by Bobby Akart
“Almost there,” Rusty huffed.
“Let me add this,” said Colton. “In my opinion, the best way to form an impromptu group is to establish a committee of leaders, with one person being the primary spokesman. If everyone votes on their leadership team, this will help boost morale and give folks a sense of security. The team would also gain respect through legitimacy. Under the circumstances, a little structure may lend some normalcy to everyone who is used to functioning with a government in our lives.”
“Do you think Shane is the right man for the job?” asked Karen.
“I only know him in passing, Karen,” replied Colton. “I think any leader needs to have the respect of the entire community and should have a track record of moral integrity. He needs to set an example for the neighborhood and make sound decisions. Only time will tell if he is the right guy for the job.”
Chapter 11
DAY TWO
Noon, September 10
HPA Meeting House
Trimble Rd. & Lynnwood Blvd.
Belle Meade, Tennessee
“Here we go,” said Alex, who had remained quiet the entire way. She recognized this as an adult meeting and was glad to get out of the house. If she were able to help in some way, maybe her dad would bring her again. Colton leaned into her ear and whispered, “Watch, listen, and learn,” as they entered the grand foyer of the large home, which had been on the market since the previous year. The Brileys were divorced, and the court ordered the sale of the home. It stood vacant, as the spiteful couple refused to live in it.
“Welcome, folks,” said Shane Wren as he opened up the double set of sliding doors leading to a covered patio that stretched the length of the home. “Let’s go out here. This is a big turnout, and it’ll be much cooler in the shade of this canopy.”
Alex looked around at the attendees. They were all dressed like a normal day. Nobody seemed panicked or injured. A couple of parents had brought their young children, who attempted to squirm out of their parents’ control. All of the neighbors appeared overheated. As everyone found a spot, Alex noticed there was only one other teenager, who was standing alone at the back of the enclosed patio. She tugged on her dad’s arm and whispered, “I’m gonna hang out with the kid on the back wall, okay?”
“Sure, but don’t wander off,” replied Colton.
“Got it,” she replied.
Alex nonchalantly walked toward the back of the patio and leaned against the wall. The boy immediately noticed her, but shyly looked away when she caught his glance. He appeared to be a year or two younger than Alex. Alex turned her attention to Wren as he started the meeting.
“Thank you, everyone, for coming this afternoon. I see a lot of familiar faces, but for those who don’t know me, my name is Shane Wren, and I live through the backyard behind us on Westview. My wife, Christie, is at home with our two young daughters. In my prior life, which was, well, a couple of days ago, I was a professor at Vandy.” The group laughed with Wren. Alex didn’t, and she noticed that her dad wasn’t laughing either.
“I’ve been the president of the Harding Place Association, or the HPA as we like to call it, for almost two years. In the past, my job was to organize activities and deal with issues surrounding our restrictions. Today, we face an uncertain future and a crisis never before experienced in our country.”
Several people mumbled their acknowledgement of the situation and nodded as Wren continued. A few attendees carried notepads and used them as fans to cool their faces.
“I would like to introduce a couple of your neighbors. This is Adam Holder, who used to work for First Tennessee Bank.”
Holder stepped forward. “Hello, everyone.”
“Adam lives down on the cul-de-sac at Sheppard Place,” started Wren. “Also, please meet Gene Andrews, who lives right up the street. Gene has an announcement to make, don’t you, Gene?”
“I do,” said Andrews. “I was formerly director of compliance at the IRS office here in Nashville. I’m pleased to announce that we won’t be collecting taxes for a while.” The three men laughed and several in the crowd joined in.
“Our life is over and they want to spew a bunch of jokes,” said the teenage boy into Alex’s ear, startling her. She jumped and turned toward him.
“You scared me!” she exclaimed.
“Sorry, dude,” said the boy. “I didn’t mean to.” He cut himself off and hung his head. Alex picked up on the fact that he was sensitive to being scolded.
“It’s okay,” she started. “I’m a little jumpy, you know. My name’s Alex.”
“Hi. My name is Jimmy.” He hesitated for a moment. “Jimmy Holder. That’s my stepdad up there—the one with the sport coat on.”
“It’s a little hot for a jacket, isn’t it?” asked Alex as Wren continued.
“He’s a banker, whadya expect?” Jimmy replied, drawing a laugh from Alex. Jimmy kicked a small rock and chuckled under his breath.
Wren spoke a little louder. “Make room for these new folks who’ve just arrived, if you don’t mind.” The outdoor room became more crowded as a few more joined the group. Alex estimated forty people were crammed into the small space.
Wren continued. “Until the government gets things squared away, we’ve decided to meet here every day at noon. Of course, attendance isn’t mandatory, but we hope all of you will play an active role in binding our community together. We have every confidence that FEMA will be reaching out to all of our neighborhoods.”
Spontaneous applause erupted from much of the room. Alex smirked and shook her head. They don’t know that for certain.
Jimmy must have noticed her reaction and quietly spoke to Alex. “They’re blowing sunshine,” he started. “My stepdad says the power may not come on for years. He’s worried about the fact we don’t have much food.”
“You don’t?” asked Alex.
“He’d usually eat out after work, while at the bar,” said Jimmy. “He’d make me fend for myself when Mom was traveling.”
“Where is she?” asked Alex.
“D.C.,” he replied. “She’s a bank lobbyist.”
“Oh,” said Alex. She studied Jimmy. He seemed troubled and distant. Alex had met kids like him in the past. Broken homes often didn’t work out for the children. Parents couldn’t get along, split up, and then remarried. Some kids took it in stride—many couldn’t cope. Jimmy seemed to fall into the latter category.
Wren continued speaking. “Our President wants us to band together, pool our resources, and help one another through this crisis. In the spirit of cooperation, we are asking our neighbors—all of you and those who couldn’t attend today—to bring extra food, water, and supplies to our daily meetings.”
Alex asked, “Does he drink a lot?”
Jimmy nodded his head as he looked down. “I don’t think my stepdad ever wanted to be a father. He liked my mom, and they got married. I was part of the package deal. His priorities are my mom, a full liquor cabinet, and his big gun collection. I don’t even think I rate in the top ten on the list.”
Wren was winding up the meeting. “Also, please check on your immediate neighbors. Make sure they’re safe. If they’re not home, make a note of their address and bring it with you to the next meeting. We’ll pay particular attention to their homes while they’re away.”
Alex looked up from the rock Jimmy was rolling around under his black Converse sneaker. She studied his clothes. Black, frayed shorts. An AC/DC tee shirt. Black hair and an earring. His appearance screamed rebellious teen.
Alex, like her father, was a Type A personality. If she weren’t a girl, she’d be an alpha male. She sensed weakness in Jimmy. His mentioning a big gun collection presented an opportunity for the Rymans. Apparently, Jimmy didn’t know the loose lips sink ships rule.
Chapter 12
DAY THREE
10:00 a.m., September 11
Ryman Residence
Belle Meade, Tennessee
“Mom, there are wildfires burning out of cont
rol all over the country,” said Alex as her mother walked into the living room. The Rymans were settling into their routine by the start of day three.
Like most families, their previous life was full of activities—work, school, and household chores. Entertainment in the form of television, music, and computer browsing would take up hours of a typical day. Without power, these regular pursuits no longer existed. Security was most important followed by information gathering.
“How’d you find that out?” asked Madison.
Alex wound the crank handle of the ETON FRX3 radio made to the specifications of the American Red Cross. The rechargeable weather alert radio with a solar panel and hand turbine power generator not only provided information, but it had a USB auxiliary input to charge other devices.
“The emergency alerts are being broadcast continuously now. The message from yesterday is still being repeated, but NOAA is also issuing warnings for specific areas of the country. The wildfires are everywhere because of the heat.”
When the power grid collapsed, cell phone service and normal broadcast networks crashed with it. However, the military had its own parallel intranet and secured closed satellite communications systems. The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, NOAA, and several other dedicated radio stations across the AM band operated within the same shielded wiring system as the military.
When the airwaves weren’t cluttered with cell phone calls and radio station broadcasts, a signal could travel much farther. By retuning the frequency calibration of a radio, it was possible to pick up ham radio operators near the AM frequencies.
“Here, grab a bucket,” said Madison. She and Alex walked outside to the pool, scooped up a five-gallon bucket of pool water and carried them into the bathrooms. Although the power outage prevented the toilets from refilling on their own, the tank lid could be removed and refilled manually, enabling the toilet to function.
“Can I go with Dad to the meeting again?” asked Alex.
“Sure,” replied Madison. “Is it because of the boy you met?”
“No, not really,” replied Alex. She had an idea but didn’t want to mention it to her parents yet. They’d probably overreact and make her stay home. “I don’t know. He’s younger than me and not at all cute. Different is a better word. It’s just nice to talk to someone else, do you know what I mean?”
They parted ways and refilled the tanks of the four bathroom home. Afterwards, they reconvened in the living room.
“I understand, dear,” said Madison, stacking the buckets for later use. She wiped the sweat off her brow. “It gets pretty boring around here. But I suppose that’s a good thing under the circumstances.”
Colton entered the room, dripping in sweat. “Do you think a dip in the pool is out of the question?”
“Duh, Dad,” replied Alex. “That’s our drinking water.”
“How about a shower?” asked Madison. “It’ll be cool, but we can easily make it hot.”
“All right, let’s see,” said Colton.
Madison led them to the back patio, where she had hung the five-gallon camp shower purchased the other day at the sporting goods store. Made of black PVC material, it was solar heated and portable. She had hung it from the roof overhang at the pool house.
Madison reached up and squeezed the bulb, allowing water to pour through a flexible hose. “Voila, now we can clean up here instead of the pool,” she announced. “Here’s a bucket to be used for soapy water, and you can always douse yourself with a five-gallon bucket for a final rinse.”
“I love it,” said Colton, who immediately stripped down to his shorts and poured water over his head. “I need to get cleaned up for the second showing of the HPA program featuring Wren and Company.”
“I’m going with you, Daddy,” said Alex.
“Great,” started Colton.
“What’s with all the sandbags?” asked Madison. Colton had retrieved them at dusk last night and spent the last hour moving them upstairs.
“Let me explain. I saw them the other day protecting the manhole opening near Mrs. Abercrombie’s house.” Colton quickly toweled himself off. He reached for the dry pair of shorts and slipped them on under his towel. “They may be very useful at some point.”
Colton continued to wipe himself off as he led the girls inside. They followed him to the top of the stairs, where several sandbags were stacked along the banister. He continued. “When somebody kicks in our doors, you can be pretty sure the people coming in are not here to make friendly conversation or to borrow a cup of sugar. We need to be prepared to defend ourselves and to greet them with a sufficient amount of deterring force.”
“Are we gonna drop the sandbags on their heads like in the Home Alone movie, Daddy?”
Colton laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, Alex, but it’s a possibility. I’ve tried to think of as many scenarios as possible so that we can maximize our defenses against bad guys. If we get overrun, we need a rallying point and methods to delay our attackers while everybody gets together.”
“You’ve placed sandbags near the dormer windows too,” noticed Madison.
Colton patted a stack of sandbags. “These are solid and will help deflect or absorb any bullets shot at us. Whether we’re shooting from the windows or keeping them from coming up the stairs, the goal is to delay, then defend against the intruders.”
“Makes sense,” said Alex. “What about the dressers?”
Colton easily pushed one of the dressers to block the stairs. He tilted the dresser and retrieved one of the felt EZ slides from beneath the furniture leg.
“I found these in the utility room,” said Colton. “The movers used them to push the heavy pieces of furniture around the house. If our attackers are pursuing us up the stairs, blocking their way with a heavy piece of furniture should slow them down.”
“Won’t we get trapped up here?” asked Madison.
“I have a plan for that,” replied Colton. “This is a fallback position if we can’t get to the rally point through the downstairs exits.”
“Where is the rally point?” asked Alex.
“The garage, where our most valuable asset is located.” Colton led them past the bedroom toward the double-door entry to the bonus room—a six-hundred-square-foot space located above the garage—which was built into the roof truss system. The family once used it to shoot pool and play video games.
More sandbags were stacked in front of the pool table. Under the pool table was an area rug. Colton dropped onto his hands and knees, pulled aside the rug, and revealed a two-foot-by-three-foot opening in the floor between the trusses.
Madison and Alex crawled under the pool table to look as well. “A hidey hole,” exclaimed Alex. The three of them looked into the garage, where the roof of the Jeep Wagoneer was parked a few feet below them.
“We’re gonna practice this until it becomes easy,” said Colton. “But the plan would be to lure them up the stairs, delay their access to the second floor, and then drop ourselves through this hole and into the Wagoneer.”
“You mean we’ll leave everything behind?” asked Madison.
“Not entirely,” replied Colton. “We need to pack the truck with clothing, supplies, and food. Use every available suitcase, duffle bag, and backpack.”
“I should also put the camping supplies and fishing gear in the back,” added Madison. “We don’t need them here.”
Colton slid out from underneath the pool table and bumped his head in the process. “Defending our home against armed gunmen is our biggest weakness. We only have one weapon, and none of us are trained. A gunfight is not conducive to on-the-job training. All of these measures are designed to delay the attack so we can escape.”
“Live to fight another day,” added Alex.
“Exactly.”
Chapter 13
DAY THREE
Noon, September 11
HPA Meeting House
Trimble Rd. & Lynnwood Blvd.
Belle Meade, Tennessee<
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The second meeting of the HPA took place in front of the house in the circle drive. Attendance was larger today. Alex saw the Youngs and the Kaplans hanging out under a large oak tree. They’d had a conversation about this on the way over to the meeting.
Colton felt like they were better off than most of their neighbors thanks to the efforts of Madison and Alex. The acquisition of the Jeep Wagoneer in a world full of the latest and greatest, but now inoperable, vehicle transportation was very fortunate.
In the past seventy-hours, they’d not heard any generators running. This could be because no one in the vicinity owned one or because they didn’t have the fuel to run it. Either way, the Rymans had both and would shield these assets from others as well.
With this in mind, the Rymans decided to blend in and not stick out. The plan was to dress normal and move and act in a way that was forgettable. They agreed to use their best efforts not to draw unnecessary attention to themselves. If their neighbors realized the extent of their supplies, they would become jealous or even angry. As time passed, that anger could turn to desperation and violence.
“Invisible in plain sight,” Alex whispered to her dad as they walked to the middle of the pack.
Wren walked onto the front porch of the home, followed by his two sidekicks—Holder and Andrews. The grand appearance of the anointed leaders of the HPA disgusted Alex. She could see disdain on a few of her neighbors’ faces as well. She quickly glanced through the crowd, looking for Jimmy Holder. She couldn’t see him.
Then, a moment later, three men in mismatched uniforms joined them. They were carrying sidearms and had rifles slung over their shoulders. They looked like they were military or National Guardsmen.
“May I have your attention, please,” started Wren. “Once again, I want to thank all of you for attending. I anticipated a bigger turnout today, so I moved the meeting to the front yard. I apologize for the heat, but the shade trees and the slight breeze should make it more comfortable.”
