by Tate, Glen
Grant was feeling that same way now. He knew he would be doing many thrilling and dangerous things in the near future. He would be living his life fully in the next few weeks, months, maybe years.
This was what he had been preparing for. Since… well, childhood. Of course, he didn’t know when he was a kid that a collapse was coming. But he could see the path of his life and how it led from Forks to Olympia. He grew up hard and had to toughen up. He knew how to live in a rural area; chopping wood, hunting, fishing, canning. Then he forgot all that and became a suburban guy, which was necessary for him to learn how to be a lawyer who could help people fight corruption. Then he married a doctor who would be able to save lots of people. He inherited a cabin in an area where his family could live when the city got too dangerous. He got on a pick-up team of civilian gunfighters. He met a Special Forces Oath Keeper. He got hooked up with a survival podcast and learned how to store food and a million other things. Then he had a front seat to the corruption and collapse of the state. He had inside knowledge on how bad things were. Yes, he had been preparing, knowingly or unknowingly, for this for his whole life. But now he had to wait.
Grant made great use of the time. He knew that the delay, as maddening as it was, actually helped him and his family. He knew that after the Collapse he would look back to before things fell apart and say, “I wish I would have had time to….” The delay was a blessing. It was just so hard to wait.
He focused on the uninteresting parts of prepping, like getting his documents in order. He rounded up the wills, birth certificates, passports, banking and credit records. He scanned them and put them on a thumb drive. He made sure the originals were in a safe deposit box at the bank. He had scanned the documents in case banks closed down for an extended period of time. It seemed reckless to keep the originals of those documents at his house; for all he knew, they would be bugging out of their house with no time to pack the documents. Besides, when everyone was cut off from the originals of their documents, banks and other institutions would just have to get used to copies instead of originals. There would be no other way to do business, if there would be any business to do.
Grant made sure he had at least one key for each lock he would need. He had about five keys to the cabin. He spread them out so that he could always have one. This included hiding one out at the cabin. It was like the can openers in the tubs of food; some critical things are useless without something to open them. He got a few new padlocks and set all their combinations to his family’s house number so they could all easily remember it. He had to make duplicates of some keys and he did so. He tested the keys. Surprisingly some of the cabin keys didn’t work. He was glad he found that out now instead of later.
He made some extremely accurate directions to the cabin in case Lisa had to come out on her own. Grant always drove when they went out there so maybe Lisa wouldn’t know how to get there if she had to on her own. He planned alternate routes to the cabin. This was hard because, given the fact that Pierce Point was on an inlet, there was only one way in and out. But there were a few ways to the nearest town before the one-route-only road to Pierce Point started.
Grant wanted to make sure he had access to as much gasoline as possible. He knew that regular gas stations would run out. He had always noticed those gas-card stations that truckers used. They didn’t have any attendants. Truckers needed a special card to use them and were billed directly. They were basically a members-only gas station. Perfect. Fewer people would be able to use them, so there might be more gas there. Grant found out that regular people could sign up for the cards. He got a couple of them for the various gas-card stations in his area and he mapped out where those stations were. They were off the beaten path, which was good.
He got on the Survival Podcast forum and drank in all the information he could. He printed out several helpful threads and web pages linked in the threads. He put a PDF of the military survival manual onto a thumb drive.
He wanted to make sure he got the little things that people forget about but then need when the stores are closed. He found a Survival Podcast forum thread called “The First 100 Things to Disappear in a Crisis.” It was created by survivors of the Bosnian civil war. There were things on there he never would have thought of, like safety pins.
The whole time, Grant was glued to the TV. To his surprise, the lowered bond rating hadn’t led to an immediate sell off of U.S. bonds and the crash that would result. He realized that he might have overestimated how quickly that would become a problem. Oh well. He was glad there was a little more time.
The Mexican refugee crisis was getting worse. The Mexican government officially collapsed and the drug gangs went on genocidal killing sprees. The estimates were that four million people were crossing the U.S. border. Texas and California, in particular, were totally paralyzed. There had been a lot of crime, but it still wasn’t a fullon war. Bill Owens confirmed that during a phone call when they were checking in with each other.
“So how’s it going down there, Bill?” Grant asked.
“Kinda dicey,” Bill said. “I heard gunshots. Just a couple. They were far away. I had a little run-in at Costco, and had to draw my pistol on a guy. I was getting some bulk foods, like everyone else, and it came down to the last bag of beans. I went for it; I was the first one there. Some dirtbag lunged for it, too. I had to push him out of the way.
He started yelling at me. I said some choice words. Store security came zooming in. Apparently they are jumping on things like this. They kicked both of us out of the store.”
This was getting crazy, Grant thought. Decent people like Bill were fighting over the last bag of beans.
Bill continued, “I wasn’t going to fight this guy over a bag of beans that someone else had already grabbed in the confusion. I was nervous going back to the parking lot because the dirtbag was right behind me heading out of the store. In the parking lot he yelled, ‘Hey, you, those beans were mine. Come here and talk to me like a man.’ I turned around and he was pulling something out of his sweatshirt pocket. I drew my 1911,” that was Bill’s .45 pistol, “and put the sights on his chest. I had practiced that a thousand times and it paid off; that was the smoothest draw I can remember. He put his hands up and said he was sorry. I didn’t want the cops to come, if there were even any around. They’re kind of busy now. So I looked around and no one was around so they didn’t see me. I got in my truck and headed to the Sam’s Club.”
Wow. Bill had to pull a gun on a guy. “It was weird,” Bill continued, “Never thought I’d have to do that. I got a feeling I’m going to be doing lots of things I never thought I would be. Glad I didn’t have to shoot that guy.”
While the TV was downplaying it, Bill confirmed that FEMA continued to completely screw up the relief efforts. People were starting to vandalize FEMA vehicles. Hispanic gangs were targeting FEMA personnel. FEMA workers were prohibited from carrying guns, so many of them quit. The feds had to finally give up on FEMA.
California federalized its National Guard, meaning that the supposedly state-controlled California National Guard was now under federal command. Then the Feds had the regular military join the effort. California was betting the Feds could rescue them.
Arizona joined Texas in basically kicking the Feds out of the state. Grant didn’t know what New Mexico was doing. The Arizona and Texas Guards were running the relief efforts and doing a better job than the federal efforts in California. Interestingly, Arizona and Texas were calling their Guard units the “State Guard” instead of “National Guard.” Things weren’t going well for the Feds. The federal troops were much better than FEMA, but their orders were muddy: Don’t shoot anyone, especially refugees, even when they were looting from civilians and civilians were shooting at them. It was like a peacekeeping mission in Lebanon; those never turned out well.
In contrast, the Texas and Arizona State Guards were given more realistic orders: shoot to defend yourself or others. This actually saved lives because looters and trigger-h
appy civilians knew that if they did anything aggressive they would be shot by the State Guard.
The Feds had just the opposite effect on looters and civilians. The looting went on while the California police, National Guard, and federal troops just watched. It was just like the LA Riots. But bigger. Much, much bigger.
It was weird, though. Even though there was full-on looting in California and the military was deployed, life went on as normal in some ways. People still went to work, although many stayed home.
People still visited Disneyland, but in smaller numbers. Disneyland during a riot! People in California still went out to dinner at trendy restaurants, although there was panic buying at the grocery stores. But the shelves weren’t emptied out (at first). People were either oblivious — how was that possible? — or just assumed that the government would get things back to normal soon. The looting was like a snow storm. A hassle and a hindrance, but something that would be over in a while and things would return to normal.
Of course, the government wanted to show that everything was fine and normal in LA so people wouldn’t get scared. The mainstream media had stories on how people were still going to the beach and how traffic was so much better now that fewer people were going to work. They even had stories on how the Hollywood stars were still going to premiers of movies. The message was unmistakable: Cool people are not fazed by whatever it is that’s going on right now. Relax. Everything is fine.
Grant could not believe that people were not taking this seriously. How could people be so complacent and stupid? They had developed habits over years and years, and not even looting by thousands of starving refugees and gang warfare would break those habits. Life would go on. As long as people had their comfortable routines, everything was fine. Despite all the evidence.
Grant marveled at Americans’ ability to shield out stress by doing their routines. It must be because there was something so comforting by being able to say, “Life goes on.”
Many Californians secretly thought the violence was in “those” neighborhoods. It didn’t affect people in the suburbs or upper income areas. The progressives in California were so tolerant and understanding that they just accepted the rioting. It was not directly affecting them.
Texas was a different story. People were not oblivious there. They were taking it seriously. Many were armed. They bought up all the groceries, gasoline, and ammunition they could. The shelves were bare, but not as many people were freaking out. They had their supplies and would wait until the stores were resupplied. In Eastern Texas, they were used to hurricanes, so this wasn’t the end of the world.
Even though most Texans were fairly well prepared, resupply would take much longer than they expected, although it could have been worse. Resupply came via semi-trucks running on diesel and going along safe highways. The State Guard and law enforcement had the highways largely secure, and Texas drilled and refined its own petroleum. Texas refineries were getting a fair amount of fuel to gas stations, and grocery stores were getting the shelves restocked much better than in California. There were problems, of course, but it was not the surreal destruction that was going on in California.
In fact, after a week or so, things in Texas were going OK, overall. It was still a crisis, of course, but it was not the end of the world there.
Grant was getting frequent texts from Bill Owens. It was amazing how well texts worked, even in a crisis. Sometimes cell service for voice traffic would get too busy and shut down, but texting took up much less bandwidth and was not affected. Good to know, Grant thought.
Chapter 37
Annoying Lack of Collapse
Looking at California and Texas, and knowing that Washington State would be more like California, Grant started focusing even harder on his preps. Things were quickening. Events were moving faster.
One of Grant’s biggest preparations was his physical conditioning. He had been in good shape since the end of the “Dockers Years.” He was strong; stronger than he had ever been. But now, with the Collapse quickly unfolding right before his eyes, he was stepping it up one more notch. He knew, just knew, that soon he’d need to be carrying more, running, and enduring things that never cropped up in his suburban world. Now was the time to get strong enough for what was coming.
Right after the U.S. bond rating news, Grant frequently saw Jim, Jeanie’s boyfriend, at the gym. He was getting in great shape, too. Was he a prepper? He had been the first to use the “R” word of “revolution” with Grant, so maybe he was.
One morning at the gym Grant asked him, “You’ve been here a lot lately. What’s the deal?”
“My Guard unit is activating for our annual training,” Jim said, “and we might do more than two weeks.” The normal thing was for a two-week training period each year.
“I thought your unit did annual trainings in October every year for the annual computer security exercise,” Grant said.
“Yep,” Jim said. “We’re activating early. The brass thinks something might be happening. Maybe we’re going down to California.” Jim paused and looked around to make sure no one else could hear him. “We’re training for civil unrest. It’s no secret.” Some of the Oath Keepers at Capitol City Guns had told Grant that rumor, too. Jim confirmed it.
He looked a little embarrassed that he was training for civil unrest. Here was Mr. Revolution, but now he was meekly acknowledging that he was going to be part of the military unit presumably cracking down on civil unrest. What had changed?
Grant didn’t ask, but as he pieced together bits of information from conversations he’d had with Jim and Jeanie, the answer was that Jim needed the job. With all the cuts in the number of state employees, Jim needed his Department of Revenue job and he needed the Guard job. He had to put his beliefs aside for the paycheck.
That’s what happened to so many government employees. Most weren’t evil and didn’t want to do the things they were doing, but it was their job; their only job. They had to. Perhaps it was the higher-ups who were evil and power hungry. But the worker bees weren’t. It was so sad.
“Be safe, my friend,” Grant said. “I hope you can do some good out there.” Grant was trying to make it easier on Jim.
“Thanks, man,” Jim said, appreciating that Grant didn’t get on him about shooting Americans.
This was getting crazy, Grant thought; a thought he had several times a day, lately. The Washington National Guard was activating. Quietly, under the guise of the annual training.
This was unfolding exactly as Grant thought it would. He was having that weird feeling again when he couldn’t tell if he was in the present or the future.
With all the news and excitement swirling around, he had the strangest urge to call Steve Briggs back in Forks. Grant trusted his instincts more and more. He called Steve.
“Some crazy shit goin’ on, huh?” Steve said. That was his country boy way of starting a conversation on current events.
“Yeah,” Grant said. “I can’t believe people aren’t freaking out.
But I went to Cash n’ Carry yesterday and there weren’t that many people in the parking lot. People don’t get it. Or maybe I don’t. I’m starting to wonder.”
“Things are pretty mellow here,” Steve said. “People are watching the news and talking about it. But folks are not making a run on the grocery store. Most people have their shit squared away. The welfare shitbags don’t, but they’re too stupid to watch the news or understand what it means, so they’re not going and stocking up on smokes or Doritos. More for the rest of us,” he said with a laugh.
That made sense. Rural people were usually less scared about things like this since they didn’t depend on as many modern conveniences. Forks was still dependent on Highway 101, which connected it to the rest of the world. But, strangely, remote Forks wasn’t as dependent as areas right in the metro area.
“Hey, Steve,” Grant wondered, thinking about the auto parts store where Steve was the manager, “have you seen any shortages of parts at the st
ore?”
“Nope,” he said. “So far things seem pretty normal. But, you’re right, that’s how we’ll know if the wheels are coming off. Get it, car parts; the wheels coming off? That’s how we’ll know when the country is truly falling apart.”
“I bet you country boys and girls will do just fine,” Grant said.
“Yep,” Steve said. “We’re already talking about it. People are getting their hunting, fishing, and canning stuff together.”
Grant asked Steve how Grant’s mom was doing. “Pretty good,” Steve said. Grant kept meaning to call her.
“Hey, man, I need to go,” Steve said. “I’ve got a customer here. Take it easy, Grant.”
“You too, Steve. Stay safe, brother.”
Grant hung up with Steve and couldn’t get his mind off the question of why people weren’t taking these events as seriously as he was. He kept looking for signs of the Collapse. He would look in parking lots of grocery stores and banks, and look for lines at gas stations.
Nothing.
Don’t be impatient. You will need the extra time to get ready.
True. But still. Grant was impatient. The impending Collapse was all he could think about. He went to Capitol City Guns. Surely, those guys would be busy.
They were. People were buying guns. Again. The Capitol City guys could not keep up. It wasn’t panic buying or anything; just a full parking lot and a line at the cash register. Some empty shelves. Many people were buying ammo; there was hardly any left, except cases of .40.
“Hey, you guys are busy so I’m just dropping by to say ‘hi,’” Grant said to Chip.
