“Hey,” Jake whispered, “put that thing away, buddy. Let’s be respectful.”
Weismann was in his early sixties, and looked like anybody you might see at a business convention. He wasn’t too tall, had a bit of a belly, and not much hair left on a splendidly round head. He didn’t look anything like those characters on Duck Dynasty, an image that often came to people’s minds when they thought about preppers.
“Good afternoon, friends,” Weismann began. His microphone kicked feedback, so he adjusted the height until it was gone. “It’s great to be back here at the SRBR. I always look forward to the chance to speak, and this is one of my favorite expos on the circuit. Today I’m here to talk about self-reliance. When the power goes out and the grid goes down, how will you stay warm? When the supermarket shelves go bare, how will you feed your family?”
Weismann paused for dramatic effect. He was an eloquent speaker. In a few sentences, he had captivated his audience and could have held their attention indefinitely.
“I’m going to tell you a little story to get the conversation started. The folks at NORAD go from a quiet morning, sipping coffee and observing the world from the comfort of their computer monitors, when chaos erupts. A ballistic missile has been launched from a cargo ship off the U.S. coast. The weapon is designed to release EMP, an electromagnetic pulse capable of destroying the U.S. power grid. A single explosion over the Midwest produces electronic waves a million times more powerful than any radio signal on earth. The current and voltage surges that follow will literally cook the semiconductor chips of critical electronic devices. In an instant, communications will fail. Computers will lose power. Car batteries will no longer function, and transportation will come to a complete and grinding halt. Telecommunications are down everywhere. You can’t get a cell phone signal, let alone make a call.
“The power grid will be out, and probably out for months. Every bit of electronics we use—medical devices, gasoline pumps, phones, cars, water pumps—will no longer function. Of course the stock market crashes, since all trading has abruptly ceased. Bank accounts are gone, lost in a black hole of the crippled electrical grid. A single blast, if detonated high enough over the middle of the country, will be enough to plunge us all into total darkness. Food stocks will run out quickly. Everything about our current way of life will end in the sizzle of burnt-out circuitry, and we’ll be plunged back to a preindustrialized society.
“Who could possess such a weapon? China, Russia, North Korea, and even Iran or Hezbollah, that’s who. It’s been estimated that a year after an EMP strike, between seventy-five and ninety percent of the U.S. population will perish from disease, starvation, and overall societal collapse. Imagine it. You wake up one morning and nothing works. No running water. No food in the stores. No money in your bank accounts. No hospitals. No transportation. Nothing works the way it once did. Cities in darkness. How will you live? How will your family live? We are lying to ourselves when we say we are prepared for this attack. We are not prepared as a country. But you can be prepared as individuals.”
“Oh, give me a freakin’ break.”
The dissenting voice, meant to be spoken as an undertone, came out loud and attracted a great deal of attention. The murmurs rippled from front to back and grew in volume until Weismann could no longer be heard.
Jake looked at Andy with what, at first, was a bemused expression. Andy had retreated to the safety of his smartphone screen; he did not take notice of Jake’s now-angry stare.
“Young man, it would appear you disagree with the scenario I’ve outlined here.” Richard Weismann, accustomed to confronting his critics, did not seem the least bit perturbed by the interruption.
Andy looked up and realized Weismann was addressing him directly. Andy turned to his father for guidance.
“Your bed—you made it, you deal with it,” Jake said, a little gruffness evident in his voice.
Andy stood, looked around at the sizable crowd, and pocketed his phone with a confident air.
“Look, I’m not denying the science behind EMP, Mr. Weismann,” Andy began, speaking respectfully and earnestly. “What we’re really talking about is the Compton effect. In 1925, the physicist Arthur Compton asserted that photons of electromagnetic energy would loosen electrons from atoms with low atomic numbers. This would create fluctuating electric currents and induce a powerful magnetic field capable of knocking out electronic circuitry. I get that. It’s real. But do you honestly believe a country like North Korea or Iran, or some terrorist organization like Hezbollah or, say, ISIS, could develop a warhead sophisticated enough to deliver a really damaging EMP blast? Have you honestly studied the technology required to make an EMP-optimized warhead?”
“Determined foes can overcome even the most challenging hurdles,” Weismann said.
“Yeah, well, dedicating my life to a technically implausible scenario makes no sense to me. Oh, wait—a rogue nation could launch a weapon from a freighter off the U.S. coast. You said that. So maybe it’s not so far-fetched. Let’s see, Iran’s Shahab-3 is the only medium-range missile small enough to be launched from one of those boats. But it has a payload capacity of maybe one thousand kilograms, which doesn’t come close to the devastation that you describe. And any terrorist cell that miraculously gets a nuclear-type weapon is going to blow up a city, not risk wasting their crown jewel on a complex EMP strike that’s likely to fail.”
Hushed conversation passed through the crowd. Jake was wide-eyed and astonished. Where did he learn all this?
“You’re forgetting our other enemies, young man,” Weismann said.
“That’s right. But let me ask you, why would Russia do it? Or China? I’ll tell you the answer. They wouldn’t. The trace-back would result in catastrophic nuclear war. We’ve had nuclear weapons for decades, and nobody is using them in wartime for a reason. Besides, our economies are joined at the hip. There’s a major economic deterrent here nobody is talking about.”
Weismann no longer appeared amused. “Since you seem so well versed on the topic, young man, what would you suggest we do?”
Andy turned to Jake. His body language was that of a child having to confess an uncomfortable truth.
“I’d stop living my life in constant fear,” he said. “I’d learn how to do things for myself—things like gardening, mechanical repairs, self-defense, and whatnot—simply because it was interesting to me. I wouldn’t come to these conferences anymore. I wouldn’t prepare for the future at the expense of enjoying my present.”
“So, why are you here?” Weismann asked.
Jake’s eyes held Andy’s in a head-on stare.
“Because I love my dad more than anything,” Andy said. “But I can’t do this anymore.”
Andy walked across the room, heading for the exit. And Jake watched him go.
CHAPTER 12
Jake bought his 2007 Chevy Tahoe because of the aggressive tires, towing capacity, and ability to traverse most terrains. He didn’t know how he’d get to his bug-out location when TEOTWAWKI (The End of the World as We Know It) came, so the car offered an option if the woods behind his trailer were impassable.
Jake saved all year for the expo. Normally, he would have stocked up on supplies—freeze-dried foods, seed, communication equipment, medical kits, and homeopathic medicine—and the Tahoe was a good way of hauling it all home. But Andy had demanded they leave the expo early. Jake didn’t argue, so the back of the car contained only the camping gear they’d brought and some clothes.
For the first hundred miles of the trip home, Andy had been silent. Jake did his best to coax some words out of his son, but Andy retreated into himself, with his thousand-yard stare fixed firmly on the scenery rolling past his window.
Jake wasn’t angry with Andy. His son’s passion and conviction had impressed him and he’d said as much, but something was still bothering Andy. Whatever it was, he was keeping tight-lipped about it.
They were about an hour outside Winston when Andy finally broke the q
uiet.
“I’m going to stop, Dad,” Andy said. “I can’t drill anymore. I can’t prep, either. I’m done. And I mean done for good. I’m out.”
Jake took his eyes off the road to give Andy a measured stare. This wasn’t a complete surprise. Jake had felt Andy pulling away for the past year. But something about the way Andy had announced his intentions felt final, nonnegotiable. The words hurt.
Jake bit his tongue to hold back what he really wanted to say. “You’ve got to do what you think is right for you, I guess,” he managed.
If he got angry with Andy, or tried to scare him the way Richard Weismann had tried with his EMP scenario, it would only push his son farther away. But to Jake, this was like hearing his son announce plans to go skating on thin ice. The end of civilization was as real to Jake as if he’d seen an army of advancing soldiers. It was coming; and if they were not prepared, it would level everything in its path—including his son, the most precious person in his life.
“There’s more,” Andy said.
Jake appraised Andy anew. “More than deciding to give up every advantage you can have when the day comes? That’s what the drills are for, son.”
“No. This ‘more’ is about you.”
“Look, no matter what, I’m not going to leave you behind. But you’re going to make it a lot harder than it needs to be. We’re a team here, and if you don’t drill, your skills will rust. You know that, don’t you?”
“I want your skills to rust, Dad,” Andy said.
Jake jerked the wheel. The car veered a little to the left, but he quickly recovered the steering.
“Last I checked, I was the parent here and you were the kid. I can tell you what to do, but it doesn’t work the other way around.” Jake did a poor job of tempering the anger in his voice.
Andy retreated to his view out the window. When he turned around again, his face was red and he was on the verge of tears. Jake knew from experience how difficult it could be to confront a parent. Andy’s emotions had welled up, and they needed a place to escape.
“You know, Dad, just because you think the world is going to end, it doesn’t mean that I do. I’m tired of living your fear. It’s yours, not mine. Don’t you get that?”
“It’s not science fiction. It’s all proven fact.”
“Maybe so, but I happen to think the world is going to be just fine,” Andy said in a tone he’d never used before with his father. “I don’t think there’s going to be an EMP attack, or a solar flare, or a super volcano, or a biological agent, or freaking all-out nuclear war. It’s not going to happen in my lifetime. If it does, fine, but I don’t want to live like it is, because it’s not normal.”
“We are not abnormal,” Jake protested. “We’re prepared. There’s a difference.”
“Growing up, I had more gas masks than toys,” Andy said. “That’s not normal, Dad. Not by a long shot.”
They had just driven over a hilly rise. On the descent, the Tahoe picked up speed, going eighty-five before Jake noticed. He eased up on the accelerator.
“This is about Pepperell Academy, isn’t it?”
“No, Dad, it’s not.”
“It’s your friends, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“I bet it’s Hilary. Are you two dating? Because sometimes love can skew your thinking.”
“No, Dad. We’re not dating. And Hilary didn’t put me up to this. Neither did David, Rafa, Pixie, or Solomon. They know I can hold my own in a fight, but they think it’s because I took karate lessons. I don’t talk about us, because I’m honestly embarrassed by it.”
“You’re embarrassed?” Jake said. The shake of his head was meant to show his incredulity. “Were you embarrassed when you kicked Ryan Coventry’s ass all over The Quad?”
Andy shrugged. “That’s different. I’m glad you taught me self-defense. But it’s the reason you’re teaching me that’s got me all bugged out.”
“Damn girls,” Jake muttered under his breath, but it was loud enough for Andy to hear.
“Don’t blame Hilary!” Andy snapped. “She’s done nothing to influence me. Nothing. If anything, you should be blaming Mom for making you the way you are.”
Jake sneered and cocked an eyebrow while glancing over at his son.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means you became this way because Mom left you.”
Jake looked at the road once more. “You’re psychoanalyzing your dad now, is that it?”
Andy folded his arms across his chest. The posture was part defensive and part frustrated. “It’s not that hard,” Andy said. “I took Psych 101 with Professor Cooper.”
Andy exchanged looks with his dad and unfolded his arms when he saw the hint of a smile.
“Okay, boy genius,” Jake said, but in a challenging way. “You think you know me so well? Go for it. Analyze me.”
Andy shook his head. “You’re baiting me. You’re just going to get mad.”
“I’m not going to get mad. I’m being honest here. If you think you know me so well, go for it. Analyze me. Why do I prep?”
Andy didn’t respond.
“I’ll tell you why. Because of all those reasons you listed. EMP, solar flare, bioterrorism—it’s the law of probability. Something major is going to happen, and when it does, we’ll be prepared to deal with it. It’s not complicated.”
“That’s not why, Dad,” Andy said.
“Well, enlighten me.”
“You promise you won’t get mad?”
Jake waited until he passed a car on his left before meeting Andy’s stare.
“I already promised. Analyze away.”
Andy nodded. Game on. “Okay, let’s start with your life after high school,” he began. “You’re a hot prospect for the Boston Red Sox. Then what happens? Instead of going to the majors, your arm gets crushed in an accident.”
“Because I was drinking and driving.” Jake pointed at Andy. “And if I ever catch you doing the same, the only thing you’ll be driving will have pedals and no motor.”
“I don’t even drink.”
“Okay. Let’s keep it that way.”
“Then what happens after the accident? You can’t pitch. The dream is gone.”
“I thought you were going to analyze me. This sounds more like history to me.”
Andy drummed his hands against his thighs. He was enjoying this opportunity. “Give me a chance,” he said. “So after your baseball career comes to a crashing halt, what happens next? You find out your little boy has a serious medical condition. Now you’ve got two things going against you, but there’s a third headed your way. Mom leaves. She can’t take it anymore. She was dreaming of a big ballplayer’s salary and now she has a sick kid and a broken husband.”
Jake lifted his hands off the wheel for just a second. You got me. He wasn’t going to offer any defense. Andy knew his facts, and it was what it was.
“Well, that explains why I believe the EMP threat is real and you don’t,” Jake said sarcastically. “Come on, Andy. What’s your point? Why are you revisiting the past? I’ve always been open with you about Mom and what happened to us.”
“It’s not just about Mom. It’s where all your fear comes from, Dad.”
Jake furrowed his brow. His son was making as much sense as he’d expect from someone who had decided to stop prepping for the inevitable.
“Sorry, I’m not following.”
“Think about it,” Andy said. “One minute your life is headed in one direction and then it takes a U-turn, but not to backtrack. Instead, you’re on these unfamiliar roads, navigating in the dark. Everything that was secure to you is suddenly insecure. In Freudian psychology, it’s known as the displacement theory. It’s the unconscious redirecting of emotions from one thing to another. You lost your sense of security, so you replaced it with prepping. Now you feel secure again. It’s pretty simple when you think about it.”
And Jake did think. He thought a lot, falling silent, gazing out t
he window, but not really seeing the traffic. Everything Andy had just said hit him square in the heart—right where it counted.
“They taught you all that at school?” Jake said.
“And some.”
“We’re sure getting our money’s worth.”
“It’s free tuition, Dad.”
“Well, aren’t we lucky, then?” Jake held a serious expression, but soon it slipped into a wry grin. Andy relaxed enough to allow the corner of his mouth to lift a little as well. When it did, Jake slugged Andy’s shoulder in a loving, guylike way.
“Why are you telling me this now?”
Andy started to laugh. “Dad, I’ve been trying to tell you this for ages. You just haven’t been listening.”
“That’s not true. I listen to everything you say.”
“No, Dad, you want just to teach me about communication equipment, gardening, and self-defense—which, by the way, is the only thing I really like.”
“It’s not just about what you like to do,” Jake said. “It’s about having the skill set you need to survive.”
“You see? You see? You’re doing it again! You’re not hearing me.”
Jake held up his hands to show he wasn’t going to be defensive. “I’m hearing you! I’m hearing you! So you don’t want to drill anymore?”
“That’s right. No more three A.M. wake-up calls. It’s affecting me in a negative way.”
“Did you learn that in Professor Cooper’s psych class as well?”
Andy chuckled. “No, that’s my own personal observation. If you love me, and I know you do, we’re going to stop being preppers.”
“What do you mean ‘we’?”
“I want you to dismantle the bug-out location,” Andy said.
The mood turned sour in the time it took Jake to change lanes. Jake fell silent for several miles, and Andy let him think.
“You may want to hamper our ability to get out of Dodge, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do the same. Stop the drills if that’s your desire, but the BOL stays. And I’m not going to stop doing what I have to do to protect us.”
Constant Fear Page 8
