Curtain Fall: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 1) (18 page)

John remembered he already made a list, earlier that day while at work, so he got up and went to the den to find his briefcase. He removed the earlier list, compared the two, and added a few more lines to his to-do list.

The list was longer than he thought it would be, but it still felt like he was forgetting something; he just couldn’t put his finger on it. John got up and walked through the kitchen, flipping off lights as he went, and decided it was time to show his list to Jenna

John made his way to the master bedroom and found Jenna lying on the bed, reading a book titled, “Edible and Useful Plants of Texas and
the Southwest.” It dawned on him then what he forgot to add to his list–stuff for Jenna’s garden and its produce.

“Honey,” said John, “do you know what the ash is going to do to the environment?”

“I think so. Why do you ask?” she replied, as she marked her page and sat her book on the bed.

“Well, I think you need to consider the future of your fruit tree and garden produce.”

“I already have,” she replied. “Not everything is ready to be harvested, so unless you plan to cover everything, I’m thinking we’ll have to start over once the ash is gone.”

John nodded and sat on his side of the bed, then kicked off his shoes and reclined against the pillows. “Do you think we’ll be able to harvest some of the stuff after the eruption?” Jenna asked.

“It depends on how much ash falls, and how long it sticks around . . . I would guess,” said John. “But I think we should pull in everything we can before the ash falls.”

It was Jenna’s turn to nod. She looked at John and asked, “How long do you think it will take for the ash to reach us?”

“I don’t know. I guess it depends on the jet stream. If the air currents run it this way, which I’m sure they will, then we might see it as early as twenty-four hours, or as late as three days after the eruption.”

Jenna blanched at John’s prediction. “Wow. That’s faster than I thought. I figured we’d have about a week or so.”

“We may, it just depends on the jet-stream, and conditions in the upper atmosphere. It will also depend on the strength of the eruption. But I think it will reach us much sooner than a week. Weather patterns may be predictable for up to four or five days, but this will be different. For one thing, the eruption will probably generate its own weather pattern.”

“How long do you think the ash will linger?” she asked.

“Depends on how much we get. One good Texas rainstorm could wash it all away pretty quickly.”

“I read that volcanic ash is nutrient rich . . . that it makes good fertilizer. That could be a good thing for us . . . for the trees and the garden,” remarked Jenna.

“I didn’t know that,” said John. “Did you read that on the internet?”

She smiled and said, “I did, and no . . . I don’t believe everything I read on the internet.”

They laughed together for a moment and John rolled next to her to ask, “So, do you need any gardening or canning supplies?”

“I’m good on gardening supplies,” said Jenna, “but I’ll check the canning supplies and get back to you. Did you finish your list?”

“I did. You want to see it, or are you still studying weeds?”

She glanced at the book cover, “It’s not about weeds, smart guy, and you’ll be thanking me later when I’m providing fresh, edible greens, natural medicines, and other useful things from nature while we’re trying to survive on
your
army food.”

He smiled, kissed her, and said, “They’re called MRE’s, love,” replied John, as he handed her the list.

She looked at the list and said, “Thanks for adding feminine products and toilet paper. We’ll need a lot of toilet paper though. Hand me your pen, please.” Jenna took the pen from John’s outstretched hand and added several heavy lines under the line entry of toilet paper.

“Anything else?” asked John, as he got up to walk to the closet.

“Your Costco trip will need a list of its own,” said Jenna. “Things like spices, laundry soap, bar soap, shampoo. . .”

“You’re right,” interrupted John. “That will be a big trip. I was thinking about going tomorrow . . . as soon as they open. Are you up for it? I could sure use your help.”

“Yes. Of course I’ll help. I also think the kids should stay home tomorrow,” she added.

“Skip school?” asked John with surprise. He wasn’t as much surprised at Jenna’s idea, as for not thinking about it himself.

“Sure, why not?” she said. “What difference will a couple of days make? Besides, if you’re serious about increasing our preparedness, then
we’ll need their help. I also don’t want them blabbing at school about how their paranoid father thinks the world is coming to an end.”

“Paranoid?” replied John, hurt that she didn’t say it in a playful manner.

“You’re right . . . that was a bad choice of words. I’m sorry,” replied Jenna.

John shrugged and said, “No worries. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Well, you can bet the kids will talk about it at school. And we don’t need it . . . we don’t need that kind of attention. I’m not talking isolation . . . just insulation. Besides, we really will need their help if we’re to get everything ready.”

John nodded his agreement and asked, “Do you really think I’m being paranoid?”

“Yes,” replied Jenna, and she rose from the bed to approach John. She wrapped her arms around him and said, “But that’s not a bad thing if it prepares us . . . right? I mean, if we end up needing all the stuff we buy tomorrow,” added Jenna.

“Thanks for being sweet, but trust me when I say I’ve done a lot of self-assessment over this . . . this dream stuff. I never said I was normal, at least not normal like everyone else. I always knew I was different. And I warned you about it when we first met. You remember . . . right?” asked John.

Jenna nodded and hugged him tightly, but she said nothing, so John continued. “I see things differently than most people, Jenna, but I can’t deny my feelings, my conclusions, any more than I can deny my beating heart. I mean, if the disaster occurred and I did nothing . . . well, to see you or the kids suffer would kill me a thousand times over.”

“So what if it doesn’t happen, we’re still prepared. We’ll still have everything we bought. It’s still a win in my book,” finished John.

She rested her head against his chest and quietly said, “I trust you.”

“What really bothers me,” said John, “is that I can’t tell anyone. I know it sounds insecure, but frankly, I’m not compelled to stretch my
neck out that far. I don’t want people, especially family and friends, to think I’m paranoid. Do you know what I mean, Jenna?”

“I do,” she said. “I’m sorry I called you paranoid.”

“It’s not your type of paranoid I worry about,” said John. “I’m talking about the type of paranoid that most people call crazy.”

“What are you gonna do?” she asked in another soft voice.

“Well, for one, I think it’s too late. I don’t think there’s enough time for most people to prepare, so why even bother?”

Jenna pushed back to look up at John. “John, I can see that this is a huge burden for you, and I’m just now beginning to realize what you’re going through. I know it was hard for you to tell me . . . to tell the kids how you felt about the disaster. And I know it will be even harder to tell others, but I’m with you in whatever you decide,” added Jenna.

“I also think it would be a waste of time,” said John.

“But the real issue here is whether or not you’ll be able to live with yourself if you tell no one about the disaster?” asked Jenna.

“I was thinking about calling the family over for a BBQ on Saturday. We can grill some steak and talk about the future. I can tell them then. What do you think?”

“Okay,” she said, drawing out the word like a note in a song.

“What?”

“Nothing,” replied Jenna. “You were saying?”

“I really hope I’m wrong about this . . . that’s what makes me crazy. I know I’m right, but I hope I’m wrong,” sighed John.

“Well, if it’s any consolation . . . I believe you. I think you’re right about the disaster. I know you wouldn’t be doing all this if you didn’t think you were right. But if it gives you any comfort, I hope you’re wrong, too.”

John was touched by Jenna’s love and support, and he took a couple deep breaths to clear his voice of emotion before saying, “Thanks, Jenna.”

It was all he could manage given the high emotions of the day. He also didn’t want to sound hopelessly lost or desperate, not to himself,
and certainly not to Jenna or the kids. Even if he felt lost or desperate, he couldn’t allow himself to show it.

They moved to the bed and lay down next to each other, holding hands in their silent thoughts for the future. John knew how blessed he was to have Jenna in his life, that he would do anything to protect her and the kids. Though he didn’t quite understand his role or purpose in the dream, he knew he would do anything to help guarantee the survival of his family, even if it cost him his life.

Everything he did to prepare wasn’t for him, it was for his family. He knew he could survive on his own, with little or nothing even, but he was not alone. He was not a solitary soldier, but rather a husband and father, with responsibilities, duties and obligations.

Finally, John was at peace with himself for the first time since hearing the news and putting the entire disaster puzzle together. He ran his fingers through Jenna’s hair as they lay in each other’s arms on the bed.

“Gross, are you guys going to be like that for long? I need to talk to mom,” asked Abby.

Jenna pushed up and kissed John, then swung her legs off the bed to address her daughter.

John also got up and said, “I need to go check something in the garage. I’ll leave you two alone,” and then left the bedroom after giving Abby a quick peck on the forehead.

J
ohn found Adam in the family room playing “Call of Duty” on the Xbox. He stood behind his son and asked, “Adam, can you pause your game for a minute? I need your help in the garage.”

“Sure dad. But can I finish this round first? I’m playing live and I’m on a roll.”

John glanced at the screen and noticed that Adam was, indeed, on a roll. He was racking up a huge kill-streak lead against the fifteen other players who were also connected to the game through Xbox Live.
“
That’s one distraction I won’t miss
,” mused John, but then immediately regretted it.

The Xbox was Adam’s release, and even John liked playing “Call of Duty” with him on occasion. Adam usually whipped him so badly that he gave up after a few minutes of play, but John was OK with that, and he usually just ended up pointing out the tactical errors made by Adam and the other players, much to Adam’s barely contained annoyance.

It frustrated John that his reaction time was slowing with age, but he kept reminding himself that it was only a game. He also liked to remind Adam it was a game, that there were no re-spawns in life, and that in combat, when real lead was flying, Soldiers’ weren’t as reckless and carefree when responding to enemy fire.

That was the most John ever mentioned to Adam about his combat experience, just simple references about tactical situations. His son asked pointed questions about John’s experience, but he didn’t want to talk about it. John had yet to share any combat experience with Adam because he didn’t want Adam to idolize or fear him. He also didn’t want to fuel Adam’s interest in the military.