by P. A. Glaspy
Joel shrugged. "Just seems like a waste of all the money you spent to decorate it like this and no one ever sees it."
"Everyone who comes here sees it! They walk through it to get to the den!"
Joel shook his head as he pulled the screen closed on the fireplace. "I guess I'm not fancy enough for that kind of thing. Anyway, your fire is going. You might want to check your yard, see if there's any limbs out there that might have broken off from the ice. They'll be green, but they should burn by the time this bed of coals gets built up. I gotta get back home."
Getting over her indignation, Beth became the hostess again. "Oh, okay. Thank you so much for coming over to do this, Joel. It already feels warmer in here." She was at the door and holding it open for him.
He nodded. "You're welcome. Try to stay warm, Beth." He stepped out the door onto the walkway.
"I will. Please thank Lauri again for the soup. I grabbed a spoon of it while I was waiting for you and it's delicious. You two are wonderful neighbors." She waved as she shut the door behind him.
"We'll see if you still feel that way in a couple of days," he said as he trudged back home.
Chapter 11
Cameron sat at the kitchen table, looking dejected. "This is going to last months, maybe years? That sucks, man."
Aaron nodded in agreement. "Hell yeah, it does. No television, no Internet, no cell phones, no electronics at all. I don't even know what life looks like without all that."
"It looks like a lot of work," Elliott said. "No electricity means no running water which is a lot more important than any gadgets. Even in the cities, the water's gonna stop flowing at some point. At least out here we have the well with the hand pump on it. But no more hot showers; we'll be boiling water to wash dishes and asses. And it will all have to be hauled up here from the well."
Cameron looked at the list again. "What about this one right here, Pap — chop wood every day. We've got a shed full of wood out back. Isn't it enough to get through the winter?"
"It is, but it still needs to be split into smaller pieces," Elliott replied. "The big pieces are good for banking up a fire for the night, but you need the smaller ones to get a fire started and build up a bed of coals, especially for cooking."
"Cooking? You're not going to build a fire in the oven are you, Pap?" Cameron asked, incredulously.
Elliott laughed. "No, son, but the gas in that tank outside won't last forever. In fact, we'll be lucky if it lasts the winter. When it's gone, we'll be cooking on the wood stove in there," he said, motioning to the stove in the living room. "We may even end up doing some cooking outside, especially in the summer, so we don't heat up the house."
"It's unreal to think about being here for months, planning how we're going to cook next summer. I'm guessing you know how to do all that, Pap," Aaron commented. "You know, cooking on the wood stove, over a campfire, that kind of stuff."
"Lord, yes, that's how I was raised," Elliott said. "My granny's house was basically two rooms: the living room and kitchen were one big room. She cooked over the fire in the fireplace. My mama had a wood-burning cook stove in her kitchen and a wood-burning stove in the living room. I helped cook on all of them."
"Well, at least we won't starve," Cameron said. "How long will the food here last? Oh man! No more pizzas, hamburgers, tacos … none of the things a growing boy needs to exist!"
"No, we won't starve, Cam, but, yeah, we will be eating different than you're used to, I'm guessing," Elliott replied. "I reckon for just the three of us, if you throw in some hunting, we could go four, maybe six months, with the food here; but we're gonna need to do something about the meat in the freezer before it warms up again. When your mom and grandparents get here, we'll be cooking for twice as many people, so that will cut the length of time the food will last in half. What we have will get us through to the spring, and then it will be planting time. Hey! That reminds me — the tractor! Maybe it still runs. In fact, I bet it will, since it's about seventy years old. Let's go check."
Pulling on their coats, the three of them walked out the back door to the barn. The snow seemed to be tapering off and it looked like the sun was trying to come through the dense clouds. Once inside, Elliott climbed on the old Ford 9N tractor. He adjusted the gear shift to neutral and opened the throttle about halfway. He turned the key, and after just a moment the tractor fired up.
"Hot dog! Now we're talking!" Elliott exclaimed, as the boys exchanged a high-five. "I feel better already knowing we have a vehicle that works, such as it is." He let it run for a minute, then turned the key off and placed it in his coat pocket. "Don't reckon I'll be leaving the key in it anymore. If somebody comes to steal her, I'm sure not gonna make it easy for them. Speaking of stealing, we might ought to go ahead and get you boys some gun training in. The world's probably gonna get a whole lot meaner real soon. Plus, we need everybody who can to help with the hunting … and other things."
Cameron seemed confused. "What other things, Pap?"
Elliott looked at his grandson, sadness apparent on his face. "If this lasts for a while, and it probably will, people are going to run out of food because there won't be any more deliveries to Kroger. The longer they go without food, the more desperate they're going to get. They'll start breaking into people's houses and stealing whatever they can find. Hungry people ain't nice. In fact, they're dangerous and we need to be ready for that."
"Ready how, exactly?" Aaron asked.
"To do whatever we have to do to protect what's ours," Elliott replied resolutely. "If we let somebody take what we have, we'll be right there with them trying to get supplies from somewhere. We have food, not enough to last forever, but enough to get us through until we can grow more. Plus, when the rest of them get out here, we'll need every bit of it to feed us all. We have to keep what we have. The only way I know to make sure no one takes it is to shoot them if they try."
"What? You want us to shoot people?" The shock in Aaron's tone was hard to miss.
"Hell no! I don't want anybody to shoot anybody," Elliott replied. "But if anybody tries to take our stuff, I won't hesitate to make sure they don't."
"Pap, I think you're worried about something that isn't going to happen," Cameron said. "I don't think people will act like that. They'll probably just come to the door, knock, and ask if we have anything to spare."
"Oh, they will, at first — ask, that is. What do you think they'll do when we say no? Especially when they see that we ain't starving. They'll be back, and they won't be nice, at all." Elliott sighed. "But we're not gonna worry about that right now. First thing we're going to do is teach you boys how to clean a gun."
"I thought we were going to shoot, not clean," Cameron complained.
Elliott chuckled. "You're going to learn all of it, Cam, starting with the cleaning. Besides, we can do that part inside where it's warm."
"I'm all for that," Aaron commented. "Cleaning inside sounds real good to me right now."
"My feelings exactly," Elliott replied as he headed for the house.
An hour later, the boys were enjoying the chore so much they asked for more guns to clean. Elliott smiled and brought out all he had. He showed them how to break each one down, what and where to clean, and how to put them back together. He looked into the living room where his small Christmas tree stood in the corner. There were packages with both boys' names on them, along with Carly, Joel, and Lauri. He made a decision and went to the tree, pulling two long packages from behind it and bringing them to the kitchen. Both boys saw the brightly wrapped packages he held and looked at him surprised.
"Hey, Pap, what ya got there?" Cameron asked excitedly. "Is it for me … er, us?"
Elliott grinned. "This is part of your Christmas, but with what's going on, I think I need to go ahead and give them to you now. Merry Christmas, boys!" He handed each one of them a package.
With huge smiles, they tore into the presents. Tearing the paper away revealed a brand-new rifle for each boy. Elliott had decided he w
ould give them each one of his pistols, but he wanted them to have a firearm no one else had owned as well, and in the current situation two more rifles might very well be needed. For Aaron, he had chosen a Remington model 783, chambered in .308. Cameron's was also a .308, but his was a Savage Arms AXIS. Both were bolt action, and both had scopes. The boys were speechless as they looked at the brand-new gun. Finally, Aaron found his voice.
"Pap! Oh my God! This is the coolest gift I think I've ever gotten. Thank you, thank you so much. It's just awesome!" He was holding the gun with the butt on his leg and the barrel pointed at the ceiling, his hand on the stock, admiring the rifle. Cameron, on the other hand, was tracking his around the room, peering through the scope with one eye closed, finger on the trigger.
"Yeah, Pap! This is the bomb! When can we shoot it?"
"When you learn how to respect it for one thing. Quit pointing that thing around and get your damn finger off the trigger now!" Elliott barked at his grandson. Cameron immediately moved his finger and laid the rifle on the table. "Good Lord, son, what if it had been loaded and you accidentally pulled the trigger?"
Chastised, Cameron said quietly, "Sorry, but you wouldn't have given me a loaded rifle for a present, Pap. Would you?"
Elliott shook his head. "No, but the first rule of owning or handling a firearm is to treat all guns as if they're loaded, even if you know they aren't. I'm mad at myself for waiting this long to teach you boys about guns. That's why I wanted you this week. Now, with what's happened, the timing couldn't have been better. I know you're worried about your mom; I am, too. But I'm so glad you're here instead of there where she is. If that makes me selfish, so be it. You boys are about the only family I have left. Here, I can try to keep you safe. There, who knows what's going to happen in a few days."
Elliott paused. They weren't sure, but he seemed to be trying to compose himself before he went on. Neither of the boys said anything. Taking a deep breath, he continued.
"I know this doesn't seem real to you boys. Hell, it taxes my brain thinking about how things are going to be now. On top of everything else, if this was a nuke, somebody had to have done it on purpose. Don't know how, don't know why, and we may not know anything for a while. Honestly, there ain't much we can do about it anyway. If we're under attack, they'll show up sooner or later. We'll deal with that then. Right now, we just need to get through today, then tomorrow, then the next day. Let's start with you two getting to know your new rifles."
Chapter 12
Longworth House Office Building, Office of Phil Roman, Speaker of the House
Phil Roman sat at his large ornate desk staring at nothing. He had sent word to the vice-president that he needed to speak with him immediately. As yet, he had not heard back from him. Knowing that the VP would do exactly what Olstein told him to was no consolation. The man second in the line of succession to the White House was at a loss as to how to proceed. A knock on his door brought him out of the trance-like state he was in.
"Come in," he called out halfheartedly. The door opened, and General Charles Everley entered. Roman closed his eyes for a moment, gave a brief nod, and indicated the chair on the other side of his desk. "General. Can't say I'm surprised. Have a seat."
Everley closed the door behind him and sat in the chair Roman had indicated. Taking a deep breath, he began. "Mr. Speaker —"
Roman interrupted him. "Oh, I think at this point, we can dispense with the formalities, Charles."
"Okay, Phil," Everley replied as he unbuttoned his dress jacket. "I'm sure you know why I'm here."
Roman inclined his head to the side. "Probably, but why don't you spell it out for me anyway."
"What the president is proposing is treason. He is declaring war on millions of Americans for no other reason than that they have things he wants to give to others or, in the case of the guns, doesn't want them to have so they have the ability to fight back when his jackboots try to take their supplies. He is planning to all but abandon the rural communities to fend for themselves, after he takes everything they could use to do that. Are we just going to sit on our asses and let this happen?" Everley's voice rose an octave with each sentence until he was almost shouting.
Roman patted the air indicating that Everley keep it down. "Easy, Charles. If your face gets any redder, I think I might be able to light a cigarette off it — that is, if I still smoked. After this morning, I've contemplated taking up the habit again." Roman sighed and went on. "To be perfectly honest, I'm not really sure what our next move should be. I've sent a runner to the vice-president's residence asking for a meeting. That was right after the meeting with the president, which I was surprised that he didn't attend. I haven't gotten word that he is even still in Washington. He may have already left for the holiday. Any action on our part has to include him. I don't have a lot of faith that he will cooperate though."
Everley spluttered, "He's Olstein's puppet! He'll never be a part of any action against him. That is what we're talking about here, right? Removing him from office?"
"If we follow the Constitution, it's impossible to impeach him. Congress is in recess. Most of the members are already home for the holidays. With the situation the way it is, they probably won't be back here for quite a while. There's no way to initiate the proceedings." Roman paused, then went on. "However, the president is certainly not following the Constitution, as he does not have the power to seize personal assets of citizens without warrants and probable cause. He absolutely does not have the power to repeal the Second Amendment. I'm not comfortable with the alternatives in any choice."
"What about what he said … that he won't step down for Tanner? He can't do that, can he?" Everley asked.
"No, and that may be our saving grace. Mr. Tanner is in New York City, which is not that far. We should be able to get him here, and I think we need to make that a priority. Do you have someone you could task with that assignment?"
Everley nodded. "I'll get someone on it ASAP. That's all we need, right? Him to be here, to assume control on January 20th?"
Roman hesitated. "Well, there's a small problem, and I'm not sure how important it is or may become."
"What problem?"
"Congress is supposed to meet on January 6th to confirm the electoral college votes. That's the final step that makes the election official. I doubt that's going to happen," Roman said.
Everley's eyes grew wide. "Can he use that to his advantage? If he doesn't step down, it's effectively a coup. On top of everything else we have going on in this country, we can't let that happen."
"Agreed, and that's why I want to get President-elect Tanner here immediately. It will be much harder for Olstein to hold power with his successor literally waiting in the wings."
"All right, let me get to work on that right now." Everley stood, buttoned and tugged down the bottom of his jacket, and reached a hand across the desk toward the congressman.
Roman stood as well and shook the general's hand. "And, Charles? I'm sure I don't need to say it but I'm going to anyway. We need to keep this very quiet. Only the absolute minimum number of people should know what we're trying to accomplish. I wouldn't venture a guess as to what lengths Olstein will take to hold onto the power he now has — albeit not nearly as much as he thinks he has — but people's lives could be in danger, including yours and mine. We should take nothing for granted at this point."
Everley gave him a solemn nod. "Agreed. For now, you, me, and the man I'll be sending to New York are the only ones who will know about this meeting or the decisions we've made from it. I think we have a solid start to a good plan."
"I do, too," Roman said with a small smile. "I just hope we can keep him from completely destroying the Constitution and the country — or what's left of it after all this — before we can get it implemented."
"Your oath had the same line in it that mine did — to support and defend the Constitution from all enemies foreign and domestic. We are seeing firsthand why they put that last part in. I'll be in to
uch, Phil." Everley turned and went out the door.
Roman replied softly to the closing door, "Thank God for the founding fathers' wisdom and foresight."
~~~~~
The Pentagon, Office of General Charles Everley, Chief of Staff of the Army
Major Damon Sorley had been General Everley's aide since he'd lost a part of his thigh muscle to an IED in Afghanistan three years before. Sitting at a desk wasn't his idea of Army life, but Damon figured somebody had to push the papers; and since his injury put him at less than one hundred percent, taking him out of the fight, he might as well take the post when it was offered. The rigorous physical therapy he had gone through for almost a year had given him the use of the leg again, but he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life. When he woke up that morning and found nothing electrical working, he had quickly donned a uniform and walked the mile to the Pentagon from his apartment in the Crystal Towers. He was glad he had chosen civilian housing over the base at Ft. Belvoir. He probably couldn't have made it from there — at least, not nearly as fast. He was past due to rotate out to another post, since aides usually only stayed with a senior officer for two years, but Everley had the juice to keep him where he was. Damon wasn't unhappy about it. He liked the general, liked that he was a no bullshit kind of guy, and that he didn't get caught up in all the political crap that others did, especially in DC.
Everley returned from his meeting with Phil Roman and motioned to Damon to follow him. Damon grabbed a pad and paper and went into the general's office. As he removed his coat, Everley said, "Have a seat, Damon." Damon sat in the chair across from Everley's. Charles hung his coat on a hook then sat at his desk. To Damon, he looked like he hadn't slept in three days.
"Can I get you some coffee, Sir? You look like you could use it," Damon said, starting to rise.
Everley shook his head. "Not right now. I need to talk to you about something, and it can't leave this room."
