what to do about this. He could wait a few more hours to solve this problem once and for all.
He went down to the beach. No one was around. It was a short walk to the stairs that went up to the Matson house. He crept up the stairs. He felt like he was hunting, like he was in one of the hunting DVDs he’d watched over and over.
As he got up to the deck and the door to the cabin, he paused to listen. He didn’t hear anything. He took one step onto the deck. He knew that anyone inside would hear him coming, but they would think it was Grant or that accountant asshole, Drew, or whoever.
Randy decided to act like he was supposed to be there. He just walked up to the front door.
Inside, Mand
a heard someone coming. That’s funny, she thought, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She was alone. Cole was over at Missy’s house and the grownups were all out doing whatever. Manda had come home to make some lunch and then go back to taking care of the little kids.
Manda heard someone try to open the door. It was locked, of course. That was the rule. The door was always locked. Someone was twisting on the handle hard.
Then came a pounding on the door. A really angry pounding. The kind of pounding no one ever wants to hear.
Chapter 241
The Redheaded Princess
(December 1)
“Who is it?” Manda asked in the toughest voice she could. She was scared. Terrified, actually.
This couldn’t really be happening. Someone was probably playing a joke on her. No sane person tried to open a locked door or would pound on a door so hard.
“I need to talk to Grant and Lisa,” the male voice said. “Now. Right now.”
“They’re not here,” Manda said. She was officially scared. She could feel her heart pounding. If this was some joke, it wasn’t funny. She ran into the kitchen. She wanted to be away from the door and whoever it was out there.
“Let me in!” the man screamed. “I said let me in, you little bitch.” Randy could tell from the voice inside that it was the little redheaded Matson princess. He hated her, too. Everyone thought she was so wonderful. Just like her mom and dad.
“Bitch”? Manda thought. That wasn’t a word someone who was joking around used Manda did what she and her dad had practiced. Her hands were shaking, but she was ready. She was surprisingly calm after taking a deep breath, just like her dad taught her. She had hoped this would never happen, but it seemed like it was happening now.
On the other side of the door, Randy drew his revolver out of his belt and smiled. He felt so warm and joyous inside. He was going to show everyone who was in charge. He had been waiting months for this.
He would just scare the redheaded princess. She’d run away screaming. That would show everyone that Mr. Invincible wasn’t around to help her. He couldn’t wait.
He aimed his Blackhawk at the door lock. It was a .45 Colt, so it would do a number on that lock. He cocked the hammer back. The first shot from this gun would be a doozy. He needed to make the bold statement to everyone out at Pierce Point that Dr. Greene would not be humiliated.
He squeezed the trigger.
“Boom!” The lock flew apart.
Manda flinched. It was so loud. And violent; the door just blew up around the handle. She couldn’t believe what just happened. She ran to the kitchen entry so she could lean against the wall and still see what was coming through the front door. She was remarkably calm. She knew something was going to come through the front door and she was ready.
Randy used his brand new Blackhawk to ream out the remnants of the lock. It scratched up the barrel, but oh well. He had many more brand new guns. At least this one was getting some use.
In a few seconds, Randy had the door open. Finally. That little bitch had locked it and he had to get the door open. It was her fault that he had to blow the lock off and scratch up his limited edition Blackhawk.
He pushed the door open and looked into the cabin. He found her there cowering up against the wall.
Pointing something toward him.
Manda lined up the sights of her Glock 27. She took a breath and softly pressed the trigger. Again. And again. Until the man in the doorway was on the ground.
She wasn’t scared anymore. The threat was down just like she had practiced.
She and her dad had practiced what to do if someone was trying to break into the house. Wait to make sure of your target, if at all possible. She had. There was a man trying to come in. Wait to see if he has a weapon, if at all possible. She had; she heard the shot. If he comes in the house, shoot. “Your Dad will never be mad at you if you do this,” she remembered him saying.
She just stood there. Waiting to see if any other men were trying to come in. “Bad guys usually travel in packs,” her dad had said. Nope, no more men trying to come in.
Manda stood there for … who knows how long. Her arms were getting tired of holding the gun up, so it must have been a while.
She heard some people yelling and running toward the cabin. It was John and Mary Anne’s voices.
“Oh God! It’s Dr. Greene!” John said.
Randy, who was just about to die, heard John call him “Dr. Greene.” Randy smiled. That’s what he’d been waiting to hear. Everything went black.
Chapter 242
“Two to the chest, one to the head.”
(December 1)
Manda was fine. Or so it seemed. She had been threatened and acted completely appropriately. She knew she did the right thing. She was so glad she had that Glock 27 with her all the time. Things seemed fine.
Gideon had woken in the night cabin when he heard the first shot. He called in the shots on the radio and then ran out in their direction. He knew exactly what happened when he saw Greene—who Gideon always thought was a weirdo—crumbled up at the front door. The only question was who shot him.
“Manda? That sweet little redhead?” Gideon asked when John told him who had shot Greene. Gideon shook his head. “What’s this world coming to?”
By then, the radios crackled with news of a shooting on Over Road. The Team came screaming over. They fanned out looking for additional shooters, assuming this was a coordinated attack on one of Pierce Point’s leaders and his family. They radioed in, and some guards from the Grange set up a roadblock at the intersection of the only road leading from the waterfront cabins. If there were more, they’d catch them, especially if they were stupid enough to try to drive away. The Chief was out on the water actively looking for any retreating boats.
Grant and Rich weren’t far behind the Team. Every possible bad thought ran through Grant’s mind as he and Rich zoomed to the cabin. Actually, Grant didn’t remember too much of the ride there; just that they were in a hurry.
Someone told Lisa what had happened from the radio traffic. She was terrified. She jumped in a truck and raced toward the cabin. Every horrible thought went through her mind. She was sure that Cole or some other kid had found a gun and accidently shot someone. She just knew it. Guns were bad. They only led to accidents and crime. She wished all guns on the planet would go away.
Once the Team verified that Greene had acted alone, they went to his cabin. There they found the empty fifth of vodka. That explained everything: a weird guy snaps after getting extremely drunk. They radioed that in. Grant and Rich heard it on the radio in Rich’s truck on their way to the cabin.
“Is that it?” Pow asked Rich. “Just, a guy gets drunk and tries to break into a house with a gun?”
“Yep,” Rich said. “Happens all the time. There isn’t always a motive for these things. Hey, people are under enormous pressure right now. They react differently. I’m surprised we haven’t had even more of this ‘going postal’ shit.” Rich shrugged.
Grant got to the cabin and ran in to comfort Manda. She wasn’t crying. She was shaking, but was able to tell him what happened. It was about the fourth time she’d told the same story, but she felt better each time she told it. It made the events feel even more in the past tense each time she told the story.
“Just like you told me, Daddy,” Manda said with a tear and a smile. “Two to the chest and one to the head.” Manda wasn’t really that tough. She was trying to joke her way through the awful ordeal. She wanted her dad to know that she was okay, even if that wasn’t entirely accurate.
Lisa came in and hugged Manda. “Are you okay?” she kept asking.
“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine,” Manda said. “That crazy man isn’t, though.” That was yet another attempt by Manda to sound tough so everyone would know that she was okay.
Lisa hugged her daughter so tightly it hurt Manda.
“What happened?” Lisa asked her.
“He shot open the door and I shot him back,
” Manda said flatly.
“You have a gun?” Lisa asked. Grant cringed. Here it came.
“Yeah, of course,” Manda said and pointed to the Glock 27 sitting on the table. “I carry it all the time. Dad gave it to me.”
Lisa glared at Grant. He knew she was furious.
Wait. Why the hell is she mad at me? Grant thought. I saved the day, he thought, by giving Manda the gun and training her to use it. Lisa ought to be thanking me!
“Manda did exactly what she was instructed to do and it worked out well,” Grant said with some grit in his voice. “She’s alive, so everything worked well.”
“You let her carry a gun!” Lisa yelled. She’d just sawed a man’s leg off and now this. What the hell was wrong with Grant? Did everything have to be a Wild West shootout with him? All these guns. Guns, guns, guns. Everywhere. She’d had enough of guns and killing and maiming and … everything since the Collapse. She’d had enough. She had been okay with all the guns over the past few months, but not anymore. This had to stop. All these guns and killing.
People were starting to stare at Grant and Lisa as they were having a giant fight. Grant tried to calm Lisa down, “We can talk about this later,” he said. “Right now, we need to make sure Manda is okay.”
“Oh, she’s just fine,” Lisa yelled. “She just shot someone. That makes her fine and dandy in your book, Grant.” Lisa walked toward Grant with her finger pointed at him like she was going to poke him in the chest with it. “Killing people—fine and fucking dandy!” Lisa screamed. It was so rare to hear her swear. She was enraged.
“Yes, Lisa,” Grant screamed, “it’s fine and fucking dandy because—in case you didn’t notice—our daughter is alive.”
