when bad people are breaking down your door. So Grant would have to go out and keep the bad people away.
After tucking, Grant had to decide if this was the time to try to convince Lisa to go to the cabin. He wanted to get out there right away. Each hour that went by might mean it was too late to get out there safely.
Wait , the outside thought said.
OK, then. Grant would wait.
Grant remembered that his shift for the neighborhood patrol was starting at midnight, which was soon. He changed into his 5.11 pants and hillbilly slippers, went downstairs, kissed Lisa, and said, “It’s my patrol shift now. Bye. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said. Grant sure was kind of emotional, she thought. Telling her he loved her so many times like… he didn’t think he’d get a chance to tell her that ever again. It was a little frightening.
*****
In the garage, Grant popped the trunk to double check he had everything he’d need. In the trunk was his pistol belt and pistol, along with his AR and shoulder mag bag. They were on top of the food in the trunk that he needed to unload later. He took the AR and mag bag from the trunk and put them on the passenger seat of his car. This way he would have them handy if he needed them on patrol. He put on his pistol belt. It felt so good on his hip. So reassuring.
Grant would be patrolling with Ron. Good. He trusted Ron’s gun skills. That night on patrol, they talked over things, traded information about the Olympia protests, the bombings, and the power outage. Grant didn’t talk about the inventory evacuation at the gun store, of course. His attention turned to the power outage.
“I don’t want to freak you out, Ron,” Grant said, “but if someone is able to crash the electrical grid periodically, things are… going to get rough.” Grant was trying not to sound alarmist.
“Yep,” Ron said. “Let’s hope that’s not it. Let’s hope that some bird flew into a power line or something.”
Grant didn’t want to continue talking about simultaneous terrorist attacks and the power grid crashing. He would have said something that would alert Ron to Grant being a “survivalist.” Grant decided to focus on the task at hand: a neighborhood patrol.
“We might go through quite a bit of gas driving all night, even at slow speeds,” Grant said. “You got a full tank?”
“Yep,” Ron said.
“Me, too,” Grant said.
“Let’s do it,” Ron said with a smile.
They went to opposite ends of the subdivision and started going up and down each street and cul-de-sac. They could hear the sirens, but only faintly. They looked for anyone who didn’t seem to belong. They were listening to the news on the radio. It was unbelievable all the things that were happening. It was bigger than the 9/11 attacks, especially, as some were speculating, if terrorists could take down the electrical grid.
Suddenly he heard Ron’s horn. It sounded like it was coming from the entrance to the subdivision. Grant raced toward that direction. He came around the corner and was horrified. He was hit with so much adrenaline that he became numb and tingly.
At the entrance to the subdivision was a crowd of about a dozen young men. They were walking into the Cedars, whooping and hollering. Waving their arms and yelling. Some had sticks, or something. A few had rifles. Hunting rifles or shotguns. They were right under the street light.
Dumbasses, Grant thought. Silhouetting yourselves in the street light. Grant was thinking clearly and was terrified at the same time. Instinct and training took over.
There was Ron’s car about 100 yards inside the subdivision. Grant couldn’t see him, but could see that his driver’s side door was open. Ron blasted the horn again and then came flying out the driver’s side with his shotgun. The punks started yelling, which was immediately followed by the sound of gunfire.
They were shooting at Ron. Actual shots! Grant couldn’t believe it.
Grant drove straight
After tucking, Grant had to decide if this was the time to try to convince Lisa to go to the cabin. He wanted to get out there right away. Each hour that went by might mean it was too late to get out there safely.
Wait , the outside thought said.
OK, then. Grant would wait.
Grant remembered that his shift for the neighborhood patrol was starting at midnight, which was soon. He changed into his 5.11 pants and hillbilly slippers, went downstairs, kissed Lisa, and said, “It’s my patrol shift now. Bye. Love you.”
“Love you, too,” she said. Grant sure was kind of emotional, she thought. Telling her he loved her so many times like… he didn’t think he’d get a chance to tell her that ever again. It was a little frightening.
*****
In the garage, Grant popped the trunk to double check he had everything he’d need. In the trunk was his pistol belt and pistol, along with his AR and shoulder mag bag. They were on top of the food in the trunk that he needed to unload later. He took the AR and mag bag from the trunk and put them on the passenger seat of his car. This way he would have them handy if he needed them on patrol. He put on his pistol belt. It felt so good on his hip. So reassuring.
Grant would be patrolling with Ron. Good. He trusted Ron’s gun skills. That night on patrol, they talked over things, traded information about the Olympia protests, the bombings, and the power outage. Grant didn’t talk about the inventory evacuation at the gun store, of course. His attention turned to the power outage.
“I don’t want to freak you out, Ron,” Grant said, “but if someone is able to crash the electrical grid periodically, things are… going to get rough.” Grant was trying not to sound alarmist.
“Yep,” Ron said. “Let’s hope that’s not it. Let’s hope that some bird flew into a power line or something.”
Grant didn’t want to continue talking about simultaneous terrorist attacks and the power grid crashing. He would have said something that would alert Ron to Grant being a “survivalist.” Grant decided to focus on the task at hand: a neighborhood patrol.
“We might go through quite a bit of gas driving all night, even at slow speeds,” Grant said. “You got a full tank?”
“Yep,” Ron said.
“Me, too,” Grant said.
“Let’s do it,” Ron said with a smile.
They went to opposite ends of the subdivision and started going up and down each street and cul-de-sac. They could hear the sirens, but only faintly. They looked for anyone who didn’t seem to belong. They were listening to the news on the radio. It was unbelievable all the things that were happening. It was bigger than the 9/11 attacks, especially, as some were speculating, if terrorists could take down the electrical grid.
Suddenly he heard Ron’s horn. It sounded like it was coming from the entrance to the subdivision. Grant raced toward that direction. He came around the corner and was horrified. He was hit with so much adrenaline that he became numb and tingly.
At the entrance to the subdivision was a crowd of about a dozen young men. They were walking into the Cedars, whooping and hollering. Waving their arms and yelling. Some had sticks, or something. A few had rifles. Hunting rifles or shotguns. They were right under the street light.
Dumbasses, Grant thought. Silhouetting yourselves in the street light. Grant was thinking clearly and was terrified at the same time. Instinct and training took over.
There was Ron’s car about 100 yards inside the subdivision. Grant couldn’t see him, but could see that his driver’s side door was open. Ron blasted the horn again and then came flying out the driver’s side with his shotgun. The punks started yelling, which was immediately followed by the sound of gunfire.
They were shooting at Ron. Actual shots! Grant couldn’t believe it.
Grant drove straight
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