299 Days: The Collapse Read online

  Grant had saved someone’s life? That couldn’t be the shooting thing Lisa was talking about. Maybe it was. Eileen then thought about the guard with the gun. How strange, she thought. He didn’t have a badge, but he had a gun. That didn’t make any sense. Then again, lots of things lately were not making sense.

  She drove the last two blocks to Lisa’s house. Her little girl was there in the doorway crying. It must be because Grant left. What had gotten into him? He seemed like he had a good head on his shoulders.

  Eileen spent the rest of the day consoling Lisa. She also spent time with the kids, reassuring them that everything would be OK, and that surely, their dad would be home soon.

  It was dinnertime, so Eileen decided she needed to go home and get some clothes to stay over with Lisa and the kids. They needed her. She said goodbye for now and left.

  When she was leaving the neighborhood, a different man with a gun was at the entrance. Maybe they were guards, Eileen thought when she saw a second man with a gun but without a badge. He motioned for her to slow down and roll down her window. He realized she was not exactly a gang threat.

  “Will you be coming back?” the guard asked. He had a clipboard like he was keeping track of these things.

  “Yes, in about a half hour,” Eileen said. “To see my daughter, Lisa Taylor.”

  “OK, but be careful out there,” the second guard said. “It will be dark in a few hours. You don’t want to be out in the dark.”

  “OK, thank you,” Eileen said. What was that about not being out after dark? Sure, there had been some protests or some political things going on, and some terrorist attack in far-off cities, but that hardly meant that terrorists were out roaming in Olympia at night. She thought the men with guns were overreacting. Maybe the men felt better having their guns. They weren’t hurting anyone, so it seemed OK.

  The ride back to her house was uneventful. Few cars were out. Eileen’s husband, Drew, was waiting for her.

  “What were you doing out there?” Drew asked her. “Things are dangerous.”

  Eileen was a little mad. “I was taking care of our daughter, who needs me,” she said indignantly. What was with all these men being so worried about “danger” out there?

  “I’m going back to spend the night with them,” she added.

  Drew knew he couldn’t tell her not to take care of her daughter. Besides, Eileen would be driving before dark.

  “I’ll come with you,” Drew said.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” Eileen said. She thought he was overreacting.

  “No, I will come with you,” Drew said. He had already loaded his two guns, a duck hunting shotgun and a .357 revolver, and was ready for what might be coming. He had been watching the news all day and knew that things were getting worse each night.

  “No!” Eileen yelled at Drew. She hadn’t yelled at him in about twenty years. “Everyone needs to stop overreacting!” she yelled. “Lisa needs me and I’m going. Things are fine. This will all be over soon.” Eileen stormed upstairs to get her things for spending the night at Lisa’s. Drew knew he couldn’t do anything about his wife driving out in possible mayhem. He went back to watching the news. No use even trying to convince her, he thought.

  Eileen got her overnight things and left without saying a word to Drew, which was very unusual. On the way to Lisa’s house, there was a car speeding up behind her. It zoomed past her and ran the red light. Crazy drivers.

  Eileen came up to the same man who had let her out of the subdivision. He saw her and waved her through.

  Eileen spent the evening and night listening to Lisa and doing all the grandmother things she loved to do, like making cookies and playing board games with the kids. She wanted to do all the normal things they loved; this would take their minds off of all the unusual things that were going on. She kept the TV off. There was no need to scare the kids.

  Chapter 55

  Mrs. Nguyen

  (May 6)

  Ever since the previous night, when they evacuated Capitol City Guns, the Team (minus Grant) was sticking together. They were on an adrenaline high. They were, after all, young men who loved to help people and had trained for this and were extremely well armed. Guns and training—and being sheepdogs—were the focus of their lives. This was “go time.” It was what they lived for.

  If Grant were twenty years younger and single, he would have had the same reaction, but he had a family so he didn’t have the luxury of treating the Collapse as a big adventure. He couldn’t think of himself; he had a family to protect. This adventurous spirit of young men is what had fueled wars and heroism for several thousand years. It was hardwired into some percentage of the male population (and some percentage of the female population).

  After the Capitol City evacuation, Pow, Wes, Scotty, and Bobby met up at Pow’s little rented house. It was located a mile or two from Capitol City and was a central location for the other guys. They lived in apartments throughout the city.

  “How are your parents doing?” Scotty asked the group. “Mine called and they’re OK out in the sticks.”

  Bobby nodded, “Mine, too.”

  Pow said, “My parents and all my brothers and sisters are doing fine up in Tacoma.” Pow was the youngest of six kids.

  Wes was silent.

  With that out of the way, it was time to get down to business.

  “Well, gentlemen, this is it,” Pow said. “We need to protect our neighborhoods and our stuff.” He pointed toward the “gun room” in his house. He had a giant safe and reloading equipment, with cases of ammunition on the floor. The contents of his gun room were now worth tens of thousands of dollars.

  “We need to secure our gear,” Pow said. “Things are going to get dicey, at least for a while.” Pow thought things would be crazy for longer than that, but didn’t want to seem overly dramatic. He was the leader. He needed to be calm and rational.

  Wes said, “Yeah, but where do we take our stuff? We need to be with it. Hell, we might need all of our gear.” Scotty was nodding.

  “I have good news, my friends,” Pow said with a smile. He told them about Grant’s cabin. They were all grinning from ear to ear.

  “I knew there was a reason we let a lawyer on the Team,” Bobby said.

  “So, let’s come up with a plan to get our shit over to Grant’s cabin,” Pow said. “I have a call into him but his phone isn’t working.” They spent the next two hours carefully planning out how to load and move their personal armories. They prioritized the things they would need the most. The first priority would be ARs, 5.56 ammo, and pistols in 9mm, along with 9mm ammo. Mags, spare parts, and specialized tools for these guns would also be in the first priority. The other stuff—AKs, shotguns, bolt rifles, other pistols—would be in later loads.

  “What about food? I don’t really have any in my apartment,” Bobby said. He was a basic bachelor in his twenties; not a “prepper.”

  “Grant has us covered out there,” Pow said with a smile. “Everyone bring what you can. Food will be the last priority load.”

  It was late afternoon. “Go back to your places and load up your stuff and bring it here,” Pow said. “We’ll meet back here in a few hours. We can make the first run out there tonight.”

  Pow’s cell phone vibrated. He looked at the number. He didn’t recognize it. He’d look at the text later.

  There was a knock at the door. They instinctively drew their pistols. Pow looked out the window and saw Mrs. Nguyen, an elderly Vietnamese neighbor lady. He holstered his pistol and the others did too. He answered the door.

  “Hello, Mrs. Nguyen,” Pow said.

  “William, I am so scared,” she said to Pow, whose real name was Bill Kung.” She was one of the few people who called him by his real name. “I have been watching the television all day,” she said, speaking English well, but with a Vietnamese accent. “This reminds me of Saigon before the fall.” She had lived through the fall of Vietnam and came to America when her country fell.

 
; “William,” she said, “there won’t be food in the store soon. People will buy it all, and then they’ll fight over it. Same with gasoline. I’ve lived through this before.”

  She paused and started to cry, “My sons are in Los Angeles.” She knew what was happening there now and couldn’t bear it. They hadn’t called in days. “I need some help.” Her Vietnamese pride made it hard to ask for help, especially from non-Vietnamese people. But there were none in the neighborhood, so a nice Korean boy and his friends would have to do. “I need some food and water to make it through this for a while. And some of my medicine. Can you help me?”

  Who could say no to that?

  “Of course,” Pow said. “Me and my friends can definitely help.” Pow introduced the group to her. “Give me a list of what you need at the store, and each one of us will go out and get those things. That way, we can each hit a different store and get what they still have available. I can take you to the drugstore since you need to show ID to pick up a prescription. You’ll be safe with me.”

  Mrs. Nguyen looked at the nice young men there offering to help her. She cried some more.

  Wes would hit the grocery store nearby, Scotty the one a little farther away, and Bobby the next one over from that one. Pow would take Mrs. Nguyen to the drugstore in his Hummer.

  She had an envelope of $100 bills. She had been saving them for something like this. She gave two to each of them. Who knew what food would cost right now? Plus, she wanted the boys to keep the change.

  Pow didn’t even need to say it. They all knew that they would go with concealed pistols. The ARs would stay hidden in the trucks.

  “Be sure and top off your tanks when you’re out there,” Scotty said. They all nodded.

  “Let’s go,” Pow said. It was their first mission. Getting groceries and prescriptions for a nice neighbor lady. It felt great. They were sheepdogs. They were in a position to help. That felt even better.

  Pow’s neighborhood seemed pretty safe. He lived in a starter house in an OK neighborhood full of nice people for the most part. But on occasion, some questionable guests and relatives of the residents came by. Mrs. Nguyen got in Pow’s Hummer. “So fancy,” she said as she got in.

  They all left in their trucks and Pow’s Hummer. This was their first foray out into a collapsing American society. They had no idea what to expect.

  They found things to be surprisingly normal. No looters, no gun fights. People were remarkably normal. Some of them seemed a little edgy, in a hurry, and not trusting of the people around them. It was like it never occurred to these people that things were going bad. The Team was convinced that most of America was either stupid or in denial. Or both.

  The stores were getting empty. Not stripped clean like they had all assumed when they thought about panic buying. Then again, it was only one day into the electrical grid attack and the terrorism. Most people hadn’t figured it out yet. They assumed the stores had lots of food. Stores never ran out of things. That’s just how it was in America.

  Most shelves still had food, but only about a third as much as normal. Meat and produce was still available. The stores had everything on Mrs. Nguyen’s list, except some particular brands of Asian foods. For the most part, her list had staples like rice and canned food. They bought as much as they could with the money they had.

  Each man topped off his tank on the way home. The price had doubled in twenty-four hours. There was a long line. It wasn’t a line down the street, just a line longer than they had ever seen. Wes had lived in Alabama during a hurricane and had seen gas lines like this back then.

  Unlike the relative calm at the grocery store, people at the gas station were nervous and keeping to themselves. Scotty thought about how he wished he had gas cans to fill up. Then he realized other people might not appreciate that.

  Pow’s trip to the drug store with Mrs. Nguyen was a little more eventful. It appeared that many people had the same idea about stocking up on prescriptions. The place was packed. Luckily, the computer had Mrs. Nguyen’s refill on file. They waited in line. Pow used the opportunity to get plenty of first aid supplies and over the counter medicines. Mrs. Nguyen saw what he was doing and gave him a $100 bill for them. Since he was Asian too, he knew that she would not let him pay for them himself. He tried the traditional three times to let her keep the money and then accepted it on the fourth try.

  Some of the people in line were freaking out. One of them wanted pain medication, and was getting belligerent. It was uncomfortable for everyone there. Finally, the manager came. The belligerent man, who looked like a thirty-something professional, started to yell and wave his arms around. “My doctor said he sent in the refill. I’m going on a trip and need these right now. My back hurts.” Pow figured he’d let the guy do one more outburst and then that would be it. The guy didn’t seem to be armed.

  Sure enough, there was one more outburst. When the manager told the man to leave, he shoved the manager. Pow set his basket of first aid supplies down and flipped up his shirt to show his gun and gripped his Glock in the holster. He did not draw his pistol; he just showed it and had his hand on it, ready to draw.

  “Time to go, sir,” Pow said in a very commanding voice.

  Pow knew that in normal times, showing a weapon like that without being threatened would be the crime of brandishing. Pow was not terribly worried about the police coming right now. He needed this guy to get out of the way so Mrs. Nguyen could get her medicine.

  The man went silent and instinctively put his hands up. The man knew he was done at this location. He would go try to the other store in this chain across town that had the same computer system.

  Everyone in the store was silent, appearing stunned by what they were witnessing. The man kept his hands up and walked out. Pow followed him, with his hand still on his holstered pistol. A few steps into it, Pow used his other hand to pull out a badge on a dog tag chain around his neck so it was visible.

  When the man walked out the door, Pow threw his shirt back over his holstered pistol and stood at the entrance. He said to the checker, “I’ll make sure he doesn’t come back.” She just nodded. And stared.

  Pow watched the man speed out of the parking lot. By this time, Mrs. Nguyen’s turn in the line came up and the pharmacist provided her medicine.

  “Can I get more than one refill?” she asked. From the look on his face, it appeared that the pharmacist had been hearing this question all day.

  “No, ma’am,” he said. “We will need another prescription for a new amount from your doctor. We can try to call him or her, but no doctors’ offices have been answering their phones for the past couple of days.”

  Mrs. Nguyen nodded. She knew that would be the answer. “Thank you,” she said. She picked up Pow’s basket and paid for it and the prescription with cash, careful not to let people see her $100 bills. She left the store, meeting Pow at the exit. He had his badge under his shirt now.

  “Thank you for making that man leave,” Mrs. Nguyen said.

  Pow realized that she hadn’t seen his badge or she would have asked him why he had a badge but wasn’t a police officer. A good question, but he had a good answer. Pow, and all the members of the Team, had badges that looked like police badges but said “Concealed Weapons Permit” and had their state seal. They carried these so that if they had to draw a weapon, they could leave the “badge” out on a neck chain for the police to see. The police would know that they were not criminals. It wasn’t impersonating an officer because the badge only said “Concealed Weapons Permit.”

  “No problem,” Pow said. They drove to the closest gas station. That Hummer got thirsty, but Pow loved it. It was an H2, so its gas mileage was like a regular SUV. He was very successful selling insurance to Korean families and didn’t have a wife or kids. He could afford it and, along with his guns, his Hummer was his luxury item. Besides, the Hummer was almost bulletproof. Almost.

  Gassing up was uneventful, but Pow noticed that people were nervous and seemed ready t
o fight each other. He could feel it. He grew up in a tough part of Tacoma and had learned early on to pick up on things like people not making eye contact or people looking one another up and down. He didn’t sense any threats there, but he was watching.

  On the way back to Pow’s house, there was nothing noteworthy, except one car on the other side of the street was speeding and driving erratically. Some people were on edge and in a hurry, driving like madmen. Pow expected to hear a siren. The police would be chasing that person. Then he thought about it. He hadn’t heard any sirens lately. Last night when they evacuated Capitol City Guns, he had heard them in the distance. But now he wasn’t hearing them. They had just stopped. Weird.

  One by one, the rest of the Team returned to Pow’s house and unloaded the groceries at Mrs. Nguyen’s house. They tried to hide the bags as best they could so the neighbors wouldn’t see. She wouldn’t take the change back. As they were unloading, they smelled something delicious. She was making a big dinner for the hungry young men who had helped her.

  “Won’t you stay for dinner?” she asked.

  They all looked at Pow for a signal on whether they should stay. “Of course, Mrs. Nguyen,” he said. Helping people wasn’t always about protecting them with guns; sometimes, it was sharing a meal with a nice lady.

  Over dinner, Pow told the story about the druggie. “Then I pulled out my concealed carry badge,” he said and he demonstrated it to them.

  Mrs. Nguyen came into the dining room and saw Pow’s badge. She was very surprised. “Oh, I didn’t know you were police.”

  “I’m not,” Pow said. He explained why they carried the badges.

  “Very smart, William,” Mrs. Nguyen said.

  They ate the best meal they’d had in quite some time. They hurried a bit because it was getting dark and they were concerned that they were losing valuable time sitting there instead of bugging out.

  Pow looked at his watch. “Well, it’s time for us to go. We have some things we need to do soon.”

  “I understand,” she said. “Thank you again.” With that, they left.