Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (12 page)

As he put the heavy, dark green plastic shopping bags into his cart, John regretted his disdain, and wished there was some way he could feel better about what he knew. If there was some way to communicate the approaching disaster with people, and do it with any kind of authority, he would. But the reality of his situation is that he knew he couldn’t expect strangers to listen, let alone act on his words. As for his friends and family, well, that was a different matter altogether. He would have to think of something to say to them, to help them. They deserved to know what was coming, or at least know how he felt about the approaching
disaster. John knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he didn’t at least try to warn others.

He looked into the cart, and for the first time the enormity of the bill struck him. It wasn’t so much about running up a large tab on his credit card, because he had the money to pay it off. It was about spending so much money without first talking to Jenna. They agreed to always discuss purchases over three-hundred dollars, and John had just exceeded that agreement by a factor of ten. The problem was, he didn’t have an opportunity to talk to her, at least face to face, which was something he knew was very important in a case like this.

Some of the enormity also stemmed from the belief that, in a few days, credit cards and credit card bills, would be the least of his worries. He sincerely hoped he was wrong about everything, about the disaster happening, but he knew he wasn’t. In fact, he was so certain that it would happen, and happen soon, that the thought of not spending money on night-vision goggles seemed a little irresponsible, and not the other way around.

While he headed to the exit, John wondered if anyone else in America shared his same feelings about the disaster, and not from an educated, scientific standpoint, but from a spiritual experience standpoint; he wondered if anyone saw it like he did, through a dream.

He found it hard to believe that he was the only one who could have experienced such a warning, but until he met another person who did, then he would continue to believe he was alone, that he was, quite literally, the only one who saw the disaster for what it was.

John also wondered what it all meant. Why him? Why did he receive the message? Did that make him some kind of freak, or was he going crazy? He didn’t know what to think of his experience, other than he knew it was unique. Then there was the question about what to do with the information he had. Was he to share it with the world?

Actually, shouting a warning really appealed to him, but he knew such a warning wouldn’t reach enough people to make a difference. So then it was a question of intent. If he wasn’t supposed to shout a warning,
then what was the purpose of the dream? Why get such a message if he’s not meant to shout it out as a warning?

Then there’s the matter of sharing the dream’s awareness with Jenna. John doubted she remembered the dream eight years ago, but telling her he left work, and then spending three-grand at Cabela’s, on that same dream no less, would very likely concern her, and make her very angry. He couldn’t speak for other married men, but John hated making Jenna angry, most of all intentionally. Of all the challenges that lay ahead, facing Jenna with his fears and concerns would be the hardest thing for him, and certainly the most challenging to date.

Her acceptance, her believing and trusting in him, was of the utmost importance to John. Jenna’s love and trust had always been objective, and though he knew he had achieved it, he certainly didn’t want to lose it. Beyond Jenna, he didn’t care who believed him.

As for telling others, several scenarios came to mind. He imagined, “Burn him. He’s a witch! Burn him at the stake!” and, “Look, it’s that guy who said we should prepare. He scared us into spending all our money to prepare, and it was all for nothing. We were idiots for listening to him.” And the third, and even scarier to John, was, “It’s him! It’s the man who saved us. He warned us and we prepared. He’s a hero!”

John didn’t want to be anybody’s hero. He just wanted to live with his family in peace. For the thousandth time, he wondered if he actually had any control over his own life. Actually, after he thought about it, the better question was one of direction. The dream was either meant to prepare him, to prepare others, or both. He really couldn’t see beyond that simple fact.

John loaded the bags in the Suburban and wheeled the cart to the building. “
Maybe the dream was a mile-marker, a way of telling me that I’m on track - on a pre-determined course,
” thought John. He didn’t see the dream as a threat to his agency, or his ability to choose one way or the other. He knew he was free to ignore the dream, but doing so wouldn’t change the outcome. He knew the disaster would come, with or without him. So the biggest question he had was, what to do with the information?

He realized that he had been sitting in the Suburban for several minutes with the keys in his hand. John snapped himself out of his distraction with a shake of his head, and started his truck. The drive home went quickly, and hardly registered anything along the way. Everything around him was normal, unchanged, but his mind was running in a thousand different directions at once.

John looked up and realized he was parked in front of his garage. He stepped out from another dream thought with a shake of his head. The truck’s engine was still running, so John turned it off, and opened the garage door with the opener. He was glad Jenna didn’t see him like that. He was already struggling with how to approach her, but for her to approach him, especially when he was in such a stupor, would not be good for his argument. If she found him in such a state, his credibility would be in question, and he might never convince her that this threat was real.

After setting the parking brake, John got out of the truck, grabbed the bags, and walked into the garage. Jenna didn’t come out to greet him while he unloaded the Suburban, which was good, because he wasn’t ready to explain his Cabela’s purchase to her just yet. He first wanted to talk about the disaster.

After the last of the shopping bags were placed on his work table, John covered them with an old moving blanket and straightened his coat. With his preparedness loot safely hidden, he entered a quiet house through the garage to kitchen door.

If he wasn’t feeling wholly committed to the disaster upon leaving work, then he was certainly committed after his expensive trip to Cabela’s. But that was only the first of many such preparedness shopping trips he had planned. He wanted more food, and building materials, and fuel, maybe even a generator.

But before he could move forward with anything more, he would have to confide in Jenna. He would have to convince her the threat was real, and that it would change their lives forever. If only she dreamed like he did. It would be so much easier to move forward if he didn’t have to first convince her that he wasn’t losing his mind.

F
or obvious reasons, John knew Jenna was going to be his toughest sell. Though she was usually always aligned with John on practically every matter, she did have a hard time dealing with his occasional disposition for what she called, “fuzzy logic.” More than ninety percent of the time, John was annoyingly methodical and logical in his argumentative persuasions. But it was the remaining ten-percent of the time, when John “felt” something was right, that he met the most resistance from Jenna.

“Maybe it was her that was more than ninety-percent logical?”
thought John. “
Either that, or I’ve become a romantic.
” John sat his briefcase on the counter and opened the refrigerator to look for a snack. Though he was physically engaged in his search for something to eat, his mind remained fixed on Jenna’s anticipated negative reaction to his recent decisions and actions.

He knew that if an issue didn’t make sense to her - if there wasn’t a clearly defined end point or outcome - then no amount of argument could win her over. That was especially true when John based his argument on premonition, intuition, gut-feeling, or a hunch. He had assumed such fuzzy logic stances in the past, but he had yet to base any argument on one of his dreams. And given her track record of dream acceptance, John felt he was justified in his concern and apprehension.

Strangely, one of the qualities John loved most about Jenna was her need for facts, it balanced her, which meant it also balanced him. Her ability to ground him, especially when he struggled to mentally compile
huge amounts of information floating around in his head, was one of the things he learned to lean on during their marriage.

She had a way of helping him sort out all the junk, find the gold nuggets, and then reach a seemingly logical conclusion. Not that she could ever change his mind once he reached a certain point, like now, but she was always there to help him see things from the ground up.

The refrigerator door swung closed and hit John on the shoulder. He jumped with a start and looked up in surprise. “My, aren’t you jumpy today,” said Jenna, as she reopened the door fully and smiled at John.

John smiled back and said, “Just lost in my thoughts is all.”

“I see that. You know, you’re doing the same thing you yell at the kids for doing?” teased Jenna.

John sighed and said, “Yeah. I guess I’m not as hungry as I thought I was.” He stepped back to shut the refrigerator door, and then embraced Jenna with a kiss and a hug.

Jenna was dressed in her running attire, with shorts, a loose top, and running shoes, so John asked the obvious question, “You going for a run?”

“Maybe. I wasn’t expecting you home for another hour. So what’s this about you staying home tomorrow?” she asked, still playful and teasing. Her hair was pulled tight in a ponytail, and she whipped it to the side as she waited for John’s answer.

“Is anyone home?” he asked, as he squeezed her butt and raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. The kids are upstairs . . . doing their homework. We’d have to turn up the stereo though.”

“Can we go for a walk?”

“A walk? Wow, you’re such a tease. For a minute there I thought you wanted to play,” smirked Jenna.

“I do, but we need to talk first,” said John, as he released her.

“OK, just let me grab my running jacket,” said Jenna, and she darted down the hall to the master bedroom.

John took the opportunity to loosen and remove his tie. He also considered taking off his sports coat, but remembered he had the pistol behind him. He decided to wear it a little longer because he wasn’t interested in removing the pistol.

Jenna reentered the kitchen and asked, “Don’t you want to change into something more comfortable, first?” but then she noticed his businesslike demeanor and asked, “Is everything alright? You look like you were fired from work . . . not taking an early vacation.”

John wasn’t sure how to answer her questions without immediately revealing something of his plans. He preferred to ease her into it. “No, I’m fine. I’ll go like this. And yes, everything is fine. At least as fine as it can be right now,” he said, as they walked together into the garage.

When they reached the driveway, John continued, “I just need your opinion on something, and I don’t want to be distracted by the kids.” He then reached down and took her hand in his, and they walked down the driveway and onto the street.

John appreciated her patience in waiting for him to begin the conversation. They enjoyed walking together, and did so often, but he knew she wouldn’t consider this a normal early evening stroll, not with what he was about to share with her.

“Do you remember that dream I had a long time ago, the one where you had to wake me up?”

“Honey, I can’t keep up with all your dreams,” said Jenna, reverently.

“OK. But do you remember that dream I’m talking about . . . the one where I was in an alley . . . with all the ash and the dead people? Back in o-eight, when we were still at Fort Hood?”

She turned her head and glanced at him, “I remember waking you, yes, but not the dream. Well, some of it, maybe. But why do you ask?”

“I know what it means now,” replied John.

It was her turn to pause and think. Finally, after a minute or two, she said, “But I thought you always understood that dream . . . that it was something about you feeling trapped, or something?”

“That’s not even close to what it means,” said John. “But I know what it means now. I put it all together today.”

She was silent again, as if carefully framing her response. “I don’t dream like you,” replied Jenna. “And I certainly can’t make sense of your dreams like you do, but please tell me you didn’t quit your job because of that dream?”

John stifled a chuckle and said, “I didn’t quit my job, babe, but I doubt that will be an issue anyway. I think things are going to change, and very soon.”

“What do you mean, change?” asked Jenna, with concern once again edging her voice.

“Well . . . what I mean is . . . that dream was about a coming disaster . . . a big disaster. And it’s going to happen very soon,” said John, and he released a very audible sigh. “
There,
” he thought, “i
t’s out now . . . good job easing her in, John.”