Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (13 page)

Pete could not open the gate of fear, and as John had learned from his own journey, he directed his friend to draw on his memory of the feelings he had when he touched the stone column. Pete did so, and was able to pass through the gate. John didn’t know what troubled Pete about fear. His friend was very brave, fearless even, but like John, Pete was carrying a life-long accumulation of experience and anxiety that needed to be purged from his psyche. Whatever it was that troubled Pete about fear, he let out a clearly audible sigh of relief when he passed through the gate.

Before John allowed Pete to move up the trail, he had his friend stop and close the gate of fear. This was another challenge for Pete because he couldn’t get the gate to stay closed. At first, John was stuck with how to help him, but then he instructed Pete to look for something to put in front of the gate, like a rock. Pete was silent for a moment, and then said he had a better idea. He told John he superheated his hand and pressed it to the gate, welding it closed with his handprint. He added that he then dragged his hot finger along the gate’s seam, and sealed the gate to the entire frame. It was obvious to John that Pete didn’t want the gate of fear to reopen, and that his mind was more than capable of adapting to and handling the challenges that lay ahead.

Pleased with Pete’s success, John took Pete through three more gates. The gates of guilt, shame and grief all produced very different results, but John could tell they were working, that Pete was reaping the benefits of clearing his mind of excess and unwanted emotional baggage.

After taking Pete through the second gate, John realized he was tiring. But it wasn’t a physical exhaustion as much as a mental one. With that realization came another, that it would be virtually impossible to take someone through all eight gates in a single session. After a fifteen minute cool-down, and another fifteen or so minutes with each gate, the entire process would take about three hours to complete. John was ready to stop Pete after the second gate, but Pete was insistent that they continue just a little farther.

After the fourth gate, the gate of grief, John was mentally spent. He didn’t understand why Pete wasn’t more tired, but he figured it would catch up with him. As it turned out, the fourth gate was the best place to stop because it marked their halfway point. When Pete closed the gate of grief behind him, John told him to take a seat on the trail and return when he was ready.

Pete sat up and began to talk about what happened. He shared much more detailed information about his experience; about stuff he didn’t verbalize during the session. John had no idea how deeply involved and committed his friend had been to the gates until then. John knew how they affected him, but Pete was the first person to share the experience from a new and different perspective, and it had an impact on John. For the first time, he saw his role as gatekeeper as being something more than a title. He was ready for more.

When John entered the kitchen with Pete, Jenna jumped up and asked, “Do you have any more of those silver Mylar storage bag-thingies?”

“I think so, why?”

“Because I think they’ll work great for packaging up food for the trip,” replied Jenna.

John nodded and said, “You’re right. That’s a good idea. I’ll go get some for you. Did you decide on what else you needed . . . food wise . . . from the shelter?”

Jenna handed John a list. She had circled all the items she wanted, and added a number to the left of the circle. “I take it this number is how many cans you want of each item?” asked John, as he pointed to the column of numbers on the inventory sheet with his finger.

Jenna smiled and said, “Do you need help getting the food?”

John was about to say no, but that would have been hasty given the work involved. “Pete, Paul and I have to leave for the neighborhood meeting in fifteen minutes,” said John, “But I’ve left the shelter open if you’re up to the challenge.”

“We can handle it. Marissa can stay in the house with the kids. I’ll take Bonnie and Abby with me. But can you guys help us carry the stuff in when you get back?”

“Sure. Just stack it in the shop and we’ll help you bring it in when we get back. I plan to leave Adam on watch in the OP. Which of the other two boys do you want to stand watch for you in the shop?”

“We really don’t need . . .”

“Jenna, I want a guard up top, in the shop, when you’re down below. Please, just humor me on this, OK?”

“I think Corbin will be fine. Adam and Marcus can guard the house with Marissa.” Jenna leaned close to John and whispered, “But I would rather have Adam stand watch,” she finished.

John said, “I thought about that, but I need Adam to man the radio and keep me posted on what he sees while I’m at the meeting. I want to be able to get back here ASAP . . . at the first sign of trouble. And with you in the shelter, I want that connection maintained through Adam.”

“Are you expecting trouble . . . today?” asked Jenna, as she turned quickly to glance at the other ladies before looking at John again.

“I expect trouble every day, which is why we post a watch,” said John, as he returned his voice to normal.

“You know what I mean, John” replied Jenna, with a slight edge in her voice.

“It’s true, love. I do expect trouble every day, and I don’t like the idea of leaving you under the care of three teenage boys, but they are capable,” he added, and not only because he knew they could hear him from the alcove, but because he did indeed think of them as capable. “I need Pete as a backup, and Paul lives here, so he’s got a right to go. The boys will be fine. I’ll give them instructions. But I would like you to carry your pistol with you at all times. Bonnie shouldn’t be the only one carrying a weapon with her.”

“Pete didn’t give me a choice,” quipped Bonnie.

“Seriously, Bon? That was in the truck . . . on the drive up,” said Pete, in his own defense. “I didn’t say you had to wear your pistol in the house. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re wearing it, but I never said you had to. But I do agree with John, you should wear it from now on. In fact, everyone who’s old enough to know better should have, at a minimum, at least one good knife, and a firearm with them at all times.”

“I’m not ready for Marcus to carry a gun, or a knife,” said Marissa.

“I agree, but that’s what Pete meant when he said . . . old enough to know better,” replied John. “Marcus isn’t ready to carry a firearm, and I haven’t spent any time with Corbin to know that he’s ready either, but we’ll work on that. For the time being, having Corbin stand watch in the shop while you guys are in the shelter is a good idea. He can give you sufficient early warning in the event of a threat.”

They talked through a few more details, like where to find the Mylar bags, and when John broke contact with the group he went to brief the boys on their special duties while he was at the neighborhood meeting. He was right, the boys did hear the conversation in the kitchen. Adam was excited for another operation, or “op,” as he called it, but Corbin and Marcus were disappointed that they wouldn’t
be armed like Adam. John explained to them that he and Pete would immediately begin a training program that would teach them how to defend themselves with their hands, with a knife, and with a firearm. John also wanted them to be proficient with the use of a radio, in land navigation, reconnaissance, and camouflage and concealment, but they weren’t as excited about that stuff as they were about receiving combat training.

It was funny how certain movies popped up in his head at moments like this, but John thought of the scene in the film “Braveheart,” where, after losing his father, the young William Wallace was met by his uncle. When Wallace showed a keen interest in his uncle’s great sword, the lad asked if he could learn how to use it. The uncle’s reply was, with a single finger thrust to Wallace’s forehead, “First I’ll teach you how to use this . . . and then I’ll teach you how to use this,” as he sheathed the sword. The significance of that message was appropriate for the moment. Indeed, John would prefer to teach his boys how to think, to use their heads, before he taught them how to shoot and kill.

But with the luxury of time all but gone, he was grateful he spent the time training Adam. His son was clearly the exception to the rule, because not every father took such a keen interest in his children’s survival skills.
Then again
, thought John,
not every father saw a dark and looming future on the horizon
.

When John finished briefing the young men on their new standing orders, John, Pete and Paul gathered in the garage to prepare for the meeting. John was clearly much more apprehensive about the meeting than his companions, and they rehearsed several scenarios and contingency plans. John’s, “OK, here’s what we’ll do if . . .” drills continued for about fifteen minutes until Pete finally interrupted him and said, “We better leave now or we’ll have to run to get there on time.”

John looked at his watch and said, “You’re right, thanks. But I don’t want to be there early, either.” He quickly checked his pistol and slid it
back in the holster. “I have a bad feeling about the meeting. I just want to make sure we’re all on the same sheet of music.”

“We’re on the same sheet,” said Pete. “Paul will stay on your left . . . to keep clear of your right hand. I’ll stay to your right, but one step back, no more than an arm’s length away.”

“The verbal quick exit code?” asked John, while looking at Paul.

“I’m not feeling well,” replied Paul.

“The physical signal if we can’t verbalize it?” asked John, turning to Pete.

“A scratch under the arm . . . the armpit,” answered Pete.

“We need to stay together and keep our eyes open for trouble. And please let me do all the talking unless I cue you. I’m anticipating some very interesting dialogue about our food and water, especially if the HOA president is leading the discussion,” added John.

“Do you think he’ll talk security?” asked Pete.

“I don’t know, but if he does I’ll endorse you and defer all security questions to you,” said John.

Pete nodded and asked, “And what does mister HOA president look like?”

“A little like John Goodman, but with dark salt and pepper hair, and a lot shorter. His name is Tony Marino, and he’s a real piece of work. I don’t think very highly of him, and he knows it,” concluded John.

“Is he that guy who snubbed you over preparedness . . . back when you offered to teach the neighborhood when you first moved here?” asked Pete.

“Yeah, that’s the guy,” answered John, with a shallow nod. “If he organized this meeting, there’s no telling where it will go. But whatever
is
discussed, please don’t say anything about our survival posture. If the discussion turns to food and water I really need you guys to let me do the talking. Can you allow me that?” asked John. Both men nodded in reply. “OK, then. Let’s go.”

They exited the house from the garage. Once clear, John pulled the door down but didn’t lock it. He wanted to keep it a quick entry option
if there was trouble. They walked down the street in a loose, comfortable, triangle formation. All three men were heavily armed, at least by civilian standards, and they attracted a few stares as they walked by. John’s mind kept taking him back to the spaghetti westerns he enjoyed as a kid. He would have laughed if three equally armed bad guys suddenly stepped out into the street in front of them. Fortunately, John’s fantasy was just that.

As they neared the turn he spotted the young couple who had come for water earlier that day. They were walking just ahead of John, so John slowed his pace to avoid joining them. He saw other neighbors emerge from their homes, and any who met them on the street simply stopped and allowed them to pass, as if they were carrying the plague. He heard several comments about their appearance, but he ignored them.

He was surprised to see so many people heading to the meeting, but even more surprised to see so very few of them armed. The only other armed person they saw was an old man carrying an M1 Garand. Pete commented that the guy looked old enough to be the original owner, and that got a laugh from Paul. He and Pete exchanged a few other comments about the old man until John shushed them both and said, “He’s too young to be a WWII vet. I’d say Korea,” said John.

“You would know,” quipped Pete, “you were there.”

Paul laughed so hard his shotgun slipped off his shoulder and clattered to the ground. They stopped to give Paul time to gather himself. Pete watched him work and said, “Paul, can I suggest something?” as he reached for the shotgun.

“Sure,” said Paul, as he surrendered it to Pete.

“The only thing I like about these bandolier holsters is that they’re wide, but you should carry your weapon like this,” said Pete, as he demonstrated a tactical shotgun carry method to Paul. “This way it’s quicker to bring to bear on a target. And since this shotgun is your only firearm, you’ll want to keep it ready,” finished Pete, as he handed it back to Paul.

Paul studied Pete’s face for a second, as if unsure about what to say, and then offered his gratitude. Paul immediately applied everything Pete had shown him about holding and carrying the shotgun, and they continued their walk to the meeting.