Compass Call: Survival & Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 3) (6 page)

John returned to the entryway and found Pete looking through the door’s peephole. “What do you see?”

Adam and Pete began speaking at the same time until John said “Pete, what do you see?” Adam went quiet, and he reached down for his rifle and range bag as Pete gave his report.

“She just knocked. I told her we’d be right with her. You’re right, she doesn’t look like a threat. I didn’t see any weapons,” said Pete.

“Adam, what do you see?” asked John.

“I can’t see the lady from here, but the man is still standing by the mailbox. Do you want me to load the rifle?”

“Load, but don’t chamber,” said John. “And take your orders from Pete while I’m out front talking to these people,” added John, as he lifted the first section of the barrier away from the door, which would give him just enough room to slip through sideways. He turned the deadbolt and looked at the woman through the peephole to quickly assess her threat potential.

Pete squeezed John’s shoulder, as a sign that he was ready as backup, and John nodded. He cracked the door, gave the woman another look, and stepped out to greet her. As Adam guessed, she was in her early thirties, with a round face, short brown hair, and a clear complexion. She reminded John of a musician, an elementary school teacher, or maybe even a Liberian. She had a simple, clean-cut look about her that radiated innocence, but John knew that meant nothing when it came to potential threats. Appearance meant absolutely nothing to the wary educated. Still, she smiled broadly when John stepped out to greet her. With no smile in return, John asked, “Can I help you?”

“I hope so. I’m really sorry to bother you,” said the woman, as she swung the empty orange bucket at her side, “but can you spare some water?” That explained her well-used bucket, but not why she came
to John. He suppressed his annoyance at the intrusion and smiled in return.

“What’s your name, miss?” asked John.

“It’s missus, missus Palmer, but you can call me Amy. That’s my husband, Kevin,” she said with a turn and a wave. “We’re really sorry to bother you, but no one else will help, and I . . . we . . . really need some water,” finished Amy, with a radiant smile. Her demeanor was very disarming, and John almost considered inviting her in, but he was still troubled by her request.

“Nice to meet you Amy, I’m John Anderson,” said John without offering his hand. “So, what makes you think we have water?” he asked politely, but with a shrewd eye and a flat tone. Amy shifted her weight and cleared her throat, but before she could answer, John said, “I take it you didn’t collect water while the taps were still flowing.” Her expression soured. She obviously didn’t like being lectured, but John wanted to know more about who he was dealing with.

Reactions to judgmental statements always served to reveal something to him about the people he was dealing with, but it was a risky experiment. If they were quick to anger, or judgmental in reply, then John usually walked away. But the test only worked when people wanted something from him, which was not often the case. The disaster changed that. John noted Amy’s guarded response, but admired her self-control. She knew she wasn’t in a position to demand anything, and John could work with that. That didn’t mean he liked her, but he was softening up to her.

Still, why she didn’t save water bothered him, especially when it was still flowing. Grant it, the neighborhood water tower was small, more of a pressure tank than anything, but it was still a source of potable drinking water while it lasted. John figured the water stopped flowing a day or two after the power went out. It was one of the things he liked about his house, that it had its own deep water well. As far as he was concerned, being tied to the neighborhood water cooperative was little better than being on public water, and it gave the neighborhood HOA,
the home-owners association, way more power and leverage than they deserved.

Amy turned to look at her husband and subtly waved him up to join her. He looked away, down the street, and acted as if he didn’t see her request. Amy scratched her scalp and said, “Honestly, we didn’t think the water would stop so soon.” John looked at her hair and noticed that it probably hadn’t been washed in a week or more. She didn’t look dehydrated, and she clearly wasn’t sick, so they must have run out of water just recently. “We did have a little water, for drinking and cooking, but we’re completely out. And Kevin said you covered your pool with some kind of tent before the ash started falling. He thinks your pool water isn’t all ashy like ours. He thinks you still have clean pool water.” She held her radiant smile on John, but he could read the desperation in her eyes.

John nodded and asked, “Is that an assumption you’re willing to bet your life on?”

Amy’s eyes got big and she stopped swinging her bucket. “What? I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you,” she said. “We can pay for it.”

“You didn’t offend me, Amy. I was merely pointing out the fact that your life is in my hands if you’re already desperate enough to come ask me for water . . . and I’m not interested in your money,” replied John, as he paused to look between the two. He couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man would have his wife conduct life-saving negotiations from a distance. He added Kevin to his short list of neighborhood concerns, especially since he was apparently nosey enough to note who had what in the neighborhood. “And you’re right. I did cover my pool, but I haven’t checked it since the storm. For all I know it’s filled with ash. But here’s what I’ll do, you go back and stand with your husband, and I’ll be back to talk to you in a minute,” said John.

Amy exhaled with a heavy sigh, and the desperation seemed to flow off of her in a wave. “Thank you, John. Thank you. Thank you so very much,” she said, and turned and walked back to her husband, swinging the empty orange bucket as she walked. John
studied the man from a distance and again wondered what kind of game he was playing by using his wife as a point-man. Maybe he thought she was a better negotiator. He didn’t know, but he was determined to figure it out before they left with any water. John reentered the house and Pete closed the door behind him. “What do you think’s going on with them?” asked John.

“I think it’s pretty straight forward,” said Pete, “they just want water.”

“It’ll start with water, but we both know it won’t end there,” said John.

“Nope, it sure won’t. How are you going to deal with it?” asked Pete.

“I’m going to give them some water from the pool, and then we’ll see what happens,” answered John.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good plan,” said Pete.

John didn’t want Adam to hear what he was about to say, so he leaned close to Pete and whispered, “I’m prepared to surrender the pool water to the neighborhood, and maybe even some of our food. We’re not going to be staying here much longer anyway.”

“Say again?” asked Pete, clearly confused by what he just heard.

With another whispered delivery, John said, “We’re leaving the house. We’re not staying here . . . we can’t. I’ll explain later, after we take care of the water, I just need to know that you trust me, Pete. Do you?” asked John, as he turned to look at his friend.

“With my life, brother, you know that,” replied Pete, without hesitation.

“Good, because I’m counting on you . . . more than you know.”

“Well, that’s funny, because I’m counting on you,” said Pete, with a smile. “So how do you want to address the water problem?”

“I’m thinking a straight forward approach will work best, but I want to show them that we’re well armed, so grab your AR. I’ll also carry mine, but I’ll keep it slung over my shoulder. I don’t want to leave any doubt in their minds that we’re capable of defending ourselves.

Do you think we should pat them down, you know, as a precautionary measure?”

“I can, if you want, but if your pool becomes the neighborhood’s water supply, which I think it will, then you won’t want to mess with patting everyone down,” answered Pete.

“You’re right, so just cover me at the low-ready and we’ll play it by ear,” said John.

“Good enough for me,” said Pete, “let’s do this.”

CHAPTER 2

J
ohn considered grabbing Adam’s rifle before going out, but then thought better of it and went to get his own from the gun safe in the garage. While John briefed Jenna on their plan to give water to Amy and Kevin, Pete went upstairs to grab his own weapon and gear. Jenna wasn’t thrilled with the idea of sharing their water like this, but she recognized the nature of the request. The distribution had to be controlled, or it would result in a mad-dash for the water.

Without revealing to Jenna that they wouldn’t be needing the pool water anyway, John convinced her that sharing it was the right thing to do. Though she was surprised at John’s willingness to share their water, she made him promise not to share any of their food until they first talked about it. John agreed that the food was their joint survival investment, and that she had a vote in how it was to be used. Satisfied, Jenna returned to her work, and John waited at the side door for Pete.

Thoughts of leaving home filled his mind. He wasn’t looking forward to sharing that plan with Jenna and the kids, or anyone else in the house for that matter. He felt better sharing it with Pete, but he wasn’t ready to share it with anyone else, and that made him feel weak. John had some idea how Jenna would react to the news, but he couldn’t worry about it at the moment. He pushed it away, knowing that he could convince about the importance of leaving, that it would be very clear to all of them that it was the right thing to do. The opportunity would present itself.

Pete joined John at the side door and they wasted no time stepping out. There was an ozone tint to the cool morning air that John
never before smelled, but the sky was clear, and bright, and very much a welcome sight. After the heaviness of the ash laden sky, every morning looked bright and cheery despite the disaster. Small dunes of ash lingered on the leeward side of walls and other wind breakers, but John didn’t think even that would be around much longer. After another good rainstorm, he figured all the remaining ash would be gone. But he was amazed that the recent thunderstorm managed to remove almost all of the ash from the area. To John, it looked like a janitor had vacuumed the area, and left behind careless traces of ash in his haste.

As they approached the pool, John was pleased to see that the tarps he draped over the sturdy PVC framework were still tight. Their elaborately constructed pool cover had weathered two storms, the ash, and the thunderstorm. Pete studied it with renewed admiration and said, “Wow, it held up really well to the storm.”

“The sandbags did the trick,” replied John, as he approached the pool where the handrail pressed firmly against the interior lining of the tarp. He then removed a large folding knife from his pocket and flicked it open with a practiced toss of his hand.

“The drainage ditch worked really well too,” said Pete.

The ditch around the pool was filled with what looked like gray mud, but it was dry. Pete stepped on the gray surface and noticed that it held his weight without leaving much of a footprint. The ash mud that filled the ditch had drained of water and left behind a smooth finish that looked a little like a concrete footing. “Interesting,” said Pete.

“I’m glad the pool was elevated enough to avoid all that runoff. At least that’s my hope,” said John. “Care to bet on how clean the pool water is?”

“That depends on how clean it was before you covered it,” teased Pete.

“It was clean enough to . . .” John was about to say, “drink,” but he stopped himself. He wasn’t at a point in his personal survival effort to drink his pool water, not with his ample supply of available potable
water. “It was clean enough to drink with a little filtration and purification,” he said with a shrug.

“Do you think that couple, what are their names, Amy and Kevin . . . do you think they’ll know how to purify the pool water?” asked Pete.

“I doubt it,” replied John, “or they would have brought a cleaner container with them, one they could seal. They probably want it for washing, which is what I was planning to do with it.” Then, as an afterthought, he added, “But the odd thing about thirst is that, when it takes hold of you, you’ll drink almost anything to satisfy it. And that’s a dangerous time for survivors, when they’re driven to drink dirty water. The body is already weak from dehydration, so when you add a living organism, or some other contaminant to your body by drinking dirty water . . . when your body needs it the most . . . it’s an invitation for trouble.”

“Yeah,” replied Pete. “Like the water in Mexico.”

“Exactly. I remember that trip. Our problem is that we’re used to drinking very clean water. Our bodies aren’t conditioned to consume any organism. Even the slightest impurity can make us sick.”

“I had the runs for two days once, just from eating the ice from a soft drink I bought on the U.S. side of Nogales,” said Pete, with a grimace.

“We all did, but that was before water purification was made easy and portable,” said John, as he cut a long slit in the tarp with his pocket knife. With a flashlight in hand, he stuck his head through the hole and shined his flashlight into the pool water, and around the interior of the pool cover. The smell of chlorinated water filled his nose as he breathed in the humid air that had been, until just moments ago, safely trapped under the tarp cover. He was pleased to see that only a small amount of ash had accumulated on the stairs and round the bottom edge of the pool near the stairs. “The water’s good,” yelled John from inside the tent. He pulled himself out and asked Pete, “How do you think we should do this?”