by Johnny Jacks
Love always,
Louise
Grayson laid back in his recliner, staring at Daniel’s photo. Tears of joy and sadness pooled behind tired eyes. He considered calling Louise but dropped the idea. He’d heard Daniel in the background angrily disowning him enough to last a lifetime. She didn’t need added stress or another heart attack. Daniel loved his great aunt and was attentive to her, a good thing for both of them.
~~~
While taking a sip of bourbon, Grayson’s cellphone rang. It was Laura.
“Hi, sweetie.”
Grayson’s antenna went up. “What’s up, baby?” He hadn’t called her for several weeks and didn’t know why.
“I miss you and can’t get you out of my mind. How was your day?”
The tone in her voice told him he needed to get his act together. They’d been dating at least once a week ever since they met. His father’s words sprang to mind: The worst thing a man can do to a woman is ignore her. His father also said it’s okay, and sometimes prudent, to tell a little white lie.
“Sorry I haven’t called. I’ve been a little under the weather, a cold, and didn’t want you to catch it. I’m about back to normal now.”
“You’re full of it, Grayson! I have plenty of homemade chicken soup in the freezer. I’ll be there in thirty minutes. You’re going to eat every last bit, mister, and tell me what’s really going on.”
His father didn’t always hit the nail on the head.
~~~
Grayson finished the last spoonful of chicken soup while he avoided conversation with Laura. “Great soup. Think I’ll get sick more often.”
Laura’s eyes twinkled as she studied him.
“Okay. I don’t have an excuse for not calling. Guess I’ve been too distracted, what with repairing chicken and rabbit coops, dealing with calves dropping all over the place, and this.” He handed her the photo. “My son is getting married, and I’ll miss it, just as I’ve missed everything else in his life since he was sixteen.”
Laura looked quizzically at him.
Grayson’s cheeks grew warm. “Oh. You don’t know the whole story.” He closed his eyes and his head dropped back.
“Grayson! What’s wrong?”
“The short story: Against good judgement, I pushed a high-speed chase to catch a bad guy. He crashed into my wife’s car, killing her and my daughter. My son blames me and has shunned me ever since; he hates me.”
Laura sucked in her breath. “Grayson…that’s terrible.”
She took his hands. “I don’t know how to help you. I can’t imagine Austin and me separated. It would kill me.” She regretted her words the moment they escaped her mouth.
His guilty conscience stabbed him. He understood her reaction.
“I’m sorry, Grayson. I didn’t mea—”
“It’s okay. Maybe I should force Daniel to see me.”
“I don’t know your son, but wouldn’t that drive him further away?”
“I don’t believe that’s possible.”
She made an attempt to remove the gloom that was choking the life from him. “Why don’t we get away like a couple of young fools, head up to Vegas, recharge our batteries?”
“Why in the world would you want to go to Sin City?”
“It’s Disney World for adults. I love going there.”
“Never really liked it.” Images of Shannon flickered before him.
A wonderful lady is sitting by my side and I’m thinking about the forbidden fruit. Daniel’s right. I’m an egotistical jerk.
He offered an alternative. “Let’s grab a flight to San Francisco.”
Laura’s smile told him they were back on solid ground.
Chapter 31
The SET Patriots
Year 4
Grayson’s donkey, Jack, brayed a warning as Wayne walked to the chicken coop. “Glad to see you know to spread chicken feed so the alpha hens don’t steal all the food.” Wayne grinned. “Not bad for a city boy.”
“Good morning.” Grayson patted Jack affectionately and gave him a handful of chicken feed to quieten him. “I grew up on a farm. You know the old saying: You can take the boy from the country—”
“…but you can’t take the country from the boy. I’m impressed,” Wayne finished.
“You mentioned on the phone you wanted to discuss your doomsday group. What’s up?”
“Laura told me about your time in the Army. I researched Special Forces and learned, my friend, that you have the answers to questions we’ve wrangled over for years. Thought I’d invite you again to a meetup. I’m not pressuring you to join, but if you’d clarify some things, maybe point us in the right direction, I’d really appreciate it.”
Man, your timing is perfect.
Samuel had finally gotten past most of his objections to combine forces with the SET Patriots. At their last meetup, they asked Grayson to explore the feasibility of a merger. He needed to walk carefully, as his feigned reluctance to get involved could backfire once Wayne knew what the so-called hunting/farming camp really was. I don’t want to lie but I don’t see a way around it.
“You know, Wayne, I appreciate your invitation, but I watched a couple of shows on National Geographic about doomsday groups, and those folks don’t have a clue what they’re doing.”
“That’s exactly why we need help. You have the expertise to teach us the right way to do things. We know our plans need adjusting, but we don’t know how to start.”
“Tell me what you see as the problems before I jump in here.”
“Great. You got time to talk now?”
An hour later, Grayson agreed to attend their meetup.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate this. We’re having barbeque afterward. You’ll like the cook.”
“Is she one of your doomsday folks?”
“We have several women preppers. Laura is our medical person. Also, just so you know, the term doomsday has negative connotations for preppers.”
“Good to know. Don’t want to start on the wrong foot. So Laura’s the nurse for your group.”
Wayne slapped his hat against his leg. “I’m glad you didn’t say that to her. Laura’s a doctor and mighty proud of it. She has a family practice in town and pulls emergency calls at the hospital.”
“Holy cow!”
“Next time you need a prostate exam, make an appointment.”
“Get the hell out of here!” Grayson laughed. “I’ll see you Saturday.”
Wayne seemed locked on Laura being more than Grayson’s regular Saturday night date. Hopefully, our relationship will help with merging the two groups
~~~
The 1911 .45 ACP strapped to Laura’s left thigh and the skintight camo pants hugging her backside caught Grayson’s full attention. The SET Patriots all wore camouflage uniforms and had exact models of M4 carbines and 1911 .45 ACPs, except one man with an old double-barrel 12-gauge.
“Those uniform pants aren’t regulation, soldier!” Grayson’s drill sergeant voice cut the air.
Laura spun, face pink. “Well, cowboy, your eyes are in good shape. Where’s your uniform and is your pistol ready for action?”
A loud hoot erupted around them. The woman can be direct and sharp. I like it. He gave her a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. Almost everyone smiled as Laura made introductions; however, lack of eye-to-eye contact and weak handshakes from the sixteen members told Grayson some were less than enthusiastic to have him at their meetup.
Wayne placed the U.S. flag on a stand in a prominent position. Everyone stood and said the Pledge of Allegiance. Laura followed with a prayer.
Wayne took the floor. “This meetup of the Southeast Texas Patriots is open for business. Our special guest, Grayson Dean, has years of training and experience as a Green Beret and a Houston police detective. I believe he can answer many of our questions to prepare for the poop hitting the fan.”
Grayson cringed at the applause. He wished Wayne had kept things in a lower key. He didn’t like
duping good people. He’d lectured himself to keep his MAG’s OPSEC firmly in mind at the meetup. He felt better knowing Ramirez and Mark approved his presentation outline.
“I asked Grayson to open with an overview of the main security considerations to protect our families and farms during a societal collapse. It’s all yours, neighbor.”
Grayson stood. The first thing he spotted was the suspicious glares from three men sitting in the back. “Thank you, Wayne. I’m not into doomsday prepping and—”
“We don’t use the term doomsday.” Laura’s tongue was razorblade sharp, eliciting a frown from Wayne.
“Thanks for the reminder.” Be on your toes with this woman. “In my Internet research, I was surprised to discover that millions of folks are preppers, but I’m sure that’s not news to y’all.”
“It isn’t,” Laura said flatly.
The man with the old 12-gauge agreed. “That’s right, city boy.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember your name.”
“Ahm Elmer Martel Bryant, and ah reckon you autta know up front, ah ain’t got no use fer outsiders, specially city boys.” The other two dissenters nodded agreement.
Wayne looked back. “You had your say, Elmer Martel. Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll fire your asses. I don’t care if you are my cousins. Sorry, Grayson. I should’ve warned you that a few Patriots aren’t imbued with even the lowest social graces.”
Never one to ignore a challenge and needing to refocus everyone’s attention, Grayson— wearing the same emotionless face as when he had Taliban terrorists’ heads in his crosshairs, ready to squeeze the trigger—spoke firmly. “Elmer Martel, I appreciate knowing where I stand with any man. Speak up anytime you have a question or comment.”
Elmer Martel stiffened. His eyes widened. Grayson slowly looked over the crowd and stopped on Laura. She smiled oh so sweetly. Lordy, she makes me nervous.
“James Woolsey, CIA Director, stated that a nuclear bomb detonated high in the atmosphere over the middle of America would create an MEP…I mean EMP.” Damn that woman! “Woolsey stated it’d destroy the country’s electric grid, communications systems, and vehicle computer modules. The bomb wouldn’t directly kill people, but throw America into a state of absolute anarchy. Ninety percent of Americans would die within a few months, due to the chaos. By that, I mean most people wouldn’t have stored food or access to clean water, and no way to defend themselves.”
Grayson rubbed the back of his neck and thought about Mark’s lessons. “Those sobering numbers got me thinking. If Woolsey is correct, you have two primary considerations for survival. The first is to live through the die-off.”
“I like that idea,” Wayne said and got a few chuckles.
“Does everyone know what EMP stands for?”
“We know what an EMP is.” Laura’s sarcastic tone drew sneers from the not-so-friendly Patriots, aggravating Grayson. Wayne frowned at his younger sister again.
That damn woman is playing a game! You wannna play, let’s play.
Grayson stared at Laura. “If you don’t devise a solid plan and make preparations to survive the first three to six months after society collapses, you’ll friggin die. The rest is irrelevant.”
“What’s the second primary consideration?” she demanded.
“Be prepared to establish long-term food production, which requires no less than a two-year food supply, lots of gardening hand tools, and plenty of open pollinated seeds on hand from the first day.”
He repeated his warnings to the dead stares across the yard. “First, survive the die-off. Second, produce a lot of food without electricity or fuel for your tractors. What I mean by a lot of food is enough to eat and preserve to carry you until the next harvest plus provide seeds for the next planting.”
The dead air held. Surprise! The city slicker ain’t no fool. The piercing eyes drove him nuts. He covertly glanced to ensure his fly wasn’t open. Determined to get it over with, Grayson forged ahead.
“The details on how to ensure security and the availability of clean water, shelter, and food are tied to those two considerations. If you only focus on surviving the die-off—meaning the security or the tactical side, you’ll likely die of starvation.” Different tactic. Get them involved. “Show of hands, how many could grow a year’s food beginning today without electricity and fuel?”
Ground-staring and beard-pulling reflected back at him. He drove the point home. “Show of hands. How many have at least a two-year food supply to survive the die-off and can build a garden large enough to supply food for an entire year?”
Again, silence. This is going well.
Laura pierced him. “Did you learn all this from the Internet or in the military? Places you served? Things you saw? What other events cause societal collapse?”
This smart cookie has better radar than the Air Force.
“Using my guerrilla warfare experience, I analyzed the few things from the Internet. I focused on the EMP event today, because I found government briefings on it.” He looked to Wayne. “If I understood correctly, surviving the die-off is where you had some questions.”
“That’s right,” Wayne stood. “Any questions?”
The youngest member, Scott, sat up. “Damn, man! We’ve been working on tactical operations, improvised wilderness shelters, making fires without matches, and such, but if you’re right, we ain’t near ready.”
Concurrence sounded around the yard, and then the naysayers got involved.
Grayson relished Elmer Martel and other naysayers devising ways to blow him out of the water. Elroy, thumbs under the straps of his bib overalls, spoke. “If yor sayin we don’t know how to survive when we’re bug’n out, what good is this other stuff? An ifn’ yor so smart, how come you ain’t no prepper?”
You arrogant ass! Maybe they aren’t a good fit for our MAG. Okay, smart guy, talk to the yahoos. “Where’re you going to bugout to?”
“Well…uh…Wayne read some books what says that’s what we gotta do, bug out.”
“You’d be better off right here. I found a great prepper guide on Amazon, Absolute Anarchy. I suggest y’all read it to get everyone on the same page.”
“Anything you can tell us about militias?” A heavyset woman, wearing a flower garden dress, asked. “We call ourselves the SET Patriots.”
“To organize a productive militia, first thing identify your mission needs.”
Darnell, sitting by Elmer Martel, threw in his two cents. “We ain’t in need of missionaries.”
Scott looked irritated. “What’cha mean, mission needs?”
“What things do you plan to do with your militia?”
“Shoot bad guys,” the big woman said and got a round of confirmation, several shaking rifles in the air.
Wayne shook his head. “Grayson, seems we need guidance starting from zero.”
“We ain’t need’n no help from no city cop,” Elmer Martel said.
Wouldn’t they be impressed if they knew I was fired?
“And no damn missionaries,” Darnell said.
“Continue, Grayson.” Wayne moved to the back and spoke quietly to his cousins. They settled but weren’t happy.
Short and sweet and get out before the shooting starts.
“Your mission needs are things you need to do before and after the collapse. Examples include guarding critical facilities and protecting the community from outside forces, maintaining law and order, and long-term survival.”
“Give us examples,” Laura pushed.
“A mission need could be to prevent looters from stealing the drugs from your pharmacies.”
Laura became more attentive. Ah ha. The doctor’s Achilles heel.
“Another, guarding food sources, like Walmart and supermarkets, from looters. Another, blocking entry points from starving refugees. And maintaining civil order.”
“Makes sense,” Wayne said.
“What does a written mission needs document do for us?” Grayson was grateful for Laura’s questi
on.
“It keeps you on track with the primary things you need to do when all hell breaks out. Notice, I didn’t say how you’d accomplish each mission need. Those details are recorded in a requirements document.”
“I suppose you have examples of requirements, too?” Laura asked.
Grayson heard the dare. What’s up with this woman I kissed last night?
“What’s the first thing that comes to mind when millions of people are roaming the country, fleeing Dallas, Houston, Austin, Waco, etc., looking for food? When they arrive here, they’ll be ready to eat anything—grass, snakes, bugs; you name it. For some, that may include the dead. They won’t care what they have to do to obtain food.”
Their looks of horror say point made.
“What was the first thing that came to your mind? Anyone?”
Laura, face pale, ventured an answer. “As much as it goes against my Christian beliefs, if we don’t block them from entering, we end up starving to death, too.”
“That, my dear, is where you start to establish requirements.” You pulled a Rhett Butler and put the woman in shock. Smooth, Grayson.
Irritation flared in Laura’s face. “So now we have to write a requirements document?” Her voice fell at the end as she realized her mistake.
Grayson was vaguely aware of heads pivoting between the two of them. Hold your temper. Monitor your mouth. You care for this woman.
“Exactly!” He smiled.
“And I’m sure you have a great example for us,” Laura said, dripping scorn.
“Absolutely.” Grayson looked around the group. “Let’s say you decide the security mission need for the hospital requires round-the-clock double guards at each door during the day and an additional guard at night. Same goes for the pharmacies. Or, you may want to consolidate all meds in one location, which allows better control.”
