Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (14 page)

The development was surrounded by open grazing land, another feature that he really liked, but they rarely saw cattle. And when they did see it, the cattle never came up to the property fence.

They enjoyed an occasional walk through the surrounding fields, but usually in the spring, when the weather was nice and everything was green and alive, or in the early evenings of summer.

John didn’t know who owned the cattle land, but he saw that it was lightly managed. His hope was to someday open a hunting lease with the owner, for the deer enjoyed the property as much as he and Jenna did, but he had yet to establish contact.

Jenna enjoyed nature as much as he did, but the deer terrorized her garden, and absolutely devastated the roses; so much so that she stopped growing them. However, the garden was a different story, it was Jenna’s
livelihood. She got so mad once that she actually encouraged John to shoot them in the back yard.

After the deer raid, John installed a seven-foot game fence around the garden to protect it from them, and any other native animal that seemed interested in her fresh produce. There was no shortage of raccoons, armadillos and rabbits in the area. As for birds, Jenna found the tall fence ideal for supporting the solar screen. Few garden plants could handle direct sunlight during the hottest parts of a Texas summer day, so the solar screen not only defused the light, but helped keep the feathered scavengers out of her garden as well.

Their house was pretty much ideal for enduring a disaster, but John also wanted a storm shelter, so when the swimming pool hole was being dug, he paid the same company to excavate another pit, but this one near the back portion of the lot. To passersby, it looked as if John was installing two swimming pools, but in the back he had a different company deliver and lower a shipping container into the pit.

Before John covered the container with dirt, he sealed it against water, added two vertical entrance tunnels, and had six inches of reinforced concrete poured over the top. Only then did he have a work shop built above it.

At first, John thought to make the shop a detached two-car garage. It was tall enough for an average sized RV, complete with a rollup door, but he didn’t want an RV, only a big workshop. And the shop was steel-framed with aluminum siding, which meant it was sturdy enough. But it was uninsulated, so it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter. The big door helped in the summer, and a potbelly stove in the winter, but the shop was never meant to serve as a residence, so John dressed accordingly, and really enjoyed the space.

The main access for the buried shelter was in the shop itself. The secondary access, or emergency exit, was in the yard behind the shop. The exit tunnels were of stacked and sealed sections of concrete culvert, topped with hinged steel doors. The emergency door was inward hinged, covered in plastic, and topped off with five inches of dirt covered with
sod; making it unrecognizable from above. It was also marked with a single, inoperable sprinkler head.

Steel pipes ran up, from the shelter and through the shop, to provide adequate air circulation down below. It wasn’t a perfect shelter, but it would certainly do for a tornado, and maybe even some other unforeseen disaster. The shop and the shelter were John’s pet projects for more than a year, cost him way more than he intended, but kept him happy in his off time.

Jenna had her own projects. The previous owner planted a few fruit trees, but she added more, as well as two pecan trees, and grapes. And in exchange for the deer stand John wanted to build along the back fence, Jenna asked him to first build her a small chicken coop. The ground was staked, and the plans laid, but John had yet to begin construction despite Jenna’s loving and dedicated pestering.

While they walked, John said he wanted to talk about some of the things they needed to accomplish by Sunday. Jenna asked what was so important about Sunday, and John told her that it was just a short term goal, one set on the possibility that he would return to work on Monday. He could tell Jenna was happy to hear that, which is why he said it, but he really thought the disaster would happen, or at least present itself more convincingly by then. If it didn’t, he wasn’t sure what he’d do, or say, in regards to his frame of mind.

John knew he was putting a lot on the line with his feelings, but they’d never been so strong before. He knew he had to have faith in himself, and his feelings, if he was to follow through with his preps.

It was almost dark when they turned into their driveway. A security light came on when John approached the garage, and he remembered the ammo and his trip to Cabela’s.

In a nonchalant manner, or as much as he could muster for the occasion, John paused and looked at Jenna. She picked up on his hesitation, and with her hands on her hips, she asked, “What now?”

John said, “Hmmm. Well, it’s nothing really. I mean . . . in terms of danger, at least for you. I, on the other hand, might not be so fortunate.”

He could see that she had read him well, and that he had another confession to make, and he chided himself for being reckless with his body language. John knew, from experience, that information was valued based on timeliness, or at least timing. He regretted thinking about the ammo, and lowering his guard, but he also respected his open and honest relationship with Jenna.

“I stopped at Cabela’s on the way home.”

She looked at him and furrowed her eyebrows, “And?”

“Well, I picked up some things we’ll need to survive the coming disaster.”

“What kind of . . . things?”

“Ammo, mostly . . . and optics,” admitted John, with some hesitancy.

Again, Jenna picked up on it, and formed even deeper furrows on her brow. She narrowed her eyes and asked, “I hate it when you go to that store . . . how much did you spend?”

“Honey, look, if things go south, we’ll need a lot more than what I brought home from Cabela’s if we’re to survive. Remember . . . you said you’d trust me on this.”

“I did,” said Jenna, “but that doesn’t mean I won’t get angry with you.”

“Okay, fair enough. Anyway, I made a list of the things we’ll need to get by Sunday, and ammunition was on the list. Since I was driving by Cabela’s, and was in front of the traffic, I decided to make a quick stop and pick up a few things. I know you won’t believe me when I say this, but I really didn’t get carried away.” He then walked into the garage and threw back the blanket that was covering his purchase.

She saw the supplies and moaned, “John, you have got to be kidding me! How much did you spend?”

“You don’t want to know.”

She sighed and said, “Well, I hope you’re wrong about needing all this stuff,” while waving her arm over the table.

“I’m not wrong, Jenna. I know I’m right. I know it’s not a lot to go on, but I know it . . . deep down; balls to bones, as they say.”

J
ohn grabbed his briefcase off the kitchen counter and headed for the den, while at the same time hollering a greeting to his kids upstairs. Jenna elected to stay in the kitchen and get dinner started, while John prepared to raise the issue of the coming disaster with them.

He was relieved she agreed to support him on the disaster, but he wasn’t convinced her trust included supporting him in telling the kids about it. That level of trust was between the two of them, not between him and the kids. It wasn’t that he expected her to help explain it, but he hoped she’d at least be close enough at hand to lend moral support. John reminded himself that the kitchen was right next to the dining room, and to quit worrying about the kids.

They didn’t know about any of their father’s dreams, but John never had a reason to share them with anyone other than Jenna. And given her apprehension about them, he was never inclined to bring the kids into his world of visions. He supposed he would have shared his dreams with them if the opportunity ever presented itself, but it never did; at least not till now.

Besides, like most teenagers, John’s kids, Adam and Abigail, favored a more distant relationship with their parents. In fact, they were rarely within arm’s reach of either parent most of the time, preferring instead to talk to their friends on the phone, play video games, or do the stuff other teenage kids liked to do.

John could involve them when the time was right, but most of the time, just getting them to participate in family activities was like trying to pull teeth. They both worked hard to raise strong, independent
children, but sometimes that independence came at a price, like when he wanted to hold family meetings.

John paused at the bottom of the stairs, yelled once for the kids to come down, and then walked into the dining room. He sat at the head of the table and waited for them to join him while he checked his email on his smart phone.

The sound of movement on the stairs made John look up. He saw Adam come sauntering down the stairs with his phone held up to his face. His sixteen year old frame was tall and lean, similar to John’s at that age, but he had Jenna’s light-brown hair, and hazel-green eyes. Seeing Adam made John wonder what he’d do differently if he could start over again at sixteen. John knew it was an exercise in frivolity, but it was fun just the same. Fortunately, people couldn’t start over. If they could, it would make for a very different and perhaps less entertaining world. He knew, from experience, that mistakes made experience; they defined character and proved invaluable later in life. “
Still, to be sixteen again
,” thought John.

“Hey, dad.”

“Hey, Adam. Where’s your sister?”

“She’s on the phone . . . said she’ll be down in a sec.”

John nodded and asked, “How was school today?”

“Fine.”

“Just . . . fine?”

“Yes sir.”

John looked at him and smiled. John never expected his kids to address him as “sir,” but he knew it was Adam’s way of distracting him from asking any more questions about school, or anything else for that matter. The only thing Adam hated more than doing the dishes, was talking about his day at school.

Adam sat across from his dad and continued plucking away at his phone. John was tempted to tell him to put the phone down, but decided it might just serve to distract Adam enough to get him to open up about something school related. “Your grades holding up?”

“Yes, dad,” he groaned, and rolled his eyes while tilting his head back until his chin was practically pointing at the ceiling.

“Is it really that hard to answer questions about school?” asked John, patiently.

“It’s not that I don’t want to answer questions about school, dad. I just don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay, fine. I don’t want to talk about work when I get home either, but I have something I need to talk to you guys about. Can you go get your sister for me?”

Adam hollered at the top of his lungs, “Abby!”

“Adam, I could have done that. Please go upstairs and invite your sister down again.”

Adam left the dining room and ran up the stairs. John heard him yell something at his sister, who then fired back with an equally loud comment of her own. John watched Adam bound back down the stairs.

He offered a calm, “She’s coming,” before plopping himself back in his chair and picking up his phone.

“Thanks,” replied John, and he also resumed scanning his phone while they waited for Abby to arrive.

A few minutes later, Abby came gliding into the dining room. John didn’t even hear her come down the stairs, so quiet was her descent. She walked over to John, kissed him on the cheek, and then sat as far from her brother as she could manage.

Abby was always light on her feet. She walked quieter than anyone he knew. He once mentioned it to Jenna, and she made reference to Abby’s ballet training. From that point on, John did notice how Abby walked like a ballerina. But still, there was something about her movement that was unique. To John, she walked like a cat. Whereas, Adam moved more like a canine. John reasoned it’s why they fought all the time – like cats and dogs.

Abby took a seat next to John, her mobile phone still glued to her ear, and carried on her conversation. An occasional, “uh huh,” came from her lips, and she turned to her dad and mouthed the words, “I’m almost done.”

John waited patiently for her to finish. Like Adam, Abby was also tall and thin for her age. She had Jenna’s build, but John’s dark hair and blue eyes. Abby literally had boys her age tripping over themselves when she walked by. Her life changed when she turned eleven.

About a year ago, while playing springtime soccer, Abby just couldn’t seem to drink enough water to satisfy her thirst despite frequent trips to the bathroom. John told Jenna about it, and she had him take Abby to their pediatrician.

As it turned out, Abby’s ketones were off the chart, and she was immediately admitted to the emergency room of the nearest children’s hospital. Abby being diagnosed as a type-1 diabetic changed everything for them as a family, but they made it through.

For John, the three days he spent with Abby in the hospital was very special. Despite the hard trial, they spent a very precious time together. In fact, John felt they grew closer from it, more so than they could have any other way. He hated the fact that she had to endure such a medically dependent illness, but Abby’s strength surprised John. You wouldn’t think she was diabetic from watching her. She let nothing slow her down.