Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (3 page)

John turned and saw Abby standing in the doorway. Like the deer, she stood frozen in place, reluctant to leave the safety of the house until John turned to recognize her. Adam was about to comment on the deer when John gripped his arm, gently but firmly, and shook his head. Adam understood and remained silent. “What do you think of the ash, baby?” John asked his daughter.

“I think it’s beautiful, daddy. But it’s scary, too.”

“I agree,” said John. “Does mom want us to come in for breakfast?”

“Yeah. She said breakfast is ready, and we’d better hurry up and eat before the power goes out.” Abby finished the report in a matter-of-fact tone that humored John. It was as if she had presented an official declaration.

“OK, tell her we’re on our way,” replied John, with a smile.

Adam followed Abby inside, and John took a moment to measure the depth of the ash once again. It was a little more than five inches deep, and still falling. He looked up at the sky from under the patio. A dark cloak of ash hung low in the air above him, like heavy rain clouds. He was glad he wasn’t out in the ash, exposed to its relentless descending volume. It was falling heavy enough to douse a candle, or maybe even a small camp fire. Moving around in the ash would be very dangerous, and hazardous for the health.

John joined his family at the kitchen table. They were silently eating, unwilling to engage each other in their usual playful dialogue. He didn’t feel inclined to cheer them up, knowing full well that any attempt would seem artificial, but he tried anyway. “The food smells great, especially the bacon. Thanks, Babe.” Everyone ignored him, so
he grabbed a generous portion of bacon and poured maple syrup over it. That got a response.

“That’s gross, daddy,” said Abby, as she daintily nibbled a piece of bacon from her fingers. John stuck his tongue out at Abby and she cried, “Mom, dad just stuck his tongue out at me.”

“John! Really?” said Jenna. That was all it took. Soon everyone was chatting it up, just like normal, talking about life again.

As the conversation flowed, John wondered how much of their frozen food they could eat before the power went out. Thankfully it was still running, but Jenna had taken precautions and placed a lit candle on the table. Once again, John was impressed with her foresight. He forked two more pancakes onto his plate and grabbed more bacon. Jenna turned to him, and asked, “So, how deep’s the ash now?”

“It’s a bit over five inches, but it’s still falling. I can’t see the sun, or any part of the sky, so I have no idea how long it will fall, but if I had to guess, I’d say at least another hour or two,” said John, as he stood and walked to the kitchen door that led out to the garage. “I’ll be right back,” he said, and disappeared from sight. He returned a few minutes later with a small, hand-cranked, emergency radio. He sat it on the kitchen table, wound it up, and then fiddled with the knobs and dials. He found only static. “I didn’t think we’d be able to pick up anything while the ash was falling. It’s too thick. It’s probably interfering with the radio signals.” He slid the radio to the center of the table and added, “We probably won’t be able to pick up anything until the ash settles, but I’ll keep it on the table just in case.”

When John reached for his fork the lights surged, flickered once, and went out. Adam and Abby moaned. John glanced at Jenna, the flickering candlelight danced across her face. She smiled at John, obviously pleased with her preemptive measure. A minute later the lights came back on and the kids cheered, but it was only for a few seconds. “We knew this would happen,” said John. He read the resolute will to survive in Jenna’s eyes. Neither of them would complain in front of
the kids, so they laughed together. “Good idea with the candle, mom,” said John. “I’m guessing we’ll need a few more before the day is done.”

“Do you want me to go get the emergency flashlights, dad?” asked Adam.

“No. Not yet. Let’s finish our breakfast first. And please don’t open the fridge unless you absolutely have to. We need to keep the food as cold as possible for as long as possible, or at least until I can go start the generator,” said John.

“What are we gonna do first?” asked Adam, openly eager and excited to get to work.

John winked at Jenna and turned to Adam, “Well . . . we first need to cover the downstairs windows with plastic. I want to seal ‘em up before the wind starts to blow the ash around. We need to keep as much of it out of the house as possible. Then we’ll install the door braces for the front and back doors. And then I was thinking about building a clean room, so we can go in and out of the ash, and not bring any of it into the house. I have a few ideas about . . .”

“Sorry, dad, but what’s a clean room?” asked Adam.

In his eagerness to discuss his plans, John didn’t consider the fact that Adam, or anyone else in the family, wouldn’t know what a clean room was. “Oh, you’re right. Well, a clean room is a place where we can control the difference between two environments. For example, if it was raining bird poo . . .”

“John! Really?” exclaimed Jenna, with mild disgust. “Bird poo?”

“OK, bird poo is a tasteless example. I’ll stick with ash.” said John, and bowed his head to Jenna’s motherly wisdom. “Anyway, a clean room is the space between two different environments. It’s a way to keep the dirty environment from contaminating the clean one.” John looked at Adam and asked, “Do you understand what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah, dad. But I liked the bird poo example too,” replied Adam.

“Adam Edward Anderson, do not encourage your father!” Jenna chided her son. “We don’t need examples that include the natural
functions of anything, human or animal, from your father.” They all laughed heartily at Jenna’s righteous indignation. John was glad to see that everyone was relaxed enough to joke around. If they could laugh together now, on the eve of destruction, then there was hope they would make it through the disaster intact, both mentally and physically.

John rubbed his eyes and continued, “As I was saying, we’ll need a clean room to keep the ash out of the house when we come and go.”

“Where do you propose to build your . . . clean room?” asked Jenna, with finger quotes at the words, “clean room.”

“The laundry room is the only logical place since we’ll be using the side door to come and go,” replied John. “We’ll cover the walls, ceiling and floor with plastic, and make pass through curtains on either side. We only need an area that’s big enough to remove, or put on clean clothing. We’ll do all the dirty work in the mud room. That’s where we’ll leave our coveralls and other protective equipment,” replied John.

“We still need to cover the wood,” said Adam, “can I help you?”

John understood Adam’s eagerness to go outside, but he wasn’t as excited about it as his son was. John had goggles, a breathing mask, and painter’s coveralls, but that was only a small part of the exposure challenge. Their biggest problem with the ash falling around them was with low visibility. Working in the dark with a flashlight was one thing, but working in the dark and falling ash, where a flashlight beam would barely penetrate the gloom, was something else entirely. “I have to make a trip out to the shop, but that’s only out of necessity. I’ll probably have you stay in the house when I go out,” John replied. He saw the disappointment on Adam’s face, and added, “I need you to guard the house. But I promise, when the ash stops falling, I’ll let you come out with me when I check the pool cover and cover the firewood. OK?”

Adam nodded, “OK, dad.” John could see the anxiety in Adam’s eyes, his desire to get out of a house that had become little more than a prison for him. John had an idea to help Adam overcome his anxiety.
“First, let’s go get the shotgun. I want to keep the tactical one ready, and I want you to be responsible for it. Can you handle that?”

“Oh. Yes, dad. Absolutely,” replied Adam.

“Can I have a gun, too, daddy?” asked Abby.

John saw Jenna tense up at Abby’s question, and he quickly considered his options. Abby was comfortable with firearms, she was a really good shot in fact, almost as good as Jenna, but he knew Jenna didn’t like the idea of Abby carrying around a loaded gun, disaster or no disaster. “I think one gun is enough for the time being, baby, but I’ll have Adam show you how to use it. Then he can put it somewhere safe . . . where you guys can get to it in case of an emergency. Deal?”

“OK, daddy.”

John glanced at Jenna and was rewarded with a nod of approval. He knew she understood the risk of having a loaded shotgun lying around, but she also knew that risk was necessary if they were to have any hope of addressing a potentially greater risk, like that of an intruder. John and Jenna knew they could only survive if they worked together as a family, and that meant everyone had to know the basics of self and home defense. John got up from the table and grabbed flashlights from the family designated kitchen drawer. “Does anyone else want a flashlight?” he asked. Everyone did, so John handed them out. Jenna and Abby preferred flashlights that cast a wide beam and illuminated large areas, but John and Adam preferred flashlights that cast a more direct beam of light.

With flashlights in hand, John and Adam went to the garage to get the tactical shotgun from the safe. John opened the safe, removed the Mossberg 500, and handed it to Adam. John told Adam to inspect the weapon while he grabbed ammunition from his ammo storage box. John had several different types of rounds for his shotguns, everything from skeet loads to slugs, but he wanted to keep it simple for the kids. He grabbed a five-round box of double-ought buck, and a twenty-round box of turkey loads. He also grabbed two twelve-gauge
snap caps, which were essentially little more than training rounds. He handed the snap caps to Adam and inspected the weapon himself.

“Did it look good to you?” asked John.

“It looks good, dad. Can I load it now?”

“After you work on its functions with your sister. I’ll hold the live shells until you come get me and show me that Abby knows how to safely operate this,” said John, as he handed the shotgun back to Adam. John made eye contact with his son, and added, “Show her everything I showed you, and let her chamber and dry fire the snap caps a few times. Make sure she’s really comfortable with it, Adam, and then I’ll let you load it and put it somewhere safe, somewhere out of sight. I was thinking under the couch. But if you can think of someplace better, let me know.”

John made quick work of covering the downstairs windows with heavy plastic, and he was in the process of securing plastic to the last window, staple gun and duct tape in hand, when Adam and Abby walked up behind him. “I’m almost done, just give me one . . . more . . . second. There, done. How’s it look?” asked John, acknowledging their presence without actually turning around.

“Looks great . . . daddy,” said Abby, unafraid to express her genuine insincerity.

“Yeah, dad, it looks nice,” replied Adam, with equal sarcasm. “Mom see what you did to her walls?”

“Yeah, she knows,” said John, defensively, as he reached up to smooth the last edge of gray tape to the painted wall. He climbed down from the step ladder and smoothed the strip as he descended. Still facing the window, he asked, “How’d the shotgun training go?”

John heard the unmistakable raking sound of a shotgun slide and paused. Expecting to see Adam with the shotgun, he turned around and was surprised to see Abby holding it instead. See held it firmly
against her side, right elbow pressed against the stock, trigger finger extended along the side of the trigger guard, left hand gripped firmly on the slide. “Wow, I’m impressed. You make your father blush with pride,” said John, with high praise. Abby frowned. “I’m sorry, Ab. I mean it. I’m not being sarcastic. I thought Adam was holding the shotgun. Don’t tell your mom I said this, but it looks good in your hands. Do you think you can handle it?”

Abby beamed at the refreshed compliment and said, “I think so. I’ve shot skeet before, remember?”

“Yes, I do remember, and you shot very well. I think you’ll be fine. This one will kick a little more, but you’re right, I think you can handle it.”

John looked at Adam and then back at Abby. “Good job you two. So, before we load it, where were you thinking of hiding it?” asked John.

“Well, we were thinking about the restroom,” replied Abby.

“You mean the powder room?” asked John.

They nodded in unison. John was interested in hearing their logic, so he nodded in reply. After several seconds of silence he asked, “OK . . . where in the powder room?”

“It fits perfectly in the space behind the counter . . . under the sink. You have to get on your hands and knees to reach it. And if I wrap it in a hand towel it shouldn’t make any noise when we pull it out,” said Adam.

“OK. I’m impressed . . . once again. Go ahead and put it in your hiding place, but let mom know where it is.” John reached into a cargo pocket of his pants, and said, “Load it with these.” He handed Adam five rounds of double-ought buckshot. Adam handed John the two snap caps in exchange. John yelled after Adam as he walked away, “When you’re done, I’ll need your help building the clean room.”