Jeff was in a meeting with his boss and some prospective clients when he slid his hand into his pocket and felt the envelope of gold coins. He didn’t understand why he clammed up and felt funny last night when he’d seen the juice Jeannie bought. He guessed he didn’t like her knowing things he didn’t. He felt out of control with all this new “prepping” stuff floating around in his head, and he didn’t even know what he should be doing. He didn’t know where to start.
His mind kept wandering and he had a hard time answering the questions directed to him. His boss gave him a stern look, then seemed to avoid bringing Jeff into the conversation. After the meeting he asked to speak to Jeff. He asked Jeff what happened in there, and Jeff apologized. He begged off by saying he didn’t feel well.
“Well, take something for it and get back to work!” he said, dismissing Jeff.
He stared at his computer, brought up google to search for an answer he needed for a client who would be coming the next morning, but as he started to type, he typed “preppers” instead. He expected it to kick out a message saying “no results found”, and stared goggle-eyed at the list of thousands of results!
“Holy cow! Where do I start?” he asked in amazement.
“Start on what?” a voice in the doorway asked. Jeff dropped the screen but not before the man saw what he’d searched. It was one of the guys who had been part of the conversation by the coffee pot the other day, the one who thought other barter items were better than precious metals. Jeff almost patted the envelope or gold coins in his pocket, but stopped.
“Jeff, you’re searching prepping? What do you want to know? I didn’t even know you knew the word!” he said.
Jeff was tongue-tied for a minute. Then he cleared his throat and said, “Well…I’ve heard it floating around and I was curious. Dave, I heard what you and Bill said in the lounge the other day, about precious metals and barter items.”
Dave closed the door and pulled a chair close to Jeff’s desk.
“Bring the screen back up. Maybe I can point you to some good places to start,” he said. Jeff did so, and Dave reached over for the mouse and started scrolling. “Here. This is my favorite,” he said as he clicked on it. He gave Jeff a quick tutorial on how the site worked and showed him the lists of categories.
“It’s the best site I know of, though there are several similar ones. This one, though, feels like family, and it covers a lot of the real day-to-day needs of a prepper.”
“Thanks, Dave. I’ve really been stumped about how to get started. You know, like what should I buy, what should I be doing.” He thought of the gold coins again.
“Well, I still believe getting the food and things you need for initial survival of ANY possible event is the place to start. Do you have enough food at home to get through 2 or 3 days if we have a natural disaster or power outage? What would you do for water? How would you cook? What about sanitation? Medical needs? Defense? These all have their place in your preps, but start with what’s most important,” Dave said.
“Food?” Jeff laughed. “We don’t have food in the apartment! Usually just some wine. And I got upset at my wife yesterday because she’d bought a few bottles of juice to keep in the apartment so she wouldn’t have to run out every time she wanted something besides water to drink!” He felt sheepish now.
“Brother, you have a lot of work to do! Get reading!” Dave said as he rose to go. “I’m around if you have any questions. Be glad to help. More people prepared is fewer people we need to worry about when the SHTF.”
“What does that mean? ‘SHTF’. I heard someone else say it the other day,” Jeff asked.
“It stands for when the ‘Shit Hits The Fan‘.” Dave said, then he was gone.
Jeff stared at the empty doorway for a minute, then turned back to the computer. He browsed through the website Dave had brought up and was impressed with the neat and easy-to-navigate pages. His heart was pounding as he read the very things he was asking inside.
The information was in everyday language by real people who were really prepping and learning how to prep. Everything he wanted to know seemed to be here, and the people had fun with it too. In places, they were joking with each other, and they even had good debates about things they didn’t agree on.
Wanting to be part of this world, Jeff made a Username and Password and became a member of Prepared Society.com.
That night it was Jeannie’s turn for dinner. Feeling rebuffed by Jeff, she had Italian food delivered just before Jeff got home. He felt guilty while they ate, and apologized to her.
“If you want to start making more of our meals, I’ll help. Do you want to go to the market together this weekend?” he asked.
At first she was hesitant, wondering if they’d agree at the market. Finally she said “yes”.
CHAPTER FOUR
The next day was Friday. Jeannie had done a lot of studying and reading on the prepared society site and she’d made a list from there and from the savvy shopper site. She had a plan and wasn’t going to wait for Jeff. She watched from the window while he boarded the bus, then she hurried down to the street.
Back at the ethnic market she took a cart with wheels and started down the aisles. She picked up bags of rice and beans and split peas and lentils. She grabbed bottles of spices and cooking oil and flour and sugar and cornmeal. She added more cans, and some boxes and bags of pasta and sauces.
When the cart was full she still had things on the list. The shopkeeper let her park it near the counter while she grabbed a last armload of dish soap and toilet paper, paper towels and bath soap. Last but not least, she took an arm basket and filled it with candy bars and grabbed a bag of nacho chips.
She almost fell over at the total, but pulled out her credit card and paid for it. The man kept looking at her funny, so finally she said “I’m going to learn how to cook!”
She hoped he didn’t say ‘yah? What are you going to make with the candy bars?’!
When it was all done and in bags, Jeannie and the shopkeeper stared at each other as it dawned on Jeannie: she had no way to get all of this home! Thinking quick she said “I could carry several bags, and come back for the rest, if you can keep it safe.”
“No need to. If you want, my grandson can help you. He has a wagon and delivers for our regular customers, for spare change,” he offered. She agreed, and he made a quick call.
In a few minutes the back door opened and a boy in his late teens pulled a wagon with wooden sides through the aisle to the front. They loaded as much as they could and Jeannie put her arms through the handles of the rest of the bags. Before she picked them off the counter she said, “Oh, one more thing. Do you have a can opener?”
He walked across the store and came back with a small metal contraption. “Just take it, no need to unload the bags from your arms. You bought more than I usually sell in a whole day!”
Jeannie thanked him, and she and the boy headed out onto the sidewalk. No one paid attention to them on the street, but as they got onto the elevator a lady from her floor stepped out. She looked at Jeannie and at the food, then back at Jeannie. Thankfully the door of the elevator closed before the lady could speak.
“It’s not like buying food is such an odd thing! No reason to feel like a freak show,” Jeannie thought, trying not to feel uncomfortable.
The boy unloaded her groceries onto the table. Jeannie dropped the bags she’d been carrying onto the couch. There were red marks where the weight of the bags had cut into her skin. She thanked the boy, tipped him nicely, bringing a smile to his face, and closed the door behind him.
She took all the food out of bags and sat in wonder for a while, just staring at it all. Then she began the process of hiding it all. More went under the couch, but there wasn’t enough room there for all of it.
She put some under their bed, and in the closet she pulled down boxes that were full of scarves, gloves, sweaters, and other such that she’d just had to have and never wore more than once or twice. She loade
d them into the empty grocery bags, then packed food into the boxes and replaced them on the closet shelves.
The bags of unnecessary scarves, etc., she took out to the hallway. She wondered what to do with them. She carried them into the stairwell and set them down, hoping someone would find them and be happy to have them. And she hoped she wouldn’t get caught and fined!
There was still a few things left to hide. She opened the closet next to the bathroom door and pulled out folded sheets and towels. She set food at the back of the closet, then neatly stacked the sheets and towels back on the shelves in front of it. Now she just had to be sure she was the one who got out the fresh towels for the bathroom. She already was the one who changed the bed sheets, so that wasn’t going to be a problem.
Job finished! She decided to try and get some work done, and sat at her computer.
Jeff focused on the meeting with his clients and it went very well. They were impressed and renewed their contract. The boss praised him and headed off for a drink with the clients.
Jeff whistled as he walked back to his office. He told his secretary he had some real brain work to do and didn’t want to be disturbed. With his office door closed he read more of prepared society threads. He pulled out a post-it pad and started making a list. He felt like his list was disconnected and covered too many subjects.
He thought maybe he should talk to Jeannie and bring her on board. Maybe together they could learn, and each work on an area of prep. She already expressed an interest in the food area. Well, they were going to the market tomorrow, maybe he could encourage her to buy some of the things he’d been reading about.
He looked at his list again and sighed. Too many categories. Defense, how to cook, warmth, medical, etc., etc., etc., and that didn’t count food, clothes, and all the things that would probably be Jeannie’s department. He didn’t know the first thing about camping equipment or guns or finding the way around in the country, or how to do more than put a band aid on an “owee”.
His stomach rumbled and he decided it was time to eat. He erased the site from his computer’s history and headed out for lunch. Minutes later he was sitting in a diner with the newspaper, waiting for his lunch. He started idly reading the story on the front page, then began to pay attention to what he was reading.
Tensions were rising between the middle eastern countries and the US and Europe. Terror alerts had been given and the situation was considered serious. This stuff had been in the background of Jeff’s mind and he hadn’t really paid attention. It had his attention now!
The waitress set his breaded veal cutlet and mashed potatoes in front of him. He buttered his roll and took a bite. His eyes gazed out the window and a sign saying “Pawn Shop” came into focus. The windows had metal bars over them, like many of the shops on the street, but through them he could see a couple of rifles, some power tools, a bicycle, and some skis. As he chewed he kept looking over there.
It was no surprise when he found himself crossing the street after he left the diner. There was a familiar and comforting smell when he walked in the door. It smelled like metal and oil and old leather, and he had to think hard to figure out why it was so familiar.
Then he remembered. It smelled like his Grandpa’s workshop! A few times when he was a kid they had gone to visit him at his farm way out in the country. He strained to remember where it was. He couldn’t think of the name of the town it was near but he was pretty sure he remembered how to get there. That might come in handy later. His Grandpa had died years ago and he had no idea what had become of the place.
“Help ya?” a man asked, cutting into Jeff’s thoughts.
“I just came in to see what you have. I’ve been thinking of getting a rifle.” Jeff said.
“Know what kind ya want?” he asked, waving behind him to several rifles and shotguns on the wall.
“Not really. I don’t know much about them. Just something…you know. For defense. In case,” Jeff felt foolish saying it, wondering how the man would react.
“Wise idea. Well, let’s see…” and the man pointed out several kinds of rifles and explained how they worked and what the advantages of each one were. Jeff listened carefully but still didn’t know which one he should get. He looked helplessly at the man, who seemed to roll his eyes slightly.
“Okay, here’s what I’d do, since you’ve never handled a firearm before. I’d buy a 12-gauge shotgun, pump action, and get a box of shells. Ya don’t have to worry about being accurate, just point it in the general direction and pull the trigger. Hey, you ain’t gonna go shoot up your workplace or anything, are you?” He looked nervously at Jeff.
“No, I don’t work for the post office,” (author’s note: “ha ha, that’s a joke!”). He paid for the shotgun, filled out the paperwork and handed over his driver’s license. “What about shells?”
“Don’t carry them. Figure it’s safer to have either the guns or the ammo, not both. There’s a hardware around the corner, he’s got them. If you want to run over there while I take care of the paperwork, you can.”
Jeff thanked him and headed out the door. He found the hardware store and asked for the shells the pawn shop guy had told him to get.
When he set them on the counter to pay for them he saw a display of a camp stoves that were on sale. He asked about it and the clerk explained it was a one-burner propane stove and not very popular. People didn’t camp much nowadays, and those who did wanted big, multi-burner fancy stoves. So they were clearing these out.
“I’ll take one,” Jeff said on impulse.
“Want a bottle of propane, too?” the clerk asked.
“Yeah. In fact, make it two bottles. We might start doing a lot of camping,” Jeff said.
The clerk put the stove, two bottles of propane, and the box of shotgun shells in a box, closed the lid, and pushed it across the counter to Jeff.
“Thanks!” Jeff said as he left. The shotgun was ready when he got back to the pawn shop. The shopkeeper had put it in a cardboard box and taped it shut.
“It’ll be easier for you to carry it like this,” he explained. “Won’t freak people out.” Jeff hadn’t thought of that. It would probably cause a panic if he walked through the streets waving it around! They wouldn’t have let him on the bus, either!
Now he wondered whether he should take all this back to work or just go home. There was only another hour left anyway, before he would have been off for the weekend. Since they worked late most of the other days of the week, they usually left at 3:00 on Fridays.
He pulled out his cell phone and called his secretary and told her he wasn’t feeling well and was going to go home and let his wife baby him for the weekend, and he should be good as new by Monday morning. The Jeff that strolled off down the street after the call certainly looked healthy enough!
Jeannie finished the editing project she was working on and emailed the document to the publisher. She stretched and walked around the apartment. A good soak in the bathtub would feel really good! She started the water in their over-sized bathtub and went to get her bathrobe.
She opened the fridge and got out the carton of milk, poured a glass, added some of the chocolate milk powder she’d bought that morning, stirred it and drank it. Feeling good, she went back to the bathroom. Taking the lid off a bottle of bath oil she held it over the tub and started to tip the bottle.
The phone rang, and she set the bottle on the sink and ran to see who it was. It quit ringing at the same moment the lights went out. Confused, Jeannie picked it up anyway. The phone was dead. She walked toward the windows and looked at the traffic jam below.
The stop lights were out and none of the cars were moving. Jeannie stared more intently. Usually when the power went out, the drivers kept nudging into the intersections and trying to get through, and all kinds of yelling and horn-honking went on.
She could see that the yelling was going on, and probably the horn-honking too, but none of the cars were moving. The people on the sidewalks had kept walking br
iskly to their destinations, but now they were stopping and staring at the cars and their drivers. Jeannie realized something with a chill of goose bumps…it was awful quiet.
Jeff was on the bus with his two boxes clutched in his arms. It was before rush hour, but the bus was crowded, and he was crammed in on a bench near the front. The bus was in an intersection, turning onto the street where he lived, when the sound of the motor ceased and the bus rolled to a stop.
Everyone stopped talking and stared at each other. Brows furrowed. The driver turned the key off and on repeatedly and banged his hand on the dashboard. He reached for his radio mike.
Outside the bus window Jeff saw with growing horror that all the other cars had stopped too. In fact, other than the growing swell of voices, some becoming angry or hysterical, it was pretty darn quiet. He watched as a woman pulled her earphones off, shook her ipod, and groaned “battery’s dead AGAIN!”
Prepper Fiction Collection: Four Books in One Page 3
