Lamp Black: Second Edition, Disaster, Preparedness, Survival, Awakening (The Gatekeeper Book 2) (40 page)

John knew exactly what Pete meant, but Paul looked surprised and confused. “They had electricity? And what do you mean . . . a prisoner?” asked Paul. “Fort Hood had to be better than staying home, or driving here,” said Paul, with a wave of his arm.

Pete studied Paul’s face, as if trying to gauge the benefit of addressing him, but to Pete’s credit he entertained Paul’s curiosity. “Yes, Paul, they had electricity, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t from the installation’s internal power grid. It was most likely from generators. The post can produce its own power, but they also have a huge inventory of large capacity generators, and plenty of fuel to run them for many months,” said Pete.

Pete shot a glance at John and said, “I heard the sound of one or more generators running at the east gate, and I can see you have one of your own.” He looked around the kitchen, at the string of Christmas lights hanging from the cabinets, and said while looking at Paul, “I’m not sure why you’re surprised the army can provide itself with ample amounts of electrical power . . . at any time. They are, after all, an army.”

“It’s just that I thought, well, I thought that things would be better there. If I could get on the . . . what do you call it . . . the post, I would do it in a heartbeat,” replied Paul.

“I’m sure you would,” replied Pete. “I think a lot of civilians would say the same thing. After all, it’s hard to ignore the benefit of electrical power and a secure perimeter. As for me, armed security for a disarmed group of people is something that makes me uncomfortable, especially during these uncertain times. If you know history, you would know
that when governments want to control their citizens they first move to disarm them,” replied Pete, with mild irritation in his voice.

“That may be so,” said Paul, “but you’re a Soldier. You knew the rules when you joined, when you went to the post. I still don’t know what the big deal is about having to give up your guns and all with Soldiers that can protect and feed you,” said Paul, with irritation of his own.

John decided it was time to intervene on behalf of both men. “Look, Paul, it’s not that cut and dry. Like me, Pete is retired. If things turned ugly on post he couldn’t just go to an arms room and draw a weapon. He would be at the mercy of any armed group. He would have to do exactly what they wanted him to do. He would have no choice about it, or at least very few options.”

Paul turned to John, “Yeah, but they’re Soldiers. They’re not a threat to him, not if they’re trying to protect the post.”

It was John’s turn to stare at Paul in amazement. He wondered, once again, if the man was truly that naive. “Paul, the point here is that the right to defend ourselves is, at least in my book, absolute. It’s a God given right. When you surrender that right, you surrender control of your life to others . . . it belongs to those who have weapons. Making everyone surrender their weapons, food, and fuel, as a condition to get on post, is wrong, Paul, even for the army, but especially for the government.”

“I was just thinking it would be better than living here,” said Paul.

“It doesn’t look too bad here,” said Pete.

“Yeah? Well, you weren’t here yesterday, now were you,” replied Paul.

Pete ignored the slight and asked John, “What happened yesterday?”

John looked at Pete, then Paul, and finally back at Pete. “I don’t want to get into that right now,” said John, “but let’s just say we had an incident with a man that turned a little ugly.”

“A little ugly?” said Paul, with a raised voice. “He raped Marissa and wanted to kill us.”

“Calm down Paul,” said John, in a stern and even voice. It was a voice of caution that Paul seemed to understand.

“I’m sorry,” said Paul. He stood up and looked at Marissa. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got family matters to attend to.”

“Paul, you don’t have to leave like this. We talked about this already. What’s done is done. I’ll brief Pete about what happened to you and your family, but for now we need to hear what’s going on at Fort Hood. It’s important because the army was our best hope for survival. But if they’re not willing to respond to the disaster, to help us in any way possible, then we’re really on our own.” John looked up at Paul and motioned for him to return to his seat. “Paul, please have a seat. I know you’re upset, but we all have to remain calm and level-headed if we’re going to survive this mess.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” mumbled Paul, as he took a seat.

John ignored the comment and looked at Pete. He noticed Pete carefully studying Paul, as if he was examining a counseling patient, and trying to determine if he was terminal, or just a little ill. Pete turned to John and asked, “Do you want me to continue?”

“Yes, please. You were last talking to the MP,” replied John.

“I was talking to the MP about what was happening on post,” said Pete, “but what really turned me off about going on post was what the MP said about the Corps Commander, Lieutenant General Dill. You remember him, don’t you, John?” asked Pete.

“I do,” said John. General Dill was another self-absorbed military politician, and a perfect excuse for John to leave the army. As John rose higher in the officer corps, he began to realize that politics had as much to do with general officer selections and promotions, as did their intelligence and leadership ability. Clearly, the army wasn’t a flawless organization, but John wondered how some senior officers, generals like Dill, managed to slip through the net and be put in command of large formations. What bothered John the most about Dill was that he only managed to survive in command because he surrounded himself with excellent staff officers. The man contributed nothing to
his own command. Much like Stevens, Dill was a self-absorbed army bureaucrat.

“The MP told me Dill was planning to reinstate all the retirees that came on post . . . that he was planning to conduct some type of reserve call up, or something like it. He said he was planning to organize them into work details with on-post dependents, and that they would be tasked to handle all the work civilian employees handled before the disaster, things like the dining facilities, collecting trash, the hospital and clinics as orderlies, and stuff like that,” finished Pete.

“You’re kidding, right?” asked John.

“I’m not, brother. I wish I was, but I’m not,” answered Pete.

“So it looks like they’re digging in,” said John.

“Yes it does.”

John scratched the back of his head and leaned back in his chair. “I shouldn’t be surprised given who’s running the show down there. Do you think they knew the disaster was coming?” asked John.

“If they did they sure didn’t let on,” said Pete. “I have a lot of connections on post. I’d like to think someone would have called me if something big, like the disaster, was anticipated.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“John, you’re the first person I heard from. In fact, you’re the only person I heard from,” exclaimed Pete.

“So you turned around and came straight here?” asked John.

“Well, not straight away. We went back to the house to close up a bit tighter, but we left pretty quickly. It took a lot longer to get here than I thought,” answered Pete.

“I bet it did, but I’m sure glad you’re here. How long are you planning to stay? No, scratch that, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You can call this your home. You can have the guest room, or you can set yourself up in the shop. It’s your choice,” said John.

Pete and Bonnie stared at each other, as if communicating telepathically. It was Bonnie who broke the silence first. “Jenna, John, we thank you so much for your hospitality, but are you sure?”

Jenna beat John to the punch. “Absolutely! John is right. Our home is your home. We’ve learned that having more people makes for lighter work. Marissa, Paul, are you OK with us adding Bonnie and Pete to our growing family?”

Paul was apparently too surprised by Jenna’s question to answer. However, Marissa smiled and said “absolutely,” and then joined the ladies in a group hug. John attempted to break up the spontaneous sentimentality by pretending to barf on the floor. Pete laughed and joined the ladies in a group hug by saying, “I want some of that.” Soon everyone was talking about how and where to settle in with the newcomers. Pete and Bonnie graciously accepted Jenna’s offer of the guest room.

While the women went upstairs to show off the living space, the guys went to unload Pete’s truck. It didn’t take long with all hands. They quickly had Pete’s belongings piled on the garage floor, and allowed him to dictate where everything went. When it came to weapons, Pete wasn’t as well armed as John, but he clearly wasn’t helpless. Pete owned a black, scoped, Springfield M1A, with a cheek rest and bipod, as well as a Remington 700. Pete loved his rifles in 7.62 NATO, which was essentially the same as .308. He and Bonnie also came with a matching pair of Springfield XD1’s in .40 caliber, and one additional surprise. Pete grinned wide when he held up a recently acquired Rock River Arms LAR-8.

“Wow, when’d you add this beauty to your collection?” asked John, clearly impressed with the weapon. He accepted it from Pete’s outstretched hands. John shouldered the weapon and took aim at a distant point through the open garage door. It’s a .308, right?”

“Of course,” replied Pete.

John asked, “What’s the story behind it?”

“It’s long. Too long to talk about now,” said Pete. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

John nodded and helped his friend arrange the supplies and equipment. Pete brought all his hunting and camping gear, and about
a thirty-day supply of food, which was more than John would have thought possible. The food would be added to the group’s larder. Everything else would remain Pete’s, including the fuel. All but one of his fuel cans was empty, but John didn’t have a need for diesel fuel anyway. Still, any fuel was better than no fuel, and diesel had other useful properties, like when it was mixed with a generous portion of fertilizer.

With John’s help, Pete refastened the tarp over the truck’s bed. They pulled the garage door down and everyone fumbled with their flashlights as the space was plunged into darkness. The various flashlight beams dancing around the floor, ceiling and walls drove everyone but John and Pete back into the house. After a moment of tidying up, John’s light beam settled on the floor at Pete’s feet, and he asked, “I need to restart the generator. Do you want to come with me?”

“To the shop?” asked Pete.

“Yeah. I want to show you something.”

They made their way to the shelter with John’s disposable breathing protection. They were already covered in ash, so John didn’t see the point in suiting up. Besides, he didn’t want to waste any more time getting the generator restarted for Jenna. After opening the shop doors, John started the generator and revealed the shelter to Pete. His friend was both surprised and delighted. “How long have you had this?” he asked, as he admired the placement and construction.

“As long as I’ve had the shop,” replied John.

“And you’ve managed to keep it a secret?”

“I think . . . for the most part. It started out as a tornado shelter. I never thought I would need it for something like this,” added John.

“I know what you mean,” replied Pete. And after a short pause he added, “I sure wouldn’t want to be trapped down there . . . not with an angry mob at my feet, or head, or whatever,” replied Pete.

“I was thinking about using it if we were to face a gun battle. I’d put Jenna and Abby inside, but then it would be a matter of timing . . . and safety.”

“You’re right. You’d need enough warning to reach it without exposing yourself to danger. And then there’s a chance the enemy would find the entrance and smoke you out. I think I’d rather have an open retreat option.”

“Exactly. That’s why it’s now my underground storage container,” grunted John.

“That’s not a bad thing,” replied Pete. “Especially if you can hide the entrance.”

“I have something in mind, but I’m not done with it yet,” replied John. “Anyway, let me tell you about Paul and his family . . . how they ended up here.”

John spent the next twenty minutes telling Pete about his run-in with Darrel, and his rescue of the Hernandez’. Pete complimented John on his actions, and restraint, and told him that he would have shot the woman and dumped her body in a field somewhere. John assured Pete that he considered it, but he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. They discussed the likelihood that trouble would return, especially if the biker woman somehow managed to reach her biker friends, and Pete asked, “Is the neighborhood prepared to defend itself, to repel the gang?”

John offered an uneasy laugh and said, “No. Not yet anyway. But that’s next on my to-do list.”

“I take it you’re not expecting a lot of cooperation,” snorted Pete.

“I don’t know what to expect, but whatever it is we may be handling it on our own. I’m really glad you’re here, Pete. I can sure use your help.”

“Are you worried about Paul?”

“You can say that. He seems unstable, but he’s manageable. He’s not crazy. He shot the guy who raped his wife, and I think he planned it that way. He played me like a fiddle,” said John.

“I would have done the same thing,” replied Pete.

“Played me like a fiddle?” asked John.

“Yeah. That too,” said Pete, with a grin.

“What I didn’t tell you is that he shot the man with a shotgun, at point-blank range, while he was tied up in the back of a pickup.”

“He shot him while he was tied up? That’s pretty good.”

“No, I mean
Darrel
was tied up in the back of his pickup. Paul killed a secured prisoner,” replied John, flatly.

“Relax, John. I’m just teasing. But you know this isn’t Iraq. We’re not in the army any more. This is Darwin at his finest. And frankly, I’m perfectly fine with Paul’s actions. I know he seems a little rattled right now, but I think he’ll be fine in a few days. We just need to handle him carefully until he returns to center,” replied Pete.

“You’re right about that,” said John, “I’ve already gotten short with him on two occasions. You handled him pretty well this morning.”

“Well, I handled you in Iraq didn’t I?” said Pete.