299 Days: The Stronghold (3 page)

“If supplies get tight,” Grant said, knowing that they would, “we can look at who’s not carrying their weight and decide what to do. Of course, we will take care of the old, disabled, and those who can’t take care of themselves. But able-bodied freeloaders will be a problem. Those contributing will be pissed at them, but I’m not sure how we can cut people off of security services or medical care. That’s a community-wide thing. Maybe there will be other things we can offer to people and withhold from non-contributors.” It sounded cruel, but this was a survival situation.

Rich thought some more. “You know, I bet a lot of this works itself out. I know most of the people out here. They will share with neighbors and work to help each other, for the most part. They’ve had to do this over the past few years with the economy.”

Rich paused and looked at Grant. “You know, most people are still pretty decent. A few aren’t. We let the majority work together on their own, and we deal with the minority. Be a decent human being and you won’t have any trouble from us.”

Grant laughed, “That could be our motto.”

Rich laughed. He realized they had polished off about half that bottle of whiskey. He was feeling it.

“I think I should head home,” he said, jingling his keys. “We need to have a law against drunk driving. We’ll put it into effect
tomorrow
.” They laughed.

“Nah, I’m kidding,” Rich said. “I have a cot here. I’m fine. A couple hours of napping and I’ll be fine. My wife is used to me being here all night sometimes. How are you getting home? Mark left a couple of hours ago. I can call my wife.”

“Don’t waste the gas,” Grant said. “I’ll walk. It’s only about two miles. I need to stay in shape. And it’s a beautiful night, the stars are out, I have my walking companion,” Grant said pointing to his AR leaning against the wall nearby, “and I have a buzz. Perfect walking conditions.”

Grant and Rich shook hands. This was a great partnership. They were exactly the right people to be leading this community. They had a plan.

Grant left and started walking…home. “Home.” That’s right. Not to the “cabin,” but to “home.” Wow. He let that sink in.

The walk home was one of the best of Grant’s life. He thought about how all the “coincidences” were coming together and how they might actually make it out there at Pierce Point. He thought about how he just knew that he needed to talk to Rich that night, how he brought the whiskey that seemed to lubricate this important conversation, and how they were on the same page. He kept thinking about the mini republic at Pierce Point.

A mini republic. It wouldn’t be easy to pull off. He remembered that famous line from Ben Franklin. When he was leaving the 1787 Constitutional Convention, a woman asked him what they had created. “A republic. If you can keep it,” he said. Human beings seemed to love tyranny for some reason. No, it would be more accurate to say that they feared freedom and settled for tyranny, especially soft tyranny where they were taken care of. It would be hard to make a republic work, even a small one.

Grant thought about this Pierce Point mini republic and his life. He had spent his adult years seeing the corruption and injustice and learning how
not
to run a society. Now they had a chance to start all over again and do it the right way. A mini republic.

This is just a dress rehearsal out here. For something bigger.

Chapter 110

Funeral Planning

(May 11)

Grant was in such a good mood walking back from the Grange. Maybe this Collapse thing wasn’t so bad after all. They would get to rebuild things better—way better—than they were before. Grant’s family had supplies and they were in a good place. This new world was kind of fun.

It was a little after midnight when he came up on the guard shack on Over Road. He didn’t want to get shot by mistake, so he made loud walking sounds as he rounded the corner and headed down Over Road. He said loudly, “Grant here” and put up his hands. He heard John say, “Got you.” John could see Grant’s outline in the big light at the end of the road. He didn’t point his 30-30 at Grant, but had a round in the chamber and kept it at the ready.

As Grant got a few feet from him, John said, “Bad news, Grant. Mrs. Roth died a few hours ago. Mary Anne has been crying nonstop.”

“Oh, that’s terrible,” Grant said. “Lisa said this would be coming soon, but it’s always a shock when it does.” He looked and the light was on in John and Mary Anne’s house.

“John, you go be with her. I’ve got guard duty,” Grant said.

“Thanks.” John turned and left. As he was going to his house, Chip was coming from it and toward the guard shack.

Chip came up to Grant and said, “Have you heard about Mrs. Roth?”

“Yeah. Bummer,” Grant said.

“I thought I’d do some guard duty,” Chip said. “To be honest, I don’t like being in a house with a crying woman. Reminds me of my first marriage.”

That was interesting. Grant didn’t know that Chip had been married before, or even a couple of times.

He realized that he and Chip hadn’t really had time to talk much in the past few days. They’d been so busy.

Grant was hungry. He’d been up all night and had been walking. He didn’t want to wake anyone up, though.

“Dude, I’m starving. It’ll be a long time before breakfast,” Grant said.

Chip fished around the guard shack and pulled out two brown plastic packages.

“Beef ravioli or chicken with salsa?” he asked with a grin. MREs. Chip must have stashed some of his out here.

“Hmmm…beef ravioli,” Grant said. “Not sure a midnight snack is the best use of food that can store for fifteen years, but I’m pretty damned hungry.”

Chip said, “Chicken with salsa for me, then.”

They opened their MREs. Grant’s had beef jerky, fruit, crackers, jalapeno cheese spread, and, the prize of prizes, a fudge brownie. Chip had Mexican rice, which was pretty good, crackers, jalapeño cheese spread, short bread, and prize of prizes, Skittles.

“Dang, an MRE kicks ass, especially when you’re hungry,” Chip said. He was right. That meal was fantastic. Grant’s stomach was growling as he ate.
“So, Chip, you have a family out here now, don’t you?” Grant asked.

“Yep,” Chip said with a smile. “Yep, I do.”

“Hey, remember when I first came into Capitol City Guns? Did you ever think we’d be doing this?” Grant asked.

“Not at all. Not at all,” Chip said and then changed the subject. “Hey, what are we going to do with those goodies in the basement?”

Grant had almost forgotten about the ARs and ammo that Chip brought from the gun store before the looting started back in Olympia.

“I dunno,” Grant said, “but I have a sneaking suspicion that we’ll find a use for them.” He had more than a sneaking suspicion. He knew exactly how they’d use them but the time wasn’t right to spring that on Chip. The guns were, after all, Chip’s, and they were worth their weight in gold right now.

“Who knows,” Chip said casually, “Perhaps a friend will show up and have a use for them.” Chip was looking off in the distance, down Over Road.
Grant knew what Chip meant and who the friend was, but he didn’t want to blurt it out. Subtlety was required in situations like these. One doesn’t openly talk about these things, even with people they trust. Blabbers get people killed. Besides, Grant didn’t want to be wrong and have Chip laugh at him. Or be offended that Grant had a plan for Chip’s valuable goods that Chip didn’t agree with.

Grant and Chip spent the rest of the night talking about everything and nothing. It was great to be talking to an old friend, especially with a good buzz going. All the problems were far away. Grant was where he wanted to be with the people he wanted to be with. He couldn’t ask for much more than that.

The sun started coming up, along with the sound of birds chirping. There was a very distinctive early morning bird chirp in western Washington. Every time Grant heard it, he was reminded of good times. He recalled searches he went on while in CAP, camping trips, late night drinking in college. All good memories.

“Well, we have a funeral to plan,” Grant said. He knew that this was an important community event, not just a way to honor Mrs. Roth and saw it as a chance to show the community that he and the other leaders were providing important services to the community. He could show them that the Patriot way was the best way.

John walked up to the guard shack with a cup of coffee. He probably didn’t get much sleep the previous night, either, with Mary Anne being so upset.

After exchanging “good mornings” and inquiries about Mary Anne’s emotional state, Grant said, “I’ll get the funeral going. Right after I sleep.”

Grant went as quietly as possible into the cabin and slept on the couch; he didn’t want to wake Lisa.

He opened his eyes about two hours later when Manda was up and starting the pancakes. He talked to her for a bit and then got the CB that they kept in the cabin. He got Rich on the line, which required a walk up to the top of the hill to get decent reception. He was tired and starting to have a very mild hangover. He hadn’t drank much in the past few years and it didn’t take much anymore to give him a fuzzy head the morning after.

“Hey, Rich,” Grant said when he slowly got to the top of the hill overlooking the water near his cabin, “sorry to wake you but we have a funeral to plan. Mrs. Roth down here died. Hey, can we use the Grange for this?”

“Yeah, sure,” Rich replied. “The one thing we don’t have is a mortician here. Could we get away with using a wood box that’s covered up? A quick burial before…things break down without embalming fluids?” Rich was grossed out by what he was saying.

“Sure,” Grant said. “Do we have any clergy out here?”

“Not really.” Rich said. “There’s Pastor Pete. What’s his name…Peter Edmonds, I think. He tried to start a church out here but there wasn’t enough interest. Most people who go to church—and that’s not too many—go to ones in Frederickson. He was a mechanic supervisor at the Ford dealership in town before it closed, but studies theology. Nice guy. Not a Bible thumper. He lives by me. I’ll go by his place after breakfast and call you back.”

“Thanks,” Grant said. “Who can make the box?” Before Rich could answer, Grant said, “How about John Morrell? He’s a carpenter and his wife, Mary Anne, was taking care of Mrs. Roth.”

“Sounds good,” Rich said.

“See you up at the Grange in a couple hours,” Grant said.

“Roger that,” Rich said and then said, “Out.” Talking on a radio was different than talking on a phone, but it was helpful to make sure the messages were clear.

Grant went to find John. Grant didn’t know how John would react to his request, but there was only one way to find out.

“John,” Grant said, “we probably will have more of these…events. I don’t think we’ll necessarily have enough wood for all the coffins. We might need to ‘recycle’ them. Could you make one that’s big enough for most people? We can use the coffin for the funeral and bury people straight into the ground without the coffin. Sorry, but…”

“No need to be sorry,” John said. “It’s practical. Besides, I never understood $5,000 coffins back when we had $5,000 to waste on such things.”

“Any thoughts on a place for a cemetery?” Grant asked, realizing how serious this whole thing was. With so many people cut off from their medications, like Mrs. Roth, Grant was afraid several people would be dying. Planning a cemetery would force the community to confront that reality.

John thought. “There’s a vacant lot on top of the hill overlooking the water. It’s right off the road leading here, so people could stop and visit graves. I don’t know who owns it, but it’s been vacant for years.”

Grant suggested they could figure that out by using the map with the lot numbers.

“If it’s owned by someone who hasn’t made it out here yet, they just donated the land,” Grant said. Of course, to be the good Patriot role models they were striving to be, Grant would make sure that an owner of the land who could actually be located would be compensated for the land by the community. They could make sure some of the deceased’s property went to the people who owned the cemetery property. Something like that: simple, but fair.

As Grant walked back down to the cabin, he realized that he needed to get to the Grange, but he didn’t want to use all the gas that Mark’s truck would burn. He had walked home from the Grange a few hours ago, been up most of the night, and was coming off a buzz. It wasn’t exactly prime strolling conditions.

When Grant got back to the guard shack, he asked John, “Hey, anyone around here have a bike or something?”

John thought. “Oh, yeah, the Sharpes up on Covington have a couple of mopeds. Their teenage kids ride them around in the summer. Would you like me to introduce you to them?”

“Yep,” Grant said. “I might need to borrow them.”

“Sure,” John said as he motioned for Grant to follow him. Grant, who was wearing his tactical vest and carrying his AR, would not force the Sharpes to give up their mopeds, but he sure hoped they would. A moped was a perfect way for one person to get somewhere using very little gas. Grant thought that he should have got one for his preps. With gas prices going up like they had, moped prices went up, too, since so many people were riding them to save money. Oh well, you can’t prepare for everything. Someone in Pierce Point would hopefully loan the security guys the mopeds they needed. It wasn’t exactly badass to patrol on a moped, but it beat walking.

The sun was fully up by now. It was beautiful. During the walk, Grant noticed deer paths and fruit trees that he usually missed when he drove past them.

They got to the Sharpes’ house, which was up on the hill overlooking near where he had made the CB transmission. A dog barked and a man came out and waved to John. He introduced Grant to Mr. Sharpe (John had forgotten his first name) and Grant explained why he needed the moped.

“Sure,” said Mr. Sharpe. “We have two. My kids like riding them, but I’m not sure where we will get the gas for them now. They go a week or so on a gallon of gas, but even that gallon is hard to come by now. Besides, you guys are protecting us,” Mr. Sharpe said to Grant. “My neighbors said you guys were a SEAL team. Is that true?”