299 Days: The Collapse

by Tate, Glen

  A female plainclothes cop came over to her. “Are you Thompson, the one working on getting the POI list out?” She asked Jeanie.

  “Yes,” Jeanie said.

  “I’m Sergeant Winslow, WSP,” which meant Washington State Patrol. She looked at Jeanie’s screen and saw the POI list was there. “Pretty interesting list of characters, huh?”

  “Yeah,” Jeanie said. “So how did you create this?”

  “There were some troubling groups out there,” Winslow said. “As things got bad with the economy and the political situation became more heated, these groups got more vocal. We used some informants for the secretive ones. For the vocal ones, we used Facebook and similar social media.”

  “Facebook?” Jeanie said.

  “Oh, yeah,” Winslow said. “When we found one person of interest, we’d look and see who his or her friends were on Facebook or other social media. We’d check the ‘mutual friends’ thing and, poof, we had a really good start to the list. And all their contact information was there. That’s how most of these people got on the list. Facebook. It’s a wonderful tool for us.” She was smiling.

  Oh crap. Jeanie started to wonder if she was a Facebook friend with any of the WAB people? No. She remembered that Menlow had asked her to unfriend them after he decided to run for governor. Whew.

  “OK,” Jeanie said, trying to focus on doing her job so she didn’t look suspicious. “How do you want to get these names out to the media? Is the internet still working for the outside world?” she asked. They talked about how to the get the list out. The whole time Jeanie wondered if she was betraying Grant and the WAB guys, and who knows how many others of her conservative friends? But what was she going to do? Walk away? She was stuck on a military base surrounded by chaos. She had to stay. She had to do what was being asked. She told herself that she would do whatever she could to alert Grant without getting caught, herself.

  Chapter 64

  “Why are you hurting us?”

  (May 7)

  The morning after the first neighborhood meeting, Nancy Ringman was going around to each house trying to convince them that they needed to go along with her plan of looking to the police to secure the neighborhood. Nancy, of course, would coordinate all of it. She found many of the people receptive to her no-guns message. But they were questioning whether it really made sense not having an armed guard at the entrance to the Cedars subdivision.

  By now, things were starting to get out of hand in Olympia. People were slowly starting to react to everything going on around them. Shelves in the grocery stores were getting bare. People were arguing in the parking lots and in lines. Some had even seen some fights. The lines at gas stations were becoming long and unruly. A rumor was spreading about someone in the neighborhood being shot during an argument at the gas station.

  Nancy had one more cul-de-sac of households to talk to before the meeting later that night. It was Grant Matson’s. She was getting tired. She hadn’t slept a full night’s sleep in two days; the excitement of these events kept her awake. She kept having the feeling that finally the good people like her would be in charge. Finally.

  Nancy had run out of her anti-depressant, Prozac, when all of this started. “Anti-depressant” was a misleading term, she thought. The Prozac didn’t make her feel less depressed; it helped her get along with people. It curbed what her doctor had politely termed her “aggressive impulses.” Without it, she was mean. Really mean. She didn’t have time to go get a prescription filled right now. There was a crisis and the neighborhood was depending on her for leadership.

  Most of the people in the neighborhood were weaklings, Nancy thought. She needed a little extra meanness to lead people. It’s called leadership, she told herself. She’d been mean her whole life and got a lot accomplished that way. People were wimps and needed someone to tell them what to do, she had found.

  Nancy’s phone vibrated. It was a text from Brenda, a former co-worker at the State Auditor’s Office. It’s first few letters were “POI!!!” It said that the Governor had created a list called “Persons of Interest” and had a link. The text went on: “Grant Matson is on it!!! He’s POI!” She looked at the link, which loaded very slowly on her phone. She looked at the background on what the POI list was. Fabulous!

  Grant Matson was officially a terrorist and a wanted man. Nancy was standing outside his house now. Finally, her government was doing something about people like Grant Matson. Finally, the cavalry had shown up. She was part of the solution to all of this chaos. She would help the effort by going to his house and finding out where he was hiding. She felt a surge of adrenaline. It felt so fabulous. She loved a good fight. Especially against a teabagger like Grant Matson and his obnoxiously pretty doctor wife.

  Nancy felt so alive. She confidently walked right up to the Matson’s door and knocked on it. It took a while for someone to answer. She saw Grant’s wife looking through the blinds before she opened it.

  “Yes,” Lisa said. “Can I help you?” She vaguely recognized Nancy as someone from the neighborhood.

  “Oh, yeah, you can help me,” Nancy said in a very excited voice. Then Nancy yelled, “Where is that terrorist piece of shit husband of yours?”

  Lisa was scared. What was this “terrorist” thing? And why was this woman yelling at her? Lisa could tell that Nancy was agitated like some of the people that came into the ER.

  “What?” Lisa asked. “And please keep your voice down. My children are here,” she said firmly.

  “I don’t give a shit who’s home, except Grant Matson,” Nancy yelled. “You need to tell me where he is. He’s on the POI list and I’m here to find out where he’s hiding.”

  “POI list?” Lisa said. “What’s that?”

  “The Governor’s ‘Persons of Interest’ list,” Nancy said with a sneer. Grant’s pretty little wife wasn’t nearly as well informed as Nancy was. “It’s a wanted list of terrorists like your right-wing asshole husband. That’s what. So where is he, bitch?”

  Lisa couldn’t believe someone was talking to her that way. “What did you just call me?”

  “Bitch,” Nancy said, flatly. “Where is Grant Matson?” Nancy paused for effect, “bitch.” She loved this. She had hated Grant Matson for so long, and now she could finally get even.

  Lisa turned from being shocked to furious. She tried to slam the door in Nancy’s face, but Nancy had put her foot in the door.

  Nancy screamed, “Nice try, bitch. Let me in right now!”

  The kids came out of their rooms and were at the top of the stairs, watching the commotion at the front door. Manda wanted to help. She grabbed Cole by the hand and they ran downstairs to help their mom against this crazy lady at the front door.

  Lisa and Nancy struggled with the door. Finally Nancy, in a burst of adrenaline strength, pushed the door open and knocked Lisa down.

  Thirteen year old autistic Cole lunged at Nancy. She pushed him back and knocked him to the ground hard. Really hard.

  Cole hit the ground and cried out, “Why are you hurting us?”

  Those words rang out. Why are you hurting us?

  That did it for Lisa. Instantly, everything became clear. This was a war. No one hurts my kids, especially my innocent little Cole, she thought. Who was this violent bitch trying to break into her house? Lisa realized that she was in a fight. Not just with Nancy but with all of them. Things were not normal. People like Nancy had gone insane and were trying to hurt her and her family. Nancy hated Grant for some political reasons that were stupid. Instead of thinking “this can’t be happening,” right at that instant, Lisa realized it was happening, and she needed to take care of her family or something unthinkable would happen.

  She jumped toward Nancy. Lisa was a runner and in great shape. She could take this fat baby boomer bitch who hurt Cole. She planted her shoulder in Nancy’s chest and knocked her down, then she started punching Nancy. Lisa felt her fists starting to hurt; she was totally out of control. She was fighting for her kids. She was be
ating the shit out of the crazy woman who was trying to break into their house.

  Manda ran upstairs to get her revolver. She had to do something to help. She got the gun case out of her closet and opened the combination lock. She ran down the stairs with the gun in her hand.

  By the time Manda got halfway down the stairs, she could see her mom had the crazy woman pinned to the ground and was punching her in the face. Manda thought her mom might kill the woman. Manda just watched, ready to shoot the woman if she got up. She saw Cole lying on the ground crying near the door. Manda grabbed him and took him into the nearby bathroom to keep him safe. Things were happening so fast. Manda went back to the entryway and saw her mom was standing over the woman. Her mom’s hands were bleeding and she was breathing heavy.

  Lisa caught her breath and yelled, “Get out of my house, bitch!” She kicked Nancy. “Get out. If you come back, I’ll kick your ass again. Never hurt my son. Never. Get out before I get my gun.”

  Nancy got up. She was afraid of getting shot. She ran out of the house. Those Matsons were crazy. Violent. No wonder he was a terrorist on the POI list. Nancy ran down the driveway and across the street to the Spencer’s house. She was yelling for someone to call 911. Sherri Spencer came out to see what was wrong. Nancy was bloodied and bruised, and told Sherri that Lisa Matson had beaten her. Sherri ran over to the Matsons.

  Sherri saw Lisa, with blood on her hands, and yelled, “What’s going on? Are you OK?”

  Lisa was catching her breath. “Nancy Ringman tried to break into my house. She hurt Cole. She’s crazy. She started hitting me. I fought back. She’s crazy.”

  This was too much for Sherri. Her neighbors, two professional women, were fist fighting each other? That made no sense.

  Lisa realized that she might have committed a crime. Not really, since it was self defense, but she realized that Nancy would claim that Lisa attacked her with a sword or something nuts like that.

  Lisa yelled to Sherri, “Watch out. Nancy is crazy. Go protect your kids. She’s got something wrong with her. Go! Now.” Sherri ran back home.

  Lisa heard Cole crying in the bathroom and ran in there to comfort him. “Don’t worry, lil’ guy, the bad lady is gone. She won’t be back.”

  Cole looked at her and asked again, “Why are they hurting us?” That struck Lisa. Why are they hurting us? Why? Lisa wondered that herself. Why was a neighbor coming over to scream and fight and try to arrest her husband? Things were not normal.

  Lisa knew what she had to do. She went downstairs and found that scrap of paper with the Korean cop’s phone number on it. They needed to get out of here. Things were crazy. There would be more Nancys and probably police now that Grant was on some terrorist list. There was no more “normal.”

  Chapter 65

  Milk Run Chaos

  (May 7)

  That morning, Pow was going out on a “milk run,” as they called it. That’s where they would escort some neighborhood people to the grocery store and the gas station. Things were still semi-civil in town. There was violence, but a very small percentage of people were engaged in it. Most were just trying to get some food and gas and get back home in one piece. And most were doing so successfully.

  Many grocery stores and gas stations had a police car at the entrance, although there wasn’t always a cop to go with the car. Sometimes, the cops parked their car at a store and walked over to another one to double their coverage. There were occasional sirens, which just added to the scariness because it reminded people how the sirens went constantly a few days ago and now were largely silent. There was a definite sense that the police could not possibly control things anymore. But, most people still believed they could, despite the evidence they were seeing with their own eyes. Decades of thinking the police would always be there prevented people from evaluating the facts before their eyes.

  At the stores, people were arguing and occasionally throwing punches to get the last of some kind of food or a place in the gas line. That would have been an amazing event in peacetime, but now was common. Wes and Scotty watched as a woman drew a revolver at a large man in the parking lot of the grocery store. By the time they could get over to where she was, the guy took off.

  Overall, the Team was very surprised that things had not devolved into full-scale warfare. It amazed them that the stores were still open and selling things. The shelves were getting bare, prices were much higher, and the stores were only taking cash. Most people had come to realize that something bad was happening and that they better stock up for a few days. But they didn’t think this was the end of the world.

  That morning, the rumor went around that the banks had closed and the ATMs were running out of cash. Bobby confirmed this when he was on the milk run. It made sense that the banks and ATMs would be closed. Armored cars full of money to restock them weren’t exactly driving around right now. Cash, like everything else, was supplied on a just-in-time inventory basis. And, with the internet down frequently, credit and debit cards weren’t working. No stores would take checks. Cash was it. And it was virtually gone.

  This was a turning point. People would freak out when, finally, after looking all over town for some product they desperately needed, the store wouldn’t take their credit or debit card and they had no cash. They would yell, sometimes hit people, and occasionally pull out a gun. But no one on the Team had heard a gunshot yet.

  Some of the people from Pow’s neighborhood went to the stores on their own, without the escort Pow and Clay had organized. Most would bring a handgun with them.

  It was amazing how many guns were coming out of the woodwork. Old .38 Specials and grandpa’s .45 from the war were being dusted off from sock drawers and being tucked into belts. People were carrying guns even if they didn’t have a concealed weapons permit. That law now seemed a quaint little rule from the past. Now, with what was going on, requiring a concealed weapons permit seemed like requiring a permit to breathe.

  Some people in Pow’s neighborhood went to the store without a gun the day before. It didn’t turn out so well for two of them, an older man and wife, the Terrytons. They were robbed on their way there. Some young thugs in a pickup truck pulled up beside them at the intersection, jumped out, and forced their way into the Terrytons’ car. The thugs pulled the Terrytons out of their car, beat them, took their money and jewelry, and stole their car. This happened in broad daylight. The Terrytons were beaten unconscious and laying in the intersection for a while until some people pulled them onto the sidewalk. A bystander tried to perform first aid, but there were no ambulances or police cars. After a while, the bystander had to get to the store herself before it got dark, so she reluctantly left them there. The Terrytons died on a sidewalk as several hundred people drove by.

  Chapter 66

  Bugging Out of the Cedars

  (May 7)

  It was mid-afternoon. Pow was taking a break at his house after escorting two single moms on their trip to the grocery store. He was so tired; it was exhausting constantly being on guard. It was a different kind of tired than just staying up late. It was draining.

  His cell phone vibrated. It was a text from a number he didn’t recognize. It said: “Grant’s wife here. We want to go. Can you still take us? Please. Urgent.”

  Pow jumped up and yelled. Awesome. The Team could do their best deed yet: delivering Grant’s family to him. And having a great place out in the country to stay and continue their sheepdogging. And they would be out of the city where things were breaking down by the hour.

  Pow tried calling Lisa. The call went through, although voice service had become more and more spotty. A woman answered.

  “Mrs. Matson, this is Bill Kung here,” Pow said.

  “Are you coming for us?” Lisa asked. She sounded desperate.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Pow said. “That’s the plan. I need to know when you’ll be ready.”

  “It will take a few hours,” Lisa said, “I have to make sure the kids have all their stuff.” Lisa had the packing
list down from years of getting ready for vacations. That’s what this would be, she told herself. A week or two away from the house and then things would be normal. Except that thing about Grant being a terrorist. That would get cleared up. He was a lawyer. He’d tell a judge he wasn’t a terrorist and things would work out.

  Pow looked at his watch. It was 2:45 p.m. It would be dark in six hours. It was May and sunset was very late in Washington State. He didn’t want to go out at night, which was when the bad guys were starting to come out in full force. They slept during the day.

  “Could you be ready in two hours?” Pow asked. The Team was already at his house with all their stuff. In fact, they were fully packed and ready to go. Full magazines and full gas tanks. They were just waiting for this call. They could be ready to roll out in no time.

  “Oh, I could,” Lisa said. “But my parents need to come, too. It will take them longer.”

  Parents? What?

  “Do they live around here?” Pow asked. They better, he thought. He wasn’t going into Seattle for anything.

  “Yeah, they’re about two miles from me,” Lisa said. “I couldn’t go without them.”

  Mission creep. That’s the term for when a mission starts to expand beyond what made sense in the first place. Pow could see this was happening to the relatively simple job of picking up Grant’s family and going out to the cabin. But he knew that things weren’t so bad that waiting a little while longer and taking more people out to the cabin was a life-and-death situation.

  “Where, exactly, do they live?” he asked.

  Lisa told him. It was a good neighborhood so it should be fairly safe. Probably.

  “OK,” Pow said. He’d been helping people for days now. No reason to stop doing it now. “When can they be ready?”